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pidgeon-queen · 8 hours ago

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Now that i have actually slept and didn't need to run errands anymore, I am finally watching season 2 of Arcane. For anyone who didn't see my last post on season 1, just a bit of inforalmation.

This is my thoughts and opinions on the characters, questions that seem unanswered, and looking at reasons behind characters actions, but not excusing them.

Season 2

Episode 1

It works well for the scene, but the static in the opening made me think my computer was busted. What a way to start off a season.

Point again on why I blame Jayce for everything. Victor knew he was dying, and explained they had to get rid of the hexcore because it was too dangerous. Victor always knew he was dying and Jayce decided to not grant him the mercy of death. I know this has consequences later on.

That little girl leaving the flowers is supposed to be Marcus's daughter, right? That is the only reason I could think or for her to have color why everything else is a charcoal sketch. The first 5 minutes has such beautiful art.

Salo seemed like the kind of person to be completely uninterested in anything but the perks of his job. Even with the death of the other council members, this argument doesn't sound like his words. I think Amvessa got in his head first

I am curious about Caitlyns father and why he acts as he does in both seasons. I feel like their could be more development as to who he is outside of her father and the husband of a former council member.

It took Vi all season to finally accept what others were saying. And even then, I think she is still wrong. It's not the Powder she remembers. Powder matured in a different environment than Vi and that is who she became. It just added a name change.

Who's this homeless enforcer? He sounds vaguely like Vander, and if i squint while exhausted, could almost look like Vander and Benzo combined.

Jayce put Victor in a chrysalis and it looks kind of creepy. Also, the fact that it reached out to Mel, i wonder if it would have eaten her like it did Sky. If things were different, I could see Jayce, Mel, and Victor working together in a different way that probably wouldn't have included Victor becoming part of the hexcore.

I'm glad Heimerdinger was kicked off the council because i am worried he wouldn't have survived.

Maddie Nolan is really suspicious. I wonder if Caitlyn actually said all of that. I am more interested in this fake drunkard than what Mel has to say. He has a story, and I worry I won't get to know what it is.

I've seen images of the counselors statue, but i thought it was only two of them.

There is a distinct lack of blood when it comes to more serious injuries. Someone got ripped by a chainsaw and there was nothing, but a bloody nose is fine.

They really left Jayce to die. He didn't even pick a good weapon, or go for the other nose tube. That had an affect Her.

The enforcers with Maddie, they didn't get an name, but definitely deserved one before this fighting. Same with Homeless.

Once again, Vi and Jayce working together to fuck up one shot.

I can see why Vi joined the enforcers, Caitlyn is losing it and doesn't know how to stop what is happening. Vi has been fighting her whole life and learned how to cope and plan. Fuck her for turning on her people the way she does, and what method she uses, but I understand the thought process of joining.

Caitlyn really chose to break the genevia convention laws using her mother's creation that was meant to save children of the undercity from the same fate as Victor.

What is with the special task force and their weapon choices. I get the sniper as Caitlyn is good with it, but Maddie has what looks like a toy gun from the arcade in season 1, and Homeless has a shield. Give him a brass knuckle as least so he has some way to fight back. It doesn't even need to be hextech. This specialized force has 2 unnamed characters still.

Why did Singed need to gas wolves? I know there is a reveal later on, but seriously, what did they ever do to you? The scars came from the explosion that killed Milo and Calgger. Animals did nothing to you.

Episode 2

This beginning is a reminder of the shape of water ending. This is another scene where they are leaning away from a father-daughter relationship and towards something else. I am pretty sure that's not what they wanted. Is it weird to hope the monsters in the bottom of the water ate Silco?

Good on Isha biting hard enough to cut through skin. I love her design. She also took Jinx up on the offer of a family and I never saw someone talk about that. Please other people talk about it.

The gray is so interesting. I can't wait to learn more.

Sevika is the middle ground between Vander and Silco. She just doesn't have the same kind of charisma they did. She also didn't have to be so terrible with the screwdriver. Angle your hand and body a little more and it would have been fine. She might have needed more help if the bolt was in too tight, but she chose not to hold it at a better angle.

Jinx comment about the eye shot is definitely from her perspective of Silco having her help, but i do still wonder if he wouldn't do it alone because he added shimmer to it and caused a physical reaction compared to before in season one when he had no problem in the room with Singed.

The sign of a bad leader is seeing everything collapse immediately after you disappear or die. Things could have continued if Vander left and Benzo took over, but Silco took charge and left an unstable legacy to collapse in his absence.

Victor hearing Sky's voice just proves to me the hexcore ate her. Jayce really couldn't let go, and it broke Victor. He doesn't look human anymore, and i can see the resemblance people make to him being Jesus. Jayce hasn't been given time to process and he is going to regret what he's done. Shame he can't see it sooner.

Ekko should have only been worried about capacity issues, then someone came and fucked with the tree. He needs a break.

I love Heimerdinger. He is 300 flyers old, but he is acting like a teen sneaking through his place. I needed this laugh after the previous episode. Where is Heimerdinger's pet? I miss him.

The offensive Ekko takes to tea.

This is the first time Vi has probably thought about Claggor in years. I wished we heard her or saw her facial reaction to it. I mentioned in my last post, but Vi is a shitty person when I comes to comforting others and how she reacts to loss without someone to comfort her.

I love Sevika's new arm and how it so clearly was made by Jinx, proving they will still work together, and how it is just an trade toy as well. That is some insane violence for someone who has never fought with the arm before. Why is Isha poking him? Leave the rat alone.

I'm starting to suspect Victor going to the undercity is what cause the arcane to affect Ekko's tree. That is definitely not Victor anymore. Why would he think to do something like that. How could he have know to heal others when Sky was killed by the same thing. The symbolism is a little on the nose.

Episode 3

Destroying you mother's legacy is not how you cope with loss Caitlyn. You ruined her memory like this and I know she is disappointed in you. This task force definitely had those hung and mutilated dolls coming. Who sacrifices the city just to maybe catch one person. It's the opposite affect you guys wanted.

The idea the gray gives him allergies.

The black rose has some interesting powers. The hissing, second voice is something I live for in storytelling. It's a shame I don't know how to write it in a way people pick up on.

Again, everyone doesn't seem to believe 2 identities can exist in one person. Vi also begged Caitlyn to not change when she herself changed. Whay a hypocrite.

Of course Salo is using shimmer.

Mel using her influence and is slowly losing it because Ambessa suddenly showed up. If Ambessa wasn't here, she might have more control over the situation in piltover.

I theorized that the arcane was living, by my comments of it eating Sky, I hope you understood that, but to see the story going in that direction kind of makes me smile. I suck at theories, but I guessed something right.

I love Jinx loving art but not being a protege.

Again, Jayce is at fault for deciding to not care about the undercity. Kiramman's sponsored Jayce and I would be surprised of Caitlyn's mother didn't warn him if she was the one to insisted the undercity deserved to breathe. I wonder if he either didn't listen to her, or she didn't get an say in how it was constructed. Either way, Jayce indirectly chose to sacrifice the undercity because he didn't care to think.

Heimerdinger, why would you risk touching that spot on the ground. Just tell everyone what you found first.

Vi chose this moment to not blame herself for the one thing she is definitely to blame. Caitlyn had to tell her they were using the Gray and Vi said yes, gas my people. Let me become what I hated and justify it by blaming Jinx.

Jayce really messed up with not understanding the arcane before trying to control it. And he is fucking up a fight. He felt it do something to his hammer, and still touches it.

Caitlyn doesn't seem to notice her gun breaking the laws of reality outside of being electrocuted. That is interesting.

Jinx is laying on the alter table about to be sacrificed in front of the undercities goddess. The goddess eyes look like they are glowing. I think that is why Caitlyn, who is known to be a great shot, couldn't shoot shit in that moment.

Piltover did need a makeover, and outside of it possibly releasing the gray into Piltover, I aprove of the method.it looks fun.

Vi still cares about the young people of the undercity, and it is proven in that scene where she stopped Caitlyn and let Jinx go to protect the child. The one thing I don't understand is how Caitlyn could be so willing to shoot a child when the only thing she successfully shot off was Jinx's finger. That is a big difference between her and Jayce. Isha would have just been collateral, while the boy Jayce killed was a complete accident. It does bring up, however, that Vi was fine with the kids in the shimmer factory ending up in the crossfire, but not Isha. Isha knew what she was doing jumping in the middle of the fight just like the kid who pulled the alarm. But Vi had a different reaction.

More evidence that Vi and Caitlyn are a very unhealthy and toxic relationship. Vi is in a similar position to Powder, and this time, nobody tried to come back for her. While not death, she again has nk comfort and is slowly breaking.

The artistic way the black rose is used is wonderful. I hate we only had a couple of minutes at best of that scene with Mel.

Please stop showing me Homeless and give me his name and backstory.

Ambessa chose Caitlyn because itbis the best way for the people to trust Noxian soldiers, and i think the people needed trust in someone who wasn't part of the council. Why does Maddie join in so quickly? Who is she really? And Homeless knows something. I want his lore in Arcane. I should mention I don't play league of legends, so there is a good chance a lot of lore and Easter eggs go over my head.

Singed will die long before Warwick is given enough blood.

Episode 4

Caitlyn sucks at her job. All of these people joined a cause Junx unintentionally created and she doesn't really hide herself. I basic cloth that sometimes doesn't cover her braids, making noise in the old arcade and fighting with extreme violence and enforcers keep arresting the wrong people.

Time has definitely passed based on the opening so this isn't like the next day, but I'm suspicious of Caitlyn and Maddie's relationship. Part of me thinks Maddie is a little obsessed with Vi and how she looked up to her, or it is Caitlyn she looked up to, and managed to get into a relationship with her in a moment of vulnerability, or caitlyn was looking for a rebound from a toxic relationship and Maddie was the girl who was there. Calling out Ambessa's words from Caitlyn is interesting. There is a certain look in her eyes that makes me wonder what Maddie is thinking.

I like how Isha is non verbal. Jinx knows how to communicate with her and shows Jinx is in her right mind.

If Jinx believes her name is dead, then what is her new name? You need to have something.

Ambessa doesn't know what Jayce did, and i think it is his fault nothing is working anymore.

Scar being there. That's it. Him seeing and being there.

"Why is peace always there justification for violence?" That's a good quote. We need more leaders to thank and answer this question.

How much time has passed? Ekko, Jayce, Mel, and Heimerdinger are all missing and time has passed enough for Mel be considered dead by some.

How did Sevika get in contact with the Firelights? Scar seems supportive of Jinx as he called for the people to fight at the checkpoint, but how did it come to that? Ekko is on the wall, but the firelights survived, so it is a sign he was a good leader. I wonder if he ever told Scar he still cared about Powder and if she ever gave him the chance, he would still save her.

Isha's fist do nothing, but she did her best and I am proud of her. Question, does Isha not get a name until 23 minutes into episode 4? I know her name from spoilers, but i think that's the first time she is given a name in the show.

Singed knowing they won't stay long but i doubt he knows how safe the Zaunites really are when Warwick arrives.

I love Sivika and Jinx being more buddy buddy this season. She's really really pissed that someone hated her pants. Then some creepy actually hitting on her.

She barely interacted and went into hiding, but they all somehow knew not to call out cheers or speak, just acknowledge her as a thanks. And the Woman who flirted with Claggor added Her aunt status to Jinx as well.

Do you see Jinx as an older sister to Isha, or a mom? I thought older sister based on some spoilers, but i can see a mom figure as well.

Going back to the chainsaw with no blood. Why was Warwick able to cause so much damage and spray blood like that?

Did Isha say Mama?

Warwick still has Vanders facial structure. And it proves to me Homeless looks like Vander.

Episode 5

Look, I was just thinking about Homeless.this guy still hasn't learned how to take a punch or at least protect his jaw as it's the weakest part on him.

Vi, how do you fuck up bad enough Homeless gives up on you?

Look at Jinx following her sister's footsteps. Fake tattoos and name written under her eye.

Ambessa survived, but i wouldn't be surprised if she faked her death so Warwick would leave her alone.

Caitlyn is still making the same mistakes as before. Going places she really shouldn't alone.

I don't know what to say about Signed so we are skipping over it.

Poor Mel seeing someone she cared for killed by the black rose. Imprisonment Socks. I wonder if she might change the way the prisons are run if she gets the chance. I do not believe she couldn't see him before he stepped i to the light. If that was supposed to be true, then the lighting should have been different.

Why would Jinx eat something you have to claim to get glowing

Vi really doesn't know what is going on. "Bitch mitten" are something I love. As well as that slap. Vi really hurt the kid she protected from Caitlyn.

Caitlyn can't even make a dungeon to hold people. She doesn't know what she is doing.

Mel's brother has a couple of close up to his eyes, and for a moment to, it looked like there was something in the pupil. Arcane doesn't show reflections in others eyes often.

"No mention of his crime." Caitlyn, can you guess based on his lab? Or do you really need an answer?

Isn't it implied that Singed removed his daughters heart for one reason or another?

Rose Mel's eyes looked so beautiful. Does Mel possess magic and that is subconsciously what drew her to Jayce and his research.

The memory of Vander with Silco and The girls mother. the casual replacement of alcohol with juice. Good Job Vander. Also, why did she suddenly decide Vander and Silco would raise her kid. She has a husband. Make him raise Vi first.

Both deserve the chance to heal. Isha and Vander are a part of that.

Salo, stop being creepy and dead. Bodies don't get to keep moving after you stop breathing. He sounds like Victor even before his mind took over Salo's body.

Jayce finally learner. And Heimerdinger was right. I wish we got to see a different angle your Salo's death. It looked pretty cool.

Another point to why this is all Jayce's fault. He chose to keep Vicgor alive, and look what that has done. You now have to physically kill Victor. Should have listened the first time. Should have never brought magic to piltover.

Episode 6

How does Victor say it's not Jayce and there is something else when He isn't even himself and keeps talking to the disembodied voice of Sky, who was eaten by the hexcore.

Vi really left hextech on the ground for anyone to take. Place of peace or not, I could sell that stuff

Grandpa Vander. I love him so.

Warwick knows there is something wrong with Victor. But he is trying to his kids.

I love Jinx and her comments and throwing shade.

Another beautiful artstyle showing their past. Jinx did deserve to have more time with her mom.

Vi talks about staying in Victor's place, but completely ignored that Ekko had the firelights trying to do the same thing. The difference, however, is Victor removes their desire and individual agency, creating more of a hive mind. Ekko has more freedom and the people don't see him has a Harold, but equal to each other.

There are 2 groups trying to fuck over Vander and his chances at a family again. Jayce unknowing because he is trying to fix his mistake, finally, and Ambessa who just wants war.

Caitlyn really wiped that spit into her mouth. Madam, you are in a relationship with Maddie. Stop that.

It took not being with Jayce for Vi to not fuck up. Let's see if not being around Vi helps Jayce, or still fucks everything up.

So far, he didn't kill a child. So maybe that's good.

Yes Vander! Protect your daughter.

Jayce didn't either. Vi and Jayce just need to not work together if they want to do anything in life.

This is what happens when you kill the leader of the hive mind. And unfortunately, Jayce is the reason Vander lost all humanity he had left. He's crying and suffering.

Victor didn't need to speak such truth.

Isha, sweetheart. No.

In a more serious note, I heard somewhere the reason tour life flashes before you life before you die is because your brain is looking for a memory to help deal with the event and save you, but since it has never experienced death, there is no immediate memory to help. I will sob silently for Isha, but every happy memory she had was with Jinx, do I believe, are the only memories she has. Trauma pushed away the bad ones so all her brain can do is show her the happy ones before her death.

Episode 7

Starting off with the record. It's not Vi and Jinx.

Ekko without face paint is a shock. But him actually seeing Benzo again. This might be the first time he thinks about what happened that day. Oh it hurts. I still see Homeless in Benzo's face, but i think it's more the sideburns.

This does explain why Jayce is the only one to escape in act 2. And proves Jayce did NOT eat Ekko and Heimerdinger like some people theorized.

I actually yelled seing Milo. I wasn't ready to see him with a posh accent and a mustache. I didn't yelled, but wtf! Heimerdinger with a guitar? Ekko is losing it.

So the answer to the time they were missing was 3 years. I thought it was weeks or a few months.

Jayce left his hammer in a place he doesn't know to chace a stranger who could hurt him. And he finds the remainds of a destroyed Piltover.

See! It's all Jayce's fault. Granted, Vi died, but she isn't that great of a person anyways.

Is this Heimerdinger singing at 13 minutes? That would be pretty funny. Watching...... it is!

So hextech almost existed, but Vi died in the explosion and Jayce lost everything because nothing got stolen. Still doesn't change the fact it was his fault for bringing the crystals to Piltover. It's a good thing that is where Ekko and Heimerdinger landed or we really wouldn't see them again.

Where did Jayce end up? How did he hang on with those things

I really don't think i could have done it. They look terrifying.

Ekko has his time skill! I do think the time in this reality is what gives Ekko the chance later on to try again with Jinx. His chances to tell Benzo the truth and actually say goodbye.

Seconds later, Ekko forgets this isn't his universe and makes the same mistakes as asking Powder if it's her fault this Vi was killed.

There is a screenshot worthy point around the 30 minute mark of Milo and Clagger. I hope someone has do that. It needs to be memorialized.

Powders dress reminds me of the moonflower for some reason when she spins.

Finally, Timebomb fans! Be fed!

If Heimerdinger dies....

Powder better get her Ekko back...

She does! Now what happened to Heimerdinger

Oh an episode almost solely for Ekko, finally making up for lost time.

Episode 8

We return to Mel and her magic i forgot about with everything else that was going in. She was controlling the other counselors throught their corruption. I guessed that right. Yay.

What is Mel going to do now?

It is interesting how they bury the people.

Vander needs to be left alone. He's been through enough.

I knew it was a hive mind.

Homeless is Back! When was his name Lois? I was close at least. (I'm not watching with subtitles so unless the speak the names, I have no idea who people are).

"We can't erase our mistakes." Yeah, like you gassing the innocent?

Jinx has lost everything, her family has been lost 4 different times. She finally gave up after losing Vander again, and losing Isha.

Mel and Jayce meeting again after their separate imprisonments. Mel finally being called out on her control. And being blamed for something she could t control.

Where did Victor's new body come from. This fight scene reminds me of the I, Robot based on Victor's movements.

It is nice to see an actual conversation between Silco and Jinx without it pushing her towards his goal of Zaun.

Break the cycle with broken knuckles. Nice on Vi.

This creature. The fact Jayce still sees it as living. Should have been labeled thing.

Heimerdinger's pet! I missed it.

Caitlyn. What about Maddie? ..... vie doesn't care, but that doesn't make Caitlyn a shitty person for cheating.

Even with the arcane, Victor never love Sky the way she did. How dare he take everything from Vander. He has died enough, why take the memories away too?

Episode 9

Oh boy, here we go.

Jinx has beautiful hair. Long and short.

Ekko is back and he is trying. I am so proud of him.bittersweet(X) as long as their alive in the end, I think i can accept the ending of the series. But I just got through the intro so good so we will see.

Maddie has to be working with Ambessa.

Maddie put the nail in, didn't she? Maybe she deserved to be cheated on. I didn't think she really loved Caitlyn in the beginning. I was just wrong about it being obsessive... death works too.

Jinx and Ekko working on the same side as it should be. Welcome Zaunites to the party. Thanks for bringing it.

Victor looks so gross.

Not Sevika! She grew on me.

Do you think Vi finally understood it wasn't just her and Jinx left? Do you think she will finally remember Ekko and continue to care about him in the future?

Mel's story so so much more complex than season 2 had time to delve into. I do. Ot understand the black rose as much i they probably wanted us to.

They still leave Ekko alone and assumed dead. Even after he did so much to save them both.

Ekko is the only one. Jayce is gone too. How will he try?

Yes ekko!!!!!! Some risks must be made.

That is an interesting callback to what Jayce saw in the alternate universe and explains what he meant.

I may have to ammend my statement a bit. Not by much though. Victor is the instigator for the use of hextech. But I thought that's where it started. Is it more accurate to blame this on Victor?

We once again see Vi not coping with dead and lacking a comfort. Her failure to listen and move resulted in Jinx having to jump down. It is a shame Vi couldn't learn better ways of coping outside of self destruction and lashing out immediately.

I hate we don't see Ekko actually go back to the firelights or see him step as a leader for Zaun we all know he easily could have been.

Now that everything is over, I will go back to my question 3 paragraphs above. Should Victor now be the blame for all of this? As he gave the rune to Jayce knowing he was the only one who could show something good from emotion and resistance. This goes against my firm belief that, as adults, you are responsible for your actions, and your actions alone. Your actions have an affect on others as seen in life and Arcane. Victor planted the seed of thought and useless chip in Jayce as a young boy. Jayce, however chose illegal research and storing dangerous and illegal contraband in his room unsecured.

This answer can only be found by looking into another question. How important were Jayce and his mother's lives? His mother would have died without arcane magic, and as he was a child, Jayce may have too. Allowing him to die young would have meant Jayce could bring the crystals to Piltover, and his house wouldn't have been robbed. Nothing in Arcane would have gone the same way. Say young Jayce would have survived and made it to Piltover, he still wouldn't have interacted with magic and see it can be harnessed by someone without being born with it, and his research probably wouldn't have been different. Who knows if he would have gone to the undercity then, but it grunted his house wouldn't have exploded because of the crystals. If all characters must be alive and Victor's past self needed to save Jayce, then it is my same argument. Jayce shouldn't have brought contraband to Piltover and not secure it and hide it.

There is a note to add that if Victor didn't give the chip to Jayce after saving his mother, then maybe Jayce wouldn't have found the crystals, but I disagree. He would have been searching still. I don't doubt he wouldn't have found them on his own without a shards with an engraved rune as a reference piece.

Thanks everyone who actually read this far. I can now continue my doom scrolling here without worry of spoiling anything now.

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thesinglesjukebox · 10 months ago

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SOPHIE ELLIS-BEXTOR - "MURDER ON THE DANCEFLOOR" (2001) (2024)

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23 years on and this groove's still got some life in it...

[7.11]

Thomas Inskeep: Sophie Ellis-Bextor should've been the next Kylie — and for a couple years, almost was. Her 2001 debut album Read My Lips spun off a trio of top 3 singles in the UK, including this one, which has over time become her true classic. Dua Lipa's entire career was birthed in this single, the dictionary definition of ebullient dance-pop. (It's fitting that Lipa's "Houdini" is currently the most-played song on UK radio as this single is re-ascendant.) SEB has never gone anywhere: she's still making music, touring (based on her 2022 Sophie Ellis-Bextor's Kitchen Disco (Live at the London Palladium), she still sounds great), and is now a DJ on BBC Radio 2. She just didn't become the massive pop star she deserved to be. Now, thanks to its placement in a climactic scene in Saltburn, her greatest single is getting its flowers, climbing back up to #2 in the UK (so far — my fingers are crossed it can make it that final notch higher). "Dancefloor" still sounds fresh, certainly fresher than the glut of '90s-sampling dance-pop dominating the UK charts. This single sparkles, SEB giving a knowing wink as she sings, especially on the line "gonna burn this goddamn house right down." She knows what she's doing here: making magic. [10]

Edward Okulicz: I bought this on single back in 2002, which tells you something (other than that I am old): it was an irresistible bit of sparkly disco radio pop back in the day. Move it forward or backwards a few years and it might have been an indie rock song for someone else, a filter house record, or (gulp) a Ronan Keating record. Fortunately that never occurred, and it's a delight to see a classic gain new fans from age groups and territories that didn't get it on saturation rotation. Part of it's the solid song by Gregg Alexander, who at his best was a master craftsman of a much-maligned form. Another part of it's the much nimbler, slinky production compared to the rest of his soft-rock oeuvre. And a very, very large part of it is the Debbie-Harry-but-English pose of Ellis-Bextor, too cool to do anything but be filmed dancing from the waist up while she stomps her heel into your eardrums. "Murder" really has everything — a catchy chorus, the tinniest guitar solo ever, hooks that fall as much off the words as the melody — and so is perfect for every occasion, even a movie I am never, ever going to see. [10]

Alfred Soto: Like the Pet Shop Boys' "Rent," waaayyyy too good for Saltburn — perhaps Emerald Fennell thought their incandescence would rub off on her as if it were glitter. Part of a vanished climate of French house-inspired crossover pop like Kylie Minogue's "Love at First Sight," Sophie Ellis-Bextor presages Katy B's regular-person anonymity: she surveys the strings and rhythm guitar licks like a party hostess keeping an eye on the band while sipping her prosecco. [8]

Alex Clifton: I haven't seen Saltburn and frankly have no interest in it, but this film has led to the Sophie Ellis-Bextor renaissance which is a net good for society. "Murder on the Dancefloor" is just brilliantly composed and produced; it feels as fresh today as it did twenty years ago. There are so many thrilling little moments from Ellis-Bextor's vocal delivery: the way her voice curves into "about your kiiiiiind," the little rasp in "there may be others," the little trill of "dancefloor" in the bridge. I feel so biased writing this review because I've literally been listening to this song since I was a kid, but I'm so jazzed about "Murder" finally receiving the love it deserves. [10]

Ian Mathers: How can you not love pop music when it'll randomly do things like this, suddenly giving us a song to review from before the earliest days of the Jukebox, that is here purely because of its use in a movie that I have not seen but am informed was probably picked on the basis of Ellis-Bextor's plot arc in the music video. And if I'm not willing to go to bat for it quite as hard as I would for "Running Up That Hill," I did love "Murder on the Dancefloor" in 2001 and it still sounds great now. I don't find myself having any reaction more complicated than happiness at hearing it again and that particular joy of people liking something you like. [8]

Nortey Dowuona: If you told me this came out in 2021 and Emerald Fennell asked Sophie to use it in her movie set in 2001 because it was just that on point in depicting the time, I would agree. Then after taking out my phone, I'd be punched in the face and meekly give up my phone. Then, after watching you sprint into a nightclub, I'd immediately thank goodness you didn't ask for the passcode and run like hell for the closest subway. I am three stops from home before I remember this did not actually come out in 2021; there are other Sophie Ellis-Bextor songs and jailbreaking is a thing now. [10]

Leah Isobel: RIP Mark Fisher. You would've written a hell of a blog post about Saltburn. [7]

Mark Sinker: Necessary digression 1: heraldry as a science in Europe is roughly 900 years old, a bright and stylised easy-read guide, highly rule-bound and policed, to class and land and title — which is to say to material history (its jargon-field is still mostly words not otherwise used in the UK since the 14th century; even property law is less lousy with extinct Norman French terms). And like many very aged things, it has necessarily also passed through phases and fashions, as technologies of display arrive and depart. In fact the first inkling I had that I wasn’t going to get on with Saltburn was the typeface chosen for the title on-screen at the outset. It’s a font with a fairly specific ill-set ungainliness to it: it wants to have the weight of "pleasingly and weirdly old; not how we do things now," but it might just as well be some off-the-peg super-modern studio confection — or even (though I slightly doubt this) something custom-fashioned purely for the film. There’s no discernible care to the choice. Necessary digression 2: back in the late '70s when Peter Saville was busily and insouciantly borrowing from this or that actual-real document or design, of such-and-such era, part of the point was the severity of the decontextualisation — except there was a rigour to the carelessness. The item was being supplied with an iconicity (the very word) pulling you in towards whatever the item was that Factory Records was then placing on the market. The surface glamour of the original was to be funneled through in such a way that its weight amplified only the new relationship. In fact (in its stylised easy-read way) Saville’s work was ruthlessly the opposite of heraldry, so very good at managing the ambient melancholy that suffuses the wider Factory moment; all the blocks and counterspells necessary to conjure here beyond the end of creative time as the context for the music to have presence. Anyway, long story short (lol) Saltburn – which would love to believe it has accessed the aura, for example, of the cover of New Order’s Technique — is attempting to juggle the same double burden. It wants to conjure a play between the decontextualised pull of 24-hour-party-people hedonism and the real ineluctable unremovable weight of actual history and actual class and actual land and actual title. Except for its story to work it needs both dimensions (hedonism and weight; heraldry and careless scribble) to register, as Saville absolutely didn’t. No block, no counterspells, nothing to dampen the disturbances — so when poor old Sophie EB’s voice and poise are scalpeled out of their 20-year-old chart context and abruptly c/p-ed into whichever late-stage scene it is, well, here they are, as a clumsy synopsis (calculation, side-eye, dancing, death) the structure really shouldn’t require, in a role the song is the wrong mood (a faintly gauche trifle, a chirpy hustle) to deliver. The movie never works out where it gets its deep reveal from, or what shape its politics are (if politics is even a useful word here). Ill-set ungainliness all over again: the carelessness floods back into the borrowed adornment, and breaks it in pieces. I don’t even love this song that much but I hate how it gets what value it has so gracelessly driven out of it. [2]

Jacob Satter: At the risk of killing the groove, this is a pretty boring choice for a manufactured revival track. Call me back when the kids discover "It's In Our Hands." [4]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: I'm glad everyone's having fun here but the more I try to enjoy this — either on its own terms or as an icon of nostalgia — I get nothing. Unremarkable in any year. [4]

Lauren Gilbert: It was a [10] in 2001, it's still a [10] now. [10]

Katherine St. Asaph: The thing about it being 2024 is that in the intervening 20-plus years since "Murder on the Dancefloor" came out, approximately ninety million more disco-revival tracks came out. Some of them are by Sophie Ellis-Bextor, even. And so many of those tracks are smooth where this is stiff, magisterial where this is timid (and not in a winsome Katy B kind of way; Katy got better arrangements), charged where this is inert and just generally unmurderous. It's actually startling how inessential this sounds by comparison. [3]

Oliver Maier: Even as a youth, before my brain was burdened with indulgent critical vocabulary, I felt like this song just didn't work. I can't pin down whether "Murder" is knowingly a little chintzy (dare I say camp?) or if it's just cheap tat trying sincerely to sound boutique. Benefit of the doubt granted or not, Ellis-Bextor sounds like she's doing karaoke off the sofa. [4]

Michael Hong: When Ellis-Bextor pauses, it's easy, like a quick and graceful end to a conversation rather than the expectant response to her more spirited word choice. She's committed to this casualness, easily slipping away at the hint of a faux pas, which makes the occasional lingering word more charming. "About your kind," she sings, as if looking you up and down, wondering if she's got it wrong this time; the word "others" is trailed as if she's daring you to eliminate the competition. In that way, "you better not kill the groove," delivered with such nonchalance, becomes a fervid instruction. [7]

Will Adams: It's cute, Sophie is ever-charming, but there's real problem when you've got songs in your catalog with titles like "Bittersweet" and "Heartbreak Make Me a Dancer" that offer way more palpable drama than the one with the word "Murder." [5]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: Every other line is threatening here. “Stay another song,” “Don’t think you’ll get away,” “You better not kill the groove.” Sophie Ellis-Bextor isn’t demanding fear, though. That’s what makes “Murder on the Dancefloor” so irresistible: she sounds like a friend, albeit one who’s deathly serious about having a good time. When you hear her, you believe it can be this good for you too. [8]

Taylor Alatorre: Wow. They were allowed to make these slick disco-pop reimaginings with actual guitar solos back then? We must retvrn. [8]

Tara Hillegeist: It feels like a time capsule from another era in pop music entirely, because it is. There was a time when Ellis-Bextor's stately, imperial, nigh-inhuman precision of a delivery felt like nothing so much as the edifice within which pop star royalty could be crowned, particularly in the world of UK pop; it's still hard, even now, to deny the simple pleasures of someone who knows what her job is and then executes it flawlessly. But it's been over two decades since this song originally bowed, and it must be said that it was the impact of songs like, yes, "Murder" itself that raised pop music's skill floor high enough that such icy professionalism now feels like the most tiresome part of it — Dua Lipa does this regularly, after all, and with equal anonymity. No, what saves it, and ensures the song remains nothing so much as a delightful diversion (conditions of its resurgence be damned, I say), are the sampled whoops that come in beneath the guitar solo; notwithstanding that such a slice of controlled disco can credit itself with having a guitar solo to begin with, but the canned hype is such a stupendously goofy touch. It humanizes the song instantly, stripping the archness of its artifice aside to reveal the awkward smile underneath. The moment passes, of course. But the smile lingers. [7]

Anna Katrina Lockwood: I've been waiting 20+ years for an opportunity to issue a dissertation on the songwriting genius of Gregg Alexander and by god am I ready. Though it's hard to imagine it in a different form, "Murder on the Dancefloor" was apparently a cast-off single for Alexander's New Radicals debut, replaced by the equally glorious "You Get What You Give" — like, imagine being such a talented songwriter that you can just cast off a song like this, knowing you've got an equally great one to replace it with! "Murder on the Dancefloor" is just perfection in Ellis-Bextor's hands, with a galaxy of terrific choices in its production to go along with the amazing melodic structure. I still can't help but burst out laughing at the initial vocal hit in the intro on occasion, a perfect, delicately harmonized coo of "Murder!," cutting through the disco instrumental setup occurring all around. It's as great a moment of pop songwriting as I'm aware of — setting the expectation of the song's vibe from the outset. Ellis-Bextor's lyrics are outstanding, cleverly arch but not too shiny, in the thick of it yet also gliding past suavely. The song is incredibly detailed, a carefully calibrated piece — it lopes by with a relaxed stride rather than a reckless dash, a well-tailored Savile Row suit as opposed to an H&M tunic, cut to the millimeter. Yet it's also very clearly of the disco, built for singing along, difficult to avoid dancing to when it comes on. It turns on its heel at moments' notice, with layers of melody playing off each other throughout. Matt Rowe's efforts in production also deserve notice — this song sounds great, so distinctive that it is still eminently listenable 23 years on. I honestly have not a single thing to criticize about "Murder on the Dancefloor," and it's been a long time that I've considered it to be one of the truly great pop songs of my lifetime. It feels like incredibly just desserts to see it garnering so much praise now. [10]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox ]

#sophie ellis-bextor #saltburn #music #pop #pop music #music writing #music reviews #music criticism #the singles jukebox #Youtube

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asexual-doctor · 4 months ago

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Season 9

Day of the Daleks 🌕🌕🌗🌑🌑

I liked the possible future, under Dalek domination, and how coming back in time to change it actually makes the very thing they were trying to prevent happen. The Daleks are back, but I wished they’d had more of a confrontation with the Doctor, it all felt a bit rushed here. Also, I was very upset by the fact that Three refuses to kill one man to save millions (even though it wouldn’t have changed anything) because it’s wRoNg but half an hour before, he shot and killed several Ogrons and this was never addressed. I’m sorry, I love you Three, but just fuck you. All in all, this episode is ok but not really memorable either.

The Curse of Peladon 🌕🌕🌕🌕🌑

Sorry, I lost my fucking mind every time King Peladon’s thighs appeared, who in hell thought that this would make a king look respectable and not look like a fucking slut? Anyway. I liked this episode, especially the political aspect of it all, even though it was a tad predictable. I liked Jo here, she finally felt deeper, I hope this trend will continue from now on. The Ice Warriors are back and they’re nice, why not? But it kind of physically hurt me to hear them talk. And we have the Venusian lullaby, and if I still prefer Paul McGann’s version, this one (the original you might say) is also very very good.

The Sea Devils 🌕🌕🌕🌕🌗

Until the end, I was expecting to see the Brig and UNIT arrive on white horses to rescue the Doctor (and the Master). So I was a bit disappointed when they didn't. But apart from that, I loved this episode and that's not surprising as it has everything I love: a sea mystery, the sea devils, and the Master (Delgado, please). I love the Master even though his schemes are always the same, this idiot NEVER learns and I love his relationship with Three: the sword fight (was this scene completely necessary? No. Would it have been a great loss if it hadn't been included twice? Yes.), the touching and the collaborating at the end ("we can both die or both escape" you morons deserve to die for giving me so many emotions I can't handle too many emotions, I'm emotionally impaired). Anyway. I also really liked Jo here, the way she helps the Doctor to escape and that scene with them communicating through the window ... hum ... Ten and Donna ... hum.

The Mutants 🌕🌕🌕🌑🌑

This episode is weird. The writers, director, and producers were obviously on drugs when this was written/shot. And luckily, it's an old case of it's so bad that it's actually good. It's camp, it's gay (excuse you, you can't tell me it's not: rainbow mutants and gay couple with Stubbsy and Cotton), the mutants are very ugly and yet I can't help but love them, especially their relationship with Sondergaard (who is a hippie). And the plot is actually interesting and well-handled! And I'm falling hard for Three, I think he might be joining Eight and Twelve up the mountain of my adoration.

The Time Monster 🌕🌕🌕🌕🌗

Oh wow this is so gay, it was delightful. I watched this episode in one go (almost) and kept laughing my ass out. I mean, it has everything: Three being rude to the Brig, TOMTIT, the Master being a pacifist, the temporal sensor thingy, the Brig calling Yates "Mike" and checking out his injuries, baby Benton, two TARDISes inside one another, pigeon!Chronos and genderless!Chronos, "groovy", ... I love everything about this episode, I love Three, I love the Brig, I love the Master. The only negative thing was the parts in Atlantis that I found a tiny bit less interesting but really, a very very good episode all the way

#doctor who #three #third doctor #jo grant #brigadier alistair gordon lethbridge stewart #mike yates #john benton #the master #delgado!master #threegado #classic who

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 7 months ago

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Congrats on the (well-deserved) 1k! Can't miss that opportunity to ask you stuff >w< 🧠 What's a random little headcanon from (You got me) in the palm of your hand that you didn't get to include, a scene you scrapped or a detail you changed?

✍️ What was your writing process like for Hic sunt dracones?

💀 Would you rather drink tea or coffee?

Thank you so much for the kind words and for the questions! 🥰💖

🧠

Altogether, there was not a lot I scrapped but rather a lot I added. The original outline for this fic was four chapters rather than the six and an epilogue it ended up with, but then the sex scene spiraled out of control (like they tend to do), and then Steve wanted to visit Eddie in his rent before Nancy showed up, and then the platonic soulmates wanted to have a moment in Robin's bedroom and how could I say no to extra Stobin?😅

I'm still very happy with how the fic turned out bc I really like the pacing and I think the extra bits really add to the character dynamics. 🥰

✍️

Oh my God, here we go!

So, everyone is gonna laugh at me now, but when I first thought of that story, I thought it would be SHORT! 🤣

When I started writing, I had everything up to Eddie’s first shift and the fullmoon sex scene planned out, and I thought it would be a relatively quick write that I just needed to get out of my system.

By the time I finished chapter 1, I began to realize that this would … not be the case. 😅 The thing kept getting longer and longer and the backstory and world building kept getting more and more complex, and that poor guy was still stuck in dragon form. 😂

By the time I finally got to the big reveal, I had a solid idea of the ending I wanted (dramatic tower plummet, followed by happy end and throne sex), but the in-between was very, very foggy, and remained like that until I wrote the escape scene almost. (The outline for the entire middle part literally read “they hang out at the lair and fuck a lot” for the longest time. It gave me massive anxiety.) It literally all fell into place when I figured out the role I wanted Wayne to play, and from that moment on, it finally came together. (Except for chapter 13, aka the longest fight scene in existence, which felt like I was bodily wrestling it out of my brain and into the doc.)

The flower crown, btw? Not mentioned in the outline with a single word, I only thought of adding that about one chapter prior. 😅🌸

💀

I'm a coffee gal through and through. There's one brand of tea I'd kill for, though - mango and ginger flavored. I can drink that stuff like water.

I'm celebrating 1k followers - let's chat! 💖

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie brainrot #steddie fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #1k followers #asks and replies #hic sunt dracones #(you got me) in the palm of your hand

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sakee21 · 2 years ago

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SEVENTEEN - F*ck My Life MV

youtube

Oh my gosh... I really had to make a (long) post about this song and the MV because the MV references the movie called "The Truman Show" which is a touching classic movie, the message and the lyrics of the song really hit so hard, and the whole production of the MV is top-notch and SVT's acting in here deserves to be appreciated, like it was really like a short film or something. It was really amazing in my opinion.

So first, for the Truman Show references that I can remember (cuz it was fun to look for them haha).

(SOME SPOILERS FOR THE MOVIE AHEAD!)

Plot summary for those unfamiliar with it: the movie was about an ordinary man named Truman who has a stable job, a lovely wife and a loyal best friend. However, it seems that something was not right with his almost "perfect" life when he began to notice unusual things happening around him, such as a mysterious object falling from the sky

and rain pouring down on a certain spot only.

It turns out that the movie is set in the future and Truman is the star of a reality tv show that is being broadcast to the whole world.

His whole surroundings is just a giant tv set made with advanced technology, the people around him (including his family, friends, coworkers) are just actors hired to play certain roles, and since his birth he was living a fake life made by the show's creator/director.

However, this didn't mean that Truman's feelings, emotions, and experiences were fake because he once fell in love with an extra actor named Sylvia. But since she wasn't the intended love interest for Truman (and because she was trying to help him get out of his fake life), she was forcefully removed from the show.

The pin during Joshua's scene is a reference to the pin that Sylvia wore in the movie.

Becoming confused by what is real or fake and driven by his desire to find Sylvia (his true love), Truman began to go against the rules and goes missing. He decided to run away using a boat and crosses the ocean (which he is afraid of because of a trauma he had when he was young).

Of course the show's creator didn't want this to happen, so he made a storm happen to discourage Truman and change his mind.

The final part of the movie showed Truman fighting against his fears; him hitting the edge of his world, the "sky" (which is actually just a backdrop wall) and realizing that he was indeed living in a fake world; his desire for freedom; and him ultimately making the choice to open the door to the outside world and go live his own life.

I think the overall message of the movie (and especially the ending) fits really well with the message that SVT's wants to convey in the song, which is to fight for your own life and find your true self, just like Truman. In SVT's own words:

From now on I'll fight for my life

For my own good, fight for my life

We'rе so used to feeling numb in this life

Now I just wanna find myself

Now for some additional thoughts:

Though the overall message of "F*ck My Life" can be applied to almost any person's life, I also can't help but have a bit of comparison to Truman and the world of k-pop idols. We are familiar that k-pop idols broadcast a part of their lives to us, the viewers. And like the audience of Truman's show, fans learn to laugh with them, cry with them, grow with them. They share a lot of things to us and we develop an attachment to our idols. Though this isn't necessarily a bad thing, we have to remember that k-pop idols are still real people living in the real world, and like Truman, they have their own desires and happiness that they want to find and achieve. So as fans, the least we can do is give them the privacy and respect they deserve and let them live the lives they want to live. We don't have the right to tell them what they should do or how they should act or who they should only interact with. If we do so, we are no different from the creator of Truman's show, who wants to cage him inside the fictional world that he created. The idol life is already a f*cked up world as it is, hopefully we shouldn't make it more difficult.

Aaaaaand that's the end of this essay lol (I honestly don't know how to end this well 😅english is not easy). Tho this felt all over the place and the ending got kinda preachy, but idk SVT's song and mv just made me think of these thoughts. I'm glad they released a song and MV like this. I was already SUPER amazed by "Super" but I think I really became more of their fan because of "F*ck My Life". Hopefully the message they want to convey can reach a lot of people, and hopefully SVT themselves can find their true happiness just like Truman.

#Youtube #kpop #seventeen #svt #f*ck my life #seventeen fml #the truman show #noooo im not crying #svt i hope you'll always be happy #thank you for showing us a new side of yours #and hopefully you'll achieve greater things and your music reach more people #k now im just being corny lol #and kinda cringey but idc!!!!!!

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casspurrjoybell-22 · 7 months ago

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The Art of Sin - Chapter 18 - Part 1

•Bain López (Werewolf)

•Noir Laurent (Dark Elf & Sun Elf)

*Warning Adult Content*

My mind felt heavy yet my body was light, as if it wasn't even there.

I saw yet I couldn't at the same time.

Everything was white, a blinding white that would have made me close my eyes but I couldn't seem to move my body.

I couldn't even tell if I had one.

'Am I dead?'

The thought struck me, my mind racing to try and unravel the confusion that was my memories.

Slowly, I started to string together what was my life.

There wasn't any order though.

I couldn't remember the order.

Scenes both disturbing and wonderful played out in my attempt to remember.

I was disgusted by most of them, wanting nothing else then to turn away and bask in this white world.

I couldn't though.

In between the bad, I saw images that made me unbelievably happy.

I was surrounded by people who cared for me, who I cared for.

It was enough to make me keep going.

I began to piece together my existence starting from when I was a child to what I was sure happened recently.

Then the final piece fell into place.

My family held by men.

Their pleas for me to stop.

What did they want me to stop?

Oh. I remember.

Oberous, the vampire the other men followed, was using my body.

It was my plan but I didn't want it.

I hated what I was doing, what my family was forced to see.

It was disgusting.

Even as I took Oberous's life force, I felt shame.

I couldn't help but be happy as I curled up on the floor in agony, choking up blood, as if it were some sort of punishment.

A punishment I still felt I deserved, even in this weird place.

"You wish for punishment?" the voice echoed through the white space, slipping into my ear like a whisper.

I knew who it was immediately.

Oberous.

I didn't panic, knowing exactly what was happening.

"You cannot hurt me in my own mind. Even as we speak, your life force is being broken down and soon you'll be no more."

He chuckled, making me uneasy.

"Ah but you forget, I'll become a part of you. Since we'll be together for a long, long time, how about I tell you about myself?"

I was unable to stop the flood of images from appearing, similar to how I had pieced together my life.

This, however, was much more gruesome.

There was blood, so much of it.

Almost every scene was one of murder, of him ripping into someone for the simple joy of killing.

He didn't need to feed.

He didn't need anything.

I felt nauseated as they continued.

I didn't know how time flowed where I was but it felt like an eternity.

An eternity of blood.

Through it all, he laughed.

He laughed at the disgust that I felt.

He laughed at the expressions of his victims.

It stopped when Lord Nikoli came into view, however.

********

A man, beating him by only an inch in height but by a lot in brawn, stood before a younger Oberous.

The man stared at him and he trembled beneath his gaze, one he loved, one he hated.

Eyes so similar to his own yet completely opposite, held indifference.

"Why?" Oberous whispered, still not looking at the man.

"Why won't you love me, Nikoli?"

Lord Nikoli sighed, running a hand through his hair as the corners of his mouth pulled into a frown.

"It's not that I won't but can't. Love cannot be forced."

"BUT YOU'VE SLEPT WITH COUNTLESS OTHERS."

Lord Nikoli's eyes snapped to the now burning ones of Oberous.

There was no love, there never had been though Oberous had claimed there was.

He did not love Lord Nikoli though try as he might to convince everyone including himself.

He loved the power of having Lord Nikoli, one of the most powerful of their kind, as a lover.

He wanted the respect, the fear, that came with it and for that, Lord Nikoli denied him.

"Fine," there was a dark look in Oberous's eye.

"One day, one day I'll be as powerful as you. I'll find you just to show you that I didn't need you or your love and when I do, Oh you're going to regret it."

With that, he stormed off, leaving Lord Nikoli standing there with suspicion in his eyes, eyes that didn't miss anything.

Not even the slight trembling in Oberous' body or the single tear that made its way down his cheek.

********

Silence.

Neither of us spoke.

"Was that really the reason you came here? Why you did those things? Because Nikoli denied you?"

I felt rage, more than I'd felt in years.

The air around me seemed electrified, sizzling with my fury as what he did, what I did, came back to me.

The pain he caused, the pain my family felt, was because Lord Nikoli wouldn't take him as a lover.

"It's pathetic."

"DON'T YOU DARE TELL ME THAT."

Everything went dark as his voice thundered out with such venom that it stunned me.

The white became an inky black.

My light body suddenly became heavy.

The air was muggy and weighed me down, slowly my thoughts.

It got worse as Oberous spoke.

"He was my everything. I did whatever I could to please him, to make him happy and do you think he cared? No. He ignored my love for him. He destroyed it and turned it into hatred. So I decided to destroy his love."

He chuckled darkly, revealing scene after scene.

In each one, he watched from a distance.

It took me a moment to realize that in every one, Lord Nikoli was the focus, Lord Nikoli and the others.

One scene, in particular, stopped me cold.

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otnesse · 10 months ago

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Don't really give a darn about Ashman's lifestyle or not (I may have my own personal disagreements with the recollection of the whole AIDS thing, since if anything especially thanks to Fauci they tended to DOWNPLAY the gay community's connection to the virus and instead made it sound as though it's effectively a Resident Evil-level pathogen, that you could get it even if you drank a glass someone else drunk, even if you were straight, but that's a topic for another day). What I will state however is that I personally think those who thought they shouldn't have the Enchantress curse Adam as a child seem to really misunderstand her. This was the same lady who cursed several servants, including Chip (an explicit child, and one who definitely never deserved the curse no matter HOW you slice it, whether it be Adam ticking her off or even how Adam was raised.) and his siblings (who can't have been that much older than him), and also cursed at least one animal just because of a spurn ONE person did to her, not to mention cursed the entire surrounding forest to be a dreary place with what are likely to be demonic wolves prowling about. There was absolutely NOTHING fair about what she did, so why bother complaining about that bit? It still would have been unfair even if Adam was an adult instead of a child (even moreso considering Don Hahn's commentary indicated that the curse didn't JUST make him physically resemble a beast, it was also psychological to the extent of turning him more feral over time, with the added implication that the rest of the servants would flat out DIE by becoming literal inanimate objects had he failed to break the curse in time).

Personally, they really should have kept that bit in, and ALSO make the Enchantress the actual explicit bad guy instead of Gaston. Let's face it, what she did in the backstory was simply irredeemable and unjustifiable, and it really makes me sick that there's no confrontation against her at all (Gaston by comparison was small fry regarding his crimes). I mean, we could have gotten an almost Final Fantasy-esque climactic battle against her, even make her a direct foil to Belle as a sign of how SHE could have turned out had she not tried to attempt compassion to Adam. In fact, expanding on that, maybe make Belle part-Fae or whatever the Enchantress was supposed to be, have THAT form the crux of her background (including being a victim of persecution by the villagers out of fear of what she is), and even have as some character development her having a conflict on which part of her background she ought to embrace ultimately, in addition to dealing with the Beast.

Seriously, couldn't we have as the climax something akin to either the Bhunivelze confrontation or even the Ultimalius confrontation? With Belle in Lightning/Clive's position and the Enchantress in Bhunivelze/Ultimalius's position, maybe Adam in Hope Estheim's position (in fact, have Adam upon the curse being lifted also appearing as a child, the implication being that the Enchantress de-aged him and took control of his body). You know, like these scenes:

youtube

Heck, if anything, aside from it actually allowing for it to keep Belle's Fae background from the Villeneuve rendition, the more Final Fantasy-esque climax I think should have been used instead of the one we actually got would also in a way be a neat nod towards Belle's love of a particular genre type.

EDIT: Actually, even better, have Adam in Clive Rosfield's position, have that be an ongoing battle in a metaphysical plane of existence, while Belle deals with the Enchantress in the physical plane of existence a'la Lightning Farron. That would allow for BOTH parties to come out well in this, and even emphasize the true love bit as well.

Still thinking about Disney's Beauty and the Beast and the age of the Prince when he was transformed.

Out of all the creative team, it was Howard Ashman who really wanted the Prince to have been a child when it happened. He was allegedly very angry when the directors insisted the Prince be portrayed as a young adult instead, because the tragic childhood curse was essential to his vision of the Beast's character.

But one of the main arguments that people always make against the idea of the Prince having been a child is that it's unfair. That it would have been too cruel of the Enchantress to punish a young boy that way; that only if he was a man does it really feel just.

Yet maybe Howard Ashman had a reason for wanting that element of injustice in the spell.

Many writers have discussed the impact of Ashman's gayness and his AIDS diagnosis on Beauty and the Beast. I don't need to spell out the ways that the Beast's curse and resulting status as an outcast parallels the life of a gay man with AIDS in the early '90s. Other writers have eloquently done so already. And is AIDS fair? Is AIDS something that its victims deserve? Even if it is their "own fault" that they contract it, does that make them deserve to die of a slow, painful, debilitating illness, which also makes them even more hated and feared by society than they already were for their sexuality?

Of course the Beast doesn't have AIDS. He's under a spell, which is a punishment for having been cruel and unfeeling. Maybe, for the sake of the story being told, it is better for his punishment to feel fully just and deserved. But it also makes sense that Howard Ashman should have wanted an element of unfairness and tragedy to it.

There's a tension in the Beast's character, which I've written about before: on one level, he's portrayed as an unseemly brute who needs to be tamed and transformed, yet on another level, he's a suffering outcast who needs to be understood and accepted. These two different sides of his character make him complex and compelling, but they don't always sit comfortably together. I think this is an area where the tension between those two sides can especially be felt.

#Youtube

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getmemymicroscope · 2 years ago

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The movie was, of course, amazing. The tribute(s) to Chadwick Boseman - the moment of silence at the 'Marvel' opening credits, the celebration of life as the movie begins, the moment of silence at the end, the flashback to some of his scenes - were all brilliantly done, brilliantly handled, and very, very emotional. This did that magnificently. And the turn-around, to take this movie and turn it from Chadwick Boseman-led Black Panther to what we got - well, that was fantastically done too.

The story, meanwhile, was also pretty great - sure, it's a superhero movie, but it's also about people (many people, in fact) dealing with loss. Dealing with it poorly, in some instances, but dealing nonetheless. Shuri, especially, deals with it very poorly - up until she doesn't - but I guess that is to be expected. There's been a lot of loss she's had to deal with, and in pretty quick succession at that. And, to that extent, the bringing back of Kilmonger in the way they did was very, very well handled as well and, once she figures it out, pretty damn impactful.

There's something to be said, in that regard, of her hiding the truth from the others, but then ... it's also a movie. And maybe she just doesn't fully trust them.

Interested in Ironheart, for sure.

What really stood out to me, almost from the start (because of the way the movie plays) is that when she first comes across the 'villains,' the lady describing them just describes them as "blue people." Which is, well, accurate, but more to the point - it would appear that this MCU world does not have the 'Avatar' movies in it. Because that description is not used by anyone, anywhere, at any point in the movie. Odd, since it's also a Disney franchise (and was also releasing a movie soon after), but then, I guess maybe Disney didn't want them to be associated with the 'bad guys.' But still, they have MIT and Anderson Cooper and Boston, you'd think they also have James Cameron.

More frustratingly I think, MCU-wise, is the 'twist' at the end with Namor, which pretty much ends with him being set up as possibly being a returning villain and only agreeing to a truce to hold it over people later (or, well, to exploit at future times). The MCU is getting way too big with all these 'take over the world' characters, and while I understand that that's what superheroes fight and what the MCU needs, it feels like they're just getting too big by expanding into the universe (Kang?, Guardians 3, the Eternals), the multiverse (wherever Strange is going next), the quantumverse (Kang, again), and underwater on Earth (Namor). And, of course, the many evil people already on the land parts of Earth. Like, if anything, you'd have thought that this entire episode, including that final fight scene, might've made him sorta turn good, or at least an ally with Wakanda, and not just 'friends with benefits.' But maybe it's just me - I just, by the end, was sorta done with them and with Shuri not realizing that she was, in fact, turning into yet another Kilmonger.

I'm not sure it tops No Way Home as best Phase 4 movie for me, simply because No Way Home had the return of so many familiar faces who deserved better from the Spider-man universe (not to mention, a sort of redemption for the Amazing version) and reconnecting with childhood (or around there) memories. But that's not to take away from this movie, which was absolutely amazing and really a complete marvel through and through.

#movies #movieblr #gmmm does movies

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duskholland · 4 years ago

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The Fame Game (Part Nine) - Tom Holland

Summary ↠ Breaking up is hard. But breaking up with your fake boyfriend, with whom you’ve fallen irrevocably and painfully in love with? It’s almost impossible.

Warnings ↠ Angst, Y/N’s being stubborn but can we blame her? Cursing and crying. All the good stuff.

Word count ↠ 5.2k

A/N ↠ This part? Emotional rollercoaster and a half. We’re almost at the end of the story, though! :((( Only part ten and the epilogue to go, and I am not okay. Crazy crazy crazy. Anyway, buckle in and enjoy part nine :)

NINE: Expiration Date (Y)

It’s raining in London. Tracks of grey, miserable water stream down the dirty window, obscuring the view of the city beyond. Your fingers are cold as you hold a mug of stale tea, the liquid pale and long-past its best. You’d poured it an hour ago, intending to throw it back and pull yourself out of your stupor, but you’d failed.

Today is the end of your relationship with Tom - the expiration date, as your team likes to call it. In a move of obscene pathetic fallacy, the weather curled across London seems to emanate your innermost thoughts. It’s cloudy and grey, darkness settled across the sky. In the distance, the clouds grow blacker, and a part of you wonders if it’ll thunder later.

You feel a tear slip from one of your eyes, and the warm line traces down your cheek as you sniffle. With slow movements, you finally put down the mug, crossing your arms over your chest as you continue to stare out of the window, vacantly. You’re in your London flat, your belongings in boxes around you. With the conclusion of a final filming project comes the end of your lease, and when you leave London tonight on a plane, you leave behind your flat, your job, and your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend.

Your fake boyfriend, who sometimes acts like your real boyfriend, but has made it all too clear that he is only, only, only your fake boyfriend.

A scowl springs out across your face, and your fingers curl into fists at your sides.

You thought you’d been hurt by Tom before. For years, you’ve felt anger towards him - resentment, irritation, burning frustration. You’ve cursed him out on countless occasions, publicly denounced him, and watched on as he’s returned every move you’ve made against him with equal ferocity. At almost every given opportunity, Tom has launched blow after blow at you, but you’d taken it. You had accepted that that was just your relationship - that sometimes two people don’t get along, and sometimes they thrive off irritating the other. His insults didn’t touch you - not really, not like this. They’d riled you up and they’d made you seethe, but they were just insults - just empty, irritating insults, which you’d returned with a smile on your face. But now…

For the first time, Tom Holland has actually broken your heart.

It’s painful when you think about him, as you cast your mind back to your last day together. You’d been so excited, so hopeful, when you’d turned up at his place in LA, and as he’d laid you down and you’d held one another, you’d felt the love you have for him grow. Each time he’d kissed you, you felt your love deepen. Each pass of his hands over your skin made your heart race, your mind shake. You’d been waiting on the right time to open your mouth, say the three golden words, and then propose giving your relationship a real shot, only for Tom to jump the gun and tell you that he, in fact, loved you.

To have Tom stand opposite you and tell you that he loves you - only to immediately follow it up with a retraction - has shattered you. You can’t stop thinking about the moment that you’d let yourself believe, for one brief, shocking second, that Tom reciprocated your love - that Tom had softened out, and grown to love you, too. His words had knocked you off-guard, but fuck, if they weren’t the sweetest three words you’d ever heard. You’d been fully prepared to drop everything and jump into his arms, only for him to add--

“No… Wait, no.”

You are upset. You are so fucking angry. You are a whirlwind of tears and clenched fists and stiff jaws. The more you contemplate it, the hollower you feel. You have never known heartbreak as pronounced as this.

You hate the power that you’ve given Tom. Hate that you’d walked straight into this, eyes open. You can’t even blame it on blind infatuation, because you’d been aware at every moment how dangerous your budding feelings were, just you’d chosen to ignore the warning signals, too distracted by Tom’s easy smile and his kisses. You hate that you let him break your heart, hate that he’s emerged from this unscathed when you feel the weakest you’ve ever been.

But above all, you hate that you don’t hate him. It would be so easy to slip back into old habits, to return to that blind, festering hatred that used to roar through your veins at the mere mention of his name. You can’t return to that, and every time you try to drum up some anger towards Tom, you’re instead reminded of how nice, and funny, and sweet he can be.

You release a shaky breath. It’s your expiration date, today. All that’s left of your relationship is a visit to Tom’s house to collect your things, and a few pap photographs of you leaving his place, in pieces. There’s no doubt in your mind that the paparazzi will find it convincing: you’ve been a mess for days, your tears will be real. You’re full of apprehension and rattled nerves about seeing him again, about walking back into his house knowing it’ll be the last time and having to act like he hasn’t reached into your chest and ripped out your heart.

You are an actor, to your core, but your role within this relationship has been your hardest performance to date - and you have the sinking suspicion that not even you can pull off the denouement.

The paparazzi are already outside Tom’s as you walk down his front path, raindrops bouncing off your jacket. The flashes from their cameras illuminate the garden, and your eyes hurt as the light glints off the collection of small garden gnomes Harrison and Tom keep in front of their house. You’re quick to drum your knuckles on the front door, tugging on the chords of your hood and trying to shy away from the yelling journalists.

After what feels an eternity, the door is opened. Tom stares out at you, eyes widening as he takes in the pouring rain.

“Shit, it’s wet today, isn’t it?” He mutters, quickly moving aside. You hurry into the house, sighing contentedly as the warmth envelops you. You kick off your shoes, but your fingers are frozen solid and you can’t quite tug the zip of your coat. “Do you need help?”

You glance up, seeing Tom eyeing your shivering fingers as you try and fail to release the slippery zip. “Yeah,” you mutter, quickly glancing away. It’s not your intention to stay long, but you’re not so inconsiderate that you’d traipse through Tom’s entire house in a dripping jacket.

You stay very still as Tom steps forward, one of his hands holding the bottom of your jacket as the other goes up to the zip. His tongue slips out between his teeth, and a deep crease appears between his eyebrows as he grasps the zip and carefully tugs it down. A smile splits over his face, and you sigh as the coat releases.

“There you go.” Tom doesn’t stop there, though. He goes so far as to help you wiggle out of the jacket, and even hangs it up on the peg for you. The same peg you’d used when you’d stayed with him a few months ago. Your peg. “So.” Tom rocks back on his feet, looking at you through narrowed eyes. “Why haven’t you been answering my texts?”

You clear your throat, crossing your arms over your chest. “What?”

“Y/N.” Tom steps a little closer, his eyes wide with hurt. “My calls, too. I really needed to talk to you.”

“Sorry,” you fib. You’re not sorry, not even one bit. Every time you’d watched your phone go through to answerphone, you’d felt a little stronger. “I’ve been busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Oh, you know. Stuff.”

Tom frowns at you. “Well, I needed to talk to you.”

“Yeah, you said that.” You clear your throat, shaking out your arms as you try to lighten the air between you. You hadn’t meant to come into your last encounter with Tom with so much hostility on your shoulders, but being so close to him again makes your chest ache. “Sorry,” you mutter. “What did you want to talk about?”

Tom nods his head. “Well, it’s… It’s complicated.” Now he’s hesitant, with reluctance clinging to his features. You feel irritation stir inside as you watch him fluster. All you want to do is get this over and done with, so you can leave his house before you start crying again. You don’t want to drag this out.

“Well, can we talk about it as I pack my things?” You ask, your voice clipping a little at the edges.

“Uh, yeah, I guess.” Tom moves out of the way, letting you into the main body of the house. “What do they want us to do, again?”

You bite your lip as you see the photograph that hangs from the wall in the hallway. It’s new, and it shows you, Harrison and Tom, laying out together on one of their sofas. You remember the night well: Harry had taken the picture, teased Tom for the way he’d got you wrapped up in his arms and refused to let go for the duration of the scary film you were all watching. On your other side is Harrison, glaring at you and Tom, mock outrage on his face. It was a good night - near the end of your trip to London, back when things were better.

“Did they send you a box?” You say, voice vacant. You can’t stop looking at the photo, at the way Tom has his face buried in your neck. You look so happy. “They want me to put all my stuff in a box. Apparently, paps just need to see me leaving with all of my things, and then they’ll get the picture.”

“Pretty simple, then?” Tom drops down to his knees, beginning to rummage in the cupboard under the stairs until he procures a big red box. “This is the one they sent.” He passes it up to you. “Will that be big enough?”

“Yeah. I only have a few things here, I think.”

“Cool. Do you want to start upstairs?”

“Why not.”

You feel awkward as you slowly climb the staircase. The air between you is unsettled, and you can tell Tom’s hurt that you’re clearly less than enthused to be here. Part of you wants to soothe him, but the other part wants to run, run, run.

“Harrison not here?” You ask as you walk past his empty bedroom. You enter their spare room, which you’d been crashing in back when you’d stayed, and quickly start pulling out the odd book and bottle you’d left. Management had instructed you to leave a few things back when you’d left, and now you understand why.

“Nah, Liverpool,” Tom says. “It’s just me.” He sits on the edge of the bed, watching as you quickly pile everything into your box. “Look, Y/N, can we please talk?”

“I’m listening.”

“No, no.” Tom stands up, and you freeze as he reaches out for your arm. The second his warm fingers touch your skin, a lump comes to your throat. “I need to- we need to talk.” You stay completely still, closing your eyes as you feel him slide his hand up your arm. His palm rests on your shoulder, weighted and familiar, and the contact makes your heart pang.

“What do you want to talk about, Tom?” You ask, voice hoarse. You keep your eyes shut. The scent of his cologne is so familiar it brings back the tightness in your chest. You aren’t sure if you’re so upset because this is the last time you’ll be together, or if it has more to do with the fact that you can’t look at Tom without being reminded that he doesn’t love you.

“Come and sit down. I can make tea.”

You suck in a deep breath. “You know that I’m walking out of your house in ten minutes and probably never coming back again, yeah?” You mutter. “What’s so important that it deserves a cup of tea?”

Tom only chuckles, not seeming to mind the bitterness of your voice. “I’ll tell you. Over tea.” He squeezes your shoulder, and you finally open your eyes. Your vision swims with tears, but if he notices it, he doesn’t comment on it. “You can pack your stuff up here, and I’ll meet you in the living room. Okay?”

You nod. “Alright.”

You try to delay your conversation for as long as possible, which takes you on a short trip into Tom’s bedroom. In your defence, you don’t mean to snoop - you did, in fact, leave your favourite book on his desk - but you do also take the opportunity to have a little look around.

On Tom’s windowsill is a line of very dead plants, their leaves shrivelled and broken. You roll your eyes as you peer into the empty watering can, chuckling softly. Typical. On his desk is a pile of scripts, dog-eared and stained with the round marks of spilt tea, and crumpled clothes hang everywhere, shoved over various armrests and laying in heaps on the floor. Tom’s entire room is organised chaos.

What catches your eye, though, is the large shelf hammered into the wall. You’ve been in Tom’s room before, hell, you’d spent your last night in London in his bed, but you’d never taken the time to look up and examine this shelf. Settled in the middle of it, gathering dust, is Tom’s BAFTA. You sigh, and instinctively, you reach up and take it.

It’s heavy in your hands. You’ve felt it before, but you’d forgotten the weight of the blue glass trophy. When you’d last touched it, it’d been on the night of the show, and Tom had thrust it into your hands mockingly, making some flippant comment about it being a mark of his success. You’d immediately tossed it back at him, almost dropping it in the process, and shut him down with a snide remark.

Now, you run your thumbs over the award. The curves are smooth beneath your fingertips. You blink a few times, and two tears splash out onto the thing. As you rub them away, you take a deep, shuddering breath.

Pull yourself together, Y/N.

You swallow, and when you release a deep exhalation, you feel steadier. The award goes back to the shelf, and you pick up your box. Just ten more minutes. One conversation, one cup of tea, and ten more minutes. Then you can leave him behind.

How much can change in ten minutes, anyway?

There’s something melancholic about the way you find yourself sitting on Tom’s sofa, facing him again. You’re in the same position that you were in back when you’d customised your shoes together, before everything had gone to shit: you, leaning up against one armrest, Tom against the other, both of you with your legs outstretched and meeting in the middle. Tessa has staked her claim sitting on your feet, and as you sip nervously at your tea, you keep your eyes on her.

“So.” Tom’s fidgeting. If he’s not drumming his fingers over the ceramic of his mug, he’s picking at the strap of his watch. “I need to talk to you.”

You wince a smile. “Yeah, you keep saying that.” You take a sip of your tea. It’s still hot, and it burns the tip of your tongue, but part of you wants to down the whole thing just so you can leave. Being so close to him makes your chest sting.

Tom takes a deep breath. “I said something really stupid the last time we were together. I was… I was just going to leave it, but then I realised that doing that would be even more stupid,” he starts. Immediately, you feel yourself bristle. You can’t have this conversation again.

“We don’t need to talk about it, Tom,” you mutter. “What’s the point? I’m leaving soon.”

“Which is exactly why we need to talk about it, love.” Tom’s eyes are wide, a hint of desperation swirling in them. He sets his tea down on the coffee table and sits up straighter. “I didn’t mean it.”

You sigh, rubbing at your forehead as you feel another stab of pain in your chest. He’s really twisting the knife, now.

“I know,” you remind him. “You’ve already told me that you didn’t mean it.”

“No, no.” Tom shakes his head, running a hand through his curls. “No.” He’s visibly anxious, but you’re too perplexed to consider offering him any comfort. “I mean… I said I didn’t love you. Well, I said I loved you, and then I took it back.”

You release a sound somewhere between a whimper and a groan, and it brings on a fresh set of tears. “Yes, I remember, Tom.”

“Well, I was wrong.”

Very slowly, you look up at him. You put down the tea and bring your knees to your chest, staring at him through hard eyes.

“What?” You say, voice dull.

“I was wrong. I shouldn’t have taken it back.” “Tom.” You’re exasperated and confused. “What are you trying to say?”

“I love you, Y/N. I’m in love with you.”

Your eyebrows pull together. “What?”

“I love you.” Tom’s lips quirk into a soft, warm smile. “And- And I know you probably don’t feel the same way, and you probably don’t want to hear it, but I had to tell you before you leave. You have to know how I actually feel.” He sits forward, and his foot nudges your knee. “I love you. I’m sorry for being a dick, I just… I panicked, I guess.”

Your brain feels like it’s running slow, wading miles behind the rest of you. You’ve spent so many days coming to terms with the fact that Tom doesn’t love you that the evidence for the contrary isn’t sinking in.

“What- but you said that you didn’t love me?” You puzzle.

“I was wrong.”

You look at him. You look at him long and hard. Your eyes dissect the soft smile on Tom’s lips, the eagerness in his eyes, and the blush on his cheeks.

You don’t believe him.

“How can you get something like that wrong?” You ask him, frazzled. “Tom, I- I don’t know if I can trust anything that you say.”

Tom raises an eyebrow. “So you want it to be true?”

“What? Shut up, this isn’t about me.” You have a lump in your throat. “Tom, this is- this is about you, not knowing how you feel.”

“But I do know how I feel. I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you-”

“Stop.”

You can’t take it. With every repetition, it feels like Tom’s rubbing it in your face.

“Y/N?”

You stand up from the sofa, displacing Tessa who whimpers in response.

“You’re so cruel, Tom.”

Tom scrambles to his feet too, hopping as he regains his balance. He stands in front of you. “What? What do you mean?” His eyes are wide with hurt. “I’m being honest, Y/N. How is it cruel to love you?”

Tears form in your eyes.

“You don’t get to take it back. You… First, you said that you loved me. Do you… Do you know how happy that made me?” You screw your hands into fists, voice hoarse. “I thought, for a second, that you loved me. I really, really did. I thought that we could end this stupid thing and just be happy. But then, you turn around, and you take it back. You’re not allowed to take back a declaration of love, Tom. Do you know how- how crushing that was?”

“-But-”

“No, I’m talking.” The end of your nose tingles, and you reach up to brush the wetness from your cheeks. “You… You broke my heart, Tom. Because I-” You break off, and you meet his eyes. You speak directly to him. You finally bare your soul. “I love you, Tom. I fell in love with you, and so for you to turn around and take it back-” You break off, waving a hand through the air. “It broke my heart.”

“I’m sorry.” His voice is raw, and you watch as Tom rubs at his eyes. “I didn’t know, Y/N.”

“How am I supposed to believe you?” You look at the floor, vision blurry. “How am I supposed to believe that you aren’t going to turn around in two minutes and take it back again?” You rub at your arms. “Why do you get all of the power?”

Tom steps closer, but you just move away. “Y/N, please. I don’t want to hurt you. I would never, ever want to hurt you. I was confused, but I know now more than ever how I feel about you.”

“But you have hurt me, Tom,” you say, finally looking back at him. “Our entire relationship has been us hurting each other. Why should it be any different now?”

Tom clasps his hands together, his cheeks red and ruddy. “We both know it’s different now.”

“Is it?” You release a dim laugh. “Because I feel, just now, exactly as horrible as I used to feel when we’d argue, Tom. All we’ve ever done is hurt.”

“That’s the past.” Tom’s voice is picking up now, growing in strength. When he looks at you, you see his jaw flexing. “I’m sorry for the ways I’ve acted, Y/N, but I can’t change it now. All I can tell you is that you’ll be making a bad decision if you walk out of the door.”

“I have to.” It’s too much to process - too much to think about when Tom’s looking at you so desperately. This morning you’d woken up expecting an awkward visit and then a plane ride far, far away from him. This revelation upends all of that.

“No, you don’t.” Finally, you let Tom take your hands. He runs his thumbs over the back of your palms and you whimper. “Stay. Stay here with me. Fuck PR, fuck the paps. We can be together. We can love each other.” He smiles again, softly. “Let me love you. Please.”

It’s very tempting. As Tom holds your hands tightly and stares into your eyes, you want so desperately to cave. You want to throw yourself into his arms and tell him that you love him, that yes, yes, of course you’ll stay with him. But you think back to all the tears that you’ve shed, and you look at his face, and you’re reminded of the night at the BAFTAs when he’d thrust his polished trophy into your face and bragged about it. You think about all of the times he’s made moves against you and tried to trip you up. You think about your last day together, and how easily he’d retracted his statement.

How can he stand here in front of you, and ask you to forget about all of that so easily?

“I can’t.”

You step away from Tom and instead grab your big red box. You walk quickly into the hallway, your eyes full of hot tears. He follows.

“Yes, you can.”

You sit on the stairs and start lacing up your shoes, staring at Tom angrily.

“I can’t.” Your fingers shake as you tie your laces. “I have a flight. I have a life in LA that I need to get back to. This was never part of the plan, Tom. You’re my fake boyfriend. You aren’t supposed to be my real boyfriend.”

“But you love me.” Tom’s blocking your way, his biceps bulging from his black t-shirt as he stands in front of you desperately. “You told me. You said that you love me, Y/N, and I’m telling you that I love you too.”

“Love isn’t always enough, Tom.” It hurts to look at him, to think about how easily and foolishly he’s handled your heart. “Let me go.”

“Love can be enough.” It’s his final attempt; you can see it in his eyes. “Don’t let us end like this, Y/N. Please.” He takes your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips. His mouth moves over your skin, dropping kisses to your cold skin.

You feel trapped. You know the car is waiting outside, and it’s all come on too fast, too soon.

“Tom,” you say. You pull your hand from his grasp. “Let me go.”

Tom steps aside. He finally slumps against the wall, pressing his head into his hands. “Is this what you really want?” His voice is raw, broken, and his eyes are red.

You tug your soaking jacket from the peg on the wall as you shrug haplessly. “You can’t drop these feelings on me ten minutes before I’m out the door and expect me to change my life for you.” You look at him. “It isn’t fair.”

“Fine.” Tom stands up straighter. “You should take off your hoodie, then. It’s mine. Wouldn’t be the best impression of the paparazzi to be seen wearing my clothes, would it?”

You drop your jacket to the floor and start shuffling out of the pink hoodie. It’s an oversized fit, and it comes off easily, but you chuckle bitterly. Tom’s taken everything from you - your heart, your sanity - even the very clothes from your back. What more could he possibly want to take?

“There.” You shove it into his hands and angrily pull on your coat. The sleeves are cold and damp against your skin, making you shiver. “Happy now?”

Tom looks down at the jumper. “No,” he says, voice soft. His eyes are round again, widening further as you reach for the front door. “Y/N, please.”

Your fingers linger on the doorknob, cold to touch. You hesitate. When you glance back at Tom, your resolve crumbles. As frustrated and bemused as you are, you love him. You love him, and he’s your best friend, and you’re leaving him.

“Tom,” you whimper. You step away from the door, dodging the box, and fold into his arms, crying with your face on his shoulder. Tom’s arms wrap around your back and he pulls you in tightly. “I’m sorry.” You aren’t sure what you’re apologising for - your departure, your broken heart, your tears staining his shirt. You just know you are so overcome with every emotion that it’s overflowing now, leaving your mouth in ugly sobs.

“Shh.” Tom rolls a hand over your back, patting in large circles. Your jacket crinkles at the action, and you think you can feel his chest shake. “It’s okay.”

You stay in his arms, your face buried in his neck until you stop crying. Even then, you feel clogged up and weakened. He’s so warm - his embrace strong, and comfortable. You feel protected, and when you step back, you feel your heart break again.

“I’m sorry, Tom.” You wipe at your eyes and pick up the red box. Tom’s face falls in response. “I just… I need time. I’m not- I’m not saying that we can never be together, I just… I can’t stay just now. It’s too fresh, I don’t...”

“It’s okay.” Tom steps forward. One of his hands goes to the doorknob, the other rests on your shoulder. He’s near to you - so near that you can see the flecks of pain in his eyes and the freckles on his face. His gaze flickers down to your lips. “I can wait.”

You lean in and kiss him, softly. His lips taste of salty peppermint.

“I… I’ll see you later.” You want to say it, want to tell him so desperately that you love him, but the words choke in the back of your throat.

Tom just smiles, the action not stretching to his eyes. He tilts his head towards the door. “Are you ready?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

Tom looks at the box in your hands and reaches up. He tugs up the hood of your jacket and tucks your hair into it carefully. “Safe flight, darling.”

“Thank you.”

He opens the door and steps aside, and then you’re on your own.

London Heathrow Terminal 5 is very empty. You’re sitting alone in the back corner of the waiting room, hood drawn around your face, sunglasses resting heavily over your nose. You haven’t been able to stop shaking since you left Tom’s house. Feeling numb through bag drop, security, and duty-free, it’s a miracle you’ve made it to your gate on time.

You close your eyes, and you see him. You open your eyes, and you expect to see him. He’s everywhere.

Is this what you really want..?

It plays on loop, lilted in his voice. Is this what you really want? To be sat alone, crying in Heathrow airport, when Tom is waiting back at home, finally willing to take you into his arms?

You sniff as you wipe at your eyes, furiously trying to stem the flow of tears. It had all happened so quickly; it felt almost unfair.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket, and you’re grateful for the distraction.

Tom <3: Have a safe flight. I’m sorry for being such a dick. I know you don’t want to hear it, but I love you. I love you and I’ll wait for you. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to figure it out. I love you. Xxxxxxxxxx

You put the phone down, sucking in a deep breath. Your eyes fall to your feet. You notice, for the first time, that you’re wearing your special personalised Converse.

With shaking hands, you pull off your sunglasses and stare at your feet. The ink has run a little, obscured by the pouring London rain, but you can still make out some of the shapes Tom had drawn over them, all those weeks ago. A love heart, a flower, a couple holding hands. The lump in your throat grows bigger.

Is this what you really want..?

“Now boarding, Flight BA0269, London Heathrow to LAX. We now invite our platinum club to board.”

You sigh. You stand up and pull your backpack over your shoulders. You look back at your feet.

The love heart is wobbly and uneven, and you remember the look of concentration on Tom’s face as he’d tried his best to doodle over your shoes. The room had been so warm, back then. Just the two of you, together, finding comfort in one another’s company. It’d been simple, and you can remember looking up at him and feeling warmth for him in your heart.

Is this what you really want..?

No.

Your relationship has felt like a series of rash decisions lately, and you aren’t about to make the final, irreversible choice of leaving London. You can’t leave - not now, with the path finally clear. You can’t leave Tom, who’s finally told you how he feels. He’s messy, and complicated, and being around him makes you feel like your heart is on fire, but you love him. You love him, and maybe he’s right - maybe love is enough.

You know that you have come too far to throw it all away without giving him a chance.

You’ve never been a fan of bold, romantic gestures, but as they call your gate again, you turn off your phone and you turn around. You turn around, and you run. You run back to him.

↠ next part

#sob #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland #tom holland series #crying on main time #y/n #y/n use #self insert #self-insert #tfg #ahhhhHHHHH screaming truly #what am i gonna do with my fridays when im finished with this series!!#:((( anyways #please let me know what you're thinking :)))#almost didn't include the final scene in this part but :)) i thought it deserved to make the final cut

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megdoesstuff · 7 months ago

Text

YEAAAA 2ND PART THOUGHTS 😭😭 I AM SO SORRY LMAO

IT'S THEM!!!! KNEW THEY'D COMEEEE THEY HAD TOOOOO THEY'RE BACK!!!!!!!

hell no. NONONOLLDOSOZO GWENDY NO

SHE CAN'T DIE KATZYQHZH

oof they went to save her and she went to save him HOPEFULLY,,,,, HOPEFULLY THEY'LL BE FINE 😞😞

OH. OH?? BITCH OF A QUEEN ATEE WITH THIS ONE AT LEAST

that's one fuck we didn't need that's gone, gonna sleep a little better at night 🥰

OHHHHHHH BUT GIRLLLLL

GIRL KILLING HER WAS NOT THE SOLUTION.......... AND NOW KILLING R AINT THE SOLUTION EITHERRR SHE DIDN'T DO ANYTHING 😭😭

FUCK YES

FINALLY, MF GOT WHAT HE DESERVED NOW GO AWAY

FALL OFF THE ROOF OR SMTH JUST LEAAAAAVE THEMM ALONEEEEE

hell no. NO PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

WHY IS HE STILL ALIVEEEEE JUST DIE ALREADYYY GOD DAMNIT

HOBIE 😭😭 HE'S DESPERATE OMG IT'S BREAKING MY HEARTTTT JUST LET HIM BE

"No more sacrifices" THAT INCLUDES YOU DON'T DO IT DON'T NO HELL NO STOP

i died. mentally. during that scene. SOBBING I CAN'T EVEN- URHESGSGQH

JUST OMFGJSVZQGMSKAAAHAHQHAAA

IM GOING INSANE U CANT DO THISSSSSS

YES!!!!!!! SHE SWAMMMM SHE SWAM OH MY GOD SHE'S ALIVE!!! WHEN HE HE HOLDS HER AGAIN 😭😭 YOU CANNOT KEEP SEPERATING THEM AND LETTING THEL SEE EACHOTHER AGAIN IN A LOOP THEY THEY THEY

AHZJSVSHAHZ

awwhhhhhh 😭😭 THE LOVELIESSSSS

at least she got it for good. HOME IS HOBIE!!

im sorry but i thought of an egg, against her head at the end. she's just making an omelet for him at the end- SORRY

im lying i was giggling and kicking my feet THEY'RE HAPPY AND SAFE

the captain of his heart teehehehhijizjejz THE CAPTAIN OF HIS HEART AWW

!!!!!!! I CANT EVEN SAY ANYTHING I JUST

FORVERRRRR YES FOREVER YOU CAN'T SEPERATE THEM AGAIN IN BOOK TWO 😭😭 YOU CAN'T TORN MY HEART AGAIN LIKE THISSSS ESPECIALLY WITH THE KNIVES!!

i didn't even mention it but THE KNIVES METAPHOR, THE KNIVESSS 😭😭😭

LET'S GO HONEYMOON WOOO SHE'S GONNA MOVE CABINS

katy i can't say how much i loved this serie 😭😭 it was amazinggggg, THANK YOUU for writing it and you write SO WELL, definitely would buy and read one of your books if you ever wrote one!! so proud of you for writing this too omg LIKE 115K+ WORDS?? WHILE POSTING ALMOST EVERY WEEK A CHAPTER OR ONESHOT?? you're amazing, genuinely 😭👏 LY!!!💗

...And The Deep Blue Sea

Pairing: Pirate! Hobie Brown x Fem! Reader

Word count: 13.2k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, No specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), CW food mentions, TW blood, CW violence, TW death, CW gore, CW injury, CW guns.

A/N: it's the end.

Navigation

Between the Devil and the Sea Masterlist

CHAPTER 15 >>>

“Hello, little birdy.” Mathias cackles like there's a pebble stuck in his throat.

He roams his sickly yellowed eyes at your body, sending shivers down your spine with every glance. “Or should I say Viscountess?” He laughs again. “You wear that gown well,” his eyes flick behind you, “Eugene, my boy!” The man beside you stiffens up. “Come get your bride and sit with me.” He drums at the table. “The Food is comin’, I heard that the bride and groom usually don't get to eat after everything is said and done. We don't want you to starve, ain't that right, lieutenant?”

The eye patched man standing in the corner nods slowly. His hands are neatly tucked behind his back like an obedient dog waiting for his master.

“You're alive?” You say breathlessly, teeth gritted, knuckles clenching tight on the skirt of your dress. Pulse rapidly thrumming, sending alarm bells to ring in your ear.

“‘course I am! No one can kill the king's flame, not even the red hydra,” he spits the name out. “or even a real fuckin' hydra.” Chuckling, scars mar his neck and hands, the only visible ones under his navy blue officer's uniform. It's still red and angry, you can tell some parts of it hasn't healed yet. You plan to add more, whether it's by your bare hands or a piece of cutlery; you're prepared to hit him where it hurts.

Numerous medals are on display on his jacket, shining under the sunlight filtering through the closed curtains. “Can you believe it? I go out to hunt the red hydra and I get myself a pretty bird.” He continues annoyingly, voice crackling, a dry cough escaping his pale mouth.

Mathias notices you still standing in the doorway, his eyes are dull, like a hurricane that's about to devastate a whole town. Eugene notices and he reaches for your arm to sit you down. You flinch away from his touch, eyes trained on the man before you.

“I said sit down!” Mathias’ booming voice rings out in the dining hall, his fist slamming on the table, champagne flutes fall over like dominoes with a harsh crack. “Fuckin’ grab her, Eugene! Don't be such a fuckin’ cock and grab her!”

“Y-yes uncle.” Your ‘fiance’ tentatively guides you towards the chair by your elbow, you brush off his touch, angry eyes gazing at his cowardly face.

Sitting down on the right side of Mathias, you intentionally choose a chair as far away from him as possible. But before you could sit, he clicks his tongue, finger wagging in front of his scarred face.

“Not there, gorgeous.” He pats the seat closest to him. “Right here.”

“No,” you stand your ground, shaking from anger, or is it fear that climbs in your stomach and crawls upwards to your quickening heart?

You refuse to get near the monster as Eugene stares across from you with anxiety in his eyes.

“Sit. Down.” Mathias enunciated, “or Lieutenant Dubois here will make you sit down.” Said uniformed man grunts, hazel eye roaming across the table, gaze boring a hole in between your twitching eyes. The sheath of his cutlass is engraved with tally marks among the ornate laurels and lions. “You already know what he'll do to you, he's quite amazing with a sharp object.”

“I am too.” You clench your jaw, still refusing to sit.

To your surprise, Mathias grins, a sickeningly hideous smile, teeth bared, tongue lapping at the gold in place of the fangs, lips wrinkling, he chuckles softly as something passes by his yellowed eyes.

“Sorry ‘bout that, you just reminded me so much of your father.” He leans on the back of his chair, hands gesturing towards you. “I literally saw him instead of you! It's fuckin' crazy innit?” He shoves Eugene by the shoulder, the viscount flinches, wincing at the ache. “Y’know, I recognized you— wait, lieutenant! Grab her and make her sit down! This story deserves to be listened to properly.”

“No!” You try to run back to the hallway, but the man is too fast for you. With the heavy skirt and weak leg, you didn't have a chance against him. “Motherfucker—!” With his arms around your torso, you kick and flail about, Mathias gives him a look and the man headbutts you from behind.

The room spins as he carries you towards the chair. The ceiling swirls, ears flooding with your rushing blood. With your muddled hearing, you swear you heard Eugene defend you, and you swear you heard a slap right after.

With a heavy thunk, the door closes behind you, your exit closes behind you. The only remaining door is across you, it's currently closed but you're sure it's unlocked judging by the draft coming from it. Head still aching, vision warbling, the one eyed man stands in front of the only exit.

“Now where was I?” Mathias continues like nothing happened. You glare at him through the corner of your eyes, your skin feels like spikes from the goosebumps rising above. “Ah, yes! I recognized you on the ship, before a literal myth came eating my crew. By the way, what the fuck was that, huh? Fuckin' weird, right?”

“Shut the fuck up.” You say weakly.

“Anywho, You looked a lot like your father but with your mother's beauty. I knew them, your father more so. Once upon a time he was my lieutenant, he was pretty good at it too. Too bad he had to disobey orders and marry above his station.”

“Why don't you ever shut up?” You lay your elbows on the table, arms flat, slyly covering the steak knife under your arm. “Are you a narcissist? Do you like hearing your own voice—?”

Mathias hurls a salad plate at your head. You dodge it in time before it shatters on the floor. You don't have time for this, you need to get to Hobie immediately, before it's too late. You have no plan, no weapons, but you'll be damned if you don't try. And you can still hear his screams echoing in your ears, as if he's already dead, as if he's already haunting you.

You need to try. Or it'll be your end too.

The monster before you clears his throat. “Don't be rude.” He points a finger at you.

You now notice how worse for wear he is, under the white paint and powdered wig lies injuries that haven't healed since the fight. You smell it, the herbs hastily smudged, and the rot in his flesh. It seeps into his bones, poisoning his body. You just wish it'll eat at him faster.

You're suddenly not afraid anymore.

“Anyway, before I was rudely interrupted. Your father, well, he fought a good fight on the Demeter. He stood his ground till the very end until a dozen or so bullets pierced his skin.”

The crescent in your palms gets deeper.

“He was smart though, smarter than you probably. You see, he rigged the ship to blow. He had the fuckin' balls to do it even though his entire family was inside. Ain't it funny—?” The double doors swing open.

The butler interrupts his speech, a handful of staff bring in an entire chicken at his plate. One pours him a glass of wine before he snatches the entire bottle and places it right next to his glass. Hot soup and meat pie is brought in also, the smell is appetizing but you place your hand over your plate wordlessly, telling them you're not hungry at the moment. How could you be when Mathias eats in front of you like he hasn't eaten in decades?

The tension is thicker than the cream placed in front of Eugene.

He munches loudly as he takes apart the roast. String of meat flies all over, the former white table cloth turns brown when he wipes his hands on it. Eugene spares you a look, eyes staring forlornly at his empty plate. His hand inching closer towards his goblet before deciding to just drink the ruby liquid.

You're on your own.

The wolves devour their fill whilst you plan your escape. Your mind screams for you to run, to run where no one can find you. The voice echoing in your ears is right at one thing, but you'll never hide anymore, not from Mathias, not from your past, not from anyone. You'd face it with fire in your veins just like your father had.

Mathias snorts, and you wish it was a choke. “He fought well, got a few of my men. How do you think the lieutenant here lost his eye?” He points at the stoic man using a half eaten chicken leg. “Your father was brilliant with a sword. A crack shot with a blunderbuss too. But, eh, it was all in vain. He shouldn't have messed with the crown and polite society.”

He continues to loudly eat, hands slick with oil, mouth full of meat. “You see, your mother was that fuckin' woman. Wealth, looks, title, she had it all. And the king wanted it too, greedy bastard he is.” There it is, the confession. But you still listen because you know something else will come after. “But your mum decided to run off and elope with the bastard son of an unpopular lord. The king was pissed off.”

Mathias laughs roughly. “But he got over it.”

Your eyes widened, but before you could hide it, the devil noticed.

“I knew you ain't as smart as your dear old dad.” He smiles, you can see the meat stuck in his golden teeth.

“He was the crowned prince,” Mathias rips open the chicken in half messily. “And he needed a wife from one of the big families.” He doused the meat in salt, “and the greedy fuck chose someone who didn't want him, just for the fun of it. Who could blame her, all he ever wanted was a brood of children to pass on his blood.” He takes a generous bite, teeth meeting flesh, the sound of his chewing makes you hasten your plan. “Thank fuck Frederick's father ain't as stupid as his son. That man sought out the opportunity when given to him and fuckin' took it. Too bad he didn't live long enough to see the fruit of his labour.”

Anger settles in your stomach, fury in your eyes and flesh, you want to damn him, and everyone involved. Especially her.

“It's her isn't it?” You say as you slither your hand towards the ceramic bowl. “The Queen, it was all her.”

Mathias smiles genuinely, “You finally got it, little bird!” He claps. “She's fuckin' brilliant, and so are her coffers. The pay,” he whistles out, “the pay was magnificent, still is by the way. I didn't even need to become an admiral for the money when I'm earning more than a fuckin’ duke.” Kicking Eugene under the table, he makes his godson choke on his drink. “See, I told you the little duchess here is just your type.”

His voice fuels your fury. Each vowel is grating in your ears, every wheezed breath he takes is a reminder that he still lives. A reminder that your knife isn't stuck in his throat.

“It ain't as bad as you think it is,” The navy man continues. “Married to my boy, you'd have a title, a home and a decent family. At least now you don't have mister Brown crawling all over you. He'd be dead by sundown, and I can't wait to see it.”

Mathias thinks his words would make you do something drastic that'll have his hands wrapped around your neck. But you've learned your lesson, so you bide your time, taking their attention away from your wandering hands.

“You're dying.” The heat from the bowl matches the fire in you. Your voice doesn't shake, nor your resolve. “Even with all the coin she gave you, you still can't save yourself. You are riddled with sepsis, I can smell it on you. A collapsed lung from the way you cough, and whatever the fuck disgusting shit you have in you. You are dying, rotting from the inside like how it's meant to be. And the world will be better off without you. They will forget you, first, your poor family, then your men, then the entire country. Even your bitch of a queen will forget you. Then the world. But Hobie will be remembered. His name will be etched in the annals of history while your name fades into obscurity.” You laugh humorlessly, teeth bared, eyes aflame. “And I can't wait to see it.”

He seethes in his seat, hand clenching around the cutlery. The devil doesn't show his anger bluntly this time, he hides it because you struck a nerve. With a grin, you promise to Hobie and to your parents that Mathias won't live to see the day end.

“Do you remember what I told you in the revenge?” You continue with a smile that sends shivers down the spine of everyone in the room. The quiet lieutenant remembers the day he lost his eye. “I intend to fulfill that promise.”

Through a clenched jaw, he coughs again, hiding his weakness from everyone in the room and how a drop of blood stains his pale lips. “I love it when women show me their claws. But I can't stay. I would love to see the ceremony and the festivities, but I can't miss the execution. That's why I came here earlier so I could pass on my blessings.” Mathias wipes his mouth clean harshly. “If you'd excuse me, I places to be—”

Before he could stand up, you quickly fling the bowl right on his painted face. The hot soup splashes on his skin, melting the white powder off his face. With his guttural scream, within a split second before his man could intervene, you take the steak knife and plunge it into his hand and into the table.

The screams he let out was music to your ears, holding the hilt of the weapon, you twist it before yanking it out of his flesh, tearing his hand in half, ripping the nerves and letting waterfalls of crimson into the white tablecloth. With a determined yell, you aim for his throat.

Mathias recovers a second before steel meets his skin, he backhands you with the same injured hand. The knife falls off your hand. Pain blooms on your face, and you go blind as your head hits the floor. His blood dirties your pristine white gown, splotches of red drenching the bodice.

Your left eye stings, cheek heated from the harsh slap. Despite your lungs gasping for air through your possible broken nose, you crawl over to Mathias. Your scorn drives you to grab his leg, pulling him down with a strong tug, he falls hard on his back, splitting the floorboards in half. Taking the crown off your head, you use the pointy end to stab his leg and his knee in quick succession. He yells and yells but you don't stop. The ichor from his wounds drenches your face and hands, you see red, and you see his untimely death in your blood soaked hands.

Climbing further up, you use the opportunity to aim at his groin. But a pair of arms stops you before you could hit your mark. Thrashing, slashing the hands around your shoulders, you mark the man with the same bloodied tiara.

“Fuckin’ bitch!” Mathias stands up, limping, he unsheathes his lieutenant’s cutlass from his hip. With a stomp over your thigh, he pushes in the heel of his boot as you let out a cry. The steel is pointed at your heart, his eyes demand blood for blood. “I should've just killed you instead—”

A shot rings out, the bullet hits the blade, breaking it in half. Mathias flinches before he smiles at the one who shot him. There on the opposite doors, stands Miguel O’hara with his gun raised, barrel aimed at his former comrade. Lyla stands next to him, her own blunderbuss raised towards the man holding on to you.

“Let her go and there won't be any more bullets flying around.” Miguel's voice is steady, back straight, eyes flicking over to you writhing on the floor.

“You better listen, cyclops, O’hara here might hesitate but I won't. Let our girl go.” Lyla reassures you with a nod, and you bite your captor's hand.

You tear his flesh open with your teeth, ichor filling your mouth as he hisses in pain, dropping you unceremoniously on the floor.

Mathias looks at you with wide eyes, disbelief in his burned face. “I guess you learned a thing or two from your man.”

You spit out the chunk of flesh whilst your eyes never leave his. Crimson dripping off your lips like rain, teeth the same colour as the wine spilled on the table, you smile at him.

“Come near me and I'll show you what else he taught me.”

The man before you laughs genuinely, yet his eyes never leave yours, making sure you stay away from him. You're more than ready to close the gap. The cutlass is still trained on you, you're about to pounce when Miguel calls your name with urgency. As if he can read your mind.

“Your girl is fuckin' insane ain't she?” Mathias addresses Miguel, like how a family member speaks about a niece he hasn't seen in years. Proud, there's a sense of pride laced in his tone. “Just like her dear old parents, eh?”

“I'm warning you, Mathias.” Miguel keeps an eye out for the uniformed man behind you. “Take your captain, Alexander, before I put a bullet in his heart.”

Mathias scoffs, legs shaking from the wounds you caused. “Please, you'd shoot me? You didn't have the balls back then, why would you do it now?”

Miguel raises his gun higher, aiming for the man's head. “Because she wasn't there,” he cocks his head towards you, “you didn't have a weapon aimed directly at my goddaughter.” Eyebrows knitted together in anger, his hand doesn't shake, eyes glowing red in the sunlight. “Now let her go.”

Mathias posture sags, “fine, but only because I've got an event I cannot miss.” He nods at his godson. “Make sure you're married to her by the end of the day or there will be consequences.” He clicks his tongue, Eugene melts into his chair, face turned away from you and his godfather.

Mathias gives you one last look. “Happy marriage, birdy.”

“You're going to die today Mathias, one way or another I'll get my hands on you.” You flick your eyes towards the man clutching his hand. “Death is coming for you too,” you say nonchalantly. “I'll finish what my father started.”

They leave with their fronts turned to you, not even twisting around to show you their backs that are susceptible to your attack. Or in this case, your teeth.

Lyla appears next to you, helping you by the crook of your arm. Pain lingers on your leg and face. “Christ, he burst your fucking capillaries.”

Sure enough, you feel the sting in your eye, a throbbing pain that leaves you nauseous. Miguel, tentatively closes the distance, weathered hand carefully holding your chin. You wince, as he moves your face.

“Fuck, you need to see a doctor.” He says whilst you flinch away from his touch.

“I'm alright, I need a horse.” You begin to walk away, Miguel and Lyla follow close behind you. “And I need my fucking knife.” I need him back, your mind whispers to you. “I need to save him.”

“His execution is in two hours.” Eugene says meekly, and you stop in your tracks. “I heard the officers talk, they're not going to hang him for his crimes, the crown gave him the ax.”

With quick steps, you take Eugene by his collar, gripping tightly as you spill venom. Miguel tries to hold you back but you blindly kick his leg.

“Delay them.”

“I can't—”

“Do you want to be under his boot your entire life? If we marry I'll be crushed with you,” You stare determinedly at his scared eyes. “because that will happen if you don't help. You said you cared about me, then help me and all will be forgiven. Please, you're a viscount, you have the means to help.”

He sniffs, lips curled into a frown. “I'm sorry, I-I can't—”

You scoff, letting him go. “If I fail, Mathias lives and that means you'd be dead too.” Walking away, leaving him cowering in his seat, your small entourage follows.

“Where are you going?” Miguel matches your stride, walking next to you, he stares with concern. “Y/N, where are you going?”

“To my room to pamper my nose.” With adrenaline coursing through you, his face flashes in your mind with every step. Save him, your mind yells, save him, save him, or it'll be the end for you too.

“Cousin?” Collette asks as you make your way towards the apartments where your chambers lie. She roams her worried eyes around your bloodied wedding gown, her hands that are clutching a bouquet of flowers shakes. “Are you hurt? What happened?”

“I stabbed Mathias and bit through a man's hand.” You say without stopping, she squeaks in place.

John stops in his tracks, “w-what the fuck happened?” The twins are both dressed to the nines, all fine fabrics and hair all made up. “Cousin!” He calls after you whilst you don't stop for anyone.

“Thanks for the hot tip, kids!” Lyla yells back to your cousins. “A bit of advice, tell the catering staff the wedding’s off!” She cackles. “Save me a macaroon though!”

“They called you?” You ask, your heeled feet ache but you press on. “Where were you Lyla?”

“I'm sorry, duchess, I overslept.” She shrugs. “But I'm here now ain't I? Also I got Miguel here so...”

“You should stop, Y/N.” Miguel says sternly. “You're hurt—”

“No.”

“Y/N.”

You whirl around to face him. Anger flares up once again. “You should've shot him where he stood.” You poke his sturdy chest roughly. “He's the one who killed them, yet you let him get away!”

“I know, I— there are repercussions to killing someone. Especially if they're an officer.” He falters but he composes himself. “Revenge is not the answer—”

“He killed them, Miguel!” Your broken voice echoes out into the vast hallway. “Him and the queen are the reason why they're dead, and you let him get away so he could kill Hobie.”

“It was the queen? Not—”

“Yes, not the idiot king.” You turn around to continue your trek. You curse the large estate. “I have no idea why she did it, but I'm gonna get her too. But I won't live to see that day if I don't save him.” Your tone falters as you pass by your mother's portrait. “I need to save him, even if it's the last thing I do.”

“You won't succeed.” Miguel stands in front of you to stop you, and you roll your eyes, wanting to kick him in the groin. “He's a pirate, Y/N, he won't do the same for you.”

“He has, and he would. I need to try, I can't let him die.” You choke back a sob. Reality crashes around you. What would you do once you get there? Will you be able to save him on your own? You have no one, you have no idea where the crew is, and he's going to die. You can't live with yourself if you don't try.

“Y/N.” Miguel says your name like a reprimand.

“You said back in the carriage that I can leave whenever I want, all I needed to do was ask.” You chuckle without humour. “Here’s me asking, Miguel.”

“You'll die, Y/N, I can't lose you too.”

“And I can't lose him.” Tears gather in your eyes. “If no one will save him then who will? I have to go whether you like it or not.”

“The people will,” Lyla pipes up, she casually leans against the wall, checking her nails. “there have been…whispers since they announced his execution. If you go, I'm sure you won't be alone.”

You face the taller man again. “See, I have help—”

“Rumours aren't enough! Don't you get it? You're better off marrying Thompson at this point.” You blink in surprise. He backtracks. “I–I didn't mean it that way, I meant, I'd rather see you settled than dead.”

“You might not be as bad as Mathias, but you might as well be.” You brokenly say. Miguel's face falls at your words. “You claim to love my parents and me by extension, but you're complicit,” you spit out the word full of venom. “you're only helping them by not letting me go. I don't want to be settled, Miguel.” You shake your head. “It isn't love if you make me.”

Miguel visibly shatters in front of you. None of the composure he showed to Mathias is left in his body. He hasn't seen this much devotion since your parents. He hasn't seen this much love since he felt their presence. He hasn't felt this hurt since his daughter left this world.

“You had time to grieve for them, I didn't.” You push him out of the way, controlling your sob. “Please don't stop me, or I'll fight you like how I fought Mathias.” You open the doors to your chambers.

Miguel lingers outside as you and Lyla make your way inside the familiar room. The man that has your dagger sits in front of the vanity, the large man is currently trying on a spare tiara, and is wearing one of the ruby earrings.

“You can keep those,” Your sudden voice makes him jump away, large eyes staring at you with slight embarrassment. “I won't tell a soul, just take them, give me my dagger and get out of Hazelside.”

The cogs in his head move, swallowing thickly, he nods curtly. “Can I keep the necklace too?” He asks gruffly.

“Sure,” You shrug, Lyla stifled a giggle.

Wordlessly, he shoves a ruby necklace in his pocket, then he unsheathes your dagger and places it on the vanity.

“We good, duchess?”

“Actually,” you have an idea. “You're a muscle for hire, correct?” You've noticed how he doesn't move like the other foot soldiers do, or the guards for Hazelside. His disheveled uniform solidifies your theory. The man nods proudly. “How would you like to take my entire jewelry box in exchange for you and your men's services?”

“That depends, what kind of work are we talkin’ ‘bout?”

Lyla adds to the conversation. “Murder of some pompous nobles and free a bunch of pirates. With a main focus on the red spider of course.”

“Kill the red spider too?” He asks, a thick eyebrow raised.

“No!” You say quickly, “free him and kill anyone who stands in the way.” You mutter a curse under your breath. “I don't have time for this.”

The mercenary thinks once again, he seems to be weighing the pros and cons.

Stepping closer, you practically breathe down his neck. “I'll throw in my shoes and gowns too,” you raise a hand for him to shake. “As long as you'll be there before the execution starts, and you keep my uncle and aunt distracted, scare them is all. Just don't touch my cousins or the staff.”

The scarred man chuckles deeply. “An offer I cannot refuse, duchess.” He clasps your hand, shaking it once. “Creating chaos is our main specialty.”

“Yes and I saw a glimpse of that in the barn.” You give him a tight-lipped smile, eyes lit with tamped down anger. “You better hold your end of the bargain, or you'll have my dagger in your throat instead of my necklace.”

“‘course, my lady. My men will be there.” He leaves with a grin, shoving Miguel by his shoulder.

“What just happened?” Your godfather asks as you lift your skirt to rip the metal of your petticoat off using the dagger. He turns around, closing the doors to your chambers and shuts his eyes while still turned around.

“Our girl here just used her charisma to strike a bargain. Oh they grow up too fast.” Lyla dramatically wipes a nonexistent tear in her eye. “Don't forget to change your shoes, my lady.”

You stare at yourself in the vanity, blood coats the front of your gown, a smattering of crimson coats the lace, splashes of ichor paints the front of the bodice right next to the pretty embroidery. Your face isn't any better, the makeup the handmaidens painted you with is still there, but now it coincides with Mathias' drying blood. It drips down from your cheeks down to your neck, it hides the gold underneath the crimson. Your left eye shares the same shade, capillaries burst, spreading your blood into the whites of your eyes. The gloves meant to hide the callouses and fresh scars are sticking to your skin, drenched in ruby, drenched like the floors of the revenge.

You leave it on, a reminder of your goal.

“I haven't forgotten.” Tossing the heeled shoes away, you make your way towards where you hid your old friend.

The sight alone of the weathered leather shoes would make you weep but you don't have time for that. Lifting your skirts up, still wearing the ridiculous wedding gown that has become significantly lighter, you quickly run towards the unicorn tapestry.

Dagger in hand, you're surprised to hear Miguel's heavy strides following you inside the hidden tunnels. Once the sun greets you and the grass crunches under your feet, you beeline for the barn.

A stable boy jumps at the sudden intrusion, he stutters, moreso when he sees your blood drenched form.

“Can you saddle Bernard quickly?” You ask, and the poor boy almost has a heart attack. “Please? I'm a friend of Hobie and—”

“Oh, Hobie! You should've said it earlier then. You're her! He told me a whole lot about you." He smiles at you, already picking up the heavy saddle. "You know how to ride, My lady?"

“No need for that.” You wave away the title. “And yes, perks of running away for years, you learn how to run away in different ways.”

He chuckles, yet the nervousness is still palpable in his eyes. “I'm on it, your grace.”

Smiling softly, you don't correct him anymore. Turning around, you see no one accompanying you. “Lyla?”

“She went off to get her horse,” Miguel appears from behind the barn door. “I'm keeping a lookout.” He returns to his post, acting casual while leaning on the door.

“You don't have to be here if you don't want to, Miguel.” You walk behind him, the wooden doors are blocking you from his view and vice versa.

“I…pondered your words, Y/N, and you're right. I don't want to make you do something you clearly don't want. I won't make that same mistake again, it cost me years without you. It won't make me lose another day without you, even if it means saving a damn pirate.” He chuckles, and you take his hand from where you stood. You hear his breath hitch, “I'm sorry. I think your parents would hate me right now.”

“I don't know them very well but, I think they'll be proud of you. You found me, you brought me home. You were doing the best you can with good intentions.” You squeeze his rough hand, placing your forehead against the door where his shoulders would lie. “Thank you for letting me leave. I think it's best for you to move on, uncle. They'd want that for you.” You hear him sniff, squeezing your hand back.

“Yes, I think it's best.” He lets your hand go, “starting with this,” Placing something round in your hand, he closes your palm around it gently. “They’d want you to have it, something to keep close to you when you're at sea. It helped me back then, I'm sure it'll help you now.”

“You're not coming with me?”

“Not yet, I'll follow you once I can. I'll keep your aunt and uncle here, making sure that they don't get their footmen to follow you. And I'll make sure the ruffians you hired won't go overboard and actually do what you asked them to.” Miguel tearfully chuckles, “just promise me you won't lose your humanity after you take your revenge.”

“I promise, I won't let it consume me.” You whisper your promise just for him.

Taking a peek at the object in your hand, your heart almost shatters at the familiarity of it. It's the same one your mother was clutching in her portrait. Opening the golden locket, you see a portrait of your mother on the left, and on the right, your father. They look younger in the painting, happier, more alive. They were right, you bear a resemblance to your father just as much as to your mother's features. You finally got a good look at them together, and your heart squeezes at the thought.

Sniffing, you look up at Miguel with gratitude, “tell my cousins ‘thank you,’ please.”

“I will. Keep the locket safe for when we meet again?”

“I will, I'll see you in the water, uncle.” He's the only person who's worthy of the title you've bestowed him. Lyla gallops her horse in the distance. “Now get out of here, or I'll end up not letting you go.” You tease, it has half truth in it. Your smile falters, "Tell my mother—"

“Come back and you can tell her yourself. She's still staying in the same town. I know she's waiting for you.” He finally turns around to face you. “Before you go,” shrugging off his coat, he hands it to you. “You'll get cold.”

You look at the fabric with tears in your eyes. Taking the blue coat, he helps you put it on. Sniffing, he turns you back around, rubbing the creases in the sleeves away.

“There, it's perfect but it's missing something.”

“Something blue, and now I've got something borrowed.” Joking, you smile at your godfather.

Miguel hands you a blunderbuss, it's an ordinary looking one, save for the purple leather handle that decorates it.

“It was your father's, he gave it to me when he named me your godfather.” He points at the silver barrel where three letters are etched on it crudely. “It's our first initials. He said that it gave him extra luck.”

“I—I can't take this.”

“Well, you've already taken my locket and coat, what harm falls on me if I gave you his gun? You're gonna need it wherever you're going.” Miguel shoves it in your hands, “just— save a bullet for Mathias and the queen.”

“That I can do.” You grin at him despite the pain in your chest.

“The party's here.” Lyla’ horse stops just outside, she exclaims with fanfare. “Ready to kill some motherfuckers?”

“Aye,” you nod with determination. The fire is blazing under your eyes, lightning in your fingertips, you wear the locket around your neck with pride.

For your parents that you've never met but came to love. For Miguel, for the crew and for all they've sacrificed for you. for Hobie, the love of your life. And for MJ.

—

You ride off on Bernard's back, flames in your chest, wind whipped cheeks, and hands clutching the reins tighter. Your father's blunderbuss weighs heavy on your hips, the smell of Mathias' drying blood stings in your nose. But the putrid smell keeps you awake, a reminder of your goal, a reminder of what truly matters— Hobie. Your love that is currently in shackles, hands bound tighter than the rope around his neck.

Lyla snaps you awake, her own horse huffing from the intense speed.

“Your eyes keep glossing over, duchess, keep ‘em clear for me, yeah?” She yells above the loud hoofbeats.

“I will, are you sure about your plan?”

“My guild consists of a bunch of sacks of shits that'll do anything for a quick coin.” You knit your eyebrows in worry. “But they're loyal to a fault, ‘sides, your captain used to be one of us, once upon a time.”

“What?” You spot the capital's sign, entering the city without stopping. There's a fork in the road as you ride towards the center of the city. The familiar smell of the sea fills you as you ride closer and closer to your destination.

“A story for another day, gorgeous.” She rides faster, her guns clinking against the saddle. “I'll ride ahead, gather as many as I can. Go to him, and disrupt the festivities.” Her voice fades as she hurries off.

Lyla heads towards the left whilst you ride on the right, trying to remember the directions she told you during the short ride.

Numerous buildings whizz by you as you ride faster and faster. Rickety stone buildings turn into elegant carved marble. The streets become smoother as you get closer to the palace. You heard the crowd before you saw them.

Bernard stops in his tracks, right at the edge of the thousands of people clambering to see the execution. He whines as you try to calm him down. Some of the common people are quiet, eyes straight towards the stage where a large man with a black hood stands. The scraping of the ax getting sharpened makes your heart stop.

The palace looms overhead, its golden terrace holds the royals, faces smug, wigs high as they look down at the crowd. Right next to them stands Mathias, hand hastily bandaged, still dripping in blood. His face contorts into pain as he clutches at his injury. You draw your father's gun out, resisting the urge to shoot at the man, but with how far you are, you know you'll miss.

Scanning the stage, you bite your tongue, preventing a pained whimper from getting out.

You've made it, and he has too.

Clad in a white undershirt with the sleeves too big for his frame, trousers too short for his legs, hands tied behind his back, face beaten. Hobie stands with his back straight despite all the red gashes under his thin shirt.

You whisper his name like he can hear you above the yells of the people. You're frozen, hands shaking, eyes unblinking at his form.

The uniformed men make him kneel, his knees slam harshly against wooden floors.

Hobie was never afraid of dying before, he avoided it a hundred times. Yet, his binded hands quiver, dull grey eyes scanning around the crowd, he tries to find familiar faces amidst all the strangers. Trying to find his crew, not for help, but the thought of dying in front of them fills him with sorrow. He doesn't see them, and he's glad. Moreso when he doesn't see your face, he doesn't want you to experience what he had seen before.

But there's a part of him that wants to see you for one last time before steel kisses his neck. He wants to feel your lips against his again, but for now, having the memory of it is enough. The pearl you gave him is cold against his chest, he wishes to hold it again.

Having you in his arms however brief is enough for him, he'll think of you when the blade strikes him down for the last time.

Even with his imminent death, he still finds the will to smile, the same smile you love so much. It's enough to snap you awake.

A navy officer yells above the crowd, scroll in hand, voice booming and commanding. “Here stands the notorious pirate Hobart Brown, he stands here waiting for his sentence. The crimes he has committed are atrocious enough that the crown has automatically given him the guilty verdict!” The people don't cheer, some even boo and hiss at the man. You inhale deeply, hand holding on to the reigns tighter, as you weave Bernard through the crowd. Surprisingly, they part for you.

“What say you, Hobart Brown?”

Hobie chuckles deeply, lips split and bloodied, he grins. “It's captain, actually!” His voice drives you to ride faster, gun raised. He twists around to look at the nobles in their high tower. “It's captain Hobie Brown, you fuckin' wankers!” Cackling, the officer kicks him down. He falls, gasping, neck landing harshly at the stone slab that still has remnants of its last guest.

Still, Hobie yells obscenities, “you haven't won! You might cut my head but two more will replace me! Just like how I replaced the emerald bastard from the south!” He tries to sit up but another man holds him down. “They'll be stronger and better than me! From my death, the people will gather at your gates and break your golden walls!”

The executioner raises his large ax, the sun bouncing off the metal.

Hobie quiets down at the glimmer of the ax shining in his eyes. Whispering the names of his loyal crew, then he softly calls for you like an acolyte prays for forgiveness.

The crowd parts for you like the sea parts for a sailing ship. Giddying up, hooves hitting loudly against stone, you aim.

It's the end, but it doesn't have to be.

“Hobie!” You scream as loud as you can before you shoot.

He blinks in surprise for a second, the man holding him down scampers away as a shot rings out. Now free, Hobie quickly moves away from the stone slab as your bullet hits the executioner's hood right in-between his eyes.

Gasping, the ax falls next to Hobie's head with a thud. The edge is embedded in the wood, missing his face just a few inches away. Eyes staring at the clear sky, he thinks he has died when your face suddenly appears in front of him.

“Scuttlebutt,” he softly says in disbelief.

“Hi, captain, I'm here to rescue you.” You smile at him, “hold on a minute.” Sitting up right, you shoot at the remaining officer. A body thuds, and you return to his side. “I've got you.” You say as you help him sit up, hands already untying his bonds.

Hobie looks at you like a sailor looks at the sea for the first time, with reverence, and awed by the sheer beauty. “You've got me.”

Ropes falling off his aching wrists, he moves to hold your face desperately. Without a second thought, he kisses you fervently. Life spreads back to him, fingertips electric as he holds your face close. Lips warm, you kiss back like it's just you and him. Hands instinctively sliding to his head, you pull away when you feel scruff under your palm.

“What did they do to your hair?!” You almost weep, hands roaming across his bare head. “Oh my god, they have to pay for this.”

Hobie laughs, still holding your face like holding on to a precious pearl. “It'll grow back.” Tears prick your eyes, mirroring his own. “I love you, you did good, scuttlebutt.”

“I did good?” You peck his chapped lips once more.

“Yeah, love.” He prevents you from looking at the military that has their weapons raised and their eyes targeting you and him. “You did very well—” tears escape his grey eyes when he hears the familiar click of a gun.

It's the end.

“I love you too,” you know it's the end. “I'll see you back at the revenge?”

“Save some of Finn's bread for me, yeah?” Hobie leans his forehead atop yours. “I'm sorry.” His voice falters.

“Don't be, I'm glad I fell in that net.” You hold on to him for dear life. Etching his warmth in your brain so you remember it until you're cold. “I'd run towards that dock all over again if I had the chance again.”

It's the end, and you hold him close.

As you embrace each other, as your love is displayed for all to see, your warmth radiates through the crowd. You burn together with him.

Fire consumes and burns but it also lights the way.

The silence wraps around the city center, then, someone yells, pushing off the officer who has his gun aimed at your head. The people follow, rioting against their oppressors.

You both stare below in disbelief, hand cradling your head, he shields your eyes from seeing the violence unfold. Just when bullets hit flesh, and knives slash at necks, an explosion booms above.

Hobie holds onto you tighter, battered arms wrapped around you protectively as debris and smoke fills the whole place. The building across the palace is in flames, and from the billowing ashes out comes a familiar face.

Gwen takes off her hood, feet precariously standing on the ledge, then another form comes out of the smoke, Miles takes his stance next to the first mate, handing her a long rope.

“Holy shit! It's them!” Hobie exclaims, letting you see them with your own eyes.

You grin as you spot them above, “it's them,” you say in shock. A second later, they jump off the building effortlessly, guns raised as they land on their feet right next to the stage.

“I'll cover you!” Miles yells above the chaos as more and more buildings around the palace erupt in a chorus of explosions.

Gwen clambers next to you, relief on her face, hugging the two of you. Embracing back, she leans away to stare at you and her captain.

“You fucking idiots! I'd slap you over the head if I didn't love you both.”

“We love you too, Gwendy.” Hobie smiles amidst the aches.

“What he said, Gwendy.” You beam at her with overwhelming love.

“Love you too, now we need to get you out of here.”

“I have a ship docked somewhere, it's called the osprey. Take it and—” You start but Hobie and Gwen interrupt.

“You make it sound like you're not comin’ with us.”

“Y/N,” Gwen warns as she helps you two on your feet.

“I’m coming with—” a gun goes off.

Blood splatters across your faces. Crimson blooms across Gwen's stomach.

“...oh” she looks at you with her eyebrows knitted together, hand pressing on her belly. You catch Gwen in your arms as you feel the fear in you spread. She calls your name weakly.

Hobie stares at you with terrified eyes as he clutches the back of Gwen's head.

“No, no, don't speak—just… oh fuck!” You try to stop the bleeding by ripping a part of your gown to stuff it inside her wound. Ichor spills out of her like waterfalls. “I've got you!” She yells in pain and you simultaneously hear Miles scream.

Flicking your tear filled eyes over to Miles, he has his back on the ground, face contorted into pain whilst Mathias has his boot on his shooting hand. Miles still fights, kicking and scratching at the man's leg.

“This is what happens when you disrupt—” Red appears on his side as Hobie uses your fallen gun to shoot him where he has his foot crushing atop Miles’ hand. Mathias yelps in pain, a throaty sound escaping from his pale lips.

Hobie is filled with rage, embers flickering in him, turning into flames and then a blaze that burns his insides into ash.

Miles coughs as Mathias runs away towards the enormous church right next to the palace. He pushes away people, blood trailing behind him.

“Miles!” You yell, in your relief, he stands back up, weaving around people to clamber up the steps of the stage.

“I'm here!” He crawls over to Gwen, gently clutching her pale face. “Oh god no, please,” Miles looks at you. “Fix her, please.” Tears slide down his cheeks. “Please.”

You look towards Hobie, not knowing what to do, but said man is nowhere to be found. You briefly spot him running around the crowd, cutting down coppers swiftly with your father's gun and a stray cutlass, following after the man who has shot at his family.

Not again, you think, hands drenched once again in crimson. Not again, not again. You've failed once again.

Someone calls next to you, familiar hands holding yours.

“Tell us what to do.” Yuri thaws you out from your frozen state. Gwen gurgles, grip around your wrist weakening. James appears next to Yuri as you see in your peripheral the same mercenary and his men shooting at soldiers. Lyla cackles near them, adding her guild to the mix in the chaos. “Y/N,” Yuri calls again sternly. “We need you.”

With a sniff, you compose yourself, for Gwen. “Keep your hands on her wound, pack it with cloth then keep pushing.” Gwen groans, you look at her apologetically. “I know it hurts, I'm sorry but we need to do this. Let us do this.”

“I saw a doctor's clinic near here.” James pipes up, “if we take her there will you be able to save her?”

“Yes, we need to—”

Pavitr runs towards the group, guns raised, eyes full of rage once he sees Gwen. “No…” he says weakly. He fixes his composure, for Gwen. “James and I will cover you while the three of you carry Gwen.” He instructs, voice steady.

“No, no, no!” Gwen protests. “It hurts— I can't—”

“You can!” Miles beats you to it. “D’you remember what I told you when we realized Y/N and Hobie weren't behind us after we got attacked?” She nods weakly, lips bitten to stop her pained whimpers. “I meant it, Gwen. I meant all of it yet I haven't shown it because I'm a goddamn coward. Let me show you how much I love you, but I can't do that if you don't let us carry you. So please, let us carry you.”

Gwen smiles, icy eyes staring fondly at Miles. They have a wordless conversation, then Miles gives her a gentle peck on her forehead.

“As long as the d-doc here follows our captain.” She says.

“What—? No, you need me.” You shake your head.

“We already know what to do,” she winces, “you're the only person that can stop him, he'll die, Y/N. Meanwhile I've got a chance with them beside me. And he's all alone.”

You look at the others, they all nod and you blink in surprise. “But—”

“We have her, wifey.” Yuri smiles kindly at you. “This isn't our first bullet wound. Go and fetch our captain for us would ya?”

You have no time to think about it, so you choose what they instructed you to do. “Keep your hands on her and support her back—” your eyes find the familiar large man wearing your rubies. “Oi!” He pauses from crushing a soldier's arm. “Get a handful of your men and help them get to the doctor's!”

“Do I have to?” He asks, shrugging.

“Yes! I paid you!”

The man sighs then he gestures to a few of his people to climb up the stage. Before you let go of Gwen, you stare daggers at the men in the fake uniforms. “Keep all of them alive and I might just give you a piece of Hazelside.”

“Say no more, duchess, we got ‘em.”

“Gwen—” You take one last look over to her.

“Go, I don't plan on dying today.”

“You better. Meet us back at the ship.” You roam your eyes at the crew like it's the last time you would see them. With a nod towards Yuri, you slide your hands away quickly, Yuri replaces the space you left with her own.

Wordlessly you turn away from them. You fight yourself from looking back. Running away towards Hobie, you hope that it's not too late.

Weaving through the crowd, dodging bullets and swords, you keep your head down and keep your eyes forward at the grand church waiting ahead. The spires are tall and sharp, reminding you of the dragons that rose up from the sea and blocked out the moon. Gargoyles decorate the roofs, all stone and eyes large, mouths agape, unmoving.

You lift the skirt of your tattered gown, it might be covered in blood but the white colour of it is a stark contrast to the dark chaos surrounding you. It acts as a beacon to the people as they see you in their ranks, a noble in their eyes that bears gold and silver around her neck and sleeves. Someone who fought everyone just to get to her pirate captain, they find it in themselves to continue fighting. A few even helps you get to your destination by blocking any guards or soldiers from laying their hands on you.

Smoke in your lungs, steel clanging against steel. Blades slashing at limbs, people screaming in all directions, both with rank and without, they all end up in the same fate. You run through the blood soaked field.

Feet sprinting across the field, people are few and far in between once you get nearer and nearer towards the church. Hands on the large doors, you push the heavy oak to no avail. It's locked, the evidence of it is the rattling noise it makes as you shake it in desperation.

Hobie's in there, and you'd do anything to get to him.

You go around the structure to find a window that's big enough for you to slither into. But all the stained glass windows are too high up for you to reach even if you try to break one. Losing hope, you turn a corner towards the back. You finally breathe when you see a wooden door. Without wasting time, you push it open with your shoulder, shoving it, the rust covered hinges creak with your strength. And finally, it bursts open with one final push.

The sight alone made you stop in your tracks. Clutching your dagger, a finely dressed man lays dead in a pool of blood. A sword embedded in his back, a cracked crown sitting next to his bloodied head. The person standing over the king is none other than his own wife, her face isn't one of sadness but of sheer happiness as she grins at her husband's dead body. Blood dripping off her royal hands, she lifts her head to gaze upon you.

“Hello, little bird, you finally made it.” Caroline stands in front of the altar, the kaleidoscope of lights from the glass windows acts as her spotlight. Her gown is in rich velvet, furs covering her shoulder. And a large tiara on top of her intricate powdered wig.

“You killed him.” Gripping your dagger tighter, you stay away from the bloody queen.

“I did,” Caroline giggles, a sound that sends shivers through your spine. “You look marvelous in your wedding gown by the way. A shame that you didn't get married to that fine young man.” Her voice echoes around the large church, its ceilings are high and painted with saints. They look down at you, eyes lifeless. “Lieutenant.” She calls and the man answers, coming out of the shadows and into the pews. “Do me a favour and kill her for me.”

The disheveled man walks over to you, hand still decorated by your bite.

“Why don't you kill me yourself? Like how you killed your husband.” You address the woman, taunting her.

The queen raises a hand and the navy man stops immediately. She smiles and takes the sword out of her husband's body with ease, then she steps over his body without remorse.

“With pleasure.” She unclasps her cloak, the heavy cloth thuds against the marble. “If I couldn't kill your mother personally, I'd settle for killing you instead.”

“What the fuck—!” The queen arches her sword, thankfully you parry it with your dagger. You know you'll lose in the duel with your smaller weapon against hers and her swordsmanship. A yell echoes from above, a distinct scream from who you hope is from Mathias.

“I wasn't lying when I said you remind me of her!” She slashes, right foot pointed towards you, dodging the sharp edge, the heels of your feet hit a pew, then you fall backwards, back and elbows hitting the hardwood. “But she wasn't much of a fighter just like you!” Her eyes are ablaze as you scramble away.

“Why are you doing this?!” Your voice carries off around the church. “You said you were friends!”

Raising your dagger to shield your face when she tries to slash at your chest, she stands atop you, knee right next to your thigh, leg perching her up. Steel dangerously close to your face, wrists aching from her push, you take your free hand to grip the sharp edge of your dagger to combat her own strength. You feel the knife dig into your palm.

“Why?” The queen cackles, leaning her mad face close. “Because she's the reason why I'm here, she's the reason why that man has ruined me until I couldn't even recognize myself—!”

Lifting your legs, bending your knees, you kick her right in her chest. Making her lose her balance, face falling flat on the marble floors. You take the opportunity to crawl and stand up, sprinting away from her. As you bolt off towards the altar, and towards the door to the bell tower, the stairs are within your reach, but Caroline yanks you by your skirt. You fall off the steps of the altar, body and dagger sliding off the smooth marble.

Groaning, she points her weapon towards your neck, taking your mother's necklace by her blade. “Why did you kill them? For revenge?” You ask, vision blurring from the way your head hit the floor. Everything aches in you, but you continue to fight.

“No, for the satisfaction of them being dead.” She eyes the golden necklace and you glare at her. “She was meant to take the crown, not me. Instead she ignored her duty and ran off with a bastard, and I was forced to marry that fucking beast!” Her voice booms, the saints above look down at the chaos. “Forced to carry his children, children I never wanted but loved nonetheless. Children that I never saw grow up because they were taken from me the second they came out of me!” Her hand shakes around the sword.

You slyly inch your hand towards your dagger that's only a hair width away from your fingertips. You let her continue as the tears in her eyes fall on your bloodied face.

“I never wanted to be queen, all I've ever wanted was to see the world. Your mother took that away from me, and now her daughter is living my fucking dream! The second I knew you were alive I wanted to wring your fucking neck. To hurt you just like her choices had on me.” She twists her sword so the blunt edge is kissing your neck, torture, she's planning on sawing your head off with the blunt edge. “If she can't pay, I'd settle for making you hurt instead.”

“You want to kill me because of what happened decades ago? You're fucking mad if you think sins are passed from parent to child! I never knew them!” You fight back despite the blade near your neck. “Do you understand that you caused the same pain to me that the king has caused you? Whatever you want to call it, it's still revenge!” Caroline pushes the cutlass closer, so close that you can feel it in your throat, choking you. “You're blaming the wrong people for your misfortune, blame the people who used you, who said yes to his every whim, not the couple who only wanted to marry the one they love!”

“I’m the victim here—!”

“You are, but who points the sword towards the innocent?” She blinks, lips wobbling. “Look at you, Mathias told me you're brilliant, but you never thought this part through, haven't you? What do you think the nobles of the land will do to you the moment they hear of your regicide? Who will they blame? Me, who bears the mark of your cruelty? Or you, who has the king's blood on your golden hands?”

You distract her enough to finally reach the dagger, swiftly, you plunge it to the nearest part of her that you can manage, her thigh. She screams in agony, sword and crown clanging loudly on the floor. The once favoured queen clutches her wound that's gushing blood, seeping out of her velvet dress and spilling over the white marble.

Unexpectedly, she cries as she desperately wraps her skirt around the gushing wound. You clamber up to your feet, eyes flitting over the stoic man when Caroline calls for him to kill you where you stand. He doesn't move from his position near the confessionals.

“Are you gonna fight me too? An eye for an eye?” You ask, hands shaking while you bend down for your crimson drenched dagger.

“No, your father and I are even.” The simple words turn your eyes the same shade as the fluid pooling around the queen.

“You're just gonna stand there?” You ask while Caroline's wails echo around the expansive church.

“I'm waiting for you to leave so I can help her.” He seems to be unbothered. A scream rings out from above, louder than the woman's screams. Alarm bells trigger in your mind. “Sounds like someone needs your help.”

“Don't follow me,” you threaten, knife pointed at him as you slither towards the door. “Don't help your captain.”

“Alexander!” She screams for the lieutenant.

“You're right, he's already dead anyway, not my problem anymore.” His eye follows you, “Good luck, duchess.”

With one look towards the mysterious man, you get a glimpse of him crouching next to the woman, hands casually tamping down the rushing blood. Locking the door behind you, you run once again.

The winding spiral staircase seems to go up forever, hand clutching your dagger, you don't even feel the pain in your ankles anymore. Numbness flashes over you for a second, but you carry on. The walls get smaller and tighter as you go on, the stone scratches your hands, the small windows barely provide any light for you. The sounds of struggle get louder, so you speed off with the last of your strength.

Rushing, you make it to the top where Mathias has his hands wrapped around Hobie's neck, with no ounce of hesitation, you plunge your dagger in the devil's flesh, right in between his clavicle.

With a shriek, Mathias lets go of Hobie. Your captain gasps for air, clutching his neck. You wrap your hands around his shoulders, relief washing over you just from seeing him breathe.

“I have you!” Holding his face, you thank the stars that he holds you back with his warm hands.

Hobie utters your name softly, “You have a habit of savin’ me, eh, scuttlebutt?” He smiles at you even with his left eye swelling, even with his mouth full of ichor.

You grin, getting him back to his feet. “The others are waiting—!” A large hand picks you up, wrapping a thick arm around your waist, the other is holding your own weapon in his cracked knuckles. Your own blade is placed harshly against your throat.

A trickle of blood drips from your flesh, and Hobie has the same look back on the revenge. Terrified, the swirling greys of his eyes are mortified at the scene in front of him.

Mathias still lives despite the laceration on his neck, despite his life rushing off of him in waves. He stands precariously on the edge of the tower, his back against the sea, the waves lapping against the cliffs below. He holds you tight as a noose when the wind rushes from behind.

There's a bout of silence hanging in between, Hobie's breath hitches in his throat at your fearful face.

“Don't—” Hobie's voice is broken, pleading desperately. “Please,” Not again, not again. The words scream at him. Not her, never her. “Take me instead.”

Mathias gurgles a response. “Just like old times, eh?”

As the blade kisses your neck, you could only look at Hobie. The copper bell is hanging behind him, large and magnificent, and he stands there with his hand desperately reaching towards you, his gun holds no bullets, sword lay broken in half near his feet.

It's the end, but he declines for it to end, for your life to end at hands of the same man that ended his old love three years ago.

He thinks fate is cruel, he thinks the fates hate him. He thinks his life is a Greek tragedy that was waiting to be written for the fates’ entertainment. He refuses to give them the ending they wanted.

You know it's the end, but it doesn't have to be the end for him too.

There's no other option, no other hope but, "No more sacrifices." You whisper to him even though you know he couldn't hear you, at the same time, you whisper an apology to him.

Images of the past six months flashes in your mind. Images of the tavern you once called home, images of the ship you still call your home. Images of the people you've come to love, images of your island and the sand in between your toes, and the sun on your back. Images of Hobie smiling down at you, images of him holding you close as you cry in his arms.

Images of you learning to love him.

You love him and all his sharp edges, all his anger and all his warmth. You loved him, and that's all that matters in life. To love someone so wholeheartedly that it burrows into your bones and digs deep into your marrows, never letting go. You loved him, and he's worth it for what you're about to do. To be loved back is a gift that he graciously granted you, you intend to cherish it until your end.

You call his name like the softest of silk wrapped around your tongue. "Hobie," and you smile at him, letting your smile tell him that he wasn't born to be a knife, letting your smile tell him that you love him more than the moon loves the tides.

He whispers back your name, pleading with you, for he knows you more than he knows himself, and he knows what you're about to do.

With a loop of your foot around Mathias' ankle, you pull hard, then you let yourself fall backwards.

“Alis volat propriis” You softly say, prying the knife from Mathias’ hand.

And fly you did.

Fear encapsulates him as you fall, the same fear flows out of you like spring water as you plunge into the dark depths.

Hobie refuses to look, frozen on the spot, unblinking eyes still staring at the space you left. His heart feels like it's about to give out as he says your name over and over again like a mantra.

He's a knife meant to grieve.

Slowly, his feet move for him. Body stiff, he makes it to the ledge. Grief stricken eyes darting below, he lets out a guttural wail that carries on with the wind.

Clutching his broken heart, he falls to his knees. He keeps repeating your name as he stares at the bubbles rising up on the surface, the waves deliver seafoam on the beach below, and with it, hope still clings to him.

“No,” A sob breaks through when you don't emerge a second later. “...no, c'mon scuttlebutt, don't fuckin' leave me.”

Grief rolls over his skin like tiny pinpricks of sorrow puncturing his insides and into his scarred heart. Your face flashes in front of him, and the voice inside him asks, 'will it be bad if you follow?'

“Brown?” A familiar voice calls behind him, Hobie whirls around, grief evident on his face, Miguel already knows what happend. He shakes his bloody head profusely, “where's— where is she?”

Hobie doesn't answer, he turns back towards the sea. Agony filling his very being as he stares below.

“No!” Miguel follows Hobie's eyes. And then he screams for you. He searches for you under the waves.

Hobie lays his head on the wall of the bell tower. A minute, it's been a minute since you fell, yet no sign of a body has floated up. The sky is still calm, the sun still shines, yet, you don't resurface.

He blinks away when he sees fingers reaching amongst the waves. “Did you see that?” Praying, praying to any deity out there that is listening to him, he prays that his mind isn't playing a cruel joke on him.

“What?”

Hobie stands up, taking Miguel's face to turn it towards the waters. Something moves under the seafoam, someone moves under the seafoam.

His heart picks up speed, and he rushes down the stairs. Miguel follows close by, their feet thudding loudly on the stairs. They ignore the various pains in their body, what matters is you, and they intend to get to your side as quickly as possible.

They go through the broken door that Miguel kicked, and they run over a puddle of blood without a body. Sprinting outside, the sea breeze greets them. They don't stop for anyone or anything, even though the palace burns to the ground behind them, even though the heat from the melting golden gates sears their backs. They continue downward towards the path to the beach.

Hobie trips on a rock, Miguel helps him up swiftly.

From the tides, you rise once more.

Heaving from the swim, drenched and sore. You grin at the two men rushing towards you. Like the waves lapping at your feet, relief washes over them.

You raise your arms in time just before Hobie crashes his body to yours. His face finds safety in the crook of your neck. Arms holding you tight and comfortable, he breaths you in, taking a deep shuddering breath. You smell like the sea. He can't believe you're alive, can't believe that you're back in his arms.

“I lost the dagger,” you say against his cheek as you press cold kisses on his skin.

“I'll get you a new one.” Tears flow out of his eyes, he feels like he's dreaming, he feels like fate has finally granted him reprieve. “I’ll get you a hundred more, fuck that, a thousand more if you asked.”

“I just want one.” You chuckle.

“I'll get you one then.” Hobie peels himself off you, fingers roaming your face, the heel of his hand is placed atop your pulse, making sure he didn't fall off the tower himself. “You're alive.” He says breathlessly, “you fuckin' swam!”

“I had a good teacher.” You say as you hold him tenderly. “He's dead, it's over, Hobie.” Salty tears in your lashes, he pulls you in for another hug. Eyes closed, you savour the calmness with the sound of the rushing sea behind you, knowing that Mathias lays beneath its waves with your dagger embedded in his eye. “It's over, and I'm alright.”

Holding your hand towards Miguel who sits on his knees on the sand, eyes glowing with consolation. You flex your hand towards him so he could hold your hand. He stands up, taking it willingly, squeezing once like how he held your parents’ hands once upon a time.

Miguel nods proudly at you, gently pressing a gentle kiss on your knuckles, he gives you and Hobie space. You mouth a thank you towards the man.

—

“Shit!” James exclaims, jumping up and down on the docks. “Look at her! She's magnificent!”

“Spell ‘magnificent’, James.” Yuri taunts.

“Don't ruin this for me!” He turns towards you, grinning from ear to ear like a child in a sugar shop. “You're actually giving us this ship?”

“Mm-hmm—” before you could finish nodding, James sprints off towards the fine ship. Yuri winks at you before she follows behind James.

The sun slowly sets, bathing the waters in pink and orange light. James isn't wrong, the ship is magnificent. It's bigger than the black hellion, much bigger. Two crow's nests sit at the highest point of the masts. The body is well maintained, oak still shining in the late afternoon sun. Silver violets and hazelnuts decorate the sides, a reminder of what could've been.

Looking at your new home, you shift your gaze to Hobie, knowing wherever he is, as long as you're with him, you're home.

Your tired eyes flick over the figurehead of an osprey with its wings outstretched around the head of the ship. Hobie taps your head with his own gently.

“It needs some work done.”

You chuckle as you fix your hold on him. Still in your wedding gown, skin still smelling like the sea, you move impossibly closer to him. You're both winded, but Hobie has sustained more injuries than you and needed more help in standing up straight. “Do you think we should change the name?”

“Love,” he turns his head towards you, his smile almost makes you kiss him right there and then. “I think I've got a few ideas, for now let's get the fuck out of here.”

“Alright— wait, where's Gwen?”

“Here, worry much, landlubber?” She asks on her stretcher. Miles, Pavitr and an unknown blond man carry her.

“Well you were shot, Gwendy, I think I have every right to be worried.”

“I'm fine now, can't even feel a thing!” She smiles and you recognize her state.

“I think that's the medication talking.” You eye the stranger, “and who might you be?”

“Oi,” Hobie points at the man. “You better not cause any trouble Stacy.”

You lightly gasp, finally noticing the resemblance.

“Not planning on causing any, captain.” Gwen's father smiles and gives you a curt nod.

“Can we hurry the chit chat?” Miles groans.

“You telling me I'm too heavy, Morales?” Gwen teases but the fatigue must've taken a toll on Miles as he takes it seriously.

“W-what? Of course not!”

“You calling my daughter heavy?” Her father jokes back. They're father and daughter alright.

“No! Let's just get on the ship.” Miles pouts, you send him a smile, wordlessly giving him your thanks. He shakes his head, hiding his grin in reply.

“Pav!” You call after Pavitr, “tea later?”

He beams at you, happiness almost blinding you. “Hell yeah!” Jaunting happily, he practically skips off, to Gwen's protest, who still lays on the gurney, shakes from his little dance.

Miguel taps your shoulder, Hobie lets you go so you could hug the man.

“Room for one more?” He asks while patting your back.

Leaning away, your eyes widen, smile widening. “What!”

“I meant for Lyla, kid.” Miguel laughs, smile lines appearing.

“Oh, you're not coming with us?” Disappointment is evident in your voice.

“No, sorry. Maybe one day. I've got unfinished business” He holds your shoulders, “you better take care or I'll chase you again.”

“Oh god, don't say that!” You giggle whilst he mirrors your smile. “If you're not coming, then you can have this back.” Taking off the locket, you place it in his rough palms. “A reminder of them,” you close his fingers around the gold. “Besides, I already have his gun. You deserve something of theirs too.”

The sun shines in his eyes. “This was Gabriella’s, she gifted it to your mother when she got sick. It's a family heirloom.”

“She was Gabriella's godmother, wasn't she?”

“Yes, and your father was her godfather.”

You tap his hand. “It's back in the right hands then.”

“Thank you,” Miguel sniffs, neck craning towards Hobie who sits on a crate. “And you,” Hobie dramatically points at himself. “Take care of my goddaughter, or I'll come after you again.”

Hobie, smirks, “aye, aye, admiral.” He mocks a salute.

Miguel shoots you a look, “you sure about that one?”

You gaze at Hobie, your Hobie. “I'm sure.” He winks at you and you wink back.

“God, I gotta let you go before I get sick.” You chortle as Miguel hugs you one last time. Pressing a kiss on the crown of your head, he nods once, staring at your face, seeing his friends’ faces in yours, saying goodbye to the three of you. “Be good, I'll see you in the sea.”

“Looking forward to it, uncle. Don't get caught by the coppers.” He lets you go with a laugh, unhitching his horse and then getting on, he rides off.

Lyla suddenly appears from the dust with a big grin on her face, she carries suitcases upon suitcases in her arms. “Where to, captain?” She asks you.

“Not the captain, he is.” You gesture towards Hobie who doesn't even correct Lyla. He just waves at her with a small shrug.

“I thought whoever owned the boat was the captain, anyway! Off to adventure!” She cackles into the sunset, feet thudding loudly as she hurls all her luggage on the ship. You vaguely hear someone yell ‘who the fuck are you?!’

You ignore it for now, how could you not when Hobie stares at you so sweetly that you prefer this than chocolate?

“She's not wrong y’know.” He says whilst you saunter towards him. Stretching his legs, he gives you space to stand in between them.

“Are you planning on giving me your title, captain?” You tease, sliding your hands up and down his arms. His own is wrapped around your middle, staring up at you with endearment.

“You're already a captain,” you raise an eyebrow, tilting your head. He sighs, so full of love for the woman in his arms. “of my heart—”

“I knew you would say that!” You laugh, feeling like the weight off your shoulders has finally turned into dust. And he feels like the fish bone stuck in his throat is finally gone.

Hobie smiles softly at you, heart shaped grey eyes full of life. “Are you sure about this? Stayin’ I mean.”

You squeeze the back of his neck, already missing how his hair would tickle your palms. But you love him even with his scruffy head. He looks handsome with or without it, you'll never tell him or his ego would implode. At least now you get the pleasure of seeing it grow, you can't help but press a sickeningly sweet kiss atop his head.

The sound of the anchors getting lifted up fills your ears so you lean closer for him to hear your words better.

“I'll stay as long as you want me too.”

“Forever then?”

“Forever.” You kiss the tip of his nose. “Until I'm cold, you can't escape me.”

Hobie has a lopsided smile on his lips, grey eyes aglow with affection. “You're still in your white dress,” you raise an eyebrow. “Y’know what that means—” Lifting you up like a bride, he carries you towards the ship as you yelp and giggle in his arms. “Off to our honeymoon then!”

As the sun sets, you set off to new beginnings. You've found where you belong, you've finally found home.

A/N: And it's done!! Thank you all so much for reading, interacting and genuinely showing your support whether it's by making fanart or sending your thoughts, I'm forever grateful for all of them!! Love you ❤️

Already missing the crew? They'll be back for Between the Devil and the Sea Book 2!! You can check out my ☕ page for a lil sneak peek!

#meg chats #bdas #loved this SO MUCH 💗#AAAAA #BOOK 2 IS GONNA BE INSANE #between the devil and the sea #GET REST KATY U DESERVE IT SO MUCH 😭

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