#I want to restructure my life around her

[chibelial]

I didn’t turn on a comedy to be called tf out, Dennis

[autisticsonic]

My take on a Sonadow fankid! She actually existed for a while now, but the trend gave me motivation to finally draw her!

Most sonadow fankids are purplish and tube-grown, so I decided to make her neither!

Background for the story under cut, in case it gets long!

So in this AU, stories from the more recent games happen when Sonic and Shadow are at most around 20 years old. Back then Sonic was rambunctious and reckless as we know him to be, and Shadow was a depressed, traumatized emo kid. While at first they were rivals as depicted in the games.

Over the years tho, just like their friends, the two matured. They started getting along a lot more, and became official friends, which eventually lead to dating. They both were afraid of getting serious though, so they took things slow and casual. Due to some of their unresolved issues, they couldn't get any closer. But not for much longer.

Some of it has been brought on by a Particular Event, and some of it due to restructuring how they go about saving the world, but things changed. As Forces has shown, putting so much responsibility on One Guy isn't wise. Sonic felt so quilty for failing, but it never should've been his job alone, so they created an organization, to share the load more evenly!

The org became global, with local groups of heroes being recruited all around, meaning that now the characters we know and love now had more time to take care of their personal lives.

While for some the change hasn't been much, Sonic, and to a lesser extent, Shadow, struggled quite a lot. Many of things happened in between, but eventually both of them grew to quite enjoy the domestic life.

They moved in together, and started taking things to the next level, now that both have done some healing and therapy. They found that they get along quite great. After a bit longer, they decided to start a family :)

Shadow came up with the name. He wanted to honor his sister's memory, but Mar-Mar was also a symbol of all his progress. He did go to therapy to make sure that he can handle them sharing a name, to see if it's a good idea, and well, it was!

She's now 4 and very loved, and her dads love each other very much as well. For a certain Sonic though, things won't go so great.

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 63

part 1 | part 62 | tumblr masterlist | ao3

cw: references to canonical horror. short update today while i restructure some stuff in the next scene <3

“I’m staying with him,” Steve says, toeing a weed in the soft soil. Testing the give. Thinks maybe he’ll be doing that for the rest of his life. 

“Uh,” Robin objects. They’re at the top of the hill again, halfway to the car — everyone but Eddie, who refused to leave the boathouse after telling them in horrific detail how a cheerleader floated up to the ceiling and popped like a cheap balloon, and whose pale, frightened face Steve can see staring at them through a grimy window, two black dots hardly daring to blink. 

“Steve.”

“Huh?” 

Max calls him a total space-case.

Robin groans up at the sky. "As much as we would all love to have a spooky sleepover with you two under a tarp—”

“Mm, would we love that?” Dustin wonders. 

“—I'm not so sure our parents would be too thrilled about us not coming home when there's a freaky evil killer magician on the loose!"

Max snorts at that; mutters under her breath. “My mom probably wouldn’t mind.”

Dustin whines, “Mine would!”

Three people turn in unison to lay into him for being a dick, but he’s already holding up his hands in surrender, cringing so hard it folds his face like crumpled paper. “Sorry,” he winces. “Sorry. That was rude.”

“Yep,” Max agrees with a flat smack of her lips.

Eddie's still waiting by the window.

Steve just nods at them — arms folded, shoulders broad. "Dustin’s right.” He turns to Robin. “You both are.”

“Thank you,” she sighs, the sound long and airy, sweet with relief that he's seen reason.

She takes a wide step toward the car.

Steve says, “Which is why I'm staying here, and you're all going home."

Her foot falls back down to the ground; legs stretched in a standing split, shoes slipping on wet grass. “Oh, my god." This sigh is sour. "Oh, my god, of course you are.”

“We’re not leaving you,” says Dustin.

“Wasn’t asking,” Steve replies.

Robin lets out a strangled noise of frustration and shimmies herself upright. "Steve, please!" She marches over. "I know you’re all” —her hands come up around her head, voice warbling; wooOoo-ooh— “about your boyfriend-slash-not-boyfriend-slash-whatever being in danger, and I get that, babe, I really do, but I don't! Know how! To drive!"

Steve turns to Max. 

She’s looking right at them, mouth pinched in a flat line over the laugh she's holding back. Restrained as ever, but Steve can see the glimmer of excitement at the edge of her expression — the subtle twitch of her nostrils, the muscle jumping in her jaw. 

I've driven it before. 

"...Do not," he warns as he presses his keys into her palm; closes her fist around the metal, "fuck this up."

—

part 64

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

[feyspeaker]

Hi! I made an account just so I could follow your work. Your art is brilliant and honestly and inspiration to where I want to be. I’m an older artist who has all the anxiety when it comes to improving my process. I’m trying to get into digital portraits and I have so many ideas in my head, but it’s frustrating because I’m not where I want to be to make this happen. What are some tricks that help you/software do you use? Of course, you don’t have to share anything that makes you uncomfortable. I currently have procreate and an iPad, but I feel a little lost. Wondering if I need a different writing tablet and photoshop. Not sure. I just eventually want to find that 3D, but also artistic look you are able to achieve.

hey there! thank you so much!!

ultimately, I will sound like a broken record but I always recommend you sign up for local figure drawing or painting classes. have people pose for you at home and sketch with charcoal and paper. go to the zoo and sit down in front on an exhibit for an hour and try to draw the animals in front of you as fast as you can and fill a couple of pages, move on to a new exhibit and do it again!

nothing is more powerful of a tool to learn than whatever writing utensil you have in your purse and the back of a napkin when you see something you'd like to capture. I've spent quite frankly my entire rememberable life doing this. I used to spend every single day in middle school/high school/my brief failed stint in community college with a pack of cheap sharpies and a beat up binder full of old worksheets and homework to draw on the backs of.

drawing/painting from life will teach you better than anything.

I use a very outdated version of Photoshop, and only got a "nice" tablet in the past 7 months.

Also, a huge tip to you and anyone else reading this: do NOT get too focused on a "style" that you want. Obsessing over that just ruined me for years and years. I wanted so, so, so badly to be the next Matsuri Hino when I was a kid. I copied her work religiously and it NEVER looked right. Frustrated me to no end. And you know why my stuff never looked like hers? Because I'm not her! You can't force your art to come out any way that isn't natural, and the sooner you can accept the art your hand wants to create, the happier you'll be and the easier art will get for you.

The past couple of years before I started diving into this more realism based work, I was just shoving myself through trying to make what art I envied of others. Very stylized/textured watercolor comic book style stuff. And I just was NOT getting any better at it. I have always been more inclined toward realism work, but I've hated it and yearned for stylized work. Yoshitaka Amano? God, I just drooled over that artstyle and beat myself up for never being able to capture it in studies or otherwise.

I finally essentially restructured my entire career around making the art that makes me happy instead of what I "wanted" it to look like. I was extremely depressed, my life was falling apart, and I still needed to make art to survive but I couldn't "art" if I was depressed and hated doing it, so I just had to step back and stop worrying so much about what I thought I wanted to make, and started making what felt most natural.

there's no easy way, and art can be a soul destroying path at times, truly. your software and hardware should come very last place compared to practicing from life (it doesn't matter if you want to paint cartoony stuff of realistic stuff, always start from life). naturally you will find what makes your heart sing the most.

I get a lot of messages from people telling me similar stuff "oh your art is EXACTLY what I want to do!" but I promise you that kind of thought process is chasing a dragon that is likely to harm or drag your creative process down. art style is such a deeply personal thing, so of COURSE it's important to find inspiration, but the second looking at someone else's artwork stops inspiring you and starts frustrating you, put it away.

There are some artists who I love, that I do not check up on often because their artwork ignites, like, serious bitter jealousy in me. It's the truth. I get so mad at myself for not being more like them, and it's such a poison. I think more artists should be transparent about this feeling because I KNOW the art community has a lot of jealousy and ugliness in it.

A fact of being an artist is that you will never be completely happy with a piece you make. You are always going to see the flaws, and that doesn't change whether you'd been drawing for 2 months or 20 years. Occasionally, you will get one piece that you are like "how did I make that???" and then get frustrated that you can't recreate it lol! It's a tough beast.

It's just really important to step back and work on yourself and where you are at, because at the end of the day, the way your soul wants to express artwork might be WILDLY different from what your brain wants, and it can be really detrimental to let those two go to war.

I hope this helps. I'm very passionate about this, and when I started out I ALWAYS ignored the artists who gave the same exact tips as above. I thought they were so annoying and unhelpful, but now I /get it/.

[flowersandbigteeth]

Your first day with your alien husband

General Plot: You finally get your glasses fixed and begin sorting out matters of becoming an archduchess

Word Count: 3.5k

Kherae alien x female reader with glasses

💕 SFW MASTERPOST 💕

W: a bit of angst, sfw alien fluff

Tags: @almostoriginalartisan @lizzhearthz

“I want you to teach me more about managing the family estate, brother,” Dessin said as Idreod choked on his morning coffee. It was one of the few human inventions he really admired. It was bitter and earthy. Delicious. He was annoyed his brother was spoiling it. 

“What are you talking about?” he asked sharply, setting down his mug. “Why this all of a sudden?” 

He set his jaw. 

“I’ve been useless in the past, but I’ve grown up a bit. I want to be an asset to our family. You don’t think I hear the way the staff snicker about me? They think all I’m good for is perfume recommendations for their girlfriends. That was fine when I was young, but now I want some responsibility,” he said. 

“Dessin, this is work,” Idreod said, “not a game. If you want to play around I’ll give you a hundred million credits and you can invest in human cryptocurrency or the stock market. I’m told it’s amusing.” 

He growled. 

“You are always like this!” he snapped, “how can I grow if you are always treating me like a child?” 

“Don’t throw a tantrum. Why don’t you visit Gedra for a few days? Get your dick sucked and meet a new plaything,” Idreod said, already bored with this conversation, “I’ll send all your friends this time in celebration of my engagement, all expenses paid. You can call it my bachelor party, isn’t that what human men have?” 

He made a noise in the back of his throat. 

“You are not taking me seriously, Idreod!” he growled. 

Idreod barked out a tight laugh. 

“Of course I’m not Dessin. You’ve never done anything serious in your life and that’s fine. You’ll never have to want for anything, so why are you so upset?” 

He stood and glared at him. 

“You are so sick, brother. You get off on being superior to everyone but deep down you’re just a lonely fool. Someday you’ll find yourself alone with a knife in your back,” he hissed. 

Idreod rolled his eyes at him. 

“Will you be the one to put it there? Then who will pay your pleasure house bills, Dessin? Don’t be foolish. The humans have a saying. Don’t bite the hand that feeds you little brother.” 

He jumped up from the table, knocking his chair to the floor and stormed out of the room, which was just like him. 

If he really wanted something he would build it for himself, not beg his big brother for a position. He thought.  Idreod could give it to him, but then he would just get bored in a few months and return to his lifestyle. He wondered for a moment if he should just indulge him a little. He would get bored after all. 

Perhaps he was still a bit bitter from the day before because he shook the thought away. I am too soft on him already. He behaved with impunity, despite how it tarnished their family name, spent money lavishly without a thought for how it was made, and was generally a poor representative of the Zovith family. He didn’t owe him little kindnesses. 

He picked his coffee back up, determined to retrieve his good mood. In a few minutes he would meet his lovely fiance and begin her training. 

—

“That was so fast,” you told the optometrist as he handed you your new pair of glasses.  

“Yes, Kherae manufacturing technology is much more advanced than human,'' the Kheraen doctor said. 

You pulled on the pair and blinked at him as your world came into focus. Like most Kherae he was handsome, but quite a bit older than you with heavy lines in his face and silver tipping his once jet black horns. 

“You know we can have your vision corrected,” he offered, “it is a simple procedure. You’ll suffer a day of blindness while the nanites restructure your lenses, but after that your vision will be perfect.” 

You smiled at him, just happy you could see. 

“Actually, that might be nice,” you said. 

You’d always wished I had good vision, being legally blind was such a limitation. He smiled at you. 

“I will have a consultation added to your schedule,” he said gathering his tools, “we’ll be in touch soon.” 

You thanked the doctor and finished the breakfast the maids had brought you when he left. 

A few minutes later Airies appeared and you got a proper look at him for the first time. He was a lean Kherae, with their signature purple skin and spade tipped tail. His horns were short and stuck out of neatly cropped black hair in delicate arcs. 

“Archduke Zovith will see you, my lady,” he informed you, gathering you up and leading you down the hall to his office. 

You were impressed with the decor now that you could see it. Everything was done in tasteful neutral tones with pretty Kheraen art hung on the walls. Aries noticed you looking and stopped. 

“If there is anything not to your liking, my lady, please let me know and we will change it,” he said, “the archduke has given you free reign to decorate as you like. He doesn’t really care about such things. This office looks the same as every other office on Kherae, it would be nice if you would freshen it up for us.” 

You nodded and hurried along after him. Your heart pattered in your chest. You were about to see your husband for the first time. 

“(Y/N), you look lovely this morning!” you looked up to find Dessin standing in front of you. He was taller than Airies and a bit bulkier with messy golden hair that just covered his ears and black eyes. His horns delicately curled back on themselves in smooth rolls. He was certainly more good looking than you imagined and you blushed a little remembering that you’d kissed him on the cheek. 

“Good morning Dessin,” you said, trying to hide your blush with a little bow.

“Are you on your way to see my brother?” he asked, seeming a little flushed and out of breath. 

“Oh yes,” you said, “he wants to teach me how to manage the estate.” 

Dessin’s face turned chilly for a moment. 

“So he will teach you but not me,” he growled.

You frowned. 

“I’m sorry, did I say something wrong?” you asked. 

He shook the dourness away and smiled, revealing bright white teeth. 

“No, not at all (Y/N). You can’t say anything to offend me,” he said, taking your hand suddenly and kissing it. Your cheeks felt like hot irons. 

Airies cleared his throat. 

“I think we should be going now,” he said tightly. 

You nodded and pulled your hand away. 

“See you Dessin,” you said and followed Airies into Idreod’s office. 

Golden eyes gripped you when you walked in the room and you stumbled into Airies’ back. 

“My lady!” he exclaimed, catching you, but you were looking at the Archduke. 

He was a beautiful male, looking like some kind of god out of a fairy tale. 

His skin was deep plump, making his bright golden eyes shine like polished coins. His hair was spun gold, that fell in a thick sheet down his back. Large, black horns curved backwards in a shallow bow. He had a painfully handsome face. You could see the resemblance with Dessin, but he was so much more, the kind of face that broke spirits. His aura leaked complete power and esteem. 

Large hands splayed across the desk as he rose. 

“Are you well?” he asked, his eyes narrowing. You felt the urge to brush his delicate, gilt eyelashes with your fingertips. With Airies’ help, you steadied yourself and nodded shyly. 

“Do your glasses work properly?” he asked. 

“Yes, thank you for sending the doctor, he was very nice,” you replied. 

“Leave us,” he said to Airies, waving at him sharply. 

When we were alone his eyes inspected you from top to bottom. He smiled coolly and you felt a shiver go down your spine. 

“You are dressed befitting an archduchess,” he said, opening a drawer in his desk. 

You looked down at the purple dress the maids had given you in the morning. It was a scalloped, boat neck, A-line that fell neatly at your knees. They’d even done your makeup and hair to look pristine. Being fussed over would take some getting used to, but you could appreciate having your eyeliner done perfectly every time. 

“You should look like this every day, because you will show up to do business every day,” he explained, “but as a Zovith you must be even more extravagant. Our title is recognized and our rank must be easy to identify when we enter a room.” 

He crossed the room holding a square box, opening it to reveal a platinum and diamond brooch with a large emerald at the center. You swallowed thickly as his large fingers manipulated the delicate piece of jewelry and fastened it to your chest. 

“I’ll give you a new one every day, ” he said, quietly, his eyes intently searching yours. 

You felt your cheeks burn. 

“That’s really too much,” you mumbled. 

He frowned and stood up straight. 

“It is not,” he said, curtly, returning to his desk, “you will have something new every day. My wife will exude a certain status.” 

You crossed your arms. 

“Idreod, isn’t that a bit wasteful? New jewelry every day? Wouldn’t it be just as impressive to open an orphanage or start a food pantry? You can put your name and glitter all over that if you like!” 

He glared at you, but you were becoming more immune to his intensity by the second. You weren't sure why, but he didn’t exactly scare you. He was a lot for sure, but not frightening. Seeing that you weren’t backing down, he blinked and tapped the button on his desk to call Airies. 

“Send in Mr. (Y/LN)!” he barked.

Your heart fluttered as your father entered the room. 

“Daddy!” you squealed, jumping on him. He held you tightly in his arms, breathing into your hair. 

“I was so worried about you ladybug,” he murmured, “you shouldn’t have done this. Please, let’s go home. I’ll sell the shop and we’ll get out of town together. It doesn’t matter.” 

He inspected you carefully. 

“He hasn’t harmed you, has he?” 

You shook your head. 

“No, Idreod has been very…thoughtful,” you said diplomatically. 

He glared at your fiance. 

“Look Mr. Zovith. I know my daughter is very headstrong and foolish, but I’m not okay with this. I’m taking her home right now. This deal is off.” 

“Daddy!” you shouted indignantly. 

He looked at you. 

“Well you are! What were you thinking selling yourself to an alien?” he snapped, “did you think I was just going to give my only daughter away? I’d rather die!” 

“You would have died!” you countered, “Typhon would have killed you!” 

“Which would have been preferable to this!” he went on. 

“Mr. (YLN),” Idreod broke in, “I didn’t bring you here to negotiate. As the father of the future archduchess, you have a role to play as well.” 

Your father’s mouth dropped open. 

“A role to play? Let me tell you-” he started. 

Idreod held up his hand. 

“Mr. (YLN), what kind of future do you want for your daughter? Do you want her to spend the rest of her life looking over her shoulder while you scrape together enough to keep the wolves at bay every month? Who will that loanshark try to sell her to next? Did you know someone attempted to kidnap her on her way here? Who do you think that was? Together, we can provide her a life and I can promise protection. The life she deserves, as royalty.” 

He tapped a tablet on his desk. 

“This is an employment contract. Last night I bought a chain of laundromats. I can’t allow you to keep the one you own, but if you sign this, you will be president of this company. You can see your daughter as much as you like as long as you agree to appear at necessary functions. You also agree to sign a sworn statement saying I met your daughter after I hired you as president.” 

Your father gritted his teeth. 

“I’m not selling my daughter,” he said. 

Idreod gave him a cool smile.

“You are not,” he said, “you are becoming a Zovith.” 

You took your dad’s hand. 

“Daddy, please. Just do this…for me? I wish I could have saved the laundromat, but I won’t let you die if I can do something to stop it,” you said.

He looked at you and rubbed his eyes. 

“Ladybug. It’s not about the-” 

He sighed and crossed the room to Idreod’s desk. 

“Fine,” he said, swiping his finger across the screen, then he glanced up. 

“If you hurt her,” he said, “I will do anything and everything I have to do to end you.” 

Idreod seemed unmoved by his threats, but nodded anyway. 

“Of course,” he said, “I wouldn’t assume any less, but I assure you (Y/N) is in the best hands. I don’t just see your daughter as a means to an end, Mr. (L/N). She will be my precious wife and will be treated like fine china.” 

You weren’t sure if those were placating words, but they shocked you just the same. 

Your father nodded, seeming a little defeated, but still suspicious. 

“If you don’t mind reviewing your new role with my assistant Airies,” Idreod said, “(Y/N) and I still have business to attend to today. There will be time for you to reconnect after work hours.” 

You gave your father an optimistic smile as he clutched the tablet in his hands like a lifejacket. 

“Everything will be alright, daddy,” you assured him. 

It took a few more minutes, but you finally convinced your father that you were safe and he could leave the room to go on with his day. 

“Thank you for saying those things,” you said, when he was gone, “I think it helped.” 

I nodded at her. 

“We are a team,” Idreod said, “I only act to benefit both of us.” 

Your eyebrows bobbed up, but you nodded. 

“Oh…okay,” you said, folding your hands and looking down at them. 

“There’s something we need to do,” he said, “follow me.” 

Idreod was hesitant to do this, but it needed to be done. As Idreod led you past Airies’ empty desk to the first floor of the building, his subordinates couldn’t keep their eyes to themselves, all curious about the new Archduchess. 

He called his personal driver and had you carted across town to the local botanical gardens. 

“What are we doing here?” you asked as he helped you out of the car. 

“We have important business,” Idreod told you gravely. 

He led you through the garden, which he’d reserved just for you the night before. Ahead of you, clouds of butterflies flitted here and there from where he’d had them released for this occasion. 

The roses were in full bloom and the air was sweet with their fragrance. 

“When I came to Earth, you know what stunned me the most?” he asked. 

You looked up at him, pushing your glasses up on your nose. 

“No,” you said. 

“The varieties of flowers,” he commented, brushing a finger over a fleshy bloom, “the foliage of Akhet is mostly purple with few flowers, but Spring here is like its own festival, full of life and color.” 

He looked at you. A flower petal had fallen in your hair. 

“No flower here is quite as lovely as you, though,” he said, plucking the soft scrap from your head. 

Your cheeks burned and he kneeled in front of you, removing the little box from the pocket he had hidden there. 

“(Y/N), will you do me the honor of being my wife?” Idreod asked, presenting you the ring inside. He hoped he was doing this correctly. Aries had suggested some movies to watch for this moment, but he wasn’t sure if it was having the desired effect. Your face darkened and your mouth fell open as your eyes widened. 

“Ah…” 

He frowned. 

“Did you change your mind?” he asked. 

You blinked and then your eyebrows jumped up. 

“Yes!”

His face looked suddenly, actually, quite horrified. It was shocking on such a usually composed alien. 

“...I mean no! Wait..I mean. Yes…I will marry you,” you said, straightening your dress, nervously. 

A genuine grin bloomed on his face for the first time that was not related to someone else’s death. Your acceptance was far more satisfying than he expected. He felt warm and tingly all over. He reached out for your hand and you shakily held it out to him. 

Your fingers were trembling while he slid the ring on to the right one. 

He stood and took your arm. 

“Come, let’s take a moment to celebrate before we have to return to the office.” 

You nodded up at him, your face flushed. 

He led you to a pagoda in the center of the gardens where he’d had his staff set up a violinist and some champagne. 

“You arranged all this?” you asked, seeming stunned. 

He looked down at you. 

“Of course, is it not traditional for human brides?” Idreod asked. It was possible he had misunderstood some cultural nuance. 

You blinked at him. 

“Um…I guess so…Usually the groom does something special,” you mumbled. 

“Then what’s wrong?” he asked. 

Your eyes became a little wet. 

“It’s just all so lovely. I never expected…I’m sorry, I’m getting a little emotional,” you said. 

“Have a glass of champagne,” he offered, releasing your hand and popping the bottle for you. 

He handed you a glass and you took a thirsty sip before giving him a wet smile. 

“Maybe I’m just a little sad,” you said, sighing, “this is so perfect, almost like I had always imagined it, but I thought it would be with someone who loved me.” 

You gouged him with your honesty, but there was something so pure about it, he couldn’t really be hurt. 

He tipped your chin up to him. 

“You are so lovable, (Y/N),” he told you, “do you believe in fate?” 

You blinked at him. 

“I don’t know. I’ve never had any reason to,” you said. 

“In Kherae culture it’s believed that the goddess guides us to our fated mate, our perfect counterpart,” he explained, unsure if he should even be saying it, “I never put much stock into it to be honest,  but if it’s true and I have a fated one. I hope that it's you.” 

Your cheeks darkened again, but he refused to let your chin go and instead leaned his head down to press his lips against yours. 

Idreod had never kissed before. It was some kind of magic. 

Your heart exploded in your chest as you felt his soft flesh grazing yours. He tasted sweet and tart with champagne on his lips. His fingers flew to your cheek, drawing you closer. You wanted every ounce of him. His tongue slipped past your lips, exploring you and you welcomed it. You had no way of knowing this but you could have taken whatever you liked, as fast or as slow as you wanted it. From that moment forward, everything that was his became yours. 

When you parted, you stared up at him, your fist clutching his chest while he panted. 

Airies cleared his throat and you both looked up to find him standing patiently to the side. 

“I’m sorry to interrupt you, Master,” he said in his usual polite way, “but the schedule demands we move on, unless you would like me to cancel your afternoon appointments?” 

Idreod straightened himself and collected the glass from your hand. 

“No, you’re correct. There’s a lot to get (Y/N) caught up on.” 

[arthurian-aita]

AITA for guilt-tripping one of my knights into marrying a hag?

My (1545M) nephew, who we’ll call Wayne (1538M), would do anything for me. We were hunting with my other knights when I spotted a gorgeous deer through the trees and set out after it. A knight I didn’t know cornered me in a thicket and accused me of giving his lands to another knight when I restructured the kingdom. I managed to bargain for my life by offering him whatever he wanted in exchange. Cryptically, he said not to tell anyone and to return in a year and tell him “wahte women love best in feld and town.” But he let me go, which was good because I was unarmored, and that would’ve been an embarrassing way to die.

I went back to Wayne and explained the situation. He suggested we ride in opposite directions and ask around to poll the populace to crowdsource the answer to the riddle. When we reunited, we compared notes, but I felt like there had to be more, so I rode out again and found possibly the ugliest woman (creature?), “Rachel” (1533F?), in the world. I mean, her nose was snotty, her mouth wide with yellow teeth, and her neck thick. Ungodly. The weirder thing was she said she knew about my deal with the knight and that I would be dead without her help. All she wanted in return? To marry Wayne. 

I said no guarantees, but I’d do my best. It felt wrong to ask Wayne to marry such an ugly woman; I knew he’d say yes to save my life. 

And I told him, and, sure enough, he was like, “I shall wed her and wed her agayn, thowghe she were a fend; thowghe she were foul as Belsabub,” because he’s extremely loyal. Still, I can’t help feeling like I guilt-tripped him into it. 

I returned to the hag, and she gave me the answer to the riddle, which I then brought back to the knight I met in the woods, who told me the hag was actually his sister. Sure. Why not? The knight left, thwarted, and Rachel and Wayne were married. 

She made a big fuss about the wedding being a public affair, even when asked if she’d consider a private wedding to avoid embarassing Wayne, who, to his credit, selflessly went along with her demands. He technically agreed, but his reputation is permanently sullied on my behalf.

So. AITA for guilt-tripping my one of my knights/my nephew into marrying a hag to save my life?

EDIT: It turns out she was cursed to be a hag? And she needed a man to give her agency to break the curse? She’s actually a fayre damosel, and she and Wayne are very happy together. Best wife a knight could ask for. Who knew. Does that make this better or worse?

[toboldlywrite]

Hello there! You can call me Nova (she/they). I love space, cats, sea creatures, reading about quantum physics and pretending I understand it better than I do, and several fandoms. (Current brainrot is The Locked Tomb series and Mass Effect). If you couldn't tell from my icon and blog title, I am also a life-long Star Trek fan. I do environmental stuff for my day job and have a plethora of creative hobbies. Out of all of those, though, storytelling has always been my passion.

You can find me over on Bluesky (@toitaliclygo)

I mainly dabble in sci-fi/sci-fantasy, but I like to play around with other genres to some degree too. I have so many ideas in various stages of planning and writing. I'm always down to geek out about world-building, my OCs, your OCs, my wips, your wips, etc. I love tag games even if I don't always get around to them so please feel free to tag me if that's your jam (right now last line tags would be awesome).

I have a couple short stories floating around here (and I'll love you forever if you check them out, NBD): 18 Minutes | The Wish

The current main projects you'll find posted about on ye olde bloge are:

Elsewhere

A thief becomes the Chosen One of a goddess/sentient weapon in a yearly battle to defend the capital city from monsters.

(tags-- #wip: elsewhere)

The Insomnia Code

In a world where everyone is part human, part computer, Dream-Programming student Dana Eligie goes on a quest through the layers of the digital representation of the collective human mind to solve the mystery of people going missing inside the Network, with the help of her anxious cat-program guide, Virgil.

(tags-- #wip: tic, #wip: insomnia, #wip: the insomnia code).

The Goddess Seed

Coming soon....

The Star Soul Saga

A sci-fantasy space opera that has been my baby for more than a decade. Currently undergoing huge restructuring so not all past posts about it will be relevant anymore. Stay tuned for more!

(tags-- #wip: star saga, #wip: star bright, #wip: star fire, #wip: star fall, others)

No bigotry of any kind is tolerated here. If you see me reblogging or saying something insensitive/offensive let me know-- it’s unknowing and I want to learn!

That's all for now, please enjoy your stay.

[hylianengineer]

im sososo normal about your OC i am not scratching at the walls of my enclosure because i ran out of Owen&Cate fics to read. haha.

perhaps.... you would consider... posting more??? 👀

haha just kidding... unless?

(only if you want to!!! not trying to pressure you at all!!! i just. i know you already have more written so if you're waiting for someone to tell you how much they love them and encourage you to post more. this is that. huge cate and owen fan over here!!)

This is the best possible ask any writer could ever recieve and I am SO HAPPY that my bizarre little characters have resonated with you! The fact that someone besides me cares about a person I made up is so so weird and awesome!

I promise I will post more fic for you as soon as Real Life calms down and I have time for such things, hopefully tomorrow. Although I should probably warn you, a lot of what I have written about these two is not as fluffy as what's been posted so far - I do write dark stuff sometimes, but it will all be tagged accordingly of course.

To tide your over, a hint of what's to come: I have an entire AU whose premise is these characters meeting much sooner in their lives, as university students, and proceeding to become found family about it. Torchwood comes into the picture eventually, and so does Katie Russel - who also joins the found family and doesn't die like in canon (or at all. I hate killing characters and I'm too fond of her now). It's a weird polycule thing in which Owen and Katie are romantically in love and then everyone else is platonically/queerplatonically in a relationship with each other. It's kinda messy timeline wise but frankly I'm about to say fuck timelines and post chunks of it anyways.

Yes I did in fact get myself into a situation where there are two main characters named Cate and Katie, yes I regret this, but no there is nothing I can do about it now. It was very unintentional, as I never intended to write about Katie Russel - she just waltzed into my story and decided to stay. And the OC's name could not be changed at that point - it had stuck. Hopefully this does not come across as too weird/implausible/annoying, because it's out of my control.

Yes I know I'm the author and allegedly like god to my characters but look, sometimes they just do stuff and I have to write it down and yell things like "hey! You broke my plot!" while frantically restructuring the entire story around their shenanigans.

[thepaintedlady00]

Nightshade

Chapter 19 | Chapter 21

Chapter 20: Interlude - The Saint

TW: some fluff, our idiots are reflecting on their big feelings, Lena remembers the important thing she was supposed to be doing last chapter, angst, shouting, lots of blame getting passed around and everyone's sayin shit they don't mean, cruel words, grief, flashbacks, heartwarming advice, and reassurance, big hugs and make ups. I'm SO sorry that this chapter (and next) are so late! Life just got absolutely insane and I had to restructure and rewrite a ton of this chapter so it kept getting put off. But, she's here! I'm still not 100% happy with it, but I'm not gonna let my perfectionism rob y'all of a chapter for another month! Chapter 21 should be following tomorrow or the day after if life decided to let me breathe for five minutes! Thank y'all so much for your patience! Enjoy!

Jack Harrow was a man of many talents. He could throw a punch that would send his opponent to the floor like they'd been hit by a goddamn bus. He could take a hit too, straight to the face like it was nothing. He was an artist at cutting hair and taking care of stray animals as well as stray kids. He was a decent singer with a surprisingly smooth voice - a fact you'd never know about him if you'd only heard the slew of curses he knew. And Jack was quite the cook, in his mind at least.

Jack Harrow was a man of many talents. He was a fighter, a barman, a son, a lover, a father, and then he was dead.

It didn't hurt in the end, and it was quick enough that he hadn't caused too much hassle for those around him. He'd felt it coming, that quiet cold that seemed to numb him, and so he'd watched his beautiful daughter dote on him one last time, talking at length about how his boys would be there soon with a movie for him to watch. Ghostbusters. His favorite. Jack waited until Ozzy came - he'd wanted to wait for his boy too, but deep down, he knew there wasn't time for that - so, giving the man he loved one last kiss before the cold really hit him, Jack accepted his fate.

He forced his stiff fingers to uncurl around his jacket, holding it out to his baby with a smile. "Keep an eye on this for me?" She started to protest. "Just for a bit."

She slid it on, a smile on her lips as he nodded at her. "Badasses get the jacket."

"That they do." He was going to miss that smile. "Hey, badass, mind running to the cafeteria and grabbing me some gruel?"

"Course," she answered, pressing a kiss to his head. "Be right back."

The cold had numbered his limbs by the time she'd vanished. Jack could hardly even feel Ozzy's hand in his anymore. With all that strength, he squeezed Oz's hand and looked up at him with tearful eyes and wheezing breaths. His love instantly started trying to fix it. "What do you need? I can… I… I'll call in one of the nurses."

"Ain't nothin' they can do now." Jack smiled. "I love you, Oz. I've always loved you."

The man shushed him, hands shifting from holding his to pressing the call button on his bed. "Don't. Don't you dare start talking like that."

Jack just continued. "Tell the boys… Tell them… Tell all of them I love ‘em. Keep 'em safe for me, especially our girl."

"Jack-"

He squeezed harder. "You'll tell them, won't you?"

All Ozzy could do was nod, sniffling as he fought the tears in his eyes. "Nurse! NURSE!"

Death is different for everyone. It's one of the few cosmic laws that never bends but always greets you with warmth. As Jack Harrow closed his eyes, letting the cold take him entirely, the last thing he felt was the love of his life touching him. As Jack died, the sound of the hospital machines faded, replaced by the sounds of the alley between The Ring and Ozzy's Pub. 

He could smell the old leather and the cigarettes and the booze, but more importantly, Jack could feel the warmth of Ozzy tucked beneath his arm. They sat together in their little alley - their little pocket between two opposing worlds - and they just existed. Together. Like it was always meant to be.

Jack Harrow was a man of many talents. And, in the grand scheme of things, one could say he was quite good at dying.

*

I always loved the early morning. The soft glow of the rising sun over the city made everything shine. It made everything and everyone look so clean and happy. New York City was chaotic, loud, and demanding, but somehow, those mornings always felt peaceful.

The faint smell of the food trucks by my apartment was usually what woke me each morning. It was almost always hot dogs or a bagel cart or two, but today, it was Chinese food. Today it was the distant sounds of the city - sounds that were familiar but also new - and the very abrupt lick to the underside of my foot by a scratchy cat tongue.

Fleeing the wet tongue, I curled into the solid warmth that was wrapped around me. I opened my eyes, blinking until the haze cleared from my vision, revealing the soft face and gentle ocean eyes staring down at me. Jake.

Even as my head throbbed, the memories of last night swirling through my mind and bringing me a feeling of bliss, I smiled. My eyes drifted closed again, savoring the feeling of his arms around me, his hands caressing my skin, the softness of his bed, and the light smell of his cologne. When I opened my eyes again, he was smiling too - that thin one, the tiniest hint of genuine joy that he almost never let me, or anyone, see. "Hi." 

Jake laughed, a low, still tired sound that made my heart skip a beat. "Hi." He lifted his hand, brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear, and his smile widened, not smug, proud, or teasing… Real as he repeated the word. "Hi."

I couldn't help but giggle. The blissful feeling quickly shifted into an odd but good feeling. As I moved my hand to cup his cheek, idly tapping my fingers against his skin, I realized what it was. I was happy. I was happy with Jake. Closing my eyes again, letting myself lean into that feeling, holding onto it for as long as I could, I pressed my lips to his.

We'd shared a lot of kisses. Lustful and heated, harsh and demanding, soft and meaningful. This one was one I hadn't expected. It was a kiss that held a touch of sleep and dreams, a gentle, patient, and simple thing. This was a lover's kiss, an embrace in soft blankets, and surrounded by that sunrise glow that I loved so much. When it was over, and I was met with his adoring gaze, all I could do was whisper that simple word again. "Hi."

"How's your head feeling?" He asked, seeming to shake himself of whatever vulnerable, tired thoughts he'd been thinking. The usual flirtatious gleam returned to his eyes as he lifted his fingers to my temple, pressing lightly. "Figured you'd have one hell of a hangover."

"It's not that bad," I assured him. In this light, I could see the slight flush on his cheeks. In this light, it was very hard to remind myself that this was my friend Jake and not my lover. "Sorry about that, by the way."

He chuckled, shrugging his shoulders or trying to as best he could while lying on his side. "Don't worry about it, princess. You're a pretty fun drunk."

Rolling my eyes, I scoffed at him. "You're just saying that 'cause I basically threw myself at you."

"That did give me quite the ego boost," he admitted with a grin. "But, it was a good night."

With my cheek pressed against his pillow and the feel of his arms around me, I smiled. "It was a really good night."

I could see the way he instantly wanted to respond with something witty and smug, but Jake forced the sides of his mouth down and nodded. "So… I… What now?"

"You seem flustered." Grinning ear to ear, I sat up in exaggerated shock. With a fake gasp, I looked down at him. "Am I your first?"

Jake laughed, carefully sitting up and unintentionally - or very intentionally - pulling me into his chest. "Don't let it go to your head, princess."

"So I am your first. That's cute of you."

"I've had plenty of women spend the night," he finally replied. "I'm just not used to them staying for breakfast the next day."

Bumping our noses together, I used the swell of pride and elation to fuel my teasing. "What makes you think I'm staying for breakfast?"

His brows rose as his hands settled on my hips. "You're still here, aren't you?"

"Oh, come on, pretty boy! You gotta ask me properly."

Normally, Jake would have resisted a little, but today, he just nodded. "Lena, would you like to stay for breakfast?"

I hummed, pretending to think it over when really I just liked hearing him ask me to stay. "I'd love to."

For a second - one incredibly long and intimate second - it seemed like Jake was going to kiss me. A kiss that we both knew would unravel whatever tiny thread of self-control both of us still possessed on the ever-growing desire to lose ourselves in each other. His hands squeezed my hips, and then he carefully pushed me back and slid off his bed. "I, uh, don't know what I have that's edible."

Ignoring the slight burn of disappointment that filled my chest, I inched closer to the edge of the bed. Whisky emerged from the pile of blankets and slid into my lap, purring as I scratched his chin. "Got stuff for shitty eggs?"

"Careful, my version of shitty eggs is actually shitty."

"If I can survive Patrick's attempt at eggs, I'm sure I can survive yours," I assured him, carefully moving Whisky off my lap to stand up. Jake's gaze instantly drifted, eyes lazily rolling down my body. My heart stammered, and my face felt hot. Stupid, I told myself. He'd seen me naked before, and here I was, getting flustered by his eyes. With a soft clearing of my throat, I gestured towards the bathroom. "I'm gonna get dressed."

Jake nodded, scratching the back of his head and turning to his kitchen. "You can shower if you need to. What's mine is yours."

The words sent a shiver up my spine. What's mine is yours. It was platonic. It was him being a good friend. No matter what I told myself, the weight of what I felt… Of what I knew, he felt too, made it impossible to keep those words from meaning too much. "Thanks."

The bathroom provided me with a moment of privacy - a moment I used to stare at myself in the mirror, or rather stare at the new marks that littered my skin. I carefully touched each hickey and faded bite mark, my mind remembering how they all got there.

It had been a long time since I'd seen my neck constantly covered in love bites. One-night stands usually didn't leave any lasting marks, and Sam had always been too gentle to bite. Jake was different, though. He touched me like he was desperate… Starved. He was rough, but in a way that made me feel completely and utterly wanted. The energy Jake brought to intimate moments was electric, addictive, and attentive. I never knew what to expect with him, yet I always knew I would enjoy myself.

I always knew I was safe.

There, in Jake's bathroom, staring at myself in his mirror, I let myself fall. I wanted to be with him. Not just in some wild night of impulsive pleasure… But in everything else. I wanted to sleep in his bed with him. I wanted to eat whatever shitty breakfast he cooked up in the morning. I wanted to play with the cat. I wanted to hold his hand and kiss him without sneaking off. I wanted Jake. Every part of him.

With a deep breath, I let that fuzzy feeling consume me. I put my pants and shoes on, stuffing my shirt in Jake's dirty laundry hamper in favor of wearing his t-shirt for a little longer. Then I combed my fingers through my unruly hair and pointed at myself in that mirror. "You're gonna talk to him. You're gonna be honest, and you're gonna talk to him!"

Once I emerged from the bathroom, now filled with a determined fuzzy feeling, I made my way to the kitchen, where Jake was still shirtless, rummaging through his cupboards. Adorable, I thought with a happy smile. Now or never… My fingers tingled as the slightly nervous but still good feeling really started to take root in my chest.  Jake smiled at me before he turned and opened his fridge. "I don't think I've got any eggs. Or… Well, anything really."

"I'm sure a man of your talents can figure something out." I caught his smirk before I ducked my head back down and nervously fished my phone out of my bag, a last-ditch effort to prolong the conversation we both knew was well overdue. "We could always go out somewhere too. I'm not picky."

The first thing I noticed as I turned my phone back on was the insane amount of missed calls and messages. What the fuck? The second thing I noticed was the time and the date.

9:10. November 20th.

My heart stopped, and all the good fuzzy feelings drained from my body. All that nervous excitement about breakfast… About the conversation I'd planned to have with Jake… All of it was replaced by a deep, dark guilt. No… I tried to deny it. That can't be… it… With trembling fingers, I opened the messages.

Hey, we just got here. You and Oz running late? Peter.

Bring a think of that whisky dad liked. Patrick.

Are you on your way?

Lee, where are you?

It's been an hour. Are you and Ozzy alright?

Missed call.

Missed call.

Lena, answer your phone.

Missed call.

Lena?

Missed call.

Lena.

Lena.

Lena.

"Lena?"

"Oh god," I mumbled as my eyes stung. My hands locked around the damn phone. How the fuck did I forget? Why… Why wasn't I there?

Jake closed his fridge door, making me jump and look up at him in shock. His eyebrows furrowed, those blue eyes dancing over my face with concern. "Hey, you okay?"

And then it all came crashing down. The reason I'd forgotten about the family visit… The reason I'd forgotten to keep an eye on the time… The reason I'd forgotten the anniversary of my father's death. Jake. I'd been with Jake. I'd gotten so lost in him and that feeling of safety, warmth, and fun.

"I forgot," I whimpered. Seeing the confusion play on his face, I reached forward grabbed my bag, and turned to leave. "I… forgot."

"What?" He asked, head tilting as he moved closer. "Lena, wait!"

My feet didn't stop, not as Jake called out after me as I hurried down the stairs and out the front door, not as the harsh wave of passing bodies swept me into the crowd of people, and not when the tears started to spill down my cheeks.

Crying silently in a crowded place was a talent, one I'd mastered years ago, but it never felt any better than it did to cry loudly in silence. In both scenarios, you're alone. In both scenarios, your only choice is to keep walking forward. The tears weren't even the worst part. The guilt that now consumed my chest was smothering… Forcing my body into an old state of panicked breathlessness.

I'd forgotten about the anniversary of my dad's death… I'd forgotten about everything else. Everything except Jake and that fuzzy, warm, stupid feeling that I got whenever I was with him. Last night, a night that was supposed to be solemn and focused on the life my father led, was instead made all about me. 

It was a good night. I closed my eyes for a moment, hints of those feelings simmering inside me as I continued to walk. It was such a good night. Too good of a night. The sounds of the city faded away, replaced by the faint but steady noise of a flatlined heart.

Dad's leather jacket cocooned around me as I carried the small tray of food up from the cafeteria. The smell of his strong cologne made the sterile hospital less frightening and made me feel safe. Dad was here. Nothing bad was gonna happen.

Ozzy stood outside the door, a cold, void look on his face as he stared into the distance. I knew what that look meant… I'd looked that way before. But, there, with that leather jacket and that idiotic sense of hope, I refused to acknowledge it. Oz pulled himself out of it as I neared, moving to stop me with a gentle hand. "They ask you to wait outside?"

"Lena… He…" A sob tore through Ozzy's throat as he shook his head. "He's gone."

A forced laugh filled my lungs as I shook my head, ignoring the way I instantly knew he was telling the truth. Ignoring the way I knew in my bones, my dad was dead. "No. No, he's fine. I was just with him."

Oz's face tightened with pain. "Oh, my girl…"

"I was just with him," I repeated as my hands went numb and tears started to fill my eyes. "I…"

I brushed past him and walked forward to the door, where everything faded at the sight of my father lying on the hospital bed. His eyes were closed, chest exposed, and covered with those paddles as the doctors shouted at each other. My hands went numb, the tray falling from my grip as the sight of that flat green line forced my brain to acknowledge what had happened.

My dad was dead. "No." I bit out, desperate fear and bitter anger digging up more memories… Forcing me to relive another loss. "Dad…" I could feel phantom blood on my hands and hear echoes of the gunshot. I could see lifeless eyes looking up at me. "Get up."

Ozzy's arms wound around me as my quiet words turned into desperate and harsh sobs. "I've got you, my girl."

"Dad, please get up!" I screamed, pounding on the door the doctors had closed. "Get up!"

I still need you, I wanted to tell him. We all need you. 

There on the hospital floor, Ozzy held me tight as I fell apart. That day, I walked out of the hospital with nothing left of my dad… Just that leather jacket.

I knew my feet would carry me home. But what I didn't know was just what to expect when I got there. The Ring was closed, the lights off, and no one moved around the gym as I went to the back door and entered. It was quiet. The kind of quiet that made every part of me want to run away.

When I opened the apartment door, Patrick was the first one I noticed. He held a hammer, using it to fix one of the cabinet doors, as he glared at me. Peter stood up from his seat, his entire face draining of worry as he gave me a quick hug. "Where the hell were you? We were scared shitless thinking you were in trouble."

I swallowed the lump in my throat, dropping my bag onto the edge of the table. "I'm sorry. I… I just lost track of the time and…"

Patrick's face remained cold and hardened as he set his tools down and turned. "Where were you?"

Peter recognized that look. He recognized that feeling of static fire that filled the air between us. He'd felt it a hundred times by now… Felt it right before Patrick and I fought. "Pat…"

"No." His voice sent my hair standing on end. Every fiber of my being instantly reminded of that fucking penthouse… Of the way, Patrick was bigger than me… Stronger than me… Of the way, in moments like this, he reminded me of Tony. "Where were you, Lena?"

My heart pounded, the voice saying the words twisted. Half my brother and half him. Anger curled inside me. The ugliest… Deepest anger. "What does it fucking matter?"

Patrick's hand slammed down onto the table. "What was so goddamn important that you forgot about our dad?"

"It's none of your fucking business!"

"Like hell it isn't!" Peter was on his feet now, standing between us, eyes closed and tears pouring down his cheeks. "FUCKING TELL ME!"

"I DON'T OWE YOU A GODDAMN THING!" I screamed.

Patrick's eyes were wide. They were filled with his own traumatic past… With his own anger that was just as ugly and deep as mine. "You're so fucking selfish." Stop. "Nothing fucking matters to you." Shut up. "Not me. Not Oz. Not Pete. Not even our fucking dad."

All my anger boiled over, and my mouth opened, speaking the words I knew would strike deepest. "He isn't even your dad! You aren't even part of the family!"

Patrick didn't skip a beat in returning the sentiment. "I'm more part of this family than you are. You were hardly even here, and when you were, everyone couldn't stand you!"

Peter shoved us both back. "Stop! Both of you!"

"We all would've been better off if you'd never come back."

My heart stopped. My vision blurred as Tony's words echoed in my mind. "All you offer anyone is problems, stress… Trouble. They're all better off without you. And you know it."

Tears were shimmering in both our eyes as the reality of what we'd said dawned on us. I could see regret in Patrick's eyes… I could see that he hadn't meant the words he said… Just as he could see I hadn't meant mine. But we said nothing. Stuck in our hurt and our pride. Peter's voice was nothing but a dull background noise as I grabbed my bag and left the apartment, slamming the door behind me.

Hands trembling and my breath trapped in my chest, I walked, now unsure of where my feet would take me. I couldn't go home. I couldn't go to Jake. I was alone. And maybe I deserved to be.

I wandered the streets for what felt like hours before I finally stopped in front of the rundown hotel. Sliding through the hole in the fence and carefully maneuvered around the glass to stand at the bar. The smooth wood felt cold beneath my fingers as they sought out the neatly carved initials at the edge. J.H. Good ol Jack Harrow. The man… The father I'd forgotten about on the one day set aside to remember him properly.

Maybe it was stupid to be so distraught over one day, but the ache remained all the same. No matter what I told myself, I still felt horrible. Guilty. Selfish. Years of self-loathing and years of being told I was nothing but a selfish waste of space caught up with me. 

My dad had been the first to make me believe I was something. He was the first person that loved me, even when I was at my lowest. And I'd forgotten him. Deep down, I knew he wouldn't be mad at me for it. But that knowledge only seemed to make me feel worse.

Howard called and texted a few times as my shift start came and went, but all I could do was stare at the phone. The silence was one filled with ghosts, and I was content to sit there and wallow in the memory of them all. But, glass crunched beneath someone's shoe, forcing me to turn.

Mr. Hiragana bowed slowly, eyes taking in the damaged space for a moment before he came to stand beside me. "Apologies, I did not intend to startle you."

"It's alright," I told him. "I… What are you doing here?"

"I came with some inspectors to get a better idea of what needed to be done to turn this place into a restaurant worthy of your name." He smiled, head turning slightly to the three other people now roaming about the rubble. "I intended to call you, but it seems that is no longer necessary."

Moving to leave, I answered, "I can go if you need the place to yourself."

Mr. Hiragana chuckled and shook his head. "That is hardly necessary. Besides, it's been a long time since we've sat at a bar together and spoke."

I laughed halfheartedly. "It has been a while."

"You seem troubled," he said quietly. "Is there anything I can do?"

Shaking my head, I blinked back tears. "No. I… This is my own mistake. One I'll have to fix myself."

"Mistakes are often the stones that lead to better paths." He smiled, leaning in as if it were some secret. "That is why we must make so many in our short lives."

"What if the mistake is a really big one?"

"Then the end destination will surely be a beautiful one." He looked at the bar, eyes scanning the surrounding area with a humble nod. "This is the place your father chose, is it not?"

My fingers curled around the chain link fence as I stared between the metal at the grand building in front of me. Even with the missing windows and broken glass, I couldn't look away from the gorgeous place as it shimmered in the sunlight. "It's beautiful."

"This dump?" Dad replied, earning a swift elbow from Ozzy. "I mean… Yeah… Beautiful."

Turning, I looked up at him. "Are they gonna make it into something new?"

Dad shrugged, looking at the abandoned hotel. "They'll probably tear it down and build a parking lot."

"What?"

Oz shook his head. "He doesn't know that for sure, dear."

"Why are you so invested in some trash hotel anyway?"

Looking back, I shrugged. "I dunno. I just… Like it."

Dad bent down, scooping me up and lifting me over the fence. "Let's go check it out then!"

"Dad!"

"Jack!"

As I landed on my feet now on the opposite side of the fence, I looked up at the two older men as my dad saddled the fence, ready to join me. He extended a hand to Ozzy and winked. "Oh, come on, Oz. It'll be fun!"

Ozzy shook his head but climbed over with us. "You two are troublemakers!"

The building was full of old posters and sleeping bags from whoever had been squatting here, but all I saw was the chandelier and the crown molding. Potential. "Wow! Can you imagine what it looked like before?"

"That's boring," Dad insisted. "What do you see it as in your head?"

"A restaurant," I answered with a smile. "My restaurant."

Ozzy gave Dad a look before he bent over and asked, "Do you really enjoy that sort of thing?"

"What sort of thing?"

"The cookin' your aunt always has you doin'." Dad patted my head. "That whole restaurant she's stuffed you in."

I thought for a moment, reflecting on the conflicting feelings of Aunt Maddie's harshness and the actual cooking. "I like to cook. It's simple. I… I don't have to think about anything else."

With a nod, Dad smiled again. "A restaurant then. Yours. What you gonna call it?"

"Nishikigoi."

Ozzy laughed. "In English, dear."

"It's the word for koi fish." I scratched my head. "At least, I think it is. That's what the big fish said last time."

"Should I be worried about all this fish talk?" Dad asked, hoisting me up. "You're not gonna turn into some seabass, are ya?"

Giggling, I shook my head. "Not in this life."

Dad nodded to the elevator doors, urging Oxygen to follow us. "Come on, let's see if these work."

"Jack, no!" Ozzy hollered.

I nodded, sadly staring at the initials. "Yeah, it is."

"It is a very good place. Full of positive energy. I will take great joy in seeing you and your colleagues bring out its full potential." Mr. Hiragana bowed his head, settling a hand over my dad's initials in the wood. "He would as well."

"I miss him." Tears finally rolled down my cheeks. "I miss him so much, and yet… I find myself forgetting him. His smile. His voice. The way he laughed."

The old man frowned. "Death takes the spirit. Time takes the body. But memory is something we hold inside us through even the darkest of times." His hand took hold of mine. "A love that deep never leaves us, not even in death. It is impossible for you to have forgotten him."

"How?"

"You carry him with you. His smile is your smile. His voice is your voice. His laugh is your laugh. Your father left you with everything you would ever need to remember him by."

I wiped the tears from my eyes and cleared my throat, bowing my head to him. "Thank you, my friend."

"It is always an honor to offer you my advice, little fish."

"Well, since we're both here, why don't I show you around?"

He smiled, taking my arm and walking with me as I led him through the old hotel. Mr. Hiragana listened to all the ideas I'd saved up for what we could do with it all. For an hour, the crushing weight of the guilt and the pain lessened. With the input of the man I'd met so long ago at a bar in Tokyo, it felt like my dad was standing beside me, arm draped over my shoulder, making his usual witty remarks.

Once I'd talked his ear off and the inspectors had finished, I bowed my head and bid Mr. Hiragana farewell. Back on the other side of the fence, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and finally checked the messages that had been steadily buzzing the last hour. My heart nearly stopped at the sight of four missed calls from Peter. One from Patrick and one from Jake. It all came back in a large wave that doused all Mr. Hiragana's words of wisdom.

Please answer the phone, Lee.

You know he didn't mean it.

Just… Be safe. Call someone, please?

Peter's messages made my throat clench. Guilt and pain and that stupid bitter sting of anger still sitting in my chest.

The next message was from Jake. It was short and simple and surprisingly not dripping with frustration or anger, which only made the guilt burn hotter. Hey, I just wanted to check-in. Sorry about earlier, if I said something or… You know. Call me if you need anything.

I leaned against the chain link fence in front of the hotel, pressing my hand to my still-aching head and desperately trying not to cry. The phone buzzed in my hand.

You sick or something? Scott.

Pull yourself together, I told myself quickly, replying to the cook's message. Or something. It's been a day.

Sounds shitty. Wanna talk about it or something?

Nope. I texted back quickly. I ran into Mr. Hiragana and his inspectors, though.

How'd that go?

Good. He approved all the plans and is contacting his guys to get it started.

Before he could reply, I shoved the phone in my pocket and started walking. Among the crowds of people and their constant idle noise, I could think clearly. My feet carried me, familiar with every path and, deep down, knowing exactly where to go even when I didn't. I wanted to go home. Wanted to curl up in that old, lumpy bed and disappear. But Patrick's voice still harshly rang in the back of my mind. 

I wiped the wetness from my eyes, scolding myself for nearly crying once again, and shook my head. Home wasn't an option right now. So, I kept walking. Walking and listening and avoiding… All the things I used to be so good at.

The orange hues of the setting sun painted Nana's diner in a golden glow. The tiny little building looked almost heaven-sent as I made my way across the street and through the front door. It was busy tonight. Tables full of bodies happily conversing and enjoying their meals as the old Arabic woman looked up over the counter and sadly smiled at me.

Nana opened her arms wide and swept me up into her embrace, kissing my head and lovingly smoothing her hands over my hair. "Oh, Habibi, how are you feeling?"

"I'm okay," I answered, though I knew she'd hear the crack in my voice.

Pulling me back, she stroked my cheeks and swept me into a seat. "Sit, beautiful girl. Abdul and I will make you dinner."

As I sat in the noise of Nana's diner, I watched the people that came and went. Families, friends, lovers… There was no shortage of deep forged bonds staring back at me tonight. A great joke that made it impossible for me to forget what I'd missed and the angry words Patrick and I had exchanged. Nana served my food, setting the various plates down around me. "Have you seen Ozzy?"

She shook her head, then suddenly asked, "How was your night? I know it's a difficult day for all of you, but hopefully, your visit made it better."

I clenched my jaw, tears stinging in my eyes. Salt in the wound. I knew Nana didn't mean to remind me of my monumental fuck up. I knew she asked because she cared, but what was I supposed to say? It was amazing. I spent the whole night with Jake and completely forgot that it was the anniversary of Dad's death, so missed the family visit to his grave, and now everyone hates me. So I just shrugged. "It was okay."

Nana saw through me in an instant and gently set a hand on my head. "What is that brain of yours thinking?"

A hundred lies came to mind, each one just as likely to shift her focus as the last, but I said none of them. I was tired. So tired. "Am I a monster Nana?"

"What?" The old woman questioned, dropping to her knees in front of me. Her hand cupped my cheek as she shook her head. "You are no such thing! Not my silly, thoughtful, bright, good Lena!"

"What if all that's just a lie… A facade to hide what I really am?" Years built in my eyes as I averted my gaze. "What if no one really knows me?"

Nana's grip was gentle but firm as she forced me to look at her. "You listen to me. You are our Lena. My Lena. I have known you since you were in diapers. I have known you through your best and your worst. And I have loved you every moment." She smiled, that kind and gentle smile that warmed my heart a little. "You are no monster. No matter what that pesky brain of yours says."

All I could do was nod into her hands and sink into her warm, spiced embrace. The vicious thoughts - thoughts that Patrick's words had been true… That my mother had been right about me - quieted as Nana whispered her prayer into my hair. After a while, Abdul brought me plates of food, but I wasn't hungry. 

While I played with my food, the diner door opened, and Ozzy quietly walked inside. Nana let out a relieved breath and nodded in my direction. "You talk some sense into her, Oswald."

"Course I will." 

"Make sure she eats!"

He made his way to me, smiling sadly as he sat down. "You weren't at the grave last night."

"Rumor is you weren't either," I retorted with much more bite than intended.

He nodded, looking at his hands. "I wasn't."

After a moment of quiet between us, I asked, "Did you forget?"

His answer had the potential to ease my guilt. It didn't, though. Ozzy shook his head. "I remembered. Too much. Opened that damn box of loss and couldn't bring myself to do anything." He looked back up at me, eyes watery as he waited for my own truth to be spoken aloud.

"I forgot," I whispered. "I… I got distracted, and I…" Pressing my eyes shut as tight as I could, I scoffed at myself. "I had a good night."

Ozzy nodded, standing up and glancing over his shoulder at Nana. "I think it's time we both make amends. Take a bite of that food, or she'll be giving us both a good smack with her magazines." I did as he asked. "Good, now come on, dear."

Gathering my things, I followed him. "Where are we going?"

"To visit with the one person that can absolve us of our guilt."

The cab ride was quiet but not the kind I'd expected. I didn't feel at peace, and I didn't feel guilty. Instead, I was filled with an alarming sense of nothingness. I was filled with a dreaded sensation that had haunted me after I left the hospital. 

The graveyard was even more quiet. It was the revenant kind, though, the kind that made every step on dried leaves echo in the now chilly night air and dance among the dead. Both of us stopped in front of the worn tombstone, lined with fresh flowers and a few soggy cards. Patrick and Peter's gifts, no doubt. Ozzy sat down first, and I followed.

The ground was slightly wet, but neither of us cared as we looked at the name carved into the stone. There were so many things I wanted to say now that I was here, but it felt like each word was stuck in my throat. Ozzy didn't seem to have the same problem. He sighed, reaching out to touch the stone. "Hey, you big oaf. It's been a while." I could hear the sorrow in his voice. "Sorry I'm late. Don't worry, Patrick already gave me hell for it. Boy was downright hostile to me, and maybe I deserved it… The point is, I'm sorry. I just missed you so much that the thought of having to face the facts again was too much for me yesterday. I'm here now, though, and that's what matters."

Silence retook the graveyard. It was my turn to speak, and yet I had nothing. Ozzy's warm hand settled on my knee as I swallowed, separately trying to free the words in my throat. "He would've understood, you know."

"I know."

"Your dad loved you. More than anything. And there is nothing you could have done, now or then, to change that."

Shaking my head, I sobbed. "I forgot about him."

Ozzy's hand squeezed. "You didn't forget him, Lena. That's not possible, and we both know it."

"I-"

"You had a good night. You did things that made you happy… That made you forget about the pain and the sadness that his death stained that day with." With a chuckle, Ozzy shook his head. "You're allowed to live your life, love. He would've preferred it that way."

Looking into his misty eyes, I sniffled. "I know but… Why do I still feel so horrible?"

"Because death is hard." He closed his eyes and sighed. "It's angry and bitter and hard. Remembering or forgetting, it feels the same. So, feel it. Feel the pain and the anger. Feel the joy and the love. Feel it and then try to let it go. Try to let him go. That's all we can do while we exist in this world without him."

"Were you able to do that?" I asked. "Let him go?"

Oz shook his head. "No. I think in order to really do that, I need to find something to fill the home he left behind. And that… It's a very big hole." Turning to look at me, he smiled. "But you found something to do that. Or… Someone I should say."

Jake. "What makes you say that?"

"You let yourself let go. You let yourself feel and forget."

"I never really realized it back then, but I was really lucky," I finally said, tears still streaming down my cheeks. "Most people grow up with just one awesome dad… Sometimes, not even that. But I…" Looking up at him with a smile, I held his hand tighter. "I got two really good, really amazing dads."

He pulled me into a bone-crushing hug, and the two of us cried together. My fingers curled into his jacket as I whispered to him, "I love you, Dad."

"I love you too, my dear girl." When he finally pulled away, wiping his nose, he stood, nodding to the tombstone. "I'll give the two of you a moment."

Once the sound of his footsteps faded, I sighed, watching my breath rise in the cold air. "Hey, old man. It's been a while... Too long." I stared at his name engraved in the stone, trying to picture his face instead. "I'm sorry I didn't come yesterday, I was... Things got..." I looked down at my jeans, picking at a loose string of fabric. The same jeans I'd been wearing yesterday. "So, there's this boy. He's a complete idiot and just the biggest asshole you'd ever meet. Seriously, he gives Patrick a run for his money sometimes." I laughed to myself, imagining that look he'd give me, telling me to keep going. "But, he makes me feel a lot of things. Good things. He... He makes me feel like I'm normal. Like I'm just me and that... That's beautiful. That I'm beautiful."

My chilled fingers brushed some dirt off his headstone. "He makes me forget, too. Sometimes when I'm with him, it feels like time doesn't exist." I glanced over my shoulder at Ozzy, who stood on the path waiting. "Is that how you felt with Oz? That warm, safe, forgetting? Is it normal to be so... Captivated by someone?"

With a sigh, I settled into my seat in the damp grass. This would be the moment he told me something very profound, something only he could come up with. But, now, all that I could hear was the wind in the trees. Next would come the incessant prying. Dad would want every detail, so, like it was some cosmic secret, I whispered, "His name's Jake, and I think you would've really liked him."

Once I'd finished and pressed my hand to his grave, I felt the weight lift off me. Gone. Truly gone this time. "Bye, Dad. I love you."

Ozzy placed his arm around my shoulder and kissed my head. "Ready to go?"

My eyes cast to the opposite side of the graveyard. "Actually… Would you mind if we visited someone else?"

"Of course not, my dear," he answered, turning down the path toward the person he knew I spoke of.

Clumps of hair swirled along the floor as the door opened. Rada froze in the doorway and looked at the scene with wide eyes. "Lisus."

With blurred vision, I turned my head and looked at her. "I cut it off… oh, oh god, I cut it all off!" My fingers dug into my scalp as the weightlessness of my impulsive rebellion faded, replaced now by terror. "They love my long hair. Tony… He hates short hair! They're going to be so mad I made myself look uglier!"

The maid's lips thinned as she tossed her supplies on the counter and quickly made her way to my side. I flinched as she raised her hand to my cheek, gently attempting to wipe away some of the smudges of charcoal. "How long has it been since you slept Lyubov?"

"I can't sleep," I replied quietly. "They said I needed to finish my pieces for the gala… I'm not good enough… They-"

"None of this," she interrupted, helping me to my feet and leading me up the stairs to the washroom. "Let us get you cleaned up and fix that beautiful hair, hmm?

Rada bathed me, using a soft sponge to clean the paint and charcoal off my face and hands and washing my butchered hair. She quietly assessed the damage and helped wrap me in a warm robe. She lovingly brushed through my hair, finding a pair of scissors and carefully, meticulously cutting to even it out. After a moment, she said, "Repeat after me. Ya krasivaya."

"Ya krasivaya." My voice was shaking from the effort it took to keep my tears at bay.

Rada nodded, smiling at me through the mirror. "Good. Now, ya sil'nyy."

"Ya sil'nyy." 

"Ya lyubim."

"Ta lyubim."

"Mne uzhe dostatochno."

"Mne uzhe dostatochno."

Smiling at me, she smoothed her hands over the now even, short bob. "There, beautiful as always."

"He's going to hate it…" I swallowed a lump in my throat. "I'm so stupid…"

Clicking her tongue, she shushed me. "Do you hate it?"

I looked in the mirror, examining the short, black hair. "I… I miss the red."

She wiped the tears from my eyes and kissed my head. "Then we'll let the red grow back out. You go rest now, Lyubov."

Shaking my head, I tried to protest. "I have to-"

"I will clean up the mess," Rada interrupted, shaking her brush at me. "And then I will pick out your pieces for your show."

"Rada-"

"My Lena," she whispered, taking hold of my face. "My sweet girl… Rest. Let Rada handle everything else."

As she turned to leave, I asked, "What did the words mean?"

Shaking her head, she clicked her tongue. "You'll understand them soon."

I am beautiful.

I am strong.

I am loved.

I am already enough.

With a deep breath, I looked down at the modest stone that marked her grave.  I pressed a kiss to the tombstone. "Ya lyublyu tebya, mama."

*

Home felt far better than it ever had as I entered the gym through the alley door. I let my fingers trail along the pictures on the wall and headed upstairs to the apartment, finally ready to face Patrick and make amends to both my brothers. When I opened the apartment door, all the noise on the other side died. Patrick stood, holding the garbage can, while Peter sat at the table next to Dom. And Jake stood off to the side, half leaning against my bedroom door. 

I wondered why they were here as I dropped my bag on the ground by the door. "I-"

Patrick practically threw the garbage can back into the corner as he twisted around the table and slammed into me. His arms held me tightly to him as if it were the most important thing he could ever do. "You know I didn't mean any of it, right?" He asked, his voice nearly turning into sobs. "I didn't mean it."

I buried my head into his neck. "I know. I didn't mean it either."

Patrick held me tighter. "I know."

We didn't move for a few minutes, both of us breathing heavy sighs of relief at the unspoken but heard apologies. My big brother pulled away first, taking my head in his large hands and blinking away tears. "I love you, little sister."

With a sniffling laugh, I replied, "I love you too, big brother."

Dom made his way past us, wordlessly offering me a pat on the head. Peter hugged me, kissing my head softly. "Don't disappear like that again. Please."

"I won't."

Eventually the two of them followed Dom downstairs to lock the doors, leaving Jake and I alone in the apartment. "Hi," I mumbled, slightly afraid he'd be pissed at me.

Jake breathed a sound of relief? "Hi."

"I'm sorry about earlier…" I started, cursing my eyes as they once again filled with tears. "I shouldn't have run out on you I-"

"Stop," he said, not harshly or loudly… Definite and soft. "You…" His jaw clenched for a second, a far-off look threatening to fill his eyes. "You have nothing to apologize for."

He didn't hate me. I wanted to sob. "They told you then?"

For a moment, he looked scared, and worried as he stumbled on his words for a second. "What?"

"My brothers. I'm guessing they told you about yesterday? About it being the anniversary of our dad's death."

"That's why you were… I'm sorry. I didn't know."

I shook my head, quickly shushing him. "It's not your fault. I could have canceled."

"Why didn't you?" He asked, the vulnerability from this morning sinking into his voice.

Shrugging I smiled at him. "I wanted to be with you."

Without another word, Jake stepped forward and wrapped his arms around me. This hug felt heavier… Deeper than the others. Jake held me so tightly that for a moment, I wondered if he was trying to consume me or mold us into one being. His hands cradled my head and back so gently, like I was a freshly plucked flower. It was odd and yet comforting.

Normally, I hated deep hugs. They felt too much like sorrow and pity and everything I didn't want to feel. But Jake's hug was different. It was soft and warm. Safe. I found myself melting into his arms, curling into him - seeking out that feeling that he just radiated.

"I missed you today," I found myself admitting against his skin.

Jake chuckled. "I missed you too, princess."

I pulled my head back, staring into his eyes. "You can stay here tonight if you want to."

"It is getting late," he replied, a tiny hint of teasing.

Laughing, I nodded. "I'd hate for you to get your ass kicked trying to get home."

He smirked. "We both know how easy it is for me to get my ass kicked."

"Come on," I said, gently pulling him into my bedroom.

We undressed in comfortable silence, both our eyes lingering on the other person's body in an odd, almost reverent way. As Jake climbed into the bed, situating himself under the yellow covers, leaving plenty of room for me to join him, I tossed our clothes in my chair and quickly ran a brush through my hair. The lumpy mattress felt better than ever as I sank into Jake’s side, instantly curling into him.

His hands gently massaged my shoulders as he inhaled my hair and looked down at me. I could see something, a feeling or a question, swimming in his eyes. “What’s on your mind?”

“I just… I didn’t make you feel… obligated to stay last night, did I?”

I sat up slightly, touching his cheek and shaking my head. “No! I stayed because I wanted to stay, Jake.”

Nodding, he swallowed. “You just seemed unsure before all the fun.”

“I mean… I guess was a bit… Nervous,” I admitted sheepishly.

His mood lightened as he chuckled. "Nervous about seeing me? I'm flattered."

"Not about that, jackass. Just… I…" With a sigh, I closed my eyes and shook my head, curling into him more. "I was just nervous that you were expecting it to be different."

Jake's fingers idly combed through my hair as he hummed, throat vibrating against my forehead. "I didn't really have any expectations."

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I asked the question that could be a horrible thing to bring up. "Why did you tell Simone we were going on a date then?"

He pulled back, brows furrowed and confusion clear on his face. "I didn't tell Simone we were doing anything yesterday. Why would you think that?"

"I swung by the restaurant before meeting you. She told me I looked cute and not to be nervous because you were good at this sort of thing. Then she assured me she could keep our date a secret."

Jake's genuine confusion only grew. "I…" He paused and shook his head. "I'll talk to her about it. Sorry if that made you feel-"

Covering his mouth with my fingers, I smiled at him. "I didn't feel obligated to do anything. I wanted to. I just… I'm not very good at this."

His laugh vibrated through my fingers as he gently pulled them off his lips. "It's hard to imagine anything you're not good at."

"I assure you, I'm horrible at a lot of things."

"Name one."

"This," I answered smugly, relaxing my head back on his pillow.

Jake rolled his eyes, arms tightening around me. "You seem pretty good at it to me."

Our breaths mingled together, noses brushing ever so slightly. "Well, you're biased, so what you think doesn't count."

A soft silence filled the apartment. The hum of all that had happened… All that we both had come to feel and realize over the past few weeks slowly building. I could feel the question building up in my chest, burning… Pleading for me to let it out. It was only a matter of time before I blurted it all out. Jake just happened to beat me to it. "So… What… What is this?"

I felt all the air leave my lungs as I stared back at those eyes. This was a chance for us to both acknowledge whatever it was we were… What we wanted. It was a chance I wanted to take more than anything, but the words that stumbled out were not what I'd planned. "I thought you hated labels."

God dammit. Jake smirked and shrugged his shoulder. "Normally, I do. But, this isn't normal… Is it?"

"No, it's not."

"We don't have to have this conversation right now," he said, tiredly. "Raincheck?"

“Raincheck.”

That talk could happen tomorrow. But now, all I wanted was to get lost in the moment. Peaceful and safe and tired.  "Jake?" I quietly asked, determined to rid myself of that one last question that was still tugging lightly at the back of my mind.

"Yeah, princess?"

"If my brothers didn't tell you about dad… Why were you already here when I got back?"

He was quiet for a moment, so quiet I almost thought he’d fallen asleep already, but then his chest dipped heavily. "I was worried about you, so I showed up to ask if they'd seen you. Then you walked in."

I giggled, my heart practically doing summersaults in my chest at the soft admittance of his worry for me. "I do have amazing timing, don't I?"

Jake pressed his lips to my head, a simple, intimate act that made my eyes close and everything inside me still. “Yeah. You really do."

[regallibellbright]

I’m pretty sure this is two metas stapled together under the umbrella of character parallels:

@paxesoterica replied: Poke

Okay so. G-Witch’s first episode homages Revolutionary Girl Utena’s, and Ichiro Okouchi, the writer of the show, also wrote the novelizations for Utena. If anyone reading this didn’t know these facts, now you do! This led to some pretty obvious parallels being drawn, especially with the characters who feature heavily in episode 1:

In the first episode of Utena, our protagonist Utena Tenjou challenges Kyouichi Saionji to a duel because he’s an ass, and becomes the fiance of the Rose Bride, Anthy Himemiya.

In the first episode of G-Witch, our protagonist Suletta Mercury challenges Guel Jeturk to a duel because he’s an ass, and in so doing becomes the Holder, the fiance of Miorine Rembran.

Meanwhile, G-Witch establishes the rest of the Dueling Committee, an organization that serves the same general purpose as the Student Council (who were all duelists) in Utena. The roles here aren’t exact - it seems increasingly unlikely Secelia and Rouji are going to duel themselves at this rate - but you can pretty well map Suletta-Utena, Miorine-Anthy, Guel-Saionji. Additionally, it’s not hard to compare Shaddiq Zenelli, who takes a leading observer role as a member of the Dueling Committee in that first episode, to Touga Kiryuu, the Student Council President.

I’d also argue that Elan 4 is sort of a combination Nanami and Juri, but that’s a stretch, and that’s the point, because even early on we see these characters aren’t just “Utena but in Gundam”. Miorine actively and openly resents her father for setting up this whole system, for one thing, where Anthy never truly considers breaking the cycle of duels until the finale. There’s also a huge thematic difference in how the two series treat adults, with adults and especially parents all but absent in Utena save Akio (who wouldn’t get away with any of this shit if there were an adult who wasn’t kissing his ass around,) and omnipresent in G-Witch. Which is mostly relevant here to Shaddiq. Under the cut, I talk about both!

So the thing I keep rotating in my mind with Shaddiq is the idea that he’s taking that “lead antagonist among the teen characters” role the same way Touga is, even into the second half. We’re all expecting Prospera or Quiet Zero to be the final threat, Shaddiq’s not going to displace her unless he tries to bring all of humanity beyond the data storm. He just can’t top that. But where Touga was the runner-up antagonist because he was imitating Akio, still largely trying to win within the dueling system, Shaddiq’s the runner-up because he was never really plotting in the bounds of the duels. He wanted Gund-arm and Miorine, but I think it’s become clear his plans were conceived well before another Gundam appeared and they could be granted legitimacy. As such, he doesn’t actually need them, they just would’ve been nice. At the end, Touga wanted to usurp princeliness for himself and princessdom for Utena, to take her away from Akio and whatever was coming next. Shaddiq wants to restructure the Benerit Group via good old-fashioned violent corporate coups. Like, say, Vim Jeturk. In a way, they’re both copying a model of adulthood, but Shaddiq’s managing to do it OVER his own father’s head where Touga was never actually out of Akio’s pocket. There’s just enough there you can still see the parallels if you squint. And then there’s Guel.

Okay, we’re all joking about what an unending parade of suffering Guel’s life has become. To call him the Saionji by this point SEVERELY UNDERSELLS what he’s been through, because when Saionji was shown the brutal reality underneath all the glamor of the duels, it was a solely existential blow. But I do think they have similar arcs, roughly.

Both Saionji and Guel get their asses handed to them by the newcomer.

Both Saionji and Guel duel her again, trying to repair their own egos, and lose.

With both Saionji and Guel, it quickly becomes apparent that what they really want isn’t the girl, it’s legitimacy and approval from someone who will never give it to them (Guel and his father, Saionji and Touga,) and genuine human affection.

Both Saionji and Guel get thrown out of school. And both Saionji and Guel get a taste of the thematic beating heart of the show underneath the duels. Saionji realizes in episode 10 - of 39 - that the castle’s an illusion, and is the one to say that “we’re all still in our coffins” before Anthy brings the idea up again in the finale. Guel gets taken hostage and kills his father. And then he gets taken hostage again, and sees Earth combat at its most brutal, contrasting the flashier Gundam vs Gundam fighting that’s been most of what Suletta’s seen and done. (Even Suletta’s extremely bloody slapdown was still more over-the-top than what we see in Episode 15.)

Saionji knows this whole thing’s a sham, but when he gets the chance to be part of it all again, he takes it. Touga sucks him back into it all because he still wants to be equal again, even as Saionji knows he shouldn’t want to win.

Guel has had a drastically more traumatic time. But still, he’s trying to get back to Lauda and what’s left of his father, still searching for something he’s never going to get. This might be the point where he finally breaks the parallel, later than every other character (as I said, Shaddiq has hopscotched over the adult in his life where Touga can’t. Miorine has seized agency for herself every step of the way, where Anthy takes so long in reclaiming hers. It is impossible to talk about Suletta’s arc without talking about Prospera, where the first thing we ever learn about Utena is “she was very sad, because her mother and father had died.”) And there’s a half-formed idea there about how Guel’s “I haven’t moved forward since Suletta Mercury” kind of reflects that - Saionji never recovers from encountering Utena, either - but this is already a couple metas stapled together. And maybe he won’t diverge, maybe he’ll stay the Saionji ‘til the end, still realizing the horrors of war but trying to get the hell away from that reality.

Either way Guel seems very likely to continue having a terrible time. Poor bastard’s the cosmic chew toy of a Gundam show.

[annabtg]

I need to hear about The Long Game, please! 💓

You do, don't you! ;D

The Long Game is my Sirius/Lily prophecy AU, in which the prophecy is made just around the time James and Lily find out they're pregnant, so they decide to fake a break-up, have Lily move in with Sirius and pass her baby off as his. A similar setup to Scandalous, but multichapter and MUCH angstier. I've written about three chapters of this one but they need major restructuring and rewriting, and basically I need to sit down and plot down the whole thing from beginning to end because I have a few key plot points in my head but no idea how to connect them into a story that spans the length of time I want it to.

Here's a snippet I'd posted sometime ago, and here's another snippet that might or might not make it to the final version (though I wish it will!).

“My life is James,” Lily continued, her tone quiet, “and then you, Remus and Peter. Maybe a cup of tea with Alice and Marlene, sometimes – but they’ll be appalled to hear I dumped James. I don’t think I can count on anyone’s support.” “That’s not fair,” he said seriously. “People break up. You should have some people in your life who would help you through it if it happened.” “Would you help me if it happened?” She raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re my best friend.” He looked at her intently, the hint of a smirk crossing his features as he picked up his mug and sipped. “James is my best friend,” he said, setting down the mug slowly. The smirk he was biting back appeared in all its glory. “You’re just collateral damage.”

WIP tag game here!

[gibbearish]

it is with a heavy heart that i must announce. the five nights at freddy's movie was really good

sorry for how much of a behemoth this post is im fnaf autism just bear with me also i can't keep my thoughts straight for the life of me so this will be a bumpy ride. as an additional note i got very lucky and had literally 0 spoilers whatsoever for this movie, i haven't even seen the trailer

so first of all: i thought all the changes they made to the plot to make it work for a movie were good decisions, altho some of them did take a minute to actually feel like good changes lmao. once i thought about em a bit more though they made sense.

one of the things i really liked was that they also did include a lot of the things i wanted them to, or more specifically things that you're like "you literally can't have a fnaf movie without these, it just wouldn't be right", like we got mike schmidt, we got fucking VANESSA??? altho she might be in the trailer so that might not be the same reveal for yall as it was for me but still. they heavily alluded to vanny? (altho that's a part i'm kinda sad abt is they didn't /actually/ include vanny, vanessa just makes an offhand comment about how she "wouldn't be much help" if she was around afton and then. comes to help anyways and doesnt have any issues? lame they shouldve had him hypnotise her and then she fought her way out to help mike and abby. or alternatively they couldve used the family restructuring to make vanny be a result of afton giving vanessa osdd-2, like thats kinda functionally what he does with the mask anyways but this would make it more obvious).

also swinging back to changes they made that i liked!! VANESSA AFTON?? like this is the one that took me a while to get used to bc it feels like such a cliche from an outside perspective but it also kind of Super Isn't considering what the original plot is? like all the family restructuring they did makes pretty good sense to me, i do think it loses a bit of the weight having michael be Just Some Guy Whose Brother Happened To Be Kidnapped By Afton Forever Ago and now coincidentally has this weird guy offering him a job as a night guard, but also the og lore. absolutely would not fit into a movie lmao. so i like that they kept the characters everyone wanted around while also rearranging it to keep the spirit of "learning about all of this for the first time through the eyes of a security guard" you get from playing the games. it's fun for people who don't know the lore because it's easy to follow and it's fun for people who /do/ know the lore because they can pull apart all the differences.

oh right back to things they included that i wanted them to. we gotttt chica's cupcake murdering people, we got FUCKING MATPAT? SAYING THE ITS JUST A THEORY LINE? SOUNDING THRILLED OFF HIS ASS TO BE THERE??? i dont like the man and his opinions vis a vis addressing nonbinary characters but. goddamn was that a funny cameo. why couldnt you include markiplier too you fucking cowards. who said that. anyways. oh we kind of tangentially have a canon name for crying child? aka garrett? like idk this one could go either way because like. yeah he's mike's younger brother that died tragically and scarred him for life, makes sense that theyd be the same character in function but also it is technically a different family so who knows.

umm what else. oh this doesnt rlly fall into either category i just really liked it, the intro sequence for all the animatronics? showing what they can /really/ do with the breaking and entering dudes?? that was such a cool sequence i really liked the whole thing honestly. chica being introduced in the kitchen and the dude finding the cupcake then looking back and it's gone? bonnie in the supply closet? foxysprint??? AND FREDDY!! THE BITE!!! in case anyones reading this before watching the movie so they know what to expect: youll know when this moment is coming and if youre watching it at home with friends i HIGHLY recommend having the "was that the bite of 87" clip ready to play right after, they WILL lose their shit. i had it queued up from the very beginning of the movie cause i was like. they can't not include it /somehow/, it's the fnaf movie there has to be A Bite. and sure enough. oh also it's not at the same time but the golden freddy reveal is really good too, they did a good job of setting it up so even if youre already aware of golden freddy conceptually you still go "oh freddy's here? i mean i guess that makes sense he's the leader and all. or wait what happened to his eye why's he only got one? oh. oh i see. ohohohohohohohoho" 100/10. also very funny that they just straight up. MURDER THE AUNT? AND SHE NEVER GETS MENTIONED AGAIN SHE JUST IS DEAD??? the kid isnt like. hey what happened to aunt jane?? i get none of them liked her and with good reason but youd think at least one of em would be like "damn she sucked but she didnt deserve that, rip jane"

oh and the springlocks of course the springlocks. like as soon as we saw aftons name in the cast list we all knew he was gonna get springlocked, it's such a cherished memory for so many of us and there's no way in hell The Fnaf Movie™ wouldnt include afton getting springlocked, they just legally can't leave that out. and they do it pretty well too like yeah if you know what's gonna happen you can see it coming way ahead of time and it's kind of a slow crawl to get there but like. idk i think it still works pretty well. i don't personally like how long the actual springlocking itself took, i think they couldve milked that a little bit less cause i was under the impression that if one springlock failed they All Would Instantaneously And Your Flesh Body Will Become Occupied By A Full Endoskeleton. but no we just get very slow rib beartrap. w/e though still cool and again the leadup to it was really good even knowing exactly how it would end, like just the really slow shuffling of the animatronics towards him? like yeah it's slow and kinda tedious but its also like. theres literally nothing you can do, youre surrounded and defenseless and theyre infinitely faster and stronger than you and now they remember that you killed them. and you just have to sit there and watch them slowly slowly get closer all while trying to talk your way out of it knowing youre fucked. 10/10 they did that part well

oh and that also falls under changes i liked, i liked that instead of "afton tries to escape intangible ghosts by getting into old decrepit suit which then fails and kills him" it was "afton was already in the suit to do murders in and has brainwashed the bots to follow him" wait omg point postponed i just realized that part is from security breach. i thought vanessa was the only thing they brought over from that i didnt even notice that they werent doing the theyre-attacking-all-adults-indiscriminately thing goddamn. omg wait and the fact that the restaurants already closed in this one, it really is just a blend of all the games huh. scott do you see how much more coherent your plot couldve been if there wasnt So much going on. anyways. back to what i was saying. instead of "afton tries to escape intangible ghosts by getting into old decrepit suit which then fails and kills him" it was "afton was already in the suit to do murders in and brainwashed the ghosts into thinking he was their friend so they would help him do murders while possessing the robots. then they get their memories back and the robots turn on him and.. i think deliberately? set off the springlocks, or were just aiming to regular kill him and the springlocks failing was a happy accident? then the robots drag him away as they keep slowly one by one collapsing into him", like the first one made a lot of sense for the game and the timeline and the second one just feels right for this too. it's still his hubris that kills him, still his springlocks, it's just in one version the hubris is "trusting his springlock design to still work after however many years" and in the other its "thinking he has conplete control over the ghosts he killed", plus the ghosts finally get a bit more direct participation in his death than in the other version lol.

one change i did not like. forced het romance. like i dunno i guess im happy for them, both of those characters have certainly earned happy endings by this point so its nice they can get something cutesy. but also. like cmon man it's vanessa and mike do we have to do this she just got stabbed stop holding her hand

oh also this change wasnt really good or bad i just thought it was funny, vanessas a full on cop now? like i get they prolly just dont wanna have two security guards or something but i mean. it wouldve been really easy to just say she was the day shift guard? thatd explain why she had more information on the bots and the place's history than him, why she's always Around, it wouldve even flowed into the vanessa afton reveal pretty well too because like. yeah obviously a guy doing murders would want his main security guard to be someone he trusts and who better than his theoretically brainwashed daughter yknow? as it was she just kinda Showed Up Knowing Stuff And Ignoring Questions and later afton's like "you were supposed to be keeping an eye on him" but like of course Mike was getting dodgy about the weirdo cop loitering nearby for no reason, thats sus as hell lmao. vs "experienced security guard here to show you the ropes" he would have a much easier time trusting that she actually did have his best interests at heart. idk it just seemed like a weird change to me lmao

ummm oh my roommate pointed out the fact that when they tried to springlock abby the suit they were aiming for looked suspiciously like circus baby and abby and baby are anagrams so thats fun. it's hard to tell though if shes intended to be a rework of elizabeth or if vanessa's filling that role now. cause like on the one hand, michael's younger sister whose name is v close to baby, on the other hand, vanessa is afton's daughter. so idk i feel like it could go either way. if abby's elizabeth i guess that negates the thing about garret maybe being crying child's name bc then theyd prolly just be keeping mike's name the same. w/e

oh my god i completely forgot when i was talking about changes to the afton springlock thing, they had him deliberately put his mask on after the other springlocks started releasing and say the "i always come back" line, i thought that was an excellent touch. like he's actively dying a horrific death and is like. no no. im not leaving this bot. this shit is going to suck ass no matter what so i might as well do all i can to ENSURE my soul gets locked in this fuckin thing, go on stab me in the brain lets do this. i will however also say that having him say "i always come back"... before he's even come back the first time? is a little bit weird, i know thats another one of the "we have to include this in the fnaf movie" things so im not mad but just in the moment it def flows a bit weird. like mf you don't even have one example of that yet much less several to be saying "always" about

OH AND THE BIGGEST ONE. THE ANIMATRONICS. theyre so good. like im so glad they went all in on that, i think they probably knew that if there was one single thing they had to get absolutely 100% right to avoid a fan uprising it was those and by god did they deliver, theyre so big and so unsettling and so fun. chica's wink at abby was the best part of the movie no questions asked. or alternatively bonnie falling over after they built the fort. like theyre all just so good. OH MY GOD OR IN CHICA'S INTRODUCTION SEQUENCE WHERE YOU CAN SEE HER JUST. SCOOTING BY THROUGH THE VENT?? THAT WAS THE FUNNIEST THING OF ALL TIME HELLO???

god. but yeah i was honestly expecting it to be a lot worse than it was. also this mike is a bad brother/dad figure. but i guess in the games he also kind of is the pinnacle of bad brother so i mean it couldve been a lot worse. theres definitely some rough parts, i mightve mentioned this already but i felt like a few of the dramatic pause things were a bit too drawn out, like i said the springlocks locking is one good example of that but another that i REALLY found slow was like. in the opening we watch a guy get turbomurdered by the swirly blade mask and it takes. way longer than i feel like was necessary. also unnecessary: a jumpcut a second from scared eyes to swirly blades to hands fumbling and repeating during that. oh another thing that was weird to me, why was mike so insistent on sleeping specifically at night? to the point of deliberately sleeping on the job? like i get he wanted to revisit the kidnapping dream but like. presumably he could dream just as well during the day, no? done his night shift then once it was up rolled out a sleeping bag for a quick powernap before heading home? idk that just felt. forced to me

more random things, i am sad we didnt get a whiff of henry emily (my fringe theory was that their twist to change it from the games was they were gonna make henry be evil, rip to that idea) or the puppet/charlie, and kinda sad they changed the kid possessing golden freddy to be a boy like. we love cassidy and her Undying Rage Towards Afton's Soul smh why would you get rid of her. also loved balloon boy, kinda wish mangle had gotten like a similar level appearance but thats w/e. oh also while i did appreciate the low gore level there were also a few times where it was a bit weird how minor the injuries the dead people had were. like this man just had his face put in a blender mask and he just has like. some forehead gashes or whatever? he should look like someone stirred up jello

anyways with that gross thought i think i am out of things to say about the movie for now. if anyone else watched it already and somehow read all of this blease tell me your thoughts

[0xo]

that post about trying to break cycles by being nothing like ur abuser but actually failing to grow better behaviors... (tw lots of talk of suicide and death, mentions of abuse)

really hitting hard rn considering the death of my uncle who hated his (admittedly terrible) father but ended up perpetuating the same exact bullshit onto his wife and kids. and then died bc he couldn't face that fact. like when faced w divorce and the idea of losing his control over his family he... fucked off and died. (still don't have details on how, unsure if it was on purpose but. signs point to...) [AND PREFACING WITH: i do NOT think all people who die by suicide are cowardly or bad people or anything like that. i am talking about a very specific and complicated situation in my own family. please do not interpret this as me saying that all people who die by suicide were bad people/dodging responsibility/could've "worked harder to improve their situation." i know deeply that that is NOT the case, i have been personally impacted by suicide in other ways. i am just discussing one person and the circumstances around his death.]

and of course im sad, we were close once, he is family. ofc im sad he felt dying was better than trying to sort out his life or trying to be a good coparent. but the way he treated his (very sweet, very patient) wife was deeply unacceptable to me. he isolated her, and didn't properly care for his high-support needs autistic kids, and pinned it all on her. he was terrible to my mother and forced all my grandma's end of life care on my mother. he hurt us a lot with his behavior.

and like. i don't think he necessarily deserved to die bc of it, right? he had his own issues, he cut himself off too and refused help from everyone, these problems run in the family and he knew that and still wouldn't accept help. and you can't MAKE anyone accept help. but i can't help but think that if he'd, maybe, been open to the people who loved him, he could've... restructured. he was so smart, so clever, so creative! he could've done anything he wanted to, he was so good at anything he tried.

and yet. in trying to avoid being like his father. he ended up doing all the same things. and i think that was too much for him to handle. and i hate that, i hate that so much.

he leaves behind two brilliant, brilliant children - they're SO CLEVER. but he couldn't accept their support needs and didn't treat them well. they don't even know he's dead yet, i don't think. but they love him, and he saw them as manipulative and trying to intentionally ruin his life. they're small children. they haven't even developed the capability to manipulate yet, they just want some chocolate milk, right? and yet he compared those kids to his father.

it just hurts. this wasn't necessary. my poor fucking mum is now an orphan with two dead siblings. how is she meant to deal with all this? how is she supposed to reconcile the grief of his needless death with the absolutely shit way he treated her and their mother?

luckily we love his widow very much and we will make sure she and the kids are okay. but i truly don't understand anything. it just sucks balls to watch someone ruin their own life and leave a giant fucked up mess behind. and then everyone's saying sorry and apologizing for my loss, like i didn't lose him years ago, like we were still close, like i'm not angry with the way he treated the people around him. we grew up like siblings. but that connection was basically severed when he started acting like a jackass. i don't know how to respond to people trying to comfort me. they all assume i'm really really sad, and i am, but i'm also pissed off, and i don't think anyone knows what to do with that.

because you're not supposed to be pissed at someone for dying, especially if it's probably suicide, you're meant to be tragically sad. you're not supposed to say they were wrong, you're supposed to apologize for being wrong and not seeing the signs earlier, you're supposed to be sorry. and you're not supposed to speak ill of the dead, even if they were fucking complicated, you're meant to shove all those negative emotions aside to grieve the good of them.

and i do grieve the good of him! i grieve the family member he could've been if he had actually broken cycles! but i'm fucking angry. you don't get to treat everyone around you like shit and then kill yourself to get out of being remembered as an asshole. it doesn't work like that. you're still an asshole, now you're just dead and can't take responsibility for fucking up people's lives. i'm sorry he felt that was the best way out. AND good god, he was a grown man with every opportunity to improve himself. and he chose to stagnate and be fucking mean. dying in a shit way doesn't erase that.

and like, listen, i understand that people are complicated. i don't think everyone who dies by suicide is an asshole. MOST people who do were genuinely failed by the people and systems around them, they weren't bad people, they were in bad situations. they didn't have help or a way out. it's not inherently selfish or evil, it's fucking devastatingly sad.

and mental illness is complicated and hard. like. hm. i don't think it's his fault he was fucked up, it runs heavy in our family, he was traumatized too. but. he talked so much about growing past that and then just... didn't. he had support, he had a good therapist, he talked the talk. and didn't walk the walk AT ALL. he treated people like dirt. and i understand that certain illness our family is prone to, they make it extremely hard to get or accept help, okay? i get that. i really do. but you can't just fall back on mental illness and trauma as an excuse for financially/emotionally abusing your wife and neglecting-to-the-point-of-abusing your children. it wasn't okay when his dad did it and it's not okay that he did it. and what makes it worse is that he was so aware of how fucked up his childhood made him, and self-aware enough to superficially recognize his own faults, but not enough to change how he interacted with people. why must these cycles continue! why!

i'm so angry and so sad. i don't even know my cousins well because he was so ashamed of how poorly he treated them that he cut us off from them. he hated my mum and so held me at arm's length to avoid interacting with her in any capacity. they're sweet kids...

anyways. sorry. im just so so so so so so so so so tired of death in my family and abuse cycles. im so tired in general and these giant unnameable unfathomable emotions don't help. i feel like the suicide element makes it even harder to talk about, because i sound like an absolute cunt for saying any of this to people who don't know the situation. nothing about it is simple. nothing about it is easy. i don't know what to do anymore at all tbh!!!!!!

[vicekillx]

UPDATE: 2024

Usually I make these kinds of post around New Years, but this year I didn't really have anything to say. But now we're a month in and I definitely do.

I feel…different, this year. In a good way, I think. I feel like I'm tired of being complacent and riding coattails. This month has been a whirlwind of getting my shit in line. So far I:

handled two serious family crises smoothly and picked myself back up quickly from both

called my health insurance (phone calls have historically been an hours-long meltdown-inducing debacle for me) twice to switch my PCP because the previous one was consistently booked 3-6 months out and she just forgot to mention the inhaler I pulled out of my bag to show her at my first appointment so I couldn't get a refill on it or my nebulizer when I had COVID; that's been getting put off since August of last year

made an appointment with said new PCP for Feb 1, and I'm hoping they'll be able to refer me to a dentist and optometrist because I desperately need both

got back into therapy with an autism/ADHD specialist who can help me manage those specifically after my previous therapist didn't understand why I couldn't just Do It™; also have assessments lined up for both to get diagnoses

pay more attention to my health in general, including diet and exercise. I'm already down about 10 lb

restructured my planner to include a mood tracker and sleep tracker, and have been better about staying on top of it

got Trello up and running and so far it's working really well for me

have been doing my house chores more consistently, namely cleaning litter boxes and taking care of my snakes and tarantulas (roommates have been picking up my slack but they shouldn't have to, they're my animals)

am able to work more consistently on my designated work days; before it was a lot of chipping away and putting things off rather than sitting down and making actually decent progress

am finally starting a tattoo sleeve I've wanted for a very, very long time as a belated birthday gift to myself

am consistently filling stream sketch slots, which means I can actually make money and pay my bills on-time (and a huge, huge thank you to everyone who signs up, I'm pretty sure this is the primary reason I've been able to pull myself out of the hole. Financial stability is a hell of a drug)

This year I wanna try really hard to keep the train moving along this track. If things keep going the way they are, I could potentially make some pretty big changes in the not so distant future. Some things I'm brainstorming:

UnholyFans

merch other than stickers (seriously I have so many designs in mind, I just haven't had the drive to work on them or the upfront capital to order inventory)

more monster/demon adoptables

I would really like to collab with some other artists, it's been too fuckin long

website restructure

picking up my side business (I did literally zero pieces for it last year oof), ideally with a rebrand

get back into conventions and try some new crowds: reptile/exotic expos, tattoo conventions, oddities expos, sex conventions, BDSM groups…

push the stream setup to be more professional

rekindling the spark for my personal stories and headworld projects

more I have written down somewhere but can't think of off the top of my head

And to be clear, I'm optimistic, but also a realist. I know from experience that shit changes and I could hit a massive depressive slump in a month or two and be back to where I was for most of last year. I'm still not going to promise anything I'm not confident I can deliver. However, that doesn't mean I shouldn't try.

I already got sidetracked with this post, so I'm gonna make a second to get to my original point and I'll come back and add a link to this one when I do. But suffice to say I want to try - again - to breathe some kind of life back into my SubscribeStar. I have some ideas in mind, but I want to hear yall's opinions on it too.

Watch this space ♥

[aetherceuse]

Let's talk about Lusamine's affinity for parasitic life forms.

My biggest gripe with Ultra Sun and Ultra Moon was the butchering of Lusamine's character; they removed so many story beats that were crucial to her, that it really dulled her down as an antagonist. I always felt that the Necrozma plot was awkwardly shoved into the game, and Lusamine's character assassination was the result.

HOWEVER.

I have been looking at it through a difference lens since Pokémon Masters EX released Lusamine's sync pair with Dusk Mane Necrozma.

The fact that Lusamine has bonded with not one, but TWO parasitic entities, is really interesting to me, because it is full of so much symbolism.

The plot with Nihilego, of course, has had many different interpretations; the "motherly love" interpretation is one that I stray away from in my blog canon. Lusamine's fixation on Nihilego, and her bond with it, is a result of fascination turning into delusion and madness. Her obsession with it's lack of emotion and efficient existence through a hive mind system led her to want to emulate that behavior. Of course, we all know what eventually happens, regardless of whether it is a canon or headcanon based interpretation: Lusamine is accepted by Nihilego, consumed, and becomes a host to it. And because she was a host, she lost autonomy and was driven insane by the neurotoxin.

That's a great story and all, and one that I am constantly trying to work out and restructure in the background for my own canon-- but now I am also looking at the Dusk Mane Necrozma implications.

Lusamine and Necrozma have a lot of shared themes and symbolism: being a source of light while simultaneously burning those around them, hungering for more power, living in a world that they were not born in, and being fractured. I do believe that Lusamine seeking to quell Necrozma in USUM had something to do with her being aware of these similarities, and deluding herself into believing that she was the only one capable of quelling this quasi-deity.

Only, she was NOT deluding herself, she was CORRECT.

Lusamine was capable of syncing with Necrozma and commanding it, but ONLY while it was ALREADY in possession of a host; Dusk Mane Necrozma is simply piloting the body of a Solgaleo, meaning, it is easier to be contained while it is feeding. And I think Lusamine knew what she was doing. She knew that she was compatible with this monster, but knew that it was parasitic in nature. THAT is the major difference between her dynamic with Nihilego, and the one with Necrozma: she is destroyed by UB-01 because it was a host-parasite relationship, instead of a balanced partnership like syncing. She did not allow Necrozma to control her.

That being said, there's still a lot of sad implications here: Lusamine syncing with a Pokémon that is using Solgaleo, a monster that her daughter was bonded to, is full of so much upsetting symbolism. She herself is a parasite, smothering Lillie's joy and other connections. There's no better representation of Lusamine and Lillie's toxic mother and daughter relationship than Dusk Mane Necrozma-- a form that gained its name because it represents the death of the sun before being overtaken by the night sky.

ALSO, the fact that Lusamine's dialogue lines in PokeMas suggesting that she views herself as a "guiding light," despite being paired up with the consumer of light, is another indication that she TRULY believes that she is some sort of superior entity and "savior," while channeling Necrozma's desire to "be full of light" and whole again. They really are parallels of each other. She is more in line with Necrozma's themes, than Nihilego's. That is why she stands at the side of Necrozma, and is doomed to be a servant of Nihilego.

All of them are parasites and all of them are connected, and it's not great.

What I'm currently thinking, is that the Nihilego plot AND the Necrozma plot can both exist at once-- Lusamine would not have the knowledge to sync with Dusk Mane Necrozma WITHOUT realizing that physically fusing with Nihilego did not work out.

We'll see how this develops in future plotting.

[reveregret]

i kind of hate the systems i have around posting. checking every single note i get takes up so much time when a post becomes popular. i can't post anything new until i sort through all of that or the traffic dies down. i have to post asks in chronological order, so if i haven't finished the first one i can't go to another. i'm incredibly lucky i managed to get out of the habit of not doing anything except write until i finished my responses. i used to feel the need to get everything out asap to match the submission date as closely as possible, despite saving it in a separate location regardless.

my darling has criticised me for these things before and i have to agree with her. it's compulsive and unproductive. it's unnecessary stress to have these rigid rules. i want to try breaking away from this but it's been so ingrained for the past few years. it's how i've always used tumblr. other sites as well, but the extent is not nearly as drastic. so much of my day to day is simply arbitrary routines that i've imposed upon myself. it's difficult to break out of because whenever i don't fulfil these obligations it's like the world is falling apart. i've damaged a fragile ecosystem and there's no way it could ever recover from any slip-up, right?

this is such a huge reason that stalking got so out of hand before. it became a lineup of tasks, done a certain way, done a certain order, don't get caught, learn all that you can. i had to understand everything possible about someone and i'd develop habits in my attempts to learn about them.

i knew obsessive was a well-fitting term for everything i felt and did, but that definition has taken on a new meaning after my darling reframed many of the issues i'd dealt with. at that point, i never told her about anything i would put on this blog. her own experiences managed to shed a new light on my own. so even though it was directed at unrelated instances in my life, everything i'd boiled down to being an experience with bpd was something i had to reevaluate.

not to say it's not bpd, just that there was more to it than i'd realised. if anything, it goes hand in hand, being a common comorbidity and all. turns out i struggle with ocd too. i was already conscious of this but i never really accepted how it actually played into my life. i mean, acknowledging it just put a spotlight on what was wrong with me, and i didn't want to worry about that more than i already did. i panic enough about my mental state as it is.

even writing this is difficult. i started this as a means to justify my absence. if i don't post something now i'm going to cease to exist. i have to reread every single paragraph, restructure it to reduce as much error as possible and make sure it flows correctly and i didn't completely misstate my intent. i write more than i need to so that no detail is forgotten, sometimes reiterating throughout to ensure further. running a blog and remaining active with all of these expectations i have for myself is difficult to keep up with.

sometimes i don't know why i bother with these personal posts. maybe to humanise myself and be more personally relatable to my followers? maybe to make my blog more than just a masquerade? that's how it started, after all. my main blog could've been enough, but i made a side blog with a new personality to see what difference it would make. even though i gave it up a good while ago, having a space dedicated to specific thoughts makes it define me a little.

i can already tell you exactly who is likely acknowledge this post directly and who isn't, and around how long it may take. i keep track of patterns more than is good for me. not just mentally, but keeping a physical record of everything i do and how others around me interact with each other or myself. the interconnectedness of each detail. it used to be worse while i still wrote every little thing down, but it still festers in other ways. i've been trying to let go, yet everything i miss feels like i'm destroying a part of my own existence.

i don't know if anyone will connect to this post in particular, but i hope it helps someone feel less alone in the way some of my other posts do. i didn't realise how much i needed someone to understand me in this way until i had it. as scary as it is to not give in to any of these thoughts, it makes all the difference. turns out it's pretty nice not worrying about suddenly dying if i step in the wrong place lol