#and then the tragedy of getting the thing u so desperately wanted and needed for years only to realize that youre still unhappy. that the pr

[soopysoap]

man smth about escaping reality through day dreaming about fantasies that you cling onto just to get you through the day and then becoming thoroughly more disconnected to real life until it feels like the only thing that can bring you back is your fantasy becoming a reality always gets me idk

[theother-victoria]

LOVE IS CONCOCTED FROM ESTERS AND KETONES- CH.02: ROBIN

SYNOPSIS: you’ve been commissioned to make a perfume that tells the life story of the universe’s most beloved idol. don’t let her down now.

CHARACTERS: robin, mentions of sunday, gopher wood, jade, and welt

TAGS: robin character story spoilers, mild gore (descriptions of a gunshot wound), mild angst, CRASHOUT ROBIN REAL WE ALL CHEERED (potentially ooc), 5.7k+ wc (I got carried away... sorry not sorry :3)

TAGLIST: @mitsvriii, @harque, @akutasoda, @flowery-jazz, @hazyue, @gabile18, @khoncore, @lxkeeeee, @mewnekoice-mecha, @nariism

NOTES: i love women give me a "hell yeah" in the comments if u agree

special thanks to pookies @wystiix, @tragedy-of-commons, and @papiliotao for proofreading!

M.LIST | FIRST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

Paparazzi in front of your store isn’t uncommon, but for a crowd like this so early in the morning- it’s already giving you a headache.

It hasn’t even been a half hour since you flipped the sign on the front door to “open” when you hear the squeal of tires pulling up to the curb. Several of them, in fact. The voices of reporters and paparazzi meld into one jumbled mess that grates on your ears, growing even louder when a car door opens and shuts.

Yeri and Aika glance over from where they are.

“We haven’t had a crowd like that in ages. Wonder who it could be.”

The flutter of camera shutters going off one after another is so loud they’re heard even inside the store. Camera flashes practically blind your poor shop assistants as they shield their eyes and draw the blinds shut. The cameras go off even more frantically now, desperate to get a few last shots in before the blinds shut entirely. 

You hear the front door slam shut and a loud sigh of relief. Yeri and Aika both gasp in shock, and that catches your attention. It must be someone really famous then, or someone they idolize to elicit that kind of reaction. 

You peek up from the counter and instantly realize why the paparazzi went insane. Lilac-silver hair, fluttery wings behind her ears, a halo with flowers at the ends that resemble angel’s trumpets… 

It’s Robin. The Robin, in the flesh. In your store.

You’re no stranger to having famous people in your store, but you’ve never had a singer on her level of renown and you find yourself becoming strangely nervous. Two burly security guards flank her sides. She meets your gaze and bashfully smiles and waves. 

“You must be (Name). I’ve heard many good things about you and your store.”

Her voice is even more angelic in person… 

She extends her hand out for a handshake and you accept. The smooth silk of her glove brushes against your hand and you can hardly believe your luck right now. You’ve had your fair share of famous people in your store. Movie stars, politicians, celebrities, and the like tend to be a common sight in your store. Greetings range from a handshake to a hug to even a kiss on the cheek. But the thing is that they tend to be lax on a no-touching rule or don’t have one outright, often being photographed hugging their ardent fans. However, Robin has a strict no touching rule at her concerts and fan meet and greets. She will never touch someone of her own accord unless it’s a close friend or family and if a fan gets too bold… Well, her security is there for a reason. 

“Do you mind if I just walk around? I don’t really have a scent in mind- or rather, a story that I want to tell. I’d like to see what you have to offer.”

“Not at all. Just call me over if you have questions or need any help.”

She walks around the store, occasionally stopping to sample some perfumes. She likes many of your perfumes, as evidenced by how her eyebrows raise in pleasant agreement almost every other bottle. But she looks rather… disinterested. No, disinterested isn’t the right word. More like… unsatisfied. Like she hasn’t found what she’s looking for just yet.

She checks her phone and her eyes flash in panic as she sees the time. 

“Oh, it’ll be unbecoming of me and your shop’s reputation if I leave here without something. Quick, pass me a perfume you think I’ll enjoy! Money doesn’t matter. I have more credits than I know what to do with.”

You scan your store and hand her the first feminine perfume that catches your eye. It’s in a pretty pink bottle with a vintage atomizer. It’s sweet, sugary, and fruity. No surprise that it’s one of your best-sellers among young women, with top notes of juicy fruits and sparkling alcohol before drying down to a sweet vanilla with powdery aspects. You don’t doubt that she has a million other perfumes that smell similar and it’ll probably be quickly forgotten about in her undoubtedly already-extensive perfume collection, but it’s a crowd-pleaser and it wouldn’t hurt to add another bottle. 

She swipes her card quickly and leaves, but not before looking back at you with a promising glint in her eyes.

“I’ll be back soon. And without the paparazzi.”

In your experience, that usually means a client wants a personalized perfume. Meaning they’re going to be divulging aspects of their past they don’t want anyone else around for.

Aika wanders over to your side when she’s out the door and the paparazzi have left. Yeri is in the back on the verge of fainting, mumbling something about her lucky stars having blessed her for a lifetime.

“What was that about? Seems like a wasted trip to me.”

You shrug and make your way back to the lab.

“Beats me.”

Weeks come and go. You handle clients as per usual, but you can’t get her out of your mind. And as you’re thinking about her while opening for the day, she shows up- albeit you don't recognize her at first. There are no outrageous paparazzi and she doesn’t even have her security with. She’s wearing a big tan trench coat that hides her svelte figure and instead makes her look like a shapeless mess. Her silver hair is hastily shoved into the hat atop her head and when she removes it, her halo also springs up, bobbing up and down a bit before stilling. The wings by her ears flutter and twitch as she stretches them out after hiding them in what was surely an uncomfortable position for so long. 

“Good morning,” she greets with a gentle smile.

“Good morning,” you greet in return. “It’s nice to see you here again. Anything I can help you with today?”

“Yes, actually. I’d like to get a perfume custom-made.”

You tell Yeri and Aika to handle any customers that come in through the door before leading Robin to the back. Next to your lab is a small office where the business side of things are handled, and it’s where you negotiate commissions from clients. You unceremoniously brush aside a stack of credit card receipts and clear the desk space. You ask Robin if she’d like some snacks and tea. She declines the former but accepts the latter, and as the kettle boils atop the mini fridge in the corner, you get down to business. 

“I’m happy to custom-make a perfume to your needs. Let’s get the necessary details sorted out first, and then we can move onto the fun stuff.”

You rattle off your rules regarding payment, as well as a rough timeline of production and when she can expect updates from you. She nods when she has to and you can see the same impatience in her eyes for the fun to begin. 

After confirming with her and seeing the astronomical down payment go through, you can finally get into the part you enjoy the most. 

“So, what would you like your perfume to smell like?”

“I’d like it to reflect my life story.”

Not an uncommon request. Probably one of your most common ones, actually. Consultations for these types of scents tend to be the longest, as clients pour out their life stories to you. They’d often bring a variety of items for you to smell to get a better idea, such as rags that belonged to someone dear a long time ago or locks of hair tied together with a yellowing ribbon. In this case, you wonder what the illustrious Miss Robin would bring. 

The kettle goes off and you make some tea for the both of you. As you fill her cup, she looks around nervously.

“Will… anyone overhear this?”

“Don’t worry. The walls are soundproof here and you need the right key to unlock the door. As for my shop assistants, well…”

You mimic zipping your lips shut and throwing the key away.

“Client confidentiality has always been our utmost priority. Alongside a quality product, of course.”

You shoot her a wink and she laughs, her voice sounding like tinkling bells. The tension has visibly dissipated from her shoulders and she eagerly gets started.

“If I were to describe my life as a song, then the beginning of it was dark and solemn. A Stellaron invaded my homeland and took my mother from me. The chords were dissonant and the melody was unpleasant.”

Your phone buzzes and you see she sent over several voice messages.

“Transcripts of an exclusive interview I did a while back,” she explains. “One of the first and only times I opened up about my past. But since these are already out there, I wouldn’t want to waste your time. Instead, I’ll be telling you things that no reporter has heard before.”

She skips to when she first started studying music soon after she arrived on Penacony. 

“My fingers still ache every time I think about the countless hours and late nights I spent alone in the practice rooms,” she says, lightly chuckling at the end as she surely recounts many memories. Then, her smile fades a bit.

“At the time, I had the support of my brother and friends, but right outside, there were people already disapproving. We were taken in by Gopher Wood, head of the Oak Family. You see, there’s five lineages that make up The Family, each handling different affairs,” she explains. “The Oak Family is in charge of political organization, whereas the Iris Family oversees the entertainment industry. Thus, many people, especially those of the Iris Family, cast doubts on whether I could make it as a singer when I ideally should’ve been learning how to handle political affairs.”

Robin sighs and looks out the window, fingernails drumming against her still-steaming mug of tea. Your phone continues to record and you hurriedly scribble down notes in your notepad. 

“But I made it, despite what they said and their stake in the entertainment industry.”

“If you could thank only one person for their support, who would it be?”

“Why, my brother, of course!”

“Please tell me more about him.”

Her eyes light up and the wings by the side of her head flutter rapidly. It’s clear she loves her brother dearly as she excitedly gushes about him. 

“Sunday made many sacrifices to support my dream. From when we were children, he never faltered in his support. In fact, the tipping point was when I put on a concert soon after I had just started taking music lessons. It was in our bedroom with him as the only audience member. There were no fancy acoustics, cheering fans, or even a mic. It was just me, singing my heart out as he clapped along. Thinking back, it was… something for sure! As I had just started taking music seriously, I had yet to grasp the basics. I was off-key, would flub several passages because I forgot the lyrics, and wouldn’t be able to hit all the notes.”

She winces and shakes her head as if to chase the thoughts away. Her wings puff out and droop from embarrassment. 

“It must’ve been an awful listening experience for him. But Sunday never showed it. After the concert was over, he stood up and clapped as if demanding an encore and I’ll never forget the look on his adorable face,” giggles Robin. “I’ve rarely seen him look so proud as he did back then.”

You picture a starry-eyed, baby-faced Sunday, a far cry from the dignified and solemn image of the Family head and giggle along. Robin’s eyes glint conspiratorially as she divulges for a moment to show you his baby photos on her phone. Here, you learn that he has a massive sweet tooth and that the dentist was his worst nightmare as a child.

When she sets her phone back down, there’s still that joy in her eyes that only comes from discussing her brother. 

“When I went off to university, Sunday continued to show that same level of care, even with his ever-increasing responsibilities. He never missed a concert, never missed a call, and never failed to send me care packages when I needed them the most. However, he faced scorn from other Family members for my career choices when he was still a leader-in-training and lacked the grace to handle such situations.”

The joy falls from her eyes and her smile slips a bit. Her wings droop even lower this time. 

“Looking back, it must’ve been unimaginably hard on him. Not only was he worrying about how to lead The Family, but was also worrying nonstop about me. He must’ve been so stressed… But if I try to bring it up to him and apologize, he won’t give me the chance to.”

Robin lets out a forced laugh. You sip your tea and pretend to be very occupied with your notes, giving her a moment to collect herself before she moves on. 

“After I graduated, my fame steadily increased until it skyrocketed after I released two singles- ‘If I Can Stop One Heart From Breaking’ and ‘On That Most Beautiful Day’. I still remember waking up and seeing they had jumped to the top of the charts across the cosmos almost overnight and stayed there for ages. My manager was overjoyed and I could hardly believe it. It felt as if all my hard work and everyone’s sacrifices had finally paid off. I was no longer Robin the budding singer and little sister, but Robin the cosmic songstress now… it was a bit bittersweet, I’ll admit.”

She fiddles with a strand of hair. 

“As you may be aware, around this time I decided to take a break and devote my time to philanthropic work instead, much to the confusion of everyone.”

She shows you the photos she took during that time. Her standing in front of schools she had helped rebuild with, singing to a crowd of shell-shocked soldiers, holding up scores that would’ve been lost to time if not for her efforts, teaching children how to sing, and more. 

“I won’t deny that I was purposefully putting myself in dangerous situations. But to me, it was worth the risk. If I could save one child, provide an education for a child the way The Family provided one to me, or inspire someone to pursue their passion regardless of the obstacles standing in the way… then it would’ve all been worth it. Even this.”

She removes the violet collar around her neck and points to a spot on her neck. It’s a patch of skin lighter than the surrounding area and you realize it’s scar tissue. 

“I was shot during this time,” she gingerly says as she fastens the collar around her neck again. It’s then you realize that you’ve never seen Robin without something covering her neck. A scarf, furs, necklaces, there’s always something there. “This is something that only my brother and the late head of the Oak Family know about. The bullet had just barely missed my vocal chords. I made a full recovery, but I was terrified for a long time after that. Still, I found the strength to keep going and thanked Xipe every night that I had survived with my voice unscathed.”

You’re writing notes down furiously, and Robin pauses to give you some time. When you’ve jotted down all your ideas, you look down at the page and frown. Your notepad looks like a mess right now. Ruined childhood: strawberry, sugar, praline, bubble gum, cotton candy, violet, datura(????). War: BLOOD, GUNPOWDER, leather, smoke, pomegranate, METALLIC NOTES, animal notes. Stardom: marshmallow, cake, rose, raspberry, vanilla, caramel, amber, almond, SoulGlad (what does it even smell like…? ) MAGNOLIA, jasmine. Brother: sandalwood, lavender(??? Might throw everything off), skin. 

“Um… this fragrance won’t exactly be wearable. Would you like for me to-”

“I don’t care about wearability. I have too many pleasant-smelling perfumes. Show me artistry,” she demands. 

You feel the familiar thrill of excitement run through you that comes with having free reign to do whatever you want without your client getting pissed. 

You can tell you’re nearing the end now when Robin moves onto her brother and his fate after recent events. Now this, you know of, but you were surprised by how big of a role Robin played in toppling his plans. Faking her death, using the power of the Harmony to unite everyone under a song to lead the fight against him, striking a deal with a crafty IPC businesswoman, and for it all to have been successful. Or well, as successful as a plan of this magnitude can be.

You realize this little bird is just as cunning as her brother, even if she doesn’t look the part. They really do share the same blood. 

“I love my brother, I really do. He has a bleeding heart and hates to see those around him struggle. Of all the decisions he could’ve made in a position of power, choosing to protect people from suffering was one of the best. However, the way he went about it… I just couldn’t let myself turn a blind eye and do nothing simply because he was my brother. By trapping everyone within a dream to form a collective Order… that’s no way to live.”

She bunches her hands into fists. 

“This is something that we’ve disagreed on for years. He wants to shoulder humanity’s pain and give them an idyllic, painless life where no one has to think no matter the cost, whereas I believe that although pain is an unavoidable part of living, people are more than strong enough to push through that pain and make it something worthwhile. Take me, for instance!”

She suddenly stands up. There’s a blazing conviction in her eyes that makes you flinch a bit. Her fingers are splayed out across your desk as she leans forward.

“I sacrificed so much to pursue my dream of becoming a singer- time, money, energy, and blood! Sunday doesn’t know this, but I’d cry myself to sleep many nights during university, wondering if I could even make it in this field overcrowded with talent. What if I couldn’t? I have no other skills and I’d be forced to rely on him, which as much as I love him, I don’t want. I don’t want everything handed to me on a silver platter just because of his position! And he knows this! He knows of the impossibly high standards I hold myself to!”

Robin takes a deep, shuddering breath to calm herself. Reign it in. The Harmony preaches unity, not dissonant outbursts. But it doesn’t work. She hasn’t felt this angry in a long time. Or perhaps it’s all the repressed emotions finally bursting forth after suppressing them beneath the smile she always has on. 

“Let it all out. You deserve to.”

She doesn’t need to be told twice.

“I get that we’re siblings and that we’re always going to disagree, especially on something as subjective as our beliefs in humanity but how is he not only blind, but also deaf with his eyes and ears everywhere? He’s seen the lengths I’d go to, all in the name of music. He was one of the first to receive the news that I’d been shot, but did that dampen my resolve at all? No! If anything, it only encouraged me even more! It was all so painful, but it was all so necessary and worth it in the end. In fact, if you told me to experience all that pain again because it would push me closer to that envisioned ideal world, then I would dive in headfirst without hesitation! And dare I say who does Sunday think he is?” she exclaims, her voice steadily rising. “His ideals are a reflection of himself. Is he saying that he doesn’t believe his sacrifices- my sacrifices- to have been worthwhile because according to him, I could’ve gotten here without even lifting a finger? Don’t even give me that! That’s not a life worth living at all!!”

Robin deflates and flops back into her chair as if a balloon had suddenly popped. Those are all the words she wishes she could’ve said during their heated arguments as of late, but will never get to. At least someone finally heard her anger, as ugly as it may have sounded. 

“I’m surprised he even thought you’d be willing to listen to his plans,” you gently comment after refilling her teacup. The warm liquid soothes her throat on the way down and she finds that she’s able to speak again after a few sips. She shakes her head in response. She barely has the energy to even move right now. 

“No, he knew I wouldn’t even hear him out. That’s why he kept his true motives concealed for the longest time. Someone else actually figured it out first by reading deep into his words. Were it not for him, we’d be in a very different situation right now. What was his name again…? Ah, I can’t remember…”

Robin sighs. Her head rolls back to look out the window.

“Like how birds must learn to fly even if it means tumbling from the nest or encountering a dangerous predator, so too must people face hardship and struggle against the odds. Only then will a bird be able to freely spread its wings and will people see the world of possibility ahead of them,” she quietly whispers, voice hoarse from her earlier outburst.

A heavy silence sinks into the room. Robin looks down and fiddles with her hands. You stare blankly at your notepad, her words echoing in your mind.

Her phone breaks the silence by suddenly going off. Robin picks it up and sighs when she sees the caller ID. 

“I have to go now. Security’s calling and messaging me in a panic since I snuck out without them knowing.”

She gathers her belongings in a hurry and checks her appearance before leaving to ensure she’s as flawless as always. 

“Before you go, why did you decide to commission me to create a perfume for you?”

She stops just short of leaving and looks over her shoulder.

“I’ve long since heard of your artistic flair and your ability to tell lifelong stories through scent alone.”

“And what is your reason for being fine with receiving an utterly repulsive perfume, even if it’s the pinnacle of artistry?”

She goes silent for a few moments as she thinks.

“I suppose… It's to remind myself of just how far I’ve come and how much work I still have left to do to achieve that wish of mine. That wish is why I sing.”

And she’s gone. You lean back in your chair and sip your tea. Her half-empty cup sits across from you with a pink lipstick mark left on the rim. An open-ended perfume, huh? Most perfumes that are meant to reflect a client’s life story are in reality meant to encapsulate one perfect moment that they wish to relive every time they uncap the bottle. But to create a perfume for a singer of such renown that’s not only meant to reflect her past, but also her boundless future that carries years’ worth of hope and aspirations… 

You flip open your notepad again and add another section. Conviction: pink pepper, saffron, musk, cloves, tonka bean, chocolate.

After stretching, you get up and head to the lab next door. It’ll be a challenge, but one you think you’re now equipped to handle. 

For the next few weeks, it’s all you focus on. The exclusive interview and your audio recordings of your time with her loop on repeat for hours on end as you go back and forth between the lab and the drawing board. Accords are scrapped and tweaked or even tossed out the window to fit the vision in your mind as it changes by the day. Soon, it looks like a tornado went through your lab with every bit of counter space covered with labeled bottles and lab equipment. Bottles of SoulGlad are shipped to your door as you attempt to replicate the scent as closely as possible. Dozens, if not hundred, of attempts are made before the scent is indistinguishable from the original. 

Yeri and Aika are enjoying the free soda, but you notice they’re sleepier than usual and it’s only then you remember that SoulGlad is an effective sleep aid too. Dammit. 

Robin is always quick to respond to the updates you give her as well, despite her busy schedule. From when the custom bottle arrived to when you finally perfected the scent of SoulGlad, she always sends words of encouragement your way, as well as expressing her excitement over seeing the finished product slowly come together. She always sends a cute sticker or two at the end of each message as well. 

Several months later and after a final all-nighter for the finishing touches, it’s finally complete. You text Robin that it’s ready for pickup before you go to sleep and the next morning, she’s already outside the door, waiting for you to open. It seems she wasn’t able to sneak out this time, as she’s flanked by two security guards.

“Good morning. You’re here early,” you greet as you unlock the door. 

“I couldn’t sleep since I was so excited,” she admits as she watches you go about setting up the store for the day. The lights are flicked on, air purifiers are turned on, and you motion for her to follow you back into the office. Her two security guards start to follow her, but Robin gives them a look that tells them to stay put. 

You disappear into the lab next door to return with a white box tied with a pink ribbon. The office door locks behind you and she feels a thrill of excitement run through her at what’s to come. With a light tug, the ribbon comes undone and you remove the lid to reveal an iridescent bottle that scatters the early morning light peeking through the blinds into rainbow-colored fractals. It was carved and blown to look like a bird taking flight (you distantly recall the exact species to be a Charmony Dove. Her request.) and the bottle cap resembled her halo. The curved golden metal is polished to perfection and little flowers are attached to the ends.

“It’s already a work of art,” she marvels as she gingerly lifts it out of the velvet-lined box and holds it up, admiring the workmanship from all angles. Without any further hesitation, she takes off her glove and sprays it onto her exposed wrist. 

Robin’s eyes widen in delight at the first whiff. It’s a gourmand, sugary delight. Bubblegum, cotton candy, praline and raspberry practically dance on the tip of her tongue and she almost wants to take a bite out of her own arm because of how good it smells. There’s a floral aspect too with a strong violet note coming through. Blood orange and lemon pierce through the overwhelming sweetness, the astringency of the two fruits preventing her nose from becoming overwhelmed. She inhales again and sighs in bliss. Like her brother, she has a sweet tooth and finds this perfume to be temptingly delicious. It also reminds her of a dessert she had a long time ago. Strange, she can’t quite remember the taste or name of it… It must’ve been a dessert she and her brother enjoyed when they were children then.

The scent composition is beginning to change now. Robin inhales again, but this time her eyes fly wide open and her nose scrunches up in a mix of disbelief and disgust. The delicious fruits, which previously smelled juicy and ripe, are now overripe. They’re cloyingly sweet now, with the unmistakable odor of something rotting that makes her feel nauseous. There’s a weird, musty odor now that she attributes to the flowers in the scent decaying. It smells awful now. Revolting. Robin wouldn’t be caught dead out in public wearing this, but it was never meant to be wearable or for the public to smell it anyway. She paid for artistry, and she got it. 

“Oh, Aeons,” she whispers as the scent changes even more. It went from bad to worse to horrible. The sugary sweet and floral aspects are still there, but there’s something new that emerges. It smells like war, she realizes. There’s the unmistakable stench of iron- blood- and metal. Smoke and gunpowder waft up from somewhere within and her hand flies to her neck, right above where the gunshot wound scar is. The dull pain from the gunshot throbs. Robin isn’t sure if it’s actually hurting again or if it’s her mind playing tricks on her. The blunt pain spreads across her throat and she feels a strange chill rippling out from the wound to the rest of her body. She shudders violently.

A moment passes. Then another. It starts off as a faint tingle before escalating into a searing pain that paralyzes her. She feels like her vocal chords are on fire now. Her hands fly to her throat. Burning, twisting, and eating away at the bands of muscle that give life and hope to so many, including her. She cries out for help, but nothing comes out except for a scratchy version of the plea and a hot, wet gurgling sound that she recognizes as blood dribbling out of the wound- though the sound is muffled as if someone has shoved cotton into her ears. 

Robin feels something wet staining the fibers of her gloves and she looks down to see a deep red seeping into the silk and spreading until it covers her entire hand. It’s her own wet blood, still hot to the touch and she reaches up to the back of her throat where the bullet exited. Blood trickles down her back from the ruptured flesh and she gingerly presses a finger to the wound. It doesn’t hurt, strangely. Or maybe the pain is just overwhelming her senses to the point where she’s become numb. This doesn’t feel real. Nothing feels real. 

It’s as if someone forcefully shook her awake from a nightmare. Her pupils are blown wide and hair is plastered to the sides of her head and forehead from being drenched in a cold sweat. Her hands are still around her throat. The gunshot wound has long since healed. Her vocal cords are unscathed. Robin slowly peels her hands away and looks down. Her silk gloves are pristine. 

It was just a memory. A far too vivid one, though.

You pass her a bottle of water and she eagerly takes it, chugging it in record time as she recovers. Robin thinks back to your notepad amidst the horrible memories of war that resurface. Spoiled childhood. War. You really hit the nail on the head. Truly, your storytelling ability through scent alone was unparalleled. Case in point: cake and something berry-like are present- pomegranate, maybe?- but they smell expired and rotted, like they’ve been trampled underfoot while fleeing in a panic. How did you pull it off?

“So, what do you think?” you ask as she waits for the base notes to emerge. 

“Disgusting. And horrifying.” 

You both laugh in unison. 

“Then that means a job well done.”

The memory of war fades and something more neutral emerges. A sweet vanilla, one of her favorite scents, with woody notes. She immediately recognizes sandalwood. Sunday. It’s a favorite of his. There’s a nutty smell that emerges and she thinks of her brother again. One of Sunday’s favorite desserts was one topped with almonds and drizzled with syrup. This almond leans more bitter instead of warm and toasted, but the similarities are still there. Sticky caramel is present. Sunday loves those little caramel candies that practically melt in his mouth, she thinks. I should pick some up for him next time I go back. 

Oh wait. I can’t go home now. I almost forgot, he’s not there anymore. 

It smells like her brother now, and her heart aches. Will she ever be able to see him again? Strange. You’ve never met Sunday before- at least that’s what she thinks. How did you get his scent down almost perfectly then? But there’s also a surprisingly spicy kick in there that isn’t reminiscent of him. She likes it though. 

She swallows down the lump in her throat and clutches the bottle tighter.

“Thank you,” she whispers. You simply nod. There’s nothing else that needs to be said. 

She collects herself before leaving. It’s now approaching afternoon and there’s more people on the streets now. They stop for a double take when they realize it’s Robin, eyes going wide and jaw going slack. Whispers follow her, she sees phones being pulled out and soon, she’s surrounded by fans asking for a photo or an autograph, despite her security’s efforts. She’s used to this by now- mindlessly signing objects and donning the same smile every time for photographs. Robin the graceful, Robin the elegant, Robin the cosmic songstress who always looks flawless no matter what. 

But as the last of the fans run off and as she’s sitting in the back of her chauffeured vehicle, heading to the next item on the agenda, she finds herself wondering if there’s even more she can still do. The bag with your store’s logo on it tempts her and she lifts the box out, unwrapping it again to admire the bottle. She won’t spray it- she’s not subjecting her poor security guards and chauffeur to that smell- but she finds herself thinking back on the same questions she’s always asked herself.

Why do birds fly? Does my song serve any purpose?

She thinks these are questions she’ll spend a lifetime chasing the answers to. Realistically, Robin knows she won’t ever arrive at one. She’s no philosopher, but how many times has the former been asked? And as for the latter… that’s a subjective one that’s up to her to decide. 

But her song saved her brother in the end. And that’s more than enough for her.

PERUME NOTES:

TOP: strawberry, sugar, praline, bubble gum, cotton candy, raspberry, lemon, blood orange, violet, black elderberry, datura, soulglad (I hc it to smell like coca-cola)

MIDDLE: blood, leather, gunpowder, smoke, rose, pomegranate, incense, cake, metallic notes, marshmallow, magnolia, jasmine

BASE: vanilla, skin, bitter almond, caramel, amber, sandalwood, chocolate, tonka bean, cloves, saffron, pink pepper

INSPIRATION: Toskovat Age of Innocence, Toskovat Curtain Call, Toskovat Born Screaming, Ariana Grande Sweet Like Candy, Juicy Couture Viva La Juicy, Lattafa Yara

enjoyed this? the taglist is open!

@ theother-victoria, do not copy, repost, modify, translate, or feed to ai

[sicklyseraphnsuch]

Unpopular Theory

I don't think Miquella was ready for in-fighting.

There's no guarantee that two oppressed groups would Get Along. Maybe the omens won't like the tarnished who won't like the albinaurics.

My best support for this theory? Miquella actively or passively charms people to liking him. Governing is basically a group project on a massive scale and we all know how bad those turn out. Miquella loving them - fine. Them loving each other - um...

Likewise, I dont think Miquella could turn his charm off. So I dont know if hes ever faced a disagreement before. Thats um... Thats kinda an essential skill for governing, my guy. If the only way someone defuses a disagreement is not through compromise but through liking him so much, they cant disagree - and likewise, you cant stop them from liking you so much, that's not good! In fact, that's pretty bad!!

Also like Miquella famously hated the Undead so sorry zombies, no room for you in the eternal paradise, I guess? Would Miquella have let Fia live? What happens if the god of compassion hates you?

Miquella freely offers his love for them but like how tf are you supposed to convince someone to offer that same love to another? I think Miquella tried his best to teach by example... but it ended up with people vying more for Miquella's love than vying to love each other.

Miquella's charm works against him here. Because its hard to form a mutually beneficial community when there's very much someone who is the center of everyone's universe. And it's Miquella.

All for the love of you.

It's not the same as saying, "love each other as I love you" because that's a bad message if you want people to fight your wars. JSYK. if people were less fanatic about him, theyd ask for benefits, vacations, and sick leaves.

His followers already seem ready to gut anyone who hates Miquella on any level. That's a bad precedent. Anyone who has ever been in a fandom KNOWS that's a bad precedent.

Because that's what Miquella's following is - a giant fandom for him. And again, you know when people like the same thing, that doesnt mean they like each other.

Surprise! Governing and managing a diverse group of people is hard and messy and not always kind! Mistakes will be made! Because people will choose to be mean and petty and vain! But if the alternative is that they dont have a choice... Is that better?

I think Miquella desperately needed irl experience where he wasnt mind whammying someone. I think he needed to be disagreed with firmly once or twice. And he definitely shouldnt become a god where he could win all arguments ad infinatum.

I think Miquella in the base game is a Good Guy, but hes got a lot to learn if he wants to become a good leader. And the true tragedy here is by virtue of his divine heritage, he couldnt get that experience.

TL;Dr - dont buy your own hype, constructive criticism is in fact a necessary part of growing up, haters are a sign of a healthy society - if no one is arguing with u, something has gone wrong

[soleilnomoon]

Hiiii! :D <3 I owe you another event request that I announced.. sitting at work, yet another late evening, and dreaming of some Ace goodness. So may I ask for an ice cream sundae, donut hole, oatmeal raisin cookie, affogato and toffee? With female reader? :D If possible with the one serving the ice cream sundae being the reader? I need lotssss of caramel and whipped cream to get me through the week! Thank you so much!!!! <3

i can’t believe it took me so long, i’m so so sorry, but!!! it’s finally here *sobs continuously* so sorry bb that i took forever, but i only like to give you guys quality writing (esp with ace, i love him) so forgive me pls thank u & ily 😭💛🥺️

3.3k words, fem reader, nsfw, 18+ mdni; only a tiny bit of angst (yay), fluff!!!! and smut!!! ace needs to do better, and reader isn't as slick as she thinks she is (but lbr, when is reader ever slick). friends 2 lovers (surprise, surprise i know who am i), feat. v cute things like oral (m receiving), oral (f receiving), a lil roughplay but nothing crazy, a lil dry humping, idk other stuff probably idr anymore ૮₍˶ •. • ⑅₎ა but i had fun writing even tho the fluff almost killed me but for u i persevered! (if u see spelling/grammar errors no u didn’t <;3)

“look how we bleed from all this wanting” — ama asantewa diaka

unease is something you’re well-acquainted with — a painful, yet comforting, reminder of things that may or may not come. its slender vines wrap meticulously around each bone in your rib cage, lying in wait as your heart beats faster. it’s a pathetic, melancholic melody; a lullaby you can never escape. anxiety pours into you slowly — poisonous and haunting, tainting the lush, untamed garden that’s grown deep inside of you; one you’ve painstakingly tended to for most of your life, where your childhood dreams remain dormant, where your fears slither around in the thick vegetation ready to strike when given the chance. everything becomes fuzzy and unbearable, but you somehow manage to inhale several large gulps of air before continuing. 

it’s not easy keeping secrets, but you do it anyway. for him — only for him. today’s no different, as this is one secret you’re more than happy to keep to yourself.

contrary to popular belief, ace is much more particular about certain things than he lets on. for whatever reason, he’s adamant on keeping his birthday hidden from his crew mates — something you don’t quite understand, but respect, nonetheless. he says it’s because he doesn’t want the fuss and awkward fanfare of celebrating, but you know there’s another reason — one possibly drenched in tragedy and grief, so you refrain from asking again.

instead, you decide to celebrate with him in private; you’re best friends, after all. and after a few months of prodding, he finally concedes, giving you free reign to do as you please. a man like ace isn’t simple to shop for; you stress over his birthday gift for weeks, desperately wanting to find something unique — something that no one else would think to give him. it keeps you up for several nights in a row, where torn pieces of paper with scratched out ideas litter the floor in your room. at a certain point you scream into your pillow, desperate to get all your frustrations out before going back to sift through your failed gift ideas.

you pass out in the middle of ranting to yourself about your own incompetence, and the idea comes to you in a dream. when you wake up the next morning, you’re a little nervous but you’re sure this might be the one gift he wasn’t expecting — the one gift that he’ll appreciate and possibly cherish.

the thought of that only serves to rattle the tiny box of nerves that sits in the middle of your stomach — the lid barely attached; the contents ready to spill at the next inconvenience that comes your way. 

ace intentionally kept vague about what he wanted as a gift; he hates the idea of people scrambling around trying to surprise him, and instead keeps his expectations low. life, it seems, has helped him learn that lesson time and time again; it’s better, in his opinion, to snuff out any residual hope — the one that lingers behind all the disappointment that tends to follow him around — before it’s too late.

still, he’s curious to see what you’ve been working so tirelessly on. you’ve kept quiet about everything, and no matter how many times he tries to pry the answers out of you, you remain steadfast and keep the secret to yourself.

he's impressed, to say the least, and a flicker of excitement courses through him as he spends the morning of his birthday obnoxiously guessing what your surprise gift is. you wave him off, tell him to stop pestering you, but he doesn’t let up. there were times when you almost told him, but he has to hand it to you — you’re incredibly determined and stubborn. 

you convince him to come off of the ship with you and explore the main town of the island your crew is visiting. he knows you’re not that interested in exploring, that you’re doing all of this to distract him; he smiles to himself in secret, away from your curious and trusting eyes, unable to come to terms with the warmth that’s taken hold of his chest, pitifully churning his insides around. if he had more sense, he’d realize it’s his nerves that have gotten the best of him; but that’s ridiculous, what would he have to be nervous about?

especially on his birthday?

while he thinks he’s being stealthy by trying to hide his emotions, you catch him several times; you don’t say much about it, instead wanting ace to fully enjoy himself unrestricted. you admire the shape of his jaw when he excitedly looks around, nearly trip when you notice how sunlight drapes itself along his freckled, light brown skin, and choke on your drink when he glances over at you. the corners of his lips quirk upward, and a small, devastating, dimpled smile crawls onto his face. 

you’re rarely rendered speechless, but your inability to function properly causes you to let go of the cup in your hand — not that it matters, really. you don’t even care that the drink splashes near your sandaled feet, nor do you notice the way ace’s brows furrow together at your sudden clumsiness. a frown works its way onto his lips while you stand there stupidly, trying to remember what it is you’re supposed to be doing.

he tilts his head and briefly wonders if maybe the heat has gotten to you — you’re usually much more with it, but today you’re quieter and spaced out. when he opens his mouth to ask if you’re okay, you simply step over the fallen drink and keep walking down the street. something about your insistence on ignoring your recent faux pas makes him laugh out loud; he doesn’t mean to, but it’s just so damn funny to him.

and while you could be mad at him for the way he can’t seem to stop laughing at you, you know that the small bout of annoyance will fizzle out shortly. you can never actually stay mad at him, even if you tried — and yes, you have tried and failed several times over.

ace eventually catches up to you and that familiar teasing grin stretches lazily along his lips as he playfully grabs your arm and pulls you towards him. you steel your features as best as you can and narrow your eyes at him; the residual embarrassment from earlier lingers obnoxiously, making you stumble over your words.

or, that’s what you tell yourself, anyway.

because if he knew that it was because it’s become increasingly difficult to be around him for extended periods of time, then you’d never hear the end of it.

the problem is: ace already knows, and has known for quite some time. he never brought it up, because then you’d find a reason to keep yourself busy and stay away from him intentionally. he’s selfish and will continue to monopolize your time however way he can, especially today. you’ve never had an issue with ace touching you before, but for some reason his skin is warmer than normal — or maybe it’s because you’re still too nervous about the gift. you know that he’ll like and appreciate anything you give him, which is why you let out a soft sigh and rummage through your purse to shove a small piece of paper into his hand.

“i wanted to wait until we got back to the ship,” you say quietly, tongue suddenly much too big for your mouth; you try pulling away from him, but ace’s grip is firm, and you’re not trying that hard anyway. “but, um… happy birthday!”

he watches you curiously before glancing down at the paper in his hand; in a cute, neat script, you’ve written: birthday coupon (1 use only). and before he can ask anything unnecessary, you explain quickly, words tumbling out of your mouth in a rush.

“basically, you have my services for exactly twenty-four hours only.”

and, as ace is constantly in a state of perpetual confusion, he glances back at you to see if this is a joke or not.

“really?”

he wants to believe you, but he also knows that you’d never actually let him have his way for a day — or, would you? now he isn’t so sure.

your usual bravado leaves you faster than you can handle, so you nod a few times and finally manage to free yourself from his hold. after giving yourself a bit of space, you realize that you can think clearly now that he isn’t so close to you.

“yes,” you say lightly, hoping that he’ll buy your false confidence as legitimate. “whatever you want me to do, i’ll do. no questions asked.” you know you’re treading dangerously, but this was the best idea you could come up with. unease finds you again when ace remains quiet — a feat for him, as he’s usually boisterous and vocal about everything — but all of that doubt dissipates when a small, sly smile appears on his face as he pockets the coupon and beckons you closer.

“thanks, let’s go.”

you don’t bother asking where, because ace has already grabbed your hand and tugs you along with him. you want to tell him that he doesn’t have to hold onto your hand like that, but you decide that you deserve a bit of selfishness too. the day passes fairly quickly — you end up eating at several places with him, purchase enough sweets to put you into a sugar-induced coma, and laugh so hard you end up in tears.

he likes seeing this side of you, the part that’s carefree and full of energy; he admires how smooth and soft your skin is and thinks it’s impossibly cute that you can’t stop sneaking glances at him. you’re not as inconspicuous as you think you are, but ace doesn’t tease you about it. already he’s had you do silly things like balance on one leg like a flamingo in the middle of the shopping plaza and cartwheel as long as you can down to the pier — the latter was him testing the waters to see if you’d really do it, but you rise to the challenge and only fall over twice.

embarrassment be damned, as long as ace is happy today that’s all that matters.

when you make it back to the ship, the sun has set, bathing the ocean and sky with a pretty mixture of bright colors. you take a moment to lean against the railing to watch the sky, mesmerized by the artistry, while ace watches you and contemplates how best to proceed with you. he’s normally much better at hiding his desire and attraction, but today he’s at his limit. he doesn’t bother looking away when you feel his gaze on you; it’s always intense, having ace’s undivided attention — and while a small voice tells you that it’s dangerous to let this tension build to a frenzied state, a much bigger voice tells you to just let go and embrace whatever happens.

it's ace who grabs your arm and tugs you with him to his cabin, locking the door behind so that no one would interrupt; and it’s ace who plucks the coupon out of his pocket again, playfully waving it around as your brain scrambles as you try to guess what he’ll request next. it should alarm you that your excitement starts to build all over again when ace plops down lazily in a nearby chair, legs spread; something compels you to move closer and before you can say anything remotely foolish, ace pulls you onto his lap.

you tell yourself that it’s purely for the sake of ensuring he has a memorable birthday, but the truth won’t let you off that easily — not when you shamelessly straddle him as your skirt rides up your thighs; not when you thread your fingers through his hair and tugging on it impatiently; and not when you softly press your lips against his and mumble something along the lines of, “hurry up and ask.”

it’s refreshing seeing you take initiative like that, so ace tosses the coupon onto the floor unceremoniously before gripping your hips firmly. that warmth from earlier comes back in full force, and suddenly you’re wondering why the both of you are still dressed. he doesn’t hesitate when he runs his tongue along your lips, and you, in response, roll your hips forward and grind down hard against his stiff cock. a dangerous game, you know — you know — but you can’t help yourself; not today, anyway.

it's you who kisses him first — clumsy and rash, but after a moment, your lips move against his with more certainty; he guides you with his tongue, heat shooting up your spine, making you pliant and eager. each time he kisses you, you have to remind yourself that it’s not another dream, that it’s actually happening. and even if, after all of this, you both go back to pretending you’re just friends, you’re sure you’ll be fine.

maybe.

you don’t dwell on that thought though, and focus on the way ace keeps rubbing his hands along your thighs — slow and tortuous, the callouses on his hands rough, but welcomed on your skin. you’re panting and whining softly, the heat radiating off his body stifling, but also addicting. he’s not sure how much longer he can hold back, and you somehow get the hint when he bucks his hips against yours, your panties already damp with arousal every time your pussy rubs against his cock.

there’s a slightly dazed look in his eyes when you managed to climb off of him without your legs giving out, and it’s his own selfishness that drives him to watch you as you take off your clothes without prompting. is it adrenaline, lust, or the intoxicating effects of ace’s presence that has you in between his legs and on your knees. when he realizes what you’re about to do, he opens his mouth to tell you that it’s not necessary, but his argument dies in his mouth and fizzles out completely when you unzip his shorts and pull out his cock.

ace inhales sharply as a warm breeze slips in from the open window and tangles itself around both of you; and, although the moon hides sleepily behind a few clouds, some of its light filters through, giving you an ethereal glow as you run your tongue along the length of his cock before wrapping your lips around the tip. it’s not often that ace finds himself powerless in front of someone, but you’ve rendered him weak beyond comprehension. you suck and swirl your tongue around, dragging it along his slit and licking off the precum that leaked out.

it invigorates you — watching him through your lashes as your hands wrap around the rest of his length, twisting and pumping mercilessly, every stifled moan giving you the encouragement to keep going. you inadvertently rub your thighs together, pussy slick with your wetness, but, surprisingly, you don’t feel ashamed about it — not when you take more of ace’s cock into your mouth, relaxing your jaw and letting him have free reign for a bit. ace juts his hips forward, feeling only a tiny bit remorseful when he sees you gag, but the determined look in your eyes tells him that you refuse to back down.

when you feel like you can’t breathe, you lick down his length and massage his balls, earning a string of unintended, slightly incoherent curse words from ace under his breath. it’s a sensitive area — and, try as he might, he can’t help but moan your name out loud, his breathing growing unsteady, making you all the more delirious and obsessed. your teeth accidentally grazes his skin and he tugs on your hair more forcefully than he means to, startling you but not for the reasons it should.

his voice is low and gruff when he speaks again. “y/n… behave.” which is all he really needs to say, because while it was an accident, something forbidden swirls around your lower abdomen, making you bold and somewhat reckless. before he can say anything else, you suck on his balls, melting his resolve and small bout of annoyance.

he wants to ask if you’re trying to kill him, but he partially knows the answer to that already. goosebumps prick his skin as you look at him equal parts mischievous and full of adoration. he’s not sure why, but he likes that he’s only ever seen you look at him like that.it makes all of this that much more intense, and he knows that after tonight he can’t go back to being just friends with you.

it’d be impossible.

you take his cock back into your mouth again, bobbing up and down, his girth still a challenge, but you take it in stride anyway. and its when you suck on his sensitive tip again that ace’s restraint finally gives out; you feel him jerk underneath you, and his cum is thick and hot as it spills into your mouth. he half expects you to spit it out, and even through that post-orgasm haze, he’s amazed when you swallow it all.

with his face flushed — from the force of the orgasm, from how he can’t seem to keep his eyes off of you, especially after you lick some of his cum off of your lips — ace runs a hand through his hair before standing up and pulling you to your feet. he kisses you again, sloppy, yet domineering; your hands work on tugging the rest of his clothes off quickly, and it doesn’t take long before he has you on your back thighs clamped around his head as he devours your pussy.

nothing can compare to the high you feel right now, hips rolling forward, shamelessly tugging on his hair roughly, moaning his name louder than you mean to. anyone passing by can hear you, the walls are thin enough, but you don’t care now. his tongue glides along your slit, your arousal spilling onto his tongue before he flicks it against your clit.

something about the way he’s handling you — as if you’re able to take whatever aggression he tosses your way, especially when he slides his fingers inside of your pussy, finger-fucking and enjoying how you’re falling apart underneath him — makes you that much more reactive to him. and when he sucks on your clit — merciless, just like you were being with him a short while ago — you don’t hold back.

your cries are music to his ears, and he knows he should tell you to keep it down, but he also likes how loud you’re being. almost as if he wants other people to hear that he’s the one making you writhe around on his bed like that. the orgasm is sudden, brutal, and life changing; a blinding light practically incapacitating you, momentarily robbing you of your vision. your chest heaves as you try to gather your thoughts; a lightheaded feeling takes over, making you shiver, your sweet whining only makes him want to keep torturing you with his tongue.

but he refrains, for now.

after pulling back, you both look at each other for a moment before you pull him down for another kiss — this one tender, sweet, and slow. ace lets himself fall further under your spell, not wanting to ask if you complied with his selfish whims because you wanted to or because of his birthday coupon. and if he did ask, you know, deep down, that you’d tell him it’s very obviously the former — that it wasn’t only his selfish whim, that you were equally to blame for letting things escalate like this. not that it matters much right now, since all you can think about, is how you don’t plan on leaving his bed for the rest of the night. and how you know you’ll be plenty sore once he’s done with you later on.

[yuukei-yikes]

continuing on that...... haruka/konoba identity crisis angst

im not sure continuing on what but YEAHHHHH WOOOO rather than an identity crisis though.......

i think haruka tries to honor konoha as much as he can by enjoying his life, bc konoha isnt Gone it just took its intended back seat so haruka doesn't wanna bore it or act like konoha doesn't deserve to drive just bc it's a snake. it's just how things are. haruka is the owner of the body. konoha happened to be in there while haruka wasnt, and accidentally gained a mind of its own... so when haruka's really going through it, he cant help wondering what makes one or the other deserve the driver's seat more.

is it time? haruka was born in that body and wore it for 17 years before konoha took it for only 2, so in that aspect haruka wins. is it the amount of people who love them? haruka has maybe 5 (quartet, kenjirou(dead) and his father, if it counts) while konoha has... well, the entire dan. so konoha wins there. so... is it, which one is human? but how's that fair? konoha has proven to have a mind of its own. i mean, it made a wish that clearing was forced to grant (hiyori surviving), what more proof do u need to know konoha is person enough? haruka wonders abt this, i think.

but does it even make sense to wonder about deserving? sometimes it just is what it is. the one who got to keep the driver's seat was pure chance, luck, logic, whatever. it was haruka's wish, everyone got a wish and haruka's was to get his body back, while konoha chose to let hiyori live. everyone made their choices, and this is how things are.

what i like about haruka post str is that He is the face of str, and He represents growing up. i think haruka is the one most at peace with what happened to him, mostly being burdened by the guilt he feels from being thankful for the tragedy, since it allowed him to live. he got something out of it. but i dont think haruka's the kind to dwell on the past, just by the way his personality is entirely but also konoha particularly is a reason why.

like i said haruka doesnt wanna bore konoha. i do love how haruka calls konoha the other me. i think if haruka is upset for too long, feeling guilty for konoha being gone or for feeling thankful for the tragedy bc it allowed him to live, something within him shakes him right out of it like hey... ill cheer up if i go get something reaaaaal yummy to eat. like there's The Horrors. but there's also all the good things in life, and what more does haruka want than life?

what we get from haruka's pov tells us he's realistic, even leaning towards being a total pessimist. haruka is completely cynical towards any kind of comfort towards the end, product of living a life where he clung to hope desperately, be it in the form of friendship or religion, and a father who constantly disregarded the despair and sadness of the situation. because of it haruka is left to cope with himself like... hey it happens to everyone. im just hitting the sack a little earlier than most. that's ok.

that's... optimistic? not really. optimistic is shintaro, who tells him you'll be okay, you have to be. and at that point haruka's driven to complete despair where he is completely certain that there is nothing after death. and he... gets worse than nothing! he gets thrown in the daze!!!!

haruka goes through his worst nightmare already, so... what's left post str??? he already lived through the worst, he already cried and begged and accepted it and went back to begging against it... "it" is death.

so would he be fighting mind demons like shintaro and ayano? he's gonna be freaking out in his own skin like takane?? not really. he's just breathing fresh air because he made it out of hell. and i know so did ayano, but the thing with ayano is that she does everything to herself. while haruka... doesn't? so when he makes it out, it's just. summertime record. a peaceful day under the light blue sky.

i got a little side tracked bc i love haruka's air of maturity post str. he really seems like the one character that's listening to music while everyone else wreaks havoc behind him. so when we bring up konoha i think haruka looks at it through this lense. haruka's like i know konoha is with me, it's a part of me, it's me. and what konoha would reaaaaaally want right now... is eat some grilled chicken skewers!!!!!!!!!

[horizon-verizon]

So Rhaenyra’s downfall is gonna be some divine karma as she is gonna become a fanatical cult leader with a god complex that sacrifices the masses for a prophecy instead of having it be a tragedy caused by misogyny, they gonna make it seem like she brought her own end. Truly groundbreaking storytelling, thanks Ryan Condal.

If not exactly Dany S8 degree of "lost mind" cult leader "fanatical, it will be that she lost sight that Targs are not Gods and she "lost herself" bc she was desperate & had been deprived of the access to male graces her entire life. which is problematic not only bc bk!Rhaenyra seemed to feel little to no real jealousy or wish to do "masculine" stuff or to adopt a more "masculinized" identity, but bc it poses masculinity as both an inherent, immutable and prime desireable state of being rather than a thing that develops from socialization.

They seem to think that they are giving respect to Rhaenyra's end by not really thinking about women=victim and instead focusing more on how said woman "escapes" victimhood by doing what she can only ever do, and that is massive malicious takeover that she can no longer see as inherently evil. Somehow this is their "necessary" compromise with woman-eternal-victim with "feudalism is always bad and we shouldn't care about nuances of living in such a system": a woman fails bc she decided to the biggest-baddest thru weapons of mass destruction and manipulating 1000s to believe these creatures are gods to get where she has always been told she doesn't deserve.

Here's the thing. Cersei is a NLOG and did think that she needed to become a literal man or adopt ONLY masculinized phenomena (looks, behavior, practices, like sword fighting) in order to ever consider herself capable of being a creature of power. Of being an agent of change, influence, power, formidability, authority in her society/community/etc. Something that many people want or develop to want. And most women have ta one point felt this way whether it was a sustained (years long), "momentary", or something we still feel reflexively from time to time. Because we have been socialized that way. To think man = prime/only source of human power/"naturalness". It is inevitable that there will be Cerseis and such...but to make as if women are monolithically going to turn out to be Cersei is itself sexist to maintain that idea that maledom is a unquestionable "prize" or grace.

I see Cersei as both a tragic figure who portrays how fallible and futile it is to deny your own traits or eschew exploring what you are truly affined with at any given moment, or at least be flexible there in one's expression, be it gender or not. Bc Cersei is a figure of extreme repression to fit something she can never be bc it will always be denied to her on account of having a vagina and looking like an ideal of female beauty. It is why she is funny and tragic (to some, just hateful or that and pitiful). But To make as if every single women MOST women will fall into this trap society makes is to make as if women are also pretty weak of mind or whatever counts as "soul". Which again, counts to reaffirm masculinity's superiority and women's place as needing the "protection" of men.

BK!Rhaenyra was an example of a woman who may not have been perfect but she never felt as if she had to deny who she was to prove her deserving or hide her traits to have access to such. She demanded and didn't give in enough when she was nonverbally and socially compelled to and was killed for it. HotD wants to stray from this to seemingly reaffirm all that I just described, even as its writers might not really understand the gravity of what they are doing.

Both are tragic figures. But they are not the same women and their womanhoods' developments/how they created their womanhoods within the system give them their own separate flavors of tragedies that also go under the super-category of "women are damned" archetype in fiction. It is also bc these writers haven't really understood agency in gender relations.

Ryan Condal seems to dream of creating parables. He should stick to those. (these aren't "uncomplicated, either, btw", to write a good parable you need to have a good command or knowledge of some cultural ideals and be able to use them to make a very memorable image while conveying your point instantaneously...but Condal seems to favor the simplicity of a parable's one-shot allegory).

[glitter-stained]

comments sections are bleh let me invade your inbox hello

ON HANAHAKI AU. and also in conjuction (is that the right word? i do not care about google i trust my brain!!) with the notif i got of you liking one of my art pieces. the original context of hanahaki has always felt Weird to me bcs its like ? giving people an obligation to reciprocatw your feelings. INSTEAD i subscribe to the idea of it being about extreme lack of communication and repression that results in a physical overflow—in this case still flowers suffocating u bcs cool aestheticw qnd also they carry this fucked up vibe to them idk man

ANYWAY i just think its SUPER fitting for jason in his familial relationships (ESP bruce) and i think each time he dies its just building more and more. like concealing this thing over and over again, not letting himself process what hes dealing with and express that hes desperate for validation and love + yk. all that trauma that people like to pretend has been resolved ...

not to mention. jason is a canonically suicidal character, at least passively, so the amount of value he puts on resolving the issue and curing himself is.. Lacking

i have no idea if any of that made sense i dont think my meds have kicked in yet and my brain is SCREAMING. Sorry for my godawful typing

Okay so

First of all I usually like Hanahaki BECAUSE you cannot make yourself love someone. So in general I like classic hanahaki because you get one of two situations:

1. Soft hurt/comfort where the person's self-esteem and past trauma stops them from realising the others actually love them back (I'm a soft bitch and will enjoy any variation of this trope)

OR

2. Tragedy when they try their best to make themselves love the sick person the way they need to, they love them but not in the way they need, and in the end it feels like their love is not enough no matter how much they love and they have to watch their loved one die because of it. Do you understand the tragedy it's so good!!!

So usually I like trad!hanahaki

However

I'm not kidding when I made the Jason hanahaki before seeing your ask i was already like wait but for jason what if it's not about feeling unloved. What if the very act of loving someone whose love will never satisfy you, not because of its nature but because you have such a different understanding of love and what it implies, is what hurts you. What if the reason you're sick is because you love someone who keeps hurting you, and you hate that you love them, and you can't help that you love them and you can't help that you hate that you love them, and this is what kills you.

And even death does not stop the love, just like the love can't stop itself from killing you.

So that's the OG thought for the AU

Honestly I really like your take on that, the relentlessness and desperation, and the suicidality -I can see him being so tired of the pain and at first wanting them to see and then realising they're not seeing it and getting used to it, getting comfortable in that cycle of pain and just waiting for the day it finally takes, until he has to actively conceal it because he's grown so used to his own personal garden of doom that someone finding out, and the emotional vulnerability that comes with it, is scarier than this.

Also loved your art because the version of Hanahaki death i like most is when the body horror is hardcore. Like, sure, die choking on flowers maybe but I need a whole rosier to sprout out of the ribcage, alien-style. And I think after Jason wakes up from his death, the plant is just there. I think he has a whole safehouse where he keeps his plants. He calls it the Greenhouse. It's beautiful, and the petals are bloodstained.

[wlwanakin]

eristine for the ship meme…

it’s so fun doing these for fandoms i don’t post about lol. phantom of the opera my beloved <3 i’m talking both book and musical here since the leroux novel is my favorite but the musical is the big popular version and they exist in a sort of soup in my brain

when i started shipping it: aged 14 fresh off finishing the musical…i was a sicko then and i am a sicko now

my thoughts: endlessly complicated. no i don’t think christine wanted erik like that all the way. yes i think they’re soulmates and no one could ever understand them like they understood each other. yes i think christine made the right choice leaving. no i don’t view it as a love triangle because erik was never a real viable option for christine. yes i think they are star crossed and i need them to make out sloppy style

what makes me happy about them: gothic romance <3 i love when love is awful and i love when broken people come together. also her compassion being his saving grace ohhh that shit goes crazy

what makes me sad about them: their inability to actually Be Anything!! christine’s genuine caring for erik is always getting overshadowed by erik doing atrocities and there are several points where he does something they simply cannot come back from. to me the tragedy isn’t that she didn’t/couldn’t love him it’s that his actions never gave her the chance to. and it’s sooo tragic because he is so lonely and so much of him is informed by everything he endured that he did not deserve and you want him to be happy and even christine wants him to be happy but she can’t make him happy. she can’t be with him. they can’t be anything!!!

things done in fanfic that annoys me: when people forget that erik is pathetic and sexless and his specific kind of creepy is more about desperation than like perviness. he’s not a perv he’s just desperately lonely. reductionist christine characterization. fix-its that downplay the severity of what erik pulled and frame christine as in the wrong for leaving. raoul demonization (it’s more interesting for christine to pick erik if raoul is Actually the better option objectively. u guys are boring)

things i look for in fanfic: CHRISTINE-CENTRIC!!! i love christine pov i love when she maintains agency and has flaws and when writers allow her feelings about erik to be realistically multifaceted. also leroux-based characterization bc the book is simply better

who i’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: the daroga for erik and raoul for christine (who she does end up with, which is essential to the narrative so i am not mad about it)

my happily ever after for them: unmarried life partners in some cute little house. they are creative partners and he writes her operas :3

who is the big spoon/little spoon: erik little spoon christine big spoon #truther

what is their favorite non-sexual activity: quite famously it is music

[anachronistic-falsehood]

EPISODE 10 TRIVIA:

- THEY ALL ALSO THOUGHT THE THREE DIFFERENT COMBAT SCENES WERE REALLY COOL AND WANT TO DO IT MORE LIKE THAT !!!!!!! bizly was really excited to do something like that so bad because he wanted to make combat more interesting (AND IT WORKED)

- rehydrating tide like william and dakota were both trying to do would have woken him up and restored a little bit of his powers, but not heal him!

-TIDE BEING A CLONE HAS BEEN PLANNED SINCE THE BEGINNING <3 the principal (magma) is another one, there are others!

- charlie, about wavelength: "and youre WELCOME for interrogating him, because now we're off to a great start with our NEW FATHER"

- bizlys favorite moment of the episode was when dakota tried to call the prime force and jt went to voicemail and he cracked his phone :)

- grizzlys favorite part was setting up the team attack! and the confrontation with doug in the beginning

- condis favorite part was william ending up in the spirit world with mal. also he says "vyncent is gonna be really fucked up about this, because this was the only place in this world that was familiar to him that he could even think about kind of calling home"

- charlies favorite part was also ending up the spirit world! in his words "a scary amount of my character wanted to know everything right then and there. i think straight up if my friends were not in a burning building and this wasnt such a dire situation, i probably would have taken this guys hand. a huge part of williams character is needing to investigate things like this". AND ALSO THE MAGICAL GIRL TRANSFORMATION.

--> "william doesnt hate mal because hes evil, he hates him because hes the same thing william is" << fucked up implications of that. and also bizly: "hes not necessarily evil, its just that the concepts of life and death are trivial to him"

charlie: "and i think william is kind of thr same way to a lesser extent" << fucked up implications of THAT!!!

- "i think a huge part of where william and dakota are gonna clash is that william operates in way more shades of grey than dakota does"

- the prime defenders are being trained as a team specifically because theyre meant to replace the prime force... eventually. but theyre fucking teenagers. thats not supposed to be for a LONG time, theyre just kids, theyre supposed to be in training right now. oh the tragedy of it all

- bizly: "i know that dakota cole has such a rigid sense of morality so the idea of approaching him with 'you can save the hero, but you have to work with the villain to do it because the heroes dont care' was just such an interesting concept to me"

- "its not that dakota *cant* see in shades of grey, he just has nothing else except being a hero, so hes so desperate to look up to the prime defenders" << hey what if i cried

- MAL IS SPECIFICALLY INSPIRED BY VLAD FROM DANNY PHANTOM EXCEPT SCARIER. THIS IS A HUGE WIN FOR ME. ("william hates him and is scared of him because hes everything im afraid of turning into" hey what if i cried (again))

- CANTRIP IS INSPIRED BY ROXIE RICHTER FROM SCOTT PILGRIM <3333

I RLY DID LIKE THAT COMBAT WITH THE DIFFERENT SCENES i like when they're split up and doing different things i get a lot more invested

vyncent losing the only place he's been able to call home since he left his world. hey what if i cried. hey what if i lost my fucking mind

WILLIAM AND YOUR NEED TO KNOW THINGS. I KNEW HE WANTED TO KNOW MORE. I KNEW HE WAS TEMPTED TO DO WHAT MAL WANTED TO LEARN MORE ABOUT HIMSELF. I KNEW HE WAS AND CHARLIE PLAYED IT SO WELL AGGHHHH CHARLIE SLIMECICLE THE MAN THAT YOU ARE

and dakota struggling morally because he had to work with a villain oh my god dude. dude. dakota i love you. u have so many problems king <3

OF COURSE MAL BEING INSPIRED BY VLAD IS A WIN FOR U. ANOTHER FORK FOUND IN THE KITCHEN!!!!!!!!!!

[ghosts-of-love]

⭐I'd love to hear more about the confession scene from Lost Then Found!⭐

ooooh okay interesting!! 💕💕 I’ll just have a little read of it now and write my thoughts:

i was sooo desperate for the Captain to have a little rom-com moment – running through the rain to go and talk to Pat – it’s like he’s spent the whole fic thinking he’s in a tragedy and now he’s finally aware of the genre lol idk)

“Pat I’ve been a fool” and “God, I’ve been so blind.” were meant to echo things that Lizzy Bennet says in Pride and Prejudice 2005 :))))) I can’t find any clips of them though :( and then the moving forward and hesitating is meant to be Mr Darcy-esque.

Despite the initial rom-com-ness of the opening, i did also want them to be emotionally mature about everything, especially after the Captain was so quick to react the day before, i wanted things to feel like they'd really slowed down.

Cap taking the time to walk around his kitchen and remind himself of what makes it his house. The mantra of ‘this is my house and he won’t make me leave’. Just knowing that he’s safe enough with Pat to not start the conversation right away.

I think I remember that I wanted the overarching feeling to be like, relief basically. Relief that they’re on the same page, that they can both be honest, that they both understand where the misunderstanding after Pat’s attempt at a kiss came from.

There’s also a sort of mutual understanding that this relationship will not just fix the Captain immediately. You can tell that from the chapters following where he’s still so unsure of himself, and so worried that he’s being clingy. You can also see it in the one shot ‘two steps on the water’.

The KISS being on Pat’s hand (the one that punched Julian) showing Cap’s attention to detail – that he remembers which hand – and that he wants to show Pat how much that meant to him. And also show him that things are making a lot more sense to him, and that he realises that Pat was probably in love with him even back then. This later gets confirmed for him.

“Ted.” Not to be silly with it amongst the emotion but you know if Pat had an ounce less sense he’d have sucked Cap sloppy style at the kitchen table right then and there. Thank god he knew how important it was to let Cap speak.

I also needed them both to apologise to each other – they both had a hand in the misunderstanding. Pat for being impulsive, Cap for not listening to any explanation. They can’t start a relationship on that kind of footing.

I think the early sort of ‘setting some parameters and asking about boundaries’ helps Pat realise the kind of work they’ll have to put in eg. “Can I - can I hug you? And things like that?” and “You can’t kick me out in the morning if we’re in my own home, after all.”. it makes him sad but also grateful because I think he realises that Cap could have very easily come to a different conclusion after his session with Alison and decided he wasn’t ready for a relationship.

I had considered that as an option actually. And then something a couple of months down the line would have changed Cap’s mind/helped him realise he was ready. But I decided I had put him through enough, actually, and he deserved to know he was loved.

GOD Pat just knowing Cap so well by this point and knowing that they definitely shouldn’t rush into anything physical – even if Cap consents, he might not be doing it for the right reasons and he might regret it. Sensible guy, love u patty cakes.

I just really enjoy how much they say they love each other in this chapter too!! also then doing relationshippy things/ Cap experiencing them for the first time. Having Pat cook him dinner, brushing their teeth in front of the mirror together, fucking SPOONING!!

in short: I love them

fanfic writers: director's cut

[misscammiedawn]

Uve probably answered this, what made u/ how did u get into hypno?

I've answered it a few times, but I don't mind answering it again-- or copying and pasting a version that I wrote in 2020:

I think I was 14 years old and a bunch of people insisted I had a crush on this girl who went to my Primary School and lived on the same block of flats as I did.

I didn't think I did have such a crush but I was a dumb kid and I hadn't started puberty yet (that would be medically induced about 3-4 years later) so I didn't even have context for a lot of the things being placed on me.

I also religiously watched ITV's Saturday Night Magic Block every week. Those Magic Secrets Revealed specials, Paul McKenna's Hypnotic World, specials about David Copperfield and hell even the Melissa Joan Hart version of Sabrina. I vividly recall how much I loved that stuff. I desperately wanted to see it happen in reality, I wanted to be able to do card tricks and perform these elaborate routines that Masked Valentino showed off and then one of my mum's friends went on the McKenna show and described everything that happened during the induction and I was transfixed, it was real magic.

Not a trick or an elaborate ruse but something I could see someone describing as real!

It was something you could go to a doctor's office and receive treatment with. It was Real Magic.

So when I was 14, going back and forth from my mum and dad's houses I remember sitting on the 63 bus and starring at the rain falling on my city and imagining a hypnotist using a jewel on a chain to make me focus, focus, sleep and just let the answers bubble to my lips, no need for filter, just say the first truth you know so clearly in your mind that is real and tell me--- do you have a crush on that girl?

Thinking back on those scenarios it was all so innocent, all so childish, but it was an obsession. The idea of being hypnotized to reveal truths, to pressure myself through things, to be strong, to be focused.

Then I grew up and found Snopes.Com and read all about the subliminal advertizing things. Painted ice cubes, about the movies in the 70s that flashed popcorn on the screen, I saw the BBC Test The Nation thing where they tried to insert an idea into the audience and see how many were susceptible.

Honestly, it's the greatest tragedy of my life that I didn't funnel that obsession at an early age and take off with it. The passion has never vanished even after all these years.

---

The 2020 version of this writing pre-dates the tidbit that I eventually did have a hypnotic confession of love in early 2022 when I accidentally declared my growing love of Sleepyhead.

[withasideofshakespeare]

ok, so, I just found your blog but I love this shakespeare content and I now absolutely need to know; if you could direct a play, what play would you choose to direct and how would you direct it/what are your ideas for it?

hope u have a great day!

This is a relevant question because I am currently helping to direct an audiobook version of Hamlet! Hamlet is my go-to play at all times for everything, so I’m over the moon that I get to help with this!

My choices on how I’ve been involved in this process are honestly more related to my experience with theater than my opinions on Hamlet. I'm not an actor and I've only been involved with one show (as a soundboard operator for Anastasia), but this limited experience has been pretty love-hate for me. Our schedule (as a live production) is quite rigid and things get stressful because of it! My main goal with Hamlet has been avoiding stress for myself as an actor and a co-producer. We've had a fairly flexible schedule and really let actors do their own thing with the characters, which has made the whole project really fun and way less stressful! If I could somehow remove the human element from directing a play and just... create the characters exactly as I imagine them, I think my focus would fall heavily on Hamlet as a story of grief. Grief is a big theme in this play, but it tends to get overshadowed in big-screen productions that seem to like to focus on revenge, masculinity, and violence more than the psychological horror of grief, insanity, and unreality that gives Hamlet its power, imo. If I were to direct this play...

-Hamlet would be more sad than angry.

-Claudius's dismissal of Hamlet's grief and his manipulation of Laertes would be a major focal point

-Ophelia would get some damn autonomy! I would not portray her breakup with Hamlet as an invention of her father- she has every right to be angry with him, regardless of the plot to determine the cause of Hamlet's grief.

-On the topic of Hamlet and Ophelia, let their relationship be toxic in both directions! Hamlet is obviously a dick to Ophelia, but she breaks up while he is in the midst of a mental health crisis. They're awful to each other, in large part because of the manipulation of their parents.

-Hamlet, Horatio, Ophelia, Ros, Guil and Laertes would be college-aged. (Hamlet, Horatio, & Ophelia and Ros & Guil: ~19/20, college sophomores; Laertes ~21/22, college junior or senior.) Their age is important to this play and I will die on this hill. It frames their immaturity in an understandable way rather than a "why are these grown adults so goddamn stupid" way and really adds to the tragedy of Claudius's manipulation of these young adults who are still coming into their own. (Also because I will be attending college this year, and this experience is one I understand)

-I would NOT downplay Hamlet and Horatio's relationship. They're queer. It makes the story what it is.

-Hamlet would get to cry. A lot. Framing this against Claudius's concept of (toxic) masculinity is something I want to see in this story.

-For a more creative/further from canon approach, I'd love a story where Horatio is clearly framed as the narrator. Maybe we open the play as a story he is telling to Fortinbras/at Hamlet's funeral. As the plot develops, Horatio becomes invested as if it's all real again and we get his desperate attempts to protect Hamlet (to stop him from following the ghost, begging him to trust his gut during the duel, etc.) as an impossible attempt to free Hamlet from the narrative he himself created. The play ends as it started, with Horatio telling Fortinbras the story of Hamlet's life and death.

Thank you for this ask! Apparently, I had a lot to say! I'm glad you're enjoying my Shakespeare content. There will absolutely be more of it!!!

[shi-kiori]

Note 12: Rage and Pain

hello. it's 2024, and its been a year since i last posted. not to say in the least that ive been better. ive been tolerating, i feel like is the right word. but what made me write this now is my ongoing anguish with life, with family, with work and in general, with myself. new year, new me right? the things we tell ourselves hoping for better times, less painful moments. to keep that hope is good yet blinding and painful at the same time.

i drove to work and home today. as i was on the way home, being the ever-so reserved daughter and woman i am, talked to myself about my problems, about my mental anguish and about my sadness. i feel like its nothing new. ive been posting about pretty much my depression here as an outlet for a lack of a better term. in talking to myself, did i let my tears fall. in talking to myself, did i realize that i truly am alone in this world. to share my pain with no one else. to have nobody understand the things i want to share, the deeply rooted sadness that contains me in every day i live, i breathe in the world. its no secret here that my family is the number one source of my rage yet my pain at the same time and this is because of my love for them. truly a curse i dont think ill ever get up from. and i wanted to write here again to let this out. my words are slurring and i feel tears well up inside me yet all i can do is mask them in front of the people i so desperately want to cry to. its pathetic and its sad really. im turning 25 this year and yet my secret wants and desires still stem from things i shouldve gotten over 10 years ago.

its in this that the sadness in my heart continues to spread its roots. i had to cry by myself to sleep this week bc of how inconsiderate they are and of how invalidated, unappreciated and unloved i felt from the people i care about my family. i know the most obvious thing to do is to talk to them but when you've tried and tried and it never worked, why would u bother?

tw/ self harm, suicide

ive thought abt killing myself honestly, its gotten that bad these past months. idk if ill ever feel good about myself if its always just temporary. the greatest downs are complemented with the greatest highs. like im in a soap opera waiting for my great climax and my great downfall at the same time.

and yet again as im writing this down, im silently killing the hope in me that ill ever feel okay about this. ive been reading books to meditate, to recenter myself, to feel.....something. instead of slicing my skin, instead of feeling the blood trickle down, i want to try to be better.

until then, im just a fire running on fumes ive never wanted to use in the first place.

and if there is a god up there and if there is an angel silently watching my every move, i pray that i do feel better without needing my family for it.

oh a tragedy, and yet the comedy that is my life

-end-

[televinita]

We watched No One Will Save you today and I am SO FEELINGS-ADDLED RIGHT NOW.

On the one hand: I disliked more about it than I liked. The aliens were gross, the body horror was gross, I had to have the internet explain it to me at the end because the plot made no damn sense, and everything happening with the electricity surges and doors flying open had me screaming WHY ISN'T IT JUST GHOSTS. MAKE IT A SPOOKY MOVIE WITH GHOSTS. MAKE IT GOOD. The world is in desperate need of a good haunted house movie again and this could have been a five-star entrant.

On the other: Kaitlyn Dever was amazing. She's always amazing, but in the first two minutes of Brynn's character establishment -- what a lovely name btw --with her beautiful old farmhouse surrounded by trees with her little display village and her old-fashioned everything, I was gone. And when it became clear she was a town pariah despite being So So Sad about it, keeping herself isolated while yearning for human connection and lost without her mom (not to mention a best friend who had previously died, possibly in a way that was her fault)...? I fully started weeping for her. Give me a novel. Give me a realistic contemporary novel right now.

And since there's no dialogue and she spends most of the movie vacillating between tears and terror, she acted her heart out and wrenched mine in basically every single scene. There was a whole AU side movie playing in my head, tbh, about how forget that loser neighbor she's looking at -- what if this was a regular home invasion and, after surviving a night of unimaginable horrors, there happened to be a new hire of a kind-eyed deputy in town. Whose heart immediately went out to her while on the scene the next day. And what if while trying to figure out why his boss and everyone else was such an asshole about it (her backstory is simply not that bad?? to me. she was twelve, and reactive), he made it his mission to continue checking up on her/being her friend. Maybe more. Eventually. Even though she's probably never had a boyfriend so this is gonna have to go reeeeally slow.

Oh No am I gonna have to do a fanfiction about this....?? I've never really understood why fanworks are often so transformative in nature (if you aren't expanding on/filling a canon gap or at least just fixing an ending, why r u here?), UNTIL NOW. This character needs to be in an entirely different story and genre. I will free her!) (not the way the creepy aliens did) (although restricted to the circumstances of this narrative, I guess I'm glad for her)

P.S. I ran roughshod over my plans to elaborate on this before, but other things I love about Brynn include her old-fashioned wardrobe (those dresses! the hair ribbons!), her old house full of old-fashioned furnishings (which I'm going to assume was put together by her mom and she hasn't changed a thing since the latter's death), what I assume is an Etsy business that brings in just enough money to hang onto the paid-off house/land, and the pleasure she gets from building her lovely little town of miniature buildings where everything is perfect and nothing bad happens. Those things clutter thrift stores so much/are such a grandma-interest cliche that I don't think we as a society appreciate how actually cool a concept they are, especially when you're a kid. What if you are a kid who is socially stunted by tragedy of their own making and becomes a homebody and never really grows up.

*sobs* I just love Brynn and want good things for her so much.

If it's possible to find, like, Crimson Peak-level details of background concepts for her character...that would be appreciated.

[illest-stan]

U destroyed me from the inside out. Yet all I can do is think about you. Do you ever think about the things you've put me through, or is your ego really that blinding that you truly believe I'm the only one who has done wrong. I picked up my broken pieces by myself just to mend yours back together. I sit here night after night thinking about the rumors you believe and wonder how someone who claimed they loved me could seriously think I would be so evil. My mind, body, and soul weren't who I really was when you first experienced me, so I decided to work on myself because I knew you were someone I wanted to put in effort for. I thought we had moved on because of the words you expressed to me, only to find out nothing you were relaying was true. It's hard to understand how you think I am the liar. My mental illness started to act up so I decided to move out because you kept talking about needing space, but with that space you filled it with drugs and money instead of growth. I clung on to your soul as tightly as I could, praying to a god that I don't believe in to please bring you back to me. Bring me the man I know, the man who is mine and mine only. I prayed to anything that would listen. But you kept slipping further and further from my grasp, and I started to see the harsh reality of someone who was never mine to begin with. The pain of realizing I'd never be loved by you the way you promised was worse than that of even the death of my own grandmother and best friend. They say with my condition we feel emotional turmoil like a 2nd degree burn patient with burns covering 90% of their body, but this pain I could swear had every inch of my flesh scorched to the bone, till there was nothing left to do but disintegrate. I had nothing left to do, to say, to try. The only thing I could, the only thing that my inner child was screaming out for was to numb it all. "Please make it fucking stop", were the only words my body could ever make out from my soul because my heart couldn't stop weeping. So Instead of kissing your lips to finally feel peace, I kissed the tip of any bottle I could get my hands on, until there was nothing left. I finally could get some sleep because the crying and the liquor mixed together like NyQuil and it seemed like my favorite remedy until the sun would rise and the light would pierce my eyes and I would have to go through the same cycle of agonizing pain all over again. I had done this for months, 7 to be exact. You would show up sometimes, mean, disconnected, malnourished, but your presence was the only thing I craved so I took what I could get. Giving me the euphoria I so desperately needed and then you would disappear again only for my days to drowned into eachother again. Tragedy struck finally and the very thing I prayed for not to happen, did. Like it was some inevitable destiny that not even the gods could interfere with. I started to never see you again. Never feel you again. Now I was a junkie, looking for my fix, ready to expierence you anyway you would allow me to, and everyone around didn't recognize me anymore. And I didn't recognize you. Then I was left with the only question I had left, how can you say I did not love you?

///Spz\\\

[yuukei-yikes]

REASONS TO LOVE SHINTARO AS A CHARACTER:

first of all; hes a gamer boy depicted as he really is and not what he thinks he is: a fucking loser who fails at every social situation and also stinks

aside from the jokes, i think he has two main songs in the whole series: toumei answer and lost time memory. im just gonna share lyrics from each song that makes me go INSANE thinking about him:

"The alarm that starts ringing/Says to my lonely self: you're a coldhearted fool" <- his guilt here is delicious to me like he blames himself for her death and yes he did act shitty and he abandoned her but he didnt do it out of malice he did it bc he didnt know how to approach her but he thinks he killed her and its also killing him OUGH

"The color of your hair/The shape of your smile/Someone might have already forgotten it" <- and then HES the one who forgets everything about ayano bc of the trauma like here he laments that her absence that has already changed his entire world might be this insignificant to someone else AND YET AND YET HIS MIND LOCKS HER OUT ITS JUST. OUGH

(NOT TO MENTION HIS FACIAL EXPRESSION WHEN HE SEES THE FLOWERS WHEN HE REALIZES WHEN HE SEES THE PAPER CRANE)

(get ready for lost time memory brainrot bc that kills me every fucking time its my fav song)

"Even after years, the shadow doesn't fade/It only invites more emotions." <- he doesnt remember but the absence is heavy on his mind it KILLS me

"If I'm 'wise' then, I can't face forward/I have no reason to so, I'll rot away instead." <- self destructive EVEN in the good route where hes not as suicidal like being self deprecating is a huge part of his brain

"Feeling hazy, let's remain unaffected today too/And keep up yesterday's pace/So that I won't ever forget your warmth/If I'm wishing for a dream that can't come true, then/I'll embrace this blurry past and have a dream which I don't wake up from" <- GOING INSANE GOING FERAL hes SO FULL OF REGRET and hes SUCH A STUPID BITCH that his solution is to stay in his own head and live in his dreams (literally) like i want to hug him and i want to slap him

"A rotten boy at 18 today too, prayed again/While clinging on to your colorful smile" <- just imagining how route X shintaro is often colored with black and dull colors bc his world has lost the color OUGH

(god just. the ending part where he desperately reaches out to clutch ayano vs him moving on from the tragedy and the proud and tearful smile of ayano just HNNGGH HE REALLY GREW DIDNT HE)

(and who cant relate to wanting to change things bc u lost ur chance before but u cant change anything so u just disappear into ur head trying to either comfort urself by daydreaming or trying to find other stuff, try to forget ur will and wallow in passivity, its just so *chefs kiss*)

i get it hes not a very likable person and he does act shitty and bratty and the anime really doesnt give him the floor to change BUT!!! give him a chance and he WILL become ur poor little meow meow. guaranteed.

reply under read more cuz this should be its own post!! and also all i gotta say is YESSSS YEEEES YESSSSS shintaro is. such a good character and i also wanna cry my eyes out with EVERYTHING abt lost time memory.

he's just a stupid guy and the thing abt shintaro is that he will ALWAYS do what's right. he has a very strong sense of justice and he's very clear on his principles. and he will always speak up for others and stand up for what he thinks is right. and this like... a HILARIOUS virtue for a character who is ALSO so awkward, difficult to approach, bratty and self centered. like that's so funny.he is such a special little guy and HE IS AWESOME

he's so cringe fail and an asshole but he's also the hero and deserves praise for it. like cry about it. he is a good guy but he's also the worst. but also he's the best. hope that helps

he and ayano are such character foils... like.... both have this strong sense of justice and they're really really REALLY the damn heroes. hold on i need to cry a little