#and literally all companions because everyone is cheering for everyone and I'm here for it

[cinderella-ish]

Truly no one asked, but I'm too excited not to blabber on about the reasons behind the design choices! 😅

Along a Pitch-Black Path

So, this is my attempt at writing an Akito-centric darkfic/tragedy. The premise is an AU where her initial slice to Tohru's arm was accidentally fatal. The ink is obviously symbolic of Akito's inner darkness, and I found an ink splatter with a strong diagonal "slash" in it to place directly over her body.

The One Who Stays

This was by far the hardest banner to make. Neither the title nor the premise really have any clear imagery, the premise being "What if Yuki didn't run after Kyo and instead stayed to comfort Tohru?" Additionally, the tone of the story is angst & whump with a hopeful ending (apparently my thing lol), which isn't easy to communicate in a banner. That said, I'm really happy with how it turned out! It went through a few iterations before landing here. The background is obviously representative of the bond (and those who are reading along know why), and it's a Yuki-centric story, so he's naturally present. The title quite literally refers to Yuki staying, but it comes from a quote from Audrey Niffenegger's The Time Traveller's Wife, which is "It's hard being left behind. I wait for Henry, not knowing where he is, wondering if he's okay. It's hard to be the one who stays behind." I think, in its full context, it connects to Akito struggling to let go of the bond, and Tohru's ability to relate to her due to her own fear of being left behind by her mother and now Kyo, which is why I included the anime screenshot of Tohru coming to sit beside Akito.

Bloom Within Us

Full disclosure: part of me is a little worried that this banner is a little too dark for those who're reading the fic. But it's also the most cheerful-looking and bright banner of the bunch somehow? The premise of this work is "What if Tohru didn't survive her fall from the cliff?" The fic focuses mostly on Kyo, and he and Saki are the two characters who struggle the most with Tohru's death but ultimately connect over their love of Tohru and shared grief. It's sad with a bittersweet ending/hopeful overall tone, so I didn't want a banner that was especially dark or gloomy. Anyway, it depicts Tohru in chapter 11 at the end of her funeral, just before her body is cremated, when the mourners have filled her coffin with yellow and pink chrysanthemums. Even though it's such a sad scene in the story, I think it's a really beautiful image, and it's really the root of the whole story - how does Tohru's death change the way everyone else's lives play out? In addition to depicting that scene, the banner obviously connects literally to the title (which is also kind of the theme of the work, that, to quote Murakami, "People leave strange little memories of themselves behind when they die." Tohru's dead, but she changed everyone's lives forever, and there are ways she still touches every part of them. Her special qualities take root inside of them and bloom within them.). She's memorialized in the story with a flower garden, and flowers come up between the characters a lot, too, as ways of showing care or optimism.

like the flowers and the bees

So... this is a smutty oneshot collection, so what I could represent in the banner is pretty limited lol. But obviously, the title is literally depicted. It also is a companion piece to Bloom Within Us, so lots of flower imagery makes sense. Also, I like the idea of a oneshot collection being represented by a flower garden - each is unique, but they all go together in a way.

Of Lost Cats and Half-Shadows

For this one, I just updated the version I made back when I first posted the fic. My biggest intention was to let people know it was a Furuba/JJK crossover, so I included the two couples the fic focuses on (and their stories parallel each other!!!). Because JJK is about exorcising physical manifestations of curses, I wanted to show the Zodiac curse manifested, so I used a screengrab from the anime of when Yuki's curse breaks, represented again by a rope. Additionally, the enso is an important symbol and practice in Japanese Buddhism. (Side note: both JJK and Furuba explore Buddhist philosophy!) The enso has many layered meanings, but the ones that most connect to the themes of this fic are those of enlightenment - something which Gojo has already achieved in JJK and which is symbolically represented in Furuba by the end of the cycle of rebirth with the breaking of the curse - and the beauty of impermanence. The title comes from a Murakami quote in Kafka on the Shore, "What I think is this: You should give up looking for lost cats and start searching for the other half of your shadow." Obviously, it's a reference to Megumi (shadow boy) and Kyo (cat boy) who are the two protagonists.

ichigo ichie

Impermanence is also a major theme in this fic. Tohru's trying to end the cycle of the Zodiac curse and Haruhi's trying to end the time loop that has her and the host club trapped. (Side note: I'm actually super excited about the ways this fic will let me explore some of the magic in the Furuba universe with the addition of the body swap magic from your name.) Instead of an enso, I used cherry blossoms to represent impermanence. The main relationships in this story are Tohru/Kyo and Tohru&Haruhi&Akito. And, like most of my stories, grief is a major theme in this one. New to me, though, is the Japanese folklore that'll be at the center of the conflict. (Like I said, I'm really really excited for the ways I'll get to work with magic & the supernatural in this fic!) Ichigo ichie is a Japanese saying roughly equivalent to "once in a lifetime meeting." The literal translation is more like "one lifetime, one meeting." This will play out in a more literal sense at the climax of the story, but "ichigo" is also the Japanese word for strawberry, and both Tohru and Haruhi are known to like strawberries.

lovers alone wear sunlight

This one is pretty straightforward. In this series, there's sort of a strong divide between before the curse breaks and after. Tonally, this banner is more in line with the after. But since the arc of the series is hopeful, and the title is optimistic, I'm going with it. I used a screengrab from the anime of Tohru and Kyo as adults, kissing, and added a sunflowery border to one side.

That Day in the Rain

Again, pretty straightforward. This is a small section of a (free stock image) watercolor painting of someone walking down a path in the rain toward a house. I liked how the tree branches could feasibly be those at Shigure's house, which is the location where most of the canon-divergent events in this series take place. Since the series will span from light angst with a dash of fluff all the way to heavy tragedy, I wanted something relatively neutral, tonally, that wouldn't be out of place at either end. Also, I just thought this was a really nice painting.

Instead of writing, I spent some time making banners for my fics and series. Nothing yet for my JJK oneshot - if I write more, I'll make a series banner.

All banners were designed in Canva (free version), and all component images came from Canva or Pixabay except:

character designs and anime screenshots are from series wikis

one background image is from an iStock photo free trial (the rope background from "The One Who Stays" - typically $15)

Feedback welcome! I'll be adding these to my social media posts for each work later today and will be using these on fic posts going forward!

[ardenrabbit]

Do you mind if I ask your top 10 favorite characters (can be male or female) from all of the media that you loved (can be anime/manga, books, movies or tv series)? And why do you love them? Thanks....

Oh!! What a cool question! Thank you :D

I can't be super precise because I love a lot of characters and don't want to hurt their feelings, but here's who comes to mind. In no particular order:

1. Uncle Iroh from Avatar: the Last Airbender. He's the only one I'm actually definitively saying is in a ranking. He's the best one. I love how unfailingly kind and loving he is, and that he demonstrates the beautiful ability to be silly and simply happy despite all the tragedy he's seen. Of course I also love almost every other character in the show, too, but Iroh is Best.

2. Elodin from The Kingkiller Chronicles by Patrick Rothfuss: This man is insane. He is eccentric and opinionated and owns it. He does not give half a fuck what people think of him and cares very, very much about everything else in the world. I want to know everything he knows. He is a trickster god I think.

3. The Cthaeh from The Kingkiller Chronicles by Patrick Rothfuss: Same book series as Elodin but god they both deserve their own mentions since the Cthaeh is on another fuckin level from literally everything. No spoilers, but this thing is the absolute coolest monster concept I have ever seen in any form of media.

4. Makenna from The Goblin Wood by Hilari Bell: This was my favorite book as a kid. Makenna is a badass hedgewitch who befriends a goblin named Cogswhallop. She's violently anti-colonialism and definitely a communist. I literally want to name my kid after her. Write characters like Makenna.

5. Boromir from The Lord of the Rings, mostly referring to the Peter Jackson films because FotR is my favorite movie: I love him. I love him I love him. He was the Best Of Men, and everyone else in the Fellowship was some kind of magic so he was the only one who fell victim to the Ring's sway, but he never stopped being a good man with a noble heart.

6. Hua Cheng from Heaven Official's Blessing by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu: God. I love this author and maintain that she's a genius, and I love so many of her characters, but Hua Cheng gets the first honorable mention because he is The Most Unhinged. All my mxtx favorites are unhinged tbh, but Hua Cheng is on another level. He's made a hobby out of self-sacrifice and makes stalking look tragically romantic. He vacillates between sweet, heart-wrenching adoration for one (1) person and top-tier vicious snarkiness for literally anyone else. He is a force of darkness and a shy baby.

7. Zevran from Dragon Age: My favorite game series. My guy. He tries very, very hard to make you think he doesn't have depth but he's actually just a mastermind at deflection and his heart is behind like eighteen million locked doors. He's cheerful! He's not. He's deeply depressed and his loyalty shows up LOUD when you're not emotionally prepared for it. He's possibly the most devoted companion character in the game.

8. Cole from Dragon Age: He is my son. My treasured baby boy. He loves you. I read Asunder before Inquisition came out so girl I shrieked when he was announced as a featuring character.

9. Nezumi from No. 6 by Atsuko Asano: He's a dick. Pretentious deuteragonist goth boyfriend who quotes classical Western poetry, thinks violence is funny until he sees his Soft, Sweet protagonist engage in it, and commands swarms of bees. His dream is to overthrow the dystopian government.

10. Liu Jianghe from Saved the Public Enemy by Mistake by Liu Muqiao: I'm obsessed with this one lately. Shamelessly promoting this manhua on the Bilibili app. He's my profile icon rn. Unhinged. Not sure what he's capable of. Sweet boy. Keeps making it look like he's the bad guy but all of his decisions are specifically engineered to help the main character fix his life. Everyone is confused and this maniac is cheerful and pretty much lives on the brink of death. Please read it guys it literally only has like 6 fics on AO3 and I want to talk to people about it

[the-turtleduck-pond]

That's it. That's fucking it. If I see one more person who says "c!Techno has a victim complex" and their only argument is 'He acts like the victim" I'm gonna fucking scream.

There are so many symptoms that make up a victim complex and that is only one of them. One fucking symptom. This can be discovered by a single google search. Which shows just how bad you all are at making discoveries.

Tend to dwell on every trauma, crisis, or disease that they have ever experienced: c!Techno can look back on these things, but often simply act as if they never happened.

They have come to believe that society simply "has it out for them": c!Techno does not believe the entirety of society has it out for him, but that certain members of society do, all of which are valid and he has real reason to believe because they do.

They passively submit to their unavoidable "fate": c!Techno does not passively submit to anything like fate, he fights every time.

They refuse to accept responsibility for dealing with their problems: c!Techno is forced to deal with all of his own problems and has to accept responsibility.

They never accept any degree of blame for their problems: c!Techno has accepted the blame for many of his mistakes and problems, openly around people.

They always find reasons why suggested solutions will not work: c!Techno listens to everyone's solutions and is willing to incorporate them even if he thinks they're silly because it makes people happy.

They carry grudges, never forgive, and simply cannot "move on": c!Techno can carry grudges, but he forgives rather easily and brushes off things and moves on usually rather fast.

They are rarely assertive and find it hard to express their needs: c!Techno can be very assertive and make sure that people know what he needs or feels.

They believe everyone is "out to get them" and thus trust no one: c!Techno does believe some people are out to get him, for a very good reason. Not everyone, just those he has reason to.

They are negative and pessimistic, always looking for the bad even in the good: c!Techno can be negative and pessimistic, but more often is actually rather cheerful and playful, trying to cheer up his friends and companions if he can.

They are often highly critical of others and rarely enjoy lasting friendships: c!Techno has had multiple lasting friendships, usually when his friendships end it is not purely on him either.

Victim complex sufferers employ these "safer to flee than fight" beliefs as a method with coping with or completely avoiding life and its inherent difficulties: c!Techno prefers to fight unless he is sure that he cannot win. He does not avoid things that are inherently difficult at all.

Look at this. There is almost nothing here that supplies that c!Techno has a victim complex, just dislike the character and be completely wrong about a literal complex that is easy to look up.

I am not saying that he hasn't done anything wrong, but he does not have a fucking victim complex and if you actually looked into things, you'd know that, but no. You all just want to be right.

[prelovednikaidou]

corrupt; draken, ken ryuguji [01]

Summary:

In which you met the man of your past, but he didn't come back to remind you of the bitter break-up. Draken had one thing in mind and it was to never let you leave his side ever again. Distance made the heart grow fonder but he'd rather let you spend the rest of your life hating him if it meant you'd never leave his sight.

"I don't wish you well when you ain't with me, I want you crying."

Warning:

mention of suicide, oral receiving (reader),

a/n: taglist are open up to 10 users! comment '☁️'

Word count: 2.1k

series masterlist

[01: jealousy]

Draken wanted to take you away.

The curves of your spine, flowing down to the slope of your well-rounded bottom flesh, he watched the symmetrical dimple right above your butt - mocking him that those precious intimate spots were no longer his possession to own.

It wasn't only him who shared the same thought; everyone in this crowded room had their eyes glued on you. As if you were holding those guests captive, you felt immense pressure on your feet and thighs, quivered before you wrapped your leg around the shining pole.

Spinning, spinning, spinning.

Those blinding lights showered your sweating figure in all fairness, the sound of Abel's voice had long dimmed down, it meant that your show was done. It was silent in a minute,

lifting your face - your lips curled into a hunting smile and the room soared with cheers, crumpled money tossed across the stage, but your sense of content was suppressed by the overwhelming tension.

A pair of black pupils were starring at you - pinning you to where you stood. He was among the crowd, all in his glory without care but you. You felt something burst inside your chest, unable to tear your focus from him.

This longing for him is toxic.

Flashes of memories where those sober eyes bore into yours when he pumped his fat cock into your tight cunt until his thick cum over spilled, the same eyes that once shone with so much love but turned cold.

"Dollface!"

A shout from backstage startled you from your daze, another coworker came up and escorted you down, assisting you to take off the painful high heels.

"What's with you?" She threw a curious stare your way.

You still couldn't wrap your mind. He was there. Flesh and soul, presented in front of you. It was a brief eye contact but it was enough. Enough to tell you that he was coming back for you.

It had been years since the two of you chose to split up, making your paths without each other's companion.

"I, I've got to go. I forgot that I locked the windows, my cat's probably waiting for me. He's been out for 3 days so he's starving I think. Y'all can continue without me,"

You stood but your knees turned weak at the sudden arrival of him, standing by the door. A few steps taken back, you lost all rationality to stay calm because your heart thumped loudly.

Standing tall on his 6' ft, athletic and young Draken was nowhere to be seen but replaced - with a mature adult man that induced everything he carried into lust.

The robust body looked incredibly fit, lean, and you could see the strong outlines of his defined chest and abdominal muscles from the black shirt. If it was years ago, those leather jackets wouldn't suit him - he'd look like those up-start wannabe gangsters.

But it was different now. It clung to his broad shoulders perfectly, he wasn't as cheap as those local pranksters. The dark jeans also did little job in hiding his long legs. He was indeed a member of a gang; eerie and cruel - but he had never look this good that you want to fuck.

Draken's presence was enough to brush away every man in the room that you belonged to him. Your little admirers couldn't even look at him in the eyes, let alone make up a fight.

They left with a strong sense of defeat; no wonder you never once accept any confessions, turned out you have such a man waiting.

"Why is he here? This area is off-limits. Only staff is allowed. Naoki, guide him out." You forced yourself to mutter those words, uncaring to look at him with your back facing him.

Naoki sighed, this man literally slipped $750 under the table just to meet you. Those incompetent flies who claimed to love you didn't even spare this much effort. She only signaled him to step in before she whispered to you,

"Remember the guy I told you? The one that booked a whole session for your private room? He's that guy. It's just that he arrived a little early than the arranged meeting but it'll be great if you can build a connection with him."

You glared back, "Then send him back. We still have a week before that, right? I'm tired. I can't keep up with this," You pushed off her hand from your shoulder, began to take off your wig. His eyes were still the same; always undressing you naked.

Naoki could only grit her teeth, the money already landed in her pocket. What if he asked it back? She can't let such a great deal slip so she greeted him,

"She's a bit tired from the recent show. How about we push this to tomorrow? She's got free time on her hand to rest too." At least, this would do, right?

"If I have so much time on my hands, I wouldn't have come a week early. So you guess it yourself." His voice has changed too. It was an octave lower, you immediately rubbed your thighs together before you waved a hand.

"Haaa... leave us, Naoki. But I need you to go to my house. I wasn't joking about what I said earlier."

Naoki hurriedly nodded, clutching to her pocket before her eyes warily darted from Draken to you. Is this a couple feud? She noted in her head that she'd help this guy soon in the future - who doesn't want easy money?

"Okay, I will. Sir...? Err.. hope you have a pleasant chat with Dollface. I will excuse myself then ." The hindrance in Draken's eyes finally left the room, the door closed in a thump and the subtle tension thickened.

He didn't say anything, only leaned his body by the door as he watched you wiped off your makeup. This was his morning view back when you were still wet behind ears about pole dancing. You'd come back at the crack of drawn and he'd already been out to his workshop.

"Dollface."

Stubborn like a little cat, your doe eyes didn't look up from your make-up bag and he could see through your act to be so busy. He loved how feisty you've become after years. It eased his heart that you could chase off those little shit.

"It suits you, [Y/N]. Face so pretty like a doll. Make one's heart itch to keep around. But I wonder why the name sounds so familiar."

"State your business. I'm heading home straight after this so don't expect a lap dance or something."

"Then that's the plan. I'll drive you home, eh?"

That damn 'eh'. He picked up your habit too well that the time he spent with you shaped him into copying your habit. It sounded cute but your heart still couldn't forgive him. Let him suffer a little.

"Don't need to. My boyfriend is great at doing his job. So do me a favor and let me rest quickly, how about that?"

Now, you were looking at him through the mirror. It was just too hard for you to muster yourself to face him directly. Draken didn't seem shaken. He stood straightly, you clenched your thighs tighter.

"Have I ever been quick in everything when I'm with you, [Y/N]?" His towering figure gawked over your smaller frame - casting his shadow over you as his sharp facial features caught your attention.

"Can't remember. Maybe? Because I said it just now almost like a reflex." You replied, not backing down but instead, squaring up to him that your ample breasts brushed against his torso.

His cologne didn't smell like the tacky, cheap body spray he used to own. This one smelled so expensive, alienated your memory of his familiar scent.

"Now you're getting older, your memory is getting rusty, dollface. Should I put on a play and see if you can call anything in mind?" You felt your breath became heavier but he didn't let you lose your focus yet.

Your chin was tugged upwards, the shadow of his cap cast upon his face and you remembered now; it was his eyes. Because he wasn't vocal about his feelings, you could understand everything from his eyes.

"You've grown softer, Draken. I almost threw up listening to you talk like this. What, are you changing jobs now? Don't tell me you went from a gangster to a con artist."

No, you were lying to yourself. Draken didn't change but improved. Change can be something bad but he never did anything that would bring him down. He just got better.

And it was true when the velvety touch on your beating pulse suddenly moved to your lips before he squished your cheeks in his hand.

"Fucking hot as hell but so damn annoying." He laughed, the light from his eyes never return, only replaced by a wicked glint.

He wanted to take you to his place, fuck you in his bed until you couldn't walk properly so he'd have more reasons to keep you at his place. He wanted to swallow you whole and he barely even started but why was it so damn hard to have you?

"Don't dare to think of anything nasty. You might not care about commitment in a relationship, but I do. So take your hands off me, Draken."

"Kenie. It's Kenie for you."

Your lips were so plump and wet, his other arm wrapped around your waist - hoisting you up to his body before he leaned by the dresser.

You shrieked when his scalding hot palm touched your naked back and as he untied the strings of your bra, he smiled at your face as he said,

"Do you think I'm going to believe that, dollface? Do you really think I don't know that this pussy hasn't been fucked well for months? I have eyes across this ward. You don't get to fool me."

Heat rose to your face, your small hands pushed on his shoulders, "You're still up in my business? Sounds like someone can't fucking move on."

He nodded, ripping off your lacey bralette and his big hands began to palm your heavy breast - carelessly rubbing your nipple with his thumb. You fought the urge to moan, you hold onto his shoulder for dear strength.

"You're right. I can't move on." Your breath hitched, he nuzzled his face to the column of your neck, inhaling so deep, and wrapped his arms tightly around your body. He missed you so much. So much that if you ran away again, he'd just kill himself.

"I fucked my fist thinking of you. I got this hard just by thinking of you. I'm not ashamed of it."

"That's your problem, Draken. I'm not you. I'm living my best life right now, and sorry that I can still cum just with my fingers."

"That's my girl," He pushed you until your back met the concrete wall, your eyes widened when he took off his cap and put it on you before he dropped to his knees.

"I am aware of your appetite, [Y/N]. You won't be happy with such a small meal. You always keep coming back to have your tight pussy stuffed. Even when we were living together, you couldn't stop begging my dick every night."

"What the hell are you talking about-" You pushed his forehead away from your private part, one hand covering your pussy but he gripped the side of your hips - bringing you straight to his mouth.

"I don't care if you use me as your favorite Cherry Twins. But don't deny that I made you cummed the hardest when I was in your life, dollface."

Your eyes became misty, his words just flew through your head - empty when his mouth latched on your clothed crotch, lapping on the small fabric that the nudge of his tongue probed on your budding clit.

Cherry Twins were the name he gave to your vibrators. Since he was always out when you were at home, he'd make you use them to your greedy cunt - even made a video call so he could jerk off in the public restroom.

You were wild, but he taught you to live even wilder.

Next page: chapter [02] →

a/n : next chapter is full smut bcs thats the only thing my brain's capable of. Taglist are open up to 10 users! Comment '☁️’.

Taglist: @hanmascult @q-the-rockaholic @hikkarins

[skiyoosmi]

post-break up heartaches

⤷ verse 2. in the dreams that we once shared

⤷ miya osamu, bokuto koutarou

⤷ verse 1 | verse 3

⤷ play. sorrow by sleeping at last, wrong direction by hailee steinfield

commissions: open

⇢ OSAMU stays still in his seat, melancholic eyes contrasting your bright ones while you twirl around in the middle of the ballroom. he admits, your dream wedding gown fit your figure perfectly as it flowed so gracefully the more you moved. but no beauty can compare to the happiness on your face as you danced with his previous volleyball teammate; the latter having a small smile on his face, not even having a single care about the funny looks you've been getting from your distant relatives. despite the minimal expression he adorns, to someone who has known him for a long time, it's clear as day just how ecstatic suna rintaro was to declare you as his wife, just as you were to call him your husband.

that could've been us, his mind screams all throughout the time he's been in the wedding ceremony, that could've been him dancing with you. he remembers little by little— how those smiles and laughters used to be solely for him whenever you try out his new recipes, from tasty to funny, how he used to be the one suddenly dragged to dance with you, how you used to dream of being married to him. him and only him.

but time was a cruel thing. he should've known better than to keep you waiting for more than so many years with nothing but empty and broken promises. i'll be done soon, yn, you know how much this means to me, this is my dream we're talking about here. stop being selfish please— he recalls himself telling you. he fails to see the disappointment and hurt that cross your eyes, fails to protect the already fragile relationship as you say your goodbye's to him a few more arguments and weeks later— i'm sorry for holding you back, samu. make sure to reach your dreams, okay?

i'm sorry. no matter how many times he says it, your fate was already done with him. you only needed him and he couldn't even give you that.

"hey there, stranger. wanna dance for a bit?"

he looks up, blinded by your brightness that almost seemed as if it mocked his sappy mood but he nods nevertheless, taking your hands as you pull him to the dance floor. in his peripheral view, he sees suna give him a wholehearted smile.

"you should stop frowning. it doesn't suit your face you know? what did you do to my lively samu?" you huff after a few minutes of nothing but silence and awkwardness while you swayed side to side with him, pouting when he shrugs, "you're such a gloomy ass! are you still in love with me or something?"

you swear it was supposed to be a joke, something to lighten the air between you two. but how were you supposed to laugh when he replied to you in the way you least expected?

"yeah, actually, i still am."

silence engulfed the two of you as you tried to overcome your shock. and for all the years he has been with you, it was painfully obvious that the answer he hopes for will not come. not now, not ever.

"samu... it's been—"

"i know. almost 8 years, is it? i know but i can't help it, yn. how could i when you're literally all i see everywhere i look?"

you fail to give him back a reply and (un)fortunately, he feels a tap on his shoulder and immediately, he knew it was time. he lets go of your waist and turns around, heart ready to get drowned by the bitter wine he's planning to drink all throughout the night, accompanied by the tears he won't be able to let out until he comes back to his hotel room.

"congratulations on your wedding, yn."

he ignores the hollowness inside him brought about by the unfinished conversation and goes back to his seat and repeats it like a mantra: not all fairytales get their happy ending.

and much to his dismay, his was one of those that don't.

⇢ BOKUTO was a star, luminous and blinding yet always longing to be part of the galaxy that held the awe of many other people. he was a child with dreams that wander all over the world and with confidence, he wants hear it, see that same world cheer for him.

he was an enormous star but his dreams were even bigger— and as he reaches out his hand to take more of what the universe can give him, he unknowingly lets go of yours.

"you look like you've dropped a huge shit on your underwear with the way you're staring down the court," konoha comments as he takes the seat he reserved beside you, hands deep in his pocket while he does so.

you glare at him, scoffing at his vulgar choice of words, "and you look like that shit, asshole. we haven't seen each other for so long and that's how you greet me?"

he laughs out loud, opening his arms and shoving you in them, "here! is this what you wanted instead? so adorable, yn! i knew you loved me at some point!"

you let out a series of groans, struggling to get out of his hold, "no! you're so annoying, get off me!"

he cackles, releasing you as the buzz rings out throughout the whole court, signaling the beginning of the match between msby and schweiden adlers. you shift in your seat, watching the players get introduced one by one, gasping when your ex-boyfriend literally does two cartwheels in his turn. is he... serious?

"where does he think he is... some kind of circus?" konoha snickers, shaking his head in amusement. oddly, you find yourself laughing with your companion. after all, this was typical bokuto, so full of energy and surprises.

"he looks... okay. very much okay," you bitterly state, placing your chin right on your palm as your arms and elbows rested on your lap. envy envelops your whole being as you watch him lively wave to the crowds, a large grin staying on his face. you huff silently, eyes trying to look at the other players but gravity seems to be playing its tricks on you as you find yourself reverting back to his figure. you wonder if time will let you become that happy someday.

"you're not...?" the lad beside you trails off, sighing when you shake your head 'no.'

"of course not yet, aki. it's not that i still love him or anything but he's just... he was everything, you know? he's become part of all my routines and now that he's gone, it... it just feels empty. like the dreams that used to help me sleep at night suddenly went away," he nods, not pushing you to say anything further. you both knew better than to have a shameful breakdown in public.

"god, i keep forgetting that the air conditioning in here is the worst," you grumble under your breath, rubbing your hands together to keep them from freezing out... because bokuto was no longer there to keep them warm, no longer there to offer you his own hands because you both forgot your gloves at home, no longer there to blow on them as if it was effective (it distracted you both at least), no longe—

"here, give me your hand," konoha reaches out to you, palms awaiting for yours to be in contact with his. you blink, surprised by his sudden offer, along with the pink hues that dusted both sides of his cheeks.

"we can't have them becoming numb, can we? i... i want to hold these hands for a very long time, you know?" he stutters as he begins rubbing both of your hands together, successfully getting rid of the cold and providing a new warmth you never expected will come sooner. oh... it's time, huh?

"uhm... yeah... thank you," you felt your face get hot. it seems like something... rather, someone has come to distract from the coldness you've been recently feeling.

"give me your days," he coughs out, still blushing. if anything, he's flushing even more now, "i'll fill the emptiness in them... and... and i can be your dream so you can sleep tight... and you'll be mine."

you gape at him, thousands of scenes flying through your mind but all of them led to one specific scenario.

"i... i have a lot of dreams, yn! i want to become a star player, someone who everyone will look up to and cheer for! and i... i think i want to focu—"

"i get it, bo. i'll get out of your way then. thank you... for everything."

"i-i'll be your dream?"

konoha chokes on his own saliva, "y-yeah! don't make me repeat it though, do you even know how cheesy that sounds? i can't believe i just said that, god... the things you make me do, you...!"

"okay."

it was his turn to blink, "e-eh?"

"i guess this is day one then?"

"eh?! wait... we... we're dating now, right?!"

"shut up now, aki."

as his golden eyes observe the two figures sitting by the stands, bokuto wishes he could've seen sooner that you were the one he had always been dreaming of, yearning for; wishes it could be him that was holding your hands again and he swears to whoever god there is, he won't let go of them anymore.

but then again, it seems like you were finally ready to wander with someone that wasn't him— who was he to stop you from doing so?

he was just a star;

you were the whole universe,

his universe.

© SKIYOOSMI, 2021. reposting, translating, editing, copying and any kind of plagiarism are strictly prohibited, thank you.

[emo-and-confused]

Headcannons based on @cb28 ‘s “ceo of many hotels tommy and hotel receptionist tubbo” au art (includes dysfunctional sleepy bois) (awesamdad)

-techno, wilbur, and tommy are phil’s kids

-(the three kids are adopted, techno was adopted when he was five, wilbur was adopted when he was four, and tommy was adopted when he was seven)

-techno is older than wilbur by two years and wilbur is older than tommy by eight years

-phil is this rich businessman. techno is some powerful leader. wilbur is a famous songwriter.

-then tommy owns a hotel

-he's still like 16/17 but he owns and manages it

-techno is the oldest therefore favorite and heir to whatever money and property phil owns

-tommy is least favorite. phil ignored him.

-then one day phil just gave him money and said "stop being a disappointment" so he started his hotel at 15

tommy: i’m going to build a hotel in rage

-then best friend tubbo who works there and is nice to tommy

phil: oh, theseus, my son. come, i was just telling my companions about your ho- who is that?

tommy: this is tubbo.

tubbo: hello :)

-wilbur being the normal brother and treating him like a normal person and taking him and tubbo to hang out and be kids

wilbur: tommy, let’s go get ice cream

tommy: wilbur, ive got things to do, paper work and, and shippments and-

wilbur: tommy.

tommy:

wilbur: let’s go. bring tubbo.

-tommy feels like he has to prove something to phil

-he also feels like he might be able to earn attention from him. that if he works hard enough phil will be proud of him

-wilbur’s music is what makes phil pay attention to him, but when he was a kid phil said his music was never going to be a stable source of income and actively encouraged other future job choices. this only made wilbur more focused on his music

-both tommy and wilbur feel the need to prove themselves

-tommy meets sam when starting up his hotel, and immediately gets attached

-sam is basically his guide, even after building the hotel. sam saw the child and went “yeah he needs parental guidance” and continued to stay in contact with tommy

-tommy is the one who gives sam the creeper mask. because sam is always working on construction and stuff and he's always inhaling debris and tommy likes minecraft so he gives it to him. sam adores it and wears it all the time.

-tommy totally calls him sam nook

sam: hey tommy! just building your hotel. i do need some more things for construction though... could you ship them over to me?

tommy: y'know this reminds me of a game my brother made me play over the holidays...

sam: ... uh,,,, what?

tommy: animal crossing! that's it. you're totally tom nook.

sam: alright, tommy.

-[over emails]

]Mr. Danger Careful Innit,

Could you supply more building materials?

Sincerely, Sam Nook

]Mr. Samuel Nook,

sure.

Sincerely, Tommy

-sam gets a very official hand written contract (the same one as the lore)

-he gets it and just goes with it (there’s a more real contract but tommy values his handwritten one more)

-sam signing it and tommy cheering and immediately going to text phil

sam: and... there you go! signed. :)

tommy: really??? ... YES!!! LETS GO!!! (calls phil and tells him)

-then tommy hanging up and smiling, then looking back over to sam.

tommmy: (clears his throat) um. my apologies. that was very unprofessional. thank you very much, sam.

-tubbo is the receptionist for the main hotel in the chain, (the one tommy is constantly at) but he basically becomes sort of a manager

-tommy sends him off to do multiple jobs throughout the day, and tubbo does them with only little complaint

tubbo: you know i’m not room service right?

tommy: i don’t remember asking

tubbo, already holding the room order: this isn’t my job tho-

tommy: and yet here you are, doing the job

-tommy pays him more than everyone else though, but tubbo doesn’t know that because tommy won’t let him see the usual staff paycheck

-tubbo is half a year older but his parents are constantly away on buisness trips so he is often home alone and has to take care of himself

-tommy is not good with showing his affection, the only one in his family to do so was wilbur. phil just kind of threw money at him on holidays and ignored him the rest of the time, and while techno was a lot more attentive to him, he wasn’t the best at affection either

-when tommy started making money with the hotel, (how very successful hotel chain), to show tubbo he cared he just started offering to buy him things

tommy, upon finding out tubbo likes bees: you know i could buy you a bee sanctuary if you’d like?

tubbo: tommy no-

-tubbo teaches him that money isn’t the only form of showing you care. it’s a long process

tommy: so you’re saying i shouldn’t buy sam a private engineering lab for his birthday?

tubbo: i know for a fact sam wouldn’t know how to accept such a gift and that he’d rather you close the hotel for a day and take him to play laser tag

tommy: ...okay but what if i do that and buy him a private engineering lab?

tubbo:

-the dream team are bell hoppers.

-tommy gets hate for being that young and successful

-the dream team are like “stfu i'm proud to be working for a very successful 16 yo how dare you" and go off on every rich person who says something about tommy’s age

they're still streamers. they just don't tell tommy. (tommy totally knows tho, he’s a 16 year old kid who plays minecraft and animal crossing, ofc he knows they’re video game streamers)

dream: hey tommy-

tommy: yes? is there a reason you're barging into my office?

dream: .. is that... animal crossing music? are you playing on a switch?

tommy: no!! i'm signing very important and legal documents!!! if you have nothing to say, get out!!

dream, to sapnap and george: he’s totally playing animal crossing.

-tommy makes them greet people at the doors and carry peoples bags purely because they’re famous. they don’t know this though

-they don't think tommy knows. tommy and tubbo think it’s hilarious. tommy hints it all the time that he knows but they just think he's being a kid

-quackity is on sam’s building/contracting team

-even after the hotel is built, q comes in to "check up" on the building with sam. and they "make sure nothing is going wrong with the building"

-they really just want to make sure tommy is okay under so much pressure

-wilbur totally has tubbo’s schedule and knows when tubbo’s on break, he can usually be found with tommy in tommy’s office

-wilbur will just barge in and be like “okay let’s go, you need a break”

-one time wilbur came in while sam and quackity were there

wilbur, barging in: kay, tommy, tubbo, let’s-

sam, mid lecture with tommy: you can’t keep doing this!

quackity, also scolding: you need to take a break, man.

tubbo, who noticed wilbur come in: wil! tell tommy he needs to go to bed and sleep! he hasn’t slept in twenty seven hours!

tommy, from his desk, with his head in his hands and leaning over paper work: i’m being ganged up on.

-wilbur instantly likes sam and quackity, because they care for his little brother (he totally has a rivalry with them though, he was there first, and tommy’s actual brother)

-the main hotel in the chain is sometimes used as an international meeting place for big companies and politicians

-more than once has phil or techno needed to stay for a few nights due to major meetings with powerful people

-it’s kind of awkward sometimes because tommy’s the hotel chain owner and since he’s based at the main hotel, he sometimes needs to greet the people going in for meetings

tommy: good afternoon, madam secretary

tommy: good afternoon, mister minister

tommy: good afternoon... *awkward cough* ...technoblade.

-or since he’s the ceo of a big name company, he sometimes has to attend big rich people galas that he hates

tommy: tubbo i literally hate these types of places, when can i leave, when am i allowed to to leave

tubbo, who is tommy’s plus one and moral support: dude i don’t know, i didn’t grow up rich

tommy, who grew up talking care of himself when wilbur wasn’t there: yeah well technically neither did i!

-and his father is a business man..

tommy, faking confidence and striding across the room: tubbo, i have no idea what i’m doing-

phil, from a table a few feet away, calling him over: theseus!

tommy, slowly turning around to see phil with a bunch of other rich people: fuckkkk-

-tommy makes sure everyone calls him tommy and not theseus

[in an interview]

interviewer: so theseus-

tommy: it's tommy.

interviewer: ... alright, tommy. would you like to address the rumors going around of your boyfriend?

tommy: huh??? oh, you mean tubbo? no, we're just best friends. and that's weird. i'm a minor.

interviewer: are you gay, though? we've never seen you date any women.

tommy: no, i do date women! all the time!!

-tommy being legally named "theseus watson" but calling himself "tommy innit"

-wilbur is legally “wilbur watson” but only ever goes by his stage name “wilbur soot”

-they both totally end up changing their names. legally.

-tommy saying i hate men because he just hates his father

-tommy getting scandals and controversies all the time but just by the upper class

-everyone else loves and adores him and knows he's literally just a 16 yo kid so that kind of stuff is a joke and he can say that without getting in trouble

-tommy will be in his office and tubbo will be at the front desk and sometimes tommy will just yell “TUBBOOOOO HELP MEEEEE” if his laptop crashes because Tubbo Tech

tommy: [during a meeting] oh, tubbo's clocked in for work.... TUBBOOO!

tommy: he's gonna come in here. surely. he'll go "hellœ?" surely. he'll walk in here...

tubbo: [walks in the room] hellœ?

-phil still has no idea who tubbo is

wilbur: yeah, i’m going to go check on tommy and tubbo

phil: ..the receptionist?

wilbur: ...

wilbur, internally: also your sons best friend but yeah sure, the receptionist.

-techno is lowkey fond of tubbo

-techno notices how tommy is clinging to tubbo at parties and galas all the time so he tries to get tommy to talk about him

-he likes that tubbo is there for tommy and totally resonates with the chaotic energy the two create

-sometimes when tommy can’t get tubbo in to the parties/galas, and techno is there, tommy will hang around him and steal his things

-like taking his wallet so techno will have to go back to the hotel afterwards and visit tommy

-he does it for attention. 

-tommy lives at the hotel. it’s not technically legal cause he wasn’t emancipated from his family and he’s only 16 but they’re rich so people don’t really say anything

-technically he still has a room at phil’s place, but he stays in a room at the hotel. when designing the place, he made sure to map out an area for his living space

-tubbo takes naps in his room

tubbo: i'm gonna go take a nap in the break room

quackity: there is no break room??

tubbo: yea there is. on the top floor. with the giant door.

quackity:... isn't that tommy's room???

-tubbo sometimes stays the night with tommy, when his parents have been on a business trip for over two weeks. he still goes to in-person school so he usually only stays on weekends during the school year

-tommy does online school, and forces himself to get his schoolwork for the week done over the weekend so he can focus on the hotel and other responsibilities

-he fakes having the “lmao i'm better and have more money also you don't play minecraft" mentality towards other kids and claims that’s why he does online

-it’s actually because he doesn’t have time to balance everything and he was bullied in the past so he switched to online school as soon as he started his hotel

-sometimes tubbo helps him with his classes tommy is overworked. like, in his off time. he has the passwords to tommy's computer so he just goes on it and does some of his school work

-tommy ranting to tubbo about how he hates his dad and how he said phil was gonna visit him the next day

-phil arriving and asking tubbo (because he's the receptionist) where tommy is. tubbo saying he doesn't know and that he left. even though tommy is literally in his room

-phil tries. he just doesn’t know how to parent. techno was 17 and wilbur was 15 when he adopted tommy, and he just got busy enough and forgot how to take care of a child

-tommy knows if he talks to phil, it’ll be awkward and phil will just try and buy him off (not intentionally, it’s just how business men be working, yknow)

-tommy just wants to prove himself, to both himself and phil. and hes using his hotel to do that

———————

fanart that was posted with @cb28 ‘s work

(i got permission to post this)

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 12

Click here if you are a first time reader.

Summary / TWs: Steve Rogers does not pass the vibe check yet again, le sad face. Loki is a good bro. Bruce fluff but what else is new? Literally everyone is a good bro, yo. Reader has best people. Tony's in there, kind of. Parents still suck.

For taglist: please send an ask if you changed your @! I noticed several people are unavailable :(

As always, my baby gay @miscmarvelwritings is the bestest beta!

"I think I am going to murder your father." Bucky's angry statement didn't surprise me. Neither did Steve's initial reaction, or anybody else's mostly pitying looks.

Bruce, my Bwucie, was calm and dejected. That worried me. I expected him to be at least a little bit green around the edges when Steve forcefully sat me down and made me explain the drunken, drugged stunt I'd done the night before, but alas, it seemed like Jolly Green was just sad. Or disappointed. And I didn't know which was worse.

The more I thought about it, the more defensive and abrasive I became. "And you'll kill yourself trying, he'll drive you fucking nuts" I responded to Barnes. "Honestly, I don't fucking see the problem here. My dad shows up five times a year at best. It's been like that forever. And it's not like I'm some kind of junkie," I defended myself, and my dad, because I really didn't see the huge deal about it. Relaxing once in a while doesn’t hurt anyone.

"It's not right!" Steve exclaimed, loosely banging a fist on the table. The self-righteous prick, seemed like he wanted to pick a fight just for the sake of it.

"And who are you, exactly, to say that? The moral police?" I blew up, standing and turning to the blonde man, hands on my hips. "Or you've decided to be my parent without asking me first? Keep your hopes up and maybe a fuck will magically appear, so I could give it to you."

He stood up in turn, getting uncomfortably close to my face. I was suddenly reminded of the fact that he was a very large, very strong man. "We want what's best for you! Can't you see it?" Rogers was getting red in the face, crossed arms, staring at me down like I was dirt under his shoes.

"How about..." I seethed, having to stop mid-sentence to swallow the scream that wanted to erupt. "How about... You FUCKING ask me what I want?"

"I suggest the Captain leave to go calm down," Loki suddenly piped up. He stayed silent throughout the whole conversation, picking at his food instead. Only after his sharply uttered words I noticed he had stood up. His hand hovered over my shoulder, body discreetly wedging between me and the Captain.

I heard Steve growl before he stormed off, throwing an annoyed look at Loki. A pregnant silence hung in the room. The longer it lasted, the more I wanted to crawl out of my skin, suddenly hyper aware of all these people - strangers, save a few - debating on what to do with me. Like I wasn't a person. Like...

"Ugh, fucking hell," I growled, beelining for my bag. I had definitely overstayed my welcome.

"Where are you going?" Bruce asked, standing up to follow.

"Home," I replied curtly, nodding my thanks to Loki for the intervention. He nodded back, walking off. I would have probably started swinging at the Icicle Dick if not for the raven haired Asgardian's timely interruption.

"I'll drive you," Banner trotted after me like a dejected puppy. I didn't have the mental capacity to deal with this, at all.

"I need to see Tony first. Meet you downstairs?"

Bruce nodded, looking even more confused.

Tony kissed me hungrily, in between promises to kill Steve and cancel my dad and get me my own apartment in the tower. Believing in fairy tales wasn't something I was ever prone to; I smiled, nodded along and did my best to shut him up with my own mouth on his. I left with the promise to text him as soon as I got home.

"How are you?" Bruce asked me as we once again drove through the busy city. This was becoming a nice habit but we really had to meet up when I wasn't going through another one of my turmoils.

"All things considered, I am great. Better than I've been in a while." I answered honestly, meaning it. However brief Tony's attention would be, it still satisfied me. Then and there I decided to always, always cherish what happened during my brief stint in his arms.

"Really?" Banner's warm smile was an unexpected but pleasant surprise. "Care to share?"

It threw me for a loop. I didn't know how much Tony wanted to disclose regarding what happened between us. I didn't know the extent of his friendship with Bruce. I didn't know...

"Tony," I choose the usual option. Admit what you can't deny, deny what you can't admit.

"I know the feeling," The good doctor chuckled, companionable-like and meaningful. "He tends to go all the way for the people he cares about. Too much, if you ask me."

"What do you mean?" I was confused. Sure, me and Tony were friends. But not, like, super close or anything. We'd fucked, or more like messed around, so I expected our friendship to grow colder. That's what happened when friends decided to bump uglies.

"I mean... He'll move mountains and challenge the government and bully them into dropping charges against you," There was a hint of sadness in Brucie's voice. I vaguely recalled seeing something on the news, something about the Hulk and a massive destruction spree. It didn't take long to put two and two together.

I reached out, putting a hand on his knee. He covered my palm with his own, giving it a brief, warm squeeze.

"It must be great having a friend like that. You're both wonderful and brilliant. You deserve no less," The smile threatened to split my face in two.

Bruce returned the smile but the sadness didn't go away. "You realize that extends to you, right?"

"Me? I'm just me, Bruce." I wasn't sure where this was going. "I'm Peter's classmate and the resident hot mess express."

Bruce frowned, deep and long, up until he parked. Life seemed to be taking back all the happiness it gave me previously-in fucking buckets. The strap of my bag was going to get its threads pulled out with the way I was fiddling with it.

"Baby… Princess?" The scientist turned to me, tone torn somewhere between stern and pleading. "Listen to me. You are brilliant. Incredibly smart, talented and beautiful. Don't ever, ever think of yourself as less than any of us." I gaped at him.

Did he mean us as the Avengers? Us as Tony and Bruce? Meanwhile he continued, "In fact, I think you are the one who deserves so much better. I don't know what Tony found in me… Or what you found in me."

Was the man an idiot or yes? That was the question of the day. Cursing Tony's affinity for small cars (bless me and my own SUV), I only hesitated a moment before grabbing the dumb Banner by his face and startling him into looking straight in my eye. "If you don't quit talking all that fake-ass bullshit, I will kiss you. On the mouth. With tongue."

"Uh," Was his articulate response. I watched him squirm, blush and lose the heat to his argument.

"Exactly. I've had it all with you idiots today. Next time someone says some stupid ass fucking thing, I will kiss them. On the mouth, with tongue. Pass it on," I exhaled, releasing his face and dropping my head onto his shoulder.

"Some way of solving conflict you have," Banner chuckled weakly, throwing an arm around my shoulders. "I'd like to see Steve's reaction."

"A boner, probably, because he needs to get laid before he spontaneously combusts," I grumbled venomously, still bitter about his reaction. The Capsicle needed to chill. Hehe.

"I'll pass it on too," Bruce remarked wryly. "See you next week?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Bwucie, you're the fucking best," I kissed the scientist on the cheek, giving him a tighter than usual parting hug and walking up the pathway. Home.

Mother was nowhere to be seen - and the obvious reason for that laid on the kitchen floor. Couple of smashed dishes, a bottle of whiskey laying half-empty in a puddle on the grey tiles. The living room rug bore more stains and the smell of alcohol, bitter and acrid (like my soul, hardy har), hung heavily throughout the whole house.

At least I wasn't the only one who fought for myself that day. Mother probably had landed a good one on dad, too, by God the woman could be ruthless with her icy words. Dad never stood a chance. I've felt begrudgingly respectful of the way mother put people in their place with her words ever since I understood sarcasm.

First things first, I cleaned up the mess and opened the windows a smidge, cranking the air recuperation system to the max. Hanging around a place that smelled like a bum on a good Friday night was a horrible way to spend free time. Having successfully cut myself and bandaged the cuts up, I retreated to my room, not wanting to spend more time than necessary in the quiet, stinky, creepy house that my home had become.

My phone was long dead so I plugged it in, waiting for the 2% to appear, turning it on. A few messages from Peter, first cheerful, then worried and then relieved. Tony must've placated the spider child and told him I was staying at the tower. Good call, Tones, or else poor Peter would've worked himself into an anxiety attack and crashed in a dumpster while patrolling. Or something. I still didn't quite get his spider-hero side-gig.

A text from Bruce - rather, a photo, of a disgruntled Steve with his eyebrows raised, titled "I told him the next time he freaks out, you will kiss him. With tongue. Barnes cackled for about ten minutes until he ran out of air."

And a text from Tony. My chest tightened when I opened it. "Good tactics. Sneaky, clever, I'd give it a B+."

I snorted. Then the phone beeped again and I froze. A text ordering me to be ready tomorrow, for a date night? Unreal. I was torn. A part of me was elated, thinking Tony wanted to keep me around like that. The other, more sensible part, was firmly telling me to chill TF down. He'll most likely kindly reject any further intimate interactions, maybe have me sign a few NDAs.

I still answered positive, mushy and cute and all. Feelings aside, I wasn't about to change my texting style for any man. My God, I was turning into a monster. A horribly cheesy, pink, soft, fluffy monster.

The next day, school was nearly unbearable. People talked. Not to my face, of course, since the rumours of me putting away Flash Thompson were still fresh enough for everyone to be cautious around me, but the whispers followed me throughout hallways, tongue in cheek remarks thrown at me from the bathroom stalls, behind the teacher's desks. Did I care? Nope.

Okay, I did, but not in the way one would think. The little spring in my step, a slight smirk. My thoughts were occupied with my upcoming dinner with Tony.

Peter and his pet nerds stood at my side, the ever watchful guards. I had no idea why they decided I needed reassurance or their comfort (I did not), but I had to admit it was cute. MJ, in particular, glared her Death Ray Stare at any male-identifying student that dared to as much as look wrongly in my direction. I mostly ignored the trio. Pete himself did a great job with entertaining his friends, he babbled on as usual, about everything and nothing in particular. Mouth ulcers. He was going to get them one day.

Dad called me during third period, saying he was flying off to California. I would have been lying if I said I didn't know why he scheduled the sudden trip; mother's total radio silence and the absence of her laptop in her own office spoke volumes about the state of my family's affairs. They had a fight and ran off to the opposite ends of the continent. I didn't understand why mother was upset with me, though. I saved her face during dinner at Tony's, so why is she mad about me going to a party with dad? Baffling woman.

Admitting the house felt like home when either of them were absent was hard. Or, perhaps, I felt nothing at all. Spending so much time around the Brady Bunch- the Avengers made me too soft for my own liking. It wasn't just Tony that lived in mind rent-free all the time now; there was Bruce, with his kindness, Bucky with his overgrown teenager attitude, Wanda with her wit and hair that smelled like cheap shampoo - seriously, I absolutely had to show her the benefits of decent hair products. That was just to list the few little quirks. There were so many people, all of them different and wonderful in their own way.

To summarize it, I was both happy for them and bitter for not having any of that to myself. Although it made me kind of glad I didn't have a sibling - looking after someone in the mess that mother and dad created would've been a nightmare. They say it's always a better place where we are not.

I went through a whole pack of cigarettes in a span of a couple of hours. Plagued by strangely melancholic thoughts, trying to push down the anxiety over my upcoming date, my choice of outfit proved to be a cumbersome task while in process.

Expensive but simple dress with spaghetti straps, in my favourite colour. That was the easiest part. A good base for any accessories. Would Tony like it? Would the press make outrageous comments?

Either way, it would. Dad's comments cut deeper than I probably realized it until now; in a sudden bout of self-awareness and a couple of mouse clicks later... Tony wouldn't care. Tony wears suits with sneakers. The Manolos flew back, towards my shoe closet, and a pair of Chanel trainers made their debut. A Hermes 2002 barely weighed down by my wallet, keys and phone. A nice coat, too, appropriately light and so very conceptual and fashionable.

I spent way too much time deciding on what to wear. A stern talking to, however, didn't help me, and I had to redo my make-up - the "nude", "all natural" look was one of the hardest to nail. Or so Marie Claire said. Whatever, my highlighter game was, as usual, on point.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps ​ @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @sleep-i-ness @gigglyfox01 @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway (it finally let me tag you)!

[partywithponies]

hi! i've only ever seen the bbc version of father brown and i've never read the books (i know, i'm so sorry), but i'm super curious about the different versions of father brown and you seem like an expert on each adaptation, so i was wondering if you'd be willing to give me a rundown of sorts on each version/series? i know it's a lot to ask and i may be opening the floodgates here, but there's not a ton of info online elsewhere and i'd love to learn more! thanks either way. ciao!

OH BOY YOU’VE COME TO THE RIGHT PLACE ANON

OKAY SO

As briefly as possible:

The books:

Proof people who complain about the BBC show being “too political” don’t actually know the books at all

Father Brown straight up calls capitalism “evil” and “heresy”

Chesterton says that millionaires dying isn’t a tragedy

Inspector Valentin betrayed us and broke my heart, ACAB I guess

Since every police officer he befriends lets him down in some way, Father Brown’s only real friend is Flambeau, who he goes absolutely everywhere with. They only go on holiday with each other. They’ve been all over the world with each other. I love they

Book Father Brown pretty much never does his goddamn job. We literally never in all the books see him giving mass or taking confession. The closest we get is when he gives an impromptu sermon after seemingly coming back from the dead, where he literally only says "You silly, silly people. God bless you all and give you more sense." then runs away to send a telegram. Useless priest. I love him. 

Book Flambeau is. Incredible. Amazing. Iconic. None of the adaptations have been able to fully capture book Flambeau’s true energy, for he is a walking contradiction who contains multitudes. If all the onscreen Flambeaus fused into one being, THEN you’d have something vaguely resembling book Flambeau.

Book Flambeau is MASSIVE. He’s at least 6′4, he’s broad shouldered, has huge hands, and his super buff. He can just. Pick people up and throw them. He can knock people unconscious with one punch. He fills doorways when he stands in them. He terrifies most people just by drawing himself up to his full height. He also has a very short temper and a very short patience. 

He’s very agile and athletic and can move silently, despite his size. He’s also a master of disguise, somehow. (Explain, Chesterton. Explain. Is everyone in this universe apart from Father Brown, Flambeau, and arguably Valentin massively stupid? Actually don’t answer that I’ve read these books)

Book Flambeau has a habit of flinging people full-bodily down flights of stairs when they anger him or threaten him or Father Brown. Book Flambeau also carries a walking cane with him literally everywhere that has a sword concealed in the handle, plus book Flambeau insists on taking pistols on holiday with him, even when he was just going for a peaceful fishing holiday in the Norfolk Broads. King. 

(Which all makes it so iconic that Father Brown, described as tiny and meek and sensitive, saw this man when he was still a hardened criminal on top of all this and said “THIS ONE I LIKE THIS ONE. I JUST THINK HE’S NEAT” and went off on a jolly through London with him.)

Flambeau’s past is extremely mysterious. We no nothing about his family or his childhood or where he’s from or why he turned to crime. We know he used to be a soldier, and a part of him misses it. We know he used to fight duels semi-regularly, and liked them to be fought the very next morning after they were organised. We know he always used to make sure to visit the dentist on time, even when he was a hardened criminal. (King of good teeth.)  We know he was in a gang at some point. We know he was a student at some point. We don’t know what he studied, but we know he knew Leonard Quinton in “wild student days in Paris”  ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°). This is literally all we know about his past before he met Father Brown. The man is a riddle wrapped in an enigma. (That’s why Flambeau is so big. He’s full of secrets)

(Fun fact: in the book universe Flambeau is famous and popular in America, so you could say that in universe Flambeau is America’s Favourite Fighting Frenchman.)

Flambeau also loves cats and children, believes in fairies, likes pointing out rocks that look like dragons, and likes giggling and mucking about on the beach with Father Brown.  A baby.

One time Father Brown called Flambeau “full of good and pure thoughts”, but I don’t think that’s quite true, Father. I think Father Brown just has endless faith in Flambeau.

Another thing I think is really neat is that it would’ve been so easy to have Father Brown be the genius and Flambeau his dumb muscle sidekick but that’s not the case at all! They’re both geniuses and they’re both each other’s sidekick, and in fact it’s Flambeau who’s the famous professional private detective, Father Brown is just an amateur. Father Brown is often defined by his connection to Flambeau rather than vice versa, both in the text (the text will frequently refer to them as something along the lines of “Flambeau and his friend the priest”, and on two separate occasions a long list of Flambeau’s possessions is ended with “and a priest”), and in universe (Father Brown himself is massively famous in America in universe largely because of “his long connection to Flambeau). I don’t know I just think it’s neat. 

One time a man threatened Father Brown with a gun and Flambeau just beat him unconscious and then Father Brown and Flambeau just drove away and left him unconscious on the path. It was awesome.

(I’m sorry I rambled about Flambeau for so many words I just. Really really like Flambeau you guys. Father Brown and Flambeau are like two separate crime drama character tropes, the hard boiled cynical P.I. and the cosy eccentric amateur detective, but together as a double act, and I just think that’s really cool.)

Father Brown himself is if anything even more mysterious. He’s just “Father J. Brown, formerly of Cobhole in Essex, currently London”, and he’s “Flambeau’s friend”, and that’s all. That’s all he needs to be.

I also really really love Father Brown himself. I love that he’s allowed to be cheerful and optimistic and childish without any of this making him less clever, and in fact he’s shown time and time again to be cleverer than grumpy cynics who are scornful of childish things. Like, the whole giggling childlike thing isn’t even some kind of act, he’s a genius who understands true human nature, and he also really really likes puppet shows and building sandcastles who telling fairy stories, he really does get a “childish pleasure” from seeing Flambeau swing his sword-stick, and he really does have “strong personal interest in tomfoolery”. I love him.

I must share my favourite book quote about Father Brown himself: “But neither of them is very like the real Father Brown, who is not broken at all; but goes stumping with his stout umbrella through life, liking most of the people in it; accepting the world as his companion, but never as his judge.” uwu uwu uwu I’m cry.

Chesterton just subverts all the expectations character wise, the cheerful bumbling priest is a genius, the violent criminal is a true hero, the noble police officer is a corrupt self-serving murderer. It’s great. We stan. 10000000/10

(I’m not very good at being brief, am I?)

Father Brown, Detective (1934):

The first movie! It’s completely ridiculous. I love it a lot.

It was released just at the start of Hays Code, which, among other things, stated that crime and immorality should not be glorified or glamourised, and all crime and immorality must be seen to be punished by the end of the film. In practice in the case of this film, this means two things:

Paul Lukas!Flambeau is the only Flambeau to actually go to prison (and stay there).

He’s by far the Flambeau who deserves it the least. Lukas!Flambeau never hurt a soul. He just wanted to be loved. #FreeMyBoyHercule

Okay but in all seriousness. There’s a reason I call Paul Lukas!Flambeau “Himbo Flambeau”. Where other Flambeaus are violent or dangerous or geniuses, Lukas!Flambeau is just a big dumb idiot who respects women and has a great sense of humour and writes all his letters in the third person like Elmo for some reason. I would die for him.

At one point Flambeau in disguise is talking to the police, and when the police criticise Flambeau, disguised Flambeau says “Oh but I assure! I have read many things about this Flambeau! He is a fearless, handsome fellow!” The absolute idiot. I adore him with my whole heart.

The film is set in London, like the books, but an idealised Hollywood version of London, i.e., almost entirely unlike London.

Walter Connolly!Father Brown is also entirely lacking in braincells. Look at these two idiot men:

I love them.

Oh oh! And the most important thing, the thing that carries over into most other adaptations? NEW ORIGINAL CHARACTERS!!

This movie invents a few characters that weren’t in the books, but the most important ones are Mrs Boggs:

She doesn’t really add much to the plot but she’s funny and I love her so I’ll forgive it. 

She’s Father Brown’s housekeeper, she’s basically just the fussing maternal female character archetype who fusses around in the background, but she does it well and plays it with charm so I’ll allow it.

(Honestly this whole film is just. Not *technically* good or original, but just so charming and with so much heart that I unironically adore it.)

She tries to make Father Brown drink his milk because it’s good for him even though he doesn’t like it, and keeps checking back in on him to make sure he’s drunk it, it’s literally like a mother and her small child.

She objects to policemen in the presbytery because of their “big muddy boots on the carpet” but is fine with just letting Flambeau in whenever despite the prevailing rumour in London being that Flambeau killed a man. We stan a queen of having priorities. 

When Inspector Valentine summons Father Brown to the station, Mrs Boggs pops up in the background, assumes Father Brown’s being arrested, and says “Oh dear, I knew it!” and it makes me giggle like an idiot every time.

The other, more important original character invented for this movie is my girl Evelyn Fischer:

I love her, I would die for her, she’s flawless.

She’s basically your typical bored and rebellious young aristocrat, but she has a chaotic streak that I adore.

She sneaks out of her family’s mansion to go to a seedy underground club/illegal gambling ring in Soho (I mean I assume it’s Soho, a seedy part of London in that general vicinity, at least. I’m not about to get bogged down trying to understand the geography of London according to Hollywood), flirts with a bunch of strangers for fun, then when the police raid the place and everyone else is panicking she stands stock still, cheerfully says “Oh goody, I shall probably get my name in the papers!” and has to be physically dragged out of the building by Flambeau.

Later on Flambeau breaks into her bedroom in the middle of the night and she’s just very calmly like “What are you doing?”, and even when she finds out it’s Flambeau, a man widely believed to be dangerous and violent, instead of being scared, she calls him an idiot right to his face.

She forms the third part of the main trio of the movie with Father Brown and Flambeau (RIP to Valentine, demoted to tertiary character in a loose adaptation of the one (1) story where he was the main character lol) and together the three of them share a single braincell and have to take turns with it, while Mrs Boggs fusses in the background at the trio’s increasingly bonkers decisions. 

The movie ends with Father Brown and Evelyn sharing an emotional farewell with Flambeau through the window of a police car and promising to look after each other until Flambeau’s released, wow poly rights.

The Adventures of Father Brown (1945):

The adaptation there’s the least amount of information about, but I’ve done my best to find everything I can find on it.

An American radio show made towards the end of wartime, it’s a bit of an odd one, and believe me Father Brown adaptations have gone some odd places.

Only two episodes survive, or at least if more do survive then whoever has them is being very selfish and hoarding them to themselves because only two episodes are publicly available anywhere, and the audio quality of those is a bit dodge. (Though that is to be expected, they do appear to be home recordings, from 1945. Honestly we should be grateful to even have two full episodes.)

If the actors I’ve found are the right people, this show featured by far the youngest Father Brown and Flambeau, at the start of the show the actor playing Father Brown was only 36 and the actor playing Flambeau was only 27. They’re BABIES. (Honestly I’d like to see more age variation in Father Brown adaptations, as I have extensively rambled about before, the characters have literally no canon ages in the books, I think people ought to be a little more imaginative instead of always building on the adaptations that came before, even if it is really cool to see traces of all the previous adaptations in each new one that comes along. It’s something I haven’t noticed as much in adaptations of other golden age detective novels, but the Father Brown adaptations do seem to be stuck in some kind of game of “yes, AND” with each other. I would REALLY like to see an adaptation where Flambeau is older than Father Brown though, it's just something we've never had before despite there being literally nothing in the books to suggest this can't be the case, and I just think it'd be neat.)

This show is really really painfully American, in a real old fashioned "golly gee whizz mister" kind of way, to the point it almost feels like a parody, and I honestly find it kind of endearing.

Even Flambeau frequently slips into a very American accent to the point that my affectionate nickname for him is "The All-American Flambeau", and it's great. He's great.

Honestly I could accept the accents and the slang, for some reason the only thing that really threw me was Father Brown referring to money in cents and nickels.

Needless to say, this adaptation is not set in London. It is instead set in Generic Unspecified Smalltown USA. It's fine. This is fine. I already have so many films and shows set in London, I can swallow my London pride and let America have this.

It's hard to get a real grasp on characters from just two episodes, but I like this Father Brown and Flambeau, even if they are a little overly serious, and even if Flambeau doesn't really do much. He may be a bit serious and a bit useless but All-American Flambeau stays up late anxiously waiting for Father Brown to get home safely and it's very sweet. What a good boy.

All-American Flambeau also carries handcuffs around with him for some reason? But no weapons? Why is All-American Flambeau one of the few Flambeaus not to have a gun? Oh well, he's still sweet.

The 1945 radio show also gives us some original characters, but they're very much side characters and not part of the main plot and it's very hard to get a good grasp on a character from just a few minutes of audio from just two episodes but here's what I could gather:

Nora is another fussing housekeeper! She seems younger and less maternal than Mrs Boggs, but I don't know if that's just because the whole cast was on the younger side. (Could the radio station not find anyone over the age of 40? Were they in short supply in 1945 or something? Ah well.) She seems dedicated to helping Father Brown get some peace and quiet that he never goddamn gets because someone always goes and gets themselves murdered. In both surviving episodes a knock at the door disturbs Father Brown’s rest, Nora opens it professionally, sees it's Flambeau, and immediately drops the professionalism and is immediately like "oh it's only you", so I can only assume every episode started this way. I do hope so.

Father Peter is a junior priest who answers to Father Brown and takes over his duties on his days off. He's implied by the dialogue to be considerably younger than Father Brown, Nora, and Flambeau, but if their actors are anything to go by then they're not that old themselves, and though Father Brown seems to talk to Father Peter like he's a literal child, he is still a priest so I very much doubt that's the case. He seems sweet and harmless, but he's only in one of the surviving episodes and only in that towards the end and mentioned briefly at the start, so it's hard to judge completely. It's highly unlikely that the reason he's not even mentioned in the later surviving episode is because he turned out to secretly be an evil murderer, but, this being a Father Brown adaptation, not entirely unfounded. (But no, he's probably just a sweet boy who exists to have exposition delivered to him.)

Father Brown/The Detective (1954):

The Alec Guinness movie! The one haters of any of the other adaptations complain that adaptation isn't more like, but in my humble opinion, actually the worst adaptation.

Like, I don't hate it! The cast is mostly stellar actors and if I just saw it as a movie on its own, it'd probably be fine. But as a Father Brown adaptation watched in context of the books and the other adaptations, it has a few issues imo.

Most glaringly it has Tone Issues. This film cannot decide if it's a comedy or not. The original posters certainly marketed it as one (see above) and half the cast are noted comic actors who were famous at the time for comedy, goddamn SID JAMES is in it, but the entire third act is played painfully straight, half the cast is mugging for the camera and trying way too hard to be funny while the other cast is giving extremely serious and subtle performances, like. I have no problem with a Father Brown adaptation being played for laughs, and I have no problem with a Father Brown adaptation being played for drama, both can work beautifully, but just PICK ONE, PLEASE

All of my other gripes with the film are very petty and nitpicky, this film calls Father Brown and Flambeau "Ignatius Brown" and "Gustav Flambeau" even though Father Brown has the canon first initial "J" and Flambeau has the canon first name "Hercule", and I hate it a lot. "Ignatius and Gustav" is the second worst thing any Father Brown adaptation has ever done to me.

My other petty nitpick with the movie is that it makes Flambeau literal nobility. The man is a duke. In my opinion Flambeau should always either have a completely mysterious past or be a nobody who came from nothing, someone who grew up with land and title and many servants and a family coat of arms, living in a whole entire castle with his family name and coat of arms engraved into the side of it, growing up and stealing from people, is a whole lot less sympathetic in my opinion. Like to be fair his parents are dead which is sad I guess and his castle has seen better days, but dude. You still own a castle. People who live in castles do not get to lecture other people about materialism.

THAT SAID, Peter Finch is still the best thing about the movie. I love all Flambeaus dearly, even the ones that are little bitches. He’s a bit of an emo “oh woe is me” sadboy, but he’s very charming, and actually good at disguises and being undercover, get dunked on Lukas!Flambeau.

Guinness!Brown likes to feed ducks and Flambeau calls him “the angel with the flaming umbrella”, which makes my inner Good Omens fan who loves finding parallels between Aziraphale & Crowley and Father Brown & Flambeau go 👀

There is one really good scene, in the Paris Catacombs. And by “good” I mean “really really bafflingly gay”:

I truly, truly do not understand how this scene was written, directed, acted, filmed, and edited without ANYONE saying “hey lads does this seem a bit gay to you?”

Father Brown, literally lying on top of Flambeau and pinning him to the ground, whispering: “I would like to set you free.” Flambeau, softly, gently smiling while his face is literal inches away from Father Brown, who is still pinning him to the ground: “Ah, now I begin to understand what you are.”

What the fuck, you guys. What the entire fuck. This scene keeps me up at night.

ANYWAY

This film is also not set in London. It is instead mostly set in a rural English village, and partially in Paris and partially in rural France. Paris is fun but I miss London.

This film also has some original characters. I should probably talk about them. 

This is Lady Warren:

She’s Father Brown’s friend, and she’s a Lady, and that’s all I can really tell you.

She’s very well-mannered and dignified and sophisticated.

She gives me the vibe that she exists solely because the writers decided they needed a female character but then remembered at the last minute they had no idea how to write women, so as a result she is almost entirely irrelevant to the plot. I don’t want to say I don’t like her, because she’s done nothing wrong and it’s not her fault, but like. Why is she here? Poor thing, she deserved to be plot-relevant, really.

She lives in a big mansion and owns some very nice things, and she gets annoyed when she invites Father Brown to lunch but he just stares blankly into space thinking about Flambeau the whole time. (Mood honestly FB. Me too.) 

She flirts a bit with Flambeau in one very pointless scene that came the hell out of nowhere, went nowhere, and was never mentioned again. It was like the writers realised how gay the previous Flambeau scene was and suddenly tried to convince me this man is a hetero. Nice try, writers. You can’t fool me that easily.

The other main original character is Bert:

Alright, own up, whose bright idea was it to put Sid James in a Father Brown movie?

Bert is a smalltime criminal who’s a friend of Father Brown, who Father Brown protects from the police, but tries to convince to get on the straight and narrow by getting him as a job as Lady Warren’s chauffer. 

This is would be fine, were it not for the fact he’s played by Sid James, who only knows how to play Sid James, and is just Sid Jamesing it up in every scene. I don’t have anything against Sid James. I like my fair share of Carry On films. But Sid James does not belong in Father Brown and I want to fight whoever decided he did.

Father Brown (1974):

LADS LADS LADS! It’s time for the first TV show, and it’s time for my favourite boys:

Oh! OH! How I love Kenneth More!Brown and Dennis Burgess!Flambeau. They’re just. So cute. My two special boys.

Not only that, but LADS! We’re finally back in London!

A gritty, dirty, London in the 1930s no less, with cool London buses and political unrest and grimy pubs and the constant threat of world war. Alexa this is so cool play London Calling.

In one episode Flambeau gets verbally abused by an anti-immigration right-wing zealot. :( My poor boy. :( 

(But it’s okay, shortly after Father Brown witnesses this, the racist shows up dead in exactly the place Father Brown earlier said would be a good place to commit a murder. Now I’m not accusing Father Brown of murder, BUT)

This show made the bold but valid decision to skip Flambeau’s redemption arc and start the show when Flambeau is already a seasoned and respected private detective who’s lived in London and been Father Brown’s closest friend for many years. As a result this Father Brown and Flambeau are ridiculously domestic with each other. Look at this peak Old Married Couple energy:

Oh! I just love them.

I would love to know how Burgess!Flambeau’s redemption went down though, because Burgess!Flambeau is BY FAR the least repentant of all the reformed Flambeaus. He proudly boasts about his crimes, he still believes he “deserved to succeed”, he still proudly talks about how “daring and outrageous” he was, which begs the question of why did he stop at all? Literally the only explanation I can think of is that he’s literally only doing this for Father Brown’s sake, which. uwu

Oh GOD I love Burgess!Flambeau. Obviously I love all Flambeaus a lot, and choosing a favourite feels like choosing a favourite child, but let’s just say: if the Flambeaus WERE my children, Burgess!Flambeau would be quite spoilt. My ~ Daring And Outrageous ~ boy.

More!Brown and Burgess!Flambeau are both really really socially awkward, uncomfortable in crowds, and nervously say “oh dear” a lot. They really are ridiculously cute.

They also only giggle and joke and act silly when they’re together, when they’re apart they’re both sort of sad and quiet and withdrawn. (This makes episodes Flambeau isn’t in a bit harder to watch because Father Brown is just kind of lost and lonely without his emotional support Frenchman, with three notable exceptions: that time Father Brown infodumped about the mating habits of whales at the Father Superior for a solid minute, that time Father Brown met a dog and reacted with unrestrained delight, and that time someone mentioned former criminals in passing and Father Brown’s whole face lit up and he started gushing about how Flambeau was living in London now and doing very well as a private detective, completely unprompted.)

This show also brought back book!Brown and Flambeau’s habit of always going on holiday together! Wonderful! We love to see it!

This show is also the first time in the entire Father Brown franchise where gay people are overtly acknowledged to exist! And Father Brown is non-judgemental! A roman catholic priest written in the 1970s and living in the 1930s who canonically isn’t homophobic! I have no choice but to stan forever!

You remember what I said about liking to point out Good Omens parallels? WELL

Kenneth More!Father Brown and Dennis Burgess!Flambeau both live in London

Burgess!Flambeau lives in a brightly lit, pale walled, airy and spacious, modern (for the time) London apartment, while More!Brown prefers gothic architecture and lives in an old, grey, cramped, stone building absolutely full floor to ceiling with books

They go out for intimate candlelit dinners for two at very fancy London restaurants 

Desperate people come to Flambeau because he “knows the game on both sides of the fence”

Father Brown responds with a quiet and miserable “oh dear” when asked to actually do his job instead of just watching plays and drinking wine

Father Brown calls Flambeau “my dear” at times and it personally kills me

I mean. I’m just saying.  👀

Now, isn’t there a third important character in the books? 

Oh yes of course:

HIM! THE BASTARD MAN! INSPECTOR VALENTIN HIMSELF!

(Nobody understands him! IT’S NOT! EVIL!)

This show is the literally only adaptation to include the Valentin betrayal and I’m not gonna lie. It’s a very difficult episode to sit through, it’s far darker and grimmer and more depressing than you would ever expect from Father Brown, but my god it’s done so well. Especially considering the teeny tiny budget they clearly had, only four sets are used the entire episode and the whole thing takes place inside Valentin’s house, but even that adds a certain claustrophobic atmosphere and just. It’s done so well.

I think the entire budget went on gore effects because the decapitated heads in this episode are disturbingly realistic for the time the show was made and genuinely grim to look at. Not to mention the intense downer ending.  Not to mention this was THE FINAL EPISODE OF THE SHOW

THE INTENSE DOWNER ENDING OF THIS EPISODE IS HOW THE WHOLE SHOW ENDED

God it hurts so much but I lowkey love it. 

Father Brown Stories (1984):

The second radio series, and the first BBC adaptation! 

Thrilling times for fans of actors being the right nationality for their characters, because after previously being played by a Hungarian, an American, an Englishman, and a Welshman, Flambeau is finally being played by a Frenchman, Olivier Pierre!

Father Brown himself is played by Andrew Sachs, Manuel himself. 

Not gonna lie. It’s kind of hard to figure out how to explain the radio show.

We’re? Maybe back in London? Honestly it’s really unclear.

Pierre!Flambeau is kind of adorable. He’s described as looking like book!Flambeau physically, huge and buff and terrifying, but he has literally none of the temper or predisposition to violence. 

Pierre!Flambeau doesn’t speak very good English at all, and oftentimes will react with “...What?” when he hears a strange English idiom or turn of phrase.

One time he says “Perhaps we should.. push on? SEE HOW I AM MASTERING YOUR ENGLISH IDIOMS” and it’s the cutest thing that’s ever happened.

To try and get better at understanding both the English language and the English people, Flambeau starts obsessively reading Alice in Wonderland and Through The Looking Glass, massive giant adorable boy.

One time Father Brown gets complimented of being academically minded and well read, and then asked if Flambeau is also a keen reader, and when Flambeau tries to say no, Father Brown interrupts and proudly and earnestly says “Oh yes! Monsieur Flambeau is one of our top Lewis Carroll scholars!”, it’s honestly adorable.

This adaptation finally uses “John” as Father Brown’s first name, as it should always have been! I love it!

This series said FUCK Father Brown having a mysterious past and no former friends or relatives! Now he has siblings, and friends who knew him before he was a priest who still call him “John”!

Father Brown himself speaks in a very sweet and soft and wavering way that makes my heart melt.

Sadly and unfortunately, I have to acknowledge the final episode of the show, which is the top worst thing any Father Brown adaptation has ever done to me.

It’s. It’s a crossover. With Sherlock Holmes. Actual goddamn Sherlock Holmes is in it. I hate it. I hate it so much. “Elementary, my dear Flambeau” shut the hell up, if this Flambeau won’t fling you down a flight of stairs then I will.

I deliberately avoided all Holmes-related media for THREE YEARS only for the awful man to spring up on me in Father Brown?? How could you do this to me???

I’m going to yeet myself into the sun, bye everyone.

(On the plus side, the Sherlock Holmes episode does have one of Father Brown’s parishioners recognise Flambeau as “a close friend of Father Brown and a frequent visitor to his room”  ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°), so that’s nice I suppose. I’ll still never forgive the writers of this show for putting me through this.)

Father Brown (2013):

YOU ARE HERE.

I kind of see the current TV series as a culmination of all the adaptations that’ve come before? I can definitely see echoes of all of them in it.

And it’s great! I really really love it. I love it a lot. 

I think about it daily.

My one and only complaint I would have is that Flambeau isn’t in it enough. Not just because he’s my favourite, though I’d obviously not be fooling anyone who’s read all this if I said he isn’t.

And it’s not that I don’t love the show as it is, and find the one Flambeau episode a series always something really special, so I don’t know what I’d have the writers do, exactly. 

But it’s just. In literally every other version of Father Brown, Flambeau is the second most important character and the second main protagonist, and to have him in this show so little that some fans or reviewers call him a “minor character” and others call him a “recurring villain”, though I myself don’t see him either of those ways of course because he’s still Flambeau, it’s just kinda sad and painful, y’know?

I don’t know. Maybe I’m just being silly.

Hopefully he’s a regular in at least the final season of the show. If I don’t get my favourite partners in crime solving I’m rioting. 

Anyway that’s my “””brief””” rundown on all the main versions of Father Brown!! I hope you liked it!!

[iplaymatchmaker]

hello and good day! i would like a matchup for a3! and ikerev, please! she/her pronouns. you can call me juice, though! hm i think a good description of me personality wise would be im usually cheerful, friendly, childish but i tend to hide a lot of my negative feelings and overthink quite a lot. towards others i'm always curious about the littlest details of someone's hobbies or interest and sometimes i talk more than i listen. love literature and things like fashion or games (1)

Hello, thanks for requesting juice! Sorry for the long wait but I hope you enjoy it! I was pretty excited to write a match up for a3! since it’s been living rent free in my head for the last few weeks. I got a little carried away with the last prompt cause it was so fun to write, but I hope you like it! Also, the ikerev one might take some time but I’ll try to not take too long. Have fun!

I match you with

Tsuzuru!

The two of you first meet after you watch one of their plays, “A Clockwork Heart.” When you realize that the lead and writer is a classmate of yours from college you can’t help but approach him a few days later to discuss the play further.

He seems self conscious at first but quickly opens up as the two of you discuss his script and before you know it one conversation has turned into an in-depth discussion over lunch.

After that first encounter, both of you start talking more often, quickly growing closer. Tsuzuru appreciates your cheerful attitude, making it easy for him to be comfortable around you.

Considering your love for literature, you often help him brainstorm for new ideas, always looking forward to seeing how he brings it to life on stage.

It is easy for you to fit in with the rest of the boys from Mankai, despite their constant prying on your relationship with Tsuzuru. After all the time the two of you spend together, it is no surprise when none of the boys (except Azami) bat an eyelash when you make it official, after a lot of back and forth between friendship and romance.

Prompt: Bonding

“The reason S was created in the first place was because Luke needed a companion. It’s tragic that he was the one who left him in the end.”

“Well, yes, but he also taught him to open up to people, insuring that he wouldn’t be alone when he was gone.”

You and Tsuzuru had been discussing the end of his latest play “A Clockwork Heart” for a while, arguing over whether or not the ending was tragic. When you approached him to offer your praise for his work earlier that day you hadn’t been expecting him to engage in your opinions on a play he wrote, but he was actually deeply invested in the conversation, despite the matter at hand being trivial to the actual substance of the story.

“He couldn’t have known though. He also put his own wishes aside to protect him. That alone makes the ending tragic.” You vividly remembered the tears you had shed when the show reached its climax, a result of both his script and his acting.

“It depends on your idea of what the ending was. S was a machine, so as long as Luke was alive they could meet again, when it was safe for the both of them. That makes the ending-“

Ring Ring

You almost chucked at the generic sound his phone made as it vibrated.

“Give me a sec.” he moved away from the bench before answering. It wasn’t long before he returned, a flush expression on his face.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize I had kept you for so long. I actually need to get going.” He ran a hand through his hair, smiling shyly. It was only then that you noticed what time it was.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to bother you for that long!” Now you were both flushed, the realization dawning on you that you had spent two hours talking.

“I-it’s fine. Um, we can continue this tomorrow, if you’d like?” you were surprised he actually wanted to talk again, a smile spreading over your face.

“Definitely. “

“Okay. See you then!” he waved as he ran off while simultaneously trying to dial someone, resulting in him almost falling on his face. You looked forward to tomorrow.

After that first encounter, you continued to meet during lunch to talk about other works, quickly realizing you had a similar taste in books and movies. It was an easy transition, going from acquaintances to friends.

“How’s the summer troupe’s play coming along?” It was easy to tell that he had been losing sleep again from the – almost – comical black circle under his eyes, but you asked anyway, hoping that you could offer some help.

“I know what I want to write, the words are just refusing to form and settle themselves on the page.” The frustration was evident on his face as he tried to put the pieces flying around his head in order. You tried to think of a way to help him but you knew that he needed to figure this out on his own.

“Come on.” You forcefully pulled him out of his chair, carefully shutting his laptop.

“W-wait. Where are we going?” you pushed him along, despite his protesting.

“Trust me.” You flashed him your biggest smile before setting of, only mildly aware that your hand was still around his wrist.

“The movies?” he seemed confused over what your objective was but you were confident it would help him out of his slump.

“Yes. Come on, I’ll even get us popcorn!” you were beaming as you led him inside.

“What are we watching?” Tsuzuru, finally resigned to his fate, flipped through the leaflet, looking at the moves currently playing.

“Your choice, I’m fine with whatever.” You hurried to the bar to pick up snacks, leaving him at the ticket booth.

“Look at those effects.”

“The acting is top notch.”

Tsuzuru had been so immersed in the movie he seemed to have forgotten all about his tiredness. When you exited the theatre you could practically see the gears turning in his head.”

“It’s a very different take on pirates than the summer troupe’s play, but if I exaggerate the characters even more then there would be great opportunity for comedy.” You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you as you observed him, completely lost in his own mind.

“So I take it the creative juices are flowing again?” he looked back at you, as if seeing you clearly for the first time in days.

“Yes! Thank you!” He put his arms around you, too far lost in his excitement to feel any awkwardness.

“I-I have to go write! I’ll see you tomorrow.” He continued shouting thank you over his shoulder as he run off with newfound energy. You expected you wouldn’t see him the next day, considering he’d probably be passed out by then, but you smiled anyway.

“See you later!”

Prompt : Cinderella:

“So, you’re thinking of doing Cinderella for the next play?” You and Tsuzuru were hanging out in his room, taking full advantage of Masumi’s absence that weekend.

“Yeah… I’m not sure how to go about it though. Everyone in the Spring Troupe agreed that I should be lead this time around but I just don’t see myself in the shoes of a prince… Itaru would probably be a better fit for the role.” You couldn’t help throwing a pillow his way.

“Hey! What was that for?” You sat up a little straighter, tempted to glare at him until he picked up on your annoyance.

“I can definitely picture you in the role of the prince.” You cleared your throat before switching to your best narrator voice.

A long, long time ago there lived a boy and a girl. They were the best of friends when they were children. The boy would often sneak out to meet with her and they would play for hours. But their happiness would not last long.

You see, the girl grew up to be the maid of one of the less-fortunate royal families in the kingdom. She had been forced into that position by her father’s latest wedding. It would also turn out to be his last, for he died a few years later, leaving her in the care of a wicked stepmother.

One the other hand, the boy grew up to be the most charming prince in the land. The women fawned over him and he always had everything his heart could desire.”

“I’m literally none of those things.”

“Fine then.”

The prince was an idiot who didn’t know how to take care of himself and never asked for help. He constantly worried his friends over his health but they loved him anyway.

“That’s not any better…”

“Shh, let me continue the story.”

Their difference in class ripped the two friends apart, putting an end to their relationship. While they weren’t allowed to meet again, they promised to never forget about each other. To keep that promise, the made matching bracelets and agreed to never take them off until they could meet again.

“Friendship bracelets? Who does that?”

“They were kids! Would you have preferred rings?”

“Wouldn’t those basically be promise rings?”

“I’m coming up with this on the spot, give me a break!”

That bracelet was what gave the girl the strength to continue living, despite her struggles.

When news of a ball arrived at the estate, her step-sisters were quick to start preparations, eager to have a chance at the prince’s hand in marriage. The girl was simply happy at the prospect of seeing her friend again.

When her family found out she was planning to attend the ball, they locked her in the cellar, not willing to risk any competition. The girl wept and wept, until suddenly a kind seeming lady appeared in front of her.

“Isn’t this just the movie?”

“Give it a second!”

The lady promised she would help her get to the ball if that was what she wished. Despite her suspicions, the girl earnestly declared that all she wanted was to see her friend again. And so the kind woman flicked her wrist and the rags the girl had been wearing were replace by a rich ball gown, paired with a glass slippers. The girl thanked her again and again before heading off in search of her lost friend.

“She doesn’t warn her about the time limit?”

“There’s no curfew here, it’s a stupid conflict anyway.”

You couldn’t contain the excitement and adrenaline that flowed through you as you went up the steps of the grand palace. You hadn’t been here since you were a child, when the king’s father still allowed you to visit, and childhood memories flooded your mind. It was difficult to keep your nerves at a reasonable level as you approached the guards at the front gate. By the time you had arrived at the palace, most of the guests were already inside, so you were completely alone when you handed the invitation, hoping the witch had done her work well.

“Enjoy your evening.” They smiled before urging you to step inside. A sense of awe filled you as you walked through the somewhat familiar halls, remembering all the places you and Tsuzuru would hide from the servants, before his title meant anything to you.

You weren’t sure you remembered the way to the main hall, so you followed the noise, hoping you could make your way there.

When you finally stood outside what seemed to be the entrance, you took a few deep breaths before walking forward, determined to see your friend again. When you stepped though the door you quickly realized that the door wasn’t the room’s main entrance, but the top of the grand staircase. Dread filled you as everyone’s eyes fell on you. If it wasn’t for the railing you thought you have fainted right then and there. You breathed in, allowing you hand to wrap around the bracelet the two of you had made so long ago, letting the warm feelings it carried spread through you.

You bowed once before making your way down the stairs, hoping you wouldn’t trip on your dress and make a fool of yourself before the night even started.

The moment you were off the last step, your eyes fell on your step-mother, eyeing you with absolute envy and disgust. You hoped the mask would be enough to conceal your identity.

You walked around the room for a bit, keeping to the less populated areas, hoping to catch a glimpse of Tsuzuru, disappointed to find that he was nowhere to be found.

“Please let this not be for nothing…”

You were about to make your way to the balcony, but a swarm of guests was suddenly in your path, dancing to the waltz the band had just started playing. You frantically looked around, searching for a way out when two arms wrapped around you, pulling you along with the rest of the dancers.

“I guess you’re my partner?” the face of the man that stood before you made your jaw drop. You had thought of so many things to say, but now that Tsuzuru was standing before you, the words seemed to catch in your throat.

“So, uh, are you having fun?” he was as awkward as you remembered. Something about the familiarity filled you with a sense of calm. I found him.

“I am now.” It was hard to contain the smile quickly spreading around your face.

“Actually I was-“that was when it was time to switch partners. When you felt his hand slip from yours, panic flooded through you. No… I didn’t have the chance to tell him.

As he pulled his hand away, his fingers brushed the bracelet on your wrist, eyes widening as he was whisked away by another partygoer, realization evident in his features. You tried to get closer, but were quickly taken away by another guest. Your eyes landed on Tsuzuru a few times but the hall was too crowded. It was almost suffocating. You took the first chance to slip out on the balcony, eager to get away from the crowds.

You stood at the railing, letting the air cool down your heated face. He had seen you, but you weren’t sure he would care enough to search. Negative thoughts occupied your mind as you gazed at the land beyond. Maybe this was foolish… He probably barely remembers me… He’s a prince after all. He was more important matter to attend to than a peasant he used to spend his free time with. You felt tears gathering at the corners of your eyes, your own loneliness catching up with you.

“Please don’t cry!” You were shocked to find Tsuzuru standing a few feet away from you, his face flushed and his knees bent. He must’ve been running.

“You’re the girl from back then, aren’t you?” he glanced down at your wrist, pulling up his own sleeve to reveal a bracelet identical to yours.

“Y-you kept it.” Your voice cracked, barely audible in the midst of the ongoing celebrations.

“Of course I did! It meant a lot to me.” The words seemed to call to something inside you and so you let the tears fall.

“W-what did I do? Please don’t cry!” he took a step closer, still unsure of what boundaries existed between you.

“I-I can’t help it. I’m just so happy!” you wrapped your arms around him, not caring who saw you. All that mattered in that moment was that the two of you were reunited at last.

“I missed you.” You couldn’t see his face, but you could tell he was crying too, by the way his heart beat against your, the way his hands shook, still wrapped around you in a tight embrace. Year’s worth of loneliness and regret spilled out of the both of you in a single moment.

You stayed like that for quite some time, allowing the relief to wash over you. When you looked at each other again, you couldn’t help but laugh at your state. You knew the scene must look ridiculous to any outside spectators, but none of them mattered. It felt like you were alone in the world, no barriers between you. Your class didn’t matter. You were just a boy and a girl who had been reunited.

“ The king was skeptical at first, knowing a commoner queen wouldn’t create any new alliances, but he could see the love his son had for the girl. And so they married. It’s said that the pair practically run down the stairs of the palace after their wedding, eager to get to their honeymoon, their laughter echoing through the streets.”

“That’s an ending befitting a prince Muku reads about in manga… I still don’t see where I fit into this… ”

“Fine. As they descended the staircase, the prince fell on his ass, causing even more laughter from the girl. A moment she would never let him forget.” You couldn’t help but laugh at the earnest look on Tsuzuru’s face. He may be clumsy, but he has always been kind.

“It will need a lot modifications, especially considering the fact that none of us can exactly pull off female roles, but it could work.” At some point through the story Tsuzuru seemed to have pulled out a notebook, in which he was now scribbling away.

“Are you seriously taking notes?” he was still focused on the story, not letting the inspiration go to waste.

“Of course I am. You’re brilliant!” he pulled you in for a kiss, taking you completely by surprise.

“You’re the best.” He turned back to his note taking, leaving you with flushed cheeks and a bright smile.

“You too.”

And they lived happily ever after.

[kryptidkat]

Now I'm curious. Does ghoul have faves? Kobra? Party? What about the Girl

Oof I spent way too much time on this and then didn’t proofread it….but here u go. (For the rest of the Four I’m excluding the Girl again, because she’s still so young that she has a very different relationship with them than they have with each other.) 

KOBRA

For Kobra, you almost have to exclude Poison from the start, because from being raised together and sharing so much of life, they’re on the same wavelength to where they can have whole conversations without saying a word. However, Poison can be loud — and obnoxious with razor-sharp precision like any good brother is  — so Kobra often needs space, even from him. It literally just depends what mood he’s in, who he most likes to spend time with on any given day. If he’s feeling mischievous, Ghoul is the obvious choice for a partner in crime. (Those two will also rag on each other incessantly, but it’s all in good fun and they’re pretty well attuned by now to when they need to back off before they hit an actual nerve.) And Jet, a man of relatively few words himself, is great for just being in the same room with while doing your own thing. (And once Kobra warmed up to him? Jet quickly became one of his favorite huggers in the world.) If you straight-up asked Kobra, though, he’d just snort, because he doesn’t even have to think about it, and because you should already know. No matter how unbearable his brother can be, it’s always Poison. 

POISON

Of course we have to start with Kobra, here. Poison perhaps has more of a bent toward protective than companionable feelings for Kobra, but he still feels incredibly close to him. They’re so close that you rarely see them physically side by side when they’re hanging out. More often than not, they will be on opposite sides of the room and merely sending occasional looks that will have the other making a face or outright laughing like there’s an actual verbal conversation going on that only they can hear. That said, Kobra can be moody quite often and won’t speak to anybody at all, not even to Poison by telepathy or whatever the hell it is that they can do, and gets even more moody if Poison tries to cheer him up and make him come do something with him. (That or he’ll ramble for hours about something Poison couldn’t give less of a shit about, like lizards or the care and feeding of succulents or different kinds of bike tires and how they respond on different terrains….)  So however borderline codependent they may be, it’s not an end-all be-all and their relationship doesn’t come at the expense of their relationships with other crewmembers. 

It’s nearly impossible to rile Jet. Poison knows, because Poison has tried. This discovery would make most people more comfortable around Jet; Poison finds it uncanny and infuriating. No one should be that unflappable. (He’s determined to find more of Jet’s buttons, so that’s kind of a subconscious ongoing mission of his.) However, if Poison’s feeling unspecifiably fragile, (and therefore acting the most assholeish), Jet is a steadying presence, as big and sturdy and unmovable as a joshua tree. For this, Poison is secretly glad Jet is unofficially the actual leader of the crew. And yet Poison’s never quite shaken the feeling that Jet is always…watching him. Not judging him—just trying to figure him out, see under the Party Poison mask, predict if he’s going to blow up at someone or fall into a panic in a given circumstance. Poison’s never been sure if this is actually the case or just his imagination. 

Ghoul can take whatever you give him and throw it right back. His addition to the crew was actually a godsend for everybody else, because Poison finally had an outlet for what seemed like an infinite amount of pent-up aggression. More often than not, they can be found wrestling on the floor somewhere without check, like they’re genuinely trying to kill each other (the rest of the crew have learned it’s best to just step around them), or screaming insults at each other. What’s more jarring is when they’re both being amicable. They skip making up entirely; there’s nothing to make up. (When Kobra first noticed Poison had started letting Ghoul touch up his hair, the two of them were on the receiving end of frequent horrified, wary side-eyed looks for a full week before he seemed to be satisfied that this was as far as things were going to go.). They were made for cuddling each other — they’re most alike in size of everyone at the diner, so they love hugging and snuggling once they’ve exhausted their excess frustration. 

GHOUL

Ghoul, who’s still trying to learn gentleness for the first time (it’s easy with the Girl, but a little more difficult with everyone else), is grudgingly fascinated how desert-hardened Jet can be so strong and yet remain so in control of that strength. Jet is fucking tough, tough as nails, but Ghoul’s never seen him use brute force on anyone besides a drac. Even at Ghoul’s worse, Jet has never lashed out at him. That’s nice. More than Ghoul deserves, certainly. The other nice thing about Jet is that he lets Ghoul be, much like the crew treats predator animals they encounter when they’re out in the open after dark. A desertborn attitude — live and let live. Jet doesn’t pry, doesn’t ask questions. Doesn’t try to change him. Ghoul’s grateful for that. 

Kobra is like, 12. And what a weirdo. Ghoul doesn’t get him at all. He has to respect the kid, though, because despite his quirks Kobra is a keen strategist, a formidable prank partner, and not scared of getting the shit beaten out of him — whether it’s in a fight or a bike accident or whatever. Not to mention he’s got a helluva pokerface, and a dark, sardonic sense of humor to rival Ghoul’s own. So yeah, Ghoul likes Kobra just fine. 

Ghoul trusts Poison completely, full stop. He’s not sure how much Poison does. There’s a huge, scary amount of trust between them, he knows, but he gets the feeling Poison has many more layers he still isn’t ready to show Ghoul. Which is fair, because some things Ghoul doesn’t want to bring up, either. (Not because it’s Poison. Poison would never laugh, or dismiss him, or judge. Ghoul just doesn’t want to think about certain things, let alone talk about them.) When they first met, Poison saved his life, probably (Ghoul maintains to himself he would’ve been fine even without his help), which under normal circumstances would’ve made Ghoul hate Poison’s guts forever. But Poison never acted like Ghoul owed him anything. As soon as Ghoul was well enough to take it, he treated Ghoul with the same abrasive combativeness he did everyone else. And Ghoul loved him for it. Poison never pulled punches, with him. That was what made Ghoul ultimately come to trust Poison with his softer side, too, oddly enough. 

THE GIRL

Jet is strong and smart and big. He can lift the Girl off the ground with one hand and he knows everything about how to not get killed in the desert, which is really important. Being the biggest means he’s the best for climbing up, which is also important. And even though he only has one eye anymore, he’s a killer shot. He’s super dangerous for bad guys and can even throw whole people across a room! He’s always nice to the Girl and Party and Kobra and Ghoulie, though. 

Kobra is so cool. He even gave the Girl a pair of sunglasses, so she could be cool too. Kobra knows everything about bikes and computers and martial arts, and he’s even started teaching her some sick moves. (She’s still too small to ride a bike, though.) She appreciates how Kobra tells things like they are, even though he still does his darndest to shield her from actually seeing things like they are when they’re out running the zones. It’s hard to tell what he’s thinking sometimes, but she guesses that’s just part of being cool. 

Ghoul is so fun. Which is fitting, given his full name, but yeah — he lets the Girl do the really fun stuff. At least when Jet isn’t watching. He knows everything about blowing stuff up and making things catch on fire. It doesn’t get much funner than that! And yet there’s something about the way Ghoul looks at her from a distance, sometimes. Like he’s seeing somebody else. It’s kind of creepy, but it happens rarely enough that she’s never mentioned it. 

Party is…a lot of things. He’s a really good artist, and a good teacher of it, too. He’s even taken the Girl out to do graffiti before, not just paint on the diner walls. He can be scary sometimes, but never in her direction. When they’re in public and he jumps up onto something and starts talking really loud, everyone shuts up and listens and does whatever he says. His eyes can get scary when he’s like that (if he’s angry, not just excited). However, if he catches the Girl watching him and remembers, afterward, he’ll usually shoot her a wink so she’ll know everything is okay. And he’s never given the Girl a reason to believe he’d ever turn that anger on her. Sometimes after a clap he gives hugs so tight they hurt, but the Girl isn’t bothered by that. The only thing that bothers her about Party is that he reminds her of someone, occasionally — in a fleeting expression, in the tilt of his head, in a smile. She’s never been able to put a finger on who. 

[ohcaptaintarthister]

The Assassination of Jaime Lannister*

Rant contains spoilers of Season 8 Episode 4 of Game of Thrones. Look away if you haven't seen it.

Right. Here we go.

I did not read the series A Song of Ice and Fire (ASOIAF) until Season 5 of Game of Thrones. Fantasy is not my favorite genre. Besides these books by George RR Martin, the only fantasy novel I've read was The Eyes of the Dragon by Stephen King.

I was drawn to the books because of the show. They're not easy to read. Besides being thick enough to actually hurt someone with it, I read them with zero ideas about the conventions of fantasy, the worldling and so on. I was curious and wanted to see. Also, Season 5 took too long. After a weekend where I binged on Seasons 1 to 4, I needed to know about the books.

The wait for Season 5 was reason one. Curiosity the second. The third was I have fallen in love with Jaime Lannister and Brienne of Tarth. Yes. I was in love with them as a pair. They are my favorite characters.

Back then I had no idea what shipping meant, and what fandoms were. But I knew I had to see if the chemistry of Jaime and Brienne in the show, awesomely played by Nikolaj Coster-Waldau and Gwendoline Christie, resulted from casting and adaptation or if the characters' interactions sizzled in the books. In other words, and this is vocabulary I picked up once I began wading deeper into the fandom, I was curious if it was canon.

And it was!

On their own and together, Jaime and Brienne were written with nuanced complexity. Jaime, especially, seemed sketched to cover the entire spectrum of gray and other unknown shades of it. Readers and show-onlys went from wishing this guy Seven Hells for throwing a ten-year-old child from a window to cheering him on as he found himself, often with great reluctance at first, on a path to redemption. Because Jaime, once separated from his family--the continuing disapproval of his father Tywin because he was nothing more than a glorified bodyguard and the quicksand relationship with twin sister Cersei--was finally free to be a man on his own. It did not matter that he was one of the greatest sword fighters, that he was a Lannister and Kingsguard. Robb Stark's army captured him because he was leading the Lannister armies. He lost his hand for thinking being a Lannister gave him protection and privilege. One-handed and probably still fevered, he jumped into the bear pit to rescue Brienne of Tarth. And before that, he saved her from being raped too.

As all that Jaime had been was gradually stripped away to reveal a man who murdered his king to protect the people yet one who loved his sister without guilt, Brienne was there in the picture of him being rendered anew. Honestly, because of Brienne, I swung to Team Jaime. Possibly with pom-poms too.

But after reading the books and seeing some episodes again, I began to wonder if David Benioff and D.B. Weiss hated the character.

While in the books Jaime said, "The things we do for love" WITH LOATHING, in the show he said the line with a smirk, that throwing a boy out the window was the natural consequence of protecting his affair with Cersei. Maybe Show!Jaime didn't see it as a consequence but something that simply had to be done but without smugness.

Okay, I thought. That was weird but the writers have to know right? They read the books.

When Jaime and Brienne finally have that bath in the show, and how it was adapted as faithfully as possible, I thought the show finally understood him. It was weird that Jaime returned to Cersei before the Purple Wedding but i thought of nothing of it.

Until THAT episode in Season 4.

In the books, the scene above should be when Jaime returned at King's Landing after being captured by Robb Stark and The Brave Companions. The reunion was from Jaime' point of view. Cersei's consent was clear:

"Hurry," she was whispering now, "quickly, quickly, now, do it now, do me now. Jaime Jaime Jaime." Her hands helped guide him. "Yes," Cersei said as he thrust, "my brother, sweet brother, yes, like that, yes, I have you, you’re home now, you're home now, you’re home." She kissed his ear and stroked his short bristly hair." 

In the show, she actually said, "It's not right!" a few times. Also, a few episodes prior to this, we saw Jaime complaining to her that he had been "back for weeks," and wanted to resume their affair. While in the books we saw two people falling in each other's arms after being apart for a long time, and needing each other desperately, in the show we saw rape. Though the claim by Benioff and Weiss was due to "bad editing/lighting" and that it was "unintentional," their refusal to actually address the issue and just re-edit and re-broadcast buried even more Jaime's redemption arc. As a viewer I forgave this mistake. Maybe next season?

Nope. It got worse.

When Jaime and Cersei made love by Joffrey' body in the books, this was the last time the twins would have sex. The books showed Jaime's gradual disillusionment with Cersei--he thought she drank too much, was tired of her scheming. Tyrion also told him about her affairs with other men. So when Jaime went to Riverrun to recover it for the Crown, he was not only the farthest from Cersei again, he was done. Just DONE. Her pleas for him to help her and promises of love end up tossed in the fire.

The show, rather than adapting this, simply diverged. Season 5 was as confused in what to do with Jaime as lots of viewers were. Season 6 saw Jaime and Cersei resume their affair before he left for the Riverlands. Returning to King's Landing in the finale, we saw the chilling look Jaime gave Cersei during her coronation.

Perhaps this was it. This would be when he falls out of love.

HA.

Season 7, until this weekend's episode, was THE WORST ADAPTATION OF JAIME. There. I'm saying it. THE WORST.

Why? It wasn't even the incest that pissed me off. Jaime, who slew the Mad King for wanting to torch King's Landing with wildfyre, did a dizzying 180 by ENABLING his sister, who murdered Queen Margaery, her former fiance, Kevan Lannister and other innocent members of the court by wildfire. Season 7 Jaime simply took Cersei at her word. Forget about Tommen, THEIR LAST SON. Who committed suicide as a result of his wife's murder. Forget about what really caused the Sept explosion. What mattered was creating a dynasty for "the last Lannisters who count."

Jaime stood by her side and in the queen' name, contributed in tearing further apart the Seven Kingdoms. No questions asked. LITERALLY no questions asked. Despite telling Cersei of the danger of her new position, he went on to rant about the lack of allies. That can be read as Jaime being practical but as the season progressed, it was proof that he would be at her side no matter what. No matter who had to be murdered. He DID say he would murder everyone until it was only the two of them left in the world. Alright.

LIoking back on past episodes, Cersei always succeeded in keeping Jaime at her side with promises of going public with their affair. In the books, Jaime pressed her to let people know he was her choice and she refused. In the Season 4 finale, she told him she told Tywin about them, resulting in passionate and this time consensual sex on a table in the White Sword Tower. In Episode 3 of Season 7, after Cersei fucked him to celebrate her victory over the Sand Snakes, we saw a loved up Jaime in the morning after.

This would be the happiest viewers had seen Jaime. Cersei, now really THE Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, would openly fuck him. The scandal reached as far as Eastwatch, with Tormund, wanting to clarify, asking which queen was discussed in a conversation. "The one with the dragons or the one who fucks her brother?"

After Daenerys and her Dothraki army burned the Lannister forces on their way back to King's Landing, a shaken and muddy Jaime returned to Cersei right away. And in the same episode, Cersei revealed she was pregnant again. This was happy news, indeed but Jaime needed to know one thing: who will Cersei acknowledge as the father.

"You."

Now I refuse to think Cersei had once again succeeded in manipulating him. I think she WAS pregnant. There's no way to fake joy like that. And yeah, though I don't ship them, I understood Jaime's happiness. Finally, he would get to be a real father.

Still, still, still. Season 7 Jaime really made no sense. There was none of Book Jaime here. None. What we saw was a guy who supported a tyrant willingly and was now going to be a real daddy. I hate it but that's really Season 7 Jaime. Even when he left Cersei, the reason was a headscratcher.

"I don't believe you," has got to be the worst break-up line because it's lame. Better if Jaime just looked at Cersei with puppy dog eyes and walked away. Really.

The beginning of Season 8 saw the writing of Jaime hitting the right beats. A different man, check. A man who honestly regrets what he did to Bran, check. A man who was no longer the golden lion and ready to fulfill a vow he made, check. Hearteyes at Brienne, check.

He knighted Brienne. BIG, FAT CHECKS.

In episode four, The Last of the Starks, Benioff and Weiss, probably tired from the glare of their computer screens, seemed to have just written the episode in bullet points. It became glaringly obvious they wanted the series over and done with. Fuck decent writing.

Jaime Lannister is not the only one who was badly written in the latest episode. Everyone seemed to have forgotten about Qyburn's ballista and Euron apparently a sharp-shooter. We have no idea how Missandei was captured. That drinking game with Jaime, Brienne, Podrick and Tyrion was awkward and misogynistic--seriously, why shame Brienne for being a virgin?

And Sansa! Sansa basically saying if she had not been raped and abused, she wouldn't be in the position she is now! Who on earth says anything like that? Answer: no one. And I don't mean Arya.

And Missandei. The ONE WOMAN OF COLOR in a blindingly white show is chained and beheaded!

Then Jaime. Oh, Jaime.

There are no happy endings in Game of Thrones. Ned Starks gets beheaded. Jon Snow gets knifed. Sansa is raped. Catelyn, Robb and Talisa get butchered. Just when victory is within reach, characters are punished so cruelly it's inhuman.

But it doesn't mean crappy writing. At fifteen million dollars an episode this season, I expect writing that reflects intelligence. Who cares about CGI wolves and dragons when the writing is shit?

Now it's no longer a question if David Benioff and D.B. Weiss hate Jaime. THEY DO. Everyone else was buffed up or given meat. They couldn't even spare Jaime Lannister a decent-sized bone.

I don't blame Jaime for leaving Brienne. Hear me out.

After Brienne and Sansa tell him the latest developments in King's Landing with regard to Cersei, we see Jaime shocked and even horrified. The next scene, he's in the chambers with Brienne contemplating what to do. And this is where the writing becomes really shitty:

1. He left her without saying goodbye.

2. He LEFT Brienne with her thinking he did it for Cersei.

What was the point of according her the respect and honor of being a knight--done by his own hand? What was the point of telling her he was no longer the fighter he was? Where was the respect when he was going to leave her as a regrettable one night stand? (But Winterfell to King's Landing is a month by land so I assume they've been banging for that long)

Nothing, it's just illogical shit.

Had the writers made just a bit more effort, Jaime Lannister should have been shown experiencing some happiness with Brienne, rather than Tyrion telling the viewers about it. We don't see it. We're just told and have to take their word for it. Jaime could have benefitted too in leaving Brienne in the NEXT episode. Why? It increases the stakes. Just one scene showing Jaime happy, just one, and of him ACTUALLY talking to Brienne about having to leave instead of being found out, and the episode probably won't be as crappy. I don't mind Brienne begging and crying, heartbreaking as that scene is. What I mind is Jaime never being shown what he stands to lose if he leaves Winterfell. Olenna Tyrell, before he he grants her the mercy of taking poison, had warned him it will be too late for him. She's right.

I believe he goes to King's Landing because of the guilt that he began a war to protect Cersei. When he does things for Cersei, the consequences are horrible and far-reaching. Easy to call him dumb and he is. But let's not forget that he charged at Daenerys and Drogon with just a spear thinking to end it all. A spear against a fire-breathing dragon. Like, what are the odds, right?

I'm not going to say anything more about The Bang That Was Promised And Sucked Donkey Balls. Enough has been said, enough hearts have been broken. We KNOW the world of Game of Thrones is dark and bitter and almost without hope. We really do. But as fans of the books and the show, FANS WHO MADE IT POSSIBLE FOR THE SERIES BE RENEWED AND HBO TO INCREASE THE BUDGET EVERY SEASON, all we ask for is good writing. We get that without actual material from George the writing is challenging. WE REALLY DO.

But is it too much to ask for the writers to set aside their hatred for one of the best characters in the series and understand him? Give him the material he deserves in the show? There is none of the Book Jaime trying so hard to be honorable. None. Instead what we've been given, since the first episode, is a train wreck of an adaptation that has now been confirmed as a character assassination.

It's not dragonfyre that has killed Jaime but writing that is careless, hurried and just plain awful. In Benioff and Weiss' determination and delusion in finishing the TV series on a high note, Jaime Lannister has been left with barely a whimper.

*Previously titled, "When Adaptations Assassinate A Character."

[aliceslantern]

Beyond this Existence: Counterpoint, a Kingdom Hearts fanfiction, chapter 1

Summary:  After being recompleted, Ienzo vows to do everything in his power to atone for the atrocities he committed in the past. But this life hasn't been easy, and he's plagued with memories and nightmares. When Demyx suddenly reappears, the two discover that they have more in common than they thought, though the secrets in their past might tear them apart. Zemyx (Demyx/Ienzo), post kh3. Companion POVquel to Beyond this Existence.

Read it on FF.net/ on AO3

Ienzo did not believe in fate.

There was a structure to fate, based heavily in choice and self-fulfilling prophecy. The human will was strong, and to the untrained eye willing things into existence could be interpreted as near to divine. Still. Lately there had been more than enough coincidence to make him uncomfortable. For so long, they had all worked in theory, guessing how the human heart and will and mind all worked, only for their hypotheses to come out right, after all that experimentation. It was a bit boggling. And not necessarily in a good way.

"Lost you in thought again, my boy?" Ansem asked kindly.

Ienzo looked over at his master, who was pecking away at the keys of his computer, refamiliarizing himself with the layout and content. Things were still misplaced from the brush with Sark and the MCP, and they'd been too busy to spend time reorganizing. Now that the worst of the chaos was over, it was time to clean up, take stock, and move on.

He did not know what that entailed. "Apologies, Master."

"No need to apologize. You were always a pensive child. Don't be afraid to think aloud. I should like to get to know you again."

Ienzo sighed. It was… odd… to be near Ansem again, and to spend time with him. It had once felt so natural and comfortable, but now he felt ill at ease. Even though he had apologized, and Ansem not only graciously accepted that apology but then turned it back on him, he still felt… unclean. Since they had all been back together again, there was a need to let life go on like it used to be. But everyone was different. Especially Ienzo. He had changed, and not just physically. There was still so much to come to terms with, least of all his own mind.

As a Nobody, sorting his thoughts and feelings (if you could call them that) had been so easy. With minimal physiological sensation, tracing sources and rationalizing had been simple. Now, even setting aside more time than usual to reflect, his thoughts and yes, emotions, were jumbled, messy, and nearly impossible to deal with. Anxiety, even as a Nobody, was a natural response, but even with limited or no stimuli he would feel it creep into his body anyway. And the reunion with Ansem seemed to have been the point where it all intensified.

"I'm thinking about how my peculiar upbringing may have altered my perception concerning emotion," Ienzo said.

"Yes, I imagine it would. Emotion as a child and emotion as an adult are vastly different, and you woke up with a completely new mind, literally speaking. How are you coping?"

Ienzo bristled. How could he tell Ansem the truth? What comfort had he earned from him? He still had so much to do to prove himself. "Well enough. I find it fascinating. I'm my own case study."

Ansem chuckled. "That's a good attitude to have. You're young. I'm certain you will adjust well, so long as you take the time you need."

Ienzo nodded. He wasn't so certain what Ansem was saying was true. He felt the now-familiar slickness of anxiety heighten his heart rate and tried to take deep breaths as quietly as he could.

His gummiphone started ringing. It had been a while since anyone had contacted him. There were a few text messages from the Restoration Committee now that they had a line of their own; Chip and Dale also reached out every week or so to say hello. He hadn't heard from any of the guardians in a while, though, so when he saw Riku on the caller ID he smiled a little, and answered.

Riku did not have his video enabled. Ienzo could hear the gentle wash of the waves in the background, and the wind. Riku did not speak, and Ienzo wondered if this was some sort of accidental call. The gummiphones were great, but not without their own glitches and quirks. "Is anyone there?" Ienzo asked.

"I'm here." There was an edge to Riku's voice that Ienzo recognized; he'd heard it in his own when Ansem had come back. Fear. Heartbreak. "I'm… sorry, I didn't know who else to call."

Ansem shot Ienzo a look. Ienzo shrugged. "Is everything all right? You sound distressed."

Riku explained the situation. He masked the pain in his voice well, but to Ienzo it was obvious. Sora still hadn't come back. He'd vanished, without a trace, gone to some place where the gummiphones couldn't reach. But the scariest thing was that Riku could no longer feel a connection to him at all.

"Ever since the Mark of Mastery test, I could feel him, his heart. But for whatever reason that's gone. And I'm not sure if that means he might be… just like Kairi…" His voice broke a little more. He must have held the phone away from his face-the sound of the waves intensified.

The acidic flush of anxiety already boiling within Ienzo worsened. He took a tense breath through his teeth to try and think clearly. His mind was buzzing. He tried to say something of comfort, but the only thing he could think was that it was all-too-likely Sora was dead as well. Especially if he were trying to retrieve Kairi from the clutches of death-

"Is there anything you know?" Riku asked. "You know a lot about hearts."

"I suppose… perhaps…" Breathe, Ienzo. "The connection may have weakened, but there's no reason to think it's still not there." Sora's bright, cheerful face flashed behind his eyes. He felt almost like he was being choked, and absolutely without warning he saw another face, Riku's face, Riku but not Riku, sharp bladed gloves against his throat-

"I'm going to Yen Sid to see what he knows, what this might mean. Is there maybe something in your research that could help us?"

Ienzo's muscles were tight. This is completely irrational. Get yourself under control. "I'll take a look through what I have," he said in a strained voice.

"Thank you. I'll keep you posted."

Ienzo wanted to say something of worth, of comfort, to tell Riku to take care of himself, but he could not speak. With a shaking hand, he hung up.

"Are you quite alright?" Ansem asked.

Feeling like he could not breathe was merely psychological. There was nothing wrong with him. He was not dying. Not being strangled. Not watching Axel's laughing green eyes as the puppet slowly drained away his life-

That had been Zexion. This was Ienzo, and he was fine, he was not being choked, he had received some bad news. Ienzo could deal with bad news. Ienzo worked very well under pressure. Ienzo was-could be-good.

Ansem touched his shoulder. "Ienzo?"

He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, Master. I don't know what came over me." To his mollification, he felt a tear run down his face, though only on the right side where it was hidden by hair. Before he could properly explain the situation, he heard footsteps on the smooth glass floor of the lab.

"Oh, this is rich," Dilan said, laughing a little. "You'll never guess who the cat dragged in. Turns out there are no more Xehanorts running around, as you have worried. Demyx is here. And he's alive. Technically speaking."

No. Ienzo did not believe in fate.

They'd put him in the spare bedroom, the one that had been reserved for the seventh apprentice Ansem had never fully brought on. (Lea and Isa, he decided, did not count. After all, where were they now?)

Demyx was unconscious. Not unlike Even after Xehanort's death, he'd fallen into a feverish, comatose state after the piece of heart cut through him. It must have been on a delay due to all his travel between worlds with odd time streams. Ienzo regarded him curiously. Their only interaction in all this time had been the day of Ansem's reunion, and Ienzo's emotions had run too high to process his appearance. All Ienzo remembered was that his willingness to help Even and defect against Xehanort was surprising.

He looked poorly. He'd lost some weight, and his body was racked with feverish chills. Even was at his side, tending to him and taking notes.

"...He's not a vessel?" Ienzo asked.

"I don't believe so. I've already checked his eyes. Not gold. Look." Matter-of-factly, he pulled back one of Demyx's eyelids, as if he were also one of the faceless replicas. Ienzo could barely see a sliver of teal.

"Do you think he's trustworthy?" Ienzo asked softly.

"I do not believe he'd cause any harm to us," Even said. "He was rather helpful with the replicas."

"The boy holds no ill will. We did not speak much, admittedly, but he seemed all too happy to get a move in edgewise," Ansem said. "I believe he was merely swayed. And we can sway him back to us, if need be."

"I'll monitor him, but he should be up and about before long." Even shook his head. "Nasty business. At least it's all over now." He picked up Demyx's ragged old coat. "I'll put this filthy thing in the wash with mine. Best to hold onto. Just in case."

They both turned and left. Ienzo tried to follow, with the intent to try and solve the Sora conundrum, but he couldn't help but look back. He decided he would have some tea.

Ienzo sat with his mug and shut his eyes. It was time to figure some things out. Not in a short period at the end of the day, as Zexion had been wont to do, but now. Perhaps he had to do this practice more often, now that he was human.

He was not Zexion. He was Ienzo.

Deep breaths.

He couldn't deny the fact that Demyx's reappearance just worsened his anxiety. Not because of any negative feelings he harbored towards him-Ienzo didn't feel particularly anything towards Demyx at either extreme-but because of what it implied. Radiant Garden was different. The apprentices were different. They couldn't just pick up their lives as if nothing had happened, not that Ienzo would want to. If anything, his appearance symbolized the two lives crashing together. Things would always be off-kilter. As much as Ienzo told himself this, he didn't quite feel it. It was so much harder to internalize fact as a human.

At least, he thought, if both Demyx and Even had lost the pieces of Xehanort's heart that had been thrust upon them, there was no chance of Xehanort returning in any form. He tried to take comfort in this. And Xehanort would never return to be an apprentice.

Ienzo's tea was bitter. As much as he had tried to busy himself, Xehanort's and Braig's absences were quite obvious, though none of them would dare bring it up. They had been a team once, a unit, you could even go so far as to say they were a fa-

He cut off the thought. It did no good to dwell on these things.

Breathe. Deeply.

"I'm not sure if this is a blessing or a curse," Dilan said as he approached in Ienzo's peripheral vision.

"I feel no way particularly. Everyone deserves a second chance. Him too."

Dilan shook his head. "We'll see how humanity fares for him. For all we know his transformation will be as dramatic as yours."

Ienzo frowned despite himself. "Whatever do you mean?"

"You, Zexion… night and day. Down to the way you're dressed." He gestured to the white lab coat that the apprentices wore most of the time.

"Perhaps it's because I've seen the error of my ways, and seek to change," Ienzo said. "You must admit. All that plotting and scheming… is very tiring."

Dilan shrugged.

"Are you not glad for a second chance?"

"I suppose I must be. Especially with Ansem here again. We can do some good for once." He hesitated, and Ienzo wondered if he wanted to sit. Ienzo realized he did not want that. He and Dilan had grown apart in the Organization, and now their relationship was a touch strained. "I feel bad for you. You've missed the majority of your youth in that hellish nightmare."

"As I'm becoming aware," Ienzo said. He felt a heat starting in his cheeks. Was he angry at Dilan? Why? It was true; Ienzo had missed most of his life. Even if he had stayed an apprentice, he still could have gone to normal school, had typical friends, would have developed in a way that would allow him to feel and express emotion properly.

"I do hope you find some way to make up for it," Dilan said.

"There are other matters to attend to first," Ienzo said.

"Yes… I suppose there are." He looked at his wristwatch and sighed. "I'm going to relieve Aeleus. See you later."

For a while after he left Ienzo sat, trying to nurse the absolutely awful tea and find a way to stand and get some work done. Tides of emotion threatened to break over him, each stronger than the last. He breathed. He sipped. He decided that he would go to the library for some light reading on abnormal psychology-surely average, well-adjusted adults didn't feel like this all the time? Firstly, though, he needed to eat. His appetite had been very poor lately, and he had to maintain weight.

He put up oatmeal and let it cook, slowly, sweetening it the way Even had when he was a small boy, with sugar and honey, remembering how he'd tell him that keeping his blood sugar up was important to think clearly. With a gentle pat on the head.

Even was not the same either. He still had the hard edge that he'd gained as Vexen. Or maybe it was just that Ienzo was no longer a child, and had lost the tenderness usually afforded to one.

Before Ienzo could begin to think about why this was important, he heard the soft squeak of floorboards coming from the guest room. Demyx must have woken up. Exactly how much time had passed? Ienzo checked the gummiphone; at least two hours.

I must keep better track of my reflection time.

He sighed, and stood. He did not feel like having this conversation, but if Demyx felt even half as confused as he did, he deserved it. He approached slowly, opened the cracked door. "I thought I heard something," he said. "I think it's time we had that chat."

Demyx's eyes were wide, frightened and, Ienzo noted with a hint of relief, still completely free of gold. He gestured for Demyx to follow him back to the kitchen. He handed him tea. He expected some of the exuberant chattiness that had filled their last meeting, and found none. Demyx kept looking around the room, as though disoriented.

"I'm sure you have a lot of questions," Ienzo continued. Demyx was staring at him oddly. "Even was worried, but I knew you'd come around."

He was full of tension. Ienzo could see that much. "What happened? Why are my-" He touched near his eye.

He really did know nothing. "I admit we were confused about that at first, but it's really quite simple. When Xehanort was killed, the piece of his heart that had been put inside you must have been purged. Even went through the same thing. So the good news is that you're a vessel no longer."

"I'm not?"

"It seems like you were one of the lucky ones," Ienzo said. He ladled out two bowls and placed one in front of Demyx. "If you had been a true vessel, you probably would have perished." And been recompleted far less messily. Ienzo considered what he himself was going through. Which was harder-being gradually eased into humanity, or thrust into it all at once? Necessary change, but painful.

Demyx said nothing. He bit his lip.

"It'll take time for your heart to grow back and for you to adjust. Thankfully, time is something we have a lot of now." He forced a smile. "Roxas and Naminé send their thanks. It's partially because of you, after all, that they became their own people again." This much was true. The vessel Demyx brought had given them just the information they needed to be able to make new ones. And Ansem had been there to help, after all, brought out of his months of wandering in the darkness.

Demyx continued to be silent. It was, perhaps, the quietest Ienzo had ever heard him be. His emotions flickered across his face clear as day; worry, fear, relief. They lacked the slickness of recreated Nobody emotion.

"You must be overwhelmed," Ienzo said haltingly. "I assume this reticence will pass. You should eat. Get your strength back."

He listened, and for a time they ate in silence. At least the oatmeal wasn't as bitter as the tea. Ienzo really needed to cook a proper meal one of these days. They'd been living off of nonperishable goods, too busy to go to the marketplace daily. "Where are they?" Demyx asked suddenly.

"Roxas and Naminé? I'm not quite sure. I believe they're in Destiny Islands at the moment, with nearly everyone else." Roxas didn't have his own gummiphone, as far as Ienzo was aware, so it wasn't like he could hear from them. To his shock, Demyx was actually tearing up, and trying very poorly not to give in to it. Ienzo had never seen him express anything like this; he had always been so callous and crass in the past, uncaring. Was this empathy? Or simply being overwhelmed? Ienzo wondered if Dilan might be right after all, and offered him a napkin to dry his eyes.

"Your heart might not take that long after all," Ienzo said lightly.

"Did you just crack a joke?" Demyx asked between sobs.

"I do have a sense of humor," he said. "Why don't you come get some rest?"

Ienzo decided to take his own advice. He too was exhausted, reeling from the events of the day and in desperate need of some quiet. He took off his lab coat, put on some less formal clothing, and crawled under the covers of his childhood bed.

Being in this room was still strange. He'd already set aside most of the few toys he'd still had as a little boy, as well as most of the books he used to read. A lot of volumes from his current research or reading sat around in various states of organization. Part of him itched to clean it up, to make it a different space, but his body weighed him down.

Sleeping was… difficult.

Even as Zexion he'd had difficulty sleeping, thoughts swirling and pinging against one another. Adding humanity made this necessary bodily function almost impossible. The anxiety of the day welled under his skin. He'd considered asking Even for a mild sedative, but then he'd have to explain why it was he couldn't get any sleep, and the embarrassment of that alone held him back. They would think even less of him if they knew he couldn't even handle these new emotions. This new body. It did feel new, in a way, even though it was all the same as Zexion's. He touched the scars at the base of his throat where the Riku replica had strangled him.

There were so many thoughts to dwell on. Not enough time to process. Especially now that he had so much work to do. There had to be some way he could help Sora. Ienzo couldn't help but feel this was all his fault somehow. If the darkness hadn't spread the way his experiments had enable it to-

There was no way he was getting any sleep tonight. He sat up. He figured he might as well get some work done.

"Ienzo, my boy, what are you still doing here?"

Ienzo jerked, startled from the complex web of words on the screen.

Ansem, in his casual clothing, approached him. "Ah, there it is," he said. He picked up a book that he had left by the computer. "I finally decided to try and relax, and I leave behind my novel. My memory is not as good as it used to be."

Ienzo set about shutting off the computer. It was so late as to be early. For the first time, he noticed he had a vicious headache, particularly behind his eyes. He must have completely dissociated, which was worrying, to say the least.

"Something weighs heavily on your mind," Ansem said gently. "I can feel it. Speak, Ienzo. You mustn't bear burdens all by yourself."

Ienzo exhaled. "My emotional state today has been… worrying," he said haltingly. "I feel intense, borderline pathological anxiety."

Ansem considered this. "So you lied to me earlier today," he said. "Why is that?"

Ienzo shook his head. "I do not deserve to be comforted. Not when I-" He could feel the harsh tightness in his throat. The soft glint in Ansem's eye did not help this.

"Ienzo, we have discussed this. You were a little boy. You cannot take fault for what happened. You are fixing your mistakes now."

"But it can never make up for what I-" A hot, potent mixture of chagrin and guilt washed over him. He struggled not to cry.

"My dear, dear Ienzo," Ansem said. "You have already accomplished more than I thought possible in the way of good. Tell me what it is you feel. Truthfully."

"I feel…" He could feel the strength leaching from him. "Ashamed, and frightened, and sad, all at once. I constantly feel everything concurrently. Is this what it is to be human?"

"Yes-it is especially more intense when one is young."

"I am not myself," Ienzo said. "I am…"

"A work in progress," Ansem said gently. "As are most people, certainly people your age."

"Things between all of us do not feel right either."

"I agree," Ansem said. "It will take much forgiveness for us all to heal. It is a process."

"I was naive enough to wish these things would be done with."

"Not naive. Hopeful." Ansem squeezed his shoulder. "Let me make you some chamomile tea."

When he finally did sleep, curled on the old loveseat in Ansem's quarters, it was fitfully and vaporously. He could still feel the replica's fingers around his throat, the suit's sharp scales cutting through the soft skin. Nobodies did not feel much but he felt the fear tear through him. And then felt it when he woke up as Ienzo, bleeding and weeping as Aeleus worried over Dilan's motionless, bloodied body. And felt it the third time as he woke up.

Groggily, Ienzo pushed himself off the couch, padded over to Ansem's personal bookshelf, and started searching. He found it, dog-eared and worn, towards the bottom of the case. He blew the dust off it.

Post-traumatic stress, originally known as "shell shock", is a psychological condition in which an individual-

Frustrated, he put the book back. This wasn't helping. If anything, he was shakier and woozier than ever, and his head still pounded.

Of course he couldn't come out of all that without scars, literal and figurative ones. But the fact that he finally had life back and now had to experience this was… a little galling. To say the least.

"Good morning, Ienzo." Ansem was making coffee in the apartment's kitchen. "I figured it was better to let you sleep here rather than make you tramp all the way back to your room. You looked quite exhausted."

"I was. I am," he said.

"Understandably so. I have an errand for you, if you feel up to it. Maybe some fresh air would do you some good."

In all honesty, Ienzo could not remember the last time he'd been outside the castle confines. "Yes. Perhaps."

"I'd like you to get some clothing for Demyx. I do not want to see those coats again if I don't have to. And I suspect you must need some yourself. You've outgrown your old things, no doubt." With a wink.

"You're not incorrect." It had been almost funny, going through his dresser drawers and finding all the small clothing. Funny and also sad. The small lab coat had been handsewn, tenderly, from an adult one. In the hope that he too might grow into their profession.

Ansem crossed over to his desk and took out a small purse of money. "Take your time. I daresay you need it."

The light, even for fall, seemed piercingly bright outside, and he flinched until his eyes adjusted. The violet sky was free of clouds. Ienzo could hear the tolling of bells above that signified a new hour.

This was home.

Still. Despite the ongoing restoration of the town, there was damage lingering from both the initial fall to darkness and the massive Heartless mob that the first Organization had sent. Ienzo couldn't help but be thankful that Zexion had passed by then. Otherwise that plan would have also been added to his heavy conscience.

The town was growing as people returned from Traverse Town. The Heartless population, thanks to Cid's claymores and the end of Xehanort, was low. Life was moving on.

It did not feel that way.

Ienzo shook his head to ward off the thoughts and went to the market.

The clothing seller was kind, and didn't charge him very much. Ienzo picked out a few simple things for himself and Demyx. It should not feel strange to shop. It should not feel strange to share small talk with the vendors. And yet, it did.

While he was here, he picked up some fresh groceries. There was order in food, simplicity, and it grounded him. For the first time in all too long he looked forward to this meal, rather than having it be just another thing to get through.

"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes!"

The voice, feminine and shrill, startled him. Ienzo fought hard to put on a smile. "Hello, Yuffie."

"How you been?" Despite being ex-Organization, the Restoration Committee had been generously welcoming to him. Ienzo looked over at the girl, only slightly younger than he himself was. And yet, throughout all these years, even she as a child was capable of making good choices, threw herself into the resistance-

"I am well. And yourself?"

"I'm great! You know, you should stop by sometime. You don't have to stay holed up in your castle all day. You're home."

"I admit I have to keep reminding myself of that."

She laughed. "It still does feel kinda weird. But you know. I don't really like normal." She shrugged. "What've you got there?"

"Basic supplies. Food. Clothing. One of the old Organization members returned. He's staying with us for now."

"Oh? Which one?"

"You know him as Demyx. He hasn't given his other name to us yet."

She frowned. "I remember him. He was the one who came on the day of the Thousand Heartless."

"I realize this. But I believe, or at least I hope, that he will have changed as much as the rest of us. He did help us with Roxas and Naminé."

Yuffie sighed. "We'll see. Anyway, I gotta go. Patrol. You know how it is."

"I'm sure there's no need to keep up such vigorous rounds."

She rolled her eyes. "I agree, but tell Squall that. He's paranoid even though things have calmed way down. I can't help but humor the guy. It keeps me busy. And hey. Don't be a stranger. You could use some new friends." She saluted, and set off.

Ienzo, somewhat automatically, turned and began heading to the castle. The brightness and density of the marketplace was leaving him feeling frazzled, anxious, and overstimulated. Yuffie was right; he could use friends, friends closer to his own age. The sheer strength of the Guardians of Light was testament to that. And yet… should he find the courage to drop by for a visit, how would he proceed? What would he talk about? Surely they must have known everything he'd done?

He shook his head. He had a lot of reflection to do before he was ready for that.

Ienzo spent the rest of the day cleaning the kitchen in Ansem's quarters. It was much nicer, and better-equipped, than the one the rest of the apprentices shared. But like the rest of the castle, it was dirty and in disrepair, and making it habitable hadn't been high on Ansem's list of priorities. He scrubbed at tile and countertops. Nothing wanted to be all the way clean, and the rust would absolutely not come off the burners on the stove. Ienzo did not stop until he realized his hands were smarting from all the chemicals.

"I should have worn gloves," he muttered. "Careless."

He prepared a roasting chicken and stuffing. Food was easy. Objective. There was nothing bad that could come from making food for others. He watched it all cook, and tried to convince himself things would be alright.

The next day the skies opened up, and it rained.

It had been months since he'd seen a storm like this. From his bed after another sleepless night he observed it fall. Cool air blew under his poorly insulated window.

Ienzo had to come up with a plan. Enough dallying about. Starting today he would do whatever was in his power to help Sora. If they could so much as contact him, it would be worth it. After all of Sora's suffering at Castle Oblivion, it was the least he could do. He dressed in his lab uniform, tightening the ascot at his throat to hide the scars.

He would fix this.

Except the files did not want to agree with him.

He must've spent hours looking through the archives. It was hopelessly disorganized, ripped apart by Sark, and the data from the Organization hadn't yet been uploaded. Rather than do anything of actual help, he had to sort the files, bit by bit, some of it pure guesswork because most of this research was not his.

"Have you a moment?" Even looked irritated; then again, lately he always did.

"Of course. Whatever is the matter?" He kept pulling files this way and that off of the cluttered screen.

"You no longer have any of your Nobody abilities, correct?"

Ienzo looked up. "That is correct." In their first confusing days of humanity, they'd all tried to connect with their powers. Trying to summon his lexicon or perform even the most minute glamor had given him a terrific migraine that put him in bed for the better part of two days. "Why is it you ask? You haven't either, have you?"

"I have tried, and I cannot," Even said. "I wanted to make sure. He found out."

"Who? Demyx?"

Even nodded. "I wonder if my tone might have been too sharp. He did look rather distressed."

Ienzo sighed. They all knew how attached Demyx was to his sitar; going without it must be something akin to withdrawal.

"But what is it I'm to do? I'm not a miracle worker. And if I'm being honest, I'm quite content with how silent things are around here."

"Strictly speaking, there is nothing we can do. Aside from have patience. Oh, that reminds me. I was supposed to have dropped off those clothes. My memory has not been great lately."

"You've had a lot on your mind," Even said. "I suspect we all have. I'll be glad to not see another one of those infernal cloaks. So drab. So… cult-like."

Ienzo looked back to the computer. "Master Ansem said essentially the same thing. I suppose I should take care of it now." He dreaded seeing Demyx's face, of trying to find words of comfort. He understood his distress, but the fact that he was actively grieving part of that Nobody life reviled him.

"I shall walk with you."

They left. The castle was so large, and yet they really lived in such a small part of it. The rest of it sat vacant, unused, and gradually decaying. The carpet at their feet was worn.

"It's a shame," Even said. He scruffed the carpet with the toe of his shoe. "Things here were once so beautiful. If the committee were not so busy we could use their assistance. This place is a shell of what it once was."

"You have to admit it feels rather significant," Ienzo said.

"Too on the nose, for my tastes," Even said. He shook his head. "We're not shells of who we once were. We've changed and adapted. You most of all. I miss being so pliable."

"...So I've heard," Ienzo said sourly. "I assure you it is not as easy as it looks."

"My apologies."

A sharp emotion tightened in his throat. Ienzo found himself wanting to confide in Even, wanting to beg him to help, like when he was a child. Wanting to be comforted, coddled, even though he had done nothing to warrant such niceties. "If only times were simpler," he said. "I feel as if I've no time to look after myself-what with Sora's disappearance and Demyx's arrival."

"Sora's disappeared?"

Of course, holed up in his lab all day, Even wouldn't know. Ienzo explained what happened.

"...How curious," Even said, his lips turning down. "I wonder if there's any of his data somewhere?"

"Sora's? I do not know. I'm not sure how his friends would feel if he were a replica, though."

Even sighed. "I've tried to recreate Sora's heart, and we remember know what happened with that," he said. "As proud as I am of Xion's sentience and personhood, unfortunately his heart is so special that it seems to be a moot option. Best not to give them hope."

Ienzo hesitated.

"I thought I'd taught you better," Even said.

"You should have heard Riku's voice."

"I'm surprised you feel so strongly about him, not when you have such poor memories of him."

"That was your replica, might I remind you," Ienzo snapped.

Even raised an eyebrow. "The Riku replica? What about it?"

Ienzo froze. Even didn't know. "Never mind," he said evasively.

"Boy, tell me," Even said thickly.

Automatically, Ienzo's hands fluttered to his throat, and he fought to steady them.

"Ienzo," Even said.

Slick, sparkling, spicy anxiety swept through him. He tried to steady his breath, but the tightness in his chest was was it he could not get himself under control?

"Oh, Ienzo," Even said.

"If you must know," Ienzo forced out between breaths. "Axel had the Riku replica kill Zexion."

"He did?" Even barked out a strange laugh. "Axel killed Vexen."

A wave of dizziness nearly overcame Ienzo. Even placed a hand on Ienzo's shoulder.

"How is it you're feeling?"

"I don't understand," Ienzo said. "I don't understand what it is I'm feeling."

"Intense, paralyzing panic?" Even suggested.

"Yes-perhaps-" His knees were weak and shaking.

"You should sit down and focus on modulating your breathing," Even said. He took Ienzo by the elbow and helped him sit down on the floor. "It's alright. This is a normal reaction to recalling something traumatic-"

"Believe me, I know," Ienzo hissed. "I am perfectly aware of what this is." It didn't help, he thought.

"Count to ten," Even said. "Deep, steady breaths."

He tried. His desire to confide in Even completely gave way to an abject humiliation. "Why is it you do not feel that way?" Ienzo said.

"Perhaps my heart is not quite as developed as yours," Even said. "Perhaps it is that I have not processed it all, yet."

"I do not wish to speak of it at the moment," Ienzo said. His chest still ached terrifically. "I must… I must go." He pulled away from Even. Standing gave him a wave of vertigo. He stumbled down the hallways, nearly getting lost in the familiar twists and turns, until he reached his bedroom. Ienzo lay down on his bed for a moment. He breathed and breathed until he no longer had to think about it. He shook himself. Gathered up the bundle of clothes. Prepared himself for another awkward conversation.

He knocked at the door and waited for a moment. There was no response. Ienzo struggled to put on a neutral face and cracked the door. "Sorry to intrude. Ansem suggested you might like something else to wear, other than… that." Demyx was pale and wan and washed out, especially against the black of the coat. Ienzo realized just how obvious his cheekbones were in his face, how much weight he'd lost. "Doubtful you'll need its protection any time soon."

He was silent. There was an empty, frightened look in his eye, and to Ienzo's surprise when he caught his own reflection in the small dresser mirror, he wore the same expression.

Ienzo swallowed. He put the clothes down and hugged himself tightly. It didn't help much. "I realize this process has not been easy for you-"

Demyx's eyes flitted to meet his, and then he looked away.

He didn't know how to find the words. "I failed to make the connection. I didn't realize that gaining your humanity would result in another type of loss. But of course your connection to your power must have run deeply."

"It's just always been there," he said. "I feel like part of me has died."

Ienzo bristled a little. How could he not see the opportunity he'd been handed? Yet, at the same time, he couldn't help but agree- "Yes. I imagine it would."

"Don't you feel the same way?" Demyx turned towards him. His bright eyes sought Ienzo's. "I mean, in a sick way, becoming Nobodies kind of brought out the best parts of us."

Bile rose in Ienzo's throat. He looked down. The anxiety was back, worse than before, and all he could say was, "I disagree." How could he think that? If anything, being a Nobody had just enabled Zexion's dark nature, and instead he'd just kept committing atrocities in the name of science.

Demyx blushed.

Ienzo was shaking. "I'll let you rest," he said woodenly, and left the room.

He found himself crouched over the toilet, heaving emptily because he'd forgotten to eat that day.

The memories poured behind his eyes. How had he been so cruel? Was it ever possible to make up for it? So many worlds had fallen. So many people had-

That didn't even count the initial spread of darkness. If he had not listened to Xehanort and encouraged all those extra tests on the subjects-

Ienzo spit weakly. He crossed over to the sink, pulled back his hair, washed his face.

He really was not well. The ripples of the old life were clearly not going to settle any time soon. How on earth was he going to learn to manage them?

There was something he could do. He could help Sora. Helping Sora would save people. Maybe he could save himself in the process.

Some hope.

He picked up his gummiphone and dialed Ansem. "Master? Can you help me?"