#Which is his most precious inner wish yet he give that up for her sake

[moonilit]

having so much emotions over Jote and Joshua I can’t even articulate, like

[1littleshippergirl1]

Don't you dare get hurt

Summary: Oliver is a natural born daredevil and he just might cause all of Marcus' hair to go gray

@raviliuz here you go! I'll get to working on that other one you wanted soon

--

Oliver was a natural born daredevil. Apparently, according to Mrs. Wood, he'd been like that since he first learned to crawl. Because of his accidental magic, he'd land himself on the top of a bookcase or a countertop and just drop, his magic protecting him from slamming onto the floor.

It didn't get better as he aged, either. He saw no harm in performing dangerous stunts on his broom that would surely lead his mother to an early grave. Once, shortly after he and Marcus purchased a home of their own, he jumped right off the roof to test out if he would land on his broom or not.

Marcus nearly had heart failure watching it, as it caught him by surprise because Oliver had failed to mention what he meant by "afternoon activities" when he grabbed his broom and headed out that day.

Oooh, he wa simply infuriating! He'd marched right out there, demanding an explanation and all his boyfriend could do was shrug and say, "Oops."

Bloody oops.

Marcus partly blamed Oliver's Gryffindor-ish tendencies as a way to explain his rather stupid behavior. Than again, even as reckless as his boyfriend's friends could be, they'd also been exasperated with him and his antics on occasion.

No, Marcus believed that Oliver just really had a death wish and relished in the fact he often caused him unnecessary grief.

He never took his concerns seriously, which only aggravated Marcus further. His eyes would sparkle with amusement, a grin peeking out and lips pressed together to surely suppress the laughing that was bubbling up to the surface at how Marcus' inner mother hen was shining through.

Oliver believed that purely came from Marcus not being sorted into Gryffindor and he was sort of right. He simply wasn't as brave or reckless, didn't find pleasure in risking his life on the daily.

Honestly, with the way his boyfriend lived, Marcus had reasonable fear to believe that Oliver would get himself killed one day, much as his lover brushed him off as overreacting.

He couldn't help it. Oliver was the most precious thing he had (not that he'd ever admit to using the word precious) and he wasn't about to let him drop dead for a stupid reason.

(He already told Oliver that if he dies from one of his stunts, he wasn't going to the funeral).

And speaking of his idiot. Marcus was at the window above the kitchen sink, watching as Oliver jumped off the broom he'd been riding and onto another one that was suspended in mid-air. The roof incident earned him a hefty lecture from Marcus and Oliver's parents.

Mrs. Wood had not been pleased to learn what her son was up to now that he was out on his own. Although, her worry wasn't quite the same level that Marcus' was, beyond that of a concerned mother. After a while, when she became certain that her son would be alright, as she hadn't yet recieved an owl or floo call from Marcus to inform her that Oliver had wound up in St. Mungos, she relaxed.

That meant Marcus' anxiety was more apparent, now that he didn't have someone else to share it with.

Oliver made the jump- Marcus' heart leaped when Oliver momentarily swayed, nearly not making it.

He won't have to worry about dying from that because I'm going to bloody kill him

Marcus marched outside. "Oliver!" He barked, crossing his arms as Oliver came floating down, lazily.

"Yeah?"

"Don't be thick!" Marcus snapped at Oliver's feign of innocence, which did nothing to curb the former Slytherins wrath. "You know what I'm bloody talking about!"

Oliver sighed, knowing that they were about to go down a familiar road. "Marc, I'm alright. Calm down."

"You almost didn't make it," Marcus glared at him.

"But I did."

"But you almost didn't."

"Quit worryin'," Oliver mumbled. "I'm okay."

Marcus despised how nonchalant Oliver was regarding the subject. So careless, nothing seemed to really get through to him. Marcus even tried to use Weasley to get him to see sense and that was after Marcus had to get Weasley to see why it was a bad thing!

Weasley stared at him, puzzled. "I'm afraid I don't understand?"

Marcus wanted to throttle him but Oliver liked his best mate very much alive so he'd have to wait. "He's an idiot, that's what."

"Isn't that what we find endearing about him?" Weasley said, dryly.

"No," Marcus scowled. "He's gonna get himself killed one of these days."

"Well, then I won't have to listen to another one of your pointless arguments."

Marcus growled. "I'm being serious! You need to talk to him!"

Weasley rolled his eyes, apparently unimpressed. "I've known Oliver since we were eleven and I've learned that simply talking to him is not sufficient."

"Then do whatever. Just make him see sense."

There it was again, that peculiar look that Weasley had. "I see."

"What?" Marcus felt uneasy by the way he was being looked at.

"You're afraid," Weasley said, simply. "For Oliver. Has this got anything to do with-"

"No," Marcus said, quickly, scoffing.

Weasley clearly didn't believe him.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of. Shows you've got feelings and believe me, we all doubted such."

"Don't you think you're overreacting just a little?" Oliver had the bloody audacity to chuckle. He reached out to playfully nudge Marcus' shoulder, but the former Slytherin inched away before he could. The easy going smile slid off Oliver's face. "Marc-"

Marcus turned on his heel, storming back into the house and spamming the door. Oliver was left in the air, still on his broom, staring at the door blankly.

He wasn't going to waste his breath. There was no point in discussing it if Oliver wasn't going to take his warning seriously.

He stalked to the bedroom and slammed that door shut, too.

Marcus collapsed on the center of the bed, blowing out a puff of air harshly. This wasn't the first time that it'd happen, his anger getting the best of him. He tried not to let that happen, honest. But sometimes, Oliver's attitude got under his skin and he exploded.

He just wanted his boyfriend to be safe. That was all. He never thought much of Oliver's enthusiasm for danger much when they were attending Hogwarts; he probably would have celebrated with the rest of his dormmates if he heard that he'd fallen off his broom or some other mishap.

But that was before.

Before he knew what Oliver really meant to him and how quickly he'd become the center of Marcus' world.

And then it would be clear.

Marcus sighed, rubbing at his face tiredly. Despite his efforts at keeping his lover safe, ejucj usually were in vain, he never meat to smother Oliver. That was the last thing he wanted to do. He was also fairly independent and wouldn't take too kindly to Oliver doing it to him if the roles were reversed.

He just felt so powerless in those moments of uncertainty. It was a foreign feeling, one that he utterly despised. He didn't like fear washing over him like icy water, stomach flopping to the point that nausea set in. And over what? Oliver being fine.

There was a knock at the door, bringing him back to reality.

"Marc," Oliver called as he opened the door. Marcus craned his neck to see his boyfriend glancing at him with a look of caution. "Erm, figured you'd be in here."

Marcus laid his head back down, not saying anything.

"Look," Oliver came closer, toward the end of the bed, swallowing. "I....I didn't mean to upset you."

Marcus still didn't speak.

"I know it upsets you and all-"

"And yet you continue to do it anyway," Marcus interrupted, shortly.

Oliver shrunk a little. "Well," he started, lamely, "you do things that upset me."

Marcus sat straight up, eyes flashing.

"Nothing that could potentially break my neck!"

Oliver squirmed under the intensity he was receiving from Marcus. He took a seat on the bed after some internal deliberation. "I'm sorry," he said after a touch of hesitation.

"I know."

"But you're still mad...."

"You could have fallen, Oliver! And you don't even care," Marcus scowled.

"Why are you so worried?" Oliver finally asked, rolling his eyes, despite the seriousness of the situation. "Marc, for Merlin's sake, we play quidditch for a living and you're way more aggressive than I am."

"That's different!" Marcus snapped.

"How?"

"It just is," Marcus said, stubbornly.

"That's not an answer."

"That's the answer you're getting."

Oliver groaned, dipping his head downward. "What's the matter with you? Do I have to guess?"

Marcus ignored him.

Oliver sneaked his arms around his boyfriend, his chin resting on Marcus' shoulder. "Marcussss," he drew out the letters purposefully. "Come on, tell me, won't you? I can't fix it if you don't say anything."

A few seconds trickled by.

"I give up!" Oliver exclaimed, jumping to his feet. "I bet there's nothing wrong! You're just being a git like usual!"

Marcus did not appreciate the name calling. He for to his feet as well, shooting his boyfriend a dirty look. "There is!"

"Then tell me!"

"No!"

Oliver huffed, giving Marcus a great shove. "Tell me!"

"No!" Marcus shoved him back.

"Stop being ridiculous!"

"Stop being so bloody reckless!"

"Why can't you just tell me what's the matter?!" Oliver shouted.

"Marcus finally snapped.

"I'm scared, alright!"

Tension hung in the air.

"What?" Oliver said in disbelief. As if the mere notion was something entirely impossible. "You're joking, aren't you?"

Marcus glared.

"Okay," Oliver muttered, "maybe not."

Marcus sat back down with a plop.

Oliver sat down, too. Eyes downcast. Unsure of what to say. "You're really afraid?"

"Wasn't it obvious?" Marcus retorted without much malice. "You don't get it. I'm...I'm bloody terrified of something happening and you don't care. Do you know how it feels, watching you do that stuff?"

Oliver was rendered speechless.

"And I know I sound like a bloody 'puff but I can't help it, Oliver. You mean too much to me not to care. What if you-"

He had to push back the lump in his throat.

"That won't happen," Oliver said, quietly. "You know how careful I am."

"You don't know that."

"No," Oliver had to admit. "But you can't worry like that."

"I can't help it," Marcus grumbled, growing further embarrassed by his behavior. He was never like this before he'd gotten together with Oliver. He'd held a reputation for being a tough brute, but now he hardly felt brutish.

"If it's any consolation," Oliver ran his fingers through Marcus' hair, gently scratching at his lover's scalp. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright," Marcus muttered. "I know I'm being stupid."

"Stop it," Oliver hated it when Marcus got like that. "I didn't mean it like that and you know it. I just... you've got to calm down, Marc. I can't promise that nothing will happen, but you can't worry over me constantly." His voice dropped to a softer tone, his eyes staring at his boyfriend sympathetically.

"I know," Marcus buried his face in his hands. I know. Merlin's Beard, Oliver, I bloody love you."

"I love you, too," Oliver whispered. He leaned his head onto Marcus'. "I'm sorry. I really am. Suppose I've been a bit reckless."

"You suppose?"

"Okay, okay," Oliver said, good-naturedly. "I have been."

Marcus's earlier anger slowly ebbed away. He could never stay mad at Oliver for long. "I've never felt this before," he breathed. "It freaking scares me."

Oliver squeezed him comfortingly.

"I'm sorry, too," Marcus said, surprising Oliver after a minute or two of silence.

"You are?"

"Yes," Marcus admitted. "I suppose I can be a little.....smothering at times."

"You suppose?"

"Funny," Marcus rolled his eyes. "Really witty."

"Thought so," Oliver agreed.

Marcus snorted, then sobered up. "I really am sorry, you know."

"I know."

"I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to you."

"For some reason," Oliver muttered.

"You ought to feel lucky. I don't like anyone this much."

"I do," Oliver smiled, nuzzling him. "Every day I feel lucky that I get to wake up to the most handsome bloke in all of England."

"That was so cheesy, Wood."

"Aye, but it's true."

Marcus closed his eyes, feeling his temple being kissed. "Forgive me?" He murmured.

"There's nothing to forgive," Oliver reassured him. "You were scared-"

"Concerned."

"Terrified."

"Apprehensive."

"Throughly anxiously about my safety," Oliver finished as though he hadn't heard him. "How could I ever be mad at you?"

"You were."

"Yeah," Oliver admitted. "A bit."

"I don't want to you to think I'm trying to control you."

"And I don't want you thinkin that I'm gonna ignore everything you say."

Oliver wrapped his arms around Marcus, pressing his face into his shoulder. "Percy said we'll have to make compromises."

Marcus vaguely recalled Weasley saying such.

"Marc, if it makes ya feel better, I'll ease up a bit," Oliver promised.

Marcus nodded. He didn't say anything else until Oliver nudged him.

"Marc."

"Fine," Marcus sighed. "And I'll stop complaining about it so much."

A minute passed.

"We're both lying aren't we?" Oliver chuckled, raising his head to meet Marcus' eyes.

"Probably," Marcus allowed a smirk to cross his face.

"I love you," Oliver placed his hand on the side of Marcus' face, kissing him.

"Love you, too." They embraced.

Contrary to what they both had said, they did try to keep up their part of the bargain. Oliver tried to practice his mord dangerous stunts when he knew Marcus wouldn't be home and if that wasn't an option, Marcus took to complaining to Adrian, who silently cursed Wood for making that happen.

[outbythehighwind]

The Misconceptions of FF7: A Cloud, Aerith & Tifa Analysis Part 2/5

Link to all parts: https://outbythehighwind.tumblr.com/post/640347336477966336/the-misconceptions-of-ff7-a-cloud-aerith-tifa

Last post, I examined the misconceptions around Cloud’s character with a brief psychological analysis on how the selves that are “Ex-SOLDIER” Cloud and ‘real’ Cloud pertain to ‘Cloud’ the being. This was to evidence that Cloud’s feelings (as both “Ex-SOLDIER” and his true self) are ‘Cloud’s’, and to refute the nonsensical notions that: the player until the Lifestream sequence is not really playing as Cloud; Cloud’s feelings toward Aerith are Zack’s; and only the ‘real’ Cloud’s feelings for Tifa are valid (because “Ex-SOLDIER” Cloud has feelings for Aerith).

I had referred to ‘feelings’ in the general sense. These next two posts will examine them in the specific spheres of friendship and romance.

Nowhere in the game or FF7 compilation does it explicitly state that Cloud romantically “loves” or “is in love with” Aerith or Tifa. FF7 handles its themes in a manner that is incredibly human and complex. So, before attempting an objective analysis of his ‘feelings’ beyond the general sense – ie. what kind of love he has for each woman – I want to draw attention to the role of the player.

The developers want the player to form their own attachments, have the agency to play to them out, and have their own emotions evoked throughout their experience of the game. This is why the love triangle exists within the narrative – narrative being that tool by design (how the story is told; the lens by which the player experiences the game, and the tool by which the writers play with the player’s emotions). The player can, to a degree, make choices that alter story events within the narrative. They can manipulate the affection points to take Aerith or Tifa (or even Yuffie) on the Gold Saucer date. They can keep the relationship with both women platonic and have a bro’s night out with Barret. A player who is torn between the girls can therefore experience ‘more’ of the love triangle than a player who takes the latter route of bonding with Barret.

Which brings me to another nonsensical argument: that because the date mechanics ‘favor’ Aerith (who begins with a 20 affection point advantage over Tifa), the game wants Cloud to date Aerith, and therefore Cloud’s true love is Aerith. Again, nonsense. For this argument to stand, it must first adhere to the fact that the love triangle exists outside of the date mechanics: if the game wants Cloud to date Aerith, it must want Cloud to date Aerith in its plot (the always true relationship between story events that does not alter on player decision). This particular date is only an available option within the narrative. That is not to say it is not canonical – quite the contrary. Of course Aerith’s date is canonical. So is Tifa’s, or Yuffie’s, or Barret’s – if the player so chooses. It is not a plot matter, but an experience for the player.

But let us assume, for a moment, that it were a plot matter. Let us assume Cloud’s ‘romantic love’ is the person he spends the night out with at Gold Saucer. Aside from the obvious Barret and Yuffie alternatives, here is the problem: who comes for a night out is not determined by Cloud’s affection toward them, but their approachability in their affections toward Cloud. It is Aerith or Tifa (or Barret or Yuffie) who takes Cloud out. Naturally Aerith would begin with points higher than Tifa because there is no barrier of a dark & secret past between them, and Tifa has lower self-confidence, tending to lock her feelings away.

So the player has agency over the Gold Saucer experience. This does not alter the plot. Aerith will die; and Cloud’s “sealed up secret wish” involving Tifa will be brought to light in the Lifestream.

Cloud’s feelings in the plot sense – ie. as they truly are (not to the player’s subjection, but objectively Cloud’s) – are complex. Before giving my two cents worth on two beautifully deep relationships, to all who say that ‘because Cloud romantically loves one girl he doesn’t care about the other,’ I propose the following statement:

“Those who cannot conceive Friendship as a substantive love but only as a disguise or elaboration of Eros betray the fact that they have never had a Friend.” – C.S. Lewis

I lament with Mr. Lewis at the degradation of friendship's meaning in the world today. So when I speak of friendship, I wish to stress its meaning: that it is one of the highest forms of love.

Cloud’s feelings toward Aerith, I believe, can be interpreted as either of the two loves – friendship or Eros (romantic love) – or both. Even within the experience of Gold Saucer, I personally have not any solid evidence that Cloud’s feelings for Aerith are Eros, and whether they are or not has no influence on the plot. Cloud and Aerith will become (very) close; Aerith will die; Cloud will be distraught; and Cloud will continue the fight they started together – Eros or no Eros. That being said, I can see how conclusions of Eros are a possibility. Cloud’s investment in Aerith’s journey and well-being is very personal. His care toward her runs so deep, in fact, that his “Ex-SOLDIER” persona is often cracked.

Aerith is the first and only character to humor this self that Cloud is so desperate to project to the world. She takes the mickey by giving him the title なんでも屋さん (“Nandemoyasan”) – “Mr. Jack of all trades”. Yet she allows him to ‘play SOLDIER’ in making him her bodyguard and supportively holding him to that role.

Cloud is encouraged and feels strong when he is with Aerith. She raises his self-confidence and trust in his own strength in a uniquely distinct way that no other character does – not even Tifa. Though he is encouraged by Tifa to “be strong” also – in a uniquely distinct way pertaining to his accepting of self (which is, ultimately, what saves him) – Cloud feels weak around Tifa, due to his constant failure to live up to being her hero as he perceives it. With Aerith, we have the opposite effect.

Aerith simultaneously encourages the “Ex-SOLDIER” façade and breaks through it. They share laughter and tease one another on the rooftops. Cloud reveals his soft side when urging her to open up to him.

Aerith realizes that she does not know the ‘real’ Cloud, and tries very hard to find him, to bring him out. However, she does not. Not even within the Lifestream where he ends up twice in a broken state and she has maintained her complete physical consciousness. This is a role that only Tifa can fulfil.

Likewise, Cloud realizes Aerith is facing her own inner struggle – of what it means to be a Cetra – and he time and again goes out of his way to try help her, from risking his life to rescue her from Shinra to pushing to talk to her even when she wants to be left alone (note how Aerith turns her face away in the screenshots below). The writing stresses that this is by Cloud’s own investment, not simply that of the party’s as its leader. “But I’m… we’re here for you, right?”

Paralleling Aerith’s inability to reach Cloud’s true self, Cloud is unable to help her in discovering and fulfilling her task as the last Cetra, and Aerith finds herself more and more “alone” in pertinence to her inner conflict.

Her nandemoyasan, her dear friend, fails her, and that haunts Cloud after her death as he grapples with his own role in saving the Planet – a hope that is lost without Aerith.

Which now brings us to her death.

Aerith dies at the point where Cloud’s inner conflict against Sephiroth first peaks for the worst. Just having become aware that Sephiroth can override his very conscious (being forced to hand over the Black Materia in the Temple of the Ancients), Cloud has begun to doubt himself and is immensely afraid of who he is. Immediately following is his failure to save Aerith.

Cloud, whose entire life struggle and “Ex-SOLDIER” persona were built upon his self-loathing due to feelings of failure, weakness and inadequacy, has just failed to save this woman so precious to him. We see the haunting and guilt it holds over him in Advent Children, where he despairs and distances himself from his family for fear of failing them too.

Cloud does everything in his power to ensure Aerith’s mission is complete, not just for sake of the Planet, but for Aerith. The fight for the Planet is the party’s fight – the “we” fight, together as a whole. But it is more for Cloud, so much more.

“I’ll do the rest.”

Cloud’s external fight for the Planet and his personal feud with Sephiroth is in much part out of his deep love for Aerith.

This love is, no doubt, an incredibly powerful mutual friendship. It is clear that, in addition to this friendship, Aerith has romantic feelings for Cloud (which I will evidence in part 4), but what of Cloud for Aerith? Could he have feelings for her that are Eros too? Absolutely. I have found no evidence implicitly for it, nor implicitly against it, and that to me is a beauty of player experience in the narrative. (I also believe this is what Nomura meant when he expressed his desire to leave interpretation to the player.)

However, in the sense of plot and Cloud’s feelings that are not up for the player’s interpretation, I hold to my understanding that Cloud – even if having romantic feelings toward Aerith – is romantically in love with Tifa, and that that Eros is core to his very being.

I will not say “there’s nothing more” between Aerith and Cloud even in my interpretation of them as friends. For that implies friendship is a lesser love than Eros, which I do not believe is true. C.S. Lewis said that (no pun intended) “To the Ancients, Friendship seemed the happiest and most fully human of all loves,” “the crown of life and the school of virtue”, and I agree with his saying that “few value it because few experience it.”

My hope is simply this: that people would lose this notion of ‘competition’ – that one girl must win ‘all’ of Cloud’s affections, and that at the expense of one ‘winning’, his relationship with the other is belittled.

Link to all parts: https://outbythehighwind.tumblr.com/post/640347336477966336/the-misconceptions-of-ff7-a-cloud-aerith-tifa

[silkylious]

Promise (Amajiki Tamaki x Fem!Reader)

Pairing: Amajiki Tamaki x Fem reader Warnings: Heavy angst, maybe okay ending if you squint Prompt: #23 “Do you promise?”

A/N: Thank you @tamasoft​ for the request! Im realllyyy sorry for the delay, this was supposed to be fluffy but my angsty ass was in my feelings so I rewrote it and this thing came out, sorry in advance but I hope you like it lmfao 

You’d known each other since you were little kids. You’d declared yourself his friend the second you saw him playing alone in the sand pit, molding worlds and picking them apart with the toy utensils. You ditched your place on the swings, enthusiastically making your way towards him. He’d been so lost in creating an imaginary blueprint for his next construction that he hadn’t noticed you self-righteously claiming the spot next to him as your own, disregarding any and all lectures your parents had given you about personal space. Tamaki didn’t notice your presence curiously looming over his shoulder until you voiced your inner inquiries.

“What are you doing?”

An embarrassingly startled sound was extracted from his throat, a flaming pink decorated his cheekbones, further saturating in shade when he whipped around to find your childishly inquisitive features a mere three inches away. You continued staring at him, silently awaiting his response with a couple quizzical blinks. He finally got the courage to meet your prodding gaze, his quivering lips parting to give you a stammered reply.

“M-Making a sandcastle,” The simple answer ignited a gleam in your irises. You took the liberty of making yourself at home and taking some of the little boy’s plastic tools (without his permission) to aid in building his sandy structure. The roles were switched, now he was the one observing you owlishly, brows pulled taut in confusion.

“W-What are you d-doing?”

“Helping you,” Your reply was preceded with bubbly giggles.

“Why?”

“‘Cause I’m your friend.” You’d said it like it was a universal truth, an indisputable fact. So much so, that he couldn’t find it in him to argue with you or question your motives. Frankly, Tamaki was giddy. You were his first friend after all, leaving a shy smile to tug at his thin lips. His chubby hand wrapped around a toy shovel to start bringing his dream castle to life with your help.

Since then it has always been you and him, with the addition of Mirio a bit later down the line. It was just the three of you, and that’s all that really mattered.

Your personalities were stark contrasts to each other, he was reserved and quiet; you were chaotic and loud. You balanced each other out in the best possible ways. You brought out the surprisingly fun and spontaneous side of Tamaki, pushing him time and time again high above cloud nine with your antics, while he kept you grounded in reality, an anchor to keep you rooted and rational when you needed it most.

Your attraction to him began in middle school. It was just an innocent little crush, a passing fad, you’d told yourself at the time. You refused to accept it as anything but that, pushing down your feelings in hopes of them vanishing. But all that did was further increase their intensity. The seeds of your schoolgirl crush eventually started budding, flourishing into a rosy infatuation, the petals of which withered in unrequited agony. No matter how hard you wished for some fairytale ending, where the childhood friends recognized their feelings for one another, you knew that wouldn’t happen. You were Tamaki’s first friend; you knew him best. And in the time spent with him, despite your augmenting love, he never reciprocated. Never showed a sign of interest, you were akin to a sister to him, he’d never see you in a romantic light. And you were aware of that, painfully so. But the lovesick part of you convinced you that there may be a possibility that he was just that dense, that there was still some slim chance of him sharing your feelings. And that’s what kept you from moving on. You were stuck between a rock and a hard place; his indifference to you romantically barred you from confessing (the fear of losing him didn’t help in the slightest), and the hope of a future with him denied you the freedom of moving on. Every time a petal withered to the ground, a new one sprouted. It was a vicious cycle, a paradox that ensured your muteness, ensured that Tamaki would be blissfully ignorant to the tyranny and sheer power he had over the pitter-pattering of your heart.

It wasn’t until the two of you enrolled in U.A. that your second-guessing was finally quelled.

“(n-name) can we t-talk for a minute?” The stutter, the flush overtaking his face, the way his eyes wouldn’t look up to meet your own – all of it was too much for your poor heartbeat. This wasn’t the same as when he’d get nervous in front of large crowds, no this was different. This was it. The moment you’d dreamed of since your middle school days. Steeling yourself amidst the prying eyes of your classmates with a resolute ‘sure,’ you let Tamaki lead the way from the common room up to him dorm. You could distinctly hear the pounding in your chest as his door clicked shut. With an inhale from your nose and an exhale from your mouth, you sat on his bed (like you usually did) and tried to calm your nerves.

“So… what did you want to talk about?”  

Tamaki mimicked your motions, taking a seat on his mattress. His elf-like ears drooped a bit, your mind overdosing on the cuteness of his shyness, though you forced yourself to focus. His dark hues flickered to yours for a second before faltering down to his lap, the pink on his cheeks amplifying into a gorgeous cherry color, partially curtained by his indigo bangs.

“I think that I-I umm…” His hesitancy had you leaning forward, quietly begging him to spit out the words you’d longed to hear. “I-I think that… th-that I l-like H-Hado-san!” He blurted out, the red pigment you’d consider cute in any other situation spreading down to his neck. “A-And I-I don’t know how to c-confess…” his pointer fingers pushed and pulled against one another. Your mind still in shock of this new information.

It wasn’t until the two of you enrolled into U.A. that your second-guessing was finally quelled, confirming what you’d already known for the start. That he held no ounce of romantic attraction to you in his system. The petals fell down one by one as his words sunk in, the once bright red of them that portrayed your passion wilted, contorted into a lifeless obsidian, leaving a tethered stem behind. All this time you’d been waiting for a cue, a sign, anything that would indicate the right moment to profess your unyielding adoration, only to be told, albeit indirectly, that there was never a right moment. Which you already knew yet couldn’t fully accept. You were awoken from your heartbroken stupor by his next words.

“I-I’m not sure if she l-likes me b-back a-and we’re both busy with school stuff s-so I don’t know if I…” His voice trembled into a mumbling mess, completely unintelligible to your ears. The way he was acting, talking, the fact that he approached you with this in the first place… you knew what that meant all too well, you were in the same boat as him after all. Your eyes softened sympathetically, more for yourself than him if you were being honest, the irony of this was as bittersweet as it could get. He trusted you enough to talk about his feelings for someone else, venting about the likelihood of her reciprocating, all while being unaware of the similar predicament you were in. He trusted you; he didn’t love you. That newly revealed truth broke you, but you wouldn’t let it show, for his sake, for your friendship’s sake. You cut his ramblings with a hand firmly placed on his shoulder, directing him to fully face you.

“Tamaki, do you love her?”

“W-Wha–” His face erupted with more color, if that was even humanly possible at this point.

“Do you love her?” You repeated, eyes glazing with an agonizing mix of melancholy and acceptance.

He timidly nodded his head, his hair bobbing out of the way in the process, and boy was his face a sight to see. Aside from the one hundred and one different shades of crimson that decorated his complexion from his clavicle all the way up to his hairline, the unignorable sparkle in his stare was so excruciatingly familiar (it felt like looking at a mirror of yourself) and so goddamn torturous all at once, because you were so fucking conscious that it wasn’t meant for you. You managed a weak smile, for his sake, you looped in your head.

“Then go for it, Tama. I think she’d be more than happy to be with you.” The spark behind his irises ignited into raging fires that threatened to burn you alive, it was so hard to watch. So difficult to sit there and observe him, so madly in love with someone that wasn’t you.

“You r-really think so?” Your answering hum was meek, but it was there nonetheless. You were sure words wouldn’t come out if you willed them to. You weren’t lying, you’d seen the precious, closed-eye grin that graced her face whenever they hung out together, she was your friend too and you couldn’t not take notice of the fleeting glances she sent his way. Both of them were such airheads that they didn’t recognize their feelings for each other, despite them being as clear as fucking day to any onlooker. You honestly would have thought it was adorable if your heart wasn’t severely compromised amongst this.

Later that week, Tamaki came knocking on your dorm room door with uncharacteristic enthusiasm, those three knocks already told you all you needed to know, but you weren’t prepared for the unbridled joy in his wobbly smile or the love filling his eyes to the brim, his pupils were practically morphed into heart shapes.

“She said yes!”

You smiled, soft and delicate. Tamaki couldn’t see the boiling regret in that smile, nor could he see the wretched dejection in your eyes. You pulled him in your embrace, which he awkwardly returned.

“I’m so happy for you.” And you really were. Despite the crushing rejection loitering in every crevice in your mind, you really were glad he found someone he loved and who loved him back. You were sure Nejire would treat him right, and that’s all that really mattered to you. So long as he was happy, you were too; it just sucked that you weren’t the source of his fervent elation. As you laid your head on his shoulder, arms still wrapped around his torso, a very particular memory decided to pop back in your head.

It was three weeks after you’d first met, both of you playing at your usual spot in the sand pit, bending reality with your chubby hands together. You were close to finishing your latest sandy masterpiece when, in an atypical show of determination, Tamaki’s soft voice broke the comfortable silence.

“Do you promise, (n-name)?” You looked up from your creation with childish wonder swirling in your wide eyes.

“Promise what, Tama?”

“To be my best friend f-forever…” His previous vigour dwindled as he shakily lifted his pinkie up. You practically beamed from his words, excitedly wrapping your own little finger around his and clutching it tightly until both your knuckles went white, the toothy smile you gave him was damn near blinding, wide and pure as they come. He let out his own soft smile, pushing his thumb to yours and sealing the promise you both had made. And you shared a hug, your head lying peacefully on his shoulder, giggling at the awkward way he hugged you back.

As the little reverie came to an end, you mentally mauled over the significance of such simple, immature words. Tamaki probably didn’t even remember the promise to be frank, and neither did you until you had this feeling of Déjà vu. With your expression still out of his sight, you took the chance to let a lone tear slip. This is where you let go, where you began working on moving on. If there was one good thing to come out of this, it’s that you were finally free from the shackles of indefinite (false) hope that had held you hostage for years now, you finally had the freedom to let him slip between your fingers. And as much as you didn’t want that to happen, you knew it had to be done and you finally gained the ability to take the first step. He didn’t need you as a lover, he needed you as a friend.

Tamaki had always looked out for you, always made good on his promise.

Now it was your turn to do so too.

[yes-these-obsessions-are-healthy]

WIP Wednesday 8/11/21

Had a writing stint where I pumped out 7K words in 3 days when I usually manage only..200-500 a week. Here’s some snippets of a WIP with my Gray-Ace Inquisitor Tallin and a very understanding Solas as they navigate her very first romantic/sexual feelings for anyone, ever (24 and never been kissed except that one time in the Fade, baby!!). She is a very nervous person by nature...

————-

Please just a crumb of feedback. A gif. An emoji. Please. I’m on my goddamn knees.

[snippet 1]

"Tell me 'no', and we can resume as we were without enmity. You are also at liberty to tell me to take my leave, in which case I hope to see you in the morning..." He stopped before her, drawn to his full height, head tilted slightly in a manner akin to a wolf intent on ascertaining a curious vision. “But if you choose for me to remain, you must decide once more. At your behest, I will gladly provide the chaste company of which you are so accustomed. We will sit. We will talk. We will read. We will retire in an exhausted fashion to bed. You will cozy up beside me like a nugling to its nestmate, content. But if you say 'yes', if you wish to learn how it is the wolves dance.." 

The light gray of his eyes suddenly darkened and his lips spread wide and sharp, rendering him impish, lupine. Tallin's heart lurched, but to her inner wonder it was not accompanied by a familiar queasy unease.  Her instincts were not screaming for her to bound away like a skittish halla from the man standing before her. Instead, the soft heat in her lower stomach flared like a bonfire given new life, its flames crawling up inside her chest, licking beneath her lungs. In the rare instances where someone looked at her in such a way--like she was something to be snatched up, like she was something edible--she retreated, recognizing that the individual had wordlessly marked her as prey.

Would it be so terrible to have him as her pursuer? That was what he was implying, wasn't he? That he had been observing her in that particular manner far longer than this emergent sense of craving.

What made it so different from the other times? What made his approach far less threatening?

The consideration, she realized. He is considerate.

If she was a halla, then he was a..a..

Her eyes flicked down momentarily in thought, landing on the dark jawbone hanging low over his chest from thin leather cords. 

And here and now, she realized she had always had her answer. He was a wolf. A wolf with a wistful man's soul.

Their method of courting until now, if it could be called that, had not been a simple 'chase'. No, the wolf had deigned not to pursue, for it recognized the halla did not wish to be hunted down. If this particular halla was ever compelled to bolt, it would not do so while also secretly relishing the idea of hot frantic breath on its heels or teeth sinking into its throat.

"..then with your blessing I will take you to your bed and claim everything you are, everything you are willing to give. I will unravel you as easily spun silk, uncover for us both your desires that remain unnamed."

He shifted and out of the corner of Tallin's eye, a shadow moved. His words had coiled her up like an Orlesian spring toy, promises that spoke of capitulation and submission and frightening loss. Her head felt hollow, her skin tight and brittle. The anxious fire in her chest roared in its hearth unabated.

Her breaths shallowed. This was happening. Everything was happening. He was describing the clumsy mental images she had been too cowardly and too embarrassed (and too confused) to acknowledge. All of this, everything, was happening too much and too fast. She knew nothing of his predilections. She knew nothing of what she wanted other than to be with him. Beyond the bare minimum for procreation, the stories of brutal violence inflicted upon elf women by peasants and nobles, and the confusing comments made in passing by the Iron Bull, she didn't know what to expect. 

If you speak it, you will make it real.

He raised his hand. She froze, spine taut. His expression gentled, edges shaved. The backs of his fingers stroked her cheek. "I will have you in the manner that a lover should. Gently. Sweetly."

As if he had woven a spell, Tallin gradually relaxed into the touch. It was not necessarily of her own volition, but she knew this. Nothing frightening ever came of this. This was familiar. Safe.

She heard Solas hum, thoughtful. "Yes, a gentle touch for a gentle girl. Would that please you?"

She swallowed, caught his hand and turned her head to press her lips against his hot palm. The world was silent for several moments. "W-Would you..?" She croaked. A question with many budding branches.

Would you..?

..be gentle?

..do all that you say?

..treat me kindly?

..love me?

Another step, and they were flush together. Her hand found his tunic and scrunched the material in her fist. As a precaution or an anchor she did not know.

He loomed over her fully now, both hands coming to cradle her face as if she were blown glass, gray sky eyes beholding her like Mother. Love. But now, also..

She offered no resistance when he tilted her head just so. He leaned in. His breath was scorching mint against the whorls of her ear.

"Yes. Until you can hardly stand it."

[snippet 2]

"You wish to-? Oh, 'ma'lath.." The tenderness in his voice made her eyes sting for but a moment.  The casual nature in which he extracted her hand from the half-hard presence pressing against breeches could not fully offset the surge of embarrassment she felt. As Solas busied himself with kissing the knuckles of her offending hand, she silently berated herself. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

"Tallin."

Tallin started. To her chagrin, she found Solas peering at her over her curled hand, his gaze firm and knowing. The internal self-abuse had been playing itself across her face.

She couldn't do this, she realized. She didn't know *how* to do this. He was trying to coach her through it but what if nothing stuck? What if she kept making mistakes, misreading signs? What if this was all a put-on for *her* sake? What if he didn't want her and was doing this to placate her, as he had so many other times? Lovers had to touch each other, she knew that much, and for him to except himself from this exercise, it reeked of...

"Tallin." His voice said through the dull ringing in her ears. "Tallin."

"Ir abelas." This was a mistake, a horrible mistake. She turned away, intent on rolling off the bed and..where would she go? She didn't know. The blood pounding in her ears was making it so difficult to *think*.

An arm wrapped around her waist as firm a steel band, digging into her stomach. She struggled half-heartedly, frustrated tears leaking from her eyes.

"S-Solas.." she protested.

"Tallin. Come back to me, my love." She shook her head and bit her lip to hold back a pathetic whimper. Not to deny him, but to help rid herself of the looming thoughts.

Selfish. This was selfish. 'I desire you, you desire me, but I demand that I take from you and give you nothing back.' That wasn't how it was supposed to go, was it? It didn't sound right.

But she was greedy for comfort. Always craving it.

[snippet 3]

"Shh, shh. No. You are not like most others. You were born with a heart that hungers endlessly for love, but eyes that cannot see that the source from which you drink remains full no matter how often you sip. It is your nature, but it can be tamed with practice. You can learn to ignore these pressing doubts, in time."

"I want to do this. I want to feel this burning, to learn where it might go, but.. I'm still nervous about..you, and where you..fit."

"That is not an uncommon concern, vhenan."

"So I've heard. But what if I never overcome it? What if it still..frightens me? If you accepted it--"

"--I would accept it." His tone was firm, almost indignant.

"--then it would only be me that was benefitting from this. It would only be me that was taking."

Solas barked a laugh, making Tallin jump.

When he finally settled, his grin had not abated--a full one that revealed straight white teeth and sharp canines, crinkled eyes that glowed with pure mirth.

Tallin lay there, confused and a bit put out, by her hahren's strange reaction.

"'Ma'vhenan, there is so much more to sex than that." He chuckled again, the sound decidedly doting. "You see yourself as taking advantage of me, of taking while offering nothing in return until you have used me all up, yes?" A reluctant nod. "But you have never considered to ask how I feel in all this?"

Tallin blinked.

"In matters of state you display exemplary feats of compassion and empathy, but in matters of the heart you are callous to yourself. You believe that sex is a matter of 'taking', but that is far too reductive for what this is.  Pleasure does not solely originate from taking or receiving. Giving is just as lucrative. In giving, I would be receiving your pleasure. The joy in giving a gift is to receive another's happiness, is it not?

"Y-Yes.."

"And do you not see that you are a gift to me?"

"I am?"

"Yes. Your trust that I will do right by you in this matter is a precious gift, one I will hold close to my heart. That you offer me the opportunity to teach you despite your lingering reservations is no small gesture."

[snippet 4]

"I love you." She said, muffled. "Ar lath ma."

"Lathan na. Bellanaris. Please understand that this is a request I must refuse. The time to learn of me will come later." At the familiar sight of Tallin's brow furrowing in confusion, he hummed, a serene enigmatic smile on his face as he cupped her inked cheek. He leaned in and planted an affectionate kiss upon her forehead before resting his against hers, peering into her puzzled brown eyes. "Tonight we are learning about you. This is your first experience not just with a man, but with pleasure. I will not risk overwhelming you with my wants when you have yet to determine what it is you yourself desire." Another kiss. "Slowly, 'ma'vhenan, slowly is best."

Sheepishly, "O-Okay, but I only wanted--"

He was quick to silence her with a kiss. "I know, I know, and you are so good to have offered." His voice dropped into a purr. "So good for me.." His mouth was on hers again, hot and surprisingly eager. Tallin's eyes widened, then fell closed at the familiar brush of his tongue against her lips. Thick honey-heat pooled beneath her skin; her hands found his shoulder and nape to instinctively pull him close as she obediently opened her mouth.

They clashed and fed upon each other's taste. She discovered his: sugar and..lemon. Lemon cake? It tasted good, a faint playful zing on her tongue.

Time and sense gradually slipped away with the air in her lungs. At some point he turned them both so she lay on her back. With his knees staked on either side of her, he could hover over her while avoiding making her feel trapped. Considerate, she thought with a burst of love, he is so considerate.

Solas was the first to pull away, and Tallin was only a little surprised that the soft noise of disappointment that she made at their parting didn't inspire any embarrassment in her.

What did make her blush furiously, though, was the show Solas made in how thoughtfully he licked his lips as he paused to catch his breath, grinning the whole time. "..mmh, an intriguing mystery."

Tallin didn't know if it was the lack of air or the wondrous nature of the kiss, but she couldn't connect the dots with what he was saying. "W-What?"

"The taste of you. I wonder what it could be. No, don't tell me." he clarified when she made a move to speak. He hummed to himself as his thumb rubbed the space beneath her lower lip, his grin simplifying into a satisfied smirk. Tallin felt another flare of heat radiate over her cheeks. "I will find out for myself soon enough."

And he descended upon her with his lips and tongue as fervently as before. She soon began to pant as she found herself once again suffocating on his sweet breaths. He seemed intent on fulfilling his promise. She could never have imagined a kiss to be this fierce, this hungry. He was devouring the very taste out of her mouth! And to her surprise she found she..liked it. She liked it as much as the soft and gentle kisses. Where those were affirming his devotion, these were confirmation that the desire she felt for him wasn't one-sided.

[snktoughts]

Armin's a good character but his martyr complex frustrates me to no end. When he'd been bullied as a kid, he wouldn't retaliate because getting hurt proves he's right all along. The current arc shows this complex again but on a larger scale and with bigger stakes. He's passive to prove that he's "better" than what the rest of the world believes. Well, what good would that do when they kill him anyway and continue spreading lies about him? It's impossible to disprove or correct liars after death.

(I had to trim down and rewrite so much of it, because I go on and on, sorry)

I think you’ve summed up what Armin’s personal issues are. I did want to address the worldview he demonstrated when Annie asked him if he would die if someone ordered him to. His answer that he would if he deemed the result to be good was pretty telling. ‘Martyr complex’, indeed.

It was also foreshadowing his own ‘demise’ against Bertholdt, I believe, but multiple times, Armin showed he was ready to die for his mission.

There are signs back to his childhood. I think Armin has always been majorly bothered by his lack of physical strength. Because he was weak, he could not fight back against the bullies. His only options were to admit defeat, running away, or taking the beating without conceding anything. And because he needed to prove at least his inner strength, he could never run or admit defeat. So taking the beating head on was his way to cope and prove to himself that he was ‘victorious’.

But this attitude became a liability when he started having friends to defend him and take the beating for him. Armin was good at seeing Eren’s undying will and Mikasa’s skills as their strength, and it made him see his own overall weakness even more.

And then, Eren ‘died’ for him, cementing his own worthlessness, and increasing his martyr complex. And while Mikasa and Eren’s trust in his intellect somewhat countered the worst of it... 

...in other times, he’s been praised when he demonstrated his own sacrificial tendencies by others, so this attitude was nurtured in spite of his friends.

His valued intellect probably helped him having more faith in himself, but it also meant its limitation became Armin’s. What I mean is that once Armin’s smart approach stopped working (like with Bertholdt), Armin lost faith in himself again, and became unable for decide anything after this. And what followed was his sacrifice against Bertholdt.

What I wonder is how much impact the whole Serum fiasco had on Armin. For one, Armin (as far as we’ve seen) doesn’t remember his own sacrifice, since he was titantized, so he never learned from it. And then, he’s been told by everyone (aside from Eren and the squad) that him being picked instead of Erwin was seen as the worst choice. Armin was ordered to not make his friends regret that choice, so he had reasons to not give up, but this is still a pretty hard situation to cope with.

With the Colossal Titan within him, Armin became too important for him to self-sacrifice anymore. This means Armin probably feels even more like he has to follow the orders of his superiors for his nation.

More importantly, him not remembering his victory against Bertholdt, but him remembering his failure at defeating Bertholdt using his intellectual strength may have had an impact in him not trusting his own ability anymore, just like how he became at a loss before his last stand against Bertholdt. And perhaps this contributed to his ‘regression’ regardless of Bertholdt’s memories influencing him. As in, he stopped using his intellect to devise plans and is now just relying on others.

I think it’s something Eren resents Armin for post-timeskip. Eren trusted Armin even when he tried crazy things Eren did not understand, like talking to the enemy. But in those four years, Armin has stopped relying on himself to come up with plans. And he has stopped coming up with ideas that would potentially make him a ‘worst person’, types of plans Erwin would come up. 

Which brings another defining point with Armin: Armin values strength, yes, but he values it when it’s for what he deems is a good cause. Armin is like most everyone else. He wants to do ‘good’. To be of service to others, be it his friends or humanity. It’s funny, because in spite of acknowledging to Annie that a ‘good person’ is a relative term, and in spite of admiring Erwin for being ready to become a monster to achieve victory, I think Armin is fundamentally unable to cope becoming someone like Erwin.

It’s not for a lack of trying either. Armin tried to give up what was most precious to him (his sense of ethic) when confronted with Bertholdt for the first time, by using Annie’s captivity against Bertholdt. Yet, Bertholdt calling them ‘children of the devil’ impacted Armin enough to bring it up again in their next interaction. And when he shot a woman that would have killed Jean, which was the most sensible solution at the time, Armin could not stop himself from thinking the woman was the better person because she hesitated.

At his heart, Armin wants to be a good person. He wants to be a good person, and be seen as a good person. It’s why he concerns himself the most with what the world thinks of Eldians. It’s why he empathizes so much with others. It’s why the woman he killed being a potentially better person than him bothers him, and it’s why I think he really wanted to talk with Bertholdt that one time. Armin knows ‘what needs to be done’ in an Erwin’s way, but he’s not able to shoulder the burden for it. It’s a very human response a lot of people struggle with.

It’s I think what makes him want to befriend Marleyans, and it’s what makes him a liability in Eren’s eyes. Armin’s sense of ethic is too dependent on other people. Just like when he was little against the bullies, he has to ‘prove himself to others’. He’s not following what he told Annie about a ‘good person not being good for everyone’ (he told her this to make her go along with his plan, to be fair, so it’s not like he necessarily believed it even at the time).

In a way, I can see Armin’s moral struggle being a parallel to the nation of Eldia itself. Like Armin, Eldia has been a constant underdog in their fight against the world itself. Yet Eldia recently gained the potential to use an incredible weapon with the Rumbling. Just as Armin became incredibly powerful by gaining the Colossal titan. Yet, neither Armin, nor Eldia are ready to use their massively destructive powers against their enemies. Mostly for ethical reasons. And the choice of sacrificing Historia also kind of parallels Armin’s own tendencies to martyrize himself.

I didn’t understand at first why Armin was crying when Yelena talked about the sterilization plan. But I think it may actually have been relief that he could finally understand something about Eren again. Because he still knows Eren enough to be certain that Eren will never partake in a plan which goes against his core principle.

He’s smart enough to realize that 1) Eren knows he’s the one who would be in control if he and Zeke touch (or so they assume at the time), so it makes sense for Eren to go along until he can come in contact, and 2) he’s also smart enough to realize that Yelena and her group would be more dangerous if Eren hadn’t pretended to go along, meaning Eren had to comply with her and Zeke’s plan for the sake of the island’s future.

I can see many flaws in Armin, but I can also see things to admire. Wishing for a peaceful resolution is in itself noble, and the world needs people like Armin to go past people’s differences/grudges in order to secure a better future for those to come.

Eren argued that Armin would be the one needed to save the world, and in a sense, I can still agree. Not in a ‘battle hero’ sense. Not as a hollow figure like ‘Helos’ for Marley. But more as a figure to follow in the aftermath of the war. To help secure a true peace and actual friendlier bonds in between nations. If Armin saves the world, maybe it will be with his words, should he ever find his confidence back.

[koshofthevorlons]

The Bad, the annoying, and just plain wrong Sailor Moon Fanon

Given Sailor Moon was released back during the early 90s and the ...issues the American dubbing had, a whole lot of fanon has sprung up about the series. Some of it is good and some of it is incredibly bad -- though this most often shows up in crossovers. Years ago, I made up a list of some of the most common misconceptions which I stumbled over and figured it might worth posting here.

--

Crystal Tokyo

The Senshi going out of their way to make sure Crystal Tokyo will come about.

People in the 30th century are obeying Usagi because the alternatives are freezing to death or being exiled into the far reaches of space. The only people “exiled” where criminals, such as the mass murderer who eventually became Wiseman/Death Phantom.

Usagi using mind control to set herself up as Queen of the World. Both sides in the future state she was elected to her position in the future of Crystal Tokyo by the population of the world. Which yes, is unrealistic but it is shojou manga and it is worth considering what Usagi brings to the position: she’s a neigh immortal God-queen who freely gave people millennia long lifespans, access to ancient lunarian supertech, and the knowledge that when the local eldritch abomination appeared, she would be there to kick its butt. Her extremely positive reputation with various galactic powers was merely the cherry on top of all that.

Utopian and dystopia Crystal Tokyo. There is still crime in Crystal Tokyo and people are still capable of being petty and selfish creatures. It's a better world but it isn't perfect. Some of the few examples shown people outside the future versions of the cast in Crystal Tokyo are kids who bullied Chibi-Usa and snobby politicians.

Usagi/Neo-Queen Serenity

Power hungry Usagi. Her stated dream at the start of the series is being a bride and house-wife. She constantly goes on about people’s right to make their own decisions and at the end of the Dark Kingdom arc in the manga, turns down the chance to crown herself.

Usagi being an force of stasis. At the end of the series, Usagi flat-out states the need for there to be change and growth in the universe, no matter how painful that it might be at times. That at times fighting was necessary for a better future. Of how the end of a war would lead to hope for the future and how it was all part of a balance.

Usagi as some type of valley-girl or crybaby post-series. Please, give the girl some credit. She beat back several demonic invasions, saved the world several times and managed to redeem an enemy that had supposedly wiped out all life in the galaxy/universe depending on whether you're using the manga or anime. Not to mention several times going to what was certain death for her, but doing so anyway. Hell in the manga, Usagi is shown through the series growing into a highly charismatic leader and skilled fighter. And even in the anime, she is shown growing at least some.

Usagi as some insensitive clod who's incapable of being charismatic. One of Usagi's strongest traits in both the manga and anime is her incredibly sensitive to people's feeling and ability to sway people’s hearts. This is the same girl who would eventually be elected by the world's population to lead them into a new future and had such a force of presence that she managed to redeem an enemy that had supposedly wiped out all life in the galaxy/universe.

The spamming of the Ginzuishou in a anime inspired story. Manga's understandable since it had no consequences. But in the anime she only used it at full power against Death Phantom and Metallia and once in the R movie. The anime emphasized the Ginzuishou would kill her if she used it. She had three one-time saves saving her life every-time. She had plot armor for the sake of the first arc because they thought the series would end with that episode and she wished to go back to being a normal girl as she lay dying. In R she and Chibi-Usa's wish to protect each other canceled out the effects. The third time, Fiore gave up his life to save her. Each time the senshi warned her she would die from the crystal if she used it. Yet she accepted it anyway.

Senshi

Guns can hurt the senshi. Anime shows the Senshi being bulletproof while the manga!senshi are blatantly superhuman.

The girls lives entire lives being wrapped up in their role as Senshi or the idea of Crystal Tokyo. ALL of girls are shown to have actual lives and dreams completely outside of their duties of being a Senshi.

The senshi all showing up to fight some no-name canon fodder. The senshi have only been together once during a whole fight and that was with Nehellenia. During S, Pluto died before Saturn appeared. The inners and outers are constantly separated and the outers tend to have their own lives to live. 

Minako, Rei or Makoto giving up Usagi for some guy who happens to come by. In the manga, the inners all pledged to each other that no matter what happens Usagi would always come first and that boys would come later because she was so precious to them.

The Senshi betraying Usagi out of their own free will. The girls have repeatedly proven willingness to die for Usagi when the chips are down. Even more importantly in the Dark Kingdom arc, when they all believed that Sailor Venus was actually Princess Serenity, their loyalty was still first and foremost to Usagi.

Haruka being super masculine. In the manga she was androgynous and enjoys both male and female outfits. Following her gender being revealed, she generally wore feminine clothing and has been show to enjoy wearing short skirts. Also, she is is canonically stated to be bisexual.

The Senshi being unwilling to kill human opponents. In the manga, the Senshi usually ended up brutally murdering their enemies. In comparison, the anime has the majority of the enemies being either mind controlled or manipulated by an outside force, but even in the anime, they were willing to kill if necessary.

Mamoru being a pedophile. In the manga, there is only a three years difference, with Mamoru seventeen years old vs Usagi's fourteen years old. In Japan, fourteen years was very much legal as the age of consent was thirteen in the Tokyo region at the time the series was being written. With marriageable age thirteen for girls and sixteen for boys with parental consent.

Mamoru being willing to betray Usagi. They are engaged by the end of the series and happily married by the end of the manga. They are quite content with each other and even in the anime where Mamoru has often acted like an ass too her he's almost always had the reason that his generally being mind control during this time of the week.

Chibiusa's hair color came from nowhere. Ikuko, Usagi's mother and Chibiusa's grandmother in the manga has pink hair.

The Senshi simply being magic users who happen to be able to draw upon a planets mana. They are literal avatar of that planet's spirit made flesh. A Senshi is born when a Sailor Crystal nest inside a newly formed planet. And are the ones affected when something happens to their planet. As long as a Senshi exists in some form their planet, star, moon, asteroid etc has a chance to be reborn at a future date. The only senshi for whom this is not true is Usagi. Instead, her starseed is implied to have been a piece of the starseed represents the universe...

Pluto/Setsuna

Setsuna as some figure of of absolute order and/or stasis. Sailor Pluto is the 'Solider of Change AND Revolution.

Pluto using Space-Time Door as the "TV of Time.” She does not possess the ability to watch events through it. The Space-Time Door’s  purpose is time travel, nothing more.

Setsuna as a some ice princess. In canon, she is a lonely woman who loves her Princess, her closest friend is Chibi-Usa, and she considers the Outers to be her family. She has dreams (to be a fashion designer) and fears (Cockroaches). She is not some manipulative shrew but instead a person who has a job that leaves her distant and with trouble relating to other people.

Pluto manipulating events to create Crystal Tokyo or purposely killing thousands. Her job is to stop time travelers from abusing the time stream. She remained guarding the doors through the fall of the Silver Millennium, the canonical restart of evolution on Earth, and all the way into the 30th century. Pluto only left after she died trying to reach Chibi-Usa while she was Black Lady. The only reason that she was able to have a life outside of her duty is due to Neo-Queen Serenity reincarnating her backwards in time so that there are two versions that currently her existing. Her older self-guarding the Space-Time Door and the younger one living with the Outers.

Chaos, its spawn and various servants

Beryl as a super-important person during the Silver Millennium.  She was a maid and small-time witch/sorceress who made a deal with the local eldritch abomination sealed way in the sun.

Wiseman being anywhere close to that of a good guy or even neutral entity. Death Phantom is a Cosmic Horror born from the root of all evil in SM-Verse.

The Black Moon family being freedom fighters against the tyranny of Crystal Tokyo. Their ancestors are flat-out stated to be religious nuts who thought that the infinite power of the Ginzuishou and its ability to give people eternal youth went against God's will. They  willingly fled to Nemesis after being told by Wiseman they could gain they could power and are implied to be responsible for transforming the planet into the living hell it became. The very first actions that people of Nemesis took when they returned to Earth was to kill countless innocent people without mercy by bombing planet and using poison gases on civilians simply because they believed long life went against god. Both sides also state the Black Moon's goals were only about their hostility toward people’s lifespan and later, to try to take over earth.

Chaos representing “just a little chaos" or serving as a “force of change/growth.”  Chaos in Sailor Moon canon hearkens back to Chaoskampf of older myths. It is a primordial force of nothingness and destruction, which predates the Big Bang and is still salty about the universe existing. Every terrible thing, every planet destroyed, every life lost in the SM-verse all lead back to it. Chaos was behind the corruption of Galaxia, and Metallia, Death Phantom, Tau Ceti were all incarnations of it.

The Dark Kingdom only targeted Tokyo. They mind controlled everyone in China during Sailor V and it was her efforts to stop them got Venus so famous famous as Sailor V.

Misc

Calling the 'Space-Time Door' the Gates of Time.

There is no Juuban ward. Azubu Juuban is a neighborhood in the Azabu district of the Minato ward. It even says they live in Minato is volume one of the manga.  

Anime "purification" is mind control. It is repeatedly shown as the process of outside forces leaving the victim’s body. Whatever that purification is it ISN'T about enslaving people to one monochrome will, something that the Senshi's enemies often did and what they fought against tooth and nail against. It is the realization you can be yourself AND stand strong with others. And if you don't like it you are free to leave or return but not find strength and purpose in hurting others.

[marril96]

Beneath the Nougat Sky

Characters: Jack, Rowena, reader

Pairing: Rowena x reader

Summary: While the others look for a cure for Jack, Reader keeps him company and they talk about Rowena.

A/N: This is a sequel to my story Haunted, but it is not necessary for you to read that story to understand this one. Both can be read as standalones. Huge thanks to @ultimatefandomtrash61 for giving me advice on how to write Jack, and to @oswinthestrange for coming up with the summary.

Editor: @oswinthestrange

Things in the Bunker had been hectic since the early morning. Sam, Dean, and Castiel were going from book to book on their shelves in a desperate search for something — anything, a slightest sliver of hope — that could help Jack.

There appeared to have been nothing.

Every book was empty of anything useful, every clue a dead end. At times it felt like a conspiracy, as if someone had hidden the necessary knowledge just to make the search difficult.

Nephilims couldn't be that rare, could they? You knew they weren't the most plentiful of species, and their existence had been forbidden since the beginning of time, but there had to have been some information about them aside from the very basics.

There was nothing. Not a single damn thing. Not in the Bunker's books, not in The Book of the Damned that Rowena had checked cover to cover, not in the old grimoires you'd brought along in hopes of finding something useful.

By the time noon came by, everyone was getting frustrated, and rightfully so. A kid — one who appeared to be in his late teens and used to be able to obliterate cities with a snap of his fingers, but a kid nonetheless — was dying, and there was nothing either of you could do to help him. All that knowledge at your disposal, and it had failed. It had failed you and, most important of all, it had failed Jack.

Rowena swung by the nephilim's room every half an hour or so to check if he was alright. Sadly, his condition seemed to be worsening. Every time she'd hold her hands over him and utter the enchantment you knew by heart by now, having heard it over and over since yesterday, her face would fall and, while no words would leave her mouth, her expression would scream sadness. Jack was dying. There was no telling when, other than the vague soon, but he was dying. A few days, weeks if he were lucky, and he would be gone.

Rowena acted nonchalant, but you could tell it affected her. She was a bad liar, a terrible actress; as much as her mind was set on selling the indifference, her body told a different story. One just had to know how to read between the lines to see it. You knew Rowena well enough by now to see the truth in her body language.

She cared about Jack. She'd only known the boy for a day, but she felt for him. She liked him. She'd misjudged him at first, likened him to his father (in all honesty, who wouldn't? Not that many people would be chill around the son of Satan), but she'd quickly realized she was wrong. All it took was for Jack to utter a few kind words and flash her a smile, and he'd won her over. He was innocent of his father's crimes. Just another one in the long line of Lucifer's victims. Rowena knew the feeling well enough.

You pulled a chair over to Jack's bed and sat down. Pale and cocooned in blankets, he looked impossibly frail, as if the slightest rougher touch would make him fall apart. You'd never met a nephilim's before, but you knew this wasn't their natural state. They were supposed to be strong, powerful, a force to be reckoned with. Jack looked like a flu-stricken schoolboy on the brink of death.

Which he kind of was.

His eyes opened, big, beautiful, bright despite the illness. He flashed you a boyish smile, the same one that had melted Rowena's heart in the matter of seconds. "Hi."

"Hi." You couldn't help a smile of your own. The boy's joy was infectious. "How are you feeling?"

"Better. For now."

"That's great!" You ignored the 'for now' part. No need to dwell on the bad.

"Where is everyone?" Jack asked, looking around.

"Library. Still researching. I'm on a break," you replied. The truth was, you'd quit. There was nothing there for you to find. Sam, Dean, Castiel, and Rowena had, as a last resort, started going through the books they'd already checked, just to make sure they hadn't missed anything. A waste of time, you thought. There was nothing there for them to find.

Jack raised an eyebrow, curious. "And you came here?"

"Thought you'd like some company." That, and you wanted some company of your own. The Bunker could get terribly lonely if one was on their own long enough. "I can leave, if you want."

"No. You can stay." The boyish smile was back. Even dying, the nephilim was all charm. "I do like company."

It was a deal, then.

The two of you sat in silence for a while, unsure what to say. What were you supposed to talk about with a one-and-a-half-year-old teenager? Half the time you didn't know what to talk about with Rowena, and you lived with her. You usually compensated by wrapping your arms around her and pressing kisses all over her jaw and neck.

That didn't seem appropriate in this situation.

Maybe silence was good. You were never a fan of small talk, anyway.

"Y/N, can I ask you something?" Jack asked all of a sudden.

"Sure."

"What happened tonight? To Rowena? I heard screaming. It was her, right?" He looked at you, asking for confirmation.

You nodded. "Yeah, it was her. She had a nightmare."

Jack's face was all sympathy. "It must have been a bad one."

"It was." He had no idea how bad. For the sake of his innocence, you hoped he never would. What Rowena had gone through you wouldn't wish on your worst enemy.

"I have nightmares sometimes. I never scream like that."

"That's good."

He nodded at your words. "Why did she scream?"

"Because…" Because she was traumatized. Because, despite Lucifer being long gone, she was still scared to death; scared that he would find her, that his hands would wrap around her neck again and his feet would pound at her skull until it crushed under the pressure and fire would swallow her alive. Because she didn't feel safe, and it was doubtful she ever would. You sighed. How were you supposed to explain that to a child? "Sometimes, when something really bad happens to you, it stays with you."

"PTSD," Jack said, full of childlike pride at having remembered the term. "Sam told me about it. It's trauma."

"Yeah," you said, breathing out in relief. The boy was knowledgeable enough.

In Rowena's case, though, trauma was putting it mildly. The flashbacks, the nightmares, the random outbursts of fear — they were more than mere trauma. The woman's soul was scarred, permanently, if her current condition was anything to go by.

Jack's face grew serious, as if he had suddenly grown up in the span of a second. The brightness in his eyes shut off like a switch had been flipped, all dark, no stars. It was an unnerving change. "Is it because of my father?" he asked, voice terribly quiet, almost a whisper.

"Yes," you replied, taking a small breath. There was no point in lying. As sick as he was and as much as you wanted to make it easier on him, he deserved to know the truth.

Guilt spread over the nephilim's face as soon as the word left your mouth. His eyes trailed downwards, stopping at his hands that were clasped over his sheet-covered stomach.

Your heart broke for him. It wasn't his fault his father was a monster. Nobody could choose their parents. What they could do, though, was strive to be good, to be better people than those who'd brought them into this world. From what you'd seen — and heard from Sam, Dean, and Castiel — Jack was doing a great job at that.

"It's not your fault," you said. "You're not responsible for what Lucifer did." All of that was solely on the bastard, may he rot in hell. "Rowena doesn't blame you."

Why did it matter? Why did you care? Because he's a child, your inner voice said. You were far from motherly, but you could recognize a child in pain. There was a time when you were that child. If you could help in any way, no matter how miniscule, you wanted to give it a try. You had nothing to lose, while Jack, hopefully, had something good, something positive to gain.

"She doesn't?" Jack asked, perking up at the prospect.

"No." You gave him a smile. You'd have preferred to give him candy, but you had none, so you settled for the next best thing. It worked, if the sparkling sliver of light, miniature and barely noticeable but there, in his eyes was any indication. "What she told Sam… She didn't mean it. Not like that. She was just scared."

The boy had won her heart quite fast. She knew she was wrong about him, and you could tell she regretted being so cold. Her cruelty had already hurt two children in her care. She wouldn't let for there to be a third. That wasn't her anymore.

"I understand," Jack said, a small smile playing on his lips. So forgiving, so understanding, even so close to death. Bless his precious soul.

"I think she really likes you, actually," you said and grinned in emphasis of your words.

Jack's face lit up like a child's on Christmas morning. "You do?"

"Yeah. She talks nicely about you, and she's been so gentle with you. Trust me, she's not like that with everyone."

Not by a longshot. Usually, it took a long while for people to earn Rowena's trust. Yet, all Jack had to do was utter a few kind words and flash her a smile, and she was all his. It was the mother in her, you guessed. Mourning for the son she'd lost, the son she'd left and hurt in unimaginable ways. She couldn't bring Crowley — or Oskar, for that matter — back, but she could be kind to another child. Jack was innocent, uncorrupted. He deserved kindness. His genetics didn't define him. He wasn't his father, and he'd proven it the moment he'd first shown himself before Rowena's eyes. He was no danger, no threat, no monster. He was a child, and she treated him accordingly.

Jack was grinning from ear to ear. "I like her, too."

That filled you with warmth. You couldn't remember the last time someone other than you said they liked Rowena, and said it so genuinely, so purely. Rowena would be happy when she heard it — and she would hear it. She still struggled with her redemption, struggled with other people accepting her. Knowing that this boy, whom she'd only known for a day, liked her would help. It would give her hope.

"She's really nice," Jack added. "Like a mom." His face fell for a short moment. "Sam told me she had a son, and that they didn't get along, and that he died."

"That's true," you said sadly. As much as you loved Rowena, that one was all on her. She would carry the guilt for her mistreatment of her son to her grave.

"That's a shame. She seems like she'd be a good mom."

You thought so, too.

"Back when she was a mom, she wasn't very good at it." Understatement of the century.

Jack frowned. "But she's changed, right?"

"She did," you confirmed. "She's very sorry for hurting her son."

"My dad wasn't sorry."

He looked away as he said it, features twisted with pain and hurt and yearning. He'd loved his father, and he'd wanted him to love him. But Lucifer wasn't capable of such emotion. People, even those in his own family, were pawns to him, puppets to use and abuse and destroy as he saw fit. Jack could love him all he wanted; the Devil couldn't — wouldn't — change.

"He said he was, but he wasn't. He lied to me. He pretended to love me, and he… hurt me," Jack said. His eyes met yours, as wounded as a puppy's. "Rowena's a good mom."

Better than my father, was the insinuation.

To be fair, a lot of people were better than his father. But you understood what he was trying to say. Rowena's change was genuine. Lucifer's wasn't. That, by virtue, made her a better parent, no matter how bad she used to be. It made her a good mother.

That was for Crowley to decide, though. He was the one she'd hurt the most. Sadly, he wasn't here to give his point of view.

"She's always been good to me," you said. Even back when she was a wicked witch, thought by many to be heartless, she'd treated you well. She'd never hurt you.

"Sam told me you guys have been together for a while," Jack said, genuinely happy to hear about your relationship.

You and me both, kid, you thought. "A little over two years, yeah."

"I'm happy for you."

This time it was your face that lit up. "Thank you, Jack. That's really nice of you to say."

No one had ever said something like that before. Not to your face, anyway. This boy was a gem. You hoped he could be saved. The world would lose a wonderful person if he were to die — and god knew there weren't all that many of those left.

Jack coughed, once, twice, three times, the sound tearing from his throat more like that of a sixty-year-old smoker than a sick teenager. A sick, dying teenager, you reminded yourself. This wasn't a common cold. The boy was mortally ill.

All because of his bastard father.

How many lives could Lucifer possibly ruin? He'd permanently scarred Rowena. He'd pracically murdered his son. He was dead, gone, rotting, and yet, his presence still lingered over his victims, destroying them from the inside one little piece at a time.

"Are you okay?" you asked gently.

"Yeah," Jack said as the coughing fit slowly died down. "I'm fine."

You're not fine, you thought. You're dying. "Would you like to see some photos? Of Rowena and me." Maybe seeing some happy pictures would cheer him up. It was worth a shot.

The idea thrilled him. He smiled through the pain. "Yes!"

You returned his smile. Dragging your chair closer to the bed, you pulled out your phone and started going through the gallery. You and Rowena lived high risk lives, so social media was out of the question. You had profiles on a few sites, but neither was in your name, and you had a strict policy of never posting your pictures on either of them. It was too dangerous. Jack was the only person who would ever get to see them.

The thought excited you. It felt nice to share your happiness with someone else.

There was a picture of you and Rowena smiling, arms around each other in a light embrace. One had Rowena leaning on your shoulder, and you resting your cheek on her forehead. One was of the two of you in bed, hair messy, smiles wide. One was from your trip to the beach a few months back, sun shining brightly in the background and almost obscuring your faces. One showed Rowena asleep in your lap, while another showed her sleeping in bed, with your hand on her forehead in a gentle caress. One had you making funny faces at the camera; it made Jack laugh out loud, which in turn elicited a laugh of your own. There was one of Rowena pouting while you kissed her cheek. And one where she was glaring bloody murder at the camera, with you resting your head on her shoulder and holding two fingers over her head as pretend horns.

Jack loved every single one. It warmed your heart to see someone genuinely like your relationship. After years of judgment and snide comments about Rowena being too much to handle and warnings about her leaving you out of the blue without saying goodbye, it was a nice change.

"There you are," Rowena said. She entered the room, a cup of steaming tea in her hand. "I was wondering where you'd run off to."

"Miss me?" you teased.

"Terribly. I can't live without you," she said sarcastically, a small smile playing on her lips.

You clasped a hand over your heart dramatically. "Be still, my heart."

"Aye, aye." She walked over to the bed. "How are you doing, Jack?"

"Good," the boy replied.

Rowena was unconvinced. However better he got, it was only temporary. She knew that. You knew that. Jack knew that. Still, she gave him a smile that was almost motherly, warm and sweet, the kind of smile she always gave you when you were sick. I'm here, it said. I won't leave you. No need to ruin the mood with the awful truth.

"I made you a cup of tea," she said, showing him the beverage. "I hope it will be to your liking."

"Thank you," Jack said happily. "I'm sure I'll love it."

You didn't have the heart to tell him it was bitter. Who knew? Maybe the nougat-loving nephilim liked his tea without sugar. It was doubtful. But he would drink it and, even if he wished for sugar, he would tell Rowena it was great. That was the kind of person he was. Kind. Sweet. Innocent.

"Any progress?" you asked.

Rowena shook her head, lowering the cup on the bedside table. "Nothing. I was thinking of ringing some witches I know, see if they know anything."

"I could call a few people, too," you said. There were some acquaintances you'd made over the years, as well as people — humans and monsters — who'd owed you favors. It was worth a shot.

"Thank you," Jack said, "for doing this for me." His face grew sad, solemn. "Even if it's a waste of time."

"It's not a waste of time," Rowena said.

"If we can help, we will," you said. It was the right thing to do.

Jack gave a small nod. "Thank you. Both of you."

You smiled, and Rowena followed suit.

"Let's look you over, shall we?" she asked.

Jack expressed his agreement with another nod, and Rowena's hands were over him in an instant, eyes wide and flashing purple as she chanted. The news, as expected, wasn't good; he was getting worse. Every passing minute brought him closer to death's door.

All the more reason to keep trying. You weren't going to give up on this kid, and neither was Rowena. He deserved to live. And the two of you would do everything in your power to help make it happen.

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @oswinthestrange @darktweet @songofthecagedmoose @apurdyfulmind @getthesalt-sam @metallihca @salembitchtrials @jay-eris @hellsmother @elizabeth-effie @victoriasagittariablack @rowenaswife @dropsofpetrichor @xfireandsin @liddell-alien @elaspn @faeyla @hotdiggitydammit @1-800ahs @darkhumorsblog @wayward-kaia @sunseteer5 @ruthiesconnells

[lala-kate]

Until That Day:  Chapter 3

This is a belated birthday present for my amazing adopted little sister @ninzied. I hope you like it, Nina!  

You can read it here or on ff.net. Have a lovely day, everyone!

April 18

Tomorrow we shall marry.

When I gave birth to Henry, I gave up all hope of one day becoming a proper wife. But worse than that, I believed that my actions had robbed my son of the opportunity of ever having a good father, one who would love and accept him as his own and care for him the way he deserves.

Then you came into our lives, and everything changed.

You make it very evident that neither the fact that Henry was conceived out of wedlock nor that he is not yours by blood mattes one whit, and that means more to me than anything I could ever wish for myself. He adores you--wants to be more like you, has even asked me if he can start calling you Papa immediately after the wedding.

You have no idea what that means to me.

Well, perhaps you do, for you have told me repeatedly how you feared that no woman would accept and raise Liza as her own because of the circumstances of her birth. Yet loving that little girl requires no effort at all, and when she reaches those pudgy arms of hers out to me and snuggles into my chest, I forget that I didn’t give birth to her. Parenting is a choice, and becoming a mother to your two precious children is an honor I do not take lightly.

From this time tomorrow, they shall be mine just as assuredly as Henry is.

Can I tell you again how strange yet wonderful it is to know that you do not view me as a fallen woman worthy of censure but rather as a woman with whom you have chosen to spend your life and to mother your children? That when you caress my cheek or kiss my lips, all of the shame of my past seems to melt into a puddle at my feet?  That strolling through town on your arm makes me feel as though I’ve just emerged from a cocoon of censure and am allowed to spread my wings for the first time in my life?  

I am so giddy with happiness I fear I may not sleep tonight.

It’s difficult for me to believe this is truly happening, that tomorrow night I shall be sleeping in your bed rather than here in Widow Lucas’s guest room, that your body will provide me with a warmth far more intimate than that any quilt can provide. Of course, after the way you kissed me earlier this evening, I have to wonder just how much sleep I shall actually be granted on our wedding night.

I somehow think the answer to that is very little.

My skin is still tingling in wake of your caresses, my lips still burning from the imprint of your own upon them. You draw feelings out of me I’ve never known, Robin, sensations that stagger me with their intensity and persistence and carry me into dreams from which I am loath to wake. Would you be shocked to know that I touched myself last night in order to quell the ache that wouldn’t let me rest?  Would you be scandalized to learn that my own hand brought me pleasure even as my lips breathed your name, that I trembled in the darkness, imagining what it will be like to feel all of you inside my body while your lips explore me in places some would deem perverse?

I somehow doubt you would, and for that, I am thankful. I am weary of living under the self-righteous judgment of those who prefer condemnation to grace and deem our bodies as shameful. I am ready to live freely with you, to be your wife in every way without reservation, to finally be at peace with who I am.

________________________________________________________________

Dearest Regina,

Today is the day.

In a matter of hours, we shall speak vows and bind our lives together. I shall look into your eyes and be able to call you my wife rather than my intended. I shall be able to kiss you in places on your body that have been hidden to me, places I look forward to revealing in all their splendor and beauty.

I cannot wait to bring you home tonight.

Home. How different the word feels as I write it in my journal, how it dances from my quill to the page, how it warms me in a manner I’d nearly forgotten after I lost Marian. This home will feel complete again with you and Henry inside it, for as much as I love my children, there has been an emptiness that can only be filled by a life companion. How thankful I am that my new life companion will be you.

How thankful I am that I actually placed that advertisement for a wife.

I nearly talked myself out of it, you know. Several times, in fact. But as I rocked and walked with Liza for hours one night, as I heard Roland stir fitfully in his sleep, I decided I would take a step into the unknown for the sake of my children, if not for myself. I did so with trembling hands and a dry mouth, and the day that your letter arrived, I very nearly refused to open it out of absolute fear.

How thankful I am that curiosity combined with fatherly determination triumphed over nerves and prompted me to open and read your response. The tightness in my chest eased, my breathing steadied somewhat as your letter took root and began to blossom in what I had feared to be barren ground.

Now, because of you, Dearest Regina, what was once frozen has sprung back to life.

I must stop writing now and get the children and myself ready, for we have a wedding to attend this afternoon, one I have no intention of missing. Until then, Regina. I know you will be the most beautiful bride for whom a man could wish.

I shall meet you at the altar.

________________________________________________________________

April 19

I am your wife.

I am struggling to find words adequate enough to describe the emotions bubbling over inside my chest this morning, but as I sit here and watch you sleep, I must try, for this is a moment I want to press into memory forever.  It is odd, feeling somewhat sore and stretched in places rarely discussed, but God in heaven, such tenderness is a small price to pay for the ecstasy that brought it about and one I will gladly pay again and again.

My God, Robin. How you made love to me last night.

Parts of our wedding day are a blur, I must confess, regardless of the small audience in attendance and the tiny yet perfect details seen to by Widow Lucas. The wedding cake, the flowers, the fact that Marco is quite an adept fiddler, each individual item in itself was far more than I could have ever imagined. Henry and Roland looked so handsome in their suits, although I must admit to missing my youngest son’s floppy curls that were trimmed into as much submission as much as they could be.

Have I mentioned how much I love the fact that I can now officially refer to Roland and Liza as my son and daughter? There is such a rightness to it that warms me deeply. My family feels complete now. Actually, I suppose it would be more appropriate to say our family.

Ours. What a powerful word. How it changes absolutely everything. From my shame to our marriage, from my illegitimate son and your illegitimate daughter to our children, from my solitude to our family, from my loneliness to our love.

I do believe that our is the most beautiful word in the English language.

Speaking of our baby girl, Liza looked absolutely adorable in her new dress, even if her unruly locks kept trying to take center stage and made it look as if we did not even bother to comb her hair. Mr. Nolan dotes on her, as I am certain you’ve noticed, and after the ceremony he referred to her as a burst of wildfire. It is almost frightening how accurate his assessment of both her hair and personality is.

Speaking of Mr. Nolan, I think he may be sweet on my Aunt Mary Margaret.

The fact that you secretly arranged for her to be here for our wedding, that you both paid for and booked her passage, that you arranged for her to stay with Widow Lucas for a few weeks so she can get to know you and the children might be the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me. Well, besides Aunt Mary Margaret taking me in and giving me a place to live after I discovered I was expecting Henry. I was so surprised to see her when I walked into the church, I nearly squealed as I walked down the aisle.

Have her here means the world to me. But I believe you already know that. You seem intent upon seeing to my happiness, and that is something I’ve never before experienced.

Now I get to experience it every day of my life.

When you took my hand within your own, when you repeated the vows spoken by Reverend Hopper and gazed into my eyes as if you could see forever, I had to keep reminding myself that this was really happening, that maybe, just maybe, I shall be given a chance at a happy ending after all.

It still seems somewhat unreal to me, but then I look over to the bed--our bed--and see you sleeping peacefully, your bare chest on full display for me to both view and appreciate. I remember how it felt beneath my fingertips, how the smattering of light hair on your chest tickled my breasts as our bodies pressed together when you were buried inside me. I can still taste the salt of your skin on my tongue, can feel the stirrings of fresh desire as they tingle and tease my inner thighs and nipples, and I am tempted to lay my quill and journal aside and return to your side beneath the quilts.

How would you react if I awakened you with my hand? Would you be scandalized by your wife initiating sex, or would you grin that devilish grin of yours and let me have my way with you? I am fairly certain I know the answer to that, and so I shall abandon this entry and return to your side to test this theory so I can know for certain.

________________________________________________________________

April 19

You’re a minx, Regina Locksley. And by God, I love you for it.

How thankful I am that Widow Lucas and your Aunt Mary Margaret volunteered to watch the children last night. It was lovely to have some time to ourselves without having to worry about little eyes seeing something they shouldn’t or little ears hearing the sounds you coaxed out of me this morning when you woke me up in the most incredible way possible. I adore the fact that you feel comfortable enough to explore my body the same way I’ve already come to love exploring yours, even though we’ve been husband and wife less than twenty-four hours.

You have initiated a craving inside me I fear may never be sated as long as we both shall live.

For you are exquisite, Regina. Every plane of your body, every small expanse of skin, every freckle, every hair, even the marks left by childbirth you feared I would find unattractive. You are a feast for a starving man, a goddess worthy of worship and adoration, a woman who has suffered much yet possesses an incredible capacity for love and tenderness.

The trust with which you honored me by placing your heart and body into my keeping humbles me to my very core. Kissing you feels like coming home, and being inside your body completes me in a way I find nearly impossible to put into words. Watching you respond to my touch, feeling you come apart around me….I have no words for the fire you’ve so expertly kindled

and now stoke with each glance and every touch, regardless of how innocent in nature it might be.

And as I watch you slumber after our morning love-making, I relish simply being able to gaze at you openly without fear of censure or reproof. I love that I can slide in the bed beside you and cradle your nakedness, that I can touch what before remained hidden and openly confess the thoughts I have held at bay.

For I love you, Regina Mills Locksley. Within a short time, you have become a trusted friend, a mother for my children, a lover, a partner, and a confidante. And I count myself the most fortunate man on earth that I now have the privilege of calling you my wife.

[livingwithashipname-blog]

Ermanda’s Inner Sanctum: Scorpion 4.08 “Faire Is Foul”

This episode was a really great showcase of Team Scorpion on the personal end.  On a whole, the episode could have been better but definitely worked as a transition episode.  I usually format my reviews around the storylines, but this one focuses on the characters and friendships.  

It’s Sly’s birthday, so let the revelry commence! 

Sly 

It’s Sly’s birthday and this episode epitomizes what makes him unique.  He is a nerdy germaphobe with a big heart.  The love he has for his friends has pushed him to be there in ways he would never choose 3 years ago.  Sly has an increasing sense of confidence and has accomplished so much in such a short period of time.  As far as I am concerned, he is the most successful team member right now in terms of accomplishments outside Scorpion!  And yet, he still finds joy in cosplay and comics!  It’s a wonderful juxtaposition showcasing Sly’s maturity, competence, and inherently good nature.  This is what I appreciate about a character in a story who is the youngest amongst his peers!

Papa Cabe 

Cabe & Sly 

Cabe has enough love to go around for all his children!  He works with each member of the team in a special way.  He has integrated himself into Sly’s world, granting him the name Magnus by Sly’s band of friends!  (Side note: One of those friends is Tom Massmann, one of Ari’s body/stunt doubles.)  We get evidence of Sly’s influence in Cabe’s life when Cabe lets his nerd flag fly and admits he loves Chair of Blades!  We see the reverse when Cabe encourages Sly to use his influence to rally his fellow nerds to capture the criminals and save the evidence.  They have this mutual camaraderie and respect for one another!  This will grow and be tested as Sly continues as Cabe’s lawyer.  I love how this has been extended from last season!  

Cabe & Toby

I think we can all agree that Cabe’s conversation with Toby about Quintis baby-making activities is the most hilariously awkward moment we have ever witnessed on this show!  I still die laughing when I think about it!  I will never look at sprinkles the same ever again!  I will be that weirdo in Menchies or Yogurtland grinning hard when I pass the sprinkles. 😂  I am also reminded of how this differs from 3.05 Plight at the Museum.  Toby told Happy that he was worried because she was, “carrying the product of [their] love.”  Then, he turned to Cabe and continued saying, “not to mention some vigorous whoopee-making, huh?”  Toby was building up his successful seed-plating exploits!  In this episode’s moment with Cabe, Toby is suddenly coy when Cabe talks to him in special detail about his baby-making skills!  Ha! Oh, man!  Cabe is trying to be THAT dad who makes sure his son has game! 😂😂😂😂😂😂  It’s done so well!  I just want to thank the writers for this.  PURE COMEDY!!!  I really like their growing relationship this season.  Cabe just isn’t concerned about his trial.  He wants to have full confidence that Sly will get the charges dropped.  I hope it creates more moments for Cabe to prepare Toby for fatherhood as Toby helps Cabe cope with the charges against him.

Solid Friendships 

Walter & Happy 

Time and time again, I make it known how much I love this friendship duo.  They are two peas in a pod!  It’s really sweet to see him seek Happy’s advice and Happy explaining the importance of speaking from the heart.  The moment is reminiscent of 2.23 Chernobyl Intentions.  The show is starting to highlight this relationship as an extension of the parts of the Quintis & Waige storylines that intertwine.  I have been eager to see this on screen and so stoked it is finally happening!  Anyone else notice that Happy makes hilarious comments to Walter when he says or does something silly this season? 

Toby & Paige

Their relationship is similar to Happy & Walter’s.  Even though Toby is as cerebral as the others, he relates to Paige as a behaviorist.  I love their various discussions about their respective lives.  They always share great advice with one another, especially when it’s directed at their love lives.  This episode revisits a relationship food descriptor that was first introduced in 2.17 Adaptation.  Toby said then that he and Happy were like peanut butter and chocolate - a good mix of two great standalone flavors.  Now he refers to Happy and him as double chocolate in reference to their inner cores, but he states that chocolate and peanut butter is as equally delightful.  It reinforces the reality that they can make it work and get on the same page even though they are different people.  Once again, Toby and Paige convos show the connection between Quintis and Waige.  Makes me wonder if these references will be reinforced in upcoming episodes!  Be on the lookout! 👀

Operation: Baby Quintis  

Toby and Happy are really taking every opportunity to get their Quintis baby!  It is unfortunate their hay loft hookup is disrupted due to criminal shenanigans, but their desire leads them to unconventionally buy pregnancy amulets at the fair for good luck!  This is so sweet!  The decision to do something like this is so Toby-like, but now it’s something we can expect from Happy as well!  They are really rubbing off on one another!  HOLY CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT!!!  Like I have said in other reviews, the arc is set up to show us how they are handling this new planned life choice as a means to test their perseverance as newlyweds.  Plus, anyone see the shift from Happy in 3.13 Faux Money Maux Problems in comparison to this episode?  Happy makes the advance to roll in the hay to get a good lay that will make a baybay 😉😂 whereas she suggests Toby come with her to the wine cellar as a means to get them out of perceived danger.  I love little changes like this!  Operation: Baby Quintis is soaring!!!  

Walter 

As I have mentioned numerous times already, this season is focused on Walter’s EQ growth and how that fits in his new relationship with Paige.  He decides to learn guitar and write a song for Paige after he screws up on a date in support of her friend.  Now I wanted to hear Walter sing a heartfelt song that would give us EPIC Waige feels, not a goofy one!  WE GOT BOTH!!!  The first song is sooo funny!!! 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂  Walter thinks he can serenade Paige with the same formula Happy used for her hit song in Portugal, but she bluntly tells him that doesn’t work.  He goes back to the drawing board and records something so beautiful and profound.  Let’s revisit these lyrics and more to understand why I consider them profound.

🎵 When I’m with you It soothes my mind And I feel fine, I feel fine When you’re with me My mind can rest My thoughts can nest, thoughts can nest With a calm I hold in my arms Peace that only you so disarm 🎵

Not completely sure about that last line, but I love these lyrics!  The genius mind is constantly flooded with thought, followed by a desire to explore them when they are leading to something of great interest.  I know from experience that I hate disruption when I am entranced by a task or deep in a thought process.  We were introduced to how this affects the geniuses, especially when the team had to work with Collins in 1.05 Plutonium Is Forever.  Collins’ intellect was so intoxicating to Walter that he neglected his own needs for the sake of science.  He went down the rabbit hole.  Happy essentially saved his life.  He had to commit Collins’ to asylum. He struggled to appropriately handle his team’s discomfort as the leader.  Walter was in an emotional conflict and didn’t realize it until the situation reinforced his decision to send Collins away.

Collins: I showed you the outer limits of your intelligence and you couldn't handle it. You couldn't risk me, or anybody else, jeopardizing your team, your precious cyclone. Walter: They are worth it. C: Why them? Toby, Happy, Sylvester... they can't touch my abilities. So why wasn't there room for one more? W: But there was. Paige. She binds us. C: I’m going away. But I'll get out... Maybe I'll see you back down the rabbit hole, Walter. W: I… hope not.

Walter knew that Paige was special.  Over time, he realizes that she introduces a calm and focus that he never knew he needed.  It creates space for him to expand his EQ and contemplate realities he once considered nonsense.  These lyrics show how much Walter values Paige’s abilities.  He doesn’t want to go back to who he was 3 years ago.  He wants to make her happy!  

Now here’s where things are going to come full circle to parallel earlier events!  Paige tells that she doesn’t want him to change simply because she asks for it or because it will make her happy for a moment - paralleling a similar tone in 2.15 Da Bomb (my all-time favorite Waige moment).  Walter took Paige’s words at face value and decided to nix his music project.  However, the tape bounces off the trash can and lands under the bed with his hidden guitar.  In 2.15, Paige catches Walter’s attention when she asks the pizza parlor if they have fermented fish (Walter’s favorite snack) as a topping.  The tape under the bed sets up a moment for Paige to find it by sheer happenstance and approach Walter about it.  While I wish Walter had decided to stick with the music project as a means of giving her something she would enjoy, the situation creates another learning experience for Walter to understand the value of “just because” gifts and gestures.  Are you excited about the anticipated Waige feels as I am?!  😍😍💙💙💙😍😍 Walter gonna get some “good good” if Paige listens to that tape!  I’m just saying’!

Drabbles...

Great argument, Sly! Now if you could just work on that delivery… 🤔

W: I’m making a song for Paige. H: Okay, what did you do wrong that now you have to do this? It’s so funny that Happy knows when Walter messes up! 😂😂😂😂😂😂

C: …cuz if you need any tips in the gooty department… T: I don’t need any tips. Please don’t ruin gooty for me. C: Just trying to help. Me: 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂💀 Now Cabe is saying gooty! Who’s next?!

I am in love with Paige’s black flowery blouse! I want, I want!!! Btw, the whole outfit is a very common style for Paige in this series which expresses the character’s playful side. Check 1.14 Charades and 3.23 Something Burrowed, Something Blew for reference.

These costumes, the slow-mo entrance… 🙌🏾🙌🏾🙌🏾🙌🏾

Happy is not having it with the gender roles of the Renaissance! 😂👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾

Walter wants to give this place a history lesson! I feel him on this one! 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂

Once again, Toby is turned on by Happy in a costume! #KinkyQuintis 😍😍💚💚💚💚💚💚😍😍

Toby and Paige are just too stinking cute! 💛💛💛💛💛

The ladies and Sly during the band’s performance… 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂💀💀

I just died when Toby answered Walter’s question as if he was talking about him and Happy’s steamy activity in the hay loft! 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂💀💀

Someone is always hampering the fun… BOO CRIMINALS! 🙅🏾👎🏾👎🏾

More Quintis exchanges! C: Why didn’t he slash the tires? T: Kevlar. You can’t pop them with a set of keys. You can’t be married to Happy Quinn without learning a thing or two about motorcycles. Me: This is ironically accurate considering that Walter, who was also married to Happy, uses a chain to stall the criminals’ motorcycles. 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂

The fact that Toby needs a very hot tool to cauterize the officer’s wound is somewhat reminiscent of the same suggestion he made for Walter in 1.22 Postcards From the Edge.

Team Scorpion: We need help to stop the criminals from killing us! Everyone else: Say what now? Yeah, see the way my health is set up… *facepalm* 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂💀💀💀

As much as I love Sly’s speech, I think it would have been better suited in the tent given that criminals were on the way there to search for that evidence bag.  But since it seems that everybody got in place before the criminal arrived, I’ll give it a pass. It was a cool moment for Sly! 👍🏾

Yay! Small moment of teamwork between Paige and Happy! This is what I want! 🙌🏾 

Cabe coming through on that horse should have come a lot faster! Great moment regardless!

This officer is awesome! 🙌🏾🙌🏾🙌🏾🙌🏾🙌🏾

He has to die?! Say what, Walter?! Oh lordt, here we go again! 😱😱😱😱😱

The way Walter took the bad guy out was really impressive! 😍😍😍🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

This show really has an obsession with 💩💩💩

Aww Quintis! 😍💚😍💚😍💚😍💚😍💚😍💚😍💚😍💚

I love Elyes’ voice! So happy he was able to showcase it again! 😍😍😍

[hisazuki]

Yona ch.136 spoilers

Akatsuki no Yona chapter 136 “Message” summary with pics and color title page

Please don’t repost/reuse my scans and translations without permission. Tumblr reblog is fine.

Do not use the raws or translations for scanlations and don’t upload them on other websites. If you need watermark-less images to make graphics, send me an ask (not on anon) and I’ll give you a link - you can only request 3 images per chapter.

The chapter opens on the scene from chapter 2 where Min-Soo runs away wearing Yona’s clothes. Yona is relieved to see he’s alive and well, and wants to thank him for saving her life back then. But Min-Soo says she shouldn’t...

Min-Soo hands Soo-Won’s message to Ogi so he can decipher it. When he sent his letter to the king, Ogi also mentioned Yona’s circumstances for wanting to meet with him. Soo-Won’s answer is...

Min-Soo explains Kouren’s hatred will not disappear with a temporary truce and she will eventually go to war anyway. He thinks SW believes meeting with Yona wouldn’t change anything and they wouldn’t be able to agree on what to do with Shin. Furthermore, the king has already started preparing for the war. Hak says going to war is probably best for Soo-Won. That way, if they win against Shin, Kouka will become strong enough to oppose the Kai empire.

He would chat with Kye-Sook when he came to the castle town, because Kye-Sook took care of him when he was at Soo-Won’s mansion. He divulged precious information to him and unknowingly helped him prepare the coup against King Il. That’s why he came to see Yona today: he wanted to tell her he had a part in sending Il to his grave.

Min-Soo doesn’t want to ask for forgiveness. On the contrary, he asks Yona to kill him if it can ease her mind. But Yona says he already atoned for his sins when he saved her that fated night. She’s standing here thanks to him, and as long as the feelings he harbored for her father were true, then she’s satisfied with that. She doesn’t want anyone to live a life full of hatred, and that’s precisely why she came here: she wants to stop the war, which is just another link in the unending chain of hatred.

She also tells Min-Soo about her friends held captive in Shin. They’re her family and also part of the reason why she wants to stop the war.

Min-Soo explains how Soo-Won plans to have the Sky and Wind tribes fight in the battle against Shin. Then he takes his leave, and Yona thanks him for coming to meet them.

After everything that happened to her, Yona is such a bright person. Min-Soo can’t help but wonder what she’s been doing all this time, while he was being overwhelmed by guilt and despair. He wishes he could speak with King Il about the Princess.

Back in Hiryuu castle, Soo-Won asks Min-Soo how the meeting went.

Soo-Won answers that a country ruled by a king who would give priority to one person in particular would fall to ruin.

Kye-Sook told Min-Soo he was saved because his mother used to be Yong-Hi’s doctor. But Min-Soo being on Yona’s side would probably not matter at all to Soo-Won. Min-Soo resented Soo-Won. He probably still does. But he also understands that embracing kindness isn’t what allows a king to move forward.

At Ogi’s place, Argila asks Voldo to explain what happened to him because he didn’t understand everything ^^; He’s worried about Shin-Ah and the others. Voldo tells him war will probably break out and Yona’s friends will be executed. Then Hak steps in and starts buttering Ogi up, saying he has informants all over the country and can spread information faster than anyone. Wary Ogi says yeah, he can. Hak asks him to get the Wind Tribe to help them. They have to stop them from taking part in the war before it’s too late.

Yona is worried. Going against Soo-Won’s royal decree will bring trouble to the Wind tribe. Hak tells her they will listen to whatever their former general orders them to do. Still, Yona knows it’s what Hak wanted to avoid at all costs...

Hak asks her if she remembers what Mundok told them when they left the Wind tribe. That, should they find themselves in a bind again and seek help, the Wind tribe will definitely side with them, no matter who becomes their enemy.

Ogi freaks out. Are they actually asking him to defy the King’s orders?! Hak says he’s just asking him to relay a message. Ogi says he finds Won cute. He believes he’s a good leader for this country. But at the same time, he can’t forgive someone who would betray his friends. He’s conflicted about “Won”.

Ogi: Would I... get killed too if I got in his way...?

Ogi’s man: Wanna test it? Won’s love. *I’m pretty sure it’s one-sided though.*

Ogi: So it’s something I have to wager my life on, huh? *falls apart down the table*

Then Ogi finds a way to settle his inner conflict: he acts businesslike and asks for money in exchange for his services. Problem: the gang is broke. Yona steps in.

Hisa’s thoughts on the chapter: 

Haha like I thought, this is Soo-Won’s way of telling Yona to fuck off. I don’t know how much he was counting on Min-Soo to tell them, but surely he must’ve noticed his guilt about being part of the coup and sent him to meet with her knowing he might spill the beans about being Soo-Won’s “double agent”. Maybe it was a way to find out how deep Yona’s grudge is about that night. Thankfully for Min-Soo, she is very forgiving.

Now we’ve learned quite a few things about Soo-Won through Min-Soo’s and Hak’s perspectives:

- Min-Soo’s mom used to work for Soo-Won’s family. Used to. What could’ve changed her situation? Maybe she’s dead, maybe Yong-Hi’s dead, or maybe Yong-Hi is cured of her sickly condition. Is it related to Min-Soo leaving SW’s mansion at 14?

- Kye-Sook took care of Min-Soo when he was at Soo-Won’s mansion. He probably lived there as well. Is he more closely related to Soo-Won than we thought?

- Soo-Won seems sad that Yona’s group is involved in this mess. Yet he won’t go for a temporary truce with Kouren, even if it’d help save Yona’s friends. He uses the pretense of not prioritizing anyone for the sake of the country, but didn’t he use Lili as an excuse to attack Sei too? Hmm...

- Hak’s guess is that Soo-Won wants to make Shin a vassal state to gain the upper hand against the Kai empire should it attack Kouka again. Does SW also want to declare war on Kai? It seems very likely now.

And there’s Yona letting go of the hairpin. Finally! To be honest, I think she stopped caring about it quite a few chapters ago. And, of course, this might be her own way of telling Soo-Won to go to hell. The one who benefits the most from this is probably Hak. In case he still had doubts, now he can see she wants nothing to do with SW anymore.

[ryukoishida]

PARS 2017 | Day 1: Flowers | In which Gieve develops the hanahaki disease and Isfan doesn’t know until it’s too late.

Title: Lilac in Me Day/Prompt: Day 1 - Flowers Author: ryukoishida Summary: When Gieve starts to cough up lilacs, everyone — including Isfan — just assumes that it’s due to his one-sided, unrequited affection for Farangis. [Hanahaki AU] Pairing(s)/Character(s): Isfan/Gieve, Farangis, Arslan, Narsus Rating: T Warning: N/A A/N: I swear every time I write canon, it ends up being angst.

-

When the coughing first starts, Gieve doesn’t think much of it and merely supposes that he’s suffering from a common cold or a slight infection of the esophagus.

“Do you not realize, Gieve, that maintaining a healthy and able body is an important aspect of being the Shah’s loyal subject as well?” Farangis comments in her usual cold demeanor. “Your body is the temple of your spirit; if you mistreat it, as your questionable lifestyle seems to channel, your body weakens and your spirit becomes tainted. How will you serve His Majesty Arslan then?”

“Wise words from you as always, Lady Farangis,” the wandering musician chuckles as he bows his head at her direction.

“Perhaps all the travelling has worn you out at last,” Arslan says with a hint of humor, the corner of his lips slightly up-turned, but the concern is clearly written in the dip of his brows. “Will you not consider staying in Ecbatana for a few weeks more?”

“Do not fret for my sake, Your Majesty,” Gieve replies with a bright grin after taking a sip of the refreshing iced mint and jasmine tea that soothes the tickling at the back of his throat, “this is nothing a few days of rest cannot fix.”

A few seats down the long table, Isfan is glancing at him over the rim of his goblet, his topaz eyes watchful and subdued when Gieve daringly meets his gaze, his own lips twitching into a small, teasing smile at the observation that the usually aloof knight is looking his way.

Before the minstrel can open his mouth, however, Isfan’s attention has been pulled away by whatever Kishward is saying, and Gieve momentarily loses his voice as his body gives in to another series of hacking coughs a degree more intense than the last.

Despite his words, the condition persists for another two months, and not even the court physicians can figure out the root of the cause or find any herbs that can heal his ailment completely.  

And then one evening, the coughing just won’t stop no matter how much water he tries to consume; he can’t seem to catch his breath either, his throat raw and inflamed from the incessant coughing and his lungs feel sickeningly full, like something is growing from within — something alive, desperate to twist and crawl out from the darkness, roots growing along and tangling with his bones and muscles.

It claws its way up, up, up — seeking light, craving to be exposed.

He coughs until he tastes the sweet, metallic tang of his own blood, the bandages he wraps around his hands stained bright red when he spits.

He coughs until he can’t anymore and all he can do is regurgitate blood and saliva and… pale purple petals dotting in the sludge pooling a few inches by his feet.

When the coughing finally stops for the time being, Gieve shakily wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and sits down on the nearest stool, his skin clammy and blotched red from the physical toil. He stares at the mess of diluted blood and broken flowers on the floor, sea-green eyes narrowing at the bitter realization.

He knows what disease he’s contracted — though he’s only heard of it from rumors and stories told in foreign tongues during his travels through the southern lands — and no physicians or sorcerers can cure him of it. He knows the cause of it, too (indifferent golden eyes that ensnare his heart, disdained curve of his lips that makes him crave what he’ll never have), and the very real possibility that he may die from it.

It may take years or only a few, short weeks; that’s the tragic beauty of it — the poetic irony of bearing the weight of unrequited feelings that ultimately leaves the unloved victim to die alone, asphyxiated by such intense affections that will never be returned.

‘Shit, I’ve gone and done it now,’ Gieve thinks, a speck of frustrated tear threatening to fall from the corner of his eyes.  

He’s not one to allow fickle fate to have her way with him, so he will not sit obediently for death to claim him.

-

“Those are lilacs, are they not?”

With a hand bracing against the pillar and chest heaving unevenly, Gieve hears the calm but careful tone of the court painter and tactician over the roaring in his ears.

A trickle of blood with an almost perfectly-shaped, four-pointed lilac blossom drips down the corner of his mouth, and he savagely wipes it with his arm, smearing red across his pale complexion.

He no longer wraps strips of white cloth over his hands and lower arms; washing them constantly has become a huge hassle with how often the coughing fits creep up on him nowadays.

Narsus hands him a handkerchief, and the musician takes it without a word, just a nod of thanks as he cleans his face and hands.

“I appreciate it, Lord Tactician,” Gieve murmurs, his usual melodious voice now coarse and dragging against granules of sand.

It’s been almost three months since the first trace of petals sprout from inside his body, and as the weeks go by, single petals grow into blossoms with complete corolla, the golden-yellow pistil, and filaments.  

Gieve tears his gaze away from the disgusting puddle of violet-tinted flowers drowning in a pool of his own blood and saliva; he’ll never get used to the sight of it, no matter how often this occurs.

He sags against the stone pillar, a hand running through his unruly locks as he releases a steady breath.

“So,” Narsus steps over the lilac puddle with no further comment and leans against the wall across from the uncharacteristically quiet minstrel, his eyes sharp and attentive as always, “who is it?”

Gieve lets out a startled laugh. It’s fruitless to hide anything from Narsus, so he doesn’t even try anymore.

“It’s not Lady Farangis, that I can assure you,” he admits with a breezy chuckle. Though he enjoys their humorous bantering, he knows the priestess never takes his teasing to heart, and so their repartee becomes that of a harmless, playful habit that everyone around them is used to, yet most of them might not comprehend the superfluous nature of it.

“I didn’t think it was,” Narsus smiles lightly, crossing his arms in a pleasant, unperturbed manner as he waits with the kind of patience Gieve has never understood or has the ability to achieve.

“Purple lilacs, in the language of flowers, apparently means ‘first emotions of love’,” Gieve tilts his head back, eyes focusing on the delicate carvings along the inner edges of the ceiling, his voice dripping with self-deprecation.

“Painfully ironic for a philanderer like you,” Narsus can, at least, appreciate the dark humor.

“Maybe it’s punishment from the gods above,” Gieve muses with a casual shrug, and he pushes away from the pillar, “maybe I’m not so favoured by Ashi after all.”

“Have you perhaps considered confronting him about your feelings?” Narsus doesn’t move from his own position, his violet gaze resting on the musician’s figure. “Lord Isfan may return your affections yet, and you won’t know until you try.”

Gieve is not even surprised that Narsus just knows.

“I’m shocked that you’d make such a misguided assumption, and here I thought you’d be more observant than that,” Gieve says.

“How do you mean?”

“Lord Isfan abhors me, so I think he’d rather confront me with his sword than with his heart,” he sighs in his usual dramatic flair that Narsus immediately sees through, and he continues in a more serious manner, “what it all comes down to is that I killed his brother — yes, I ended his suffering and I might have done it with the kindest intentions — but it doesn’t change the fact that Shapur died by my hands. I can understand why he’ll never accept me or open up to me, even as a mere friend.”

“What makes you believe that Lord Isfan hasn’t changed his stance about you? It’s been almost two years now, and even the hardest, most obstinate mineral will be weathered down by time eventually,” Narsus’ amethyst gaze softens when he asks in a gentler tone, “Have you two talked recently?”

“I hate being disappointed more than vomiting flowers,” he subconsciously brushes the corner of his mouth with the pad of his thumb, remembering the strangely aromatic fragrance of the lilacs as they trickle out of his lungs. The trail of blossoms always burns a trail along his trachea and esophagus, and spewing the flowers out is never an amusing experience, but despite the acidic burn of his throat every time, Gieve is even more frightened of approaching Isfan.

The knight with the fearless topaz eyes, and a smile so rare and precious that Gieve swears the first time he saw him laughing openly without any hinder or a care is when he realized that he has fallen for the man.

Once the words leave him — once Isfan knows how he truly feels — there will be no turning back. In a twisted way, it’s almost like he’s sentencing himself to death.

“More than dying?” Narsus challenges with a quirk of his eyebrow.

“You don’t know for certain that’s how it’ll end,” Gieve counters, but even he knows that his argument is a weak one. There may not be a lot of information about the floral vomiting disease, but there is only one conclusion that all books and stories have drawn on: the lovesick victim will not survive for more than a year if the feelings are not returned.

“Do you want to find out for yourself?” Narsus steps towards him, but the musician only flinches away, and it’s the first time the tactician has witnessed the usually boisterous man seems so vulnerable and defenseless.  

“Narsus, please. No more,” Gieve murmurs, backing away slowly before turning his back towards Narsus. “Let me handle this my way.”

“As you wish.”

-

“Lord Gieve! What happened?”

When Isfan finds him in the palace library, Gieve is dry-heaving and crumpled on the floor, forelocks plastered on his forehead with scarlet red and pale violet smeared everywhere. His cheeks and chin are streaked with his blood and constellations of petals, his hands and clothes are stained red, too, but even more blatant are the whorls of lilacs, splattered with beads of blood, scattered chaotically around the wandering musician.

Ignoring the spots of blood and flowers on the floor, the knight rushes towards Gieve and kneels down, wrapping an arm around the other man’s shoulders while he attempts to wipe off the blood and petals on his face using his sleeve.

“Let’s get you to the infirmary,” Isfan mutters after he’s gotten the majority of the mess.

“No, no, it’s fine,” Gieve insists in a breathless rasp and reaches for the knight’s wrist to hold him still, sea-green eyes webbed in red and sight slightly blurred by remnant tears as he blinks blearily back at him, “the worst of it has already passed.”

“But—” Isfan is about to argue further because he isn’t blind or ignorant: he knows Gieve has been ill for months and he’s had suspicions of the type of disease the minstrel has caught. It’s useless to confront him about it though; they don’t converse much past the required business exchange, but from mere observation, even Isfan has enough understanding of Gieve’s personality to know better than to approach him when it’s clear that it’s an issue he wants to resolve in his own pace. “You’ve bled a lot… you should get the court physician to see you, at least.”

“They won’t find anything new or interesting,” Gieve assures him with a weak grin as he pulls himself to a sitting position, though he’s definitely not complaining about Isfan’s arms wrapped protectively around him at the moment, “I just need a brief rest. Will you stay with me until then, Lord Isfan?”

“Of course,” Isfan concurs.

He moves them closer to the arched hallway of the library. They will need to call a servant to tidy up later, but right now, the knight can only concentrate on Gieve’s condition. He seems to have taken a liking to leaning his head against his bicep, his eyes sliding closed with a sense of exhaustion that Isfan has never noticed on the frivolous and energetic musician.

‘How long has he been suffering on his own?’ he wonders but doesn’t voice out his question, brows pulled in a deep frown.

“I must apologize,” Gieve starts, and Isfan glances down at him. He can only see the top of his head, but he notices that in the center of Gieve’s palm and enfolded tightly by his frail fingers is a stem of lilacs still in full bloom.

“Why? You have done nothing wrong — not recently nor anything that I know of anyway.”

Gieve laughs, the sound silvery but feeble and it causes a few seconds of lingering coughs.

Isfan rubs his hand up and down his back in soothing circles, and Gieve thanks him with a grateful hum.

“I never intend for you to find me in such a shameful, and frankly, rather disgusting state,” Gieve continues when he regains his breath.

“There’s nothing shameful or disgusting about your illness,” Isfan tells him earnestly.

He’s not good at consoling others, and he’s been told he doesn’t have the friendliest demeanor, but he never sees Gieve as a man who needs someone to take care of him or comfort him. Perhaps he’s been too foolish, blinded by his own bias all this time.

“Look me straight in the eye and tell me throwing up blood and flowers is not disgusting,” Gieve pointedly glares at the vomited mess of red and violet before glancing up at the knight through his dark fringes, his sneer almost cold and tinged with a hint of selfish cruelty, “because it sure as hell feels so.”

The frustration in his eyes and along the twist of his mouth is obvious, but Isfan doesn’t know how to approach this — approach him, this new side of Gieve that he’s unfamiliar with.

“I’m sorry that you have to suffer this illness on your own,” Isfan treads carefully, and his arm around the slighter man’s shoulders tightens just a degree, “if there’s anything I can do…”

“There’s nothing you can do,” there’s a sense of finality in his tone. “You’ve heard of this disease, have you not?”

“Yes.”

“Then you know there’s little you can do to help me.”

“But if you would just tell me the name of the person you are in love with, then maybe we can figure out a solution— “

A flash of heat strikes his chest, and he can’t tell whether his lungs are finally bursting from the overflowing flowers growing in his body cavity or that his heart has finally reached its limit.

Gieve pushes himself away from the knight and settles on his knees facing him, one hand having reached forward before Gieve realizes what he’s doing, and he grasps a fistful of Isfan’s tunic, the sea-green of his eyes surging like an untamed storm.

“It won’t—” he bites his lower lip hard to stop himself from going further, yet the words continue to fall from his mouth, like the lilacs that just keeps growing and filling up his lungs until he can’t breathe, until they spill all over in a devastatingly beautiful floral tempest, and Gieve is lost in the splendor of it, caught in the agony of it, “it won’t work because the one I love is you.”

Gieve has lowered his head after that unplanned pronouncement; for the first time in his life, he’s afraid. His body trembles beyond his control even though he feels his cheeks grow hot as the seconds tick by, and when he feels Isfan’s fingers, slightly cool and infinitely comforting, tracing delicately along his jaw, Gieve refuses to let himself hope.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Isfan’s voice breaks as he whispers, like shards of cracked ice over the once smooth and tranquil surface of a frozen lake.

“What difference would it make?” Gieve chuckles darkly without any humor.

“I would have tried to approach you,” he says, touching his forehead against Gieve’s, “I would have tried harder to get to know you better, and—”

“And?” Gieve urges, eyes slipping close. He’s filled to the brim with love and admiration and affection for the man before him, and all he can do is keep his mouth shut, the lilacs in him locked up until he can’t breathe or speak anymore.

Isfan places a gentle hand on the nape of Gieve’s neck, pulling him impossibly closer until their lips touch in a soft, fleeting kiss, the sweet fragrance of the lilacs after spring rain lingering in the air between them, a haunting scent that never truly leaves.

“I would have tried to fall in love with you.”

-

A/N: I. I don’t know what to say except that I’m sorry, I guess?  

[entamewitchlulu]

Homura’s Top 15 5D’s Characters

Going underneath the cut!!  This is actually working to cheer me up haha :)

15. Mikage Sagiri

It’s kind of a sign that there aren’t that many characters in 5D’s that she’s on this list at all to be honest, but I do still like her.  I do love her no-nonsense attitude as a Security officer, and when she’s not fawning over Jack she’s a really cool character with a sort of strictness about her that makes her interesting to me.

14. Rally Dawson

Rally is just....precious.  I love him for being just such a cute little bro character, and I always, always wished that he had more screen time and had gotten to meet with the other characters, especially Lua and Luka.  I find him to be incredibly endearing for how hard he tries and how earnest he is in helping his friends.

13. Sherry LeBlanc

Sherry is one of those characters that I like for what she could have been.  Her first appearance was just a fun ride, she’s a pretty character who looks feminine but has a brash sort of personality, which is honestly a good thing I think for a shonen show.  What I like most about her is her bluntness and how she basically just says whatever she’s thinking without worrying about hurting people’s feelings, sometimes it’s a nice departure from the normal sweet girl characters in shonen.

12. Tetsu Ushio

Add this guy to the list of characters I never thought I would like!  Ushio was such an asshole when he first showed up, and I thought he would just be an unlikable antagonist forever.  But his slow growth into a legitimate friend and ally just felt so real and it was actually really nice to see what a good friend to Yusei and the others he ended up being.  It’s one of my favorite arcs in 5D’s and I think it’s one of the best examples of how Yu-Gi-Oh can turn even seemingly irredeemable characters into lovable ones.

11. Martha

I’m a sucker for moms, okay.  I love how caring Martha is, but she’s also a no-nonsense sort of person who easily switches between caring and scolding to raise her brood of children right.  Also, anyone that can get Jack to kneel and kiss their hand is probably a downright amazing person XD  Her devotion to her kids, old and young, is just a joy to watch.

10. Luciano

And then there’s this asshole lol.  He was actually one of the only antagonists I actually liked from the second half of 5D’s, mostly cause I found his bratty nature a fun ride.  He’s loud, obnoxious, and appropriately bratty for the age he’s supposed to represent, and I thought it was fun watching him screw with everyone.

9. Misty Lola

God, talk about great female villains, though.  She was an incredibly sympathetic character even from her first appearances, taking Carly in and taking care of her after she became a Dark Signer and seeming to be a very kind hearted person despite what side she was on.  Her kindness can’t be mistaken for weakness, though, because she’s an incredibly ruthless duelist when she feels she has to fight, and I found that her back story lead up really well to why she would become the way she is.  And she’s still incredibly honorable, too; after she learns the truth, she immediately is willing to drop her hatred and apologize for her actions.  She’s one of those characters I wish we had seen return in the second half, because I feel like there was a lot they could have done with her post-Dark Signer.

8. Kyosuke Kiryu

Kiryu is just fascinating.  I love the contrast he sets up especially for Yusei; he’s incredibly charismatic and draws people to him with fiery words and speeches and flashy displays of his own power.  He’s honestly the ideal protagonist type when compared to the much more reserved Yusei, who never really tries to draw people to him and seems content to take a back seat to other people taking the lead.  Kiryu’s arc is fascinating too, watching him change from this charismatic figure into a more wild character who fights back against the frustration that the unfair world has forced on him, and then into a subdued, depressed character, and finally into something more subdued but still a leader at the end of the Crashtown arc, is a really, really interesting arc, and he has a lot of potential to explore in fic and art.

7. Luka

I love my daughter more than my l i f e.  Luka is such a precious, beautiful girl who tries so hard despite being afraid, and watching her grow more courageous over time is just really inspiring.  I love her devotion and her very sibling-like irritation with Lua’s antics.  She feels like a very real character.

6. Jack Atlas

Jack is just a fucking fun character.  He’s a total asshole and he doesn’t really redeem himself like, at all in some respects.  He does definitely mature, but it’s fun to see the ways that he never quite matures, too.  He’s always going to be that same asshole-ish personality who tends to be selfish more often than not, but despite that he really has a good core at his center.  What I find most fascinating is what I see as his lowkey desire to make people happy.  His arc with Carly was mostly about him finding out it wasn’t being the King for prestige that was important, it was important because he knew he was a symbol for a lot of people, especially children, and he wanted to live up to those expectations to really mean something for others.  He really is at his core a good person who cares about being good to people, and I love that about him.

5. Crow Hogan

God, Crow is a fun character.  He’s sassy as fuck and honestly he has the kind of smile that lights up the screen. I love his reckless nature, his fun-loving, adventurous spirit, and I especially love his papa bird personality and how devoted he is to his kids and children in general.  I love parental characters, and Crow is one of the best in Yu-Gi-Oh imo.  He’s super cute and fun and I love that he always finds some way to have fun in his situations, but he knows when and where to be serious.

4. Yusei Fudo

I mean first off, he’s fucking gorgeous.  and second off, I just find him to be a really great character type.  I mentioned it a little bit when I was talking about Kiryu, but Yusei is not immediately the kind of person you’d peg as a shonen protagonist.  He doesn’t run his mouth, he doesn’t care to be flashy and seems content to hide in the shadows most of the time, and he’s not openly charismatic.  And yet people are drawn to him, and I think it’s for good reason.  He has a very powerful soul and a powerful presence despite keeping to the sidelines when he can, and he can’t back down from injustice; he refuses to keep his mouth shut when he thinks there’s something wrong with society and he’ll actively take a stance against it for the sake of everyone.  People are just drawn to him, not for his open charisma, but for his quiet confidence, and I think that’s just amazing.

3. Aki Izayoi

Aki is amazing.  She has one of the most poignant character arcs in Yu-Gi-Oh, and I just love how emotional she was allowed to be on screen.  She was allowed to be irrational and to react badly to things, she was allowed by the narrative to cry and get angry and lash out and hurt people and it felt real and human.  I love her for her slow growth as she reaches for her own strength and confidence in the wake of abuse and fear, and how she’s allowed to have some space to find herself and grow on her own two feet.  Aki is a powerful character who shows it’s possible to recover and become the person you wanted to be after completely losing yourself to bad circumstances/abuse/a bad past.  She’s a character who shows that things can and will work out if you don’t give up, and I love her a lot for that.

2. Lua

GOD talking about people who deserved better btw, Lua is fucking precious and deserves the entire world.  Lua is so earnest and he tries so hard.  He’s excitable about life, everything is a cool adventure to him and he doesn’t let anything get him down for too long.  He hides his insecurities behind this excitement, but he legitimately is happy about life and all the possibilities it holds.  He’s not the type to give up, even when his inner sadness is dragging him down, and he’ll always get back up no matter how many times it takes.

1. Carly Nagisa

Look at my baby girl!!!!!!  Carly is one of the most fun characters in 5D’s, her excitable antics as she tries to get the next scoop are endearing and adorable.  She’s a hard worker and a beautiful soul who always decides that morals and ethics are more important than getting a good story.  I love her cute little fortune-telling thing that she does to give herself courage, and her devotion to both her job and the people she cares about is inspiring.  Her arc as a Dark Signer was incredibly powerful, and every minute of it was just beautiful, beautiful writing.  Carly deserved a lot better than she got by the second half, but I’m still reeling at how much we did get for her in the first half.  I can’t blame Jack for becoming inspired by her, because she’s the kind of person that I think would inspire anyone just by being in her presence.  And what I love most about her is that I think that’s the kind of person she really wants to be, too; her dream from childhood was to just be able to support people who were working hard, because watching others find happiness made her happy, too.

[wonderfulchaos69-blog]

15, 30, and 33 (つ≧▽≦)つ

Thanks for the ask, bb~

15: Top 3 Character Backstories

1. Urahara from Bleach, Turn Back the Pendulum was my fav. All those interactions with Yoichi and Hiyori. AND MAYURI. Plus, when it was revealed he was Division 12’s Captain??? I was like FUCK YEAH. MY MAN, MY DUDE. I have a thing for shady shopkeepers with questionable pasts.

2. Dorian Gray. An impressionable, foolhardy, outwardly beautiful man. You have to know his past, to know his future~ Such a vain guy that wasted away into nothing when he couldn’t see what was in front of him all along.

3. Shura from Ao no Exorcist. I like my characters with a hint of darkness, what can I say? Her backstory makes me both sad and yet … I love her? So much? Thank you, Shiro, for saving this wonderful woman.

30: Top 3 Tearjerking Moments in Fiction

I CRIED A LOT IN NATSUME YUUJINCHOU, WHY YOU GOTTA MAKE ME CHOOSE

uhhh, let’s see. I think the moments that really got to me were:

1. A Single Photo, The Door of Memories, A Long Way Home - this entire arc from the anime, and its corresponding manga chapters. Precious child and his precious dad. Moving on and letting go themes, as well as remembering the past in order to take those steps forward. I always, always end up crying at the end of season four. Just ask Lael.

2. Asagi’s Koto - which made me both laugh and cry. There are moments where Asagi takes over Natsume body and acts very feminine, which beguiles his classmates. It was the ending of this story that made cry, because she just … wanted her last moments … to be with her most cherished friend??? Someone who didn’t even realize he had her friendship all along?

3. Melting Into Spring - JUST LET THE SNOW BUNNY BE HAPPY. omfg, Gen and Sui made cry WAY TOO MUCH. Sui wanted to see a seven colored rainbow to make a wish on for the sake of humans. Gen wants nothing more than for Sui’s happiness. This is a really, really bittersweet story. AND NATSUME PLANTING A FIELD OF SEVEN COLORED FLOWERS FOR SUI AND GEN. I CAN’T DEAL WITH THAT LEVEL OF PURENESS.

33: Top 3 Awesome Moments in Fiction

1. From Harry Potter - Hermione giving Draco Malfoy a piece of her mind and then some. And since actions speak louder than words … Look. Just, look. Hermione was what I read the series for and what I CONTINUED to read the series for - this was a spotlight of my youth. Like, damn. You go, girl.

2. All right, so. A few of you have read my Mermaid AU for Sakuya - and yeah, you probably know where this is going already, but the ending? Of Hans Christian Anderson’s tale? Well, there was a bit more to it than just the little mermaid turning into sea foam and drifting off into sea. She was given a chance - a chance to earn a human’s eternal soul. She became a sprite of air who was prompted to do much good in the world, wherever the winds may take her, before she could be granted it. But it is a hopeful ending, and I quite liked it. That feel of ‘second chances’. A chance to correct a wrong by having made an inherently good choice. Rewarded for staying her hand on the young prince’s life.

3. From Servamp - Kuro’s inner world. That was … a really cool thing to see and learn about. We get a few hints of the others, like Hyde’s and Lily’s, but with Kuro’s … we got to explore it alongside of Mahiru and that was a fascinating experience and really enthralled me as someone who likes to write and read and is interested in psychology.

Asks My Top 3s