#For we have been through hell and high tide

[funguy-not-fungi]

what difference does it make by the smiths is hilsons song-----you cannot convince me otherwise

[inkskinned]

you were raised in comparison.

it wasn't always obvious (well. except for the times that it was), but you internalized it young. you had to eat what you didn't like, other people are going hungry, and you should be grateful. you had to suck it up and walk on the twisted ankle, it wasn't broken, you were just being a baby. you were never actually suffering, people obviously had it worse than you did.

you had a roof over your head - imagine! with the way you behaved, with how you talked back to your parents? you're lucky they didn't kick you out on your ass. they had friends who had to deal with that. hell, you have friends who had to deal with that. and how dare you imply your father isn't there for you - just because he doesn't ever actually talk to you and just because he's completely emotionally checked out of your life doesn't mean you're not fucking lucky. think about your cousins, who don't even get to speak to their dad. so what if yours has a mean streak; is aggressive and rude. at least you have a father to be rude to you.

you really think you're hurting? you were raised in a home! you had access to clean water! you never so much as came close to experiencing a real problem. sure, okay. you have this "mental illness" thing, but teenagers are always depressed, right. it's a phase, you'll move on with your life.

what do you mean you feel burnt out at work. what do you mean you mean you never "formed healthy coping mechanisms?" we raised you better than that. you were supposed to just shoulder through things. to hold yourself to high expectations. "burning out" is for people with real jobs and real stress. burnout is for people who have sick kids and people who have high-paying jobs and people who are actually experiencing something difficult. recently you almost cried because you couldn't find your fucking car keys. you just have lost your sense of gratitude, and honestly, we're kind of hurt. we tell you we love you, isn't that enough? if you want us to stick around, you need to be better about proving it. you need to shut up about how your mental health is ruined.

it could be worse! what if you were actually experiencing executive dysfunction. if you were really actually sick, would you even be able to look at things on the internet about it? you just spend too much time on webMD. you just like to freak yourself out and feel like you belong to something. you just like playing the victim. this is always how you have been - you've always been so fucking dramatic. you have no idea how good you have it - you're too fucking sensitive.

you were like, maybe too good of a kid. unwilling to make a real fuss. and the whole time - the little points, the little validations - they went unnoticed. it isn't that you were looking for love, specifically - more like you'd just wanted any one person to actually listen. that was all you'd really need. you just needed to be witnessed. it wasn't that you couldn't withstand the burden, but you did want to know that anyone was watching. these days, you are so accustomed to the idea of comparison - you don't even think you belong in your own communities. someone always fits better than you do. you're always the outlier. they made these places safe, and then you go in, and you are just not... quite the same way that would actually-fit.

you watch the little white ocean of your numbness lap at your ankles. the tide has been coming in for a while, you need to do something about it. what you want to do is take a nap. what you want to do is develop some kind of time machine - it's not like you want your life to stop, not completely, but it would really nice if you could just get everything to freeze, just for a little while, just until you're finished resting. but at least you're not the worst you've been. at least you have anything. you're so fucking lucky. do you have any concept of the amount of global suffering?

a little ant dies at the side of your kitchen sink. you look at its strange chitinous body and think - if you could just somehow convince yourself it is enough, it will finally be enough and you can be happy. no changes will have to be made. you just need to remember what you could lose. what is still precious to you.

you can't stop staring at the ant. you could be an ant instead of a person, that is how lucky you are. it's just - you didn't know the name of the ant, did you. it's just - ants spend their whole life working, and never complain. never pull the car over to weep.

it's just - when it died, it curled up into a tight little ball.

something kind of uncomfortable: you do that when you sleep.

[mooseyspooky]

Songs Moz says he wrote about Johnny:

-Angel, Angel Down We Go Together

Meanwhile, all the songs that I think are actually about Johnny, or in some way referring to him:

-Hand In Glove (1983)

-No, it's not like any other love. This one is different, because it's us.

-So, hand in glove I stake my claim. I'll fight to the last breath. If they dare touch a hair on your head, I'll fight to the last breath. For the good life is out there somewhere. So stay on my arm, you little charmer, but I know my luck too well. Yes, I know my luck too well. And I'll probably never see you again.

-Reel Around The Fountain (1983)

-Fifteen minutes with you. Well, I wouldn't say no. Oh, people said that you were virtually dead, and they were so wrong.

-I dreamt about you last night, and I fell out of bed twice. You can pin and mount me like a butterfly, but, "Take me to the haven of your bed" was something that you never said. Two lumps, please. You're the bee's knees but so am I.

-What Difference Does It Make? (1982)

-All men have secrets and here is mine. So let it be known. For we have been through hell and high tide. I think I can rely on you, and yet you start to recoil. Heavy words are so lightly thrown, but still I'd leap in front of a flying bullet for you.

-But now you know the truth about me. You won't see me anymore. Well, I'm still fond of you.

-But I'm still fond of you. Oh, my sacred one.

-Miserable Lie (Linder/Johnny) (1982)

-I know I need hardly say how much I love your casual way. Oh, but please put your tongue away. A little higher and we're well away. The dark nights are drawing in, and your humor is as black as them. I look at yours, you laugh at mine, and "love" is just a miserable lie. You have destroyed my flower-like life. Not once - twice. You have corrupt my innocent mind. Not once - twice.

-This Charming Man (1983)

-When in this charming car. This charming man.

-Why pamper life's complexity when the leather runs smooth on the passenger seat?

-This man said, "It's gruesome that someone so handsome should care."

-These Things Take Time (1982)

-Mine eyes have seen the glory of the sacred wunderkind.

-But I can't believe that you'd ever care, and this is why you will never care.

-I'm spellbound, but a woman divides, and the hills are alive with celibate cries. But you know where you came from, you know where you're going, and you know where you belong. You said I was ill and you were not wrong.

-The alcoholic afternoons when we sat in your room - they meant more to me than any than any living thing on earth. It had more worth than any living thing on earth. Vivid and in your prime. You will leave me behind.

-Handsome Devil (1982)

-You ask me the time, but I sense something more. And I would like to give what I think you're asking for.

-You handsome devil. Oh, you handsome devil. Let me get my hands on your mammary glands, and let me get your head on the conjugal bed.

-I crack the whip, and you skip, but you deserve it. And when we're in your scholarly room, who will swallow whom?

-Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want (1984)

-So for once in my life let me get what I want. Lord knows it would be the last time.

-I Want The One I Can't Have (1984)

-On the day that your mentality decides to try to catch up with your biology - come 'round. 'Cause I want the one I can't have, and it's driving me mad. It's all over, all over, all over my face.

-And if you ever need self-validation just meet me in the alley by the railway-station. It's all over my face.

-That Joke Isn't Funny Anymore (1984)

-Park the car at the side of the road. You should know time's tide will smother you - and I will too. When you laugh about people who feel so very lonely their only desire is to die - well, I'm afraid it doesn't make me smile.

-It was dark as I drove the point home, and on cold leather seats - well, it suddenly struck me. I just might die with a smile on my face after all.

-Well I Wonder (1983/1984)

-Do you hear me when you sleep? I hoarsely cry.

-Do you see me when we pass? I half-die.

-Please keep me in mind.

-I Know It's Over (1985)

-I know it's over - still I cling. I don't know where else I can go.

-Sad veiled bride, please be happy. Handsome groom, give her room. Loud, loutish lover, treat her kindly. Though she needs you more than she loves you.

-I know it's over, and it never really began, but in my heart it was so real. And you even spoke to me, and said: "If you're so funny then why are you on your own tonight? And if you're so clever then why are you on your own tonight? If you're so very entertaining then why are you on your own tonight? If you're so very good-looking why do you sleep alone tonight?"

-Love is natural and real, but not for you, my love. Not tonight, my love. Love is natural and real, but not for such as you and I, my love.

-Never Had No One Ever (1985)

-Now I'm outside your house - I'm alone. And I'm outside your house. I hate to intrude.

-The Boy with the Thorn in His Side (1985)

-How can they look into my eyes, and still they don't believe me? How can they hear me say those words - still they don't believe me? And if they don't believe me now will they ever believe me?

-How can they see the love in our eyes, and still they don't believe us? And after all this time they don't want to believe us. And if they don't believe us now will they ever believe us?

-There Is a Light That Never Goes Out (1985)

-Driving in your car. I never, never want to go home. Because I haven't got one anymore.

-Driving in your car. Please don't drop me home.

-And if a double-decker bus crashes into us - to die by your side is such a heavenly way to die. And if a ten ton truck kills the both of us - to die by your side...well, the pleasure, the privilege is mine.

-Take me out tonight. Take me anywhere, I don't care. And in the darkened underpass I thought, "Oh God, my chance has come at last." But then a strange fear gripped me, and I just couldn't ask.

-Stretch Out and Wait (1985)

-All the lies that you make up...what's at the back of your mind? Your face I can see, and it's desperately kind - but what's at the back of your mind?

-Amid concrete and clay, and general decay, nature must still find a way. So ignore all the codes of the day. Let your juvenile impulses sway...God, how sex implores you to let yourself lose yourself.

-Stretch out and wait. Let your puny body lie down. As we lie, you say...stretch out and...

-Shakespeare's Sister (1985)

-But I'm going to meet the one I love. So, please don't stand in my way, because I'm going to meet the one I love.

-I can smile about it now, but at the time it was terrible.

-Sweet and Tender Hooligan (1986)

-He said that he'd never, never do it again, and of course he won't - not until the next time.

-Would you look into those motherly eyes? I love you for you, my love, you, my love.

-Is It Really So Strange? (1986)

-And I can't help the way I feel. You can kick me, and you can punch me, and you can break my face, but you won't change the way I feel. 'Cause I love you.

-Is it really so strange? I say no, you say yes - and you will change your mind.

-London (1986)

-Smoke lingers 'round your fingers. Train a-heave on to Euston. Do you think you've made the right decision this time?

-You left your girlfriend on the platform with this really ragged notion that you'll return, but she knows that when he goes, he really goes. And do you think you've made the right decision this time?

-Ask (1986)

-So if there's something you'd like to try...Ask me, I won't say no, how could I?

-Because if it's not love then it's the bomb...that will bring us together.

-Nature is a language, can't you read?

-I Started Something I Couldn't Finish (1987)

-The lanes were silent. There was nothing, no one, nothing around for miles. I doused our friendly venture with a hard-faced, three-word gesture.

-I started something, I forced you to a zone - and you were clearly never meant to go. Hair brushed and parted, typical me...I started something, and now I'm not too sure.

-I grabbed you by guilded beams. That's what tradition means. And I doused another venture with a gesture that was absolutely vile.

-Stop Me If You Think You've Heard This One Before (1987)

-Nothing's changed. I still love you, oh, I still love you...only slightly, only slightly less than I used to, my love.

-Who said I'd lied to her? Who said I'd lied, because I never...

-Last Night I Dreamt That Somebody Loved Me (1987)

-Last night I dreamt that somebody loved me. No hope, no harm. Just another false alarm.

-Last night I felt real arms around me. No hope, no harm. Just another false alarm.

-I Won't Share You (1987)

-I won't share you, no. I won't share you. With the drive and ambition. The zeal I feel, this is my time.

-Life tends to come and go. That's okay...as long as you know.

-I'll see you somewhere. I'll see you sometime, darling.

-I Keep Mine Hidden (1987)

-Hate, love and war force emotions to the fore, but not for me of course, of course. I keep mine hidden.

-But it's so easy for you...because you let yours flail into public view.

-The lies are so easy for you, because you let yours slide into public view.

-Alsatian Cousin (1987)

-Were you and he lovers? And would you say so if you were?

-A note upon his desk. "P.S. Bring Me Home And Have Me!" Leather elbows on a tweed coat -is that the best you can do? So came his reply: "But on the desk is where I want you."

-Angel, Angel Down We Go Together (1987)

-Note: I personally believe that this song is Johnny speaking to Morrissey shortly after the breakup.

-Angel, angel. Don't take your life tonight. I know they take, and that they take in turn. And they give you nothing real for yourself in return, but when they've used you and they've broken you, and wasted all your money, and cast your shell aside - and when they've bought you and they've sold you, and they've billed you for the pleasure, and they've made your parents cry. I will be here, oh, believe me. I will be here, believe me. Angel, don't take your life. Some people have got no pride. They do not understand the urgency of life. But I love you more than life.

-Late Night, Maudlin Street (1987)

-Note: In a similar vein, I think this is Morrissey's side of the conversation from Angel, Angel Down We Go Together. It is the very next song on the album (Viva Hate). This song is a mix of movie quotes, description of movie scenes, and (more or less) spoken word pieces. Those spoken word pieces I think are Moz' response to Johnny in Angel, Angel. 'Don't take your life, tonight.' 'I took strange pills, but I never meant to hurt you,' ect.

-Love at first sight. May sound trite, but it's true, you know. I could list the details of everything you ever wore, or said, or how you stood that day.

-Truly I do love you. Oh, truly I do love you.

-When I sleep with that picture of you framed beside my bed...Oh, it's childish and it's silly, but I think it's you in my room by the bed. Yes, I told you it was silly, and I know I took strange pills, but I never meant to hurt you. Oh, truly I love you.

-The last bus I missed to Maudlin Street. So, he drove me home in the van, complaining, "Women only like me for my mind..."

-And so we crept through the park. No, I cannot steal a pair of jeans off a clothesline for you...but you without clothes. Oh, I could not keep a straight face. Me, without clothes? Well, a nation turns its back and gags.

-Oh, truly I do love you...wherever you are.

-Suedehead (1987)

-Why do you come here? And why, why do you hang around? I'm so sorry...Why do you come here when you know it makes things hard for me? ...Why do you telephone? And why send me silly notes? I'm so sorry.

-You had to sneak into my room just to read my diary. "It was just to see, just to see." All the things you knew I'd written about you. Oh, so many illustrations. But I'm so very sickened. I am so sickened now...Oh, it was a good lay, good lay.

-Break Up the Family (1987)

-The strange logic in your clumsiest line - it stayed emblazoned on my mind. You say, break up the family, and let's begin to live our lives.

-Yes, you found love, but you weren't at peace with your life. Home late, full of hate. Despise the ties that bind.

-I Don't Mind If You Forget Me (1987)

-I don't mind - I don't mind if you forget me.

-So now you send me your hardened 'regards' when once you'd send me 'Love.' Sincerely I must tell you your mild 'best wishes' - they make me suspicious.

-The pressure to change, to move on was strange, and very strong. So this is why I tell you - I really do understand. Bye bye.

-Rejection is one thing, but rejection from a fool is cruel.

-I Know Very Well How I Got My Name (1987)

-A child in a curious phase. A man with sullen ways. I know very well how I got my name. You think you were my first love. You think you were my first love, but you're wrong. You were the only one. Who's come and gone.

-Treat Me Like a Human Being (1987)

-It's hard, but try...for once, just for once...Leave all your hate behind you. It's still all so strange and obscene for you to look and see one who is real and who feels life.

-Three words could change my life. So once, just for once...let the night pass with ease, son. Treat me like a human being. I'd like to know how this feels.

-Three words could change my life, yet you treat me like you never care.

-Happy Lovers at Last United (1988)

-Happy lovers, back together, and I do feel proud. Happy lovers, reunited, and I do feel proud now. I'm not the type to boast as you know, though it was me who brought them back together. He is so kind, and she is so clever, but they don't want me now, hanging around.

-I rang to her to explain of how he really wants to see you again. I said more or less the same thing to him too, which wasn't true. And now they walk, hand in hand, all is planned, by the silent glance I believe, that only lovers share. And I'm proud to have done something good for once. And she is so kind, and he's so clever, but they don't need me now, hanging around.

-Will Never Marry (1988)

-For whether you stay, or you stray, an inbuilt guilt that catches up with you - and as it comes around to your place at 5 a.m., wakes you up, and it laughs in your face.

-He Knows I'd Love to See Him (1989)

-He knows, he knows, or...I think he does. 'Cause when I lived in the arse of the world...he knows, he knows. He knows I'd love to see him happy, or as close as is allowed.

-Oh, my name still conjures up deadly deeds, and a bad taste in the mouth.

-He doesn't know...

-Yes, I Am Blind (1989)

-Love's young dream. I'm the one who shocked you. I'm the one who stopped you, 'cause in my sorry way I love you.

-Love's young dream...aren't you sorry for what you've done? Well, you're not the only one, and in my sorry way I love you.

-Yes, I am blind, but I do see evil people prosper over the likes of you and me always.

-Oh Phoney (1989)

-May this lovely letter reach its destination...if only. Question one is why do you pretend that you like me? Oh Phoney. See how the outside contradicts what's inside.

-Who can make Hitler seem like a bus conductor? You do, oh Phoney you do. You sing a lovely song to a scale, and the words spell out my name. Oh Phoney. But then you kick me down below, 'cause you know it won't show. How could you?

-King Leer (Linder?/Johnny) (1990)

-Your boyfriend, he went down on one knee...Well, could it be he's only got one knee?

-Your boyfriend, he has the gift of the gab, or, could it be...the gift of the grab?

-Your boyfriend, he has displayed to me more than just a real hint of cruelty.

-Found Found Found (Peter Hogg?/Johnny) (1990)

-Found, found, found...someone who's worth it in this murkiness. Someone who's never seeming to be scheming...(Oh, but if I'd never found)...I do believe that the more you give your love, and I do believe that the more you give your trust...the more you're bound to lose. (Oh, but if I'd never found)...Somebody who wants to be who wants to be with me...all the time.

-The Loop (1990)

-I just want to say I haven't been away. I'm still right here, where I always was. So one day, if you're bored by all means call. Because you can do...but only if you want to. I just want to say I haven't been away. I am still right here, where I always was. So one day, when you're bored by all means call. Because you can do...but you might not get through.

-My Love Life (1991)

-Come on to my house. Come on and do something new. I know you love one person so why can't you love two? (Note: Moz once changed this line to "I know you love one person, but why don't you love two?")

-Give a little something...give a little something to my love life.

-I know you love one person so why don't you love two, love? Love two (Note: Moz once changed this line to "I know you love one person, but why can't you love two?")

-Seasick, Yet Still Docked (1992)

-Wish I knew the way to reach the one I love. There is no way. Wish I had the charm to attract the one I love, but you see, I've got no charm.

-Tonight I've consumed much more than I can hold. Oh, this is very clear to you. And you can tell I have never really loved. You can tell by the way I sleep all day, and all of my life no one gave me anything...My love is as sharp as a needle in your eye. You must be such a fool to pass me by.

-I Know It's Gonna Happen Someday (1992)

-My love, wherever you are, whatever you are - don't lose faith. I know it's gonna happen someday to you. Please wait...

-You say that the day just never arrives, and it's never seemed so far away. Still, I know it's gonna happen someday to you.

-Tomorrow (1992)

-All I ask of you is one thing that you never do - would you put your arms around me? I won't tell anyone. Tomorrow...does it have to come?

-And what must come before. Oh, the pain in my arms. Oh, the pain in my legs. Oh, my shiftless body. Tomorrow. It's surely nearer now. You don't think I'll make it. I never said I wanted to - well, did I?

-All I ask of you is would you tell me that you love me. Tell me, tell me that you love me. Ah, I know you don't mean it.

-I'd Love To (1993)

-Again I lay awake, and I cried because of waste. I'd love to, but only with you...Oh, time is gonna wipe us out. There, I've said it loud and clear so that you will hear. There's no one in view. Just you...and time will never wipe you out. Now I've had enough. I've had more than could be my rightful share of nights I can't bear. How can it be fair? Time must wipe them out. So, again, I lay awake in a trance. Oh, I just want my chance, but only with you...that's all...

-Spring-Heeled Jim (1993)

-Spring-heeled Jim lives to love. Now kissing with his mouth full, and his eyes on some other fool. So many women - his head should be spinning. Ah, but no!

-Spring-heeled Jim slurs the words: "There's no need to be so knowing. Take life at five times your average speed, like I do."

-Billy Budd (1993)

-Say, Billy Budd. So you think that you should? Everyone's laughing! Since I took up with you. Things have been bad. Yeah, but now it's twelve years on. Now it's twelve years on. Yes, and I took up with you.

-Yes, and it's all because of us. Oh, and what was in our eyes...I said, Billy Budd I would happily lose both of my legs...I would lose both of my legs if it meant you could be free.

-Hold On to Your Friends (1993)

-A bond of trust has been abused. Something of value may be lost. Give up your job. Squander your cash - be rash. Just hold on to your friends. There are more than enough to fight and oppose. Why waste good time fighting the people you like? Who will fall defending your name?

-But now you only call me when you're feeling depressed. When you feel happy I'm so far from your mind. My patience is stretched. My loyalty vexed.

-Be mad, be rash. Smoke and explode. Sell all of your clothes. Just bear in mind: Oh, there just might come a time when you need some friends.

-Speedway (1993) (Johnny/Issues with the NME)

-And when you slam down the hammer can you see it in your heart? All of the rumors...keeping me grounded. I never said, I never said that they were completely unfounded.

-So when you slam down the hammer can you see it in your heart? Can you delve so low? And when you're standing on my fingers can you see it in your heart? And when you try to break my spirit it won't work, because there's nothing left to break...anymore.

-You won't sleep until the earth that wants me finally has me. Oh you've done it now. You won't rest. Until the hearse that becomes me finally takes me...And you won't smile until my loving mouth is shut good and proper. Forever.

-And all those lies, written lies, twisted lies. Well, they weren't lies. They weren't lies...I never said...I could have mentioned your name. I could have dragged you in. Guilt by implication. By association. I've always been true to you in my own strange way. I've always been true to you in my own sick way. I'll always stay true to you.

-You Must Please Remember (1994)

-A small boy, big ideas. You must please remember. A long road, with no turn-off. Oh, you must remember. Caught in your headlights like a frightened animal. You must remember. Someone cries twice nightly. Of course, I do remember. Someone cries, and you think quite rightly so, but you refuse to remember.

-Low-lights and long nights. I try hard to not remember. And you - too beautiful. I can't look. I've done so very many stupid things. It's too late.

-Honey, You Know Where To Find Me (1994)

-Honey, I'm not gonna cry for the things that never occurred. So do not remind me. Happy to be as I was in the first place. Honey you know where to find me...Kicking away from the mundane everyday. The envy is beyond me. I'm not gonna pine for the things that can never be mine. Do not expect me to. I'm happy to be who I was in the first place.

-Whatever Happens I Love You (1994)

-Names, secret names, but never in my favour. But when all is said and done - it's you I love. Cold loving prose. We stole each other's clothes, but when all is said and done - it's you I love. Yes, yes, yes, oh, yes. (Note: Moz often sings this as 'we wore each other's clothes')

-Fights for rights. Everyone's oh so quick with advice, and when they've all said their piece - it's still you I love. Now just like then...yes, yes. No, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.

-You Should Have Been Nice to Me (Jake?/Johnny) (1994/1995)

-You could have told me at the right time. You could have introduced me proudly. Never need to have to kiss me. Never need to ever touch me, but you should have been nice to me. It would have been so easy. And on the moments when I was down you could have been there. You could have once just spoke in favor. You'd never need to ever touch me. But you should have been nice to me...It wouldn't cost you money. And on the moments when I fell down - not for you to say, oh, I told you so. You could have waited...

-Trouble Loves Me (1996/1997)

-Trouble loves me. Trouble needs me. Two things more than you do, or would attempt to. So, console me. Otherwise, hold me. Just when it seems like everything's evened out, and the balance seems serene...

-Trouble loves me. Walks beside me. To chide me. Not to guide me. It's still much more than you'll do.

-Go to waste in the wrong arms. Still running 'round. Trouble loves me. Seeks and finds me. To charlatanize me, which is only as it should be. Oh, please fulfill me. Otherwise, kill me.

-Then at midnight I can't get you out of my head. A disenchanted taste...still running 'round.

-Heir Apparent (1996/1997)

-It's all changed. You were there. Departing, starting a trek I had once took. With that "no-one's gonna stop me when I feel this way" look.

-You think it's so easy, I tell you - it isn't. But you may change minds with your winning smile.

-So I tried to make my way back to the station. You were still there, gleaming and leaving. Wide-eyed and awestruck, saying "How can anybody hate me if I love them first off?"

-Heir apparent. You say that you want it, I'm sure that you'll get it. They'll seduce your heart, and then they'll slap your arse.

-The Edges Are No Longer Parallel (1997)

-All of the things you said...so meaningful. They are all so suddenly meaningless. And the looks you gave...so meaningful. They are all so suddenly meaningless.

-My only mistake is I keep hoping...

-I Like You (Jake/Johnny) (2000-2002)

-Something in you caused me to take a new tact with you. You were going through something I had just about scraped through. Why do you think I let you get away with the things you say to me? Could it be I like you? It's so shameful of me - I like you. No one I ever knew or have spoken to resembles you. This is good or bad all depending on my general mood.

-Magistrates who spend their lives hiding their mistakes - they look at you and I, and envy makes them cry. Envy makes them cry. Forces of containment. They shove their fat faces into mine. You and I just smile, because we're thinking the same line.

-You're not right in the head, and nor am I, and this is why...you're not right in the head, and nor am I, and this is why...this is why I like you.

-Let Me Kiss You (Jake?/Johnny?) (2000-2002)

-There's a place in the sun for anyone who has the will to chase one. And I think I've found mine...so close your eyes. And think of someone you physically admire, and let me kiss you.

-Say, would you let me cry, on your shoulder. I've heard that you'll will try anything twice. (Note: Moz often sings this as 'you'll try anyone twice')

-But then you open your eyes, and you see someone that you physically despise. But my heart is open. My heart is open to you.

-Friday Mourning (2004)

-For years, I warned you. Through tears, I told you.

-This dawn raid soon put paid to all the things I'd whispered to you at night time. And I will never stand naked in front of you, or if I do, it won't be for a long time. Look once to me, look once to me - then look away. Look once to me, then look away.

-The Never-Played Symphonies (2004)

-I can't see those who tried to love me, or those who felt they understood me. And I can't see those who very patiently put up with me. All I can see are the never-laid, or the never played symphonies.

-You were one, you meant to be one. And you jumped into my face and laughed and kissed me on the cheek. And then were gone forever. Not quite.

-You were one, you knew you were one. And you slid right through my fingers. No, not literally, but metaphorically. And now you're all I see as the light fades.

-I Am Two People (2004)

-I love you. It's murder. I am two people. One you know, but don't like. The other one you don't know, but you don't want to.

-I love you. It's pointless. In my soul if I live or die this life.

-I have two faces. One of which you know. The other one, for your sake, I never would show. It's just because I love you. I cannot bear to be around you, and if only one or the other of us would drop down dead.

-You Have Killed Me (2005)

-Pasolini is me. 'Accattone' you'll be. I entered nothing and nothing entered me 'til you came with the key. And you did your best, but as I live and breathe - you have killed me.

-And there is no point saying this again - there is no point saying this again, but I forgive you, I forgive you. Always I do forgive you.

-Life is a Pigsty (2005)

-And once again I turn to you. Once again, I do. I turn to you.

-Life is a pigsty. And if you don't know this then what do you know? Every second of my life I only live for you. And you can shoot me, and you can throw me off a train. I still maintain...

-I can't reach you. I can't reach you. I can't reach you anymore. Can you please stop time? Can you stop the pain? I feel too cold. And now I feel too warm again. Can you stop this pain? Can you stop this pain? Even now in the final hour of my life I'm falling in love again...again.

-I Just Want to See the Boy Happy (2005)

-I want to see the boy happy with some hope in his pale eyes. Is that too much to ask?

-I want to see the boy happy with his arms around his first love. Is that too much to ask? Before I die I have one final dream. For my own life I don't care anything. And I just want to...I want to see this boy happy. Why is this such a bad thing?

-To Me You Are A Work of Art (Jake?/Johnny?) (2005)

-I see the world. It makes me puke. But then I look at you and know that somewhere there's a someone who can soothe me.

-To me you are a work of art. And I would give you my heart - that's if I had one.

-Black Cloud (2007)

-The one I love is standing near. The one I love is everywhere. I can woo you. I can amuse you, but there is nothing I can do to make you mine. Black cloud, black cloud. The one I love roosts in the mind. Can snap this spell, or increase hell. I can chase you, and I can catch you, but there is nothing I can do to make you mine.

-I play the game of favorites now. I can, I must. I will, I do. I can please you, or I can freeze you out, but there is nothing I can do to make you mine. Black cloud, black cloud, black cloud...I can choke myself to please you, and I can sink much lower than usual. But there's nothing I can do to make you mine.

-Sorry Doesn't Help (2007)

-Sorries pour out of you. All wide-eyed simple smiles. Certain to see you through like a QC full of fake humility. You say: "Oh, please forgive..." You say: "Oh, live and let live..." But sorry doesn't help us, and sorry will not save us, and sorry will not bring my teen years back to me any time soon. Forced back, it springs right out. Seasoned, you have no doubts. You lied about the lies that you told - which is the full extent of what being you is all about.

-Sorry will not bring my love into my arms as far as I know...

-Sorry is just a word you find so easy to say...So you say it anyway. Sorry doesn't help us. Sorry won't protect us. Sorry won't undo all the good gone wrong, my love.

-I'm Ok By Myself (2007)

-Now this might surprise you, but I find I'm ok by myself. And I don't need you, or your morality to save me.

-Now this might disturb you, but I find I'm ok by myself, and I don't need you or your benevolence to make sense.

-After all these years I find I'm ok by myself. And I don't need you, or your homespun philosophy. No, no, no, no...This might make you throw up in your bed: I'm ok by myself! And I don't need you, and I never have, I never have.

-Forgive Someone (2010-2014)

-Use a weapon of words, or a fight with your fists. But can you forgive someone? Stand your ground and persist, and be the last one to blink - but can you forgive someone? And if you do...I'll run to you. Betray you? With a word? I would slit my own throat first of all, I will. The black peat of the hills...when I was still ill. See this mess and forgive someone, and then recall if you can...how all this even began.

-Our truth will die with me. Our truth will die with me...Shorts and supports and faulty shower heads. At track and field we dreamt of our beds. In the bleachers you sit with your legs spread, smiling: "Here's one thing you'll never have." Our truth will die with me.

-Home is a Question Mark (written 2003, released 2017)

-I hug the land but nothing more, because I haven't met you. I've wined and I've dined with every bogus music mogul. No sign of you.

-I have been brave. Deep in every shaven cave. None were you.

-If I ever find home...if I get there, would you meet me? Wrap your legs around my face just to greet me.

-My Love, I'd Do Anything for You (possibly?) (2017)

-My love, I'd do anything for you. Society's hell. You need me just like I need you.

-You know me well. My love, I'd do anything for you.

-We all go our own ways, separately in the same direction, and here am I every night of my life always missing someone. I'd like to be rotted out just before I become aware of the pain. The more I wish in my heart for someone less likely they come.

-Never Again Will I Be A Twin (2017) (Possibly?)

-Never again will I be a twin. The operation went well, but the patient died. Never again will there be a smile to wipe off my face once it's too much. In a twin-like realm, in the plastic arts of falling in love, what a joke that was. What a joke that was.

-Darling, I Hug A Pillow (2020)

-Darling, I hug a pillow in absence of you. Darling, I hug a pillow to replace your face. Loving you is a trauma no one else should face, or sit still for. Why can't you give me some physical love?

-Darling, you will cry for me in the years to come. In the hope of a moment that cannot return...thankfully. Why can't you bring figs all pulpy and moist? Roasted in passion and salty in voice? No longer keeping a secret of your secret place.

Youtube Playlist

[uzumaki-rebellion]

"Tethered to You" Chapter 3

Masterlist HERE.

"It's unfortunate that when we feel a storm

We can roll ourselves over 'cause we're uncomfortable

Oh well, the devil makes us sin

But we like it when we're spinning in his grip

Love is like a sin, my love

For the ones that feel it the most

Look at her with her eyes like a flame

She will love you like a fly will never love you again"

Massive Attack – "Paradise Circus"

Qimir guided the sleek Exile II onto an obsidian wave-cut platform in the middle of the night off the coast of his own personal island retreat. The tide was out and the uneven rocky land bridge that led to his secret cave was visible by starlight. He'd be able to carry Osha into his hideaway right away. She would have to get acclimated quickly on her own before he had to fly out again to meet his Master in person for a few days. On his return, he would begin her training. Sitting in the cockpit he looked at his hands. They quivered with the overwhelming sense of satisfaction.

He found his true acolyte.

Closing his eyes, he rested his body and mind, becoming calm enough to luxuriate in the winning of Osha's trust to come with him. The inhospitable cold outside seeped into the starship. He flexed his fingers to keep them warm. Nights by the sea often brought a stinging pain, enough to split tender skin and make it bleed. He tapped a button on his display to keep heat inside Osha's cockpit for a few minutes longer. He needed time to decompress from the long flight.

Mae had been a failure.

Qimir had just been a means to an end for the other twin. She didn't look far beyond the killing of the four Jedi. Revenge was enough with her shortsightedness, and although she desired for him to be her true Master, Mae lacked the passion and follow-through to see the bigger picture: Destruction of all Jedi.

Osha? Well, she had the passion and inner will to do more damage than Mae could ever dream of. He flicked a switch to get a visual on Osha in the dual cockpit on the opposite side. She slept for the majority of the trip, mentally exhausted from her ordeal on Brendok. Once they broke away from the planet fleeing directly to his uncharted one using the hyperdrive, she shut down completely. He didn't speak to her or offer words of comfort. She had to eat her pain the way he had to a long, long, time ago. Betrayal was a hell of a thing to endure, but at least she didn't have to make peace with it. He would help her cultivate that pain into power. His hands, that were much older than they looked, finally stopped shaking from the adrenaline rush of securing a lifelong prize.

The moonless sky hid them against the icy black waters of the sea. A sharp whistling of the wind outside produced a soothing Aeolian tone against the protective cockpit canopy. From high above, the Exile II would look like a simple sea-stack on top of more black-gray slabs. The starship blended into the surroundings and they were safe for now. No doubt the Jedi would interrogate Mae and plot to use her to find them. He wasn't worried. His mind-wipe would keep the holier-than thou's scrambling back in the Jedi Grand Temple on Coruscant.

He glanced at Osha's sleeping image. Deep breathing. No eyelids moving with dreams.

The dark force was heavy in her. How many endless decades had he searched for his perfect one? He had traversed across the vastness of space and time, and now that he had her, the real work could begin. Training her to be his other half. He wanted the power of two and Osha would give it to him.

His dick almost got hard thinking of all the damage they would bring to the galaxy. Two orphans tossed away by the Jedi would become the architects of their destruction. He grinned reveling in the pleasure of the thought.

The tide began to turn back joined by the curtain of thick white fog creeping across the horizon. It would swallow the land bridge and them in an icy shroud if he didn't move soon. He shut the starship down completely and climbed out of the left side cockpit. His windswept hair became slightly wet from the spray of saltwater tossing foamy liquid across the rocks. Osha remained in her deep slumber. He carefully made his way to her side and popped open her cockpit canopy using the Force. Holding his right hand outstretched, he focused his power on Osha and lifted her with his mind. She floated like a limp ragdoll high into the air and he guided her down into his arms. He nestled her head gently in the crook of his neck. Her hair smelled like something sugary and sweet he remembered eating as a youngling on Coruscant. The sea already added its brakish scent to the damp locs that tickled his chin. She seemed almost weightless and felt tiny in his arms, but the power within that compact frame pulsed around her aura. He lowered his face to smell her hair once more.

She was his.

He would nurture her mentally back to health first before crafting the proper regimine for her training. Seawater sloshed across his inky black boots. His cape and body heat kept her warm while he marched across the wet rocky bridge toward his hidden abode.

The uncharted planet he lived on was mostly rocky terrain of chained islands with large veins of cortosis in some places that he mined for himself and turned into the metal to craft his helmet and gauntlet. Fortunately there was an abundance of food sources in the ocean and on land with plenty of fresh water to survive. Because it was uncharted, it became a safe pocket of refuge for others who didn't want to be found. Scattered across thousands of miles of archipelago were a few folks of ill repute, but everyone kept to themselves except for those occasions when they visited a rough-hewn set of humans who ran a modest bar/watering hole on the largest landmass on the planet. It was a place to gather intergalactic supplies and Intel discreetly. A place he would have to visit in a day or two.

His home was carved from a large rock mass near the sea. He claimed the abandoned property for himself two decades previous and his Master approved. He found the original owner dead and petrified like wood at the entrance as if it had been dead for centuries. Qimir fixed it up with modern fixtures turning it into a lab of sorts. Solitude and privacy was his and stepping through his front door, the interior lights automatically came on based on his biometrics.

The interior was chilly enough for him to see his breath as puffs of condensation vapor. He carried Osha to his full-sized bed. The top blanket was rumpled but the sheets were clean. He placed her on it and unfastened her boots. Her outer clothing would help keep her warm until he had the cave at a suitable temperature. He fumbled with her body to get her tucked under the covers without waking her. She curled into the fetal position. Pulling the covers over her shoulder he paused to watch her slumber.

Osha had delicate full features and still looked fierce in her sleep. He sat at the edge of the bed and let his eyes take in her relaxed state. She would sleep for a long time once her body fully settled into its new environment. He knew this. It would be a deep down in the bones sleep from shedding the weight of her past. He used his index finger to push back the front of her bangs to see her forehead. She didn't have the spiral pale marking on her forehead that Mae did. His finger lingered on her skin before touching one of her individual locs. Firm, yet soft, it felt like the thick yarn that made the heavy sweaters he wore during winter inside the cave. On his planet it was nearing fall. Luckily, Mae left enough clothing and grooming supplies behind that Osha could use until he went out for full supplies again. He bent down to sniff the scent of her hair once more and she stirred in her sleep. He froze, fearing she would wake up and find him hunched over her like some pervert. Distance. Give her space.

He moved away from the bed and shucked off his damp cape and outer layers, hanging them on a rack near the entrance. Untying his boots he scanned his living space for anything out of order. Scavengers often flew to the planet, but none dared to bother him in that area. At least not yet.

His cave smelled of salt, damp bedrock and sea foam. The tide brought in waves that crashed against the rocks below them. He would sleep pretty well himself once he made a pallet on the floor. First task was to make a fire and he grabbed wood and kindling from the stack against the wall where he prepared his meals. Tangled fishing nets waited for his mending on the floor in the corner. He'd need to fish and collect more food in the morning.

With a good amount of wood stacked next to the deep fire pit surrounded by heavy obsidian sandstone rocks that were great heat conductors, he built a fire . He layered the wood in a pyramid shape first, placing enough tinder at the top to make the fire last all night. Qimir stared at the tinder and it burst into flames. He glanced behind him. Osha still slept. He wondered if she already knew the power of pyrokenesis.

He stood near the fire in the middle of the cave to make sure it burned evenly. Light gray smoke rose up and out of the ventilation he made in the cave's roof. Holding his hands out, he warmed his palms and rotated his neck to knock out stiffness. He reached for some dried fragrant sea moss and tossed it on the fire. The scent of the sea rose up and gave him tranquility in the moment. Clarity.

He peeled off the rest of his clothes until he was naked and distributed them with his outer layers to dry near the fire. There was a chest full of clothing across from his bed in the back and he padded there barefoot on the clean earthen floor to retrieve soft beige trousers that always hung low on his hips. He pulled them on near the bed, keeping his eye on Osha as he tied the drawstrings. She'd rolled over onto her back with her hair in disarray across her cheek. The scent of sea moss finally reached the rear of the cave and so did the slow transfer of heat.

Qimir wandered over to his fresh water supply inside an ancient wooden barrel. He ladled a glass and the refreshing coolness pulled a groan of satisfaction from his throat. Exalted from his journey, he smiled as drops of water fell from his moist lips. He pulled a piece of seasoned jerky meat out from his dry food cabinet and settled on a bench in front of the fire with his front facing Osha. The plans running through his head for her wouldn't let him relax fully by the fire. How could he when the ultimate gift was in front of him? Secure inside a cave no one from her world would find.

"Oh-shaaa," he said softly into the fire.

She moaned in her sleep. He gazed at her form on the bed.

She had to consent to everything he wanted each step of the way. His seduction of her on the island before had been slow and deliberate. It helped that she was already physically attracted to him, but her fragile state would have her questioning every move he made from here on out. He was a master manipulator and could seduce anyone easily; her sister had been proof of that. But Osha? She was a woman who had been deceived to the core of her being. There was no way she would fully trust him even though she accepted his offer to train with him. Physical seduction wouldn't work on her the same way. He had to capture her mind first. It meant he was pushing her to do what he wanted, however nothing would stick unless she said yes to him. And yes to him again, and again…and again.

He steepled his fingers together and held them under his chin. How far could he push her? Would she buckle and run like Mae did? That would anger him. The longer she stayed in close proximity to him, the more potent their connection in the Force would be. Their bond would intertwine and grow stronger over time. He had to admit that it chilled and thrilled him to the bone to watch her burn all of her anger and grief and pure unadulterated rage into the cracked hilt of Sol's lightsaber, bleeding the kyber crystal into crimson fury. Chilled him even more when she force-choked her former Master and father-figure to death. She was sublime. Ripe for the plucking.

Now he had her.

He would mold her.

Teach her.

"Mae!"

Osha's shriek wrenched his eyes away from the crackling heat of the fire. She bolted up from her sleep and glanced around in fear.

"You're okay Osha," he said moving toward her slowly, "you've had a bad dream. You're safe. Mae will be fine."

Fiery eyes took him in and he knelt down next to the bed.

"We're safe on my island. In my home. You need rest…shh…lay back."

Red weepy eyes stared at him with so much anguish. Wracked with sobs, Osha flung herself on the opposite side of the bed and wept into the soft pillows within her grasp. Her entire body convulsed in agony and he couldn't allow her to suffer alone like that.

Qimir crawled onto the bed and spooned around her. She jabbed his chest with her elbow.

"Get away from me! Don't touch me…don't you touch me!"

Her voice cracked and she wailed, still flinging her arm back to cause him pain too. He stayed still and let her release the first wave of pain until she was spent and nearly lost her ability to speak from all the crying.

"You will use this, Osha. There is power in pain—"

"Shut up! Shut your mouth! I don't want to hear anything…I don't want to hear your voice!"

She held her body in a rigid ball and wept for an hour. He simply stayed next to her making sure she didn't hurt herself like he tried to do once. The fire heated the cave up and it appeared to settle Osha into warm comfort. He reached out a hand and touched her shoulder. She didn't resist the touch, nor did she scream at him.

"It's not fair," she whimpered, "He took everything away from me and lied to my face for sixteen years. They took away the only people who ever truly loved me and my sister."

Her voice had a despondent tone he had never heard from her before. It sounded like giving up. Qimir wrapped a muscular arm across her waist and snuggled against Osha's back, pouring all of his warmth and strength into her.

"Sleep, Osha. I am here for you. Always. Remember that."

She cried softly through the night and he held her close, listening to her profound despair until she fell back into a pitiful sleep. The icy wind howled outside, but they were warm and cozy together.

He never left her side until the sun rose.

Chapter 4 HERE.

A.N.:

Look at me me posting a day ahead of my Friday Schedule! Enjoy!

[midnightsunnyday]

With Good Intentions (Chapter Three) ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

(Chapter One) (Chapter Two) Masterlist A03

➥pairings: MC & Everyone, MC/Everyone ➥content warnings: Not Beta Read, We Cook Our Stories Like Solomon, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Some Humor, Explicit Language, Not Canon Compliant, Though Sometimes It Is, Fighting, Family Drama, Family Bonding, Emotional Manipulation, Reader-Insert, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Lesson 016 Spoilers, Post Lesson 016, Other Additional Tags To Be Added. ➥summary: after the events of chapter 16, MC learns three important lessons: one, that Diavolo is an asshole. Two, as it turns out, being immortal doesn't make you smarter, wiser, or mature, it just gives you a thousand more chances to be a fuck up and not learn and damn thing from it. And three, that there are no therapists in hell. Though they could really all use one. Or in which MC suffers an existential breakdown and Diavolo and the brothers learn that maybe throwing a party wasn't the best response to someone dying. ➥A/N: hello everyone, it's good to see you again. I hope everyone is doing well and whether you're a return reader or just getting started, thank you for your interest in my story. Work has been kicking my ass, but still we persevere! Anyway, until next time, take care and enjoy this very long chapter.

He could tell his brothers grew tired of it. That whenever the topic of their sister was brought up, Belphegor always felt an underlining exasperation, as if they’d all been over the subject for some time and were only waiting for him to do the same, as if she were nothing more than a ghost who’d overstayed her welcome in the rebuilding of their lives.

Or maybe they were just tired of him. Tired of his whining about her. Tired of his disgust for Diavolo’s ideals. Tired of his hatred of all things human. He barely smiled, barely ate, and slept for most of the day. He wasn’t the “sweet, innocent Belphie” they knew and loved. The one who found wonder in everything around him and whose laugh, though rare now, lit entire rooms. No, something within Belphegor was broken and they’d have to accept that it would never be whole again. Not without Lilith.

But who said death was pleasant? That it was something one should simply get over? Loss never leaves one gentle. It doesn’t decide to remove itself after a month, a year, or centuries after. It stays with you, becoming part of you. Some days it gives you the illusion of respite and on those days you go through life barely noticing the quiet, emptiness of it all.

Yet on other days, it breaks you, leaves you shaking and crying, wishing for your thoughts to cease so you can finally be “normal” again. Grief, also like loss, never comes when the moment is decent, does not give you warning. Grief strikes when it chooses to, replaying the moment of your loss ad nauseam, until the whole of you becomes nothing but a shell of memories, wading away to the tides of time.

Most days Belphegor remembered Lilith. Sometimes it seemed he was the only one who did. He remembered her in lunchrooms when the desserts were particularly sweet. He remembered her in corridors, the kind they’d both raced down as fast as they could. He remembered her in dreams, luring him into the forests they used to play in, with trees as high as the sky and where the wind swept through and made waves of shimmering sunshine. In the distance would be Lilith, the years waning upon her memory, yet she waved as she always did, an insult to every petal, every ray of sun. He would run to her, feel the tears wetting his cheeks, his tongue tripping over her name over and over again: Lilith. Lilith. I’m here. Please.

He remembered blood. Too much of it. The kind that no matter how much you scrubbed yourself raw, the stench would remain clung to you like death. The fall was not a pleasant one; they did not streak across the skies like beautiful jewels, they were burning, dying. The landing nearly killed them, sent the earth running each and which way in disgust of them.

How through it all even the Father, no matter how hard they prayed, was always silent. Maybe he too, saw what was to become of them, and closed his heart and ears to it. It was easier, at least for Belphegor, to believe that he’d simply abandoned them, rather than knowingly allow the pain that would scar them for centuries to come.

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

The Celestial Realm had no seasons, but on days when the light was mild and winds smooth for flight, Belphegor and Lilith would sneak amongst the forests, finding shelter under the tall, dense trees. For Raphael, who’d come to search for them in time, the siblings were abandoning their duties, but for Belphegor and Lilith, it was simply a break, albeit a long one.

“Oh, Belphie, he’s simply divine."

Divine. An odd choice of words for a mortal, yet Lilith thought otherwise, not that Belphegor knew enough to object. After all, he’d just learned of the man’s existence a few moons ago, and what he knew was only through her words of him. He wasn’t rich by any means. His family tended animals and sold what they could in the town market. There was a time when the family lived well, but some of the animals were stricken with disease or killed by wolves, and they suffered greatly for it. Even so, this man had “a spirit worth more than all the wealth in the world,” she exclaimed. That despite his awful predicament, he made a way for his family, taking on various forms of labor to keep them fed.

"He's very skilled with his hands." Lilith winked, to which Belphegor pretended to gag. Relations between humans and angels were not unheard of, but ones with the image of his sister he'd rather scrub from memory.

In any case, this man could "literally do anything" and Belphegor sat in awe of this. If all this were true, then Lilith found someone beyond any human he could think of.

Belphegor watched as she twirled about, nearly skipping in her joy, her long hair unfretted and chasing the wind. She was led by a tune only she could hear, her dress gathering at the thick of her sun-kissed legs.

“He’s so polite, a true gentleman,” said Lilith. “He picks me flowers, opens doors, and by Father is he handsome.” She sighed lovingly and clasped her hands against her flushing cheeks. “He could give Lucifer a run for his money, you know?

Belphegor snorted. "A man as beautiful as Lucifer is surely a sight to behold."

"It's true, you know," she said, ignoring his skepticism. "That and he’s strong. Can tend a whole field before sundown without breaking a sweat. Why, I saw him raise two goats on each shoulder and…”

Belphegor rolled his eyes. Though he had no reason to doubt her, his sister found ways to bolster the human past the point of believability, at times. Extravagant. Amazing. Beguiling. Was it even possible that so many adjectives could describe one person? Yet Lilith went on, singing the praises of this fabled man she’d found such importance in.

“He’s just so…so…you understand, don’t you Belphie? How interesting and unique they can be?”

He did. Belphegor loved humans. He found them special, more than most creatures. It was their mundane everyday ways. It was the way they sought purpose from them. It was how they loved and celebrated and burned away life until none was left. Compared to angels, who were created and bound to fates unchanging, mortals were born with the blessing of choice, and it fascinated Belphegor what they did with it. So he watched and soon enough, went to gather in their joy. However, it wasn’t long until his curiosity prompted Lilith’s own, and the young angel began to visit the human realm of her own volition.

While Belphegor didn't fully understand his sister’s ways, he couldn’t help but be drawn into her joy. She’d been struck by Cupid’s arrow, trapped in an endless spring. It’d been beautiful to witness, and while such things didn’t strike him as important before, Belphegor couldn’t help but think of his love, whenever or wherever that might be.

“Belphie, are you even listening to me?”

“Hmm?” He said, led from his thoughts. “What was that?”

“I said Lucifer plans to meet him.”

Belphegor shrugged. “Well, so much for that.”

“I’m serious, Belphie!” She stamped her foot, pouting. “You know how big brother is.”

“Maybe he’ll like him,” Belphegor assured, swallowing his lie. Lucifer wasn’t the best at being impartial, especially when it came to Lilith. She was the youngest, barely new to the world, and he’d sooner have her wrapped up and tucked away than allow any harm to come to her. This man she’d found, without his or any of her sibling's knowledge, was an anomaly, a blind spot in Lucifer’s ever-watchful eye.

“Honestly, he’s always so worried. I told him there was no need, but he insisted.” Lilith’s face fell, eyes widening to some unfounded fate. “What if he doesn’t like him? What if he forbids me from seeing him? Tries to lock me away, key and all? Then what am I to do? I’d have to change my name, hide amongst the humans. We’d be outlaws. Fugitives!"

“Lilly!” Belphegor laughed. She always had a flare for the dramatics. “It’s ok. Lucifer is strict, but I’m sure he’ll come to see him as you do.”

“Do you really think so?”

“I’m sure of it…probably.”

“Oh, you!” she swatted at the air between them. “But you know, maybe you’re right. After all, Lucifer would never do anything to upset me, considering I’m his favorite and all,” she said in a snobbish tone. Lucifer spoiled her. They all spoiled her, really, and it seemed to be rubbing off.

But there was one question Belphegor failed to ask. The most important of them all. “Does he have a name?”

Lilith smiled. “Of course he does, silly. H̵̸̷̶̸̨̡̘̯͇̾̀͋̓̍i̶̴̷̶̷̥̠̬̖͖̋͐̄̎͆s̵̶̷̵̵̢͈̟͕̝̊̌̅̾͒ ̷̵̶̸̵̱͕̦͕͕͑̓̀̍͠n̴̸̸̴̶͈͍͍̯̳̎͛͂̄̏à̵̷̷̷̴͚̟͈̲̃̑̍̾͜m̷̵̵̶̷͉̗̜̗̻̓̀̽̀͝e̴̶̸̷̵͔̻̜̳̣̽̃̋͑͠ ̴̷̵̶̸̧̰̲͙̺̀̃̐͗͑i̶̷̴̷̴͎̪̳̫̬̔́͐̈́͝ş̵̴̴̶̵̠͕̰͕͗̅̅͋̕…̴̷̸̶̵̯͚̲̯̺͐͌̑̔͠

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

“Lucifer! Please, tell them. Tell them they can’t do this!”

Belphegor turned to his brother, who looked as if the world was ending and there was no way to prevent it.

The Father spoke through Michael: Lilith had committed the unpardonable sin, one in which there was no forgiveness. She would be wiped from the face of existence, never to be a part of the cycle of creation again. All this for stealing a fruit, though it was said a simple apple led to Eve’s downfall; what difference would there be for his sister?

Belphegor dug his nails into his palms, neck burning with heat. The Father had refused them council, choosing to lay His judgment through the only other angel he abused more than Lucifer. Did He truly not care for them? Was fighting His battles and upholding His will all they were good for?

“The Father’s word is final,” Michael’s voice was calm, yet short. “Lucifer knows this as well as I do.”

“So you expect us to stand aside and allow our sister to face a fate so cruel?”

“Belphie, please,” Lilith cried, shaking. “It does not matter my end—“

“—But it does matter. You matter.” Belphegor pointed at her with angered assertion. “Not some mortal who was fated to die sooner than you are to blink.”

“Our brother is right, Lilith.” Leviathan shook his head as if trying to unravel what was happening. “Your actions…they make no sense.”

“No,” Lilith spoke, “what makes no sense is a Father who would sit and watch while death and sickness run rampant throughout his creation while having the power to prevent it.”

“How dare she’s” and “heresies” spiraled into the air, forming a tornado of indignation that grew louder and more violent with the need for retribution. Belphegor sneered at the angels who formed a ring of judgment around his sister. It was hard to believe that at one time any of them could be called his brothers and sisters.

“Enough.” It was Raphael, who, unlike Michael, held little reservations in his approach to an otherwise dire situation. “You stand amongst the divine court. Your blasphemy will not be tolerated.”

“Ah, can it,” yelled out Mammon. Someone gasped from the crowd. “You threaten the life of our sister. You better believe we’re gonna cause more than just a ruckus.”

Belphegor looked to Lilith, his eyes imploring her, though there was no answer she could give that would make any sense to him. “Even if he didn’t die today,” he said, “he would’ve died regardless. What then? Why risk your eternity for something so finite?”

Lilith parted her lips as if to form some half-uttered verb. Then she began again, though her mouth did not quiver. She stilled her face, hardened her lips, and spoke her words simply, “For the life of the one I love, I would do anything.”

Belphegor winced, his sister’s words a slap in the face. He would be angry if only there wasn’t so much to go around. What about their love? As if theirs hadn’t outlived kingdoms for her. What love could a being of such little potential possibly give?

It was Beelzebub’s turn to speak, pain shaking his voice. “But…what about us? How could you be so willing to leave us here to grieve you?”

Lilith was quiet, her face turned to some far, distant place. Belphegor wanted to shake her, to wake her from this eternal dream of love that did nothing but harm her.

“There has to be something we can do,” Asmodeus spoke, looking desperately at Michael. “It can’t end like this.”

“And just what do you plan to do to avoid her judgment?” Raphael’s eyebrow rose with his question. “Are any of you willing to take her place?”

They all looked at each other. Not in fear of Raphael’s words, but because neither of them could see themselves as the Father’s children, the remains of their allegiance shattered and pooled in the pit of their stomachs. In the end, what they gained for their loyalty was death, but they would not go without a fight. Finally, Lucifer stepped forward. It was clear to Belphegor that something inside his brother shattered, too. Not broken, but free.

“If the father’s word is law,” he said, “then maybe such laws should be challenged.”

“Be mindful of your next words, brother.” Michael stood with all the caution of a vigilant lion. “Think of the lives of your siblings. Of what you’re sacrificing.”

Lucifer stood, clearly battling himself. Belphegor only wished to know what his brother and Michael were thinking then. Both were close, so much so that they could be mistaken for twins. Maybe they both wanted to see something in the other that was no longer there. By then, Belphegor and his brothers gathered beside the morning star, unwavering. It was clear where their loyalties lay and always would.

As if in understanding, Michael sighed, and drew his blade as if the entire issue were a mere inconvenience. “Don’t make us do this, Lucifer.” Raphael, however, had already summoned his spears.

“You all still have the chance to repent in front of the Father. This will not go without punishment, however.”

“And Lilith?” Asmodeus said, his voice almost hopeful.

“She will leave this plane in peace.”

The once favored son of morning yanked his blade from his sheath and with it t̸̵̵̵̵͙̼̫̗̥̉́̇̈́̈́h̸̶̸̴̴͚͖̥̗̖̊̾̄̒̕e̶̶̸̸̸̻͈͍̗̱͒̆͊̋̒ ̸̵̶̵̵̜̥̭͎̝̑̓̓̀̾h̷̸̶̴̸͓̠͙̹̤͌̄̈́̂̚ḙ̷̸̷̷̸̢̯͖̄̂͂̾̾͜ȧ̴̶̷̴̷̩̯͓̤͋̄͊̍͜v̶̷̸̶̷̧͙̺͇͔̓̇̽̆̔e̴̴̸̴̶̢̖͍̰̫͊̍̔̉̉ņ̶̶̷̴̵̻̣̹͗͊̉͆̎ͅs̴̵̴̵̴̝̻͚̟̖̆́̇̇͠ ̶̸̵̸̶̨̩̞̗̖͒̊̀́̓c̸̴̶̶̶̬̼͎̱͔̈́̏̑͂̑r̶̷̷̴̵̯͚̫͕̳̓̽͂͐͝ĩ̶̶̸̶̷̺̙̠̰͖̏́͆͘e̸̴̸̵̷̹̰͉̫̠̓͌̆̃͂d̸̴̶̶̵̨̻͉̮͕́̈́̈̽̈́.̷̷̵̸̴͓̱̲̘͖̑̓͒̾̕ ̴̸̸̷̴̙̬͉̱͗̉͂̀͂ͅ

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

Not once had Belphegor known the smell of blood until that day. It ranked of rusted metal, and it took all within him not to vomit in the middle of battle. An angel he once played with amongst the lilacs of the Celestial Garden fell limp, a sword thrust through his chest. Mammon had done so without hesitation and proceeded to chop the head of another, his strokes quick like thunder strikes.

A scream, this time from his right. It was Beel caked in a thick carnage of blood and feathers. He’d torn through their attempt at a flank, their weapons barely grazing him as he ripped wings from flesh, bodies spiraling towards the earth.

“Look out!” Asmodeus yelled, his shield snapping against metal. Belphegor leaped to the side, a beam of light zipping downward where his body would’ve been, leaving a hole of ozone in its wake. Belphegor raised his bow in return, his arm unsteady. Shakily, he aimed, barely managing to wound the angel who’d gunned for his head.

The realm was drowned in chaos. A frenzy of limbs and wings dancing to the tune of annihilation. He’d only seen Lucifer once, his body burning white as he bathed the battlefield with righteous fury, sending angel after angel toward their doom. Belphegor had only heard stories of Leviathan’s skills in battle; it was another thing to see him flay a throne alive.

“Lilith,” he heard Mammon cry.

“I’m ok,” she called back. A twang of metal after. “Just focus on yourself.”

So many voices, Belphegor thought. It was hard to keep his bearings. He was nowhere near a child of war. He’d never honed a weapon or raised it against another. His purpose was that of a virtue, to spread the word that with faith and hard work, one would gain ever closer to what was promised. But his life had been so easily tossed aside, his diligence made nothing. And now that one was threatened and the other gone, what then would become of him? Of his brothers? For a moment, he stilled, unable to focus on the battle at hand. It was as if all the air had left him, his breaths jagged and choking.

“Belphie!” Beelzebub’s voice rumbled. Belphegor squinted his eyes toward the sky. It was hard to make them out at first, little glints of sunshine that they were, yet as they drew closer, Belphegor saw the sharpened hatred of a thousand arrows bearing down towards him. He turned.

“Lilith,” Belphegor wailed. She’d been near him, maybe trying to call out to him, for that he’d never know. By then the first arrow struck her wing, then another, piercing through her flesh as her body flailed unnaturally. Beelzebub leaped towards him, tucking him deep into his grasp as they fell downward.

From above them rang a cry so loud that it shattered the noise. Lucifer broke through the sky like a roaring flame, barreling downward towards his sister. It was then Mammon who fell after him, then Leviathan, then finally, Asmodeus. Belphegor’s ears filled with a humming static, the world becoming focused and pin-like. He willed his head to gaze at Lilith. She hurdled downward, specks of ash trailing the air as her wings caught flame. With arm outstretched, he reached for her, ţ̴̶̸̷̶̨̛̠̖̤̈́̔̋̌ḫ̸̷̶̴̵̬͉̞̗͑͋̈́̅͝e̵̶̵̷̷̼̮̝̿̀͑̓͗͜͜ ̶̶̶̶̴͓̘͓͎̼̾̋͒̏͝w̸̸̴̷̵̨͈̼̯̞̉̆͆̒̌ơ̶̵̸̷̶͖̠̬͈̻̈́̓̎̽r̴̸̸̴̵͕̘͚̬̩̾̍̑͒̕l̷̵̷̶̸͕̱̜̯̙̑̈̂̎͠d̵̴̶̶̷̡̰̼͇̊̑́̒̾͜ ̵̸̶̷̸̳͙̭̱̂̍͋̓͘͜f̵̶̶̸̷̙̪̘̟̙̊̽͂̾̕ǎ̵̴̸̴̶̪̰̣̳̫̌̓͛̚d̸̶̸̴̴̻̪̘͇̻̒̅͆̀͛ḯ̷̶̴̴̵͙͇̞̲̜̽̈́͆̔n̶̶̴̵̶͇̲̭̰̻̍̾̑͂͘ǧ̷̶̷̶̶̡̺̪̻̦̃̃͌͝ ̶̵̶̶̴͇̗̠͉̣̍̀̆̂̐

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

“What?”

"̸͓͛W̴̻̒ẖ̵͝a̴̖̓t̴͔͝?̸̢̓"̵̢̒ 

“Come again?”

“I said have you calmed down yet?”

Calmed down. As if he were a child who’d thrown a tantrum and was placed in time-out.

“What do you mean?” Belphegor gazed at Lucifer through hair-draped eyes, annoyed at being interrupted by what would’ve been a critical moment of his performance. He’d begun talking to himself. Wasn’t sure when it started, yet if only to break the monotony of his current tenure. In his mind, Belphegor was the sole performer on a brightly lit stage. In front of him, his audience, cheering for his one-night, one-man show.

Ladies and Gentlemen, he’d say, on behalf of the entire circus troupe, I welcome you to one of the most astounding shows you will ever see! I promise you, it will be something truly special, like a wonderful, fleeting vision—“

“--Belphie?” Lucifer called to him.

Oh, right. This asshole. “What?”

“What is it with you in needing things repeated?” Lucifer said. “I told you to use your time in here to calm down and rethink what you said earlier.”

Belphegor spat, rolling his eyes to some corner of the room. If one were to ask his brother, locking Belphegor away was done for his protection. That it was love, not pride or sick devotion, which forced his hand that day. If not by Lucifer, then Diavolo, and if the rumors regarding the castle’s torture dungeon were true, therein lied the many ways of subjecting the seventh born to a fate worse than boredom. If anything, he should be grateful that the only current threat to his health was the admitted lack of ventilation and an idle mind.

Yet if one were to ask Belphegor, he would’ve gladly accepted torture just to spite him, the unyielding screams of the forsaken a welcomed company compared to the horrid solitude of being trapped in a fucking attic.

“In that case, I’m going to be stuck in here forever,” Belphegor said. “Because there’s no way I’m ever going to take back what I said. No way am I ever going to change my mind.”

He was adamant then, on his hatred of humans. The day he learned of Lilith’s death, from Diavolo of all people, was the day any ounce of empathy he had died with him. Once again, the prince would prove to be a never-ending red stain on his sister’s life. Even after death, he found ways to dishonor her memory, if not through the subjugation of his brothers, then through the announcement of his shitty exchange program, one that Belphegor vehemently denounced. Yet Lucifer, being the boot licker he was, had other plans. It was hard to tell how many days passed since then, let alone how long Lucifer planned to keep him here.

Lucifer sighed and gazed over at the canopied bed. Belphegor had found a few Christmas ornaments packed amongst the attic’s boxes--a nutcracker, a gingerbread man, and a tiny reindeer--to act as his makeshift audience. In noticing Lucifer’s quizzical look, Belphegor hissed, literally hissed, at him in embarrassment.

“Oh, calm yourself,” Lucifer said, stifling his amusement with a cough, remembering that the moment was supposed to be serious. Hell forbid it was anything less. “Regardless, we’ve gone ahead and chosen the second student from the human world.”

“Really…Well, that’s awful news,” Belphegor said, stomping over to his bed and smothering his audience with gathered sheets, his skin heated.

“This time it’s not a powerful, elite sorcerer like Solomon, but a regular, average human.” “And why are you telling me this? I’m not interested in hearing about any hu…”

Belphegor’s smile was wide. “Actually, wait. Maybe that’s not true. Bring that human to me right away, Lucifer. I’ll tear them to shreds so tiny that there won’t be anything left of the body or soul when I’m done.”

Maybe being tucked away inside that large castle of his made the prince a bit dull-minded. Solomon was deemed one of the most powerful magic users in the world, one who—without even raising a hand—could turn even the strongest demon to ash.

But a regular human with no power and no way to defend themselves? It was as if the universe simply hated this human, one that would surely shit themselves after being summoned out of thin air to a realm, as far as they knew, should not exist and amongst beings that only lived amongst the pages of their various religions and stories. It was a tragedy waiting to happen and one Belphegor, with quivering hands, planned to bring forward.

“If this precious student from the human world were to meet an end like that,” Belphegor went on, “it would bring this little exchange program to a screeching halt, wouldn’t it? And what’s more, there’s no telling what it might do to Diavolo’s reputation.”

Lucifer observed him with a sort of veiled heatedness. It was clear his tantrum held little weight, but would end it if needed.

“Oh, I know. If you refuse to bring that human to me, then I’ll call them here myself,” Belphegor clasped his hands together, pleased with his plan. “I may not be able to get out of here, but I can certainly lure a single human half-wit to me without much trouble.”

“Impossible,” Lucifer spoke in a matter-of-fact tone.

“And why’s that?” Belphegor raised his brow, his unease growing.

“The door to this room can only be seen by demons. It’s invisible to humans. Also, I put a curse on the stairs leading up here so that no demon other than me can climb them. No one will ever find you, and no one will ever know you’re here, be they human, or demon, or any other creature.”

Of course. Leave it to Mr. Kill Joy to take the fun out of homicide.

Belphegor’s face slumped, sucking his teeth. “You’ve taken quite the precautions, haven’t you? I’m touched that you’d go to such lengths for me, your good for nothing brother.” Lucifer was taller, about a few inches so, but Belphegor met his gaze all the same. “What exactly are you so afraid of Lucifer?”

“I’m afraid of losing my brother,” Lucifer said, quickly and without a hint of dishonesty.

“No, I don’t think that’s it,” Belphegor said. He wouldn’t allow it. To feel sympathy for the devil. Not after losing what mattered most, and what may’ve been his only chance to correct it. He needed to be the one hurting in this situation and needed Lucifer to be as one-dimensional as possible. “What scares you is the thought of disappointing Diavolo, isn’t it?”

Lucifer was…silent. For what, Belphegor wasn’t sure. Was the answer truly that complicated? Maybe there wasn’t anything more to his brother. Maybe he had become nothing more than a loyal lap dog.

Belphegor pounded his foot against the attic’s ancient floorboards, them rattling as if to collapse. “Say something Lucifer,” he yelled. “The old Lucifer wasn’t like this. He wasn’t afraid of what someone else thought of him. He wasn’t pathetic like that.”

“You’re free to think whatever you want, Belphegor. Also…” Lucifer turned towards the attic door, his voice low and solemn, “I’d say you changed as well.”

“Lucifer!” Yet Lucifer would never turn. Never question any part of himself that held weakness.

As the bars to the attic room clanked shut, Belphegor heard his brother’s footsteps trek down the towering staircase and into the house. Once again, he was left alone, spiraling into the silence of the attic.

He wouldn’t mind being tortured at all. Not at the glint of the blade as it sliced his flesh. Not at the blood that pooled from his wounds. Not even as his limbs were torn from his body or flayed alive. The rush of pain and paranoia would keep him, startlingly, sound. At least then he could see what harmed him. Give it a name, his fury. Tell himself that logically, it was ok to cry, scream, and lash about as he was now, smashing mirrors and ripping pillows to shreds.

But in this attic, this fucking horrible attic, there was no one to blame, and it left Belphegor with only his thoughts, screaming over and over: It’s your fault. It’s always been

your fault

YOUR FAULT

It’s always been

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

Not my fault. It’s not my fault!

It was a lie, of course. Your death was in motion the moment you appeared in front of him, doe-eyed and disturbingly lax for someone in your position. For all Lucifer’s scheming, he’d forgotten one fine detail: that idleness didn’t weaken sloth, but enabled it.

But it is, Belphie. It's what you did.

He didn't think you were dumb enough to believe his story. A human "just like you" who'd been captured and trapped by Lucifer, yet you proved otherwise. Even when his true identity was revealed, you continued to help him as if the threat hadn't shown itself. Things were moving about too easily; the universe truly did hate you.

No that's not...I did it for you. For us.

Admittedly, he'd wrestled in the corners of his mind about it. Argued until there was nothing left to argue. A part of him had grown to like you, strange, dull-headed thing that you were, but if he weren't to kill you, what then? Would he live his life, seeing you coddle up to his brothers? Eat from their plates and take part in their celebrations? Would you somehow charm Diavolo and have the rest of your ilk invade here? Hell forbid the fools began to fall in love with you, then he’d have to bear witness to some half-assed love story, and that he couldn't live with. So he stilled it down. Beat back the part of him that doubted his conviction. This was for Lilith, always for Lilith, and nothing more.

Oh Belphie, you knew I never wanted this. This was always about you. This was your revenge.

How he killed you was deliberate, too. Strangulation was one of the more intimate forms of death one could give. To do so was to be conscious of your victim’s suffering and to take pleasure in it, having the power of life and death weighted within one’s grip. Humans were fragile. Anything more than disembowelment would be too quick and he needed you to feel it. To know how little your life meant as he wrung every inch of it from you.

Please, I'm sorry. I didn’t know. Didn’t know what they were to you.

He admits enjoying it, laughing as the confusion mangled your face. It didn’t take much to knock you on your back, even less to pin you down. You were so weak. How you managed to survive this long was merely incompetence on his brother’s part. They were fools, too cowardly to do what needed to be done. But not him. He’d end your life and soon any hope of continuing this miserable sham of a program.

It’s not about what they were to me, Belphie. You took a life. And you can never take that back.

You withered and flailed beneath him, trying to lift yourself to no avail. A numbing high swept over Belphegor as he took it all in. The beating of your heart, the sound of wheezing lungs, the sweat that drenched your brow, the bright red of your blood. All the colors and sounds bled into a final point until he was overcome with it, twisting, clenching, enamored in the hues of your dying face. Your eyes bulged and the quakes of your death throes rumbled the floorboards. You clung to him, nails scraping the skin of his wrists. When that didn’t work, you clawed for his eyes. The desperation. The fury. He could laugh, so he does, slamming your head into the floor when you attempt to swipe at his face. Your head bounces forward, then goes limp, throat giving way to a sick crunch. He squeezes tighter, breaking through bone, through artery.

Finally, you stilled and so does he.

He assumed your death would be less monotonous, the fires of euphoria dwindling into barely an ember. A cold realization sweeps over him, sending his body to chill and his empathy to reanimate. No, he won't allow weakness. Not a moment for remorse or sorrow. He shakes them from his mind, putting it up to shock and nothing more.

He gazed at his hands, flexing them, feeling like an outsider in his own body. He sits in silence. The attic does not answer with its usual hum of wood. The house does not creak. Instead, it engulfs him in a sea of quiet, and for a moment he wades in it. Hearing his heart, his breathing, the tiny hiss of air that escapes you. For some reason, he cannot will himself to look at you longer. Your face is uncannily calm, though your neck is twisted into unrecognition, the flesh bruised and mangled.

Now, there was nothing left, but still so much to be done. He wrings you by the collar of your shirt, and it seems an eternity before he reaches the attic door. The attic steps feel smaller and out of focus, the house halls a labyrinth. He’d almost forgotten where the main entrance lay until he heard his brothers, their voices joined in a chorus of "where are they?" and "They should be" and "could be." It's the only time he smiles. Not for his brothers, though it was Beel he missed most, but because he finally, finally would have his audience.

Slowly, as he reaches the landing of the stairway, a thought inches forward. Yet this one he couldn’t shake away. Over and over it repeats itself, almost pleading:

Oh, Belphie.

Belphie.

J̸̸̷̷̴͔̪̗̱̊͑͋̈̚͜ J̸̗͑u̸̼̎s̴̬̔t̴̗͌ ̵̅͜w̵̪͘h̸̥̀a̶̮̓t̵͕̅ ̷̱͊h̸̼͝a̴̛̪v̶͕͆e̷̫̍ ̵̩̈́y̶̲͝o̶̫̕u̷̞̍ ̷͉͌d̵̦̐ọ̸́n̸̪̽e̷̫̓?̸̡́

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

Belphegor lurched forward, sweat chilling him to the bone. His dreams were becoming too vivid for his liking. In the corner of his eye sat a large figure, blanketed in the cover of darkness. He blinked. Was he still dreaming?

“What...I...Beel?” He spoke, gasping for breath. How long had he been sitting there?

“It's ok,” Beelzebub said. He sat on the edge of Belphegor’s bed, stroking his shoulder as if to still the chills away. “You had a bad dream.”

“It wasn’t a dream,” Belphegor choked, words rushing from his mouth,” I did it I did all of it I killed Lilith and then I killed them and I…I…“

“Just breathe, Belphie.” But there was nothing Beelzebub could say or do, only wait until the torturous spell was over.

Belphegor placed his hand to his chest, heart beating as if it were going to burst from him and go running off into the world.

In and out. In and out. It didn't help his breathing much, but it made him focus on something other than the panic. Everything felt so heavy like the sky had fallen upon his shoulders.

"It's all...my fault," Belphegor heaved, “my fault.”

In a way, he should be grateful. Lilith lived a long, happy life and that’s all he could ask for. Still, it all felt like a dream and in that moment, he’d forgotten where he was. That the Devildom, despite its idiosyncrasies, was a punishment. That they were damned and whatever fate held for them was often cruel and rarely giving. He knew they were uncomfortable at the party, could feel their quickened breaths rising in an off-tune chorus of sheltered panic. He should’ve helped them, walked them through their spell. Instead, he froze, feeling the judgment heavy in the room, the waves of anger and disappointment hitting him in a heated haze. He watched you run away and with it, his redemption.

“That’s not true, Belphie. Don't blame yourself. If anything...” Beelzebub paused, and Belphegor listened between breaths for the words that never came.

He was about to blame himself again, he thought, yet he could not will himself to assure him otherwise, his breaths still too quick and sharp. Instead, Belphegor buried himself into his twin. If he could not use words, he’d use his actions. Surely Beel, who wrapped his brother in a tight hug, would understand him. Beelzebub, after all, was but a wall to Belphegor’s emotions. Allowing his tears and agony to fall upon him, but never breaking himself. Instead, Beelzebub sat in silence, and together, they rocked each other through the darkness, waiting on the morning hours to break the curse that was Belphegor’s anguish.

Surely, you’d forgive him, he thought. That night at the party meant nothing. That disgusted look you gave him meant nothing.  

[covid-safer-hotties]

Also preserved on our archive

A lot of good sources linked in the original article!

By Bruce Mirken

As the dangers of Long COVID become more recognized, the country's going backwards on preventing new infections.

While I’m far from the only person worried about Long COVID and our society’s general inclination to look away and pretend it’s not there, people like me certainly feel badly outnumbered. It’s beginning to feel reminiscent of how people with AIDS and their loved ones felt circa 1986—and maybe it’s time for the same kind of response.

For those of you lucky enough not to have lived through that era, by the end of 1986, AIDS had killed nearly 25,000 Americans, but president Ronald Reagan had yet to speak the word “AIDS.” His press secretary had joked about it and the White House press corps laughed. While individual scientists were doing important work, the bureaucracies running the NIH and FDA seemed very much to be in business-as-usual mode. Because the casualties had largely been gay men and injection drug users, it seemed like no one with any power cared whether we lived or died.

So, a group of New Yorkers – mostly gay men – decided it was time to start raising hell. Calling themselves ACT UP, they disrupted the New York Stock Exchange and, as chapters sprang up nationwide, they staged protests that shut down the FDA and NIH. Eventually, people like Anthony Fauci began to see they had a point. I joined the Los Angeles ACT UP chapter in 1988 and ended up getting arrested half a dozen times in protests at the LA federal building, the County Board of Supervisors and the U.S. Capitol, among others. We won major improvements in HIV/AIDS care in the Los Angeles County health system, which cared for thousands of people with AIDS who had no health insurance. When I landed in San Francisco in 1993, I connected with ACT UP Golden Gate.

Here I am (with my late boyfriend Tim at the left) at one of the protests in that L.A County healthcare campaign. Most of my closest friends from that era have been dead for decades.

I get that COVID has played out very differently than HIV/AIDS. AIDS ramped up slowly and seemed not to affect “normal” people until it killed closeted gay movie and TV star Rock Hudson in 1985, and even then officials largely looked the other way. Only scientific breakthroughs in the 1990s finally stemmed the tide of death. In contrast, the much more highly transmissible SARS-CoV-2 virus came on fast and furious, turning Americans’ lives upside-down almost immediately.

But now, we’ve arrived at what seems in some ways like an eerily similar place. When needed precautions to curb a highly infectious airborne virus spurred frustration and political pushback, officials largely threw up their hands and gave up. Even measures that don’t involve mandates or restrictions on behavior have mostly either been dropped or never happened in the first place.

LONG COVID’S GROWING TOLL

Unfortunately, the virus hasn’t gone away, even if the initial wave of mass death has receded. In August, as a summer surge peaked, US COVID-19 deaths exceeded 1,000 per week, though the latest September data suggests the numbers have begun declining toward pre-surge levels, when deaths were generally in the 300-400 per week range. That’s still equal to a 9/11 every eight to 10 days. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention tracking of SARS-CoV-2 levels in wastewater—probably the best data on US viral prevalence now that cases aren’t being reliably tracked—showed 15 states with “very high” levels and another 19 rated as “high” as of Sept. 19.

But COVID is not just a matter of cases and deaths. The disease’s long-term effects have disabled millions of Americans, and the numbers keep growing with each new wave of infection. An updated review published in Nature Medicine puts the current global number of Long COVID sufferers at 400 million and estimates the worldwide economic impact at a staggering $1 trillion.

We now have plenty of people experiencing repeated SARS-CoV-2 infections. The good news, if you can call it that, is that these reinfections may produce fewer new cases of Long Covid than a person’s first infection – but they absolutely produce some, and the Omicron variants circulating in the last year or two seem to produce more Long Covid than earlier viral varieties. Every time you get COVID, you roll the dice with your health – maybe for the rest of your life.

If I sound alarmed, well, I am. As longtime readers may know, I have some first-hand experience with Long COVID, though in milder form than many experience. My January 2022 infection left me with peripheral neuropathy—painful nerve damage—in my legs and feet. It’s incurable and nearly impossible to treat, as conventional pain drugs don’t help. I will likely never live another day without pain and walking more than six or seven blocks at a stretch is a struggle. I used to enjoy hiking, but will probably never do it again. Still, I don’t have the more debilitating symptoms like crushing fatigue or dysautonomia—disruption of the part of the nervous system that controls automatic functions like heartbeat, blood pressure, digestion and breathing—that afflict some Long COVID sufferers. Lots of people have it way worse than I do.

We know that COVID can have lasting impacts on many parts of the body, including the brain. A recent study of 52 COVID survivors—about half with mild to moderate initial illness and half with more severe disease—found that compared to healthy controls, both groups “had a significantly higher score of cognitive complaints involving cognitive failure and mental fatigue” 27 months after their original illness, with no significant difference based on the severity of that initial illness. On a series of tests, researchers found “changes in brain function” that may explain the reported problems.

Just as scary, a study of people aged 65 and up just published in the Journal of Alzheimer’s Disease reports that “people with COVID were at significantly increased risk for new diagnosis of Alzheimer’s disease within 360 days after the initial COVID diagnosis.” This review of the medical records of over six million patients found that the risk escalated with advancing age. As with many of these long-term impacts, the mechanisms involved remain unclear.

Survivors of an initial SARS-CoV-2 infection also have increased rates of high blood pressure, now documented in multiple studies. High blood pressure increases your risk of deadly cardiovascular complications like heart attack and stroke.

I can’t help but wonder whether these issues have affected me, but there’s no way to be sure. My blood pressure, well-controlled for a dozen years with a very low dose of medication, began ratcheting upward about a year and a half ago, necessitating three medication adjustments since then. I’m also definitely more forgetful than I was, mostly little things like walking into a room and forgetting why I went there. But those things can happen to older people with or without COVID, and it’s hard to know cause-and-effect in a given individual.

But I sure as hell know I don’t want to get this virus again and risk these and other issues getting worse. Unfortunately, avoiding it is getting harder by the day, and neither government at any level nor public health authorities seem to care.

PREVENTION? WHAT PREVENTION?

While there’s some evidence that the antiviral drug Paxlovid can reduce the likelihood of Long COVID if administered early enough, the results so far are mixed and not overwhelming. The best way to avoid Long COVID is to not get infected in the first place. As a society, we’ve pretty much stopped trying.

The government is still encouraging vaccination, as it should. But it’s been clear for some time that while the vaccines are very good at reducing the chance of severe illness and death if you get infected, they offer only limited protection against getting infected in the first place. “Vax and relax” can prevent mass death, but it can’t prevent mass infection and an ever-growing number of cases of Long COVID, even if most people get vaccinated. And vaccination rates have been declining for a while, with a new Ohio State University survey reporting that only 43% of U.S. adults have gotten or plan to get the new COVID-19 shot.

And in a bit of absolute madness, Florida’s Ron DeSantis-appointed Surgeon General Joseph Ladapo has actually advised against use of the newly updated mRNA vaccines. In a post on Mastodon, Yale epidemiologist Gregg Gonsalves called this “beyond irresponsible. It is malpractice.”

Ladapo is an outlier, but even his saner colleagues around the country downplay the fact that we don’t have to limit ourselves to vaccination. It’s an airborne virus, so there are two main ways to stop it from spreading: 1) Get the virus out of the air, or at least reduce its concentration to a very low level, and 2) Protect yourself from breathing in any virus that’s in the air around you. We know how to do both.

Masking works, but the type of mask matters. As the Mayo Clinic notes, “Respirators such as nonsurgical N95s give the most protection. KN95s and medical masks provide the next highest level of protection. Cloth masks provide less protection.” Two and a half years ago, a CDC study found that those who reported regularly wearing an N95 or KN95 respirator in indoor public settings had an 86% lower risk of catching COVID-19.

Recently, during my first return visit to San Francisco after moving in early 2022, I met my nieces for lunch at the Ferry Plaza. It was a Saturday, Farmers Market day, and the place was jammed. In three-plus hours I saw no more than half a dozen people wearing any sort of mask, and only a couple were N95s. In my new hometown of Hilo, masking is only slightly more common. At the supermarket, I see barely 10% of customers and staff in some sort of mask. In some venues, it’s less.

A recent Ipsos survey found that half of Americans believe they’ll never get COVID again. Only 20% described themselves as “trying to stay as safe as possible.”

None of this is a surprise—people are simply responding to the messages they get from the people supposedly leading on health issues. The CDC promotes vaccination but barely talks about masking anymore; it acknowledges the value of indoor air quality but doesn’t seem to be doing much about it. In interviews, CDC Director Mandy Cohen regularly urges vaccination but almost never brings up masking or air quality and says little about Long Covid. Political leaders mostly talk about COVID in the past tense and pat themselves on the back for a job well done in prior years. The result is what you’d expect: Most Americans now treat COVID like a common cold, disregarding most precautions and not bothering to test when they get sick.

Back in 2022, when public policy on COVID was still relatively sane, the Biden administration published indoor air quality guidance and made congressionally-approved funds available that “that can be used in schools, public buildings, and other settings to improve indoor air quality.” It’s unclear exactly how much of that money has been used and for what, although some school systems have definitely made HVAC upgrades. But we’ve never had either enforceable indoor air standards or a coordinated plan to implement them. As Science noted in July, “The COVID-19 pandemic has clearly shown the vulnerability of society to the spread of infectious diseases. At the same time, with frequent outbreaks in elder care facilities and school classrooms, it became clear that it was a fatal mistake to largely neglect the recommendations of scientists and engineers regarding minimum standards for ventilation and indoor air quality.”

In any case, those federal dollars were aimed at schools and public buildings. It’s been left entirely to the private sector to do, or not do, anything to reduce airborne pathogens in supermarkets, theaters, clubs, malls and other privately owned spaces. Local groups like Chicago’s Clean Air Club and Austin’s Clear the Air ATX have tried to fill the gap by lending HEPA filters and other clean air equipment to arts and performance venues and other gathering places.

A RADICAL IDEA: DO WHAT WORKS

We know what to do. As Clean Air Club founder Emily Dupree and co-author Shelby Speier wrote in Sick Times in May, “We possess the technology to make public spaces safer. Studies show HEPA air purification and far-UVC lamps drastically reduce the number of airborne pathogens in a room and therefore lessen the likelihood of COVID-19 transmission. When combined with other layers of protection, these tools have the potential to finally make our shared spaces more accessible during an airborne pandemic.”

A key word here is accessible. Failure to address indoor air quality and other prevention measures makes public spaces seriously dangerous for those at highest risk, including the elderly, the immunocompromised and those with long-term health issues, including Long Covid.

Such simple, factual messages are rarely heard in official statements about COVID. “What I find the most frustrating about official handling of COVID and prevention is the lack of care, education, and honoring the science around COVID,” comments Clear the Air ATX founder and Long Covid activist Katie Drackert. “Telling people to ‘stay home when they feel sick’ for a virus that spreads asymptomatically? Well, they are just straight up ignoring science.”

Admirable as they are, the small, volunteer-driven efforts of groups like Drackert’s and Dupree’s are not remotely comparable to the scale of the problem. For now, people must take matters into their own hands. “In the year 2024, people still need to be wearing a well fitted KN95 or above for optimal communal and individual protection,” Drackert says. In the absence of reliable information about air quality in indoor spaces, she suggests getting a portable air quality monitor, which can be reasonably affordable. “High CO₂ levels indicate poor ventilation, which may lead to higher concentrations of aerosols that could contain the virus,” she explains. “Some air quality monitors track particulate matter (PM2.5 and PM10), which are small airborne particles. While COVID is smaller than these particles, high PM levels may indicate poor indoor air quality.”

Most of us can’t entirely avoid being in spaces with poor air quality, and that leaves us with masking, which the country has largely abandoned. Worse, we’re starting to see bans on face coverings in public spaces being enacted—for example, in Nassau County, New York, and North Carolina.

These laws typically contain exceptions for people masking for health reasons, but, as New Jersey’s Star-Ledger noted in a recent editorial opposing a proposed mask ban, “t leaves it up to the cops to decide whether someone has a legitimate medical reason for wearing a mask at a public gathering. “How will they know that? It’s subjective. And based on past experience, we know what that means: Police will disproportionately stop and question Black and brown people, who have also been the most likely to continue wearing masks to protect against COVID-19.” It’s hard to imagine a more demented public policy than making disease prevention illegal. And it’s not hard at all to imagine a COVID-19 prevention framework that would make a meaningful difference without causing a nationwide freakout: Encourage masking. Even if mask mandates are a political non-starter, there’s still plenty we can do. First, officials can talk about it and actively encourage people to wear high-quality protection like N-95s when in busy, indoor spaces. They can remind people of its importance—that COVID is not over, not just a cold, and that even a “mild” case can change your life forever. Federal, state and local governments could distribute N-95s or KN-95s free or at minimal cost. Get serious about indoor air purification. Build on what the Biden administration started a few years ago: Develop medically informed, enforceable indoor air quality standards and create a verification system so that people know when a building they enter meets them. Start with public buildings and the largest, busiest private venues, like sports arenas, concert halls and theaters, and move on from there. Give business owners generous technical and financial support in meeting those standards, and a reasonable amount of time in which to do it. While this program is ramping up, fund the local organizations now struggling with limited resources to fill the gap. None of this is that difficult. It’s not even that expensive when you consider that the federal government is in the process of spending $634 billion to upgrade nuclear weapons that with any luck will never be used. What’s missing is political will, and that won’t be there until people scream bloody murder. That’s why I think it may be time for a new version of ACT UP focused on COVID-19. The issues are somewhat different, but less so than you might think. While the original ACT UP focused a lot on research, treatment and care, it also addressed prevention. ACT UP chapters around the country started syringe exchange programs, handed out condoms at high schools, and sometimes succeeded in shaming the system into doing the right thing. And of course, there are issues to tackle around Long Covid research that I haven’t addressed here, but which I will try to cover in a future piece. The fundamental problem is much the same as people with AIDS faced in 1986: a system stuck in neutral, politicians stuck in denial, and a public closing their eyes, covering their ears and shouting, “I don’t hear you!” The first task must be to break the system–and the broader population, as much as possible–out of its present inertia, complacency and denial. I honestly don’t know whether ACT UP tactics like occupying the CDC and disrupting state and local health commission meetings will have the same effect they did decades ago, but at this point I don’t know what else to try. Nothing good lies at the end of our current path.

[speaknowworldtour]

“i tell you that i think i’m falling back in love with you” // “who’s gonna stop us from waltzing back into rekindled flames if we know the steps anyway”

“stitching ‘we were just kids, babe’. i said ‘i don’t mind it takes time’”// “and you said you’d come and get me but you were 25 and the shelf life of those fantasies has expired”

“starry eyes sparking up my darkest night” // “i thought i was better safe than starry eyed”

“your touch bought forth an incandescent glow” // “i felt aglow like this never before and never since”

“i’d die for you in the same way, if i first saw your face in the 1500s off in a foreign land… we would’ve been timeless” // “if you know it in one glimpse, it’s legendary”

“and when we go crashing down we come back every time” // “never quite buried”

“you paint me a blue sky and go back and turn it to rain” // “you lowdown boy you stand up guy”

“but it lies and it lies and it lies a million little times” // “you said i’m the love of your life about a million times”

“clear blue water high tide came and bought you in” // “who’s gonna tell me the truth when you blew in with the winds of fate”

“for a moment i was heaven-struck” // “and told me i reformed you”

“your integrity makes me seem small. you paint dreamscapes on the wall.” // “when your impressionist paintings of heaven turned out to be fakes”

“if you never looked my way i would’ve stayed on my knees and i damn sure never would’ve danced with the devil” // “well you took me to hell too”

“and all at once you are the one i have been waiting for” // “and all at once the ink bleeds”

“forever is the sweetest con” // “a conman sells a fool a get love quick scheme”

“you showed me colours you know i can’t see with anyone else” // “but i felt a hole like this never before and ever since”

“i like shiny things but i’d marry you with paper rings” // “and i wouldn’t marry me either” // “give you my wild give you a child” // “you shit talked me under the table talking rings and talking cradles”

“you would’ve been the one if you were a better man” // “i wish i could unrecall how we almost had it all”

“but if he’s a ghost then i can be a phantom” // “dancing phantoms on the terrace” // “my beloved ghost and me sitting in a tree d-y-i-n-g” // “can we watch our phantoms like watching wild horses”

“it must be counterfeit. i think there’s been a glitch” // “i can’t get out of bed cause something counterfeit’s dead”

“in my defence i have none, for digging up the grace another time” // “should’ve let it stay buried”

“the coward claimed he was a lion” // “you said i needed a brave man then proceeded to play him”

“i’m combing through the braids of lies” // “was any of it true?”

“you see me in hindsight tangled up with you all night burning it down” // “our field of dreams engulfed in fire your arsons match your somber eyes”

“and i’m never gonna love again” // “and i’ll still see it until i die you’re the loss of my life”

[my-own-walker]

what difference does it make?

THIS GIF I JUST. BRRRRRRRR. MAKES MY PEA BRAIN GO BRRRR.

summary: ghost bf tate and y/n find comfort in each other in this fucked up world. (y/n doesn't know he's dead yet. violet doesn't exist, obv). this story is based loosely on the song 'what difference does it make?' by the smiths. felt fitting.

warnings: tate langdon x fem!reader, heavy angst, mentions of sh, murder, and harm.

+++

Tate's POV

The devil will find work for idle hands to do.

'I'm sorry I can't be who you need me to be. All I can do is be here,' I cried. Screwing my eyes shut and balling my fists, I began to sob.

I couldn't take it anymore. The women of this house. The things they required of me. I didn't want to be evil. I didn't want to do what I was doing. I was so confused. So lost.

I would be overcome by this feeling. This white-hot sensation would sear through my brain, stealing my vision and making my knees weak. The next thing I knew, I would be back where I started. Minutes, sometimes hours later. Tears in my eyes.

I stole and I lied, and why? Because you asked me to!

I would hear of the awful things I'd done through the voices around me. The other people that were trapped here would sing my praises for killing, murdering, stealing, whatever. Sometimes I would wake up from the fits in the middle of my horrible acts. Looking down and seeing pools of red and faces in agony. I didn't do this. I would think. But now I know it was me. It was all my fault.

Why me? Why do I have to ruin the lives of the people around me? I just want to be a good person. I'm only 17. A kid.

For we have been through hell and high tide / I can surely rely on you

She moved into the house. She was the only salvation I had. Her love for me proved to me that I wasn't a monster. I was more than just some pawn in this house's game. I wasn't on this Earth to simply cause harm.

I pretended to "accidentally" throw a ball through her window one day when her parents weren't home. She rushed over to the window and looked out at me, a look of shock and fright on her face. I looked up apologetically. My best puppy-dog-eyed performance.

'I'm sorry ma'am!' I quipped. My hand was resting above my eyes to shield the sun.

'Ma'am...?' she scoffed. 'Do I really look that old?' She rolled her eyes.

'Uh- no? You're just- I- I'm sorry. I'm Tate,' I replied looking down at my shoes. Bashful. Nice.

'Y/N.' she replied, crossing her arms sarcastically. 'You fucking broke my window.'

'I know...I-'

'This is a new house, my parents will kill me.'

'Oh my god, I had no idea,' I played dumb.

'Do you want your ball back at least?' she smirked, holding the perpetrator up demonstratively.

'Yes, please,' I said, thinking I blew it. That was the wrong 'in' I guessed. The wrong way to get her to love me.

'Then you'll have to come get it,' she smirked and walked away from the window.

Well, I'm still fond of you

From then on I was a regular fixture in her room. I helped her dad fix the window, just to show how nice of a guy I am.

She lived with her dad and stepmom. Her mother had died just a little less than a year ago, and the fat bastard was already remarried. Sick freak. I needed to protect her from him.

It was a car accident that took her. She tried merging off of the highway at the same time as another driver was trying to merge onto the highway. She side-swiped them and her car flipped. The driver's side was crushed.

'I could have been in the car with her that day,' Y/N later explained. 'She asked me to go get groceries with her and I said no, and then she died.'

My heart breaks for her, it really does.

She hurts herself, too. I watched her do it one time. She didn't know I was here. I cried as I watched her etch lines into her thighs, one at a time. She didn't wince, or cry. She just sat there, expressionless.

I tried to protect her from the people of the house. Its victims. She didn't deserve to be scared or feel the pain that they did. I kept them away from her.

Oh, my sacred one

It was three days after Y/N found her dad cheating on her stepmom. She was distant. I didn't feel like she'd want to see me. She made no attempts to contact me.

I was a sitting duck, unable to help her. In the days prior I watched her. Alone. Rotting in her room. Skipping school. Hurting herself. It was too much to bear.

On this particular day, though, I decided she needed me. As much as she was pushing me away she still needed me. And I needed her.

She didn't understand.

My conversation with Nora hadn't gone well. She was asking too much of me. Too much. And shortly after the feeling came again. I had another fit. I was overcome and powerless. The white-hot pain lit my brain on fire. And then I was standing alone in the basement again with blood on my hands. I began to sob. I needed Y/N.

I worshipped her. The softness of her cheeks. The way her hair cascaded and framed her face. The way she would cover her mouth when she smiled because she hated how it looked. The things she would wear. Her knit sweaters and black lace-up boots.

Everything she did was pure magic to me.

Her sense of humor. Her compassion. The way she feels things. So deeply. She feels with every ounce of her being. I wish I felt that, rather than utter fucking apathy all the time.

I gathered my courage and found myself in her room. She was asleep.

I made my way over to her bedside slowly, taking care not to wake her. I lowered myself onto the seat next to her and watched as the hair that covered her face moved with each breath she took. Her still form filled my stomach with butterflies and made my chest feel funny. She was so peaceful. For once, I didn't see pain on her face.

Tears sprang to my eyes yet again. How could a person be so perfect?

She must've sensed it because she stirred. Turning onto her back and stretching her arms out. Her eyes fluttered open, aimed at the ceiling. I could see it better, then. Her eyes. They were puffy and red. She'd been crying.

She turned her head slowly as she stretched again, inadvertently making herself face me. Her eyes widened, but she didn't jump. It was almost like she couldn't believe I was there.

'Tate?' she croaked.

'Hey, beautiful,' I replied, relieved that she wasn't immediately angry with my being there.

She cracked a small smile.

'I was worried about you so I came over. I hope I'm not bothering you...' I continued.

'No- no Tate not at all,' Y/N stammered, propping herself up slightly. 'I actually hoped you'd come. I didn't realize that after all this time I just...never got your number. I've been needing you but had no way to contact you. You've always just been...here, I don't know. I never thought to ask.' She laughed, sadly.

Shit. I thought. I need to figure that out somehow. Or come clean. Fuck.

'It's okay now, though. You're here. I haven't been able to cope at all,' she trailed off, looking out the window behind her headboard. 'What time is it even? I've been sleeping so much...'

'It doesn't matter,' I said, 'if you need rest, you should rest.'

'I'm so tired...'

'Me too, Y/N...me too,' I sighed. I didn't even realize I had started crying until Y/N shot up in her bed and crawled over to the edge to take my face in her hands. She wiped the tears from under my eyes with the pads of her thumbs. Then, she kissed my cheeks, kissing the rest of the tears away.

'Rough day, huh?' she asked.

'It's a goddamn filthy, fucked up world we live in, Y/N,' I managed. 'I've missed you.'

She motioned with her head for me to join her on the bed. She even turned up the covers slightly so I could crawl under, but I didn't. That would take too much time. I needed to be in her embrace immediately.

I laid on my side as she wrapped her arms around my chest. She laid her head atop mine softly and sighed.

'I'm so tired,' I uttered.

She simply stroked my hair.

'I love you, Tate,' she muttered after a while. Electricity shot through my body. I was for one, all-encompassing moment, alive again. She loved me. And I loved her.

Oh, I'm too tired / I'm so sick and tired / And I'm feeling very sick and ill today

+++

Okay, that's all, I guess. My brain won't allow me to write more for some reason. Let me know what you'd like more of and I'll do it. This has been fun so far.

[aneliwriter]

Warnings- SMUT! Cussing, Jealousy issues, Possessiveness, Disturb scene, Toxic relationship.. Dark Miguel O'Hara

NOT SUITABLE FOR MINORS!!

18+ MATURE READERS PLEASE!!

I jumped on the miguel o'hara train.. So climb aboard!! He is all over my FYP on tik tok so I gave in 😂

Enjoy! :)

Full story on Wattpad- @alexaaneli

Might be some grammar errors (sorry)

I gasp to the new angle and i hold on to him harder not even caring that one of the bed legs just snapped.

I'll just put 2 hardcover books to stable the bed.. like I did to the other 2 bed legs that snapped.

I'm lost in euphoria... Better yet, I'm lost in Miguel O'Hara.

We started our "Situation ship" a month ago, I was walking home one night and this burglar cornered me in the alleyway, I thought i was done for, I was too afraid to fight but before he could even take a step, A large, Tall brown haired man sunk his teeth into his neck and rip his flesh apart.

I felt like i couldn't breathe but i couldn't take my eyes off of him, I was hooked.

I couldn't look away, I saw how he just tore him apart, snapping his neck in half and i didn't run, Hell i didn't even flinch.

I didn't want to run

I couldn't.. My feet wouldn't move.

They didn't want to move

Once he was done, He stared at me with his dark dead eyes as i stared back at him all bloody, something inside of me sparked, it was like he took my breath away.

I didn't know how i could be attracted to such darkness, but I immediately was to him.

I was attracted to him like i get attracted to fictional characters.

A fucking simp

An unhealthy obsession but i didn't care.

I just knew i would be on my knees for him.. Gladly

Any innocence i had, It was fucking gone.

The innocence was gone.

Gone like the wind

He already had me wrapped around his finger, He instantly had me in a chokehold and he didn't even knew my name... Yet.

I was able to thank him quickly before he disappeared into the night.

I couldn't tell if he was a vampire or a spider, somehow he seemed both.

He had a similar suit design to the friendly neighborhood spiderman but he didn't have once ounce of friendly in him.

And he was so much more well built.. Definitely.

Jesus those fucking arms.. His back...

He was Spiderman on steroids with that God like-figure on him.

That ass.. Just absolute perfection

But when i got home, I was about to get a surprise of my life.

As i was getting into my nightgown, I felt eyes lasering at me. I turn around and he was at my window, staring right at me, standing.. waiting to be invited.

He had followed me home.

But it wouldn't have mattered, He had this hungry stern look he was going to come in.. Invitation or not, He was going to step through that window.

And he did, I opened the window, letting this stranger in without a doubt in my mind.

He could have killed me and i wouldn't even had cared.

I wanted to let him in

I wanted him to ruin me and he did.. Over and over and over.

And he has been coming through that window every night since then, same time, no exchange of words, just strictly animal crazed hot sex.

I'm not allowed to ask questions, what he does, or his past.

I was only given his name and that's it, That's all i know of him... just his name and his determination of not making me able to walk for days.

Disabled.. almost.

I close my eyes as my body goes limp, My orgasm hitting me like a high tide, He curses in Spanish but it sounds like music to my ears.

"Que Maravilla." He grunts as he spills inside me. I moan to his words, to his sultry tone, I will never be able to hear those words the same.. ever again.

Translation- Wonderful

I need paddles to bring me back to life as my soul just left my body.

I wrap my arms around his wide broad shoulders but i can't get all around as he quickly gets up and starts to put his suit back on.

His ass is absolute perfection but his...

"See you tomorrow." He deadpans, not giving me another look.

He exits through the unlock window that i haven't locked ever since that night.

"Bye." I say softly but he's already gone.

I take a deep breath as i prepare myself to find the strength to somehow get into the bathtub.

I pull out my "Just got Migueled" aftercare bag. I run the bath to warm temp and i pour lavender Epsom salt.

I wipe my neck that has a hand printed on with a wipe that will help with the bruising. I rub some ointment on there as well and a few he left on my hips and his handprints on my butt.

I dip my toe in to check the temp, I start to get in and i hiss as the water hits my soreness and bruises but it goes away after a second.

I sink back and i let the remedy heal me so i can be ready to get ruined all over again tomorrow.

Cant' wait

NEXT DAY,

I stare at the clock, blinking a few times as if that would magically make him appear.

I glance at the window and back at the clock.

9:45 P.M

I bite my lip, It's been 15 minutes and he hasn't shown up. He's never late, 9:30 on the dot, every night.

Maybe he's not coming?

A part of me falls sad as i might not see him tonight but he is a superhero after all.

He's probably out fighting crime

Or beating the shit out of someone

He looks like a superhero but he feels more like a anti hero.. A nomad.

The ringing of my phone yanks me out of my thoughts.

"Hello." I answer.

"Hey! What are you doing tonight!" My friend slurs.

"I'm busy." I say my usual line.

"Again?" She groans.

"You've been busy a lot lately, Come out to the club! You never hang out with me anymore." She whines.

"I don't know Lilly." I bite my lip as i stare at the clock again reading 9:50 pm.

What if Miguel shows up and I'm not here?

I never leave anywhere at night, I make sure I'm home in time before he shows up

What if he gets mad that i left?

Will he care?

He isn't my Boyfriend but...

But what?

I got nothing

"What club?" I close my eyes as i internally groan, hopefully i won't regret this.

I'll be sad if he showed up and i wasn't here, He's the highlight of my day.

He's not going to show

"Yay!! Okay I'm at Thriller's! Just say my name to the bouncer, He'll let you in."

"Okay, I'll be there in ten." I say quickly before i change my mind.

I pick out a dress and heels, I dab some eyeshadow on and i put some eyeliner on and i paint my lips red. I put my hair into a high ponytail as i was too lazy to curl it.

I grab my phone and keys from my bed, I look up the window seeing no one.

I sigh as i look at the clock 10:15 P.M

Definitely not going to show up

The bouncer steps aside and lets me in, I walk through the stuffy hot sweaty bodies crowd trying to look for Lilly.

I push my way through as i spot her.

"Lilly!" I call out through the loud music that's blasting through the speakers.

"Hey you made it!" She smiles cheek to cheek as she hugs me.

"C'mon let's get some drinks in you!" She pushes me to the bar.

"Just one drink." I say sternly.

3 drinks later,

"I'm glad i came out." I say tipsy as i sway my hips around letting the music guide my hips.

"Me too!" She shouts happily as she dances with me.

I tense up as i feel a pair of hands wrap around my waist, I turn around but my hope deflates as i don't see the person i was hoping for.

"Hi." A stranger greets me.

"Hi." I say politely.

"Wanna dance with me?" He smiles flirtatiously.

"Sure." I shrug my shoulders.

I start to dance with this stranger, I close my eyes and my brain lingers to the man who's in my head 24/7.

I imagine that the hands that are on my waist right now are Miguel's big firm ones and that I'm lean against his large muscular chest.

That his hot breath is the one that's hitting my nape.

I roll my eyes as i feel something vibrate against me but it vibrates again and i realize it's my phone. I pull my phone out of my purse as the stranger keeps dancing behind me.

My heart drops and i try to adjust my eyes making sure they're not deceiving me to the name of the person who just texted me.

I didn't even know he had my number.

Miguel

His hands off you.. Now.

I immediately pull away and the stranger gives me a confused look.

"S-Sorry i have to go." I say.

"Whatever." He shrugs his shoulders and goes to dance with Lilly.

I look up trying to find him but i don't see him but i know he's watching me.

I can feel him

His dead eyes lasering through me

I look down as i get another text,

Miguel

You have 5 minutes to get home, If i beat you there, There will be no remorse.

I look up and i spin around trying to see if i can spot him in the crowd.

I get another text

Miguel

Time starts now.

I start to run, Not even saying bye to Lilly, I just start to run like hell.

I run out to the streets, taking off my heels and i start to sprint.

Hoping i can beat Miguel home

Hoping

That man has a strong stamina.

I look up as i run and i start to panic as i hear the wind rushing above me as something is running above me, on top of the buildings.

Miguel

I widen my eyes as i can hear him, his grunts as he runs. He's running so fast like a Damm predator about to catch his prey and swallow it whole.

I practically beg my feet to move faster, even though i can't beat his speed but i will definitely try to get home fast as i can.

I swing the door open almost falling in of how fast i came in.

I put my hands over my knees trying to catch up with my breathing.

I freeze as i feel the wind rustling in through the window.

Shit

The light is turned off but it doesn't need to be on in order for me to know that the window is wide open.

"Did you know if i bite someone it paralyzes them?" A deep dark voice chills in the dark.

My heart stops as i realized i fucked up.

He turns on the desk lamp and i see him sitting in the chair nonchalantly.

I gulp as i try to figure out what to say.

"Um-

"Do you wanna find out." He deadpans menacingly as he strides over to me.

I gulp with my eyes widened as i walk back till my back hits the wall.

"I-I-w-waited t-then m-my f-friend-

"Oh wow huh huh-" He smiles before punching the wall right next to me.

I gulp again as i shut my trap up.

"You don't dance with anyone and you certainly don't let anyone touch what is MINE." He says sternly as he's inches away from my lips.

His eyes are usually dark but right now somehow they're a shade darker.

"I-I'm s-sorry, I-I wasn't even going to go but i didn't think you were going to come and i haven't seen my friend in a while and i didn't think anything of it"

-I just keep rambling.

He sighs as he pinches the bridge of his nose "Can you not talk for a second?" He sasses sarcastically.

I shut up and i nodded.

He grips my jaw, making sure i give him my full and undivided attention.

"Tu eres mia." He rasps slowly.

Translation- You are mine

"Solo mia."

Translation- Only mine

I slowly nod as i look into his eyes, i should be scared, i am but I'm more turned on than anything.. but also scared.

"Say it." He demands.

"Soy tuya." I don't even have to think about it.

Translation- I'm yours

"Asi es." He smirks.

Translation- That's right

My legs are about fold to his devilish smirk

"Now that we cleared that up." He looks into my eyes and somehow he gets even closer to my face.

"On your knees." He soothes.

I instantly drop to my knees.

I look up to Miguel having a satisfying smile on his face.

He pulls his suit down and his hard length sprung free.

"Well what are you waiting for? You know what to do." He smirks.

I nod and i wrap my hand around him and i start to stroke him, I open up wide and i take his tip swirling my tongue around it, I take all of him in as i hollowed out my cheeks making him grunt in pleasure.

He wraps my ponytail around his hand as he pushes me further in.

"Fuck, Just like that." He throws his head back as he groans.

I bob my head up and down on his long shaft, My mascara running as i shed tears.

I wander my hand down to my sex as i need to relieve some tension.. It's killing me.

"Don't you even fucking dare." He deadpans as he still has head thrown back.

I whimper in protest and that makes him smile in pleasure.

"Stay still, I'm going to fuck your mouth." He says lustfully.

I stay still and he thrusts into my mouth and i take the beating that's happening.

Till my jaw locks

He moans as he grips the back of my head.

"Fuck." He rolls his eyes as he thrusts sloppy.

"Get ready Baby, I'm going to give you every single drop." He smiles.

I'm ready Daddy

"Fuck fuck fuck!" He shudders as he paints my throat white.

He taps any excess on my tongue, i lick up all the excess.

He doesn't give me any time to think, he picks me up an a swift movement.

I wrap my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist.

He devours my lips, he catches my lips and he tugs it and playfully bites it. I part my lips and he sticks his tongue in and i close my lips in.

"Open." He says darkly.

I open my mouth and he spits into my mouth.

My arousal grows and grows.

"Dejeme ver." He whispers.

Translation- Let me see

I open again showing him i swallowed.

"Good girl." He smirks.

"Get ready." He smirks again.

"For what-

But i yelp before i can finish as he lifts me up higher and my legs dangle over his wide broad strong shoulders, my back leaned against the wall.

He smirks thankfully that my dress is short, giving him easy access to my wet soaking lips but that smile quickly turns to a frown and he growls "Why the fuck aren't you wearing any panties!"

"Um-

I try to talk but i gasp instead as he just dives right in, He angrily inserts his tongue inside as he starts to suck the life outta me.

"Oh my god." I moan as i throw my head back, grunting as i hit my head on the wall but i don't care.

He's a speed demon with that wicked tongue of his.

"Oh Miguel!" I scream tugging his hair as he goes deeper.

He mumbles something in spanish but it just feels vibrations.

"Yes yes yes!" I moan pathetically.

"Please, please don't stop." I beg.

"You like my tongue Baby?" He cook as he licks me.

"Y-Yes." I roll my eyes.

He grins as he flashes his white pearl fangs.

"Cum." He gives me the green light.

He holds my hips still as i start to shake as i cum all over him.

He laps all my juices, drinking all of me in.

He lies me on my back, He takes my dress off over my head.

He eyes me up and down lustfully and slightly frowning at me to the lack of no bra.

"Pose just like that because in a minute I'm going to have you screaming my name bloody murder." He smirks.

He lands his lips on mine, he starts to trail down to my jaw, my neck, shoulder blade until he ends on my breasts.

He swirls his tongue around my nipple as he tugs the other one with his hand. He takes my boob into his mouth, I moan as he starts to suck on it, He looks up to me as he takes turns sucking each boob.

He comes back up and he licks the side of my neck.

"My offer still stands.. Do you wanna find out?" He whispers.

"Do you want me to sink my teeth into your beautiful skin, numb your legs so i can fuck you as long as i want." He taunts.

"I-I don't want to be paralyzed." I whisper embarrassedly.

He chuckles as he shakes his head "Don't worry Baby, I have an antidote."

"What do you say Hermosa?" He caresses my cheek.

Translation- Beautiful

"Okay." I breathe out.

He smirks, He spread my legs and he enters in 2 strokes making the 2 of us moan.

I roll my eyes as i throw my head back.

He thrusts hard and fast just like he usually does.

Just how we like it

He wraps his hand around my throat as he pounds into me.

All you can hear is skin flapping and our moans filling up the air.

"M-Miguel!" I bite my lip down hard, so hard that i probably drew blood.

I think i did because Miguel sucks my lips and wipes the blood with his tongue.

"D-Don't stop.. S-So g-good." I murmur.

He smirks sinisterly, He lowers his head down to my neck, he kisses it softly and then he does it...

He sinks his teeth in, biting my neck as i gasp and cum at the same time.

My pupils dilate as i rode out this euphoric sensual feeling till i can't feel my legs anymore.

Till i can't feel anything anymore.

Miguel roars as he's sent to the deep end and picks up the pace and just keeps thrusting.

He doesn't stop thrusting.

I stare into his eyes as he pound and pound into me, i can't feel anything because of his bite but at the same time i do feel all of him.

I know his sensation, how he feels by heart.

Another hour or 2 so passes by and he's still thrusting until surprisingly his stamina starts to give out.

He pants as he closes his eyes shut and he spills inside me as he growls.

He collapses softly on top of me.

And the not so itsy bitsy spider falls down

"Que maravilla." He says breathless.

I wiggle my toes as i start to get my feeling back after Miguel injected me with the antidote.

He finishes putting his suit back on, He walks towards the window but he stops, clearing his throat but not turning all the way around.

I look up to him.

"I'll be gone for 3 days." He deadpans.

"O-Oh okay." I say softly.

I wish i can ask him why and where but it's not part of our agreement.

"Um be careful i suppose." I fidget nervously.

He just nods and proceeds to go out through the window.

"I might be gone for 3 days but that doesn't mean i won't be watching you." He now acknowledges me.

"I won't go out." I whisper as i nod.

"I hope not... For your sake." He taunts and i gulp.

He leaves with giving me one final smirk.

I get up to do my usual night time after care routine, I turn around to glance at the window.

"Please come back to me." I say to no one but just me in my apartment.

Thanks for reading :)

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Other books you can read of mine on wattpad:)

Mafioso Series

Mafioso Rogers. Mafioso Barnes, Mafioso Stark, mafioso scars, Mafioso Infierno

Random one shot chapters (Chris Evans and Sebastian Stan)

Fighting For Love (Dark Bucky Barnes)

Reborn by love (Sequel)

Sweet love (sugar daddy Chris evans)

Love in the Dark (Dark Steve Rogers)

Love in the light (sequel)

Invisible Chains (Dark Captain Hydra)

Dark obsession (OB)

[teamhappyme]

it only feels this raw right now

jake seresin x female!reader

word count: 2.5k

warnings: hurt/tiny comfort, none unless you count jake seresin just existing

a/n: hi, friends!! it has been, like, a year and a half since i’ve written anything and posted on here but! i’m back! i’ve been writing this for legit 8 months and finally finished this after rewriting and rethinking it so many. fucking times. shoutout to @qvid-pro-qvo for listening to me lie “I’m going to finish this today” for MONTHS and for supporting all my silly little fantasies and thoughts. this was going to be hurt/no comfort but i couldn’t deny the comfort in me, and there is potential for a part 2 if i ever decide to get motivation :) ok here it is enjoy BYE- (yes taylor swift inspired title from labyrinth leave me alone)

~~~

It was a moment you knew you’d look back on and think ‘this is when i lost everything i’ve ever loved.’

But really, you think, i never had the chance to love him.

It was never a dream of yours, to become a naval aviator. You didn’t have a family legacy to continue, natural talents guiding you, or an intangible need to be in the air. It was simply a career move to join the navy, to move into a field where women weren’t represented, and be able to go anywhere you were needed. 

It was never a dream of yours to fly F-18’s into combat, to spend hours fighting nausea, anxiety, and ejections thousands of feet into the air.

It was never a dream of yours to be invited to top gun, to compete against the best and cockiest naval aviators in the business. Fightertown was not supposed to feel like coming home for you and the small group of friends you grew close to during your decade long service to the navy.

But it was certainly never a dream of yours to fall for the guy who you knew would always leave you behind.

“The hell are you doin’ out here?” Jake yelled out to you from the other side of the deck.

Avoiding you, smartass, and your annoying habit of dropping half of the letters that make a word, was the response floating through your brain.

“C’mon, Mav’s gonna buy us another round, and if you don’t step in, we’re going to have to listen to his welcome home speech. Again.”

“I’ll be there in a minute,” high tide was rolling in, and the sound of the waves brought a smile to your face. “I’m enjoying the view.”

“It would be better if I stood right,” he moved in front of you, his broad shoulders completely blocking the ocean, smile turned up into the slightest smirk, “here.”

It was a miracle that Jake Seresin has never had his nose broken with the amount of times he’s crowded a woman’s space. And yet, the little shticks he pulled always brought a smile to your face. Something that most of your fellow aviators often rolled their eyes at.

“Funny.” you moved out of his line of sight, focusing back on the crashing tide. “Don’t wait on me, go ahead and claim your free round.”

“Hey, we’re supposed to be celebrating the fact that we all came home from that death trap mission - thanks to yours truly - not longingly staring into the abyss as you contemplate life’s greater meaning.”

“Oh, that’s right,” you smirked,  “it’s still a sore spot, being the losing quarterback in dogfight football. This view must be hard for you to look at.”

“We’re gonna go there, really?”

“You gonna stand there and pretend it doesn’t sting?” You joked as he rolled his eyes.

“Whatever,” his eyes were still on you as your smirk fell, and you looked back at the horizon. You were holding onto the railing for dear life, Jake observed, and your knuckles were beginning to turn white. “Seriously, what are you doing out here?”

“What, a woman seriously can’t enjoy this ocean view?”

“Not if that woman is you.” 

It was the slightest change of tone in his voice that got you to look over at him. Jake seresin in his civilian clothes was a rarity, and you were basking in his casual jeans and white t-shirt combination tonight. Also in rare form, his mouth in a straight line, showing you he wasn’t joking anymore. 

And neither were you.

“I’m not going back to Top Gun.”

His expression didn’t change as he replied back, “None of us are, mission’s over. We’re getting our new assignments after this furlough.”

“No, Seresin,” you began while shaking your head. “I’m not going back to Top Gun to get my assignment, or debrief the mission any further.”

His eyebrows scrunched together, trying to figure out what you were saying without actually saying it.

“I passed my papers this past week. I’m done flying.”

He took two seconds to register the information, then scoffed. 

“You can’t just be done flying in the Navy, this is the military we’re talking about. There’s rules, regulations, a thousand steps and pieces of red tape to comb through. You don’t just retire.”

“I didn’t say I was stepping away from the Navy, not yet anyway. But I’m done being a fighter pilot.”

“Are you,” Jake ran his fingers through his hair, clearly frustrated, and you had no idea why. “Are you even listening to me? You don’t tell the United States Navy you’re done, they tell you when you’re done. I don’t understand how you got your papers through, no one in their right mind is going to let a pilot as good as you just walk away. You’d have to kiss major ass of an admiral, or someone who knows an admiral or-”

He froze then, leaving his sentence unfinished as he turned to look at you. 

“Maverick?” he asked, and you couldn’t do anything besides nod. “You can’t just leave,”

“Why not?” you asked, growing annoyed by the second of his inability to accept this. 

“Because you’re a fighter pilot, a damn good one at that, and you’re just going to throw it away to be a, what, a civilian?”

“Surprised you could say the word without gagging,” you jeered, his eyes narrowing in on you.

“Listen, I’m trying to reason here with you, understand what’s going on-”

“Then ask me a fucking question instead of telling me what I can and can’t do.”

You didn’t look away from him as he came to stand next to you, that fucking smirk still on his face. He waited a few seconds, sizing you up before opening his mouth again.

“Fine. Why are you leaving?”

It was not a simple question, and it was one you have had to answer several times over the last few weeks. To Maverick, you said it was time to move on. You needed a change from the fast paced, no roots life of a naval aviator. To the admiral, you said you’d accomplished everything you wanted in your career as a fighter pilot with the Navy. He saluted you on a job well done on this latest mission. And to the transition counselor, you said the job had begun to scare you. She encouraged you to find another purpose in the Navy as your leave was to be finalized.

But none of those answers were the full truth, not even all put together. 

“Because I don’t want to sit through debriefs, or listen to the list of tactical strategies we can use, or face another deployment in a place I don’t know and people I don’t trust.”

“I don’t want to do that shit any more than you do, but I do it. I suck it up so that I can get in the air and fly. That’s what all this is about, right? Getting in the air and doing what we were born to do.”

“And that doesn’t terrify you?” you questioned. “It doesn’t terrify you that the moment you get up there you could burn into a million pieces? Get shot down in the middle of foreign air space, get stuck in a bird strike, even make a dumb mistake like run out of fuel? Cause everytime I suit up I think: is today the day my family gets a letter from the Navy, thanking me for my service and making the ultimate sacrifice?” your eyes were beginning to water, and you were desperate not to cry in front of him. “So yeah, I went to Mav and asked a big favor to get me out, and I don’t regret it. And I’m not going to let you or anyone else make me feel bad about it.”

Jake refused to look away from you, and it was making you feel the slightest bit intimidated, though you’d never admit that to him.

“Hey, Hangman,” you heard the giggly voice and could already picture the drunk, plastered smile on a petite girl Jake always went after. Looking over at the back door to the hard deck, the brunette in a slinky pink sundress and two drinks in her hand confirmed your guess. “You gonna come back in here and finish these drinks with me?”

He looked at her, muttering a ‘shit’ under his breath, and you took this as an opportunity to wipe at your eyes.

“I’ll be right there.”

You shook your head as she went back inside, and turned away from Jake. 

“Can’t go a day without a girl, can you, Hangman?” you said with a scoff. “You know what, thanks for attempting to understand my decision, but I don’t want to keep you from that lovely woman inside.”

“That’s your problem, you know. You think you’re so much better than us, with your ivy league education and moral standing, you can’t stand being lumped into a mission, let alone a group of plebes with us.”

“You got me, I’m disgusted with you all so much I risk my life for you every time I get in the air.” You shook your head, not wanting to get into an argument over this with Jake. “Just leave me alone, Seresin.”

“Not until you tell me the real reason you’re leaving the navy. Everyone’s scared shitless up there, your fear is nothing special.”

“Because I can’t do this anymore!” you relented. “I can’t go months on deployment, dreaming of the day I’m going to get back to North Island to see you, only to find that exact scenario,” you motioned to the door once again, referring to the next random woman in his life, “playing out every damn time for the last seven years.”

“I don’t… I don’t understand.” He commented, losing all his charm and ego.

“I know you don’t.” You didn’t know where to go with this.

It was never your intention to reveal your feelings for Jake, to Jake. It was something you planned on keeping tucked away for the rest of your life, minus the part where Phoenix was starting to catch on. You didn’t want to feel this way for him, but his stupid grin, and his annoying sense of humor, and the small snippets of sincerity he would reveal to you reeled you in. And you knew it was going to hurt you, continuing to watch him bounce from girl to girl in the bar you guys called home, but you had his friendship. 

Besides, a guy like Hangman would never want to settle down with a woman like you.

You watched as he looked from the ocean view, to you, back and forth as he tried to think of something to say. And damn your fucking brain for focusing on how beautiful his green eyes looked in this light. 

“Why didn’t you tell me? How was I supposed to know-”

“And what would you have done? Let me down slowly as our friends slowly start to pick sides; create awkward moments while training for a mission that almost killed us?” You shook your head, wrapping your arms around your body in an attempt to both warm up and comfort yourself. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. You’re not the reason I’m leaving. I just can’t do all of this anymore, it’s not healthy for me. And I can’t pretend to enjoy it anymore. Let’s just… go back inside and get this night over with.”

You turned to walk back inside, but Jake had to open that big mouth of his.

“Why did you assume I wouldn’t feel the same?”

“What?” Is he saying what you think he’s saying?

“You really think I enjoy coming back to North Island every year to see Rooster? To listen to Fanboy, Phoenix, and Coyote sing into the early morning? If I wanted to spend a weekend with Coyote, I sure as hell don’t need to spend a thousand dollars on a plane ticket to Fightertown.”

It was your turn to throw a confused look at Jake. Was this his way of telling you he cares about you?

“Half the reason I was up Rooster’s ass to make the team was to protect you out there. No doubt in my mind you were going to make the team, and I couldn’t let you go out there without me on your six.”

Your eyes began to water again, realization sinking in.

“Are you serious right now?”

He threw his hands in the air, “why would I choose this moment to fuck with you?”

“I just have a hard time believing you cared about me after watching you go after half of the women in this town.”

“That’s not fair-”

“I’m not trying to offend you, I’m just stating the facts, Seresin. Believe me, I don’t want to be in love with the one man who refuses to be in a relationship, but we don’t really get a choice in it now do we.”

His eyes softened, mouth dropping open the slightest bit. You furrowed your brows at him, and then remembered what you said. 

You love him.

“I told you,” you wiped away a tear that fell and took a breath, “I really can’t do this anymore.”

He moved to take a step towards you, and you took one back at the same time, keeping the distance between you. He breathed out your name, and it took everything in you not to let him close to you.

“I do believe you, on some level and I don’t know if that’s because it’s true, or I just want my feelings reciprocated-”

“It’s true.” He was adamant. Determined. Sincere. 

“But I meant what I said. I can’t be a naval aviator anymore, no matter the circumstances. I need to take the time to figure out what I want to do, who I want to be outside of here.” Your eyes began to water again as you looked at him, then to the image of your friends inside the bar, laughing the night away. “And maybe that will give us time to really see how we feel about each other.”

“It’s not going to change.” He commented, watching as his hands flexed in and out of a fist. “If it hasn’t changed over the course of five years, it’s not going to change over the course of a few months. I don’t care how much distance there is between us or how many women you put in front of me, I’m still gonna be in love with you.”

Hearing him say it, i’m still gonna be in love with you, made you believe that this may have all been worth it. Maybe.

You let him take the two steps closer to you, willing yourself to trust him and his words. He brought his hands up to your face, gently wiping the tears off your cheeks. You quickly brought your hands up to rest on his forearms as his forehead fell to yours.

“I’m still going to need some time,” you felt him nod against you. “But I trust you.”

“Okay,” he mumbled before bringing his lips to your forehead, softly kissing your skin. “I’ll wait as long as you need me to.”

Maybe, you think, I’ll get that chance to love him after all.

~~~~

[backjustforberena]

rambling anon here!

i’m not gonna lie, i wanted… more from the reactions that we got. and not simply with corlys. i wanted more from rhaenyra, from baela. hell, even daemon, bc she was the last relative that he had from his childhood and now she’s gone, and so is his mother’s dragon, although i don’t think i want to talk about daemon in relation to his mother for a long time lol.

but i will focus on corlys, who is quickly becoming my favorite character to study for some reason lol. i wish we got immediate reactions only because i know steve would have knocked it out of the park. but when we first see him, alone in this hall that was all for her, sitting on this throne that truly means nothing to him anymore, heart broken and surrounded by ghosts - not just rhaenys’, but his children’s, hell, even vaemond’s - with that lone tear falling down his cheek, it’s clear that he’s not the man that he was when we met him.

we didn’t see his reaction to laena’s death, at least not the initial one, but with laenor, his immediate reaction was to reach for rhaenys. and yes when she rebuffs him he turns to anger but his first reaction was to reach for her. his anchor. his rock.

and now he’s free floating, and the desire to run again is there, because high tide is not home anymore, all the riches that he has accumulated mean nothing to him anymore because his family, his wife no longer there, and the sea has always been a second home, maybe his first before his marriage. but he doesn’t. he can’t. not when he owes it to rhaenys to be there for their grandchildren, to see this cause, her cause, through. but (and honestly this is my favorite thing lol) there’s this underlying resentment towards rhaenyra.

from steve, we know that corlys supports rhaenyra’s claim simply because viserys declared her his heir. that simple. it doesn’t mean he believes that she would be a good ruler. he doesn’t really care for her as a person - laenor is gone because of her, and now, his wife has died fighting her cause. “that girl destroys everything she touches.” he said in 1x10 (rough quoting but something to that effect), and the anger that is simmering just below the surface. of course, he’s not simply angry with her, there’s anger towards himself, the realm, the gods, but i do think at this point he thinks his family would have been better off if it never got involved with her. It’s a realization he had in 1x10 but I think will be more prominent as we move forward. hindsight is always 20/20 though.

he’s almost blinded by this resentment of rhaenyra until baela sets him straight. baela, who is so much like the women he’s lost. his wife’s heir. his wife who told him again and again that driftmark should pass through laena’s line. and he doesn’t have the confidence that rhaena will make a good lady of driftmark, but he does have faith in baela. baela was raised their. baela is the best of his wife, of his daughter. baela makes him reconsider being the hand.

i will say as a little aside, i prefer the reasoning that baela’s actress gave for turning down the offer, that corlys had his chance. i like thag much better than baela just being a targaryen heir. she can be both a targaryen and a velaryon. laena was both. rhaenys was both.

do i think we will get more? i hope so. we still have the line “what i do now, i do for her, i do for my wife.” that i’m expecting to hear. and it should bleed into his interactions with alyn and addam honestly. one of his last interactions with rhaenys was that she knew that he had betrayed her, that they were a product of that betrayal. would he feel like the decision to make one of them his heir feel like he was betraying her all over again?

another random little aside, i do like that laenor and corlys grieve very similarly - the drinking and staring off at sea. like corlys judged him (because he did it publicly instead of corlys’ private moping) but look where he got it from!

all in all, this was a very long way of me saying i liked what we got from the ep, but wished we got more!

Hello, rambling anon! Lovely to hear from you this morning. I definitely sympathise with the writers (sort of, ish, against my better judgment) because the way they are telling the story, they have written themselves into a corner and they do have to deal with a shorter episode count and they have a lot to cover that means things are a lot more "telling" than "showing" - and they do, and I've spoken about this before, have a horrid habit of cutting time which leads to cut reactions.

We don't see anyone actually receive the news of Rhaenys's death. Unless, possibly, Rhaena is learning in her brief scene, but even then, we get a look and then cut away. By trying to get to the next event or issue or plot point, they cut time. I don't think it's helpful to measure impact, in this case. Sometimes it's okay, but here, I think it mutes things for both sides of the conflict. It arguably slows it down because nothing seems specifically reactive or impulsive.

In terms of the specific mourning reactions, I don't think I wanted more, I just wanted more recent. Different. I would have preferred to see people get the news. Especially Corlys. But in terms of more? I mean, always, because I enjoy the characters, but I felt like I got what I needed to get from the scenes that we got. Does that make sense? I understood his brief little journey with the episode, going from A to B, from being lost to possibly (?) finding purpose by accepting the role of Hand. It was a bit ambiguous as to if he has accepted it wholeheartedly, but I'm sure that's going to be covered in the next episode. I know how he's feeling, I just don't know how he felt when he got the news. Which is information I would have preferred, I think.

when we first see him, alone in this hall that was all for her, sitting on this throne that truly means nothing to him anymore, heart broken and surrounded by ghosts [...] it’s clear that he’s not the man that he was when we met him.

It's a really powerful image to me. It's the most undone we've seen him. His hair isn't done, he's wearing an outfit that's the most sloppy we've ever seen him, he's so heavy with his footsteps and then he just sits down and you can just feel how tired he is and how devastated. He looks like he's in physical pain and I think that's possibly what marks his grief out from the other displays shown in that episode. He looks like he's in pain. I absolutely think he'd trade it all for her.

Do I think he's a changed man? Ooooh I don't know. I think it's very difficult to get rid of a flaw, especially when you've lost the person who can possibly act as a compass for that. So, I'm still expecting him to be proud, brash, ambitious and selfish. Is he the man we met? Absolutely not. But he's going to be put into positions that will play into the man that he was and he'll have to make choices, big or small: at the council, about his legacy, about his sons. How that will be impacted by either the loss or Rhaenys or the memory of Rhaenys or his love for Rhaenys remains to be seen.

we didn’t see his reaction to laena’s death, at least not the initial one, but with laenor, his immediate reaction was to reach for rhaenys. and yes when she rebuffs him he turns to anger but his first reaction was to reach for her. his anchor. his rock.

And I think that plays into this idea that I'm floating. What is he when he hasn't got her? When we're past the initial devastation of her death and when he has to engage in the political games around him and the war before him? Because his reaction, after she's rejected him, is to lash out at the guards. It's to go with impulse. It's to satisfy himself. Then he goes to sea for six years because it's what he wants to do.

So we've not only got the lack of Rhaenys to keep him grounded, we've also got the lack of Rhaenys to keep him from any new perspective, unless he either gets that influence from somewhere else or he will deliberately take a step back and think about what she'd think or advise etc. After all, half of his desire to go for the Iron Throne so vehemently was out of his love for her and getting justice for her. I can see him justifying choices because he thinks he's doing right by her or for "them". Whether she'd actually agree, I don't know! I don't even know if the writers will go down this route, but it's interesting to think about. He's not going to become pure and selfless overnight, especially within the environment he's about to plunge back into.

and now he’s free floating, and the desire to run again is there, [...] but he doesn’t. he can’t. not when he owes it to rhaenys to be there for their grandchildren, to see this cause, her cause, through.

It's a very interesting change. It's implied in Fire & Blood that becoming Hand of the Queen is accepted just because that's what'll do it and there's no back and forth and no idea that it wouldn't work or it's in doubt. That's what seals the deal, he's an ambitious man, that position is enough for him to come back into the fold and there's no idea that Corlys was ever reluctant to engage in the war in the first place. And they start planning an assault and, certainly from my reading, you get the sense that that is also part of the deal: almost as if he's fueled by the idea of taking out those who took his wife from him. It's motivated in a very masculine way: power, rage, ambition, vengeance.

Making him continue because it is her cause, and the reason she died and a dream that she died for is really cool to me. Corlys has two motivations and Rhaenys is always one of them and, arguably, the strongest (because Rhaenys was also something that could curb him, whereas his ideas of legacy only ever enabled him and spurred him on with whatever cause he'd decided to rally for). Corlys is going to give everything to this because he's got nothing else.

And by making it Rhaenys's cause, rather than his own specifically, also leave things open to continue a fractious relationship with Rhaenyra. So far, this series, we haven't seen them interact. They shared a scene together but there's been little between them. As you say, Corlys supports Rhaenyra's claim simply because he thinks that's how the world works: he made a vow, he's honouring it. Viserys named her, and so that stands. He's got no affection for Rhaenyra herself.

he’s almost blinded by this resentment of rhaenyra until baela sets him straight. baela, who is so much like the women he’s lost. his wife’s heir.

Steve Toussaint recently gave an interview with The Ringer Podcast where he was asked about why Corlys offers Driftmark to Baela and it's pretty much exactly as you say it. He looks at her and he sees that spark. He sees that Baela is her mother's daughter and her grandmother's grandchild. She says: fine, do what you like, and he admires that spirit.

I also think there is a sense of just trying to hold on to what he can. We talk about how he has these ideas of legacy but he has no heir. Certainly no heir in proximity to him: he's got Rhaena and Joffrey but Joffrey is just a kid and Rhaena (in his mind) isn't particularly suitable because she isn't equipped and both are far from his reach or influence. He can't GIVE Driftmark away, in his mind. It's useless and empty and worthless and he has no family that actually belong to him and only him. He's really isolated.

(As an aside, I dislike the idea that Corlys is dismissing Rhaena because she's a girl. I don't think that's really the case when he's dismissing Joffrey as well and they're both for the same reasons - he doesn't make direct reference to her sex as a reason. Nor do I like the narrative that Rhaenys was pushing for Rhaena. The conversation isn't very serious, she's says there is Rhaena or Joffrey but doesn't press for either, just presents the options. But I'm aware that's a personal reading).

i will say as a little aside, i prefer the reasoning that baela’s actress gave for turning down the offer, that corlys had his chance. i like that much better than baela just being a targaryen heir. she can be both a targaryen and a velaryon. laena was both. rhaenys was both.

Yes, I like that as well. There's obviously a lot of unspoken history between the pair: Corlys buggered off for six years and Baela felt that but also, perhaps more importantly, saw the effect that had on Rhaenys.

I think it's also a bit of Baela choosing her Targaryen side, not because she's not proud of being a Velaryon or because she can't be a Velaryon, but because her Targaryen legacy is what matters to her. Being a dragonrider is what matters to her and what will aid her in being like and honouring these incredibly important female figures in her life. We get the impression that Baela is sticking with Rhaenyra and engaging in this war in order to honour Rhaenys and a reaction in part to her death. So it makes sense that this is just a continuation of that. This is her purpose, not Driftmark. Being more like her grandmother is not being Lady of the Tides. And she owes her grandmother far more than she owes her grandfather.

do i think we will get more? i hope so. we still have the line “what i do now, i do for her, i do for my wife.” that i’m expecting to hear. and it should bleed into his interactions with alyn and addam honestly.

I absolutely think we're going to get more. I'm very much looking forward to "what I do now, I do for her" - I am hoping it's something he says to Rhaenyra, when he accepts the job of Hand. It could almost sound like terms. Like: I'm not doing this for you, I'm doing this her. Don't push me, don't mess me about, and then as soon as this is done, I'm out. Another alternative that I've mused is that it could be something said to one of his sons, when they speak about naturalisation. I think that's plausible. A little admission, a little vulnerability, especially if they question him.

would he feel like the decision to make one of them his heir feel like he was betraying her all over again?

Steve actually touches on this in The Ringer Podcast (you should check the interview out, it's on Youtube, about 3 hours in). And from that, what I gather, is that he thinks this isn't betraying Rhaenys. That the last interaction was some form of blessing. Or, at the very least, she'd understand. Which, I think she would have, if you want my two cents. She wouldn't like it but an heir is what he needs and he needs an heir that can really take the reins in the event that he dies in war and they need to take over the Fleet tomorrow. And this is the best option: the most pragmatic option for him. I also don't think she'd want him to be alone. We can absolutely separate Rhaenys's pain and her feelings over the betrayal from her thoughts surrounding Corlys's heir dilemma, I think.

It's also the most grown-up option, which she's always advocated for. For him to pull his head out of the sand and do the painful thing in order for a greater good and greater security. I think the question I have, left over, is whether this will have any impact on her memory? The idea that he "shames" her by doing this.

I think it's a tightrope. It could easily go unaddressed (especially in this show tbh, we've got lots else going on), focusing on the reaction that Corlys has these sons rather than how that reflects on Rhaenys - and the reaction that Corlys has these sons are not going to be earth-shattering because he's a bloke and having children out of wedlock, even whilst married to a woman, in Westeros is par for the course. Corlys's personal shame over the whole situation is sort of an anomaly. It's also just, objectively, a good thing that he has these sons (for the Blacks) because they're going to turn out to be pretty handy.

[bylrlve]

i lay my heart down with the rest at his feet (bloody and raw, but i swear it is sweet) - an adult byler playlist

Fever - fever when you kiss me, fever when you hold me tight

False God - i know heaven’s a thing, i go there when you touch me honey, hell is when i fight with you… religion’s in your lips… the altar is my hips

High Infidelity - do you really want to know where i was april 29th? do i really have to tell you how he brought me back to life?

Movement - when you move i could never define all that you are to me

Would That I - i’m set alight, and i blink inside your blinding light… in awe there, i stood, as you licked off the grain, though i’ve handled the wood, i still worship the flame…

Medicine - the boys and the girls are in, i mess around with him, and i’m okay with it… i’m coming down, I figured out i kinda like it, when i’m all out i’ll think about the way you… (ride it)

Angst in My Pants - it’s just a passing phase, it’ll go away… give it a thousand years, it won’t go away

Just What I Needed - i don't mind you comin' here, and wastin' all my time, ‘cause when you're standin' oh so near, i kinda lose my mind…

Moment’s Silence (Common Tongue) - a moment’s silence when my baby puts the mouth on me… when reason comes on the common tongue of you loving me

Bedroom Hymns - this is his body, this is his love, such selfish prayer and i can’t get enough

Dinner & Diatribes - (our) friends are a fate that befell me, hell is a talking tide, scarcely can speak for my thinking what you’ll do to me tonight… honey, i laugh when it sinks in, a pillar i am upright… let there be damage ensued and tabloid news… that’s the kind of love i’ve been dreaming of….

Talk - the voice that urged Orpheus when his body was found… so i try to talk refined for fear that you’ll find out how i’m imagining you

Like Real People Do - honey, just put your sweet lips on my lips, we should just kiss like real people do

NFWMB - if i was born as a blackthorn tree, i’d wanna be felled by you, held by you, fuel the pier of your enemies

To Be Alone - honey, when you kill the lights and kiss my eyes, i feel like a person for a moment of my life… god, it feels good to be alone with you… i know that you hate this place; not a trace of me would argue, “honey, we should run away,” “oh, someday,”

Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene - freshly disowned in some frozen devotion, no more alone or myself could i be… i lay my heart down with the rest at his feet… bloody and raw, but i swear it is sweet… jarring of judgement and reason’s defeat, the sweet heat of his breath in my mouth; i’m alive

It Will Come Back - i know who i am when i’m alone, i’m something else when i see you… can’t be unlearned, i’ve known the warmth of your doorways, through the cold i’ll find my way back to you… i warn you, babe, each night, as sure as you’re born… you’ll hear me howling outside your door. can you hear me howling, babe?

My Love Will Never Die - you’ve done me wrong for a long, long time, but after all you’ve done i never changed my mind (my love will never die)… pick a blossom and hold it, hold it, to your breast, and you’ll know that’s my love bursting loud from inside (my love will never die)

Work Song (Live) - i’d never want once from the cherry tree… when i was kissing on my baby, and he put his love down soft and sweet, in the low lamp light i was free; heaven and hell were words to me

Take Me to Church (Live from London) - should’ve worshipped him sooner… he tells me “worship in the bedroom,”… the only heaven i’ll be sent to is when i’m alone with you… my lover’s the sunlight… something meaty for the main course.., that looks tasty, that looks plenty, this is hungry work… when the ritual begins, there is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin… only then i am human, only then i am clean, amen, amen, amen.

[mthollowell-writes]

Beach Fronts & Pipe Dreams Days of Horror Day 3: Riddle

(TW: Murder, Blood, Mutilation, and Some Serious Swearing)

Detective Warner shined a light down the rusted pipe. It was part of the old system of drainage pipes that guided sewage and excess storm water to this beach front on the edge of the city. It fell out of use several decades ago, this exposed bit left to slowly decay in the sun. It flaked red and green as Jake brushed the end with his fingertips. Just looking at the thing made him feel like he needed a tetanus shot. The opening was small. According to the tape, the pipe measured barely 2 feet wide. It was hard to believe a body was stuffed inside here. But that was the reality of it. A couple of kids found it early this morning while scaling the rocks. The smell drew them in first. Even hours later, with the body laid a mile down on the sand, it was overwhelming. According to the little girl of the pair, she saw the bloated hand sticking out from the pipe as if reaching for the morning sun. She couldn’t have been more than 11, about the same age as his little girl.

Extraction for the forensic team must’ve been a bitch, but extract they did. Warner took in all the details he could. The pipe was narrower up close. Any evidence on the ground would’ve been washed away by yesterday’s storm and the fickle high tide. He clicked off his light. “Show me the body.” Their unlucky John Doe was splayed out on a blue tarp on the beach. His legs were laid closest to Warner, with both exposed feet broken forever at an odd angle. If they were to stand him up, he’d be on his tippy toes. His victim was then cut cleanly at the waist, his guts drained of blood but purple with putrefaction. Maggots were making a good home there. As Werner squinted at the cut, his insides crawled with them. His torso was riddled with at least 20 stab wounds from shoulder to navel. More curious was the the head. Or rather, the decided lack of one. Both it and his left arm were missing, likely to slow down identification. With all these injuries, it was unclear whether the decapitation was peri and post mortem. If the stab wounds didn’t kill him, the moment that cut came down on his neck surely did. The body was drained of its blood and obviously moved. He was killed elsewhere. Likely somewhere secluded where the killer could dismantle their victim without too many questions from neighbors. Warner could only guess. Without an ID, everything was speculation. What couldn’t be disputed was the brutality of this murder. There was also something a touch ritualistic about it. Why break his ankles in such an odd angle? Why not take both arms after going through the effort of cutting them off? “You poor bastard,” Jake muttered to himself. “What the hell happened to you?” “That’s your job to figure out, detective,” Lillian, the head forensic tech said as she held out an evidence bag with a piece of paper inside. “Found this in John Doe’s pockets.” “Huh.” It was funny that the sick fuck that tore him apart had the decency to keep the victim’s pants on him. They were once a decent pair of gray khakis. Now they were forever stained in his blood. Guess the killer didn’t want to traumatize the kiddos anymore with indecent exposure, god forbid. Warner sighed and held up the bag towards the setting orange sun. He had a longer night ahead of him. The paper was something ripped out of lined notebook. On it was a note scrawled erratically in black ink. Riddle’s Three Search the forgotten refinery and you’ll find me Warner swore. Lillian kept her gaze steady on his. “What do you think it means?” “We might have a serial killer.” He glared at the note. “And this may be a clue to where their other victim is.”

[essektheylyss]

World Wizard Entertainment: After Hours

I did want to write a little thing now that I am done making a vicious mockery of Vince McSam, because this was really a WILD week and I do love a debrief.

Honestly, when I sat down to make a bracket last week, I was not committed to posting it, I was not going to make any graphics, and I definitely was not planning to run a tournament.

....Obviously that changed, but you already know that.

Really I just wanted to figure out how hard it would be to properly seed a tournament in fandom. I've already talked about that elsewhere so I won't get into it, but when you're building a tournament, you want it seeded for intrigue in later rounds, even if round one match-ups are very lopsided.

But once I had it, I was thinking about how different polls have gone in the past. Specifically, I had written a post during some earlier polls with Laerryn and Essek competing that was commenting, you know, if we're talking duel, Essek loses, 100%. He'd have a prayer in hell of winning, and there are no gods here or whatever. And the poll in which Laerryn and Essek were matched up, which Aabria made a very funny joke about, wasn't even a wizard poll! It was just sexiest character or something. But the thing is, a lot of polls have been really vague about what criteria to vote on, and there's a reason for that! A lot of polls like that are going to have an obvious winner. And because of how these spread, you are going to have a lot of people voting purely on popularity or name recognition, including plenty of people who are not super engaged in fandom since there are lots of lurkers (and we love them! hi, lurkers!), and also random people outside the fandom who just vote on any poll, so you have to account for that.

But we have polls now, and fandom is fun and chaotic, so I wondered... could you game it for an unexpected result?

I cannot turn down a challenge once I've come up with it for myself, so at that point, I actually built a tournament.

For a lot of the week, in all but the most meaningless and random of situations, I thought the answer was no! We got Ludinus kicked in the first round, which I mostly did to stir up a little drama, because round one was pretty calm and quiet.

By the quarterfinals, it got tougher. At that point there were more folks engaging, but a lot of the tags were, "Didn't we already decide this?" and I was like, well, no one is watching March Madness year after year going, "Well, Gonzaga* is the best and that's decided I guess," (except maybe Gonzaga fans, but knowing some of them, they are really serious about their basketball). They're there because there's chance involved. A great team can lose to an underdog in an early upset. Also, there's always the bracket contest, which is another layer of gamification that adds some interest. (Sidebar, can you tell yet that I wrote a paper on gamification when applying to grad school? Lulz.) But like I've mentioned, fandom polls are highly stacked to be popularity contests. How do you introduce some chance and intrigue?

As it turns out, you call the Veth stans, which I sure wouldn't have guessed, so I'm glad they turned up anyway.

But in all seriousness, with a poll like this, it's really not about deciding who is The Wizard. (For the record, with my url fully visible, the answer is absolutely Laerryn Coramar-Seelie. She is seeded first for a reason!) It's about seeing if you can be weird and wacky enough, or maybe just heartfelt and sincere enough, to turn the tide of what's expected. But it's only fun if it's collaborative.

And here's where I say it all comes back to collaborative narrative and storytelling, because when does it not with me, but seriously—I seeded Veth pretty high because she was a PC, but wasn't sure if she was going to hold that far through the polls. By the time she was, I wasn't asking, "Why is Veth beating Yussa, the most no-brain cell wizard in the northern Exandrian hemisphere, with one wizard level?" It was clear that the Veth fans had decided to make this their mission.

So I do hope the takeaway, based on everyone making content and giving speeches and doing a fun kayfabe, is that you can make a really interesting and fun tournament by committing to the bit. You have to get ridiculous and you have to stick with it, but that's... really what fandom is. It's really not about "is my fave gonna win," and it's honestly not even about who wins (you may have noticed that the winner section of my results post is... small, which is intentional), it's about building a little story together.

And I'm really glad we all did that. I feel like I need to go around and do a virtual 'good game' high five to the Veth stans, and the Caleb stans, and Aabria herself, and everyone who wrote in defense of someone and put on a kayfabe and ran with a bit, because it really was a fun roller coaster of a tournament.

And if you didn't join in this week, but kind of wanted to, I hope the next time someone runs a tournament you just go for it! I was also a lot more timid about fandom participation as a teen, but honestly, if you are really excited about, I don't know, Realmseer Eskil (who is super cool by the way), don't take it too seriously and write an overwrought defense of them! Make a funny meme! Be sporting about it, come up with the most ridiculous reason you can name to vote for them, and run with it.

(Also, my other takeaway is that it is really easy to ape the overblown wrestling host voice. Please do it, it's literally so funny.)

[bishopknifetrickmp3]

any fic recs?

hi anon i am so so sorry for answering this so late, ive been putting it off and keep forgetting about it whoopsss but i hope it's not too late to rec some fic still...so let's gooooo

please noted that until this year, i hadn't read any peterick fic since 2017 so there's a lot im probably missing but im gonna try and recommend some newer fic (to me at least lol) here;

The High Way to Hell Series by @holytrohmanempire - ok this series is not new and everyone probably already read it BUT it's still ongoing and it's epically long and so so damn good, like fall out boy meet supernatural but better, the band dynamic is amazing, the characterization is on point, the episodic format is delightful, AND the peterick slowburn and the payoff in infinity on high installment is wonderful, i would need a whole new post to rave about this fic so i will stop now

Crooked Love - oh man i am OBSESSED with this fic ive been saying this for months, it's just a perfect disastrous romcom, it's funny, it's got my anxiety rising, it's hot, it's romantic, it's featuring finance bro patrick being a human dumpster fire, i love it to death. the author also write other amazing fics, id recommend silver screen dream, between the sheets, and i've forgiven jesus (the last two were co-written and ive forgiven jesus was pretty damn harrowing, but oh so fucking GOOD)

The Difference Between Real Love and the Love On TV - aka instant classic 21st century modern american literature, put this on your bookshelves now

thought i felt you before - now you're closer - the one where patrick is an actual medium and there's hiatus and trying to get your best friend back via asking him to talk to your dead grandfather, it's great and it's gonna rip your heart out a bit but in a very healing way i promise

And I Lived So Much Life - THE ultimate star-crossed lovers, scar-crossed lovers fic of all time, of course they'd be twin skeletons fated for thousand years 25 lives itd only be fair for me to chase you across hundreds thousands lifetime until i find the one in which you return to me OF COURSE

I Don't Want You To Go Yet - kinda summer fling au, the writing is seriously beautiful and the way the author built up their heartbreak is soooooo good

assortment of various incredible au: Here Come This Rising Tide (the robin hood au, SO SO GOOD), Hell or High Water (crazily good pirate au, the author, the_chaotic_panda wrote so many incredible stories please do scroll through their works and enjoy), Superposition (will give you an existential crisis, highly recommend)

i also have raved about older peterick fic under my fic rec tag and for some rec for livejournal era fic, do check out peterick rec list and dropbox made by the incredible @justtothesea i really think it's the most comprehensive list of (older) peterick fic we have, anyway enjoy reading!

[ominouslywritinginmyhead]

A little something for the birthday boy

Makoto Tachibana x reader; fluff/meet cute

wc: 1490

Warnings: none

Divider by @anonimusunnoaniswriting

Your late-night convenience store run is not going the way you planned.

All you wanted was one bottle of hot cocoa before bed, and considering how quiet the neighbourhood gets this time of the night, you assumed the shelves would be stacked. All you needed to do was grab a bottle, take it to the register, and then head straight back home.

But the universe must hate you with a passion, because not only is the hot drinks shelf almost empty, the only bottle of cocoa left is right at the back — too high up and too far inside.

And you’re too short to go anywhere near that spot.

You frown and cross your arms. Just my luck, you think. Of course this happens to me.

The night cashier has to be here somewhere - you literally saw the guy two seconds ago - but no matter where you look, he’s gone. Is he in the back? Did he sneak out for a smoke? Did aliens kidnap him? You have no clue.

So you go back to glaring at the lone bottle of cocoa as though it’s the poor bottle’s fault for existing so far away from you. You swear you see it quiver under your gaze.

“Um…excuse me.”

You turn and almost crash into a fellow customer standing behind you. “I'm so sorry! I’ll move.” You shuffle a few paces away so that the man can get his drink. He’s got brown hair and green eyes, and he’s much taller than you; he’d have no trouble getting hard-to-reach bottles, that’s for sure.

The man shakes his head, smiling sheepishly. “No, I was just wondering…would you like me to get that for you?” He points to the bottle of cocoa. “You’ve been staring at it for a while…”

“Oh.” You go red. Somebody noticed? “Um, yeah, that’d be great, thanks.”

He reaches out and grabs the bottle with no trouble at all, picking up some green tea for himself while he’s at it. “Here you go,” he says. His voice is so soft. You’d never expect this sort of voice to come out from a guy with his kind of build: he reminds you of those rugby players on TV.

“Thanks,” you repeat. “Sorry for bothering you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he tells you airily. “Happy to help.”

You can’t help smiling back. What a gentleman.

The guy lets you go first when the store clerk returns from wherever he’s been these last few minutes. You pay for your cocoa, and head outside.

It’s getting colder and colder these days, so you’ve donned that ratty old jacket your mom keeps telling you to give up on. On the other hand, you’re still wearing flip-flops, so maybe the weather isn’t that bad after all. The night sky’s clear too, a blindingly white supermoon glowing in the darkness above.

As you admire the view, the automatic doors beside you open, the soft chime of the store echoing through the silent neighbourhood. The guy from earlier stands beside you, watching the supermoon as well. “It’s amazing, isn’t it?” he says, moon and stars reflected in his glittering green eyes.

“It is,” you agree. Between the beautiful night, the cool weather, and the temperature of the bottle in your hands, now seems like the perfect time to sip your cocoa.

“Did you hear there’s another moon orbiting earth this autumn?” He asks, starting on his own green tea. “It’s just a meteor or something, but it still sounds cool.”

“I did! It sucks that we can’t see it without a telescope, though. Two moons! It’s like we’re in a fantasy novel. I read a book like that once, and it was really interesting to read about how two moons change everything on a planet. Our moon affects the tides and stuff, right? So the author tried exploring how a second moon impacts the oceans in another world—”

You screech to a halt. What the hell are you doing? Rambling about some random book to a stranger? What is wrong with you?

But the guy doesn’t complain. Instead, his smile grows even wider and he says, “Tell me more. What’s this fantasy novel with two moons about?”

So you tell him. You sip cocoa and tell him about the world with magic and monsters and two moons that affect the tides and the climate and the mysterious blue hail that falls once every twelve years on the protagonist’s home country. You tell him about the time the author signed your copy of the book. You tell him about other books by that author, and it’s only when you’re halfway through the plot of Daughter’s Destiny when it hits you just how long you’ve been going on and on.

And he’s paid attention this whole time.

“But enough about me,” you finish, bringing yourself back to earth. “What about you? I don’t even know your name,” you laugh.

He laughs too: a soft sound that brings the stars to where you are, casting the most beautiful shimmer on everything around you, from the one car in the conbini parking lot to the traffic lights ten feet away and even the dumpster peeking out from behind the building. “I might have forgotten to mention it,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s Tachibana. Makoto Tachibana. And you? I know everything about your favourite author, but I don’t know anything about you.”

Giggling, you introduce yourself. “Sorry it took so long. And I’m sorry I kept you. It’s getting late.”

“It’s fine.” He finishes the last of his green tea, but doesn’t budge from his position against the wall. “I’m off work tomorrow, anyway.”

“What do you do?” You ask. Maybe he’s a professional athlete: you’ve heard this neighbourhood has a lot of them.

“I’m a coach,” he says. “You?”

“Doing this and that,” you say vaguely. “But I’m also working on my first novel,” you add in a softer voice, hoping he doesn’t hear.

“You’re a writer? That’s so cool!”

Well, now you know that the universe never listens to you, no matter what you try.

You don’t really talk about the novel very often. Your parents would’ve liked you to try for a more stable career, maybe consider the civil services. On the bright side, your recent successes getting published in literary magazines finally shut the extended family up. And “doing this and that” brings in enough money to pay the bills while you finish up the draft that’s been sitting in your folder for years.

The man named Makoto Tachibana, however, seems to think your plans are the greatest in the whole world. “What’s your novel about?” He asks, and you swear you can see puppy ears springing out of his hair.

“Oh, just…just another fantasy book. Magical school stuff.”

And there it is again: a smile brighter than the supermoon above you. And those words: “Tell me more.”

You shake your head, trying not to smile yourself. “You’ll see when it’s ready.”

“I can’t wait.”

You change the subject “So you said you’re a coach?” Something about his soft voice draws you in. You want to hear it again.

He nods. “Swimming coach. I mostly work with professional swimmers, but I’ve taught kids too. I really want to show them how incredible the world of swimming can be. It’s an amazing experience.”

“The coaching or the world of swimming?” You ask.

“Both,” he says simply, and you know he means it.

He tells you about his friends who are taking the swimming world by storm. He tells you about the little kids he coached when he was younger. He tells you about how he used to swim backstroke, and the sights that took his breath away when he lay in the water and stared at the world above him.

And you listen. You listen to his voice, you watch his face glow, you see his emerald eyes shimmer with stars that aren’t even in the sky.

It must be almost midnight, but you don’t want to leave. You’re not Cinderella; you can stay a little longer.

You can stay and listen to Makoto Tachibana talk and see the universe in his eyes.

The two of you only met this evening, but something about this encounter has puzzle pieces you didn’t even know existed falling into place.

And if you weren’t convinced before, you are when he looks at you with those shining eyes and gives you that brilliant smile once again.

In five minutes, he’ll offer to walk you back to your apartment.

In ten minutes, the two of you will exchange contact details.

In fifteen days, the two of you will go on your first date.

And in twenty months, he will propose on a clear night, the moon full and the sky shining with stars you never knew you could see. Just like they were on the very first night you met.

A/N: happy birthday, Makoto 💚