#this had a punchline and effort put into it at first but then it all went downhill

[skeletonsloverockcandy]

Man, each year I get to it, I love the May 5th entry and what it means. I take something new from it each time. Like last year I noticed the sacrifices and efforts the Driver and the other passengers made to try and save Jonathan, a stranger to them, by showing up early, by giving him gifts, by blessing him, despite the danger that puts them in. Especially when Dracula, as the driver, points it out to the Driver of the first coach, what he was trying to do, and scares him by pointing out what he said (despite it being heard far out of normal earshot and over the sound of horses galloping).

This year though, I notice that, but I see some of the smaller details too. Like how the mountains are full of blooming fruit trees, and how we are so used to the “gothic” aesthetic we almost forget it’s Spring. How Jonathan takes notice and comfort in the view, despite the growing unease he feels because of the people around him. He is trying to distract himself from how scared he’s getting based on their warnings. Warding him from the Evil Eye.

"No, no," he said; "you must not walk here; the dogs are too fierce"; and then he added, with what he evidently meant for grim pleasantry—for he looked round to catch the approving smile of the rest—"and you may have enough of such matters before you go to sleep."

I also take notice of this from the driver, as it’s almost a morbid gallows humor that he clearly knows to expect the wolves, and knowing what happens later, I’m sure the people here have a horrible fear of them, knowing what Dracula can do…and what he does to that poor mother later.

There were dark, rolling clouds overhead, and in the air the heavy, oppressive sense of thunder. It seemed as though the mountain range had separated two atmospheres, and that now we had got into the thunderous one.

We also get here what might be our first indication that the Count can control the weather to an extent.

They were driven by a tall man, with a long brown beard and a great black hat, which seemed to hide his face from us.

All I can imagine is Dracula in a fake beard now lol.

"You are early to-night, my friend." The man stammered in reply:—

"The English Herr was in a hurry," to which the stranger replied:—

"That is why, I suppose, you wished him to go on to Bukovina. You cannot deceive me, my friend; I know too much, and my horses are swift."

But God, this must have been terrifying for the driver and the passengers. What would Dracula do to punish them for trying to escape him? Would he dare make an example in front of the Englishman right now, or would he grant them mercy to say nothing else as Jonathan is unsuspectingly led to his doom, so they think.

"Denn die Todten reiten schnell"— ("For the dead travel fast.")

The strange driver evidently heard the words, for he looked up with a gleaming smile.

It feels like they’re all in on some sick joke that they know the punchline to, but Jonathan doesn’t, so with the dramatic irony, it feels like we the readers are the same peasants, trying to do anything to save or warn Jonathan but it’s already too late.

I also notice how quickly Dracula tries to shift the power dynamic with Jonathan, and have him doubt his sanity so soon, and he’s not even in the castle yet.

He drives him in circles to try and disorient Jonathan and make him feel even more lost, also keeping him out for far later and making Jonathan question if he’s dreaming or if what he’s seeing is real. I’d also bet more than anything that wine he offer Jonathan on the coach that Jonathan didn’t end up taking was drugged. Because it’s far easier to disorient an unconscious passenger in the dark than it is to disorient a conscious passenger. But he still does a pretty darn good job.

Then there’s the blue flames, which Jonathan doesn’t know how to react to as they seem supernatural and he doesn’t know how to rationalize it yet, so he takes it as if he’s dreaming.

This gave me a sort of shock, for I suppose the general superstition about midnight was increased by my recent experiences. I waited with a sick feeling of suspense.

Jonathan also has already felt the fear and nerves associated with the supernatural and superstition after what all of the townsfolk have told him, and later he tries to brush this off and rationalize again, try not to get too scared, but a part of him already realizes something is wrong.

Then a dog began to howl somewhere in a farmhouse far down the road—a long, agonised wailing, as if from fear.

I also want to point this out, as it’s right before the wolves surround the coach, but it’s the second time a “dog” has been mentioned howling in the night, and with this evidence, I bet Dracula uses the wolves as a threat to keep the peasants and townsfolk in line, as he can’t munch down on everyone. But it shows how powerful he is and what a threat he poses. I wonder who the wolves kill in the night.

Also how Jonathan, as an Englishman where there were no more native wolves, can’t even imagine that’s what they were and thinks they are dogs.

And it makes sense now that earlier when Jonathan was getting out his good ol’ polyglot dictionary, how the two words mean the same thing.

"vrolok" and "vlkoslak"—both of which mean the same thing, one being Slovak and the other Servian for something that is either were-wolf or vampire.

As Dracula, as we see later, can transform into a wolf himself, and so there is probably less distinction between the two in this culture than we have tried to establish in the modern day.

Once there appeared a strange optical effect: when he stood between me and the flame he did not obstruct it, for I could see its ghostly flicker all the same.

Ah, I wonder if this is an early indication that Dracula cannot be depicted through traditional means? Like how he can’t be seen in the mirror. Certain lights just, pass through him.

I shouted and beat the side of the calèche, hoping by the noise to scare the wolves from that side, so as to give him a chance of reaching the trap.

We also see Jonathan taking an active and proactive approach, in this manner trying to be helpful and aid his (what he assumes human) driver. With these sorts of actions already, I can see signs of the man who will pick up a shovel to try and do what needs to be done. Who takes a knife and vows action, not hesitating.

He is polite right now, he’s on business. He doesn’t know what’s coming. But regardless, that person is still in him, and he’s capable of taking great action and doing great things for the sake of survival and doing what he thinks is right.

And Dracula commanding the wolves to stop as the driver, and the cloud passing overhead, I feel is like a subtle display of power and threat to Jonathan. He’s still playing pretend, but when Jonathan does figure out he was the coach the whole time, and he plays coy, the Count knows Jonathan will remember this threat, and it feels that much more sinister.

Jonathan still questions and thinks he fell asleep, as he doesn’t see how he’d have missed the approach of the castle otherwise, but I think he was awake because it was dark, and the count was intentionally taking him a winding and confusing path under a lot of fear. Though if he did fall asleep, I’m that much more terrified about how Dracula was driving him about, now secure in the knowledge that Jonathan would be thoroughly isolated and lost.

And the thing that nearly gives Dracula away twice as the driver is the strength of his grip on Jonathan’s hand, also lacing a subtle threat.

through these frowning walls and dark window openings it was not likely that my voice could penetrate.

Well this is just scary knowing how trapped Jonathan becomes later, knowing he wouldn’t be able to hear the outside world, and how the outside world might not be able to hear him, and how he’s already acknowledging that.

The time I waited seemed endless, and I felt doubts and fears crowding upon me. What sort of place had I come to, and among what kind of people? What sort of grim adventure was it on which I had embarked?

He already is expressing doubts and fears, he isn’t ignorant of what situation he might be in, and it’s only later when he tries to rationalize with the count and is given the comforts manipulation of food and sleep, that he tries to dismiss these fears and take the Count at his word.

Was this a customary incident in the life of a solicitor's clerk sent out to explain the purchase of a London estate to a foreigner? Solicitor's clerk! Mina would not like that. Solicitor—for just before leaving London I got word that my examination was successful; and I am now a full-blown solicitor!

Okay, this is just really cute. Mina said You passed the Bar, you Deserve to call yourself a Solicitor Jonathan <3

Also explains a lot that Jonathan is a fresh faced baby lawyer who just passed the bar and needs this assignment. He’s probably hoping that after this pay day he can marry Mina and have enough for them to start making a life together. Also says a lot for Dracula’s strategy to him to get someone young, inexperienced, and unfamiliar with the area, who might be seen as “expendable” so that Jonathan’s sudden “disappearance” might go unremarked by those in charge (though Mina would notice).

I began to rub my eyes and pinch myself to see if I were awake. It all seemed like a horrible nightmare to me, and I expected that I should suddenly awake, and find myself at home, with the dawn struggling in through the windows, as I had now and again felt in the morning after a day of overwork. But my flesh answered the pinching test, and my eyes were not to be deceived. I was indeed awake and among the Carpathians. All I could do now was to be patient, and to wait the coming of the morning.

Again, those early signs of doubt and fear from Jonathan, showing his unease already at the situation. We did not deserve to be clowning on him so much when this book club first started. It’s not his fault he’s not genre aware 😔 I’m sorry Jonathan.

And when Drac does show up to open the door:

"Welcome to my house! Enter freely and of your own will!" He made no motion of stepping to meet me, but stood like a statue, as though his gesture of welcome had fixed him into stone.

I wonder if he’s like that because he needs to be invited into places to be there, so if it’s almost like a supernatural hold of importance for him to offer the same thing. Almost like a subtle joke or curse with the knowledge that after Jonathan enters, he won’t be allowed to leave of his own will

holding out his hand grasped mine with a strength which made me wince, an effect which was not lessened by the fact that it seemed as cold as ice—more like the hand of a dead than a living man.

I also like how all the clues are there, and since Jonathan has written them down and taken note of them, the expression on them must be some of the things he’s piercing together about his own fears as well that he’s afraid to voice aloud or in his journal, because if he voices his suspicions, they might become more real to him.

The strength of the handshake was so much akin to that which I had noticed in the driver, whose face I had not seen, that for a moment I doubted if it were not the same person to whom I was speaking

See? He knows what’s up, he’s just afraid to say it.

I also didn’t pick up that Jonathan’s room is octagonal for some reason. I wonder if there’s any reason for that or symbolism with the 8 sides?

Also the letter from Mr. Hawkin���s feels very ominous in retrospect knowing what’s coming and how Dracula will treat Jonathan:

"I must regret that an attack of gout, from which malady I am a constant sufferer, forbids absolutely any travelling on my part for some time to come; but I am happy to say I can send a sufficient substitute, one in whom I have every possible confidence. He is a young man, full of energy and talent in his own way, and of a very faithful disposition. He is discreet and silent, and has grown into manhood in my service. He shall be ready to attend on you when you will during his stay, and shall take your instructions in all matters."

I feel like Dracula knew to take advantage of that, and also this feels like him basically reading the menu for an ideal victim once his business is said and done, so I get shivers, brrrrr.

Hitherto I had noticed the backs of his hands as they lay on his knees in the firelight, and they had seemed rather white and fine; but seeing them now close to me, I could not but notice that they were rather coarse—broad, with squat fingers. Strange to say, there were hairs in the centre of the palm. The nails were long and fine, and cut to a sharp point. As the Count leaned over me and his hands touched me, I could not repress a shudder. It may have been that his breath was rank, but a horrible feeling of nausea came over me, which, do what I would, I could not conceal.

I also like that while Jonathan is describing Dracula, he notice his hands. And I am also struck with how little it is brought up that he has hair on his palms, and I can see the more wolf-like nature of this vampire mythology. I wonder if Bram Stoker intended for werewolves and vampires to be the same thing in his novel? They are certainly compared and have similar powers and weaknesses, so it’s possible I guess.

Also Dracula has corpse-breath lol. Nasty.

I saw the first dim streak of the coming dawn. There seemed a strange stillness over everything; but as I listened I heard as if from down below in the valley the howling of many wolves.

Ah ha! Also the first foreshadowing we get for the importance of dawn and dusk in the novel, as we know later how important timing becomes for our protagonists, so seeing its affects already make me smile at the recognition of the signs so early.

"Listen to them—the children of the night. What music they make!" Seeing, I suppose, some expression in my face strange to him, he added:—

"Ah, sir, you dwellers in the city cannot enter into the feelings of the hunter."

And ah, an iconic line. Though I just get second hand angry and uncomfortable at Dracula’s insistence that he’s a “hunter” 🤢. God I just hate him haha.

I am all in a sea of wonders. I doubt; I fear; I think strange things, which I dare not confess to my own soul. God keep me, if only for the sake of those dear to me!

And literally Day 1 of being in the castle and Jonathan is already questioning his sanity and piecing things together he’s afraid to even voice in his journal. This is the second time in as many days he has already wished that those around him find this journal and laments should anything bad happen to him. It creates the impression of one who knows they’re walking into danger but must go on anyway.

But I love Jonathan so much, and I definitely really like the May 5th entry, and it does so much work to set up what happens later.

[waklman]

Levis

summary: how you and bradley first met. or who knew bradley would find his soulmate sweaty in a parking lot?

warnings: none, but this is a 18+ blog in general.

word count: 1.3k.

something ‘bout you masterlist.

Bradley felt ridiculous. He was supposed to be on his way home—ten minutes ago. 

Instead, he’s ducking behind his Ford Bronco in the supermarket parking lot–drowning in his own sweat from the sweltering afternoon heat, as he eavesdrops on an exchange between two strangers. Bradley imagined that by now, he would’ve been kicking back in his armchair–with a fan blowing in his face and a spoonful of ice cream hanging out his mouth–if only his curiosity didn't get the best of him. 

Maybe this was a sign to stop spending all his free time with Hangman and Coyote. The duo is starting to rub off on him in the worst way possible–Bradley could’ve swore he wasn’t this nosy prior to hanging out with them.

“Look buddy,” you sigh, shifting the paper bags into one arm. “Actually–hold this real quick,” you carelessly demand the stranger–with pursed lips, thrusting your bags of groceries into his chest.

The man stumbles back, groaning at your peculiar strength. Yet you pay him no mind, pulling your aviators up into your hair–already facing your car again. 

Bradley laughs under his breath, watching you use the man as a mule–popping open your trunk, unbothered by the fact that he’s still trying to regain his balance. If he was going to plant himself next to you, why not make use of him? 

When Bradley first came walking out with a tub of rocky road in hand–he didn’t look twice at the scene, strolling right past you two with a clear objective in mind–get home–put on a movie–and rip open the frozen treat, that he’ll pay the price for later. 

But, that was until his ears tuned into the man’s pathetic efforts towards getting your phone number–stopping Bradley right in his tracks. This would make a good topic of conversation for the locker rooms tomorrow. 

You flap your fingers into your palm–still not looking at the man, signaling him to pass your stuff back with the off-handed gesture. 

Bradley smirks behind the hood of his truck, catching sight of the guy’s twitching eye–not believing the way you’re easily commanding him.

The curious pilot wonders how often you had to deal with sleazebags like him—because you’re doing a hell of a job at kicking him down.

Seeing that he’s taking too long to pass back tonight’s dinner ingredients–you start to casually pluck each bag out of his hands, transferring it into your trunk, unconcerned by his offense. 

“So, can I get your number now?” He asks tightly, annoyance leaking into his voice. 

You pause at the question, taking the time to scan the man up and down with raised brows. “If you’re hitting on someone wearing essentially the same outfit as you,” your voice is sweet, despite the harsh punchline you’re beginning to deliver. “Maybe it’s time for some deep reflection,” your lips stretch into a sarcastic smile, causing the man to fully display his irritation with you. 

Technically you weren’t wrong—you both had on a identical white tank top and shorts.

“I’m all for self love,” you raise your hands up in defense. “Maybe, you should try looking in the mirror next time you–” you shamelessly look down at his crotch. “..take care of yourself– it might be eye opening for you.” His mouth parts at the way the explicit suggestion leaves your mouth. 

It takes all of Bradley’s self control to stifle his laughter, not wanting to give himself away from where he’s crouched. 

“You’re fucking weird—holy shit. I’m done,” he scoffs, harshly throwing the last bag into your trunk. 

You feign ignorance, watching him walk backwards–distancing himself from you. “Don’t want my number anymore?” you ask with a pout, pulling out your phone–waving it in the air.

“Fuck No. You’re crazy,” he huffs, jaw stretching in disbelief. 

Your face completely falls–and horror is written all over the man’s face as your flat expression is slowly replaced with a menacing smile.

Just to watch him flinch, you lift your arm–pretending to chuck the device at him. 

The guy immediately breaks into a sprint, startled by your warning–causing Bradley to finally break into laughter. 

Realizing he broke his silence—Bradley stills, putting a pause to his amusement—hoping you didn’t hear him.

“You think he’s ever gonna talk to another woman again?” you ask–back turned to the new stranger, knowing the cute guy you clocked from earlier was currently tucked behind his truck.

Bradley sheepishly smiles, awkwardly standing up at your question—you knew he was there the whole time. “Nope–you got him real good. How does it feel knowing you’re keeping the ladies of the town safe?” he asks amusingly, stuffing a sweaty hand into the front pocket of his shorts. 

In one swift movement, you shut your trunk and turn to face him–sweeping Bradley right off his feet once you make eye contact with him.

You start to laugh at his joke, bringing a hand over your mouth—shyly covering your smile.

Holy shit. No wonder that guy was on your case about getting your number–you’re stunning. 

Bradley realizes he barely put an ounce of his attention onto your face this whole time, too distracted by the way you were tearing down the previous guy. He swallows, not sure if he can keep his composure now that you’re looking right at him. You’re probably the prettiest girl Bradley has ever encountered in his life. It makes him sweat harder at the thought.

“Feels good actually,” you nod, pleased with yourself. “Oh–hey nice shorts,” you call out, pointing a finger at his pants.

Bradley blinks at you, not able to get a single word out. 

“Where’d you get those bad boys?” You follow up with another smile. 

Bradley forces himself to snap out of it, looking down at his Levis and then back up at you. You have on the same pair of shorts as him. 

They’re slung loose on your hips and stretch down to your knees. The frayed hems just slightly sway at the rare summer breeze passing through the parking lot.

He lets out a breath–that he wasn’t even aware that he was holding in the first place, before finally answering you. “Oh–they’re from a thrift shop down by the main road.” 

“You gotta take me there then–maybe we can find another pair of matching shorts?” You offer, heart thumping at your own bravery.

“Sure can,” he nods, kicking the gravel under his feet nervously. “Promise not to throw that phone at me if I come over and ask for your number?” He jokes, hoping he didn’t look too ridiculous from how hard he’s smiling to himself.

“Not unless you share some of that ice cream with me, pretty stranger,” you wave him over, pulling down your sunglasses. “Hey, mind teaching me how you grew that stache? Been trying to get me one of those things,” you tease, brushing two fingers over your upper lip.

Bradley lightly laughs, walking around the front of his truck. “You’ll look like my dad if you do,” he replies, stopping right in front of you. Bradley braces himself, waiting for the gut-wrenching feeling to quickly brush through his heart at the mention of his father, but to his surprise—it never comes. 

“I like your dad already,” you softly answer, handing your phone over to him.

He would definitely like you too, Bradley thinks.

thank you for reading, and as always-reblogs are greatly appreciated!

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tags: @wkndwlff @sammyrenae68

[hedghost]

alessia russo | white lies

five secrets alessia could keep (and one she just couldn’t)

first-time post from a long-time lurker. i absolutely did not intend it to be this long, so i apologise, but i wanted to do the idea justice! feel free to give me thoughts or requests :)

word count: 6.6k

one

famously, alessia could have her blonde moments. the occasional blank stare when she missed the tail end of a question, a furrowed brow as the punchline of a joke flew over her head.

honestly it didn’t bother her; so what if people thought she was slow? she knew her own intelligence. certainly, on the pitch, it was evident that she wasn’t stupid. she could be funny, she knew things, she spoke well, and she always made sure to think before she spoke. although that was less about seeming measured, and more because, if there was one thing alessia did know, it was the value of a secret.

after a few years in the spotlight, alessia had learned the hard way that there were certain things that were just better left under wraps. some things the media or the fans shouldn’t know, and some things best kept between friends. she kept a long mental list of secrets for different people, collecting them, and keeping them clutched to her chest. alessia took a small pride in knowing she was the one people went to, the one person they could trust with their darkest secrets.

alessia mused over her list as she drove to the stadium before the next match. mentally laying each secret out in front of her like a prized collection, dusting them off, and storing them back inside. the first she knew would be brought up again today, knew it would take her usual efforts to make sure it remained a secret.

walking into the changing room, alessia only narrowly dodged a flying shinpad that went clattering into the doorframe. alessia’s quick reactions only really served to cause her to lose her footing, just to be caught by your steady hands.

“oops, sorry less! i was aiming for tooney,” you smiled sheepishly, your hands still firm around her waist. alessia swallowed.

“idiots,” she laughed. you let go and stalked over to grab the wayward shinpad. this time, your throw found it’s mark, hitting ella squarely in the forehead and causing the changing room to erupt into laughter.

this was no real deviation from the team’s usual pregame ritual. typically, you and ella, ever the jokers, would engage in some play-fight of slapstick-esque proportions, entertaining the team while they all got ready. this of course meant you two then had to scramble to get changed as the rest of the girls walked out onto the pitch. alessia, who was never really found without at least one of her two best friends, would wait behind with you as you tied your boots.

you always had a lot of nervous energy before games, and ella’s constant faffing and time wasting as she collected her boots, tied her hair up for the billionth time, checked her mascara etc., would, without fail, mean you’d end up leaving the two of them behind, only for them to jog out and join you with seconds. this was the ritual, and alessia liked it.

“fucking hell, ella stop fannying about!” you whined.

ella, as always, was the last to put her boots on. she was combing back flyaways in the mirror, in just her socks. you and alessia watched on, fully kitted out by now. alessia leant back against the door and smiled as she watched you try to hurry ella on. she'd been through this many times before.

alessia knew the routine. she knew you would leave in a second, and she knew ella would stop dithering immediately after you did. and then, as always, she would tie ella’s bootlaces for her, and they would catch you up.

this was the big secret. alessia, to be honest, didn’t see the big deal, but ella was insistent that no one could ever find out, not even you. and as silly as alessia thought it was, and as much as she hated not telling you things, this was her duty as secret keeper and she did it diligently.

it had started years ago, long before you had arrived and turned the duo into a trio. ella had been in a state before an away match, refusing to tell anyone what had her fretting so much. alessia had taken her to the side, and it had slipped out; she didn’t know how to tie her own laces. her dad had always been at games, always tied them tight as a last good luck measure. in a flash, alessia had knelt at ella’s feet, tying the boots without saying a word. then she’d taken ella’s hand, and pretended not to see her swipe at tears as they walked onto the pitch together.

ella had found her before the next game, shyly asking her to repeat the action. alessia had done it without question, and just like that, it became their thing.

alessia had tried, of course, countless times to teach ella how to do it herself, but she suspected at some point it had become more superstition that anything. alessia had tied ella's boots once, and she’d played well, so now alessia would tie her boots forever. even now that many players preferred to play with laceless boots, ella never wavered. she said she just preferred the look, but alessia (and only alessia) knew the truth.

alessia watched on as you got increasingly impatient with ella. she smirked as you rolled your eyes once again.

"come on ella, if we leave now you might be in time for the second half,"

alessia had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. you were cute when you were frustrated. ella ignored you, still checking her reflection in the mirror, completely unfazed.

as annoying as ella was being, you felt bad that alessia was always the one to stay and deal with ella's antics. you were determined to remain, if only to give alessia moral support. little did you know that meant it was you who was holding up proceedings.

alessia, however, had been through this many times before and was practiced in the art of secret-keeping, and therefore distraction. she had a few tactics up her sleeve yet.

she looked over to where you leant against the doorframe, and flashed you her sweetest smile.

"y/n? i think i left my gatorade in the shower room, could you go grab it for me?"

as always, those eyes made you putty in her hands, and you pushed yourself off from the wall to go and look. as soon as you turned your back, alessia was knelt at ella's feet, her nimble fingers moving with practiced ease as they followed the path they'd traced countless times before. she was standing again by the time you returned.

"there's no gatorade in there less, are you sure its not in here?"

she flashed you a sheepish smile, putting on her best ditzy blonde impression, "oops, its right here! sorry y/n,"

you shrugged in response. before you could tell her not to worry, ella cut you off. she had moved to walk out the door, yelling over her shoulder as she did so,

"come on, what are you waiting for?"

you watched after her in exasperated incredulity as she exited the room. alessia laughed brightly at your expression, slinging her arm around your shoulder and dragging you out to the field with her. ella's secret was safe for another day.

two

you and alessia settled in next to each other as you took your seats on the plane for the lionesses' next away game. the two of you had been thick as thieves for years, and you couldn’t deny that the thought of having alessia nearby had been a deciding factor in your recent transfer move. still, you treasured each quiet moment you spent in each other's company, as you had for years.

you and alessia hadn’t always been close. you’d known each other through the youth age groups of course, but your relationship only really went from acquaintances to close friends around the age of sixteen. sure, you loved your teammates and got on well with all of them, but you were a fairly shy teenager, keeping them at all at arms length, and often finding yourself only hanging around the edge of conversations.

alessia was a nostalgic person, and liked to reminisce often about the circumstances that had led to your close relationship.

when you were younger, seeing as how you typically kept to yourself, it was usually easy for you to sink into the background. although sometimes this was a point of insecurity, you relished the chance for solitude whenever it came to flights. you’d always been a particularly anxious flyer, and you appreciated that you could usually nab a seat at the back to yourself, allowing you to hide your panic.

usually you got away with it. usually, you could find a pair of seats to yourself, deal with the panic quietly and alone, saving yourself from embarrassment.

of course, at some point, your luck ran out.

“hey! mind if i sit here?” came a familiar voice. you looked up in surprise, but you knew whose bright blue eyes would be looking down at you well before your gaze found them. alessia gave you little time to respond before settling herself into the seat next to you with a sweet smile. you had no time to concoct some lame excuse. you could only nod, and accept your fate.

of course it was her. of course, out of anyone, it was the person who would be the sweetest about it, the most understanding. how embarrassing.

alessia didn’t seem to notice your internal panic, instead sweeping you up immediately into conversation. and for a while, it worked to distract you. you barely noticed take off, didn’t even flinch as your stomach dropped and ears popped, too enraptured in alessia’s bright conversation.

that is, until the first bout of turbulence. the plane rocked, and you stopped mid-sentence. mentally gathering yourself, you tried to calm down, managing to carry on as though nothing had happened. alessia didn’t seem to notice your plight. you’d got away with it. then the plane dropped again.

this time, alessia was quick to notice the way your breath caught, the way your arms held tight to the arm rests, the white knuckle grip you had on them. you vaguely heard her say something, but you couldn’t focus on her voice enough to comprehend. all you could do was try to regulate your breathing, stave off the panic long enough to preserve your dignity.

a gentle touch on your arm brought you back to reality, “y/n? are you okay?”

you tried to speak, to respond, but you couldn’t muster the words. you shut your eyes tight, trying to turn away from alessia.

“hey, hey,” she soothed, her hand over yours, “it’s okay, we’re safe, everything’s okay,”

you wanted to pretend it was all fine, but you were too far gone. you buried your head in your hands, tried to focus on alessia whispering to you to ‘breathe, just breathe’.

you don’t know how long you sat like that, her guiding you through blind panic with soft touches and gentle words. at some point, your hand found hers, and you clutched it like a lifeline as the plane rode out its last bits of turbulence.

eventually, your breathing returned to relative normal. you hesitated to look up and meet alessia’s eyes, instead burning holes into your clasped hands. you noted her perfectly done manicure, how the light caught each painted nail, how the soft skin of her fingertips felt caressing your calloused palms.

“you okay y/n?”

finally you tore your gaze away from her hands, only to be met with her eyes. you’d never noticed how strikingly blue they were. you nodded, swallowing harshly. you were sure she’d be able to feel your pulse rising in your joined hands, praying she’d chalk it up to your panicked episode, not something completely different.

“not a big fan of flying then?” she prompted.

“no, not exactly,” you laughed, mouth dry. as much as you hated to admit it, alessia’s presence had definitely calmed you. you were barely conscious of the fact you were still thousands of feet in the air.

“that’s okay, i’ll distract you,” you hoped you weren’t blushing . if only she knew, you thought, but alessia had already plowed on, chatting about god knows what to distract you.

she kept it up until you landed. as she stood up to exit the plane, she squeezed your hand and offered a small smile. she went to pull away, but you pulled her hand back,

“could you please not tell anyone about this?”

“course not,” she smiled “our secret.”

then she’d strolled off the plane as though she hadn’t just changed the course of your life.

from then on, alessia always managed to slip away from her other friends and wind up in the seat next to you. it had become a steady constant in your routines. you'd never had a bad flight since, and true to her word, alessia had never told a soul.

three

the perks of england camps were numerous. from the training, to the facilities, the matches, even the food, alessia enjoyed it all. arguably the best thing of all though, was the ample opportunities for downtime with the team.

alessia was nestled in between you and maya on a sofa, only half listening to leah and keira regale some embarrassing tale about georgia, involving a bad date and what sounded like a lot of alcohol. georgia was burying her head in her hands as the rest of the team dissolved into fits of giggles at the story. alessia laughed along, dropping her head to your shoulder as the conversation moved onto other player's poor tastes in partners and shitty date experiences.

"okay wait! lets all go around the circle and say our most embarrassing crushes!" alessia felt your shoulder stiffen underneath her at beth's suggestion, and she knew exactly why.

alessia herself had only found out by accident, stumbling in on you crying out the aftermath in the bathroom. she'd held you as you calmed down, before you made her swear not tell anyone.

the night had started out well enough. you both were at an 18th birthday party for one of your england teammates. you'd joked around with all the other girls, dancing and singing, and drinking probably a little too much. the alcohol would end up being a bad idea, especially for you.

the girl who's birthday it was had an older sister in her early twenties. aged 17 and a bit, you were absolutely infatuated with her. you'd met her a few times before at games and training, she was cool and collected, and you were obsessed. the fact she would be in attendance at the party had definitely been a factor in your outfit choices, and probably in the amount of alcohol you had downed with alessia and ella at pres.

the whole night long, you were hyper aware of her presence in the room. too shy to ever make a move, you stuck to longing glances and daydreamed fantasies.

your downfall was soon to come though, when one of the older girls suggested an innocent game of spin the bottle. most of you were well past tipsy at this point, and so you all agreed readily. you laughed as your teammates kissed each other one by one; the messy, inexperienced kind of kisses only drunk teenagers could perfect. soon enough it was your friend's sister's turn, and you couldn't help the prayers you mentally uttered.

you would decide later that whoever answered those prayers had a sick sense of humour. the bottle landed on you. you leant forward, trying to contain your excitement. it was only a peck, but to you it was fate and poetry rolled into one. the game continued on, but all you could think about was the feel of her lips against yours. soon, the game faded into non-existence, as people began to get distracted and get up to refill drinks or amuse themselves elsewhere. you saw your crush slip out into the garden, and instilled with misplaced confidence from the peck, you saw your opening.

stepping into the cool air, you were relieved to see she was alone. you approached, placing a shaking hand onto her arm.

"oh hey-" you cut her off, pressing your lips against hers. it barely lasted a moment, before she pushed you off, nothing short of disgust on her face.

"woah there! i'm not a fucking lesbian!" she turned on her heel and stalked back inside, only stopping to utter one last crushing remark, "and i don't kiss kids!"

to your teenage self, it was an earth-shattering rejection. you managed to make it to an empty bathroom before you broke down. your ears rang with her comments as your cursed your own stupidity. in your rush to be alone, you'd forgotten to lock the door, and you jumped when gentle hands wrapped you up into a hug.

alessia had been watching you all night. she'd seen the glances you cast over at your friend's sister, before she lost sight of you after the ill-fated game. that was until she saw you duck into a bathroom, cheeks red and head bowed. she'd followed in a heartbeat.

alessia's heart ached for you as you sobbed into her shoulder. the sting of rejection had worn off, leaving space only for pure embarrassment.

"i'm such a fucking idiot," you mumbled into her shoulder when the tears had stopped.

alessia pressed her lips to your hair, "no you aren't, don't be silly," she knew the pain of unrequited crushes all too well. she knew the way they consumed you, blinded you to sense. "shh, it'll be okay," she murmured, "don't cry, its okay,"

"oh god, i bet she's already told everyone how weird and gross i am. i can never show my face again,"

alessia laughed at your dramatics, "shall we go home?" she said, and you nodded wearily, "let's go,"

as it turned out, the girl hadn't told anyone, and you'd been in the clear. the secret stayed between you and alessia, the single witness to your most embarrassing night.

alessia knew you didn't want anyone to know about that, even now, six years later. she also knew you well enough to know that instead of coming up with an alternate answer to beth's question, you were likely frozen, reliving your embarrassment. she had to think fast to preserve your secret. everyone laughed as rach shamelessly announced her childhood crush on some celebrity she'd never heard of, and then everyone turned to you expectantly. alessia cleared her throat.

"pretty sure y/n used to fancy that woman off countdown," she lied, and the room erupted into laughter once again. thankful for lessi's quick save, you groaned and buried your head in your hands, going along with her white lie. crisis averted. alessia carried on, giving her own fake answer about a boy from school. a practiced lie. once the group's attention had passed on from the two of you, she felt you grab her hand. you squeezed her fingers in thanks, and she squeezed back. she was getting good at this lying business. anything for you, and your secrets.

four

alessia was widely regarded as an excellent friend; someone who could be depended on, completely and utterly trusted without question. alessia knew this, and held such compliments with high regard. she had long ago cemented her place as someone to be trusted within her circle, and therefore concentrated her efforts in keeping that reputation. she knew her friends just thought she was a good secret keeper because it was in her nature, that she was just a good person through and through.

alessia herself knew however, that the reason she placed such strong value on other people’s secrets was because she had been keeping one of her own for far, far longer than she had kept any of theirs.

it had first become apparent as a teenager. as she listened to her friends fawn over their latest male obsession, or regale their recent kisses with boys at parties, or debate who the hottest boy in class was. she tried her best to engage, to get involved, but with every boy who came close to kissing her, she was finding it harder and harder to force interest. eventually, she came to realise the way she felt about certain teammates, the way she'd avert her eyes in the changing room, the way her gaze followed pretty girls in the hallway, wasn't the norm. the realisation had hit her like a truck. alessia russo was gay, and she had no clue what to do about it.

she kept the feelings buried for a while. she faked attachments to boys, tried kissing a few just to throw her friends off the scent, before eventually she stopped bothering. she said she was too busy with football to date, and that remained her excuse. that didn't stop her falling head over heels for multiple girls over the years, didn't stop her heart fluttering whenever certain people looked her way. a certain someone.

eventually, especially playing women's football, a lot of her friends started to come out. alessia knew she could've done the same, knew she'd be met with no judgement, but it was as though there was a mental block stopping her. as outgoing as she was, she didn't enjoy opening herself up. and so, never one to wear her heart on her sleeve, she guarded the secret closely. months turned into years, and it became just something she did. she was too far gone to announce it now.

she knew she'd tell people at some point in her life, but why bother when there was no girl on her arm to show off?

and it wasn't like she hadn't come close. especially to you, who had been open about your sexuality for years. alessia couldn't count how many times she'd opened her mouth to tell you, only for the words to catch in her throat. it was almost as though she'd left it too late now, built it up in her head, and the moment just never seemed right.

she'd been with girls before of course. in dark corners at clubs where no one would see, fumbled kisses with strangers in bathrooms. but never anything deep, never the connection she ached for.

alessia listened as you complained to her about your recent date with the latest girl. 'a complete dead end', you described it, 'like talking to a brick wall,' you laid your head across her lap and shut your eyes.

"god, i wish the girls i dated were more like you less. then i'd actually have something to talk about with them," alessia swallowed, her fingers working their way through your hair. god, if only you knew.

five

being gay wasn't the only secret alessia held close to her chest. there was another, far worse, far more guarded. the secret that kept her awake at night, that spiked guilt deep in her stomach whenever you smiled at her. painful memories of that fateful night, which she wished more than anything you would remember.

it happened at the celebration party last summer. the lionesses had been victorious at the euros, and euphoria was running rampant amongst the whole team. everywhere you looked, people were drunk off elation. the drinks had started flowing in the changing rooms, and they had kept coming ever since.

the constant flow of people meant you and alessia had only spent passing moments together. every time you seemed to find each other in the crowd, someone new would turn up and pull one of you away, with ecstatic congratulations, or the promise of a drink.

in a brief break from dancing, alessia found herself sat at the bar with ella and a few others. she sipped her drink as the others chatted excitedly. recently, she'd been finding that her eyes sought you out unconsciously. more and more, she'd been realising that wherever you were in a room, she'd notice. tonight was no different. her gaze finally landed on you, carefree and dancing amongst a crowd of people.

usually, she had the sense to not stare for too long, but with her inhibitions hindered by the drinks, and her mood high off the back of the win, she allowed herself a moment of grace. the soft smile that crept onto her face as she looked longingly after you was unbidden, but she didn't care to look away. alessia was sure that if anyone followed her eyeline she'd be found out, but everyone was too wrapped up in their own elation to bother.

across the crowd, your eyes met hers. you grinned widely, before freeing yourself from the crowd just long enough to grab her hand and pull her onto the dance floor. emboldened by the alcohol, she let herself dance a little closer than she usually would, let the touches linger a little longer.

neither of you knew how long you danced, just riding the wave of the win for as long you could. alessia could tell you were equally as drunk as she was, if not more. eventually, you leaned closer to be heard over the music,

"come with me to get some air?" alessia could only nod, hyper aware of your breath on her cheek. she let herself be led away by you, into the cool summer air.

you all but collapsed onto a bench, laughing as you clumsily pulled alessia down with you. you leant into alessia, her arm finding its familiar place around your shoulders as you let the comfortable silence descend. it was the early hours of the morning by now. alessia could hear the thump of music and shouts of people from inside, but out here, you were completely alone. despite her lack of sobriety, she was hyper aware of the way your body felt against hers.

"what a night hey," you laughed, and she nodded. "we fucking did it less!"

"champions of europe baby!" you yelled into the night, making alessia laugh and slap your arm.

you smiled, leaning back into alessia, "proud of you lessi" you whispered. when she didn't respond, you shifted to look at her.

"i'm serious less. i'm so proud of you. proud of us."

alessia couldn't find the words to respond. she could only think about how close your face was to hers. you smiled softly, and she smiled back. her eyes never left yours. you seemed to be breathing in sync. it was now or never. the alcohol spurring her on, alessia began to speak,

"y/n, i-"

she was cut off by you leaning in to close the gap. her eyes fluttered shut as your lips grazed hers, and she melted into the kiss. you pulled back to assess her reaction, but alessia barely gave you a second to breathe before she kissed you again. alessia poured all the years of pining, every pent up emotion into that kiss, and you gave her everything and more back. her brain short-circuited as your hand went to caress her cheek, her own hands fumbling clumsily to wrap around your waist.

at some point, one of you broke away. you pressed your forehead to hers, "we should probably get back to the party," alessia nodded. she was caught in a haze of euphoria. she would've done anything you asked in that moment; would've chased you to the moon and back. you smiled, before pressing your lips to her forehead and pulling her to her feet.

alessia would've liked to stay attached to your hip all night, but as soon as you re-entered the party you were both swept away by your respective friends, and she was left staring after you. the rest of the night was a blur, but alessia had truly never been happier.

alessia woke the next morning to the memory of your lips against hers. her head pounded with the hangover as she dragged herself out of bed and over to your room next door. it was customary for the two of you to end up in each others rooms after a heavy night to discuss the events and ride out the hangover together, but today, her heart pounded as she knocked on your door. she wasn't sure what the events of last night meant for your friendship, but she was running through various speeches and declarations as she waited.

eventually you cracked the door open, peering out at alessia with bleary eyes. "morning," you whispered with a smile, opening the door fully for alessia before collapsing back into your bed.

alessia followed you in, mouth dry and heart pounding as she perched next to you on the bed. she decided to let you take the lead with the conversation, though she ached to bring up the kiss.

"god, what even happened last night," you moaned from the covers, "i don't remember a thing,"

alessia's heart dropped to her stomach. "you don't remember anything?" she asked. you looked up at her curiously.

"i mean, i remember dancing, and then, literally nothing," your eyes widened, "oh god, did i do something embarrassing? lessi, please say i didn't."

alessia forced a smile onto her face, forced herself to push down the emotions coursing through her veins, "no, you didn't do anything," she forced herself to settle further into your bed.

"nothing at all,"

plus one she couldn't

after the euros, and the ensuing heartache, alessia had tried to distance herself from you. she'd lasted all of a week of subdued contact before you'd pulled her back in again. she couldn't resist you or your company, utterly powerless to do anything but come running back to your side like a lost puppy. you didn't even have time to notice something was up.

and so alessia settled back into your orbit, and tried unsuccessfully to get over you. despite how you'd acted that night, you once again gave her no indication of seeing her as anything more than a best friend, and so she tried her best to see you the same. she longed to bring up the kiss, to do anything to remind you, but your clear lack of memory told her that it hadn't meant anything to you.

playing together for club and country, you spent nearly all your days together. alessia spent each of those days in silent turmoil. her heart would pound with each innocent touch, her brain would malfunction every time you flashed her a smile. only at night, in the quiet of her room, would she allow herself to feel. she'd stare at the ceiling into the early hours of the morning, replaying each encounter, eyes glistening with unshed tears. she envied you for not remembering the kiss. god how she wished she could forget it. it replayed behind her eyelids every time she blinked: she felt the brush of your lips against hers every time she glanced down at your mouth as you spoke.

since it became apparent that it couldn't have meant anything to you, she'd done her best to get over you. but now that she'd experienced it, she could never go back. her love for you had swelled to the point of utter consumption, and she couldn't even begin to remember what it felt like to see you only as a friend.

being as experienced in the art of secret keeping as she was, she'd managed to keep you in the dark, but it was getting harder and harder to act like everything was okay. whilst you remained clueless to her plight, other people were starting to notice.

alessia was finally caught out after a particularly bad day. training had been rough, the weather was awful, and the stress and emotion of it all was starting to become too much for her. her heart ached for you every time you laughed. every time you called her name it was like a stab to the chest. she winced as she felt the beginnings of a headache, desperate to leave the training ground and crawl into bed as soon as she could.

noticing something was wrong, you'd rubbed her back and pulled her in for a hug.

"you okay less? headache?" you'd murmured, trying to meet her eyes. normally she revelled in how well you could read her, but right now, she hated it. she could only nod in response. you reached a gentle hand up to touch her forehead, "are you coming down with something?"

alessia wanted so badly to relax into your familiar embrace and sink into the comfort she craved, but she pulled away, ignoring your question and mumbling a lame excuse about getting home, before speeding to her car.

hearing someone chase after her, she steeled herself to face you again. instead, when she turned, she was met with ella.

"lessi, what's wrong?"

"nothing, ella, it's just been a long day," she sighed. she turned to get into her car, but ella blocked her path.

"don't bullshit me lessi, i know you. you think i haven't noticed how weird you've been acting lately?"

the confrontation was too much. alessia could feel tears begin to prick at the corner of her eyes, and she knew there was no escaping it.

"not here," she mumbled, opening the car door and motioning ella to get into the other side. she barely gave ella time to sit down before she drove off, only making it to the end of the road before the tears started flowing. she pulled over and buried her head in her hands.

ella didn't seem to know what to do, clearly she hadn't expected alessia to do this. her shock was only momentary though, and her hand reached out to stroke alessia's back.

"hey, hey, its okay, less, its okay. talk to me,"

alessia could only shake her head against her hands.

"i can't do this anymore ella, i just can't,"

ella just rubbed her arm, clueless to what she was talking about. in ella's presence, she let her facade fall apart a little.

"it's so stupid, i'm so stupid."

"is this about y/n?"

alessia whipped her head up to look at ella, who smiled wryly.

"you aren't very good at hiding it less,"

"fuck, i just-" she pressed her head into her hands again. "it's so embarrassing. i just don't know what to do. i can't keep doing this, it just- it hurts,"

"i think you need to tell her,"

"that's the worst possible solution to this ella,"

ella smiled again and raised an eyebrow, "i wouldn't be so sure,"

"you're an idiot, and your advice is awful," alessia muttered. she breathed deeply, collecting herself, before starting the car again, "i'm dropping you home, and we're forgetting this conversation ever happened,"

"whatever you say, less," said ella, smirking as she leant back in her seat, "whatever you say,"

despite her best efforts, the conversation with ella stuck in alessia's mind all week. even you were starting to notice how distracted she was being, and you brought it up one night, as you lay sprawled in your usual position on her sofa.

"have you been avoiding me lessi?" you joked, but alessia caught the flash of doubt in your eyes. she mentally cursed herself, once for not hiding it well enough, and then again for making you feel guilty about it. she decided she could only attempt to laugh it off.

"what are you talking about? we've literally been together all day."

"no, yeah i know, but you just seem, i don't know, distracted? closed off," alessia felt your head turn to look up at her, but she kept her own gaze firmly planted on the tv screen.

"i'm fine. just tired. its been a long week," she knew as soon as she said it that you'd see right through the flimsy excuses.

"well okay, but, you know you can always talk to me, yeah? if there was something bothering you?" your voice trailed off. alessia swallowed harshly. when she spoke, her voice was barely a whisper.

"i can't,"

at this, your full attention was on her, the tv long forgotten. alessia felt sick at her own barely there confession.

"lessi, come on. you can tell me anything. i'm your best friend,"

that was the last straw. best friend, she reminded herself. any hope alessia still had of preserving her dignity flew out the window, and she had to press her lips together to keep from crumbling. you saw her falter, and you sat up in a heartbeat, your hands taking hers. alessia tried to pull away, but the grip you had on her was magnetic.

"y/n, i-" she bit her lip, shaking her head and looking away. if she spoke she'd say something she'd regret. the confession was on the tip of her tongue, just begging to be let out. alessia resolved herself, mentally replaced the confession with another white lie. but then she looked up, and her eyes met yours. god, those eyes. alessia was taken back to the night of the kiss, when she'd been enraptured in those same eyes; when she'd looked into them to find the brazen reflection of her own adoration.

it was all she could do to look away. she felt her mouth move, heard her own voice as though from a distance, speaking completely unbidden.

"i'm in love with you,"

they were the truest words she'd ever uttered, but god how she wished she could take them back. her brain raced with excuses, but she could only whisper disconnected thoughts and jumbled apologies. she regained just enough control over her words, but the damage was done.

"i know you don't feel the same - i'm sorry - i didn't want to make it weird - i'm sorry - please don't let this ruin us - i'm sorry."

alessia didn't dare look at you; your silence was indication enough. however, as always, alessia could never stay away from you for too long. as she braved one glance up, her words fell away from her.

you stared back at her, looking at her as though she'd hung the moon and all the stars.

"alessia," you whispered her name like a prayer on your tongue, "you have no idea how long i've wanted to hear you say that,"

years of pining, of heartache, of sleepless nights and longing glances, had not prepared alessia for this outcome. she stared at you, frozen in shock. all the fight, all the panic, had abandoned her, and she could only stare.

you leaned in, and she let herself fall into the kiss. she'd thought nothing could've been better than the first, but my god was she wrong. with one touch, you silenced all her doubts. you poured out the answer to every question she had. the two of you curled impossibly closer into each other, until alessia wasn't sure how you could've ever been separate.

you smiled against her lips, eyes blissfully remaining shut.

"why didn't you tell me sooner?"

alessia shrugged shyly, "it was a secret," you pulled away fully, eyes searching deep into hers.

"not anymore," you said, and alessia flashed a bright smile. your heart flipped at the sight.

"no," she murmured, "never again."

thanks for reading! hope you enjoyed :)

[demeterdefence]

time for more thoughts nobody asked for (quick content warning this does discuss apollo & sexual assault)

there's been a growing shift in lo from putting reasonable emotional response to things to "lol comedy" and it's ... not good. in all honesty the entire comic seems to have become a parody of itself - lazy sketches, exaggerated appendages, absolute godawful flanderization in character design - but one of the more egregious aspects is the downplaying of genuine anger and righteous frustration into some kind of 1-2 comedy punch.

under the cut for length and content

i won't say that rachel has ever handled nuance or emotional response particularly well, but in the earlier chapters, there was at least a semblance of effort. when depicting or discussing persephone's rape by apollo, rachel writes eros as being rightfully horrified by what happened to persephone, and while it's not great that the emotional catharsis is more on eros reacting to the rape instead of persephone herself, i'll admit that i really did like how eros responded and validated persephone. as someone who has also experienced sexual assault, the sense of grief, fear, and confusion surrounding the event often gaslights victims into being confused or mixed up over the reality of what happened. eros demonstrates nothing but support and love for persephone, evidenced first by noting how upset she is when she says she had sex with apollo, and then by realizing she can't even find the words to describe what happened. he's actually nothing but nurturing in the sequence.

eros recognizes a major component of the assault is not just the assault itself - persephone is blaming herself both for what happened to her, and for "losing" her virginity, which has been a key aspect of her identity for a long time. eros immediately puts himself on persephone's side, reassures her, and comforts her, and it's not done with comedy or hilarity. he is the god of love - he understands sex and desire, and he is absolutely correct that what apollo did was rape. the conversation is treated more or less pretty respectfully, and without any comedic punchline or distraction. it's two friends, one desperately needing comfort, another providing it.

something to note is that from this point on, eros is furious with apollo, and it shows. he is correct that apollo is the bad guy here, and he does not let up in that reaction. the next time we see apollo and eros in the same scene, it's when apollo has cornered persephone in the room where he raped her, backed her up against the wall, and manhandled her. this scene in particular has ... a lot of bad elements to it, but without getting into that hornet's nest, we see eros come upon the scene in time to see what's happening.

and he's not happy.

particular to note that all the gods get wrath eyes at some point or another - apollo's are golden, whereas eros' are blood red, and the standoff emphasizes this. eros immediately breaks into the room and puts himself in front of persephone, staring apollo down until he leaves.

the next time apollo and eros interact, it's right after pesephone has been charged with treason and is hiding in the underworld. now, i do have some problems with this interaction because, considering the last time eros saw the guy it was when he was threatening the girl he raped in the room he raped her in, and eros' reaction is ... fairly muted. but there's still clear disdain in there, and eros does not necessarily hide it.

the last time we see eros and apollo interact before the trial is when apollo gets hit with the arrow of hate and comes after psyche. eros takes it less than well.

ignoring the fight which turns into psyche and eros sidelining everything, the entire interaction ends with eros getting hit with an arrow from apollo after trying to stop him from killing daphne.

it's a good time to point out that by chapter 227 (MONTHS after their last interaction) both eros and psyche are confirmed to know what apollo did, that he's still terrorizing persephone, and that he tried to kill daphne and severely injured eros. psyche has been given the role of goddess in part to keep an eye on apollo. that's confirmed in the story. that's confirmed by rachel. that's confirmed by eros and psyche themselves. apollo nearly killed psyche when he attacked eros. there is a significant lack of love between the three of them. so how does eros react the next time he and apollo are together?

like at this point in the story apollo:

raped eros' friend and terrorized her, once in front of eros who had to physically stop apollo from continuing

gaslit artemis in front of him, emphasizing his abusive behaviour and reinforcing to eros that apollo would manipulate anyone to get what he wanted

tried to kill his wife in front of him

shot him with an arrow that made eros violently ill

tried to kill a nymph in front of him

plotted to kill eros' grandfather / king of the gods

threatened to kill an innocent woman if eros and psyche tried to stop him

locked eros and psyche in a magical jail

by all accounts eros should be seething to fight apollo. he should be rabid. he should be frothing at the mouth to punch the guy out. instead we get this

this is the sort of thing you say to the dude who annoys you or steals your girlfriend, not a RAPIST who tried to kill the KING and wants to establish a coup d'etat. it's just ... painted as comedic when it's anything but? even how eros is drawn is supposed to be caricature, it's exaggerated and meant to suggest humour rather than the actual serious issue that it is. take zeus and daphne and psyche out of the equation, eros still knows apollo is a rapist. he still knows apollo is obsessed with his rape victim. he has demonstrated MASSIVE rage towards apollo in the past, but now it's like the whole thing is a "haha gotcha!" rather than the very obvious implication that apollo is planning more sexual assault. even if he's worried for psyche in this scene, eros still has the power to attack apollo - he's done it twice before! he has the ability to defend himself, so why the hell is he bantering with the guy?

and this has become a reoccurring problem in lore olympus - the way it takes serious trauma and turns it into some kind of comedy now. hera standing up to kronos and deciding to find hebe? hestia has to make a quip about her smoking. demeter coming to terms that her relationship with metis might not have been perfect? gotta get a dig in about demeter's helicopter parenting. morpheus wracked with guilt for the sleep dive with hades? persephone has to take center stage. it's just acting like no one is allowed to be actually angry or grieving except persephone and hades. we haven't even gotten to see zeus deal with being impaled by his father during the battle in the underworld, and sacrificing himself for persephone??? it's the cheap and lazy sitcom formula - ending everything on a cheap laugh, rather than letting people sit with the emotions and frustrations of a situation. back when eros first finds out persephone was raped, the chapter ended on a soft, optimistic sequence; persephone finding comfort in her friendship, and feeling safe. you didn't need a joke, because there wasn't any - it acknowledged the pain persephone was in, but also let the reader know that hope and comfort could be achieved. you don't need to end on a joke or a pithy comment every time - sometimes it's just important to let the emotions be felt. watering down the anger does nothing but water down the severity of why the anger is there in the first place.

it's another demonstration of how rachel could not give a fuck about anything other than persephone and hades. the art, the narrative choices - the care and love for detail is gone. it's just as little effort as possible, and it shows in the most insulting ways.

[whistler-king]

WARNING - this is very sad ok?! Don’t read it unless you want the big sads. TW death

I’ve listened to ‘ I hope you die first’ by Ashe too many times today and now can’t stop thinking about Icemav to it.

Ice staying up nights worried about Mav and his tendencies to risk it at the first opportunity, he loves that about him. How it seems like he’s reckless but really his brain is just fast enough to think through all the probabilities, and with the trust he has in skill - he relies on that to answer any other doubts he has. (Mind you, Maverick is just sleeping peacefully next to him, smile on his face while he dreams the sweetest dreams about whatever havoc he will cause next.

“You're faster than I've ever been

And I love to see you win

It doesn't even make me sad

'Cause I don't mind coming in last”

Anyway, after a while, he’s like wtf, Goose is gone, Carole’s not gonna be here for long, who’s gonna look after him when I’m gone. What if I’m not there if he actually does miscalculate? Who’s going to pull him out of whatever mess he’s made?

So he starts to plot, yeah he stops smoking, he’ll give up the jet to climb the ladder to keep them together and have enough sway in their circle.

“Yeah, I'll get inventive, I've got incentive, you make me wanna change”

And while he loves his job, loves the navy and all the friends he’s made along the way. He’s also like, when he’s gone…what do I really have to go on for. He knows he’ll be like those sweet, sad couples that are so connected that they end up dying a few days/weeks apart. Keeping each other going til the end.

He would never want to see that for Mav though, nah, when he’s gone he would want his spark to live on. Keep spreading his spirit, he just knows the next generation of pilots need him.

But it never occurred to him that it might be out of his control, that, despite how much effort he put in - he still gets sick. That they would have get a good few years tacked on when he’s in remission.

When it comes back, he’s at peace with it because he can see that Maverick will have people around him. He just knows they will work it out with Bradley, even if he is grounded, after this mission there’s no way the Navy wouldn’t keep him even for his knowledge and skills alone.

He’s had a good life with him, one he never thought he would have before they met. Despite all the obstacles, all the arguments - they actually got their shit together. They had their happiest days together, he laughed enough for two lifetimes with him.

“You always beat me to the punchline

And the punch bowl at the party

Where you're first to dance and first to say,

‘Goodnight’”

And anyway, it could hardly be the end for them when he would just wait for him on the other side. He’s had enough practice arguing to get his way with whoever’s in charge over there too.

“I don't wanna say this

But, if I don't make it

Please don't rush for me

I'll be waiting”

[gay-jesus-probably]

What was your 9/11 sona

God, I wish I remembered. Unfortunately, while the whole mess is absolutely hilarious in hindsight, back in the day I just thought it was incredibly tasteless and an insult to the people who actually lost loved ones that day (which it absolutely was!), so I was mortified to have to participate in it. But I didn't want to argue the point, cause with how subjective English is, getting on the teachers bad side will just obliterate your grade, and I'd always been in the high 90's for english so I wasn't about to break that streak over a stupid insensitive writing assignment. So I grit my teeth, wrote some shitty, generic OC, gave them a tasteless, non-offensive eulogy, then tore up the paper and threw it out the second I got the marked assignment back.

And that was about a decade ago now, so I can't remember any details about my tragically deceased 9/11sona - all I can really remember about grade 9 english is the 9/11 stuff, the teacher being really weird about demanding we say 'zed' instead of 'zee' because we're Canadian, and the look of absolute shock on her face when she informed me that I'd gotten a perfect 100% on the reading comp part of the PAT exam (still lowkey proud of that lmao). Moral of the story, don't throw out really embarrassing school writing assignments; they might be hilarious in hindsight.

...The real punchline of all this is that while I went to all that effort to avoid pissing off my teacher and tanking my marks in grade 9, in grade 10 I hit that exact problem literally before my first class had started. I had english in the second semester that year, and my older sibling had given me the book version of Les Miserables as a christmas gift that year, and I was still working on it when school started back up. So I made the terrible mistake of walking into english class about ten minutes early, cracked open my book to pass the time... and then after a few minutes of watching some punk teenager casually reading les mis, the teacher got up, asked me to step out into the hall, then led me into the classroom next door to introduce me to the AP english teacher, and inform him that I was probably better suited for his class. I had to hastily clarify that no the fuck I was not, I had three core classes that semester and a mixup with my one elective meant I was stuck in the goddamn grade 12 band class, so if I didn't have one class I didn't need to put effort into, I would die of stress. Grade 10 english teacher tried to pressure me into taking the AP class anyways, and after I kept refusing, she eventually was like "fine, you can stay in my class, but I'm going to grade you like you're an AP student the whole time."

And for the entire semester, she refused to mark any of my work higher than an 80%. Can you tell I'm still angry about that, because I'm still really fucking angry about it.

[happilychaengs]

Love Kills

a/n: i'm back. i know this is a bit all over the place (and maybe just poorly written) but please try to cut me some slack. ending's rushed as well. sorry

hanahaki au

word count: 2,172

huh yunjin x gender neutral reader

The Hanahaki disease is a disease almost everyone gets in their lifetime. Though you're sure most cases don't get as bad as yours. Moments with you above your sink are far and between but every time you do see your red covered sink, you're reminded of the fact that she doesn't love you back. At least not in the way you had hoped.

At first it was so simple.

It begun with a simple bump of the shoulders. A short conversation. An exchange of numbers. Nothing out of the ordinary but it's how you first met Huh Yunjin. The girl you'd die for.

She initially was just a friend. That's all you ever saw her as. she was kind, funny, and very very beautiful but you only saw her for what you thought she was to you at the time. Until you reached the tipping point. It was nonsensical really.

You caught the cold that was running rampant in your community as of late and she had the gall to take care of you despite her extreme dislike of being sick herself. Your head rested on her lap as she looked over you, your eyes shut closed. You enjoyed the calm and quiet as did she.

Though moments later when your eyelids flutter open, you meet her eyes. Those fucking hazel brown eyes. The way they watched over you, analyzing every part of you, worried that you're in pain.

"Are you alright?" Her tone is so soft, worried that she'd be disturbing you but it truly was the opposite. The comfort her voice brought you, unlike any other was unmatched.

"You shouldn't be so close..." you muttered, "You'll get sick... "

Then there's that painfully melodious laughter that she plays aloud, "It's okay. You'll be there to take care of me, right?"

A playful smile crosses her lips as she tilts her head slightly, her hair cascading off her shoulders and directly down towards you, a few stray strands poking at your eyes and making you wince, water beginning to pool in your eyes.

You feel her hands cup your face, as she leans in further to look at you, concerned that you're hurt as her soft rosy lips inch ever closer to your forehead. Your eyes lock with hers as you feel your ever so cold cheeks heat up in retaliation.

"Are you okay?"

And that was the moment you realized the tightening in your chest meant a whole lot more than you did previously.

You liked Huh Yunjin.

-

The following weeks to come is nothing but confusing for you. You start to notice the little things she does. The way she acts. The way she puts her hair up in a ponytail in the face of a "grueling" task. The way she scrunches her nose up in a failed attempt to fix her glasses. The way she cackles at her own dad jokes even though you hold the most distain towards them. The way her eyes light up and sparkle when she sees something she loves.

"Say Y/N... Why did the cookie go to the doctor?"

"Don't."

You hear a distasteful snicker to your left as you rolled your eyes. You prepare yourself mentally and physically for the inevitable punchline.

"It was feeling crumbly!" And although you hate the jokes she makes, this one was not that bad. A small smile somehow escapes onto your lips as you catch in the corner of your eye the absolute astonishment on her face.

"I made... you smile." Her disbelief is soon hidden away by her cheery demeanor and a loud cackle, her finger poking at your cheeks teasingly. "Is the world ending today? I made you smile with a dad joke!"

-

And despite the fact that you began to feel sick the day of, it was the night of her birthday when you gave her a small gift along with a bouquet of her favorite flowers. Blue Hydrangeas.

Your gift is beautifully wrapped with the best wrapping paper you could find, a small yellow bow on top. She looks at you with a pout on her face, "Can I really tear this open? You put so much effort into it..."

You give her a small nod as you signal her to go for it, "It's all for you. Don't worry about it."

She pauses for a moment to take a look at the present, almost like she was committing it to memory before she reluctantly pulls the bow off, slowly tearing at the wrapping paper. It's only mere seconds as she lets out an audible gasp at the sight of the velvety jewelry box inside.

"What is this?" She asks as she holds the small box between her fingers, "Are you sure this is for me?"

"I'm sure."

She flips the top of the box open as yet another gasp escapes her lips. It was a beautiful silver necklace, with a small heart locket, letters etched on top. "Y/N/I + J..." She reads aloud as she opens the locket slowly, seeing the pleasant surprise inside. It was a picture of you two and the stars, the one night you two escaped the city. "Oh my god..."

She looks between you and the locket several times, her lips parted in disbelief. The chain seemed to glimmer even more in the light, the locket sparkling like a star in her hands.

"Can you put it on for me?"

Goosebumps begin to form on your skin from how cold you began to feel as you nodded and picked up the two ends of the necklace between your fingers. You carefully lifted it up over her head as she tilted her head back and moved her hair to her left shoulder, exposing her bare neck. You fastened the clasp as the necklace settled comfortably against her skin. She looked down at the locket above her collarbone, admiring how it shone. Her fingers played with the locket slightly as she gets up and gives you an unsuspecting hug.

"Thank you so much Y/N. I love you."

And upon hearing that in that moment, your throat becomes itchy. Your chest tightens up. Something gets caught in your throat, almost enough to make you choke.

"It's nothing, really." You choke out as you break the hug prematurely. "Excuse me."

You hear her confusion and surprise in one as a light "oh" escapes her lips while you rush yourself to the bathroom down the hall. The foreign object begins to make its way out of your throat, almost escaping through your mouth as you cover it with your hand. Your legs rush you inside the bathroom, the door quickly shutting behind you.

You struggle to get it out but the next thing you can remember, the porcelain white sink is stained with a shade of dark red, all hiding a small blue petal. One you recognize immediately considering it's just right outside. A petal of a Blue Hydrangea.

Your mouth is filled with a metallic aftertaste, your lips shuddering at the sight of the clumps of blood in the sink. You look at the mirror. Your reflection stares back at you and the realization hits you fast.

You loved Huh Yunjin.

-

Chaewon truly isn't surprised when you tell her but she is definitely worried. She crosses her arms as she looks at you, her head tilted slightly. You can tell her mind is going a mile a minute, thinking of all the possible scenarios and stupid outcomes that'd come from this.

"I think you should tell her."

You scoff as you rolled your eyes, "There's no point. I know how she feels about me and it's not in the way I could hope for."

"How would you know?"

You point to the bathroom behind you, "I'm suffering right now, aren't I?"

Her eyes widen in acknowledgement as a small nod is given, her lips pursed tight, "Right. Sorry." She shakes her head, probably in disappointment at herself as she heads to the kitchen, "Do you want something to drink?"

You decline and you start to do your research on treatments, Chaewon by your side soon after but the lack of variety of treatments was something you couldn't accept. To forget her would be to forget yourself. To make you forget how to love her, you'd forget how to love at all. She was your first love and probably will be your last.

Some people recover from the realization that their love was not all that. That it wasn't all they made it out to be. But your case couldn't have started further. You fully realized the extent of how far your love goes for her.

Chaewon slumps her head onto your shoulders, staring at your phone screen as she takes a sip of her tea. "Promise me, Y/N. If it becomes too much, you'll forget about her. Please."

A weak, pensive smile plays across your face as you set your phone down. "I don't know if I can."

-

The moment she discovers it is the moment it all begins to fall apart. Your disease has taken a turn for the worse, your moments spent coughing the petals of the flowering plant in your lungs getting longer and longer.

The front door of your apartment clicks open though it doesn't quite reach your ears. Yunjin wasn't ever one to announce her arrival and using the keys to your apartment, she couldn't help but be curious when she heard the retching sounds coming from your bathroom. She set the food down on the table quietly as her body moves quickly to the door separating you two.

The way you're sounding, the unpleasant retching sounds coming from outside the door makes her heart pang against her chest. Worry overcomes her body as she turns the door knob and swings the door open, her eyes not believing the scene playing out in front of her.

Your back is hunched over the sink, your chest heaving up and down as your knuckles turned an extreme white from how tight you gripped the counter. Then there's the blood. The oh sickening blood. The numerous clots and splotches of red spread across your sink. And although it's almost invisible, she spots it. The petals of a Blue Hydrangea. Her favorite.

You look up into the mirror and you see Yunjin, distress and guilt overcoming every sense you had. There she was with her worried expression. Her faltering eyes. Her wavering lips. The way words want to escape her mouth and yet nothing comes out but whimpers.

"What... what is this? Y/N... don't tell me it's true."

Blood trickles down your lips as you continue to stare at her downcast hazel brown eyes through your mirror, "I'm sorry."

-

The night after is nothing short of hundreds of text messages, all failed attempts to apologize for your feelings and the day after is nothing short of that extreme awkwardness you have between strangers.

The small gathering you hold together with the girls after their comeback is always something you do for them to make sure they know they're supported but with Yunjin on the right side of the couch avoiding you, it seemed like you were the one who needed support.

Chaewon sits on the floor, staring between the two of you knowingly as the tension becomes palpable. She can see the way you want to say something from how your lips move but nothing comes out. And she also sees Yunjin's mind racing as she darts her eyes around to anywhere but you.

"Yunji-"

"Don't." You stare at her and you see the way her eyes falter, the way her heart shatters at the mere action of cutting you off.

Stay away. It's obvious she wants you to, for your own sake but that's sadly what makes you love her even more.

-

She's but a few minutes away and yet she feels so far away now. The way she pushes you away, the way she cuts you off, the way she ignores your texts, the way she avoids you. It's evident you're not her favorite person right now.

"It'll get better. You'll move on." Chaewon's reminder plays in your head as you stare at your screen, your finger hovering slightly above the send button.

I love you.

In your mind, maybe just maybe those words can make an impact on her. It's the only thing on your mind as you cough again, your hand becoming stained with a dark red, that stupid blue petal falling off your thumb.

You know your time's running out. Chaewon knows it too but she doesn't want to trample all over your feelings like Yunjin's been doing to you. It gets worse everyday. It hurts more and more everyday. Your fingers start trembling over your screen as you press down on it.

Your phone dings and you set it down, but you know it's pointless. You know she loves you back.

Just not in the way that'd save you.

[canonizzyhours]

When I first watched OFMD like a week after the season 1 finale my feelings for Izzy were honestly just passive dislike. I hated him but I was barely thinking of him compared to everything else in the show. I also was not fond of him at all. I just didn’t care. Then I saw all these posts about how he was such a freak and needed to be put in a jar and I was like, “Oh ok I see the appeal. I still don’t really care for him but you guys have fun with your fucked up creepy and wet pathetic meow meow blorbo.”

Then as spring turned into summer there was this gradual yet very rapidly growing sentiment of “actually Izzy is sympathetic and tragic and correct about everything” and since then I have had to think about him so fucking much just to unpack why all of these takes were so fucking wrong. I remember seeing one or two dead serious “hot take: Izzy doesn’t need a redemption arc because he did nothing wrong” posts for the first time in the summer and being baffled at what a crazy fringe take that was. And then those people got louder and louder and I felt like I was losing my mind. I talked So Much about Izzy’s canon characterization and his motivations and stuff because I felt like I had to keep reminding myself of who canon Izzy was or the fandom would trick me into forgetting that he was creepy and wet. All this for a character I didn’t even care about in the first place.

And then season two came out and apparently I had been tricked into putting more effort into analyzing Izzy’s character than the actual OFMD writers???

Season two did not give us any insight into Izzy’s internal thoughts. We didn’t get any sort of backstory to explain why he was Like That last season. And his character growth from being Like That to being a normal about Ed happened off-screen, or happened entirely through symbolic rebirth after he tried to kill himself, or was written and possibly filmed but ultimately got cut for the sake of prioritizing what the show is actually about, which is obviously Ed and Stede’s romance (and that last one feels really unlikely to me just based on how Con and others talk about Izzy in season two). The writers just did not care enough about Izzy to make sure any actual character growth from Izzy happened on-screen, they just showed him doing things he wouldn’t have done last season with no real explanation for why he changed his mind and how he unlearned toxic masculinity he had so much of in the last season. They wrote Izzy doing the absolute bare minimum they needed him to do to get him to where he could make that apology to Ed on his deathbed. And there was almost nothing left of Izzy’s season one characterization, despite season one Izzy being a character so many fans allegedly fell in love with.

This is the absolute funniest possible thing that could’ve happened to me with season two coming out. I’m not even mad that I wasted so much of my energy thinking about a character I never even cared that much about to begin with, it’s worth it for the punchline that absolutely none of it mattered. Izzy was literally not important enough to the story to make that kind of in-depth character analysis necessary except for fun, and while I like analyzing characters I would have never chosen to think about Izzy so much of it wasn’t for the fandom. And I really didn’t need to be worried about disproving what half the fandom was saying when one of their core takes is “the way he said it was harsh, but Izzy was ultimately right to bully Ed back into being a pirate because that’s their livelihood and he doesn’t want them to starve,” the fact that they thought that was what writers were trying to say is absolutely insane. Izzy fans should have realized they were reading against the text. I should have realized that trying to deconstruct everything that was incorrect about an interpretation that was so clearly reading against the text wasn’t going to be worth the effort once season two came out.

It’s like if I had spent all of the break between seasons one and two tackling why “Stede’s main arc is about how he is just a spoiled rich boy who needs to learn how to toughen up, just like his dad said in the pilot” was a misinterpretation of the show. That’s how ridiculous Izzy fans sounded when they analyzed OFMD. Everything I said trying to make a solid argument against them can be summed up as, “the antagonist of the show is written to be an antagonist, actually.” It was really never any deeper than that.

#120.

[thespectral-wolf]

An Idle Conversation

My (only) submission to this year's Shadamy Week. I actually started writing this back in 2021, but I wasn't satisfied with it. But since I saw that it thematically fit both of the prompts of the first day (Immortality/Late Night-Early Morning), I went ahead and reworked it.

---

Amy lay in her bed, eyes closed. She stayed like that for a couple of minutes before glancing at her clock. 5:49 am. She has been hoping for the sweet embrace of sleep to take her back again for almost an hour now.

This has been a recurring problem lately and more and more had she been wishing back to her young days when she could sleep like a stone after an adventure. Maybe she missed the thrill more than the ability to sleep longer. With Eggman gone, there wasn’t anyone bold and ambitious enough to kickstart world threatening events anymore. Not that she would give up the peace that she and her friends now have. All she has to worry about is keeping her little business going and making sure to stay in touch with the others. Still, some days, she still longed for adventure…

She let out a silent sigh and sat up. Might as well start the day early instead of making futile efforts to fall back asleep. She yawned as she stepped out of her bedroom and went to the kitchen. She has been staying in her weekend house for a few weeks. She planned for a little alone time, however an unexpected visitor similarly looking for some peace changed her plans a bit. The door of the guest room was closed, but Amy knew he was up from the freshly brewed coffee in the pot. She took out a mug and poured herself some, grabbing a few sugarcubes from the counter and a spoon from the drawer before going outside.

She stepped out to the porch, and took a deep breath of the chilly morning air.

“You’re up early.” Shadow was sitting at the coffee table solving some sort of newspaper puzzle.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Amy said as she took a seat across from him. She started stirring her coffee before she continued “Why’d you make coffee this early though? You don’t even like it.”

“As a drink,” Shadow rebutted without looking up, “and I thought you’d appreciate it.”

“It would’ve gone cold by the time I normally get up, don’t you think?” she picked at him playfully.

“That’s what the microwave is for,” he said with a slight edge in his voice, although his faint smile showed he wasn’t actually annoyed.

“True,” she took a sip while resting her eyes on her garden, which was basked in the golden light of the rising Sun.

“What’cha solving?” she asked after a brief pause.

“Crosswords,” Shadow answered without as much as glancing at her.

Somehow the whole idea of Shadow occupying himself with ‘old people entertainment’ amused her.

“And how’s it going?” she asked, barely containing her smile.

“Too easy,” he folded the newspaper and reached down beside him. He showed a dozen of other newspaper pages with the crosswords already filled out. “They hardly give me a challenge. At least if the punchlines were better…” He promptly threw the papers down and returned to solving the one in his hand.

“If you dislike them so much, why do you bother then?” Amy inquired.

“It keeps me busy, I guess,” Shadow shrugged.

Amy mused on that a little.

“You know, this isn’t such a bad idea actually,” she pointed at the paper. “Doing mental work, I mean. Maybe I should start doing something like that. Old people have to keep their brains oiled, right?” She joked.

“You’re only 56, Amy. You’re not old.”

She rolled her eyes.

“You’re one to talk, Mr. Forever-Young,” Amy teased. She was just taking in the scenery when she noticed that Shadow went quiet. She looked over to him. He put the paper down and stared with an unreadable look on his face. Amy cocked her head:

“What’s wrong?”

Shadow seemed to shake out of his trance, his eyes dashed to her for a moment before he shook his head and averted his gaze.

“Nothing,” he hesitated. “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”

“C’mon,” Amy pressed. “I can see that something’s bothering you.”

“It’s just,” Shadow sighed. “I don’t like it when you call me that. It reminds me that I’m…”

Oh… that.

“I’m sorry,” she said, almost instinctively.

“It’s okay,” he reassured her.

"No, I’m really sorry, I know you hate when we bring that up.”

“It’s fine, really!” Shadow said with a bit too much force on his voice. He blew out some air. “Let’s just… talk about something else.”

But no other topic seemed to come to either of them. They sat there in silence for several minutes, staring off to the treeline surrounding the yard. There was a low mist still hanging to the ground in the distance, making it all seem ethereal.

“I like these moments,” Shadow spoke up eventually. “When everything’s slow and you can just exist in it. I just wonder… if I’ll remember them a hundred years down the line.”

“Why wouldn’t you?” Amy blinked at him.

Shadow shrugged.

“I have forgotten so much already. If it weren’t for the logs, I would not remember much of my time on the ARK. And if a single trauma was enough to wipe my memories,” he tapped his head for emphasis, “how can I be sure that it won’t happen again?”

Amy could practically feel the sadness in his voice. She knew all too well about Shadow’s fear. Even now, there were moments when he wasn’t quite there with them. Moments when he woke up and seemed to be completely lost for several seconds, as if he did not recognize his surroundings. Moments when he was quiet even by his own standards, looking at nothing, breaths deep and heavy. It took so many years for him to open up and tell those who were the closest to him that the damage Professor Gerald and his fall through the atmosphere did still left his mind vulnerable. 

“But you’ll have pictures and videos to keep by your side. And your family will be there to remember us,” she made a weak attempt at comforting him. “And I’m pretty sure Omega will be around.”

“Pictures will fade, data can corrupt. And they weren’t there with us on our old adventures. They don’t have our shared memories,” Shadow’s response sounded like as if he practiced it. “And in a generation or two, there will be no one left to remember. Also, “he gave her a pointed look,” what do you think Omega will do once he has hunted down and eliminated the last of Eggman’s legacy?”

“Well, I’m stumped,” Amy threw her hands up. It was far too early to deal with all of this. She didn’t even finish her coffee yet! She rested her head in her hand. She wasn’t frustrated with Shadow’s rebuttals, but she hated that even after all these years he could still get so caught up in his own thoughts. And in some sense, he was right. They didn’t know just how long will Shadow live, but it was obvious that for someone in his fifties — or nineties if they counted his time in stasis — he looked like someone fresh out of college. Only his soul aged.

“It’s just…” Shadow continued. He fiddled with his hands as he went on, staring in front of him. “I have sworn to keep the world safe. And I am keeping to that oath. And it means that I’ll have to go on, no matter the circumstances, but,” he breathed out slowly “So much has changed since then. I tried keeping everyone at distance thinking it would make it easier, but I was just lying to myself. And now… I don't want to lose this. Just thinking about the fact that there will be a time when I’ll have nothing left of you outside of fickle memories, it…”

“It terrifies you,” Amy finished for him. Shadow nodded, eyes looking away.

She sighed, rubbing her eyes.

“Listen, I’d be lying if I said that I would know how to handle outliving my loved ones. And it pains me to think about how you’ll have to watch us go, but… look, I know you’re strong. And I know you’re able to let new people in your life, even if it takes time. And you will be making new memories,” just then, a thought came to her. “There is a saying, you know… ‘nobody is really gone as long as we keep talking about them’,” she reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, looking into his eyes. “Do you get what I’m saying?”

Shadow gave her a defeated look.

“I guess,” he swallowed. “When the time comes, I can… tell our stories. As long as I am able.”

Amy squeezed his shoulder.

“I trust that you will tell them truthfully… But that being said,” she nudged him lightly, “it’s not like these are urgent matters,” light playfulness returned to her voice. “You said it yourself, I’m only 56. And I’m not planning to go till I’m at least a hundred!”

A faint smile appeared on Shadow’s lips.

“You better keep yourself to your word then.”

“Oh, you bet! You’ll have me at 99, still kicking, and ready to talk your ear off whenever you try to question yourself.”

That got a small chuckle out of Shadow. He shook his head, amused look on his face, as he picked up the newspaper and his pen again. “I have no doubt about it.”

Amy smiled, and discreetly watched him work through the crosswords while she finished her coffee. The melancholy feeling still lingered; she knew there will be a time when Shadow will have to face all of this, and neither she or the others will be there to walk him through it. But maybe, moments like this will be enough to help him. What she knew for certain was that however long he can, he will cherish them.

[art-of-love-and-war]

The s/o (reader) of Nobunaga, Masamune, Mitsuhide and Arthur of Ikevamp is going to die in a few years (put 4 or 5 years) and she know it. Thanks for your work and effort, I glad to see another writer here. 🙏🏼🙇🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Characters: Oda Nobunaga | Date Masamune | Akechi Mitsuhide | Arthur Conan Doyle | x GN!Reader Rating: General. Word count: 1479 words Warning/s: Slight angst, mentions of illness and medication. Author note: Hello! Sorry this took so long, but I'm so happy for this request, I hope it lived up to your expectations. Thank you for requesting for Arthur, it's my first time writing him.

Traveling through time had never been in your plans. You had grown too used to the commodities of your life, knowing that you were living as best as you could before the tragic end would come.

Your plans had been to love freely, to live to your heart's content before everything came to an end. It was the least you could do despite knowing the end of your life was near. It was not your plan to find a love so strong you wished and begged destiny to stop the cruel punchline of the joke.

It was not your plan to be so madly in love you wished things were different to stop the wounds of your heart from making you bleed out on your lover’s hands.

[୨୧] — Nobunaga Oda

You and Nobunaga had danced around each other from the very start. Bumping heads as the woman who saved his life and the cruel conqueror who sought to claim each part of you little by little until you were nothing but his.

There was fire and passion at every moment, with you fighting the hard walls he built around his heart to pass as the heartless man who’d do anything to accomplish his goal. And him trying to shape you into a soul that belonged only to him.

Yet, the result was that his soul was stripped before you, heart laying in your hands to protect and help him grow and heal, while he shielded all of you from the dangers of the world while trusting your strength and convictions to survive.

Survive. What a funny word, right?

Having a relationship meant being honest, so you had to tell your lover about the condition that was going to cut your life short.

Your tale was welcomed with a hard stare, concerned, thoughtful. Knowing he was thinking of all the possible ways he could help you, but none came to mind.

He could assure you to put you under the best care, but the thought that you came from a time beyond, with lots of technology he still couldn’t entirely comprehend, and you still didn’t have hopes of living a long life.

How could he promise you something he wouldn’t be able to grant?...

Yet, he promised he wouldn’t leave, and he’d stay until your last breath, trying to keep you alive for the years you had ahead, and in history itself so the love promise wasn’t forgotten even in the centuries to come.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

[୨୧] — Date Masamune

He was a hurricane, coming to sweep you off your feet by how strong he was, taking your breath away with the energy he carried.

He lived fast, too fast. Making sacrifices for the greater good that was to come, not minding if he got caught in the middle.

He looked forward and never stopped to look behind unless it was to honor those that made the future possible, but always looking at the new day that came.

Once he met you, he slowed his fast pace to backtrack and reflect on everything that had happened in his life, how he never gave his heart out unless it was to lose himself in the emotion and the throes of passion and fire.

But you had been different, stopping him in his tracks, making him hesitate about the next step and wonder about the life he was living.

You were a bright spark, a bright firework…that was going to extinguish sooner or later.

When he wanted to know about the future you came from, he was amazed by how the world moved on, by how it developed and advanced.

Until it came to your health. You had patiently explained that you had been ill for a long time, and your life expectancy was not greater than a few years, that even if the technology of your home was quite advanced, or at least much more than what they had in Sengoku period, your hopes for a long life were not in the picture.

He took it upon himself to show you how to live a wonderful life, a fast and beautiful one before the end came, and you gladly took his hand through it.

Masamune then slowed down later, when his heart ached inevitably whenever you shared your time, thinking that you were going to be gone and he’d have nothing but the memories.

If he was so used to moving on, why did the thought of moving on without you hurt so much?

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

[୨୧] — Akechi Mitsuhide

This man can read you deeply like an open book even if you shut yourself with a lock and key. There’s nothing you can hide from him.

Not even when your origins are secret enough that he decides to look through your room and your belongings, finding your bag that carried your things from your time.

He immediately questioned the mysterious containers that were not made of glass nor clay but…something else, and colorful contents.

In his mind, it could be poison, which wouldn’t be rare, but combined with the other things he found he wasn’t happy about someone like you having so many interesting secrets he was yet to find out.

The interrogation wasn’t pretty. He was terrifying once he showed his bad side, and he was bad enough of a tease already, but this was meant to rip information out of you even if you didn’t have anything bad to hide.

You calmly took one of the pills, and swallowed it down, then calmly explain what it was, how you got it, and why did you need it.

His hard stare and cocky smile turned into one you couldn’t quite read.

He clicked his silver tongue, taking a seat right in front of you, hinting at you to continue your strange story, wanting to know more to determine if what you said was true or not.

Surprisingly, even for the expert liar that he was, you spoke nothing but the truth, he could clearly see it and piece together the puzzle of how you acted like you didn’t belong there at all, now knowing the reason.

After that, he decided not to pry too much into your life, unless you were willing to open up to him, which you were after you two had spent too much time together as mentor and apprentice, as a fake wife, and fake husband.

Mitsuhide didn’t want to admit that he was smitten with you, deciding to show his affection as the helpless teasing to the point of tears. He decided his heart had been closed off for too long, and when you came, he wanted to open up more than anything.

Until he remembered that there was a time limit to having you.

Maybe the only way he could treasure you as he wanted was by deciding to not have you.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

[୨୧] — Arthur Conan Doyle

He liked the little game you played together, he lived for the fun of just unwrapping every layer you had to offer until your soul laid bare for his curiosity to gobble you up.

Yet, he had his limitations once he realized you were too pure and bright, that your light was one too warm he craved in the unforgiving storm of the memories that still haunted him from his mortal life.

You were so, so warm. So full of life…

And he had fallen hard for you without noticing until his heart was so full of you and was spilling. So helplessly in love, wanting nothing but to give all of himself to you in exchange for a small bit of your affection.

It was so dark and so cold inside his mind, that you made him want nothing else but to give you his heart, and in exchange, he’d take care of your life and destiny for the years he had to come.

That is when after adventures solving “mysteries” downtown you decided you trusted him enough to tell you about the illness shortening your life, and how you had traveled to Paris as part of your idea of traveling before it came to an end.

He stood quiet the whole time, face turning into one of deep regret and melancholy. Memories of all that he had lost­-- All he couldn’t save.

And you… You were innocent, pure, bright light. A warm fire. And even without having you, you were going to be ripped away and become one more of the many losses. Another beautiful soul with their lives cut short.

Arthur once again couldn’t do anything to stop that dreadful thing from happening. No matter how much he loved you, he was still doomed to lose you…

Or not.

He just hoped you could agree to share eternity with him, and maybe you and he would have to ask Comte for a not-so-small favor.

But the fear of loss still wouldn’t leave as easily.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

[teutaranaway]

you aren’t being annoying at all don’t worry!! i’m glad you’re having fun ^_^ you’re one of the mutuals that makes me consider making my own selfship blog tbh!

i thought the route was good! it’s a bit sad to hear that crow isn’t taken seriously in other routes since his character goes way deeper than what’s touched on in the first few chapters. but i thought the piano scene was sooooo cutes <3

it’s funny that you mention thinking he’s the best with teuta as a character, because i didn’t realize that the personality quiz thingy was tied to the routes at first and just answered how i thought she would answer based on canon personality traits haha

AHHH im planning on making my own selfship blog too !!!!

this is a bit long uh oh

although he contributes a lot to the story in other routes hes mostly there to be funny + be a punchline, which is like. you kinda learn that hes doing that on purpose after u played his route anyway (like he talks about how he wants to be seen as goofy funny and have people love him that way bc he doesnt think they would love him if he wasnt funny, didnt have a lot of money, wasnt contributing to the team with his smarts etc. he basically thinks he wont be loved if hes not the butt monkey or is useful somehow) AMD THE PIANO SCENE IS SO SO SO CUTE I HAD IT AS MY WALLPAPER FOR A STRAIGHT YEAR my favorite type of romance in fiction is one that just happens naturally and i think that scene captured it perfectly AND he was so cute there AND he got to be vulnerable with teuta about his dad playing that for him (and later on him getting even more vulnerable with her too UGHHH PUNCHES THE SCREEN)

also yea the personality test + the swimsuit scene + the cat naming scene are the ones where they lock you on an LI's route but when i said that i meant that. ive played all of the routes and i personally believe teucrow to be the healthiest relationship in the game bc of their capability to be vulnerable and understanding with each other, and even tho crow is really emotionally immature hes trying so hard with her so i feel like if there were smth that would go wrong with their relationship then they would put actual effort to fix it

i like teumozu too but obviously its second place + i like teuhelv friendship a lot but not as a couple + i feel like the power imbalance in limbo and shu's routes really made teuta ooc bc its established in the common route that shes this hot headed argumentative woman but with them its like her role has become smaller. and to nurture these two basically . like that one post that was going on thats like making fun of "big guy x nurturing woman" i see it as like that basically. teutas argumentative personality while would make teulimbo friendship very fun i find it really hard to actually see them romantically, and i HATE HATE HATE teuta with shu romantically and i barely see them as friends bc shu makes it so hard to actually like him (which is like. his nature but anyway). shu on his own is fine and when hes interacting with the team as a whole hes really fun, he has some really good #brothers moments with crow that i love and i love his relationship with [SPOILERS!!!!] but i dont really enjoy him as a character. i feel like hes only popular bc hes a bad boy headhunter and he has the dorito body

UM. YEAH ❤️

[afreakingdork]

HELLO YES IM SORRY I JUST HAD TO SCREAM AT YOU ABOUT YOUR OWN FIC AND HOW MUCH I LOVE IT please accept these deranged ramblings of an angst-addled mind

“They were worried about his wellbeing for whatever reason” - DONNIE. YOU DUM DUM. THEY LOVE YOU AND YOU LOCKED YOURSELF IN YOUR LAB FOR A WEEK >:c

Donnie reads like he’s so trapped and just trying to ignore it until it goes away :<  Ofc he’s gonna lash out when Leo backs him into a corner

Mikey and Raph are being oddly chill about it all though, are they trying to let Donnie sort through whatever he’s dealing with?  Casual brotherly support and this is probably not the first time they’ve seen Donnie behave like this, Leo just has that *Donnie Sense*  They just seem mostly concerned that he’s physically taking care of himself at the moment, which I know Donnie put on a facade but hhhhhhhhh 

Donatello “I’ll keep all my emotions right here, and then one day I’ll die” Hamato

I love how Donnie thinks he’s calculated out his family’s reactions to things and parsed out the appropriate resources in his mind, and then here comes Leo with a monkey wrench lol

The repetition…Leo…are you actually 12…

Leo: “Look, you know I hate pulling rank as leader-"

Raph and literally all of us: “You really don’t.”

I love how Leo’s trying to convince Donnie to talk to him well after he’s already smashed his grubby gumball hands over all his buttons.  And laughing when Donnie is clearly upset - unfortunately very on brand, lmao ;v; Did he realize just how hard he poked the bear I wonder

“Make me” I can hear him just spitting it out like venom, I got fuckin chills, you KNOW something’s about to give hehehehehe

Ooooh, has Donnie not reached breaking point in a long time? That mental armor can’t protect you from everything Dee.  That, and you’re really good at spinning yourself in circles. There it is, classic Donnie overthink.

Also like, I KNOW it needed to happen, but LEO.  HE WARNED YOU THREE TIMES!!! WHAT DID YOU THINK WAS GOING TO HAPPEN????

Donnie: Go ask your lover!

Leo: lmao bro i have no game wym

Man Leo really fell for that punchline

Sorry fhkajdfsk

Donnie really used Emergency Exit with that shell drop move, Donatello has left the building

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen you turn your precious computers off!” - Leo, who has apparently never seen a horror movie

ALSO. OMG.  THE MYSTIC SPARK?!?! THAT IMAGERY?!?! OOOH I GOT TINGLES AGAIN THAT WAS SO GOOD I CAN IMAGINE IT HFKHAJKFSD

The whole fIGHT I CAN’T EVEN

IT WAS SO WELL WRITTEN OMG y’know how sometimes you read a thing and you’re like ‘i can’t visualize where in space these people’s bodies are’ yeah no, I didn’t get any of that this was so well done I LOVED IT

“We are INSIDE, young man!” - Nice last-ditch effort, bro

I also wonder what was going on in Donnie’s brain during this, but I get the feeling it would be like angry TV static

The voice crack…..Donnie honey im ;A;

AND OF COURSE LEO ONLY REALIZES HOW BADLY HE FUCKED UP AFTERWARDS sigh…again, very on brand

Did Reader blanking out their phone screen hurt? Yes.  More than it should have? Probably.  I’m a sentimental baby buhuhuuuu…

Also SIX DAYS???? HAS LEO NOT APOLOGIZED TO READER???? IN SIX DAYS???  Or would it be three? STILL!!!

Lmao I just imagine Leo on the phone with that lovely *wind* sound in the receiver also WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU LOST DONNIE WHY WOULD YOU PHRASE IT LIKE THAT LEO WTF MAN  I mean he’s potentially concussed tbh so I guess he gets a small pass XDDDDD

'YOU DIDN’T CHECK THE GIANT SKYLIGHT?! LEO!!!!!' - Mind Raph

Leo, forever now: ‘Did we check???’

Also!  You got Splinter’s voice perfectly right (at least that’s my opinion) I love it you did so good <3  Also I’m with Splinter “Did you not think to ask love interest first!?”

“Come here often?” Boi i will smack you myself

My dear Author.  The WHOLE scene with Donnie.  Broke my damn heart.  Again.  You’re very good at that, you know?

Angsty boy sittin alone on a cliff, and being able to visualize how damn tired he is, no energy to react physically until he literally drags himself to his feet, I’M-

And Donnie, honey, you’re very smart but there you go again hypothesizing with not enough data,,,how many different theories have you crafted baby boy,,,

Sometimes u gotta jiggle the Donnie

And then break his brain a lil ;3

Ohhh and THEN THE REALIZATION SETTING IN i loved that SO much, just ‘dear god, what have I done’ which TO BE FAIR I’d have done the same thing if Leo had laughed in the face of my assumed heartbreak

And oof, He’s gonna need some Down Time to recover from this emotional whiplash.  Just needs a good Sit and maybe a lil Cry and maybe when he’s feeling less Raw all three of you need to actually fucking communicate I swear to Pizza Supreme-

Anyways, holy shit, I have some FEELINGS ABOUT THIS FIC

You are AMAZING and I CANNOT WAIT to see what you do next

THANK YOU AND HAVE AN AMAZING NIGHT <3

Shade you absolute animal (/pos)! I cannot believe you wrote me a play by play. I adored every minute of it!

For Mikey and Raph playing it chill, I imagine the brothers all show their love in different ways. Leo might have waited in another instance, but in this one he has a personal connection and intel on what's going on that's driving him a bit nuts.

The "lmao bro i have no game wym" totally destroyed me, full on ugly cackling. That is actually how I intended that laugh to go over! He was thinking "YOU KNOW ME, YOU KNOW I'M SINGLE AS HELL BRO"

Otherwise, I'll keep chugging along and

Thank YOU and YOU have a good night!

[styxnbones]

Cass, what was it like being turned? How did it feel?

Cass: "First of all, fucked up thing to ask someone how it felt to get killed. But, I guess not everyone gets, you know, bled out by their girlfriend in a frenzied rage. Some people get to like, put their affairs in order and shit. Or at least it happens while they're high as a kite in the back of some party.

Anyways, the wind up to the whole thing felt mostly of being offended she'd turn her doubt on my professional integrity, with a side order of being pissed that this was probably going to make us late to the movie I had tickets for (because this just had to happen the one night I decided to put some effort into actually dating her). But here Astrid was, shouting her head off, the second the door opened, about how I had told every lick in the city that she diablerized her sire. Meanwhile I'm standing there in the hall, having barely entertained the idea, before this point, that "vampire" might genuinely be the explanation for all of Astrid's weird ass shit, and fully mystified at what the fuck a diablerie was. I tried to cool her off and talk her down, something I was already getting pretty used to doing, and I at least got her to let me in so I could close the door. But after that something I said (and to this day I still don't know what the fuck it was) set her off properly and she put my head through the wall to the kitchen. Everything after that just felt like confusion, panic, and pain, and while I unfortunately remember every single horrific moment in perfect clarity, I'd really rather not relive all the little the details.

Also, as an aside here, when I say Pain I fucking mean it. See, something I'd learn later is that your average vampire bite doesn't hurt at all, in fact most people enjoy it quite a lot. I just really know how to pick em and managed to pull one of the few freaks that make you feel like you're having liquid fire drained out of your veins through two tiny ragged holes in your neck. Of course, because life is a cruel fucking joke and death is the punchline, I ended up "inheriting" that trait.

So anyways, she ripped my throat out and I bled in agony on the kitchen floor for a bit before blacking out. Next I came around, I had my own fangs buried in her arm and she was shrieking. (I myself never screamed though, so I count that as a win.) When she managed to pry me off she told me how I should feel thankful she loved me enough to give me a second chance, but I couldn't even care about how much that was obvious bullshit because for the next little while all I'd be able to feel was hungry."

[where-fading-princesses-live]

let’s talk about Blake Blachert, shall we?

i must be so bored that i’ve stooped so low to watch shitty youtubers. 

Blake Blachert is a pretty shitty youtuber. 

he’s a downbeat bum with no real job who lives in his car and drives cross country to play pranks on staff working at various stores as well as their unsuspecting customers. 

supposedly people think this is entertainment. 

there is nothing remotely entertaining about a guy who’s never worked a real job in his life who feels the need to pester people working 40 hours a week and making minimum wage. like, they work hard enough without some dumbass coming to bother them at work for some youtube views. 

he’s obviously never worked customer service. it’s bad enough we retail workers have to put up with shitty customers on a daily basis without the added bullshit of a youtuber. like, we don’t get paid enough to put up with that and you wonder why half the people featured in his videos (against their will, i might add) become so disgruntled. 

he claims to spread ‘’positivity’’ in his videos but all he does is annoy people to no end to a point where people start attacking him and cussing him out because he won’t leave them alone. 

there’s nothing wrong with harmless fun and harmless pranks but he goes too far. 

it’s store policy that you can’t film inside because it’s technically private property and tho filming inside a store is not technically ‘’illegal,’’ the store has every right to decide what you can and cannot do inside their store and they reserve the right to remove you from their premises if they feel you are violating store policy. 

Blake actually did get forcibly removed from a HOME DEPOT by a police officer because a customer felt intimidated and did not want to be filmed. Blake refused to respect the wishes of the customer and continued to invade their privacy and staff called police who informed him that filming was not technically illegal but the store had the right to decide what he could do and wanted him to leave. 

he gets booted out of every store in the first 5 or 10 minutes of walking in for not even making an effort to conceal the camera, to which he always comes up with the lame punchline that, ‘’oh he [the camera man] is not filming, he’s CoMpUtInG.’’ 

Blake always underestimates the intelligence of the people he’s pranking. dude, c’mon, it’s 2022, do you think people have never seen a camera before or know what filming looks like?

they ask him nicely over and over, ‘’please stop filming’’ and he won’t. 

sometimes he’ll pretend his camera man is deaf and mute, which is also very lame.

he never fools the people he’s attempting to prank because they’re a lot smarter than he gives them credit for.

he’ll also repeat questions back at them, like once he walked into an art gallery or something and inquired if the jewelry in the gift shop was an ‘’artifact.’’

the saleslady simply replied, ‘’sir, this is jewelry, recently made. it’s modern. it’s not an artifact.’’

he goes, ‘’oh those are really cool artifacts.’’

‘‘sir, it’s jewelry, it’s not an artifact.’‘

and it’ll just go on and on like that. he thinks he’s being cute and funny when he’s just being annoying. 

the problem with videos like these is that the majority of his fanbase will be young kids and teens who don’t know any better and will use this grown ass man as a role model for how they might act in public (which is extremely immature, by the way).

other youtubers have done similar videos and so rather than spreading ‘’positivity’’ and appreciating the hard work of customer service or sales associates, videos like these end up spreading negativity. 

maybe some people won’t mind being pestered at work like this but i know i sure won’t like it. 

and if Blake ever walked into my store, i’d cut off his balls and shove them down his throat. 

[made-some-ki-points]

Character Ideas Day 13: Eloquence Bard

You are the on staff translator for a viscous, tyrannical leader of a kingdom who took over for your former, much nicer boss. The ruler doesn’t know the language you speak, so you decide to begin inviting a revolution, sending messages to the people to fight and rally up, causing bloody but successful revolutions at several important sites. Just a day or two ago, you were caught, and now people are out to kill the most successful traitor the kingdom has ever seen. Though you’re a little worried, you’ve already built up a legion, and they will never allow anything bad to happen to their mobilizer.

A widely maligned, though not inherently evil god has selected you as their chosen one, making you a pariah in a single moment. Desperate to stay a part of society and in the good graces of your friends and family, you manage to convince some of a divine mistake, that you are just a normal individual without any particular predestination. It’s working out well enough, until you remember: The god you supposedly have been chosen by is also a god of lies. Naturally, they’ve been quite enjoying your desperate efforts to flee.

You are the often controversial color commentator for a local gladiatorial ring, a favorite of guests but a source of endless anger for competitors. When one of your punchlines sends a gladiator over the edge, they follow you home from work and beat you nearly to death, leaving you to bleed and reconsider what exactly you’re meant to be doing. Now, you’ve been soul searching, not out for revenge like most believe, wanting nothing more than to find a way to do your work without being a complete jerk.

When you were conscripted into a local military force, you were almost certain you way with words would land you a job in propaganda. To your delight, this wasn’t the case, but when you found out what your actual assignment was, you were shocked. You had been tasked with notifying the families of those who had died, a task that felt insurmountable, but one you actually found yourself very good at. After your contract was up, one of the clerics you befriended suggested you continue, telling you about someone they know who’s been adventuring for a while. This individual, another party member, is who you’re out to meet, and with trust in your friend, you’re willing to go along with them, excited to report to your former colleague how your new life is treating you.

You are the personal songwriter for one of the most famous bards in all the land. Your name is largely out of the public eye, and for the most part you’re fine with that, preferring just to write and stay under the radar. But when the bard you work for misses their first meeting in years, and doesn’t respond to any messages, you’re put into a tailspin of worry and the prospect of a lost job. Now, it’s your turn in the spotlight, looking for the person who kidnapped your employer and friend, seeking help from any who will offer it and hoping desperately to bring them back alive.

You are an art instructor, teaching those who wish to know your art how to do it with stunning accuracy. You have learned to provide the proper inspiration when in the studio, but oddly, it never seems to be a talent they can keep outside of your walls. So, they keep coming back, and you keep making money. It's a con, yes, but a relatively harmless one, and one you fully intended to keep going strong. But after you're robbed, you find yourself needing to take it on the road, searching for new ways (legal and... Otherwise) to make a steady living.

Your child was a career adventurer, and the sight of their party at your home when they needed to rest was not at all uncommon. After the loss of your partner it was a welcome way to have company, and in exchange you provided sage wisdom and inspiration whenever they needed a hand. The last time the party left, they were setting off to fight a beast of legend, and you did your best to be supportive. But when your child was the only one who came back, terrified, grieving and bloodied, a protective rage boils in your chest. After they recover, you set out to take the beast down, getting revenge for your children, biological and otherwise.

You are the widely feared interrogator for your local group of night's watchmen, carrying with you a fierce and strong reputation. You've put many criminals away, your tactics the product of legend throughout the area. One day, though, you came to a startling realization: Unbeknownst to you, nearly every confession you got was magically coerced, and though so many believe what you're doing is right, you're instantly thrown into a spiral of shame. Now, you've set off on an adventure to make amends, and to make yourself into something other than a figure of horror.

You are a poet and street artist, posting inspirational poems on very public, very illegal places to spread your message, whatever it may be. You've been in and out of prison for years, making friends with much of the criminal underground and establishing yourself under a new name and persona. Lately, a new artist has been on your turf, spreading news of a rumored apocalypse on a wide scale. You don't believe it for a minute, but at the end of the day, the asshole's on your turf. You're more than willing to help people try and stop this apocalypse, real or not, if it makes your rival leave your area.

You are the town's only couple's counselor, primarily helping others verbalize their feelings effectively. Of course, you're busy, but recently your latest clients have stolen your attention, a group of adventurers making wild claims about not only each other, but what their group did in the wild just outside of town. Maybe your curiosity got the better of you, maybe there was a genuine magical call, but you have to figure out what was happening, if for no other reason than to figure out how to help your new clients effectively.

[adamwatchesmovies]

Allegro non troppo (1976)

Allegro non troppo is a 1976 Italian parody of Walt Disney’s Fantasia. "Obscure" is the correct adjective considering it came 36 years after the film it's lampooning. Only die-hard animation fanatics are likely to seek it out but the effort is worth it. Even if you haven’t delved deep into the medium, this is a funny, clever - occasionally inspired film.

This musical anthology begins in a dingy theater where “The Presenter” (Maurizio Micheli) introduces “A new and original film” where “you will see music and hear drawings”, a feat which has never been done before… except by some American called Grisney, or Prisney or something like that. With his domineering orchestra master (Néstor Garay), an ensemble of old ladies playing the instruments and a frazzled editor, they bring the following pieces to life: Claude Debussy's Prélude à l'après-midi d'un faune, about a randy elderly satyr who attempts to pass off as young and virile to get the attention of beautiful nymphs and dryads.

Antonín Dvořák's Slavonic Dance No. 7, Op. 46, in which a solitary caveman inventor gets tired of his brethren imitating him and leads them into war and dictatorship.

Maurice Ravel's Boléro, a direct parody of the Rite of Spring segment of Fantasia which shows the evolution of life on a strange planet from a discarded Coca-Cola bottle.

Sibelus’s Valse trise, a purposely dramatic segment that follows a lonely cat wandering through a now-abandoned house.

Vivaldi’s Concerto in C major for 2 Oboes, 2 Clarinets, Strings and Continuo RV 559, which follows the misadventures of a bee preparing to dine on a flower.

Stravinsky’s The Firebird, where the serpent in the Garden of Eden fails to tempt Adam and Eve with the fruit of knowledge and eats it himself instead.

This is a delightfully low-brow film. It knows it’s late to the game parodying Walt Disney so it pretends as though it has no idea what film it’s riffing on. Whereas Fantasia was targeted towards adults and aimed to do something new by using abstract imagery and (mostly) scientific theory to explain the beginnings of life on our planet, Allegro non troppo (whose title is a play on words and can mean either "Not So Fast!” or “Joyful, but not too much”) frequently throws cheap humor at the screen. Horny old goat men, fake-looking gorilla costumes, slapstick, trees whose fruits resemble engorged breasts, rear ends pointed at the screen, gratuitous violence... nothing is off limits. The visuals are nowhere near those found in the 1940 masterpiece, though those in Boléro are delightfully and weirdly beautiful. For that segment alone, the film is worth seeing. The whole thing is experimental and wonderfully varied in terms of style and tone but in the case of the first two stories, it can also look kinda crap. At least the jokes, mean-spirited as they may occasionally be, make you laugh. I wish they’d put a stronger opening number to avoid scaring away apprehensive viewers but who is tracking this film down except those determined to see it through?

Making this Bruno Bozzetto film particularly enjoyable is its willingness to go all-out. Just when you think it’s trying to say something serious the film will subvert everything it just showed you with a cheap joke. Damn you movie. I was so enraptured by your visuals and audio I’d forgotten what I was watching and you make fun of me for it! Got to hand it to you for finding something else to ridicule: the unsuspecting audience! Numerous segments can be interpreted as legitimate criticisms of society as a whole, and as long, elaborate gags with splendid punchlines. Some of the jokes are dumb, but smart people are behind them.

There are relatively few animated anthology films out there and although they’ve had a bit of a resurgence lately, most of them are used to promote video games or keep the masses invested in previously-established properties. Allegro non troppo is something else. It’s not classy like Fantasia but deserves, in a strange way, to be placed next to it on your shelf, and not just because seeing one after the other adds to your enjoyment of both. (Original Italian with typo-riddled subtitles on DVD, September 1, 2018)