#I guess if you wanted to be really literal & make them completely separate characters

[sketching-shark]

Dunno if someone has asked this before. But Wukong and Macaque are the same person, and they are seen like this, but why Macaque dies if they were the same? Wukong is immortal so, if they had the same powers, knowledge and stuff, Macaque had also the immortal thing, right? But why he dies? Or how is this?

A good question anon! So from what I know the short answer is that in the True and False Monkey King arc, this is really more about the Monkey King metaphorically killing the monstrous side of his own nature as part of his journey to Enlightenment. It pays to remember, after all, that besides SWK being the "monkey of the mind," LEMH had managed to finagle himself into a position where he could be both a yaoguai warlord AND a religious pilgrim, i.e. he was potentially living out all the lives SWK wanted but couldn't have, but only achieved that by well being a selfish monster that treated others as tools or obstacles (and sometimes snacks) in his path towards personal glory. In this manner, and even though it's explicitly said that the six-eared macaque is a different species than the intelligent stone monkey (which SWK apparently drove to extinction by killing his doppelganger lmao), LEMH is very much acting as SWK's evil clone/almost Jungian "shadow self"/ the other side of the Buddhist two hearts/minds metaphor that the Monkey King must overcome in order to cultivate a true Buddhist nature in himself.

That's my little ramble, but the scholar Hongmei Sun has answered this question far better than I ever could. As such, here's her words on the subject of how Sun Wukong and the Six-Eared Macaque act as doubles & what's behind the death of LEMH at the hands of SWK:

"In the case of the second ‘exile,’ the episode of the ‘double-mind monkey’ (erxin yuan), a fake Wukong commits a series of monstrous crimes in his name. While one ‘mind monkey’ is staking with the Bodhisattva, the other ‘mind monkey’ goes to strike the master Tripitaka unconscious, takes his travel documents, returns to the Flower-Fruit Mountain, and sets up another pilgrim band, ready for his own journey to the West. The resemblance of the two ‘mind monkeys’ deceives everyone except the Buddha, who sees through the fake Wukong and recognizes him as a six-eared macaque (liuer mihou). The use of a double of Wukong enables the narrative to literally grant the monkey the facility to be self-contradictory, with one Monkey being a pious follower of Tripitaka, and the other a monster who is even capable of beating his master. At the culmination of this episode, Sun Wukong uses his rod to kill the six-eared macaque despite the fact that the macaque had already been captured by Buddha’s golden almsbowl—a constraining weapon—and submitted to Buddha’s control, which seems out of character for the ‘good’ Monkey. One feasible explanation would be that it is an action of eliminating the monster in him, indicating that he is getting closer to achieving Buddhahood at this point in the journey. However, this explanation does not negate another one: that he kills the six-eared macaque because the latter has copied him too closely, the best demon among the ones that Monkey has conquered. By killing his rival who resembles himself, he plays the norm of self-contradiction to an extreme...”

“At that very moment the actual smallness of the monkey’s bloated self is demonstrated in the shadow of the Buddha’s fingers, the overblown ‘mind monkey’ is reduced to finite proportions, and his rehabilitative imprisonment under Five Phases Mountain begins. The lesson demonstrates to him that, however far the ‘cloud-somersault’ can reach, it would also represent his own unbreakable boundary. The Buddha’s fingers serve as an index, revealing to the monkey that what beats him is how own self. Later this indexing role of Buddha’s hand is taken over by the Five Phases Mountain, and after that the headband. Whenever Tripitaka recites the spell, Monkey is reminded of his own limits and the impossibility of breaking them, even with his rod. In the case of the six-eared macaque, one can reach an opposite explanation as to why Wukong chooses to kill him: to free himself. Just as in the submission of Wukong, Buddha beats the six-eared macaque at his forte. Although the fake Wukong is strong in taking forms of others and had succeeded in confusing everyone else, the Buddha is able to exactly identify this monkey’s original form: someone belonging to none of the ten categories in the universe, neither the five immortals (wu xian) nor the five creatures (wu chong). There are four kinds of monkeys who ‘are not classified in the ten species, nor are the contained in the names between Heaven and Earth,’ among which was the first, ‘the intelligent stone monkey (lingming shihou), who knows transformations, recognizes the seasons, discerns the advantages of earth, and is able to alter the course of planets and stars,’ and the fourth, ‘the six-eared macaque, who has a sensitive ear, discernment of fundamental principles, knowledge of past and future, and comprehension of all things.’ This recognition announces the six-eared macaque’s failure as one who has been trying to use his disguise to erase the boundary of his self while taking up the identity of Wukong. It also announces once again the failure of Wukong, who although not belonging to any of the ten species between heaven and earth, still falls into one of the in-between types that the Buddha names: the intelligent stone monkey, indeed a peer of the six-eared macaque. Therefore by killing the six-eared macaque, Wukong not only kills a monster who has tried to cross proper borders, but he also kills a self whose boundary has just been pinned down. This action of self-annihilation is in this sense an effort in defiance of any classification.”

[sukifoof]

hii i was talking about this on twitter so i think i will just copy paste it here cuz i’ll probably delete it there at some point <3 twitter frightens me but i love my mutuals here we are all insane about flowey in the same way

 i think saying “you’re the type of friend i wish i always had” is a really important thing for asriel to admit... this whole time asriel has dealt with so much grief and guilt about chara that it separated the actual person chara from the idealized version of them in his head who he has never stopped grieving. its a huge part of his character that hes unable to view them as they were because that’s just how his ptsd and guilt affects him. as someone who went through a similar thing that kind of grief can mess with your head and how you view yourself and the person who’s gone really badly. the pacifist route, for flowey’s character specifically, is a really good example of how grief and ptsd can make you feel disconnected from yourself, everyone around you, and like if only the person you lost was back everything would be perfectly fine again. the fact that he can admit they weren’t perfect and that he made the right decision is a huge character development that we don’t get to see in the no mercy route because he’s still convinced that this idealized version of them birthed from bereavement will make everything okay. similarly to how he believed toriel might have been able to fix him, he wants to believe there’s someone out there that could somehow return him to who he was before being traumatized, but the reality of it is this is just who he is.

his grief and trauma is a huge part of who he is like it is with real people, but it doesn’t have to be all of him. i think the emphasis the fandom puts on whether chara was Good Or Bad completely misses the point that it doesn’t really. matter i guess?? they were a kid people loved and now they’re gone. we're seeing people deal with the grief this brought and we know so little of who they are because there’s also a degree of separation about who they are to the people they loved as well. idk i hope this makes sense i think a lot about how chara is a kid who hated humanity and calls themself a demon. to me that just shows an EXTREMELY traumatized child with self hatred. i don’t know why there was ever this huge moral argument about chara when they’re literally just a kid with issues. they weren’t taught how to deal with how they felt and likely held themself in lower regard compared to the dreemurrs. its the same thing with asriel, he feels responsible for them being gone and his own trauma. he just wants a friend who can teach him to understand his grief or someone who can at least let him view the situation for how it really is

i just think. flowey is so well written but not understood very well by the fandom because the type of thing he’s gone through is kind of hard to grasp. it’s a weird situation that doesn’t have a completely black or white Is He Or Chara At Fault kind of answer. they were children. people are complicated and want someone to blame when something goes wrong and flowey directed that at himself. hes such a fascinating and well written character i love him dearly i hope u guys understand how insane he makes me <3

[writefightandflightclub]

Ride or Die (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader): Chapter One (of 11 - COMPLETED SERIES)

Series summary: Together, you and Santiago have been “soldiers” then “friends” then “lovers”; but will you ever figure out what comes next, especially when Santiago can’t (or won’t) stop running? 

Genres: a LOT of angst, some smut, best friends to… lovers?

Warnings: see collated series warnings here. Please note this series is NSFW / 18+ and minors or ageless blocks interacting will be blocked.

Series info: this is a COMPLETED SERIES. All chapters are written. Posting schedule is here. 

Author’s note: (If you read the original one-shot this slightly amended chapter will already be familiar to you, so I'm sorry for the initial lack of surprises. I promise though - there are many surprises from here!) Some of you may remember that this all started as an angsty smutty one shot, way back in 2020. Let’s just say, some of you really liked that story (thank you!) and a “part 2” was requested so that I could “fix” things for these two idiots (affectionate). Well, I guess part 2 took a while, because now it’s four years later, and I have written 87,000 words (ish). Oops. So, as you might infer through the accidental novel length spew, this series means rather a lot to me. It’s the longest piece of writing I have ever seen through to completion, and so, whilst it’s definitely not perfect, I am pretty proud of it! I hope with all of my little orange heart that you enjoy it, and if you do, any RBs, comments - or anything at all really - would mean the world. These two have lived in my head for four years and I will miss them, but I'm so excited to finally share them with you all! Honestly, I could say lots more, but for now I'll leave you with one more thought, which sums up this whole experience quite frankly: the characters made me do it. 

Finally, I have to thank you all, lovely pocket friends, for being so supportive and encouraging the whole way. It means so much to me! Especially, I GOTTA thank the fabulous @astroboots, who has hyped this project from literally before the beginning and been so encouraging, and @foxilayde, who is an incredible cheerleader for all my hare-brained endeavours. ILY!

Word count: 9.7k for this part (it’s broken down into 3 sections, if you prefer to read in stints!). 

Tag list info: will reblog separately tagging those on taglist. You can request to be added to the taglist if you are 18+ (or removed!). Send me an ask, please, so I can keep track :) 

You love your squad. You really do. However, if you are being honest, it can be tough being treated as “one of the boys”. You know it’s a good thing that they don’t treat you any differently - but sometimes, you have to admit you want to be seen as a woman first and a soldier second. Especially on evenings like this when testosterone and drinks are flowing freely. Evenings when you have an ache in between your thighs that, in your case, calls out for a man. Okay - calls out for Santiago “Pope” Garcia, to be specific.

“I hope you can handle something stiff going down your throat,” you announce crudely to the group, arriving to whoops of appreciation as you slide the tray of hard liquor and beers on to the lofty bar table. 

The squad is celebrating a successful bust, and the relief and revelry in the air after the months-long operation is palpable.

“Cheers to that!” Frankie winks with a dumbass grin, rubbing his palms together with glee. “You’re a saviour – Pope’s taking far too long.” 

Will helpfully conveys the shots and beers around the table, glasses and bottles clinking and jovial smiles rippling through the group as a direct result. Ready for a cold one, you bring the rim of your beer to your lips for an immediate swig, condensation pooling on your fingers and making you realise how close the air is in this buzzing but dingy place.

“Bottoms-up, boys,” Tom directs as he passes you a shot, earning a good-natured side-eye from you. “And bottoms-eth up-eth, Mi’ Lady,” he adds, along with a regal hand wave to match his faux Olde English tone.

“To busts!” you ‘cheers’, clinking your glasses in the centre of the table. The innuendo earns a throaty, gruff chuckle from Frankie who bumps shoulders with you, inviting you to share in the camaraderie. You give-in with a broad smile, unable -as ever- to resist Frankie’s tittering. 

“Oh, hang on,” Frankie says, flitting quickly to a now unoccupied bar stool at an adjacent table (seats are in short supply tonight) and dragging it over to you.

“This for me, Catfish? How gallant.”

He grins. He knows you hate gallant. “It’s actually for Pope and his creaky knees… but you may as well make use of it while he’s pre-occupied,” Frankie chortles. You sit gratefully, your decision to wear heels after months in your beloved combat boots feeling like a definite mistake.

Speaking of mistakes...

“You fucking seeing this?” Tom asks, nodding his head over towards your squad mate, apparently simultaneously in awe of and amused by his current interaction at the bar; the very reason the drinks had been failing to materialise.

Twisting on your perch, you follow his gaze towards Santiago, eyes boring into the back of his head and his wash of grizzled curls. Involuntarily, your eyes trail over his form, the midnight blue button-down taut over his muscled shoulders as he casually props himself against the bar, jeans snug over that impossibly shapely rump. He has the barmaid rapt, eating out of his hand, all batting eyelashes and tongue slack in her mouth. Abandoned, a tray of shots sits unnoticed in front of Santiago as he lingers in conversation with her. All you can do is watch as, next, she leans over the bar brazenly, letting her thick, dark mane cascade across her ample, showcased cleavage. You can’t see Santiago’s expression as he -respectfully, you’re sure- admires her, but you can imagine it. 

Occasionally, you are on the receiving end of those expressions too.

Unfortunately, Santiago has a raw talent for making… connections. Besides off-shore bank managers and corrupt lawyers, that also inevitably extends to hook-ups. He is never short of distractions. Or, apparently, you never can hold his attention for long. When you do, though? When he does notice you, he makes you feel like you are the only woman in the world, his focus so intent and unrelenting you feel like he is viewing you through a sniper scope. Like the attention might end you.

You bristle thinking about his selective interest, the dull ache between your legs intensifying. 

“Never mind that deserter. Let’s celebrate without him,” you encourage to a ripple of agreement. You toss your shot back in-time with the boys and screw-up your face, shuddering in response as the spirit burns down your throat. You stick your tongue out with a “bleuch” as the aftertaste lingers.

However, your distraction doesn’t work for long, as your comrades seem determined to continue gossiping about the object of your desire.

“How does he do it?” Tom asks in disbelief, with more than a side of jealousy. He’d always given off the vibe of envying Santiago, you’d thought. “We’re all good-looking guys, man. But that little shit’s rolling in it.”

“I don’t know what it is. He’s not even tall,” Will snickers, knowing that Santiago hates being teased about his height. 

Frankie interjects. “MaybeFrankie interjects. “Maybe it’s the big dick energy.”

No comment. 

You’ve certainly never had any complaints about his stature. He is large enough to feel sturdy and surrounding, and small enough that you can take control of him when the mood strikes you. Oh, and you’ve certainly never had any qualms about his big dick energy… or his big dick for that matter.

Frankie chuckles again at the good-natured teasing and bumps you with his elbow. You are grateful for his easy, infectious laughter, acting like an umbrella against the moody, Santiago-shaped storm cloud which threatens above your head. 

“For real though,” Tom interjects, leaning forward over the table as if he’s sharing classified intel. “Has he been getting frisky with the informant again?” His eyes travel around the table, meeting each squad member’s gaze in turn. “I feel like he’s definitely got something going on there too. Tell me I’m seeing things.”

“Luci?” Will asks, then whistles in surprise at Tom’s accusation, his brows converging. You’re not sure if he’s surprised by Santiago’s potentially compromising choices, or impressed by his unparalleled ability to pull. “That sly dog.” Perhaps it’s a little of both.

You tense. Santiago getting involved with an informant. A beautiful informant. Sounds entirely plausible, although Santiago has neglected to tell you if it is true. Besides building connections, another skillset of Santiago’s is his uncanny aptitude for mixing business with pleasure. Realistically, he can do whatever the hell he wants with whomever he wants - it is no business of yours - but, in truth, you are tired. Tired of being the one he only picks up when he has no-one else. Tired of going unnoticed the rest of the time.

“Actually,” Frankie leans forward to drop this juicy titbit of gossip into the conversation. “Luci broke it off. Requested a new contact.” He taps the side of his nose as if to indicate that he has his sources too, trying to drum up some air of mystery. “Coincidence? I think not,” he adds, tipping his head towards the continued scene at the bar. 

You stiffen then in cold realisation. That’s why. That’s why he was noticing you earlier tonight. It wasn’t that he finally saw you. It wasn’t you in this dress. It wasn’t you. Yet again, he’d simply run out of distractions.

“Huh,” Tom says, looking a little too pleased with Santiago’s misfortune, swilling the dregs of his beer around absent-mindedly. “Well. He doesn’t seem devastated. It took him all of two minutes to get back on the horse.”

“Come on. You know Santi famously doesn’t get attached,” you snipe, partially serving the sentiment up as a reminder to yourself. 

Santiago does have a... reputation. Honestly, you have no problem with that. There is no shame in having casual sex, after all. So long as it is safe and consensual, what does it matter? You’ve even acted as Santi’s “wing-woman” on a number of occasions. It had never been a problem; that is… it hadn’t been a problem until he started having casual sex with you.

Santiago is loyal almost to a fault in many other areas of his life. He is abundantly loyal to you, and there is no doubt in your mind that Santiago sees you as a friend first. As a soldier second. You know he respects you deeply for your sharp-mind, your humour, your straight-talking, and your lethality in equal measure. And, you also know that Santiago desires you. Or, at least, he does when it suits him. When he is paying attention. These various roles never seem to converge, though. As a friend? You and Santiago go way back. As a soldier? You’ve been on his squad longer than anyone has, since decades before you all went freelance. As a lover, though? Well, that is new. And he can’t seem to reconcile this new role with the rest of the ways he knows you. 

Yes. Sure. Sometimes, Santiago desires the soft parts of you. Sees you as something other than a friend or a soldier. But you wish he would notice all of you, all at once. He sees you in fragments, like shrapnel. You wish he would piece things together. You wish he would notice you consistently. Not only when you’ve been out in the field too long, spending days bunched into hot and confined spaces, too close for comfort. Not only when hails of bullets send him reeling, searching for any kind of foothold on feeling alive. Still, over and over, you let him. You let him dip you back, with urgency - on to a mattress or a roll-mat or simply down on to the jungle floor - to thrust himself into you.

Santiago “Pope” Garcia is the man you crave. He gives it to you good. He makes you feel like a woman. Of course, there is no one particular way to be or to feel like a woman. There are infinite ways. For you though, very specifically, it is simple. It feels like Santiago desiring the soft parts of you which lay secreted under your tactical gear and your tough façade. It feels like him kissing you, soft lips and abrasive stubble. Strong hands and that muscled body writhing in a mess of breath and flesh. In those moments, you are a soldier least of all. Free of any mission, you become unadulterated; reckless abandon. You cease to be clipped and tactical, precise and lethal, and instead you become a soft, fluid thing beneath him.

Every time you arrive back in the city though, distractions abound. Santiago apparently ceases to desire you. Notice you. You had wrongly believed that tonight felt different. Something about the cool but heady night air. The way he was looking at you in this dress during your walk to the bar to meet the rest of the group. The way his hand lingered on your back as he guided you over to the table. But it mustn’t have been so. It must have been wishful thinking, that’s all.

You’ve done an increasing amount of wishful thinking, lately, it seems. 

Too much.

You sigh deeply. You don’t even realise you have zoned out from the group’s banter until Santiago arrives back with the tray of drinks -and no doubt one more phone number in his contacts- by which point, you are riled up enough to grab the shot of tequila right off the tray and down it without thinking, salt and lime be damned. 

“Woah, cariño. Feeling spirited tonight? Not wanna wait for the rest of us?” His smile is broad and easy and annoying as hell and suddenly you are adrift. 

“Nah, I’m done waiting, Santi,” you bite. He doesn’t catch the double-meaning in your words, because of course he doesn’t. Why would he?

Your skin flushes with instant heat as a result of his presence- definitely a recently acquired response. And so, you hastily dismiss your leather jacket, revealing a strappy, red, form-fitting dress beneath. Your appearance even earns a low whistle and murmur of approval from your buddies. 

“Someone’s gonna get lucky in that cute little number,” Frankie says pointedly, even as he’s staring curiously at Santiago staring at you. Maybe he’s on to you two. 

You smile, happy -as ever- to take a little flattery. Plus, you do find it hilarious to watch these guys squirm when they remember that you do, in fact, have a body concealed underneath all your tactical gear. 

“Well I won’t get lucky if you chumps keep staring down every man who looks at me,” you complain, already having clocked the defensive perimeter which has formed around you, simply from the way they have positioned themselves.  

The squad are protective of you, unnecessarily, and you simultaneously chide and love them for it.

“Big men protec’, chiquita,” Frankie teases, puffing out his biceps and chest like a gorilla. He says it knowing fine well you could take out any one of them if you wanted.

You hear the warm rumble of Santiago’s laugh next to you too, chiming in time with yours, his body closer than you’d realised as he dishes the remaining shots out. “Please!” he scoffs, casually slinging his arm around the back of your bar stool, the shot primed in his other hand. “You know damn well she doesn’t need protection!” 

“She’s gonna need protection when she gets laid,” Will quips, causing Tom to almost snort beer out of his nose in amusement and Frankie to high-five him from across the table. You would scold him but you’re laughing too, even as you roll your eyes good-naturedly at their ‘bro’ humour. 

You drop your head towards Santiago as the others continue snickering like a pack of hyenas, the alcohol clearly having gone to their heads already. That’s what they get for drinking on empty stomachs. You and Santiago’d had the foresight to hit up a first rate food truck on the route across town, like sensible people.

“Dance with me, Pope?” you ask, giving him a subtle yet seductive bat of your eyes.

“For the love of God, Pope. Leave some women for the rest of us,” Tom pleads -partially in jest, you’re sure- as Santiago curtly nods, not knowing quite what you’re up to but taking your hand anyway.

“Ok. I hear you. Let’s ditch these losers,” Santiago joshes, smiling as he gets a predictable rise out of his squad.

It isn’t so unusual for you two to dance together when you visit bars, so it doesn’t earn too much suspicion from the group (plus, you’re military - you two have been pretty damn good at hiding your hook-ups, covering your tracks). Dancing with you might undo the careful ground-work Santiago had laid with the barmaid just a moment ago, however. Even so, Santiago opts to follow you into the sweaty throng of people on the floor all the same, your fingers loosely twined with his as you lead him. You find a relatively private spot, away from the prying eyes of the squad, and come to a standstill. 

You turn into Santiago at the last available moment, meaning he ends up disconcertingly close. Almost chest-to-chest with you.

“Put your hands on me,” you command, a little more throaty than intended. You sling your arms around his shoulders, fingertips brushing at the buzzed hair at the nape of his neck. Santiago hesitates, but following a search of your eyes he plants his hands firmly onto the small of your back. You instantly feel the broadness and the warmth of him through the thin fabric of your dress. Those lethal hands. The hands that have pulled triggers and grenade clips. Choked the life out of assailants. Those lethal hands that have traced gently down your back as you laid bare beside him, killing you softly.

You let his hands rove over your body, wherever he wants to put them. Apparently, he wants to put them everywhere he can, like it’s a compulsion to touch you. He trails his hands up and down your back, ghosts them over the globes of your ass, snakes them down to the lip of your dress where his fingertips brush against your bare thighs, tacky with heat. And, after wandering, his hands come to rest low-slung on your hips, exactly where he likes to grab you when he thrusts into you. He gives you a subtle squeeze there, and the feel of him floods back to you. You are reminded of the way, when you’re with him, your own lethal hands are finally occupied by something other than battle. Of the times when you relinquish any preoccupation with victory, in favour of reaching perfect surrender. The times when your heart throbbing in your throat feels like safety instead of danger. 

His hands on you feel... natural. You move together symbiotically. Your bodies are always, easily in sync. On the battlefield, on the dance floor, in the bedroom. Always moving as a team. After so long side-by-side, it would be hard to exist in a manner to the contrary. It would be hard to exist without him at all. 

Will be hard. 

You let Santiago press against you as you sway together on the darkened dancefloor, gyrating and slinking your hips in time with the music. You feel him half-harden against you and his grip on your hips tightens, a feeble but gruff sound involuntarily escaping his lips and causing a coil to tighten in the pit of you. 

You think Santiago looks into your eyes meaningfully then. With something deep and unspeakable. Though that must simply be the wishful thinking you’ve become so practised at, and so, you immediately dismiss the thought, even as you nestle your mouth closer to his ear in order to speak. As your breath fans over the corded column of his neck you could swear he engorges further. And, the ache between your legs becomes almost unbearable at the spike of his cologne in your nostrils, his familiar scent curling within you. 

Santiago doesn’t smell like spice or musk or woodsmoke. Not to you. To you he smells like memories and possibilities - a heady paradox. Like your past and future. His scent inspires a quickening within you. Something under your skin is spurred into motion, tending toward collision. Yet at the same time, his scent curls in you and feels like… a stilling too. Like someone entirely arrived at a place so familiar that they forget ever having arrived at all and can’t imagine leaving. 

You dismiss it. You try. You fracture the moment. You must, before you collide. 

“I hear you’ve had some informant woes? I hope to God we got the intel.” You feel him tense instantly against you.

“Uh-huh. I got it.” Santiago‘s not really listening. Instead, he’s dropping his eyes to your body pressed up against his own, the heels of his hands now kneading into your hips. “You look good.” His voice is a husk in the shell of your ear as he leans into you, ensuring he can be heard over the music.

“Good for Luci, breaking it off though.” You dismiss his compliment, barely able to obscure the animosity in your tone despite all attempts to sound casual. 

He snaps back from you an inch or so, enough to look you directly in the eyes. You think that maybe, he looks almost disappointed. “Jealous?” he probes, ticking-up one eyebrow. 

He knows you far too well. Yet, despite his on-the-mark observation, the question makes you feel called-out and so, your next tack becomes unnecessarily cruel. Vengeful almost. “He’s getting there.” 

“What?” Santiago asks in evident confusion, his hands slipping back-up to the neutral area of your back as the mood slips away too. 

“The tall drink of water at 9 ‘o’ clock. Guy who’s been eyeing me all night. Doesn’t he look like he wants his hands on me instead of yours?” You know that you sound cruel, and petty, and the words feel bitter, like salt and lime in your mouth. You’ve said them all the same though. It’s already done. 

Santiago’s jaw clenches, eyes flicking subtly over as he rotates you to get a better look at your target. 

“He does,” he states, with a thin attempt at neutrality, his neck roped with tension as his eyes skim over the other man. 

“Great. Then thanks for the dance, Wingman. You’re relieved.”

Santiago puffs out air, his jaw clenching and eyes darkening. 

You tick an eyebrow up at him. “What’s wrong? You jealous, Santiago?”

Then, you saunter towards the bar, where the other man is stood. He very blatantly gives you the once over, evidently liking what he sees. You lean in with a flirty smile, letting the image of an aggrieved Santiago dissolve into the throng of people as you allow yourself to be entirely distracted. 

You are done waiting. 

You want to be noticed, and this handsome man in front of you is certainly providing you with his undivided attention. 

***

Later, Santiago watches you prepare to leave with the other man, disgruntled and forlorn. He’s watched you all night via snatched glances through the crowd. Watched the man laugh at your jokes, watched him work up the courage to brush your arm. He watched you eventually move in for the kiss, your eyes turning hungry as you pulled away, teeth biting down on that delicious, pillowy lip of yours. 

The bar having quietened down a little by now, Santiago sits in a booth opposite Tom and Frankie, Will having found his own company for the remainder of the night as well. Santiago’s head is propped on his elbow, a half-empty beer nestled in his other hand. His buddies’ eyes needle him as you toss a casual salute over to the table, your hook-up leading you out by the hand and your eyes shining gleefully. 

“What?” Santiago hisses defensively, as Frankie continues to stare knowingly at him from the opposite side of the table. 

Frankie’s head simply shakes in amusement. “Nothing. Only… when in the hell are you gonna figure out it’s her you really want, huh?”

“She’s just a friend,” Santiago bristles, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, hunching in on himself. 

“And a fuck-buddy,” Tom ventures.

Santiago looks down, taking a masking swig of his beer. “You know about that?”

“Didn’t until just now. But thanks a bunch for confirming,” Tom replies in a self-satisfied tone, earning a chuckle and a bump on the shoulder from Frankie. 

“Well… fuck.” Santiago sighs, his face becoming pinched. 

“I already knew,” Frankie states. “Christ. You’re loud enough, man. Hard to keep the secret that you’re nailing one of the squad when we’re camped out in, like, 3ft of jungle.”

Santiago absent-mindedly picks at the label on his bottle with his thumb. “Don’t talk about it like that, man. It’s not… Fuck.” 

Frankie just looks across at him in sympathy, Santiago’s reaction revealing more than he probably cared to about the true extent of his predicament. 

You’d risen through the ranks together. You’d been through a lot. Everyone on the squad knew Santiago was your ride or die and you his. You had each other’s backs. Had tended each other’s bullet wounds for Christ’s sake. Your friendship and the trust between you both -on the battlefield and off it- was deep and unshakeable.

“And you don’t want more than that?” Tom probes.

Despite being indoors, Santiago picks up his baseball cap from the seat and pulls it down over his eyes then, in an attempt to shield himself from this line of questioning. 

“What ‘else’ is there? There’s not much time for romance in between a hail of bullets.”

“Maybe.” Tom tips his head, contemplatively. “But you’re not getting any younger, Pope. How many years do your Goddamn knees have left in them?” He lets that one simmer for a moment, before nodding pointedly towards the door through which you had retreated. “You could do a lot worse, you know.”

“She could do a lot better,” Frankie interjects, earning a snigger from Tom and causing Santiago to huff, expression turning surly. Frankie holds his hands up defensively then. “Look, you do you, man. I’m just saying... I’m sure you’re having a great time getting your dick wet all over the continent… but if you don’t step up soon? You might regret it.”

Santiago whips his eyes towards his buddy, gaze interrogative and piercing. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing in particular,” Frankie shrugs, searching Santiago’s eyes with equal vigour. Santiago drops his gaze first, feeling exposed. 

Frankie kicks his buddy gently under the table. “Come on, hermano. Use your words. Share your feelings.” 

Frankie’s words may sound mildly taunting, as ever, but Santiago recognises the invitation to open up is genuine. He purses his lips, brows knitting together as he resists it, picking through his choice of words carefully before he allows them out of his mouth. He massages his palm over his roughened jaw and it rasps like sandpaper. “I don’t even know if she wants more.” 

“Are you kidding me, man?” Tom responds in amusement. “The guy who can get information out of a freakin’ stone, make any informant sing, ‘doesn’t know’ if she wants more? That’s what’s stopping you? A fucking intel issue?”

Frankie titters again, narrowing his eyes at Santiago and trying to figure him out. “He’s scared,” the man accuses, before his tone softens involuntarily. “That it?” 

Santiago takes an idle swig of his beer, polishing off the dregs before shrugging his jacket on, jaw twitching in irritation. 

“Oh shit, he’s moping! He’s moping now. Can’t handle the truth,” Tom mocks. 

“Come on, Santiago,” Frankie reasons. “We just want things to work out for you. You two are a good match- any chump can see that. Heh. Except maybe you.” 

Santiago doesn’t respond. Instead, he simply continues his silent preparations to leave, stuffing his wallet and keys into his jean pockets. 

“Plus- there are a bunch of reasons we’d like you off the market,” Tom teases. “More women for the rest of us. Golden opportunity to tease you for being so whipped.” Tom flashes a shit-eating grin up at his friend. 

Nodding gently, lips twisted in a pout and refusing to rise to it, Santiago tips his head towards his squad members. “Gentlemen,” he offers by way of farewell, before starting towards the door. 

“Want me to walk you home safe, chiquito?” Frankie calls.

“I’m not going home.” Santiago turns and gives the two men an affectionate middle finger before beelining toward the exit. 

“You’re not going over to her right now, are you? Pope? Santiago? That’s not what we... She’s gonna be pissed, man. Think this through!” Tom shouts after him, but it’s futile. Santiago has already swept out into the night, leaving Tom and Frankie to exchange helpless glances. 

There is a beat. 

Then: “I bet the bastard gets laid as well,” Frankie snorts. 

“Right?” Tom hums softly in agreement. “If anyone can turn up to a girl’s apartment while she’s banging another guy and still end up getting down? It’s that little shit, no word of a lie.”

There is a moment of silence as the pair sip their drinks and contemplate what Santiago has, precisely, which causes women to become so enamoured with him. 

“Maybe it’s his ass?” Tom offers, finally. 

Frankie clicks his fingers. “Ah. You’re probably right. That ass won’t quit.”

Meanwhile, Santiago steps out into the fresh air, the slight bite of it taking the edge off his alcohol buzz. 

His thoughts are overwhelmed with you. Have been overwhelmed with you. In truth, Santiago is finding it harder and harder to keep this up. Especially whenever it is just the two of you, he finds it harder and harder to resist you. 

It is typically easier in the city, where there are plenty of distractions. He is grateful for it - other people he can tangle with to take his mind off of you. In the city, it is easier to push that side of you out of his mind and to fall back into the clear-cut ways. The way it used to be before the lines had become blurred. Easier to compartmentalise his feelings for you. A friend first. A soldier second. A lover, only intermittently. 

Santiago was determined not to let everything bleed into one, because once those barriers, those delineations fell, he was convinced he would never be able to rebuild them. 

Most of all, he was convinced he wouldn’t want to. 

The thing is... the “distractions”? They never really worked for long. You are the only woman for him, in truth. And for all it might be crazy, he is headed towards your apartment right now to find out if you feel the same way. To find out if you want more. To find out if you see him as more than a friend and a soldier and a lover, or if you see him completely, and all at once. 

To find out if he is everything to you, like you are to him. 

***

There is a loud rap on your door and it tears you, regretfully, from the tangle of limbs you are in. When the knock becomes more insistent, you apologise to the man blissed out beneath you and extricate yourself from his embrace, hastily cloaking yourself in a sheet and traipsing through your temporary apartment – home for the time being. Adrenalin piqued, you peer through the spyhole, relief flooding you when you see who it is. 

“Santi? What the fuck?” you ask, opening the door to him and pressing the sheet to you with your remaining hand.

“Hi,” he says casually, the brim of his baseball cap pulled down over his eyes.

“I’m in the middle of something,” you bite, emphatically. “What in the hell do you want?” you hiss at him, keeping your volume low.

“You,” he says plainly.

Santiago looks you over; your flushed face, plumped lips and blatant post-orgasm glow. His jaw visibly clenches.

“What?!” you exclaim in confusion. 

“I want you.”

You tear his blasted hat off to examine his eyes for sincerity, pushing it into his chest all bunched-up. He hastily stuffs it in his jacket pocket. Eyes narrowed, you appraise him a moment longer, clicking your tongue in disbelief at the nerve this man has before abruptly closing the door on him.

“Bye, Santi.” 

“Wait!” he pleads, jamming his foot in the door and muscling through.

“What in the hell are you doing?!” you hiss again, backing-up and almost tripping over your sheet, which Santiago now has his mucky boots all over.

By this time, your hook-up for the night has heard the commotion and blustered through the dark apartment -in the nude- to ward off your supposed intruder. Your companion is bigger, sure, but he certainly shouldn’t mess with Santiago. He wouldn’t fare well at all. 

You raise your hand to diffuse the situation. “It’s ok, he’s a friend. Sometimes,” you add with a tilt of your head.

Your companion’s face flashes with recognition as Santiago emerges from out of the shadows. “Oh. It’s you, from the bar. Here I was thinking we’d gotten rid of you already.”

Santiago simply glowers with bubbling aggravation at the man, who has the cheek to just stand there with his fucking schlong out, entirely undeterred. Santiago puffs his chest out, making himself larger. 

“Please.” Santiago addresses you, tearing his eyes away from the man. “Can we talk?”

You sigh, unable to believe that you’re being stupid enough to agree to his demands. You turn back to the man you were enjoying being on top of until a moment ago. “Can you give us five minutes? I’m so sorry. I’ll be back.”

“Well - she might not be back,” Santiago suggests, and you glare at him, irritated.

The man looks between you and Santiago in disbelief before addressing you only. “Sure,” he says with a languid, sultry smile, ignoring Santiago entirely. “I’m willing to wait if we get to continue the fun we were having.” 

“Oh he’s a cheeky fuck,” Santiago grates, his whole body tense, and you quickly grab his elbow to bundle him into the kitchen before he can do any further damage.

“You’re the cheeky fuck, Santiago.” Apparently that’s your type. You vaguely wonder why you keep subjecting yourself to this, but you certainly don’t wish to pull on that thread too hard. Not right now. 

As you release his elbow, Santiago comes to face you in the narrow slip of a kitchen.

“Well? What in the hell are you doing here?” you rage whisper at him, folding your arms across yourself and tapping your foot impatiently on the tiled floor. 

Santiago simply squares up to you, his expression formidable, unphased. His dark eyes trail over you again, snagging on the places where the sheet drapes over the contours of you. You are suddenly uncomfortably aware of how naked you are beneath it. “Told you. I want you.”

Normally, those words were enough. But not any longer. You scoff. “I know all about how you want me, Pope. Half-heartedly. You want me when it suits you. When you can’t have me. When there’s no-one else around for you to want.”

It is his turn to scoff now. “Casual is what you wanted. You gonna throw that back in my face now?”

You sigh, tiredly, refusing to get embroiled in this. This is all meaningless. He can twist things and make excuses all he likes, but Santiago is a man of action. If he wanted you? Really wanted you? He wouldn’t let a Goddamn technicality stand in the way. 

You don’t have the energy for excuses. For this conversation. You’ve waited too long for Santiago to even realise there is anything worth talking about. So, instead of fighting back, you let it go. 

“I’m done, Santi. I’m out.”

Your words feel like a relief to you, after bottling this up since you came to the decision. The relief extends through your body as you sag backward to lean up against the cold fridge door, that too relieving on your hot, sheening skin.

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Santi dismisses your assertion instantly. He tended towards tunnel vision about some things. Just because he didn’t want out, he tended to assume that was true for everyone else. He was a connector, an enabler, and these factors combined meant the squad had stayed together a long time; far longer than it ever should have, like this time. He’d pulled his “retired” buddies back in, yet again. 

“I’m for real, Santi,” you say in a small voice. “It’s already done.”

A veil of shock then betrayal passes over his face as the truth of your words sinks in. He takes a step back from you, as if he’s been sucker punched in the gut. His brows knit together and he looks down at the floor. “When?”

“Three weeks.” You figure you may as well rip the band-aid off in one go.

He turns his mouth down at the corners and slowly nods his head, doing an admirable job of containing whatever it is he is feeling, for the moment, while he gathers his intelligence. Mission above emotion, as ever. Santiago looks at the world through a scope sometimes, and he often forgets about the big picture. It always surprises you how a man so perceptive and attentive to detail -when he chooses to apply it- could fail to notice something right under his nose. 

“Where?”

“Home. Desk-job, by the ocean. Private firm and a nice salary too. What’s not to love?” You add the extra information in an effort to detract from the thing you least wanted to face. Home is far. Far from him. 

“Fuck,” Santiago breathes, finally looking up at you. “Because of me?”

You bristle again. “You arrogant piece of....” you sigh heavily, biting your lip and reminding yourself it isn’t worth it to grow aggravated. Plus, there’s a kernel of truth in his question, after all. You gather yourself before speaking again. “I stayed so long because of you, Santi. But I’m leaving for me. I’m tired of waiting.” Maybe he’ll notice you when you’re gone, you think. Maybe he’ll want you then.  

“You can’t go. Someone with your skillset will be impossible to replace at short notice. How the hell am I supposed to keep the operation afloat without you?” 

You shake your head softly, smiling in disbelief, his response confirming so many of your reasons behind going. Always focussed on the mission.

“Frankie’s looking into someone, actually. He knows a guy. He’s not as good as me, of course, but-”

“-You told Frankie?!” You can hear in his voice that the revelation hurts him. He has always been your confidant. But hey, things change, even if Santiago never does. 

“Yeah, well,” you say thinly, through your teeth. “There’s plenty you don’t tell me, Santi.” You look at him pointedly. “Besides, I think you’ll manage. You always seem to find someone to meet your… needs. Don’t you?”

Santiago brings one arm up beside your head, leaning against the fridge with his palm, his dark eyes turbulent and boring into yours. “You’re the one who’s got some guy in there. What do you want from me, huh?”

He crowds you, but you can’t bring yourself to push him back. Instead, you languish more readily up against the fridge door, your grip on your sheet becoming less and less sure.

“Oh! That’s your fucking grand gesture? You came here to ask me what the hell I want from you?” Your passions rise, heart thrumming in your chest. You try and tell yourself it’s entirely from anger and nothing at all to do with his proximity. That it’s certainly not because of that look he’s giving you. 

Speaking of proximity, Santiago’s now close enough to smell the other man’s scent on you. He’s leaning into you, breath ragged and desire clouding his eyes, even as you still bear the signs of being ravaged by another between your legs. Or perhaps… because of it. 

Even as you stand here, like this, signs of another lover temporarily strewn over your person, it’s ludicrous to think another could claim you. You belong to Santiago. It’s Santiago who is indelibly written onto your body, the map of scars telling the story and you and him. The scar on your shoulder from a bullet wound, the scar on your calf from an off-road collision, the marks all over you serve as a reminder of the times Santiago has been there for you. Pressed his lethal hands to you to keep your lifeforce from ebbing away. He is your ride or die, and your body knows it. 

Equally, as he stands there fully clothed, you know that his body similarly hosts a constellation of scars from all your shared moments; in the field, on missions, over continents. One of you could not hope to be read -to be understood- without the other. Your bodies would forever move through the world as a team, as a pair, even if you left his side. 

You were each the key to cartographing each other’s lives. To imagine that the hickey on your neck or the slick between your legs could begin to compare to the way Santiago had marked you as his was almost comical. 

“You really need a grand gesture to know I care about you?” You know what he’s asking. Is running into a hail of bullets for you not enough? Hasn’t he proven himself to you time and time again? 

“Santi. I don’t doubt you care about me. I could never. I just… I don’t feel like you know yet what you want from me. And I can’t wait anymore for you to make up your mind.” You shrug. “I don’t know. I just feel like… like sometimes you don’t even see me because I’ve always been right in front of you.” 

Santiago looks at you, pained, expression weighted, as if he can’t find the words to tell the story of you. But your bodies are not stories. They are maps, and maps are to be understood through being travelled. That’s why, when his hand slips to you shoulder to slowly trace the scar there, it makes sense. It is understood without words as his fingers journey over your skin, a varied terrain of memories flashing through Santiago’s eyes. His touch retracing years in only moments. 

“I see you,” he insists, his voice a husk, his calloused fingertips trailing over your smooth, delicate skin. Making you feel weak. Making you want to become a soft, fluid thing beneath him. Oh, he’s looking at you now. There’s that attention that feels like it might end you. You commune wordlessly, breath quickening, that pulse of desire tending toward collision, the stillness of having arrived home as he touches you.   

“I see you,” he purrs, his hand moving to your sheet, gently tugging it away from your grasp and giving you ample opportunity to protest. But you don’t. You don’t protest. You are symbiotic with him. You move as a team, and you can’t help but want to merge. Maybe that’s why you let him tug the sheet from your grasp, fabric pooling at your feet. Maybe it’s the ache between your legs. Maybe it’s because you know he gives it to you good. 

Santiago exposes you completely to him, eyes then hands hungrily trailing down over your contours. His fingers grip your hips firmly as his mouth sinks into your neck, his hot breath fanning over you as he speaks. 

“I see you, baby.” 

Your arms are still pinned to your sides as you pretend that somehow you can resist your urges, despite being naked and needy and oh so ready in front of him. 

“Fuck you, Santiago,” you breathe, voice trembling, and you know exactly what he’s doing as his lips and his teeth snag angrily over your skin. Reclaiming you. Marking you as his. And instead of pushing him away, you pull him closer to you. Instead of recoiling you arch your body against him, breasts pushing up against him, the cold metal of his chain harsh against your skin. The sturdy mass and heat of him beneath his clothes only highlighting how exposed and vulnerable you feel, your desire entirely on display like a flare in the dark. 

His mouth has already ravaged your neck, your collarbone, his stubble abrasive against you, leaving a pleasant burn in its wake. His cologne is the only scent enveloping you now. Then, his hands rove over you, everywhere, like he’d wished they could in the bar, your skin still cloying, tacky with sweat. He paws at every bit of you as if to reinstate his claim on you. Your breasts, your ass, your hips, your thighs. He isn’t gentle. His hands showing their strength in a way they haven’t with you before now. He tongues your salty skin and the way his mouth punishes you is bitter like lime, foreshadowing his words. 

“Did he make you come?” he asks into your neck, his hand slipping between your legs and finding you wet and welcoming. “Did he?”

“Yes,” you breathe, his voice commanding enough that you want to answer. Your face contorting as if in pain as Santiago continues to grind two girthy fingers over your folds. Your companion had made you wet, but nothing like this. All he’s doing is feeling you, coating himself, and Santiago has you drenched already; you can feel it slick against your inner thighs as you tremble under the weight of yourself, suddenly so heavy with lust that you can barely stand. 

Your arms wind around his neck to steady yourself and he pins you between him and the fridge, your fingers inching up through the buzzed hair at his neck, nails trailing over his scalp and up into his grizzled curls as you finally become molten against him. Your hands fist in his hair and you tug his head up towards your lips, earning a grunt from him as pain needles across his scalp. The sound is growled into your mouth as his snarled kiss crashes against yours.

He’s frustrated, and he’s jealous, and he wants to show you that you’re his. What’s more, you want him to show you. Oh, how you want him to.

You shudder against the sudden blunt pressure of two of Santiago’s fingers at your entrance, your need urgent and a tightness building so immediately in your core. He pushes himself more firmly up against you, pinning you between his taut body and the fridge. His tongue ravages your mouth and your pleas for him to touch you become incoherent sounds that you work into him in return. His kiss is rough, his teeth scathing you, lips on yours in a crush, stubble grating at your chin and cheeks as he opens himself up as if to devour you. Then, he sucks your bottom lip in between his own and clamps his teeth down until you howl against the sting of it, bucking your body against the pain as you cry into his mouth. 

With the bucking of your hips, you grind yourself against his hand, and Santiago barely needs to move as you willingly spear yourself on his fingers. He leaves you wanting though, allowing you just an inch of him when he has so much more to give. Already, the ridges of him against you are providing divine friction, his fingers curling and scissoring inside you, but he leaves you begging for more. Begging him to plunge himself all the way in. 

“Did you think about me when you took him? Did you use him and wish it was me between your legs?” Santiago’s voice is like gravel in the shell of your ear, and his words curl into the depths of you. With them, he thrusts his fingers angrily into your heat, driving himself in all the way to the knuckle. Your eyes practically roll back into your head as he thrusts harshly and asks you again, even more insistent. “Did you?”

“Yes,” you admit, in a broken voice, tugging him closer to you, crushing your lips onto the column of his neck, tugging the collar of his shirt aside until you can bite down into the meat of his shoulder, stifling your moans there as his pace intensifies. His fingers are curling relentlessly towards your sweet spot and your walls are already fluttering against him. The heel of his hand is rocking against your excruciatingly sensitive clit, applying steady rolls of pressure as his fingers delve into you. His watch strap digs into your pubic bone but for some reason it only adds to the heightened sensations coursing through you. 

“Do I make you feel good? Do I make you feel better with my fingers than he could with his whole body, huh?” 

His words practically make you sob into him. It’s dirtier than you’ve ever heard him talk. It’s more intimate and further from friendship than anything you’ve done with him so far. Yes, you’ve fucked but this… this is something else. This is you admitting you are entirely his. This feels simultaneously more like battle and more like surrender than it ever has. And you wholly surrender. 

You moan. You moan out loud despite the fact you shouldn’t. Despite the fact there’s still another man in the apartment who you had underneath you only moments ago. 

“Are you gonna come on my fingers – show me who you belong to?” 

You agree. You agree wholeheartedly. 

Santiago pulls back just to watch you. To see the pleasure play over your face, both the overabundance of it and dearth of it as every touch satisfies yet has you craving more. You see a prideful glow in his eyes that he has you this wrecked, mewling and writhing on him as he adds a third finger into your wetness and pumps himself hard in and out of you. 

“Fuck,” he intones, his voice hollowed-out. “You’re fucking drenched. Wettest I’ve ever felt.” God. You can hear how wet you are. 

In dire need of some relief himself, Santiago presses his clothed, hardened length against your hip as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you. Even through the substantial fabric of his jeans you can feel the thick, hard promise of him as he begins to grind himself against you, low and guttural moans escaping his sweet lips. The fact that he’s so fucking desperate for you, that you have made him hot enough to get off from only this has a knot tightening in the pit of you as you watch him start to unravel alongside you. 

“Fuck, Santi,” you moan into the air, not even caring that there’s someone else in the apartment. Past caring about anything at all except your need for him to keep touching you, his fingers filling you up so well. 

“That’s it, baby. Say my name, say you’re mine.”

Santiago is still grinding his clothed length against you, even as his fingers overflow with your essence. He dips his head into the crook of your neck and the growl he emits fans over your skin. Makes it sound as if he’s about to lose it too, simply from this. His spare hand dips down to collect one of your breasts and he lifts your nipple into his mouth, sucking and tonguing and biting the peak of you, squeezing you -not gently- as you topple towards your end. 

He continues to grind against you, and the thought of him exploding in his pants for you tips you over the edge, his name tumbling from your lips over and over as you flutter and clench around his fingers. The feeling spreading outward through your body like an explosion, leaving you levelled, a resounding buzz reaching all the way to your extremities and whiting out your vision like a flashbang. Your fingers tangle in Santiago’s curls as you spasm against him, his fingers eking every last drop of pleasure from you - as though he knows his way around you better than anyone could. 

At the feel and sound and sight of you coming undone, his hardened length grinds on you with renewed vigour, a wracked and disbelieving moan stuttering through him as he loses it without you having laid a finger on him. His body becomes stiff against you as he pulses his seed out beneath his clothes. Something about him being so lost in desire for you that he’d make a mess of himself like that has you clenching with deep, generous aftershocks, adrift with the thought of his hardened length pearling with his warm release.  

Santiago’s head settles into the crook of your neck as you both come down together, even as his fingers continue to lazily pulse in and out of you - just to feel you. Your arms lovingly cradle his head, fingers tangling in his curls, your lips finding their way to his hairline to plant gentle kisses there. Your Santiago. In your arms. 

You stay there a moment until your jagged breathing and thrumming heart settle, enjoying him languorously touching you. With a shiver of contentment, he withdraws from your heat, wrapping his unsullied hand around your waist to pull you closer. 

For a moment, everything is in soft focus, like the break of day before an alarm.  You close your eyes against his touch and breathe him in as he whispers lovingly into your neck, planting light kisses where a moment ago his puckered lips left angry bruises. 

“Fuck. I love you. I love you. I adore you. I need you.”

When you don’t respond though, Santiago stills against you, lifting his head to look you dead in the eyes. He finds them tearing in the corners. 

Your voice begins weakly. “You love me, Santi. But do you want a life with me? A life outside of the mission, outside of all of this?”

He brushes his thumb softly over your jawline. “I know I haven’t been all in. But I swear it to you, baby... you’re my end game. It’s just, we’re not there yet. We’re too deep in this shit. If we can get one more of Lorea’s deputies then maybe-”

“-Sure,” you say sadly, the word heavy and the intimacy of the moments prior dissipating quickly. You know fine well what “one more” means. You dip to collect your sheet from the floor and tighten it around yourself, using the motion in a vague attempt to distract both Santiago and yourself from the tears threatening more violently in your eyes now. 

The footsteps you hear approaching the kitchen are a further welcome distraction, and you surreptitiously clean off Santiago’s hand on the already soiled sheet before your first companion of the evening (now fully clothed) pops his head around the doorframe. 

“I’m just gonna leave,”  he interjects awkwardly, and your cheeks flush in humiliation. You’re sure one day, far into the future, this may be a funny story you tell, but, right now? It feels more than a little mortifying. 

“I’m so sorry. I…” You reach for a more robust apology but come up with nothing, far too aware that Santiago’s eyes continue to needle you. What are you going to do? Tell him it was fun? And so, since you opt to leave it hanging, your companion simply pumps his eyebrows once before striding smoothly out of your apartment. You jump slightly as you hear the door slamming shut behind him, evidently feeling a little on edge despite being wrung out so recently by bliss.  

Your eyes linger on the doorframe a little too long, staring at nothing except the now vacated space. You’re not ready to turn your attention back to Santiago quite yet, and you’re much less ready to deal with what will follow. 

It turns out, you don’t even have to look back at him, because your cowardice says it all for you. Instead, a small voice escapes him. 

“You’re still gonna go, aren’t you?”

You look at him then, and you see a sadness blooming in his eyes which is so heart-breaking that you're half-glad when tears gather in your own, blurring-out the sight of him. His pain always was too much for you to look at. 

Your gladness is short-lived however, as your own tears begin to spill out of you. You wipe the deluge away with the heel of your hand, but the tears are coming quicker than you can mop them up. Your chest shakes as you speak your next words. 

“I love you, Santi. Believe me. I love you. But it’s always ‘just one more’.” One more woman. One more mission. One more way to break your heart. “You’re living like... like you can get to the end of the line and wish for one more fucking chance.”

“Don’t go. Please,” he pleads, moving close to you and wrapping his arms around you. His broad, warm hands at your back. “Please. I’m putting it on the line here. I want you. I love you.” 

You smile thinly at him. You know he’s trying and God, you love him too. But this? For you, it’s too little, too late. For him, you guess you’re asking for too much, too soon. He’s not ready to leave this life. He’s not even ready to imagine leaving it. But, oh boy, you are. You are. 

You sniffle and take a deep, steadying breath, giving it everything you have to stay firm, despite every fibre in you telling you to surrender. To just stay with him. It would be too easy to do. 

“It’s a hard out, Santi.”

He senses the finality of your words and nods slowly, his eyes shining with tears, his whole face becoming taut with emotion. His silence is prolonged as he draws in ragged breaths. His hands slip away from your back and the moment slips away with them. You miss the warmth of them instantly. 

“Okay,” he says in a small, curt voice. “Okay.”

He about turns, precise and efficient, swivelling towards the door and tracking along the hallway leading out of your apartment.

“Santi, wait!” you call, traipsing along after him, slowed by the material bundling at your feet. “Santiago Garcia, don’t you dare leave it like this,” you plead. “Not after everything.”

He turns his head back towards you as he swings open your front door. His eyes are cold, face set as he looks at you, his voice monotone. “I’m not the one leaving.”

An anger and a sadness erupt in you at the coldness, the cruelness of his words, and, apparently, not even the sight of the fresh batch of tears spilling down your cheeks can slow his retreat from your apartment.

Santiago “Pope” Garcia turns and swiftly walks out without looking back, leaving the door swinging violently on its hinges. The fucking nerve of this man. 

You start after him; but he’s already making his way down the stairwell and you’re in no position to chase him. Your pain boiling over you yell, voice creaking under the weight of your emotion. 

“I hope your fucking knees give out on the way down, you asshole.”

Your cruel, cheap words carry down the stairwell, yet an echo is all the response you get. Santiago is gone. He didn’t stop for a second. 

He doesn’t know how to stop.

He’s mission over emotion. Near-death over living. He’s seemingly in this until it kills him, but you can’t be in it anymore. You have always been his ride or die, but now is the time for you to live, even if that means you can no longer be side-by-side with him. 

He is the other half of you and no matter where you are to go, your bodies will move through the world as a team, one unable to be read without the other. Santiago is written all over you, and nothing can change that. 

Besides, you know if he really wants to, he can always come find you. He has a map for loving you, if he would ever follow the route it was trying to take him. But he’s not there yet. 

He just has one more mission to go.

And then the next.

And the next. 

And the next. 

[abitterberryblog]

TWOTM Emissa Corenius : An Over-Analyzation

Major The Will of the Many spoilers and random theories ahead !!

Okay, so when I first read The Will of the Many, I wasn’t reading properly, and I just kinda assumed that Emissa was just a kinda blandly written character in such a well-written world. That was, of course, until the whole twist thing. What I liked was that it wasn’t a complete 360, and that she didn’t end up as extremely bad, but flawed enough for me not to be annoyed with her existence, and for her to not seem like only a Mary Sue 'love interest' character.

The thing is, I don't think she is at all.

First of all, I’m starting this with an analyzation of her relationship with Vis, and her not-so-role as a ‘love interest’. Was it real? Was it fake? I think she eventually did grow to be fond over him after a while, but I’ve always known she was going to betray him somehow. Something about the vibes.

It all started with the glass of water at the infirmary. I know there’s a chance that maybe she’s just, idk, kind or whatever, but after the ending, I’m not so 100% sure.

Not only that, but Ulciscor  constantly nagging about how suspicious he was of her. (Normally I'd pass it off as Ulciscor  being obsessed and hyper-anxious about the mission thing, but this was Emissa, and that caught my interest.)

There’s a really fat chance that she was, somehow, working with Veridius. This does not mean that she’s evil or whatever, and I'm still trying to figure out of Veridius is good or not, but it does make her a lot more interesting and complex.

Towards the end of the Iudicium, Emissa uses Will. You can’t use Will during academy stuff without some sort of source, or somebody allowing to use it. It's simply not possible?? Veridius? He’s literally the Principalis of the academy, after all, and during the infirminary scene at the end of the book, its implied that the Principalis spoke with Emissa beforehand, when he says to Vis that ‘she’s distraught’ and tries convincing Vis to talk to her.

What I noticed in this book is that the author, James Islington, is very careful in what he keeps in the book. Details. Hints. No matter how small or useless they seem. There are MAJOR spoilers, but : Here's a funny example I found.

See? Everything is littered in little details to be explored upon later. Even something as simple as a background detail of Aequa flipping coins.

ALSO, and something that I don’t see talked about for some reason, is the fact that Emissa knows that Indol was planning to deflect from Military to Religion. Indol never told her this. He’s shocked that she knows. Guess who may know??? Veridius???? That's right!!!

The question is, why would Veridius tell Emissa this? No idea from me here. But something else during the Iudicium arc catches my attention, and it’s the fact that Veridius PRIVATELY tells everybody what prize they would get if they won the whole thing. As implied by Eidhin (after he cancels on the Iudicium thing for Vis’ sake), Veridius often tempts them with something they really, really badly want,  and something that would drive them to want to win. 

I’m surprised not many people talk about that scene where Emissa asks Vis for the Heart of Jovan in the Iudicium, so she could win. She’s upset by this, obviously, since she cries and stuff, but I notice that she says “I can’t let us get separated.”

When I first read, I assumed she was talking about Vis, but that wouldn’t make sense, since she basically stabbed him as he fell off a tower (?) like, five seconds later. And also, her and Vis being separated wouldn't be related to her winning the Iudicium, (unless she's in a scenario where she'll have to leave forever or something if she doesn't win, which isn't really likely), Which makes me wonder, who was she really talking about?

Hopefully, we’re find out in the next book. Someone she really cared about? Relative? Family member? Am I missing something? Will this be important?

After all, we don’t exactly 100% know why Veridius planted Vis near the Callidus-Eidhin punchy debacle. He obviously knew Vis would step in.

At first I wondered if he was trying to kick Vis out and expel him, which is probably more likely, but right now I’m running on four hours of sleep and I am high on theories.

I think I’ve read this theory somewhere on the Hierarchy subreddit, too, but what if Veridius planned this whole thing, not to expel Vis, but to plant Vis near the stables as his punishment, maybe for Emissa to keep an eye on him? Or woo him for secrets or whatever the fuck? 

At the very least, whether Veridius did purposely plant Vis there for that sole reason, or as an afterthought after Vis worms himself out with the Threefold Apology, I do think that Veridius did make Emissa watch over Vis on purpose.

Otherwise, I think it’ll be a little random with Emissa just casually joining Vis to scoop horse dung, and I do not care how cool or attractive or fascinating he may appear, I still think it’s important. Hopefully? And why do I think so, you may ask?

I do not really think Islington deliberately wanted Emissa and Vis to be like, endgame, endgame. Like, The EndgameTM.  Maybe Emissa was trying to get more information on him. I don't know. It’s plausible. Emissa is top of the academy after Indol, and besides Indol being of course the smartest (as told by Vis), Emissa is FAR smarter than most readers deem her to be. I don't think everything as simple as this. Emissa simply cannot be this blind and radiant and carefree. She isn't in a perfume ad. We've established, from the book itself, that twotm is LAYERS upon LAYERS and twist after twist.

First of all, I’m so sorry, but Emissa and Vis have like no chemistry (imo). They do have maybe like a teeny, tiny bit, but the thing is that Vis has more chemistry with LITERALLY every other character his age BESIDES Emissa. I know, I know, every writer isn’t perfect, but there’s something so suspicious about Emissa and Vis’ dynamic.

As mentioned once on a Hierarchy Series subreddit post, Emissa and Vis have a strange dynamic that is unlike the others characters. With literally every single other character/friendship/relationship that Vis is in, there are details of each interaction, each feeling Vis has with them, what they do, bla bla bla, snippets of the scene, dialogue, ect.

But with Emissa, it’s sort of just…speedran? Like, besides the whole Suus island romance debacle and theatrics, their interactions just sort of go…

“Emissa visited me in the stables and we talked. For a long time. She helped me. She's nice. Also, her eyes are really green.” 

“Emissa sometimes studied with Callidus and I in the morning, sometimes not. Blablabla, she’s great and funny.”

“Emissa talked with me during Suus after noticing that I was uncomfortable with the politician people, blabla. ”

“Emissa and I trained together. In Three. Emissa helped me study. In Three. Wow, she makes me smile. Haha.”

Obviously, I'm exaggerating, but I'm definitely NOT wrong. Open the book and reread it. I DARE you to tell me I'm wrong.

See, there’s no real scene with them. Is it just me who noticed this? Just a time jump where Vis summarizes everything he did with her and how awesome and fun it was. There’s no way an author, writing a book with this much description and detail, just fumbles a romance by writing it like this.

NOT ONLY THAT, but even the CONFESSION scene isn’t anything as theatric as the rest of the book. Not even a SMIDGEN. Even the whole kiss can be easily forgotten. It’s not some dramatic confession. It's not romantic. It's not even sweet and heart-warming in that subtle, simple way. It's just a really lukewarm 'maybe i like you' and then boom, and it's over in an instant.

Vis mentions Indol and the secret that Emissa accidentally exposes of Indol, and then Emissa (suspiciously) changes the topic to how much she likes Vis and kisses Vis. And then boom, romance. A quick end scene, as if it wasn't ever important.

Isn’t it like, hella SUSPICIOUS? She changed the topic. Kissed him. Distracted him. And then the scene ended like it wasn't a whole Vis-Developing, Emissa-Developing, HUGE relationship moment.

Which, yeah, maybe she did like him at some point, but it sure as hell is convenient, isn’t it? I’m super invested in her character now, which is ironic because I used to not be able to STAND her because I just thought her character was just a really poorly written love interest.

I’m convinced Islington has the writer ability to write a confession/kiss scene much better, and much less random than that. Which means that I really don’t think he INTENDED to make hearts swoon. Just to distract.

Emissa is very fascinating, and few people acknowledge that, and I am EXTREMELY excited for The Strength of the Few to release.

[sukunasweetheart]

//just me venting about sukuna haters sorry

Not me seeing so much discourse about whether sukuna is a well written villain or not... he essentially has no backstory shown as of yet and we barely know anything about him but he is still one of the most naturally interesting and compelling characters in the whole damn series bro 💀 buckle up bc its about to get lengthy (im just glazing sukuna in this post ngl so 🧎‍♀️)

so many whiny ass mfs are weeping about how he "doesn't have any personal goals or a proper reason to be a villain" when that is the whole point???? He lives on his own desires and satisfactions and does whatever he wants to, because he is capable enough to do that. Mfs want "real villains" but cant even handle sukuna 💀 ive seen too many shit ass threads and poorly articulated "critiques" on his character that dont make any valid points. If you can't even separate your personal dislike of a character from your analysis of their writing, dont even bother posting that shit please 😭😭😭 the fact that we haven't even gotten any information about his background yet and people are jumping the gun about him being "poorly written" is already saying a lot 🤨

The fact that yall are so bitter and angry about him that you can write 500+ words about how oh-so-terrible of a villain he is kinda proves that he's doing his job well tbh 💁‍♀️

What also bothers me to no END is how people compare him with villains of other series, who had compelling sob stories that made people empathise with them. Thats nice and all but why should all villains have grand ideals and be subject to feelings of empathy/sympathy from their audience?

Part of what makes sukuna so interesting is how he's not tied down by morals, rules or long term goals in life. He doesn't limit himself, which is what makes him an unpredictable character. He's completely left behind what it means to be human in many ways, and he's clearly not a character written to be empathised with. He is very purposefully inhumane and distant from everyone else, and that feeling transcends from within the series to real life as well. There is a clear lack of understanding bc most of us can't comprehend what its like to just live without being goal-oriented.

Sukuna is a true anomaly in the sense that he doesnt really fit in any kind of box within the series. He's born from man, but its clear that he separates himself from humans (and nobody else considers him human, either). He's not a cursed spirit. He hovers between life and death. The narrator referred to him as the honoured one, whilst angel referred to him as the disgraced one.

These little contradictions in his character make him all the more complicated and interesting to think about. And even recently, he's been shown to waver a little bit momentarily in the manga, questioning his own irritation at yuuji. He's capable of self reflection, and though sukuna does whatever he wants for the most part, he doesn't blindly go into things without some thought first, he's a constant thinker and analyser, and an intelligent one at that.

And honestly, he is always such a joy to watch and read, his personality is so flavourful, and the way he carries himself is very attractive. He's not afraid to get messy or of getting hurt, theres so much chaos in the way he does things and yet he also has a huge element of gracefulness to him, which shines through the poetic way he speaks. Its undeniable that sukuna simply oozes charisma...

And this isnt talked about enough but this man is genuinely so effortlessly funny (in a kind of sinister way i guess?) Like yes he is an old ass man having real beef with one FIFTEEN YEAR OLD for very little reason, he accidentally healed yuujis arm and somehow expected him to be grateful for it despite how he literally ripped his heart out afterwards, then he proceeded to sit on him after kicking him down likeeee 😭 what kind of behaviour is this sir

His facial expressions at yorozus yapping 💀 THE WAY HE COMPARED YUUJIS FACE OF DESPAIR TO THE HARIMA STATUE 😭😭😭💀😭💀💀😭 omg that was so foul but i was fucking losing it ngl

How he randomly compared gojo to a fish and started talking abt his scales... thats a very unique and descriptive comparison, isnt it? Even in the recent leaks, he was 100% ready and squaring up to a literal child talking abt "youre starting to get annoying" LIKE HELPPP 😭 HE FR SAID "fuck them kids and fuck you too"

I saw someone saying that sukuna has no passion, like are we talking about the same character....? This man is a literal jujutsu NERD 💀💀 he truly recognises talented sorcerers and the only time hes seen to be having genuine fun is when hes fighting a mf... is that not passion? This is literally sukuna when it comes to jujutsu: 🤓

Anyway im done here now, im pretty sure i missed a lot of things i couldve talked about as well but ive done enough yapping

[monbons]

WIP Wednesday

Posting actual WIPS on a Wednesday? Imagine that.

As long as we are all baring our hearts on tumblr, I have to admit that I have been struggling to write anything since I wrapped up Eternal Life (back in the first week of April). At first I figured I was simply burnt out since I wrote all 42k words of that fic in just about a month, but given that I've started three separate WIPS since then and made zero progress on any of them, I'm wondering if I am just out of stories. I hate all my words--even though I really love some of these concepts. So, as you may have noticed, I've been distracting myself with sewing projects because good progress is so clearly visible there...

Anywho, to motivate myself, I decided to post a snip of each today and hope that having bits out in the world will motivate me to finish at least ONE of them! All untitled. Set up and snips below the cut.

Very creatively titled "Party Robot," this WIP is a silly/fluffy one-shot inspired by an article I read a while ago about a growing trend in American weddings. This one is the furthest along and will likely see the light of day eventually...

A nervous bounce.  From a robot. I recognize that bounce. “I thought you said Shepard was working tonight.” My voice is tight. “He is.” Bunce replies, similarly strained. “What did you say he does again?” Panic rises in my chest.  “He’s in entertain–”  Whether Bunce trails off or I simply don’t hear the rest is irrelevant because the music has changed from easy dinner instrumentals to much-too-loud techno and the show is clearly starting. As the synths build, driving towards a crescendo, my brain reels with the growing realisation that Simon would never just abandon me at the last minute, would never send me anywhere alone, certainly not my cousin’s gay wedding, which is every kind of milestone given his Old Families lineage and Pitch blood specifically and– “PARTY PEOPLE!” The DJ booms into the mic. “Have the grooms got a treat for you!”

A multi-chapter AU I have lovingly nicknamed "Baz in a Bubble." It is sad and angsty and is proving significantly more difficult to execute (despite having a complete outline) than I once thought it would be. Who could have guessed having one home-bound character would make me too sad to write? Thanks to @thewholelemon and @hushed-chorus who've listened to more than their fair share of my griping about this one. Anyway, here's the first bit of BAZ POV:

There are exactly 297 stars in the sky above me. I count them while lying in my bed every night. They do not twinkle or flicker hello like real stars. Instead, they glow a constant yellowish-green that reminds me of the colour artists always make toxic sludge in the cartoons I grew up watching. It's the colour of superhuman villains and their evil plots. Of poison. Of danger. It's the colour of the plastic star stickers Fiona put up on my ceiling when I was 10 and spent the whole year crying and begging her to go outside. Just once. Just for a minute. Because I was starting to forget what fresh air smelled like or how it felt to have grass prickle against your bare feet or how the stars lit up the night sky in Hampshire. There are no stars in the middle of London. Not outside my window. Not in this room.

And then the WIP I have the least progress on (literally almost nothing) but I so desperately want to write and could really use a thought partner to help me brainstorm/plot/figure out what the hell I'm doing--- a canon divergence where Simon successfully exposes Baz as a vamp and Malcolm steps the fuck up as a father. Here's a bit of Simon POV:

It didn't matter anyway. Pitch Manor was empty. While [the Mage] ranted and raved, I wandered into Baz’s living room. The TV was still on. Peppa the Pig was playing. A half-dressed Barbie was splayed on the couch next to a small bowl of grapes, all cut in half. I picked up the doll and brushed her tangled hair out of her face.  Why didn’t I know Baz had a sister? A family that ate snacks together in front of the TV? Parents who loved him so dearly they fled their whole lives under cover of night? In the days that followed, I sat in meeting after meeting with the Coven, listening to The Mage. He demanded the casting of tracking spells, pushed through more dark creature reforms, and rambled about the miscarriage of justice and the dangers of harbouring monsters.  But Baz wasn’t a monster.  He was just a boy.  A scared boy.  A boy who ran because he wanted to live. 

Anyway...here's to accountability via tumblr. Maybe once I've slept for several weeks and feel more refreshed I won't be so frustrated by every word I know, or more precisely, all the beautiful ones I can’t seem to find…

Thanks for the tag @bookish-bogwitch. Cannot wait to devour the new chapter of BPD!

Hellos and high-fives to all. May your words (and art) be faring better than mine: @raenestee, @cutestkilla, @roomwithanopenfire, @facewithoutheart

@emeryhall, @artsyunderstudy, @aristocratic-otter, @larkral, @rimeswithpurple

@drowninginships, @valeffelees, @shrekgogurt, @blackberrysummerblog, @iamamythologicalcreature

@run-for-chamo-miles, @thehoneyedhufflepuff, @arthurkko, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @youarenevertooold

@beastmonstertitan, @supercutedinosaurs, @rbkzz, @fiend-for-culture, @theearlgreymage

@brilla-brilla-estrellita, @skeedelvee, @ic3-que3n, @talentpiper11, @ivelovedhimthroughworse

[deathnguts]

Spare some rabastan lestrange for the needy pls🤲 (i’m the needy and i’d like to know what you think about his dynamic with his brothers)

Sigh, fine I’ll guess I’ll spare some pennies. Thank you for the ask! This is kinda scatter brained and kinda focused on Rodolphus to like parallel/paint how the brothers are together with they are separate and yeah I dunno I threw up

So usually I internalize whatever @florsial (formal apology to you pookie, Im about to act out of line 🫶) says about Rabastan because we tend to agree on things surrounding him but I think we definitely view Rodolphus differently. Which is fine, he barely exists as a character and I think it’s just representative of how we fundamentally view sibling relationships differently. Like I don’t know what it is with me, but I feel the need ti make every sibling relationship I write for either fanfiction or my own work complicated as hell.

So Rodolphus Lestrange. I think he’s a lot like Orion Black. Like he probably even looked up to him kind of when he grew up, (which is kinda funny because Rodolphus probably isn’t much younger than him if at all considering my headcanon that both walburga and Orion were young when they had both their children to kind of get it out of the way) and you can see that in like a lot of how he just is. Hes ‘stoic’ but actually just doesn’t feel a lot of emotions and doesn’t pretend he does, he’s probably like a hair away from being an alcoholic but he doesn’t drink because he knows that (unlike Orion who is very much an alcoholic), hes antisocial and physically annoyed around people because he doesn’t understand why they are as ‘efficient’ as he is and looks down on all of them.

He’s very work oriented, so much so that he doesn’t really have a life outside of it at all. He’s always been the twin the family knew to count on and he always liked having the title so he never had a rebellious stage or any real anger towards his expectations beyond being tired at the end of a particularly grueling work day. I think the only work hes expected to do that he actively doesn’t work towards doing is producing heirs. He doesn’t like kids, he thinks they’re loud and messy and they get in the way of a schedule. It’s like the only thing him and Bellatrix agree on since she also wants nothing to do with kids. (Also quick note on their marriage, I think they pretty much ignore each other and that’s their idea of what they’ll be like forever. When in public together they put on the ‘better than you’ couple mask but in every other scenario they live completely separate lives and actively avoid each other or they’ll find something to fight about.) like the general vibe I could sum him up with is, yes he’s Rabastan’s twin, but everyone who’s ever talked with him assumes he’s like a decade older and just aged well.

So to contrast that with Rabastan, who was never really expected to be anything and never proved anyone wrong, he’s the sort of kid his mother defends no matter what but he father actively tries to forget about. The exact sort Rodolphus looks down on. He can’t help it’s his brother, he’s still below him. And that would be easier to accept if Rabastan stopped proving it over and over. He had to act out in school, he had to move where mother couldn’t find at seventeen, he had to preach to the family that they were ‘immoral’ or whatever, and then he had to preach it to a child, and then he had to marry the child. Like, Rodolphus isn’t a good man by many means, but his lack of feeling or empathy towards people gives him a more head on view of them. And his head on view of his brother is that he’s useless, dramatic, and so desperate to be anything he’ll lie to a little girl to get her to view him that way. And not to say Rodolphus is any better since he witnessed first hand what his brother was doing, he literally walked in on the two hiding away to make out in a corner when regulus was still fifteen and his brother was the same age as himself and just turned back around and never mentioned it to anyone. A truly good person probably would’ve done something. Good thing that’s not what he’s trying to be.

(Also unrelated but I wanna circle back to a point @florsial has that I love about how Rabastan and Regulus are a couple who tries to nuclear and domestic but fails, I feel like that’s a joke on its own especially in this context. The idea that Rodolphus is the nuclear working man so Rabastan must parallel him by being a family man, he just isn’t. Yes he’s closer with his wife than his brother is, and yes that could be something he has over Rodolphus but pretty much no one in their family is proud of Rabastan for his teenage wife and it’s not like their perfect or anything.)

Rodolphus has probably told Rabastan he thinks this only once since he’s usually content to be quiet about it. He probably broke and yelled about how Rabastan will never be anything ro even get his shit together and it won’t matter because no one has hope he will and it hurts because Rodolphus was never given that leeway and it must be fucking nice to have. Rabastan probably doubles back with how much it must be nice for anyone to give a shit about you, to not only exoect things from you but love you even more when you deliver. They probably kept fighting until Rodolphus, as always, gets tired and shuts it down and goes home.

Because even a man who feels nothing has breaking points, especially when Rabastan keeps fucking pushing for one. And that was their relationship a lot of their life, I think. Rabastan desperately wanting to be seen and Rodolphus who is willingly blind. When they were younger that was ok, little kids before hogwarts just played together until father came to take Rodolphus away, growing boys at hogwarts who slowly drift apart when one doubles down on academics and the other found there’s more to do (and not for lack of desperate trying on the seconds behalf.) and then they’re grown up and neither can place what really happened. They’re sure they used to love each other, at least they think so. And they don’t know what happened, because something must have happened. Right?

Yeah I dunno it’s hard to continuously explain but I think what’s tragic about them is that it’s needless. Rabastan could try ti be better and it would not only help his relationships but himself, Rodolphus could try ti be more and he same would happen to him. If either brother were better at being human then they would be better at loving each other. But they’re not, so they can’t.

[altocat]

Random thought here but do you think they’re going to do anything with Lucretia in part 3? I know the creators mentioned there being a lot of loose ends they couldn’t tie up in OG because of technical and time limitations and to me Lucretia’s felt like one of the biggest ones. I mean supposedly she was frozen in ice not too far from where Sephiroth’s physical body was and he should know who she is- since he took in the knowledge from the Lifestream- but he never sought her out? I know he’s not supposed to have human attachments or whatever but come on… it seems like his raging mommy issues followed him into the after life as well. Wait as I’m typing this out another question pops to mind: wouldn’t Sephiroth also have figured out that he’s not actually part Cetra? Wouldn’t the knowledge from the Lifestream also include knowledge of his own parentage?

Just to clarify, while Sephiroth has canonically become aware of what he and Jenova really are as well as the fact that he's not a Cetra, there is no evidence to suggest he ever found out the truth about Lucrecia's existence. Some argue that he had to have. But he never ever mentions it. Ever. Even when Vincent speaks of Lucrecia in Opera Omnia, Sephiroth just brushes him off. His locket certainly made him aware of her face, but I think it was deliberate since recent entries have designed Jenova to look similar to Lucrecia. Sephiroth has never found out about Lucrecia, nor has he said or done anything to suggest he is aware of his birth mother's presence.

They could retcon this, of course. After all, Rebirth!Sephiroth shows up in all sorts of places he wasn't originally before. It's possible he follows the group to the crystal cave as well. Personally, I'd rather that they never meet, or that Sephiroth never finds out. It's infinitely more tragic that way. And him rejecting Lucrecia for Jenova, while completely in character, sort of leaves a bad taste in my mouth, though I'm not entirely sure why. It would feel anticlimactic I guess. I think it's just sad to have them separate from each other. Or at least not have them reunite until Sephiroth reaches his final endgame death. Idk that's just personal preferences.

As for Lucrecia, idk if there's much she can actually do in the plot beyond the purpose she served before in the OG. It's not like she can really escape her prison. The trilogy will supposedly link up to Advent Children, which leads me to believe it will do the same for Dirge, in which Lucrecia is still in her crystal. I really think it's going to be the same as before, with some added lore possibly thrown in, especially in the incredibly lucky chance they retcon Sephiroth's paternity.

This is all spitballing. It could go many ways. This is just where I currently stand. The separation of Sephiroth and Lucrecia is one of the more underrated tragedies of the Compilation. One could loosely argue that it was the literal centerpiece that staged the entire plot of the story. I want to see it done justice if they actually cover it, or at least not make it too predictably lame with Sephiroth being your typical scornful villain. It would be a huge moment. And I think that deserves something better than Sephiroth evilly monologuing like usual while rejecting his mom.

Lucrecia is flawed AF and is 100% responsible for what she did to her son. But it's like kicking a sick dog. I get no pleasure watching her continuing to suffer without a proper conclusion. I want to believe they'll do more with her, or at least make what was already there more tragic than before.

[bibibbon]

MHA chapter 425

Iam not really sure how to feel about this chapter. Well I can definitely say that I still think that the entirety of the second war arc especially the last few chapters weren't my favourite and ruined the series for me but we have the power of rewrites on our side so not to worry

So we finally have a 1A member that left. It's surprising that it took a total of 425 chapters for someone to finally leave the hero course. This low-key makes me question if 1A just all has neglectful parents that don't care about them because I think any sane parent would of took their kids out of UA a long time ago and the first war arc should of been a wake up call. Now that yuuga has left it does make me wonder what he will do. I mean he has to continue his education somewhere 🤷‍♀️

Shinsou joins class 1A and Iam surprised his parents let him. I get that shinsou was due to join the hero course in their second year but like this series sometimes make me question if any of these characters have sane parents because why would you let your kid join in such a dangerous job?!?! Also I respectfully think that shinsou is heavily underdeveloped and didn't get any moment to shine in the war arc. Also there isn't much of a relationship between 1A and shinsou so it does feel a bit off I guess and maybe this is just me but I always thought that he fit in better with 1b

Pacing is hella fast! How are they going back to school already and throwing a graduation ceremony. It hasn't been a week and somehow everything is rebuilt like that, we get little to no information from what they plan to do in the future. We do get a tiny speech but we don't get them starting to do such things and personally I would of at least enjoyed a panel seeing some heroes help rebuild and clean the damage caused. Plus I think everyone can tell that the MHA society is flawed so saying that they want to go back to their old ways seems very iffy to me. I also would of liked an acknowledgement in what actually happen in the war arc but considering that not many people died they weren't gonna do any type of memorial thing or anything.

Is that shigaraki?!?! Or kurogiri?!?!?!? Who is it!!! Iam totally unsure of who it is but I don't think it would make sense if it was shigaraki because he literally died unless hori is actually going along with the plan of separating Tenko and shigaraki and thats not shigaraki but the innocent and crying Tenko type of bs (I absolutely hate this idea tbh) also what happend for tenko to come back as a child I suppose? Or is this someone completely new who has been effected by society and we're supposed to be like well evil is still brewing as society hasn't changed type thing? Maybe it's kurogiri idk I just want to see kurogiri again.

Enji is in a wheelchair (don't really care for him). This makes me question if endy is even a hero anymore and if he ain't who is the number one then? ( I still think they're going by that system because they said they wanna go back to the old ways)

Wait are we gonna see Dabi next chapter!!!!. Enji is facing somewhere with a ton of wires and all so maybe it could be where Dabi is being held at? I mean we don't know if Dabi is dead and we didn't get todoroki talking about it at all

I need Izuku's old hair back!! I miss the fluffy hair and I get that the convo was supposed to be lighthearted and all but I would of enjoyed the pages being used for something else like them actually checking up on eachother. Is tokoyami quirkless? How did they spend their time? Questions like that would of sufficed but I hated Izuku's hair at least he has some people telling him it's cool even if they might be lying

This chapter didn't give us much clarification on much to be honest. Yeah I was expecting this chapter to have huge focus on other villains and characters yet it didn't. I know I have to be patient blah blah but the last two panels of 424 did give us ochako and Todoroki but we got the least focus on them this chapter. I was hoping the villain situations might start to get addressed but I guess that will be next chapter with maybe Tenko making a comeback?

Also I love how we got Toruu's quirk glitching but no one acknowledges it or helps her with it (sarcasm if you couldn't realise)

I also hate whatever convo that was between Izuku and ochako, it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth for some unknown reason

Why the hell is a third year In charge of something a teacher should be!!?!?!! Poor fuwa UA corruption and hypocrisy goes deep.

How are children still joining ua?!?! Like yep society moves on like nothing happend even though Japan was turned upside down in chaos

In conclusion, it was ok I didn't expect it to be amazing because it was a chapter that was gonna expand on stuff I didn't like 🤷‍♀️.

[chaoscriess]

hi, i've getting into euphoria recently and i was wondering if you could write some poly!maddie and cassie with a fem!reader? it could be some time after season 2 with them liking the same girl, because y'know we love a trainwreck. reader is pretty normal, sort of like a background character but she's pretty charming and playful and just has no idea about any drama at school. she only knows these 2 as those girls who fought each other in lexi's play, poor girl has no idea what's going on. in truth, i just wanna see a trainwreck with maddie and cassie with a completely oblivious reader. sorry if it's a little long ;-;

I absolutely love this idea it literally temporarily got rid of my writers block tysm.

poly!maddie and cassie x reader

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒! none

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒! swearing, might not be exactly what was requested, I was feeling a bit too fluffy.. oops..

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒! on mobile, format might be weird. lowercase intended, unedited, double periods intended

two months ago, you didn't have a clue what was going on between maddy perez and cassie howard. as far as you were concerned, they were just two ex best friends who both happened to like you. however, it was much more than that. you knew about nate jacobs, and the fact that he has been on-and-off with maddy, but you had no clue that cassie had been with him too.

you had your own little circle, consisting of stoners who never payed any attention to anything, and people who genuinely didn't care about their education, who hardly ever went to class. so when you asked your friends what had happened, they were clueless as well.

you'd never truly tried to find out what had happened between the girls though, or why they fought, even though you were friends with lexi. in all honesty, you thought it would be better if you stayed oblivious. why? because you knew that finding out could change the way you viewed them, and you weren't ready for that.

lexi had told you about a week ago that they liked you, and you had been thinking about what to do ever since. neither of the girls had ever been in a poly relationship, and you were certain that they never would be. you hadn't been in one either, the closest you had gotten was being in a open relationship.

however, when you got word from lexi that she had talked to cassie for you, your view on the situation changed.

"wait.. so, you like y/n, right?" cassie looked over at lexi, panicking and trying to figure out how she knew. "um, what? no, why would you even think that? that's like, so gross.. like who even is she?!" lexi laughed at her sisters behavior and rolled her eyes. "yeah, okay. you know maddy likes her too, right?" cassie sighed and looked away, now upset. "yes obviously I know, lexi." lexi muttered an 'ookay..' and thought about what to say next. she wanted to get cassie to be open to at least the idea of being in a relationship with y/n and maddy, she thought that maybe it would help it actually happen. of course, she didn't think this was the greatest idea, but she would do anything for y/n, even if it meant getting her sister into a potentially toxic relationship.

"so... would you ever like, be in a relationship with her and maddy? like if you were both dating y/n... separately? I don't know if that makes sense so.." cassie cut her off by yelling 'no!' and she turned to face the wall. "well.. I guess maybe, but I'm tired of sharing everyone with maddy. I guess if y/n really wanted it then yeah.." lexi smiled and got up, mumbling a quick thanks before leaving cassies room, leaving her to yell after her in a panicked voice. "wait you're not going to tell her, are you?... lexi?!"

yeah, she told you. you were really happy, you pretty much just got cassie to agree to a poly relationship with you and maddy. both of the girls would be dating you but not eachother, you didn't see a problem. you didn't know about their past with nate, so you didn't worry about them getting jealous of one another. all you had to do now was get someone to ask maddy if she would, and then ask them both yourself.

it wasn't as easy as it sounded.

you spent days asking around, trying to get someone who talked to maddy to talk to you. finally, you had settled on rue. even though you and rue didn't know eachother very much, she found your situation amusing, and wanted to help. so, she did the same thing lexi did, and asked her if she would ever date you while cassie did as well.

maddy was more adamant about not wanting to do it, but a few days later, you had got a message from her in the middle of the night, asking to meet up at a local 24-hour diner.

when you arrived, you found maddy sitting at a booth in the back. she stood up when she saw you walking towards her, and motioned for you to follow her back outside, behind the diner, where you found cassie waiting. it was cold and raining, but the three of you stood far apart from eachother in silence until cassie spoke up. "maddy, why the fuck are we here?" maddy sighed and stomped lightly, mud splashing onto her legs. she tried to speak a few times, but only ended up blubbering like a fish. she felt pathetic. "I just.. well I wanted to.. um.. well.. y/n can I talk to you alone?" you nodded and walked around the side of the building, until you were just out of earshot of cassie. or so you thought. cassie heard everything the two of you said.

"okay, fuck. I like you. kind of, like a lot.. and I want to be with you. and I know that cassie likes you too so I just want you to pick one of us and move on. please." you stared at her for a moment, but in your head you were bouncing off the walls and running in circles. maddy just told you that she likes you. holy shit on a stick. that was not something you were expecting to hear.

you opened your mouth to speak, but stopped when cassie came around the corner with her arms crossed and a baffled look on her face. "are you fucking kidding me? you brought her here to make her choose between us?" maddy sighed as cassie walked towards the two of you. "listen, its not going to work out if we do it any other way, I just figured we could get it over with." you stood there in silence as the two went back and forth, praying to god they wouldn't break out into a fight.

you backed up a few feet as the girls started to get closer to each other, and they noticed immediately. the two of them turned to you and stopped with their argument, before stepping away from eachother. cassie licked her lips and took a deep breath before gathering her courage to speak. "can't we just.. both date her?" maddy looked at her with wide eyes and her mind immediately went to rue. "wait, did rue talk to you too?!" cassie looked at her with a confused frown on her face. "..what? no, lexi di- nevermind."

you tried to hide the smile that was forming on your face. cassie actually just suggested that you be in a poly relationship. maddy sighed and looked around for a minute, before crossing her arms and speaking. "well.. I guess we could.."

and so, after a few weeks, you all got comfortable. it took maddy and cassie a bit more time than you, but you eventually made it work, even if you still have your ups and downs. now, you couldn't be happier.

[cozymochi]

It's just strange when you want YOUR boundaries respected, but when people set their own boundaries, you mock them and call them silly. Hypocritical of you. As long as nobody is hurt, what is the problem.

…Huh? …Ok, fine. I’ll bite.

My single serious boundary is just cut and dry to not ask me for nsfw and pornographic art when I say repeatedly to not ask me for it.

I am not mocking somebody for saying I find an entirely separate concept (the “non-share yume” ) that, that on paper, sounds a little silly. At least to me, who doesn’t personally do that for one reason or another. But that is solely just on me? I’m not blaming anyone else for that. I’m sure somebody out there finds my boundary un-relatable. I do not think it’s fair to say that I’m being hypocritical for… not fully getting into somebody elses mindset.

And trust me, I think I’m hypocritical enough on a lot of completely unrelated things already.

Is it because I used the word “silly?” Was that being interpreted as mockery rather than just me going “ah, okay. i guess??” I never even said there was any problem either, nor that I hated anybody for it. I guess to be fair upon reflection, I could have just straight said “ah, okay. i guess” rather than “oh that’s silly.” Or not have answered at all. Even if my intent was more so just a passing shrug, I should have been more cautious that somebody could have read that as full dismissal/mockery/finger pointing.

I just personally just don’t get that level of attachment to fictional characters for one reason or another. I just have a disconnect. But if somebody else treats these things on a bit more of a personal level, they can do that, it’s fine? I’m not offended. I’m not sure how else to even articulate this via text that won’t come across as cold (as is that nature of text and no vocalizing).

I do not care nor mind what any of these users do or how they engage with stuff, it’s not my business. I literally didn’t even want to engage on this discussion I had no business talking about further, I was just recounting something that happened to me, like, months ago and having a goof.

I mean, If I think about lot of what I do on paper, it sounds silly if I remove myself for a moment. But, I don’t really mean that in a pejorative way… if that makes sense. Although my way of typing doesn’t always register how I’d like.

ALSO to the prev anon, assuming it’s a different person (tho if not, this still stands), whom I did not answer directly/nor publicly, sorry that I got a little slighted by your sudden long message. Sometimes if I’m done speaking about something, I just want to move on at my own discretion rather than dwell. But I get your intent was to be informative, empathetic and positive rather than talking down to me as my initial gut reaction assumed. This is a me thing, I just tend to get miffed. That’s really it, it’s not personal at all.

It’s out of my control ultimately how I’m perceived. If what I said registered as mockery towards a whole subset of fans’ way of engaging with media, then I’m sorry.

I don’t really plan on speaking nor reflecting about any of this again though, so maybe there’s some solace in that.

[britcision]

Not gonna lie, we’ve been watching YuYu Hakusho alongside the release of Delicious In Dungeon and uh

It’s been illuminating

Like on the one hand hoooooooboy you can taste the 90s animation techniques (and the Netflix version is somehow more strobey and seizure bait, and they’ve fucked random chunks of audio?? I have the dvds I can prove they’ve fucked around)

On the other hand… yeah, it really, really highlights what people have already been talking about with the Delicious In Dungeon - the pacing issues, especially with going shot for shot from the manga instead of embracing their own medium

Cuz I will stand by YuYu Hakusho being the best anime version of a manga I’ve ever seen. It’s true to the manga, but keeps up the pacing and fleshes things out by leaning more into the side characters, and particularly our audience surrogates, Koenma and George

The fights all pace well because we cut to the people watching them, so it’s not just repetitive punch punch punch shots (although we do get those)

Whereas this week’s episode of DunMeshi in particular…. Really suffered from skewed pacing on that fight

They had way too much time just standing around talking, both with the harpies and in between Falin’s attacks, and I’d bet even an anime-only fan could pick out which shots were literal panels in the anime because nothing moved to flow between them

Those shots of the separated groups especially; this is anime, not manga. Those people could have been moving, interacting, doing things instead of panning over a still

I get that it takes more time and money but this was a really significant fight and it does make me worry a little for season 2, because the red dragon fight also had some pacing problems (although to a much lesser degree) and season 2 is when the combat pops off

I really do appreciate them wanting to do a faithful interpretation of the manga and sticking close to Ryoko Kui’s vision, but anime is its own medium and by sticking too closely they’re not taking full advantage of that medium

You have more time to fill in an animated episode vs a manga chapter because your characters literally move and flow, and three panels of action happen in a second

They’ve been folding two or three chapters into each episode, but this week’s especially (ep 17) really played too close to that two chapter timeline, instead of taking out the important story beats and the time to fill and working out how to pace around that instead

(Funnily enough though, they actually nailed the exact same kinda pacing issue in the exact same episode for the Laios and Shuro fight; that one was fucking great, it was clear that action was ongoing even while we focused on other people, and it had good weight and emphasis despite being largely offscreen, just like the harpy fight should have been

I. Guess. They coulda put more work into that than the Falin fight? Cuz it’s a huge character moment but for fuck’s sake Chimera!Falin SHOULD be the bigger one! We the audience got hints but this was the REVEAL)

Honestly just… the 1000% disinterest in the harpy fight was jarring, and it leading immediately into the Falin fight that was basically stop motion without the time lapse didn’t help

Cutting to Marcille and Shuro on the shirt tear was fucking great though, chef’s kiss, someone out there is still watching over us, I just hope they work out a happy medium soon

I get that there’s lots of iconic and fantastic panels in the manga, I made a complete summary of every single chapter, but the anime shouldn’t be showing them as stills

The characters should be moving in between them, not snapping from one face to the next like a slide show

In a perfect world I’d also love some more little character asides and things a la YYH, but there just isn’t the same easy audience characters to cut to

But but but

Thistle reacting a la Koenma to some snippets of the bullshit in his dungeon would give me fucking LIFE he can’t be watching all the time for obvious plot reasons but I want him to find a veggie golem

I want him to see the kraken and find some leftovers and be searching for Delgal and plotting their dinner and wondering why he can smell something delicious and what is it and can he make that

Move the background stuff that got cut from the Tances’ episodes, cut to Namari and the twins hanging out and talking about leg guards, there’s SO MUCH supplemental material

It might be less one for one to the manga but it’d stop the weird dragging out and give us something more, something extra to appreciate the anime on its own merits

It’s nice to have an anime experience that is very close to reading the manga, but it’s something really special to have the anime shine and add to the experience on its own

Anyway next week is the shapeshifter and I’m so hype for that and wondering if they are gonna include just a smidge of meta knowledge since Kui did tell us whose impersonations are whose 👀

[colonelpancakes]

I am, at long last, getting around to watching the new season of The Dragon Prince so. Have some of my thoughts on the new episodes. Uh I guess this is kind of a liveblog thing? Idk, I wrote these down while I was watching the episode. Under the cut because this ended up getting quite long. Image IDs are in the alts. I'm new to this be nice to me-

Okay, is it just me or does this startouch elf look kinda like Sarai? I swear she does, she has like the same face shape. I don't know, maybe it's just me and my god awful facial recognition but... 👀

Also, "We are, all of us, stardust held together by love for an instant." is such a beautiful quote. It reminds me of the Minecraft End Poem.

Ooh, I love the twist on the previous Mystery of Aaravos intro. I wonder if this is gonna be the intro for the whole season or if it'll switch to something else after this episode?

Poor Terry he does not deserve to be dealing with all this shit. He's such a sweetheart. A little bit of a fucked up sweetheart but a sweetheart nonetheless.

Oh so Viren’s not dead. Huh. I need to rewatch the S5 finale because I’m gonna be honest, I do Not remember exactly what happened. Viren was going to die if he didn’t kill Sir Sparklepuff? I think? Or maybe that was just what they thought was gonna happen and there was a chance it wouldn’t? I don’t remember. Anyways, congrats Viren on your new will to live.

Claudia. Claudia what did you do Claudia?

Claudia, why is the sand covered in blood?

CLAUDIA!

Oh poor Terry... You can see the moment he spots the severed wing.

Hey, quick question, WHY IS THIS SHOW STILL RATED Y7? This would have fucking traumatized me as a seven year old! I thought there was a limit on how much blood you can show on a Y7 show, HELLO?? OUGH.

“It’s like you said. You do anything for family. However dangerous, however vile.” “No. No that’s… that’s not quite right. It’s never what I meant. You do anything for your children. Never the other way around. No parent wants their child to suffer for them.” Ough… Oh that hurts. Ohhhh. Also, “no that’s not quite right” is the same thing he says to her in the first episode when she says something weird. Callbacks to simpler times ow that hurts.

OH YEAH. JUST RIP MY HEART OUT WHY DON'T YOU? Augh.

JESUS FUCKING CHRIST GIVE CLAUDIA’S VA AN AWARD. NOW. That is hands down actually the most like. Realistic depiction of someone crying in any media I have ever encountered. The way she sounds like a child having a breakdown? She’s not crying quietly, she’s screaming and sobbing oh my god. I literally started tearing up watching as like a sympathetic response good grief. Who is Claudia’s voice actress? I looked it up and apparently it’s Racquel Belmonte. Give her like fifty awards right now

Viren. Viren listen. I appreciate that you are attempting to heal and face justice and become a better person separated from dark magic. I really do appreciate it. Good for you. HOWEVER. Perhaps, just maybe, abandoning your daughter, who has become an amputee less than a day ago, in the wilderness with no one but her boyfriend after she just completed a very traumatizing ritual AND knowing that she has severe abandonment issues after her mother and brother both left her. Is not the best move? Like. That girl is not mentally stable she needs support. She does not need her dad abandoning her on a beach, covered in blood and missing a leg as she screams and cries for him not to leave her. Viren, just caring about your daughter does not automatically make you a good dad. Viren. Viren you have to actually stay and support your child and NOT LEAVE HER IN THE FUCKING WILDERNESS. I do, though appreciate how they are creating a character who does CARE about his children so so much. And is still an absolutely god awful father to both of them.

Awww the baitlings are so cute 🥹

Pondering the Orb 🧙‍♂️

Callum… Callum you good? I am getting a very bad feeling about Callum being so adamant about destroying it. I feel like that is absolutely how Aaravos gets released and maybe he’s controlling Callum? This all feels like a bad idea. Also, I will admit the Lord of The Rings joke made me giggle.

Exactly what I was saying, Rayla! Destroying the pearl sounds like a terrible idea.

Ohhh… Poor Zym… He misses his mama. Also, I can’t remember if this was in previous seasons, but I appreciate the stitching in the painting where it was mended after being ripped apart. Such a good detail.

Hey Callum, why are you glowing with star magic? Is it because Aaravos is possessing y- oh nevermind it’s the monkey.

Mmmm the difference between Rayla and Callum. Rayla will put the safety of the world over her loved ones. Callum will put his loved ones over the safety of the world. Rayla refuses doing something that could potentially endanger the world even if it would mean getting her parents back.

Oh, so it’s not Aaravos influencing Callum it’s just Callum being anxious. Also, give Callum’s voice actor an award he's nailed the tone of "so filled with anxious energy you can't stop you have to do something, it's like you're driven by a motor." and that is a very specific tone.

[More in reblogs because I ran out of room.]

[wrongcaitlyn]

i wanted to know if you have any plans for the og campers???? like luke, clarisse, silena, beckendorf, etc etc

this is SO funny bc i was literally JUST talking to @wronghuntress about them like a few hours ago😭😭 BUT to answer your question,,, it's sort of complicated. bc i didn't realize that i was doing it until like a good way into the series, but i've been unintentionally picturing pretty much all of the og campers/people from the main pjo series as part of the acting side of hollywood, whereas i've been leaning more toward, like, toa/side/minor characters for the rest of the main cast! this makes sense to me because like, nico and will get their big moment in toa, and apollo's a huge character too. percy and annabeth are actors obviously, but i did give them some connections to nico - but either way, i guess i just saw all of those characters as not really having any sort of connection to nico & will (even though i'm the hugest fan of will being close with clarisse and silena and beckendorf- he was totally will's bi awakening it's canon u heard it from me)

but anyway im getting off track, i've sort of had like a completely separate plotline for them going on in my head (not really detailed at all, i'd have to think about it more), dealing with more of those og characters, including percy annabeth and grover! i'm not entirely sure if that'll ever be included in the main fic seeing as they don't have much connection to nico's storyline specifically, but who knows... maybe a spinoff fic one day? i definitely won't be able to write some long 100k fic for them but i'd love to dive into that!

the only thing that i DO see happening is - if you remember this, a while ago, i mentioned the possibility of a third fic or some future plans for nico to write a musical to get that egot, namely hadestown. while the idea was being organized in my head, i've been thinking of silena as helping nico write the musical and playing eurydice, and then ofc i'd love having beckendorf play orpheus - i think he gives the vibes?? or is that just me???

and then jenna (wronghuntress) gave me the BEAUTIFUL idea earlier today of this... silena and charlie as actors, specifically broadway/musical theater actors (though im sure they have also been in some other projects), clarisse as silena's bodyguard,,, and im usually so against love triangles but like. there's so much potential there - again, nothing's finalized, i dont even know if i'm gonna write it, i don't really have ANY plans other than potentially making nico contact silena when he wants to work on his musical and having them + beckendorf work together for the demo recording - it's all VERY vague and blurry so we'll see if i come up with anything more to fall down that rabbit hole!

and as for luke, i pretty much have this: he's an actor, at some point he was prob friends with annabeth after working on a show together or smth, and ends up getting cancelled. for what? i'm not entirely sure yet, but it's probably very shitty for the internet to turn against a hot white guy. actually that fact might make him getting cancelled very unrealistic. but like it's my fic so that's what i'm saying happens! unfortunately he prob still gets roles and he's prob still like a millionaire and stuff but in general: bad person. though he probably (and thalia, because she used to be an actress too before running away) were in a movie/show/something with annabeth when she was young and they kinda mentored her/helped her learn the ropes before her big break. they started a club of neglected child actors which eventually turned into just annabeth, but at least she has percy and reyna and jason and piper and magnus on her side now :)

so long story short: i don't have specific plans, but they're all actors and definitely have a lot of lore that one day i would like to try to figure out!! for now i'm still very focused on tgol/the side stories that take place in THAT main timeline (so right now it'd be 2020-2024), whereas all of the main drama/plot in the actors' timeline would be happening BEFORE talk your talk (percy + annabeth + thalia + luke + silena) (around 2008-2015) or AFTER the greatest of luxuries (silena + clarisse + beckendorf + chris(??? i have no idea what's going on with him?? he's prob famous somehow but idk??? or maybe like childhood friend tis the damn season vibe. god there are so many fame tropes i have yet to unlock and so many characters i have yet to mess with) (around 2024-2026)

thank you for the ask!! i hope that one day when i have some more time to make some playlists, properly listen to hadestown, and learn more about musical theater/broadway/acting in general, i'll be able to answer the question more thoroughly!!

[vegafan69]

i mean this in the politest way possible, it’s genuine curiosity: i’m a bit confused about you using the lesbian label but mostly talking about your attraction to men? at least i’m assuming you’re actually attracted to said men and this isn’t a bit you’re doing. is it that you’re using lesbian as a more overarching label and less strictly, like how i as a (ostensibly) bi/queer man call myself gay sometimes, as less of a strict label and more as an adjective?

further question, why would a lesbian (not you, necessarily, i’ve seen other people do this) be a huge fan of incredibly male-centric romance media? from what i understand, the point of romance media is that a person gets some kind of gratification out of it: they want to date one of the characters and they project onto the other character (i am fine with this being the case, i think it’s just how the genre works), but this model doesn’t work when i see lesbians being really into media about gay men (this isn’t necessarily about redacted, this is a more general thing). i guess i don’t understand what they would get out of it, if that makes sense. like when straight women are into gay male ships it’s the same thing as straight men fetishizing lesbians, but i don’t see the transfer with lesbians being really into men. i literally asked my sister this (she is also a lesbian) and i didn’t understand her answer.

again, all of these questions are meant politely and out of sociological curiosity! you don’t have to answer any of this if you’re not comfortable.

The whole time I’m in class i’ve been wondering how i can answer this LMAOO 😭 bro’s channelling his inner Damien frfr

uhm okay imma be real i have no idea how to answer your question so i will be honest the best i can 😓🙏

the simplest answer i can give you is: fictional men. not real. no proper attraction to them. the idea of them is attractive - but not realistically.

also just to clarify - i see lesbian as a proper label and identity, not an adjective. i’m not attracted to men in any way, or at least not anymore (still trying to figure this out) uhm idk about the lesbians liking media with gay men cause im not interested in bl or yaoi or any mlm romance but my best guess is that they’re just interested in queer media 🤷‍♀️

what did your sister say tho i’m kinda curious /lh

i personally separate fictional and real attractions completely 🤷‍♀️ i identified as bi until end of may this year, and have been listening to redacted since last year. i still like vega a whole lot tho idk what that means 😗

[phantom-of-the-501st]

Fix the System vs Ditch the System

I just want to applaud Neil Gaiman here for how perfectly these two scenes parallel each other because I had noticed it before, just not how well. 👏 We were all shocked by the season 2 finale but really we should have seen it coming because that scene had already played out before in Episode 1.

"I think my your exactly and my exactly are different exactlys..."

Upon discovering that Gabriel has forgotten everything and has turned up at the bookshop, Crowley and Aziraphale have a shared goal: to resolve the Amnesiac Archangel Problem. Aziraphale wants to fix the issue, he wants to help. Crowley, on the other hand, wants to ditch it. Quite literally. He wants to take Gabriel to Dartmoor and leave him there, getting him and Aziraphale far away from the problem.

The thing is, while they both have a common goal, they both assume that the other will agree with their methods, despite having two completely different ideas about what to do.

Sounds very familiar, right?

"We can make a difference."

When you look at the season finale, it plays out in a very similar way. Crowley and Aziraphale have a common goal: protect each other. However, they both have different solutions but have assumed that the other has the same idea.

Much like in Episode 1, Aziraphale wants to fix the problem. He knows that Heaven is corrupt and he believes that he can restore the system to what it is supposed to be. But Crowley wants to get as far away from Heaven and Hell as possible.

And it isn't just the situation itself that parallels. The same character flaws are responsible for both issues.

"A group of the two of us."

Crowley and Aziraphale have existed alongside each other for a long time and understand each other more than most. However, their closeness has led to a lot of misunderstandings as they assume that the other will think the same way as them when it comes to certain situations and their expectations of one another can be entirely unfair.

While it makes sense for Aziraphale to want to fix both situations, it isn't right for him to assume that Crowley will be okay with facing his trauma like that. He knows what Crowley went through as a result of Heaven's behaviour and he can't expected him to want to face his past like that. Assuming that Crowley would want to help someone who has caused him huge amounts of grief is unfair in the same way that expecting Crowley to go back to a place that punished him for doing no wrong is.

Likewise, it is very reasonable for Crowley to want to ditch the system and yet he can't expect Aziraphale to make the same decisions when Crowley himself hasn't provided him with the same context that he has. Crowley was there when Gabriel told "Aziraphale" to shut his stupid mouth and die. Aziraphale wasn't. And Crowley never told him. Similarly, Crowley knows exactly how and why Gabriel lost his memory but he never explained it to Aziraphale. He has context that the other doesn't so he can't expect the same decisions to be made.

It's the same mistakes made over and over again.

So the new question is...

Will there be a change?

I think it is safe to assume that the answer is yes because otherwise there wouldn't be any character development and that would be weird. So I guess we need to assess the current situation. And the best way to do that? Look at the parallel scene in Episode 1!

In both situations Crowley walks out. They both realise that they aren't on the same page and rather than talking it through they go their separate ways. Crowley only comes back when he discovers that Aziraphale is in more danger but while he apologises, he never explains his reasoning, so Aziraphale just assumes that Crowley realised he was wrong and came back.

And because of that, nothing changes. Nothing was ever talked through, none of their reasoning explained. This is why the same thing happened again later in the season.

Looking at the current situation, this is where I think we are finally going to see a difference. I think that Crowley is going to go back when he realises that Aziraphale is in more danger than initially thought, but rather than going through a repeat of what happened before, I think there will be a change. Not necessarily straight away, but I think that this will be the time when they finally talk things out. It'll be the last time that this repeat problem happens and the first time when they realise that they need to stop assuming that they both want to go about things the same way.

Aziraphale wants to fix the system. Crowley wants to ditch it.

And the resolution will come when they both finally understand why.