#this song is like deeply concerning for my wellbeing

[look-at-the-soul]

Can’t love in the dark (Part 2)

Tommy Shelby x reader

Sequel to “All I ask”

Request: kind of 🤭 @l1-l4 Andy threw a fantastic idea one day and I saw it, and from that moment I’ve been thinking about it daily… until this idea worked perfectly with another request for my Adele challenge ♥️ Andy, you asked for an angsty story, here you go! I hope you and everyone else like it 🥰 that gif was amazing and summed Tommy’s anger.

Summary: (There’s a time jump between this and the first part) Tommy keeps watching over Y/N, sending flowers, even after getting married to someone else. Until one day he exploded after finding the truth that caused a terrible accident.

“Can’t love in the dark” is one of my favorite Adele songs, the sentiment she sings with every time she performs it on stage gives me chills 🥹

⚠️ Angst but with a little surprise at the end 🤭

Word count: 4,727 (without the lyrics)

Making the decision to let Tommy go was the hardest thing you ever had to do, but it was for the best, or at least you tried to convince yourself of that. Crying your heart out at night you tried to comfort yourself by thinking that his baby would be able to grow next to his father. Forcing yourself to push aside the feelings and expectations you started to develop towards Tommy and the future he had shared with you that’d be taking off right after the races.

He’d have another priorities from now on.

The following day you quit your part time job at the Shelby Company Ltd. and focused entirely on the shoes shop. Tommy tried absolutely everything in his power but all he got in response was a sad glance that broke his heart or you leaving him at the shop speaking to himself while you pretended to be busy in the back.

There was nothing to be angry or resentful towards him, he slept with Grace before meeting you after all… but deep down you wished it was you instead of her the one getting pregnant.

With a heavy heart you thought how you could only dream of what could’ve been.

You had been on the edge ever since, struggling to sleep, eating the bare minimum, you felt like a fragile thing that’d break at the slightest contact, trying to hide from your poor father the sadness that you carried around like a heavy weight on your shoulders.

Nothing seemed to be working out the way he had planned. Not after you made it very clear that the future he had envisioned of the two of you together wasn’t possible, he held the hopes still, thinking you’d accept the marriage proposal and he could be there for his son, but you quickly let him him know that was way too modern and looked extremely bad for you. He tried convincing you over and over, assuring that it would be just fine because it was you the one he wanted to get married to, not Grace.

There was nothing he could say would convince you otherwise.

But what really hit him was that one time when you on the edge of crying asked him to leave, you actually yelled at him frustrated because it was too damn painful to accept the fact that he didn’t belong to you, you accepted out loud that you were jealous of Grace for giving him something you wouldn’t.

As weeks went by, he got the news that Grace’s husband ended with his own life, he decided to not get involved in that matter but it was hard to stay away at the same time because she was pregnant with his baby. She was deeply affected by the way events turned out, constantly on the edge and his major concern was the wellbeing of his unborn child so he did everything he could to ensure it. One thing led to the other and he ended up getting married with Grace because it was the right thing to do.

So here he was, stuck in a marriage for the wrong reasons, thinking of another woman, dreaming of another woman that was slowly, little by little slipping away from him. It was impossible to focus on the fucking papers in front of him, work had been pilling up because he was always looking for a ridiculous excuse to see you, even from afar.

Polly stormed into her nephew’s office fuming after learning that he had blinders guarding Y/N when she took the train to the south to see a new vendor. Despite what happened, Polly still had a good relationship with her.

“It’s been over a year Thomas, you have to let her go, you got married to Grace, have a son now… Y/N needs to live her life, rebuild and start over.”

“What the fuck do you mean start over?” He squinted his eyes, blowing away the smoke of his cigarette.

“Oh! Please don’t play dumb with me, do you really expect her to remain single forever?”

The realization sinking in, it felt as if he got kicked in the gut. The long gulp of whiskey didn’t help.

“No… no, there can’t be another man in her life.”

“Are you even listening to what you say?! She deserves to be happy!”

“What do you know? Ey?!”

“There’s someone who’s interested in her but he can’t get close because of your bloody guards!” Polly exploded.

Jaw clenched at the thought of another man starting to court you. No, anything but that.

“I’ve to protect her.” Tommy leant on his desk with palms wide open. Head hanging low.

“You lost her and all for your stupid revenge towards the woman you’re married now!”

“I never thought she would get pregnant, trust me that wasn’t my intention.”

“But it’s too late now for that… just let the girl move on.” Turning on her heels she walked towards the door. “And be more discreet, the maids keep gossiping about how you are sleeping in the guest room.”

****

Hearing the bell, you called from the back of the room; “The store is closed now, I just forgot to change the sign” but you cut yourself after finding him at the other side of the counter.

“Y/N… please.”

Take your eyes off of me so I can leave

I'm far too ashamed to do it with you watching me

Defeated, you gave up, manners long forgotten. “How many times do I have to tell you that you’re not welcomed here anymore?”

Your attitude made him remember the first time he saw you and Tommy had to hide the smirk that was about to appear on his lips.

Please, stay where you are

Don't come any closer

“Just leave, Thomas, for good.” You pointed at the door. “Goodness, sometimes I wish you could keep your fucking promise and burn this fucking place down so I would’ve a reason to go away.” You admitted with anger, pacing the small shop.

Don't try to change my mind

I'm being cruel to be kind

“I could never do that to you.”

“That look doesn’t charm me anymore, your shoes are new, I bet all bloody Birmingham has new shoes so you really don’t have anything else to do here.”

“I want to help you.”

“Don’t.” You stated bluntly. “I don’t want your help or anything for the matter.”

“When I look around and see all I got, I should be pleased by the way things turned out. But I can’t… because I’m not sharing it with you.”

He was sincere and genuine, you knew that.

“Those were your dreams, not mine.” You added one more -an unnecessary- coat of product to clean the shoes, just to distract you from his gaze.

“Polly mentioned you need to move on. But I can’t let you go.” He was selfish without question, but those strong feelings for you didn’t go away even after marrying Grace.

“So I assume you’ll just go and use that razor blade in any potential man I lay my eyes on.”

“That’s not a bad idea, I’ll consider it thanks.” He added with a smile, loving the irritation in your eyes.

“What do you want Thomas?”

“You.”

It was one word but it included everything he really wanted.

“And what do you suggest then? You want me to be your mistress? That’s not going to happen.”

“Y/N…”

Emotions got the best of her, her eyes filled with tears. “I can’t love you in the dark.”

“Do you nee-”

I can't love you in the dark

It feels like we're oceans apart

There is so much space between us

Baby, we're already defeated

Shaking your head you gave him a warning look. “If you don’t leave right now, I’m going to start throwing shoes at your head for real.”

That was an image he would’ve loved to see, and deep down he knew you would do it without a doubt. So he decided to save himself the embarrassment and headed to the door, but before he even got to open the door, he turned to give you one more look.

Everything changed me

“Please just don’t kiss him the same way you kissed me… cause if you do, you’ll remember me.”

Your fist closed around the shoe you had been holding, way to expensive to throw it away, so instead you threw the brush you had been using. Letting out a groan in frustration.

Time didn’t make it any easier to forget him, all the opposite the feelings for him seemed to be stronger than ever, you wouldn’t stand between him and his son. You returned every single present and basket with fruits and flowers he sent over the last months right after reading every note he added to whatever the present was. His words were tattooed in your heart.

You have given me something that I can't live without

You mustn't underestimate that when you are in doubt

If only he didn’t see Grace back then, you’d be enjoying life together.

****

“You wanted to see me Tommy?” Scudboat poked his head from the door.

“Come in, close the door.” As he saw the blinder step in, he took a long swing of his whiskey, the liquid burning. “I need you to ask your wife to go to Y/N’s shoes shop.”

“Again?” Asked in shock Scudboat, he just went last week, but as Tommy gave him a dead stare, he hid his hands in his pockets.

“Yes, again, but ask her to go on Monday after eleven o’clock that’s after Y/N left for the market, and it will take her a while to go back to the shop and you’ll give her mother this money.” Tommy planned. He knew you’d go then to prepare lunch for your father and eat with him, then you’d take over the shoe shop while your mother returned home.

Tommy knew every single step you took, at what time you got the newspaper and each vendor you’d visit. Yet, you were so far away from him.

It was unfair for you, he knew that. He’d never ask you to be his mistress or anything, he just wished to find a fucking way to get you back. It was hard also for him to admit there was a time when he thought that maybe, just maybe over time he’d learn to love Grace like he used to years ago, but deep down he knew he’d never fully forgive her for betraying him. Let alone having a son together would make their marriage work.

But I don't want to carry on like everything is fine

The longer we ignore it, all the more that we will fight

“What happened Johnny?” Tommy cleared his throat getting anxious by the minute.

“Ehh you won’t like I-” Johnny muttered but he cut himself off when Grace stepped into the office.

“Tommy…” she looked over at Johnny several times, like trying to give him a hint to leave them. “It’s getting late.”

He found it extremely annoying to get interrupted, leaning back in his chair he flicked his cigarette. “I know.”

“Are you coming to say goodnight to Charlie?” She tried batting her eyelashes at him, the sweetest smile on her lips.

“Later, I’m working.”

“Bu-”One annoyed look and a loud sigh and Grace brought a hand to the end of her hair to disguise her disappointment. “Alright.”

Rolling his shoulders, Tommy looked at Johnny again. “So?”

“Tom I don’t like this, why can’t you just leave the poor girl alone? You’ve a family now, a boy.”

But Tommy kept shaking his head. “I’m paying you to watch her and report her moves to me, not asking if you like it or not.”

Polly knew him, his uncle Charlie was able to read him like the palm of his hand, but Johnny couldn’t understand the motives to keep tracking Y/N down.

“You broke up a year ago, got married… there’s no reason to-”

“Johnny, I’m not going to ask you again.” He dragged the words, if it wasn’t for the desk between them, he would’ve Johnny Dogs by the collar of his shirt now.

“Y/N is dating someone.” Johnny murmured, keeping his head down.

A heavy silence filled the Arrow House office.

Please, don't fall apart

I can't face your breaking heart

Tommy got up from his chair and walked quietly towards the window finding darkness only.

“Who is he?” He asked with more control than he expected.

Johnny made a face. “Don’t do this to yourself Tommy, let her move on.”

The man with icy eyes gave him a side look, it was enough to make him talk.

“He’s a Doctor, respectable, good background, treats her right, sends flowers every four or five days, walks with her to the park on Wednesdays and Fridays, on Saturday he goes in for dinner but leaves right after that. On Sundays she brings him food to the hospital and...”

“Apple pie?” Tommy completed while Johnny nodded.

Tommy knew the fucking recipe from start to finish, he could almost smell it and his mouth watered by the simple memory of how it tasted.

Did she give the doctor a small piece with her fork like she used to do with him?

Did she kiss the corner of his mouth after having a bite to remove the remains of sugar?

“That’s all Johnny, thank you.” He swallowed hard, memories making his chest ache.

Johnny wondered if he should also tell Tommy another thing he found out while following them.

Stopping right in front of the heavy door, Johnny twisted the peaky cap between his hands.

“He bought a ring two days ago Tommy.”

“Johnny,” His emotionless voice stopped him, “don’t follow her, you can go back to the gypsy camp.”

Once alone, Tommy pinched the bridge of his nose, defeated he took the glass of whiskey upstairs.

Looking at his son sleeping in his crib he couldn’t help but wonder why he made the mistake of fucking Grace that one time, he swore he could contain himself and he’d only use her to drive Campbell mad. But no, he was weak and the only time they were together she got pregnant. This wasn’t supposed to be how he envisioned his life, he wanted to date you, then propose to you, get married and start a family… you had been there for him to pick up the broken pieces from the ground that Grace left. Somehow you managed to make him softer, showed him he could trust and love again.

It wasn’t a surprise when you took a step back, didn’t accept his apologies, didn’t want to hear his explanations, packing your belongings from his office the very same night of the races, and closed the doors to your heart.

He begged, was willing to get on his knees to ask for forgiveness but you wouldn’t listen. His first mistake was to sleep with Grace that night, the second, marry her because she was with a child.

Was he being selfish? How could he let you go when you got so deep inside his heart?

You were slipping away from him, little by little, if you officially started a relationship with someone else, that man won’t waste time after realizing how fucking awesome you were, and if that happened, there was nothing left he could do to get you back.

I can't love you in the dark

It feels like we're oceans apart

There is so much space between us

“Why don’t you come to bed, Tommy?” Grace circled his desk and slipped her arms around his neck from behind. “It’s late.”

“In a minute.” He replied pretending to look at the papers scattered over the oak desk.

“I think you sho-”

“I said in a fucking minute!” He lost it.

Grace made a little jump when he raised his voice. “I heard what you said, I’m just trying to be a good wife.”

“Don’t try, Grace… just don’t try.” He added sharply.

“I’m doing everything I’m supposed to be doing Tommy, I take care of our house, look over Charlie, I make sure you’ve everything you need and yet I’m always alone here and when my husband is finally home by the end of the day I want him to take care of me.”

Tommy saw Grace toying with her wedding band.

“I’ve a load shit to do, alright?”

“Is that true or are you sleeping with some whore around?”

Her accusation made him snap his head at her. “What did you just said?”

“You haven’t even touch me in weeks…”

He wanted to sarcastically laugh at her question. You wouldn’t let him set a foot in your shop, let alone sleep in your bed.

“The way I see it, if you’re not with me that means you’re fucking someone else. Just tell me what you want and I’ll do it.”

He didn’t have the balls to say that the last time they slept together, he fantasized it was you instead of her, your name almost slipped out of his lips. But it would’ve drive Grace mad.

“I’m trying to go legal, Grace. That’s all… just go to sleep.”

“Tomm-” She started again but he cut her off.

“Don’t make me repeat myself again.”

Before she left, Tommy could swear he heard a sob but he was busy emptying the whiskey in his glass as he stared into the fire absently. Throwing his head back atop of the couch he wondered if you were by yourself that night.

The following day Grace insisted on joining him to visit his beloved horse, who was being trained at another facility. She started telling Charlie he’d see horses and the kid got too excited to advice her against the idea.

“… as I walked into the jewelry, I saw these lovely earrings that match perfectly…” Grace chatted non stop as they were on their way to the stables. He was looking forward a quiet day, but Grace had other ideas.

He just wished she could sleep just like Charlie was doing in her arms.

“Are you listening?”

Tommy dragged his eyes from the road to look at Grace for an instant, snapping out of his own thoughts.

“Yeah.”

“So what do you think?”

Shuddering, he took a long puff from his cigarette, feeling the smoke burn in his throat.

“I knew it, Tommy… you’re not paying attention.”

“Can you please stop this?!”

“Don’t raise your voice, you’ll wake up Charlie.” She tried but it was too late, the kid was already fussing. “See what you did?”

“You started this.” He pointed angrily.

“Shh, shh Charlie don’t cry.” Grace tried to get his boy settled, luckily he found a couple of horses out there.

“Look over there Charlie.” Tommy pointed. “There’s a horse.”

“Joshiee.” Charlie repeated, clapping.

Stopping the car, Tommy took Charlie in his arms, leaving Grace behind him. The gentleman in him wouldn’t be proud. But each passing day it was harder to pretend that he cared.

Placing his son on the ground, Tommy offered his hand to guide him.

“Come ‘ere.” Pointing at the fishes in the water trough, Tommy looked at the kid smiling with his chubby hand extended. “Goldfish keep the water clean.” He explained as if Charlie could understand. Grace joined them minutes later.

“I’ve been thinking… we should go away, for a family holiday.” Grace proposed brushing away a lock from her face.

Tommy shook his head instantly.

“Can’t do that, I’ve lots of work to do.”

“For a few days.” She tried again.

“No, you can go with Charlie though.”

Grace unamused expression didn’t have any effect on him. He was used by now.

*****

Tommy felt a rush of adrenaline through his body as he pushed past the people gathered on the street. The flames consuming the small shop, people trying to use buckets to attempt to extinguish the fire.

“Y/N!” Was all he could think of as he was desperately looking around for you.

We're not the only ones, I don't regret a thing

Every word I've said, you know I'll always mean

Everything was chaos.

Someone shoved him from behind, but since he let his guard down, he never noticed. An angry voice called for him and he recognized it right away.

“You must be happy now, finally kept your promise of burning my place down… MY MOTHER WAS INSIDE! You bastard! Get outta here!” Your fist landed on his chest as he was trying to process everything.

Tommy felt a rush of relief wash over him as he saw you were alive, but then he got in defensive mode.

“You destroyed years of hard work! My grand parents opened this store, my father started here cleaning shoes until he got a promotion and met my mother.” You spat with tears in your eyes, not caring about the venom and anger in your voice, or the people staring. “I HATE YOU THOMAS SHELBY, and I hope you pay for this.”

“I didn’t do this.” He let out a heavy sigh, shocked by your accusation.

His heart was shattered to know you thought he could do something like this. His stomach turned into a tight knot as he found the disappointment in your eyes.

“As if I didn’t know you, leave for good and don’t you ever come back.” You spat with anger oozing from every pore.

It is the world to me that you are in my life

But I want to live and not just survive

Walking backwards, he stumbled with someone who was trying to help. On his way to his vehicle he saw your mother sitting next to another woman on bench, at least she wasn’t injured.

“Find whoever did this.” Tommy instructed one of the blinders before leaving the place, he still couldn’t believe this was happening, but he had an engagement to attend and besides there was nothing he could do if you didn’t want him there.

Rushing into Arrow House he needed to hurry up to be on time, luckily Frances had his outfit prepared. The phone had been ringing in his office, but he really needed to get out of the house as soon as possible, after adjusting the last touches to his tuxedo, he moved to walk around the car, finding Grace already waiting for him. She welcomed him with a smile and a kiss that took him by surprise, there was something in her eyes different, it seemed like she didn’t had been bothering him about another woman in his life.

“Everything will get better for us after tonight Tommy, I just know.” She checked her reflection.

He doubted it was a possibility, but decided to have a peaceful night for once, specially at an event like this. He needed to raise funds.

“Where have you been? You were almost late.” She asked casually disturbing the peace he was looking for.

“Had some trouble at the shop. Finn messed up.” He lied.

“Hmm that’s weird, I looked for you there and couldn’t find you.”

“Went to the Garrison afterwards, that’s the reason I was late.” The lies slipped from his lips so easily.

She wanted to add something else, but Polly intercepted him by the door. “Scudboat has been looking for you, he looked deadly worried but wouldn’t tell me what’s going on.”

“Polly not now, please.” Turning around his head, he found the city Council leader with Grace.

And as they engaged in conversation, Tommy’s gaze was fixed by the entrance, as Father John Hughes and that insufferable MP entered. He couldn’t even stand to watch them, they weren’t welcome so he better hurry up to finish whatever the hell they’re wanted.

“Brother you need to know something.” Arthur whispered into his ear pushing him towards the staircase for some privacy.

With a heavy sigh, Tommy shook his head. “Not now Arthur, I can’t deal with anything else right now.” He spotted his wife talking to that mad Duchess.

“It was Grace.” Arthur admitted.

Confused, Tommy gave him a long look.

“Grace started the fire at the shoes shop, she saw a woman inside and thought it was Y/N. Someone recognized her.”

His head was spinning, anger building up and reaching unknown limits. Everything was so confusing, the bile rising up in his throat. Y/N could’ve been dead by now.

Storming like a bull he pushed past the people to find his wife.

“Come with me.” He grabbed Grace by the arm roughly making her gasp.

“Tommy I was talking to-”

“Why are you so worked up Mr. Shelby?” Tatiana smirked. His head was pounding. “I was telling your wife about the sapphire she’s wearing.”

“Tatiana said it’s Russian.” Grace interjected eager to participate.

And somehow the conversation escalated quickly, Tatiana kept pushing Grace’s buttons but at the moment he needed to keep the Duchess at bay. He’d deal with his wife’s jealousy later.

Scanning the room, he found Ada, fucking finally! Now he needed to deal with a spoiled princess he thought unamused. As his sister charmed Grace about a fucking donation, he tried to convince Tatiana it was a bad idea to go to the factory, but she was stubborn and had certain urgency to fuck him. There was nothing more discouraging than a woman selling herself off.

He was done. Fucking done of everything; the economic league, the duchess, his wife’s lies. This woman was absolutely mad

But time stopped as the duchess told him the sapphire had been cursed by a Gypsy. His ears were ringing, a shiver ran down his spine. Tommy had lost his faith back in France, but if there was one thing he believe in was spirits and Gypsy curses.

Speechless, he reached his wife in a few long strides.

“We need to talk.” Waving his hands anxiously he pointed at Grace’s necklace. “Take it off.”

“No, why?” Grace hissed visibly pissed off. “Tommy you gave it to me. Why are you doing this? You want to give it to someone else?”

“Here we fucking go.” He scoffed bothered. “I don’t fucking care, you want me to say this in front of them? Fine, I’ll tell you what I just learned.”

Anger was boiling inside of him, he simply didn’t care anymore.

He couldn’t explain the real reasons behind his request. “You told me you stopped by the office earlier huh?” He glanced someone passing towards the grand salon for diner. “But you forgot to mention that afterwards you stopped by at a shoes shop, the last place where a woman like you would be, Grace.” Looking up at the ceiling he blew the air he had been holding. “You started a fire at that shoes shop and don’t even try to lie, because people saw you.”

Grace’s features contorted. “Yes, I did it… because you’re distant with me, I know you wanted to marry that shoe saleswoman.”

Tommy saw red. “Yeah, I was going to marry her and when she heard you were pregnant she took a step back, walked away from me. That’s the biggest and selfless act of love.”

That's why I can't love you in the dark

“And where would you be today if it wasn’t for me?” She asked with her jaw clenched.

“Right here with her giving a beautiful speech about kindness.”

“I’m glad she’s dead by now.” She attempted to walk away, but Tommy took her by the shoulders.

“You should be thankful sh-”

“I don’t care about anything related to her.” Grace replied.

“Well, you should.”

“And why would I care about her?”

“BECAUSE I CARE ABOUT HER!” He lost control, Polly turned her head around at the shouting. “MORNING, NOON, AND NIGHT… I CARE ABOUT HER.”

Grace walked backwards, looking down.

“You’re lucky she wasn’t at the shop, she’s alive and I’m going to find her after the gala is over.” Tommy admitted triumphantly.

A man stormed in his direction out of the blue.

“For Angel!” He shouted right before firing his weapon.

The gunshot echoed in every corner of the room.

In the middle of the chaos, Tommy noticed Grace’s body leaned against him harshly, there was blood everywhere and people screaming. Tommy fell to the floor by the impact and Grace’s weightless body.

He called for help, and ambulance, anyone but Grace was already gone…

Someone took her lifeless body away from him and he wasn’t able to react, he remained frozen on spot in a corner. Replaying the images over and over.

Y/N swallowed hard after debating the entire afternoon whether if you were doing the right thing or not, yet here you stood if front of the venue where the Shelby family was leading a gala to raise funds to help people in need. One of the many dreams Tommy had shared with you.

Once the fire was controlled and people started to leave, one of the blinders who helped your mother to come out of it unharmed to let you know it had been Tommy’s wife the one who caused it, not him.

And guilt had been eating you alive ever since.

You needed to apologize for all the terrible things you said to him. You didn’t hate him, said it out of anger.

“Y/N! Oh, there’s been a tragedy… Grace is dead.”

****

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I’m so happy the first part was so well accepted, hoping this following part will like you too… did you see that coming? If you have a few minutes, I’d LOVE to hear what you think!

Master list

Tag list: @lyarr24 @runnning-outof-time @cillmequick @datewithgianni @cloudofdisney @gretelshelby @gypsy-girl-08 @lespendy @onlydeadcells @fastfan @stevie75 @prettylittlehoneyeyesxoxo @esposadomd @forbidden-forest-witch @ange-thoughts @moral-terpitude @elenavampire21 @forgottenpeakywriter @thenattitude @winchestergirl22 @zablife @elk96 @heidimoreton @imichelle-l-rigby @allie131313 @already-broken144 @peakyscillian @babaohhhriley @mrkdvidal1989 @shelbydelrey @shaddixlife @sloanexx @sydneyyya (can’t tag) @holacia3 @ironpen @adaydreamaway08 @pono-pura-vida @thomashelbyswife @darleneslane @everythingelseisextra @kmc1989 @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @spookyboogyuniverse @amberpanda99 @immyowndefender @mysticalbouquetwolf-posts @trixie23 @shelundeadxxxx

[lcvenderblues]

indulgences 🕊

moodboard by @saradika 🤍

Matt's familiar with denying the self. His biggest indulgence? Visiting you (almost) every night. And that's one thing he refuses to give up.

pairing: matt murdock x fem! reader

warnings/tags: third person reader (she/her pronouns), descriptions of injuries and wound care (not overtly graphic), probable medical inaccuracies, hurt/comfort (kind of i think?), pining, touch-starvedness, religious themes, unresolved feelings, mdni/18+ blanket rule!

wc: 2.4k

a/n: first fic in a hot minute, first fic ever on fic tumblr! probably kind of rusty; it was born of a late night super self-indulgent drabble that i never planned to post but it kept growing and wouldn't leave me alone, so here we are lol. hope someone enjoys it, please tell me if you do :)

inspired by romantically tense period drama scenes involving hands and a very on the nose sleeping at last song.

She's used to the sound of him tapping at her window from the fire escape now. It's like she has a sixth sense for it.

She sighs as she lets him in. "No rest for the wicked?" He swings himself in and lands without missing a beat, and she gathers that it must have been one of the better nights, at least in terms of his physical wellbeing, although he's been known to function deceptively well even when severely injured. "Thought it'd be at least another day before I saw you again."

"Is my company that unbearable?" He quips, and exhales deeply from his lungs as he collapses hard onto the familiar couch, which remains eternally draped in towels at this point in an attempt to keep bloodstains at bay. Even on the easier nights, he finds himself weary by the end, a bone-deep exhaustion that never quite leaves him throughout the day.

"No, it's just that every time I see you, you happen to be mortally wounded. Now I kind of associate seeing you with the stress of trying to keep you alive." She's turned on the lamp on top of the end table, and is already pulling out the makeshift advanced first-aid kit she keeps stocked and stashed in the bottom drawer.

"I'm not always mortally wounded." He sounds almost affronted as he works the suit off of his body, anticipating when her hands join his to help him.

She makes a noise halfway between a laugh and a scoff- a gentle, good natured scoff. "You wouldn't come to me if it was something you could deal with yourself. You're too proud for that."

He doesn't have it in him to tell her that's not true in the slightest and hasn't been for weeks. Four nights out of five, he finds himself here seeking her out to fuss over wounds and injuries he'd barely give a second glance to on his own. Whatever pride he had left dies a slow death in the spaces where her hands touch his skin, even through the pierce of stitches or the sting of antiseptic.

"Some people might call that selfless," he says instead.

He can feel her wry smile from the kitchen sink where she fills a bowl with warm water, soaking a couple of washcloths. "Sure." Her soft, sock-padded footsteps come back towards him, stopping as she crouches in front of his spot on her couch. "Or maybe selfless is what got you hurt this bad in the first place."

She veers a little too close to the side of sincerity for his tastes. He's not sure what to do with praise if it's not sarcastic. "Maybe."

He still always has to brace for it a little bit, when she brings the cloth to his face. When it touches, he manages an exhale deep from his soul, and it's all he can do not to sigh and completely fall into her palm. Somehow the gentlest touch he'll feel all night, the one he craves most, is also the hardest to accept.

Some very pious part of him can't let him feel anything good without looking for something else to feel guilty about, and her words from earlier resurface in his head. "Do I really cause you that much stress?"

It's not the first time the thought's occurred to him. Even if she wasn't concerned for his overall wellbeing; he shows up at her window at ungodly hours of the night so often, she listens for him in her sleep. Sometimes he comes by so late, she doesn't bother going back to bed before she starts to get ready for work in the morning. He can't imagine she gets a lot of rest that way.

Her hand briefly pauses in its efforts to wipe the dirt from his face as she uses the extra brain power to think about the right thing to say. Then it continues, gentle as ever. The timbre of her voice comes in to match. "Having anyone's life in your hands is a pretty big responsibility. You'd know. Someone has to step up to it, though."

Maybe there's still a little bit of pride left, because despite the guilt he feels at the trouble he must cause her, he can't bear the thought of admitting his deception and never seeking out her help again. Or maybe he's just not as selfless as he lets her believe, and this nightly solace matters more to him than her peace of mind does. But realistically, that's long gone beyond recovery, and he'd probably only worry her more if he stopped coming by, or whatever the hell he needs to tell himself to be able to sleep at night, he doesn't care. As sure as the night is dark, he'll keep coming.

She switches to a new, clean cloth, paying attention to scratches and proper cuts alike; she takes her time with the slash on his right bicep, the one that'll probably need a couple stitches. He suppresses a sharp inhale as she moves down to the spot where a knife nicked his abdomen. It's barely a wound, relatively speaking. It's not bleeding anymore, and he doubts that much dirt made it through the hole in his shirt. But she cleans it dutifully, and he's got half a mind to call her out on it, tease her for using any excuse to feel up his abs, listen for the way her pulse might hitch and continue on a little faster than before- but he can't. His usual brand of charm feels inappropriate, here, like flirting in a church. He doubts he'd get the response he wanted, anyways. He's never heard her heart race for him before, not like awkward college crushes or the pretty women Foggy makes him talk to in bars. It doesn't lurch when he takes his shirt off; just maintains its steady, almost maddening rhythm, impossible for him to read into. It's enough to make him a little self-conscious.

Suddenly, her hands reach out to take one of his own in them, and he feels like he can't breathe. This isn't a usual part of their nightly ritual, and his heart catches in his throat for a moment before she starts wiping, ever so gently, at his raw knuckles.

"W-what are you doing?"

"Being thorough," she says, and he can hear the soft smile in her voice. "Big city lawyer with hands looking like this might raise some questions. I know you box, too, but still."

Her words trigger a sharp spike of some emotion he doesn't recognize. Whatever it is, he can't bring himself to say she doesn't have to. He just tries to control the shake in his exhale as she switches hands. "...Thank you."

"No need," she whispers.

He feels like he's told her too much for either of their own good, sometimes. She knows what his day job is, knows where he goes to mass on Sundays. She's one of few links between who he is during the day and during the night, and it's not like he's not in the habit of making enemies. But putting her in danger isn't even his biggest fear, truthfully. It's his inevitable ability to bring ruin to everything he gets too close to, and the fact that he is completely toeing the line with her. He never intended to open himself up as much as he has- but she seems to have a gift for evoking vulnerability in him, undoing him in a way he can't afford anywhere but within these four walls. This... thing, whatever it is, is something he refuses to mess up.

He doubts that it's really in jeopardy to begin with, though. He can't glean much of anything useful from her pulse, he's learned, and they never explicitly discuss the topic, but as far as he knows, she's just as content to keep any connection to him restricted to these nights in her living room. She's fine with just being the person who patches him up when he gets beat up a little too badly. He's fine with that too, of course. More than fine. His heart still stutters a bit whenever she mentions anything from his 'real' life, though, a stark reminder that the world exists outside of these moments, and he does, too, and maybe if that's all he was... things might be different. Then again, if he'd never put on the mask, they probably never would have met in the first place. And he'd rather have this than nothing.

The cloth leaves his skin finally, and just like that, the most self gratifying part of his night is over. The sound of the threading needle is the prelude to all the pinches and stings that accompany all of her following touches. He doesn't mind, though. It allows him to refrain from looking for some other discomfort to balance them out. Unlike his liquor, he can't take good feelings neat.

Yet when the first stitch makes him wince hard, he wonders if he's gone soft, losing his tolerance. The thought occurs to him that it's the result of these nightly visits, of him seeking her out to play nurse and dote on him needlessly. He mentally bats it away with a stick.

"Sorry," she murmurs at his reaction, but continues with a steady hand, and he steels himself and focuses on his breathing. "Almost done." He's suddenly very glad his arm's the only place that needs sewing. However, if she's noticed his newly-developed sensitivity, she has the grace not to comment any further, just finishes her stitches and reaches for the antibiotic cream.

He turns out to be wrong about the self gratification being over for the night. She's finishing up with the bandages, and he's already silently mourning the end of their time together, so he freezes when she takes his hand again and applies some salve to the back, gently working it in with her fingers and taking extra care around his raw knuckles. She'd never done that before, either.

She must have noticed his stillness. "Being thorough," she reiterates with another small smile. "Winter's on its way. Last thing you need is dry, cracked hands."

All he can manage is another shaky sigh as his eyes fall shut reflexively. Had touch always felt like this? His heightened senses did make sensory experiences more intense for him, but he can't remember a handshake ever having made him feel like keeling over. Not even holding hands... but when was the last time he'd done that with anyone?

She finishes with his right hand, and he's so far gone, he's afraid he might actually whine at the loss, before she continues with his left. He can hear his own pulse thrumming in his ears, hers a steady grounding beat in the background. He's pretty sure he shouldn't be losing his mind over a hand massage, but he has little say over his body's response to the way her soft fingers curl underneath his while her thumb strokes the back of his hand ever so tenderly. He doesn't remember the last time someone touched him like this... scratch that, he doesn't think anyone's ever touched him like this.

She finally lets go, and he's not sure how long it's been since his brain all but checked out. The incessant assault on his senses is gone; he's tuned it out. He can barely feel anything except the cold left in her hand's wake, can barely hear anything over the sound of his own heart, still thrumming even after she's done. He can just barely make her out in front of him, a vague warmth of presence crouched beside him, her ever-consistent pulse, but nothing else, not what she's doing. He doesn't know what to expect next.

Then her hand comes up to cup his face.

He's sure his heart is trying to escape the cage of his chest now. All he hears is the roar in his ears, all he feels is the hand on his cheek, the other thumb that dabs salve onto the split in his lip. He thinks he might die like this; this might be the last thing he ever feels. He's okay with that.

But God only has so much mercy, and He must have run out, because she pulls away and he's still alive to feel it.

His senses come back to him one by one, dulled. He feels the fabric of his underwear against his skin first, the towel-covered couch underneath him, the temperature of the air, her warmth in front of him as she rises up to her full height, the clinical scent of salve and antiseptic, the bitterness of his suddenly dry mouth and the tinge of copper in the air, and lastly, the sound of his heart tapering down, hers keeping time as it becomes audible again, his own heavy breathing, and her voice, faintly.

"...Maybe you should stay put for the night. I can wake you up early enough to go home, shower and get changed before you go in tomorrow." A tinge of concern seems to color her tone, but he's fairly certain she remains mostly unaware of how the last couple minutes have bordered on transcendental for him. He vaguely registers her laying a clean hoodie and pair of sweatpants in his lap.

Even in his befuddled mind, he knows he'll never find any sleep laying on her couch, not after... all of that. He doubts he'll be able to sleep at all anywhere, but his own bed's his best chance. It's far away enough he won't still have to listen to her breathing in her sleep, her heart beating, while she still remains just out of reach. He manages a shake of his head, hoping she's looking at him to see it. He's still too out of it to be able to actually tell.

"...Just give me a couple minutes. I'll... I'll head home after..."

He's not sure if he's actually sensing it, but he knows she's smiling at his stubbornness. "If you insist. Assuming you won't be passed out on my couch in fifteen minutes. In which case I'm not waking you up, I'm just giving you a blanket."

If he didn't know better, he'd almost think she wanted him to stay- not because of her concern for his well-being, not for her peace of mind, but simply... for him to be there. But he couldn't even read her when he could hear her heart properly, and had all his faculties about him, so he wasn't about to try now.

He slips out of her window quietly about ten minutes later, head still spinning a little. When he gets home, he lays awake almost all night, reliving her touch over and over again in his mind, his own fingers ghosting over the back of his hand.

[ashcroft-writes]

Quick IRL Update!

Friends, mutuals, readers,

Good news: I'm not dead in a ditch somewhere! <3

But sometimes, one really is, as they say, going through it. I don't talk a *ton* about super personal irl things here—tbh, it goes against many instincts, lol. But I've been absent for so long, even on responding to deeply kind and/or concerned folks and friends, that I feel I'd be remiss to not say a little about where I've been.

So in early August, I more or less fled home, where I'd been living with family. It was a complex but unsafe situation, mentally and physically, with some unsafe people (not all my family. Just... some.) It was also one of those things where you honestly have no idea how bad it is until you remove yourself from it and give yourself a lot of time. But even then, I DID know I'd been shaking like a nervous chihuahua for days on end with the stress, knowing bad things were going to go down. And some dear friends in another state offered to let me stay, worried for my wellbeing. I knew it would be tricky: I had a cat, I'd just had a major surgery, I'd need a new job, etc. etc. "Not a problem," my friends said, being some of the most amazing people in the universe.

So I spirited as many things as I thought I could get away with into my car in moments where I was alone. Then I put my cat into her travel carrier and left: sixteen hours down the highway, my small companion singing the song of her people in my passenger seat.

So, that's where I've been: on a friendly sofa, desperately pivoting my whole entire life into something halfway stable. I've got some major successes, too! My short story Harmony was published in an amazing queer fiction anthology (and I'll talk more about that very soon here!) I revamped my coding skills with hours and hours of courses every day, and landed a new job. I found a new doctor and played the bureaucracy game to get all the documents I needed to move life forward. I just got approved for an apartment of my own.

Behind me, less than 24 hours after I left, bad things did in fact go down. I won't drag all the dirty laundry out to air, but... it really was the right call for my wellbeing in a lot of ways, getting the hell out of dodge, and friends, I have been in some serious therapy. As a result, my mental health has taken a DRAMATIC turn for the better. It just... took some time.

So yes: thank you for your understanding, and for all your deeply kind words both here and on my stories. They haven't gone unheard; in fact, it's all been the deepest of comfort in some difficult moments. I have SO many things I want to write and share with you all, and I've been finishing them too, a little at a time. :-)

Be well, and have an amazingly happy new year. I know I'm full of hope and am astounded at how many possibilities are waiting for me right now. And for those waiting: I am buried in messages and often haven't been able to respond, but I'm working on it, and I'll be in touch as soon as I can. <3

[freddiekluger]

please drop the essay length analysis Judas and Jesus (extra gay Swedish edition), O great and knowledgeable monarch of our times

alright, you ask i deliver! please excuse any typos, my eyes aren't exactly working rn

welcome to my probably super subjective but correct analysis, aka

Judas Was Right and Jesus Was A Victim (At Least, In Swedish)

Before we get started, a couple points: i’ll try to avoid comparisons to other specific productions, i’ve only seen the other recorded 2012 british version which i didn’t like for reasons including but not limited to the amount of white people with dreadlocks. Also, my understanding of swedish is limited to a couple words and phrases, so most of the lyrics i reference will be english subtitles from Ola Salo’s swedish translation and therefore might not be the most accurate !

There’s so much i could cover in this, but for now i’m going to focus on how jesus and judas are portrayed in the 2014 swedish arena tour of Jesus Christ Superstar (JCS) starring Ola Salo as Jesus and Peter Johansson as Judas, along with how this production more implicitly views god. 

From the opening number, translated into swedish as En Dimmig Himmelsdröm (A Foggy Heaven’s Dream), Peter Johansson’s acting and semantic differences in the lyrics present us with a deeply sympathetic portrayal of Judas. Looking purely at language, the english equivalent Heaven On Their Minds instantly paints Judas as much more of a faithless doubter- lyrics exclusive to the english version like “all your followers have gone blind / too much heaven on their minds” and “they think you’re the new messiah / and they’ll hurt you when they find they’re wrong” strongly enforce Judas’ main motivation for his actions being that he has less belief in Jesus and God’s plan than any of the other disciples with strong statements judging the other disciples for following him and claiming that Jesus ISN’T the messiah. The swedish translation doesn’t paint exactly the same picture- the focus of Judas’ number becomes his fear for Jesus’ wellbeing, not because he isn’t the messiah (the production remains fairly ambiguous on this point), but because Jesus can’t cope. The root of Judas’ concern comes from fear for Jesus’ wellbeing, and the disciples are referenced as regularly misunderstanding and wilfully twisting Jesus’ words. The swedish equivalent lyrics for the above examples are “they say, “jesus is god’s son” / but you know how people can change” (judas isn’t concerned with truth, just the danger that jesus will be in if the tide turns), and “the kingdom of heaven is within us, that’s what you said / bu they sew it, stitch by stich into some kind of foggy heaven’s dream”. Judas is showing that he HAS been listening and cares for Jesus’ teachings, but ‘they’ [his disciples] are turning them into something else entirely, and Judas’ worries that the support of the masses is fragile at best- the lines “and everything you say gets twisted by your lackeys / it will be anything but what you’ve said”  and “you are being used by people who want you in their battle” reinforces this again. When combined with Peter Johansson’s tough but tender performance, in which he dances between disdain for Jesus, the institution, and affection for Jesus, the man (an important distinction), Judas is the harsh realist doing his best to look out for the man he loves. The way he takes Jesus hands and looks at him with love and urgency straight away establishes that his motivations are pure- Judas is doing what he thinks is best, even though it feels like no one will listen to him. 

That was long, but En Dimmig Himmelsdröm is the perfect character introduction for Judas. He’s not totally unrecognisable, still delivering digs about ‘Jesus, the little carpenter’s son’, his manner is still rough and at this point we’re not sure whether or not the claims he makes about the disciples have any truth to them, BUT we can also see how much Jesus means to him, an important point that give context to the intensity of their future arguments and really makes the whole story much more heartbreaking.

This brings me to Ola Salo’s Jesus. Delightfully camp and queercoded, Judas describes him as being caught up in his own magic and mystery and buckling under the pressure, and he’s not entirely wrong. Throughout the first act, Jesus basks in the luxuries that being messiah can give him (the oils Mary paid for using disciple funds that were supposed to go towards helping the poor, him absolutely thriving in the shopping cart in What’s the Buzz?), and is shown actively avoiding any reminders of the seriousness of his position. He’s sick of the disciples asking him for a plan, he chooses the comforting Mary, who’s theme consists of telling Jesus everything is okay and he doesn’t need to think about anything, over Judas, who is less perhaps ‘cosy’ but is actively trying to warn and protect Jesus from an awful fate. During The Temple, he starts to crack as he’s overcome by the followers begging him to make him well, fear in his eyes as he raises his arms while frozen on the spot trying to avoid being devoured by the frenzy in desperate need of a messiah. Judas’ point about Jesus buckling under the pressure is starting to look more and more reasonable, and the dashes of showbiz campness add to the sense that much of Jesus is a persona constructed for the masses to give himself enough distance to prevent him from being crushed by the weight of God entirely. Jesus, the institution, prances around, lays his hands on his followers, and projects an air of easygoing calm. Jesus, the man, is scared and alone, and Jesus, the man, really comes out in Last Supper, but before we get there, I want to circle back to the Jesus/Mary/Judas thing.

Jesus, Mary, and Judas are presented as a love triangle: so much so, that Judas seeing Mary sing of her love for Jesus (I Don’t Know How To Love Him) is actually played as the inciting incident that sends him to the pharisees. Judas, the picture of the jealous lover, storms onto the scene, breaking them up and attempting to kiss Jesus, who instead shoves him to the ground in disdain. Judas, who is perhaps a little controlling, realises that any influence he had over Jesus has gone, and it’s likely a combination of jealousy and the knowledge that Jesus won’t stop that prompts him to head to the pharisees. In his meeting with the pharisees (known in english as Damned For All Time, although that phrase doesn’t appear once in the swedish), Judas’ expresses outright that “I’m the one who sees / Jesus, he can’t handle it anymore” “the truth is that this hysteria is making him lose control”, once he can get past explaining how much this plan of action feels like a last resort. He never even verbally or physically accept the pharisees’ offer of money, he denies it twice before it is eventually thrown over him after he reluctantly gives them the date and time to find Jesus- we never even see him pick it up, unlike other productions which show Judas grabbing for the cash and place a higher emphasis on Judas making sure he ‘won’t be damned for all time’, painting Judas as far more self serving. When it comes to Jesus, Judas is active- he’s running around trying to help, caressing him, embracing him, grabbing his hand, kissing him. They share countless moment of intimacy, especially at the start, establishing the fondness between them instead of instantly jumping to their conflict. When it comes to Mary (and admittedly, this is partially because she’s a secondary character- don’t get me wrong I still love her and Gunilla Backman does a brilliant job), she’s much more passive. Other than the much more gentle kisses in I Don’t Know How To Love Him and her penchant for dabbing Jesus’ forehead, she’s mostly just ‘there’. She cares for Jesus after the fact, and even when performing acts of intimacy like the oil and the kiss, she maintains a lot of physical distance- her songs touch on this as, much like Jesus (admittedly for different reasons), she actively distances herself from feelings to protect herself, so naturally she literally places distance between herself and the object of her love.

This brings me back to Last Supper, Gethsemane ( I Only Want to Say), and the kiss of death that broke all of our hearts. Throughout this segment, this is when Jesus, the man, really comes through, and it’s devastating. In Last Supper, he properly expresses the sheer amount of loneliness he feels, reiterating how he feels everyone will forget about him once he’s gone, and doesn’t really care about him as a man (”for you, my blood is not worth more than wine / for you, my body is not worth more than bread” “you will have forgotten me as soon as i give up my life”). This devolves into the disciples fighting each other and, you guessed it, ignoring him. For the first time, Jesus meaningfully lets out his anger, and as it turns to Judas, Judas does the same. Because of the set up of their complicated romantic relationship and the stakes involved, the amount of personal attacks and anger that comes out of Jesus and Judas’ repeated fights (which get physical) make complete sense- Jesus’ frustrations come from the fact that his entire fate has been predetermined and to him, Judas is just another instrument in the ways he’s been controlled (both with Judas being his betrayer, but also the way that Judas’ constant advice and interference with Jesus’ life (most obviously, the mary thing) are acted by Ola Salo as becoming increasingly frustrating to Jesus)- these frustrations are directed at their real cause, God, in Gethsemane. Judas’ frustrations come from the fact that no matter how hard he tries to help Jesus and keep him safe, Jesus keeps rejecting his efforts resulting in “all that we’ve built up [being] destroyed”- Judas’ heart hasn’t just been broken by Jesus rejecting him romantically, but on every level. Here, he’s actually shown to be the disciple most passionate about helping people practically and long term, being the only one concerned about Mary taking money which was supposed to help people, manipulated by the pharisees with the promise of doing good for the masses, and criticising Jesus for how they could be doing so much for people, ending his part of Last Supper with “every time i look at you i ask myself why you let all your things go so wrong? / all i ever wanted was to help you”. 

This is also the point where Judas’ claims about the disciples are essentially confirmed, and this productions intent to portray Judas as more of a tragic hero become absolutely clear. In the english version, the disciples chorus remains virtually the same each time it appears, generally being far too calm considering their leader is about to die, revealing their aspirations to be apostles, and their intent to write the gospels to be remembered. the swedish translation still achieve this, but with variations from chorus to chorus it becomes much more poignant. i’m just going to stick to ttwo, which are choruses 1 and 3. In chorus 1, lines roughly translate to “i’ve always wanted to be an apostle / life is so nice when you’re saved/ then when we’ve got time we’ll write the gospels / then everything will be the way we want”-  the apostles declaring that life is so good when you’re saved supports Judas’ opening statement that they care more about some idea of heaven than anything else, not to mention ignoring the absolute horrors that Jesus will have to go through to be saved, while the final line about the gospels introduces their intent to change whichever details they need to make ‘everything the way we want’: once again, exactly what Judas warned us of in En Dimmig Himmelsdröm. In chorus 3, taking place after Judas storms out for the last time, these lines change to “never really liked that judas / never saw what jesus saw in him / then, when we’ve got time we’ll write the gospels / and we’ll angle it so he gets all the blame”. Judas as a sympathetic character is confirmed here, as the disciples straight up admit how they don’t like Judas anyways and intend to write him as a villain (also inadvertently admitting that, since they have to write the gospels to make it look like only Judas’ fault, Judas isn’t really the sole one responsible for everything that is to come). It’s deeply unsettling, and for me was the point where I really began to question how good any of these disciples were, and by extension, how good is this production’s God if his truly sanctified followers are acting like this?

Jesus vents out all of his anger and desperation in Gethsemane. He acknowledges his own powerlessness and begs him to change the plan, but with the dark stage and no response (along with Ola Salo’s spectacular acting) it becomes clear that if anyone is there, they’re certainly not listening (”you, who have all the power / can you please change the plan / for i can already feel the pain burning in me”). It’s worth mentioning that a lot of the imagery in this swedish version is much more intense than the english, both in this song and the production as a whole. Jesus plainly calls god “thoughtless”, begging to understand, and it’s that this point we realise that he agrees with much more of what Judas has been saying than he’s been letting on- Jesus’ faith appears to be the only thing keeping him from listening to Judas and running away. Judas’ messages about people misunderstanding Jesus’ words also come out (”you care that everyone sees / but not that anyone understands”), and his eventual agreeing to die is played less as an inspiring act of faith, and more an act of desperation as he realises, he realise has no other choice. In this song, we see just how much of Judas Jesus has valued and taken on board, and that his air of carefree aloofness which frustrated Judas was, as we’ve already touched on, a complete act. The line “might as well finish what i’ve... what YOU’VE started” is absolutely miserable, reinforcing one of the major themes of this production: the idea that Jesus and Judas were both just ordinary men tormented by futures defined by forces out of their control. Just as Jesus has absorbed Judas’ logic, as an audience so we have, and it’s difficult to view the rest of the play’s events as anything other than an immense and unnecessary act of cruelty.

we’re almost done i promise!

Even knowing what Judas has/will do, Jesus still greets him with love. Judas, still under the impression that Jesus will be okay and that he’s doing what’s best, approaches him with the utmost tenderness, and the kiss is a beautiful signifier of two things. For Jesus, the return of his love for Judas shows his realisation in Gethsemane that Judas isn’t the one who’s sealed his fate and has only being trying to help, it’s god himself who has decided Jesus’ future. For Judas, the kiss shows that despite all of the anger and frustration that has been pouring out of him, he truly does love Jesus, and the way he cradles the scared and alone Jesus to his chest afterwards shows just how much he wishes he could be the one to help him and keep him close. Even with all their arguments and dysfunction, here Jesus and Judas find comfort in each other, and it almost seems like everything will end up alright. It’s in this moment that Judas and Jesus are most identifiable not as enemies, or as villain and hero, but as archetypal lovers from a Shakespearean tragedy. Neither of them set out to hurt each other, but through miscommunications, their own flaws, and external forces (both natural and supernatural), their love is simply never to be. Furthermore, in the following torture and spectacle, everything that Judas predicted for Jesus is about to come true. Another detail I find interesting is the way that Jesus and Judas both sport black nail polish, leather pants, and similar length hair: along with just looking cool as hell, the similarities really reinforce how close they are and how much they influence each other- it feels like a contemporary version of carrying a cameo or a lock of your lover's hair with you, a way for 'star crossed lovers' to keep a piece of their beloved no matter what.

The disaffected persona of Jesus, the institution, comes back as he’s taken by the authorities and subsequently insulted, degraded, and whipped. Also the swedish version of The Arrest, when the chorus starts singing questions, contains this dick joke and I think we all deserve it: “why were you dating a whore? / talk about a huge magic wand!”

Skipping forward to Judas’ Death, this is where both his character and the production’s conception of god beautifully (and miserably) align. When Judas runs to the pharisees, minor semantic changes (along with the genuine concern and great acting from Peter Johansson) reinforce that this Judas genuinely didn’t know that Jesus would be beaten and sentenced to death the way he has been, and Judas’ concern regarding how things look is played less as ‘oh no people will hate ME!’, but how having sentenced the man you love to death is one nightmarish thing, but for everyone to think you did it knowingly and willingly and then congratulate you for it is unthinkable. Where the english shows Judas’ attempting to evade responsibility for Jesus death, the swedish is more focused on Judas’ guilt, horror, and regret. The english “I’d save him all the suffering if I could / don’t believe our good / save him if I could” is swapped in swedish for “If anyone should die here I should / don’t say I’m good / better if I died”. While the english statements are somewhat empty (sure, Judas says he’d save Jesus’ suffering if he could, but he can’t so we’ll never truly know) and are still focused on Judas’ attempt to construct himself as a good guy, the swedish translation has Judas admit his guilt (even if it’s not really his fault), and make the promise of “better if i died” which, given the name of this sequence, he later delivers on. When english Judas sings “Christ, I’d sell out the nation / For I have been saddled with the murder of you”, swedish Judas sings “Jesus, I’ve been deceived / because of my act your blood’s now being spilt”, and instead of ending this first section with “I should be dragged through the slime and the mud”, swedish jesus returns to the theme of character assasination with “i will be cursed as the one behind your murder”. 

The swedish translation of the next rework of I Don’t Know How to Love Him also places much more emphasis on Judas’ genuine romantic love for Jesus- we’d be here for hours if i listed everything but here are a few key contrasts. The english has Judas sing “I don’t know how to love him /  I don’t know why he moves me”, whereas the swedish has Judas crying while singing “how do I show my love / all I want is to be close to you”. Along with acknowledging Judas already loves Jesus, the entirety of this segment is shifted from Judas singing about Jesus in the third person ‘he’, to a direct address. Judas isn’t performing his sadness, or venting his emotions, he’s emitting one last desperate cry to the man he loves as he sobs on a stage completely shrouded in darkness, and it’s devastating. Peter Johansson lets his voice run raw as he’s belting, and interrupts lines with sobs, and this Judas answers the question of “do you love me too? do you care for me?” with a quiet “no”- Judas is about to go to his death convinced Jesus must hate him, just as Jesus will face his knowing his love inadvertently put him there.

We finally reach Judas’ actual death, and the production’s far more ambiguous (if not negatively geared) depiction of god comes to a head. Judas’ screaming at god the moment he realises that his god essentially forced Judas to be the one to kill Jesus (an act of ultimate cruelty given their love) comes across as horrifying in it’s validity, unlike in other english language productions where it follows the more common characterisation of Judas being an unbeliever who can’t take responsibility for his own actions. When he spits on the ground, screaming “you have murdered me!”, we can’t help but agree- Judas was trying everything he could to stop Jesus from dying, and yet here he is. Most notably, Judas doesn’t set up his own suicide- a noose literally descends from the heavens, already tied, and Judas is literally trapped between the edge of the stage, and the symbol of death behind him. Much like he didn’t choose to kill Jesus, Judas has no choice in his own suicide- it’s suggested to merely be another part of the plan god has for him, and Judas raising his arms to form a crucifixion pose before he finally turns and jumps, disappearing into the depths of the theatre as the rope trails down (somewhat evocative of a leap to hell), highlight the sick joke. Much like Jesus begging in Gethsemane, a plea with god that in anyway implies fault or cruelty is met with silence followed by a death sentence. 

When Judas reappears to the broken and bloodied Jesus in Superstar, he appears as more of a twisted hallucination than the literal spirit of Judas. He’s the opposite of everything he was in life, draped in colour, surrounded by red lighting instead of the signature blue, his hair quite literally let down, joking and dancing. Despite singing about him, Judas virtually ignores Jesus for the whole song except when he’s taunting him, snatching his hand away after a broken and desperate Jesus reaches out for the image of his beloved (refuting Judas’ belief that Jesus would die hating him), along with the swedish additions of Judas repeatedly addressing him as “little Jesus”. Where the living Judas was serious, sometimes harsh but always well intention, often paying more attention to Jesus than he received, this Judas is the opposite: light hearted but cruel, not caring about Jesus one bit. It’s somewhat an inversion of the beginning of JCS, where the tormented Judas was constantly reaching out to Jesus, and often met with scorn and insult (see: most of their arguments, this line from Everything’s Alright: “the thought is beautiful but quite unrealistic / yes, even quite stupid”). As the song goes on, and even as Jesus is crucified, the victorious scoring of the Superstar theme ends up reinforcing the cruelty and questioning of god distinctive of this production: Ola Salo’s Jesus is one of the bloodiest Jesus’s (Jesii?) I’ve been able to find, with blood covering his torso, his arms, and all over his face, not in passive dribbles, but violent ‘swooshes’ spreading out from his eyes, emphasising the fear and pain contained within them. As the music suggests how great and wonderful Jesus’ death is, the images straight out of a horror movie before us don’t seem to match up: as both Judas and Jesus question, if no one is understanding what Jesus is saying, why kill him? instead of making a point, you’re ensuring that the falsehoods continue to circulate, unless spreading the true message isn’t really the intent at all. or, simply that Jesus was wrong: his interpretation and teachings of god were far too kind and practical, and the true god really is the one that he briefly saw in the garden of Gethsemane, and that Judas saw before his death- a cruel and vindictive god using them for his own sick purposes. If you're a strong Christian, I'm sure you could watch this production and still believe that God was right (although I think Jesus and Judas being in love counts as blasphemy), but I think in doing so you'd lose part of what makes this production so hard hitting and, as i keep saying, devastating.

that’s pretty much it for this one! i feel like jesus and judas as a queer couple is less significant to this production than the fact that it’s specifically jesus and judas that are in love - they don’t face explicit homophobia as such, although i do think the paratextual and historical associations of queerness (both with them each looking visibly queer, and them as a couple) adds a beautiful dimension by subverting the standard christian teaching of Jesus’ sacrifice as “a love that changed the world” and making the love that truly could have been transformative (and was, to a degree) the love between Jesus and another man, not to mention the way in which queerness is often viewed as radical perfectly upholding the ‘radical’ views of god and the story of Jesus shown in the production. Why wouldn’t the love between two men be the love which has us questioning god, faith, and that which many of us have been taught since birth? Ola Salo has talked about how he’s able to be positive and negative towards christianity, along with how he wanted Jesus and Judas to really represent two sides of the same coin (’faith and intelligence’), and being bisexual along with having alluded to being raised christian (not to mention Breaking Up With God, a song by his band The Ark), it’s not surprising he’s managed to present such a nuanced and layered interpretation of Jesus Christ Superstar that even me, a trans exvangelical, can fall in love with.

UPDATE: @bands-and-hobbits has just let me know that Ola's dad was a priest! Apparently he's said that he liked the organs and the music, but that was all when it comes to christianity, which (when combined with Ola stating in interviews that the JCS soundtrack has been one of his favourite albums since he was 14) makes a lot of sense about the level of familiarity he had with the text giving him confidence to go in and make changes to really capitalised off of some of the themes that are hinted at in the english version- you have enough information to understand how everything works together, but aren't so dedicated to preserving belief that you feel you can't improve/change things (and my god are we glad he did)

[time-eclipse]

Gymnopedie No.1 (Donna Beneviento X reader)

You had known Donna Beneviento since you were both very young children. You never separated from her side. You loved her with all your heart and you promised your insecure friend that you would never leave her.

You had been there for her through out the death of her family. It was a dark time filled with nothing but heartbreak and sadness. Then Mother Miranda showed and she, for whatever reason, didn't approve of you seeing Donna. Donna begged Mother Miranda to let you stay once the feathered woman had adopted the young Beneviento. And after years of constant begging, Mother Miranda couldn't keep you apart. So, she gave in. You were extremely grateful that Mother Miranda had accepted. If you went home they would call you awful names because of your disability.

How you got the disability? You were walking in the village but you were attacked by one of the lycans before you could react. It managed to scratch your face before it was shot by Lucy, one of the members of the village. Unfortunately, the event left you blind. Lucy helped you back to the Beneviento Manor.

Donna was extremely stressed when she saw you and Lucy at her door, you bleeding out in front of her. Her shaking hands trembled as she took you from Lucy and thanked her quietly. Donna stayed with you that night. Holding you close. Her last human friend was nearly killed... And she couldn't do anything. You repeatedly that dreadful night. All the years you were there for her and she could finally be there for you.

Now here you are. Sitting in a carriage with your friend, on the way to the Dimitrescu castle. You placed your hand on top of Donna's when you felt were it was. She squeezed it. "Are we there yet!?" Angie, Donna's doll, complained. Donna sighed. "Donna!!" Angie huffed. "Fine I'm gonna sit on Blake's knee!" She hissed and you felt movement beside you before a small amount of weight on your knee making you chuckle fondly.

Donna squeezed your hand tighter. "What's wrong, Donna?" You asked with worry in your voice.

Donna pulled her hand away making you frown. "Nothing is wrong... I'm sorry. Just promise me something?" she question softly as always. Her voice was a gentle piano to you. It soothed you in every way.

You took noticed that Angie had stilled and was extremely quiet. It caught you off guard and put you on edge. "Yes?" you said, preparing yourself for what the veiled woman would say.

"Blake, promise me... That you won't leave me." She said and retook your hand tightly. Almost possessively. You took in a breath. This sounded like more of a beg than a request. You smiled putting your doubts in a jar.

You put your hand over your heart and swore to her. You would never leave Donna. No matter what life threw at you.

The carriage stopped when you arrived. You notice that Donna began to sweat slightly. The slight shake in her hand was enough to tell you that she was nervous. "We can wait a minute if you like?" you offered. Donna looped her arm in yours.

"No.. Its alright. We just need to go and eat then hopefully leave after I take Lady Dimitrescu's measurements." she replied and held you closer. Heat rose to your cheeks. You mentally scowled yourself. Donna didn't like you back... You were just friends and how it hurt.

You could hear... Nothing. Everything was deadly silent. Too silent. It made you pull Donna and Angie towards you. You heard Donna take in a shallow breath when your hand touched her hips. Your blush grew in embarrassment and you changed your hand position.

You could smell blood lingering in the air. Donna had informed you about all the Lords. Dimitrescu was the one family name that you were the most scared of.

Donna took the lead and lead you to the doors of the castle. "Donna!" a voice rang making you jump. "You came and you brought a guest!" you noticed Donna tighten her grip on you. Any tighter and you would have burst.

Angie wiggled away from your grip and you heard her patter away. "This is Lady Blake! She's Donna's best friend!! But don't you dare forget I'm better than her, tall one!" Angie shouted like an angry squirrel.

"My name is Lady Dimitrescu, doll!" the voice, Lady Dimitrescu, hissed in a bitter tone. Angie laughed and walked back over to you. Donna had told you about Lady Dimitrescu and her short temper but her incredibly tall height. You were also told that the lady Dimitrescu and Heisenberg didn't get on well... Didn't get on at all. "If you'd like to follow me, Donna, we'll have dinner first then you can take my measurements." she said and led the three of you to... Somewhere else.

Right away, you could smell all kinds of food. You hears some buzzing in the background. Donna took you to a chair and sat beside you. Immediately, you very subtlety began to feel around to get used to your new surroundings.

The buzzing got louder. Until you felt a hand on your shoulder. "Mother! You didn't tell us that Donna had a human pet!" A voice chuckled in your ear. You shivered a little. "she is so pretty mother!" the same voice laughed in kind. "What's your name, little one? Mine is Bela!" she said and touched you shoulder.

You smiled slightly. "My name is Blake" you replied. Then the two of you jumped into a pleasent conversation. You had to explain to her about your disability. The young dimitrescu was surprising very supportive and kind to you. Dinner was a blast! You and Bela got along really well. Perhaps a little too well...

Something wasn't right. You felt someone glaring at you. Like sharp daggers were been thrown at you. The only problem was that you couldn't tell who. "I think I should take your measurements now, Alcina!" Donna suddenly snapped. It made you jump. You had never heard Donna so angry before. It scared you. It was so out of character for her. Lady Dimitrescu hummed and you heard the clicking of heels walk far into the distance. Did you do something wrong?

°°°

When you returned to the Manor, no one said a word. Not even Angie. It put you on edge. You hated it. You couldn't sleep that night. Donna or Angie didn't even say goodnight to you! That hurt like a tone of bricks.

The next day you walked around the Manor with frightened eyes. "D-donna? Angie?" you stuttered. You had been calling them all morning. Why didn't they come to you? Donna would normally be by your side in less than a minute.

For the next few weeks you felt lonely. Like there was a heavy cloud hanging over your head. You heard shuffling in the background. You had assumed that it was just Donna's dolls but you heard footsteps. Real human footsteps. "Donna!?" You called out desperately. The footsteps stopped. It became agonising so that she was avoiding you. You burst into tears. You didn't know what you did wrong! "Donna? Please?" you begged between a torn sob. There was no reply but you did feel a little wooden hand against your arm. "Angie?" you said hopefully.

"Are you okay, Blakey?" Angie asked. You could actually hear the concern in her voice. It surprised you a little. You were expecting something sarcastic like 'Why such the sour face, B?' you were glad that the doll was actually concerned about your wellbeing.

You didn't answer. You couldn't. All you could think about was Donna. Did she hate you? No... Donna doesn't hate anyone... But then why the silent treatment? It was going to drive to you mad. She had never been angry with you. With a deep cry, you stood and ran back to your room. Angie shouted after you but to fail.

Once in your room, you began sobbing deeply into your pillow. You decided that you wanted to listen to some music. You felt around for your favourite CD and began to blast some depressing songs. Some were gentle and reminded you of Donna. It made you sob louder and louder until....

There was creak. You assumed it was the door. "Blake?" you immediately recognised the gentle voice. Donna! You flung up and called her name in hope. You felt weight beside you. Delicate hands wrapped around your form. "I-" you cut her off with a sob.

"What did I do, Donna?" you asked through your tears. "Why are you mad at me? Please tell me so I can fix it!" you begged, your voice breaking in several places. You noticed Donna tense. You hugged her close. Not wanting to let go of your friend. Wow... You never noticed how much the word 'friend' stung before.

Donna slowly relaxed and touched your cheek. "I wasn't mad..." She mumbled, pulling you closer. "I was scared." she admitted. Your brows furrowed and you were about to say something when she caught you off. "I didn't want you to leave me..." a sniffle came from Donna. In that moment, you had forgotten about all your saddeness. Donna mattered to you. You didn't want her to be sad You felt then reached for her veil. She pulled away. You frowned. She grabbed your hand and held it close to her heart. "I can't let you leave... You're all I have left. When I saw you and Bela..." a realisation hit you. You felt so stupid.

"Donna, I couldn't leave you even if I wanted to... You mean the world to me!" You promised and removed her veil before she had time to react. "Lady Donna Beneviento, I-" you stopped and choked on your words. You were scared to tell her. However, when she placed her hand on your cheek, you knew you had to tell her. "Donna... I love you..." you squeezed your eyes. "You are my world..." you finished and let the tears fall.

You expected something harsh in return. More silent treatments. However, you felt Donna weave her fingers through your hair. You leaned into her gentle embrace. You felt safe. Suddenly, you were pulled forward and your lips crashed onto hers. They were soft and tasted like cherry. She let you lead the kiss. Neither of you had ever done this with anyone before. You could feel her smile against your lips. "I love you too, My doll." she muttered shyly once you had both pulled away.

"ABOUT TIME!" Angie squealed happily while, you assumed, clapping her tiny wooden hands. You jumped slightly before laughing it off. Donna sighed deeply and pulled you closer to her. You smiled and cuddled closer. "LET ME IN!!!!" Angie hissed and snuggled in between the both of you. This was your little family and no harm would come to it for as long as you remained.

++++

Any requests? Let me know.

[celosiaa]

Short sickfic/whump prompt: based on the brief instances when I've heard him sing, I know for a fact that Alex J Newall has quite a good singing voice (+ a really pretty vibrato 😍), and lately I've been thinking a lot about Martin singing to Jon as a way of calming and comforting him when he's ill or upset. So, a hurt/comfort scene involving singing, perhaps? ♥️

I loved this prompt!!! Thank you so much!  Here is a short-ish fic about the transition between the Corruption and the Stranger, and the domains having an impact on Jon’s wellbeing. 

The song in this fic is “Your Song” by Elton John, which you should definitely give a listen while you read!  Please enjoy <3

Just a little longer.

Just hold on a bit, and he’ll be fine.

We’ll be fine.

Sniffling into his sleeve, Martin watches Jon sleep from where he’s curled up with his back against the tree, trying his best not to shiver in the cold he knows is not really there.  After they’d left the sick village, Jon had grown weaker and weaker as they approached the next domain—his steps stumbling, his breathing ragged and worn—until Martin had at last forced them to stop.  Jon had begun rambling, the words so badly slurred together he couldn’t make any of them out, and the ashen tone of his complexion was enough to convince Martin he was on the verge of blacking out.  The way Jon was shaking…he couldn’t help but settle him beneath their blanket, head pillowed on a small pile of their hopelessly wrinkled clothes, though he knows for a fact a steadily climbing fever is wracking his body.

He swipes at his own brow, nose wrinkling against the sweat he finds there, before tipping his head back against the tree in an effort to stem the flow of this sudden congestion.  Best he can figure, Jon had been overwhelmed with…well, whatever goes on inside his head these days, and with him weakened, it left both of them vulnerable to the effects of the Corruption.  What else could possibly explain this illness out of nowhere, and the heat rolling off the man next to him in billows?

Jon shifts a little beneath the blanket, muttering feverishly with furrowed brows—the sight bringing hot, stinging tears into Martin’s eyes at once.

Damned fever, always making me weepy.

He swipes at his eyes in frustration, the buzzing in his sinuses building to a peak as he does—forcing him to turn away to stifle a few miserable sneezes into his sleeve.  It seems his efforts to be quiet were unsuccessful, however—as Jon begins to move about in earnest, letting out a low moan that turns quickly into exhausted coughing.

“Sorry, Jon, I’m sorry,” Martin mutters, letting his knees fall toward him as he reaches for his forehead.

God, that’s horrendous.

He can’t help but wince at the heat he finds there—burning even against his own feverish palm.  The coughing hasn’t stopped either, growing deeper by the moment, enough that it’s starting to sound a bit concerning.

“You alright?” Martin asks against the scratching of his own throat, lightly resting a hand on Jon’s chest.

It seems as though Jon did not hear him, merely continuing to cough wetly until his lungs at last settle down.  When he finishes, he leans back against the makeshift pillow, breathing as deeply as he can, the dampness crackling through his lungs even as he does.

“You okay?” Martin repeats, running a hand up and down Jon’s clammy forearm.

Still, Jon does not reply, merely closing his eyes and muttering—statements, Martin’s sinking heart tells him, all jumbled together in miles and miles of words of pain, of suffering, of sorrow.  It kills him to see Jon carry it all, and know he can do nothing.

Please please wake up

“Jon, can you hear me?” he asks, turning away for a moment to cough into his elbow.  “I’m right here, sweetheart—come back to me if you can.”

Grasping his hand tightly, Martin bends down to press a kiss on Jon’s forehead, willing him to return, to say something, anything—

When he pulls back, the muttering has stopped—though only in voice, for Jon’s lips still move erratically around whatever words the Eye is pouring into his mind.

And now tears have begun to slip down his face.

“Oh, darling,” Martin sighs worriedly, cupping Jon’s face in his hands and brushing the tears away with the pads of his thumbs.

To his dismay, Jon takes a gasping inhale beneath his hands, eyes blown wide and wild, before wrenching forward into devastating, guttural sobs.

“Oh god, oh Jon, come here—”

Martin pulls Jon up into his arms, keeping a gentle hold around his trembling frame, hands wrapping around his torso and resting at the nape of his neck.  In desperation, Jon clutches at Martin’s back, hands fisting into the folds of his jacket as his breaths pick up both shallowness and speed.

“Shh, shh—I’ve got you, darling, just hush now,” Martin soothes shakily, rocking him ever so softly back and forth, one hand reaching up to massage his scalp in a way he knows Jon usually finds relaxing.

But it’s all for naught, as he only continues to sob harder into his shoulder, hands clenching and unclenching in distress.  It dismal, it’s horrid, it’s gut-wrenching—and Martin has no idea how to make it stop.

I’ve got to calm him.

There’s got to be something.

All at once, he is flooded with a memory of the two of them back at the safehouse—Martin in his boxers, Jon in his flannel pyjamas—in the kitchen, laughing and dancing to��

Martin clears his throat, and begins to sing.

It's a little bit funny, this feelin' inside

I'm not one of those who can easily hide

The hands clutching at his jacket begin to loosen, and Martin cannot help but smile.

I don't have much money, but boy, if I did

I'd buy a big house where we both could live

And it’s so clear in his mind’s eye now, that for a moment, he’s sure that Jon is letting him See—the two of them in a proper house, with a dog and a garden and grey in their hair.  It’s the loveliest thing Martin has ever longed for.

So excuse me forgettin', but these things I do

You see, I've forgotten if they're green or they're blue

Jon has fully relaxed in his arms now, his breathing slowing down with every line of the song that Martin knows he’s mixed up the words for. Taking a pause for just a moment, he plants a kiss on the top of Jon’s head, swaying him side to side with the rhythm.

Anyway, the thing is, what I really mean

Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen

At first, he thought he’d imagined it—but Jon’s chest moves in a small shudder of a laugh, face still pressed into Martin’s shoulder.

“They really are, you know,” Martin whispers with a grin, and Jon shakes his head—before his shoulders follow, and Martin can feel the tears dampening his shirt beneath him.

“Oh, darling.” Martin sighs, heart breaking at the little gasps coming from beneath the mess of hair.  “Shh, hush now, I’m right here.”

They spend a few moments like this before Martin continues, rocking him back and forth and praying to whatever gods there are that his voice will hold out for just a bit longer.

And you can tell everybody this is your song

It may be quite simple but now that it's done

I hope you don't mind

I hope you don't mind

That I put down in words

How wonderful life is while you're in the world

At last, at long last, Jon picks up his head from Martin’s shoulder—just barely long enough to peck him on the cheek—before he flops back down again.  The joy and relief that washes over Martin now is like nothing he’s ever felt—just grateful that maybe, for now, the worst has passed, and maybe Jon will be able to get some proper rest.

“Here, love—why don’t you lie down, okay?  Just lie down on my lap here, you’ll be alright,” he encourages, gently guiding Jon to do just that.  

For a moment, they remain silent—Martin stroking a hand through Jon’s fever-soaked curls, before he opens his eyes at last. Though green and glowing and so very strange now—they’re still endlessly deep, and so searching, and so very, very Jon.

God, I love you.

Even as he thinks this, Jon grabs his hand, bring it down to rest against his chest without looking away.

“One more time,” he says, voice whittled away into nothing.  “Need you to see.”

“See…?”

“Please.”

And Martin cannot help but comply, as Jon’s eyes fall closed once more.

And you can tell everybody this is your song

All at once, he’s caught up in a vision—and he knows for certain Jon is feeding it to him, letting him in for just a moment—all for the purpose of showing him memories.  Memories of them together.  

Jon’s arm looped through his as they walk through a blustering Scottish afternoon—

It may be quite simple but now that it's done

Endless cups of tea set on Jon’s desk, before they melt into shared cups, shared tea, Jon making it in their kitchen, Martin teasing him about it not being right—

I hope you don't mind

Lying in bed together—

I hope you don't mind

Their lips joined together in an affront to the dark—

That I put down in words

The vision fades, and Martin is left with what’s in front of him—his love, his love, and nothing else.

I love you I love you I love you

Leaning over him with a blushing grin, Martin sings the last words, certain that he’s never sung them with such force of meaning as in this moment.

How wonderful life is while you're in the world

Jon opens his eyes again at last, and—though ill and drained and exhausted beyond all measure—allows his face to melt into a smile, which Martin finds it impossible not to kiss.

“I love you too,” he whispers, before pressing another into his hair.  “Now go to sleep.”

At once, Jon does his best to comply, and Martin is soon to follow—a moment of peace in the growing dark.

[cupofteaguk]

i think i’m in love with you and i’m terrified

FROM THE PETALS COLLECTION

[pairing] :: jungkook x fem!reader

[genre] :: fake dating au + fluff 

[word count] :: 1.9k 

[note] :: previously “things you said too quietly” on my old blog 

.

In retrospect, maybe inviting you over to his apartment with the excuse that he ‘needed a favor’ hadn’t been the brightest idea Jungkook has ever come up with. But when the basis of your relationship sprouts from that exact same line, it doesn’t really leave him with too much legroom on how to go about conversations with you, especially ones that involve these particular moments. 

‘These particular moments’ pertaining to instances like these where he just really wants to see you and he can’t seem to get you out of his mind. Not because his mother had thought to call again to ask about your wellbeing, or to ask about grabbing another lunch with another family member; not because he needs you to spew up some lie about different milestones in a nonexistent relationship—but because he just really, really, kind of sort of maybe really enjoys your company. A lot more than he probably should, which is dangerous, considering that once his parents deemed his relationship with you ‘good enough’, you wouldn’t necessarily be… needed in his outside life anymore. 

And that thought, that uncertainty of what will follow, frightens him deeply. It’s gotten to the point where he can no longer picture an evening without you by his side, a dinner party where you aren’t grumbling snarky remarks about the wine underneath your breath, or filling him with stories about your childhood that makes him double over the chair in laughter—can no longer picture a day without your hands which, although much smaller than his own, still manage to fit perfectly in his own, can no longer picture a moment in front of his family where he couldn’t kiss you, partly because he had to but mostly just because he wanted to. 

However, his own hesitation, his own insecurities that you couldn’t return his feelings the way he wanted you to, keeps him from spilling the truth of his thoughts and emotions, keeps him hiding away in the dark, hiding behind poor ‘Hey, I need a favor’ text messages as an excuse to see you. 

Somehow, in spite of his pathetic nature that makes friends such as Kim Taehyung and Min Yoongi roll their eyes at him, it makes everything worth it to see your frame lingering outside his door, suddenly all wide gazes and the concerned curl of your lips. “Hey, I saw your text,” You say, brushing past him to enter the apartment, whirling back around to face him. “Is everything okay? Is your mom asking for another dinner?” 

“A-Ah, no, not today,” Jungkook manages, followed by an internal cursing because maybe he really should have thought this through just a little bit more. “I just needed some advice. Your opinion on something.” 

You inhale, exhale, shift slightly on the balls of your feet, and he wants to know what you’re thinking, what immediate thoughts are plaguing that brilliant mind of yours. 

And he’s nervous, although this isn’t necessarily the first time he’s called you over to ask of such a thing. He’s definitely engaged in a handful of these calls—but each invitation brings that choking anticipation of whether you were going to figure out his real intentions, the underlying fact that while yes, he really did require some advice over whatever predicament he’s caught himself into, that desire to see you overpowers his own independent responsibility. 

So he stares at you, just as you stare at him. He thinks he sees a flicker in your eyes, and his heart might give out because you know, you know, oh man, you definitely know and you’re going to confront him and reject him and leave him alone—!

“Oh yeah, for sure. What do you need help with?” 

The previous flicker is gone, no trace of it left behind in your eyes and he briefly wonders if he had imagined the whole thing just to give him some hope that maybe, just maybe, you returned his feelings and his internal, one-sided pinning wouldn’t be for nothing. But you are back to wide smiles and understanding eyes and he doesn’t know whether to be disappointed or not. 

“W-Well, uh, just follow me.” He waits until you have discarded your coat and purse, resting it down atop the counter in his kitchen, before following his form down the hall and into his bedroom. You enter the space hesitantly, lingering by the door frame momentarily before he beckons you to sit on the bed next to him. 

“Oh god, this seems serious,” You muse, clearly trying to keep the atmosphere light as you gingerly join him. Even though the pair of you have had to engage in similarity intimate moments within the company of his parents to keep up the facade, it’s different when no one is watching the pair of you, when there’s no expectation—and somehow that makes Jungkook more nervous than ever before. 

 “It is.” He elects to momentarily play along, distracting himself by opening his laptop and rummaging around for the file he’s looking for. “This is pretty life or death.” 

Your eyes widen slightly, taking his banters under a serious context—as always, an endearing quality about you that makes the smile want to spread itself wildly across your lips. “Is it really?”

Without a warning, he pokes your cheek. “Of course not, you moron. Would I really be this casual if the situation was that serious?” 

You furrow your eyebrows, lips pressing together, cheeks feeling as if it’s been set aflame. “I don’t know!” You retort. “You can be very calm under pressure sometimes!” 

For a moment, Jungkook cannot say anything, too caught up in his small fit of laughter over your protest. “You’re so cute,” He says without thinking, immediately halting his light-hearted giggles as the smile diffuses quickly from his face as he tears his gaze from you to the computer screen once again. 

Why did he have to be like this? Why did he have to speak such words without thought, even though he’s the one who put himself in this situation and knew more than anyone that it was important to separate emotions from objectivity. His mind is reeling, unable to think of anything other than the fact that he’s always been an open book, and if you were having doubts before about his feelings before then you would certainly know by now, there’s no way you couldn’t know at this point. 

But you don’t say anything. Not at first, anyways. Then, you pout. “Since this isn’t a life or death situation, what’s going on?” 

He doesn’t know how to feel about you brushing over the previous topic, but he decides, in this moment, to be thankful for it instead. He’s not sure he can handle you confronting him right now, especially when he has something important to ask of you. 

Which reminds him… 

“Oh, right,” He says, smiling softly to himself as he opens the file of his choosing, followed by making a grab for his headphones. “Well, remember when you encouraged me to get that composing software?” 

Your pout and the tension from his previous observation fades away as you look at him, lips twisting as if you don’t know what to make of his statement quite yet. “Yeah, I do,” You reply. “Why?” The corners quirk up. “Did you get it?” 

“I may have,” He answers, smile growing bashful when you grin and start clapping your hands together softly. “And I used it to record a cover.” 

“Jungkook!” You exclaim. “That’s so awesome.” 

He swallows thickly, looking down, looking over at you. “Would you like to listen to it?” 

“Of course,” You reply, taking the headphones that Jungkook offers to you. You have to move closer to him to avoid stretching the cord out too far, which immediately allows him to feel your body heat. He barely manages to talk himself out of tensing at the gesture, but you don’t seem to notice as you seem too fixated on readjusting the headphones so they are snug against your ears. “I’m ready,” You say, a little louder than necessary, but that only makes Jungkook exhale quietly through his nose in the form of laughter before he’s hunching over and clicking the play button on the program. 

At first, there is only silence, before some of the music from his cover start blasting out from beyond the headphones, meaning that you have turned the volume up incredibly high to hear every single detail he’s put into the track. Every breath, every curve and inclination of his voice, every key from the piano or every move of a string. He watches with bated breath as you listen with bated breath. 

He takes in the furrow of eyebrows that you’ve developed to signal the level of concentration you’ve put into making sure that you could really listen to his song. He takes in the way your lips have curled up into the softest of smiles at the sound of his voice, and he can feel his previous nerves disappearing at the sight of you enjoying yourself so much. 

He sees the fondness touching along your features, and can’t help but wonder how much different things would be in his life had you not decided to accept his plea for a fake girlfriend, had you not decided to indulge within your curious state of mind for him, had you not grown determined to dig through the realms of his past and his interests. Maybe he wouldn’t be feeling this way about you, but maybe certain passions would never have been uncovered, maybe his life would never have been the same. 

You start lightly humming to the track of his song, your voice barely above a whisper, something you probably don’t even realize you’re doing, but he sees it, and he feels it—his heart swelling, his eyes fixated across your features. You care so much, you care so deeply and so powerfully and you genuinely want to help Jungkook out in any way that you possibly can. You’re his friend, but you’re more than that. On the days his parents drop by into the city, you’re the one by his side, you’re the one running your hands through his hair, the one gazing into his eyes, and even though nothing about your relationship is real—it feels real and hopeful and influential. There’s no real title, but real feelings that are like warmth rushing through his body, his mind, lighting all the nerves from the tip of his toes to the top of his head. 

“I think I’m in love with you,” He says, barely above a whisper, watching the way you watch his work, his passion, his dreams come to live through the wire. He pauses. “And I’m terrified.” 

You don’t hear him over the ringing of his own voice in your ears, but you see the movement of his mouth out of the corner of your eyes. You turn towards him, lifting one side of the headphones up to address him. “Did you say something?” 

He straightens slightly, watching the same way you’re watching him, your eyes big and wide and curious and his own holding the truth neither of you were ready to face yet. 

That fear keeps him grounded, keeps him from saying too much, keeps him from spilling the truth of his feelings down across the bed on this Thursday evening. You expected just a typical friendly favor, not a confession. It doesn’t feel right, it feels far from such, and he would never want to lay anything emotional upon you just for his sake. 

So his lips remain shut, hoping that there will be a moment, and hoping that it will be alright. 

“No, I didn’t.” 

[shadow--writer]

hi! could you maybe write something for muriel where the mc hears him talking to asra about how he doesn’t like the mc’s constant touching and how she talks too much, so the mc completely stops touching him and only speaks when spoken to? and maybe the main six realising more and more that the mc is keeping to herself and trying to find out what’s wrong, but she’s deeply hurt and embarrassed? sorry if that is too specific, it’s a dream i’ve had x

I’m gonna take it you want a she/her apprentice for this one? There aren’t any names here but there are gonna be she/her pronouns! Heads up here!

I wrote a little fic for it. First person since I’m still trying to get a hang of second it’s a work in progress XDD.

This is very angsty with Muriel and Apprentice (kinda ooc Muriel? Idk think of this as towards the start of his route. I love him so much this hurt to write)

Also sorry this didn’t go over everything you asked lol this got a little long but maybe I’ll add more later if y’all want ^^!

Requests are open! Fic and headcanon requests open still check out my pinned post for info! 

I hope I did this ask justice XDD lol have fun with the angst! 

TW: None.

Tags: Angst, tears, hurt/comfort, good friend Asra, great friend Faust. Lot’s and lot’s of angst. 

~~~~

My day started like any other. 

Woke up to Asra’s soft snoring and Faust’s little tongue blepping out as they snuggled together on their half of the bed. I was a bit groggy and my body ached, but I got up and ready for the day. 

Making breakfast I thought about what I would for the day. Nadia and Portia were out. Julian was making housecalls all day, I didn’t know what Asra was going to do but judging by his snores he would be asleep for a while. 

A grin broke it’s way across my face as I thought about visiting Muriel. I’ve been meaning to say hi again to the ladies (the chickens) and give Inanna a gift I had made for her a bit ago. 

I finished up breakfast and hurried to get my things together. Surprised, I found no Asra in our bed. He must’ve left while I was eating. 

It was no matter, I had a mountain man to see! My heart fluttered a little as I thought about him, he just...he made me so happy. 

His little blushes, when he actually smiled. Oh that soft smile was killer. I couldn’t be mad or sad when he gave me that soft little smile. 

My skin buzzed as I thought about touching him. Running my hands along his arm as we talked (me talking more, chattering on about what was going on in the shop and what everyone was doing while he listened, nodding along).

I seemed to skip on my way to his house, humming a happy song I heard a while back from Julian. 

“Hi little Apprentice! How are you?” Selasi called, smiling at me. I waved vigorously, grinning back at him.

“I’m doing great Selasi! Going to see a friend!”

“Would you like some pumpkin bread for the lucky person? New batch is coming out of the oven now!”

I pursed my lips, fighting back another large grin. “Okay! I brought enough for it anyways!”

“Ohh dear you don’t need to pay I’ll make it special for you!”

“Selasi this is a very poor business you’re running,” I chided with a laugh. “Let me pay for it, please.”

He sighed before laughing. “Stubborn as ever, fine. But it’s half off. Just for you.” He winked, making me roll my eyes. I would not win this fight.  

I paid for the bread, Selasi handing it to me in a small bundle. The spices wafted up to my face, making me sigh with happiness. 

Selasi laughed, waving me off as I headed back to the forest. “Have fun up there apprentice!”

I waved back with a large smile. “I will!”

It didn’t take long for me to get to the forest and begin my trek through it. My cloak got caught on a few branches but it didn’t do anything to sway my mood. I was determined to stay happy today.

Today was going to be a good day. 

Turning against the now beaten path, I spotted Muriel’s hut. I picked up my cloak and started to run, the chickens running around my feet, cooing at me. I bent over to run my hands along their backs. Their feathers were so soft, almost like silk. 

I wondered if he used a charm when bathing them, or maybe they just were taken care of so well their feathers reflected it.

“Hey ladies, can you point me in the direction of Muriel?” I asked, one of the chickens squawking like a reply. 

I nodded, pretending to understand. “Oh! He’s inside his hut? Thank you darling I’ll head there right away.” Another squawk. “And bring food out. Don’t worry.”

Tucking the bread into my side, I made my way to his door. I wanted to surprise him with the pumpkin bread, he seemed to like it a lot. Even asked Selasi for the recipe (the former replying with a wink saying ‘that’s a family secret’)

I could hear muffled voices when I got to the door. The door was cracked open. I tensed, magic sparking at my fingertips. 

Then I heard Asra’s voice and relaxed. I smiled again. He was here! Great! He would be ecstatic over the pumpkin bread I brought.

I snuck closer, listening to their conversation. It sounded heated. I stopped moving. “-I just hate how touchy she is!” Muriel’s voice. 

I froze. 

Was...was he talking about me? I was the only person to touch him as often as I did but...

“Muriel she doesn’t mean any harm by it! She’s just friendly!”

“Yes but I don’t like it when she gets so close to me like that. Like she’s always got to be touching me or she’ll die.”

I froze. 

When Asra dropped my name my blood ran cold in my veins. 

“Muriel she’s just being friendly. She loves you and she loves being around you. Touch is how she communicates that!”

“Yes but she talks so much and I never can get away. She always so touchy and always talking. It makes my head hurt. What if I want to be alone?!”

Asra let out a small sigh. “I understand. I know what you’re feeling but Muriel please understand she loves touch and she loves having conversations with you.”

“She just talks too much. Touches too much. It’s all too much.”

Each word was a knife to my heart. 

I did talk too much. I did touch him too much. And he hated me for it. Of course he hated me for it. 

Tears sprung up in my eyes. I didn’t know any of this. He never told me any of this.

I thought he was fine with it, used to it!

It just hurt so badly. 

Swiping at my eyes I turned and started to run. I dropped the pumpkin bread along the way but I didn’t care. I just needed to get away from them. Away from Muriel especially.

I let out a choked sob, tree branches scratching my arms and my cheeks. My tears fell faster and faster, my stomach curdling. All hopes for a good day were dashed. 

Tripping on a branch I went sprawling, my cries getting stuck in my throat as I pushed myself to sit upright. My hands were scratched up and they stung but I didn’t care. My cries were silent, my chest heaved and my body trembled. 

There was a cracking of twigs to my left. I tensed, but it was only Faust.

Friend?

I sniffed. “I’m fine Faust. Go back to Asra.” She flicked her tongue at me.

Friend hurt!

“Faust I’m fine.” I snapped. She blinked, and she stopped swaying. I wanted to bite back my words. Just because I was hurt and upset didn’t mean I could make her feel like that. “Faust I’m...sorry. I just...”

Muriel? Touch? Friend sad.

I nodded. “Nailed it right on the head.” She slithered closer, curling onto my lap. I ran my hand along her head and down the coil of her body.

Faust help.

“I don’t know if you can help...Muriel hates me. I’m so stupid!” My hands shook. My head was starting to hurt. Dizziness would soon set in. My hands, arms and face were still bleeding. 

Friend not stupid! Friend smart!

“Friend hurt another friend by not picking up body language clues.” Faust looked down at my bloodied palms.

Friend needs help.

I smiled, tears rolling down my cheeks. “Yeah. Yeah. I’ll just go home. A-And sleep.” My voice cracked as I spoke. “I want this all to be a dream,” I whispered to the snake on my lap.

The day had just started and I already wanted it to be over.

Faust curled around my arm. Faust come with friend.

I got to my feet, my legs shaking under me. I’d go home, clean up, sleep...and then....figure something out from there. 

“Thank you Faust,” I said softly making my way home.

~~

The days after that moved slow and sluggish. Asra watched me, concerned with my wellbeing. I didn’t eat much. And I was sleeping more. 

I knew he knew. When he brought back the cheesecloth the bread was in I knew he knew. 

He didn’t mention it. We only went about our days. 

Me only talking to Faust in fractured sentences. Whenever I saw Muriel I kept silent unless he spoke first. 

I never touched anyone, keeping my hands curling into my sides, tucked into my arms. 

Just not touching him.

He seemed to notice my behaviour with a wrinkle in his brow and a small huff. 

I didn’t care. I didn’t care.

I didn’t care about how my skin ached without touch. I didn’t care about how I wanted to cry every time to open my mouth to give a short answer to a question or conversation. 

I didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. I didn’t want him to hate me.

So I swallowed into myself. 

And

f

e

l

l

[juminly]

i saw that you were doing matchups and omg they are so amazing??? Couldnt help but want 1 for myself hehe, you're such an amaizng writer and you deserve all the recognition you get 💖 may i request an ikevamp matchup?? Thank you so much!! And i hope you're staying healthy and drinking enough water hehe 💖

La Vie en Rose 

PS: The melody of this song captures the sound of the love he feels for you and how peaceful his heart becomes, even when it’s shadowed by the burdens of his past. You can listen to it while you read the below: Gymnopédie No. 3, Lent et Grave by Erik Satie. It was a pleasure writing this matchup story for you 💜

Context: When you arrived at the mansion, anyone could see on your face that you were overwhelmed. There was so much to take in and grasping the idea that you ended up in a mansion filled with vampires wasn’t easy at all. It wasn’t some sort of fantasy, it was reality and you had to accept. In order to make the process easier for you, Sebastian had given you a tour of the mansion, told you about the ins and outs of everything around, while you met the residents one by one. (all under Le Comte’s request)

Just like he does with all his guests, Le Comte invites you for tea, just to get to know you better. The man is a socialite, an elegant handsome man that is the representation of what a true gentleman should be like.

One of the first thing’s he noticed was your preference for coffee instead of tea. After your first “tea break”, Le Comte actually requested him to buy the best coffee he could find so you could choose what you like the most. Every day after that, Sebastian would come to you with a different type of coffee (and it was a bit hard for you to even choose your favourite because they all taste so good [and definitely expensive as hell]).

Le Comte enjoyed being around you in any way he could. He invited you for breakfast and also walked around the gardens of the mansion just to learn more about you. His main goal was to make your stay as pleasant as possible and the more time he spent with you, the faster the pieces fell into place. You were vibrant, a shining light that would grow dimmer, at moments. You were human after all, no, everyone had their limits.

He requested that Mozart teach you how to play the piano (although he looked disgruntled and talked about how his time would be wasted on you, deep down, he was happy and later on discovered that his love for playing would be revived when he saw the smile on your face when you would play well) and Leonard to teach you about any other thing that would across your mind [with the support of Isaac when it came to physics and other sciences as well].

He had laid out all the possibilities before you and you had to choose how you wanted to go about things. Everyone respected your freedom and what you wanted to do with your own time, but somehow, they all still managed to keep you preoccupied (there was always something going on somewhere in that mansion). You would create your own schedule, set up lessons and meetings with the other residents that slowly became your friends. It was all part of Le Comte’s plans.

On days where you didn’t have lessons, Le Comte offered to take you to explore the beauty of Paris. He chuckled when he realized how much of a history fanatic you were. (PS: He laughs more often when he’s with you, the melodious sound is so beautiful, enough to turn heads. He finds your sense of humour a bit peculiar but he can’t resist how light his heart feels when he talks to you [Poor man has centuries-worth of burden on  his heart so the sound of his laughter often turns lots of head]).

He saw how your eyes would shine when you see beautiful things around you: dresses, the jewellry, trinkets etc... He starts taking you shopping more often. He loves seeing you change in and out of dresses and imagines you twirling in it, looking like a work of art. But what was even more beautiful were your eyes and smile, showing true happiness (what he yearns for the most but doesn’t think he deserves it).

He invited you to join him at a ball, wanting you to be his partner. He wanted to hold you in his arms, pressing your body against his and dancing with you. But, you didn’t show up. He waited for a good hour at the entrance of the mansion but you were nowhere in sight.

He came to find you, sitting in your bed, crying (and hyperventilating). He was a smart man and he understood that you sometimes just needed your space. He announced himself softly by calling out your name and settling on the edge of your bed. He asked for your hands, so he could hold them and bring your attention to the soft caresses of his fingers against yours, his thumb running smoothly on your skin. He more than treasures the fact that you consider him close enough to let him be by your side in your hardest/darkest of moments.

He would talk you through your tears, his voice almost hypnotizing and soothing while he comforted you. He would look at your wrists and bring them slowly to his lips, pressing soft kiss upon them while murmuring. “You are enough, princess. You are more than enough and I would like you to always remember that. Listen to my voice and ignore all the voices in your head. Whatever your mind is telling, it’s not true. Let me help you calm your heart, sweet one.” And if you were comfortable enough, he would hold you tightly in his arms, until you tears dried and even big spoons you in bed and talks to you to get your mind off things (and later on, apologizes since he shouldn’t be sleeping in the same bed but these were special circumstances).

He absolutely didn’t mind when you cancel all of a sudden and values your wellbeing above anything else. He understands that your emotions can sometimes run high and being around others can be too much to handle.

He is your equilibrium. It’s a weird thing to say but he reels you in when you feel low, when you get angry or succumb to negativity. You remind him of his old self, before becoming the composed and stoic gentleman that everyone knows.

He started planning makeshift balls, just for the two of you, so you could live the experience of the old Parisian of the century. He took it as an opportunity to teach you how to dance, and would serve the most decadent of delicacies just for you.

When the night would settle in and you would still be awake, rummaging in the library or walking around your room, going through the notes you took of your lessons of the day, Le Comte was obviously concerned for your health. He obviously couldn’t force you to sleep but the least he could do was stay up at night with you, keep you company. [When you were just up at night, unable to sleep, Le Comte would play chess/cards with you.] He would ask you about your day, everything that you learned and watch your face light up. He felt special to be able to glimpse this side of you.

(He found you asleep in the library and the music room a few times and carried you to your bed, cradling you gently in his arms [and inhaling the scent of your hair and your skin].

Sebastian started making you decaf coffee at night so you can unwind but still enjoy the taste of coffee in the nighttime. Le Comte was quite strict with his instructions to the butler, informing him that your health came before anything else.

It was a rare occasion when Leonardo would pick up his violin and play alongside Mozart. He heard you sing in the hallway on the way to your room (and he happened to be passing by) and he felt like he was going to lose himself and the world stood still. He could only hear the harsh drumming of his heart in his ears and he had to retire to his room, earlier than usual.

That same night, you were up very late one night and were looking for Le Comte, your nocturnal companion. He was absolutely nowhere to be found. It was weird but you thought maybe you should just leave him be. You happened to find Leonardo on the balcony and asked him if he’d be willing to play some chess with you and he replied without thinking: “Sorry, Cara Mia. You’re my dear friend’s inamorata. I couldn’t possibly take his place. Go find him.” (Leo being the smooth wingman and all)

It was strange that he would say something like that and there was a flurry of feelings bubbling inside of you: confusion, surprise, anticipation and happiness. (you didn’t necessarily understand Italian but you had a feeling you understood what he said)

You went to his room and knocked on his door once, twice and before you knocked the third time, you heard the click of his shoes on the floor. He seemed sad and almost heartbroken, you didn’t understand why he would look like that and the only thought in your mind was to ask him what was wrong. But then he spoke.

Comte: Will you forgive me, dearest one?

Lia: Comte, there’s nothing to forgive. What are you saying?

Comte: I do not want to be responsible for your sorrow… 

Lia: You’ve never done anything to hurt me. You’ve only made me happy… 

Comte: Gods, please.. I have committed a grave mistake. 

Lia: No, Comte. Please tell me… *you stepped closer to him and looked into his beautiful topaz eyes* Whatever it is that you say, I’ll…

He sealed your lips with his own, letting his loving kiss and his strong embrace convey the words he wanted to say. He loved you so deeply and it consumed his thoughts, his heart and soul. He couldn’t get you out of his mind and knew for a fact that if he fell in love with you, he wouldn’t be able to let you go. He would let you make your own decision, whether to return to your own time or not, because that would be the right thing to do. But deep inside, he would beg you, implore you and weep for you to remain by his side. [He had lost a lover before and doesn’t want history to repeat itself. In his mind, his grave mistake was letting his heart take over and become vulnerable in the face of love. However, he was mistaken. His love for you ran deeper and it was not in his control. Whether he guarded himself or not, you were meant for him and your love for him only proved that to him]

When you became lovers and would be alone together, you call him only by his real name. He doesn’t like to have any formalities between you.

The first he noticed a change in your attitude when you got jealous or acted possessive, his eyes widened only for a split second. He couldn’t really believe it. But to ease your qualms, he would do anything to prove your jealousy wrong. (example: if you were at a ball with him or on the streets, he would take your hand and kiss it or even hold you by the waist and lay the most loving of kisses on your lips).

He reassures you and comforts you whenever he sees a particular frown or gleam in your eyes. It’s that look you get when you’re feeling jealous and possessive (and boy, does it make his heart flutter to know that you feel so strongly about him. Although, this man only has eyes for you. You and only you.)

This man is elegance and eloquence personified. But beware of getting on his bad side. He absolutely cannot tolerate anyone touching you or being physically close to you in any kind of way. He would give them the deadliest glare and would have their heart trembling in fear. Any other action or words were unnecessary. This man could turn into a fierce and fearsome killer in a split second if he wanted to.

He finds your love for sweets absolutely adorable and before you were lovers, he was always tempted to lick the cream/jam from the corner of your lips but would only wipe it off with his handkerchief or when he felt bold, when his thumb (and then suck on it).

Kisses of affection: the inside of your hand, your wrists, your shoulder and your hair/head.

He loves playing with your hair, smelling your hair.

And when you told him that you wanted to stay in the past with him, the expression on his face was one that you could never forget. He cradled your face with gentle hands, his eyes shining with emotion and a wistful yet genuine smile drawn on his lips, whispering softly:  “C’est toi pour moi, et moi pour toi pour la vie…”

PS: (he was hinting that he’s willing to turn you into a vampire. Instead of saying “dans la vie”, just like in the song “La Vie en Rose” by Edith Piaf, the fact that he used the expression “pour la vie” means that he was trying to hint at an eternity spent with you.)

(Very) NSFW Ahead ~

Your first time together, you saw a different Comte and it was as if he wasn’t the same man. What you saw was a man who was driven mad by his desire and he was eating you up with his gaze alone. He was gentle with you but it was all very intense. He treated your body like a temple and he worshipped you like it was his last night on earth before claiming you and joining your bodies, making them one. Sweet words never ceased to leave his lips while he kissed down your neck, sucked on your collarbone and tended to each of your breasts, appreciating the curve of your waist and the dip of your stomach, the width of your hips and the curves of your thighs, the shape of your calves and lastly, the honey between your legs. You reigned over his heart and he treated you like the queen that you were. [Things he said to you on that fateful night: “J’ai envie de toi… Mon amour… Je n’ai besoin que de toi… Donnes-moi tout ce que tu es et je vous donnerai le monde en entier… Je ne veux que toi…”]

He loves it when you beg for him so he sometimes overindulges when he prepares your body for him. You would tell him that you’re ready and wet enough to take him but the man is going to push you to your absolute limit before sinking into you. He wanted to  hear you cry out for him and scream his name, beg for his cock to be inside you.

The one time you looked into his molten gold eyes and whispered seductively “Daddy, please take me”, the man paused for a split second before his lips were crashing into yours and he teased your entrance with his tip, coaxing you to call him Daddy again and again before fucking you. (You thanked the heavens that the resident gentleman of the mansion was such a Daddy behind closed doors [lucky you!)]. 

He loves it when you tie him up and edge him. He wants to ache for you. 

He loves pleasuring you and being pleasured by you. He is a generous giver but also willing to take whatever he can from you and sometimes, aggressively does so (if he’s in a Daddy wants to punish you mood, your mouth is going to be doing lots of work and your body will be wrecked by the end of the night). 

This man’s dirty talk wants to make you weep from its poetic/romantic/eloquent essence. Let me remind you, this man writes smut poetry about you and letters to you (this should be canon). He writes poetry/letters for you and makes you read them while he’s making love to you. With each line you read to him, he’ll come up with another one that makes you melt even more. It’s dirty, it’s filthy but it’s obscenely loving, erotic and romantic. Every time your voice hitches or you lose your breath, he’ll thrust into you harder, making you cry out. “I’m not going to let you cum until you’re finished reading it all, ma belle.” 

His voice is erotic and loves it when you have sessions where you just watch each other pleasures yourselves. Mutual masturbation is one of his kinks and boy, his sultry sexy voice is too arousing and being under the heat of his gaze, you’re a goner. 

Your lover is vocal but he’s not loud though. He voices the pleasure he feels with a range of whiny gasps, sweet moans of your name and rough groans. 

He will bite you everywhere. Mark you with his kisses, licks, nips and with his release too. He’s tried drinking your blood from every possible place in your body but he prefers to take blood from your neck and lace your fingers together when he does (and if it’s during sex, he’ll thrust his fingers in and out of your mouth, mimicking the movement of his hips or he’s restrain you by locking your wrists above your head). 

He’s a pureblood vampire and has the stamina of a Greek God [and looks like you too]. But that doesn’t necessarily apply to you. When you’re feeling lazy, he’ll hold you against him, your back against his chest and allow him to roam your body with his fingers. He’d slip his cock inside you and you both indulge in intimacy you’re basking in. Sometimes, you just want to appreciate each other’s bodies and feel warmth [and he likes to feel your pulse and see the sight of your flushed skin under his touch]. At times, he would roll his hips in languid strokes/thrust inside of you while his fingers that had touched the sweetness dripping between your legs, would press into your mouth and you suck on him lazily. 

Rousing the competitive spirit in you, you had no idea that he had a thing for bets and gambling. What was at stake? Your body or his. He would play strip poker with you and the person who would be completely stripped off their clothes first loses. The winner gets to do whatever they want with the loser. Absolutely anything.

All the things he loves to do to/with you in front of the mirror… Hngh..

He’d whisper in your ear and make you look into his eyes while you ride his thigh, while he’s unbuttoning his chemise while keeping one hand on your waist or on your breast (caressing your soft mounds or teasing your nipples). 

When facing the mirror, he usually takes you from behind so you can see every single inch of your body that he plans on touching, caressing and he’ll tease you by letting his cock glide between your lips, stimulate your sensitive bud of nerves just enough to make you tremble and scream out of frustration by not enough for you to reach your climax. And when he’s ready to take you, he’ll grip the back of your knee and spread your knees wide, so you can see how wet you are for him and he’ll remind and ask you, multiple times before he thrusts inside you. “Who’s your Daddy? Hm? Are you going to beg for my cock like the naughty little girl that you are? Tell me how much you want me inside you…” He’ll take you hard and fast, slow and gentle and let you watch his cock thrust in and out of you, ultimately filling you up with his release, his scent all over you and his mark dripping from you.

If you were the one taking control, he loves to watch you slowly undress him in front of the mirror, kiss and mark his neck with love bites and stroke his large cock in your hands (teasing him and edging him) and make him see how he looks like when he loses himself to you. 

Kinks: anything you’re into. This man aims to please and he’s a goddamn vampire. He’s seen the world and most probably tried everything. Praise kink (praising you), Body worship, mutual masturbation, overstimulation and mirror sex would be on the top of his list. He wants you trembling and begging.

Runner-up Suitor: Arthur Conan Doyle! It was such a close race but Mr. Le Comte won! ;) (I hope he won your heart too, after this)

[starwarsnonsense]

Best Films of 2019 (So Far)

It’s that time of year again! As most of my followers probably know, I’m an avid cinema-goer beyond Star Wars. I also quite enjoy making lists, so what’s better than a combo of the two? Below, I run down my top 10 films of 2019 so far - please note that this list is based on UK cinema release dates, so some of these films were 2018 releases elsewhere.

What are your favourites so far from this year? Let me know in replies/asks!

Honourable mentions: Toy Story 4, Long Shot, Aladdin, Alita: Battle Angel & The Kid Who Would Be King

1. The Favourite, dir. Yorgos Lanthimos

This completely wowed me - it features a trio of magnificently compelling female characters (played by Olivia Colman, Rachel Weisz and Emma Stone) operating at the court of Queen Anne (Colman is Anne, Weisz and Stone are courtiers), and is focused solely on the shifting sands of the power dynamics between them. The script is savage without sacrificing poignancy, witty without ceasing to be genuine. And while I’ve seen some react to this film as a comedy (and it certainly has laughs, most of which are closely tied to shock), for me it was very clearly a drama about the inscrutable and complicated relationships that exist between women. Specifically, it is about how those relationships run the gamut from sincere affinity to ruthless manipulation. This is an amazing movie, and it also has the best use of an Elton John song in 2019 (sorry, Rocketman!).

2. Midsommar, dir. Ari Aster

I went into this film with reservations, since I wasn’t a huge fan of Hereditary (by the same director), which I found to have extraordinary moments but iffy execution overall. This movie, however, wowed me, and I am still uncertain as to whether this or The Favourite is my top film of 2019 so far (fortunately, this gives me a good excuse to watch Midsommar three or four times in cinemas). While marketed as a freaky cult horror film, the director has described it as a fairy tale, which is the level on which is spoke to me. Midsommar follows Dani (an incredible Florence Pugh), a young woman who has suffered a terrible loss, as she travels with her boyfriend and his friends to a pagan festival in the Swedish countryside. Dani is painfully isolated, and her grief is hers to shoulder alone since her boyfriend is un-receptive and distinctly unprepared to help her. Over the course of the film, destruction and creation are conflated in ways that are frequently beautiful and horrific at the same time - this film spoke to me on a profound level, and the way it ended gave me a sense of incredible catharsis. This won’t be for everyone, for I found it to be a deeply special film and I can’t recommend it enough.

3. One Cut of the Dead, dir.  Shinichirou Ueda

While I went into The Favourite with high expectations given the talent involved, I went into this with no expectations whatsoever - and what a treat it was! One Cut of the Dead is easily one of the funniest movies I’ve seen in ears, taking what initially seems like a trite concept (a crew is filming a zombie movie at a desolate location ... only to discover that the zombies are real!) and twisting it in a truly ingenious way. The comedy is often of the broad variety, but it is consistently delightful and always manages to avoid becoming crass - the movie even has some really sweet family dynamics at the centre of it, which gives it some real emotional heft. The success of this film is heavily reliant on a major twist that occurs part-way through, so the best advice I can give you is to stay as far away from spoilers for this one as possible - go in blind, and you will be amply rewarded for your faith.

4. The Farewell, dir. Lulu Wang

I saw this following a wave of festival hype, so while I was excited I was also a bit apprehensive (since I have been burned by the aforementioned festival hype before). Thankfully, my doubts were blown away as this turned out to be just as wonderful as the early reviews had suggested. It’s a personal story about a young Asian-American woman (Awkwafina) struggling to reconcile her heritage with her current situation and values - specifically, she is tested when her grandmother is diagnosed with terminal cancer and the wider family make the decision to hide the truth from her. The Farewell does a fantastic job of generating empathy for all the different perspectives and positions in play, but it’s truly anchored by Awkwafina’s amazingly nuanced and tender performance - basically, anyone who’s ever loved a grandparent should leave this feeling incredibly moved and inspired. The themes of The Farewell are both specific to the Asian-American experience and general to anyone who has struggled with maintaining bonds over a vast distance, whether physical or cultural.           

5. Booksmart, dir. Olivia Wilde

God, how I wish I’d had this movie as a teenager! While Booksmart has a cliched premise - two high-achieving teens decide to have one wild night before graduation - it tells the story in an incredibly charming and impressively creative way (I won’t spoil it, but let me just say this - that scene with the Barbies!). As someone who was an awkward nerd with no discernible social life in high school (as you Americans call it), I found this portrayal of that peculiar limbo period very sensitive and thoughtful - it doesn’t mock or shame its heroines for being studious, and it allows them to have limits and step back from situations that make them uncomfortable. It also serves as a beautifully honest portrait of a friendship, depicting the qualities that bring people together in friendship together in the first place, as well as the forces that can break people apart. This is a very accomplished debut from Wilde, and it makes me very excited to see where she goes next as a director.

6. A Private War, dir. Matthew Heineman

This was a very suspenseful and tightly focused film about an extraordinary woman, and the film soars on the strength of Rosamund Pike’s incredible performance as Marie Colvin. She provides piercing insights into the psyche of a person so driven to pursue truth and enact change that she loses all concern for her own wellbeing - it’s simultaneously a portrait of heroism and obsession, and it’s impressive for how it handles the ambiguity inherent in Colvin’s choices. She’s exceptionally brave, but the film is unflinching in depicting the costs of her bravery. It left me feeling inspired to learn more about Colvin’s life and work, and I still need to watch the documentary Under the Wire to get more insight into the real story behind the film.

7. Fighting With My Family, dir. Stephen Merchant

This is the year of Florence Pugh - she killed it in Midsommar, and she is just as fantastic here. If anything, Fighting With My Family and Midsommar make great complements as they serve as fantastic showcases for Pugh’s range as an actor. While her character in Midsommar is fragile and vulnerable, Fighting With My Family is a platform for her strength and comedic skill. As Paige, Pugh is instantly likable and compelling - I don’t give a damn about any form of wrestling, but this film (and Pugh specifically) did a fantastic job of drawing me in and making me root for Paige’s struggle to prove herself as a legitimate force in wrestling. This is a real underdog story, and Pugh did a wonderful job as the Cinderella of the WWE.

8. Apollo 11, dir. Todd Douglas Miller

My dad has always been crazy about the space program, but I hadn’t picked up the bug myself. That changed after I watched this extraordinary documentary, which brought the Apollo 11 mission to vivid life. The footage that’s used for this documentary is extraordinarily crisp, and some moments are vividly powerful - the crew getting into their spacesuits, the swirl of fire surrounding the moment of takeoff, and the journey of the spacecraft towards the moon. It left me feeling moved and touched by human potential, especially when you remember that this all happened 50 years ago when the available technologies were so fragile and primitive. I also loved how the footage was allowed to speak for itself, with no voiceover or exposition - it’s a must-see for anyone who’s ever looked up at the stars and wondered about reaching them.

9. High Life, dir. Claire Denis

This movie is second to only Midsommar in terms of how weird it is. I saw this in a Hungarian cinema while on holiday, which made for a disorientating experience in itself. While the meaning of the film is quite elusive and I’m sure that many people will find viewing it a uniquely frustrating experience, I appreciated how it created a hothouse environment that brought out some of the ugliest aspects of humanity. Robert Pattinson was great as what comes closest to amounting to our protagonist, though he is as inscrutable and inaccessible as the film itself. I can’t quite pin down why I liked this one so much, but I know I did and it made me want to seek out more of Claire Denis’ work. 

10. Free Solo, dir. Jimmy Chin & Elizabeth Chai Vasarhelyi

It’s tragic that most people will only watch this documentary on a TV screen (or, so much worse, a laptop!). I was fortunate enough to see it in its full IMAX glory, and it’s rare to see any film - let alone a documentary - take such full advantage of the format. The woozy spectacle of this film is the real star, though the subject - mountain climber Alex Honnold - is also fascinating with his unnerving detachment from the magnitude of what he is setting out on. It is clearly a necessary detachment for him to be able to achieve what he achieves, but I appreciated how the filmmakers questioned it and explored its impact on his girlfriend. This is a compelling documentary, and is worth watching even if you’re not usually a fan of the genre.

[astrologysvt]

Woozi’s Ideal Type - Natal Chart Reading

For more SVT astrology posts, follow my blog! For more posts like this, check out my masterlist as I’ll be doing an in-depth ideal type post for each member!

For ideal types, I’m not going to be doing specific placements of their ideal partner. Instead, I’m gonna be listing personality traits I think would mesh well with them, as well as focus on their needs and the kind of person who could meet them. Keep in mind these are almost “perfect” descriptions of their ideal types based off their natal charts. I promise you that there is no one in the world that 100% fits these descriptions and thats where communication and compromise come in and all that fun stuff. 

(Woozi could definitely be a Sag Sun and who knows I may change my mind, but rn I think he’s a scorpio sun. This interpretation doesn’t change much based on his sun as both Scorpio and Sag suns are both independent and desire authentic experiences as romantic partners).

someone fun (fire influence).

someone creative, outgoing, and independent.

interests should be similar as he’d want to connect with someone over his passions, and would want to share in his excitement.

charming, intelligent, rational, communicative (libra venus) 

ambitious, adventurous, open-minded, optimistic (sag mercury).

independent, independent, independent. I cannot say it enough. Literally every single part of his chart indicates that he needs SPACE and FREEDOM and would want that for his partner as well. 

in my experience, even though scorpios don’t want to admit it, they LOVE validation and they love attention (not in the “asking for permission” type of validation, but they like to have their competence acknowledged). 

and although an aries moon may not rely as much on validation as a scorpio sun may, they still love attention.

he’s going to want to be with someone who makes him feel good about himself. 

he’s not immune to a great pep talk or a little bit of sincere flattery, and his s/o should be someone whose very generous in their communicating of this.

(even though he may say it makes him uncomfortable. he loves it and I promise he wants it acknowledged). 

for that reason as well, he’s going to want to be with someone who encourages and challenges him and has a ready and waiting ear for his ideas, concerns, and random thoughts. 

great sense of humor, super super funny (maybe a bit on the sarcastic side) thanks to his sag mercury.

his aries moon also makes him very playful making him crave a youthful and free relationship with his partner.

i’ve noticed aries placements love a kind of “kindred” silliness. 

They like being with someone who will meet their ridiculousness halfway.

(also all fire placements love arguing with their significant other over dumb things. this is a fact). 

his fiery placements would get very bored with someone who took themselves too seriously. 

not to mention his sag influence makes him extremely optimistic so he’d feel bogged down my someone ultra realistic/practical/pessimistic. 

he wants to get excited about life and his life with his s/o. they should be equally excited and hopeful for their future together. 

they should offer him a very sincere and simple emotional connection as his aries moon and scorpio sun sextile uranus and pluto would want authenticity and would be very quick to suss out shallowness. 

not to mention an aries moon can make him incredibly straight forward, while scorpio/sag placements give him a sense of him being a no-nonsense, straight forward guy. 

he is fiercely independent thanks to his scorpio sun and aries moon, but his libra venus makes him crave romance.

once he’s set his eyes on someone, that’s all he’ll be thinking about. 

like picking-petals-off-lowers, head-over-heels kind of love.

not to mention a scorpio sun would add a super strong tendency towards obsessive habits in love? maybe not in a creepy way like it sounds, but it’d seep into everything he did. the members would probs get annoyed cuz he’ll find a way to talk about his s/o whenever he can, all of his songs will be about them, etc. etc. 

the libra venus really softens every other part of his chart that makes him seem indifferent. 

it also explains why so many of his songs focus on love, but not just superficial love. like, the more nuanced parts of love and break ups. it goes to show how deeply he’s thought about it and how naturally romantic he is.

it’d also explain why he once said during a fansign that he wrote home because he was lonely (brb gotta cry) this is his libra venus being hyper aware of the space he’s saving for someone. 

due to his afflicted moon he’s going to seem cold and distant in the relationship from the outside but he is ACTUALLY the fuzziest boy.

his afflicted aries moon and (unafflicted) libra venus would give him a clumsy, awkward, yet incredibly thoughtful and sincere way of expressing love.

maybe not the king of grand gestures, but his moments will be incredibly sincere and observant.

they’d be moments where his s/o would be surprised he noticed, or didn’t even realize he had been having such sweet and deep thoughts.

it’ll take his s/o by surprise because he keeps his feelings and thoughts close to his chest due to his secretive and private scorpio sun, but he will a-matter-of-factly state them when the moment arises thanks to his scorpio, aries, and sag placements that, again, make him a no-nonsense guy on all fronts. 

His afflicted moon and well aspected saturn means that he struggles with emotional freedom and expression while also being incredibly disciplined.

he’d want someone with self-control and goals.

this is also heighten by his virgo mars which makes him both disciplined, a perfectionist, and pretty set in his ways (ya, I know virgo is a mutable sign but have you ever actually met a virgo. you try and get them to eat a piece of toast slightly too toasted for them and it shuts down their core processing). 

not only that, but virgos like security. 

they like predictability and have very specific preferences that will personally offend them if violated so his s/o should be both understanding and compatible with him on these fronts. 

like it may be a deal-breaker if their lifestyles were too different once the initial romance tames and they have to learn to coexist.

this is further emphasized by the fact that virgo is the sign of health, lifestyle & wellbeing. they value this and can tend to be rather inflexible on this front.

his outer planets are all very well aspected to his personal planets, specifically uranus and saturn.

meaning that he’s not only independent, unique, and goal-oriented, but he’s going to want to see the same in his partner.

his trajectory is forward. he is a visionary in the sense of having a great deal of creativity and the work-ethic to see his visions through, and if his partner is someone too focused in the moment and far too preoccupied with getting him to settle down, their paths are simply incompatible.

it really just emphasizes how independent and individualistic he is as a person. 

his libra venus definitely softens this and can certainly make him a hopeless romantic, but his core values would make it that he would never allow himself to be too dependent on his partner. 

he wants to be his own person before he enters a relationship, and he’d be very adverse to dating someone whose life and goals centered too solely on romance/relationships. 

his saturn aspects, afflicted moon, along with a virgo mars mean that he is someone who both struggles with, and desires a kind of “liberation” from time to time. 

his s/o should be fun and free and help him forget about the aspects of himself that may be overly self-conscious in certain moments. teach him how to be reckless every now and again while also keeping him on track with his own goals. they shouldn’t be tooo wild, lmao. 

Let’s not forget a saturn in aries which is gonna inhibit his ability to be open and expressive as a need for composure and control is incredibly strong, while simultaneously making him rather flighty with commitment and attention. 

his need for action and ability to express and process negative feelings like anger are inhibited and go through an confusing filter of being hot-headed and impulsive, to overly critical and cautious which can lead to him appearing cold and short.

his partner should be patient and empathetic enough to help him through these situations, but also understand that him needing space doesn’t reflect his feelings towards his partner.

as passionate and good-humored he’d want his partner to be, a big turn off would be someone who is too expressive and too intense to the point of lacking tact. He’d need someone with self-control, but also someone persistent and committed in order to balance out the aries part of his aries saturn when it decides to act up as it can make him flighty from time to time. 

this is heightened by his virgo mars, which can make him very set in his ways and pushing him out of his comfort zones when he’s clearly not interested in challenging those comfort zones is only going to freak him out or irritate him. 

trying to breach these will put him on edge, and will more likely push him away than anything else. 

not only that, but it’d probably freak him out as it would paint you as someone who wouldn’t know how to give him space.

(literally @ soonyoung).

sounds contradictory but it’s not much more complicated than just encouraging him by example, not by coercion. 

in general, he’s looking for someone who can both balance him out and challenge him. 

his s/o should be fun, independent, and goal-oriented. 

someone charming with a flare for dramatics here and there, but ultimately someone poised he can be proud of who he can look on with with respect and admiration and who’d think the same of him. 

someone communicative and ultra-creative, i can see him loving being able to pick up random interests with his s/o that they can discuss and collaborate on. 

he greatly desires intellectual companionship paired with a great deal of independence: ideally, he’d want a relationship where their goals are similar and they can encourage, help, and be a place of healing and rejuvenation to one another while making each other laugh along the way.

[poedamern]

You’re my Joy. ⏤ Jasmine x Female Reader

PAIRING: Jasmine x Handmaiden!Female Reader / LENGTH: 2.1k / DISCLAIMER: Gif is not mine! NOTE: i’m so happy you requested this! #HAPPYPRIDEMONTH / SUMMARY: aladdin AU where aladdin and jasmine meet all the same but have become really good friends who go on secret adventures together instead of becoming lovers, due to jasmine falling in love with her handmaiden. jasmine still desires to be sultan as the princess but makes ground on becoming one with each and every day. / WARNINGS: bi vibes all round! jealousy, a lil angst, comedy and fluff for the heart. also mild nudity. (sorry!)

The way her hair fell down her back, the stylish outfits she wore, her friendly aura and how soft her hands were against Jasmine’s neck whenever she took off her royal jewellery for the night. Jasmine always felt small sparks lighting against her skin and the smallest of touches. It was ridiculous, truly, Jasmine would have never imagined she would feel this way about one of her handmaidens but she did, deeply and unconditionally.

“How does that feel?” Y/N asks, making sure to store away the jewels back in their safe boxes before undoing the clasp tied in the back of Jasmine’s hair, letting it fall comfortably over her shoulders. “Perfect.” Jasmine smiles softly, grabbing onto Y/N’s hands, squeezing them lightly. “What would I do without you?” She asks, sighing softly. “You’d be getting into all sorts of trouble and we both know that. Even Dalia knows that.” Y/N laughs, turning to fetch some tea for the princess. “Dalia can be very brash in her responses, though, we’re used to it of course.” Jasmine teases, running a hand on top of Rajah’s head as he makes his way to Jasmine’s side, never too far. It has been a long day for all of them, several meetings with cities across the way, debates on poverty, the wellbeing of Agrabah with her father and Jafar’s antics. She was just so happy she could be alone with those closest to her at the end of the day.

“Dalia’s honesty will always be cherished.” Y/N chuckles, heating the tea to it’s proper temperature, remembering exactly how Jasmine likes it, different temperatures for morning and night. As much as Y/N was a handmaiden to Jasmine, taking care of all her needs and wishes, she was more than that. A great friend but to Jasmine, she wished for more.

“Princess? Handmaiden?” You both hear a familiar voice come from the Princess’s balcony, turning to look in the direction of the sound, giving each other a look of speculation as to who it could be. Rajah is the first to make his way over, sniffing the air, ears flicking before taking a seat in the middle of the balcony as a figure climbs over the railing. “Aladdin!” Jasmine yells, ready to scold the street rat for yet again breaking in to the palace. Aladdin falls over the other side of the railing in reaction, causing Y/N to laugh. “Jasmine, you don’t want the guards to hear right?” – “Yeah Jasmine, We’ve been through this almost several times now, it’s practically routine now.” Aladdin jumps up from his spot and gives some welcoming pats to Rajah, who purrs contently in return, tail swaying from side to side.

Jasmine rolls her eyes, crossing her arms. “So now you two are ganging up on me are you? My own handmaiden and the street rat?” Walking down the balcony steps she checks the surrounding area for any guards on watch, some had gotten word of thieves breaking into the palace but for Aladdin’s safety, she always denied the claims. “And how exactly is your handmaiden doing?” Aladdin asks, bowing in both of your directions. Y/N smiles as Aladdin takes her hand and gives it a light kiss, playful and endearing. Jasmine tries her hardest not to scowl at the act. “Just fine, without you.” Jasmine retorts, as if it’s matter of fact.

“Though, I don’t mind the occasional visits, right Jasmine? We can always use an extra friend or two around.” Y/N says, ruffling Aladdin’s hair in a teasing manner. Rajah grunts in response. “Of course you’re always first pick Rajah, you know that. Spoilt little thing.” Y/N goes over to rub his furry cheeks together. “Little? Has she lost her mind?” Aladdin jokes, taking a seat up on the balcony railing. Jasmine laughs softly under her breath, admiring the way Y/N interacts with Rajah. “No, just in a world of her own.” – “Oh, where’s Abu?” Y/N perks up, curious to find the smaller animal. Aladdin looks surprised and turns to look for him. “He was right behind me– Oh Abu!” He jumps off the balcony and towards Y/N, moving her dress to the side to see him hiding in the fabric. “What are you doing there?” Aladdin scolds Abu. Abu shrugs with his characteristic chirp before jumping up on Y/N’s shoulder.

“Well hello to you too Abu. You better have not stolen anything Abu, here I was thinking Aladdin was the cheeky one.” Y/N teased, bringing her finger up to scratch under Abu’s chin. Aladdin laughs and rubs the back of his neck, slightly flustered. “Well– I do take after Abu just a little bit. But this one likes to cause a whole lot more trouble.” He points an accusing finger at Abu. Jasmine watches from the small ottoman she sits on, Rajah now by her side once again. Y/N and Aladdin so deep in their own conversation she feels like a witness to it all, a strange sense of anger rising in her chest. Was this jealousy? How was it that they got along so well but she struggled just to say the right things around Y/N? She’d blame her upbringing and not being able to socialise like a normal citizen but– she had all the chances to learn. Nothing was scarier than facing her true emotions.

It hurt to see their chemistry grow each time they got to see each other, she couldn’t take another moment of it. Standing from her place, Rajah purrs curiously, concerned for his master as she walked back to her chambers. “Is there something you need, Princess Jasmine?” Y/N asks, worry written across her face. “No. You’ve done enough.” Jasmine tries to say with indifference but it comes out colder than expected. She flinches at her own tone but makes her way to the bath, leaving Y/N and Aladdin to their own devices. “Jasmine, wait–” Aladdin tries to talk to her but it’s too late. He exhales, disappointed he didn’t get the chance to talk to her more. “Do you think she’s okay?” He asks. “I think she’s just had a long day. I’m sorry Aladdin. Is there something you would like me to send on to her?” Y/N takes his hand, apologetic. “No, I’ll be back tomorrow night– By then I can tell her my plans for our next adventure.” His wide charming smile back like nothing ever happened. “Make sure Jasmine rests well and that you take good care of her okay? For all of us. For all of Agrabah.” Aladdin waves goodbye, slipping back over the balcony railing. “See you tomorrow, street rat.” Y/N teased, watching as the boy jumped down and over, Abu following close behind. “Let’s go Rajah, we have a Princess to care for.” Y/N says with a new sense of determination, Rajah following closely behind.

-

Jasmine never usually sets up the bath, hasn’t done so in years, but after minutes of figuring out what oils, essences and soaps to put in the bath, she was soon surrounded by comforting bubbles, the hot water soothing her jealous feelings. “Oh, Princess Jasmine?” Y/N sing-songs, Jasmine watching as her shadowed figure walked across the bath screen. “Yes handmaiden?” She responds, not using her name. “Do you need any assistance?” – “No, no. I am perfectly capable of taking a bath.” Jasmine hears Y/N giggle from behind the screen, even her figure through the layer of drapes was beautiful, graceful. “Well the smell of spearmint and thyme tell me otherwise princess, you know thyme is your morning routine and lavender is your night.” Y/N says as she walks into the bathroom without warning. Jasmine tenses and looks away, bashful. “I–I guess it slipped my mind.” Jasmine stutters, Y/N had seen Jasmine naked on several occasions due to hygiene and general health care but she never got used to Y/N’s eyes on her body.

Rolling her sleeves up, Y/N takes a seat next to the bathtub, bringing one of the bowls of lavender oil to the edge, pouring it into balance out the thyme. “Thyme can irritate the skin if it’s not poured and warmed correctly with the right carrier oil.” Y/N speaks, although it doesn’t sound like it’s directed right at Jasmine, just more of a fun fact, knowledge to be shared. “Irritation can be caused by other essences too such as spearmint, cinnamon, clove, oregano–” – “Y/N.” Jasmine interrupts, her eyes glued to the side of her handmaiden’s face. Y/N looks up at Jasmine, eyes curious, almost doe like. Jasmine’s heart catches in her throat. “What are your thoughts on Aladdin?” She may be considered petty for thinking such things but she needed to know. “Thoughts?” Y/N tilts her head, slightly confused by the query. “Do you find him– attractive? charming?” Jasmine runs her hands over the water’s surface, watching the bubbles swirl around.

Y/N laughs softly, sounding like a wind chime in a summer’s breeze to Jasmine. “Unlike Dalia, I don’t fawn over many men. I don’t fawn over many people to be truly honest with you. Aladdin is kind, has a good heart.” Jasmine purses her lips at the reply, scared. “But–.” Y/N’s hand slides down her forearm down to her hand, pulling it up above water and rubbing the palm of Jasmine’s hand with experienced technique. “He doesn’t bring the same sort of joy as someone else in my life does.” She states, simple as fact, her face calm and collected. Jasmine looks at her in shock, frowning slightly. “Who brings you that joy?” Jasmine asks, as if it’s the golden secret hiding beneath the cave of wonders. “You. Jasmine.” The name rolls off of Y/N’s lips so elegantly, so poised. “I guess I’m the luckiest handmaiden in all of the country to be able to be by your side, watching you be the strong woman that you are without a care for other’s perceptions of you.” She smiles up at Jasmine, laying her hand back down in the tub.

“Y/N– I–” Jasmine struggles to find the words. Y/N just shakes her head, grabbing a hold of Jasmine’s long thick hair, bringing it back over her shoulders as to not get wet. “Whatever it is you need from me, I will do without question. Please know that.” She goes to stand from her spot next to Jasmine only to be stopped by the grasp of Jasmine’s hand on her wrist. She was right, Jasmine was strong and powerful but she was also determined without shame. Having given her the confidence, Jasmine stands from the bath, hair cascading down her slender back, body now exposed to Y/N as she pulls her closer. Y/N only looks from her wrist up to Jasmine’s face, patiently waiting for her Princess’s words. “Would it be selfish of me, as a Princess, to ask her handmaiden to be accepting of her love?” Jasmine asks in a soft whisper, their faces now only inches away. Y/N’s eyes widen before they glimmer in the reflection of the night light coming through the chambers bathroom stained windows. “Only slightly selfish. But a Princess who is not selfish for her own quality of life is a Princess living in fear.” Y/N answers Jasmine’s question. “I do not wish to live in fear anymore, Y/N.” – “Neither do I.”

The warm touch of Y/N’s breath cascading across Jasmine’s lips as she leans closer is captivating, her eyes slowly closing, welcoming Jasmine into her space. With lips parted, Jasmine leans in and latches her lips onto Y/N’s with a silent hum of contentment. Jasmine can feel Y/N shiver against the touch, her hands coming to rest on her arms. Jasmine brings a hand up to Y/N’s cheek and slightly deepens the kiss, wanting to cherish it, every moment, every second. They stay like that, for a moment’s pass until Y/N pulls back, a flushed look on her face. Jasmine pulls her back, only to press their foreheads together, whispering. “I promise to give you as much joy as you deserve.” – “And I promise to remind you every day of how effortlessly your presence gives me joy.” They chuckle under short breaths. The remainder of the night they stay glued to each others sides, their hearts burning with love and cheeks hurting from smiling so much. Jasmine was ready to face the entire world for Y/N, nothing could stop her– not now, not ever. 

[twotrees]

The Two Trees, The Two Heroes

The Two Trees, The Two Heroes

By Bray Colloway

As a part of this experience, the titles section of each part link to a particular song by The 1975. Please click the link and let the song carry you through the chapter while you read. When you have finished reading a section, please close out the previous song before moving onto another. The sections will not take the whole song to complete, so feel free to advance at your own pace.Thank you!

PI: Frail State of Mind

“Fuck, It’s over….I guess” he said aloud as he looked out over the temple steps that lead to the steep cliff that dropped away, plunging into the foggy depths, the ground not in view. He was sitting down on the leaf covered apron leading out from the Sanctuary of the Avatar. He hadn’t been back to the Temple in quite some time, 2 years or so. Well, at least not since his 115th birthday, his first birthday after the war. So many things whirled around his brain like the air he bent at complete ease. It was the middle of winter, but thanks to his firebending, he kept himself nice and toasty. These new Air Nomad robes, that the great clothiers of Ba Sing Se had made for him, felt like that didn’t fit. “Am I shrinking? No...that’s just my heart.” He gave himself one more blast of heat from a deep, deep breath. With that, he took out his new staff, made by the Mechanist, ran with abandon towards the steep drop-off laid out before him, closed his eyes, and took flight into the cold night. For the brief half step before the wings of the glider opened, he felt the thousand meter drop below. It felt...inviting. 

As he flew through the evening sunset, which was masked by the thick clouds turning it sort of a brown tinted grey, he began to tear up. He couldn’t tell if it was the cold wind hitting his eyes or...something else. “Come on”, he thought to himself, “it’s been 2 months, fucking pull yourself together”. The crisp air was soothing in a way to him. The slight bite that the air made made him realize that he could actually feel something again. 

After a few minutes of loitering in the sky surrounding the top of the temple, he saw a particularly dark cloud approaching the complex. Something drew him to it, he wasn’t sure exactly what though. With a quick shimmy of his shoulders, and a turn of his core, away he darted towards the dark form that sat between him and the quickly dimming sky that lay beyond it. When he came head on to the cloud, he felt a deep sense of dread as he plunged into darkness and chaos. This thundersnow flung his carefully crafted glider left and right with quick force. His left hand began to slowly slip from the formed handle. He battled his sweaty palms but felt a moment of calm: What if I just….let go?...shit no no no I need to get back, they need me! I-I think…

It was at this moment a flash of lightning came down 20 meters in front of the airbender, the Avatar was startled, but saw a glimpse of the silhouettes of the people closest to him. Time stood still as he peered across the outlines of his brother in arms, the greatest teacher he ever had, his enemy turned friend, and the love of his l--the one he loved. When he saw the last shadow he brought the wings of his glider in, offering himself to the storm and feeling the earth pull him towards its center. He fell. He fell some more. He closed his eyes. I did my duty. Am I wanted or desired? Is there a point? 

As he expected to be caught by the rocks below, he felt a soft caress of head, and his momentum shifted horizontally. He opened his eyes and saw the tufts of thick fur below him. It was Appa, carrying him back in the direction of the Southern Air Temple, for a long awaited audience with his past lives. “Time to talk, Aang” he heard a voice say to him.

PII: Be My Mistake

There’s a reason I am leaving, a reason I am going away. They think it’s because of the Morgul Blade wound and the weight of the burden I carried, but it’s really another ache and weight in my heart. 

Laying in bed, he stared at the ornate ceiling above him, counting the number of times the great shipwrights of the Grey Havens had nested a leaf into the crowning of the walls. He knew the great White Wizard recognized that something was amiss, as he had tried to call upon the ring bearer multiple times. He didn’t care. The wizard could never understand what he was going through. He hadn’t come out of the cabin of their Elven ship, on the Straight Path to Valinor, since they left out of view of the harbor. The outer creases of the hobbits' eyes were crusted with the dried remains of all the tears he had shed over the past few days. All he wanted to do was be in the arms of the one he loved once more. The two of them had been through so much, shed to many tears together, and had grown up together.

“Master hobbit”, came a deep rumble from outside the door, “there is something outside you should see”. He smelled the smoke from the Longbottom Leaf come from underneath the cabin door. “That smells like them”, he thought as he rolled over and covered his head with the blanket. *thud thud* rapped the door. “Fuck off! I am to be left...alone” the halfing yelled from underneath his covering. Then, nothing. The young master waited for a few seconds only to roll over and see the long beard, flowing robe, and kind eyes of Gandalf the White sitting on a stool beside the bed. “You know I bloody hate it when you do that” said the hobbit, “I don't know why you’re even in here right now Gandalf.” They both took a beat to read each other. “I am concerned for your wellbeing Frodo. You waste away in this small room, it will be a long journey if you keep up like this”, Gandalf said through a kind smirk coming across his face. There was a pause while both of them waited for the other to break.

“Well, it doesn’t matter anyway does it?”, snapped Frodo, “Where you are taking me, I will never die! It’s in its name ‘the Undying Lands’, real creative the Valar are, eh?” The hobbit finally sat up and dangled his feet over the bed. For a normal man, this would be the perfect height for one to slip their slippers on, but for the dear Baggins it felt like a cliff. “I know why you are truly leaving dear Frodo”, spoke Gandalf with a more hushed tone, “this feeling too shall pass.” The Maiar got up from his seat and began to leave the room, gesturing towards Frodo to come join him above decks. “You think so?” asked Frodo. “I sure do hope so,” responded Gandalf, “or else you’ll have an eternity full of regret”

Frodo begrudgingly crawled onto the sun baked deck and stood just beside the wizard’s cloak. He watched as the last glimpses of the sun began to disappear underneath the horizon. The sunset was as beautiful as the face of the one he loved, and felt just as distant too. With a call from the helm, the captain of the vessel filled the sails with wind, and the ship began to rise up and away from the water’s surface as the ship and crew began the Lost Road to Valinor. The place where Frodo will call home until the end of the Song of Time.

PIII: Ballad of Me and My Brain

Aang was on his back, clinging on for dear life on top of Appa’s saddle, the reins falling into his hands as if they were guided by some outside force. He grasped them tightly, tears coming to his eyes as he let out a whimper, “I’m so sorry buddy. I don’t know what came over me. I’m scared, I’m lost.” he said to his longest tenured friend. Appa tilted his head side to side and let out a deep and resounding MMMOOOOAAAAAAHHHH before shaking his shoulders as thought to tell the seemingly young Avatar to lay down and rest.

Appa touched down back on the apron outside the great Sanctuary, his great landing sending all of the leaves tumbling away in a circular pattern. Aang hopped off, landing with the light feet that his teacher and friend Toph would always tease him for. With each step towards the Sanctuary door, the Avatar felt a tightness in his chest grow more and more. He reached out to send the currents of air into the door mechanism, but stopped just shy of sending them. He dropped to his knees crying, not knowing what he was doing or why. He felt lonely, abandoned, and terrified of what the rest of his life was going to look like. He sat with his back to the great door, head in his hands, and lost all track of time. He came to, with the sky a bright orange and pink. Was it morning? Evening? Dawn or dusk? He couldn’t tell. “Open the door Aang” he heard the voice command. With ease, the great bender sent hurricane force winds into the maw of the locking mechanism, hearing gears and levers shift, finally letting out deep tones like an organ. The doors opened, revealing once more the lines of statues depicting all of the lives of the Avatar, his past lives.

Aang made his way to the middle of the cavernous chamber, sat down into Padmasana, and began breathing deeply. He had done this countless times before, the deep meditation that Gyatso taught him, but this time it felt labored, tiring. No matter, Aang pressed on, sinking deeper into his inner self, into his past lives. Normally when he passed into the Spirit World, he could see his body floating before him, but not this time. It felt like days passed before Aang finally opened his eyes. His body was nowhere to be found. All he saw around him was a wide meadow upon a hill, as he looked up he saw two great trees before him, one golden and the other silver. The Great Trees emitted the most incredible light that Aang had ever seen, filling him with warmth and awe like nothing had before. “Wait here,” the great voice said to him, “there is someone who is to join you in due time. Be patient and wait. Listen to the tree and the songs they sing”. Aang did as instructed, finding himself in Lotus position once more, this time sinking himself into this Root position. He waited….

“Hello”, Aang heard softly, “you must be who I am looking for” Aang opened his eyes to see upon the ground in front of him two very large and hairy feet.

PIV: Somebody Else

The rest of the journey away from Arda went by quicker than Frodo expected. This was aided by the longbottom leaf weed that he stole from Gandalf’s personal stash, and the elvish ale that he consumed at regular intervals. He didn’t take in the beauty of the world slowly drifting away beneath him, or the stars finding their shapes, or even the light becoming warmer. Frodo kept himself in a constant state of high and drunk. 

Two days before arriving in Aqualande, Frodo found himself standing on the bow of the great ship, a pint in one hand, a necklace in the other, and a pipe sitting precariously balanced between his teeth and lips. He knew that the helmsman and deck hands were watching him...he didn’t care. All he did that evening was yell into the wind, and then hold up the chain of the necklace high in front. On the end of the simple silver chain was a small black oval, made of cast iron. Frodo knew what it was, and hated it. Not even Gandalf could guess what it could be.

Gandalf stared at the small black iron oval with great intrigue as he carried Frodo’s inebriated little body down the gangway of the ship and towards their new home. He laid the hobbit down to rest on a small cot and sat beside him for three days until he woke up. “I’m sorry Gandalf, a broken heart is a harder burden to carry than any I have before” said Frodo meekly. “That’s quite alright Mister Frodo”, responded Gandalf. His bushy eyebrow twitched and quickly he gazed out the side window towards the two lights off in the distance. “Frodo”, addressed Gandalf, “Do you see those two great lights in the distance? Go to them, sit at their roots, and you shall find the peace you seek.” 

Yah right old man, send me on another fucking wild goose chase fucking adventure bullshit goddam-”Yah alright Gandalf….if you say so” 

The following morning, with a pack full of Lambas Bread, Frodo began his walk to the two lights. To the hobbit’s surprise his feet never tired, his mouth never dried, and his pace never slowed. He covered a great distance in his first day, and found a small grotto for that night’s rest. During his sleep he saw a young man sitting cross legged with his eyes closed. He looked young but yet so old, but he certainly wasn’t an elf. “You must meet this being”, he heard call to him. “I will do what I must'', responded Frodo, almost instinctively. The following morning, Frodo finished his walk towards the lights, which he began to realize were the canopies of two great trees. When he arrived at the plaza beneath them, he came upon the young boy, sitting at the base of the silver tree, the young boy from his dream. “Hello”, he said sheepishly, “you must be who I am looking for”

PV: I like it when you sleep, for you are so beautiful yet so unaware of it

Aang stared at the two hairy feet laid out before him. They were very large for how small the legs were that sprouted from atop the ankles. As his gaze slowly went higher, he saw a green cloak covering simple brown trousers with a fine wool top, with small bronze buttons poking through the brown monotony, leading to a kind face. Smooth, unkempt dark hair crowned this frame, all only a little over one meter tall. “Hi,” declared Aang, reaching out his hand, “I’m Aang, the Avatar.” The small man seemed to recoil at first, but quickly stood back up to the tallest posture he could muster. “Iluvatar?” retorted the kindly dressed man. “No, the Avatar….uh...like master of all 4 elements? Do you know what that is?” “I-I can’t say I do, no...sorry. I am Frodo, hobbit of the Shire” “Nice to meet you Frodo, would you care to sit down with me?” Aang said while gesturing to the patch of perfectly manicured grass that lay beside him.

The hobbit named Frodo seemed to let his guard down momentarily, put his pack down and sat beside the Avatar. After a long period of awkward silence, Aang relented and asked Frodo where they were, and what this place was. Frodo explained that this was Valinor, the Undying Lands, and that the two immense trees they were sitting under were Laurelin (the Gold Tree) and Telperion (the Silver Tree). This world was separated from his home world of Middle-Earth when Eru-Iluvatar (the deity that Frodo mistook Aang for) bent the oceans, leaving only the Straight Road as the connecting path between this world and his home. “What brought you here then?” asked Aang. “Y-you wouldn’t understand” uttered Frodo as he began to get up and slink away. Frodo began to walk down from the top of the plaza, finding a steep set of stairs and making his way down them. Aang, concerned for his new acquaintance, drew a vein of air underneath him and scootered his way to the bottom of the stairs and waited. As soon as he landed, Frodo turned the corner and jumped. “Fuck me. You know, you’re not the only person who shows up out of nowhere, and I’m tired of his shit too”, exclaimed the hobbit. Aang replied, “Look I am just trying to help here. I don’t know anyone else here, in fact you're the first person I’ve seen. Something drew me through the Spirit World to be here with you.” There was a long pause, only the sound of the breeze running through the leaves high above them making a noise.”Look”, Aang began, “In my world, I don’t know what my point is anymore. My great task was completed, my friends are no longer around me like they used to be, and I don’t know what the purpose of going on is anymore. But, I think I am here to help you.”

Frodo broke down balling, collapsing into Aang’s arms. Through the tears, Aang was able to hear, “I went through so much with Sam. He literally carried me to hell and back. I thought we were going to die together. At what was certainly our end, all I saw were Sam’s eyes. They were so intensely seared into my brain, that when we returned home to the Shire, I was broken, and then he went running into Rosie’s arms. I didn’t know what to expect, and I didn’t know exactly when I was feeling. I saw Sam fall more in love with Rosie, get married, and have kids! So, I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to leave, and go somewhere far far away.”

Aang held Frodo tight for what felt like an hour.  Aang felt so sorry for this person he just met. He felt helpless just like him. Aang could relate. Aang could also feel all of the energy in this person, bottled up and unable to free themselves. “Okay here is what we are going to do. I am going to show you how to open your chakras, one by one. You will never be able to achieve peace until you do so.”

Aang then guided Frodo through all of the steps of opening the chakras that Guru Pathik showed him, all those years ago.  First they went through the earth chakra, then water, fire, and finally air. Frodo saw things that he couldn't even comprehend, and Aang could feel the barriers in the halfling's heart shatter, the scares began to heal, and the full force of his energy returned to him. Aang wasn’t able to confirm it, but for a brief moment it seemed like the Trees of Valinor got a little  brighter.

Frodo’s tears changed from tears of heartbreak to those of joy, and when he opened his eyes, he was a new hobbit. “Thank you”, gushed Frodo, “I feel whole again.” “Oh, you’re welcome,.... I guess” remarked Aang, “Guess you don’t need me anymore now then.” Frodo thought long and hard. “Actually, there is one thing…” Frodo mused, “Come with me.”

PVI: Pressure

Frodo led Aang back towards the home that he had stayed in his first night in this new land. His heart was still singing from the experience that he had just had. The weight of heartbreak had been lifted, and he was ready to enjoy this life eternal in the Undying Lands. As they approached the ornately tiled building, they saw a warm glow from the windows above. Frodo gestured to get low and stay quiet, hearing two hushed voices talk back and forth, with a familiar scent wafting in the air. Frodo began to scurry along the bottom of the outer wall towards an unlit door, beckoning Aang to stay close behind and enter the house behind him. “What are we doing?” asked Aang. “Right now”, Frodo responded, “I am on cloud nine, and you, my friend, need something to help put things in perspective. My good lads, Merry and Pippin, shared this with me long ago, and now it is my chance to pass it onto you.” Aang looked perplexingly at the ringbearer. “And what would that be?” queried the Avatar. “Mischief and Longbottom Leaf!” responded Frodo.

Together, the two of them waited until the two voices they heard, Gandalf and Bilbo, recede to their bed chambers for the night. On Frodo’s signal, the airbender sent a flurry of wind to push the hobbit, who had cloaked himself in the camouflage robe given to him by the Lady Galadriel, towards the unlocked larder of Bilbo Baggins. Quickly, Frodo began to grap every instrument of libation and liberation he could find. Once all of the necessary tools were acquired, Frodo turned to exit the small pantry, only to come face to knee with Gandalf the White. “And just what might you be up to Master Hobbit?” posited the great spellcaster. “Oh...um well...you see...um” stammered Frodo like he was 20 years old once again. “It’s quite alright Master Baggins. I knew this was to come. Go ahead, enjoy your evening with your new friend. Your task has been completed.” interrupted Gandalf. 

With that, Frodo scurried out with a grin larger than when he and his cousins would snag potatoes out of Farmer Maggot’s field. He grabbed Aang’s expensive sleeve, and ran out into the brisk evening, making a beeline for the beach.

PVII: If You’re Too Shy (Let Me Know)

Frodo Baggins and Aang sat together on the beach of Aman, watching the light of Laurelin fade, only for Telperion to take over and shine the night sky with a sharp brilliance that neither hero had ever seen. They swapped stories of their great adventures, Frodo showing off the scar from the Morgul Blade, while Aang pulled up his shirt to show the lightning mark, courtesy of Azula, on this back.They recalled the trouble that their friends got them into, and also how they would never had made it through their ordeals alive it wasn’t for those same people. 

They smoked more Longbottom than any Shire-folk ever had before. Their horns of ale seemed to never hit bottom. They laughed and cried together for hours and hours, finally calming down to just watch the waves of the Endless Sea crash before them. “Thank you, Aang” said Frodo. “No,” replied Aang, “thank you. If it wasn’t for you, I would have never seen how I can help someone no matter what. Our great ordeals are over, but it seems as though our lives are about to begin.” With that the two of them leaned their backs against a large piece of driftwood, and began to doze off to sleep. Right before succumbing to slumber, Aang felt his spirit transport up and away quickly into the heavens. He found his eyes opening, in padmasana, in the middle of the Great Sanctuary he had been in last. 

With a deep breath, and a bow to his past lives, Aang walked outside into the cold winter air, climbed onto Appa’s back, took a hold of the reins. With hope in his voice for the first in years, he said, “It’s time to go home buddy…. Appa, Yip Yip.” With an immense force, the Sky Bison leapt into the air and began to fly effortlessly towards home, where Aang’s friends awaited his return.

[centaurianthropology]

The Magnus Archives ‘Zombie’ (S04E02) Analysis

A statement about the living dead might be a bit on the nose, but there’s more than just a scary story this week.  Things have happened over the six months Jon’s been out, and none of them seem good. Come on in to hear my thoughts about ‘Zombie’.

Aha, so we get a little more clarification about the Archival situation, and it’s … not good. Basira was the only person at this point who was both available and apparently capable of coming to deal with the aftermath of Oliver’s visit.  

It’s been six months.

Shit’s gone sideways.

In spite of Jon being all but dead for six months, he sounded surprisingly okay.  Hoarse, but with it.  Intact memory, fit enough he feels like he should be able to go right back to work, everything.  And after her encounter with Oliver, Georgie did not seem best pleased to find out how rapidly and completely Jon has recovered.  She was already rattled by a man who felt like the End, and now Jon’s apparently back from the dead?  I could definitely see how that had all her instincts up in arms.  The last person she saw come back from the dead was the cadaver, after all, and with an emissary of the End preceding him, I have to wonder if she didn’t think Jon was just the same.

Whatever it was, it was enough for Georgie to leave very quickly, refusing to hear much more than Jon’s insistences that he was fine.  For someone who had been by his side for six months, that’s a pretty strong reaction, and shows just how powerfully Oliver must have affected her. And her comment about this not feeling like a second chance definitely hit close to home.  Because it doesn’t.  It feels too deliberate, like something was holding Jon in stasis until it deemed him ready.  

Ready for what?  Well, that became quite quickly and horribly clear. Jon was barely awake five minutes before asking for the Statement that Basira conveniently thought to tuck into her bag.  Far too conveniently, to my mind, and yet another sign that the Beholding used Oliver as the catalyst to get Jon over the final hurdle, and to make him make his choice.

And when he started to record his statement, his sign-on had changed: “Recorded by Jonathan Sims, the Archivist.”

Not “Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London.”  Just the Archivist.  

Jon, prompted by Oliver, made his choice.   I don’t know if he realizes it yet, but he chose the Archivist.  He chose to be monster enough to live.  He fell into the Eye, and he gave himself over completely. What that means from here on out is anyone’s guess, but he knows when he’s near a statement.  He’s potentially even less interested in those around him than he was before.  What came back isn’t nearly as human as what went under six months ago.  Is there still enough of Jon in the Archivist to give him a fighting chance?  Damn I hope so.  

And to his credit, I think Jon hopes so too.  And it’s difficult to gauge how human Jon is just off interactions with other people, because Jon’s always been a self-centered prick.  Demanding the statement before he asked after the wellbeing of his coworkers could be down to Jon being Jon.  But the fact that his addiction’s been growing, and the fact that he only woke up when Oliver insisted he make a choice has me worried.

The statement itself didn’t help my concerns.  Having the statement come from someone who has great difficulty empathizing with others or understanding that they might feel and exist as deeply as she does seems to strike awfully close to home for Jon, whose defining character trait is his self-centered coldness.  I think that Jon likely also has difficulties empathizing with others, though he may also have difficulty empathizing with himself.  I think Jon has always been at a remove from the world, and the Beholding is tugging him further out.  Playing on natural tendencies.  He watches people, but he’s increasingly not a part of them.

But it’s also true that Jon’s not nearly as bad as the statement giver.  While he forgets to think of others, and tends toward stand-offish even when he’s trying to be kind, she has what feels a lot more like a disconnect that blossomed into a fixed delusion.  Fixed delusions are a single, delusional thought that someone gets into their head and they can’t make it leave.  In her case, it’s the shift from a difficulty in empathizing with others to a true belief that they are all philosophical zombies.  That she is the only person in the world who’s truly real, who can feel and experience life.  Even when she hurt people around her, she felt nothing, because they weren’t real enough to make her care.

That’s already a horrific mental place to be, but it seems that delusions are a siren song to the Spiral, because her stalker felt like something entirely different to her delusion. This was visual and auditory hallucinations (the Spiral’s stock in trade).  The horror of this comes not from the delusion, but the thought that something could prey on that delusion, making it more and more real until the person’s entire reality is consumed by it.  The Spiral would be just the sort to amp up her paranoia, convincing her that there truly was no life behind anyone’s eyes, and that the hollowness of the stalker was just the final touch to prove it.

Jon’s master, though cruel, at least isn’t playing on his perceptions so directly.  He’s able to assess himself to a certain degree, and he’s lucid enough to acknowledge that his self-assessment might well be skewed. He has no way of telling if he really is the same man who fell asleep six months ago.  He certainly seemed to go from half-dead to fully functional after the statement, which continues to bode ill.

That his first question to Basira was what had happened to him rather than the others also bodes ill. Particularly since he then answered his own question.  Interesting that he does remember the dream, which is disturbing.  

His reactions to the news about the others was also not terribly encouraging.  He seemed merely resigned and slightly, distantly sad that Tim was absolutely dead (they found a body), and that Daisy was likely dead (definitely not; she’ll be back, and I worry that Basira will wish she wasn’t). Even his reaction to Basira refusing to talk about Melanie barely rose to the level of distress.

The first real, emotional response she got out of him was with the news that Peter Lukas had potentially done something to Martin.  Finding out that Martin is no longer around the Archives much, but is instead stuck with Peter for unknown reasons got our first glimpse of something more than tired, sad Jon.  

We got anger.  His “What did he do to Martin?” was a proper growl, and his denial that Martin could be in league with Lukas seemed equally genuine. I’d like to say that I found it encouraging that at least Martin is still getting real, visceral reactions out of Jon (my stupid shippy heart would certainly appreciate it), but I’m worried it’s less a true attachment, and more the Archivist getting territorial.

Because Martin’s been bound to the Beholding for a decade.  He’s comfortable and happy with it in a way even Jon might not be.  The idea that the Lonely would try to steal him is an affront to the Beholding, and I worry that it’s the affront and not the caring driving Jon’s anger.

Finally, an odd note, but one that I found somehow even more concerning than Jon’s disconnect.  There was something in the way that Basira refused to let him see his old clothes and said that she’d get him new ‘better’ clothes that had me inexplicably on edge.  Maybe it was just that Basira never seemed the sort to care about fashion. Maybe that sort of snip would seem better suited to Melanie.  Maybe it’s the fact that, in telling him all this, Basira was absolutely and completely evasive about herself.

But it all left me with the sense that something is very wrong with Basira.  Just as wrong as things are with Martin and Melanie.  It’s true that she’s never talked about herself much, and she lost Daisy which will inevitably leave deep scars, but I get the feeling this goes deeper.  I just … really don’t like the notion that she wouldn’t let Jon have his old clothes. It makes me feel like there’s way more going on than meets the eye (no pun intended).  I can’t explain it better than that.

Conclusions

I’m now officially worried about everyone.  I’m worried that there’s more wrong with Basira than she’s letting on.  I’m worried that Melanie has gone to the Slaughter with a willing heart.  I’m worried about what sort of deal Martin’s made with Peter Lukas to keep everyone safe.

And I’m worried that Jon secretly doesn’t care about any of it.  I worry that he’s as numb as the statement giver was, and just trying to go through the motions of attachment.  The only hint we got from him that was anything more than tired sorrow at the fates of everyone involved in the end of last season was his “What did he do to Martin?” when he found out about Peter Lukas, and even that seems suspect.

I hope I’m wrong.  I hope that Jon is just being Jon, and that he does care, even if it’s at a remove.  I hope that he’s in shock from how wrong everything has gone, and it was just the news about Martin that was the first thing that really snapped him out of it.  I hope Jon comes into the Archives fighting mad and wanting to get those few people left to him back.  Whether it’s the Archivist or Jon himself, those people can only help, and he can help them.

I don’t know what’s gone wrong with everyone, but I get the feeling we’ll be spending the first good chunk of the season finding out, and dealing with it.

[backtodc]

As fun as it is to throw salt at Gosho I think this could be a good time to talk about some good DC cases. So, which are your top ten cases so far?

Hmmm, this took some thought–presented chronologically because I couldn’t pick preferential order XP

Billion Yen Robbery (013-016): Even disregarding its long-term impact on the plot, this case on its own had a good twist in how Akemi disguised herself and the lies she told to track down her robbery partners. I’m always a fan of people, rather than going for big heavy-duty disguises, just using little details of makeup and presentation to completely change their appearance. Ran’s big heart was evident in this case and how strongly she felt about “Masami”‘s safety after just meeting her twice, and this one also what is still one of my favourite ninja-Ran moments to date. Potential kidnapper/murderer across the street? Maybe we should call the police, or run down the stairs OR I GUESS WE COULD JUMP OUT OF A FIRST FLOOR WINDOW AND CHASE HIM ACROSS THE STREET AND DO A FLYING KICK TO DESTROY HIS CAR WINDOW AND ALSO HIS NOSE

Akemi’s death opens up a shitton of plot, and, despite how it gets slightly overused later on (not quite to “did you know Bruce Wayne’s parents got murdered” levels but definitely a biiiiit overused) it’s still one of the most genuinely tragic deaths, especially since Shinichi admitted his real name to her to try and offer her some comfort as she died. TEARS Q_Q

A Haunted Mansion Murder Case (017-019): The case that introduced the Ayumi, Mitsuhiko and Genta. I always think of this one quite fondly. It had a genuinely creepy atmosphere–the “haunted” mansion looks the right side of cliche-creepy, especially once it turns out there’s actually someone around, and honestly I can forgive the incidents of the kids wandering off alone and vanishing because they’re six, of course they’re gonna do silly shit like wander off alone in a haunted mansion. And the truth of the matter is something that’s vanishingly rare in Detective Conan, something I wish we saw more often: a crime of passion. 

There’s no clever trick to the murder: the son, Akio, just loses the rag under a torrent of verbal abuse and smashes his father’s head in with a candlestick. There’s no clever trick to the cover-up, either; his mother messed with the crime scene a bit and reported it as a robbery, and given that the family’s obviously very wealthy, money probably changed hands if any investigating officer did think to suspect anything other than a robbery. All she’s thinking about is protecting her son from the consequences of his crime; all he can think about is his guilt and horror over the murder he committed. The case goes from genuinely creepy to honestly tragic. It’s a proper emotional story, and at no point do any six-year-olds have to witness a human corpse, which I’m always in favour of. And I like Genta, Mitsuhiko and Ayumi and I’m glad they were introduced shut the fuck up

The Hatamoto Family Case (020-025): This was another case with good creepy atmosphere, a solid closed circle situation, classic big fucked-up family situation but at the heart of it, Natsue and Takeshi are a genuinely sweet couple who really don’t deserve all this bullshit and you spend the case really hoping for them to be safe and things to turn out okay for them, the traumatic deaths of several close relatives aside. The murderer is pretty sad, though I feel like Gosho intended him to be more sympathetic than he actually was–he certainly could’ve done with less abuse from his grandfather and been allowed to emotionally invest in his art more, but the cousins thing aside, murdering multiple people over a girl you’ve never even approached marrying somebody else with whom she’s had an actual relationship and is in love with is… not sympathetic. But I’m also glad that the nice chef uncle came out alright too, and that all three of the sympathetic family members reappeared in later cases since they were all very likeable characters. 

Moonlight Sonata (062-067): This one sticks in a lot of people’s minds, and I think it’s for the same reason that the haunted mansion case sticks in mine; atmosphere. This is another one with a good, genuinely creepy atmosphere from the immediate sense of “small town with a dark secret” we get as soon as the Mouri Detective Agency arrives on the island. Gosho was very good at building these atmospheres once upon a time, I would’ve liked to see him write a horror manga. The case is deeply tragic from start to finish, from the murders of the Asoh family, to the fact that Seiji/Narumi got the idea for the “curse” from playing a funeral song for a man who’d just had a heart attack after admitting to murdering their family, to the complex nature of Dr Asai’s grief and guilt that they felt the need to avenge their family but simultaneously called for a detective in the hopes that they’d be stopped, to their suicide at the end because they can’t live with what they felt obligated to do. There are Gosho’s usual… issues… with gender, and given the bigotry that became obvious later he probably had no clue at all what he was doing with Dr Asai’s gender, but I feel like they weren’t handled unkindly for an AMAB character living as a woman? I could be wrong and I wanna open this one up to the trans folk in the audience because I’ve never found a trans fan’s commentary on Dr Asai and how they think they were handled, but goddamn I still cry thinking of their suicide at the end and I appreciate that this was a one-off case that had a visible long-term emotional impact on Conan.

Magic Lovers’ Murder Case (192-196): As well as being an interesting murder involving some quite sympathetic characters, this is a really good case for seeing what Kaitou Kid’s like under the mask (or was like; I feel like he’s lost depth since this?) as expressed through Katsuki Doito. He came along to investigate suspicious user activity, but he joined the magic-lovers’ forum because he is a nerd for stage magic and stage magicians and enjoys nerding out about stage magic and stage magicians. He gets to unapologetically fanboy over his late father with other magicians, with is pretty goddamn cute imo. He also gets to show off knowledge and fondness for other magicians, and his knowledge of magic tricks is useful in solving the case, even though, by his own admission, he’s no detective, and it led to tragedy. We don’t really see how Kid felt about being unable to prevent that murder, since he was still being played as pretty mysterious at the time, but it was a good choice for his second appearance in DC imo since it cemented him as Not A Bad Dude. Also, Conan gets to be one of Those Shonen Protagonists by running across a burning bridge, which, y’know, is always cheesy, but also always kinda cool (the artwork was particularly effective imo)

Twilight Mansion (299-302): I genuinely enjoyed the gathering of the knock-off famous detectives and was pleasantly surprised by Hakuba’s appearance (back when I still held out hope that that kind of thing meant that Kid would get more involved in the plot). The mansion itself is actually quite gorgeously designed and rendered, especially at the end when the exterior crumbles, and again, DAT CREEPY ATMOSPHERE. I guess it’s officially plot-important now, too, which I just wanna say, I officially called nine years ago, but also I was hardly the only one calling BO involvement with Karasuma. 

Most of all, in general, I just really like watching and reading things involving skilled people being very competent at what they do, so the fact that ALL of the gathered detectives (save that one dead one) figured out what was up and were able to communicate and come up with a plan without revealing themselves to the brilliant detective BEHIND the whole thing, and the execution of that plan, were all very, very good and I liked it. I might reread this one right now, actually, while I’m thinking about it, I really do enjoy it top to bottom.

Golden Apple Case (350-354): PEAK interesting backstory on the part of Vermouth and Yukiko, a reasonably interesting murder, Yukiko’s RAD driving scene, and one of my favourite Ran moments ever. The confrontation with the serial killer/Vermouth is tense as hell, and the fact that Ran reacts instinctively to save his life and just can’t bring herself to drop him and let him die, to be responsible for a death, no matter whose, is a very powerful statement on the integrity of her character. She’s just to her core, and Shinichi does steal the moment a bit by helping her pull the serial killer up and getting the really good “you might need a reason to kill, but you don’t need a reason to save a life” line, but this still feels entirely like a Ran moment for me. We find out later that this incident had a profound effect on Vermouth, too, and is possibly the entire reason she’s hiding Shinichi’s secret from the BO and explicitly the reason she doesn’t want Ran to come to harm. Shame we haven’t had much Vermouth character development in a while because this stuff was JUICY.

Two Cases Under One Moon (429-434): An ICONICALLY good Bo-fightin’ case where everybody involved is putting in Maximum Effort. Heiji puts on an extremely good show as a fake Shinichi (the boy’s an extreme drama queen and Heiji does that very well), Yukiko’s disguise skills are valuable and well-used, we finally get the revelation that Vermouth has been Dr Araide for a while AND that she’s maybe immortal (…not… that we’ve gotten ANYTHING on that since..) AND we get the VERY interesting nature of her feelings concerning Shinichi and Ran. Also, we get Ran so concerned about Ai’s wellbeing that she hides in a car boot and then jumps into gunfire in order to protect her, GOD that’s SUCH a good Ran moment. Shinichi, Jodie and Akai all also get to be very brave and very smart and very badass, and ugh really I just wanna go back to everything about Vermouth in this case and explore more of that forever. Please. Also more Jodie, whose backstory we finally got in this case after revealing that she’s not Vermouth. What is it with interesting women disappearing as soon as their backstory is out MOVING ALONG 

Clash of Red and Black (595-609): This case is a cracking case. This one was long and complicated and many-layered and everybody involved was on their highest gears and it was great. Akai and Conan work as a fantastic team and Conan gets free reign to do some very good detective work for the FBI (I still believe he told Akai who he was during this case, it would make sense and undercuts how concerned I am with all of these grown adults letting a six-year-old run all around an active incident). We get a good look at the incredible power and cruelty of the Black Organization when they cause immense collateral damage just to flush the FBI out. We get the story on both Akemi and Akai’s relationship AND the Hondo family, and OH BOY THE HONDO FAMILY.

It’s also one of the most interesting Eisuke cases, imo, where not only does he do some solid investigation to find Mizunashi Rena, we get a glimpse of some real deep trauma over losing his last family member that’s driven him to be willing to attack Rena with scissors out of desperation to get answers about what happened to his father and sister. I mean, I am most definitely not advocating stabbing coma patients, but for Eisuke a lot of the trauma of your whole beloved family dying or disappearing was just implied and not explored, and then he got booted from the series immediately after things got interesting with him, so bleh. We also barely see Hidemi after this, and ?????????? because she’s a CIA agent who’s in DEEP to the BO after surviving a HORRIFYING situation where she has to proudly boast of murdering a man who was secretly her FATHER, who SACRIFICED HIS LIFE TO PROTECT HER… why are we dicking around so much with Mystery Family instead of exploring this one??? This case is kind of the last hurrah for anything interesting happening with the Hondos so I love it for that.

And I love the complicated counter-bluff involved in delivering Kir back to the Black Organization without looking like they were delivering her. Again, this was apparently in exchange for her assisting the FBI and she barely appears after this…? Nope this isn’t about salting at Gosho moving on

The Life-Threatening Broadcast of Love (804-808): I love this one solely and 300% for the part where Miwako Sato jumps out of a helicopter, shoots a noose off of her boyfriend’s neck, grabs him, wraps her coat around him to protect them and knocks both of them out of the range of a bomb blast at the last second, like the goddamn action hero that she is.

So in no particular order, those are my top ten: how about the rest of you?

[icharchivist]

Bookam Sr and Allen have this understated dynamic throughout the series that would be so easy to miss if you didn't really look for it. I feel like the past Allen bookman theory was what helped at least got me to look deeper into it but even w/o the theory the moments are there. You can't deny Sr treats Allen a little differently then anyone else. Yeah he's not warm/close with him like he is w/Lavi (he's not shown to be like that w/anyone besides Lavi). But he's not as distant either. Sr's not-

2 made of stone nor does he not interact with others. I think he plays chess with Krory and he teases Kanda a lot. He also helps out Komui with research stuff. But Allen’s the only one he’s shown concern and worry for on a personal level. I honestly completely forgot how Bookman was the only person to take Allen’s feelings into consideration about Chomesuke’s situation. That’s a pretty big deal since that’s a area everyone should know matters a lot to Allen. It’s also striking as you said-

3 Bookman has a hard time referring Allen by just his first name, despite knowing Allen prefers that. He only calls him by his full name when referring to him as the DOT (post intro) or Walker inside his own head. To Allen’s face and other people, Allen’s only ‘Kid’. Which is considered a term of endearment by some people while also a causal nickname for just anyone younger. Granted, Lavi is Sr’s 1# priority as a relationship but you can’t deny Sr also has this unshakeable faith in Allen. -

4 I can’t either shake off the feeling even when the Ark dissapeared and Bookman expressed deep worry/loss for Lavi. Bookman probably kept his believe Allen (and Cross because he’s a cockroach) were still alive because he’s the DOT. Which makes you wonder if Bookman has such faith, then his worry for Allen in the times it’s shown takes on a new meaning too. He’ll show anxiety for Allen’s wellbeing (as much as he’s willing) when he sees it. Which could even put a new spin on his distance.

yees definitly agreed with you! tbh I completely understated the dynamic until we started to discuss seriously Allen being the Lost Apprentice, and discuss therefore what that would mean for Bookman. 

Like you say it’s just, we don’t see Bookman interreact with a lot of people aside from Lavi and most of the stuff we see, Kanda Krory Komui ect… Are all rather “daily life stuff”. He does consider too Lenalee’s grief and guilt after Allen’s death but he mostly actually acts on it after Lavi is the one to react. So he does have a distance with everyone else.

But with Allen there’s this extra step, which can be ofc justified just by him having to keep an eye on him, but i really find it signifiant that there, to himself, he thought “oh Walker wouldn’t be happy”. It isn’t something he says to anyone to explain why this would be sad, like he would justify Lenalee’s grief, it’s.. just to himself, knowing specifically that Allen wouldn’t like it. Idk how others people would have reacted (Lavi is far away fighting, Miranda is far away, the others are out of focus) - Honestly it’s interesting Bookman’s reaction of “Walker wouldn’t like it” took precedence over Lenalee considering it’s Lenalee who had to hold Allen back from being reckless for the sake of self-destructive Akuma. If anyone had reasons in the plot to focus on it it was Lenalee, but there, probably because tied with Bookman’s knowledge of the Cross tempered Akuma, it’s focused on Bookman and that just makes his reaction all the more uncanny? It makes the extra mile for Allen’s sake. And if we add to that that it’s specifically something Allen’s other father figure set in place, idk, that put even more spotlight on Bookman specifically as a caretaker figure. Which we know he’s not for Current!Allen. Unless Lost Apprentice.

I’m honestly going to keep track of how he calls Allen because I was thanksfully told about him calling him kid early in my re-read and so far i could have paid enough attention to know specifically he calls him always kid to his face, “Allen Walker” when he can immediatly mentions the prophecy, and “Walker” in his head. 

tbh I feel like it was necessary too to mention who Bookman was talking about, i don’t know if saying “the kid wouldn’t be pleased” would have made it obvious who he talked about, but i do find it signifiant that the alternative is to address him by his “DOT” name in a way. Especially if Allen=Lost Apprentice, then “Allen” as a name would have been the apprentice’s last used name before his disappearance and would hold a history hard to process. Not to mention ofc that Bookman just refusing to call him an actual name could be just an extension of “since he changed first name all the time he goes by a nickname”

I will keep up my attention on the Ark’s disappearance to be sure, because if Bookman had an unshakeable faith in Allen even there… Yes there could be just “he’s the DOT he’ll manage”but there would be far far more to establish about Bookman somewhat feeling confident about Allen managing something as the Musician since it seems Past!A became the Musician before he merged with Nea (considering Red cries hearing the song while Nea is still asleep, which would much more imply Past!A’s feelings over Nea’s feelings for the song). 

We don’t know how much Bookman knows about Allen, and about Cross’s plans, and while i could see him have faith in Allen only because “the prophecy is why he’s here today” (which remains very valid since esp if Lost Apprentice, it brought Allen back to him in some way after believing him dead - which in itself would be a reason to think Allen wouldn’t die that easily), there could be a whole other can of worms about how much he knows about his Lost Apprentice’s involvement with the Ark.

But yeah meanwhile his worries for Lavi extends. Normal too, because Lavi isn’t shielded by any sort of prophecies, and there is this whole thing that Bookman saw him grow up and Lavi almost died in his arms when he was 7yo, so I think Bookman has far more a consciousness on how the kid he raised can die, even if he’s tough, than Allen whom at this point is a different person than Past!A, and that if Past!A=Lost Apprentice, Bookman knows he survived unlikely experience, and especially had been distached enough over those past few years to hold on to faith where raw emotional parental affection had held him to Lavi unshakenly for years. 

And meanwhile the long term of Bookman’s worries for Allen just, like you say, show even more that it’s… deeply rooted, it puts itself in contrast with how much faith he has in him and how he seems to treat Allen differently and what are the threats Bookman are considering for Allen, and how much the extension to care about his wellbeing really seems like a lite version of how he cares for Lavi instead of him caring about Allen a bit above everyone else. Which is not helping the Lost Apprentice theories one bit.

Bookman is a character i’ve never really took the time to read in depth about because of how the whole clan’s “distach your emotions” stuff work, and it’s therefore very easy to dismiss his behavior as “the ideal of neutrality he’s imposing on Lavi”, but there’s so much nuances when you start to look for them, and Lost Apprentice!Allen had helped shed a lot of light on his character. Even if Allen doesn’t turn out to be the Lost Apprentice (even if it just strengthen this belief to me) this would have at least got us to really dive into Bookman and the sort of person he is. 

And for that i’m forever grateful to anyone who had come at me too discuss more about Bookman himself because damn i feel like i’ve missed a huge junk of the story when I end up reading one panel and let the information of it sink in dkjhfdkj

This is fascinating at least. Some things I would really never have picked up otherwise, it’s incredible.