#°☆.。.:*・ix’ visage.

[visvivae]

THE ECSTATIC HEAT DEATH‼️

[astr0logies]

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[astr0logies]

@atyped | @crazytyped | @rebeltyped / @chrmatiica .

this fuckass show is so fun to draw and recreate even, look at them alls (got a few more parts to this)

[dropsofjunipcr]

tag drop . . ★

[savesgalaxy]

ix

[hauntcdhousess]

milo cortez tag dump !

[saintobio]

LONG LIVE THE VILLAINESS !

amidst the tale of sweetest love and bitterest revenge, the fallen empress is cast back ten years into the past to correct her sins and avoid eternal damnation, even at the price of betraying her once husband, the very cause of her downfall.

♱ pairings. gojo satoru, fem!reader

♱ genre. enemies-to-lovers, period piece, medieval au

♱ tags. ooc, regression, crown prince!gojo, noble lady!reader, politics, classism, clan wars, religion (catholicism), misogyny, violence, war, rebellion, suggestive, smut, gore, double life, explicit language, more to be added

♱ notes. this fic draws heavy inspirations from the webnovel ‘sister, i am the queen in this life’ and manhwa of the same name. it’s basically a fanfic of that series bc i am obsessed with it :’D

♱ status. on-going (slow updates)

♱ SECOND TIMELINE TO AS YOU LIKE IT ♱

PROLOGUE.

ACT I. THE LADY

ACT II. THE CROWN PRINCE

ACT III. THE KNIGHT

ACT IV. THE STAR CROSSED LOVERS

ACT V. THE BLESSED

ACT VI. THE SIN

ACT VII. THE REVELATION

ACT VIII. THE ENEMY

ACT IX. THE LOVER

ACT X. THE EMPRESS

EPILOGUE.

PROLOGUE 

Like plunging beneath the surface of water and then, abruptly, breaking through to the air above—your body jolted as if awakening in a new world altogether. You drew in a long breath, your eyes fluttering open to reveal the ceiling, both familiar yet unfamiliar in its greeting. Swiftly, you surveyed your surroundings, noting with growing recognition the confines of your old room within the De Roma estate. The estate! 

You were not in the palace of Caelum, but in the estate of House De Roma. A surge of realization flooded through you as you dashed towards the nearest mirror, confronting your reflection with wide, startled eyes. 

No... could it be... that you have returned to your body, ten years prior?!

In the mirror, the reflection staring back at you was not that of the notorious wife of the tyrant Emperor Satoru, but of a 20-year-old maiden, the eldest daughter of Duke de Roma, with fuller cheeks and a more youthful appearance. You could not shake the feeling of disbelief, wondering if this was all just a dream, so you reached out to touch your arms and felt the flesh beneath your fingers, trying to convince yourself that this was an unexpected reality.

Oh, you were back. You found yourself returned to your former self, a decade younger, but now armed with the knowledge of your past life's actions and their consequences. Alongside this newfound understanding, the gift of clairvoyance had also been bestowed upon you.

And for what? Why had the heavens above returned you to your body? Was it for revenge, a second chance, or perhaps punishment?

Suddenly, a loud, deafening sound pierced your ears, and a blinding white light enveloped your vision. Your body became as still as a statue, and it felt as though your soul was transported to a fourth dimension where divine intervention seemed a lot more plausible to exist.

As your soul hovered in the liminal space between life and death, you found yourself standing before a figure cloaked in billowing robes, her presence commanding and her gaze piercing. This figure was Fortuna, the ancient Caelan goddess of fortune and fate, her visage austere and unforgiving.

“Are you aware of the sins that stain your soul?” 

“Have you felt the weight of your transgressions, the consequences of your actions that have wrought suffering upon your people and brought ruin to your empire?”

Her voice echoed through the realm with the divine judgment that weighed upon your conscience, while her gaze penetrated to the core of your being and demanded honesty and accountability in the face of your past misdeeds.

“Will you atone for your sins?” 

“Will you seize this opportunity for redemption, or will you squander it in self-pity and remorse?”

As you stood in the presence of the ancient goddess, grappling with the heaviness of your sins and the daunting task ahead, a brilliant light had all of a sudden illuminated the space around you. From the heart of this radiant glow emerged the figure of Archangel Raphael, his presence heralded by a chorus of angelical voices and the stirring of celestial winds.

Clad in robes that seemed to shimmer with the intensity of celestial light, Archangel Raphael's presence commanded attention, his wings unfurled behind him in a display of resolute authority. If Goddess Fortuna was intimidating, the archangel was fearsome all the more. His gaze, intense and penetrating, swept over you with a gravity that left no room for evasion or deceit.

“Empress of Caelum,” he spoke, his tone firm and unyielding, and his voice carrying a billion years of heavenly existence, “You stand accused of grievous sins, crimes that have shaken the very foundations of your empire and brought suffering upon your people.”

There was no trace of softness in Archangel Raphael's demeanor, no room for mercy in the face of wrongdoing. His presence was a testament to the uncompromising nature of divine justice, his strictness a reflection of the solemn duty entrusted to him as an Archangel of the Almighty. This, no doubt, was the face of a true and formidable executor of justice.

And you, the subject, had angered the divine beings that guarded the Caelan Empire, so much so that God himself sent the goddess of the land and one of his archangels to mitigate your rightful punishment.

“By the decree of the Almighty, you are granted a second chance to amend your sins and redeem your soul. You shall return to the mortal realm, to live your life anew and correct the sins that have stained your soul.”

“Should you fail to rectify your past transgressions, should you stray from the path of righteousness and succumb once more to the temptations of darkness, know that the consequences shall be severe and eternal.”

“For those who squander the gift of divine mercy shall be cast into the deepest depths of hell, where they shall endure a punishment of unending torment and suffering.”

In the presence of Archangel Raphael and Goddess Fortuna’s equally stern gazes, you were keenly aware of the magnitude of your transgressions and the severity of the judgment that awaited you. But even as you trembled beneath the weight of their scrutiny, you knew that their presence also offered you the opportunity for redemption, with your only task to prove yourself worthy of divine mercy.

Indeed, it was by your very hands that hundreds and thousands of Christian souls shed their blood. Innocent lives, both young and old, were cruelly taken at your command. The citizens of Caelum who fell sick from the spread of the plague. The esteemed Caelan advisors of your husband’s primogenitors, skinned alive and speared in pikes by the Tiber River. The wrongly accused maid who suffered the indignity of serving your husband, paraded unclothed through the streets and subjected to the brutality of the pear of anguish. The gallant and dignified knight, tortured mentally and physically in the atrocious dungeon. Now, you find yourself thrust back into the horrors of your former life ten years hence. A life of a noble lady who ought not to be blinded by her destructive love for the empire’s crown prince. 

Yet, could you truly navigate this life without ascending to the position as his empress?

As you tried to commune with the divine beings afore you, a haze in your vision transported you away from the heavenly space, realizing that you were already drawn back into the reality of your chamber, inhabiting the youthful frame of a twenty-year-old daughter of a duke. You found yourself too astonished to move, too shaken to speak, and too afraid to take any action in this new lease of life blessed upon you. At that very moment, your state of reverie was disrupted at the arrival of your maid, who entered your chamber in a humble servant garb.

Milena. The maid whose life was cut short by your hand in your past existence due to petty thievery. “My lady,” she spoke with a hint of respect and urgency, unaware of the ill-fate you had given her in your past life, “A visitor has arrived at the gates and requests an audience with you. Shall I show them in?” 

Too soon? Need it truly be so soon to engage with the people from your past life immediately after awakening to your old, yet younger body? Gazing upon your maid through the mirror, you asked, “Who is that intruder you speak of?” 

She bowed her head, her stance shifting into one of apologetic deference. The way she firmly stood by your door was a message to you that the intruder was not someone you could easily reject the presence of.

“The visitor is His Highness, Crown Prince Satoru.” 

⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶♱⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

[vladsbride]

. tag drop .

[visvivae]

some fighting sketch haha

[astr0logies]

‧₊˚⋅  ♯  𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆  𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐄  !  :   the  surfer  chick  ,  bridgette  summers  :  personal  tags   . 

[ginnsbaker]

fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (10/?)

Part Summary: “Leigh, are you jealous?” you ask, taking a deliberate step towards her. You hold her captive with your eyes, making it impossible for Leigh to look away.

“I’m with Danny.” Her voice cracks as she takes a step back.

“That’s not an answer,” you whisper softly, closing the distance between you again.

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 6.200+ | Warnings: UST, fluff, very light angst | Author's note: I think the summary should tell you what to expect *winks*.

Masterlist | Part I Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX

-

Despite going to bed very late, getting up in the morning isn't hard for you. Though it’s mainly because you barely had any rest at all. The real reason you couldn't sleep wasn’t the couch’s fault—it was the soft, irregular snores drifting in from the bedroom and the new, quiet awareness of someone else in your apartment. Every so often, Leigh would make a sound or shift in her sleep, and you would clench your fist hard against the blanket, resisting the urge to go check on her. 

The stillness of the early dawn settles around you, and Leigh’s words come back to you like a quiet sail. “Do you know how intimate it is to sleep at someone’s house and not have sex?” she had said once, during one of your long, winding confrontations about Matt. It was a statement that had deeply affected you then, and even more so now, with her just a room away. You remember recoiling when she nearly spat the words at you. You wonder if Leigh also remembers, especially considering last night.

You rise from the couch before your alarm has a chance to ring, padding softly into the kitchen. 

Cooking breakfast has become a kind of ritual, an act of service between the two of you. Smiling at this thought, you crack eggs into a bowl, add milk and vanilla, and start whisking. You soak slices of bread in the mixture, heat up the pan, and place them down to cook. French toast is on the menu today, and you hope Leigh likes it.

You set the table quietly, arranging the plates and cutlery, pouring orange juice into glasses. As you lay down the last slice of French toast on the plates, you add a light dusting of powdered sugar and a few slices of fresh strawberries for a pop of color and sweetness. With everything prepared, you sit down at the dining table to wait for Leigh to wake up.

After a while you glance at the clock and see it's 6:30 AM. You need to be at the clinic in an hour. With a sigh, you cover Leigh's plate with a napkin to keep it warm and start eating alone, just as you've done since moving here.

Finishing your breakfast, you wash the dishes and put everything away, your movements mechanical. You know you should get in the shower soon, but everything you'll need to prepare is in the bedroom. Pushing the door open just a crack, you peek inside to see Leigh sleeping peacefully, her face so different from its usual, more troubled visage when awake. She’s lying on her back with her mouth slightly open. The sheets have slipped past her hips, and her shirt has ridden up, exposing her stomach to the cool air. You tiptoe into the room and carefully pull the covers back up over her, tucking them around her gently.

Afterward, you crouch by the bed for a minute, simply observing her steady breathing. You feel a surge of affection as you watch her, wondering if she feels safe here, with you. Her face, relaxed and unguarded, is the very same one that Matt woke up to every day of his life for the past decade until he left this world. You think to yourself what a privilege it was for him, to have shared so many mornings with her, to have been woven into her waking thoughts and dreams.

While you’re cautiously sweeping a few strands of hair from her face, Leigh’s lips suddenly move in her sleep. They part slightly as if she's talking, but no sound escapes. Her forehead creases into a frown—she's clearly dreaming. It's a serious, focused expression that makes her look like she’s deep in conversation with someone in her dream world, and you cover your mouth to stifle a giggle at the sight.

Realizing you've lingered longer than intended, you force yourself to stand. You quietly retrieve a towel and some clothes, deciding to take your shower in the living room bathroom. As you lather soap over your torso, the image of Leigh’s exposed skin haunts your thoughts—the small, soft patch of her stomach you saw earlier. Your fingers inadvertently brush over your own nipples, and you can't help but compare the sensation to what touching Leigh's skin might feel like, if the rest of her body feels just as smooth and supple as it looks. The thought sends a shiver through you, goosebumps forming despite the warm water. Your fingers wander lower almost of their own accord. A gasp escapes your lips when the tip of your forefinger brushes against your clit, the touch sparking an unexpected surge of arousal. Shocked by your own reaction, you quickly turn the shower knob, the water temperature dropping to a chill that snaps you out of your fantasies.

Get a grip, you mutter to yourself, feeling a combination of embarrassment and frustration. Leigh is just in the next room, trusting you, and here you are getting carried away. Shivering a bit under the cold spray, you finish up quickly, wrap yourself in a towel, and get dressed. 

You take one last look at Leigh before you leave. She’s still sprawled out in the same comfy position, deep in sleep. Waking her doesn't feel right—not just to say a quick goodbye before you rush off to work. Instead, you jot down a note on a piece of your prescription pad. It’s a quick message letting her know breakfast is ready on the table, she should feel at home, and you’ve left an extra set of keys for her. You apologize for the early exit and sign your name with a flourish. You tuck the note under her plate of French toast, placing the keys beside it. Then, remembering the night might have left her with a bit of a hangover, you put a glass of water and an aspirin by her bed. You're trying to think of everything she might need to start her day off right.

“Bye, Leigh,” you whisper as you give the room one final glance. You step out into the morning, locking up but leaving a part of your mind behind, picturing her waking up comfortable and cared for. It’s ironic that just when you decided to keep your distance, you start running into situations that make you fall even harder for her. It's as if fate is constantly nudging you in her direction.

And frankly, you don't mind it at all.

-

Leigh stirs slightly, her eyes fluttering open to a room that isn't hers. For a brief, groggy moment, she thinks she’s in Danny’s bed, but the scent is all wrong. Where Danny’s sheets carried a distinct note of sandalwood, they smell of lavender and something more… feminine. The soft difference in fragrance tugs at the edges of her memory, pulling forward the events of the previous day.

She blinks slowly, her mind piecing together the snapshots: the sharp words exchanged with Danny that morning, the solo trip out on Halloween, finding herself unexpectedly in Matt’s favorite restaurant. That’s when you came into the picture, dressed up for a date that never showed, and Leigh stepped in. You both shared a beer on the hood of your car, surrounded by glimmering, dreamlike sights, but all she could focus on was how the streetlights played over your face, making you look almost magical as you laughed, a half-empty box of donuts on your lap. You looked so... pretty, she thinks, the image stubbornly etched in her mind.

The night didn’t end there. She took you to a party. It was loud, crowded, but when you danced, the world seemed to shrink down to just the two of you. She remembers drawing you to the dance floor, guiding your hands to her hips as she swayed. She recalls gazing at your lips, wondering how they would feel against hers.

Leigh buries her face into your pillow, her cheeks burning as she reminisces how close you were, your lips barely an inch apart. She tries to laugh it off, but it’s hollow, and her face grows hotter as she recalls you pulling away, the almost-kiss dissolving into nothing. The last-second rejection stings, but what really makes her squirm is the heat flooding her body just from thinking about it. In an attempt to distract herself, Leigh snuggles deeper into your bed, but it backfires. One deep breath and she’s engulfed by the scent you left on the pillow. It feels as if you’re right there beside her, the illusion so convincing that it briefly soothes the ache of your actual absence. 

And it's in this moment, surrounded by traces of you, that Leigh finally allows herself to fully acknowledge the attraction she’s been trying to ignore. It's been a slow, maddening realization, an interest that has compounded until it could no longer be overlooked. It’s ridiculous, really, because it sort of feels like she’s proving Matt right, wanting you just like he did. She sits up, clutching the sheets close, her heart racing as she turns over everything in her mind. It feels contradictory yet somehow... inexorable, as if it were always meant to happen.

But Leigh pushes back against the idea that anything in her life is fated, especially when it comes to who she might fall for. She's always believed in steering her own ship, picking her paths, her battles, her loves. Not just going with the flow of something because it feels like the universe is pushing her that way. She wraps the sheets tighter around her, needing to feel safeguarded, needing to remind herself that she calls the shots. 

She climbs out of bed and starts pacing restlessly like a mad woman. Yes, there's something about you that pulls at her, but that doesn’t mean she has to lose herself to it. For all she knows, it’s just a silly crush, perhaps amplified by the thought that you might have liked her first. It's probably just that—reciprocal attraction—nothing more.

A sudden noise from the living room jerks Leigh out of her tumultuous thoughts, and she frantically whips her head towards the door. It’s been so loud inside her head, that she hasn’t even considered the possibility that you might be out there—in your own apartment. Leigh stops pacing and strains to hear more. 

There’s another sound. Thud. Thud.

With a shaky breath, she calls out, “Y/N?” 

When no answer comes, Leigh edges out of the bedroom tentatively, as if stepping into her own trial. Her nerves are strung tight with anticipation of confronting you, the newly-minted object of her affection. However, as she rounds the corner, she finds only an empty living room. The quiet is almost startling. Another thud makes her jump—a dull, persistent noise. Turning towards it, she sees only pigeons at the living room window, poking their beaks against the glass, and Leigh exhales a long sigh of relief.

Intrigued, Leigh approaches the window to observe the pigeons. They remain undisturbed as she draws closer, diligently pecking at seeds scattered on the windowsill. So, you’ve been feeding them. It’s a small, charming detail about you that she hadn’t known, and it warms her heart to see this caring, tender side of you. Much like the way you took care of her last night, she feels like one of those pigeons.

Leigh leans against the wall next to the window, watching the pigeons bob their heads and shuffle around. Her eyes then drift to the dining table and land on a plate, invitingly covered, with a piece of paper peeking out beneath it. She walks over and lifts the cover to reveal a hearty serving of French toast, artfully arranged and topped with a sprinkle of powdered sugar and fresh strawberries.

The sight of the breakfast makes her mouth water, and without thinking, she reaches out with her hands and takes a bite. It's still slightly warm, a sign that you haven't been gone long. Comforted by this thought, she pulls out a dining chair and settles in, making herself comfortable. Then, picking up the note, she unfolds it to read while she enjoys her breakfast.

Hope you enjoy the French toast. I had to head out early, but I wanted to make sure you had a warm start to your day. Please make yourself at home, help yourself to anything you need, and here’s some extra keys to the apartment just in case. Sorry to miss saying goodbye this morning. I hope we can catch up later when I'm back - Y/N

Leigh bites her lip, staring down at the note and the keys beside it. It feels so... domestic. Almost too familiar, but too quickly. She can't help but recall the countless times she left similar notes for Matt, scribbled in haste before dashing off to her early morning classes at the Beautiful Beast. Her trips to Danny's apartment never felt quite like this. It had always felt more like a love nest, designed for pleasure, not partnership. It was somewhere to escape to, not a space she could ever see herself belonging in, being her own. But here, with these keys in front of her, it's different. This feels like stepping back into an old pair of shoes that doesn't quite fit the same way anymore.

Leigh hesitates, unsure if this is a good thing. If you are a good thing. With Danny, everything was safe, predictable. He wants her more than she wants him, and in a twisted way, that imbalance has become an assurance. It’s easier, requiring less vulnerability on her part. But with you, the balance feels equal, perhaps even tipping in a way that makes Leigh unsure of where she stands, unsure of her control over the situation.

That terrifies her. And she hasn't felt this scared since Matt left.

As if on cue, a loud ringing blares through the apartment. Leigh blinks, pulled abruptly back to the present, and realizes she has no idea where she left her phone. She scrambles to her feet, her search for the phone turning into a clumsy dance as she trips over herself in the process. After a brief, frantic search that feels longer than it probably is, she traces her steps back to your bedroom. There, beside the bed where she'd woken up, her phone is vibrating against the hardwood floor. The screen lights up with the name “Jules”. Leigh swipes to answer, holding the phone a bit shakily to her ear.

“Danny’s here.”

Shit, shit shit.

“Just get rid of him, Jules. I'll call him later,” Leigh says. 

There's a brief pause on the other end of the line, and then—

“Where are you, anyway?” Jules asks.

Leigh glances around, fiddling with the phone in her hand before answering, “I’m at a friend’s place.”

“Oh,” Jules lets out a low whistle. “Anyone I know?”

Leigh takes a deep breath. “Y/N.”

Jules falls silent, her breath the only sound coming through the phone. Leigh can almost visualize her sister on the other end, puzzling over why Leigh spent the night at your apartment and wondering if something happened between you two. She anticipates the barrage of questions that will greet her when she gets home.

“Leigh, I—” Jules starts to say.

“Don't. I'm leaving soon. Please make sure Danny's not there when I arrive. Please,” Leigh says. 

“Okay,” Jules says simply, and then the line goes dead.

Leigh leaves the keys where you left them and takes your note with her.

-

As the day wears on, your phone remains dishearteningly quiet. You keep checking, hoping for a simple message from Leigh—a thank you for the bed, a comment on the breakfast, or just a note to say she’s left your apartment. But nothing comes through. Each passing hour stretches your patience thinner and makes you question every detail of last night. 

Her lack of reaction leaves you with too much time to think. After the debacle with Sara and the no-show date you met from a dating app, you had felt a surge of disillusionment. So much so that last night, after Leigh left your car and walked into the party, you found yourself uninstalling the dating app from your phone in a moment of clarity. You decide it's time to focus on what feels more real, on what your heart has been screaming all along.

Leigh. 

You want Leigh, and you’re going to go after her. Forget about Danny. You won't let Leigh spend another Halloween alone, or Christmas, or New Year’s. You're resolved to be there for all the important dates—and, if you're lucky, every day in between.

Hey Leigh, just checking in to see how you’re doing. Hope your day was good, you type and hit send. You won’t wait anymore for her to reach out when you can just let her know you’ve been thinking of her. You toss your phone down and rub your hands on your face. Now it’s just a matter of waiting to see if she feels the same.

-

Leigh postpones meeting with Danny until later that evening, having spent the day lounging in bed and replaying the songs you had on in your car the previous night. She received your text, but she hasn’t even opened it yet. It's silly, but she feels that if she starts talking to you, a dam will burst—and she's not ready for that. Instead, she reaches out to Danny, asking him over so they can talk.

When Danny arrives, she doesn't invite him inside. Since Jules and her mom are home, they walk to the front steps and sit side by side, maintaining a slight distance between them.

It’s Danny who breaks the silence first. “Leigh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push you so hard. Look, I just think it's a great opportunity for us—or for me, at least. And since you’re not tied down to the Beautiful Beast anymore, and your writing and part-time job are flexible, I thought... Why not?”

Leigh's expression hardens at the mention of her old job, at Danny's reasoning, and his diligent insistence. She didn’t call him over to rehash the fight they just had yesterday.

“Just because I can work from anywhere doesn't mean I want to leave,” she says. “And if we're going to have the same argument again, then you should just go.”

When Danny told Leigh he had landed a job as a retail associate at a high-end hotel in Vegas, he expected she’d be happy for him. She was, but when he suggested they move there for a fresh start, her response was an unflinching no, leaving him feeling wounded.

“But what's really keeping you here, Leigh? I mean, besides your family. Is there something else?” he asks.

At the question, Leigh feels the past and present colliding. First, she sees Matt's face, always Matt's face—his smile, the comfort of his presence that used to fill her days. Then her mind flickers to the times she found herself passing your clinic after long, aimless drives meant to clear her head. Your face starts to overlap with her memories of Matt, not replacing but somehow intertwining. 

“Matt,” Leigh forces herself to say, forces herself to believe. ��If I leave this place, it's like... it's like I'm leaving him for good. I know it sounds crazy, but that’s how it feels.”

“Matt's been gone for a long time. You think he'd want you to just stop living your life? Waiting for what? For a ghost?” Danny argues, his voice rising just a little. He looks away, down the shadowy street. His hands ball into fists and then relax. Under the weak glow of the streetlamp, it’s as if Matt’s shadow stretches beside him, a long, imposing figure that Danny can never seem to escape.

“Leigh, I’m just trying to help us move forward, that’s all,” he continues, softer, more defeated. Leigh catches the tightness of his expression, the effort it takes him to stay calm. She reaches out, her fingertips lightly touching his knuckles. Danny grabs this small sign of affection, quickly cradling Leigh’s face in his hands and drawing her into a fervent kiss. Leigh doesn’t respond immediately, but then she melts into its familiarity, allowing her lips to be pliable to his. 

Danny breaks the kiss, his breath ragged as he searches Leigh's eyes. “Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to leave Matt for good,” he whispers.

She shakes her head, her voice trembling. “I-I don't know, Danny—”

“Leigh, I love you.”

It's the first time either of them has said it. Leigh had imagined fireworks or something clicking into place when it happened. She expected the grand declaration to sweep her off her feet, but instead, she finds herself still teetering on the brink, not quite ready to leap. But what she cannot ignore is the sincerity in his words. Danny has loved her through her worst—in his own way. It's not easy to dismiss or reject such devotion.

“You don’t have to say it back,” Danny says quickly. He's afraid of hearing her say no again. Silence would be better; he could let himself believe that maybe she felt the same way. Silence could mean ‘yes’, right? he thinks, grasping at straws.

“Leigh, I’m taking that job, and I’m leaving after Thanksgiving. That gives us about a month,” he says, cradling her face now with both hands pleadingly. “Please, just think about it. Think about coming with me.”

Despite her reservations, Leigh ends up saying, “Okay, I'll think about it.”

Danny’s face breaks into a smile. He kisses her again, a soft, reaffirming kiss that seems to thank her for even considering his request.

The next second, Jules interrupts the moment, opening the door unceremoniously. Leigh throws her a sharp look, which her sister disregards with a shrug. 

“Logan's been barking at the door for some time now, in case you didn't hear,” Jules drawls, cradling a bowl of cereal—her dinner.

At her words, Logan bursts through the opening and makes a beeline for Leigh. He leaps straight into Leigh's lap, settling in with a decisive huff, his eyes darting possessively from Leigh to Danny. It's as if he's laying claim to her, telling Danny without words that Leigh has roots here too deep to simply pull up, saying, she’s mine, you’re not going to take her away from me. 

Leigh pulls Logan closer, thinking about how much you’ll miss him if she decides to go with Danny.

-

You get home from work just after nine, tossing your keys on the kitchen counter with a weary sigh. A quick check of your phone confirms what you'd been dreading all day: Leigh still hasn't read your message from the afternoon. That sinking feeling of disappointment hits you again—harder this time. It’s like a pattern with her: warm and engaging one day, distant and cold the next. You can't deny that this inconsistency is starting to wear on you. It's bordering on cruel.

What are you doing wrong? Why can’t you figure out what makes her switch off like this? 

And then, unable to help it, you send another text.

[9:10 PM] You: Is everything okay?

Dinner is a microwave affair tonight, not that you're really tasting any of it. You sit down to eat, your phone still within sight. That message never gets read either.

-

Leigh has always been unpredictable, but she has never actively avoided you like this before. She knows what she's doing, leaving your messages unread for the past three days. Just when you declare to the universe that you'd pursue her, she shuts you out completely. You can't even feel sorry for yourself; somehow, you brought this on, right?

When the day rolls around for Logan's next vaccine appointment, you catch yourself nervously checking the time more often than usual. But when the appointment time comes, a different Shaw brings him in. Jules holds onto Logan's leash as he excitedly sniffs every corner of the waiting room, his tail wagging a mile a minute. 

“Hey,” Jules greets you, a bit out of breath from handling Logan's forceful tugs. “Leigh had some things to take care of, so I'm on Logan duty today.”

“Of course, no problem at all. How’s he been?” You try to keep your tone light as you kneel down to give Logan some attention, scratching behind his ears the way you know he likes.

“He’s been great, a real bundle of energy,” Jules replies, watching you with Logan. She hesitates before adding, “And Leigh’s been... well, you know Leigh.”

Actually, you think, you don't know Leigh—not as well as you thought. “Yeah,” you respond, looking up at Jules with a forced smile. “I know.”

After you administer the vaccine, the appointment passes with small talk, mostly about Logan’s antics and not much else. Jules is friendly but doesn’t venture into whatever might be happening with Leigh.

Just as you’re seeing Jules off, the clinic door swings open again. And you’re completely unprepared for the person who steps in.

“Hi,” Sara smiles at you, and then lifts the kitten in her hands. “Think you can help me with her, doctor?”

In a moment of unpreparedness, you cough awkwardly to cover your reaction, a flush creeping up your cheeks. “Hi, Sara,” you say, a bit flustered as you usher her inside. “What do we have here?”

“It's a rescue. Found her all alone by the roadside,” Sara explains, handing the tiny kitten to you with a concerned frown.

Jules catches the interaction, her eyes narrowing slightly—not missing how your entire demeanor changes around Sara—who is undeniably beautiful. 

“Right this way,” you tell the blonde, leading her to the examination table. “Let's see what we can do for her.”

As soon as you and Sara are out of earshot, Suzie muses aloud, “They'd make a lovely pair, don't you think? If only Y/N wasn't so hung up on a widow…”

Jules stiffens slightly, her voice cool as she says, “And you are?”

“Suzie,” Suzie responds cheerfully, extending a hand to Jules with a bright smile. “Y/N’s assistant and friend. Nice to meet you.”

Jules shakes her hand, her smile polite but reserved. “Jules,” she responds tersely, omitting her connection as Leigh's sister. “So, what about Sara and Y/N?”

Well, Suzie can’t resist a juicy bit of gossip now, can she?

-

You don't usually pour yourself a glass of wine on a weeknight, but after today, you've cracked open a bottle that's been gathering dust for a year. Sara’s surprise visit at the clinic left you rattled. She had called you out for being distant after the two of you ran into Leigh one morning, and it embarrassed you how right she was. You hadn't been upfront about your emotional availability—or lack thereof—because of your feelings for Leigh.

When you finally admitted to Sara that you were in love with someone else, you braced for a fallout. But instead, Sara laughed, a light, carefree sound that took you by surprise. “I don't mind if you're emotionally unavailable,” she had said with a shrug. “I'm just looking for something casual.”

For a split second, her proposition—friends with benefits—was like candy being dangled in front of you: appetizing and readily available. But that conversation was at work, in the middle of your clinic, and the timing felt all sorts of wrong. 

You let the moment pass without responding, and Sara backtracked a little with a noncommittal, “Well, you have my number. I really like you, Y/N. We can be friends, and if you ever need to…unwind, well, I can be your best friend.”

You're midway through your glass of wine when you decide to check your phone again, automatically opening the chat window with Leigh. It's almost become a habit, expecting your messages to remain unread. But this time, Leigh's avatar is right there under the last text you sent. She's read them. Today. 

Why now?

Before you can dedicate the rest of your evening into that question, a knock on your door pulls you from your thoughts. It's late, and you don’t remember ordering food delivery. You set your glass down and head over to see who it is. 

Upon opening the door, you're greeted by a downcast brunette. She looks nervous, clutching her purse as if it were a lifeline.

“Leigh?”

“Hi,” she says, lifting her eyes to meet yours, searching your face for a reaction. As confused as you are, your heart kicks up a notch simply because she’s there, so close you could reach out and touch her. For a moment, you wonder if you're dreaming, if the alcohol is taking effect and conjuring up your desires right before you.

You notice the slight tremor in her hands, the way she’s standing—a bit too rigid, like she’s bracing for something tough.

Clearing your throat, you start to ask, “Would you like to come—”

“Is she here?” Leigh interrupts abruptly.

You blink in surprise.

“Who?”

“Sara,” Leigh replies, her chin jutting forward. She attempts to peer past you, as if she might find the answer somewhere inside your apartment. 

“No, she's not,” you say slowly, puzzled and a bit annoyed by her tone. “Why would she be?” 

You can't hide your surprise at her directness, or the discomfort it stirs in you. It's a bit ridiculous, even rude, how Leigh has been avoiding you, leaving your messages unread, and now she's here, asking you about another girl without a preamble. Leigh doesn't wait for an invitation; she brushes past you and steps further into your apartment, her eyes searching every corner of the room.

“I thought you said it didn't work out with Sara,” she says, almost accusingly, turning to face you again. The way she's acting—like she has any right to demand answers about your personal life after days of silence—is starting to grate on your nerves. 

You press your lips together, taking a deep breath to quell your rising irritation.

“It didn’t. She brought a kitten to the clinic today, that’s all. We're not seeing each other, Leigh,” you tell her. Although she did tell me she’s interested in sleeping with me, you nearly say aloud.

Leigh’s mouth twists into a sneer. “Then why did Jules…” she trails off, her expression falling as it finally clicks.

Jules lied to her.

“Jules…?” you echo incredulously. “What did she tell you?”

Leigh's confidence wavers even further as she says, “She... she said she met Sara at your clinic. Called her your girlfriend.”

You shake your head, exasperation seeping through your features. “Sara is not my girlfriend,” you repeat firmly. The situation is quickly becoming absurd, and you decide to push a bit, to get to the heart of what's really bothering her. “But what does it matter to you if she was?”

“It doesn’t,” Leigh replies in a flat, unconvincing tone.

“Then what are you doing here?” you ask gently, as if addressing a child mid-tantrum. 

Leigh doesn't answer right away, her cheeks glowing red as she looks anywhere but you. She's clearly embarrassed by the entire ordeal, and you find yourself struggling not to smile at the implications of her visit. She's bothered by the idea of you with Sara because—

“Leigh, are you jealous?” you ask, taking a deliberate step towards her. You hold her captive with your eyes, making it impossible for Leigh to look away.

“I’m with Danny.” Her voice cracks as she takes a step back.

“That’s not an answer,” you whisper softly, closing the distance between you once more.

“No, I... maybe. I don't know,” she stammers, then sighs deeply, her shoulders slumping as she finally meets your gaze. “Yes, I guess I am. I don't like thinking of you with someone else. Is that answer enough?”

As you take another step forward, Leigh instinctively moves back, and this dance continues until she finds herself against a wall. You're close now, close enough to feel the tension radiating from her. Her back is pressed against the concrete, your body just inches from hers, effectively trapping her in the corner. 

Leigh doesn’t know at which point she’s closed her eyes. Was it when she felt your breath whisper across her upper lip as you sighed, clearly as affected by the proximity as she was? Or was it when her back met the cool wall, the hard reality telling her she had nowhere else to go? Perhaps it was simply the anticipation, the tightening expectation of your lips meeting hers, the thought of surrendering to this—whatever this is becoming between you.

But then, two seconds pass. Five. Ten. Nothing happens.

The anticipated kiss doesn’t come. 

When she finally opens her eyes, the question in yours is unmistakable. You’re near enough, she could just lean in, but you’re giving her a choice, asking without words if this is what she wants. And that’s when she remembers how she ended up at your doorstep. Leigh's mind reels, darting back to Jules' little lie. She's struck by the realization that Jules probably felt compelled to lie because Leigh had been inadvertently pushing you away, leaving a door open for someone else to step in. And if she keeps this up, it might be Sara who ends up here, against your wall, in your arms. The image stabs at her heart, jealousy tightening her chest.

No, she can’t let that happen.

Summoning a courage she didn’t know she had left, Leigh reaches out and gently takes your hand. She brings it to her face, pressing her lips against your palm in a kiss so tender it steals your breath. It’s a silent plea. A tender claim.

It's just a small kiss, simple and soft, but it rushes through you like wildfire, stirring feelings deeper and more intense than any long, drawn-out foreplay ever did. You realize just how much you've been holding back, shielding yourself from potential pain. But now, as Leigh's kiss sears into your palm, all those defenses seem pointless. With a fervor driven by weeks of restrainment, you close the distance entirely. 

Your kiss lands on Leigh's lips with everything you have, as if this moment, this single kiss, might be your only chance. Yet, even in your urgency, there's a tenderness, a reverence in the way your lips carefully slot between hers. As you kiss, there's a meticulous attention to the details—the softness of her lips, the way they fit perfectly against yours, the gentle give when you press a little harder. It’s as if you’re trying to memorize her through this kiss.

Leigh matches your ardor, her fingers weaving into your hair, tugging you closer as if she can't get enough. You react instinctively, your hands sliding from her hips to her waist, lifting her shirt just enough to feel her skin beneath your fingertips. The slight pressure of your nails makes Leigh gasp, a sound that breaks the seal of your lips just enough for you to deepen the kiss, slipping your tongue past her defenses. The act draws a guttural moan from her—a sound that vibrates through your core, sending ripples of desire pulsating through your body. 

It shouldn’t be this perfect the first time, but it is.

The kiss grows wetter, more urgent. It's selfish, a relentless chase of sensation where both of you are simultaneously taking and giving everything you have, until it feels like there's nothing left to offer. While Leigh’s tongue explores every inch of your mouth, her hands find their way to either side of your neck, fingertips lightly grazing your skin, sending tingles straight down your spine. Your own hands aren't idle. They roam up her back, feeling the smooth expanse of her skin under your fingertips. As you slide your hands upward, you discover something that emits a low groan from you—she’s not wearing a bra. A part of you, the rational part that's still functioning, slowly begins to recognize the gravity of what’s unfolding. It's too easy to get lost in Leigh, in the rush and the heat, but something stops you. You want this—more than anything in the moment—but it has to mean something. Because once you cross this line with Leigh, there's no going back to the uninhibited, distant longing you've managed until now. 

Just as the thought crystallizes, Leigh breaks the kiss with a wet pop. Her eyes flutter open, slowly, lazily. Her gaze is unfocused at first, pupils dilated, the vibrant green of her irises almost swallowed by the black. Oh, she definitely wants you too.

“Why did you stop?” you murmur, your voice unmistakably laden with desire as you rest your forehead against hers.

A grin tugs at Leigh’s lips as replies softly, “I just wanted to see you.”

Your smile widens as her fingers absentmindedly play with the little hairs at the nape of your neck. She seems mesmerized by your eyes, now darkened with lust, and without thinking, she blurts out, “You really do have espresso eyes.”

Her words make you freeze in her arms. That nickname—it's the same one you use anonymously for your submissions to your favorite advice column. Maybe it's just a coincidence, right? 

But Leigh's reaction a moment later suggests otherwise. Her face blanches, eyes widening in a sudden flare of panic as she realizes what she's just said. 

“Y/N—” Leigh starts but you cut her off by stepping out of her embrace, your stance becoming guarded.

The warmth vanishes from your eyes. “What did you just say?”

[thisuserislilsilly]

Summary: A very unexpected news sends Jubik down memory lane, doubting if he could be able to be up for the challenge

Genre: Fluff/ H E L L A S M U T IN ONE POINT

TW: Some fluff, lotta (kinda) rough smut at one point, wholesome for 40k standards

Pairing: Jubik x Ascilen (OG creator is @jaghatai-khock)

Goblin tag squad (lemme know if you wanna get tagged too): @finchly-tintinnabulation @cardinalcanis @jaghatai-khock @echo-of-damnation @meervalv0

"I'm pregnant"

It was a short message, not even a paragraph long. Jubik refreshed the database over and over in case there was some sort of mistake, if there was more of the message and it was just the bad signal or perhaps distance between the Merciful and Ember Nomads ships, but no, that was all and it was for him. From the Captain Ascilen personal channel, it had all the credentials and the authorizations. It was real, not a product of the imagination of the now agitated Jubik.

His twin hearts increased their beats per minute, he felt his chest aching, like a sinking or stinging feeling deep inside; that couldn't be happening, it was impossible, Ascilen and he had just a few instances of being together, truly together locked in a room in such a way; he had been gentle too, applying lube and protection as it was rightfully recommended by the astonished apothecaries that knew of his "situation" with Ascilen, there was no way this was a product of his reckless behavior or something he had missed.

Jubik mentally attempted to recall when it all would had started, they hadn't been able to get any intimate moments in a few months at the very least, 4 minimum, was he just starting to hallucinate? Did his love for Ascilen had reached that point in which he actually thought they could defy every conceivable biological modification of the Astartes and actually give birth to a new life?

Then he remembered something else, one little event that was more of a blur than anything else; the encounter at the Ytum IX docks. That had been just a brief encounter of a few hours, nothing too exciting to overanalyze, but there was a key detail that somehow reassured him that had been the moment.

Jubik had participated in one of the friendly sparring matches in the lower decks of the Nomads ship; it had been under the traditional rules: no clothes, infused with oils to avoid friction, duration until surrender. He had come out of there euphoric, all bruised up and bloody but livid, a few minutes later he had descended on Ytum and had encountered Ascilen...

He only had brief glimpses into his memory of the encounter: a small talk, little teasing and catching up, then the next thing he remembered was laying in the floor of some temporary quarters with Ascilen by his side absolutely exhausted, barely conscious and having trouble for even feeling his legs. That would had been the moment, the most likely event that had left Ascilen...pregnant. He had been completely out of control, apologizing many times afterwards by messages and vox logs for his shameful "savage" behavior, for the bruises, strangling that left marks in Ascilen neck, the...marks left on their most sensitive areas; the whole thing.

"By the Emperor..." He stuttered, walking over the command bridge "I...am going to be a father"

Suddenly all the chatters on the bridge died down, the eyes of serfs and Nomads alike looked back at the agitated visage of Jubik; it was the first time they had seen him that way, so disconnected from reality, so out of himself, scared. He looked everywhere, aimlessly and clumsily.

"Set course for Kianxe" He managed to spit out

"Sir, course can only be set by orders of the Chapter Master or the first Capt-" The Navigator looked downwards as they spoke, not wanting to anger the marine

"We are going now" Jubik voice became a grumble, he showed his sharp teeth as he replied

"What in the name of The Emperor is going on in here?" The first company Captain, a tall and old Nomad called Addos, raise from his chair

"Personal matters Addos, we are going there"

"I will authorize it friend..." Addos nodded solemnly "If you give me a reason"

"Does this seem enough for you?" Jubik handed the other his vox.

There was a moment of silence as Addos read the message, then he frowned looking up at Jubik to see if this was some kind of joke the old veteran was doing; the stare back gave him more than enough proof that he was serious.

"How? Who-"

"I intend to find out, as for the identity of the messenger-" He placed a hand on the arm of the Captain, squeezing it lightly "That does not concern you"

Addos backed away and turned to the Navigator, the Captain speaking in a formal tone giving the order for the ship to set course for the planet of the Merciful. Throughout the whole journey through the Immaterium, Jubik could not rest, couldn't meditate, even sing without thinking of Ascilen. He wondered, more than the fact his love was pregnant, if he would be a good father, up to the task; a Space Marine, a soldier of the Imperium such as him seemed the last person on the galaxy worthy of being a parent, he was bred for war and the heat of combat, his life was put at risk every moment outside of those four walls; sure he already had a reason to return, the scouts and Ascilen, but now it would be more sensitive, more fragile; fatherhood came with many responsibilities after all, many he had no clue how to work with; for starters how to teach a toddler about stuff without sounding like a general, how soft his voice had to be and when to be more unyielding in what was right or wrong.

He, too, thought back in his outburst. That explosion of lust and feral instincts that had overwhelmed him and had made it so Ascilen was now suffering the consequences of it. That had not being him, that was not the way to behave and the actions he had taught his scouts whenever they had intimate moments with their loved ones. He had been rough, demanding, possessive just like the Black Templar he despised, just as savage, hurting the Merciful in those same ways. Love had blinded him, love had changed him for the better and, in that particular instance, for the worst.

It was not as if he hadn't dreamed of it many times, of letting the passion inside of him burn and manifest itself when he was alone with Ascilen. To rip his clothes off and mark every bit of the Merciful, of filling them to the brim and then let them fill him as well; to claw at his back, to bite and nibble in his neck, to growl of excitement as he felt his body, his arousal manifesting; of relentlessly thumping their sides with his cock. Jubik shuddered at those impure thoughts, clenching his teeth to control himself, to suppress those feelings, to remain calm and collected like he had to be now, for Ascilen, for the life they had created, for his own sake if he wished to be a good father.

The travel through the Warp would take time and in those moments Jubik decided to spend them well; in doing so he went to the library of the Chapter, passed through the tomes of warfare towards the poetical collections, to those the serfs used and, too, to those "erotica" books as the human crew called them. He had to instruct himself, needed to learn everything there was to know about the subject; not just how to be a good partner in bed, how to have proper and safe sex, but too on the matters of pregnancy and parenthood. And set on this mission he spent hours and hours until his eyes gave up on him, surrendering to slumber in the middle of "The practical handbook for first time parents, by Jahn Lammer"

[themattress]

The Many Looks of Sheev Palpatine.

1. From Episode I: The Phantom Menace, when he was just a senator. Mahogany-colored hair that is graying, and bright blue-shaded attire to give him a pleasant, “good guy” feel.

2. From Episode II: Attack of the Clones. As Chancellor, his hair is now gray and he looks frailer; the idea behind the make-up used here was that the Dark Side was decaying him.

3. From Episode III: Revenge of the Sith. His hair is now white, but he no longer looks so frail, since the whole Dark Side rotting his skin angle was dropped in favor of a different angle.

4. His Sith attire, used whenever he was going by the name “Darth Sidious”.

5. From Episode III: Revenge of the Sith. When Mace Windu deflects his lightning back at him, it has the dual effect of exposing his true advanced age and mutating his face into a scarred, swollen, sunken-eyed monstrosity that is especially hideous to look at when fresh.

6. From Episode III: Revenge of the Sith. In his Imperial robes. His physical appearance isn’t quite as repulsive as it was when it first changed, but still pretty ugly and monstrous looking.

7. From Episode VI: Return of the Jedi. He’s wearing his Sith attire again, but now he’s even more aged, with his skin being very wrinkly and decrepit. He even walks with a cane now.

8. From Episode IX: The Rise of Skywalker. His skin now has no discernable texture at all, being marble white while his eyes are glassy and blank, his lips colored black, and several of his fingers missing. Given that he’s technically a zombie at this point, this makes sense.

9. From Episode IX: The Rise of Skywalker. The power of the Dyad restores Palpatine to the visage he had 3 frames back, with his outfit now combining his Sith and Imperial robes.

[wandringaesthetic]

Final Fantasy Distant Worlds “Coral” Nashville, 1/25/23

Isare went to the symphony. No, it’s not a misspelling of “choral.” I don’t get it either.

Before the show:

I dressed up (basically) as my FFXIV character, so a version of the level 50 Healer’s Robe and elf ears. I feel the effect was pretty good and so did a bunch of random strangers, but I didn’t get a good picture of all of it and don’t feel like sharing my visage right now. We stopped at a bougie bistro/grocery place in Franklin that had among other things a bunch of artisanal olive oils. And here I am some kind of elf priestess and I feel like the people who worked there wanted to ask “what the heck are you wearing?” but were too busy or afraid of losing their job to actually comment. Very nice salmon tacos, though.

Vibes in Nashville on the other hand were extraordinarily good. Like, we went to Opry Mills (big mall) and had casually friendly interactions with multiple people who worked there that did not give off the vibe that they hated their job? Everyone we encountered seemed extremely chipper in a not-feigned way. Even the conversation with a lady trying to solicit us for donations was mostly pleasant. Maybe I should wear elf ears all the time?  

We went to a very cool, extremely fancy cafe/restaurant and I had turkish coffee and some sort of italian fruit and cream pastry. Next time we go to Nashville we’re going to try to eat a meal there.

The show itself:

This was my third Distant Worlds concert. Fourth if you count the Final Fantasy VII Remake concert. (which I suppose you should as it was Arnie Roth conducting and I think was generally part of the same mission and idiom.) I got a music box that plays “Theme of Love” from the merch table.

I think I remember everything that was played, but possibly not in correct order.

“Final Fantasy I-III Medley” (Prelude, Final Fantasy I Main Theme, Matoya’s Cave (I), Elia Maiden of Water (III), Chocobo Theme (II), The Rebel Army (II))

“Eternal Wind” (III)

“The Red Wings”/”Castle Baron” (IV)

“Home Sweet Home”/”Music Box” (V)

“Phantom Forest”/”Phantom Train”/”The Veldt” (VI)

Battle Theme Medley (IIRC, the regular battle themes from I-VI, followed by the victory fanfare)

INTERMISSION (a very nice person gave me a piece of Final Fantasy IX fanart in the hallway)

“Liberi Fatali” (VIII. it is at this point revealed that we have a choir, and because we have gone in order up ‘til now I say “FUCK VII” hopefully not too loudly)

“Not Alone!” (previously “You Are Not Alone!”, IX)

(I know I am probably screwing up the order at this point)

“Ragnarok” (from XI)

“Aerith’s Theme” (VII)

“Apocalypsis Noctis” (with the choir, XV)

“Flash of Steel” (XII)

“Blinded By Light” (XIII)

At some point Arnie Roth introduces SUSAN CALLOWAY. I know that I am IN FOR IT. She, and the choir, and the orchestra perform:

“ANSWERS” (XIV)

Every XIV player is now deceased. We are revived by

“MAIN THEME OF FINAL FANTASY” (also with the choir, singing “aaaaaa”)

Of course we all realize that they have skipped one so there is an

ENCORE:

“To Zanarkand” (X)

And because what would a Distant Worlds concert be without the worstie, a second encore:

“One-Winged Angel” (VII)

OBSERVATIONS/THOUGHTS/FEELINGS:

I seem to have been on whatever point in my hormone cycle that makes it easy to cry, so while there were not, like, tears running down my face, my eyes were wet through more of it than not.

“Matoya’s Cave” and “Eternal Wind” borrow a lot more emotions from XIV than they do from their original games at this point. I find that really interesting, especially with the repeated themes, your “Prelude” and “Main Theme” and “Victory Fanfare” &etc, how things from the future recontextualize and give more weight to the past.

Video montages from the games play during the performance, and for I-VI they used the pixel remasters. I couldn’t swear to the content of each because I spent some of my time paying attention to that and some looking at the orchestra and some with my eyes closed. But I wonder what the impression the moms and girlfriends and boyfriends who have little to no exposure was of this series? Elia DIES, Alus’ dad tries to kill him and then turns the knife on himself (I had straight up forgotten about that), Josef? DIES. Minwu? DIES. Look, a chocobo!

(that post that’s something like: the best pieces of fiction are the most heartrending scenes followed by the most unbelievable bullshit)

The medleys chosen for IV thru VI were interesting because they’re very curated slices of the games in question. For IV, extremely grandiose and martial. For V, the very specific feeling of going back to your hometown and realizing its not home anymore. For VI, a very SPECIFIC part if the experience of playing that game (highlighted by the video): find your way through the SPOOKY WOODS. Hop a ride (with the souls of the dead) on the PHANTOM TRAIN (and suplex it), befriend a FERAL CHILD (thou? thou! thouthouthouthouthouthouthou!)

I love the way that battle medley reflected the experience of playing the games. The video ended on a pile of screens of our 16bit heroes pumping their fists, and, if you’re like me, you’re forced to reflect up the thousands of these screens after the thousands of battles of you’ve been through playing and replaying these games.

In the same way I loved ANSWERS followed by the MAIN THEME. We have been on a LONG JOURNEY. We have reached a CLIMAX. The ending cutscenes have GUTTED YOU. Recover while you listen to some nice orchestral music that dates from the series debut while we roll credits. 

Being in the process of finally playing XI, “Ragnarok” is an interesting choice as representative of that game, no? The video was specifically a quick trip through the plot of Treasures of Aht Urhgan. Luzaf is probably the #1 FFXI character I’ve caught feelings about and my general feeling about that whole expansion was “Man I would be ALL ABOUT THIS were it just SLIGHTLY better written.” But when I think about, say, VIII, or XII, part of what makes the stories great is context embellished or even fully made up by the player. I don’t know. Aht Urhgan hasn’t simmered long enough in my brain to make a good stew.

ANSWERS with the full choir live and in person was basically at the top of my wish list for this concert, but it was hard to slip out of a double consciousness (pay attention! pay attention! savor this! this is your chance!) to be fully in the moment. Susan Calloway is obviously a hell of a performer (IIRC what led to her winding up on the vocal tracks for XIV was being a soloist on this concert series for things like “Eyes On Me” and “Kiss Me Goodbye”). You have to be a hell of a performer to do “Answers” full-throated and with a straight face through those spoken lines (”Roam. Roam! ROAM!”). “Play the actual goddess of this fantasy universe while doing your best Celine Dion” is a tall order. Savored all the “slightly-different from the recorded version I’m most familiar with” vocal embellishments. She did a thing that I’m going to find difficult to describe and I’m not 100% sure I perceived correctly where she started going for like, realized her voice was going to crack on it if she did and did like a less intense aaAAAaaAAA type thing instead. Only really noticeable, I think, if you’re extremely overly familiar with the ARR cutscene recording. What a pro. 

But there was also a TRIPLE consciousness there. Because. I get the idea the person next to me was in the “girlfriend along for the ride” camp from overhearing her talk to her date and she was getting kind of shifty and maybe bored by this point and ANSWERS, if you’re not completely in the headspace of accepting it as a thing, is A Lot. It is probably Too Much. It is. Several layers of cheese. Set over a CG cutscene of a multination battle while the world literally ends and some elf man dies for our sins and the moon is a dragon now, deal with it (which they played as the video accompaniment for this, btw).

*shakes fist at the heavens* HIGH FANTASY!!

I had a lot of feelings about ANSWERS even back in 2013/2014 or whenever it was I played ARR, and now thru Shadowbringers and Endwalker I have much more feelings because its another of those things that has gained meaning over time.

IN CONCLUSION:

I had a very great time. I’ve had a hard time, lately, with doing some things that are supposed to be fun but are going to take a lot of time and preparation. Like trying to party when what you really need to do is sleep. In a way, I was dreading this as much as I was looking forward. Ugh, I’m using one of my off days on this. Ugh, I gotta clean the house because my parents are going to be staying here while we’re gone in order to watch my kid. Ugh, I gotta drive to Nashville. Ugh, I’ve taken it upon myself to wear this whole elf getup. Ugh, I gotta park in downtown Nashville. Ugh, I’m gonna get home after midnight. But it all felt extremely nice and not that effortful. I am grateful. 

[davidfarreny]

IX.2024 — Visages du domicile, 209

« Le difficile, par contre, c’était d’ouvrir la porte. Il est resté longtemps à s’escrimer avec cette clé, il la tournait dans la serrure, dans un sens, dans l’autre, mais la serrure ne voulait pas céder. Et la porte de la maison lui a donné plus de mal encore, avant qu’il s’aperçoive, pour finir, qu’elle n’avait pas été fermée. » (D.K.)

[itsdalton]

tags.

i.   visage ii.   out of character iii.     musings iv.     about v.   aesthetic vi.    answered vii.   memes viii.   crack ix.    desires x.   wishlist xi.    promos xii.   dash games xiii.   headcanons xiv.   interaction calls xvi.   endless dalton edits xvii.   saved xviii.   open starter - mutuals only xix.   fendless edits for mutuals  xxi.   abilities