#/we were all baffled that they all gave points to the exact same acts

[veilchenjaeger]

Feeling high amounts of "They should get rid of the jury votes" tonight

[thefallenbibliophilequote]

The Asgardian Way

Loki x Reader

Summary: you get your period on the most unfortunate time- on date night with Loki. Embarrassed as you are of the topic from past experiences with boyfriends, Loki shows you that unlike mortal men- Asgardians view this time of the month for women in a much better way.

Word count: 1,849

Warnings: period talk, fluff, shade on Christianity, some shade on human men, Loki being the ideal boyfriend we all deserve.

A/N: this was requested by @the-departed-potato and while I do not take requests I just really had to do this one because this was like just perfect for me specifically to do. Sorry it took so long! Sorry if this sucks!😅 I also truly had to hold myself back from giving even more shade on Christians of old times because damn I could write a whole essay about those people and how they spread misinformation that changed real history to fake mainly bc of witchcraft. This is not beta read so all mistakes are by yours truly!

No one is allowed to repost my writing or steal or copy my work! Reblog on tumblr is fine.

Masterlist

--

It's been going on for months now, the shameless flirting, the gentleman behaviour, and the devious looks he sent your way that completely contradicted his actions and left you a blushing mess even when he only opened the door for you- then he would wink at you.

It wasn't until one night that you gathered up courage to ask him out.

You were staying late at the Avengers Tower, you wanted to finish working on the new gadget you had built with Tony at the lab so he sent you to bring the two of you some coffee- he knew it was useless to tell you to go home and sleep- last time he tried to do it you called him a hypocrite and conditioned one of his suits to blast him if he gets close to you. You found it hilarious. He made sure to update the security of his code.

You went to the kitchen when you happened to overhear a conversation of two gods.

"Why have you not taken her on a date yet, brother?"

"I wish to court her properly, she deserves to be treated like a lady." You heard Loki respond to his brother. You leaned on the wall, trying not to get hopeful and to get the butterflies to calm down.

"Y/N is a fine lady, however, I heard from Stark that midgardian women might mistake courting like ours as mere jest." You smiled a bit at the scoff they both let out.

"Mortals continue to baffle me." Came Loki's comment, before Thor continued- not letting the subject go.

"Ask her on a date, I'm sure she will appreciate it." He encouraged his brother who wasn't as sure.

"I think, brother, that she is different- she will appreciate the old delicate arts of courting." He was not wrong- you were always old fashioned. But now at his admission, you stepped out of the shadows and into their view.

"While I do appreciate the courting, I'd love it if you would ask me out." Loki turned around at the sound of your voice.

"How long have you been standing there, darling?" he fidgeted with his hair.

"Long enough," you stepped down the stairs to stand in front of him. "What do you say about this Friday night at six? There is an art exhibit at the museum, I think you'll like calling out all the inaccuracies."

"Yeah, I'd like that." He gave you a small shy smile, and you completely forgot about Thor who stood on the side, watching it all unfold.

"This is great," he said. "You two are finally going on that date, see brother I told you-"

Thor stopped when he looked at Loki who sent him daggers at ruining the moment. You only chuckled.

"I have to go get Tony and I some drinks, so I guess I will see you then." You were about to turn around to head towards the kitchen when Loki took your hand in his, making you turn around, then he kissed the back of your hand lightly, bowing with a small smile at the blush on your cheeks.

"I look forward to it."

It took you a couple of second to function after he did that, mumbling a quiet goodbye you turned around and refused to look back at the smirking god.

•

You have gone with the god for a couple of dates now and then, sometimes you didn't see him for a whole week because of meetings in Asgard and while you were sad that you didn't get to see him-you were glad he was gone on that exact week every time.

You have been seeing him for about 2-3 months now and it was great- up until your period decided to come early. Right on your scheduled date.

You were nervously pacing your apartment thinking how to tell Loki that you can't go out with him tonight. You didn't want him to see you like this- he is a god, and you- you are a mortal woman who was having trouble getting out of bed because your body decided to punish you for not being pregnant this month.

Your body was so sexist.

Suddenly, a knock on the door.

Groaning, you got out of bed and headed for the door, checking who was there you were puzzled when you saw Loki there, dressed to the nines. Surely you didn't waste so much time, he must be early.

"Dear, are you okay there?" he called you.

"Yes, I'm fine- just a moment!" you tried to make yourself look presentable in a rush just so you could open the door to the dashing prince who was awaiting you.

You opened the door with a smile, which he returned.

You were used to acting like you were okay while your cramps were killing you from the inside but it seems like the god of lies could not be so easily fooled.

"Hi Loki, I was not expecting you this early." You laughed courtly, "And I was actually meaning to call- I'm not feeling so well today, I'm afraid I have to postpone our date tonight."

Loki walked into your apartment, kissing you on the cheek before pulling back to study you.

"I wanted to see you sooner, so here I am. But now that I am here- well tell me what is wrong, dearest?" he frowned when he saw you slightly clench your fists.

"Oh, I'm just not feeling well, I won't be good company and I won't be able to enjoy a lovely night with you I'm afraid."

"I'm a healer my love; you always seem to forget my magic," he smirked slightly causing you to laugh- which was not good right now for you.

"I remember your magic powers very well when you prank me." You countered. "But no, this is not something you need to worry about."

He reached out and took your hand with a small laugh. The door locked itself with a wave of his hand as he took you to the couch.

"I'm afraid you will have to do better than that to fool the god of lies." He took both of your hands in his and you were sure he could see your embarrassment with the way he was gazing into your eyes, "Now tell me, what is wrong?"

"You really don't need to- it's kind of embarrassing-" you started to mumble, lowering your head.

"I'm still here, aren't I? What kind of man will I be if I am not taking care of those I care about?"

You pulled your hands away from him, embarrassed as you mumbled something he couldn't quite put together.

"What was that?"

"I'm on my period." You closed your eyes- not wanting to see his disgusted look. "See, so you don't need to be here, I can take care of it myself and we can reschedule our date to a week from now."

It was not a problem to you- you knew the drill- but having to explain it to a clueless god felt humiliating to say the least.

"Is that all? Why didn't you tell me sooner?" You opened your eyes to a puzzled god.

"Because it would make you uncomfortable," you replied, suspicious of his reaction.

"Why on Odin's beard would it make me uncomfortable?" He frowned at you and looked you over. He started peppering kisses on your hands.

"Because it is my period?" You knew he is a god, but maybe asgardians women didn't get that. "Here on earth, men tend to be disgusted by it, they don't like to get involved in it or talk about it."

He huffed out in surprised anger- that you did not expect. The god in front of you did not know how human males could be so awful.

"Well that is preposterous! Women are to be worshipped at those times!" you stared at him-he had always treated you differently, unlike anything you have seen on earth before. You knew Asgardian ways of manners were much old fashioned and yet so different all the same.

"Then tell me, how do asgardians see it?" you leaned on the back of the couch, facing Loki and pulling a blanket over you. You liked how safe he made you feel, but this still felt weird to you- you were not sure how to react- to what extent it goes. So, curiosity got the better of you, "because if I'm being honest, this is kind of embarrassing."

Loki sent you a smile with a twinkle in his eye.

"Darling there is nothing to be embarrassed of! You are naturally as powerful as a thunder storm, a tornado- lightning cowards before you and your power!" he was going to make sure you understand it, he had never been so baffled by humans before. "You hold the ability of life- eternal life- in every drop of blood that falls from you- from the most powerful being in all the realms. For a couple of days each month- you are being shown your true power even through your suffering- and in that time you, my dear, are more powerful than a god. You should be nothing but worshipped. That is what the gods of Asgard know it to be true."

"Do they really all think that?" you felt a sharp pain suddenly and Loki came closer to you, put his usually cold hand on your stomach and you felt comforting warmness ease your ache.

"They know it. The people of midgard knew it too at some point, but then some people who thought themselves gods- I think they called themselves Christians- decided that the bleeding was a show of witchcraft and called it a sin and spread many lies about it, which now I see are still believed to this day. You see, they were quite stupid." You laughed at the disgusted look he gave you, which in turn made him smile. "You know, I probably shouldn't tell you this but…"

"You never obey such rules." You laughed and put your hand over his one that was comforting you on your stomach.

"In one of Thor's travels he bathed in a river filled with the menstrual blood of the powerful Giantesses. That was to give him enlightenment and eternal life."

"Ew, did he actually do it?" you scrunched your nose and Loki kissed it.

"That is not disgusting- that was powerful and very well respected. When he came back, he was the smartest I have ever seen him."

"I hope he took a good bath after it…" you chuckled and smiled at him, "Thank you for this, the Asgardian way of thinking is way better than that of earth."

"Now, dear, while I do have a preferred way to help take away the pain-" you blushed under his gaze. "Tell me, what is it that you desire? Tell me, so I can worship you as I should."

You kissed him then and you knew right then when he kissed you back that the Asgardian men are way better.

•

Taglist: : @callmeluna @sstanbarnes @buckys-other-punk @drabblewithfrannybarnes @easygoingtheatre @that-one-person @justab-eautifulmess @onceupona-happilyeverafter @wipplogg @supraveng @samwilsons-pillowpecs @ayybtch @kitkatd7 @chrissquares @make-me-imagine @jessalyn-jpeg

[cblgblog]

Sorry I’m advance but one of my other favorite accounts just reblogged a Tony scene and people are talking about Civil War and how it made them Stan Tony, and how when they watch that movie they hate team cap👀 Then someone was all about how he was sleep deprived and how much pressure he was under and couldn’t understand how people didn’t like Tony because. Someone literally said that when someone says they don’t like Tony in Civil War they say “did you watch the same movie as me.” I’m baffled. Oddly enough someone else said, “he just wants to help everyone.” Sorry for the rant but I think people forget about what the accords are and what it would mean for people. Side note, I hope you’re having a great day/night 😀

No sorry needed!

I feel you man, I do. Honestly, I’ve unfollowed people based on similar posts when I was in especially Done moods, so.

Look on the one hand, the movie would’ve been a narrative failure if everyone was in favor of one side or the other, right? The whole point of the damn thing—besides giving the Mouse overlords more money—was to spark discussion, debate. Which, yeah, we’ll call that the tame description for what actually happened. But just, the thing was meant to split the fanbase so in that regard…winning? Thanks, I guess?

Film is also very obviously subjective, different strokes for different folks, so yeah, ten people can watch a movie and none of them are gonna see the exact same film. Let’s try to remember that this is, in theory anyway, a good thing. I just read a professional film review yesterday where I had the same reaction. What film were you watching, dude? Incidentally his reviewing partner said the same thing.

So honestly, no, they weren’t watching the same film as you or I or anyone else, because everyone brings their own biases and experiences and knowledge and interests into a thing, and that’s always going to flavor how it’s viewed. Again, let’s try to remember that this is good. In theory. Heavy on the theory.

That out of the way? Let’s get into Tony specifically so his uber stans can find this and scream at me on anon as though I just shot RDJ with a nuke.

Oh yeah, he was stressed. Oh, he was sleep deprived. Yeah, I’ve heard that. And that it’s Pepper’s fault, if she hadn’t left the poor baby, if she was there to rein him in, he’d be fine dammit, leave the baby alone!

Here’s the thing. You know who gets a pass on their shit behavior when they’re upset or tired? Actual babies. Actual babies and toddlers, and children, up to a point. Because they actually cannot always help themselves. Their bodies and brains are different, they have not learned better.

When you’re a 50-year-old man who’s supposedly the world’s bestest superhero, who wants, wants to be in charge of protecting the whole world? You need a little more self-control than that. The sleep deprived excuse works if you snap at someone before you’ve had your coffee, not for this. Roseanne Barr didn’t get to blame Ambien for her racism, Tony doesn’t get to handwave CW away because oops, I was tired.

Really? You’re a superhero, dude. Most of your teammates are tired too, that’s part of the gig. If you crash and burn this badly without your afternoon nap, fucking hang up the armor and go back to your billionaire playboy lifestyle.

Speaking of that, sure, right. It’s Pepper’s fault because she left him. Put aside the argument on whether that was justified or not (cough, it was and she should’ve stayed away even though they are adorable together). It’s not Pepper’s job to keep Tony sane. It’s not any partner’s job to do that for anyone. If she wants out, she has a right to that, without Tony going off the rails and blaming it on her. Seriously, he says part of the reason he backed the Accords was to “split the difference” with Pepper.

Dude. You were an asshole and you lost your girl. You destroyed all your suits, turned an emotional and mental corner in IM 3…and then relapsed 4 minutes later I guess because Whedon. Either way, Tony admits himself that he does not want to stop. So instead of doing that, or finding another partner who can accept that, you back an unjust international law that pits you against your team, your supposed friends? Go to therapy, have a pint of ice cream, cry into your pillow, send her more of those strawberries you sent her in IM 2 that she’s allergic to. You don’t go trying to change international law in ways that could ultimately affect millions of people because your girl left you.

Honestly—and thank God they didn’t do this but—the only way the Pepper excuse works in excusing his behavior in any way is if she’d died. Or been severely injured like Happy in IM 3. Still wouldn’t be okay, but, like Quill messing up their chance to stop Thanos because Gamora died, it would’ve been more understandable. Understandable, not excusable, and the way the MCU treats their women as manpain fodder, we’re probably legit lucky we didn’t get this.

As for him wanting to help everyone. He does in fact want that, I think. The problem is that his need to feel like he’s doing that is stronger than his rational mind, or his want to actually help in a constructive way.

Tony is too smart. He’s dumb as hell in many instances, mostly involving people and relationships, but he’s also too smart, and he’s been told for too long that he’s smart, and he’s bought into it. Ultron. Suit of armor around the world, protects the world, no more alien threats. It’s a simple concept on paper that fails in execution. So there are people with dangerous powers. Okay, we’ll make a set of laws to keep them from being dangerous, problem solved. But again, it isn’t.

Tony is not used to problems he cannot solve. He’s a genius, right? He can fix anything. He should be able to fix anything. That’s how he feels. But not everything is zeros and ones and circuits, things that can be fixed mechanically like his armors can. The people he wants to protect are not built that way. But he needs to feel like he’s doing something, because he’s terrified of what happens to the world if he doesn’t. So he creates these simple solutions to complex problems. The suit of armor, the Accords. They sound good in theory, but the problems they’re trying to solve are bigger than they are. And Tony, way back in IM 1, he sat back for years, clueless that his weapons were being used for bad things. He says it to Cap in CW. When he found out what his weapons were being used for, he went in and stopped it. Whether or not he should’ve known that already is a separate issue here. The point here is that when he found out, too late or not, he went in and did something about it.

Tony needs to do something about it. Again, go back to Cap in AoU, Tony’s nightmare sequence. Steve asks Tony why he didn’t save them. Tony’s ultimate nightmare is that he sits back and does nothing, and his inaction causes everyone to die. Which is where you get Ultron. Something he came up with because of what he saw in space in Avengers 1, then doubled down on in AoU. It’s where you get the Accords. Oops, he caused someone to die, he killed Charles Spencer. Must do something about that right now so it doesn’t happen again, and he won’t have to feel this guilt. He should be collaborating with others to come up with solutions (no Bruce in AoU doesn’t count because Bruce was dumb there), or at the very least, taking more time to think through the repercussions of the things he puts out there. But he doesn’t, because he’s got his savior complex that tells him that he alone can and must fix this, and because he’s too dumb to realize how not-smart he is in certain areas.

“We need to be put in check. Whatever form that takes, I’m game.”

Isn’t that what he says in CW, or something very close to it? Whatever form that takes. That’s the issue, right there, whatever form that takes. Realistically, yes, there should be laws regarding people with powers, the same way there are special laws pertaining to people who carry guns, or people who are licensed to fly planes. You have a thing/can do a thing that not everyone else does, so there are regulations pertaining to that thing. Laws change with the times, they always have. Some new technology comes up, eventually there will be laws that regulate it. As there should be, honestly. The issue with the Accords, Steve’s issue with the Accords, was not the basic idea. He says as much. He says that it could work, but there would have to be safeguards. Safeguards that are not in the Accords that Tony wants him to sign.

It's not a matter of oh, fuck the law, there should be no law governing these people, they’re above it. The problem is that the law as it’s presented here is unjust. There’s what, a month between Lagos and Ross coming by to tell them about the Accords? A month is not enough time to properly analyze such a big issue, Especially when you’re reacting out of fear, which is what happened with Lagos. People died because of an Enhanced person, an Avenger, in this case. Lawmakers don’t want that to happen again, they especially don’t want the political shit storm that comes with it. Damn, we look like we were asleep at the switch here, not having anything to throw at this problem earlier. Quick, let’s throw together this thing so no one can say we’re not addressing the problem.

Patriot Act of 2001, anyone? 9/11 happened, the public were rightfully terrified, the US said oh man, these are unprecedented circumstances, we’ve never had this before. Don’t worry though, we’re on this, we’re protecting you. The reality being that that bill simply gave the government too much power, most of it being used against people who were not actually threats, and it’s debatable, to say the very least, whether or not that law helped more than it hurt.

No law is perfect. No law ever will be. It’s not possible. We still have to strive for perfection though, have to aim there so that the laws we get are as close to fair as possible. Tony’s a big deal. If not for his “whatever form that takes” attitude, he might’ve been able to use his influence to pressure lawmakers into coming up with a fairer bill. Hey, I’m me, the public loves me, I will endorse this bill publicly and work on getting the rest of the team to sign, but you need to change this and this and this first, or no deal. Instead, he took the easy way out, the quickest, easiest way for him to feel like he’s atoned for his sins without actually doing anything. Whatever form that takes.

Tony’s not wrong because he backs the creation of a law that addresses these things. He’s wrong because he says himself that he does not care what that law does, specifically, so long as it exists. He’s wrong because he violates said law upteen times during the movie, while preaching to team Cap about what assholes they are for not backing it. He’s wrong because he cares more about feeling as though he’s tackled a problem than he does about taking the time to make sure that the thing he’s proposing is actually a good idea. He’s wrong because of what he does with Bucky, though that’s honestly a separate issue, for the purposes of this discussion.

Anyway, that was longer than I ever wanted it to be. Damn. Next time you see a comment about CW being the reason people stan Tony, just remember there are other people out there who stopped stanning Tony because of that movie. Everyone’s entitled to see a piece of media however they see it, and although the Tony stans are often the loudest, there are plenty of like-minded people out there who share your take on events. Block who you need to, unfollow who you need to, blacklist what you need to, and don’t let them get you down.

Hang in there, and have an awesome day :)

[2centsnobodyasked4]

Teresa VS Rubi

I haven't watched a telenovela since like 2007. I feel like Rebelde was the last one I saw. However, I hold on to a couple of novelas that I thought were outstanding, such as Rubi. With the years, I've come across a lot of talk about 'Teresa' and I wondered why it had the same premise as Rubi. I was slightly intrigued. I learned that the story of Teresa came first back in the day, then Rubi. On social media such as tiktok and youtube, people are always comparing both. I kept saying that obviously Rubi was better because it was the one i watched. So in order to not be THAT biased, i decided to give Teresa a shot. So i just binged the entire novela in a couple of weeks. So here are my 2 cents.

Intro:

Song: La descarada- Reyli

Song: Esa hembra es mala- Gloria Trevi

With the songs alone, I will still have to give it to Rubi's intro song. I feel like it was more seductive and more true to what the novela was going to be about. On the other hand, Teresa's theme song felt like it would be more appropriate for Rubi. Because it was sang from the point of view of the 'betrayed friend'. Although you can argue that the betrayed friend was Luisa and that it would be from her point of view, but that only happened towards the very last episodes, so it wouldn't really make sense for it to summarize the entire novela as Reyli's song did.

Furthermore, I enjoy Rubi's intro more, especially the beginning were is says 'Una obra de ..." it makes it seem fancy and like I'm in for a special treat.

The actress

Barbara Mori vs Angelique Boyer

I know I'm going to sound like a jerk by comparing their physical appearance, but I'm going to do it anyway.

Face

They are obviously both beautiful women, but in MY opinion, Barbara Mori's face is more seductive without even trying. She reminds me so much of Megan Fox. On the other hand, Angelique's face is so youthful that she has to work extra hard and make over the top gestures to act out the seductress role.

Body

Although they both have fantastic bodies, they are very different from each other. Once again, Barbara's body gives off a more sensual and natural look. Even the way she moves is a perfect embodiment of Rubi. Angelique once more has a more youthful small body, and the main thing that makes her 'hot' is her boobs, which look really fake and it doesn't play into the story since she's suppose to be poor. Rubi didn't have much of a chest, but she still managed to appear more naturally seductive. Teresa was just constantly exposing her chest to appear seductive.

Acting

Barbara Mori's acting was excellent. She made me feel like thats how she was in real life. Everything came natural to her. Angelique's acting was all over the place. She really had to OVERACT to put her point across. Everything about the novela in general was overacted actually. Angelique had to do over the top facial expressions to show when she was scheming, when she was talking down to people or when she was in love. She came out looking like a cartoon character as opposed to Barbara that made her character seem like a real person.

Story

I've already made this post way longer than i expected and there's so much more that I want to talk about out so I'm just gonna have to shoot out random points:

Evil

I feel like they were both equally evil. They both were horrible to their families, to the men they loved and to their friends. I can't really make my decision on who was worse. I will hand it to Teresa though that she worked and studied hard to have a degree and was an excellent lawyer. However, I've seen arguments that mention that she was smarter that Rubi and relied on her brains instead of her body to get ahead. But thats not true. Sure she had a degree but she didn't get far because of it at all. She did the EXACT same thing that Rubi did, got ahead with her body provoking a rich guy. Sure she played the long game but at then end she did the same thing, not just with Arturo but with Fernando as well. She seduced him, nothing to do with her brain.

Ending

Rubi's ending was EXCELLENT. It has stayed with me for a long time because we finally have a main character that didn't win at the end. She got what she deserved. She lost the man she loved, she lost all her money which is what she fought the most, she lost her beauty, and she lost her beautiful body. EVERYTHING, and it was just excellent.

Teresa's ending left me baffled. She ended up with the man she loved after everything that she did. People may argue that she changed and felt remorse for what she did, but come on. She didn't even suffer for that long. She only regretted things because she was caught and exposed, otherwise she would've never changed. Also the fact that Arturo came to her after what she did to his sister is disgusting. Sure forgive her for what she did to him, but to his innocent sister? Seriously??? I get it, that they wanted for them to have a happy ending since the actors were dating in real life, but that just makes bad story telling.

Plot

It kind of gave me the impression that Teresa was going to follow a similar plot to Rubi's in the sense that Teresa was going to stay in love with Mariano all the way til the end, and that at some point when Teresa was not going to have any more money, that Mariano would now be super rich and prestigious but would want nothing to do with her like in Rubi. Although that would've been a Rubi copy, it would've been a better route to take. Because then other elements seem pointless. Something that I do admire more from Teresa was the fact that Mariano fell in love with Aurora, because in Rubi, it felt like Alejandro, although he married Maribel, it never seemed like he truly loved her. It was more like he cared for her. So i was so ready for an awesome ending to where Teresa was trying to stop the wedding and be suffering because the love of her life no longer loves her. That would've been so satisfying to watch and Mariano's wedding would also be triumphant because he overcame his temptation....however, that didn't happen. Teresa didn't even care, so it makes the wedding kind of pointless to the story. It really felt like 3 quarters of the novela they were building it up that triumph moment, but instead it felt like they changed the direction of story to fit in the real romance between Angelique and Sebastian. To be honest, Arturo's ending should've been the same as his counterpart role in Rubi.

In Summary. I have a lot more bones to pick with Teresa, but the ones that come to mind, are probably mostly the acting, not just of Angelique but of the cast. I think many of them were new actors or something, but their acting was horrible. I can really tell who was new and who was a veteran. Having said all of this, I DID enjoy watching Teresa. I know it may seem like I'm just hating on it and like I didn't enjoy it, but I really did. The first few episodes were really boring but after a while it was hard for me to stop. In one day I would go through 10 episdoes.....bruh, those are like 10 hours a day dedicated to Teresa. It was intriguing and interesting, especially many of the elements that were different from Rubi, such as her becoming a lawyer and her ways that she helped unmask Ruben.

In conclusion though, I do see Rubi as superior. A superior actress, a superior story and superior ending. Maybe a bit is from nostalgia but I did give Teresa a fair chance. Although entertaining, it was not what I would consider a good novela.

Me das miedo Teresa.

Rubi, tan bella como malvada.

[tinyyoungblood]

the novelty of lines | tom holland

summary: being trapped with your boyfriend in a bookstore can go many different ways. good and not so good. like getting hit on by a stranger. but does that really matter if tom knows exactly what to do?

pairing: tom holland x reader

word count: 2229

warnings: language, fluff

a/n: if this doesn’t get deleted again, i’ll buy everyone ice cream *laughs through the pain* sorry to anyone who might have already come across the first post:/ this is my first submission to @hollandsrecs​​ ‘s 1k bingo writing event! go check out her amazing fic recs! 

* * *

The echo of another thunder bellowed through the streets, making you shudder and lean into Tom for a sense of safety. His hand grazed your waist and you nuzzled yourself further into his body. “You okay?” You looked up to worried brown eyes and nodded once.

“I’ve always thought being stuck in a bookstore could be quite romantic. Turns out it has some Purge potential too.”

His chuckle conjured a small smile on your lips and you felt him trace tiny shapes into your skin. “Well, the rain does add something,” he said and you hummed. Letting go of your waist, you were turned to face him. “How about you go look for that book we came for, and I’ll go check out some new books they got in the back? We can meet in a few and when the storm is over, we can go grab some coffee. Sounds good?”

You nodded affirmatively and the twinkling in your eyes made his heart melt. “Add some baked goods and you got yourself a happy girlfriend.” Pressing a soft kiss on your lips, you both parted ways and with a fuzzy heart, you watched as Tom disappeared behind a shelf before you started your own quest of finding the newest book of your favorite author. Thanks to an abundance of afternoons spent in this place, you naturally navigated toward a table in the middle of the room that most likely contained what you were looking for—and your inner compass didn’t disappoint. It only took a few seconds until your gaze fell on the familiar name and a smile curved around your lips. Picking up the hardcover, you tugged a few strands of hair behind your ear and examined the paperback in awe.

Unbeknownst to you, your little gesture had caught the attention of a guy your age and invited him to come talk to you. It took you by surprise, but he was polite, so you let yourself have an easy five minutes conversation until he started to hit on you.

Tom was just rounding the corner again when he heard a familiar laugh. He immediately recognized your fake laugh and it made him stop in his tracks. Peering around the corner, his eyes landed on a guy chatting you up. Knowing exactly what was going to happen to the poor guy shooting his shot, he leaned against the wall to enjoy the show for a second.

“So what is a pretty thing like you doing here all by herself?” The guy asked with a smirk pestering his lips.

You eyed him and cocked your head to the side. “Where?”

Taken aback, he stared at you for a moment. “Uhm, you know, here.” He laughed awkwardly and Tom smiled to himself.

Acting like the light bulb over your head lit up, you replied, “Oh, you mean in Chicago?”

Tom had to stifle his laugh as the confused guy ran his hand through his hair. The interaction was painful to witness, but it brought up sweet memories. This was exactly what you did when the two of you had first met in London. You were in a coffee shop and Tom was hitting on you, hopefully, a bit smoother though, and in response, you acted slow and dull like you were doing at the moment. Tom, of course, saw right through and called you out on it. He remembered you only laughed and didn’t hesitate to call him out on his crap too, and that was the start of a beautiful friendship. It didn’t take long for you two to start dating after.

But in contrast to Tom, the guy didn’t seem to pick up on your way to cease the conversation and tried his last sprinkles of luck. “S-Sure…Are you here often?” He hinted and once more, you feigned confusion.

“You mean at the bookstore?”

For a second, you swore you saw his spirit left his body. But he was determined to keep going. “Chicago, bookstore, same thing, right?” He let out a forced laugh and you couldn’t help but smile amusedly. You did have to give him some credit for the effort.

“Hmm. I live in Chicago, so yeah.” His eyes lit up and you felt bad for leading him on, thus deciding to end this talk as fast as possible.

“Sweet, so chances are high that we will meet again…right?” He asked suggestively and you decided to top it off with the sweet cherry of obliviousness.

“No silly, I don’t live in the bookstore, so I guess the chances are pretty slim.” Tom’s eyes widened and he had to cup his mouth to silence his laugh. The guy stared at you dumbfounded and you were almost certain he would leave now. To your luck, that was not the case.

“You can always give me your address?” He tried again and that was Tom’s cue to walk up to you. Wrapping an arm around your waist, he gave the baffled guy a meek smile.

“Sorry, pal. She lost the piece of paper that has her address on it.” Glancing to him with wide eyes, you forced a quizzical smile and Tom grinned back broadly. “Ready to go, darling?” You hummed and turned around to walk away. Looking over your shoulder again, you gave the guy an apologetic smile and lifted your shoulder in a shrug before wandering off with Tom.

When you were out of his earshot, you halted and pointed at the prominent smirk on your boyfriend’s face. “You asshole.” He pursed his lips amusedly.

“What a cute pet name.”

“You were listening to our conversation,” you accused and he shrugged.

“Possibly.”

You gasped and narrowed your eyes at him. The corner of your lips, however, quirked up and you had to hit his shoulder in response to his cocked brow. “You could’ve saved me earlier!”

Tom snickered. “But where’s the fun in that, darling?”

Pouting, you turned your back to him and feigned interest in some of the books displayed on the table in front of you. Suddenly, two arms snaked around your waist, and you were pulled backward, prompting you to squeal in surprise. “Tom!”

He whispered into your ear, “Shhh, I’m trying to be a romantic asshole right now.” He dragged you to the very back of the store where he usually spent most of his time, so you genuinely expected him to simply show you a new book he found. Just in his very dramatic own way. When he let you go and you were planted on steady feet again, you whipped around to face him.

“Not cool.” You jabbed your finger into his chest and he rolled his eyes at you.

Pecking your nose, he stepped aside and revealed a big purple velvet blanket placed neatly in the corner of the store. It was covered in mismatched pillows of all colors, and Tom watched carefully as your eyes widened—fairy lights reflecting in them. You stepped forward and picked up one of the two white mugs that carried the soft smell of hot chocolate.  “Did you do this all by yourself?” You asked, your words laced with every inch of surprise you felt at the moment.

He nodded proudly. “Hannah didn’t mind, so I thought, why not make your romantic bookstore dreams come true.” He shrugged casually, but you could see that he was just as excited as you were. “You like it?”

You placed the mug on the ground and faced him. “Do I like—Tom, I love it! This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me. I still can’t believe it.” Your eyes were twinkling with joy, resembling a starry night sky, and he couldn’t believe how beautiful you were. Softly pulling you forward, you pressed your lips on his and the sweet taste made his heart flutter. You pressed him closer and closer, fingers threading through his soft curls while his hands roamed your sides. Gently pulling away again, you giggled at the dreamy look on his face and grabbed his hand. Once the two of you were seated on the soft blanket, hidden away from the rest of the store due to the big shelves, you were quick to bring the mug up to your lips to get a taste.

Mirroring your action, a strong swirl of chocolate enveloped Tom’s tongue and spread warmth down his throat. You moaned at the sweetness and let your head fall back. “This is too good.” Tom agreed and picked up the book you were still holding in your hand. Reading through the synopsis on the back, a small smile edged around his lips and you giggled. “Tom, that’s a thriller about a guy who goes on a killing spree. Why are you grinning like a psycho?”

He let out a brief laugh. “I’m not laughing because of the book.” He tossed it on your lap. “I just can’t stop thinking about how you did the exact same thing when we first met. You know, with the acting slow.”

The fact that he remembered made you smile and you lifted your shoulder in a half shrug. “I do it with everybody who hits on me.”

“Like a bit?” He asked curiously and took another sip from his mug.

You cocked your head to the side and thought about it. “Kinda. You really have no other choice when guys come up to you with the dumbest lines. It’s a default setting.”

Feigning offense, he slapped his hand on his chest. “I beg to differ! I did not say a dumb line.”

“Probably not the dumbest line I’ve heard.” You brought the mug up to your lips. “But very dumb nonetheless.” Tom furrowed his brows and pouted at you, making you giggle. “Do you remember what you said?”

His gaze averted to the ground for a second, but he shook his head. “No…But it couldn’t have been any dumber than what he said.” Tom jabbed his thumb over his shoulder and you grinned.

“If only you knew…” you trailed off teasingly and he leaned forward.

“What was it?”

You hummed and shrugged playfully, making him grab your mug and set it aside with his own. “Y/N Y/L/N, tell me how I made a fool of myself the day we met.” You had to bit your bottom lip to cease the smile, but that gave Tom the last push to lean forward and tackle you to the ground, fingers attacking your sides and the sound of your laughter seeped through the quiet bookstore.

“T-Tom! S-stop it—Tom, I mean i-it,” you coaxed out and Tom leaned down to your ear.

“Are you going to tell me what I said to you that day?” Reluctantly, you nodded. His hands left your side and you sat up while the last bits of your hysteria died down. Dramatically wiping away some tears, you shuffled forward and placed your arms on his shoulder to lock your fingers behind his head. His eyes locked with yours and he waited in anticipation as you fought with your lopsided grin. You cleared your throat for suspense.

“On the day we met, you came to my booth, and sat down. Then you looked me straight in the eye and asked me Are you from England? ‘Cause I can really see a queen in you.”

You watched as Tom internally broke down from the crippling cringe. He was blushing madly and the tip of his ears were bloodshot red, making you giggle and press a quick kiss on his warm cheek. When you wanted to pull away, he wrapped his arm around your shoulders to nuzzle his head in the crook of your neck. “I can’t believe I said that,” he mumbled and you laughed.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself. It could’ve been way worse.” He leaned back to look at you.

“Oh yeah? How? I can’t see a way to outdo that. It’s really bad, I’m surprised you didn’t die of a stroke that day.”

“Bet. Harrison once came up to me all excited to read me a pickup line he found on Buzzfeed. I think it went My dick is called Big Ben. And you know where you'll find it. And then he just giggled and ran away.”

Tom broke out laughing. At this point, you were sure people must have thought you two were crazy but you didn’t mind. “Oh my god, what did you tell him?” He reached out to your waist as you turned around to lean your back against his chest. His arms wrapped around your figure and you sighed contently.

“Well, he was already halfway across the yard, but I told him afterward that it’s a great line and that he should use it sometime at the pub. I think he actually did.”

Tom’s chest vibrated against your back as the sweet sound of his laughter swept you off the ground. Seeing him this happy was everything to you and you closed your eyes for a second, just to open them again right after to make sure that you weren’t dreaming. Spending an afternoon trapped in a bookstore with your boyfriend during a thunderstorm sounded like it came straight from a novel, but apparently, you lived inside your own novel and within it, you were allowed to dream as much as you wished.

* * *

it’s been a while since my last one shot, so i hope this makes up for it! hope you enjoyed it and if you did, feel free to leave some feedback. thank you as always for reading! have a wonderful day/night peeps <3

taglist: @honeypie-holland​ @himarisolace​​ @duskholland​​ @insidiousslut​​ @siriuslyslyslytherin​​ @hollandsrecs​​ @quaksonhehe​​ @chloecreatesfictions​​ @writertoo18​

[fairy-spring]

Take to the Skies - 7/?

~.*.~.*.~

I’m sorry this has taken so long to update. I’ve just moved in with my boyfriend, and I’m finally trying to dip my toe back into writing.

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| 1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 || 6 |

… She was staring again. The little girl with auburn hair and lime green eyes. Link was fairly sure he’d caught her staring quite a few times before. She was the daughter of the city’s top healer, from what he’d heard, which meant she’d pass through here every single day. Normally she’d be here with her father, or at least with a small group of friends. Why was she alone today, of all days?

“Oh, don’t pay her any mind,” Silas scoffed. “No need to be so embarrassed. She likes to watch everyone when they’re training.”

“Why’s that?” Orville questioned, his head tilted to one side. Silas merely rolled his eyes, as if the answer was the simplest thing in the world.

“Because,” he stressed, “we nobles always watch the page boys and the squires while they’re training!”  

Link squinted his eyes as he took in Silas’ words. He wasn’t blind to the goings-on around him, and neither was Orville. They perfectly understood that such things did happen. After all, random members of nobility poked their heads in to observe their shenanigans, well, every day. At least, that was how it felt.

“But why?” he repeated for his friend. “Why do they watch us all the time?”

“Because it’s entertaining to them.” Silas sighed as he shook his head. “Honestly, don’t you bumpkins understand anything?”

Link gritted his teeth, his grip tightening on his wooden sword. The nerve of this kid! They were the exact same age, and here he was acting like he was so much mightier and holier than the both of them! Link was pretty sure pride was a sin; perhaps even the cardinal sin, if memory served him correctly. The blond smirked at the thought, and he opened his mouth to speak.

“Ya know, Si-”

“Hey, can I play too?”

A small dust cloud picked up behind the young lady as she bolted her way over to the trio of boys, catching Link completely off-guard. It was the same little girl who was watching them earlier; auburn hair, big green eyes... She was bouncing up and down on the balls of her little feet, and she hummed to herself as she held her balled-up little fists over either side of her head. Evidently, the girl’s excitement could barely be contained.  

“Huh?!” Orville exclaimed, obviously perplexed by the situation. “L-Little girl, you can’t-!”

“Why, young lady,” Silas interrupted, suddenly bent over in a courteous bow to the redhead. “I’m afraid this isn’t mere play, my dear. This is serious training for knights-to-be, such as myself.”

Link glared daggers at the raven-haired boy, and he scoffed as he crossed his arms. The nerve of this guy, pulling a complete one-eighty like that. He shared a glance with Orville, who could only roll his eyes as Silas continued attempting to sate the little girl’s curiosity and shoo her away. The more he talked, however, the more she pouted, her brow creased and her lips pressed in a firm line.

“But, but, but, but...” She slowly lowered her arms and placed her hands behind her, and she shifted her weight between her feet.

“Besides, don’t you have other young ladies you could play with instead?” Silas smiled warmly, a stark contrast to his usual smarmy smirk. “I’m sure they’re all dying to spend time with you, young lady.”

“They’re all in the chapel with Mother Aleesha,” she whined as she slumped over. “And I can’t go till later!”

“I’m very sorry to hear that... Well, you can always watch, but I’m afraid I can’t let such a fragile young lady get into harm’s way.” Upon saying this, he gestured to Link and Orville, and he let out a soft chuckle. “I fear what would happen if you were to roughhouse with blacksmiths’ sons.”

“Hey!”  

Link thrust his wooden sword towards Silas, in defiance of his backhanded niceties. Silas easily sidestepped the boy and tripped his right leg, sending him spiraling to the ground. With a sigh, the dark-haired boy addressed the little girl again, as if Link was a mere annoyance. Orville scrambled to help his friend off the ground, silently asking if he was alright. The blond could only nod in reply, wiping the dirt off his tunic as he glared once again at the little bastard before them.

“You see what I mean, lady Celine?” Silas shook his head again and reached out his hand for the girl to take. “These boys are so hotheaded, I fear what they’d do to someone so gentle!”

Celine didn’t grab for Silas’ hand, however. Instead, she was staring directly at Link. Almost reflexively, the boy turned his head away. She was about to say something too, huh? No doubt, she was going to scoff or snicker or say something in agreement with Silas, and he’d have to deal with ridicule not just from them, but from the entire circle of nobles in the fortress! The redhead stepped towards him and Orville, and he flinched at the thought of what she’d do.  

However, no ridicule came. No mockery or shame reached his ears. Instead, the girl eyed him sympathetically, and she asked, “Are you okay?”

Link’s eyes widened at her words. Though it was such a simple question, he never would have expected it to come out of a noble; especially after the way Silas had treated the both of them...

“I...” Suddenly, he was lost for words, and he could only bring himself to nod once again, pale blond hair bouncing as he did. Celine was beaming upon seeing his response, and she giggled as she grabbed his abandoned training sword and hopped next to Orville.  

“Then, will you guys play with me?”

Orville was just as baffled as Link, his mouth hung open for a solid couple seconds before he could speak.  

“W... Why are you asking us?” He motioned between himself and his friend, eyes squinted at the little redhead. Clearly, something was up with this girl. “I thought bumpkins were dangerous.”

“Yeah, well, you guys seem like fun!” Her lime-green eyes shined in the light as she beamed at the pair. With an impish giggle, she held the sword out to Link for him to take. “Come on, Forge, don’t you want to play?”

The blond raised his brow in questioning, and he hesitantly accepted the training sword.

“... Forge?”

“Yeah, Forge!” Another giggle from Celine. “You know, because you’re a blacksmith’s son!” She then pointed to Orville, taking the boy aback as he gawked in confusion. “And you’re Smithy!”

“S-Smithy?!”

Orville could barely voice his displeasure with the new nickname, as Celine merely snickered and snatched his own wooden sword from its sheath. The brunet hollered and gave chase to the little girl, fruitlessly swiping his hand out in a poor attempt to take it back. All the while, Celine was gazing intently at Link.

“Come on, Forge, pleeeeease?”  

“I told you, it isn’t play!” Silas suddenly butted in, stepping between her and Orville. He held out a hand to the girl, this time with the expectation for her to return the stolen glorified stick. “My lady, I can’t allow you to get hurt. Please, give it back.”

“Then, will you guys teach me?”

“Absolutely not,” the boy sighed in reply. “A young lady is fair and pure, just like the white goddess. She has no need to get her hands dirty.”

Link rolled his eyes once again. Was this the only reason Silas was so against this? This was for religious reasons?

“Ya know,” the blond started, “ladies around the ranches and the smiths outside the wall have to help their husbands, whether it’s by protecting cattle or firing the coals. Why can’t the lady learn swordplay?”

That alone was enough to get Silas fuming, and Link couldn’t help but smirk at the effect his words had. It looked like the poor noble boy was about ready to burst! It seemed that Celine’s presence was the only thing keeping him from blowing up on Link. Orville was baffled by Link’s remark, his mouth hung open and his hands held in front of him as if asking, “Why?!” The young lady, however, was grinning from ear to ear, clutching Orville’s sword tightly to her chest.

“So, you’ll teach me, Forge?!”

Link looked Silas dead in the eye as he answered Celine.  

“Sure, why not?”

[ameryros]

Black Butler Shinigami & Thorns of Death speculation ramble

Major musical spoilers!!! Read at your own risk! I recommend watching Kuromyu 2, the most beautiful death in the world before reading uwu

Okay so we know that to become a shinigami, a human must take their own life and in return they shall return as a shinigami as punishment. They also do not remember their past life, so they probably do know that they commited suicide, but they don’t know why. They also “work” until the day they are forgiven, but isn’t specified when or how they reach that point.

Shinigami’s work by reaping and collecting human souls and that they cannot interfere once the name is on the list. A human can have their life spared if the human is someone “ who has potential to be beneficial for this world “, which is rare according to the official wiki.

It is said that the thorns of death is caused by a soul of a human that is destined to die, but fight’s back against the shinigami. If that was the case, shouldn’t there be more shinigami’s who have the thorns? I doubt there are very few humans that accept death that peacefully and lets the shinigami do their thing. 

William should have the thorns as well seeing that Thomas fought back against him during his first reap. it was also the only time we ever saw emotion out of that man. If anything, I’d reckon that most of the shinigami’s have the thorns of death.

In the second Black Butler musical we follow Alan Humphries and Eric Slingby. For those who haven’t watched it yet I don’t want to spoil, but the gist of it is that Alan has the thorns of death, and Eric is stealing human souls to try and save Alan (cue crying noises). A thousand human souls to be exact. 

Speculation #1 : The Thorns of Death isn’t from souls fighting back, but rather the Shinigami showing compassion/emotions and/or second thoughts about reaping the soul. The Thorn’s are also not lethal. It is also not a disease or illness.

This is kind of a well known speculation but I wanted to put my thoughts into writing. We know that suicide is what makes a human a shinigami. Wouldn’t it make sense that they would be punished if they showed compassion or kindness to someone who is destined to die? 

They were not kind to themselves, for whatever reason they took their own life and they were reborn as Shinigami. So if we play by the idea that their punishment for committing suicide as humans is to take human life, it would be ironic that they now feel or have second thoughts about taking it. 

Their last act as a human is take their own lives, and in death they shall do it infinitely. 

This brings us to the emotions part. We know that William is all about work. He is robotic in a way, emotionless and numb to everything as long as it doesn’t interfere with his work. As mentioned above the only time we ever see William show emotion is during his first reap, where Thomas essentially fought back, not wanting to die. Since then the William we know and love was born.

“If only I could understand their pain a little better”

“Thinking you could understand another’s feelings as they face death is sheer arrogance”

“Though I’ll never fully understand other’s thoughts as they await death, I feel I’ve gotten a bit closer”

"I was born alone in this world and alone I will die. If this is my fate, why are tears coming out of my eyes?"

- Alan Humphries, Kuroshitsuji Musical, The Most Beautiful Death in the World

 Alan in and of himself is filled with emotions. He is empathetic and wants to understand feelings and emotions of the very people he is taking lives from. To the souls he reaps, he is death. Just as he took his own life, he also faced death. I think he feels the need to understand what they are feeling, whether it’s because he wonders deep inside how he felt when he died, or because he is just a pure and kind soul. (We do not know how Alan died, his Death Scythe is a long handled garden slasher and no other distinct qualities or sign as to how he died) 

Shinigami will spend eternities watching cinematic records, observing human life, and death. It would make sense that a shinigami wouldn’t care if they took human lives, it’s just their jobs. 

Ronald Knox has emotions, he flirts, he is playful and occasionally seen with human women and interacting with them. But he does not care about their lives. As seen in the Book of Atlantic he bids the human woman he was with goodbye, ending it with “if you’re still alive”, which he probably already knows that she does not survive. So it’s entirely possible for a Shinigami to display emotions and a personality, as long as it does not interfere with their job of reaping.

For this speculation emotions is what causes the thorns. And it can be stopped if the Shinigami stopped having feelings or empathy for the human souls they reap. 

William for example, it would make sense that he is entirely void of emotions. If this speculation is right, then he would have the thorns from Thomas, which if he continued to feel or think about, would eventually kill him. If he did the same thing with every soul he reaped, he will die even faster. Getting rid of emotions would essentially get rid of/ not have the thorns, hence surviving. 

Either way, William may or may not have eradicated the thorns, but if he stopped it early enough I don’t think a small amount of thorns would be lethal. He may still feel the prick or pain of it, but it will not lead to his death.

Alan on the other hand is portrayed naturally empathetic, he is filled to the brim with emotions and thoughts about the souls he reaps, and as long as he continues it, the thorns will only sink deeper. 

In my opinion it’s more of a consequence than an illness if we go by this speculation and it is entirely avoidable. After all, they took their own life selfishly, it is now their punishment to take others, but now they hesitate? Or feel for the humans? It’s a baffling concept considering it goes against their whole existence. 

Shinigami’s are the neutral ones. They hold no opinion over the life or death, they just take. So for them to not be neutral, if would still make sense that they get the thorns as punishment/consequence.

Speculation #2: A thousand stolen human souls is needed to “cure” the thorns, but why? 

Let’s say that there is no other way to get rid of the thorns. Once you have it, there’s no stopping it. (We’ll forget about William’s case and focus on Alan)

In the musical we see Eric taking the souls for himself to collect and eventually give to Alan. He goes out of his way to make a whole opera play to garner enough humans to take souls from. 

But why would this work? 

Selfishness. This ties back to why the thorns were there in the first place. 

Feeling or trying to understand human pain or emotions is what gave them the thorns, so if a shinigami would take so much lives so selfishly, so greedily, to save themselves, it would negate the thorns that they acquired.

Having no regard for human life would most likely get rid of the thorns purely because it contradicts the thorns presence in a shinigami. 

But isn’t taking human souls for themselves against the rules? Why, yes, yes it is.

Which is why Eric was sneaking around doing it. He only formulated the mass soul reaping when he realized that Alan does not have much time left, and he needed the souls immediately to save him.

Let’s talk about Eric Slingby for a moment.

“And yet somehow.. somehow I have finally found... one fragile ray of light.

“Forgive me Alan, I can’t give you up. I just can’t give you or your life up!”

-Eric Slingby, Kuroshitsuji Musical, The Most Beautiful Death in the World

We talked about how having emotions or feeling empathetic towards humans cause, thorns. But it doesn’t seem to apply to shinigami relationships.

Eric is literally intervening with Alan’s eventual death by collecting the souls, so do the rules of being neutral not apply to them? Are they free to save each other?

I don’t really see a problem with this, I can kind of see that it might not be included in the rules since well, they aren’t human, and it just makes the story even more heart-wrenching.

Eric also has emotions and a personality, and even though he doesn’t understand why Alan is feeling the way he does when it comes to human emotions towards death, he still sees him as a friend and wants to save him. It just goes to show that even shinigamis can have healthy relationships. (cri)

Okay we’re back. During the musical Alan learned that it was Eric who was taking the human souls to save him, and he immediately tries to stop Eric. They have a bittersweet moment and decide to run away together and Eric promising not to kill anymore to get souls, and they leave their glasses behind, signing their resignation.

But the thorns didn’t stop. And eventually Alan is on the verge of death, and Eric breaks his promise, he wanted to save Alan no matter the cost. Eventually Eric needed one more soul to complete the task, and the only human left that he could kill quickly was no other than Ciel Phanthomhive. But  just as he was about to kill Ciel, Alan dived in between, Eric’s death scythe killing him.

Eric was devastated, and begs Sebastian to kill him which he does with Alan’s death scythe. Everything he had done was to not lose Alan, but in the end fate was cruel to them. As the very thing he wanted to protect disappeared by his own actions, he essentially killed himself once more by asking Sebastian to take his life. 

He lied beside Alan, in his second time tasting death for himself, at least in death they were still together.

The souls he collected erupted from his body and rained down on the ground, Ciel and Sebastian musing that the souls were beautiful, white, and pure, it was innocent. It was the most beautiful death in the world.

So what would happen if Alan didn’t take the souls? Would Eric just have 1000 souls with him? Would he return the souls to the dispatch center? Would they be fired? I don’t know really, but all I can most likely assume is that everything Eric did to get the souls would be useless and for naught. Alan I think would have died either way, he would never have taken the souls. 

I can see Alan and Eric still alive and happy together if they ran away earlier and the thorns weren’t as bad. 

Another ending would be Eric letting Alan die per his wish, and Eric turning into an emotionless void like William from the sad event. I can see Eric getting the thorns for himself as he would probably remember Alan whenever he takes a human soul, and the guilt of not saving him would also probably eat him alive. A lose-lose situation.

Even another one would be Alan surviving if speculation #1 was true, but then he would also be emotionless and unfeeling, unless he figured out how to exclusively not feel for the humans and their souls, but that’s a far fetch, I just don’t see Alan doing that. And even if it did happen, I'm quite sure Alan and Eric's dynamic would change and it wont be the same. Also a lose-lose situation. 

It’s a bitterweet ending for Alan and Eric, I can only cry and curse at the world so much for giving them such fates. 

I guess that’s what fanart and fanfiction is for amiright?

If you read everything and got to this point, wow, don’t you have a life? Just kidding. I hope you enjoyed and let me know your thoughts if you like.

I might write more of these if I find more stuff I feel like is interesting, or people can give suggest stuff through dm’s or messaging.

Stay safe, healthy, and hydrated!

Much love, Ames

[alittlewhump]

Unbidden - Act 1, chapter 7

Masterlist | Previous | Next

Content warnings: death mention

Morgan was surprised to return to consciousness. He hadn't expected that to happen again. He was lying in a rough bed, covered by thin sheets. His eyes wouldn't quite focus, but sunlight was shining through a window and giving everything a golden cast. It smelled familiar, like healing herbs - maybe Akara's cabin? Someone must have arrived just in time to save them from Andariel's clutches. His efforts certainly hadn't bought enough time for an enthralment to wear off. He made to sit up, but the pain that lanced through his arm cut that plan short. He cried out before he could stop himself, biting down on his lip to muffle the sound. Even that hurt more than it should have.

The priestess appeared beside the bed. "Finally back with the living, are you? Good. We've been worried. Drink this." She pressed a cup to his lips. He hadn't realized how thirsty he'd been, but he gulped back the water quickly. The cool liquid soothed his raw throat a little. It still hurt to swallow, probably to speak as well.

He risked a soft "Thank you," barely more than a whisper. It felt like his throat was lined with sand, and he grimaced.

"Just rest, hero." Hero? The confusion must have been plain on his face. The expression of concern had been out of character, but this was much stranger. Akara gave him a sympathetic, slightly worried look. "Don't you-"

Blaise burst into the small room at top volume. "You're finally awake! The great hero rises at last! I've been telling everyone how you defeated Andariel and saved us all. They'll be so glad to see you've pulled through!" She was making an unusual amount of eye contact. This was a cue, then. Despite the confusion of the situation, Morgan found himself relaxing a little. It was good to see her alive and well, although she continued to baffle him. Why would she lie about what had happened?

"It would be a treat to hear the tale from your point of view for a change," Akara murmured. Blaise's smile froze. She was, Morgan realized, banking on him playing along with the version of events she'd laid out. He'd already told her he didn't lie, so why would she involve him this way?

"I, ah..." He cleared his throat and regretted it instantly, wincing. "I'm afraid I... don't remember that," he said carefully. It wasn't a lie - he couldn't remember what had never happened.

Akara clicked her tongue. "I've seen this happen before. Poisons can wreak havoc on the memory. It's a shame." Blaise looked relieved. "Anyway, now that you've made it through the worst of it, I can get out and replenish my stock." She was already slipping a cloak over her shoulders. "Blaise, you'll keep an eye on him, hm?" It was not a question, and she did not wait for a response before leaving.

Blaise watched the door until the sound of footsteps faded away, then she turned on Morgan with a ferociously angry expression. "You're a complete fucking idiot and I don't care if you don't remember any of it. I'll sum it up for you: you decided to just jump up on Andariel like she wasn't going to destroy you in one second. Then - of course - she did. We're both fucking lucky that I managed to shake her stupid demon mind control and put a whole quiver of arrows through her ugly skull. Now tell me what in fuck's sake you were thinking when that seemed like a good idea to you."

Her sudden switch from cheerful to enraged was confusing and overwhelming. "You were enthralled, I had to try something," he blurted. He didn't know what she wanted to hear, but evidently it wasn't that.

"You should have tried going back for some fucking help! That's what any person with a brain in their idiot head would have done!"

That hadn't even occurred to Morgan. Given the prevailing attitude toward his brotherhood, asking for help from others was not usually an option. He would have rejected the idea anyway - it would have spelled her doom, which would have been an unacceptable outcome, especially when the likelihood of receiving help from the others was so low. They'd both managed to survive somehow, so why was she so upset? Maybe if he just explained. "As a follower of Rathma, my sworn-"

"Your sworn duty is to maintain the Balance. I know. I've heard your little speech. What does that have to do with anything?"

"The forces of darkness are gathering. I must do what I can to hinder evil and preserve good." Blaise just kept staring. Was that not enough explanation? Time to take it down to basic facts, then. "You're a good person, Blaise."

He was not expecting the series of emotions that crossed her face, most of which he couldn't identify. She settled on anger, which was recognizable but still confusing. He was also not expecting the slap that stung suddenly across his cheek. He winced. She was fast.

"What about now, huh? Do you still think I'm good?" Blaise's voice was low and dangerous. Morgan's eyes narrowed, searching her face for anything that would make sense of this. He found nothing. Why was she reacting so strongly to such a simple observation? Maybe - oh. Cain had mentioned Andariel's influence extending to emotional anguish as well, not just physical. That... well, that might explain this volatility but it wouldn't help him navigate it. He wasn't going to lie to her. It wouldn't matter anyway, since it felt like neither answer was going to be correct.

"Yes."

Another slap, harder than the last one. Morgan bit back a yelp. She had managed to hit the exact same spot, and he could already feel it beginning to swell.

"How about now?" Her voice trembled with anger. This was going nowhere.

"The answer -" here he flinched, closing his eyes in anticipation of the next strike. "- will continue to be yes, no matter how many times you hit me." Nothing. Maybe he'd gotten through. He opened his eyes hesitantly, only to be met with another slap. He made a soft grunt of pain, despite himself.

"You're a fool," Blaise spat. So she didn't believe his assessment. This could definitely be solved with more explanation. He just had to choose his words carefully. His cheek throbbed.

"I have spent enough time around you," he began slowly, looking at a spot on the wall. It felt safer than making eye contact. "To observe that you are loyal, brave, kind, and fair." He didn't dare risk looking over at her, so instead he continued. "I am an outsider with... few social graces. I keep company with the dead. You were ordered to escort me on an unpleasant and dangerous quest, which nearly got you killed." He paused to swallow, grimacing. His throat burned painfully, but he wasn't finished. "All things considered, it is reasonable for you to hate me. That does not change your nature."

Something else was beginning to occur to him. Blaise wasn't saying anything, so he forged ahead despite the discomfort. "And yet, despite all the trouble I've caused you, you still went to the effort of bringing me back here. To your healer. It would have been easier to leave me. Where I fell."

She snorted at that. So at least she had been listening. "And what do you suppose I would have told everyone then, huh?"

Morgan turned his head to look at her again, searching for some sign - was this a trick question? What was the answer supposed to be? He decided to go with the factual. "That I died. You don't mark the passing of outsiders here."

That earned him another scoff. At least it wasn't a blow. "Yeah, that would go over great. 'Hey, everyone! We defeated Andariel! Where's Morgan, you ask? Oh, he died in battle and I just left his corpse down there in the monastery.'"

A deep-seated emotion coiled around his ribs, squeezed like a snake. That wasn't what happened at all. Wasn't what would have happened. All the pieces of it were wrong. He could feel himself scowling, a visceral reaction to the feeling in his chest.

"See? That wouldn't be right," Blaise said.

"No. Not in battle," he spat. Ridiculous. It hadn't been a battle. He'd barely put up a fight at all. "He died a coward," he corrected, half snarling. "Screaming. Writhing. Helpless. Like a worm on a hook." He wished the poison had taken his memory as Akara had suggested. Instead, he remembered each terrible second with crystal clarity.

Tears had sprung to his eyes. Apparently he was also feeling the emotional effects of Andariel's influence. Recognizing that didn't help. He drew a shaky breath and raised his hands to wipe away the tears. A searing pain shot through his injured arm as he moved it and he choked back a cry, pressing the limb back against his side where it hadn't hurt so badly. He scrubbed at his eyes with his good hand, but when his fingers brushed the spot on his cheek where Blaise's hand had connected, he made another soft sound of pain. Gods above, why did everything have to hurt so much? The anger and frustration and embarrassment all boiled over suddenly, without warning. An animal sound bubbled up from inside him, a growl that opened up into almost a howl before being overtaken by violent coughing. That hurt too, of course.

Strong hands gripped Morgan's shoulders, sat him upright and rubbed his back as the coughing fit subsided. Shame burned hot across his face. He was supposed to be able to control his emotions, but evidently he hadn't completed his training as well as he'd thought. To lose his composure so completely, then get treated like this - like a child! By someone who barely even tolerated his presence, probably compelled by pity. He closed his eyes and lay back, wishing he could just disappear.

Blaise spoke softly now. "You're not a coward, you know. You were actually really good down there." A hollow feeling settled over Morgan. Now he was definitely being pitied. This was worse than the anger, harder to accept. People were often angry at him, and he was at peace with that. But this... this made him feel so small, and he hated it.

"Don't," he rasped.

"What?"

"You don't have to... soothe my pride." His lip curled. "I know what I am." Weak. Pathetic. A burden. "I will leave as soon as I am well enough. It should be easy to avoid me until then." That ought to please her, the promise of seeing him gone. He was certainly looking forward to being alone so he could work on regaining his emotional control.

"Listen, Morgan." Blaise's voice was quiet, serious. She sighed. "I don't hate you."

That... no, that didn't make any sense. Most people disliked members of his Order on principle, and she had more reason than most to hate him. Morgan opened his eyes to peer suspiciously at the woman seated beside him. He couldn't read her expression. Was this a joke? Sarcasm? Did she really mean it? A long moment passed in silence. He broke it with the barest whisper, "Why?"

"You saved my life, idiot. You almost died trying, I thought - Anyway, I didn't hate you before that either. I wouldn't say I like you, exactly... I mean, you're... not normal. But it's obvious you're trying to do what's right, and I respect that." She made a face like she'd tasted something sour. "I haven't been... I mean, I know I've treated you - fuck, and just now..." She trailed off, ran a hand through her hair, and tried again. "Look, I'm sorry I hit you. I shouldn't have done that. I just don't... why would you say... why would you think I'm a good person? I've never even been nice to you."

"You don't have to be nice to me to be a good person," he explained tiredly. Nice was surface-level, easy for people to fake. Besides that, impartiality was a central tenet of Rathma's teachings. It was essential to the Balance. Personal feelings and experiences could not be permitted to colour a priest's judgment. Removing oneself from the equation had to be second nature. Being treated nicely, or not, had nothing to do with it.

Blaise was making that sour face again, and Morgan didn't have the energy for any further explanation. He didn't feel like he had the energy for anything. Everything hurt and he was feeling a lot of emotions, most of which he was not at all comfortable with. He closed his eyes again. "I need to rest." He paused. "Thank you. For saving my life." No response came. That was fine. Silence was easy. So was slipping back into unconsciousness.

[mittensmorgul]

hey mittens! i know you’ve written off the finale at this point (and haven’t we all), but i was just wondering: do we know whose idea it was to have kripke co-write that ep? because like, in hindsight, that was...a choice, and i’ve been thinking that might explain SOME of the weirdness of that ep (emphasis on SOME because uh. i really do think that some of the cringiest details didn’t come from writers at all). anyway—thoughts?

I don’t think Kripke had anything to do with writing the final ep. It just... felt like a Kripke ep, and I’m starting to think that Dabb did that intentionally. He’s the most meta writer the show might’ve ever had, and in refusing to allow Sam and Dean to live out past their ultimate victory, in choosing to “force an ending” on the characters instead of leaving their world “open” with no concrete ending, he succeeded at the task that Chuck- as Kripke’s avatar in the original story of Supernatural-- had failed to do.

Dabb, in a very real sense, is the one who “ended the story of Supernatural.” He wanted to bring it full circle, to “close the universe” and make it “reboot-proof.” This is something he’s talked about going back as far as SDCC 2019, and many of us had hoped that would mean something “better” than what Chuck wanted for the Winchesters, and for Cas.

I was hoping, and watching the show for the last few years under the assumption that Dabb’s in-story avatar was more a combination of different characters. At first, Billie, who started as a reaper but was elevated to the role of Death (like Dabb himself started as a writer who became more important to the telling of the tale, and eventually became the final showrunner who would eventually reap the show in the end, as it were).

After Jack’s introduction, I wondered if he was going to “grow into the role” of the Authorial Avatar. After all, he served as a mirror for all three other characters, reflecting their stories back at them and allowing them to process their own emotional and psychological issues by helping Jack through them. I wrote long ago, back in s13, how this enabled TFW to sort of graduate from student to master, in the martial arts sense of the word, because one truly only completes learning a thing through the process of teaching others.

And then the Empty became involved as an actual being that manifested through the identities of others, and didn’t really have its own identity other than “I need to sleep, stop disturbing me!” which... felt like it might’ve become relevant when Jack’s power was able to break through into its realm.

Then these three beings began plotting the final overthrow of the Original Author. One laid claim to the lives of Sam and Dean (Billie), one laid claim to Castiel (the Empty). We watched Jack-- the incarnation of “balance” and the vehicle through which the show demonstrated what the human soul’s function is, what the function of angelic grace WITHOUT a human soul’s function is, and what Jack as a whole being with both actually is, as he fully came to his own understanding of what humanity, human love, and the responsibility and function of cosmic power and balance is within himself.

I never doubted (especially after he consumed Michael’s grace and made that power his own) that Jack’s function would be as the ultimate role that Chuck had been trying to force on Dean since s11-- “the firewall between light and darkness.” That Jack would be the crucible to fully unite the power embodied in Amara and Chuck. Chuck’s ending was about as poetic as it gets, and I 100% appreciate Jack’s “end” in the narrative that isn’t really an end for him, because the story also implied that Chuck’s original “problem” stemmed from his wanting to give himself an ego and play with his own creation like so many tinkertoys, to force his will on a universe he created to be ruled by the will of others. 

The ultimate act of Team Free Will left Chuck fully human and an effectively blank book, with no power to force anyone else to play his games. Excellent, right? Poetic even!

But the story wasn’t really over, because in our world, there was one more episode, a coda fic if you will. And all of the characters I’d associated with Dabb-as-avatar were... rendered mute. Billie was dead or dying in the Empty, Jack came into his full power and had already healed the universe, implying that the Empty’s conditions were fulfilled and could finally go back to sleep.

Unfortunately, Chuck’s Book, while appearing blank, still contained all the words. Only Death could read them, and as far as we know, nobody in that universe had ascended to that role. But in our universe, we know that’s Dabb’s function in the narrative. What sort of ending could he write?

Most of us hoped that it would be a “once more, with feeling” sort of “you can finally lay down your arms and make a new life for yourself” ending. Many of us were baffled first off that Jack wouldn’t have brought Cas back from the Empty to Earth. We never really had a satisfactory explanation in canon of what happened there. Was Cas actually dead? What function does he have if he’s in Heaven? Has he been relegated to a role of duty and service as punishment for daring to yearn for human things? It just... it felt like the final stab from a story that had just told us that he truly has been the one disrupting for in Chuck’s story, that he was something that Chuck could never force out of the story or control, who demonstrated free will and learned to love humanity because of Dean, and yet doomed to never have that for himself. Most of us felt that line in 15.18 deserved subversion in the aftermath, and yet we never even get concrete confirmation that he’s even really alive in the same way he was before. It’s... what Chuck always wanted for Cas, to shunt him out of the story and render him powerless and plotless.

What did Chuck want for Sam and Dean? What story did he force them into over and over again? One of them tragically dead and the other miserable and mourning. He wrote billions of iterations of this exact story, over and over throughout billions of universes created for the sole purpose of doing exactly this to every incarnation of Sam and Dean he possibly could. Most of us hoped this might be the ONE universe where that was subverted, like it was the ONE universe where Castiel refused to fall in line with Heaven’s orders and plans. But nope, Dean died tragically (almost immediately after saying in canon that the only way they could honor Cas and Jack’s sacrifices for them was to keep living), and Sam lived a rather bleak and hollow life where the only thing we know he did was to raise a son named for his dead brother.

Chuck would’ve been freaking DELIGHTED!

Which... brings us to Heaven... where we get the vague hint that Cas “helped” Jack “knock down the walls” and make it a paradise that Dean would love and feel rewarded by. We never actually find out what role Cas played in that, or if he was also there in some capacity. But how I’ve always personally understood Heaven as it was in Chuck’s creation, was as a self-sustaining and ever expanding Destiny Generator, like a power generator or a giant battery where each Heaven Cubicle functioned as a cell. The show itself has been using the soul-as-power-source for ages (it was pretty much the running theme of s6-- it’s the souls!-- and this theme was returned in force in s11, culminating in the “soul bomb” plot of (gasp!) Andrew Dabb’s season finale.

Heaven was beginning to break down as a “machine” and a power generator not for lack of human souls, but for lack of angels to maintain the structure of heaven itself. In one of his first episodes, Cas even described the function of angels as being “agents of fate.” Their sole role was to literally “hold Chuck’s narrative together.” Metaphorically in the story-- in the original Apocalypse as the guides who tried to force Sam and Dean into the roles they were destined for-- as well as metaphorically in Heaven which was the “battery” that gave the angels their power in the first place. Remember what happened to Cas when he has been “cut off from Heaven” and began to lose his powers.

So the way I’d always understood the function of Heaven in Chuck’s story was exactly that. Without Chuck’s narrative, the walls would fall and the paradise Jack’s birth heralded would come to fruition THERE. Because as long as there is life, and free will, and more than one person on EARTH, that sort of paradise is an impossible dream. We’re seeing that exemplified now in real life, actually, with people claiming their rights and freedoms are being infringed upon by being asked to wear a mask and limit their social interactions to prevent the spread of a deadly virus. Does their “freedom” override the “freedom” of others who would prefer to remain alive and not infected by a virus that could kill them? It’s an impossible balance, because true freedom cannon exist in life without compromise and sacrifice.

Which brings us to Dean, and his essential humanity, which had been exemplified in his selfless love of humanity so strong that he became a cosmic disrupting force of his own by simply refusing to let Chuck’s story defeat him. He struggled with this throughout s15 as Chuck told him that his life had never truly been his own, and that he’d always been a character in a bigger story. He’d finally begun to feel at peace with who he was, with the family he’d made for himself, and everything and every experience he’d endured that had shaped him into the person he’d become, and Chuck’s revelation led him to doubt everything. In the end, he was finally able to see what truly DID matter, what really WAS real (thank you to 15.17 for confirming that Cas was one of those things that Chuck had also never intended to be part of his story, and that Cas truly had always chosen Dean freely, because his doubt of Cas was one of the main things hurting Dean in s15, epitomized in his crisis in 15.09 in Purgatory). So the fact that Cas was not “allowed” to come back to Dean afterward feels... punitive. The fact that Dean was not “allowed” to actually experience a real human life on the Earth he’d devoted his entire life to saving, the fact that Sam was never able to achieve peace and happiness in a life he’d struggled to find balance between a destiny he’d never wanted and a normalcy that had been merely performative for decades because shoving the majority of his life experience down to play at being “normal” was never truly possible, and required truly accepting all of himself to actually free himself from the half-life we saw him live after Dean’s death... all of that just... it’s exactly what Chuck would’ve wanted for all three of them.

And it’s depressing af, that when given the power to “end the story of Team Free Will,” Dabb chose to enact Chuck’s final draft, rather than handing blank books to these three to write their own lives. And it just looks like Kripke’s writing, because it kind of is his story. We just hoped it wasn’t, and that the final avatar of The Author in the story would be TFW themselves. But that was probably never meant to be. Because destiny is apparently still stronger than human free will, and isn’t that just depressing af.

[treatian]

The Chronicles of the Dark One:  Magical Loopholes

Chapter 65:  The Safest Place

In anticipation of their evening together and her "open door" invitation, he returned to the library the next morning with a couple of suits in hand. She seemed just as pleased as he was when he put his things in her closet. Small as it was, it still felt like an overwhelming achievement. They spent most of that day apart. He disliked it, but he was glad that she'd given him the time to prepare and grow confident that she would be safe as he carried out this plan. Belle was brave, but she was also smart enough to understand that bravery didn't mean going and looking for trouble. Terrified as she was of the Evil Queen, he knew that she wouldn't purposefully put herself in a situation that might endanger her. She'd stick to public places or the library. And if Regina did choose to hunt her down in that place, his spells meant that he'd be the first to know about it.

The day gave him time to make his final preparations, not only for the dagger but for her as well, for all the ways that he was about to let her into his world. The night before, he'd made another breakthrough, figuring out a combination that he believed would work best to get the magic he'd crafted well-hidden and over the town line. He'd gone with the weak magic theory, finding it to be the one that held up the best against his samples from the town line. All he really had left to do was test it, and he was free. He could be on his way to finding Baelfire as soon as he and Belle completed this task.

She arrived right on time, at the exact hour they'd agreed upon once the sun went down. It pleased him that she ignored the "closed" sign on the door and breezed right in without knocking, but it thrilled him when he heard her lock the door and pull the shades in the front as well before venturing into the back to find him. She acted as if this place were hers as well as his own. For all he was about to reveal, it may as well have been hers too.

"Thank you for coming," he whispered after he'd kissed her.

"Of course," she muttered before looking down at the objects he had out on the table in front of him, all ready and prepared for her. He hadn't seen the point in trying to hide them from her. "What, uh…what are we doing?"

He smiled at her curiosity and met it with his own genuine excitement. "Belle…I'm getting closer every day to my Baelfire. It could be any day now, and things in town being what they are at the moment, there is something that I must do before I go." With a hard, nervous swallow, he reached out to grab the hand she had resting on her hip. This was hard even at the same time it wasn't. But he knew enough to know that touching her would help.

"You already know, but I didn't want it to be a secret from you. I wanted you to know…everything."

She smiled as she tightened her grip on his hand and brought it to her mouth. She kissed his knuckles like she was the hero in some romance novel instead of the damsel…he liked that.

"You can tell me anything. Everything. Your secrets are safe with me."

"I know that," he smiled, holding in tears as he stroked her cheek. It was because he knew that they'd arrived here, in this place, together for this purpose. It was time. "Come with me."

He took her hand and led her into the main room. He heard her drift off to the other side of the counter as he went to the painting that hid his safe and swung it forward to reveal it to her.

"What is that?" she asked, sounding surprised. He tried not to hide his joy that there were still new things he could show her in this new world, new experiences they could have together just as they had at the house. It was the right question for her to ask.

"This is my safe," he muttered, palming the extra key he'd found just for this moment alone. "It's made of strong steel, and it is impenetrable. Unless…you have a key."

With that, he reached across the divide for her hand. Confused, she gave it to him, not to hold as he suspected she thought he wanted, but to slip the tiny piece of metal into her fingers. She jumped when she realized what he'd done and pulled her hand away to look at what he'd given her.

"You have the only copy," he confirmed before she could say anything. "Keep it safe, Belle. Can you do that?"

She looked at him, not with love or joy or even the look of someone who was impressed. Instead, she gazed back at him with utter seriousness in her eyes. It was a look that said she understood the gravity of their task even if she didn't yet know what it was.

"Y-yes," she stuttered out finally. "Yes, but…but why-"

He held up a hand to silence her. She need not ask the question. He knew the time had finally come. And he was so excited and nervous he was almost certain he was going to vomit because of it.

He turned back to the safe and angled his body so that he was certain she could watch him as he inserted his key in the lock, turned it, then pulled the handle and opened the door. He had several objects in here at the moment. Small vials of the potion he'd been perfecting, Bae's shawl, a few stacks of money, but most important of all…the dagger.

She knew about it, he knew that much, but in all her time at the castle, she'd never seen it, and he'd never been the one to tell her about it. That boy she'd brought to help, Samuel, he had come searching for her, he'd always assumed that he'd been the one to inform her of its existence, but when he'd spoken to him later, he'd been baffled as to how she knew about it. Where the information she carried came from was a mystery. How much of it she knew was questionable, but after tonight none of it would matter. After tonight she'd know it all straight from the greatest source there was…The Dark One.

"The Dark One's Dagger," he pronounced as he laid it gently upon the black scarf on the table between them. She was quiet, her mouth open just a bit as she stared down at it with the proper amount of respect and awe an object of power like this deserved. The voices in his head screamed at him. Nimue was calling him every name in the book, ordering him not to turn it over to her, not to let her touch it, to slay her and keep his secret hidden. One look into her eyes silenced their voices.

"This is the dagger that gave me my power," he began. "This is the only way the Dark One can be killed, the only way to acquire the powers."

"Is there any way to reverse it?" she questioned desperately, finally peeling her eyes off of it and looking at him. "The powers, I mean. Is there any way to reverse them or give them back or-"

"Not one that doesn't end in death," he finished for her. "Although we've seen True Love's Kiss is effective, but apparently not in this realm…"

A lie. Sometimes it astounded him how easily and quickly they could come out when he wasn't watching. This realm had nothing to do with why her kisses didn't work here. He'd bound the power to himself back in their own realm after she'd kissed him, and he'd realized that her very touch had healing abilities. He'd have to tell her that. He should probably admit that shortcoming.

"Why are you telling me all this?" she questioned suspiciously as if she could sense there was more behind this than him just wanting to be truthful with her. "Why now?"

"There are very few people who know about this dagger, and what they know is mostly myth and legend, but with the threat of Cora, I began to worry that it might not be safe and after what Regina did to Archie…" he explained, giving her a shorter answer for the sake of time alone. He was eager to do this, to get it out of the way. The rest could wait until after they were done.

"It needs a new hiding place. Somewhere no one can find it, where no one can use it against me."

"Use it against you? You mean use it to kill you."

"Yes and no," he sighed, tamping down the nervous buzz of the Dark Ones in his head. "The Dark One can be killed with the dagger, but whoever holds the dagger has power over the Dark One. Anyone who holds it could order me to do anything, and I'd have to do it whether I wanted to or not. I could kill you without a moment of hesitation if it was commanded of me, Belle, and I won't let that happen. It needs to be safe as much for your sake as it is mine."

"You could never hurt me," she insisted, shaking her head in a way that saddened him because he could tell that she believed that, and if she did, it was a problem. He didn't want to break such a beautiful spirit any more than he wanted to break her, but she needed to understand how serious this was, the gravity of it.

"I could, Belle. This dagger in the hands of the wrong person, and I assure you I could. I can't let that happen. I won't let that happen. It needs to be hidden away, protected."

"So why not the safe?"

"It's too obvious, too much of a target," he explained.

"So…where are you going to hide it?"

"Oh, not just me!" he teased, getting to the best part of this. "We. We are going to hide it."

Together. Because if she didn't know, then she would never be safe.

And with that, he wrapped the dagger carefully in the scarf it had been resting on and then slid it into his jacket. He checked the store, turned off the lights, made sure the doors were locked for the night, making it appear that the only thing special about this night was that he'd be spending it with Belle. When he finished closing up the shop, she looped her arm through his, and the pair of them crossed the street…carefully. He made sure to scan ahead of them, to be on the lookout for anyone that might spot them, for Regina, or for anyone who might want to make themselves a threat. But they encountered no one for the brief twenty seconds it took to cross the street. Once there, he took out the key that he kept to the library and unlocked it himself,

"Here?!" she hissed when he finally closed the door.

"Yes and no," he answered, ignoring the shocked expression on her face as she realized it was going here. He waited for her to object, waited for her to deny him access, to tell him to find another place, but she didn't. Surprised as she was, she allowed him into the library and followed after him as he walked back through the shelves. He didn't bother with lights; those might only assist anyone watching outside in tracking their movements through the library. In the dark, for all a villain knew, they'd run up to her apartment and fallen into bed, or hell, they were having a nighttime rendezvous on the library desk. Let them think anything other than be suspicious about the dagger.

Finally, he arrived at a bookshelf he deemed appropriate and hid a small piece of paper with a map on it, "X" marking the spot, behind the books. Then he looked at the call numbers on the spine. From his pocket, he took a pen and a piece of paper. This was the only thing he hadn't prepared for ahead of time, but it was her escape route, one of them at least. One of the best parts about hiding it in plain sight was that if someone captured her to take the dagger, then here she'd be surrounded by people, people who could see her, people who could hear her scream, people she could run to for help. And if she didn't attract attention on the way in, then he was giving her a second chance at doing it on the way out, though he would much prefer that she just turn over the breadcrumb for a false trail and not get into trouble, to begin with.

"Keep this with you at all times!" he ordered, handing her the paper. When she reached out to take it, he touched her shoulder and squeezed hard, hoping the pressure would impress upon her the importance of what she had to do next. In her desperation to be heroic, it was the one part of this he suspected she'd struggle with the most. "If anyone should come to you, if anyone demands the location of the dagger, give them that paper and tell them that is all you know about it."

She nodded, letting him know she understood.

"It'll lead them here, which will lead them into the forest. Runaway as fast as you can. You come to me. If I'm not here, then as soon as they're gone, get the dagger and go somewhere safe: Ruby, Mary Margaret, anywhere that you can be hidden and protected. Do you understand? Do you-"

"Yes! Yes, Rumpelstiltskin, I understand," she insisted, the use of his full name indicating that even if she hadn't before, she was beginning to understand the seriousness of all this. Good. Because there was one last thing.

"Belle…if it's not safe…if it is a choice between you and the dagger, promise me-"

"I won't promise what you're going to ask me to!" she stated before he could finish. "And we'll only waste time arguing."

He let out a heavy sigh. That, right there, that statement and determination was the one thing in all of this that scared the shit right out of him. The idea that if it wasn't safe, she would die defending that dagger for him or maybe even worse. It was the only part of this whole thing that made him want to rethink this, to hide the dagger from her for her own good. But she was right in more ways than she knew. They could argue about it and waste their time, but time was something he had so little of before he left. He didn't have a backup plan for the dagger if she insisted on something like that. So perhaps, for now, the safest course of action was to allow her to think that, take the bet that while he was away the dagger would be safe with her, and then once he returned take it back and think of a better plan; a safer plan for her. But for now, he had no choice but to go through with this.

He nodded with a dissatisfied sigh, then reached for her hand and led her back out of the main library and into the lobby. He moved quickly to the elevator doors he'd checked on yesterday, summoned the rattling cage, and let the doors open.

"This is an elevator," he explained before launching into an explanation on what they were in this world and how to summon it to her. "Never use it to go down, Belle. Always up. Why is unrelated and a story for another time, but please, never use it to go down."

Maleficent may be gone, but that didn't mean he wanted her down in those tunnels to discover what else was lurking there.

She nodded her understanding, and when he walked into it, she followed. It scared her. He couldn't blame her, not with the way it creaked and groaned and swayed with their weight, but his brave Belle followed him anyway, ignoring the hitch she had to feel in her own chest, and wrapping her arms around his own again. He explained the controls, explained how to close the doors and how to go up and down before telling her again not to go down. And then they moved upward. Her grip on his arm tightened as they moved slowly upward to his dagger's new home.

When they finally stopped at the clocktower, he let the darkness hide him and let his eyesight guide him. He pulled her forward with him to the clock face and removed one of the glass panels protecting the inner hands of the clock, then he took the dagger out of his jacket pocket, magnetized it magically, and cast a spell to make it weightless so that the hand wouldn't be slowed down by the extra weight and force someone up here to fix it. Then he set it to stick on the back of the minute hand, replaced the glass, and smiled at how perfectly concealed it was.

It was easy. Almost too easy. The fact that it was right in front of everyone and yet out of sight made him want to laugh hysterically at the same time he cried.

"Are you sure it'll be safe here?" Belle asked at his side.

"With you?" he asked. She hadn't figured out yet that she was his secret weapon, the Dagger's guardian, the one part of the puzzle that he hoped anyone who came for it would fail to take into consideration. If she wasn't here, he would never have done something as bold as this. With her here, knowing it was here…

"It's in the safest place in the world."

[willow-salix]

(Today's update for the fluffember prompt: whimsical, is brought to you by the amazing @myladykayo as the guest writer.)

Day 14 of isolation on Tracy Island 2.0

  

Knowing a second confinement period was going to happen doesn’t make it easier but at least we know a little more of what to expect this time. It’s not that bad, really. Things are not all that different for me, come to think of it. I still cook, clean, or try to have my grandsons act like responsible adults and do their part—and patch them up when they get injured.

Because apparently, just because they aren’t going out on rescues doesn’t mean they aren’t still injuring themselves, and believe me, they manage to do so in the most spectacular ways. Thank goodness John’s wife arrived right before lockdown to bring a little sanity to this madhouse.

We were both sitting at one of the picnic tables on the terrace with Jeff and Kayo, enjoying a moment of relative quietness. The boys were in the pool, playing some sort of ball game. I thought perhaps that this would be a day where nothing dramatic or ridiculous happened...

Sigh. I should have known better.

I must admit that there are times lately when I’m not sure what day of the week it is, or even what time of day, for that matter. So, when the alarm went off on my watch, I was as surprised as the others sitting with me. It was two o’ clock. I stopped the ringing, trying to figure out a way to go back inside to settle down with my viewing partner for another episode of the Big and the Boisterous.

Alan, who had decided that he didn’t feel like playing anymore had joined us at the table at the same moment. He whined a bit when our witch engulfed him in a hug but I know he’s putting up a show and he really loves the attention from her. “What’s this for, Grandma?” he asked, nodding toward my wrist. “It’s not... dinner time yet,” he added with a careful tone of voice as if he regretted mentioning meals.

She leant into him and whispered something that visibly reassured him. She probably told him she was going to cook—don’t tell anyone but it suits me too!

“It’s something I have to do,” I said.

I saw understanding dawn on our witch’s face and she smiled at me.

“Did you want to come along, dear?” I asked her.

Her expression changed to something I could qualify as a “heartburn face,” which I found a little disconcerting, but Alan chose that moment to exclaim: “Come along where? Can I go too?”

He darted a look toward her and I suspect that she kicked him under the table, thinking I couldn’t see her. They all think I’m blind but I see everything.

The comms unit on the table bleeped. While I noticed it was my colour on there and knew it was Mike (you might know him as the Mechanic) and was going to wait before answering, my son just pressed the button out of habit and his hologram popped out. Mike was clearly not expecting to have an audience and it showed on his face.

“Hey, Mike,” both Alan and John’s wife exclaimed at the same time; Kayo smiled and gave him a little wave.

“Erm, hello.” He looked at me. “I can call back later...”

Our viewing session is actually recorded. The show isn’t actually at 2 o’clock but it's usually a quiet time in the household and we use the video on demand service to watch—that way we can skip the ads. We debate on a lot of things during our watch sessions but we both agree that we can’t stand to watch it live.

“Oh, no! It’s your time, Grandma, don’t let us hold you back,” our witch said.

“We can stay and chat a bit now that we’re here, can’t we, Mike?” I asked, feeling that it was impolite to just leave at this point.

“I suppose we can...” he sounded about as enthusiastic as when he tried to peel off that charcoal facial mask I had him try for his T-zone.  

“I’m almost certain I will regret asking, but how did this all begin anyway?” John’s wife motioned between the holoprojector and me.

Mike rolled his eyes and sighed. “Might as well get this over with...” he muttered.

Everyone around the table, including Kayo, gathered around closer to listen in. I’m not sure why people think it’s extraordinary that I’ve welcomed Mike to the household. He was on the island for months while they prepared the Zero-XL so it’s only natural that I tried to bring him out of his shell.

“It all started when Mike was working on the T-Drive, and just like the rest of you, he has a habit of not stopping to rest and can be stubborn—”

“We were on a tight schedule and I wanted the drive to work. I had an idea about optimizing the fuel intakes and I wanted to try it right away,” he cut me off.  

 As if he realized that the reason for the tight schedule was right there at the table, he stopped, looking a little sheepish. Mike really fits in with the rest of them. Doesn’t know when to stop and too modest for his own good. No wonder I took him under my wing so naturally.

“So you went in after dinner, when you were supposed to be resting, and you didn’t have your protective boots on,” I provided.

“Oooh, I remember that!” Alan exclaimed, right before he scrunched his face at the memory. “Ohhh, yeah.”

“That bad?” our witch asked.

“I would have been fine, but apparently a little cut warranted ‘calling Grandma,’” he explained, air quoting the last part and sounding annoyed, but I could see the twinkle in his eye. He’s a good kid.

I ignored him and replied to her: “I’m telling you, dear, just like the others. Saying it’s nothing when he’s leaving a trail like Little Thumbling.” She made a face because she’s not quite at ease with blood and needles—quite ironic considering the family she married into if you ask me—so I moved on quickly. “I bandaged him up and had him settle down in the lounge with a snack so that he could rest and I could keep an eye on him.”

“I was forced to watch… dreadful things. And I couldn’t walk away.”

Mike had his “harsh and scary” face on but I know him by now and he was actually becoming more at ease as the conversation went. I couldn’t help rolling my eyes at him.

“Sure, we had to do a few adjustments at first, but don’t deny it young man, when I picked a series about boxing, you were hooked.”

“Boxing?” Alan’s expression was as doubtful as his tone of voice.

“What? Why are you making that face?” I asked

“Well you’re a grandma... don’t grandmas watch more whimsical shows like Walnut Grove or that singing academy one?”

“Clef-Hangers isn’t whimsical, it’s brain-numbing and unrealistic.”

I didn’t know where to direct my scolding gaze between Mike, who dared to criticize Clef-Hangers, or my own treacherous son, who thought he was really smart by hiding his scoff with a cough. I am so misunderstood in this household sometimes.

Jeff calmed down rather quickly as he seemed to realize something. “Wait… Boxing? The Big and the Boisterous is still running after all these years?” He seemed baffled. “Last time I saw it, before I was lost in the Oort cloud, Magdelena was pretending to be a rich investor so that Carlos noticed her and invited her to the gym.”

“Oh no, things have progressed a lot. They are married now and have five children. Her habit of buying expensive clothes and shoes to look like an investor turned into a shopping addiction though,” I said.

“Three. The two youngest ones aren’t his,” Mike growled.

“Well she was bearing the youngest for her best friend who couldn’t have children but by some miracle she became pregnant by  Carlos, so Magdelena decided to keep the baby. Carlos thinks the baby is his, however there was a fertility clinic involved, so we don’t know who the father actually is,” I felt I had to explain to the others.

“Magdelena doesn’t know her friend’s baby is Carlos’.”

“No. Charles is waiting for his moment to drop this titbit of information.”

It’s so easy to fall back in our discussion and speculations—healthy debating—but at this point, I could see Alan’s eyes were glazing over and John’s wife was frowning and mouthing something to herself. It’s not that complicated... youngsters these days, no attention span whatsoever.

“But... wasn’t Charles harbouring his secret the last time I, um, was there? That was months ago,” she said.

The dear girl was sensible and didn’t mention any beauty treatments that could have ruffled Mike’s feathers. “Careful planning takes time. They follow a realistic timeline,” I explained.

A non-committal sound came out of her mouth and Jeff choked on his coffee. How dare! Sometimes, he’s as bad as his  sons. I continued my story: “Anyway, after having to stay put for a couple of days, Mike couldn’t miss an episode anymore and began pretending to be busy close by when I was watching—”

“I did not!” he spluttered.

“And we ended up setting a time and began watching regularly. There’s really nothing much to it. It was our quiet time from you rowdy lot and we just continued it when Mike moved off the island.”

“The whole situation is kind of whimsical if you think about it,” John’s wife commented, earning a smile from Kayo and a nod from Alan.

I don’t think Mike ever was called whimsical in his life. And from the look on his face, he was thinking the exact same thing.

“I’m half tempted to watch now... I mean if Mike likes it...” Alan commented.

“You can jump in at any time, honey, Mike and I will quickly put you up to date. A big boxing championship is coming up and it will be exciting. However, we still don’t know if Carlos will recover from his drinking phase, today could be revelation time,” I mentioned.

“It’s not a drinking phase!"

" He was poisoned!” 

Both Mike and Kayo protested at the same time, then stopped and looked at each other, startled.

The table grew silent at the revelation.

“You watch the Big and the Boisterous too?” Alan asked, his expression a mix of curiosity and glee at the thought of obtaining some precious blackmail info from this discussion.

“... not all the time. I... I study the fight scenes,” she huffed and sat there, sulking, her face slightly darker than usual.

John’s wife raised her eyebrows. “Why? In case you need to throw birthday cake at your opponents? Unless you find one of Carlos’ sons cute...”

Kayo gasped indignantly. “I do not!”

Both girls elbowed each other, calling each other names, but they were also trying to hold back laughter so I didn’t worry about it. They have their own language by now and they keep the boys on their toes each time they team up.

I couldn’t help to take a moment to wonder which of Carlos’ sons could have caught my adoptive granddaughter’s fancy, however. I’m still not sure.

Jeff must have decided that both my viewing partner and Kayo had suffered enough because he hugged me, kissed my temple and said: “Well, go ahead, Ma, go have your moment and find out what’s happening at the gym. We’ll keep busy.”

“Call me when you are ready,” Mike said, before saying goodbye to everyone and giving Jeff a respectful nod and a “Sir.”

I don’t think he’ll ever be able to call my son by his name, or me by my own for that matter. And I have tried. I’d even accept “Grandma” now. But he won’t call me that anymore. He said it wouldn’t be respectful after what he did to us in the past.

I haven’t given up yet. Must be my whimsical side.

I stood from the picnic table to retreat to my room, but only managed to make it halfway to the kitchen when I heard a commotion coming from the pool area.

I told you,  I should have known better.

Sure enough, when I turned around, I saw my eldest grandson out of the pool clutching his foot. John’s wife sprung out of her seat with impressive speed, yelling “Oh for crying out loud! I have my back turned for two seconds and you manage to injure yourself, you big doofus!”

She stormed past me, grumbling: “I’ll get the first-aid kit...”

 

I guess Carlos’ drinking situation would have to wait yet a little more.

[ibijau]

Worst engagement AU // on AO3

Lan Xichen has a chance encounter with Nie Huaisang and, for once, it goes well.

warning for mentions of canon-typical corporal punishment on a character

The punishment for a lower case of assault is thirty strikes of the discipline rulers on the back. The punishment for not coming forward with a fault with due diligence is also thirty strikes. So is taking advantage of one’s position to commit a crime. Then, because Lan Xichen’s status is special, the total ends up rounded as one hundred strikes, since as future sect leader, the elders feel he ought to behave better than he did and be an example to other juniors.

Although it is not a light punishment to go through, Lan Xichen counts himself lucky. When he explained to his uncle some of what happened with Nie Huaisang, omitting any unnecessary details such as who exactly he kissed by force, he was sure his behaviour would have earned him not just the disciple rulers, but one strike from the disciple whips. He had also been terrified that his punishment would be public, but due to his position and the current political situation, Lan Qiren and the elders had the kindness of dealing with this privately.

When it is over, one of the elders severely orders Lan Xichen not to repeat such shameful behaviour. He is then released from the ancestral hall, and advised to take the rest of the afternoon to reflect on his conduct. So as Lan Xichen walks away, very slowly, his only question is whether he ought to meditate in his room where he is sure not to be disturbed, or in the cold ponds which promises some relief for his pain. 

The first one is probably what is expected of him, but the second is immensely tempting and Lan Xichen’s steps start turning in that direction when his path crosses that of Nie Huaisang.

It’s unusual, these days, to find him alone. It is even stranger for him to spot Lan Xichen and not turn around or pretend he didn’t see him. Instead Nie Huaisang, after only some hesitation, walks closer and grins.

“Told you we’d talk before our next meeting,” Nie Huaisang greets him.

“You did. Are you going somewhere, Nie gongzi? I don’t think I’ve often seen you in this part of the Cloud Recesses.”

“I was looking for you, actually. Everyone else has started studying for the finals, so I’m left on my own. I thought we could… chat?”

Lan Xichen pinches his lips. Meeting Nie Huaisang at such a time is really less than ideal when he  just wants to rest and meditate, but refusing this offer would be deeply unwise. It's the first time Nie Huaisang has ever sought out his company and Lan Xichen doesn't know how his fiancé would react to being turned down. Badly, if past interactions are to go by. 

"I would love to," Lan Xichen replies. "Do you want us to walk together, or may we go somewhere to sit?" 

"Well, actually…" Nie Huaisang hesitates, his usual assurance failing him. "Since you've said before… I thought we could go to my cabin and I could show you my paintings?" 

There's fear and uncertainty in the younger boy's eyes as he makes his offer. Lan Xichen doesn't notice it, too overwhelmed at being finally offered what he has wanted for months. Suddenly the intense pain in his back isn't such an issue anymore. 

“I would love that,” Lan Xichen says.

“I won’t be able to offer you tea,” Nie Huaisang mutters. “We’re not allowed to make it in the cabin anymore since I almost burned it down.”

“You what?”

His confidence slowly returning, Nie Huaisang cackles and, apparently on an impulse, he grabs Lan Xichen by the arm and starts pulling him along. The pace is a little faster than Lan Xichen would really prefer with the current state of his back, but he easily allows it when Nie Huaisang starts babbling about the incident which cost him the right to make tea in his cabin. It’s a convoluted tale, and one that involves the breaking of a number of rules, but it’s still a funny enough story. Nie Huaisang is a little shy at first, but after Lan Xichen chuckles a few times, he gets more exuberant until Lan Xichen is struggling not to laugh when they finally reach the cabin.

“Nie gongzi, I think you’re a menace,” he says as they go in. 

“I think so too, thanks!” Nie Huaisang proudly replies. “Well, just… go sit on the sofa, I’ll get my paintings. I mean, if you still want to see them?”

This time Lan Xichen does notice the other boy's uncertainty, which puzzles him. After how many times he's asked, it should be clear that he is very interested in Nie Huaisang’s work. 

"I haven't changed my mind," Lan Xichen insists with a smile. "Are we to expect your comrades to join us?" 

"No, Jiang xiong is conducting a group study and a lot of people joined since they noticed him and his disciples always get good grades. I think he kind of likes teaching, even if he always grumbles about it." 

With great care and a little difficulty, Lan Xichen sits on the sofa and tries to find a position that won't put too much strain on his back. He ends up sitting very stiffly and having to avoid resting against the sofa’s back. When Nie Huaisang joins him on the sofa with a stack of papers in his arms, he immediately notices. 

"It's fine, you can get comfortable," Nie Huaisang says with a half grin. "I told you, there won't be anyone to see you, so just relax. You said there's expectations about you but it's just me here, and I already know you're not perfect." 

It is not an attack. At least, Lan Xichen thinks it is not intended as such, but it feels like one all the same. 

"My back hurts today," he explains. "This is as comfortable as I can get right now." 

"Then why agree to come with me if you're in pain?" 

"I wanted to see your paintings, of course." 

Nie Huaisang is baffled by that declaration, his cheeks colouring a little as he looks away, preferring to focus on the papers he brought. 

"Lan gongzi, you're so weird," he mutters. "It's fine, we could do this another day… I'm not so cruel that I'd wish for you to be in pain." 

"I'll be in pain whether I'm here or somewhere else," Lan Xichen points out. "At least here, the company is good." 

The colour on Nie Huaisang’s face gets more pronounced. To distract from it, he all but shoves his paintings onto Lan Xichen’s lap. 

"There, enjoy I guess," he grumbles. "They're not as good as yours for sure, but these are my best ones, I think. Well, the least awful ones, anyway." 

Perhaps Lan Xichen should object to such depreciative language. If this happens again, he surely will. Right now though, he is far too excited by finally getting to see his fiancé’s works instead of contenting himself with stolen glances or forgotten studies. It was well worth the long wait. Nie Huaisang has progressed immensely since the rabbits that still hang in Lan Wangji’s bedroom. He may not have gotten good grades in class this year either, but Nie Huaisang’s time in Gusu was put to good use. 

When he paints animals, they look ready to leap off the page and go on with their own business. When he paints landscapes, Lan Xichen can almost hear the wind in the trees, the song of the river. Even his portraits, which Lan Xichen would admit are not Nie Huaisang’s strength, are still rather good and capture the personality of the model if not their exact likeness.

Painting after painting, Lan Xichen makes sure to comment on the quality of each work. It’s hardly a conscious decision, he simply cannot look at them and not point out how good each one is. Here and there, a very flustered Nie Huaisang tries to object that this particular work is a little weak, or that another one fails to follow the rules of what makes a good painting even if he personally likes it anyway. Sometimes, Lan Xichen agrees with the criticism, and offers his own opinion on what could be improved. At other times, he has to defend the creation against its creator. Rules are one thing, but beauty can transcend them.

“Lan gongzi, you don’t have to try so hard to get my good opinion,” Nie Huaisang mutters after such a speech. “I’m decent but not great, I know it, so there’s no need…”

“I haven’t said a word I did not mean,” Lan Xichen protests, more amused by his fiancé’s heavy blush than he’d care to admit. Nie Huaisang has been acting so confident and indifferent around him all this year, it’s nice to see him affected by something. “You asked me to be open and honest, and that’s what I’m trying to do.”

Nie Huaisang huffs, and grabs back the painting that sparked this.

“I guess Lan gongzi’s tastes must have changed a lot since last year,” he bitterly remarks. “For you to turn this encouraging…”

“From the first moment I saw one, I’ve thought the world of your paintings,” Lan Xichen objects, glad that nobody except his brother was there the first time he saw one of Nie Huaisang’s works. He’s more than a little ashamed of the way he retracted his good opinion after learning who, exactly, had painted these rabbits, but at least Nie Huaisang wasn’t there for that and it’s a relief.

Nie Huaisang huffs again, his blush calming down at last.

“You discouraged me from pursuing art last year,” he reminds Lan Xichen, “so clearly you didn’t think I was very good at it.”

“Oh. No, that was a different matter,” Lan Xichen says, feeling uncomfortable from more than just the pain in his back. “That was never about your skill. Back then, didn’t I already say the painting you gave Wangji was good?”

“Did you?” Nie Huaisang sneers. “I just remember you telling me that I should drop painting and focus on cultivation. That’s how bad I must have seemed to you, if you thought it was that much of a waste of time.”

Guilt shoots through Lan Xichen’s chest, radiating painfully in his body and making him tense, which in turns pulls on his bruised back. He doesn’t remember his exact words, but he’s sure that he never intended to imply Nie Huaisang was bad at art.

“It wasn’t like that at all,” Lan Xichen sighs. “I really did think you were very good, but I thought… I thought it would be selfish to encourage you.”

Nie Huaisang frowns and wrinkles his nose in disbelief, but he looks a little less angry already.

“Makes no sense. How is it selfish to tell me to do something I like?”

“I thought if I encouraged you, it would be because I would eventually benefit from it since it would ensure we had something in common,” Lan Xichen explains, looking down at the paintings on his lap. “While if I told you to study… everyone around us was talking about your cultivation and how it needed to improve. Frankly, it doesn’t impact me whether you have a high cultivation or not, while it certainly does change things if we have a passion to share. I thought this would be the right thing to say.”

“You discouraged me from art because you thought whatever made both of us miserable would have to be the better path?” Nie Huaisang gasps, definitely more baffled than angry now. “Lan gongzi, your mind is really twisted sometimes. And here I told myself you just thought I was too awful at it to pursue painting anymore...”

“You are excellent at it!” Lan Xichen protests, eyes snapping up toward Nie Huaisang. “Even back then, when I did not want to think well of you, I couldn’t deny that. In fact, it is your skill in painting that first forced me to reconsider what I believed about you. I’m very sorry if I made you doubt your capacity. You are a painter of rare talent.”

Nie Huaisang’s eyes open wide at this renewed praise, while his blush returns, more intense than before. He is very cute this way, and Lan Xichen finds that he likes the other boy when he’s flustered, just as much as he likes him when he’s confident and cocky. He wonders if there’s any aspect of Nie Huaisang he wouldn’t like. Aside from his occasional bouts of cruelty… and even those have never been unprovoked, so Lan Xichen can’t fully blame the other boy for that.

“Lan gongzi, you’re really too much!” Nie Huaisang grumbles, slapping his shoulder and shoving him slightly, the way Lan Xichen has seen him do with Jiang Cheng and Jin Zixuan. 

He would be happy to be treated with this sort of easy casualness, but the movement ripples through his back and he can’t help hissing in pain. Nie Huaisang notices and frowns.

“Does your back bother you that much?” he asks. “If you want, I probably have something for the pain, but you should get that checked.”

“I’m quite fine,” Lan Xichen assures him, only for Nie Huaisang to roll his eyes and jump on his feet, dropping the painting back on his lap before striding toward his bed. “Really, there’s no need… why would you even have medication here? All guest disciples are encouraged to seek out…”

“I’m a Nie,” his fiancé grumbles, dropping on his knees and wriggling under his bed to grab something there. Lan Xichen forces himself to look away. “My brother would never let me travel without the adequate necessities. I’ve got money saved aside, talismans, warning flares, and basic medical supplies. I’m sure it’s fine if I give you a few pills though. Ah, right there!” Nie Huaisang triumphantly exclaims, pulling a small, dust covered box from its hiding place. “It should at least make you feel better until you see a healer. But really, Lan gongzi, you’re unreasonable! You should have told me you were this unwell.”

“I’m not feeling so bad,” Lan Xichen replies, wishing he could rise up and go kneel next to Nie Huaisang to make him stop rummaging through his box of medication. A quick attempt at getting up makes it clear that it will take some effort, though, and he prefers to remain sitting for now to avoid giving the other boy any reason to worry. “I was happy you’d want to spend time with me. That’s worth a little discomfort.”

Nie Huaisang looks up from his box, clearly unconvinced.

“You swear you’re fine?”

“Maybe not fine as such,” Lan Xichen concedes with a grimace, “but not so unwell that you need to be fussing over me.”

Shrugging, Nie Huaisang carelessly shoves his box back under the bed and stands once more, dusting his knees.

“It’s your back,” he says in a tone that he implies he would never put up with pain if offered another option. “Hm… it’s almost time for dinner. Do you want to start going now, since you might need to walk slowly, what with your back that really doesn’t hurt at all?”

Nie Huaisang smirks, which Lan Xichen can’t help answering with a smile. It’s not the first time Nie Huaisang teases him, far from it, but it feels like there’s less of a bite to it at the moment. Maybe someday they’ll be able to joke together, or even to laugh. Just thinking of it, Lan Xichen’s heart beats a little faster.

“I don’t mind if we stay here a while longer,” he replies, hoping it isn’t too obvious how eager he is for more time alone with Nie Huaisang. “I really enjoy looking at your paintings.”

Nie Huaisang grimaces playfully, but still saunters closer.

“Lan gongzi, I’ll be honest,” he chuckles. “It’s a little embarrassing for me to sit here while you say all those nice things. If you want, I can bring the ones you’ve not yet seen to our next meeting, and then I can look at yours. It would be a nice way to pass the time, I guess.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Lan Xichen replies, ready to agree to anything if he can continue looking at Nie Huaisang’s paintings. “Or perhaps… if you’re still willing, what about another lesson? I’ve tried again to copy your style, but I’m still rather dreadful at it.”

Nie Huaisang’s eyebrows rise high on his face. “You’d still want to? It ended so badly last time… though I suppose that’s my fault. Knowing your brother, I should have expected you were like that about being touched.”

Lan Xichen shakes his head, slowly to avoid putting too much strain on his back.

“That time, I was just surprised. I wasn’t expecting you to help me that way, considering you didn’t like me too much then.”

“Oh, I still don’t,” Nie Huaisang retorts, his good humour dropping like a mask. “Though I dislike you a little less than I used to.”

Hearing that hurts, especially when seeing Nie Huaisang change his countenance from cheerful to disdainful so quickly once more. But since his voice doesn’t appear as venomous as it was all these other times, Lan Xichen decides to remain hopeful. It’s too soon for them to be friends, but he’ll take being hated less.

“I’ll take that as progress, and be content with it. As I said last time, that you’re willing to consider this at all is already more than I expected. And this isn’t me trying too hard!” Lan Xichen adds, recognising the expression on his fiancé’s face. “I mean that.”

“Lan gongzi, you’re just too much,” Nie Huaisang grumbles, grabbing the paintings on his lap and turning his back on Lan Xichen while pretending to put them in order. “Whatever, it doesn’t matter. Let’s start walking toward the dining halls, I’m starving and you’re going to be slow, I can just tell. Do you need help getting up?”

Lan Xichen carefully shakes his head, but hisses when he tries to leave the sofa. Sitting stiffly for so long did his back no favours. He is still wondering how to maybe ask for Nie Huiasang’s help when the other boy, having unceremoniously dropped his paintings on his bed, returns to his side and casually grabs him by the elbow to pull him on his feet.

“You’re just as stubborn as Da-ge!” he scolds. “He’s the same when he’s hurt, too proud to let anyone give a hand. I’m going to ask again, are you sure you shouldn’t go see someone for that?”

Even through several layers of fabric, Lan Xichen feels as though Nie Huaisang’s hand is burning him. It takes him a few seconds to realise a question was asked, and a few more to decide what to do. His back is killing him, if he’s honest, but the infirmary is much closer to the guest disciples' cabins than the dining halls, and that informs his decision.

“I can bear with it for now, don’t worry. I’ll go to the cold spring after dinner and I should be perfectly well again tomorrow or the day after.”

“So stubborn,” Nie Huaisang grumbles, but he doesn’t release Lan Xichen’s elbow. “Fine, it really is your choice, in the end. But let’s get going. I wonder what they’ll serve tonight? I’m a growing man you know, and all that rabbit food is stunting me. It’s your sect’s fault if I’m still so short, Lan gongzi.”

Lan Xichen chuckles, and doesn’t bother pointing out that it’s a very flimsy way to excuse his height when all Lan cultivators his age, and quite a few younger ones, are taller than Nie Huaisang in spite of never eating anything but ‘rabbit food’.

“There’s nothing wrong with your size,” he says instead as they leave the cabin, Nie Huaisang still holding his arm as if he were an invalid.

“Hush, I’m complaining, don’t start being sensible, I shan’t bear with it,” Nie Huaisang retorts, sticking his tongue at him. “Horrible rabbit food, I say! I shall perish of hunger. Already, I am wasting away.”

They walk slowly towards the dining halls, and reach them just as the bell for dinner rings. Now that there are more people around them, Lan Xichen feels somewhat self conscious about the way Nie Huaisang holds on to his elbow, but since his fiancé (now complaining about the weather in Gusu) finds no issues with being seen this way, Lan Xichen does his best to act unaffected as well. It does get difficult to keep a straight face when his eyes meet those of his stunned uncle, but thankfully the malaise doesn’t last since at the same time, Nie Huaisang spots his friends.

“Jin-xiong, you went to study with Jiang-xiong as well?” Nie Huaisang exclaims, dropping Lan Xichen’s arm and rushing toward his friends. “Betrayal! Since when can the two of you even be in the same room without having an argument? If I had known, I’d have come as well!”

“And that’s why we didn’t tell you,” Jin Zixuan retorts. “It’s impossible to study when you’re around, and some of us would like to pass, thanks.”

The two start getting into a playful argument until Jiang Cheng, never the most patient person around, gets tired and drags them both to sit down so they can eat. Lan Xichen watches them, and is amused enough that he doesn’t even mind having been abandoned so quickly. He did get to have Nie Huaisang to himself for a long while after all, longer than they’ve ever been together so far, and it is no small feat that they didn’t even have a single argument that whole time.

Lan Xichen takes the victories he can get.

[probably-writing-x]

Out of Love pt.4

Guzmán x Reader

Request by anon: Hi! I hope that you’re feeling okay ! Would you do a 4th part of your story Out of Love ? Stay safe ! Thank you for your writing ! 💕

Gif is not my own

Requests are closed🤍

“Do you remember when things first started with you and Guzmán?” Omar asks you over coffee one morning.

“Yeah, how come you ask?” You frown, handing him a plate of scrambled eggs on toast.

“Well, when me and Ander had a talk about everything and decided to actually take your advice,” He explains, “We spoke about when we first met. I wanted to know if you remembered the same thing about Guzmán.”

“And you think it will save our relationship?” You joke, “It was about three and a half years ago...”

—Three Years Earlier—

When you’d first started at Las Encinas, you’d promised your Mum that you would keep your head down and avoid mixing too much with the drama that always ensued in a place like that. She had a reputation to uphold. You’d tried your best to stick to that. Until a certain boy tried his best to flip that on its head.

“Marina you cant be serious,” You roll your eyes, flopping back on her bed as she sits at her desk.

“Come on! You know I wouldn’t say it unless I seriously meant it,” She defends, spinning in the chair as she lets out a laugh.

“This is your brother we’re talking about!” You sit upright to face her, “Shouldn’t you be discouraging anything happening between us?”

“Between my brother who has clear feelings for you and acts completely different when you’re around, and you - the girl who would be practically perfect for him?” Your best friend raises her brows, “That hardly sounds like a bad idea.”

“Marina I’ve heard how much you complain about him!” You laugh, “You hardly give a good impression!”

“But he’s so different when you’re around! It’s honestly adorable.”

Before she can continue, the boy of subject walks past her room. You couldn’t deny that Guzmán was an attractive boy, he had an odd mix of maturity and youthfulness that he sometimes didn’t find the right balance between. And, Marina was right, he did act completely different around you and it was sweet. But the idea of dating your best friend’s brother when you were so young already felt like a recipe for disaster.

“Come on, I see you looking at him...” Marina wiggles her brows, “It’s meant to be.”

“Meant to be?” You scoff, “We’re fifteen Marina! Nothing is meant to be when you’re fifteen. He’s your brother and he’s my brother’s best friend. That’s literally a recipe for the worst disaster.”

- - - - - -

“Thank you, I’ll see you tomorrow,” You smile to your teacher as she hands you a paper back.

You go to turn out of the class and instantly bump into someone who’d been stood just outside.

“Shit, sorry,” You mutter, glancing up to realise it had been none other than Guzmán stood in front of you.

“That’s okay, can I walk you to your locker?”

You look at him and let a furrow manifest between your brows, “What?”

“We have the same class next, so I’ll walk with you,” He shrugs, matching your pace as he walks by your side.

You glance over your shoulder like you’re expecting this to be a set up and for Marina to be behind it all. But she’s nowhere to be seen - in fact, you’re pretty sure she’s not in school today. Either that or you were expecting to see Ander shooting him a dagger-like glare from across the way.

“What are you doing Guzmán?” You frown, “Is something wrong?”

“Why does something have to be wrong?” He laughs, “How’s your day been?”

It was easy to get along with Guzmán. The two of you had been through a lot with Marina, especially after her HIV diagnosis. And you’d been the ones that each other had relied on to confide in when you tried to process it all. He was supportive when you were upset, and he assured you he felt the same. Something had changed between you after that. It was like you were looking at a different person. And, ever since then, Guzmán had always acted differently around you. Like he knew deep down that something had changed too.

Just as he’d said, he walked you to class and sat down in the seat beside you. He didn’t care for it belonging to someone else. He made comments all through the lesson to mock something the teacher had said or point out something amongst the class to make a joke about. You’re certain you’d never laughed so hard. By the end of the class, there were no notes on your page and tears streaming down your cheeks as the two of you had been in hysterical laughter for the past ten minutes.

You don’t notice as Guzmán looks over at you whilst you’re laughing. How he’s so focused on the way your eyes crease shut and you throw your head back. How your lips light up with the most bright smile he’s ever seen. It’s oddly enough a feeling that terrifies him. Because right there, beside you, he feels vulnerable for the first time in forever. He feels completely and utterly weak in your presence and it scares him that he won’t ever get that strength back. It was silly really. He should’ve just seen you as the girl that spent every day at his house in his sisters room, nothing more than a good friend to Marina. But, over the years, he’d heard you make her laugh more than anybody else. And he wanted to be the recipient of that comedy. He’d seen you give her the strongest, most genuine of hugs. And he wanted to be the one who had your arms wrapped around them. He’d seen you give her intense speeches of self confidence when she was feeling low. And he’d wanted nothing more than to come to you on his lowest days and watch you piece things back together like you were always made to be a part of them. And there, sitting beside you laughing in that lesson, he’d felt so vulnerable that all of that felt like a flood of what he’d started to learn to be love. He didn’t know how exactly Ander would take to learning something like that but he decided in that moment that it was worth it nonetheless.

“Well, thank you for giving me some extra work to catch up on,” You joke as the two of you walk out of the classroom.

You’d started to feel it too. That glint in his eye that felt impossible to ignore when he smiled at you. The way he listened to your words and picked up on the little details. How he’d make jokes he somehow knew you’d be the only one to find funny. How he defended you without any expectation to be the one on your side. He’d been there for his sister, and been there for you in the process. Where your tracks had been running alongside each side of Marinas, you’d somehow found a time along the way where you and Guzmán had become more connected than ever.

“I heard Marina talking to you yesterday,” Guzmán confesses as you reach the point where you should theoretically part ways, “Something about my acting different around you?”

You smirk a little, “Yeah she might’ve mentioned that.”

“Don’t act confident (Y/n), she’s told me the same thing about you,” He laughs, “I don’t think we’re very good at hiding things.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Guzmán,” You try to keep your composure.

“Well, we’ve got my sister’s blessing, and you’re just as bad at lying as I am,” He points out, “What would you say if I asked you on a date?”

“I’d say we’re not there yet,” You shake your head, “We started off not knowing each other, then became friends by association, then aquaintances, and now friends. Just friends for now.”

“Okay, friends then,” He smiles, “So what do I have to do to move up to the next stage?”

“You tell me, Guzmán.”

—Present Day—

“(Y/n), this came in the mail for you today,” Ander comments as he walks through into the kitchen.

You watch as he walks straight over to Omar and kisses him softly. Seeing the two of them back to normal was always a relief. No matter how much they argued, figuring it out just seemed to always be a part of the timeline. And you’d never once seen them at a stage that you didn’t think they’d get back from.

“Thank you,” You smile, taking the letter from him that was clearly addressed to you.

“Who’s it from?” Omar frowns, distracted as Ander takes some toast from his plate.

“I have no idea,” You mumble but you’re telling yourself the complete opposite, “I’ll be back in a minute.”

You take your coffee and walk outside to the patio chairs just outside the back doors. It’s a little too cold outside for this to be a good idea but you don’t mind, taking a seat on one of the chairs as you open the envelope. You knew exactly who it was from. That writing was unmistakable- and you knew what date today was. A year had now passed since Guzmán had sent you a letter like this. A year ago, it had been to tell how grateful he was for how much you’d been there for him recently. You’d got him through a lot and he’d not been able to audibly find the words to say how much it meant to him. So, in a style that clearly proved how different he was around you, he’d written you a letter. Your stomach overturns at the thought of what he’d be saying this time.

Dear (Y/n),

I hope you’re sat outside when you’re reading this, on that chair you had to replace because I broke it last summer. I hope you’ve got a coffee in your hand and you’re waiting until it cools down just a little past hot before you drink it. I hope you’re every part the girl that I gave a letter to this exact time last year.

I don’t really know how this will go or if this is a good idea but I’ll give it my best shot. Because you and I both know I’m not good at saying things out loud, I always fumble my words and get annoyed at myself and you have to stop me from swearing after every other word.

One full year ago, I sat and waited for your response after you were reading a letter just like this one. You’re the only person I’ve ever written a letter for and it still baffles me that you softened me that much to make me such a romantic :) Since then, I’ve done everything and nothing to completely change the way you see me. I did everything wrong and nothing in the way I once did. So, I want to take you back to when I first realised I loved you. I’ve thought about this a lot because there are far too many times I could say are when I realised I loved you. In fact, you probably gave me a reason every day, even if I stopped noticing. But this one stood out more than the rest. Because it was the reason I walked to your house and told your brother that I’d do everything I could to prove to him that I was good enough for you.

You were laying in our old garden by the pool and Marina was beside you. You had this black swimsuit on and a pair of sunglasses that kept falling off your head or getting tangled in your hair. My sister asked you if you knew what it would feel like to be in love. And you’d told her the most simple, obvious analogy that I’d never heard before. You seemed so sure of yourself. You told her this - that everybody ran their own path through life, like trunks of a tree with different branches. You said that wouldn’t change when you loved someone, but it instead was the feeling of finding someone who you wanted to run that path alongside. Whose branches connected with yours and who celebrated the parts of your life that were separate. It sounded so weird to hear from someone I was certain had never felt that way about anyone. But even weirder to realise that I wanted to be the person you spoke that way about. I left the house and told Ander that exact same thing, he laughed at me and said that I wasn’t the one he needed to convince. And I spent the next days, weeks after that trying to convince you instead.

That’s when I realised I wanted to love you, darling. I realised I wanted to be the lucky one who was loved by you. That never stopped. Not now, not ever. I just got lost when I was trying to keep up with other people’s paths. I lost sight of the fact that I’d had someone running alongside me that whole time that somehow managed to keep up with the pace and fall back when I struggled. Who picked me up when something knocked me back and who pulled me back when I got ahead of myself. I got so used to having that presence that I stopped putting in the effort. When, if I’d have done things right, I should’ve been spending every day still trying to convince you to love me.

You never stopped being too good for me. I just became blind to it. I should’ve treated every single day with you like another day where I was trying to prove myself to you. To convince you that I was worthy of everything you offered to the world. I’d do it all again if I could. I’d tell you every single time you did something that made my heart do that boyish flutter I never grew out of. I’d remind you of everything you wore that made me feel a way I’d never be able to describe. I’d tell you every one of the quotes you’ve said that I still have engraved into me. Id be good enough for you.

I never stopped being in love with you.

And if you let me, I’ll spend every day of my life proving why you shouldn’t fall out of love with me. I’ll spend every day trying to show you exactly why I convinced you in the first place.

You once told me we were at that stage of being just friends. And I asked you about getting to that next stage. I think we’re past that now. We’re at a stage I never expected us to be at, I just need to know what I can do to get us past that. To where we should be I want us to be. So, what do I have to do to move up to that next stage?

Always yours, Guzmán.

“Who’s it from?” Ander is stood at the doorway with Omar when he sees you fold the paper to finish the letter.

You glance at both of them with tear stained cheeks.

“Shit, she’s crying!” Omar exclaims, having never seen you cry... ever.

You laugh a little and wipe your face, “Fuck...”

“(Y/n), you need to find him,” Ander confirms and it means a lot more to come from him - the brother who’d always reminded you to never give boys a second chance when they weren’t worth it.

“You think?” You stand up from your chair, taking in a shaky breath.

“Are you kidding me?! This boy just wrote you a fucking letter to confess his love for you!” Omar raises his voice, grabbing your hand, “Go after him, honey!”

You wipe your face once again and nod, “Yeah, I need to, dont I?”

You were only really questioning yourself now. You couldn’t leave it any longer. The boys practically push you through the house as you grab your shoes and hold the letter in your trembling hands.

“How come you never wrote me a letter?” Omar questions Ander just as you’re about to leave.

“We live together!”

- - - - - -

You know the walk to Guzman’s house even through your blurred vision and shaking legs. It’s like you don’t even have to think enough about the path to get lost.

His Mum’s car is missing from the drive and you know he hates being home alone for too long in that house. What if he was out?

You’re just about to knock on the door when it opens from the inside and Guzmán is stood, fully dressed with shoes on and keys in his hand.

“Guzmán,” You say like you’re trying to convince yourself that he’s actually there, in front of you.

“(Y/n)... I was just coming to find you,” He explains, eyes falling and landing upon the paper gripped in your hand, “You read it?”

All you can manage is a small nod.

“Theres a part that’s missing,” He comments, taking in a deep breath, “That day on the phone, you asked me when I fell out of love with you. And I told you at the club that I just strayed too far from home, and that I needed to prove to you that you shouldn’t fall out of love with me. None of that’s true.”

Your heart sinks as you hold back another wave of flooding tears.

“Instead, it’s that you made me into somebody I thought was worthy of loving you - you subconsciously made me a better person because I wanted to be better for you. I didn’t fall out of love with you. I stopped loving myself, and I fell back into that person from three years ago that never deserved you. I became someone I hated and I punished myself by pushing away the best person I’d ever laid my eyes upon. I need to learn how to love myself again and I need to learn how to do that, but l want to be that boy that you made me. How do I become him again?”

You take in a deep breath, “You tell me, Guzmán.”

He lets out a breathy laugh and pulls you into him, arms wrapping so tightly around you as your final tears stain the plain grey of his T-shirt. Guzmán shifts you back so he can look into your eyes.

“You’re crying,” He notices, tears coming from the girl he’d never seen cry once - not for Marina, for your brother, for yourself. Never.

You chuckle, “It’s all your fault, Guzmán.”

He lifts the pads of his thumbs and brushes away the shadows from where the tears had previously been. His lips move close to you as he presses a kiss onto each of your cheeks, below your eyes. Before he moves back and kisses your lips for the first time in far too long. It’s soft and slower than any other kiss you remember from his impatient touch. It’s cautious, but certain. And you know he’s taking in every last second of it for every fraction of his time that it’s worth.

“I’ll never fall out of love with you (Y/n) (Y/l/n).”

——————

(((Let me know your thoughts please please please)))

[x0401x]

Why do you think the writers of the Tsurune anime decided to tone down masamina and outright cut out kaisei while pushing for sei/mina instead? It's just so baffling to me why they would alter the canon content from the novels so much. Like, what was even the point?

I’ve answered this question quite a few times before, but I’m not sure if I’ve ever made the point entirely clear, so here we go one last time. Sorry that it turned out so long.

So, in novels and manga or any written medium, creators normally have more freedom to do what they want, but when it comes to TV series, animators have been developing the habit of toning down whatever they can. Most of them have this conviction that the viewers only want to watch calm and relaxing stuff nowadays. Other than this, we get adaptations of popular works that basically exist to promote the source material, most of which rush up towards the end like crazy. It does seem like the Japanese audience has an obsession with comfort animes now, since life in Japan gets more and more stressful with each passing year, but it’s not like they’ve abandoned other genres. This general belief that creators should water down the contents however they can is pretty much destroying the industry, and it’s probably what the animators of Tsurune had in mind when changing the novel’s events into a much less dramatic versions or just cutting them off. That’s issue number 1 with the anime.

Issue number 2 is that animators of adaptations tend to ignore the reader demographic in favor of making the series neutral to please all audiences lately. But that’s only when the majority of the readers are women and girls. If it’s guys, you’d rarely see alterations. It feels like the general conception is that making the contents less “cringy” for men means more people will be watching it and having a positive opinion. It seems to completely slip the staff’s minds that the fans they disappoint mostly won’t feel willing to buy the DVDs or merchandise. This is where most of these adaptations fall flat, by the way. It’s kind of really obvious to me that these series are more prone to succeeding if the studios animate what the readers fell in love with, because the originals are popular for a reason, and it’s that people liked them the way they were. I think it’s only the expected when readers are disappointed not to see animes live up to the expectations, and that whoever picks the source material will feel the difference as well. Still, if the anime isn’t a BL, there’s this unsaid rule that you can’t show too much gay between male characters unless you have an excuse for it. Normally, nakama power and rivalry is what does the trick. I don’t think I need to mention that this is the standard in sports animes.

In the Tsurune novel, most of the gay doesn’t have an excuse. Of course, it’s not officially gay unless canon states it, but the books not only don’t give any justification for it, they get rid of possible justifications, so while you can’t say it’s not fanservice, you can’t label it as just fanservice, either. For a studio that banks off fanservice like KyoAni, that’s a problem, especially since the novel is packed with heavy scenes and even heavier quotes.

I mean, in Masaki and Minato’s case, they don’t have the nakama power or rivalry elements, so one possible excuse for them being so close would be that they’re master and disciple. But Minato makes it clear quite early in the story that Masaki doesn’t have to be his master because just having Masaki’s company is enough for him, and all in all, the two of them have a much more affectionate relationship than the other teacher-student ones from the books. Another excuse would be the found family dynamics, but Masaki already shares that with Kaito, who canonically sees Masaki as the older brother he never had, and their relationship is unlike Masaki and Minato’s as well. Kaito also has a monologue in volume 2 about Masaki treating Minato differently from everyone else in the club, and the way he describes it denotes that Minato is Masaki’s favorite, and that Masaki doesn’t bother hiding it. Just as a cherry on top, Minato often loses his rationality when it comes to Masaki despite being a serious kid, and he’s very verbal about wanting to monopolize Masaki. Add fate to the mix and you have the perfect recipe for anything except an ordinary mentor-pupil relationship.

As for Kaito and Seiya, there was a lot going on between them since the beginning, but the nakama power excuse only starts applying late in volume 1, because they didn’t get along very well at first. And even then the nakama stuff hardly applies to their interactions, where Seiya often acts like Kaito has a thing for him, for no reason other than Kaito’s reactions being amusing. Their relationship also does some big strides in the middle of volume 1, and Seiya literally migrates to Kaito’s side at some point. They don’t seem to have a friendship as strong as the one between Seiya, Minato and Ryouhei, but it’s Kaito who Seiya interacts with the most in volume 2 and he’s also the one that Seiya leans on whenever he needs any sort of assistance. There’s other unexplainable things here and there, such as Seiya taking a peek at Kaito’s sleeping face when it’s just the two of them in the room, or him implying that Kaito is jealous of the motherly attention he gives Minato. It goes on as far as the novel does. There’s literally no scene with the two of them that doesn’t make it look like Kaito is really into Seiya and that Seiya owns his ass but he’s the last one to know.

Back to the main point, it’s really hard to animate all of this without giving people “ideas”. For KyoAni, any gay exists ultimately for the sake of fetishization, and they often follow the “ship whatever you want, even yourself with the characters” model. If being gay is canonically a character trait in the original, it’s out (Violet Evergarden is probably the best example of that one), and if the gay can’t be interpreted as something else, it’s either out or downplayed. In Seiya and Minato’s case, that’s perfectly feasible. Not only are they best friends, they also have a familial relationship where Seiya treats Minato like a son. Minato has sworn eternal friendship to Seiya in the novel, and both he and Kaito describe Seiya as something like a helicopter parent. There’s more than enough counter-argument to remind the viewers that, whatever happens between Minato and Seiya, it’s all a product of their childhood friend bond. Anyone is free to interpret it differently in fanon, but the viewers (at least the Japanese ones) are ultimately aware that the anime is in its “safe zone”, portraying a friendship. Nobody on the Japanese side of the fandom actually believed that there was romance going on in it. On the other hand, if you search in Japanese for people’s impressions of MasaMina, you’ll notice people often saying that the novel makes you wonder if Minato and Masaki aren’t actually dating, or if Minato doesn’t have a puppy crush on Masaki, at the very least. Basically, everyone seems to agree that what goes on between those two is hard to define, but whatever it is, there’s this very particular, “special” air about them that differs from the rest of the characters, which normally manifests when they’re alone together.

As you can tell, this overall view is the opposite of the animators’ ideal. If the novel had been animated the way it is, it would’ve probably felt like a BL for the people watching. Not only does it come with practically set ships, it also doesn’t give much space for the proverbial “ship even yourself with the characters” option. To put it bluntly, the animation went through those changes so that it could fit the mold. It gave us SeiMina and even some NanaKai (the latter being honestly disturbing, since they’re cousins), while either toning down or erasing the rest of the duo and trio interactions. It made Minato’s accident with his mom actually seem like Seiya’s fault and didn’t really take the burden off his shoulders but instead swept it under the rug. It also made Masaki seem like a two-faced bastard who only became a coach for the sake of revenge, which means he was using his students (actual 15/16-year-olds) for his own personal gains. Shuu and Minato’s friendship went down the drain, Ryouhei was pushed aside as if Seiya was Minato’s only childhood friend, Nanao was never depicted as his own person, and the girls didn’t even exist 90% of the time. So yeah, none of the changes served any good purpose for the characters’ images. All it did was (try to) fill a quota.

Personally, this whole thing feels like we’re being told to the face, “we’ve given you what you want, now give us your money”. It brings me back to interviews I’ve read featuring Stars Align director Akane Kazuki and his statements about the anime industry being in a pinch, specifically because animators nowadays keep trying to make a fool out of the audience for monetary ends. Seems clear to me that the staff thought the female viewers would latch onto anything as long as it looked remotely gay, and that’s why I was so angry back then. Being looked down on like this by people who expect us to consume their media is pretty offensive, in my opinion. I’m glad there’s at least one creator speaking up about this matter and using the exact same arguments as I have been for more than two years now.

[hpdabbles]

Luminescent Eyes

For @yammalammadingdong123  who asked for “Harry Potter/George Weasley/Fred Weasley soulmate au”. 

Soul mates were a tricky thing in the wizarding world. Everyone and their mom had a different opinion about what they were. 

People like their own mother, Molly, believed that a soul mate was a romantic partner meant to complete your life while others like their father, Arthur,  believed soul mates were a missing part of you that you could live without if needed to and that they didn’t have to be romantic. 

If you were to ask George or Fred they tell you it was a mix of the two. They like to think they didn’t need a romantic partner to be complete but would like to have that sappy lovey-dovey relationship regardless. 

 It was slightly different for them, however, as everyone knew a pair of magical twins always tended to be each other soul mates. 

One of the wizarding world’s unexplainable phenomenons and often got people like their mother’s pants in a twist when it was pointed out that a soul mate didn’t have to be romantic. 

People argued that magical twins were exceptions not expectations. Outliners that shouldn’t be counted. 

Fred and George didn’t mind too much. Their magic pulled to each other and they contemplated each other, life was whole when they were near each other. No one could come between them. 

They complimented each other and while it wasn’t the “completion” that people spoke about the redheaded twins always felt that it was right. They liked being Fred and George, a part of a pair but all the same separate when it counted.

Not that anyone really could tell. Sometimes it felt like people forgot the “And” in Fred and George and just thought of them as Fred/George. When they were younger it agitated them, especially since it felt that no one cared about which twin they spoke to. They didn’t care if one of them disappeared because a replacement was already set up.

Bill could tell them apart on occasion but that was only due to their brother always paying attention to small details- a reason he was such a good curse breaker- it wasn’t due to what other people had.

Where they had an identity right off the beater’s bat.

Eventually they turn it into a joke. If people were confusing them on purpose why not make them feel bad about it? Why not have them guess which was George and Fred. Why not make Gred and Feorge a joke at their expense instead of the twins? 

It was their first prank which quickly turns into their passion. Mischief was the new path of life they eagerly walked. Things were fine, they had each other and everyone could fight about what a soul mate was.

That was until they meet him.

At the time they had no idea why their magic urges them to walk away from the family at the train station, their feet moved on their own until they came upon a young boy who was struggling to get his trunk on board. George has always been the kinder of the twins, which he proved by offering some help.

The boy had been shocked, staring up at them from his clothes in the same condition as their own and broken glasses,  and George remembers thinking “One of us. Another poverty child”. It made him smile which spur on the child to accept their help.

Together the twins had loaded the trunk onto the train waving the boy’s soft thank you. 

“What are your names?” The boy asked.

“I’m Fred” Fred answered truthfully which meant George had to give his real name as well. To make it fun, he added an exaggerated wink as if though to say George isn’t my real name. 

He wonders how long it’ll take the boy to believe that. He stands and waits for the dark-haired boy to get confused so they can lunch a new prank always looking for chances to do so.

 Instead, they are surprised by the boys’ green eyes giving off a luminescent green as if though someone had placed a light right behind the pair of pupils for a moment. 

The only other person he has ever seen that happen to was Fred, back when they had been laying in the crib together and had rolled over to stare at each other for the first time on their own. 

 Fred's first word had been a broken attempt of “Geo-org” but it had been enough. His brother’s blue eyes had lightened up the same way when he gave back a babble of “Fe-ed”. And that had sealed their pact back before they had even grown their teeth. 

But-how?

“I’m Harry” Harry says as if though he hadn’t noticed the identification of a soul mate. “Harry Potter” 

It’s only because of how they are standing that George is able to catch the light of both his and Fred’s pulls lighting up, in the railing above Harry’s head. The boy jumps slightly then he stares  “Your eyes....”

“Good day than Harry! Do hope you enjoy your ride!” Fred cuts in cheerfully, tipping an invisible hat at him and strolling away with a cheerful strut and carefree whistle. George is right behind him smiling widely as if though neither he or his brother were doing what they were doing.

Which was running away, because new soul mate meant it was time to get the fuck out of there so they could figure out what the hell that meant. It wasn’t until they found their family again and they let Harry’s name leave their lips that they even connect the fact Harry is the Boy-Who-Live. 

They try to stay away for the rest of the trip even though Ron managed to get a seat with Harry. They have to think. 

When Harry is sorted into Griffindor they offer him a wide grin, which Harry shyly returns back. George’s stomach flips for no apparent reason. He doesn’t like it but oddly enough he doesn’t hate it either.

Later that night Harry stops by the third year’s corner to wish them goodnight, acting as if though he didn’t cross the common room to do so and somehow missed the upper years watching in confusion. Years tended to only interact with their own. 

“Good night Fred,” He says first to the twin on the ground before locking eyes with George who was lounging like a graceless cat on the couch. “Good night George. I hope you sleep well.”

George's stomach fips again, twisting in nervous excitement as he notices Harry had refrained from using any word of plural. That had been a message for each of them separately. He had acknowledged them separately. 

He can’t help but grin though when he saw a chance to mess with him. “I’m not George. I’m Fred”

“And I’m George” Fred picks up without missing a beat. George can see that his brother’s left-hand fingers twitching slightly letting him know his own stomach isn’t as settled as he likes to make people think. 

His friends all roll their eyes fondly but Harry shakes his head before anyone can let him know it’s okay to confuse them. “No you’re not.”

“Excuse me? I’m pretty sure I know which twin I am” Fred jokes. 

“You’re not George, you’re Fred,” Harry says adorably stubborn, “You said so on the train.”

“I think you have me confused with my brother. We are identical”

Harry’s brow crinkles in confusion. He looks around the room just now realizing people are looking at him and right before their eyes he folds in on himself slightly. George resists the urge to reach out and comfort me, baffled by the sudden knowledge that Harry likes it when someone plays with his hair to calm down. 

The boy’s green eyes are locked on his sleeve before lifting his chin to stare right into Fred’s own pair somehow both shy and daring. “You may look alike but you aren’t exact copies. I can tell your Fred. Isn’t it a bit silly to play pretend at your age?”

George jaw drops as Harry swings around to march back to the First-year dorm his robes blowing behind him and suddenly, he knows.

“Our other half-”

“-is bloody perfect”

They grin at each other promising without words that they will wait two more years for Harry to get older before they make a move.

The twins have always believed soul mates could be a romantic complement, not one’s complement, and that if they ever did have someone they would love it would be someone that would try to come between them. 

Now in Harry, they may have found just that. Maybe magic really was onto something when it matched them together at birth and made them wait three years for Harry to come into the world.

“Oh no” Lee Jordan groans  “That’s not we just thought of a prank smile that a I’m in love smile. Please don’t point that thing at me. I refuse to be the poor idiot you two menses have feelings for. What half are you lot going on about?”

“What kind of a best friend are you,” Fred asks from the ground with a laugh  “Can’t you tell we’re talking about our soul mate here? He’s our future husband”

“I thought you were each other soul mates?” Lee asks without much worry. Their friend had always a strange sense of priorities.  “Incest.”

“No.”

“Not incest?”

“No.”

George did not like the idea of snogging Fred thank you very much, but Harry on the other hand.... his face started to warm up.  

“Harry Potter is our soul mate”

Lee tilts his head considering that.  “Does he feel like a homey house?”

“What?” 

“My grandmother said a soul mate feels like a house that can feel homey. Not that you lived there before but a place you feel to your bones the very first moment you walk in that you can belong there. A house that feels homey and welcoming without trying.”

George thinks that over and yeah...yeah that’s exactly what Harry felt to him. Like something he knew in a dream but somehow very real. He had felt connected with him without a real reason. He felt like home.

Lee studies their faces, one of the only people in the world who came close to knowing what went on in their heads. It may have something to do with Lee being someone who likes details as much as Bill, but he rather point them out to observers then built them into an answer for a curse reversal. 

A reason Lee is the Quidditch announcer then player. The other reason is that Lee screams like someone set his pants on fire whenever he gets on a broom. Scary Cat.

“Then he is your soul mate. How are you going to woo him?”

“Pranks,” They say together at once

Lee laughs “I’m pretty sure he won’t like that. Didn’t you see the way he was twirling his fingers into his sleeves? He doesn’t like attention.”

“Then how do we get him to like us?”  Pranks were all that the twins had. Without them, there wasn’t anything that made them different to the other Weasleys running around. 

Lee throws them a smother, pressing his hands on his chest dramatically “Trouble in love, ah to be young? Maybe the Maunders might have a idea”

Which meant was just as hopeless in the love department as they were. Not that it matters. Surely Prongs, who often boasted about having the pretty’s red-headed girl's attention, would know how to win Harry over.

Later that night, as the rest of the Gryffindor third years sleep, the twins are shocked that Prongs writes nothing but threats to spear their manhoods after admitting who they were attempting to woo. Why would their hero be so against them chasing Harry? His age?

They already swore to wait till Harry’s third year since eleven seem awful young anyway. It doesn’t help that Moony and Padfoot add their own threats of tearing them apart if they lay one finger on  “Sweet innocent little Potter”

[its-chelisey-stuff]

The Untamed, eps 41-50. Well, I didn’t need my heart anyway...

Warning! This a very long post, mostly about my feelings. LOL.

So, ep 41. Whoever thought going to the bad guy’s house was a good idea, needs the severe punishment of transcribing all 3000 rules from the Lan Clan. WWX got all the truth but no proof except his word, which of course, only his bf believes. At least that opened the way for that confession at the stairs, surrounded by enemies who were ready to kill them. Who knew such a scene could be so romantic? Also, who the f*ck needs an “I like you” or “I love you” when you can get the message across in a more original and swoonie way while also making it clear that you’re in your SO’s side no matter what. Even if it means you become a public enemy as well. Lan Zhan just got better and better each episode after the flashback ended (and even before that he had his moments of brilliance). That dude has set the bar high for all the boyfriends in the world. Very high.

God! Those looks!!

And then he woke up in LZ’s bed, who attended to his wounds, saw him topless and we finally learned about those scars on his back and why it took him 3 years to go look for WWX. And excuse me?! My heart. (Also, @dangermousie, whom I’m forever grateful for convincing me to watch this drama, even if it wasn’t her intention lol, brought to my attention the reason why LZ had that Wen iron branded scar on the exact same spot as WWX and I lost it. I really did. LZ is so extra and intense, I love it.) Learning about LZ’s parents and his childhood from his oldest bro, was such a moving, bittersweet and beautiful scene. Everything about the uncle’s punishments and how he tried to keep LZ away from WWX made so much sense. Hell, even the fact that LZ loves so intensely and all-consuming it’s clear. And also, it made the romance of the show all the more clear, which baffles me. I kept reading about these so called censors, but I don’t think those were monitoring the show, not really. Hurray for love conquering it all!

So the whole core thing was something I suspected since WWX said there was a way he could recover it for his brother. It was a bit obvious to me, but I was only 80% sure because I thought having no core meant having no “magic” at all (i.e. no use of talismans, or little paper dolls and certainly no controlling zombies or spirits) but I guess it was more related to combat abilites, like the sword thing? Please forgive me if I’ve got it all wrong. But of course I got my confirmation and it was still terribly sad. And the fact that Jiang Cheng acted the way he did, didn’t have his brother’s back and just gave up on him to the point of trying to kill him when he was already attempting suicide by falling off a cliff? 

I know I’m in a minority here, but I dislike him too much now... Of course WWX doesn’t have any sort of bad feelings towards his brother because that dude is just the best at being good but Lan Zhan and myself certainly did and I’m pretty sure he’s just never going to let go of his hatred and contempt towards Jiang Cheng and the only reason he tolerates him is because of WWX and the sacrifice he did. I clapped so hard when he picked up the unconscious body of his bf and stepped out of Lotus Pier without a look to Jiang Cheng who was going trhough a well deserved breakdown patrocined by my boy Wen Ning.. I hope he spends every day agonizing over the fact that he has WWX’s core. Something he considered to be everything to be “special” and that his brother gave it away, to him, just because he loved him.

I’m just torn and can’t decide which one do I love more. Lan Zhan or WWX? The two of them have their bad moments, but they also have their good ones and their super duper good ones. But I guess I don’t have to choose and plus, I love them for different reasons. WWX was a moral compass that called the powerful ones out on their double standards. He was the best and most kind and giving person despite his many traumas and I do wish he’d have thought more highly of himself because he was just better than everyone else, lol. He was so selfless sometimes that I wanted him to be selfish once in a while.

And I loved Lan Zhan for being such a stone cold bitch to everyone, so bluntly honest, who gave zero f*ck to anyone who didn’t deserve a second of his time BUT when he fell for WWX he fell SO HARD it’s amazing he didn’t have any lasting marks... oh wait, he did have those. He didn’t exactly changed, but he did risked everything he valued and believen in because, well, WWX mattered more. And he loved with such an intensity (and a dosis of EXTRA) it surprised the feels out of me lmao. And let’s not forget he saved Yuan and raised him to become the most adorable and thoughtful teenager ever. He did an amazing job with that kid and put all the other parent figures to shame.

The last 3 eps were so fun because of the never ending monologues. Reminded me when, in books, villains just talk and talk and talk and everyone is forced to listen.

I never felt bad for Jin Guangyao. Sorry not sorry. He was a psycho murderer two faced manipulating bitch. Yes. His story, his upbringing and the fact that he was never respected is something that no one deserves. And he had the misfortune of being the son of a disgusting evil monster who died in super disturbing way, but the moment he started plotting with the evil, killing (bad or good) people and the fact that he married and had children with his sister, knowingly, was just too much. He just lost me completely. I can never feel bad for someone like that. He was a kind of villain that just gave me the biggest creeps and I think I can’t get past that to feel empathy for him. I’m so glad LZ cut off his arm, such a badass moment. I just feel bad that Xichen was deceived for so many years and, in the end, was sort of manipulated into killing someone he loved, even if he was a piece of trash. Xichen BEST BRO (only rivals with WWX) IN THE WORLD deserved better and I can’t believe he seriously considered to die besides that evil bitch! 

Nie Huaisang? Wtf? I was so taken aback... I still don’t know what to think about him. Like, he really really surprised me and I guess he did avenge his brother but I just had this image of him that was completely different and lol I think I need to rewatch the drama to let his plan sink in and finally process it.

So, let’s talk about that ending. After the final battle, LZ and WWX managed to sneak out (how their young fans students even let them is a surprise to me) but Yuan and Wen Ning caught up to them and WWX finally learnt the truth about Yuan’s real identity. Such a sweet moment. WWX realized that his efforts in saving the last Wens were not in vain. Awww. I loved that whole scene and I loved that Wen Ning decided to take on his own journey. He deserves happiness, I hope he gets it. But I think I need to read the novel to have more of a closure with the Jiang Cheng thing and his nephew. I mean... it can’t end like that, right? I know things can never be the same but I hope he tries to mend his relationship with his brother. And that Jing Ling gets to know WWX for real.

I can’t help but think, that if things were different, if Yanli had survived and WWX somehow didn’t become no1 enemy, maybe he would’ve been Jing Ling’s favorite uncle.

But okay... that ending. The real one. I mean, wtf? I’ve never liked this faked goodbyes. Never. Be it movies or dramas. They make no sense. But well, I guess they thought, somehow, that the drama needed it so the ending was even more touching. Tell you what, if it was done for that final brilliant smile on Wuxian’s face when he sees Lan Zhan, then I guess I can forgive it.

The Untamed was a whole experience of another kind. A very good one and I’m glad I watched it. Before watching, I couldn’t understand why everyone was so crazy about it, even months after having finished it and now, I completely understand. I was crazy about it as well and it will remain one of my fave shows. The story, the characters, the romance, the moral questioning, the issues that adressed, everything was done perfectly. It took my heart.

Now excuse me while I curl up in a fetal position thinking about this drama and my feelings for it and watch fan edits of them on Youtube.

Note: By the way, does anyone know of any dramas where Xiao Zhan and Wang Yibo, separately of course, are the leads in a modern era drama? I tried looking it up, but it looks like Xiao Zhan has made only one modern drama set to air this year? And I thought WY had a drama, but has it aired? Do the chinese actors are like the korean ones in the sense that, when they become famous, they do projects every 2-3 years?

Thank you, The Untamed. It was truly a unique and wonderful experience. I loved this story so so so so much. And the romance was delicious.