#LAST CHAPTER I'M CRYING

[pemprika]

the beginning

[suchine-toki]

Top 10 Gintaka moments

(Arranged chronologically because it was too difficult to choose. Spoilers ahead.)

1. Takasugi's laugh

After many encounters challenging the dojo, Gintoki sees Takasugi laugh for the first time, which becomes a core memory of his, a symbol of how things used to be and what he wants to preserve (ch. 517).

2. The promise

Surrounded by enemies, Takasugi asks Gintoki why he decided to join the war, to which Gintoki replies that, like him, it was not for a noble cause. At this, Takasugi recognizes that the two are good-for-nothing warriors, but asks Gintoki to take care of their sensei in case he dies. Likewise, Gintoki asks Takasugi to stay alive (ch. 516).

3. Gintoki's tears

Right after their sensei's death, Takasugi furiously runs towards Gintoki until, for a split second, he sees him crying. This becomes the last thing he saw with his left eye, a core memory that reminds him of the pain and grief they experienced (ch. 520).

4. Reunion at the festival

After 10 years of not seeing each other, Takasugi sneaks up behind Gintoki and threatens him with his sword, commenting on how easy it was and that he has become weak. He also tells him about his plan to kill the Shogun, claiming that within him there is a black beast that seeks revenge. At the same time, he confronts Gintoki for looking away from the past, making him unable to understand his feelings. To this, Gintoki responds that it's a shame that he underestimated him, which can be read in both a physical and emotional sense. It's assumed that they separate without another word (chs. 30-31).

5. They were the same

During a conversation with Nobume, Oboro asks her if Gintoki and Takasugi look like their sensei, to which she answers no, that the true resemblance was between them, since both had eyes full of sadness. As she says that, Gintoki and Takasugi can be seen passing each other, but only the former turns around to check that the latter is gone. It's worth mentioning that Gintoki warned Takasugi to be careful if he saw him walking down the street in chapter 97, but in the end he decided to not do anything (ch. 398).

6. Confession and realization

After their fight, with both of them on the floor, tired and full of injuries, Takasugi opens up to Gintoki about his suffering. He confesses to him that his face was the last thing he saw before losing his left eye, how devastating it was to see him cry, and the enormous survivor's guilt he feels, because he understands how much Gintoki loved Shouyo. To this, Gintoki responds that he didn't choose him, but simply knew what was important to theirsensei, thus lifting the burden from Takasugi's shoulders. Not only that, but Gintoki also confesses that, despite everything, he continues to see him as a fellow disciple of the Shouka Sonjuku and a comrade, whose soul he will protect (ch. 520).

7. Sword exchange

After a long coma, Takasugi awakens in Rakuyo and throws his sword to save Bansai. Likewise, Gintoki launches his bokuto to save Shinpachi, leaving them both unarmed. This is when they decide to take each other's sword and protect what is important to the other, reinforcing the message that a sword is made to protect the soul, and on other occasions that it even embodies it. Afterwards, they pass through hordes of enemies in order to see each other again, defending the other from an imminent attack and retrieving their weapon while locking eyes and making snarky remarks (ch. 573).

8. Pep talk

While everyone on Earth seems defeated, Gintoki hears a familiar voice over the radio. Hundreds of kilometers, far up in space, Takasugi tells him that they have everything under control and encourages him to continue fighting. Likewise, Gintoki assures him that on his side they haven't lost yet, and playfully encourages him, asking if he has already been reduced to junk. Despite being injured, Takasugi tells him to be ready when he comes for him, to which Gintoki smiles (ch. 650).

9. Let's rescue sensei

The greatest tragedy in Takasugi's life is not only the death of his teacher, but also that Gintoki had to be the one to kill him. Aware that he has little left to live, he admits that now he can be a little more honest with what he really wants to do. After fighting Gintoki as a way to punish himself, he's now able to recognize that he wishes to fight alongside him, while also wanting to alleviate his suffering by sharing the burden of his actions that day. Upon hearing this, the serious expression on Gintoki's face turns to astonishment at being able to achieve mutual understanding and once again have a common goal that is deeply personal to both of them (ch. 682).

10. Born under the same star

While Gintoki's eyes reflect the despair he feels at having to strike Takasugi's body, he remembers their childhood together. Gintoki fought very hard to protect everyone, but Takasugi fought even harder to protect him, and although Gintoki was definitely not ready to lose him, Takasugi was content with the idea that he had prevented him from killing their sensei once more. Knowing that he has little time left, it's Gintoki's turn to be more sincere. He embraces Takasugi and reassures him, acknowledging that he did indeed manage to protect him and that he wished they could have drunk together more often. But Takasugi tells Gintoki he doesn't want to hear him like this and he asks him not to send him off with a sad face. Mustering willpower, Gintoki smiles and tells him to wait for him in hell, which becomes the last sight from Takasugi's right eye as he smiles back before dying. No longer able to restrain his emotions, Gintoki weeps as he watches the sunset (ch. 703).

Part (1) (2) (3) (4) (Bonus)

[avonne-writes]

Reverie - Chapter 8 of 8

Pairing: Buck x Bucky

Rating, word count (chapter): E, 9.4k

Summary: In a universe where soulmates share dreams, Bucky finds the way to Gale’s soul.

Link to the chapter

Excerpt:

“Stop kissing me.” Bucky put up a token protest, but then he went and dipped down to kiss Gale himself. Yes, the Unicorn was important, but other things drew his attention just as strongly, like the sweet buzz of Gale's hums on his lips or the warmth of Gale's skin where pleasure left it flushed.

“I'm not kissing you.” Gale mumbled and kissed him again.

[seventh-district]

Dying Star

In the back of your mind, you recall something you once heard, something about light, and time, and distance. Space. Something about... how you can still see a star that's already burnt out, because its light hasn't reached earth yet. The ghost of a star that's already died. Only still perceptible thanks to time, and distance.

You remember Sam's words, once whispered to you on this very roof.

"Whatever your choice is... I'm not gonna live forever. I made that decision a long time ago."

You think about dead stars.

You think about time.

- - - - - - -

Sam’s words have been weighing heavy on your mind ever since you discussed your shared future and the various forms it could take. You didn’t realize just how heavy they were until it all came spilling out of your tired mind on a late night spent together beneath the stars.

Pairing: Sam x Darlin' / Reader

Word Count: 4,053

Contains: [angst] [a dash of humor] [a hint of chubby!Sam bc i like 'em strong and soft] [crying] [cuddling (dub-con cuddles with Quinn in the past & consensual ones with Sam in the present)] [emotional hurt/comfort] [implied/referenced dub-con sex (nothing graphic) (in the past between Darlin' and Quinn to be specific) (refer to my Ao3 notes for further explanation)] [mentioned Quinn] [not quite Dissociation i guess but Darlin' does zone-out/get lost in thought more than once] [pet names (Darlin' (obvs.) and honey)] [Reader is Darlin'] [Sam wears a cowboy hat bc i said so] [some passive suicidality from Sam if you squint (hell, maybe you don't even have to squint)]

A/Ns: Well, well, well, here I am, the person who said they wouldn't write any Redactedverse fanfic. I recently felt a mighty need to expand upon the blurb I wrote in this post, and I'm braving my fandom anxiety by sharing it here. pls be nice 2 me abt it

Timeline-wise, this fic takes place sometime after the ‘Talking About the Future With Your Vampire Mate’ audio but sometime before their presumed eventual departure from the house that William gave Sam, given that they've already had the 'turning' discussion but are still on the same roof in this fic.

This is a songfic, inspired by and quoting verses from 3 songs. Those being:

‘Dying Star’ by Ashnikko feat. Ethel Cain

‘Fix What You Didn’t Break’ by Nate Smith

‘No Plan’ by Hozier

The roof of Sam’s house is far from a ‘cushy’ place to relax. But as you lie here next to him under the stars, a knowledge settles within you that you wouldn’t trade the rough shingles beneath you for the softest mattress in the world. Not if it meant there’d be anyone other than him lying next to you.

Some people might counter that it’s an easy thing for you to say, given the number of nights you’ve thrown a balled-up shirt onto one end of a worn-out couch and called it a bed. But some people don’t know you as well as they think they do.

You’ve known luxury. Quinn might’ve been just as content taking his fill on a seedy motel bed as he was wrapped in silks at a Hilton, but he knew how to play up the luxe when it served him to do so. And in the early days as he worked to lure you in, it did. Plush sheets and expensive drinks helped to soften the preordained blows and dull the imminent pain that your nights with him held.

Once you’d latched onto the bait though, he let the act drop one piece at a time, like props collapsing on a stage. After all, what was the point in all of those frivolities when you both knew what you really came to him for? It wasn’t to be wined and dined, it wasn’t to be dressed up and shown off, and it wasn’t even to be slowly stripped of it all, laid out across the rolling clouds of a pillowy mattress.

It was to be used. Tranced. Restrained. Bitten. Drank from. Choked. Hit. Edged. Denied. Made to writhe and whine and bleed and plead. Plead for more, for less, for nothing, for anything. Anything to quiet your mind and fill the ever-expanding void inside you where you suspect love was supposed to live.

That’s what you both really wanted.

At least, that’s what you told him you wanted.

That’s what you told yourself.

You only got what you asked for.

To your right, Sam stirs, stretching gently with a yawn. The soft noise he releases as he does so reminds you of where you are, and you trace back through your thoughts to find how you got so lost.

…Right. Luxury.

While your relationship with Quinn certainly changed over time, you never forgot what it felt like in the beginning. 

You remember nights laid next to him, body sore, mind quiet. Quinn’s idea of aftercare was lacking to say the least, but you had nothing better to compare it to at the time, and you’d take what you could get. At least your head felt empty, and the bed was soft. Exhaustion would pull you under soon enough.

The mattress, sheets, and pillows enveloping you were likely worth more than you even made that past month. ...Or several. You found that display of luxury hard to be impressed by though, when it wasn’t the type of comfort you’d been seeking.

As Quinn shifted in his presumed sleep, pulling you in tighter, you didn’t fight it. You found yourself unwilling to fight anything he did, like his mere presence was enough to drain the fight right out of you. You told yourself that you were okay with that. Because you wanted it.

Lying there with your head on his bare chest, you took a deep breath and told yourself that you liked the stench of cheap cologne, poorly masking the cigarettes and alcohol on his breath. You silently told yourself that you liked everything. You liked the pain that he chased with hints of pleasure. You liked the loss of power, the way you couldn’t fight back if you wanted to once he looked you in the eyes. You liked all the things he said, no matter how much the truth might hurt.

He was right, you supposed. Your desires, the things you craved, the depravity that you so enjoyed, wasn’t normal. It was uncommon, unusual, and in the eyes of some, unfathomable. To possess such dark desires, there must be something truly broken inside you.

How lucky you were, to have found someone willing to indulge you. Someone that could give you everything you wanted, and be so kind as to keep it a secret too. He promised that word of the things he did to you, the things you let him do, would never get out. You remember the way he held your hand as he told you, falling for the guise of sincerity in his eyes. You remember his warm smile, and his razor sharp teeth.

You remember seeing that exact same smile on his face through one-way glass as he sat across from Sam and told him everything.

You stood in that room and thought back to those nights of luxury. To the feeling of his nails ghosting over the freshly healed punctures in your neck. To the way he held you against him. You remember laying there, lifeless, feeling like prey playing dead. Afraid to move, afraid to disturb him. But why? He hadn’t threatened you. He never told you that you had to stay. He never said that you couldn’t move, or pull away. So why did you feel that way?

As you stood, helplessly witnessing hours of his slander in that interrogation room, you understood. Your rose-tinted glasses had long since shattered, and you saw that smile for what it was. It was the smile of a man playing a dangerous game, brimming with satisfaction, thinking he’d won.

The radio near you begins to crackle, static obscuring the hosts voice as they announce the upcoming song. Sam doesn’t even open his eyes, just raises a hand and reaches out, blindly adjusting the antenna of the old device.

You’ve teased him for holding onto it for so long, as he is wont to do with damn near all of his possessions. But as you watch him deftly extend and angle the antenna with practiced care, the response he once gave you proves itself true once again.

“I don’t wanna replace it, Darlin’. It’s not broken. It just needs someone who knows how to make it sing again.”

The static clears, and music flows through the radio’s old speakers once more.

You watch Sam return his hand to its prior position beneath his head, acting as a makeshift pillow of his own. The way he’s lying has his hat pushed forward, and it’d be doing a damn good job of shielding his face from the sun if it weren’t somewhere around midnight at the moment. Still, it suits him somehow, despite its lack of any practicality. All he’s missing is a stalk of wheat between his teeth and a tree to lean against and he’d be the spitting image of the cowboy he swears he isn’t.

His other hand rests on the soft curve of his stomach, rising and falling again as he breathes. He’s the image of peace in moments like these, and you’re drawn to it like a moth to flame. Maybe one of these days you’ll find some of your own, but for now you’re more than content to bask in his.

As you admire him, he takes a slow, deep breath and you mirror it on instinct. The grounding practice helps you leave your mind and return to your body, if just for a moment. In doing so, you realize just how tense your ruminations have made you.

You relax your hands, releasing the blanket beneath you from your iron grip. You brush your palms over it, worried that you’ve torn the fabric once you realize that your nails had halfway shifted to claws. You don’t fret much over damage to your own possessions, but this blanket is Sam’s and you’d hate to ruin it. Though, you suppose he doesn’t prize it too much or he wouldn’t have laid it out here across the roof in the first place.

“If I buy somethin’ it’s because I wanna use it. Now quit frettin’ and get over here.” You recall what he told you earlier as he patted the blanket next to him in invitation, and you smile.

Doing a small stretch of your own, you release the tension in your shoulders, turning your attention back to the stars above you. For a while, you let the soft music wash over your tired mind.

“I asked him not to kill me politely. He drained my magic core, bottled up at the source. I washed up on the sea glass shores. I’m nobody's captive.”

In spite of your best efforts to relax, you’re still subconsciously futzing with the loose threads of the old blanket beneath you.

You’re made aware of it when Sam reaches a hand down, gently laying it over yours and effectively stilling your anxious motion.

“Burning like a dying star, invasive weeds rooted in my heart, set in a crooked trajectory. The journey here was hard, I was almost pulled apart. Trying to leave his orbit took what’s left of me.”

You flip your hand over beneath his so you can hold it properly, lacing your fingers together.

For reasons beyond your understanding, emotion tightens your throat, the threat of tears pooling in your eyes.

…You must be more tired than you thought.

As minutes pass and one song fades into another, your gaze dances across the blurry, scattered points of light in the dark sky.

“You were the star in the pitch black, shine the way on the way back. Out of nowhere, answered all my prayers.”

Sam’s always been so much better at identifying stars and finding constellations. But as the music plays, you begin to see one of your own.

“Picked up the towel that I threw in, took in a heart that was ruined. Showed me the past ain’t a tattoo, loved me even when you didn’t have to.”

“Sam.” You squeeze his hand to get his attention.

He squeezes back in acknowledgment. “Hm?”

“I want you to look at something.” You swallow back the emotion that tries to seep into your voice, but it catches his attention all the same.

He leans up and lifts his hat from his head, setting it aside near the radio. He then reaches to turn a dial back, lowering the music’s volume to give you his full attention.

You release his hand, raising yours up as he turns back to face you. You don’t say anything at first, nearly too lost in your own mind to realize you need to actually voice your developing thoughts.

"What—what're you pointin' at Darlin'?"

Your hazy focus is trained on the brightest star visible in your line of sight, arm stretched out to the sky above you. "That really bright one, to the... to the left."

Sam does his best to follow your less-than-specific directions of 'to the left', your pointed finger doing little to help given the difference in perspective. Luckily, after all these years, he knows this stretch of night sky like the back of his hand, so it isn't hard to locate the brightest one. Ghosting his fingers up along your exposed wrist where your sleeve had slipped back, he takes your hand in his again and brings it back down to earth. "Okay, yeah, I see it now. What about it though?"

"That's you." You say, matter-of-factly.

"That's me?" He questions, humor in his tone.

"Mhm." You nod with finality, blinking slow.

Sam considers the odd statement for a moment before gently correcting you. "I'm uh, I'm pretty sure that's Sirius, actually."

You scoff. "I am being serious."

Sam stifles a laugh. "No—no I mean—like... what's another name for it... Oh, it's also called the Dog Star."

"C'mon Sam, at least call it the Wolf Star if you're trying to turn this around on me..."

He shakes his head and readies himself to explain further, but you cut him off before he can start. "But no. No, this isn't about me. That's you."

He decides to play along, finding something endearing in your overtired nonsense. "Okay... then would'ja be so kind as to explain to this confused old man just how, or why that star is me?"

Your frown is audible in your voice as you latch onto the wrong part of his sentence. "You're not old, Sam. ...Do I need to tell Asher to kick the jokes down a notch?"

He smiles at your over-protectivity. "There'll be no need for that, now. Was just a joke, honey, I promise."

You huff, but begrudgingly shift focus back to the prior topic. "It's... I dunno. It's just you, Sam. It's... bright. Light. Something warm, out there in the cold dark. Standing out amongst all the rest. Calling to me, stealing my attention.”

Sam’s brow furrows as you continue to explain, realization setting in that you really are being serious.

“I... I didn't come out here looking for it, but there it is. ...And there you were. In the dark. The only bright thing I'd seen in... fuck, in years. Years of chasing fleeting warmth, tripping over myself in the pitch black, falling into... places and people that I shouldn't have. You were the light in that darkness. Even there, at Wonderworld, surrounded by the ghost of him. Your warmth, your presence, your aura—even with all of your walls up, you outshone it. Your warmth didn't hurt. I didn't have to squint when I looked at you. You weren't the blinding sun. You were the brightest star I'd ever seen. You guided me home."

In the back of your mind, you recall something you once heard, something about light, and time, and distance. Space. Something about... how you can still see a star that's already burnt out, because its light hasn't reached earth yet. The ghost of a star that's already died. Only still perceptible thanks to time, and distance.

You remember Sam's words, once whispered to you on this very roof.

"Whatever your choice is... I'm not gonna live forever. I made that decision a long time ago."

You think about dead stars.

You think about time.

"...-lin'? Darlin'?" Sam's calloused hand squeezes yours tight, his urgent tone pulling you out of your thoughts. "There you are. Think I lost ya' for a minute there... you good?"

You look up at Sam, concern creasing his features, faint shadows cast across his face from the light of the dying stars above him.

You reach out, pulling him down into you. He falters for a moment at the sudden proximity, but quickly embraces you in turn. Burying your face into his collar, Sam's concern grows when he feels it saturate with tears. A human might struggle to hear your words, muffled against the thick flannel, but his hearing catches them just fine.

"Don't burn out too quickly. Please. I still need you here. I don't—I don't wanna be left in the dark again. Please, please Sam. Don't leave me here. I'm not selfish enough to ask you for forever, but please. Not yet. Not yet. Not yet."

The words feel like a weight being lifted from your shoulders, but with it comes a flood of emotion they’d been holding back. You cry harder into him, and as much as it pains Sam to witness, he lets you feel it, for as long as you need.

Your fear of losing him manifests itself physically, nails curling and sharpening again. When he feels them prick his skin through the fabric of his shirt, he calls your name but doesn’t pull away. Instead, he leans further down into you, letting his weight ground you. “Darlin’, I am right here. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

As you eventually cry yourself out, enough wherewithal returns to you to realize that you should probably release the poor man from your grasp, and the awkward position you pulled him into. When he pulls away enough to see your face, you notice a string of snot running from your nose to his shirt collar. Quickly batting it away out of embarrassment, you cringe, voice thick as you apologize. “Eugh, gross. Uh… sorry. About that.”

He shakes his head, laughing good-naturedly as you wipe at your nose with your jacket sleeve. “It’s completely fine, honey. After all, I’ve been covered in plenty of your, uh… various fluids before. When you come from my line of work, this is child’s play.”

He leans to his right, reaching back and pulling—of all things—a handkerchief from his jeans’ left back pocket. You laugh at his words, and at the sight, but with how congested you are it turns into more of a hacking cough than anything. Accepting his offering, you blow your nose into the black patterned fabric.

As soon as you can speak somewhat clearly, you can’t stop the teasing remark that slips out of you, gesturing with the wad of fabric in your hand. “You know, you really aren’t beating the cowboy allegations with stuff like this.”

He rolls his eyes but his soft smile remains. “It’s a practical thing to have on me, ‘allegations’ be damned.”

You shake your head with a smile of your own, but don’t disagree. As you’re visibly unsure what to do with the dirtied fabric, he takes it from you, setting it aside. “I’ll toss it in the wash when we go back inside. Along with my shirt, and…” He eyes you for a moment. “…that jacket of yours too, given how long you’ve probably been wearin’ it.”

Normally you’d argue that it hasn’t been that long, but come to think of it, you actually can’t recall when you last washed the thing.

Reaching up and rubbing your temples, you already regret your crying fit as a headache begins to set in. “Fuck, Sam... I’m sorry for… whatever that just was. I don’t know what came over me.”

His expression falls into something serious again. “You never need to apologize for feeling. And it certainly seems like… you needed to feel that.”

You nod quietly, but don’t elaborate, prompting him to question you gently. “Darlin’. What was that about? The—the askin’ me not to leave. Are you… afraid that I’m gonna leave you?”

You close your eyes, weighing out your response. “…Not in the sense that you’ll break up with me or something, no.”

His gaze narrows and his head tilts as he rolls your answer over in his mind. “If it ain’t that, then—” He remembers how you mentioned ‘forever’ and cuts himself off as the puzzle pieces start coming together. “Oh. …Oh, Darlin’, no.”

You open your eyes to watch as he shifts from leaning next to you, moving to sit up beside you. “Is this about what I told you, when we sat up here and had our uh… turning discussion?”

You hate to admit it, but you nod in confirmation. “…It’s your choice, Sam, and I never want to take that away from you. I shouldn’t have said what I just did, I—I don’t want to make you feel guilty, or like you have to stick around for my sake. But I’d be lying to you if I said it hasn’t been playing on my mind. The thought of you… leaving. Like that.”

He reaches up, running a hand through his hair. “I… think I maybe should’ve been a bit more clear, when I said that. Because I wasn’t talking about any time soon. I didn’t want to give you the false impression that I plan on sticking around for centuries, but… I also wasn’t trying to imply that I’ve got plans to do it next week either.”

You bolt upright, voice cracking. “Next week?! I sure as shit hope not!” You grab your head, pain flaring and suddenly dizzy from the quick shift in position.

He places a hand on your shoulder to steady you. “I’m not, honey, I’m not. Did you catch the rest of my sentence? I’ve got no plans to leave this world any time soon. I promise.”

You groan, head pounding. “I heard you, I did, I just—fuck, I don’t even wanna think about you leaving so soon. Here I am, stressing, thinking I’ve only got—I don’t know—some odd years left with you, and…” You sigh, trailing off.

Sam stays quiet for a minute, letting the crickets sing.

Eventually, he interrupts their chorus. “…Can I get closer to you?”

You nod. “…Please.”

He closes the gap between you, carefully wrapping a strong arm around your curled shoulders. “You’ve got way more than a couple years. I promise you that.” Your tension begins to ease a bit as he clarifies. “You… you’ve helped me find a life that I actually feel like livin’ again, for the first time in a long time. And I want to experience it with you for as long as I can.”

“…Really?” Your voice sounds so small, so unsure, so… unlike you when you question him that he wants to kick himself in his own ass for the role he unintentionally played in making you feel this way.

“Yes. Really. I mean—” His voice takes on an edge of humor. “If you decide to set your sights on the year 3,000…” He shakes his head. “I don’t know about that. But as far as the 21st century is concerned? …I think I’d like to see it through. For as long as you’re there to see it with me.”

His words cause fresh tears to well up in your eyes, and you sniff in an attempt to hold them back. The sound catches his attention, and he leans forward, thumbing across your warm cheek. “…I’m makin’ you cry again…”

You shake your head, clearing your throat. “No—No, it’s okay. It’s good. They’re… they’re good. It’s… relief.”

He breathes out a relieved sigh of his own. “Yeah?”

You nod, leaning into him. “Yeah.”

As you rest against each other, breathing in the cool night air, you nudge him with your shoulder. “Can we… lay back? For a bit?”

He squeezes your arm in gentle confirmation. “Of course.”

He twists and reaches back to straighten the wrinkled blanket beneath you, before laying out across it himself. The radio crackles as he turns the volume back up a bit. Watching him with tired eyes, you smile at the sight of him patting his chest in habitual invitation.

“Sit in and watch the sunlight fade. Honey, enjoy, it’s gettin’ late. There’s no plan. There’s no hand on the reign. As Mack explained, there will be darkness again.”

Curling up against his side and laying your head on his chest, you release a heavy sigh when his hand comes up to rest on your shoulder. As his fingers press rhythmically into the tense muscle beneath them, you breathe in his scent. Black coffee and wildflower honey… he smells like home.

“Your secret is safe with me, and if secrets were like seeds, when I’m lyin’ under marble, marvel at flowers you’ll have made.”

You reach your hand out across his broad chest, slipping beneath his open flannel and sliding down to rest on his waist. He sighs, relaxing further beneath your touch.

“My heart is thrilled by the still of your hand. That’s how I know now that you understand.”

Yeah, you’ll take this over ‘luxury’ any damn day.

“There’s no plan. There’s no race to be run.”

Laying there with him, listening to the low hum of the radio, the moment grows so comfortable that you almost hesitate to break it.

“The harder the pain, honey, the sweeter the song.”

“…Sam?” You whisper into the night.

His hand sweeps across your back before returning to your shoulder. “I’m here, Darlin’.”

“There’s no plan. There’s no kingdom to come.”

You smile. “I… I’d like to be there, to be here, to see it through with you, too.”

It takes him a moment to recall exactly what you’re referring to, but when it hits him he hums a low understanding tone, clearly pleased. “Then let’s see where it takes us, yeah?”

“But I’ll be your man if you got love to get done.”

He presses a soft kiss to your temple. “We’ve got plenty a’ time.”

A/N: Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed. You can find my extensive notes and commentary on this fic right here on Ao3. My Sam & Darlin' Playlist My Sam Playlist My Darlin' Playlist My Sam & Darlin' Moodboard My Sam Moodboard My Darlin' Moodboard Header Image Credit: Gage Smith on Unsplash

[golvio]

Well, I finally played through "The Princess and the Dragon."

intensely emotionally compromised Borat voice my wife...

[buttercupshands]

wait a minute

stop.

stop it.

[kyouka-supremacy]

(╥﹏╥)

[the-bi-space-ace]

I'm currently writing the last chapter of The World Tumbles Down and the amount of sadness and pride I feel as I'm going through the motions of a first draft is just.... I started this series two years ago and I am having a lot of trouble thinking about letting it go :'( but it has been so much fun and I am endlessly happy that I've gotten to write it and share it with everyone.

The last chapter is already shaping up to have some of my favorite moments of the series. I know there are a few chapters left to share so we aren't done yet but I'm excited for everyone to see how this all ends!

[dmc-questions-anon]

Dante: What was it the old lady said? Was it "Don't talk to Rock for years and only do so once"? Yeah, that sounds about right.

[leslutdepointedulac]

Do you wanna know what's making me sad today? During the séance in Merrick, even when Claudia's telling Louis to kill himself, and she's hurting him in every way possible (both emotionally and physically), Louis was still more concerned for her than he was for himself.

"Merrick, don't let her go into uncertain darkness. Merrick, guide her!"

Even after he's been ridiculed and stabbed by her, he still can't bear the thought of her suffering. He still wants to protect her and ensure she'll be alright. No matter what Claudia does, no matter what she says, no matter how badly she hurts Louis, she will always be his little girl in his eyes.

And I suppose that's part of the problem, is that he still sees her as a child. But at the same time, he's a parent, and parents will always have an aspect of seeing their children as their babies, no matter how old they are. And they'll always have that instinct to love and protect them. Louis is simply a father loving and grieving for his daughter.

What also breaks me, is later that night after the séance, when Louis' talking to David. At the beginning of the book, it says how Jesse and David have heard the sound of music and bird song, but Louis hasn't, and this upsets him.

"Oh, I know it must be tantalizing," I said, finally. "It's so easy to conclude that we're coming close." "No," he said, turning to me politely. "Don't you see, David? You heard the music. I haven't heard it. Jesse heard the music. I've never heard it. Never. And I've been years waiting to hear it, asking to hear it, wanting to hear it, but I never do." His French accent was sharp and precise, as always happened when he was emotional, and I loved the richness it gave to his speech.

That night, in the middle of a conversation with David, Louis stops and looks likes he's listening to something.

"David, do you hear it?" he asked with mounting excitement. "David, listen!" [. . .] "David, listen to it. It's all around us." He rose to his feet, his left hand still pressed to the pain he felt. "David, it's Claudia, it's the music, it's the harpsichord. I hear it all around us. David, she wants me to come. I know it."

The way he goes from sadness to pure joy and excitement at what he thinks is a sign from Claudia is so sad, especially after everything he's experienced. For so long he's longed to hear the sound of the music, for so long he's been living in his misery, and now this one thing is what makes him happy. He's so deep in his own depression, that even after the events with Claudia, he's convinced this is her doing, and he's joyful about it.

He was gazing off, mesmerized and comforted, and his eyes were glazed and his face was softened and unchallenging. "I know that sonata. I remember it. And yes, she loved it, she loved it because Mozart had written it when he was only a child. You can't hear, can you? But you did once, think back on it. It's so very lovely, and how fast she plays, my Claudia." He made a dazed laugh. The tears thickened; his eyes were veiled in blood.

Louis immediately finds peace and comfort in hearing the ghosts of the past, like he can really feel Claudia right there with him in the flat. He also acknowledges how she loved Mozart so much because he found success at such a young age, and he realises how Claudia found solace in that in a way. She may have felt less alone in knowing that there had been someone else who, despite their young age, had seemed so beyond their years. And the way Louis refers to her as 'my Claudia', shows how he's still so immensely proud of her, and how he still feels nothing but love for her.

"I hear the birds singing. Listen. I hear them in their cage. The others—all our kind who know of her—they think of her as heartless, but she wasn't heartless. She was only aware of things which I didn't learn till so many decades had passed. She knew secrets that only suffering can teach. . . ." His voice trailed off. He pulled back gracefully from my grasp and he walked to the center of the room. He turned about as though the music were truly surrounding him.

Louis is aware of the fact that Claudia did what she did as a result of her suffering and her pain at being trapped, both in her child's body and by her fathers. It's like he can't bring himself to see any wrong in what she did. Louis knows that because of her predicament, it caused her to see the world in a way he wouldn't be able to understand, until he too has experienced great pain in his life.

Claudia was far more experienced in her suffering than he or anyone else could ever give her credit for. What she went through was a very personal and individual experience, that couldn't have been taught by her directly, but through Louis' own journey through life.

"Don't you see what a kindness she's done?" he whispered. "It's going on and on, David, it's getting all the more rapid. Claudia, I'm listening to you." He broke off, and turned again, his eyes moving over everything yet seeing, nothing. "Claudia, I'll be with you very soon."

He's so convinced that what he's hearing is Claudia trying to communicate with him. He genuinely believes that she's doing him a favour by giving him permission to leave this life, and join her in death. He's so desperate and so blinded by his grief and his love for her, that he's willing to do the unthinkable, in the hopes that it might please her and release them both from their hurt.

He stood still with his head bowed. His hands had dropped to his sides. He seemed infinitely sad and infinitely defeated. "Has it stopped?" I asked. "Yes," he whispered. Slowly he looked up, lost for the moment, then getting his bearings.

The second he can't hear the music anymore, Louis feels as though he's lost that connection with Claudia; the one bit of communication from her he felt he had left. The thought that he's lost her all over again brings him back down to the reality of the situation: that Claudia's no longer with him.

As for him, he stood as before, elegant in his faded black, a man dreaming, the blood dried in his eyes and giving him a dreadful look, as he stared off again, distant from my heated compassion, cutting himself off from any solace I could bring. "You'll meet me tomorrow," I said. He nodded. "The birds are gone now," he whispered. "I can't even hum the music inside my head." He seemed unbearably distressed.

There's nothing that David can do to reach Louis at this point. The only thing that can bring him any sort of comfort is Claudia, and having some form of connection with her again. Even after David tries to make him promise they'll meet, to try and convince Louis not to do anything, all Louis can do is vaguely acknowledge it before going back to what he previously heard.

He's heartbroken that after all this time of not hearing anything, he finally had what he thought was communication with Claudia, only for it to disappear again like it never even happened. That music and bird song were the only things bringing him comfort, and now it's gone, along with Claudia, lost to him once again.

[lilliancdoodles]

Week 1 MerMay!! Roughish sketch of Life is like the ocean, it goes up and down (by @tastytoastz) Jaiden and Foolish chilling on the beach before everything goes to shit

[dyaz-stories]

With the latest chapter out, what are your thoughts on it? Other than how they mentioned Gojo. I remember hearing something about a faceless(hidden) character that kind of looks like Kenjaku/Geto at the end.

Spoiler-free opinion is that I generally enjoyed the chapter! It's very in line with what to expect from a shonen epilogue. That's what I thought we were going to get immediately post-Sukuna defeat, mostly because that's usually how that goes.

We're starting to close the curtains on the characters, we see that life goes on, what's changed, etc. It's cute, it's a sweet farewell to the characters. I don't care about some of the ones we see in the chapter, but I love most of them, so I'm happy about that! I'm still really upset with the way Gojo is handled, so I'm going to get a little more in depth with all that under the cut.

We conclude really quickly on Tengen but it's not super clear to me what's going on, nor do I care too much to be frank. We do see Gakuganji telling Utahime and Nitta 'not to worry' because they're still young, so that's a definite shift from the beginning of the manga — less urgency, less responsibility on their sole shoulders, the cycle is broken, all of that.

(peep the really cute panel of Noritoshi with his family — he wasn't my favorite but I thought that was sweet. He's no longer chained to his clan, yet another change from the beginning of the manga.)

Then we close a few plotines with characters I, honestly, didn't care for (the mangaka Hakari fought with, Yuuji's acquaintance who used to be a bully, the sumo/samurai that helped Maki have her awakening), but there is an interesting line about how they've gone public with the existence of curses.

So things have changed, and with the public knowing about it, maybe a future where humans learn to channel their cursed energy, like Yuki Tsukumo hoped for, is an option? There's hope.

(It is quite random since we hadn't heard about that before, but I can accept something like that because clearly a lot of weird stuff had happened and there needed to be some explanation for the non-sorcerers)

I like the Megumi and Angel interactions we get — she was always an interesting character to me and I wish we'd seen more of her. I also like the idea of characters deciding to help each other out. It seems that Megumi does it partially out of guilt, which I'm not a huge fan of, but supporting a character who's lost an arm in battle feels, again, like an evolution from the start of the manga. She's not going to be left to fend for herself like Geto was, and isn't that a great thing?

And I like that the chapter ends up with them taking up a new mission — we know that curses couldn't disappear, so life goes on. Yuuji goes back to helping people, like he's always wanted to do, and honestly I'm quite happy with that. There wasn't a permanent solution to curses unless people were willing to commit a genocide, but there were ways of making things easier. Because non-sorcerers know about curses, they can reach out directly to sorcerers before anyone dies (...well we'll see about that next chapter, but that's what it looks like), which should in turn limit curses' opportunity to get super strong undetected. Ijichi actually starts by talking about a "victim", but then we see everyone's okay and they take the cursed person to get a physical, so they should be fine. Lots of evolution shown in the chapter!

(the trio back togetherrrrr, they're so cute!)

Now, to the things I wasn't a fan of.

Like you said, there is something about Kenjaku. I don't know if you'd read this plotline, but there was this character, Fumihiko Takaba, who was this unfunny comedian. He's the one who fights Kenjaku and distracts him enough for Yuuta to kill him without too much of a struggle. Kenjaku has this whole thing about how this was the first time he'd had this much fun in centuries, being in a 'comedic duo' with that guy. Now it was a really weird couple of chapters, and it looks like he gets someone to join his duo. We don't see his face, but yeah, it looks like Kenjaku in Geto's body.

Now I don't think that's him but it is imo something about... idk, reincarnation, cosmisc alignment, whatever. I'm pretty indifferent to that — I didn't care about that guy nor about Kenjaku. However, to see both of them get a closure that I don't feel we've gotten for Gojo kills me. At this point I feel confident that Gege feels the airport scene was all the closure needed, and I just... yeah I just disagree.

The chapter actually opens on a gravestone — Tsumiki's. Shoko and Megumi are there, paying their respects. But we don't see a headstone for Gojo or a funeral of any king, which I'd been hoping for if it's because he's alive I'll eat literally all of my words but at this point I think there's a 0% chance of that

In fact, we're told that Shoko dealt with Tsumiki's remains, which were cremated. And then this.

...I'm just tired of this at this point. When I was reading the manga, I was talking to a friend and said that it didn't feel like anyone liked Gojo. People can have respect for him, admire him, hate him, etc. but it never felt like anyone liked him. Even the characters that I think would have had the better chance of having some reaction to him (Shoko, Yuuji, Yuta, Megumi), from what we see, just... didn't care for him that much, you know? [I think there are solid arguments against that and I know for sure that's not how I'm going to write them, but imo that is what we are seeing play out at the moment] So, in turn, it's making me feel silly for caring as much as I do. It just... feels like he never mattered. He's been erased from the narrative, and I hate it.

The scene ends with Shoko throwing away her cigarette. It probably has a lot of symbolical significance — we know that she stopped smoking in high school and picked it up again in Shibuya because she was nostalgic of her high school days.

I guess this means those days are fully behind her now. Because there's no one left.

[hermitw]

Usually I forgive gege/sukuna for his crimes bc gege gives us so many beautiful images of true form sukuna and it takes me an hour to read a chapter bc I just. Keep looking at him. And he's one of my favorite characters.

But he's in time out rn!! Both sukuna and gege ughhhhh that was........ No.....

It can't be Chosover.

[masterofiodine]

Chapters: 13/13 Fandom: Ghosts (TV 2019) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: The Captain/Lieutenant Havers (Ghosts TV 2019)

CAPVERS FANS READ THIS FIC!!! IT'S SO GOOD

[jangmi-latte]

rook ༎ຶ⁠‿⁠༎ຶ

[thebirdandhersong]

btw in case you're wondering if, after reaching adulthood, you finally escape the horrible pain of always being picked last for sports/games: unfortunately, it does still happen, and it still hurts as much as it did when you were a kid