#and then realise that it all makes so much sense

[endless-ineffabilities]

chemical override (13)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: the elections distracted me! This should have been up ages ago 💙 Anyhow, look at our boy pout up there. Darling never stood a chance.

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Darling gets closer to making her choice.

The holiday is already shaping up to be your most memorable one yet, and it’s only halfway done. 

Between all the commotion in the press about Ewan’s film, the lively spin-the-bottle game last night, and your… boys being more brazen in their affections, it doesn’t matter that you’re still half-limping and that one gorgeous blonde girl is testing the limits of your patience—Mallorca is one for the books.

Half of your vacation crew decided to head out into town for the afternoon, allowing you to see more of the local scene. Bethany, Phia, Luke, and Elliott have ventured off to see some shops moments prior, promising to rejoin the group with loads of goodies. So you walk the cobblestone streets with Tom and Freddie on either side, the lads promising to catch you should your ankle ‘betray you and make you faceplant on the street’. 

Because, as Freddie put it, they “can’t have the show’s rising star with a blow to her money-maker,” pertaining to your lovely face. 

You were able to finally remove your fracture boot that morning, after a long-distance call to your doctor, but you still have to slightly drag your left leg as you walk.

“Mate, if you could hurry up a little, maybe we can see more of the town,” Tom remarks with a cheeky smirk. He’s had an arm looped around yours the whole time, ever on the lookout. 

“Sure, let me just use my incredible powers of self-healing. Maybe we can check one of these souvenir shops if they’ve got a bionic leg on sale,” you deadpan, fighting hard to stifle a laugh. 

The fledgling weeks of spring bring a steady warmth to Mallorca. The sunlight is bright yet tempered as it casts its glow over the cobblestone streets, illuminating the quaint storefronts and cafes that line that town square. It’s a picture-perfect afternoon, so long as you don’t turn back to Ewan and Louise who are trailing a bit behind. 

But your curiosity wins over, and you see Ewan smiling politely as Louise gestures animatedly, completely absorbed in her tale. You immediately realise your mistake, a pang of something—guilt, longing, confusion… and jealousy, because who are you fooling—tightening in your chest. You quickly turn back to Tom and Freddie, who are too busy scheming to notice your reaction.

“So, do we let Ewan suffer, or do we intervene?” Tom asks, tilting his head toward the pair.

You can only shrug. “I think he’s handling it. It’s probably better to give them some space.” The truth is, you know Ewan well enough to sense when he’s at his wit’s end, and even though he looks like he’s about to throw in the towel, you don’t want to complicate things further. 

Who are you to deny Louise some quality time with your good buddy Ewan Mitchell? He is a stand-up guy, after all, and all of you are friends here. It’s a casual day out, nothing but a good time. 

And… you do need some time to let his confession sink in. He has given the power to you, and the only thing left to do would be to choose him.

You love him, you love him, you love him. 

So the choice should be easy, but why isn’t it?

Freddie smirks. “Space, you say? You mean you’re hoping he’ll finally snap and make a break for it?”

“Maybe,” you admit with a small smile. “Can you blame him?”

The three of you linger by a cafe, chatting to your heart’s delight. You catch sight of Ewan glancing your way, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. Hey, he mouths, staring you down until Louise nudges him, and he has to shift his focus back to her. 

“Honestly, though,” Tom continues, “what’s the deal with him and Louise? He looks like he’s drowning over there.”

“Maybe she’s finally wearing him down,” you say, half-joking, but you’re aware of how often Ewan gives too much of himself sometimes, especially to someone like Louise. The boy’s just too sweet and polite to say no. 

“I give him five minutes before he either leaves or starts shouting for you,” Freddie chimes in, his eyes dancing behind his sunglasses. “It’s a safe bet.”

Before you can respond, Ewan’s voice rises above the clamour of the street. “Actually, that’s not what I meant—”

“I can’t believe you thought that!” Louise interrupts, playfully punching Ewan’s arm, her tone a mix of disbelief and enthusiasm. “But that’s what makes you so unique! You always see things differently.”

What’s unique is the expression Ewan sports as a reaction, akin to a deer about to be hit by a Jeep.

“Unique?” Ewan repeats, a note of incredulity in his voice. He shakes his head, his mouth falling open, like he’s trying to find the words. Louise leans in closer, mentioning something about how cute he looks when confused. 

Well, she’s not wrong there. You have to hand it to her—she’s persistent.

“Why are we just standing around?” Tom suddenly says. “Let’s get some drinks. We need to fuel up for the gossip you owe us.”

“I’m in,” you say a bit too quickly, desperate for a distraction. You motion toward a quaint nearby bar with a bustling atmosphere. It seems like the perfect refuge, far from the intensity of the current situation. The bartender greets you with a grin, and Tom takes charge, ordering a round of brightly-coloured cocktails that seem to match the vibe of the holiday. 

Tom gives you a sly look over his glass. “So here we are, eh?”

“Here we are,” you nod, sensing something coming round the corner. 

“My god, this cocktail is amazing!” Freddie gasps dramatically, oblivious to the look you and Tom are sharing. “I must know what’s in this… Is that gin and… and what?”

“I myself would rather know,” Tom begins, leaning forward, “about the truth behind all the drama. The are-they-or-aren’t-they of it all. My missus has also been bugging me about it. All she talks about is you and your Ewan.” 

Freddie’s grin is huge as he raises his glass. “Bloody hell, cheers to that then! I know there’s something brewing, but no one ever tells me the details. What is this, a fight to the death? May the best Targaryen win? Lucky girl you are.”

Tom snorts. “Or may the right man win. Which, to be honest, is not Matt in this scenario.”

Freddie’s jaw drops in mock horror, clutching his chest. You may take the lad out of classical theatre for a while, but you can’t take classical theatre out of the lad. “Excuse me? Matt is a national treasure, he’s mature and reliable, and he throws a fabulous party. Might I mention how highly he speaks of you?”

Tom shoots him a scornful look. “Reliable. How riveting. Look, I love the guy, but Ewan’s practically half of her soul—”

You groan. “Can we not turn this into a debate? I’m actually trying to keep things simple now.”

“Simple,” Tom repeats, one blonde eyebrow arching. “Darling, nothing about this is simple, especially not since Ewan isn’t bound to that ridiculous PR setup anymore. Are you going to pretend that it doesn't change things?”

Freddie waves a finger. “It doesn’t have to change things. Matt’s good for her. I mean, they’re actually happy, and you need someone solid, love. Someone who isn’t going to fling you around emotionally, from the very little that I’ve heard.”

Tom rolls his eyes. “Of course, you’d think that. You get all your goss from Liv and she basically adores Matt.”

Freddie clutches his glass defensively. “Well I know for a fact that Matt is fun! And steady! You don’t need fireworks all the time to make something work.”

“But fireworks are the whole point, you know?” Tom insists. “You can’t reduce a relationship to sensible compatibility and call it love.”

“Love can be practical too,” Freddie says, looking at you. “Wouldn’t it be nice to just…breathe? To not have to worry about how he’s going to handle things every other minute?”

You wince, half-convinced by Freddie’s logic, but then Tom’s voice cuts in, softer, more serious.

“Sure, she could breathe,” Tom says, “but let’s not forget who actually takes her breath away.”

It hits you, the truth you’ve been dancing around with both of them.

Freddie gives you a sidelong look. “Alright, love, confession time. Say Ewan was still bound to that PR relationship, do you really think you could have handled not being with him? Watching him essentially be with someone else?”

You swallow, glancing down at your drink. “It would have hurt, but I would have had to handle it.”

Tom keeps the interrogation going. “And now? What would you do if he does end up with someone else? Louise seems to have her claws in him.”

You let out a huff, your next words decisive. “Look, if she can take him that easily, then he’s all hers.” Because that would mean all those heartfelt phrases about being so in love with you aren’t true. 

That’s the reasonable part of you. The other, less savoury part wouldn’t hesitate to get your own claws in Louise if she swoops in to take your man, petty catfight style.

“But see! See here,” Freddie exclaims in glee, “We’re talking about Ewan and she’s already stressed. She needs a break from the drama, Tom, and Matt is like… an oasis.”

Tom rolls his eyes but doesn’t let it go. “Sure, an oasis that leaves her wishing she were somewhere else half the time.” He sighs, his voice softening. “Look, Matt’s lovely, but he’s not the one. He’s not the one who can turn your whole world upside down, and I know you two. I’ve seen you together, I’ve seen you apart, and trust me, you’re so much better together. Hell, it’s better for all of us too! I simply cannot deal with Ewan moping around again.”

You feel your cheeks warm as you consider his words. It’s almost dizzying, trying to compare the two men, as though they represent opposite sides of you, each offering something you desperately need. They’re both right, in different ways. With Matt, there’s a sense of stability that you haven’t felt before. He’s steady, he’s sweet, and he genuinely adores you despite all of the tangled strings that have bound you to Ewan. 

But with Ewan… you want him, love him, with an intensity that is almost all-consuming. It’s the kind they write songs about, the kind that drives hearts crazy. 

Freddie drops the dramatics, his voice sincere when he speaks again. “Darling, Tom’s got a point, but just… be honest with yourself. What do you really want? Because whatever you decide, it’s your heart on the line. And you know, we’re here for you, no matter who you choose.” And then, as if with the flick of a switch, he turns his flair back on. “God, you could choose me, just so you don’t have to deal with this dilemma of yours anymore!”

You let out a breathy laugh, all the tension you’re feeling dissipating. “I just might!”

Tom mirrors your laughter. “Now that’s a dangerous idea. But hey, life’s short, right? You don’t have to have it all figured out right this second.”

Freddie grins, raising a toast. “To being a beautiful mess.”

You clink your glass with theirs, watching in amusement as they both begin bickering again over who’s really the better choice. As the debate drifts over to which drink to order next, a quiet but unmistakable presence makes its way to your table. Ewan stands behind you, his hands resting on the back of your chair. 

“I’ve been looking for you guys,” he greets calmly. 

Freddie doesn’t hesitate to take a playful jab. “Ah, Ewan! All by your lonesome now? Where’s your lady?”

Ewan perches on the last empty chair on your table, catching your eyes. “My lady’s right here,” he smirks, and he says the words with such ease that your cheeks heat. Everyone would benefit from taking lessons in the Ewan Mitchell School of Charm. “Fancy a walk, darling?”

You quickly glance at Tom and Freddie, whose raised brows practically tell you that they’re going to be chattering about this as soon as you’re out of earshot. “Try not to miss me too much, boys,” you wink at them, letting Ewan help you out of your seat and whisk you away. He offers his arm to you for support, and the two of you fall into stride, allowing the buzz of Mallorca’s streets to fill the quiet between you.

“So,” he starts, “I sure hope Tom and Freddie didn’t give you any trouble.”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” you smile, your tone lowering as you decide to tease him a little. “We would have invited you over, but you seemed to have plenty of… entertainment yourself.” You playfully wag your eyebrows at him, and he makes a show of groaning and turning away.

“Don’t remind me, my darling,” he groans. “I was so close to faking an illness and making my escape.”

You chuckle at his apparent distress. “Poor Ewan. It must be so hard being adored by a beautiful girl, isn’t it? Wait, where is she again? Did you scare her off?”

“Phia came to my rescue. They went walking by the bay or something, I don’t know. And about being adored, it only matters to me if it’s by you.”

You’re about to lean into a joke and call his bluff, when he adds, “Well, you… and my mum.”

“I thought so,” you giggle, his eyes holding yours with a familiar sweetness. But then his gaze is snagged by something behind you. 

“Is it just me, or does that cat look suspiciously like Sansa?” Ewan points to the front display of a rustic souvenir shop, and you immediately see a plush black cat with curious amber eyes.

You gasp softly, your hand tightening around his bicep. “I did leave Sansa back with my neighbour in London, right?”

“Are you sure? She’s right there, darling,” he plays along, grinning. “I think I’d recognise my daughter when I see her.”

“Your daughter, huh? The most you have right now is visitation rights.”

“Wait here, baby,” he presses a kiss to your temple, leaving you leaning against the wall across the shop. He disappears inside, emerging just moments later, the little cat plushie already in his hands. His expression is tender as he passes it to you. “Here. Figured you could use a bit of home.”

You take the little black cat, heart swelling at the sweetness of his gesture. “Thank you, Ewan. She’s perfect.”

He’s all smiles, his dimples deepening as he nods in response. 

You hug plush Sansa to your chest. “Now I wish they also had whippet plushies, so I can give you a piece of home too…” 

Ewan’s gaze softens, and he shifts slightly, his gaze dropping as he gathers his thoughts. “Darling, I hope you won’t think I’m just trying to score brownie points here or something, given the current situation, but honestly…” He hesitates, but makes up his mind as his eyes meet yours. “If I wanted to feel at home, all I really need is… to be with you.”

Your breath catches, and your mind is too focused on what you’ve just heard that your hold loosens around plush Sansa, causing it to nearly stumble out of your hands. 

“Ewan,” you say softly, your voice laced with an affection you can’t quite dampen. “You don’t play fair, you know that?”

He chuckles, a little self-conscious, his hand reaching for yours. “You know me, darling, and you know how I feel about you.” His thumb brushes over your knuckles, and the touch is light, almost reverent.

“So, no Sansa needed, huh?” you tease gently, trying to keep things light even as the weight of his words lingers. 

His smile returns, a little shy, a little playful. “You got that right. But maybe we don’t have to tell Sansa about this.”

You’re about to offer a witty rejoinder, when a cheerful shout slices through the air. “Ewan!” It’s Louise, her voice loud and undeniably eager, and you find yourself dropping Ewan’s hand. 

And either you’re not in her line of sight, or she just didn’t bother calling out to you too. What a delightful girl.

“Oh,” Louise finally acknowledges you. “That’s a nice… toy you’ve got there.”

“It’s a plushie actually,” you mutter dryly, wiggling plush Sansa in the air.

Ewan snorts at your deadpan expression, and much to Louise’s obvious annoyance, he drapes an arm around your shoulders, pulling you snugly against him. “I got it for her. It’s almost an exact replica of her cat, isn’t it, darling?”

Your eyes widen at his purposeful cheekiness. The lad has finally had enough of another girl trying to get a bite out of him. “Well, yeah…” you stumble on your words, “It does look like her.”

Louise pouts. “What a nice, friendly gesture.”

Ewan chuckles to himself, not letting her mood dampen his spirits. “I think it’s rather romantic.”

“Hold on,” Louise responds, appraising you with a raised eyebrow. “Aren’t you dating Matty?”

“Uhhh—”

“There you kids are!” Phia materialises out of thin air, an angel in disguise.

Oh, you could just kiss the very ground she walks on.

Everyone makes their way to the pool area the next afternoon, the group scattered all around the lush backyard of the villa.

Matt lingers outside your door, waiting for you to finish changing. He leans casually against the railing, his gaze drifting downstairs to Fabien and Elliott, who are hauling crates of beer toward the poolside. He whistles and shouts out a playful, “Save me some, lads!”

“Waiting on your woman, Romeo?” Elliott sings up at him.

Matt waves them away, spinning around to face your door. As he waits, his mind drifts back to a conversation he had with Liv the evening before. She’d seen right through him, spotting the quiet insecurities he tried to keep buried and urging him to go all in with you, to show you what he couldn’t quite put into words. And so, he decided he would; he’d pour everything into showing you just how much he cared.

He has the advantage in that he hasn’t hurt you the way Ewan has in the past, and he has absolutely no intention of doing so, not when being with you feels like the easiest, most natural thing in the world. 

To him, you are like the human equivalent of a shot of espresso, a musical laugh, a jolt of positive inspiration. He’s always felt this, but one night, many nights ago, this effect that you have on him became amplified.

And suddenly, you are all he sees.

And he wouldn’t have it any other way, especially not after you finally open the door. You don a forest green bikini that leaves little to the imagination, with a sheer white wrap tied loosely around your waist. 

Matt lets out a low whistle, walking up to you with a slow, playful swagger. You roll your eyes at him when he unapologetically draws his gaze over your bare skin, but he can’t help it.

You look so ravishing that he wants to push you back inside the room. As stunning as your bikini is, it would look even better off.

To hell with the pool.

“What do you think?” 

He has roused from whatever grey temperament he was stuck in, now that he’s had his espresso. “I'm a goner. Absolutely done for.”

“Flatterer.” You shake your head at him, taking in his broad, bare torso. “Well, you don’t look so bad yourself.” 

He smirks, his large hands kneading your waist. “I'm the luckiest man on the planet, and this is you after an accident, you say? My love, you're a vision in green.”

“You like the colour?”

“Mmm, if I didn't like you in it, I'd cause a fuss about how you're playing for the other team, my Alyna.” He swoops down and kisses the crook of your neck, the spot he is aware would tickle, eliciting a soft giggle out of you.

“I could never,” you say, swatting his arm. “They were just out of black bikinis at the shop.”

“Black... green... we both know you look the best without either of them on. I mean, we did establish that six times in one night, remem—”

“Matt!” you squeal, eyes wide and scandalised. He feels smug, because he made sure you would never forget that night. “You're such a dog. Come on, let's join the others. I can’t wait to finally dip my toes in the pool.”

He is one step ahead of you the whole time, paying special attention to your bad ankle. He knows he’s being too careful when you eye him strangely, but he doesn’t care. “I got you,” he says.

“I can walk, you know,” you huff. “I’d have been down here ten seconds ago if it wasn’t for you going all Mr. Protector.”

As you reach the final landing, Phia’s voice rings out, “Hands off my woman!”

“She’s got a point.” You tilt your head at Matt, lips pulling at the corners.

“Have I? I was just kidding,” she shakes her head, before mumbling under her breath. “I'm not Ewan.”

Matt huffs out in response, trying not to let it get to him. Phia takes your other arm, deaf to your protests. It’s silly, because they’re both aware that you can probably fend for yourself, but not if they have anything to say about it. 

Fabien, Elliott, and Harry are manning the grill out on the patio. Some of the ladies are cozying on their sun chairs. Ewan, Luke, and Freddie are smoking on a bench under a canopy. And Thom Yorke serenades the whole scene, the speakers emitting ambient music.

Matt’s always loved a good European excursion, but this one might be his favourite yet. Thanks to the girl who lets him fuss over her despite her feigned annoyance.

Your fingers dig tighter into his arm as the two of you lower into the pool. He relishes the moment and allows the ebb of the water to push him closer to his girl.

“Hold on to me.”

You roll your eyes, but wrap your arms around his shoulders anyway. “I'm fine, Matthew. My ankle’s almost healed back to normal.”

“Almost is the keyword there, my love. We can't take any chances. So... hold on to me, beautiful.” The late morning sun is a blanket comfort as you float on together, your laughter ringing out as he flaps an arm on the water and splashes your face. 

From the sidelines, Freddie lets out a loud, teasing whistle. Matt responds with a triumphant fist pump, turning to give him a cheeky grin. 

That might have been a mistake because his eyes landed on Ewan, seated comfortably to Freddie’s left, a cigarette burning low between his lips. His eyes are obscured by dark sunglasses, but he’s clearly surveying the scene unfolding in the pool with an air of nonchalance that doesn’t sit well with Matt. 

He would have expected Ewan to jump in the pool as well and make a show of laying a claim on you as he had before. But no. The younger lad just sits, and watches, the makings of a smirk pulling at his lips when Matt makes eye contact.

Since when has he been this self-assured? Perhaps you’re to credit for this renewed sense of confidence? 

Are you slipping away from him, and back into Ewan’s arms? 

Too many questions, and not even the pleasant haze of Spain can shake the anxiety out of him. 

But then, Liv strolls over, positioning herself in front of Ewan, blocking Matt’s view. She bums a cigarette from one of the guys, and as she turns, she gives Matt a subtle nod—a reminder of her advice from last night. Just show her, she’d said. Show her you’re all in.

Thank the heavens for Olivia.

Turning back to you, Matt softens, brushing a lock of hair from your face. He presses a gentle kiss to your cheek, feeling his doubts fade as you meet his gaze, eyes bright with laughter.

“Enjoying yourself there?” you ask sweetly.

“What’s not to enjoy?” he replies, his hand tracing slow, lazy circles on your back.

“I don’t know,” you shrug, “I just don’t think I’ve ever seen you glare like that before.”

“I was not glaring.”

“You so were, Matthew.”

“Oh, yeah?” he murmurs, a mischievous glint sparking in his eyes. Before you can react, he dips underwater, reemerging just inches from your thigh, where he plants a quick, teasing kiss that makes you yelp.

“Wha—Oh! Matt! Get up here!”

He surfaces, grinning, his arms winding around you again as he pulls you close. Your laughter mingles, echoing across the pool as the rest of the group cheers and jeers good-naturedly.

Just as Matt’s about to pull you in for another kiss, a loud shout breaks through the calm. 

“Cannonball!” Tom’s voice echoes from the villa, and before either of you can turn around, he comes barreling out, sprinting at full speed. With a triumphant yell, he launches himself off the edge, arms and legs splayed out like a human starfish.

The massive splash sends water arcing high, soaking you, Matt, and everyone within a ten-foot radius.

“Always one to ruin the moment, Tom,” Matt jokes.

“Had to make sure you two didn’t get too cosy,” Tom shoots back, swimming closer and clapping Matt on the shoulder. 

It’s all in good fun, sure, but then Matt catches Tom shoot a quick wink at Ewan, a flash of understanding passing between them.

So that’s how it’s going to be? Game on. 

It’s the penultimate day of the Mallorca trip and the group has rented boats to paddle out along the stunning coastline. Only 2 people are allowed per vessel and some pairs have already formed—Phia and Phoebe, Louise thankfully pulled away from Ewan by Bethany, Harry and Freddie…

And then there’s Ewan who strides over to you determinedly. Matt is a half-step behind, his expression expectant, but Ewan is quicker. “I’m with you today, darling,” he says, his tone leaving little room for question. His hand finds yours, warm and grounding.

Matt’s eyes flicker with disappointment but he’s never been one to kick up a fuss. He gives you a faint resigned shrug, then turns to Liv. “Guess that means you and I are a team then.”

Liv rolls her eyes playfully, pushing her sunglasses up and swatting his arm. “Don’t sound so thrilled. But I promise I won’t make you row the entire time.”

Matt’s smile softens as he looks at her, his earlier disappointment slipping into something more relaxed. “Fine, but I’m claiming the right to judge your rowing skills.”

“I’ll have you know I’m an excellent rower,” Liv insists, taking her spot at the front of the boat and casting a teasing glance at him. “You, on the other hand…we’ll see.”

As you and Ewan push off into the water, he throws a glance back at the others, and a spark of mischief lights his eyes. “Think they’ll survive?”

You laugh, settling across Ewan on the boat. “I think it’ll be a surprise if Tom’s boat doesn’t capsize.”

Soon enough, everyone’s boats are spaced out on the clear, serene waters, and there’s nothing but the occasional splash of oars, the birds squawking high above, and the warm glow of the horizon. Ewan rows steadily, having doggedly refused your offer to help, and every now and then, his eyes flick to you, a soft smile never leaving his lips. His gaze lingers, like he’s committing your image to memory.

As you watch the world, he watches his world.

“Feels like another reality out here, doesn’t it?” he says, his voice barely above a murmur.

You nod, watching the sunlight dance across the water. “It really does.” You pause, glancing over your shoulder to see Liv and Matt, already in animated conversation. “It’s nice to just… forget everything for a while.”

He smiles, tilting his head. “Anything specific you wanna forget?”

You smile back. “Everything, really. The pressures, the expectations… wondering what everyone thinks or wants.”

From a few metres away, Matt’s voice carries over the water, cutting through the quiet intimacy of the moment. “I’m just saying, Liv, you don’t have to prove anything. You can let me row.”

Liv laughs, her voice filled with playful defiance. “Matt, I am fully capable of handling this. Maybe it’s you who should be taking notes.”

“Oh, I’d hate to step on your expert skills,” Matt teases back, before throwing a glance your way, his gaze lingering a bit too long before he turns back to Liv, who seems blissfully unaware of his momentary distraction.

Ewan notices it too, and his grip on the oar tightens ever so slightly. But he says nothing, keeping his focus on you as he rows further along the shore.

He steers the boat around a small bend, his voice low. “They’re good together, don’t you think?”

You turn, following his gaze. It’s a simple, easy dynamic between them, one you know you’ve seen before, and for a moment, a pang of something unnameable twists in your chest.

“Yeah,” you murmur, a touch distracted.

Ewan catches your gaze, his eyes searching yours. “You seem… surprised. Or maybe… jealous?”

You laugh it off, shaking your head. “Not at all. It’s just—”

But before you can finish, a sudden splash interrupts you. Harry’s boat has tipped over, both he and Freddie flailing in the water, their laughter filling the air as they try to right themselves.

Bethany, a few feet away, doubles over, her laughter carrying over the waves. “Oh my god, Freddie, I told you to sit still!”

Harry, sputtering as he surfaces, grins. “Guess I got too excited.”

“So I was wrong,” you turn to Ewan, smirking. “It’s not Tom who capsized.”

Ewan just laughs, then adds slyly, “Here I was wishing it would have been Matt.”

After the boats return to shore, you’re all tired and exhilarated, the sun higher in the sky as you make your way up the beach. But the peace is short-lived. Fans, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, begin to gather along the shore, their voices excited, cameras ready as they shout greetings and ask for photos. The relaxed energy shifts as each of you is drawn into the swirl of attention, questions flying as you try to keep up.

A fan steps in close, slightly shaking in her nerves. “You… and Ewan?” she asks, the question open-ended but its meaning clear.

You chuckle awkwardly, caught off guard, opting to just wrap an arm around her shoulders as she takes a selfie with you. 

But the fan is relentless, her attention shifting to Matt, who’s standing off to the side with Liv, his gaze directed toward you even as he signs another fan’s poster. “What about him?” she says, grinning.

Ewan’s arm slips around your waist protectively, pulling you closer. “She’s with me today,” he says confidently, not minding the possibility of this fan taking to the internet after this encounter, with proof of her ship actually being together.

Ewan doesn’t care; he has no reason to hide how much he wants you. Not anymore. If his fans want a crumb, as he often reads online about him, then he’s going to give them a whole feast. 

With you as the main course in the Ewan banquet.

As the day comes to a close, you find yourself resting all alone in your room, stealing the group introvert mantle right under Ewan’s nose. Everything that has happened during this vacation plays in your mind like a montage, and somehow, it all feels like it’s building up to a grand finale.

But before you can lose yourself completely in your thoughts, there’s a soft knock at your door.

You groan to yourself as you walk over, but your protest dies as you find Ewan standing there, holding something behind his back.

“Hey, you,” he greets you with a smirk that’s more mischievous than usual. “Got a minute?”

Your heart skips a beat — it’s always been that way with him, that instant flutter, even now after everything. “Sure. What’s up?” 

“I’ve got a surprise for you,” he says, his grin widening at your raised brow. He steps into your room, pulling whatever he’s hiding behind his back.

When he finally reveals it, you blink, eyes widening. “You... bought these?” You can’t help but laugh.

Two brightly coloured superhero masks — one Spider-Man, the other Spider-Gwen.

“Yep, I saw a costume shop that had Carnaval masks… and these too, apparently,” Ewan says, looking pleased with himself. “I thought it would be fun. We’re getting away from the villa tonight. I figured we could use these. You know, masks for our incognito date night.”

It had taken one quick scroll on the internet for your group to discover that the paparazzi trailed everyone around town today, and Elliott even annoyingly revealed that he might have seen one or two of them lingering outside the villa’s premises. 

Vultures.

You laugh again, shaking your head. “Wait, you’re serious? We’re wearing these to our… date? Wait, why are we going on a date?”

He shrugs with a playful glint in his eye. “Why not?”

You hesitate for a second. It’s such a ridiculous idea, but in the best possible way. He’s always had a way of pulling you out of your own head, making you feel like there’s no right or wrong way to just live in the moment. 

Or maybe he could propose anything—anything at all—and you’d be beside yourself if you refused. It’s how you and him ended up having copious amounts of…. casual lovemaking, months after breaking up.

“Okay,” you finally say, “but only if you promise not to laugh when I look completely ridiculous in it.”

“Never,” he says with mock solemnity, holding out the Spider-Gwen mask for you. “You’ll look amazing. Trust me.”

As you slink past the gates, the masks make you feel more than a little silly, but also oddly liberated. It’s like you’re in on another secret with him, something just for the two of you.

You look at him, smiling as you adjust the mask. “This is insane,” you say, your voice muffled behind the fabric.

Ewan smiles back, clearly pleased with himself. “I know. And it’s perfect.”

“Are you sure this isn’t just you practicing for an audition for yet another Spiderman reboot?”

He only playfully shoots air webs at you, his adorable pew-pew noises audible under his mask.

You chuckle softly, your heart warming at the sight of him. “So, what now? You’re just going to walk me through the streets like this?”

“Of course. You ready to go on the best secret date of your life?”

You laugh, feeling lighter than you have in days. “Lead the way, Spiderman.”

The walk isn’t long, just enough to enjoy the quiet of the night and the unexpected adventure of it all. When you finally arrive at the restaurant, you stop dead in your tracks, blinking up at the building in front of you. It’s perched on the edge of a cliff, offering a breathtaking view of the bay below. The warm glow of the restaurant spills out onto the street, and you’re immediately struck by how beautiful its facade is.

You look at Ewan, your surprise written all over your face. “This... this place looks amazing. How did you find it?”

“I have my ways,” he says, grinning. “Come on.”

He leads you up the stairs, and you both remove your masks as you enter, giggling to each other. You’re met with a homey, rustic atmosphere. There’s a dim light from lamps perched on the posts, the soft murmur of conversations, and the smell of fresh food in the air. It’s everything you didn’t realise you needed tonight—calm, peaceful, and more than a little romantic.

“I booked a private table for us,” Ewan says softly, glancing around for the waiter. 

The two of you are escorted to a table on the balcony, overlooking the bay. The moon reflects on the water, casting a silver glimmer over the scene. For a moment, you just sit there, both of you silent, taking it all in.

“Ewan, this is incredible,” you say, your voice quiet but full of admiration. “I don’t even know what to say.”

Ewan smiles, reaching across the table to take your hand. “You don’t have to say anything. And I promise this isn’t some ploy to get you to speed up your decision-making. I just… I just wanted you to have a night where you could forget about everything else.”

He leans back slightly, his eyes studying you with that gentle familiarity, like he’s waiting for you to say something more, but he doesn’t rush you.

You glance down at the simple sundress you’ve been wearing all day. You didn’t have time to change when Ewan mentioned the surprise evening out — there was no real thought given to a perfect outfit. And yet, as you sit here now, across from him in the warm candlelight, you don’t feel the usual self-consciousness you might’ve once felt. 

You feel more beautiful than you ever have before, because he sees you as the most beautiful person in the room. In any room.

“I don’t know how you do it,” you say, looking at him. “How you make everything feel so…” You trail off, unable to find anything adequate. 

His lips curl into a knowing, half-smile. “I feel the same about you.”

And you might not know it yet, but this night is when you choose him. 

Under the unprecedented rainfall, later on, you will realise that you never truly had to choose.

It’s always been Ewan, all along. 

Taglist: @namelesslosers @skymoonandstardust @valyrianflower @luckyfirebasement @omgsuperstarg @elissanatok @callsignwidow @sinistersnakey49 @darkwriteracademia @yyrzmomo @queenofshinigamis @luvaerina @shamelessblazecrown @mirandastuckinthe80s @elleinex0x0 @pierrotlu @aegonswife @strangersunghoon @lunampacheco @writer-ann-artist @gaiaea @of-swords-and-words @ateliefloresdaprimavera @m00n5t0n3 @helaenaluvr @peachysunrize @annie-ruk @luvly-writer @ananas26t @athenafaes @lovelyteenagebeard @mamawiggers1980 @moongirl27 @katherine93 @barnes70stark @justbelljust @cloudroomblog @somestufftoday @esposadomd @girl-in-the-chairs-void @insideyourimagination @vyctorya @wildrangers @onlyrealjoy @hotdismylife @thepurplecrown @just-fics-station @clarkysblog @urmomsgirlfriend1 @misfitbimbosblog (continued in comments ... )

Some notes in the margins...

I have no notes. The red mirage is still at play as I type this. Please distract me in the comments 🥲

The next chapter wraps up this trip :) We also might have a bit of Liv's POV...

Then it's back to LA or London, depending on who darling opts to go with 💛

[cometconmain]

Also even if he hadn't explicitly stated these things:

Besides: Most fascists with half a brain cell (unlike Trump) don't say what they're after until they have enough control to enact it. That's what makes them so fucking dangerous. They'll say literally anything else and work you up to agreeing with them by finding things you are more likely to accept and then slowly turning up the intensity, allowing you to acclimatise each time to the new 'normal' they're conditioning you to blindly accept. Insert frogs in boiling water analogy here.

If you haven't learned that by now (either from Jewish people themselves who I'm pretty sure were the first to identify and teach about this considering how specifically and horrifically it happened to them so they know this societal phenomenon inside and out) then what the fuck have you been doing every time someone taught you about the Holocaust? About passive participation? About the frogs in boiling water I mentioned? About the steady radicalisation of otherwise 'normal' people who were so certain they could never become the monster, they accelerated into it because they were too busy beating their own drum insisting they never could to realise they literally were having happy lunch time with their work friends, and then going back to their jobs at fucking Auschwitz??

Everyone is capable of fascism. You have to always try to develop a better ability to identify the signs in yourself and others, and work to combat it.

On my part, I actually hadn't stopped to think about the true meaning of why so many Americans voted for Trump. I knew he'd get in simply based on idiots refusing to vote blue or at all. I wasn't expecting such a huge acceptance where he didn't even need the electoral vote and hadn't put two and two together until now. It does make sense though, thinking about it, with how much both right and left wing people have been hurtling toward and nurturing fascist beliefs for years now. That's so fucked up. And now I'm worried about my country because we're getting symptoms of it here too. We're just not as far along yet I think. Doesn't mean we won't get there though. I already have my neighbour refusing to see the antisemitic attacks and rhetoric in general ramping up here I once would have felt sure were really fucking blatantly obvious even without being taught subtler things we otherwise miss/don't know about as goyim(? Let me know if that's not the right word).

Goyim love to say things like, “How did people let the Holocaust happen?” And there are a lot of possible answers to that question. Some believe that the average citizen of the Nazi Empire simply didn’t know about the camps. Others say that the average citizen opposed the regime, but they were deterred by their government or the fear of being killed. And some believe that it was some kind of perfect storm or one-time-glitch, that those people from that place just happened to be uniquely predisposed to evil, and that it can never happen again.

This is almost always accompanied by some variation on the phrase, “If I had been there, I wouldn’t have.”

Not even a hundred years later, Jews across the world are being targeted for destruction by both White Supremacists and Jihadist Islamists. Both weaponize the same ideologies and tactics that the Nazis used, and both happily embrace the Nazi legacy. Both are emboldened, not disgusted, by the nearly unprecedented increase in antisemitic hate crimes. They are openly calling for our death in our streets and our subways and our political offices.

And yes, in some countries, they are met with opposition by the average citizen. In some countries, decent and caring and inclusive people stand up for us. And in some countries, they win. But not all the time. When they lose, you have to reconcile with the truth:

The Holocaust didn’t happen because the average person in Eastern Europe failed to stop the Nazis. The Holocaust happened because the average person in Eastern Europe was a Nazi. And if the average person is a Nazi in any other nation, at any other time, it will happen again.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hello omg I love your soft sylus writing a lot !!

May I request please a reader where she loves sylus so much that she tries to express it by words but can’t cause she is so shy and never done so and sylus encourage it and tease her

LOVE UR WRITING

You had something to say and it clear as day to Sylus that you were lost within the internal conflict raging on within your mind, weighing out the pros and cons of speaking truthfully of your heart to him. And while it was adorable to watch you squirm and struggle to articulate your thoughts into coherent sentences for the first five minutes, Sylus was soon aware that since your so hesitant in taking the first step, he’ll have to take the first step on your behalf by grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you onto his lap.

‘Somethings on your mind kitten, it’s eating away at you and I want to know what it is that’s been consuming you from the inside out.’ He says while tightening his grip on your wrist just enough to keep you from being able to pull away, but enough where he’s not bringing you to any harm. You could practically feel your heart in your throat as it righted in on itself, it didn’t help that Sylus’s crimson eyes were peering into you in a way that made it seem as though he knew but loved to watch you suffer. ‘I- I don’t-‘ you stopped before you could even say a full sentence as everything leading up to now had resurfaced in your mind.

You knew you loved Sylus, you have for a while now, but past experiences or close to the sort have made you hesitant in making the first move and into something more meaningful between the two of you. You remember times where you would wonder whether you’d be luckily enough to be blessed with having someone become interested in you, fully investing their time and energy into what you had to say, their eyes remained on you as though they couldn’t bring themselves to look at anyone else.

You wanted everything you’ve seen in movies or read in books so badly, but even if you did find someone who was interested by you, you tended to pull away before they could get close enough to see the real you and become distant because you didn’t fulfill their idea of you that was unrealistic. You couldn’t help it for after being on your own for a long while you have grown accustomed to the idea that you might be left to your own company, maybe have a cat and or a dog in the future to make up for the lack of connection. So the idea of sharing your space with anyone else has always made you feel seriously self conscious and unable to articulate your thoughts and feelings like you’d like to.

However soon Sylus came into your life and you felt the same way you did when you were still talking to the person you preciously liked. You felt jittery, scared, excited and eagerly anticipated when you’d next see Sylus again while occasionally on the look out for Mephisto. Yet once you realised what you were feeling, what you were doing, a cold sense of dread filled you and unfortunately Sylus’s actions towards you only made it even harder for you to deny what was happening between you two.

Sylus would go out of his way to hold you by the small of your back in crowded spaces, keeping you close proximity to him, lightly touch your shoulder or stand closer to you then normal and even get in your face to watch your expressions as he did some lighthearted teasing. He was in your personal space and he was everywhere you went, and since it happened so often it came to a point where you were actively seeking out the tall man with crimson eyes and snow/silvery hair without realising it. The implications scared you gravely to the point where recently you’ve tried to avoid Sylus…only for Luke and Kieran along with Mephisto to find you and inform Sylus before he greeted you in person.

Sylus took your chin in his free hand and moving your head so you were back to staring into his observant eyes rather than to your fiddling fingers. ‘Use your words kitten, after all I’ve got all the time for you to sort out what you want to say.’ He tells you as a smirk played upon his lips as he watched your eyes widened a tad and your breath hitched in your throat. Sylus then taps a finger against your lips softly, letting it linger there for a bit. ‘So speak your mind sweetheart, speak it to me and don’t be afraid of the consequences,’ he then leans forward to rest his head against yours as his eyes looked at your lips briefly before looking back into your eyes, ‘you might like what happens afterwards.’ He finishes as he caresses your jawline with his fingers.

‘Don’t.’ You tell him sternly, taking Sylus back a little. ‘Don’t say things like that if you’re just going to be giving me false promises and leave after I say it.’ You reiterated as you looked at his face as you felt a wave of embarrassment over come you as everything within you screamed to protect yourself.

‘What makes you think I won’t take what you say to me seriously? Have I given you any doubt to distrust me into thinking I would laugh at your innermost emotions?’ Sylus asked and when you didn’t respond his smirk faltered as a serious emotions overcame his face and he took a deep breath. ‘You know I would never laugh at your emotions right? What do I have to gain in knowing your feelings? For I would never use it against you, not when I know that I’d loose you and your trust for that matter.’ Sylus told you as he lets go of your wrist to hold your face between his palms instead, stroking your cheeks softly that you couldn’t help but melt into his touch.

‘I love you Sylus.’ You admitted softly but clearly enough for him to hear as his thumbs stopped caressing your cheeks. ‘I always knew I love you but didn’t want to say anything incase you’d find another person to call your muse, to call your kitten or sweetheart. Someone who can keep up with you where I can’t. I knew I couldn’t confess if I knew that this thing between us will never be anything but serious.’ You continued as you felt everything come to the surface, easing the weight upon your shoulders greatly as you could feel yourself breath properly once more.

Sylus didn’t say anything at first and it worried you, especially with the way he keeps his gaze locked on you as though nothing else mattered in this moment but you. It felt as though he could see right through you and directly into your soul and it made you feel a little exposed and vulnerable. It scared it greatly that your fears were proven right, so much that in the moment you tried to move yourself off of his lap, only for Sylus to pull you in closer to him by your face until you were touching noses and lips were ghosting over the others.

‘Sylus-‘ before you could finish your sentence, Sylus was quick to press his lips to yours as he began to weave his lips between yours with a tenderness and passion you weren’t expecting after confessing your innermost feelings. He held your face as though it was porcelain as he deeper the kiss, moving a hand to the back of your head to keep you close to him, all the while his other hand rested on your waist to pull you further into him as though you weren’t already physically close enough. It was passionate, sweet and warm as you found yourself putting your hands on his shoulders, bunching up the fabric of his expensive shirt under your grip as you melted into the kiss; wanting nothing but to forget everything else except the taste of his lips on yours.

Only for your lungs to burn, forcing you to pull away from him as you catches your breath.

Sylus smirked as he hurried his head into your neck, breathing heavily as his fingers traced your skin over your clothes lovingly while you rested your head against his shoulder, soaking in his warmth and comforting feeling you get from cuddling against his chest. ‘I told you I wouldn’t take you nor your emotions for granted kitten, why would I do that to the person I love?’ He says against your neck and you couldn’t help but smile goofily at his own confession as your heart fluttered.

You were glad that you finally got your feelings off of your chest…even if it did take a little nudge from your crimson eyed beloved to do so as you spent the rest of the evening in his arms and whispering sweet nothings to one another.

[fireboltposts]

When SKZ finds your well-organized Korean notes

A/N : This idea randomly popped up in my head when I was learning my Spanish. Picture credit to the owner. Also this is the first time I've tried writing for all the members together.

• Where each member suddenly stumbles upon your neat and well-organized notes for learning Korean. They knew you were studying but didn't realise you went so far as to maintaining an old diary of 2013 for writing down random notes, swear words, grammar rules, slangs, idioms, vocabulary, tests where you had graded yourself with a red pen with marks like 16/20 or 19/25 and your signature like a school teacher and even some phrases learnt from the boys.

• Chris

He found your Korean diary on a random Tuesday evening while he was searching for his laptop charger. He wondered what on earth were you doing with a 2013 diary when he had gifted you the latest one on New Year's Day. Not one to read someone's diary, but his interest was piqued because of a SKZ bookmark hanging out of the diary. He opens it curiously, flipping through the pages that contained grammar rules, self-graded tests with your signature (which he can't help but giggle at), and even an entire section labelled "what Channie taught me", containing phrases and words he had previously taught you, that he himself had forgotten, which little notes on the side in pencil on how to pronounce stating that "Channie says it like this". He smiles to himself, feeling a surge of warmth as he realizes you're working so hard to understand and connect with him and the group on a deeper level. He chuckles at the part where you had stated that he says a word in a certain tone and he's a little surprised to see how observant you were to how he spoke Korean that you had noticed such little things even he didn't know. He is moved by your dedication and effort. It meant so much to him that you wanted to understand him better and also the rest of the boys.

• Minho

Minho's looking around your room when his eyes fall on a notebook open on your bed, with pages full of neat handwriting. Intrigued, he walks over and begins to look through them, noting how well-organized and thoughtful each section is. The color-coding in different color ink, the little drawings, and the way you’ve broken down each concept and it’s clear you’ve put a lot of effort into learning. He spots a few phrases he's used like "Don't be silly" written in Hangul. He feels a strange pride in knowing that you had gone through so much trouble of noting down things he has said and how observant you were to the other members' words and he feels a soft warmth on his chest. When you notice him looking, he gives you an approving nod. "Your notes are impressive," he says, with a faint smile. "You’re serious about learning, huh? I respect that." He’s not overly sentimental, but there’s a hint of admiration in his tone. "Just make sure you don’t learn any bad habits from the guys. I'll teach you the proper way to speak," he adds with a teasing glint in his eyes and you roll your eyes with a smile on your lips.

• Changbin

Changbin flips your notes open curiously and starts reading. The first thing he notices is how neatly you've written grammar concepts and phrases with example sentences using names from the K industry like "Changbin ate an apple", "Joshua cannot swim", "Jaejoong, go to the market !". As he goes through, he can’t help but feel a sense of admiration for your dedication. You’ve put in so much work, and it’s clear that you’re genuinely interested in understanding the language. He chuckles when he sees a section labeled "Cute Phrases learnt from Binnie," where you’ve written down a few things he’s said, noting them with little hearts and stars. When you return, he grins at you, holding up the notebook. "These are really impressive," he says, giving you an encouraging smile. "You’ve put in a lot of effort. If you keep it up, you’ll be fluent in no time!". There’s a hint of pride in his voice as he looks at you, feeling touched that you care so much about connecting with him and the rest of the group in their language.

• Hyunjin

Hyunjin finds your notes when you’re both sitting on the couch. He’s flipping through some things on the table when he spots them, open to a section on descriptive words. At first, he’s just curious, but as he goes through them, he realizes how detailed your notes are. You’ve even added pronunciation tips in English and marked down specific tones you’d heard him use, adding little side notes in pencil like, "Try to sound softer, like Hyunjin." Seeing his own influence in your notes makes his heart race. He’s touched to know you’re paying so much attention to the language, even noting his speaking style. There’s something endearing about how you’re working so hard to speak Korean well, not just to understand him but to match his expressions too. "Wow, you’re really serious about this, huh?" he murmurs, glancing over at you with a soft smile. He leans in closer, resting his chin on his hand as he flips through more pages, admiring your hard work. "If you ever want a study buddy, I’d be happy to help. Maybe I could teach you some new words too… you know, personal ones that only we would know or swear words, whichever you want", he winks, enjoying the thought of having something special shared between the two of you.

• Han

Han stumbles upon your notes one day while you’re hanging out. He flips through them casually, but the more he reads, the more impressed he becomes. Your notes are detailed, organized, and incredibly thorough. You’ve written down vocabulary, grammar rules, and even broken down complex sentences into parts. He’s particularly amused when he sees a section labeled "Funny Phrases" with things he’s said, complete with little notes like, "Han said this when he was being silly." He feels a warmth in his chest, touched that you’ve been paying attention to his quirks and speech patterns. When he looks up at you, there’s a playful glint in his eye. "I didn’t know you were working this hard!" he exclaims. "Your notes are so good; I think I’d actually want to borrow them myself!". Han’s admiration is genuine, and he’s a little flustered by how much he enjoys seeing your dedication. "Anytime you want to practice with me, let me know," he offers, giving you a shy smile. "We could make it fun, you know, with little games and stuff and next time I'll take a test and put my signature on there and an A+ and a smiley if you get it all correct", he said with a wink.

• Felix

When Felix flips through the pages and finds your neat handwriting in Hangul , he's charmed by how much dedication you've put into it, especially when he saw you noted expressions and idioms he used labelled as "Sunshine Lixie's expressions", complete with little stars. His heart flutters at the sight. "Your notes are amazing!" he says, his eyes lighting up. "It’s so cool that you’re learning, and it’s adorable how you even have a section just for my phrases." He pats your shoulder proudly, feeling touched and a bit shy. "I could help you practice anytime you want," he adds, his voice softening, secretly hoping to spend more time with you.

• Seungmin

Seungmin finds your notes by accident when he’s helping you clean up after a study session. He notices them lying open on the table and can’t resist taking a look. As he reads through the pages, he’s impressed by your organization and the level of detail. You’ve made vocabulary lists, highlighted grammar points, and even written down little notes to help you remember certain words. He brings it up later, saying, "Your notes are really impressive. You’re actually doing a great job, and if you keep at it, I think you’ll become fluent in no time." He looks at you thoughtfully, adding, "If you ever need help with pronunciation or understanding something or maybe adding some more to the "Seungmin's Tips" list, I’d be happy to help."

• Jeongin

When the maknae finds your neat diary that you've kept for learning Korean, he is a little surprised but also very impressed at you progress as the self graded "test scores" went higher and as he also remembers some difficult words meant for upper Intermediate learners you'd used a week ago while talking to him. He chuckles when he sees his own "Innie’s Words" section, where you’ve noted down phrases he’s said. Later, he brings it up with a smile, saying, "Your notes are really detailed. It’s so cool that you’re putting in so much effort to learn our language." There’s a sense of pride in his voice as he looks at you, genuinely impressed by your dedication. "If you ever need help, I’m here. I could even teach you some more slang, if you’re up for it Y/N ! And next time, I hope to see you score full marks on your little self tests".

A/N : Do like, comment, reblog and follow if you liked it. You can find the rest of my masterlist here.

[quitealotofsodapop]

I've sent a similar ask before, but in peachsoup I want to see everyone's reaction to Sun Wukong being named Peaches.

Nehza: *face palms.* No memories and he is still subconsciously pining.

Erlang: *on the floor laughing* It takes a special kind of simping to do it with no memory.

Macaque: *crisis because even with no memory, Wukong chose his nickname for him as a name, but also he's supposed to be angry about dying but peaches-*

Prev.

Dont worry about resending. My inbox is stuffed to the gills and I get lost in it. Also indenting doesnt seem to work right when im on mobile.

I ended up making a bit of character dialogue based on this ask between Peaches and his school-friend "Nez"

Nez: "So how did you get the name Peaches?" Peaches: "Oh! When Dadsy- uh dad found me and MK, he called me it because peaches were pretty much the only thing I ate." Nez, agreeing hum: "Make sense." Peaches: "Then when we were adopted, we needed new legal names - so Zhu Taozi it was!" Nez: "So... you never considered having another name? I mean, the legal folk definitely gave you time to think about it. Why did Peaches resonate with you?" Peaches, twirling hair in thought: "This is gonna sound weird... but I felt like it's always been my name." Nez: "Really?" Peaches: "I know! It sounds so weird! But when I heard it for the first time, it just sounded so natural. Like someone I care about a long time ago called me it? Nez, intrigued: "Oh... so you think it was a nickname from a sibling or a parent or...?" Peaches, confidently: "I think it was someone I was in love with." Nez, memory thread unlocked?: "OH. Oh um... how can you tell?" Peaches, blush creeping: "I don't know! When I sit and meditate on stuff like this, I can just imagine someone just so beautiful with this deep voice chuckling my name like it was meant for me." (*hugs his own body lovingly*) Nez, honesty touched: "Aww..." Peaches, little embarrassed: "I'm sorry. Thats sappy." Nez: "Nah, it's really cute. Who knows? Maybe it's a sign from Yue Lao about who your soulmate it. He sometimes uses dreams to push fated lovers towards one another." Peaches, tail swishing with excitement: "Oh my gods, you're right! It could be a premonition! I wonder if my fated one is as beautiful as I see them! Nezha, internally: "He can't remember over 2000 years of life, but he can remember what his mate used to call him. It would be funny if it wasn't so bittersweet."

Once Macaque gets back, it's hard to see where his face mask begins and end. Learning that even with his memories gone Wukong chose to be called "Peaches", sends the shadow monkey into a conflicted mess. He's mad about getting KO'd obvs, but "Peaches" is both a tragic example of what if Wukong had died (Peaches is almost his own monkey after all), and a revelation that Wukong never truly forgot his mate.

Erlang is laughing his ass off as all of this goes down. His third eye was just spitting patch updates to him one day and BAM; Wukong's mate is back, and just learned that his amnesiac mate remembered and valued his pet name enough to make it his new name. It's way too funny to keep quiet about. He tells all his sworn bros about it.

When Peaches' family realises that "Peaches" was the pet name his big bro's crush called him back when they were a couple... they think its really cute. But the bad boy still isn't coming over for dinner.

[tpquill]

America, what have you done!

I am tonight sitting here (Australia) speechless from what has transpired these last 12 hours or so, what the hell happened?

Why on earth did he get voted back in?

What in the world went wrong?

8 years ago he was elected whether you choose to believe it or not, through nefarious means (Russia influence) at the time people fell for his charisma & charm, but soon realised just like women realise when they fall for the charm and the boyish behaviour, there’s a darker side they don’t reveal until it’s too late. Congratulations America, he revealed it pretty early on once he got his claws into the Resolution Table in the Oval Office.

We (the world) watched in horror as he separated families and deported illegals. He overspent on his billionaire friends and made middle and working class suffer. Had no health care plan, no infrastructure or employment plan. No commerce or education - nothing, zilch. He employed sycophants who bowed and grovelled to do his biding (half of them his own family - nepotism much?) he ran America like one of his bankrupt businesses and almost brought America to the ground. He was responsible for not taking responsibility when a pandemic hit the world and over 1 million died under his watch.

America impeached him twice, investigated him multiple times. Decided then they’d had enough and voted him out. You had four years of peace, of prosperity, of employment health care, higher wages and lowering costs. Your country opened up again and healthcare was restored, you started bouncing back, you’re coming has never been better. Meanwhile he ranted and raged the election was stolen, even though every court hearing and document was thrown out. America had turned a page in history for four years.

What the hell happened?

Joe Biden stood for another term but that wasn’t good enough, the America media had an axe to grind and so did it seemed those who were influential in the media circus and he stood aside for a women he picked as his vice. A woman with an incredible record in prosecution and protection of law. A woman who had fought against cartels and won. A woman of scruples and integrity. Who was willing to stand up to him and hold him accountable. A man who has current,y 34 felony convictions including falsifying business records and inflating assets to hide tax fraud. A man with 6 bankruptcies and multiple accusations of predator and rapist behaviour AND YOU HAVE VOTED HIM BACK IN?

Why?

Was it because you like someone with a need for vengeance? Someone who had made it very clear he intends to run America like Russia? A man who stole your nations top secrets and in some cases sold them off? A man for whatever bizzare reason is allowed to do whatever the hell he likes with no repercussions, because he’s Donald Trump?

This is not the America I remember as a child. This is not the president I saw growing up, who took care of his people, who cared for his country, supported their military and stood up to foreign enemies.

I sit here tonight devastated for all the brave and wonderful women and men, who voted to protect theirs and their daughters basic human, reproductive and civil rights. To the persons of all colours and religions, to the victims of domestic and sexual violence. To the wonderful trans community, to the gay marriages built on love. To all those who have fought both home and abroad in service. To the dreamers who see America as a shiny beacon of light & hope. To those who have crossed many roads in search of protection, in a country who had always welcomed you. I feel all of your sadness and anger at what has transpired.

None of this makes sense, none of this adds up.

Kamala Harris was a future light of hope and peace, of working with both sides for democracy to move America forward - now it seems she will be pulled back into the darkest part of her history. Back to when women had no right to vote, no opinion that was listened to, no voice protecting her own body.

She will be silenced once again.

Immigrants will no longer be welcome.

The church will control what happens in marriages and government decisions.

You will no longer be accepted as a trans or LGBTQ+

If you suffer a medical emergency during pregnancy, you will be forced to endure the consequences of either the child dying inside you, or be forced to give birth at “God’s will” Rape is just a word - a pregnancy from it will be unfortunate but a necessary as your right to choose will not matter anymore.

None of this adds up.

I will not accept that a man who got almost the exact same amount of votes as he did in 2020 can be declared the winner and Kamala only got 60 million, where did the other 20 million go? The votes came in too quickly the declaration called too soon. I’m by no means a conspiracy theorist but the math doesn’t add up?

Bomb threats - is America the Middle East? Interference through social media via Elon Musk and China. Giving away money to people who would vote for Trump. It stinks like rotten fish on a warm summers day here in Oz.

My final take.

If I devoted my entire like in government, in prosecution, in upholding the constitution - I would have questions, I would want answers as to how this happened with no increase in Trumps collective votes from 2020, he didn’t increase, he stayed the same.

President Joe Biden in his last few months of power, should launch an investigation because it’s not a case of well America decided to perform a lobotomy on itself and completely wiped the years between 2016-2020 from her memory and only remember the last 102 days, or something or someone played a hand in some very nefarious and illegal vote tampering.

Madam Vice President - do not concede.

[krkkvon]

actually aroace leo makes so much sense to me.

once i said something like "headcanon where leo feels uncomfortable because every person around him is in the relationship so he force himself to think he has a crush on every single person he meets because compare to everyone else he feels wrong and some sort of broken person when he has no love interest but then he realises everyone is equal for him not because he is so amorous but because he isn't AT ALL. because he is an aroace" but more i think about it more it feels like a canon to me because it has so much potential and feels sooo right but either rick riordan wasn't bold enough to made him an aroace nor didn't know such things exist in general, at the end of the day i'm always a little sad it isn't a canon because it's literally my roman empire.

aromantic asexual leo valdez you are everything to me i wish you were real.

[universallyintertwined]

Ngl, I think my problem is that as a shifter is that I forget that 1. Most times, you don't even realise you've shifted, and 2. If you're already in your dr, why are you still saying you wanna shift there?

LET ME EXPLAIN REAL QUICK LIKE LEMME COOK 🤚🤚🤚☝️☝️💪🤓☝️

1. Fym you Don't even realise you've shifted?? 🤬🤬🙄🙄

LET ME COOK!!

From what I've heard, shifting feels like waking up from being asleep. There's no special galaxy warping explosion, and you don't just magically begin to exist in that reality. You're already there physically, like how you're already here physically. So it just makes perfect sense that going to sleep and waking up there feels no different to going to sleep and waking up here. It's like literally walking through a door. And I'm only wrapping my head around this as I'm writing.

2. What are you on abt?

OKAY, SO. let's say you're in like your house or smth or something, and you've been wanting to go to idfk benidorm for AGES cause life at work/school/home is just not it, and you need a break. THIS REPRESENTS SOME SORTVE MEDIA YOU WANT TO SHIFT TO.

So, you get a plane or drive (can you drive to benidorm? Idfk) or train, idk whatever you're gonna use to transport yourself to benidorm. THIS IS YOU SHIFTING/SETTING THE INTENTION TO SHIFT THERE!

SO BOOMF! YOURE IN BENIDORM. You know you're in benidorm. You tell people on your Instagram stories or tiktoks or whatever and say, "Hey guys, look at me!! I'm in benidorm!!" You love benidorm so much you even tell YOURSELF you're in benidorm. You close your eyes and just know you're in benidorm, and you just know you're with all your benidorm babes (dr people idfk).

BUT!

If you know you're in benidorm, and you keep telling yourself, "I'm in benidorm, omg guys!!" Then why would you keep saying,"fuck man, wish I was in benidorm right now..." and "guys, i wish i could go to benidorm..." AS IF YOU HAVENT BEEN SAYING HOW YOU ARE??

BRO, JUST ACCEPT IT! YOURE IN BENIDORM.

SAY IT!

BELIEVE IT!

LIVE WITH IT!

I have found out my own shifting problem and the one thing that was holding me back I am so cool

[ghostmoon1]

Day Three - Spoon Feeding

Ghost x Soap

Master List

I'm adoring this one hehe :3 And another little note, while this is going on I'll still be posting my other fic Dusted Rivalries every Saturday AEST!

CW: Gorey/Violent descriptions, mentions of death, hospitalisation, coma, canon event changed, unwillingness to eat, swearing

Words: 1,417

“Johnny!”

The sound of a gun. A singular gun firing. That’s all that was needed to make Simon’s heart leap into his throat, making him choke in the pain and regret that was already flooding his senses and any of his common sense, making him do things no man in his right mind would ever do.

The sound of the gun had echoed so clearly into his ears, it was painful to even listen to. The sound was like having a knife through his chest, and the realisation hitting being that person twisting the knife, scraping it against his heart, then yanking it out and watching the blood and guts spill from his body as it falls to the ground.

But that didn’t happen to him.

At that moment he was scared Johnny just had a bullet through his head.

But it barely missed, only scraping his skull after he had put up a good fight. He knew Johnny always had fight in him, but he was so thankful he had enough to escape death's grasp once again. 

But watching that blood leak out of his head, creating a puddle of crimson on the floor, did something to Simon. Not only did it create a larger hate for Makarov, making him loathe him more than anyone else in the world, it made him realise how precious life is, and how easy it is to just have that privilege stripped away from you, like pulling the rug from out under your feet. 

It made him realise how precious Johnny was.

Now, sitting in the hospital next to him was the only place he has been for the past week. No matter how much Price and Gaz had tried to drag him away, make him leave to go look after himself and get some real sleep, not just half sitting in an uncomfortable hospital chair and half slumped over the blankets of Johnny’s hospital bed. They had tried to get him to eat something, even the shitty hospital food but he wouldn't touch any of it. Gaz had even made some food for them, bringing it into the hospital and tried to get Simon to eat it with them. But Simon stubbornly stayed by Johnny’s side, not taking his hand off his, not even breaking his gaze from his face, his features soft as he slept off the meds. Nothing could pull him away from Johnny, not even death itself.

Today was the same as any other day now. He woke up, slumped on the bed again with a groan as pain shoots over his back, digging into all his nerves as he tries to pick himself up. He groggily rubs his face with his palm which does little to get the sleep out of his eyes. After blinking a few times, he studies Johnny’s sleeping form. Watching as his chest rises and falls slowly, the slight parting of his lips as he breathes, how his face is relaxed as he sleeps. There wasn't any stress, any pain, just blissful sleep. 

“You gonna eat anything yet Simon?” 

He turns his head to see Price standing in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest. His brows were furrowed as he studied him leaning over Johnny’s bed. “You know you gotta Simon…”

“I’m fine Price. I’ll get something later.”

“And when’s later for you?”

Simon grunts in response, knowing his answer wouldn’t satisfy him. His eyes trail over Johnny again, a helpless feeling settling in his gut.

Price sighs and steps into the room, placing his hand on his shoulder. “He’ll be alright… He’ll wake up soon.”

Simon just nods, but he can’t help the horrible feeling that has settled in his guts, twisting his insides and making him feel sick just at the thought. What if he doesn’t wake up? He couldn’t think that, that's when the thoughts spiral. 

He gently places his hand over Johnny’s, letting his fingers intertwine with his. He let the warmth of his body sink into his, a reminder that he was alive. He was still with him. He was only asleep. He would wait there forever until he woke up. He just wanted him to be okay, to be back with him and awake. He’d love for him to come back to work with him, fighting side by side once again. But that scared him. What if next time, he didn’t end up in hospital? What if Price and Laswell signed the papers, marking him officially as KIA? He couldn’t live with himself if he let that happen.

He wouldn't let that happen.

He waits and waits, just wanting and praying for the slightest eye flicker, for his hand to squeeze his, for any sign that he is waking up soon. He watched as the sun rose and fell from the window, painting the sky in an array of colours. He couldn't help but reach up every now and then, pressing his fingers against the pulse point on his neck, making sure he really was still alive, that his heart was beating. 

The sun continues to rise and fall, each day another day of waiting, praying for the best and dreading the worst. 

Gaz had dropped off some soup again, hoping Simon would make an attempt to eat something, along with some hope that Johnny would wake and eat as well. His hand didn’t leave Johnny’s. He kept waiting, until he finally felt something.

His heart rate picks up as he notices his eyelids fluttering slightly, his hand weakly holding onto his just a little bit tighter. He lets out a long breath, slowly waking up.

His Johnny was waking up. 

He eagerly waits until he's aware enough to realise he was there, waiting for him. Watching as his baby blues slowly become visible, his eyes flutter open with a small groan as the bright lights of the hospital try to assault his vision. “S-Si..?”

“Yeah Johnny… I’m here, I’m right here,” he mutters, trying to ignore the tears building up in his eyes as he watches him wake. “You’re okay…” he whispers, more to himself than Johnny.

“Bloody hell… how long have I been out?”

“Nine days now…”

“You been counting?”

“Shut up.”

He sighs, looking over to the bedside and the still lukewarm soup sitting on it. He picks it up, giving it a small stir. “You should get something to eat.”

Johnny raises a brow at him, then studies him, noticing how his eyes look sunken and the bags that look like bruises. He looked smaller even, obviously he hadn't eaten for a while. “I think you should eat too… looks like you haven't. Have you eaten Si…?”

Simon just shakes his head, becoming for him to sit up more in the bed as he fills the spoon, dragging the bottom of it along the rim of the bowl so he doesn't drip any. “Open up.”

Johnny laughs and shakes his head, watching as he brings the spoon closer to him. “What, you feeding me now Si? Looks like you’ve grown soft.”

Simon grunts in response, holding the spoon in front of Johnny’s mouth and waiting for him to open his lips, to let him feed him. Johnny grins, letting him spoon the soup into his mouth, ignoring how it had started to go cold and focusing on the look of concentration as he feeds him on his face. He couldn't help but smile a bit and laugh at the scene, being in a coma for so long and waking to find your lover feeding you. His laughing made lean forwards, coughing slightly and knocking the spoon in his hands, the soup splattering over his chest. He sheepishly smiled at him in an apology, watching as Simon’s features harden, but soon soften again as he chuckles with him. “Sorry ‘bout that,” he laughs, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

Simon shakes his head as he feeds him another spoonful, unable to hide the smile creeping onto his lips. “It’s ‘right… just don’t go scaring me like that again?”

Johnny nods, gently taking the spoon off his hands, trying to fight the shaking. He dips the spoon into the soup, then carefully brings it to Simon’s lips, nudging it against them to get him to open his mouth. With a roll of his eyes, he complies, letting him place the cold spoon in his mouth as he lets the flavour of the soup hit his taste buds. “Yeah, I’ll try.”

[ Creds for dividers go to saradika-graphics and horangipilled ]

[sequinsmile-x]

Favourite

Emily and Aaron try to make some time for themselves early one morning, but they are interrupted by their toddler.

-x-

Hi besties <3

This is a birthday fic for one of my best friends in the entire world. I hope you had a day as lovely as you are. I love you so much <3

This fic is based on the above gif, and is just our favourite idiots being soft and very much in love.

On a different note, today has been a rough day. And I am holding space for everyone who needs it. I'm sad and angry and numb, and writing has always been an outlet for me. I hope this brings distraction and a small amount of joy for anyone who needs it today <3

-x-

Warnings: mildly spicy, a lemon and herb on the Nando's spice scale.

Words: 2.1k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily hums contentedly as she wakes up, her expression melting into a smile as her senses return one by one. 

The first thing she registers is the smell of home. The smell of comfort and him washing over her as she snuggles deeper into the embrace she’d fallen asleep in hours ago, his chest against her back and his arm over her waist. Then she feels him, his hand tangled up in hers and pressed against her cheek, the soft kisses he is trailing from her shoulder to her neck. She realises that must be what’s woken her up. That he’s gently pulled her from sleep before their alarm or their kids wake them up. His lips against her bare skin where her t-shirt, his t-shirt, has slipped down from her shoulder.

She turns in his arms, smiling when he helps her, her eyes still closed as his hand drifts to her waist. She kisses him, tasting toothpaste, a sign he’d already snuck out of bed, over something that was just him. 

“No fair,” she grumbles, her voice thick with sleep still, rough with misuse as she kisses him again, this time tasting his smile, “You brushed your teeth first. My breath must suck.” 

She finally opens her eyes, greeted with the sight of him. He’s smiling at her, his dimples carved out deep in his cheeks as he pushes her hair away from her face, the hair tye she’d used to put it up the night before lost somewhere amongst the pillows. 

He’s not wearing a shirt, his skin bare and beautiful in the morning light of their bedroom. She can’t help but think of their first night together, how she’d led him into her apartment after their first date full of nervous kisses and easy conversation, and told him for the 100th time that she was sure she wanted this. That she wanted him. He’d been nervous - something about his touch that was hesitant until she asked him why, a part of her worried it was something to do with her. He’d assured her it wasn’t, his expression serious and his touch as sure as it had been all night as he admitted two things - one that he’d only ever had sex with Haley before, that he was worried he’d somehow let Emily down, and two that no one other than medical professionals had ever seen his scars. 

She’d told him in no uncertain terms that neither of those things mattered to her. That there was no way he could let her down in any way, and that his scars were already beautiful to her because they were made of him. They were proof he’d stitched himself back together bit by bit and had survived. She’d whispered that she had scars too, had pulled her dress over her head on in movement to show him the constellation of scar tissue left behind on her abdomen, his focus on where she’d been torn apart and sewn back together, not the new lingerie she’d bought with him in mind. He’d kissed her then, his fingers dancing over skin she still couldn’t feel even now, his touch making her tingle in more ways than one. 

There were moments, all these years later, when even though she was his wife, she’d still feel nothing less than honoured that he trusted her like this. That he’d sleep next to her and wander around their room without a shirt on, his smile soft as he explained either the shirt or the snuggling had to go in the summer and that the snuggling was non-negotiable.  

“Never,” he replies, kissing her again to prove a point, his hand shifting to her back, sneaking under the t-shirt she’s wearing as he moves so she’s half beneath him, another kiss stamped against her lips to prove his point as he settles over her. 

She chuckles, her smile wide as she turns her head to look at the alarm clock on her nightstand, his kiss catching her dimple as she registers the time, her eyebrow raised as she looks back at him, “I’m assuming you have good reason to wake me up this early on a Saturday when both our kids still seem to be asleep.” 

He hums against her cheek, the sound vibrating through her as it makes her shiver, his lips chasing hers as he kisses the corner of her mouth and then kisses her properly. 

“I was thinking,” he starts, kissing her again, his hand under her shirt encouraging her towards him, her back arching so her chest is pressed against his whilst his hand travels downwards, “We rarely have Saturday mornings to ourselves,” he kisses her again, his hand slipping below the hem of her pyjama pants, “And we have 30 minutes maximum before Thea is demanding your attention, and two hours before we have to leave for Jack’s soccer game,” he squeezes the globe of her ass, his smile close to a proud smirk as he draws a gasp from her, “And that we can do a lot with 30 minutes,” he pulls back to look at her, “Is that a good enough reason?” 

She tries to act stern for a moment, but it fails, her smile wide as she wraps her arms around his neck to pull him closer. She rubs her nose against his and kisses him, taking a moment to tug at his lower lip with her teeth when she pulls back. 

“It’s the best reason I can think of,” she says as she pulls him in, her hands in his hair as she holds him close as if there was anywhere else he’d rather be than settled between her thighs in their bed. She groans as she widens her legs, lets him get impossibly closer, and hooks one of them around his back, smiling when he moans as she rolls her hips against his. 

“Sweetheart,” he groans, his hand tight on her hip as she smiles up at him, her eyes full of love and want. He loved their life. Loved the chaos that came with having a two-year-old and an almost ten-year-old, but he loved this too. The place where it all started - quiet moments where it was just him and his wife, the woman he was lucky to love and be loved by in return. His hand slips below the waistline of her pyjama pants again, skimming the soft skin of her thighs, drawing another gasp from her, one of his favourite sounds in the world.

“We’re on a clock here, honey,” she says, using her heel to push his sweatpants down a little, desperation for him thrumming beneath her skin, “We both know-”

“Mama!”

She chuckles and closes her eyes, her grip on him loosening at the sound of their daughter’s voice through the closed bedroom doors and the baby monitor on the nightstand. Her hands shift from his hair to his cheeks, holding him in place as she kisses him softly. His hand moves to her waist, squeezing gently. 

“Turns out 30 minutes was more like 3,” he says, only half grumbling, his love for their little girl already shining in her eyes. 

She hums and kisses him, her hands still on his cheeks, “We’ll try again later after bedtime.”

“Mama!”

“Duty calls,” she says, chuckling at the impatience in Thea’s voice. She taps his cheek as he moves off of her. She briefly pouts at the loss of his warmth as she climbs out of bed, “I’ll go get little miss Thea,” she says, turning to look at him before she walks out of the room, “We can probably get a little more snuggling in at least before the day really starts.” 

He smiles and settles back onto his side of the bed, his smile turning into a smirk as he raises his eyebrows at her, “Snuggling with both my girls is my second favourite way to start the day.” 

She laughs and shakes her head at him, “Later,” she says again, her smile full of promise and mischief. 

She’s not surprised when she walks into the nursery to find Thea already halfway to climbing out of the crib, her tongue stuck out between her lips as she concentrates on the task at hand, “Hold it right there my little monkey.” 

Thea looks up at her, her smile wide, “Mama.” 

Emily is across the room in a second and hauling her into her arms, her quick reflexes only made better by being the parent of a toddler, “Morning baby,” she says, kissing her forehead, “I think we need to get you a big girl bed soon, huh?” 

“Big girl,” Thea repeats and Emily kisses her forehead again, shifting her so she’s on her hip and walks to the master bedroom.

“Guess who was trying to climb out of her crib again?” She says, smiling at her husband as she settles Thea onto the bed, her smile getting wider when the little girl makes a beeline for her father, all but throwing herself at him. 

“Oh it definitely couldn’t have been my little Thea,” he says, wrapping his arm around the toddler, kissing the top of her head as she snuggles against his side, her giggle loud as she shakes her head, playing along with him. 

“You two are lucky you’re cute,” Emily says, her fake irritation given away by her wide smile as she joins them in bed. 

Aaron leans down to speak to Thea, stage whispering so Emily can hear him, his voice louder than it usually was, “I think Mama is a little grumpy this morning.” 

Thea furrows her brows, and looks between both her parents, “Why, Mama?” 

Emily’s cut off before she can say anything, her husband smirking at her over their little girl’s head as he replies for her.

“Oh, she woke up earlier than usual.” 

She narrows her eyes at him, shaking her head before she looks down at Thea, “I’m okay, sweet girl,” she says, pushing her hair from her forehead, “But you know what would make me feel better?” She smiles when Thea shakes her head, and she makes a point of lying down, encouraging the little girl to lay down with her, “If we lay here and snuggle for a little while,” she looks up at Aaron who is still sitting up, his smile fond as he looks down at them both, “We need Daddy to join us though.” 

Thea turns to look at Aaron and stares at him with the stern expression she’d picked up from him, “Daddy lay down.” 

He suppresses a laugh, “Yes ma’am.” 

He lays down with them and tugs them both into his arms, Thea content to lay between both of her parents as they share a pillow, her head on Emily’s chest and her tiny fingers wrapped around the neckline of her shirt. Emily kisses her forehead before she rests her cheek on top of the little girl’s head, taking the opportunity to look up at her husband, his smile once again fond and full of love.

He can’t help but stare at them together, their matching smiles and matching eyes enough to bowl him over every time. Thea was Emily’s double through and through, a tiny version of his wife who he had to convince to eat breakfast most mornings when he cut her toast the wrong way. He couldn’t believe that he had this sometimes. That he had a second chance at building a family after everything that had happened. Something beautiful and precious found amongst Emily’s smile and the broken pieces of his life. 

“I was wrong before,” he says, stroking his knuckles down Thea’s cheek as she starts to fall asleep, Emily’s embrace her favourite place to be since she was a tiny newborn. The sound of her heartbeat the place the little girl found peace and comfort. It was the one thing she’d seemingly got from him apart from his facial expressions - his love for Emily and the comfort he found in her something he’d passed on to both Thea and Jack.

Emily hums, running her hand up and down Thea’s back, “About what?” 

“This is my favourite way to start the day,” he says, smiling when she looks up at him, “No offence.” 

She leans over Thea to kiss him, careful not to disturb the now sleeping toddler, “None taken,” she whispers against his lips, “It’s my favourite too.” 

[earhartsease]

animism ponderpost (this got bloody long):

we're in a situation we didn't expect to be in, and it's changed our view on something

so back in june this year we finally received our new, fully powered wheelchair Saoirse II (an active manual wheelchair with powered wheels fitted to her, different from a standard power chair, because our mutant tallness meant none of those under £15k would fit us)

and at the same time as we collected Saoirse II we took in our old wheelchair Saoirse I for a service, and to get one of her power-assisted wheels repaired (which had suddenly failed a week beforehand)

we said to other people at the time that Saoirse wasn't the wheelchair, she was somehow the consciousnness that resided in that chair, and when we changed over to Saoirse II we ceremonially transferred the seat cushion, saying with some tongue in our cheek that it was the seat of her consciousness, and that Saoirse II was Saoirse now

seven weeks later, our new wheelchair ran up hard against a piece of street paving that was raised 27mm above the rest, and one of the front caster arms buckled - we took her in to be looked at for repair, and it was determined that a whole new frame was needed (under warranty thank goodness, it absolutely shouldn't buckle like that), so we switched back to Saoirse I, using some loaner power assisted wheels while we waited for either our new chair to be fixed or our old power assisted wheels to be fixed, whichever happened first

thanks to brexit and some other bullshit involving parts having to be sent over from germany, it took four months for us to get our old power assisted wheels back and fitted to Saoirse I, so we got them back after having to use Saoirse I again for ten weeks with the loaner wheels (which were nowhere near as good as our own old ones and were more exhausting to use)

and thanks to the same nonsense involving germany, it took three months to get Saoirse II back with a new frame - we collected her yesterday

anyway (bloody hell preamble from hell) so let's get to the animism part at last

the thing is, since yesterday, for the first time we have two wheelchairs in our bedroom, sat side by side - although Saoirse I is folded down as much as she does, and with wheels off to take up as little space as possible, so she's sort of in sleep mode

and here we are sharing this room with both of them and it's suddenly clear to us that there isn't just one Saoirse who's transferred from the old to the new wheelchair - there are two distinct personalities sat side by side in our room, and we're aware of both of them as unique beings - and that's chastening (we were wrong about them), fascinating, and delightful all at once

an extra layer of interesting from a wheelchair of theseus point of view is: when we were using Saoirse I again but with the loaner wheels on, she was very much the same person? the fact that she was wearing different wheels was no different from us wearing different shoes - we were both really happy when she got her old wheels back on though - serviced and with new bearings all round, she runs so much more smoothly and without friction than we ever remember her before - but she was always just her, either way

this is a long ponder, sorry, but it's about emotional awareness and we wanted to write about the whole thing in case it helps anyone else out there make sense of experiences they might have (well you never know, but in any case it's helping us, articulating all this) - our plan before had been just to sell on Saoirse I as soon as we got Saoirse II (if that plan hadn't got scotched by one of the wheels failing)

and yet here we are with two wheelchairs together in our bedroom - and even before that happened, when we realised how long it was taking to get Saoirse II repaired, we'd decided to sell on the power assisted old wheels but to keep Saoirse I's frame, against the possibility of needing her if our new chair needed repair again, this seemed just practical

but now we're lying here with both of them, it feels a huge relief not to let Saoirse I go, because she's just as much a person as Saoirse II is (it ain't the cushion), and we've been through a lot In five years together, and we're so grateful and she's family and sort of big sister to Saoirse II, who's really only been with us for seven weeks as yet and we're still getting to know each other

we feel also that we shouldn't be calling them Saoirse I and II any more - we think maybe the new one is officially Saoirse Ní Saoirse (Ní in irish means "daughter of"), but we can call both of them Saoirse in informal settings unless we needs to specify (also they're different brands, so we can always refer to them by pedigree!)

that's it - if you've made it this far then we hope you at least found it interesting? it's very self indulgent and in some ways overthought, but we really are finding this experience fascinating emotionally - you can call yourself anything, and sometimes we wonder about our animism, but then we directly experience our animism in this way (it may help that we're also a system anyway) and having to re-examine our experience of the two Saoirses together is just, invigorating and in some way euphoric like when you're with friends and you suddenly realise they really are your friends

and yes, we too find this weird at the same time as it seeming perfectly normal

we'd love to hear from anyone out there who experiences things in similar ways, if you feel like talking about it?

okay stop now! *snort* - Hêtre out☀️🌿

[lavenderchqn]

𝐶𝛨𝛢𝑃𝑇𝛦𝑅 𝟎𝟐𝟗 — CONFLICTING EMOTIONS (1,9K WORDS) 𝑅𝐸𝐷 𝐿𝐼𝑁𝐸𝑆 — lyney x f!reader smau

𝑆𝑌𝑁𝑂𝑃𝑆𝐼𝑆 —

Second year of university should've been everything you thought of it - more studying with human interaction sprinkled throught... What it definitely wasn't supposed to be was an investigation saga where one of your friends goes missing out of nowhere

𝑃𝑅𝐸𝑉𝐼𝑂𝑈𝑆 — 𝑀𝐴𝑆𝑇𝐸𝑅𝐿𝐼𝑆𝑇 — 𝑁𝐸𝑋𝑇 𝐸𝑃𝐼𝑆𝑂𝐷𝐸

It has been nearly a week since [Y/N] started living with Lyney. Despite recent circumstances, he stood by her, acting as her rock. In his mind, it was the least he could do for the girl, who had risked so much to find and rescue his dear sister. 

Speaking of Lyney, [Y/N] hadn’t been the only one messaged by a dear companion regarding the new chat’s creation. Beverage Gang have all informed him of the recent situation, including new revelations about the link between the kidnapper and Furina’s stalker. Known by his friends for his impulsive decisions, Lyney had surprised them all by focusing on Furina’s well-being rather than his emotions. What he hadn’t shared with his fellow friends, was the workload he and [Y/N] had taken, trying to cope with the tangled mess of everything. 

“You’re still up?” Lyney entered quietly into the guest room he had prepared for [Y/N] days prior. He held two glasses — one with an energy drink for himself, the other a weak coffee for her, mindful to not disturb her sleep pattern entirely. He weaved through the clutter of dry-erase markers, papers and notes scattered over the floor. Soon enough, he carefully got to where she was hunched — over a whiteboard he had retrieved alongside his clothes and other essentials. 

“Mhm…” [Y/N] replied softly, her tired gaze drifting to meet his. “I… I dunno… what I aam… doing.” Her eyes pointed him in the direction of the board. “Wanna take a look…?” 

Stretching carefully, she accepted the coffee and kicked some markers aside, shifting over to let Lyney sit beside her. Once he settled down, she glanced at her phone — a habit she couldn’t shake off as she anxiously waited for a response from Emilie via Furina. The silence had been agonising. 

“It’s after midnight, silly~” Lyney murmured, gently taking her phone and setting it aside. “Furu is sleeping. There won’t be any updates this late…” 

“I knowww…” She sighed, though her fatigue was clear. 

“And speaking of sleeping, I think there’s a certain girl here who could use some. 

She didn’t reply, even though her drooping eyelids agreed with his statement. Still, the look in her eyes was heavy with worry. Clorinde and Charlotte’s decision to exclude them from the investigation —though thankfully overturned— had weighed on her mind. She kept replaying the event of reading their responses to Navia in her mind, trying to make sense of why anyone would think that isolating them was the better choice. 

“You’re thinking about it again, ” Lyney said, giving her a slight nudge to bring her back to the present. 

“How can I not, Lyney…” She took a sip, her voice trailing into frustration. She began to ramble about how the exclusion had driven her to work even harder, how it would’ve only worsened her mental state. In her venting, she didn’t notice Lyney’s silence. 

“Oh.. shit — after all, fuck,  … we all excluded you.” She realised. [Y/N] didn’t hold back, acknowledging the isolation they had imposed on him, forcing him to face everything alone. “I’m so sorry again, Lyney.”

Lyney tapped her forehead lightly as if signalling her to let go of the guilt she was crippled with. “It’s okay now,” He reassured her. “It’s alright now, is it not?” 

When he noticed her lingering doubt, he slowly placed his hand over hers, tracing small circles on her knuckles to soothe her. In the quiet, he cannot but think about what might’ve happened had they investigated Lynette’s disappearance together from the get-go. Would they have made more progress? Would his sister be with them now? 

“You know…” He hugged his knees, his voice growing softer. “Maybe… maybe it was for the best, huh?” 

“Hmm…?” [Y/N] raised a curious eyebrow, yawning as she asked, “What makes you, uh, think that?” 

Lyney hesitated, considering if he should continue speaking. If he should make [Y/N] of the feelings he worked so hard to let go… But, with him starting the topic, there was no turning back. “When Lynette disappeared… all I felt was revenge.” His gaze drifted, reluctant to look at [Y/N]. “I wanted to find the person responsible… and make them feel the same pain I felt.” 

For a long time, it had consumed him, the overwhelming need for vengeance. “You have no idea,” he finally stated, meeting her eyes again. “I went to so many therapy sessions while I was gone. Thought I’d moved on…” 

[Y/N] held Lyney’s gaze, her tired eyes now softened with understanding. She had seen him vulnerable before, seen his fear — but glimpsing the depth of the anger he’d wrestled with felt different. It was as if he allowed her to witness the most carefully concealed part of himself.

She didn’t notice how her hand, still wrapped in Lyney’s gentle hold, had started to feel warm — a warmth that seemed to echo the feeling in her chest. Strange. She felt strange. 

[Y/N] suddenly becomes acutely aware of every detail. The way Lyney’s fingers unconsciously trace hers, the soft rise and fall of his breathing… the calming presence she feels whenever he’s near. She feels her heart flutter, a buildup of something unfamiliar yet undeniable. The realisation hits her like a tidal wave, almost taking her breath away. She glances at Lyney, her mind racing. She hadn’t meant for this to happen. They were friends, he was her best friend’s brother for archons’ sake… How in the middle of this chaos… had he managed to creep in and make a place in her heart? 

Her thoughts drift to the moments they’d shared— those small, quiet memories that now seemed to mean so much more. She remembers the picnic they had, and how her brain seemed to be convinced it was a date. At the time, it had been some silly thoughts… or so she’d thought. Now, she ponders if she’d enjoyed it even more had it been a date between them? 

Regardless of whatever her feelings are, this is simply not the time for them. They are in the middle of trying to figure out where Lynnette can be and the creep that kidnapped her. Romance does not fit into this agenda, regardless of how her mind wants to create scenarios of them being together. 

[Y/N] blinks a few times, trying to shift her focus to something — anything — else. Her heart is racing, and her thoughts are tangled with the realisation she just came to. It’s almost too much to process all at once, and she feels herself spiralling. 

“Hey, you there?” Lyney’s voice breaks though, and she realises he’s been trying to catch her attention. His hand is gently squeezing hers as he tilts his head, watching her with a mix of amusement and concern.

“Oh— Uh, yeah! I’m here,” She stammers, forcing herself to snap out of it. She feels a rush of embarrassment as she realises he’s probably noticed her zoning out, and worse, the warmth that must still be lingering on her cheeks.

He chuckles softly, clearly not buying her sudden composure. “The lack of sleep finally catching up, hmm?” He teases his gaze holding hers a moment longer than usual.

“Uh, yeah…” She sighs, looking at the ground. “Must be that.” 

“Alrighty,” He stands up, choosing to believe her words. Or, at the very least, pretend to believe her. “Let’s take a look at the board, huh?” Lyney is paying far too much attention to [Y/N]’s behaviour for her to feel calm at the moment. Her confused and zoned-out expression is all out there for him to witness.

“[Y/N]?” Lyney bends his body, taking a good look at his friend. “You wanted me to look at the board, right?” 

“Huh— yeah, yeah!” The girl agrees with him, slapping her cheeks a few times to try and wake herself up. “I have put everything… I remember, you know. Maybe you have some ideas how to… uh, how to connect them all together.” 

The board [Y/N] had meticulously assembled over the past few days is a stark contrast to the one Charlotte had created months before. This one is a pure mind map, filled with factual details about the kidnapper. At first glance, it looks like a scattered puzzle; some connections, like “Wriothesley’s height”, don't seem to make any sense at all. But there is no doubt [Y/N] had covered every angle, from the kidnapper’s involvement with the theatre troupe to the unfortunate information of being Furina’s stalker. That part, in particular, bore Lyney’s contributions, drawing on his firsthand knowledge of the incident surrounding their friend. 

Yet one word on the board seems to leap out at him. 

“An ‘assistant’?” Lyney asks, pointing to the term. “Are you absolutely sure about that, [Y/N]?” If this is the exact title the man had used, finding his credentials may be easier than they’d previously thought. An assistant with connections to the theatre troupe— that could be just one search away. 

“Yeah,” She answers softly. “I remember him saying that at the café, clear as day.” 

Without hesitation, Lyney grabs his laptop, mentioning for [Y/N] to join him. If he is right, they finally have a lead on the kidnapper — the one who had taken Lynette, the one who had driven Furina to tears time and time again. His eyes dart over the screen as he pulls up faculty lists and cross-references them with records from the Fontinalia group, combing through the details thoroughly. For the first time in a long while, he feels alert and truly aware, every detail clicking into place. The moment is theirs; Lyney is in control. 

Then, suddenly, he freezes. On the screen there’s a face, the very one he recognises all too well, staring back from a staff page. There, next to his full name, is the person they’d all been searching for. 

“That’s… him,” Lyney says, his voice determined as he meets [Y/N]’s gaze, determination blazing in his eyes. 

“‘Marcel Dubois — Assistant Teacher, Fontinalia Theatre Troupe’s Manager’” She reads the description out loud, the pieces finally clicking in her mind too. That’s— That’s really him. 

“He’s the one,” Lyney is sharing his thoughts without much care of dressing them with pretty words. “The fucking dick, who told us to drop the stalker thing.” Now it makes sense. No wonder he had tried to steer them away from prying further, given he was the person behind the crime. 

They both step away from the device, trying to gather their thoughts. It’s the closest they have ever been. As soon as they find where that prick is holding his hostages… everything could be over. They could get Lynette back, hopefully, safe and sound. 

Lyney, out of nowhere, grabs [Y/N]’s tired body and hugs her with as much strength as he can muster at this hour. “A genius. You’re a fucking genius, [Y/N].” He’s muttering quietly, pouring everything he can into thanking her for everything she tried to figure out about the kidnapper. Had it not been for her work, they would’ve never gotten this far. 

And [Y/N]? Well… all she can think of is trying to get her heartbeat under control. Perhaps, if Lyney asks, she can blame it on the adrenaline she’s feeling. That sounds like the most plausible excuse… to try and explain whatever she is feeling. 

It will take her a few more hours and quite a lot of water to calm her racing mind down… and for her brain to stop wishing Lyney would hug her like that more frequently. In the middle of the night, [Y/N] grabs her phone and types to one person, she wishes won’t judge her in the situation she has put herself in. 

𝑇𝐴𝐺𝐿𝐼𝑆𝑇 — OPEN

@state-of-grac3 @santaluna @meigalaxy @romyoia

@meurtreofcrows @charles-braindump @floweringanna @moonjellyfishie @vavrin @lovelypadisarah @dearanemo

@dearanemo @ladylee

date of posting — november 6th 2024

[last-flight-of-fancy]

ah, you're right! it was a bit erroneous of me to say riku has no star imagery around him XD he does! (the above example, the ending of kh2 where he and sora become shooting stars themselves as they leave the RoD, his parallels to the nameless star, and if Necklace Theory true- which i beleive it is- very much that as well).

oops the riku-kairi parallels in my brain are cooking again pls hold-

much like many things around riku and his journey this imagery isn't really as blatant as it is with kairi's. in kh1 he kind coat-tails around it via the paopu ("You wanted one, didn't you?") using kairi's more overt imagery to hide his own (yknow. like the way also does with his feelings).

as usual CoM is the gift that keeps on giving here, the game that laid the stonework for a shocking amount of the rest of the series, and wrt this post in particular, also lays the first seeds of switching riku and kairi's narrative's in relation to sora.

I specify in relation to sora bc, as noted by the above, kairi represents stasis and safety, while riku represents change and uncertainty. in the beginning sora leans more towards Kairi, a natural inclination of youth towards the familiar and secure. as time goes on however we see that relationship grow distant, then awkward as it begins to chafe, the things long thought to be true feeling different under the clarity of maturity, and then comfortable again as he reaches the moment many of us do when we realise that the past isn't coming back, but maybe that's okay. We can love what it was while we continue to move onward in our lives.

to go back a bit to step two of that journey, as sora goes through CoM the safety of that familiarity is challenged. kairi is not kairi, his memories and feelings are gaslit by others into something they're not for the sake of someone elses feelings (in b4 someone thinks im calling namine evil or something, i am not. she was in a situation equally as shitty as sora's and doing her best with what little she had to work with. i love her. okay? okay). sora may not consciously remember any of this, but i do think those impressions left lasting impact that hastened his realisation that home... might not really be home anymore. again things oft familiar to the queer experiance- but more to the point of this post is the Star Charm

the star charm (a paopu; symbol of connection everlasting), overlayed on kairi's seashell charm (a charm to help sailors find their way home), implied to be an entirely different charm (a necklace) that sora has kept with him since childhood, given to him on the night of a meteor shower (falling stars)-

... okay so necklace theory hasn't been outright confirmed, but i've yet to hear any other explanation that actually makes sense so forgive me if i act like it is.

point is that yes, riku definitely has his own connection to star imagery, but the way it's used is a lot more subtle, and often connected to/hidden by kairi's more visually obvious ones, and it's only been with more recent installments that this has become more apparent.

... which is of course something of a pattern in the series tbh, the assumption of one thing, the long play of hints and clue's suggesting otherwise, and then the Reveal that pulls it all together. mmmmm coming of age story centered around themes of comphet and being Othered/denied personhood my Beloved

this is all real deep in the analysis weeds by this point, and i'd hesitate to say that ALL of it was intentional (not as a dig at the writers, just that i'm well aware of how difficult it must be to write something so symbolically dense over such a long time), but i'd definitely be willing to beleive at least some of it was, maybe even most of it. and oughghghghg i love it. i love this series. few things make me dig into the meat of what makes it tick like this does.

Started thinking about Riku-Kairi parallels and symbolism wrt the ending of kh2 so please hold while i get needlessly verbose about it-

specifically it started with this gif

and ofc adhd is as adhd does and started going down the rabbit hole of connecting the dots.

The act of reaching out a hand/hand holding is a recurring thing in kh, the vast majority of which is chock full of meaning and symbolism, and this is no exception. This is the culmination of The Hero's Journey part of Sora's tale, the return home, and the heartfelt reunion between long-seperated friends. fun fact the heroine's journey follows the hero's journey for the first third or so before continuing on. kinda like how kh continued on long after things seemed to be 'resolved'. weekly plug to look up Howler's Heroine's Journey essays if you haven't yet

The angle from which I am viewing this scene right now is in regards to ofc Riku, and his own iconic pose that we see the first time in the intro to kh1 (and many, many times since)

And this is where my riku-kairi-are-inverted-parallels-to-each-other brain starts barking like a dog because oughghghghggh same pose opposite side completely different body language- AHG.

And this matches their character arcs (as well as their respective combined arcs with sora) to a T as well. Riku's pose is the first we see, way back in kh1, and his hand is as much a taunt as it is an offer. Very befitting his relationship to sora in that game, which was coloured by a forged rivalry and intense jealousy (to quote the ultimania; Complicated Feelings) of/for sora.

(it is also notable that to date this gesture has yet to be resolved. the closest they've gotten is when sora grasped Riku's hand in kh2 on finding him- albeit in Ansem's visage.

Symbolically this is Sora attempting to accept the gesture, but this time it is Riku who fails to meet him halfway, too deep in guilt and regret to feel worthy of it. his hand is turned downwards, limp and unresisting.

And again in DDD when Riku grabs sora's hand/wrist in an attempt to wake him from his nightmares, but this time sora isn't capable of reciprocating. like two ships passing in the night, always reaching but never quite meeting)

(this one isn't quite as strong in the visual symbolism specific to the Riku Pose, but i did think it bore mentioning)

to return to the first gif however, for Kairi her posture is much less stiff, leaning forward with palpable releif at Sora's return. Honestly the fact that she holds out her left hand (which as far as i know is not her dominant hand) marks this as a very deliberate choice to parallel her as opposite to riku. and much like the rest of kh2's ending, it FEELS like a culmination, a completion of their arcs.... and most certainly isnt.

Which i mean to say, it's a mid-point. And the reason I say this is because of one little thing.

The seashell charm.

There's a sort of irony here in that the charm that was meant to reunite them in this moment is also symbolically like a wedge between them. A heartfelt and meaningful gesture, don't get me wrong! i love this scene and the genuine emotions within, but i do love chewing on the way this gains a slightly different meaning in the greater context of later story beats; specifically that of kh3.

With how pointed and direct the parallel is between kairi and riku in these scenes, it did make me pause for a moment thinking about kh3. i know we've all seen a thousand and one analysis' of the paopu scene at this point, but forgive me as i must do so again under this specific lens.

'how does the paopu scene relate to the hand extended gesture at all?' i hear you ask, and on the visual surface not much. it has more to do with sora and kairi's relationship arc through the games and, of course, the lingering loose thread that was the cave drawing.

The paopu scene is a touching recreation of that cave drawing, one enacted by a pair of kids who didn't know if they would live to see another sunset. It's also probably the most symbollically dense thing in all of kh and that is saying something so I'm going to try and keep my observations limited to just what is relevant to this post- and that would be the way that the paopu scene is a direct continuation of Kairi's 'you're home' gesture in kh2.

shooting stars are also a common recurring symbol in kh, and that's the symbol that ties these two scene's together. if kh1 is two disparate stars each trying to reach the other (the cave drawing, the seashell charm, the way their hands are seperated at the end of kh1), and the end of kh2 is that of the stars finally meeting (the single seashell star charm pressed between their palms), then the paopu scene is that of the stars passing each other by and beginning their own journey's anew (two stars held by crossed arms, each now holding a small piece of the other (bitten fruit) to show that their meeting may have been brief but it was meaningful)

it is in this way that kh3 quietly and tenderly closes out sora and kairi's combined arc, as two unlikely friends who then drift apart again, shining brightly for the shared experiance, Remind mostly serves to support that finality, tying up the last couple loose ends between them, and leaving the two far more comfortable with each other than they ever were while that arc was still ongoing (which i read as them no longer being uncertain as to what their relationship is; that of friends, and not whatever so many others around them had pushed and assumed)

(seriously look at how much more comfortable they are with each other the second the pressure to be something they're not is off. the awkwardness is completely gone i love it)

All of this is ofc still in parallel to Riku, who boasts no such star imagery (instead he has the iconic Heart of KH itself), and in fact while he symbollically continues to reach out to sora, physically he has completely refrained from doing so at all- in fact most examples of the Gesture in kh are deliberately invoked by other characters in order to bring riku to mind in some way (and often more for the players benifit than sora's)

axel in CoM,

(i have given up on tumblr gif search)

YMX in DDD,

which then immidiately cuts to riku in kh1 just to make it as blatant as possible that yes the reference is intentional (i guess CoM was too subtle somehow so they had to make sure this time)

and even Riku himself to Namine at the end of kh3, representing Repliku's final wishes in a funny sort of symbolism oroboros.)

and it's not a coincidence that the completion of that connection provides definitive closure to the arcs in question; that of namine to repliku, but also a little bit to riku himself. namine still has a role to play, but that role (i think) is more or less exclusive to her relationship with sora. namine and riku's relationship arc, background as it is, is complete, and now both are connected primarily through their incomplete arcs with sora.

(which makes the way that sora and kairi's example in kh2 is a complete outlier really interesting tbh. smth smth thinking your relationship is one thing and if it was that thing then yes that would have been the end, but it wasn't that thing and thus it wasn't the end smth smth comphet metaphor smth)

which brings us back to how riku himself hasn't really reached out to sora directly since kh1, the act that set off both of their journey's. The reasons for that are many- guilt, fear, a certainty that sora will not reach back and that he doesn't deserve it anyway- but despite that the Gesture is still subtly affirmed as being Riku's over and over again, never quite letting the audience forget it... because eventually this bit of symbolism so consistently portrayed throughout the series will reach its own conclusion, starting how it began with one deuteragonist reaching out to the other, and this time the other reaching back to complete the gesture.

[guys-im-literally-spiderman]

in his 40s after 20 years of tours, award ceremonies and parties with fucking celebrities, Steve finally went back to school and studied to start working as a councilor in a high school.

He quickly becomes a favourite staff member among the students, especially the ones in the GSA he founded and runs. But to them, he is a complete mystery. He takes to just dropping shocking pieces of information in the middle of a conversation to watch the students’ shock. and he shamelessly uses the promise of a story to bribe students into behaving.

the best reaction by far, is the one he gets at graduation every year, when he tells that year’s graduating GSA members that he is indeed married to Eddie Munson, front man of the very famous metal band ‘corroded coffin’.

[polin-erospsyche]

I will jump onto the train of “in this house we thank Violet Bridgerton” because that woman has so much patience and strength. I love the scene where we get Colin completely lost and confused asking her whether friendship is a strong foundation for great love while unable to look away from Pen completely enamoured. Violet sees it immediately, she knows, she understands and there’s not an ounce of surprise on her face just pure happiness for her son because she knows he has found his home and it is just so evident. Yet despite nearly telling him to work up the courage to ask (which I will admit he tried very hard), she will have to see her son pace around, drive himself sick with love, before using reverse psychology on him because it might be the only thing that will get him out of his feelings and spur him into action. And for that I have so much admiration for Violet Bridgerton because if he had been my son I would have shook him, told him to quit moping and go get his girl.

[lovely-p-issues]

Okay, you've made me realise that I misspoke in my previous response (and I used italics incorrectly lmao)

I'll start with the most important one - yes, I do think that until the very end Ody saw Eurylochus as his friend (as you wrote, he literally appears as a ghost alongside his mum and Polites)

However. I think this relationship was incredibly damaged by everything that happened, and these most important relationships have a way of being strengthened by tragedies. That's why, despite all my love for this character, after everything he and Ody did to each other, I could never vote for him

But I just need to address your really good points and how I look at it

sacrificing the crew

Yes, my mistake, abandoning the crew on the island of Kirke could be called reasonable - I meant rather to point out that sacrificing six men was also essentially the best tactic for survival, in a situation where you are in the middle of nowhere, chased by a god of sea and have to sail somewhere (but surely there is something much darker about deliberately choosing the death of six men than refusing to save them, even if it was ultimately to reduce the bloodshed associated with pointless battle)

(just to be clear, none of these decisions lie with my general view on the world, they are simply comparable in my eyes)

My point was rather that, of all people, Eurylochus could understand Odysseus - he himself was prepared to do something very similar, yet he completely ignored it and started a mutiny (I wonder now if the crew ever found out that Eurylochus had refused to save them…)

Nor does Eurylochus ever deny this plea by Odysseus in Mutiny:

Don't make me fight you, brother, you know you'd have done the same If you want all the power, you must carry all the blame

I interpret this as Eurylochus saying "that's true, but at the end of the day it was you who made that decision, so we can blame you for this"

while we're on Mutiny….

I just remembered how annoyed I was that the moment the crew, headed by Eurylochus, realised how badly they had screwed up, they immediately turn to Odysseus. Odysseus, whom they had just removed from power, thinking they knew better.

In a normal situation, I wouldn't put up with telling a person close to me very clearly ‘don't do that, there will be consequences’, but when it actually happens, they look at me, expecting me to somehow solve the problem

Eurylochus's advice

Did Odysseus need a man who could pull him down to earth? Absolutely.

The problem is that Eurylochus does it in public, in front of the entire crew, not only trying to talk sense into Odysseus, but sowing doubt among the crew.

When Ody pulls him aside at the end of Luck Runs Out this is practically the first thing he points out to him. A captain making a mistake is a terrible thing, but a crew left to their own devices…. well, Mutiny showed that, despite his flaws, Odysseus made better decisions most of the time (motivated by a desire to get home) than they did, focused more on the present moment, hunger and fatigue.

But even putting tactics aside - I think the friends know best that a public confrontation is not the best idea. While we obviously don't know how Odysseus would have reacted to a private conversation with Eurylochus - it seems to me personally that at least he could have focused on what was being said to him, rather than making sure his men don't fall apart.

I will end here, because we can point those thing for eternity and I didn't even started rating about Odysseus's mistakes as a friend-

I just don't think Eury was a really good friend in general. He was a decent man, he was trying his best, he was obviously tired and broken, but looking from perspetive of the first question, he just... doesn't stand a chance

And I still love him tho.

(i will probably get through every character in survey when it's finished lmao)

(i regret setting seven days instead of one for this)