#and they were always so convinced he was emotionless and therefore couldn’t have actual feelings on things

[prisonpodcast]

Also people who said c!techno had a victim complex pls never try to analyze any piece of media again ever, please and thank you 🙏🏻

[vpyre]

No Matter How Tremulous the Flame, the Ice Will Always Melt

William hadn’t seen Grelle today, which wouldn’t have been out of the ordinary had she been like any other employee; but with Grelle being Grelle, usually not a day went by without some sort of dramatic entrance or other loud indication of her presence. The last time it had been this quiet was when she’d landed herself in the infirmary in critical condition for reasons he would rather not dwell on at the moment. He tended to avoid thinking about things that involved demons, after all (or was it that there was something else about the memory that he didn’t want to acknowledge…?).

Giving himself a mental slap to refocus, he skirted around that train of thought and back to the here and now. In the here and now, he had paperwork to collect. With a beleaguered sigh, he got up out of his comfortable desk chair, strode towards the dark wooden door of his office, and stepped out into the corridor. He checked that his door was locked before making his way down the hall. While the management division employees were granted private offices in deference to their primary role of checking paperwork and doing other administrative-type things; retrieval division workers had a much more temporary, rudimentary setup, as they were rarely in one place for long.

He walked past rows and rows of cramped and messy cubicles, heading for the filing area in the back where finished work was left to be collected. He was so focused on his task he nearly missed the waving hand from the cubicle he was passing, but he caught it out of the corner of his eye at the last moment. The reaper he was facing was not one he knew well, though he was sure he'd seen him around before. When William was within a conversational distance of him, the reaper (Will thought his name might be Miles) spoke up.

"Any idea what's wrong with Sutcliff? He's been very quiet today, and-"

"She," William cut in automatically, almost distractedly, like he hadn't quite realized he'd spoken; but he didn’t waver or elaborate.

”Fine. She has been very quiet today, and I was wondering if you knew anything about it, seeing as you’re his- er, her favorite reaper and therefore the most likely to hear something. Now, normally I wouldn’t be asking, but the silence’s just throwing me off a bit, to tell you the truth.”

Will frowned. Maybe something really was wrong. He told Miles he’d check up on her, then bade him farewell; he did still have a job to do. He’d pick up his papers, then stop by her cubicle on the way out.

He strode down the wide, cluttered aisle towards the back, pondering what he had heard. Someone walked by, but it took him a good few seconds to drag himself from his thoughts enough to process who it was. To his utter surprise, he found he had actually passed Grelle without noticing her right away. That was unheard of! Her very presence demanded the undivided attention of everyone in the room, without exception. However, it seemed that somehow an exception had been made. He watched her as she continued trudging on in the opposite direction without a word of greeting or even acknowledgement. This was also abnormal. She never ignored him; in fact, it was a constant struggle getting her to leave him be. And he had never seen her hunched into herself like that before, like she hoped she would disappear.

He felt his concern for her well up from where he tried to keep it stuffed away; that deep, dark place on the very fringes of his consciousness. That treacherous pit filled with things and thoughts and feelings he didn't want to face, not that he even knew how to face them to begin with. He hated demons, and that included his own. But that day had changed something in him, and he had let himself feel for the first time in more than a century. Now, he tentatively embraced his worry, though he absolutely refused to show it outwardly in front of all these other reapers. That was where he drew the line.

Despite his reservations, he had to make certain she was alright. Abandoning his bid for the paperwork in the back of the room, he turned and made a beeline for Grelle’s cubicle instead, anxiety pricking at him all the way. What if he said something to make it worse somehow? What if he had spent so long as a cold, emotionless statue of ice that he no longer knew how to comfort someone else? He took a steadying breath. He would try. She’d understand that he was doing his best; she was a thoughtful woman, after all. At the rate he had been going, he likely never would have opened up to emotion at all had it not been for her, and that thought soothed his worry slightly. He just wished he'd been kinder to her before, wished it hadn't taken her nearly dying to defend him to make him realize how much she genuinely cared. He was still in awe of her bravery and selflessness in that moment, in the face of such a terrible foe; an enemy that he despised.

He stopped in what qualified as the doorway of her makeshift office, and when she didn't seem to notice him standing there, he spoke up.

"Sutcliff."

She tensed almost imperceptibly, then looked up at him from her seat at her well-kept desk. "Oh. Hi, Will," she said, a little hoarsely and much quieter than he had ever heard her speak. She cleared her throat, then gave him a smile that might have been convincing had her eyes not given her away. Aside from the redness and ever-so-slight puffiness that her makeup couldn't quite hide, the nature of the thoughts and feelings behind them was impossible to disguise. He could see the pain and exhaustion in them. He could feel it stagnating in the confines of her tiny, constricting cubicle; hanging in the air and darkening her countenance like fog blocking out the sun. No amount of makeup could ever hope to obscure anything when Grelle's emotions, whether positive or negative, were always so powerful. She was like the sun: her warmth radiated out from her, touching everyone in sight; but when that warmth was covered by clouds, leaving only cold and rain, everyone in sight felt the loss.

William was shaken from his musings by her voice. "Is there something you need?"

He sighed. "To be perfectly honest, Grelle, I'm concerned for you. You've been unordinarily quiet today, and I can tell from just being near you that you are not feeling well. If you need a sick day, that can be arranged."

For a moment, she looked surprised- she wasn't used to him caring- then slumped down and let out a sigh of her own. "I'm not sick."

When she didn't elaborate, he asked, "Then what's wrong?"

She looked away and fell silent, but he could feel the tension crackling in the air as her emotions swelled to the surface, despite her efforts to keep them down. Finally, she breathed out, "I'm tired," and it felt like empty space itself had frozen.

Her wavering voice shot lines of striking grey exhaustion through the silence and the stillness, slicing through it like razor wire; like fragile threads of lightning before a sky-cracking boom of thunder. Will felt that if it had been raining, the drops would have hung suspended in space, a manifestation of stopped time. She turned to face him again, and he felt a jolt go through his body when he saw wetness in her eyes. It wasn't from surprise. No, the jolt came from the sheer pervasive power of her pain. It pierced through him in a way he had only ever experienced once before, and he was struck dumb.

This is just like that day, this depth of feeling. I never suspected that her pain was so overwhelming, just as I never thought her affection for me ran so deeply that she would be willing to sacrifice her life to defend me from that demon. What a nightmare that was. I thought she was dead; there was so much blood. She was in the infirmary on the verge of a second death for two days, and in recovery for a week. I never have and never will forget how quiet and empty dispatch felt without her. The whole ordeal shook some humanity back into me, and for that, I will forever be grateful; I just don't ever want to see her suffer again.

But here she was, suffering. She was in pain, and he didn't know what to do; just like that day. The tears in her eyes silently welled up and spilled over, leaving thin tracks as they rolled down her cheeks. He stood uselessly in the doorway, mind frantically racing to think of some way to help her, to make her hurt go away. His thoughts were blurring together, clashing and roiling, whiting out his senses. They were building and building; soon he would burst. When it all got to be too much, he threw logic out the window and gave in to instinct instead. He strode forward, wrapped his arms around her, and just held her. Her body stiffened and her eyes widened, but then she relaxed and sank into his embrace. She broke down and the tension broke with her; the taut cords of repressed emotion snapped, the suspended drops began to fall, the thunder cracked the charged stillness in twain. She buried her face in his shoulder and hugged him closer, squeezing her eyes shut and clenching his suit coat in her fists with the force only granted to someone in the throes of sorrow. He sat still and let her cry; God knows she needed to let it all out somehow. Through her tears, she told him how she was tired of her drawn-out existence, how every time someone mistook her for a man she felt like it chipped a piece off of her soul, how her past haunted her and dogged her every step. She let it all spill out, and William couldn't help but admire the ease with which she expressed her feelings. He admired it, and he hoped that one day he would be able to do the same. If she were anyone else, he doubted he would have even begun to get back in touch with himself, and for that, he would be forever grateful to her.

Gradually, she quieted, sobs turning to quiet tears, tears turning to the occasional sniff. She pulled away and gave him a small smile through red eyes. "I'm surprised that you stayed through all that. I honestly didn't think you would." She looked away, then quietly added, "But I'm glad you cared enough to. Thank you."

He hesitantly laid a hand on her shoulder, and she looked back up at him. He held her gaze and said, "I should be thanking you. You brought me out of my stagnation because you cared enough to; and for that, you have my gratitude- and my friendship if you should so desire. I cannot excuse my prior callous treatment of you, but I can try to make up for it by being here for you now. You are the flame of the dispatch, Grelle. You keep us moving, even if no one else realises that. We wouldn't be functional without you, and neither would I. So thank you."

She sat still for a moment, making nary a sound, and he worried that it was all too much. Then, slowly, her face lit up with a grin and she threw her arms around him again. He felt her returning warmth in her embrace, and he genuinely smiled for the first time in more than a century.

[peebleswrites]

Can I pleaseeee request something with Ulquiorra!? It's difficult to see him being sweet or romantic but I'm ready for whatever he can give 🤣

GASP. YAY. FIRST REQUEST. THANK YOU. Gotta say, this was a challenge! But it was always really fun and I enjoyed writing this piece. I hope you like it!

ULQUIORRA X FEMALE!READER

About three months had gone by since the Arrancars mysteriously appeared in the world of the living, sans the previously deep seeded hatred of humans and Shinigami. In short, they had no evil intentions whatsoever and seemed curious, some more than others, over the lifestyle of humans.

Everyone was of course wary, worried they’d fly off the handle and a war would once again loom on the horizon in the minds of both the soul society and the world of the living. Until Y/N was the first to offer an extension of goodwill to the once evildoers, thus triggering a snowball affect of successful communication between the three parties.

And so, the former Espada remained in the world of the living, assimilating into the culture and assuming somewhat normal lives!

“Say Y/N,” Orihime began one afternoon during lunch upon the roof. All eyes trained to the busty bubble of joy as she posed a question in Y/N’s direction.

“What’s your type? I mean, what sort of guy are you interested in?” Pretty much everyone was equally surprised as they were curious which included a certain arrancar who’d normally find such drabble ridiculous and an utter waste of time. 

Since his arrival, or rather, since those of his kind had been accepted in this world, Ulquiorra had taken something of an interest in Y/N. She was the first to accept him, all of them, and he’d always been curious concerning her reasoning. Surely, she intended to gain something by having them as allies, right? Y/N was just a human. It would make sense for her to align herself with the strong.

Yet…she didn’t appear to him as the type to use people for her own advantage. This only made her all the more interesting. As such, he used any and all opportunities afforded to him. All in efforts to garner what her true intentions were.

This was one of those opportunities.

“My type? Mmm…I guess someone who’s smart.” Y/N started before considering the rest of her response.

“Heh, that excludes you, Shinigami.” Grimmjow was first to comment, roughly punching Ichigo in the shoulder with that snarl of a grin covering his feral features. The jab nor the remark was taken well by the aforementioned male who soon retaliated with an equal amount of force.

“What the hell?! That means you too, dumbass!” And of course, that triggered the beginning of their usual bout which everyone had gotten so used to, it was pretty much ignored.

“I do like the strong, silent type, too. Oh! And a bit of spontaneity! You know, keeps things interesting!” While everyone seemed to agree, secretly they began to wonder just who among them she might be interested in. Meanwhile Ulquiorra was on an entirely different wavelength.

If Y/N found these qualities to be appealing, perhaps he could gain her trust by assuming these roles and therefore fulfill this self-appointed purpose of discovering her true intentions, thus deciding for himself if she were truly someone worthy of his trust.

No, it didn’t sound at all crazy in his head.

He has the smart part down and feels sufficiently confident in his intellect. Nothing to worry about there. The same can be said of his strength and more so of his silence. He is neither loud, nor boisterous. And while he wouldn’t call himself antisocial, he is prone to speak when he feels it is necessary to speak. Silence with a purpose.

That leaves the spontaneity.

In order to tackle this trait efficiently, he took to the human world dictionary!

“Performed or occurring as a result of a sudden inner impulse or inclination and without premeditation or external stimulus…” This may be something of a challenge for him. He never acts without thinking, without purpose. In fact, he is hard pressed to believe he could start. But not entirely convinced…yes, he could do this.

He would start by following Y/N. Not in the creepy stalker sense but more along the lines of trying to get to know her likes without actually asking himself. He would use the ever talkative Orihime to do his bidding.

“What sort of candy do you like, Y/N? I like something sweet and tangy but also sour and a little bitter with a fluffy kind of texture!” Dear gods, what could she possibly be describing was the expression that Ulquiorra currently wore while listening to the conversation. Y/N assumed a rather uneasy expression before responding accordingly.

“I like F/C. Not really a fan of much else.” Y/N’s response was simple something Ulquiorra could appreciate and perhaps do something with.

“So that’s what she likes…”

The next day, all eyes were on the former fourth espada when he strolled into class, dragging a large sack behind him which he dumped onto Y/N’s desk without a word. She stared at him then the sack partially obscuring her vision before opening her mouth to respond

“Uh…Ulquiorra? What’s this?”

“Don't ask useless questions.” And that was all he said before casually walking to his chair like he didn’t rouse the entire class with a cloud of confusion. With furrowed brows, Y/N peeked into the sack, only to spot copious amount of her favorite candy! It looked like a whole year’s supply of it! What the heck…

Who could’ve known that he’d been listening in on her conversation with Orihime? Or that he’d continue to do such in order to exercise this growing need to display his spontaneity. Which, he realized at one point, wasn’t really spontaneous at all because he was thinking about these acts way too hard!

Like when she expressed a desire to have more rice in her lunch, so he proceeded to give her extra portions the next day. Or when she grew tired during gym and he suddenly picked her up over his shoulder to run the rest of her laps. Or when she complained over the lack of sleep she was getting due to the neighbor’s dog barking all night so he insisted on training the canine not to be noisy.

Okay so…maybe he was being spontaneous, but Y/N had grown suspicious enough and needed some answers.

“Ah…Ulquiorra? Could I talk to you for a moment?” Y/N approached him after class one day, appearing somewhat nervous. He agreed with a simple nod while teeming on the inside with anticipation. This could quite possibly be the moment he has been working for so diligently. His efforts were at last being acknowledged.

“Uh so…listen, it’s about uhm…how you’ve been acting recently…” If it wasn’t obviously, Y/N was having a hard time expressing what she really wanted to say. Ulquiorra, of course, noticed this.

��Speak, woman.” A curt response that Y/N honestly should’ve expected prompted nothing more than a sigh.

“What’s your problem?!” Which triggered an explosive response that Ulquiorra honestly didn’t see coming if the sight of his eyes widening were any indication.

“Elaborate.” Eyes that soon softened to their normal size while gleaming with hints of mild apprehension for he never expected her of all people to express feelings of displeasure with him.

“You keep doing these weird things! First it was the candy! Then all the rice! Then you carried me around the track even when I told you to put me down! Now my neighbor is telling me you trained their dog! Are you making fun of me? Is this some arrancar way of bullying?!”

“You believe I am bullying you?”

“Yes!”

She was yelling at him. And calling him a bully, of all things. How could his intentions have been so horribly misinterpreted? How could she misunderstand him to such a degree? Could he have been wrong? Were his methods misguided or incorrect? It would seem he would need to evaluate his form of spontaneity and employ a different tactic.

“I see. I will try something else, then.” Yes, he would go back to the drawing board, reconsider his options, his resources, and try other ways of being spontaneous.

“Wait!” Y/N name suddenly grabbed onto his arm. His eyes instantly fell to her hands. Her touch triggered a slither of a response, a tingling sensation that was unfamiliar. When’s the last time anyone had laid non-threatening hands on him, he wondered.

“What?” Visibly she flinched back but maintained her countenance alongside the ever-present confusion.

“What are you trying to do? What’s all this about? I want to know!” This expression. The raw emotion on her face. He remembered it well. It was this stubborn, foolish disposition she maintained that played a key role in the Shinigami taking their presence as a non-threat. It was this expression that led him to find a purpose through her.

It was this very same gleam that triggered perhaps the most spontaneous act he’d committed thus far, the cupping of his hand upon her cheek. He wouldn’t be able to explain what caused him to do it or why his hand stayed. He just knew her cheek felt soft and warm and he sort liked the way her expression shifted as his hand remained.

“Your ‘type,’ as you humans refer to it, is someone who is spontaneous, is it not?” He brandished his usual emotionless façade, awaiting a response from her aside from the stunned silence she seemed to be trapped in.

“I…you…ah…you want to be my type…?” Dumbfounded. She was utterly dumbfounded. And he couldn’t understand why she was behaving so shocked. Wasn’t he being obvious?

“In a manner of speaking, yes. I see now that my actions are ineffective.” How ridiculous. For him to fail at such a task was unprecedented. He could hardly fathom such a thing. As such, he needed to take time away, regroup, and think of different ways to convey this message to her.

“If you’ll excuse me.” His hand fell away from her cheek only to be grabbed by one of hers. A second extension of contact and a second shock that shot up his senses. He eyed her once again with his empty stare, but she didn’t appear at all perturbed by it. In fact, she offered a rather hopeless smile.

“I…I think it’s working. I mean, you’ve got my attention.” Once again, she stunned him. This time, not with her gleaming determination but with a meek smile and subtle, gentle, squeezing of his hand. He couldn’t have imagined such a small gesture could be so impactful. How strange…

“Oh? I will continue, then.”

“Wait, no—.”

It would seem he was at least on the right track to deciphering her true intentions while simultaneously gaining her trust. Surely, he’d get it this spontaneous act right eventually.

A/N: Poor Ulquiorra. He means well. Again, hope you enjoy! Also this is my first time doing this so I hope the format isn't weird? Thanks!

[hanna-kin]

I feel like I’m the only one that didn’t completely hate season three or actually prefer it to season 2. 

There where definitely things I didn’t like but over all I think the season was pretty good. 

The things I didn’t like:

Martin’s death. Felt unnecessary but I didn’t expect it before the season started so I’ll give them that. I guess they wanted to show his love for Simone and the death scene was super sad. I just think they could have had them together in the end and changed the whole story arch from Martin getting infected to him finding out about Simone before and leaving to find her. He came such a long way and he was such a good character. He deserved better. His death also made the impact of the ending and Rasmus death seem less impactful? Because Simone cried her eyes out at him dying and when Rasmus died later on they couldn’t have her have another breakdown so they took another route which made it feel like she didn’t care as much about Rasmus? 

The weird animal like kids. It felt like they wasted a lot of time on them when they didn’t bring much to the plot. But I do like that they showed more people trying to survive the aftermath of the virus and how miserable people were. I just wish they had showed it in an other way instead of kidnapping Luna, drugging the rest of them and destroying the flower that ended up killing all but one of them. 

Sarah. I just don’t like her. Didn’t in season 2 and didn’t now. I’m really indifferent towards her. I like that she can stand her ground and does what she wants and that she was like no, when Rasmus wanted her to kill all of their friends. But in the end she being there for the sacrifce just made it feel less impactful for me because I just don’t care for her character. I wanted the end to focus on Simone and Rasmus and them only. I just don’t think Sarah and Rasmus’ lovestory is that epic or impactful. Oh and how did she just end up at Apollon? Like how? So random? 

The things I was okay with: 

The flower cure. Felt a bit random but I really liked that there was a cure and I liked that it fed and lived from the virus itself was great. I just wanted a bit more explanations. How did it end up in the swiming pool? Where did it come from? Maybe a few more flashbacks from Daniel’s past. 

Sten. And mainly the pacing of his story lina. AKA them killing him off relatively early. I enjoyed seing his whole plan to get invincible backfired because his plan to let Rasmus infect him was really flawed. What did he expect? But after him maniuplating and using Rasmus for months if felt satisfying to see him go. But I had expected him to last a bit longer and play a bigger part in the end. Maybe Rasmus switching sides in the end and go after him? I’m not gonna lie for a long time I was convinced it was gonna be revealed that Sten was Rasmus dad. Especially when Rasmus and Simone talked about their dad and him saying he loved rasmus? Was it one last effort to manipulate him or what? I’m a bit intrigued. 

The world outside of the wall. I’ve seen people say that they didn’t like the fact that the virus spread outside of the wall but it didn’t bother me at all. Felt very Scandivian to have it that way. 

Jean. I really didn’t like him in season two. In season 1 he was alright but in season 2 I couldn’t stand him. Felt like he grew a bit in season 3 though and went from only following Lea to grieving her and trying to move on, and to become more of his own character. 

Simone. Loved her in season 1 and 2 but in season 3? Why was she so impuslive and also super unsympathatic at times? Half the time she felt pretty indifferent towards the fate of Rasmus when she spent most of season 1 and 2 trying to save him? 

Rasmus. Now, Rasmus is my overall favourite character but in season 3 I didn’t love him all the time. Didn’t like his more power hungry side and that he became Sten 2.0 for a couple of episodes. But then I remind myself that his story is so tragic and that he lived at Apollon for 3 months by himself and in the hands of Sten which makes me feel for him. 

What I really liked:

Patrick. Best character arch. Softest boy. Best guy. Have feared his death since before season 2. Loved what he did in season 3. Love him and Fie together. Feel so sorry for him that he lost Martin. 

Fie. I really loved Fie this season. She is strong and smart and she did what she thought was right but still looked out for herself and her baby. 

Kira. Same here. I just love her. She is so good. A strong leader but also so vulnerable. Loved that she let her guard down around Jean and that we got to see more of her backstory. The only good swedish character? Haha, all the others were so bad (as in villians) not as in badly written. 

Daniel. Dare I say the best new character they ever introduced after season 1? Maybe a tie with Kira. He deserves love and happiness and I’m so glad he lived. I was super scared he was gonna die. 

Rasmus’ fate. I liked tha fact that he died in the end. It felt fitting. He was saved by the virus so it made sense that he was destined to die. He would have died as a child without it as well. I also like the twist that while trying to save others he made himself weaker and the virus started attacking him. It was like he was feeding all of them his own energy, making them stronger and him weaker. Like I said he was gonna die anyway. I’m glad he changed his mind right at the last second and that the show focused on its core which is Simone and Rasmus. I just wish the scene lasted a bit longer and that Sarah wasn’t involed. The last scene with Simone sitting by Rasmus side though and running her fingers through his hair? I tear up just thinking about it. Such a tender scene. I just wanted them to have one more loving moment together. Rasmus was so lonely throughout most of the series. In season 1 he had Simone and connected only with Beatrice and she died. In season 2 with Sarah and she died and returned. And in season3 he mostly had Sarah because Simone was elsehwere doing her thing and planing to kill him. Meanwhile Simone made all kinds of realtionships with almost all of the people she met. It just makes Ramus fate even sadder but also more fitting. He only had Simone and really wanted her approval and felt let down by her because she lost fate in him which makes sense. Ugh now I’m sad. I wish he had gotten to hear her say that she loved him again.  

The infected. I liked that they didn’t make all of them emotionless killing machines which they easily could have done. In the end they didn’t become evil and they didn’t actually want to kill anybody. They were still kids. The virus did affect them but ultimately they were still human. What would have been cool would be to see some flashbacks from them though. 

The acting. Especially Alba and Lucas and this season Lucas in particular. I think he really showed alot of Rasmus’ sides and while I hated his more dark side think Lucas did a solid performance. And Alba has always been great. And the rest of the cast is solid too. 

The characters over all. Many people have said that the characters were all over the place and I’ve heard people complain about them being stupid, whiny etc throughout the whole series but in my opinion the rain is really good at showing character’s with flaws and strengths that remain consitant throughout the show but with development nonetheless. 

Overall I think season 3 was pretty good. Not as good as season 1 but I still prefere it to season 2. I would change some parts though and would have added a couple of episodes in order to develop some plots. I do agree with people saying it became less character driven which was always what I loved in season 1. And therefore I understand people’s disappointment. I just don’t think it was that bad. 

That’s all I guess. Pretty ranty and I guess not many people will even read or care. But if you want to share your thoughts, good or bad that would be awesome. 

[monkeydluffy19920]

Respond: Is Sanji a pervert?

In reference to/inspired by [x] @cruising-on-pirate-dreams

It’s always been an interesting topic to see how people interpret Sanji’s character, in general. Usually, if he is not liked in fandom, he is seen as a hardcore pervert who thinks nothing more than that and all the arguments are based on his will to peep women and his nose bleedings. Then, there are other thoughts, that consider that his ero- kappa side is partly an exaggerated gag made by Oda-sensei.

Ever since the beginning, it's been fun to ponder the reasons behind the characters’ behavior and Sanji is not an exception. Actually, he was one of the characters I didn’t completely like in the beginning, because back then, during the elementary school, it was hard to understand why would someone fall in love with (almost) every lady they meet. Then slowly his characteristic started to open more to my blind eyes and the more I saw the soft side of Sanji and how much he puts effort on his friends, the more reasonable it was to see why he is so popular among fans. It seems like the hate he gets is mostly because people pay attention to his lust-side and examine it only from one point of view.

There was a very interesting analyze written by @cruising-on-pirate-dreams about Sanji’s personality and tendency to be called pervert. In comparison, the fellow fan used Absalom and there were good points to be lifted up:

Absalom without a shame used his devil fruit skills to lurk on both Nami and Robin and never gave a rat’s eye whether Nami or Robin liked his forceful style to approach them. Both of them were clear objects to him that he licked and touched without permission, he even said openly that he likes Nami more because she is weaker in his eyes and later he kidnapped her and made her unconscious so he could marry her by force.

Sanji has a tendency to put himself into the submissive position, especially when it comes down to interacting with women. Yes, of course, he has this “I need lady~!”-kind of side but it’s remarkable how the more familiar/closer the woman is, the more submissive he actually is, in other words, he never puts himself above the ladies, especially when it comes down to interacting with Nami and Robin.

Before the Whole Cake Island arc was published, I’ve written in Reasons to love Mugiwaras - Sanji - post that I actually do believe that despite the reputation and what he gives out of himself in public (being tough and ladies man), deep inside he is actually very broken and vulnerable and once more of his past was revealed after the time skip, the more sense all the headcanons and speculations started to become logical.

The flashbacks in the Baratie arc showed that he was on edge of dying after the shipwreck which gave a little pieces of information about him but after the Germa66 and Sanji’s links into it were revealed, it was even more clear that he indeed had a terrible and traumatic childhood and suffered from great amounts neglection and abuse by his biological family until he escaped. The new supplement/update of the background story finally gave a further and more detailed explanation of why Sanji doesn’t see self-worth in himself and always puts others in front of him. He has put himself under the target line for his nakamas many times without caring how his own life and his dreams of finding All Blue would be thrown into waste if the worst-case scenario happened.

Thankfully, there was someone from the family standing by his side and therefore Sanji grew very close to his mother. Unfortunately, she passed away early due to the illness (that actually protected Sanji to become an emotionless killing machine like his brothers) and then he was again left all alone in his personal hell.  Sora’s death might’ve left a certain gap in his heart. Perhaps the reason he treats women kindly (especially the ones he really adores) has roots in Sora’s way to support Sanji and maybe inside his core, he decided to continue sharing her mother’s legacy of kindness. He might appear like a tough guy who swears like a sailor but only the fact that he has saved an enemy from starvation tells that Sanji truly has a heart of gold, just like Sora.

It’s highly likely that behind the scenes and below the surface,  Sanji could be actually looking for similar acceptance and unconditional love he got from his mother. But why then do all that ero-kappa stuff and womanizing when being around women? Mainly I still believe that it’s a continuous character gag just like Zoro’s poor sense of direction or Nami’s greediness but somehow it feels that there might be logical reasons behind this behavior.

Of course, it’s easy to interpret and only think that he is just a lustful pervert from the fact that his locker is full of girl magazines and that especially during the crew’s reunion after the time skip when it felt like Sanji couldn’t control himself with his nose bleedings.

However, if one takes a look to past 20 years One Piece has existed, it’s remarkable to see how much Sanji actually does pay respect to women, especially towards his crewmates. He doesn’t only give compliments on their appearance (i.e how cute they look) or use polite suffixes (”chan” and “san”) while communicating with them, he also praises openly and sincerely their skills and how strong they are. So, it’s obvious that Sanji definitely sees more than just their bodies.

Then to body swap, what @cruising-on-pirate-dreams wrote as well in another post. It’s easy to be seen that Sanji was happy that Law happened to swap his and Nami’s bodies and yes, he took peeks and adored the body features. However, because of this ero kappa-gag, one perspective is easily being left out of the spotlights (if readers didn’t pay enough attention): He did take good care of Nami’s body and he was aware how his actions can affect on her body and reflected on them many times. He smoked in her body but felt bad for doing that. Now it could be easily argued: “If he cares about Nami, why did he smoke in the first place?” but the answer is simple, he is a chain smoker and besides, Nami herself did give him the permission and the cigarettes in Punk Hazard.

Well, despite Nami’s warnings, he did take her jacket away when she wasn’t looking but he had a good reason (Kinemon’s torso was underwater and he happened to be the best swimmer out of the options) and besides, he apologized, just like he apologized for harming her lungs with his cigarettes. He also kept constantly worrying whether the diving would be too much for Nami’s body under the circumstances.

So, if Sanji really does only see Nami as a sexual object he wouldn't have feel an urge to apologize for things he did when their bodies were swapped. If she’d only matter to him for lustful reasons and for good looks, he could have taken the advantange on her by taking everything away and do more exploring (if he was alone) but he didn’t because obviously, they were busy solving the mess Caesar made but mostly, (putting aside the comedy-reasons) he knows that going further would have been way too disrespectful and would have violated their nakamaship (and would be against the fact that he has protected her purity back in Thriller Bark and tried to avoid to stain her) especially if he later got caught somehow and it would anyway make no sense if he wanted to hurt her in any way intentionally. 

So, at least for me especially Punk Hazard was an arc that proved that despite the comedy, Robin and Nami are clearly not objects for Sanji and although he surely has felt some lust towards them, he respects the boundaries treats them well and speaks with much softer tones to them and even uses certain suffixes while addressing them. 

Someone asked the reasons behind the suffixes and whether there are any deeper meanings  Oda’s response was that he was basically inspired by his older staff members who wanted to be treated as they were younger. Zeff taught Sanji chivalry and perhaps this detail of the story was really based on Oda’s real life.

Back to the previous topic, why is Sanji portrayed as a pervert? Well, mainly for sure to make balance with comics on heavy storylines and because being interest in opposite-sex openly seems to be part of who he is but then thinking below the surface, what if those wild nosebleeds and dreams about peeping women are all actually just a mask of him? Yes, he does have a crush easily on women he meets and flirts with them but what if there is more than that?

Actually, one of the headcanons I’ve had for years is that Sanji has experienced a traumatic loss that has given him the deep fear of losing the others he holds dear (and that’s why he'd be so sacrificial) and Whole Cake Island sort of supported that thought. It can be possible that because he was strongly bullied by his siblings and despised by his own father (being called a weakling and so on), this all has stained his self-confidence below zero for good and it still will take time to see that he is worthy. Hopefully, Luffy’s words back in Baratie and the retrieval team’s efforts and experiencing his lowest point before the tea party opened his eyes for good and gave his character the chance to grow.  

Like many fans agree, the only place where Sanji has complete confidence is anywhere that is related on his profession, cooking because Zeff convinced that the “chibi-Nasu” really does have potential in becoming a chef, otherwise, he can be surprisingly insecure although he doesn’t show it up openly, perhaps he hides it with this kind of actions.  On top of that, Zeff raised Sanji to respect women so if he really was a pervert and didn’t care about what his foster father taught, then perhaps he would act more like Absalom. However, (again setting the comical aspects aside), I think Sanji himself knows where to cross the line when it really comes down to women. Most likely Zeff wouldn’t approve if Sanji really thought that women are just objects of lust and Sanji probably doesn’t want to disappoint (even unconsciously) someone who saved him from certain death and raised him as his own child. 

Only Oda-sensei knows completely his character and knows the answers but Sanji’s behavior makes me wonder that what if actually at some point he has created kind of an “alter ego” to protect himself? What if he built himself a personality full of confidence so no one would see that deep inside, there is a fragile boy and a wounded man? Well, this is all just speculation so it’s hard to say whether there is any truth behind these thoughts or not but shortly said, Sanji is a great character and there are definitely reasonable reasons for his behavior, in general. However, he indeed is stuck in these ero kappa- gag and it’s sometimes a shame indeed that some (potentially shippy) moments are ruined by those weird faces or when he goes too lustful but on the other hand, it might be just Oda’s way to keep the series’ focus on the main points instead of romance

It’s really hard to believe that Sanji would actually be a pervert as in the term is officially described but once again, it’s all about interpretation. However, if one takes a closer look to the comparison between Sanji’s and Absalom’s interest in Nami (and other women) and comparing it to the facts of what perversion is in terms of human behavior,  it can be easy to tell that out of these two, Absalom is the true pervert.

[jaehoneey]

Trigger

» series: secret relationship au

» changbin x reader

» angst, slight fluff 

» setting: modern Korea

» warnings: mentions of guns, blades, and death

The fourth time you fell in love, you wished he pulled the trigger.

This lifetime was different from the past three; you were in a place you didn’t want to be in. You stumbled upon trouble without looking for it, and  you really wished that you could just get out.

When you were younger, your dad was always out, and your other dad was never around. Whenever you asked your dad about him, he would stop what we was doing, tell you to go to your room, and when you’d fallen asleep, he’d go to you, and kiss your forehead, whispering a quiet I’m sorry. When you got older, you understood why.

You didn’t choose this life, this life chose you. Your dad was a known mafia boss, and you just happened to be his only child, therefore making you the heiress to the empire that he was building. And he was so close, so close to finishing his job when someone finished him.

And that’s why you’re in the situation you’re in now; tied up to a chair, a gun pointed at your head, and yet, you didn’t feel any fear.

“Kill her,” the woman said, “son, just kill her.”

“But mom,” the boy retorted, “she’s pretty.”

You stiffened upon hearing those words-- maybe it was a flashback from your lifetime with Chan, maybe because you didn’t like how it came out in this context, maybe it was both.

The woman hummed and you brought your eyes up to her from the floor.

“She is, isn’t she?” She chuckled. “What do you plan to do with her?”

The gun was pulled away from your head and you swallowed the sigh of relief that wanted to come out, your stomach free from all the jitters; yeah, you weren’t scared, but you were nervous as fuck.

“Why don’t you just kill me?” You asked as you snapped your head to the son. “I’m better off dead.”

“True, you dying would mean less competition,” the boy agreed, “but like I said, you’re pretty.” He then turned to his mom and answered her question with a shrug. “Ruin her. I’m sure she knows how these things work. She doesn’t follow, she gets hurt, or worse. Killed.”

You figured you had no way out as the mom and son exchanged a look. It was no doubt that the mom was pleased with how her son was dealing with things, and without another word, she and her men left the room, leaving you alone with the boy you didn’t even know the name of.

“I swear to god,” you started, “you touch me, I’ll cut your finger off.”

The guy crouched down as he sighed, and in one swift motion, instead of a gun in his hand, it was a blade. You squirmed, you never liked the way knives cut into your skin, the stinging pain lasting longer than necessary, and you hated how anything could be varied. With guns, all you needed was the gun you were used to and the ammo, one shot to the head, you’re dead. But with blades? It varied in length, size, thickness, sharpness, bluntness, and the way it was used. You could either scratch someone or fully stab them, and sometimes, you couldn’t even control it.

“Relax, princess,” he said as he slightly ruffled his hair, not meeting your eyes, “the only reason I’ll be touching you,” his hand met yours, “would be to do this.”

You felt the restraints snap off your left hand followed by your right. You rubbed your wrists lightly as he removed the restraints from your waist and legs as well, and you stood up, not hesitating to disarm the boy of his blade to point it at him. He only chuckled, not even flinching as you held the tip of the blade against his neck, slightly piercing it to draw a trickle of blood.

“Unlike you, I’m quite used to the sting of blades. Almost make me feel at home.” He said. “And the pain coming from you? You’ll see that in time, you’ll enjoy it as much as I do.”

But you never did, and he understood, Changbin understood. Even though he had freed you from your physical restraints, those were nothing compared to the invisible restraints he had on you for he also had restraints from his mom. For months, you stayed in his room, for months you had to go through physical pain in order to convince his mom that he was ruining you; it was literally the only thing keeping you alive.

And today was the worst-- his mom had come to watch.

You were dragged back to the room where you were gun-held, and his mom was just sitting there, eyeing you carefully. “I couldn’t touch your dad,” she sighed deeply, “but now, seeing my son ruin you? I’m quite disappointed that your dear daddy couldn’t see how much pain you’re going through, that’s how I could’ve hurt him, I now realize. Your dad was invincible,” she chuckled dryly, “but I can’t say the same for his little heiress.”

She turned her gaze to Changbin. “Cut her.”

Changbin didn’t hesitate, not even for a second, and soon you felt a blade slicing into your skin, deeper than you liked, deeper than you were used to. You pulled away, hissing as you turned and glared at him. His face was emotionless, but his eyes, his eyes betrayed him. With the amount of months you had been with him, seen every side there was to see, you learned to read his movements, understand his actions, hear his words, and look in his eyes-- especially at times like this. He had talked to you before today, telling you that he had to really hurt you, to the point where you could even come out limping, but he would do everything to prevent that from happening.

And at this very moment, his eyes were screaming apologies.

Minutes into the fucked up entertainment, Mrs. Seo figured that she was satisfied enough.

“Throw her out tomorrow,” she said, “I’ve heard enough of her screams and whimpers. Tonight,” she smiled sickly, “tonight, you make her moan.”

When you returned to Changbin’s room, he immediately set you down on his bed as he ran to his bathroom and came back with a wet cloth and a first-aid kit. He cleaned your cuts with soft apologies spilling out of his lips all the time, he kissed them softly before applying ointment and bandaging them up, and last, he wiped your cheeks from the dried and fresh tears that were flowing down.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered again, “I am so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you replied, just as softly, “we do everything we can to survive, don’t we?”

He hesitated for a moment before his thumb made its way down to your bottom lip, brushing it gently. “You were just unlucky enough to end up here, with me.”

You jutted out your lips to gently kiss his thumb. He looked up at you with big eyes, blinking rapidly. “Or maybe I was lucky,” you retorted, “I’d like to think that.”

“Y/n,” he called out, “how the fuck is you being hurt physically and emotionally lucky?”

“What makes you think you’re hurting me emotionally as well?”

He slightly stood up and rested his arms on either side of you, leaning forward so slowly, so cautiously, as if he was scared to hurt you again for the hundreth time today.

“Changbin,” you cupped his cheek with your hand when he was close enough, “you could never hurt me. Ever since the day you explained yourself to me,” he leaned closer, “you could never.”

He searched your eyes and as you looked into his, you were surprised to see love and adoration glimmering in them. You and Changbin rarely had moments like these-- the most he would do would be tending to your wounds and made sure you healed properly, or warning you that he’d have to hurt you the same night he warned you.

But this, this, was different.

Without another word, he placed his lips on yours and you kissed him back without thinking twice. First, it was slow and steady, gentle and cautious, hesitant. But as the moments passed, you both became bolder; your hands wrapping around his neck as he pushed you down to the mattress. He licked your bottom lip for entrance and you allowed him in, deepening the kiss. After some time, he pulled away and rested his forehead on yours, letting out a shaky breath.

“I love you.”

The words struck you, made a warmth spread across your chest. When was the last time you actually heard those words being said to you, with such love and admiration? It was Chan. The lifetime with Chan. It was only that time.

And now, Changbin had said it.

“I love you, too.”

You knew what was going to happen next. You felt so happy and content. You knew what was going to happen next, you just didn’t know how.

All you knew was that one moment, you were asleep next to Changbin, then the next, you were being dragged (once again) in the halls of the mansion, gunshots and shouts heard. Your eyes shot open as you looked at the man who was carrying you.

“I’m sorry I took so long,” he said as he rounded a corner, “when your other dad died, I couldn’t bring myself to come back. I’m so sorry I took so long, my daughter.”

You swallowed thickly. “D-dad?”

“Your other dad, dear. I think you know how the world works.”

When you got out of the doors, your dad gently put you down, and your eyes immediately met Changbin��s. Beside him were his moms, glaring at the man behind you.

“You think you can kill my husband, and torture my daughter, and get away with it?” The man asked. “You are very, very, mistaken, Mrs. Seo.”

“Oh please,” she spat, “your daughter was only fun for a bit. We were supposed to throw her out today.”

You heard the sound of a gun clicking, and before you could identify where it had come from, both of the women were on the ground, dead. You looked at your dad in fear, the gun in his hand slowly aiming to Changbin as he looked at you.

“Is he the one who’s been torturing you?” He asked sternly, a large contrast to how he was talking to you earlier. “Is he the one hurting you?”

“N-no, dad, please,” you cried out, your heart ripping itself apart-- the scene was so familiar, so familiar, “he’s different.”

“That’s what they want you to believe,” your dad had fully aimed at Changbin and you looked at the boy, who didn’t even seem afraid, “but that’s not who they are.”

Just as your dad pulled the trigger, you pushed his hand, hoping the bullet had met the ground. But as you turned your head, your knees wobbled. It had still found Changbin, but instead of lodging itself in his head, it had lodged itself in his abdomen.

“Changbin!” You shouted as you rushed over to him. “Changbin, no.” You applied pressure on his abdomen area and his hands rested on top of yours. “Shit, Changbin, please, stay with me, stay with me.”

“It’s okay, y/n,” he said weakly, “it’s okay. I deserve it. For hurting y-you. L-look at me, please, look at me.”

Even with tears streaming down, you looked at him. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Changbin, I really didn’t mean to.”

His hold on your hand tightened. “You could never hurt me, y/n,” he smiled, “you could never.”

[moodyvalentinestories]

A Holly Jolly Christ-Mess. Part 12. | Rachel x Hunt

12: Quite Convincing

“Holidays are joyful, there’s always something new...” – Merry Christmas, Darling (Carpenters)

Summary: Thomas somehow ends up in the middle of a Fields Family Celebration. And things are going... uh... great. Mhm. Totally.

Pairing: Thomas Hunt x Rachel Fields

Words: ~ 1,400 words

Notes: We’re going for a bit more of Thomas’ POV again because reasons. Shh. You’ll get it in a couple of parts. Maybe. If I do a decent job, anyway.

❥ Moodyvalentine’s Masterlist ❥ Christmas Series Masterlist

Shortly after Rachel had left to meet her family, Thomas had made his way to his favourite screening room on campus to get started on watching the atrocities his students called short films. He took a pouch full of flash drives out of his bag, reaching inside to pull one out at random. It didn’t have a name written on it – though he’d specifically asked them to do just that – and he didn’t find out whose film it was until the credits rolled. He was tempted to give them an F just for that, but decided that it had, in fact, been almost acceptable so he graded it fairly, simply subtracting some points for their inability to follow instructions.

He’d just started watching the second film when his phone vibrated – a text from Rachel.

This is hell.

He furrowed his brows, unsure if she was serious or joking. This was why he preferred to speak to people instead of text them.

Do you need me to pick you up? – T.

She didn’t reply immediately so he focussed his attention on Mr Sergio’s project again. It only took a few seconds until Thomas was ready to smash his head into a wall. He was glad when the vibration of his phone announced another text – and, therefore, a distraction.

No. But I wish I was with you instead.

He smiled. He, too, would have much rather spent time with her than watch ‘Sleeping Spark – a fabulous Lance original’. But, alas, that wasn’t possible at the moment.

You will be. Tomorrow. – T.

His thumb hovered over the play button, but he didn’t even have the time to press it before the next message arrived.

You should come.

A sigh escaped him. He would have loved that, really, he would have.

You know I can’t. – T.

This time, he actually managed to watch a few more minutes – though, truly, he would have much rather lobotomised himself – before his phone went off again.

My mother’s trying to get me to come back home.

His heart stopped for a moment. Of course, Rachel was just trying to get her way. But what if…? The next text came almost immediately.

She can be quite convincing.

If she was anything like her daughter, Thomas didn’t doubt it. He stopped the film, his focus shot anyway.

Stop that. – T.

He could almost imagine her grin when she typed her next message.

I don’t know, she’s making a pretty good case.

The next message was simply her live location. With a sigh, he turned everything off, and made his way to his car. A terrible idea, no doubt. But she was in public, in the same city he lived in. Granted, it was a large city, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t run into each other accidentally. Lord knew it had happened often enough before.

He spent the entire drive trying to rationalise his decision, though he knew full well that there was no rational explanation for why he was on his way to her now.

It didn’t take long until he was there – though it did take quite a bit of time until he found a parking spot. Once he finally did, he checked his phone again. Rachel – and her family, he reminded himself – was less than a two-minute walk away, according to his phone. He sent her another message before getting out of his car.

I’m here. – T.

He put his phone in his pocket, confident he’d find her without directions, and began looking for her. He walked past dozens of stalls selling all kinds of Christmas-themed – and some… not Christmas-themed – knick-knacks before he found one offering a variety of hot beverages. Hadn’t she said something about not surviving this day without mulled wine? Surely, she had to be—

“Professor Hunt!”

She sounded genuinely surprised and Thomas smiled to himself, making a mental note to watch her film next to see if she could apply those acting skills to his assignment as well, before he turned around. She and three others – her family, he assumed – were standing around a bar table. They looked rather strange together, he found.

The woman next to Rachel looked just like her – or, well, the other way around – except she was, of course, quite a bit older. She was also a little smaller in height, and perhaps it was that – or her age – that made her look a bit chubbier. That, however, was as far as family resemblance went between any of them.

The older man stuck out the most, tall and bulky, towering over the rest of them. The younger man was the opposite – though still a bit taller than Rachel, he was also very lanky and, if Thomas had been one to judge people by appearances, he would have said he looked like he preferred to spend his time behind a computer rather than out in the real world.

“Miss Fields,” he said as he approached them, his usual emotionless expression on his face. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

She shrugged and struggled to hold back a grin. “Well, it is Christmas… almost, anyway. I had to show my family around a bit, didn’t I?” Her father opened his mouth to say something, but just then, she continued. “Everyone, this is Professor Hunt.” She turned to her father specifically and stressed, “Thomas Hunt.”

His eyes widened, and he immediately went to shake Thomas’ hand. “Richard Fields, Rachel’s father. It’s such an honour to meet you, Mr Hunt.”

Thomas saw Rachel roll her eyes at that. He’d have to ask her why later, but for now, he was busy being greeted by the rest of her family. The other two weren’t quite as enthusiastic, but certainly not impolite.

He stayed for a little while, making small talk with the parents of the woman he loved, who weren’t supposed to find out he was in love with their daughter. It wasn’t quite as awkward as he thought it would be, and they turned out to be rather pleasant. Of course, he wasn’t going to judge their character based on a short conversation only. He trusted Rachel’s assessment of them and remained wary throughout their interactions.

“Well, I should be on my way,” he said after a while, noticing but choosing to ignore Rachel’s pleading eyes. Staying any longer was certainly not a good idea. Surely, she would understand.

It wasn’t her that spoke up, though. Her father did. “What a shame. I was hoping you could stay for a drink.”

“I was just going to get us all a refill,” her mother chimed in after a moment’s hesitation.

He sighed, and looked over at Rachel, who only shrugged. She was giving him a choice. Her family, though, not so much. “Very well. I suppose I can stay a little longer.”

“Wonderful,” Mrs Fields said and clapped her hands together. “I’m not sure I can carry five mugs, though…”

She looked at Thomas, who immediately offered his help, not thinking too much of it. He didn’t see Rachel’s shocked expression when he did.

“No, I should go with him,” Rachel immediately protested. She shot a glare in her father’s direction, “My money’s got to be good for something, right?”

Her mother shot her down immediately. “I’m going to get us a refill. Mr Hunt will join me. Right?”

“Of course,” he reiterated before following her to the stall. He heard Rachel mutter something under her breath though he didn’t understand what she was saying.

Mrs Fields and Thomas walked in uncomfortable silence for a moment. Eventually, he got a bit too uncomfortable, and tried to start a conversation. “You have a very talented daughter.”

“And a very stupid one,” she said, taking him by surprise.

He raised an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t say that. She doesn’t seem—”

“She obviously has a massive crush on you.”

He stopped in his tracks. Shit. “Excuse me?”

“If I can be honest, it’s why I asked you to come with me. To warn you. She can be… quite convincing if she wants to be. I would hope you wouldn’t fall for her charms.”

Thomas coughed. “I don’t believe that is the case but… I will be careful not to lead her on. Thank you, Mrs Fields.”

“Oh,” she said, turning to him to study his face for a moment. “I should have realised. You’re already sleeping with her.”

Tags: @lilyofchoices​ @trappedinfandoms​ @flyawayboo​ @alleksa16​ @silversparrow02​ @hopelessromantic1352​ @i-bloody-love-drake-walker​ @oneemofungirl​

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[girlsinthestars]

I do not experience emotions

Pairing: Data/Geordi La Forge

Word count: 2206

Warnings: None

Read on AO3

It was one of the first things Data told everyone, and one of the most common things he reminded them of. Data said he didn’t feel emotions. And that never bothered Geordi, Data was his best friend, whether Data could feel things or not. But Geordi was beginning to notice his own feelings. Data complimented him and his heart fluttered, Data was in danger and he felt like his world was crashing around him, Data spoke endlessly about one topic or another and Geordi wanted to listen forever. It was insane how quickly he fell for Data, or maybe he had fallen slowly, a long time ago, and he was only just now realising. Either way it was going nowhere. Data’s continuous reminders that he didn’t have emotions made sure he didn’t forget that. Here’s the thing though, he knew Data, and he knew that although Data didn’t experience emotions the way people did, Data often experienced his reactions that often couldn’t be described as anything other than emotional. Geordi believed Data was capable of returning his feelings, in his own way, but Data never gave any indication he believed he was anything other than emotionless.

“You excited for this new program? It’s meant to be the most difficult mystery program created.” Geordi was walking behind Data, heading for the holodeck. He had decided to put his newly discovered feelings behind him. Well… to try at least. Because he valued Data’s friendship, and while he knew that Data probably wouldn’t hold it against him, he wasn’t ready to test that. So he was going about business as usual.

“I do not feel excitement, Geordi.” Data responded. And for the tenth time that week Geordi’s ‘business as usual’ approach failed on him as he stopped in his tracks. He hated that a simple statement that had never bothered him, that he had always thought of as yet another funny quirk of Data’s, suddenly made him feel like he had no chance for happiness ever.

“Geordi?” Data was looking at him, tilting his head.

“Nothing, sorry, I just got distracted for a second.”

“That has been happening a lot lately, perhaps you should speak to Dr Crusher.”

“No it’s- it’s nothing Data, don’t worry.”

“I do not feel worry-”

Geordi sighed and interrupted Data. “Well, it doesn’t matter, so forget about it.” He walked past Data and into the holodeck.

Data followed him. “Geordi, I sense that there is something you are not telling me.”

“It’s nothing Data, let’s just start this program.”

“I have been told it is healthy for humans to talk about how they feel.”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” Geordi said, putting in the program.

“I do not have any reference for this situation, however, as I consider you my closest friend, and I have been under the impression you consider me in the same regard, I believe the phrase ‘if you cannot tell me, who can you tell’ applies.”

“I do consider you my closest friend, Data, this just isn’t something I want to talk about. With anyone.”

The program started up and Data finally dropped the subject. Geordi had no misconceptions that Data would simply forget the encounter, with Data’s memory banks that wasn’t possible, but he kind of assumed that Data wouldn’t bring it up again. He was wrong.

He was just falling asleep when his door chimed. And on the other side of the door was Data, who seemed surprised to find a half asleep Geordi, despite the hour.

“Geordi, my apologies, you were asleep.”

“Just getting there, come on in.” Geordi said, stepping back from the door, “What’s got you up at this hour?”

“I do not require-” Data began, following Geordi into his quarters.

“Yeah, I know, you don’t require sleep, I mean what’s got you wandering around at this hour.”

“I was not wandering, I came here directly from my quarters.”

“Alright, well, what’s up, Data?” Geordi sat down on the couch, gesturing to the seat across from him.

“It concerns our discussion earlier today, the topic you did not wish to discuss.”

“Data…”

“I am aware you do not want to talk about it, however, I have been unable to turn my attention away from it. I believe I have found the common factor, but it has brought me no answers, so I come to you.” There Data paused, looking over at Geordi, seeking some kind of encouragement.

Geordi nodded, unsure of what to say, Data was his friend, and he felt bad that he had him worrying like this. But at the same time Geordi really didn’t feel like going through this whole discussion with Data at this hour.

“The only common factor I can find is my statements relating to my emotionless state, however, I can find no evidence of this same reaction prior to the last month. I am, therefore, baffled. I cannot find a situational change that could have caused this and can only deduce that it is a change in your feelings toward me.” Data paused again, and Geordi forced himself not to react. “I fear that I have done something to offend you, but I cannot think what, and I ask that you enlighten me.”

Geordi hated that he had made Data think he had done something wrong, but he didn’t know what to tell him. To tell him the truth, that he had managed to fall head over heels in love with Data and the constant reminders that Data didn’t think he could never return those feelings were killing him, seemed… Harsh. He didn’t want Data to feel like he had to hide that part of himself from Geordi in order to save Geordi’s feelings.

“You haven’t done anything wrong, Data, it’s just something I’m dealing with, I don’t want you to worry."

“I do not-” Data began, then seemed to change his mind, “I care for you Geordi, and I do not like to see you upset.”

Geordi smiled at that. “I appreciate that, Data.”

Data nodded, and sat silently for a moment. “I do not want to pry but… Geordi, has something happened that made you uncomfortable with my lack of emotions? Can I help?”

Geordi sighed, he really wasn’t in the mood to argue with Data about whether he had his own version of feelings or not, but he couldn’t stand to leave Data in this state, convinced he had done something wrong that made Geordi hate an inherent part of his person. And now that Data had made the connection, there was really no reason for Geordi to keep it a secret. Other than the fact that he was terrified it would change the way Data thought about him and along with it, the way Data acted around him.

“Nothing happened Data, I just… I realised something… about how I feel about you.” Geordi looked over at Data, but his face was as expressionless as ever. “I like you, Data.”

Data was silent for a moment, his head tilting slightly as he considered the statement. Trying to decipher the contextual meaning, Geordi supposed. Then his head straightened up and his eyes focused on Geordi again. “I see, you wish to pursue a romantic relationship.”

“No, I... I mean yeah, but I know, you always say you aren’t capable of that.”

“I have never said that.”

“Yeah you have! ‘I am not capable of emotions, Geordi.’ You said that.”

“That is true, however, I was under the impression human relationships put more value on continued dedication to-.” Data started, pausing when Geordi walked to the other side of the room. “Geordi?”

“They do, but Data there is a level of emotion to that kind of relationship, a level I believe you are capable of.”

“I do not experience-”

“I know Data, but you can understand the emotional reactions a situation induces, there’s not much difference between that and actually experiencing it.”

Data opened his mouth to reply, but Geordi continued before he could. “And there’s more: Dr Crusher told me once that when I was in danger, you became more ‘motivated’ to solve the problem; when Tasha died you missed her, you saved artefacts that reminded you of her; even little things, you remember that time you lost a game to a Zakdornian? Troi said you sulked for a whole day, you were filled with self-doubt, convinced that you would make another mistake; and when you realised the exocomp was alive? You were disappointed when it seemingly failed the test and retested it multiple times. Those are feelings, Data, perhaps they aren’t processed and experienced the same way others on the ship feel them but that is what they are. Just because they are formed as circuitry reactions does not make them any less real.”

Data tilted his head. “I do see where you are coming from, however, I do not want to ‘lead you on’, as it were, Geordi. I am not capable of returning your feelings.”

Geordi stepped forward, into Data’s space, resting a hand on his arm. “I know that Data, that’s not what I’m saying, I’m saying you are capable of a romantic relationship because you have the same reactions as someone who could return my feelings, you just don’t experience the feelings themselves. Besides, I like you for you, not some pretend emotional version.”

Data nodded. “I must admit, I find your company preferable to others. If I were going to have a successful romantic relationship with anyone, it would be you.”

Geordi sighed and stepped back. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pressure you. Of course it’s up to you whether you think you can be in a relationship.”

“You… love me?” Data asked after a moment.

“I- I guess, yeah.”

“You are aware that I am not capable of a ‘normal’ human relationship?”

“Yeah, well I’ve never been very good at normal human relationships.”

“You are aware that I do not possess emotions and therefore cannot return your feelings the way a person could?”

“You can in your own way though.”

“That is not what I asked.”

“Yeah.”

“And in spite of that, you love me?”

Geordi smiled, in Data’s own way he was self-conscious, afraid of being rejected. “Yeah.”

“I am afraid I do not understand. There are over a thousand people on this ship, I am not the logical choice for your affections.”

“These things are rarely logical, Data.”

“You are not concerned that I will not be able to fulfil your relationship requirements?”

“No, Data, are you?”

“I do not feel concern, however, I do not wish you to regret this decision.” Data paused, tilting his head. “I see what you were referring to, although I state that I do not experience the emotional state, which is true, I present the reaction a human would have as a result of the emotional state.”

“I won’t regret it, Data.”

Data was silent, as if he didn’t know where to go from there, and honestly, neither did Geordi.

“It is late, you require sleep.” Data finally said, turning to leave.

“Wait!” Geordi said, his hand grabbing Data’s arm before he could think about it. “Kiss me goodnight?”

“Do you wish me to begin running my romantic relations program now?”

Geordi frowned. “The program you wrote for Lieutenant D’sora?”

“I did not write it for her, I wrote it for the purpose of enabling me to recreate human behaviour in a romantic relationship.”

“What if you didn’t use a program? Just be you.”

Data considered him. “I do not know how that would work.”

“Look Data, I don’t want you to be someone else, I don’t want you to try to recreate human behaviour in a romantic relationship, see a romantic relationship isn’t a completely different input, I like to think of it more as… an extension of friendship.”

“I see.”

Geordi expected Data to say something else but he didn’t, he just stood there considering Geordi. Then his head shifted and he looked met Geordi’s gaze.

“I have moved my friendship subroutine for you into its own program in order to allow the space for protocols relating to our new relationship. I will kiss you now.”

Geordi laughed as Data gripped his arms and leaned forward. “Wait, Data, just relax.” He moved Data’s hands off his arms, moving one to his waist and dropping the other, wrapping his own arms around Data’s neck. “Close your eyes, just let it happen.”

Kissing Data wasn’t magical. But, honestly, Geordi had never had a magical kiss, and this was by far the best kiss he’d had. Maybe because it was Data, maybe because he wasn’t worried Data was going to make and excuse and abandon him in his carefully crafted holodeck program immediately after, either way it was good.

“I believe I… enjoyed that.” Data said, once they pulled back.

“Yeah, I did too.” Geordi’s voice sounded ridiculously soft to him, but he didn’t think Data would mind. “Dinner tomorrow night? My quarters?”

“Dinner is a customary first date. I will be there.”

“I’ll see you then.”

Data nodded and turned to leave, but hesitated, turning back around again and pressing a kiss to Geordi’s cheek. “Goodnight, Geordi.”

“Night Data.”

[scarlettlawyer]

Part 9 of my reaction/commentary to the Phantoms & Mirages fanfic series by @renegadewangs

(Chasing Phantoms): Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

(Haunted Specters): Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

(Vanquishing Mirages): Part 7 | Part 8

Welp. This is gonna be very painful for me on sooo many levels.

Hooo I kinda feel like I’m playing directly with fire in this post.

Now, it’s worth calling attention to the fact that these reaction/commentary posts are, first and foremost, built on my reactions to the source material. They are recounting the journey I, personally, went through as I read this series – that’s why I focus so much on my feelings and what I thought. There is more objective analysis at times, but it’s not the primary focus. Just in case you’re wondering why I’m focusing on myself so much and might get a little “omg can u shut up about urself and just get back to the story already???” pff. (And besides, more objective analysis is always inevitably filtered through the individual’s thoughts/mindset/perspective/preferences/etc anyway. So I’m basically just not even trying to tune any of that stuff out, as one would inevitably have to for a more proper series of reviews.) Ah… I hope reading in such depth about my personal rollercoaster journey is at least somewhat interesting. And not too boring.

…Yes, at the very least, I hope this post makes for a SOMEWHAT entertaining read.

That was part of my goal. Other than honesty to the point of self-sabotage.

Vanquishing Mirages, Chapter 18

There’s a whole bunch of small things I could comment on in this chapter but I’m going to gloss over them instead. I… can’t bring myself to dwell too much on the “side-things” in this post, really.

So. The image of the phantom, sitting with his head in his hands as Bobby and Palaeno dote over him while the phantom just irritably tries to wave them off is just, everything to me. xDDDD One of my faaaaavourite things. And then the phantom just leaping to his feet like that… The entire scene I could just go on and on about it at length… But I won’t. xDDDD The best game of “how much of an uncomfortable situation and awkwardness can we possibly apply to our dear spy – having other characters dote to the point of it being outright patronising – and how will this near-emotionless man respond to such outside forces?”

Okay actually, I will ramble just a Little. “Bobby and phantom = mother and child” is one of my favourite dynamics in this whole series. Bobby in this scene is just No. 1 Mum and it’s aaaall of my yes. So the phantom is forced to play the role of the child once more at this point in the chapter. The reality is that he’s a convicted criminal and therefore cannot be trusted on his own, hence requiring a bathroom escort. But he might as well be a helpless little child who requires adult supervision, as is the norm with children – this is the other amusing lens through which you can joke about Blackquill needing to lead the way there for him.

With that, Simon turned and led the way towards the door. The Phantom followed, as obedient as could be, and Fulbright looked like he was about to do the same. 

The “as obedient as could be” gets me every damn time, ahahaha. Because it really feels to slot him firmly into that “child” role. Being a good little child. For now. His major modes seem to be “obedient child” (e.g. “Sam Specter” doing the dishes in Haunted Specters if you wanted to push it) and of course the classic “petulant child”.

“Am I still meant to thank you for saving my life?” “Would it have even the slightest shred of sincerity to it?” Simon questioned. “Of course not.” “Then, no.”

THIS IS RIGHT UP THERE WITH SOME OF MY FAVOURITE PHANTOM EXCHANGES IN THIS SERIES.

“A fool, but not worthy of the title Fool Bright. Isn’t that right?” The Phantom managed some sort of failed echo of a smile. A smile that wouldn’t convince anyone who saw it. The words struck Simon as odd. Before the Phantom regained his memories, he would choose Fulbright’s side and use an almost defensive attitude to protect the man. Now that the lost year had returned to him, things seemed different.

Just. Shoot me. Please.

So I guess. Maybe he’s still trying to determine if Simon might be hurt the same way he’s sure Bobby will be?? I guess??? Perhaps… his words aren’t so much about how the name “Fool Bright” impacts him personally, but from his perspective… Simon calling him “Fool Bright” could imply that capacity for him to get deeply hurt by the phantom’s death, that Simon might also have some kind of attachment to him like Bobby does but is less obvious about it, and the phantom obviously doesn’t want that. So I guess his goal here… is possibly trying to determine if Simon has any sentimentality towards him that also needs to be stomped out for Simon’s own sake??

“You need to watch your tongue, Phantom. One might almost accuse you of being jealous.”

Me: um dude did he just. Go there? Did Simon really just- nah that can’t be right, I’m just reading things into his words that aren’t there you know-

“Your relationship? You believe I hold romantic or even sexual interest in you?”

Me: OH. OH OKAY. SO I GUESS WE’RE JUST? I GUESS SIMON REALLY WENT THERE HUH AND THE BOTH OF THEM ARE JUST NOT SHYING AWAY FROM THIS TOPIC OF CONVERSATION. THEY’RE JUST MEETING THIS TOPIC HEAD-ON. WELL. OKAY THEN!

The sheer level of whiplash that this turn in their conversation had on me- I had literally only just been joking with my friend about the parent-child dynamics present among the trio from EARLIER ON IN THE SAME CHAPTER as I’d been reading through it.

The scene just. Ends on that line. Wild enough on its own.

And then it. Bobby. The next scene. H. And then the ffffffffffffff

Chapter end.

Me:

“DOES ANYBODY WANNA TELL ME WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPENED???????”

And on that absolutely wild note, Vanquishing Mirages draws to a firm close. It was a little bit strange that this scene never gets revisited or expanded upon moving forward, but that’s no matter. I’m sure it was an innocent writing oversight. At least this fic managed to go out with a huge bang! Turns out that thanks to Simon, the phantom had been saddled with unnecessary feelings! Hahaha, what do you know! Sooo, that about wraps it up for me and my reaction/commentary/review for this post folks, I wish anyone reading this all the best! So next up, we have Lifting Spirits! Going into Lifting Spirits, the title already has a positive touch to it, and well, we’ll just have to see what else it has in store. Cya!

      Ah… I guess this post is a little short to just leave it at that then, isn’t it? Very well. Continuing on with the very next chapter that happens immediately after this one, as we begin the new fic:

Lifting Spirits, Chapter 1

He was just watching a documentary on the Tasmanian masked owl when the doorbell rang.

Hahaha omg that is such a Simon thing to do

A bit irksome, but then again, he was fairly sure he’d already seen this footage before.

Dfkjsfjksdf BIG NERD. BIRD NERD.

THE WHIPPED CREAM AND CHOCOLATE SAUCE COMMENT FROM BOBBY djdjnk GOODNESS ME. I wonder if we’ll get any further allusions to what his relationship with Domestique was, ahem, possibly like in future!

And there’s also th

     OKAY FINE.

     [sigh] FIIIIINE.

Finishing the Chapter 18 review then.

Well my first incredulous reaction was something like, “Are you… serious. Did we not just spend like… Two entire fics playing around with the notion that “Blackquill is Basically the phantom’s dad”???? And then you turn around and do this? HOW IS THE READER SUPPOSED TO FEEL ABOUT THIS? NARRATIVE CAN YOU MAKE UP YOUR MIIIIND? ARE YA REALLY GONNA MAKE A PLAY AT THIS AFTER ALL THE PARENTAL DYNAMICS THAT WERE INTRODUCED?

It’s… Oh my god.

But then again.

It wasn’t like these themes hadn’t been introduced before. The first fic in the series felt so far away, out of reach, and from so long ago (and I’ve already gone over how separated it felt from the rest of the story on first readthrough so I needn’t do so again)… But I had some vague recollections you know. The main thing that stood out to me was Blackquill’s confrontation with the phantom before the phantom allowed himself to fall from the apartment window. Where Blackquill basically Trump Cards the phantom with “Ha! You’re totally into me!” and the phantom went “oh god you’re right” and was soooo ruined over the idea that he was apparently ATTRACTED TO SOMEONE that he was like whew! Think I’ll be taking my leave now and never seeing or needing to speak to you or anyone else again, so great is my mortification! And then he went BYE BYE out the window, the end. That’s Totally what happened, right? And even if that’s not exactly how the scene went, I knew, for some reason(s) that I couldn’t quite remember at the time, that the phantom having a Thing for Simon during the first fic was indisputable. (WE WILL GET TO THAT).

And the thing that’s been preventing this being brought up this entire time? The memory loss. And what’s no longer an issue? The memory loss. It was paaaaainfully obvious that things were different once the phantom regained those memories. The entire parental dynamic wherein the phantom was positioned as being Simon’s son was all set up purely in Haunted Specters, during the memory loss phase. But if I looked at it this way, I took it as “fact” that phantom was into Simon in some way or another prior to the memory loss. All of the weird parental projection stuff seemed to only come after that, while the memories of the missing year were gone. And IF THOSE MEMORIES HAD NOW RETURNED… It makes sense that……………………………

There would be some kind of reversion back to…………

So could this fic compartmentalise it like that, then? And we are to leap from the parental realm now that the memories are returned, and straight into… this? Hmm. But this alone was not enough. There were a couple of other things, too.

See, I’ve already alluded to/essentially stated this previously, but… That scene just before the phantom allows himself to fall from the window? On first readthrough, at the time, I didn’t even particularly like it or truly appreciate it. And then, we come full circle, back to when I had all my pesky little “doubts” about how the phantom’s character was handled in the first fic, finally catching up to me for my full re-evaluation.

I hadn’t really bought the one-sided phantomquill during fic 1. It was one of those doubts from back then. It just hadn’t stuck at the time.

Would it stick now?

Let’s talk a bit about phantomquill.

Well, phantomquill has never been my primary focus. My primary focus has always been the phantom (in Dual Destinies content, anyway). If given the choice, I’d prefer to just have content that has the phantom in it. Not really phantomquill stuff, although phantomquill can certainly be interesting to think about, it was never really a priority or a preference for me.

Except… Almost all phantom-focused content usually seems to be inherently phantomquill in nature. Which is fine! It would be nice to just have some neutral phantom stuff, but it looked like phantomquill was the default. The prerequisite, almost, if someone was gonna have a focus on the phantom in their story. And I didn’t mind. But I’d probably equally enjoy said stories regardless of whether the phantomquill was there or not.

So I guess I’m always kinda inclined to just shrug and go “I GUESS?” when phantomquill comes along. But I had, however, become waaay more fond of phantomquill over the years. It still wasn’t much of a preference but I’d certainly gained an appreciation for it and quite enjoyed thinking about it at times.

And obviously, obviously, from how the last two scenes are set-up – the suspiciously sudden jumpcut between them, I knew there had to be more to what was going on. I knew there probably had to be missing lines that got exchanged that the audience hadn’t seen yet, leading up to/into what Bobby walks in on.

But regardless of what those lines were… The outcome would be the same, wouldn’t it? So what difference could the conversation’s direction possibly make? Things, in one way or another, from how their conversation continues, must have gotten out of h- well. Spiralled into what Bobby sees the phantom doing!!

And I was also amused because HMM… THIS WHOLE SCENARIO… WHEREIN A BLOND PHANTOM… KISSES SIMON, COMMITTING A TERRIBLE MISTAKE IN THE PROCESS OF DOING SO… ALMOST SEEMS FAMILIAR, SOMEHOW.

But actually, there’s really no harm in that. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with fanfics containing similar scenarios playing out with their own differences added into the mix. It’s FUN and EXCITING to see different authors handle somewhat similar situations in their own ways. If anything, it should be encouraged.

So could I really accept this scene playing out in THIS fic in all its terrific absurdity? One of the important questions for that was, did it feel “earned” in any way?

I found myself thinking back to previous Vanquishing Mirages chapters, as covered in the last post. About how, back then, I was thinking how this was “peak phantomquill” and how if there’s any way phantomquill should be, it was this. Even back then, I inadvertently found myself glancing at the fic’s tags. “No phantomquill tag? No phantomquill tag? Huh… well okay then. I guess the author doesn’t think it’s phantomquill if it’s not “romantic” in nature and/or only remains subtext. That’s fair enough.” To look at those scenes… To think back to the first fic… And look at it all through a phantomquill lens…… It did feel kinda earned to me.

And you even warned me, in your own way. “Originally planned to have one-sided phantomquill.” ORIGINALLY. That’s essentially what you told me, isn’t it? Aaaand that confused me for the longest time. Honestly. I read through Chasing Phantoms like “???? “Originally” how? This one-sided phantomquill is uh, PRETTY SOLIDLY CANON IMO.” I just figured you meant “one-sided phantomquill that wasn’t just subtext” or “way more obvious”. Figured that in your opinion, if it only ever remained subtext yet still clearly there, well it wasn’t proper phantomquill then was it?

And then when I read this chapter, I was just like… (AND EVEN MESSAGED MY FRIEND BASICALLY SAYING THIS):

“THIS FIC ISN’T EVEN TAGGED AS PHANTOMQUILL W H A T”

(HOOTY HOOO PAST ME THERE’S A REASON FOR THAT).

But it just made me think, “Oh, well. I guess the only reason the author would tag something as “phantomquill” ever is if the pairing becomes canon then? Which it obviously never will here. Therefore there’s no tag for it.”

Now, I’d like to draw your attention to something I wrote in a recent reply of mine to you:

“Not to mention that I loved the courtroom jokes bit so much that, once I decided to let myself enjoy it and accept it, my Willing Suspension of Disbelief was strengthened tenfold and was ready to take just about anything you would throw at it. (And you sure were ready to throw stuff at me and had more up your sleeve!). I gave the story even more leeway to work with willingly, because everything was so perfect and I wanted my suspension of disbelief to have plenty of leeway to fully enjoy EVERYTHING. NO MORE INNER KILLJOY. I knew I could trust in the narrative because it was so strong.”

I guess this was a huge part of my downfall.

I looked at this set-up the chapter left us with – one-sided, inevitably angsty phantomquill, thought back on everything and what it came down to was… couldn’t I just accept it, just like I’d accepted things like the joke-telling? Did I want to? Did I enjoy this scenario?

…Yeah. Yeah, I realised with a bit of surprise that I did. I REALLY, REALLY DID, ACTUALLY. And I wanted to accept it. My inner killjoy was cast aside. It was tiiiime to just enjoy this perfect “angst” or whatever youd call it.

It didn’t matter how ridiculous it may be. When it comes to fanfiction… the sky tends to be the limit. It’s precisely where you can see little fantasies like this one played out. It’s… It’s… If there’s any place this kind of scenario could happen, for sure. This was it. The best thing to do is just… enjoy it for what it is.

Almost everything had primed me to thinking that… This was indisputable one-sided phantomquill, was it not? And if just about every phantom-heavy fic out there seems to have some phantomquill in it, it’s only natural that this one would too, right? There was nothing driving me to question it. And accepting it just made me ridiculously happy and excited. Yeah, it’s “angsty” and one-sided, but it made me so dang happy nonetheless.

And if this wasn’t bad enough.

I went on to make a number of other mistakes that proved to be very, very fatal.

I read this chapter after midnight. And it was sooo much to process, and I wanted to be fully awake to process whatever was coming next… And it was just way too late at night. I figured, I wouldn’t be able to handle whatever was coming next… I needed to sleep. I needed to… save it for tomorrow. And it was too late to read another chapter anyway.

…Oh, if only I had read on… I could have spared myself so much. If I had just gone straight from this chapter into the next one… I would’ve been mostly fine. Nothing would have truly had a chance to sink in and my misconception would have been quickly cleared up. I would’ve been pretty much fine, I’m sure. I would have likely suspended judgement and saved myself…

It really is the kiss itself that was the killing blow, too. If the chapter had only, if it had only ended at the phantom’s last line, and Bobby’s segment saved for the next chapter, I would have EASILY maintained plausible deniability and would have been spared. Even when Blackquill and phantom’s conversation turned in that direction, I had NOT made ANY concrete assumptions.

But what actually happened was.

I turned my computer off,

And went to sleep.

And ohhhhhh boy.

I was very excited to find out how the narrative would continue in the next chapter. Especially how the prose of the text itself would approach it. Naturally, there was going to be immediate fallout.

But the narrative patterns of this series so far also fooled me. One thing was clear: the audience was to find out what happened during the jumpcut from Blackquill’s to Bobby’s POV in the next chapter.

And WHOSE perspective is missing, that is normally left until last? Was it not evident…?

So it seems like my mind couldn’t help brainstorming, and seems my dreams were like, “Oh, what if the prose was like this, starting with this sentence, and then…”

Haah.

So you see, when I woke up the next morning, I had these lines of prose fresh in my mind! And I really liked them, actually! I couldn’t let them go to waste! I had to write them down…!

Yep. It’s terribly embarrassing to admit. But I wrote my own little snippet of a sequel before reading the next chapter. “I can compare, see how the next chapter actually goes…!” I thought to myself naively.

Which brings us to…

Vanquishing Mirages, Chapter 19

Finally, I eagerly open the next chapter to read and it was just…

I don’t think I’ve ever been more thoroughly played by a piece of fiction in my entire life.

There was that time I was reading a book and one of the beloved characters that I was deeply attached to was very clearly dying. Their death had been one of the possibilities I had been DREADING even before starting the book. It’s a little bit hard to stay alive when there’s a sword lodged in you like that, you know? Their consciousness was slipping away by the moment. I couldn’t read on through my tears. I had to pause reading and pull myself together to push on.

…And when I did? The character suddenly, recovered on the next page. And was fine. Because here’s the thing: said character was a zombie. But like, a weird kind of “alive” zombie which could still die I guess. Had the sword remained firmly lodged in him, chances are he would have actually died. But another character – devastated over this character’s impending death, 100% sure it was about to happen, pulled the sword out. And then, what do you know? The character sat up again and was like “lol wait I’m actually feeling a lot better now lol… well I guess that’s being a zombie for you huh.”

Hah. Well. That’s one example that comes to mind and at least, in this case… the bait and switch was actually going from one thing I desperately didn’t want – to something I actually desperately wanted. For the character to live, or “live” as a perfectly conscious zombie.

There is another example that comes to mind, a little bit closer to home, which involves… ship baiting.

I like to think that it is very hard to make me fall for ship baiting. Sure, I ship things that aren’t canon in media. And I do so with the full knowledge that they aren’t canon and will most likely never be canon. I keep those two realms nice and separate and therefore my feelings never get hurt. I never get too invested to the point of becoming upset… And I can tell, usually, what is sheer shipbaiting and what constitutes actual, canon evidence.

So there was one piece of media I was into, where two male characters were shipped with each other from the very start by the fandom, even before they ever interacted with each other. Then they actually started interacting and their dynamic was awesome, they cared for and were looking out for each other. So the shipping of the two characters only heightened dramatically in the fandom, naturally. Now, everyone was getting invested, but I looked at these two characters and went… “yeah, sure, I would love to see them get together, so I ship it.” But I figured, you know, it was never gonna actually happen, so I didn’t get too invested. I thought, yeah… the writers are deeefinitely throwing in some intentional bait with those two that they will never actually follow through on. So I didn’t get invested.

But then something happened that changed everything for me… One of those two characters got 100% confirmed, beyond a shadow of any doubt, to be canonically in love with the other, in the media itself, undeniably. I always usually look for plausible deniability to cover my bases. That’s what ship baiting relies on. But there was no way around the concrete fact that this character was in love with the other.

And in that piece of media, there was no canon reason, absolutely none, why those two characters couldn’t get together. And if Character A’s canonically in love with Character B… there were MOUNTAINS of evidence that Character B felt the same way. If anything, if I had to take a blind guess at who was in love with who, I would have figured it was Character B way more than Character A.

Well, the writers messed up and stuffed around and played with its audience. They wanted to keep baiting this ship, they introduced very transparent & pointless roadblocks as to why they couldn’t be together only after the fact of one of the character’s feelings revealed, and yeah, turns out the other character doesn’t feel the same way back. They employed just plain bad writing to introduce pointless drama and turned the previously inseparable pair against each other.

Nooow that hurt a lot because I was shipping something that, for all intents and purposes canonically speaking, could've been on the verge of becoming a reality. Before the writers decided to add unnecessary complications and reveal that the other character never felt that way. I got really invested and it turned out to be blatant baiting and, yeah.

Well the example in your fic is obviously very different from that one on a number of fronts. The example just provided was baiting the ship becoming canon. The example in your series is merely baiting the notion that a character had a specific type of feeling(s) for another. In some ways that made it all the more crushing.

Suffice it to say, I felt like the BIGGEST, STUPIDEST idiot EVER when I read the next chapter. I still do. The pain never truly went away sdklsd;madl;dfkj

Well, let’s start on the chapter itself, shall we?

With the chapter summary:

The Phantom’s crazy way of thinking turns the situation into a bit of a soap opera. How does he really feel about Simon Blackquill, as far as feeling goes with him?

Stupid, stupid me, leaning into a microphone: um. Do you even have to ask. This chapter summary alone was one of my favourite things in the world… before reading on.

”My actions were Bobby Fulbright’s actions, not a reflection of my own desires.”

Okay so. I had not actually remembered this line until this second readthrough, and I absolutely have to call bull on this. We know that prior to the phantom stealing Bobby’s life, Bobby never acted on his sexuality. FURTHERMORE, EVEN IF HE HAD, I’m calling bull once AGAIN and am gonna say that the real Bobby Fulbright would never have abused his role as parole officer to cross a line that should not have been crossed WITH A PRISONER THAT HE IS PERSONALLY RESPONSIBLE FOR. Unavoidable power balance. The Bobby I know would not, end of story. Even if the real Bobby was attracted to Simon. He wouldn’t have acted on it if he was Simon’s parole officer. AND THIS ENTIRE SPIEL IS MOOT ANYWAY BECAUSE THE PHANTOM WOULD HAVE NO WAY TO TELL WHO BOBBY WOULD BE ATTRACTED TO AND I SOMEHOW DOUBT HE GETS THAT INVESTED IN HIS ROLES TO FOLLOW THROUGH TO THIS EXTENT. I guess what it comes down to is how he later basically says “seeking acknowledgement is one thing, seeking a relationship is entirely another”. So part of the driving force was the seeking acknowledgement…? BUT IN A WEIRD NON-PHANTOMQUILL WAY…? And there’s also the fact that the identity of “Bobby Fulbright” and the nameless spy known as the phantom were blurring together. But IF the identity blurring actually played a role, that would make it phantomquill, so I kind of doubt that’s part of the explanation.

And like, sure, I get it. Pretty sure “Bobby Fulbright” behaved that way immediately after Simon mentioned “the phantom” to him. So his goal was to manipulate Simon, a little bit of that “seeking acknowledgement” in there too (BUT NOT ACTUAL PHANTOMQUILL-STYLE “SEEKING ACKNOWLEDGEMENT” APPARENTLY????) and who knows. Maybe he was searching for the damn profile. Maybe he thought it might be hidden in Simon’s clothes. WHO KNOWS. But like, I get it, it was “not a reflection of his own desires”, APPARENTLY.

fffffffffffffff

”I am what one might call aromantic and asexual,”

So as a quick aside, worth noting that on the first readthrough… Like… I knew the kiss was still coming so at the start when he’s saying this stuff, it felt more like him denying it, only for ya know… the kiss to happen and all. It was only after it fully played out that I came back to this line all like “Oh my god… he was right… he wasn’t kidding…” BUT WE’LL GET TO THERE. WITH THAT OUT OF THE WAY THOUGH-

My goodness. Reading this sent me into another realm. It just like? Astral projected me to some other planet because heLLOOOO I WOULD LIKE TO DISSECT THIS A LITTLE BIT:

Firstly, the word “asexual”? Okay, that’s commonly used outside of the context of people being ace. So it would not be too surprising for him to say something about being asexual because, that’s already a commonly-used English word, even if that “common definition” (see: plants and whatever) is not the definition he is using here, he could easily use this word in this context without knowing that plenty of people actually do use it in this context as a label for themselves.

BUT “AROMANTIC” … NOW THAT’S INTERESTING. “Aromantic” is a very specific word with a specific definition! It is not a commonly-known English word in day-to-day life among the average person and it is not used outside of people using it as a label to identify themselves with!

ALL OF THIS TO SAY… FOR HIM TO USE BOTH WORDS? IMPLIES HE KNOWS HIS STUFF.

IF the phantom had been randomly pulling out the word “asexual” because it would be “obvious what it means in this context” without knowing that asexuality is A Fairly Common Thing, he would have just called himself asexual and nothing else. Because for people who aren’t particularly knowledgeable on the subject, they often conflate asexuality and aromanticism together!

With that being said, there is still the possibility that he isn’t aware of the communities that have been formed around those labels. That he was doing a simple equation here and putting “a-“ in front of “sexuality” and “romantic” to demonstrate that he’s “none” in both.

BUT I’M STILL INCLINED TO SAY THAT THE FACT THAT HE SPECIFICALLY SAYS “AROMANTIC” MEANS HE’S KINDA KNOWLEDGEABLE ABT IT…

And I just CANNOT get over this and the implications attached to it. The phantom knows about asexuality and aromanticism and self-identifies as aroace? THE PHANTOM KNOWS ABOUT THE SPLIT ATTRACTION MODEL? DSDFKLMLKDF;LDSL;-

Ohhh my god.

And yes, in this year 2019 these terms and communities are becoming more and more widespread, but they’re still not particularly mainstream. I know also that this fic is set in 2028, but… I’m more primed to think about when this fic was written – a few years back – when these terms and communities would have been a little bit more obscure. That’s the primary background I think of RE: the phantom actually knowing this stuff.

Also, hah, it’s so many layers because WOW… Talk about absolutely awful aroace representation in a sense right here. You get this character in your canon calling themselves aroace and they’re… the despicable, emotionless murderer & VILLAIN. Feels like it falls directly into the “bad representation” trap, HOWEVER. I do feel that the situation is much more nuanced in this case.

Like yeah, he might be an emotionless murderer, and on the surface that looks bad, BUT! He’s also a major protagonist that we have come to sympathise with at times and feel bad for… The story has followed and focused on him so much. It has shown him in so many different lights, somehow managing to make him such an extremely well-rounded character with depth. Therefore, at least to me… It doesn’t necessarily feel like bad representation at all. He’s not limited to being the bad guy. He’s so much more than that. This is nothing but another aspect to his character. And being aroace is not necessarily directly linked to his villainy. So much about him has been broken down and deconstructed. So somehow… by some miracle… In the context of this fic, the fact that the emotionless murderer is aroace could almost circle back around into being almost good representation, amazingly enough. Or… well, that’s the thing. Whether it’s “good” or “bad” representation most likely ultimately isn’t your primary concern anyway. Neither is “representation”, for that matter. What matters is a good story with good characters that make sense. So there may be no point talking about the representation angle anyway: it’s not necessarily “representation”. It’s just a character with a certain identity that happens to neutrally exist in the plot, whoever that character may be and whatever that character may happen to be.

And I also have happened to see you mention that you yourself are ace!

But I’m merely analysing the text as I would with any piece of fiction – and will continue to do so. Being aware that you’re ace yourself gives me a little bit more perspective on things, but I wouldn’t have necessarily been aware of that in different circumstances and therefore wish to look at the text as its own entity and how it comes across to me as the reader.

As for the rest of what he says…

Ohhh geez. Now it’s time to talk about something else. Another little fatal mistake I made in my approach to reading this series. We must once again return ourselves to when I read Chasing Phantoms.

Now I myself am asexual, of the repulsed kind… xD

So when I came across That phantomquill scene in Chasing Phantoms, my response was basically just, “oh GEEZ that is NOT a mental image I want thankyouverymuch nope nope nope nope.” And just – kept reading on and did my best to forget about that scene. Juuust bury it away and not think about it. :P Ignore it! Pretend it didn’t happen. And this alone created some “distance” between myself and the narrative at the time, that my instinct already was to reject something connected back to that version of the phantom.

Looks like I did a little too good of a job forgetting about it. And with it out of mind, well, I’d become sooo heavily entrenched in the series by this point and really was clinging to everything that was canon.

I read this chapter and it was just like… oh dear. Oh DEAR. That was a thing. That happened in this series!!!

It was just SHOVED in my face undeniably in this chapter, as if I could not have possibly received a nastier slap in the face with the reminder of that incident’s existence. xDDDD

My distance when reading Chasing Phantoms had just come back to bite me in the biggest way… I’d gotten so heavily attached to the canon of this series by this point. But I’d conveniently forgotten the canon that I didn’t want to acknowledge, and hadn’t fully acknowledged back then. Suddenly! I was well and truly being forced to acknowledge EVERYTHING! Ahaha.

The spy pushed away from the sink to take a few steps towards Simon. The look on his face was harder than it’d ever been before. The closest thing to fierce determination the man could muster, perhaps.

THIS must be when he gets the STUPID idea to, I DON’T KNOW, SHIPBAIT ME INTO OBLIVION? AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

There was nothing heartfelt or affectionate about it.

NOTHING????? NOTHING?????????

“Awww… Busted.” The Phantom ran a hand past his mouth, but he was still grinning. It was a grin that Simon remembered from those first visits to solitary confinement. A grin that’d been coupled with purposeful jabs below the belt. “Isn’t that a damn shame?”

In spite of everything…………. I love this line. I just love the “aw busted” it’s sdjdfnkljdlnk I LOVE IT. HE IS THE WORRRRRRRST.

“Don’t be like that. I was only attempting to relive that pleasant night we had last year before it’s too late.”

Me: OH MY GOD SOMEONE SHUT HIM UP SOMEONE SHUT HIM UP RIGHT NOW I DO NOT WANT TO HEAR ANY OF THIS SHUT IT DOWN.

Phantom: [opens mouth to speak]

Me:

Oh I can’t. I cannot.

Me: “I am BEGGING you to shut up. For once in your miserable life, in your whole pathetic existence… SHUT UP.”

This narrative had given me so much Suffering & Sympathetic Phantom and a whole manner of like… “Nice” Phantom and this is just…………… W O W. The narrative primed me so much on things like Sympathetic Phantom and “hahahaaaa he’s a child just look at him!” and this is just like! A harsh, merciless jolt! -OH ONE LIKE HE’S ABOUT TO RECEIVE ACTUALLY, WASN’T THINKING OF THAT WHEN I TYPED THAT BUT HAHAA…

BUT HIM SAYING THESE THINGS HAD SUCH ENTERTAINING SHOCK VALUE TOO. THE FLIPPANCY!

The Phantom stirred and pushed himself into a sitting position. He was still trembling, though at the very least that detestable grin had been washed off his face. “You’re welcome.”

Goooo to hell. Go to hell.

He briefly considered retrieving his feather from the ground as well, then thought better of himself. Five second rule aside, the fact that it was lying on the bathroom floor of a hospital instantly rendered it trash for the janitors to do away with.

SDKJBSDKJB SIMON.

“Understood.” The Phantom pushed himself to his feet, though he seemed to be having some trouble keeping his balance. Perhaps the electric currents had left a stronger impact on his body than was evident. To think this incident took place right before a jarring surgery…

HE IS SUCH A MORON. YOU IDIOT.

Perhaps this would be their final conversation, Simon realized with a sudden jolt. …No, the surgery would be harmless. It was an easy procedure. That was what the doctor had claimed.

This I had a small bit of trouble with, because something like brain surgery hardly seems like an “easy” and “harmless” procedure, but the dangers were actually touched on as I pointed out in my previous post… I just guess I would have emphasised the dangers a little more. But perhaps you did research and were able to determine that such a hypothetical procedure… would be “harmless”…?

The Phantom closed his eyes for a few seconds and Simon could see the corners of his mouth twitch. “I am… glad that we got to be partners one last time. Trust or no trust, I think that we make a favorable team.”

Look my soul had already well and truly left my body by this point of the chapter so I did not remember this line at all. I don’t really know what the hell’s it ‘sposed to mean or what’s going on. I guess it doesn’t matter. I have already been DESTROYED.

Dear Phantom,

Yours Sincerely,

-One of your biggest fans.

Sooo I was devastated. And felt deeply humiliated. And then that devastation turned to pure desperation. Even if things turned out this way… There had to still be hidden actual one-sided phantomquill nonetheless, right? I needed this. I needed this so badly, I’d staked everything on one-sided phantomquill’s reality here, something I had never truly done in any other phantom fic I’d ever read – fics that would willingly offer up phantomquill to me on a silver platter.

But every last bit of “phantomquill” that I’d been assuming and hadn’t even cared for prior to this point turned out not to be phantomquill at all…? It faded away, just when I needed it most. At which point, a second wave of devastation hit me. At the fact that not only had the chapter gone horribly, horribly awry from what my fantasies had played out in my mind, but that there had apparently never been any one-sided phantomquill. Heightening my sense of my own idiocy tenfold.

And this second wave was exacerbated by another realisation: Even if there were traces of genuine phantomquill to be found in other parts of the series, it hardly made any difference in the end. My feelings were hurt by chapter 19. Everything had been banked on that. And nothing could change how it actually played out.

And I thought it over countless times, because I usually like to pride myself on understanding and siding with authorial intent, you know? Or at least striving to most of the time. Was I truly just unbelievably stupid? What was I supposed to expect from the chapter? What about the other “phantomquill” scenes and implications that took place, dotted all throughout the series, that can be viewed through different lenses? It was clear that some baiting had been at play, but how much of it had been intentional and how much was me just an idiot reading the text incorrectly? (The fact that you were gunning for it in the beginning makes it seem like such a deep-rooted, ridiculously long-running con-job… my goodness… Even if it wasn’t intended to be a con from the start… That means the audience… Can you really say the audience is not being conned way back in Chasing Phantoms? How else were they supposed to interpret the phantom’s characterisation back then…?! How were they supposed to know…! And if actual phantomquill had been what you intended at the time of writing it…!) Oh I was ruined and driven into doubting myself so much and KICKING myself over this.

There was… No justice in any of this, it seemed. And I could not even feel “righteous” in any way. I just felt pathetic.

Because I’d only been asking for something one-sided… I’d wanted to see my favourite character suffer even more. It’s not the “normal” “I just want character to be happy” type angle. So it felt like such a weird thing to beg for. But beeeeeg for it I did anyway, huh.

I just! Wanted! To see some more Vulnerable Phantom! Maybe with just a little bit of genuine emotions leaking through! What would have made it so wonderful… Is that it takes place JUST before the surgery! Therefore it would demonstrate that even with his severely limited emotional state! He still…! THAT’S WHAT I WANTED OK IS THAT SO WRONG?!

No it isn’t and meet me out back I’ve got sources come prepared I’ll present my ten page essay on why you wrote your own fic wrong and sjsdjsdkj

^Me, in all-out confrontation & idiot mode, arguing at you over this, well and truly willing to go down with this one-sided ship

And when some of the devastation subsided, I went into Bitter Mode. Ohhhhhhh the saltiness. Ohhhhhhh I got salty, veeeeery salty. STILL not entirely sure if I’m done being salty. Or will ever be done being salty & bitter over this, played up intentionally to my friend to reap all of its comedic potential. :P I’d been burrrrrrrrrned.

So there you have it. Since you like irony so damn much…

I took the “phantomquill” in this series for granted at first. “Phantomquill” that I later practically begged for.

I didn’t care a whole lot for the initial scene where the phantom lets himself fall from that window in Chasing Phantoms (of course, I later realised how good it was on its own). A scene that was directly tied to and paralleled one of the extreme heights of my enjoyment in Vanquishing Mirages, also helping me to gain a far deeper appreciation of said earlier scene.

And the one time where I got super invested in phantomquill and wanted it, really wanted it, was with one of the very few fics that would flatly refuse to provide it.

Oh wait, one more thing too. The aro ace thing. Lol if he was agender too in this, he’d be triple-A hahaha

That was another thing when I came across the phantomquill in Chasing Phantoms initially. I was just like, “mmmm, no, nah. If anything, going by the “canon” of the game, if you absolutely had to put a label on the phantom, he’d be aro ace.”

Well. Turns out…

And, under just about any other circumstance, it would make me pleased to see the phantom call himself aro ace, and yet… The circumstances couldn’t be more… :T

So when it finally sunk in that, yea he is?

I was just like…

“No… no no no no no no… This is not happening… This cannot be happening…! MY OWN LOGIC IS BEING USED AGAINST MEEEEEE……………………”

: (

But yes. The ironies that can be listed of this situation do go on and on.

That was it. The last Simon saw or heard of the entity known as the Phantom.

Me, who in spite of everything, actually does still love the phantom very much and does not want to see him now promptly vanish from this really well-written series in his really well-written form, and has noooo idea how this is gonna go and what the result of this surgery is gonna be and is therefore very nervous about how “the phantom” will transform after this point:

If the doctors were successful, an intangible spirit would take the form of a true human, rather like a phoenix being reborn from its own ashes.

“I’ve literally just been brutally left in the dust I am hardly in any state to appreciate the beauty of sentences like this one. GO AHEAD, SHOW ME YOUR PRETTY PROSE, BUT IT’S A LITTLE LATE NOW ISN’T IT. IT WON’T WORRRRRRK I’M TOO BUSY HAVING BEEN SO THOROUGHLY OWNED BY A BAIT AND SWITCH THAT I’M LYING ON THE GROUND IN TINY PIECES”

To prove once and for all whether or not there was a true identity hidden inside him.

That’s nice but I literally just could not bring myself to care anymore. I was done. The fic ended in the last chapter. It was finished. “My version’s canon to me now.” That’s one way I could try to cope and pretend my heart & dignity can remain intact. Whatever is going on now it’s just an interesting au. My little self-indulgent version is what obviously happened.

This fic could do whatever the hell it wanted because nothing about it mattered anymore, I didn’t care, it’d lost me. I pettily decided at the time that Anything after Chapter 18 is the Wrong Timeline so It’s all meaningless as far as I was concerned!

Fulbright… Was he truly so angry that he would miss the moment of the Phantom’s awakening?

It’s kinda funny because in a sense, I was Bobby at this point of the chapter. Absent : ) Yeah, ok, I was reading on through my pain… But I was very. Emotionally absent, disconnected, or whatever you’d like to call it. In Chasing Phantoms I wasn’t particularly invested because of all the doubts I’d had. And here, my investment in however the series would continue dropped DRAMATICALLY because I’d been too invested in it. It was just like… “Ok. Might as well see whatever the hell happens. But nothing in this series can ever truly make me happy again as it did before. The line’s been crossed. Sayonara.”

…Yeah, rather bold words to utter just prior to Lifting Spirits.

But you baked the most perfect, beautiful and tantalising-looking phantomquill cake to me… and then you just… IMMEDIATELY destroyed it. You took a hammer to that cake. Threw it in the bin, leaving me desperately, brokenly reaching for the icing still smeared messily on the table, and when I did, YOU SLAPPED MY HAND AWAY. No siree I could not even have some of that icing. Ya blew it. I was done. UNFORGIVABLE. Line crossed. Your rights to the work were forfeit as far as I was concerned. It was all mine now.

Was he consulting with his trusted therapist, perhaps?

HOHOOH what if he did though. I can’t remember if that gets confirmed either way. PFFF WELL YOU CAN ADD THIS MESS TO THE LIST OF THINGS BENNY MIGHT KNOW ABOUT THEN???? HOW… INTERESTING!

Ok but also:

I SWEAR TO GOOOOOOOD THIS LINE ACTUALLY MADE ME SO? CONFUSED AND BORDERLINE, IF NOT OUTRIGHT SUSPICIOUS ON FIRST READ BECAUSE LIKE.

Okay, there was another much more direct Benny reference earlier this same fic. He’s actually NAMEDROPPED. I didn’t point it out at the time because I didn’t want to be too tedious about it and waited until the next reference like this, which I figured there would be, so that I could comment on MY THOUGHTS.

So waaay back earlier in the fic, when Benny actually gets namedropped for the first time:

What sort of advice would his therapist offer? He wished he could call the man and explain his situation, because Benny always had just the right answer to any problem.

Me at the time: wow, even the offscreen therapist gets a name? What a series! Is this series fleshed out or what?!

But even back then.

There’d just been. Such a handful of references to this guy.

Like, when the therapist first started being referenced it was all like “oh I’m so glad Bobby’s getting the counselling and help that he needs”.

And then he just

Kept being referenced after that

And with each iteration I just got a tiny bit more and more like

“O-okay…? We know Bobby is getting help… We are aware of it. And that’s great. I’m really glad. Not sure why the therapist matters though… weird focus on the therapist since it’s Bobby’s recovery that is paramount here, not the therapist helping him. Just not relevant.”

Like I was deeply impressed that such an unimportant character got named, yet at the same time it was like. Aaaaalright. He’s really not warranting this much focus. But okay then.

And now it’s Blackquill bringing him up, not Bobby. And SURE I guess the mention KINDA makes sense from him but the focus felt so fishy to me… “TRUSTED therapist”… why the emphasis on how great this guy supposedly is. C’mooon. It REALLY made me go HMMMM. I was just like… who cares though. There’s literally no reason to bring the therapist up he’s not connected to any of this or the plot at ALLL… He serves ONE purpose and that is to be the unseen background force helping Bobby to work through his issues. That’s it!

Vanquishing Mirages, Chapter 20

Oh… This chapter… is so good. Wow… Wow. Not much else I can say rn.

He’d never appreciated her. Now it was too late.

Simon saw no need to keep the truth from him. This plan had been the Phantom’s, not his own. He’d merely been roped into it as an unwilling accomplice, yet he refused to cover the spy’s tracks.

Ffffffffffffff

Yeah I was gonna go off about “idiot spy” again at this point but I’ve tired myself out from all the salt I’ve overloaded into this post so that my past pain can serve at least some kind of fun… But god. God. The phantom’s plan was PAPER thin just, ridiculously flimsy, yeah sure he came up with it on the fly whatever I guess but it like. Depends on Blackquill playing along and ffffffffffffff. Alright I guess maybe he figured Simon would play along if Simon was interested in shielding Bobby from grief as the phantom explained was his intent but god. Ghhhhhh. It just feels like insult to injury too cause he has this Grand Plan to protect Bobby which immediately proceeds to fail.

And it was enough to fuel his loathing further. He shook his head so violently that it made him dizzy, yet he managed to stop himself from raising his voice again. Shouting wouldn’t make his point any clearer. Instead, he stepped forward and crouched down before Fulbright’s chair. He grabbed the man’s nearest hand with both of his own. He was lousy with words and he knew that much, but he needed to at least try to communicate his thoughts- his feelings- before this misunderstanding was allowed to spread any more. “Do you truly not remember what I’ve told you from the day I first met you?” he demanded, his tone of voice more fierce than he’d intended but lacking in volume nonetheless. “You are nothing like the man who played the part of my chaperone. I would sooner take my own life than return to those days. You, on the other hand, give me another reason to live. I can tell the difference between the two of you and that makes all the difference in the world.”

[…]

“I love you, Bobby Fulbright, not the fallacy that pretended to be you. However, if you dare to call my feelings into question again, I will not hesitate to tear you to shreds myself.”

This is a Crowning Moment of Heartwarming for Blackbright right here. This is SOO good. I really admired and appreciated this shining Blackbright moment even amidst the whirl of everything else I was busy reacting to.

And… On that uplifting note, I’ll finish this otherwise ridiculously salty mess of a post. XD I’ll tackle the rest of this chapter & more beyond next time. This is already waaaaay too long anyway. But I knew that this post would inevitably be a massive one, and I had to essentially say Stuff You to the very notion of any self-imposed word-limits.

[heryellowcup]

Chloe starts dating someone and Beca misses all the attention Chloe gave her when she was single and thinks she missed her chance with Chloe.

enjoy the angst!!! and well, fluff, it’s quite cute.

They had always been there, those feelings between the two of them. No one ever denied it and yet no one talked about it either, not wanting to cross that line, not wanting to possibly risk everything. They didn’t know when it had started, perhaps at the activities fair, perhaps in the showers, perhaps later than that. If you asked Beca later she’d desribe the feeling as slowly creeping up on her, it being too late before she knew it and her being left unable to do anything about it. If you asked Chloe, however, she’d describe it as love at first sight, she’d describe it as this warm feeling that had engulfed her as soon as their eyes had locked for the first time.

And now it was lingering between them, just like the unspoken promise to never actually address it, to never think about what it actually meant. And yet Chloe liked to act on her attraction, while Beca didn’t admit it was there in the first place, not even to herself. As if everything was going to fall apart once she’d admit just how much she loved the redhead. As if she, herself, was going to break. And perhaps she was.

It were subtle things from Chloe’s side, little hints, soft touches. And Beca relished in them. Craved them, even. Chloe touching her arm every now and then, in a way that made her shiver. Chloe taking her hand when no one was looking, making the heat rise to Beca’s cheeks. Chloe hugging her tightly whenever she got home, whenever they passed an exam, whenever she was sad. Chloe holding her tightly, Chloe curling up in her arms when they shared a bed. Something they did more often than it appeared to be appropriate for two people who were just friends, for two people who weren’t going to cross the line. It had been prone to fail from the very beginning, but Beca had realized that too late. Had been too busy admiring the fact that while Chloe was affectionate with everyone, her hand would always linger a little longer on her arm. She’d always hug her a little tighter. It made her feel special.

But of course she wasn’t going to admit that, no. Instead she liked to pretend that she didn’t care, liked to pretend that it wasn’t affecting her. Chloe knew that Beca didn’t mean it when she rolled her eyes at her whenever she took her hand, knew that Beca didn’t mean it when she pushed her away whenever she tried to hug her, knew that Beca didn’t mean it when she told her that their whole sleeping situation was “weird”. It hurt, yes, but after all Beca would still entertwine their fingers, would still hug her back, would still wrap her arms around her and tightly hold onto Chloe all night. As if she knew that she was pushing her away, and that it was wrong, but at the same time not wanting to lose her either.

And while Beca was comfortable not crossing that line, was comfortable just being with Chloe in a way that wasn’t complicated, that wasn’t risky, that wasn’t going to hurt either of them, Chloe wasn’t. Chloe needed more, needed to talk, needed the passion that Beca was lacking.

Perhaps if the brunette had just been braver, it would have all worked out differently. Perhaps if Chloe had been more patient, it would have ended up working too. Except that they hadn’t done those things. Not in time, anyways. Too late, instead. Late enough for it to all blow up on them.

And then Chloe had started seeing Tom. Beca hated him with a passion. She hated Chloe, too. Wanted to, at least. Though Beca soon found that it was impossible to even so much as dislike the other girl. Not while she was doing something so entirely innocent as loving another human being. It wasn’t Chloe’s fault, no. She didn’t deserve to be hated. And Beca still loved her more than anything anyways.

What broke her the most was realizing that he was on the receiving end of Chloe’s love and affection now. He was the one experiencing those subtle touches, he was the one getting hugged just a little bit too long for it not to be intentional, and Beca didn’t even want to think about what they did in bed. She didn’t dare. Hadn’t ever dared thinking about what her and Chloe could have been doing there either. It felt invasive and wrong in more ways than one and it hurt too much, too. She didn’t want to picture the things she was now missing out on. Was going to miss out on forever.

Beca was completely sure she had missed her chance with Chloe, and so she distanced herself where the redhead had distanced herself too. Not just from her, however, from all of the Bellas, all of her friends.

She had never been one to like social interactions and yet sitting in her room all day, desperately trying to forget just in how much pain she was, was pretty concerning, even for her.

And it went on like that for weeks, without her talking to anyone about it. Because of course she couldn’t do that either, just like she hadn’t been able to talk to Chloe. Instead she tried to repress her feelings, tried to act normal, though her friends soon noticed that Beca was barely eating, that she was drinking too much. Some of them had even caught her smoking and her horrible attempt of hiding it had failed completely, backfired, even. And yet she had managed to somehow convince them that she was going to be okay, though she wasn’t quite sure if that was actually true.

It was that particular morning that someone finally spoke up. Stacie, to be precise. After a few sleepless nights, Beca was sitting at their table, once sgain unable to eat. It felt pointless, as nothing was going to fill that hole in her life where Chloe had once been. Stacie was eyeing her with a worried expression written all over her face, trying to find the right words, making sure that they weren’t too harsh, before she actually opened her mouth.

“You look horrible,” the taller girl stated, biting her lip. She and Beca had always loved teasing each other, but her eyes seemed empty now, her expression emotionless. Perhaps she should’ve went with another approach.

“Well thanks,” Beca mumbled sarcastically and rolled her eyes.

“You know how I meant that. You look like you haven’t slept in days an-”

“I haven’t,” Beca stated, interrupting her friend without even thinking about it. It was then that Stacie took a deep breath and finally said what she had wanted to say from the very beginning, finally stopped trying to talk around the subject like everyone had for weeks.

“I know you love Chloe more than anything. And I know you’re hurting, of course you are. I probably can’t even begin to imagine how you must feel. I’ve never been in a situation like yours, have probably never connected to someone like that. Well, I definitely haven’t. Because it doesn’t get better than you and Chloe. You guys are perfect for each other, everyone can see that. But you gotta talk to us. You can’t just repress this and stay in your room all day. I know she’s seeing this dumb guy and I know it must be killing you, we can see that it does. But it feels crappy that you don’t talk to us and it feels crappy not knowing how to help you.”

Beca opened her mouth, wanting to deny everything, like she usually would have. Wanting to pretend like Stacie wasn’t completely right, like she wasn’t missing Chloe more than anything. But instead, she finally stopped. She finally stopped pretending that the redhead wasn’t the most important person in her life. Instead, she nodded softly and shot Stacie a watery smile, before she suddenly burst out crying. All of her attempts to hold her tears back had failed.

She hadn’t cried once in those past few weeks, had wanted to stay strong. Crying equaled weakness in her book and she hadn’t built all those walls around herself for people to think she was anything but completely badass. And it had taken exactly this speach from her friend for her to realize that it was okay to cry, doing so feeling like falling deeper and finally being able to breathe again all at the same time.

Neither of them had noticed the unusually quiet redhead standing in the hallway, neither of them had known she was listening and they therefore hadn’t seen her tears either. But she was there in less than a second, was engulfing Beca in a tight embrace exactly when she needed it the most.

The brunette didn’t question it, instead she held tightly onto Chloe and let herself fall into this beautifully comfortable safe space that she knew only the redhead could provide, that she knew could be deadly.

And in that moment they both realized that perhaps they weren’t too late after all. That perhaps, for once, their timing was just right.

[mnm-inc-miles]

MAY 3 - JULY 26, 2019 

Elliot blinked, his eyes trying desperately to adjust to the darkness. His body aches and as he went to stand he could feel himself fold over unnaturally. Upon looking at himself he saw his insides slowly pouring from his abdomen. His eyes widened in horror as he tried to scoop himself back together. Feeling his knees weaken, he buckled under the sheer magnitude of his situation and fell to the ground. Looking around desperately he saw a small blueish glow moving toward him.

As the figure approached, his face stern and unmoving, he reached down and offered a hand. Elliot was hesitant but took the extension and pulled himself up. “You’ve seen better days,” the voice spoke in a cold emotionless tone.

“I...” Elliot breathed as he took in the image of the other man. He was very tall and muscular, he had a dark beard and glowing eyes, his lips held in a stern scowl. Upon his head sat a golden crown. It began to sink in just who in fact he was. Hades. “Am I dead?” Elliot tried thinking about the last thing he remembered. Moving to Greece, trying desperately to pray, to appeal to the Gods and find one willing to help him get rid of his father’s grasp on his body and mind. Then he vaguely remembered another visit from Ares...

“You are one determined soul,” the voice spoke with almost a hint of admiration.

“Hades?” Elliot was fairly certain due to the crown but he knew there were other deities that also inhabited the underworld.

The man before him gave a nod then lifted Elliot up by the hand he had grasped, and with his free hand, ran his fingers along Elliot’s open wounds. “Son of Ares, grandson to my power hungry entitled brother Zeus.” A twinge of jealousy riddled in the words he spoke, at the same time Elliot felt his wounds heal. “Welcome to the underworld.”

Hades had explained to Elliot that he resisted his father but it came at the cost of his own life. And though Hades admired his fight and took pity on his plight, he was not in charge of where souls ended up once entering the underworld. Minos, Rhadamanthus, and Aeacus were the ones to determine which souls were worthy of the Elysian Fields, Asphodel Meadows, or Tartarus. Minos, the one in charge of the final decision, didn’t seem to care that toward the end of his life Elliot tried to resist his darkness and desires to kill, and even fought to undo the wrongs of his father. Hades explained that Minos still felt Tartarus was a deserving afterlife for the young demi-god. But Hades, as ruler of the underworld has some considerable pull and he took an interest in the younger male, offering him a deal.

With every deal there was a catch, Elliot knew that but he listened anyway. Hades was bored and he loved interacting with humans, he felt they had the most interesting stories and perspectives. Most gods shared this perspective it seemed. He was also impulsive and when he had a thought he was often quick to act upon it. So he promised Elliot either rebirth which was granted on rare occasions that Hades deemed worthy; or reintroduction to the world just as he was, which wasn’t as easy a trick to perform. Rebirth, Hades assured him, would rid Elliot of his father’s hold and he would get to start over. Reintroduction would come at great cost for Hades and so the same for Elliot, but would still allow for Ares to taunt and use him. The price was to convince a few (or more depending on the choice) humans to eat the food while in the underworld and be bound there for eternity. Elliot told him he couldn’t make such a deal, it wasn’t fair, and Hades laughed. Snapping his fingers he sent Elliot straight to Tartarus. “Call me when you’ve changed your mind.”

~~~~~~~~ 3 MONTHS LATER ~~~~~~~~

Elliot spent just shy of three torturous months in Tartarus. Every morning he was beaten awake by the furies with whips and snakes. Then later each day he was forced to battle the giant serpent monster by the name of Typhon, always ending in the serpent sinking his massive fangs into his flesh and sucking him dry of blood. It was an incredibly painful ordeal. When he wasn’t fighting Typhon he watched his suffering neighbors carry out their own tasks. On his right walked a large number of women carrying jugs to fill a bath that was supposed to wash away the sins of murdering their husband, but the task was never able to be completed as the bath was cracked and the water would always leak out. Not far off beyond them he saw a giant who’s body was torn apart day after day by two vultures. On his left he saw a man push a massive boulder to the top of a large hill with the promise of being released from the underworld once the boulder made it to the other side. But every time he got to the top it would only roll back down and he’d have to repeat the task. Elliot constantly heard cries of anguish and screams of pain, which left him with little to no sleep each night. Not that day and night were distinguishable from one another; after a short while being there it all blended together.

Eventually he felt himself breaking, his mentality to stay and suffer this injustice was no longer something he could stand. “Hades!” Elliot shouted once more for the lord of the underworld. “Great and powerful Hades, I have a proposal.”

Appearing before him in a cloud of blue smoke was the god of the underworld himself, stoic and unemotional as ever. “Tired of playing in Tartarus?” He spoke, no sarcasm just a cold matter of fact statement. “Perhaps Typhon doesn’t make a good playmate.”

“All the above, and I don’t exactly love the neighbors,” He exhaled bitterly. “I was wondering if we could talk...come to an agreement. Something I can live with but also appeases you.”

“You want to change the terms of the deal I offered?” Hades boomed, his image growing, challenging Elliot’s brawn.

Elliot barely shivered as the god’s size increased, but stood his ground. “Yes. I think I have something you want. If you could do it yourself you wouldn’t have asked me to make a deal.”

Hades narrowed his eyes than snapped his fingers and suddenly Elliot was sitting at a table with a huge feast. “Enjoy yourself while we talk.” Beside Hades was a large three headed dog, the one that often guards the entrance to the underworld to prevent people from entering or escaping. He growled viciously before lapping up raw meat from three bowls.

“It looks wonderful, but I am well aware that eating the food of the underworld traps you for eternity.”

“Elliot, son of Ares, you are already dead. Therefore you are already trapped for eternity. Might as well enjoy yourself while we negotiate terms.” Raising a brow and wondering a moment if this was the case, Elliot decided he really did have nothing to lose, and he was in fact starving. They didn’t feed you in Tartarus, not unless it had something to do with your punishment perhaps, though he hadn’t quite noticed his hunger then.

After having eaten some Elliot somehow found himself hungrier than ever, then sighed figuring it was the effects of eating Hades food. So he redirected his attention back to the god himself. “Send me back to Earth and I will personally bring you 4 people, one for each week in a month that will dine with you for a night and you can talk until your hearts content, but then send them back to earth when you’re done.”

“Release...them? Why...why ever would I do that?”

“Let me let you in on a little secret, people are only interesting when they are living their lives. Trap them down here for eternity and their light will grow as dark as the underworld itself.”

“Like...Persephone...” Hades spoke with affection toward his wife, who only joins him in the underworld for 7 weeks out of the year.

“Basically, yes. This way, you have endless stories to be shared and no broken toys.”

“I do like this plan,” Hades nodded. “Alright, you’ve convinced me.” Elliot’s head cocked, wondering if it would really be that easy. “Though I have an amendment. I want 8 people, for one week out of each month. And in return I shall have you reborn.”

“Actually, I quite like my life as it is now...I’d really like to resume it.”

“Even with Ares looming over your head?”

“I’ll admit I want to get rid of that burden, but I’ll figure out a way. Maybe you could get me in touch with Aphrodite, I think she often takes pity on me.”

Hades laughed, “My dear boy, I doubt it is pity she feels for you. Goddess of love, with looks like yours? She may want more from you than offerings. But of all the choices Aphrodite might be one of your best against Ares.”

“I guess we’ll see.” At least Elliot knew now he was on the right track and that the world of the Greek Gods wasn’t entirely lost after all.

“I can’t put you in touch with her, sadly. Most of the other gods don’t associate much with me. Which is why I get so lonely sometimes...especially when my wife...”

“Well I can help with that, can you return me to earth as I am now?” He would simply have to take this step by step. Anything to get him out of Tartarus.

Hades thought for a moment, “There is a mountain of gold I’d like you to steal for me. I shall loan you my Helm of Darkness to aid you in the task. Wearing it will make you invisible.”

“And how do I carry this said mountain back to you?” Sarcasm dripping from his lips.

Hades offered a smile, “You have a lot of attitude for a man in my debt.”

“They way I see it, you haven’t really done anything for me to put me in your debt. The deal benefits you before it benefits me.”

“Fair point, but I’m always true to my word. Ask Persephone. She’ll tell you.” Hades beamed with pride for a moment then snapped his fingers. A blue cloud of smoke and suddenly a small sack was in his hand. “For you, it’s bottomless. Though it’s a bit broken so the weightlessness might not be working fully.”

“Of course it is,” Elliot sighed.

“While you’re on this mission you will bring me ten people and I will pick the eight I find most interesting.” Hades nodded to put the stamp of finality on the statement.

Elliot closed his eyes, and decided to see how badly Hades needed this gold and these people, then opened with a rebuttal. “That is far too many. I had said I could bring you four.”

“I am Hades!”

“I know. And I have the means of supplying you with gold and a few people for entertainment. But you are asking too much of me.”

“Too much of the son of Ares!?”

“Too much of anyone with humanity.” Hades eyed him for a moment and Elliot sighed. “Send me back to Tartarus if you must, because I cannot fulfill such a grand request.”

“Bring me eight people.”

“Four.”

“Bring me eight and I’ll choose four people who stay and release the rest.” Elliot thought for a moment and realized he had no bargaining chips left and agreed to the deal.

~~~~~~~~ A week later ~~~~~~~~

Elliot managed to steal the gold Hades asked of him without much trouble thanks to the helmet. Gathering 8 people for him to choose from would be a whole other battle. But these were people who barely mattered so he wasn’t going to fight the issue. He needed to get back to Christian and his life.

A young woman stood staring at a street sign, confused; she was clearly a tourist. A pang of guilt hit him but Elliot pressed on. “Excuse me miss, but you look lost.” He turned up the charm and offered her a reassuring smile.

“I’m trying to find the river styx?” Her eyes were a soft hazel but there was something wild and familiar about them.

“Why would you want to do that?” Elliot spoke. He was honest in the statement, the river of hate being a terrible place to find yourself. But he recovered quickly, “Why just the river when you can tour all of the underworld.”

Her eyes widened, “Oh you don’t say! How much is that going to cost?”

“Possibly nothing, possibly part of your life.” He said it very seriously, as if daring her to be scared and turn to flee. She did not.

“That sounds wonderful I have 8 people in mind for the adventure.”

“What?” Elliot asked, confused. Suddenly the woman before him transformed into Miles and laughed maniacally.

“You didn’t think I’d let you choose people of no worth did you? No, that would be no fun for me.” Before Elliot could argue Miles opened his hand, eight tiny people were dazed and clinging to him. Miles gave a mighty blow and the 8 people along with Elliot were suddenly transported back to the underworld.

In the frenzy everyone fell from above into scattered locations. Oliver and Rob had landed upon the shore near a boat with Elliot. Donald landed just before Cerberus who proceeded to lunge and tear into his skin with his many jaws. He scrambled to get away as Ted reached a hand in Donald’s direction to pull him free. Not far from them Lena screamed as she was being pulled down by foreign hands in a river. Donald leapt to his feet and dove head first into the river of screaming souls. Ted sighed, finding the move impulsive but followed him to the edge to help pull them free. It took Donald a while to pull his head back above the water and when he did he howled in pain. Flesh eating worms squirming in and out of his wounds. Jack landed on solid ground near a body of water that was covered in flames. He soothed himself by quietly singing “lake of fire” hoping someone would find him and together they could find a way out. Wil landed in a body of water hard, knocking the wind out of him, and he was left floating on his back. Chet splashed into a river and swam through its mirky black depths screaming in pain. His soul was filled with the darkness of the hate the river spewed and as Chet pulled himself upon the land he could hear the mournful cries of the souls around him. He tore off his clothes as they burned his skin and he retreated into himself, covering his body.

Elliot looked around and called out to Oliver and Rob, “Hey, are you two alright?”

Rob stood and looked over at Elliot, “What the heck is happening? Where are we?”

“Elliot...you’re okay!?” Oliver stared in surprise.

He gave them a nod, “That’s a loaded question...look, climb aboard, we have to find the others. There has to be a way to escape...”

“Escape where, what’s going on Elliot?” Oliver asked, looking around nervously.

“The underworld, I made a deal with Hades, but somehow Miles got involved and complicated it. So I’m hoping to come up with a plan B. But we need to find the others first, and already I can see just across the lake toward Archeron, there’s a few people. But we need to hurry.”

“Archeron?” Oliver asked as he climbed into the boat. Rob followed, watching Elliot suspiciously and wondering just what this deal entailed.

“River of woe,” Elliot added. He began rowing and avoided eye contact with Rob who was intensely staring him down. Just as Oliver was about to ask another question Elliot interrupted. “I’d rather not answer a million questions right now...we’re on a bit of a time crunch.”

“Yes well it seems your what got us pulled into this mess,” Rob added. “Miles or not, it has to do with you, so I wouldn’t be short with us.”

“Help! Over ‘ere, we’re over ‘ere,” a voice yelled in a thick British accent. Elliot saw Ted waving his long arms above his head on the shore. Beside him was Donald sitting up but doubled over, gritting his teeth in pain and splashed with blood. On the ground next to him was an unconscious Lena. “Elliot, hi...” Ted actually sounded relieved to see him. “Mate, what the heck is happening? I fink...are we in hell right now?”

“Sort of,” Oliver offered. “Hades underworld apparently, so I guess Elliot’s hell.”

“What happened?” Elliot moved passed Oliver’s statements, choosing to ignore correcting him. “Is Lena alright?”

“She has a pulse,” Ted gave a nod.

“Did you dive in with open wounds?” Elliot asked Donald as he pulled the boat fully to shore. Ted answered for him and Elliot sighed. “That’s going to sting a while.”

“Ya think?” Donald growled, then added bitterly, “I couldn’t let her drown...”

“Probably should have asked Ted to do it,” Elliot stated.

“Yeah well, felt like we didn’t have a lot of time for discussion and also how the fuck was I supposed to know...”

“You couldn’t tell by the souls pulling her down it wasn’t an ordinary river?” Elliot interrupted his rant. “Let’s go, get in. We still have three other people to find before we can get out of here.”

“Do you have any idea where to look?” Oliver asked, concern lacing his deep voice.

“Do you ever stop?” Elliot growled.

“Listen man,” Rob snapped, reaching a strong hand across the boat and grabbing Elliot’s shirt collar. “I’m about sick of your attitude. These are valid concerns and unlike you, most of us aren’t familiar with this god damn place. So you either narrate your plans to avoid people’s questions or just suck it up and answer a few. Got it?”

“I really...I don’t think fighting will help,” Ted stuttered.

“Guys...I think I hear someone...singing...” Oliver suddenly stated and pointed in the opposite direction they were rowing.

Elliot looked across the lake at another river called Phlegethon. “Well,” he sighed. “The only way there is to continue down this river, threw the marsh and toward the River Styx. Which...is where we need to go anyway if we want to navigate out of here. Hopefully we get everyone else along the way. I’m guessing we all fell pretty close to one another.” He paused a moment and looked at Lena. “How’s she doing?”

Ted tucked her hair behind her ear and offered a slight shrug. “She was stirring a bit earlier...what...was that? The river of woe you said?”

Elliot nodded. “There are lost souls there filled with nothing but pain and anyone living who steps foot in the waters feels their pain as well as their own.”

“What a miserable river...” Ted crooned.

“It is the underworld...” Donald sighed. “Not sure what you expected.”

“The underworld consists of nicer places too. It’s not just hell.” Elliot stated as they pushed their way through the marsh. “Hey!” He shouted when the voice subsided. “Can you hear me? Where are you?”

Jack heard the other shouting and quickly stood up. He saw the boat in the distance and began towards it. He was nervous but the closer he got the more he recognized the people of board.

“Hey kid,” Rob smiled warmly as they neared the rivers edge. “Reach out, I’ll take your hands  and help you over.” Jack listened because he wanted to get as far away from the fire and screams as he could. “You alright? You hurt at all?”

“No, not at all. Just freaked out. This place is fuel for nightmares. Where are we?”

“Hades, otherwise known as the underworld,” Rob stated as Elliot rowed on. “Seen anyone else around?”

“No...” said Jack, feeling useless. “God; I heard screaming but I kinda think that comes with the territory...”

“I think you’re probably right,” Ted nodded, acknowledging the current soundtrack that surrounded them.

“I see something,” Donald pointed across the way just along the shore of the river. “I think that’s...”

“River...” Ted nodded. “Poor mate, look at ‘im, doesn’t look like he’s wearing anyfing...I hope he’s awright...”

“Chet!” Elliot called out. “Hey, Chet; we’re coming for you, are you hurt?”

Rob stood and went to step out to help him when Elliot pulled him back in. “I wouldn’t,” he warned. “Styx is also known as the river of hate; not a good place to get your feet wet. We’ll pull up close, you can help him in.”

“He has no clothes,” Rob stated, annoyed.

“He fucks people in the open Rob, I think he can hop into the boat without loosing too much modesty.” Rob looked as if he was ready to punch Elliot when Jack took a hand and interlocked it with Rob’s. Turning to look at the younger male, they locked eyes a moment and Jack gave his hand a squeeze. “Are you okay?” Elliot asked again.

“I think so...” Chet nodded as he stood covering his manhood. “I ugh...I think it’s made of acid...or something...” Rob reached over and helped the other into the boat. It rocked unsteadily under their weight. “Oh...oh man; is this thing going to hold us?”

“It’s fine,” Elliot stated as some water splashed in from the side. Chet gave a yelp as he moved away from it. Sighing, Elliot lifted the bag of gold and gave it a hefty toss onto the river bank. The boat suddenly lifted, the water level on the sides falling away.

“What was that?” Donald asked, eyeing the small bag as they continued their journey.

“Where are we?” Chet added to the question.

“Hades,” Elliot and a handful of people said at once. A slight pause as some tension eased, everyone thinking the same thing about their ridiculous situation. Then Elliot continued. “That was gold in a broken magic bag.” He did a head count and asked, “We’re still missing someone, does anyone know who it was? We’re running out of time...”

“Wilson,” Oliver stated, matter-of-factly.

“I have your friend,” a voice boomed. “You weren’t thinking of trying to escape were you, son of Ares?”

“I hate that he calls me that,” Elliot seethed under his breathe. “Hades!” He spoke aloud. “Hey; so good hearing from you. So turns out getting here was really hard, I had to put your gold down on the shores of Styx because I didn’t want this rickety boat to sink with all these people in it...”

“What’s going on?” Oliver asked. “Elliot...is this the guy you made a deal with that involves us?”

“I didn’t know it would involve you,” Elliot barked. He redirected his attention, knowing there was no more chance at escape. “Hey do you mind doing that finger snap trick of yours and getting us all back to your palace in one piece? Maybe get some clothes for my one friend here?”

A cloud of blue smoke surrounded them and suddenly they were inside, beside a table of food that looked Devine. Chet now wore a toga that was made from what felt like an itchy potato sack.

“We can’t eat any of this food right?” Oliver asked as he eyed some macaroons.

“Um...no, I wouldn’t,” Elliot spoke. “Hades!” He called out but no answer. “Don’t...touch anything, I need to find Hades.”

“Um...Elliot,” Oliver began.

“What,” Elliot spoke, annoyed but trying not to show it. Oliver pointed in the direction of a chair at the end of the table. In it sat a familiar face about to eat an apple from the table. It was Wil. Suddenly an arrow shot through the air and knocked the apple from Wil’s hand.

“Phoenix,” Elliot spoke in surprise. “How did you get here?”

“I have ways,” Phoenix stated. He looked a little worse for wear, probably had battled Cerberus to even make it into the underworld. “Nobody eat the food. You eat it and you’re stuck here for eternity. Wil, are you alright?”

“I uh...I think so yeah.” He paused, now realizing how close he’d been to spending forever in the Greek version of hell. “The man that pulled me from the river said I should...make myself comfortable...”

“Well don’t, we’re not staying.”

“You’re not leaving either,” Hades spoke as he appeared in a cloud of blue smoke. “Not until I get my four humans.”

“You’re not keeping anyone here against their will,” Phoenix spoke.

“That’s not up to you.” Hades smirked slightly. “The son of Ares has made a deal...”

“With lives that aren’t his to forfeit the rights of, and if he doesn’t pull through then the deals off.”

“Phoenix...” growled Elliot. “Hades, would you please give us just a moment.” He grabbed the younger male by the arm and pulled him aside. “First of all, you can’t just leave me here.”

“You got yourself into this mess...”

“You’ll bring Ed back from a mental institution where he probably belongs but you’ll leave me here in the underworld!?” He kept his voice to a harsh whisper.

“I have a feeling you belong here too Elliot. Also; I only brought Ed back because he was the only person who could help Cam. What’s the benefit of bringing you back?”

Elliot eyed him for a moment, wondering if the dislike stemmed from his relationship with Abigail at one point in time. He took a deep breathe and instead of fighting the younger male Elliot decided to appeal to the hero in him. “Phoenix,” he began to plead. “You can’t leave me here man, you know you can’t. It’s not fair...it’s not the right thing to do...”

“Elliot this might be out if my control. Okay? I...I don’t know how you got into this situation...”

“I tried to resist my father using me as a vessel to kill people and ended up dying for it. If that isn’t an action deserving of redemption...”

“Maybe you’re right but this realm is outside my jurisdiction.”

“Most things are,” Elliot spat bitterly. “Look, you’ve no idea who you’re messing with here. Hades is one of the three most powerful Gods in existence. He’s not going to let these people go without a fight. And a fight means bloodshed Phoenix, you really want more of that on your hands? Or do you want me to sweet talk him into a deal of some kind?”

“A deal that involves leaving some people behind? I don’t think so.”

“This isn’t an all or nothing situation Phoenix. It’s either save some, or likely none at all. You can’t fight him, he’s a fucking god. A literal god. Not self proclaimed, not demi, a full blown out of his mind supreme ruler of the god damn underworld. He has you beat, now you have to make the best out of a bad situation. I tried to get everyone together and leave before he noticed, but it didn’t work. So here we are.”

“Enough!” Boomed Hades before clicking his staff on the ground. “I have made my decision.” He began by pointing his staff at Donald. “You must stay, she can go...she’s weak and as beautiful as she is my wife would kill her if she found out she was here. And you...you sound funny...” he cocked his head as he pointed at Ted.

“Thank God for that,” Ted muttered under his breathe. Donald was sitting beside Lena who was just beginning to wake. He sat quietly and waited to hear how things went before freaking out.

“Too old,” Hades stared pointing at Rob. Then slowly be moved close to Oliver. His body emitting a blue glow as he admired the other. “You are a beautiful human, my brother Zeus would have a field day with you, he may even offer you a place among the gods.”

“Uh...thanks?” Oliver shrugged. “That’s very kind but I look forward to growing old and eventually dying...”

“Yes,” Hades huffed tediously, clearly bored. “Which leaves the last three. All of whom seem very interesting. Especially this young lad,” Hades mewed, pointing to Wil. “I don’t know any but one who has drank from the river Lethe and not lost his memory. It’s fascinating.”

“You can’t have him,” Phoenix stepped forward, tired of playing into this game.

“So Hades,” Elliot spoke up, getting between both hot heads. “Here’s what’s going on, things got a little more complicated than I anticipated and these people aren’t exactly willing participants.”

“No one wants to willingly stay here!” Hades roared, his frame growing larger as he banged the staff and shook the ground. Many howls became audible in the distance and Elliot could feel the temperature in the room literally rise.

“Can I ask what the catch is,” Chet spoke suddenly and softly. “This whole thing...it’s to benefit Elliot, I assume he’s dead and wants to leave, so...what’s the catch, what do you want from the four of us you’ve chosen?”

Hades stopped growing as he looked at Chet. “You have a double-soul, did you know that?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, blushing slightly and turning on the charm. “It’s a new thing, I don’t understand it myself yet.” He looked affectionately at Hades and offered a warm smile, “So what do you want from us?”

“Just your company,” Hades spoke. “But no one wants to willingly stay here so I have to make it so there is no choice.”

“Maybe this time it can be different. Maybe if we talk amongst ourselves we can decide who wouldn’t mind staying, it’s not forever right?”

“This is bullshit,” Donald spoke. He was still writhing in pain and wanted to just leave so he could be looked at by a doctor. “I’m not spending any amount of time here, doesn’t matter how short it is.”

“You don’t have a CHOICE!” Hades roared once more. “I don’t trust humans to be true to their word. So therefore you each must eat one pomegranate seed which will bind you to the underworld for 1 week out of the year.”

“There’s no way that’s happening,” Phoenix firmly stated. We’re leaving, try to stop us.”

“He’s joking,” Elliot rushed in. “Phoenix, you said it yourself this is not your domain; you don’t get to call the shots. Stop trying to play the hero and actually be one instead.”

Phoenix froze for a moment and looked at Elliot. It dawned on him that the other may be right and that he could not simply walk out of Hades dwellings with everyone and not expect a backlash or casualties. Inhaling deeply he took a step toward Hades. “I will stay with you for four weeks out of a year. If you can’t trust my word I will eat 4 of your seeds.”

“I don’t WANT you,” Hades whined. “Plus just one person is far too boring.”

“I assure you I am far from boring, in fact I have a second persona so if you need change I can offer you that.”

Hades looked at him a moment, intrigued. “Alright then, you can take the place of two people.”

“Wil and Chet,” Phoenix stated, and pointed to each of them.

“No I want these ones most,” Hades declared.

“I will drink from your river and show you the same results as Wil, so you can let him go. As for Chet, why is he so special? The double soul?”

Hades gave an affirmative nod, “and he’s respectful too, and pretty to look at. He’ll be a wonderful subject.”

Phoenix pulled his shirt over his head and took another step closer to Hades. “I have more stories than he’ll ever be able to share even with two souls. These are proof.”

Hades reached a hand out and touched Phoenix gently, tracing the scars and tattoos with great interest. “Very well, you and the other two. The rest are free to leave.”

Rob watched as tears formed in Jack’s eyes, fear overwhelming him. He raised a brow and turned on his own charm. “You’re looking for entertainment?”

Hades narrowed his eyes, “Yes, have you something to offer?”

“Ask anyone here, I might be one of the most entertaining people in this room. I’ll stay a week in place of him,” Rob offered, pointing to Jack. “I know you said I’m old, but that kid scares easily, you’ll only grow frustrated trying to acclimate him here. I assure you I’m a much more fulfilling choice.”

Pondering a moment Hades shrugged, “Why not.” He let out a big yawn, “alright then let’s get on with it. Each of you have your allotted seeds.”

“Oh fuck no,” Donald growled. “I am not a willing participant. Like I said I’m not staying for any amount of time. Period.”

“You will stay if I have to force this seed down your throat.”

“Try it, I dare you,” Donald growled.

Elliot got between them, “Hades, you know you can’t force them. Look I’ll...I’ll stay a week in his place. In fact, I’ll stay two, in place of Rob as well.”

Hades grew quiet and stared at Elliot. “The son of Ares...”

“Elliot,” he offered.

“The grandson of Zeus himself, is willing to join me in the underworld for two weeks out of the year?”

“Sure, if I can pick the two weeks. Maybe end of March and end of September sometime? That doesn’t interfere with your Persephone time either.”

“I like the sound of that.” Hades stated, his hand held out a bunch of pomegranate seeds. “Have your pick.” Elliot picked up two seeds and ate them. Then he offered them to Phoenix who watched Elliot, eyes narrow and angry. Then rolling his eyes and swallowing hard, he took two seeds and ate them. “What weeks will you join me?”

“It doesn’t entirely matter, first week of August and first week of September.”

“Not September, he’s already coming then,” Hades nodded to Elliot. “And not November through February because I’ll be preparing for and joined by Persephone.” Phoenix listed the months in his head and thought of important days and decided upon the first week in October. “Deal.”

[a-spec-tacular]

Ashlyn Eloise Miller (Ace OC)

A/N: She’s not for any particular fandom. Just a character I made. I hope she’s acceptable. *sweatdrops* Picture (which is hopefully showing up) done by the amazing RiversArt!

NAME

Ashlyn Eloise Miller

NICKNAMES

Ash (given to her by her parents, but not particularly used)

Lynn-Lynn (given to her by her baby sister, who at one point in time couldn’t say her full name; she is teased about this all the time by her older brother)

GENDER

Female (cis)

SEXUALITY

Asexual biromantic

However, she thinks she prefers men, and so figures herself to be more bi-curious (but not in a sexual way, of course).

AGE

21 (almost 22)

HEIGHT

5ft 3in (1.6 m)

WEIGHT

113 lbs (51.26 kg)

APPEARANCE AND BUILD

Ashlyn has short, very dark brown hair (can look black in dim lighting) that reaches just above her shoulders. It’s styled in layers, which in her case means the front is longer than the back. Her hair is also dyed a mixture of purple and indigo, with various sections of her hair being one or the other, though the bottom layers are still her natural brown. It’s parted to the right, though there are days where she’ll part it down the middle because she feels like it. When parted to the right it seems more like one-sided bangs than when it’s down the middle. Her skin leans toward the darker side of being olive-toned, though it would probably be even more so if she’d go outside every once and a while. She has large brown eyes, the shade of which she always found boring as a child, so once she turned thirteen she convinced her mom to get her colored contacts (specifically blue, violet, lavender, and red). Most days she wears the lavender or violet ones (especially lavender), but sometimes she’s too lazy to bother with contacts and will just wear her plain black glasses. Her lips aren’t particularly luscious or prominent on her face, though they are shaped nicely and essentially symmetrical. She also has a sprinkling of freckles on her nose, not to mention a stubborn pimple on the left side that just keeps coming back no matter what she does. She’s nicknamed her eyebrows ‘furry caterpillars’ because they’re thick and she refuses to pluck or wax them (no, they aren’t nearly as thick as Arthur’s, which I bet most of you were thinking). Her ears are of average size, and she has just the left one pierced with a small diamond.

Ashlyn is on the short side for her age, and while she is teased for it by her taller older brother, she really doesn’t mind it all too much. She has a long waist (meaning the distance between the bottom of her ribcage and the top of her waist encompasses several inches), which can makes her body appear rather unproportioned with only a brief glance. Because of this ‘structure’, she gains her weight in her butt and thighs first, much to her annoyance when pants are too big at her waist and uncomfortably snug on her butt and legs. She’s of average bust size, but has trouble finding bras that fit because American bra companies don’t make them with band sizes small enough for her. She’s a relatively muscular person, after taking gymnastics for five years. However, she was forced to quit because of a back injury. Nevertheless, she looks stronger than she appears. Her bone frame is also on the smaller side, which really doesn’t help her seem taller whatsoever, much to her [occasional] dismay. Her feet are small, which should come as no surprise, though she has an unusually high arch, which can make it annoying to find shoes that fit correctly. Her brother is flatfooted, however, so she considers herself to be luckier than him. Her fingers are small but not compressed (and sadly not slender, either), and she has a large writing callous on her right hand from using wooden pencils for such a long time (she’s only just switched over to mechanical).

SCARS/BIRTHMARKS/ETC.

Ashlyn has a small birthmark of no particular shape on her back just under her left shoulder blade, which she almost always forgets is there because who actually looks at their back? She also has a scar below her knee from falling off her bicycle as a child and catching it in the chain, not to mention assorted marks that she doesn’t qualify as ‘scars’ from gymnastics. Her left wrist also juts out slightly because the bone didn’t heal exactly as it should have after she broke it doing – guess what? Gymnastics. She also has a small mark above her right eyelid from where she had to get a bump removed as an infant. She has no memory of the process and so just believes what her parents tell her. Perhaps she’s really an alien (an asexualien).

CLOTHING

Ashlyn loves purple – any and all shades of it. Indigo is a close second, followed by mint green. Most of her shirts consist of styles in varying shades of these, and paired with black or white jeans, and occasionally jeggings. Despite her overall monochrome assortment of clothing, she has a small collection of shirts with punchlines and comedic gags relating to asexuality on them that she likes to wear every now and then. Her favorite shirts have the asexual flag colors and say “This asexual pirate is not interested in your booty” and “I want to do people like I want to do homework. Not at all.” She’s not a very trendy person, and therefore doesn’t keep up with ‘the latest styles’ – this includes mainstream media and so-called ‘punk’ and the like. In fact, it can be embarrassing how ‘out of the know’ she is. She’s also more self-conscious about her body than she cares to admit, so she’ll wear long sleeves and pants or a jacket over a regular shirt in an attempt to keep herself covered. She’s a huge fan of boots, especially lace-ups or combat boots. Not so much of knee-highs – she actually prefers heels or flats over those. She doesn’t wear dresses very often, but she has a few for special occasions or when she feels a little fancier. And on her right middle finger is a simple black ring – the sign of being asexual.

HEALTH

Ashlyn is a relatively healthy person – with the exception of her back injury that’ll act up every so often, much to her dismay. On the worst of such days she has to use a brace, but thankfully those are few and far between. She’s had problems with anxiety, especially before she came out as ace and biromantic, but nothing above average. She’s been seeing a physical therapist ever since she was forced to stop doing gymnastics, but only goes once every two weeks for a three hour session (on average, at least). She’s fallen prey to many standard diseases, including the flu and several stomach viruses. She is asthmatic, but not seriously so, which is why she was able to do even strenuous gymnastics without the extreme fear of having an asthma attack (and she keeps her inhaler on her just in case); though she did have to be hospitalized when she was stricken with pneumonia around eight years ago.

RELIGIOUS BELIEFS

Ashlyn is a non-denominational Christian that attends mass every Sunday who believes that there is nothing wrong with being gay, bi, pan, trans, ace, etc. When someone tries to tell her that God doesn’t make mistakes, she says, “I know that He doesn’t. If someone is gay, God made them to be. If someone is trans, God made them that way. You are the one who is mistaken.” Her religion is important to her, and it frustrates her to end when someone tries to use religion as an argument against sexuality, because it gives all Christians a negative reputation that most have not earned. And if someone isn’t religious or is of a different religion than her, she couldn’t care less and will support them with all her being, because it’s their choice and it doesn’t make them more or less of a human being.

LANGUAGES

She’s fluent in English! And that’s it, sadly. She wants to be bilingual, and is trying to get her two friends (one of which is bilingual in English and Spanish and the other of which is trilingual in English, Danish, and Dutch) to teach her other languages. They’ve agreed to do so, but so far it’s been hard for them to find a schedule that works. She takes Latin and German as two of her electives because they’re supposedly the best languages to learn for English-speaking writers who want to improve their writing.

PERSONALITY

Ashlyn is a blunt person who will tell things like they are without a second thought and not care how it makes you feel. Therefore she is not very empathetic. Emotional connections can be hard for her to establish and understand, which is both a strength and a weakness. It’s a strength in that she doesn’t get very attached to things and is less likely to be offended or hurt by words (and even actions), but it also a weakness because she finds it hard to be a source of comfort for people (and to find a source of comfort for herself), and often just cannot understand how deeply intertwined some people are with their feelings. Because she can be rather apathetic, she doesn’t get overjoyed or annoyed easily. If she does get mad, she’s not going to show her anger physically; instead she’ll simply appear cold and rather emotionless or will simply respond with sarcasm. The same applies to excitement; she won’t jump around and hug people, but she will laugh and smile more. Crying is something she considers to be embarrassing, because it makes her feel weak and often results in pity from others, which is part of the reason she’s so lackluster in physical expression. Because of this, she hardly ever cries, and simply does not take things to heart.

Ashlyn can be sarcastic every now and then – particularly around adults when she’s irritated – but her true sense of humor is that of cringeworthy puns and one-liners, not mention a ton of ace jokes that she will not hesitate to use. Dirty jokes are also right up her alley, much to the surprise of many. But just because she’s ace doesn’t mean that she doesn’t understand things about sex and/or similar subjects, and she will have a grand time making fun of it. But most of her puns and the like (aka her real sense of humor) are only shown around friends and family, though there have been times where she just couldn’t keep her mouth shut and accidentally spoke her thoughts aloud in class, resulting in her being absolutely mortified (at least on the inside). She feels her sense of humor mostly comes from her dad, though she and her mom have lots of laughs on their own. Her friends appreciate her terrible jokes and zero remorse when it comes to having suggestiveness in them – most of the time, at least.

Despite her lack of connection to emotions and fondness for darker colors, Ashlyn is not the stereotypical ‘emo’ or ‘too cool for school’ type of person (if anything she’s probably ‘too school for cool’). She considers to herself to be overall an extrovert, with a few introverted traits stuck in here and there. For instance, she’s not going to be very open to people she doesn’t know too well, but is probably too open among those whom she does. She’s also never going to be the first person to approach someone in an attempt to make a new friend; that’s just a no for her. However, she doesn’t mind going out with her friends on spontaneous occasions, and admittedly loves it when the spotlight is put on her (when it’s for a positive thing, anyways). She can even be flirtatious when she feels like it, but it’s never serious. Flirting is honestly something that entertains her in a comical fashion – watching people squirm when dirty things are implied is hilarious to her (which she will acknowledge is a slightly twisted thing to laugh at).

Being asexual, Ashlyn does not experience sexual attraction. But she is not aromantic, and still desperately wants to have an intimate relationship with someone. She just wants to skip the sex part and get to the cuddling, basically. She loves to hold hands with people, especially that moment when you slowly intertwine your fingers with theirs and just hold tight for a moment before relaxing. She’s more hesitant about kissing, and there are times when she’s completely up for it and others when she can’t even fathom the idea. She’s not a very sentimental person, per se, but the things that can get her to the blush the most quickly are when she’s told by her significant other how loved she is and how proud she should be owning her asexuality. Simple things like that touch her the most. She enjoys hugs for the most part, especially when she can hug her significant other and their foreheads touch and it’s so quiet it seems like their heartbeats fill up the room. Just being together is enough for her.

LIKES

Men and women; particularly men, though personality is the most important thing to her

Dirty jokes and awful puns

CATS, CATS, CATS

Spicy foods

Cake, cake, and more cake

Writing, especially poetry

Gymnastics and martial arts (the latter of which she has never done)

Card games (because they give her so many chances for ace jokes)

PURPLE STUFF

Pride Month

Animation, everything from the colors to the style, be it 2D or 3D

Working at the nursing home (especially on bingo nights)

Baseball/Softball (she will stay up all night watching a game; loves the Astros)

People who know multiple languages

ACE HUMOR

Classical music

DISLIKES

Ace discourse (especially when people claim that asexuality is not real, that it can be cured with medical help, that asexuals are broken, and/or the idea that asexuals just want to be ‘special snowflakes’)

Homophobes, aphobes, transphobes, etc.

Overly sweetened foods and drinks (not just ‘sweet foods’ in general; a good example is pure honey)

Makeup (on herself because she breaks out easily; she couldn’t care less if someone else wears it)

Long hair (she feels it gets in the way)

Lizards (her brother put one on her pillow when she was little and has been terrified since)

Wasps and other stinging insects

Soccer/Football/Futbol (she just doesn’t find it entertaining)

Flowers (her allergies always act up during spring and it irritates her to no end)

Being told to wear heels or stripes to make herself look taller

American bra companies

Being asked if she’s like a plant because she’s asexual

Roller coasters

Sex (though she doesn’t consider herself to be ‘sex-repulsed’)

Trends

Cursing (even though she herself does it)

Eggplant

Airplanes

FEARS

Corrective rape

Yes, if someone tries to have sex with you without your consent (even if they claim they’re trying to ‘fix’ you despite the fact that asexuals are not broken), it is rape and always will be. She does not experience sexual attraction, but is terrified someone is going to force her to have sex with them one day.

Heights

She is overwhelmed with vertigo easily even if she’s not extremely high up; if you try to force her to ‘look down’ anywhere above ten feet from the ground she will not hesitate to punch you.

Rejection

It’s not an unusual fear for asexuals; she’s worried she’ll fall in love with someone with heart mind, and soul, but once they find out she didn’t fall in love with them with her body as well, she’ll just be left in the dust.

Drugs/Addictions

She had an uncle who was addicted to cocaine and was an alcoholic, and the havoc it wreaked on his wife and kids (her aunt and cousins) terrified her. Thankfully, however, he’s in rehab now, and his family is slowly rewriting itself for the better.

HABITS

Ashlyn doesn’t have very many habits, but when in deep thought she’ll stare off into space and twist her hair around her finger. She used to bite her nails when she was younger, but has since stopped. However, a habit caused by gymnastics is to keep her nails short, which still remains. She’ll also twist her ring around her finger when she’s nervous or under a lot of pressure.

SKILLS/TALENTS

Poetry

Coming up with bad puns and dirty jokes on the spot and seizing every moment possible for ace jokes and (in her opinion) nailing them

Gymnastics, though evidently not so much anymore

Organization (everything has a place it should be and a time it should be done at)

Getting along with people (because not much ever really ‘gets to her’, she tolerates people that some would never consider)

FAMILY

Ashlyn has two parents that she loves very much (and they love her as well), a brother six years her senior, and a sister eleven years her junior. Her relationship with her parents is not perfect (as to be expected), but it is much better than what she knows other people face, and she counts herself to be very lucky for that. She was nervous to come out as an asexual biromantic, and while her parents didn’t understand at first (she had to give them a lecture on sexualities and what it meant to be asexual for her and how asexuality varies from ace to ace), they did accept her. Not without questions, though – they wanted her to explain everything to them as much as she could, which genuinely touched her. Her mom had a little more trouble understanding, and at first did tell her that she almost hoped that Ashlyn would change her mind in the future, but has now fully come to terms with it and says whatever makes her daughter happiest is good enough for her. Her dad was pretty indifferent on the matter, and actually joked that she would have worry about STDs and similar much less than most people – especially if she ended up marrying a girl and not a guy. Neither of them ever considered sending her to a therapist because neither believed their daughter to be broken and/or in need of fixing, which actually made her cry (much to her embarrassment) when they told her because that had always been one of her greatest fears.

Her brother has never had a problem with her asexuality or her biromanticism, often telling her that he’d continue on the Miller family line himself if she couldn’t. He even told Ashlyn that he wouldn’t hesitate to beat up anyone who dared to speak ace discourse or anything aphobic/homophobic in her presence, which touched her, but she reassured him that she could do it on her own. She and her brother do love each other, but their sibling relationship is that of siblings – very much love-hate. And their personalities are also very different, which can result in tense arguments. But in the end they’ll always forgive each other (unless it’s related to the time he left a lizard on her pillow; she will bear a grudge against him for that the rest of her life). As for her younger sister, well, she is only ten, and therefore doesn’t really understand many things Ashlyn likes to joke about (innuendos and all that), but looks up to her very much and is always talking about how cool her big sister is and that she wants to be just like her.

FRIENDS

Before Ashlyn realized she was asexual, she had two main ‘friend groups’ that she felt she belonged to. One group (which will be discussed more in detail later) perfectly accepted her asexuality (and later, her biromanticism), but the other was not so welcoming. One of the guys in that second group whom she’d had a slight crush on for a while just laughed when she told them before saying to her that she didn’t have to worry, because he’d be able to fix that for her. She was disgusted by his comment and essentially lost any and all interest in him immediately. A girl in that group told her that sex was so important, and that she’d never be able to get a boyfriend if she wasn’t willing to have sex. She even mentioned that Ashlyn was too young to say that she was asexual (she was only fifteen at the time, but had suspected herself of being ace around a year beforehand), because she couldn’t say she was asexual until she’d tried to have sex with someone. Even her closest friend in that group, a guy who was gay and a huge supporter of LGBT, became angry at her and accused her of wanting to be special or just pretending to belong in the LGBT movement, which absolutely broke her heart because he was the one person she was completely sure would understand. She has since broken off contact with them, and doesn’t intend on speaking to them again if she can help it.

Her other group of friends had a very different reaction to her coming out. They were all very proud of her and said that they would support her no matter what, even if her sexuality changed in the future. Their reaction was no different when she told them she was biromantic. Likewise, when they began to understand their sexual orientations, she accepted them all with open arms. This friend group consists of five people (including herself), and they are as follows:

Erin Jessen – half Danish/half Dutch (trilingual friend), genderfluid, short blonde hair, blue-gray eyes, 5’ 6”, pansexual

Michael Stafford – African American (grandparents from Angola), male, black hair, hazel eyes, 5’ 9”, homosexual/gay

Gabriela Valdez – Mexican (bilingual friend), female, long black hair, green-brown eyes, 5’ 5”, pansexual (with a preference towards girls)

Sasha Mulyadi – Indonesian-American (parents from Indonesia; yes, she is Muslim), female, long black hair (under her jilbab [what most Indonesians call a hijab], which is optional for her to wear and she does so out of choice), brown eyes, 5’ 5”, heterosexual.

They’re an extremely close-knit group of friends, and would follow each other to hell and back. Ashlyn has known Erin the longest; their parents were actually childhood friends. Sasha is the newest addition to their group, having met them all in seventh grade. Michael and Ashlyn share the same taste in guys, and so before Ashlyn got in a real relationship, they’d often go ‘guy-hunting’ together, as they put it.

And while Ashlyn loves each and every one of them equally, Gabriela admittedly holds a special place in her heart, as they’ve been dating for four – nearly five – years (and have of course known each other for even longer). Gabriela treasures her girlfriend and is always very cautious when showing her physical affection, because she understands that every ace has different boundaries and doesn’t want to overstep them. Ashlyn appreciates this and loves her all the more for it.

QUOTES

*while playing a card game* “I’ve got an ace up my sleeve.” *pauses* “Wait. Never mind. It’s just me.”

“How many asexual does it take to screw in a lightbulb?” *pauses* “None! We don’t screw.”

“Ugh! F*ck me. Metaphorically.”

“I’m beauty, I’m grace, and I am hella ace.”

“1% of the population is asexual. That’s still 70 to 80 million people. Asexuals exist. And based on our low reproductive rates we might cease to if we aren’t careful.”

“Yes, my girlfriend is pansexual. Yes, she experiences sexual attraction. Yes, I am asexual. Yes, I do not experience sexual attraction. And yes – we are very happy together.”

“Oh, so you think asexuality isn’t real? Let’s ask my brother – who’s a pro linebacker, by the way – if he agrees, hmm?”

“God made you to be you – gay, straight, bi, trans, pan, ace, or whatever – and anyone who says otherwise is wrong.”

“I have realized that I am an ace at whatever I do.”

“Cats will rule the world one day and I will help them achieve this.”

“Cake is so much better than sex. Seriously, how is that even a question?”

“SPACE ACE, B*TCH!”

“Honestly, anything purple is fine with me. Unless it’s an eggplant.”

“I am clearly a god.”

“I mean, marriage is great when you’re in love and stuff. But like – tax benefits!”

“Sexuality is not something you’re in control of. So why make a big deal over it?”

“I am not broken. I do not need to be fixed. And if you lay even a finger on me in a so-called attempt to do so, I promise that I will kill you.”

“Please. Don’t touch me. Just… Not now.”

“Curse writer’s block? More like exorcise it.”

“I am asexual and proud!”

A/N: And that’s my OC. Sorry it was so long. I hope you like her.

[whatdoyouexpectthistime]

Out of Office Drama: Goto and Miho

Under normal circumstances, all meetings aside from the date scenario were conducted at MJS headquarters – so this one should have been no different.

However, Miho, in her infinite wisdom, made an exception.

Shouldn’t have for a great many reasons – some her own, some not – but did just the same.

The hotel bar was not of her choosing, but it was familiar enough for her to feel comfortable waiting on her own. In the early evening, she could take small sips from her shiraz and not seem like a complete lush; she definitely looked like a woman there to meet someone, though her attire and the presence of a laptop and manila folder peeking from the top of the handbag beside her, suggested at least it was not a social rendezvous.

This is a really, REALLY bad idea.

“Sorry if I kept you waiting.”

She’d seen him enter of course, watched him glance around before spying her. His stride was purposeful but unhurried, and though he’d attempted to maintain eye contact as he approached, Miho had glanced down into her drink in a rather uncharacteristic display of cowardice? Bashfulness? Awkwardness?

Something like that.

“Just long enough for the wine to warm to the perfect temperature,” she responded lightly, finally lifting her eyes to his.

Inhale before the perfect storm – silver lined clouds threatening to break but not yet broken, gentle and controlled, power and potential evident but held in check.

“Are you all right?” he frowned, ducking his head a little to peer more closely at her expression, and Miho flinched.

“Distracted, sorry,” she apologised, shaking her head, and hopefully the stupidity from it. “Shall we grab a table?”

“Yes,” he nodded, motioning with a gentlemanly sweep of his hand that she lead him.

Just not on.

“Is this a usual haunt of yours?” she enquired, selecting a booth over a table.

“No, I rarely get time to enjoy places like this,” he admitted, waiting for her to be seated before doing the same, settling opposite, “and as you already know, I’m not much of a drinker.”

“I take it, then, I’ll be drinking alone?” she smirked, finally finding mirth, even if it was wry.

“Would you feel more comfortable if I ordered something?” he queried, but before she could answer he’d waved for a waitress who came over with a smile. “May I get a glass of…”

Goto looked to Miho’s glass, and she filled in the blanks.

“House shiraz,” she declared.

“Of course,” the waitress smiled, scribbling a couple of words down, before departing.

“You didn’t need to do that,” Miho told him.

“If we only ever did the things we needed to do, life wouldn’t be all that interesting,” he philosophised.

He seemed completely comfortable.

It was not uncommon for clients to act different following a test drive, but Goto showed no signs of awkwardness; in fact, he was, Miho thought, unusually cool considering what she knew of his rather bashful nature.

This did not escape her notice, and she eyed him suspiciously for a few seconds, before she retrieved the folder from her bag and handed it to him.

“Here’s my final profile,” she explained, and he flicked it over. “Please read it carefully to ensure you’re happy with my evaluation, and the wording; semantics can sway, so it’s important to be particular.”

The document was not a short one, and while Goto read in silence, Miho sat doing her best to show no interest in his reaction to any of what she’d written. Though he did seem a little different today than their last meeting, and in all those before that, she could tell when he reached where she’d detailed his romantic style and sexual performance – colour dappled his cheeks faintly, and Miho trapped a sigh in her chest until it dissipated.

Still, she remembered writing that section intensely, and the urge to cross her legs made her weight shift.

When the waitress arrived and put down Goto’s glass, he had still yet to look up from the paper; but he hadn’t turned the page in some time either.

“Problem?” Miho enquired, leaning forward a little.

Goto cleared his throat.

“I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t both confronting and embarrassing to read about myself like this,” he admitted, glancing at her but not making eye contact this time. “Flattering too,” he added. “You have quite a vivid way with words.”

“It’s crucial clients are able to get a clear idea of all aspects of their potential partner,” she expounded, falling back into practiced professionalism. “It’s how we’ve been able to enjoy the success rate we have.”

“And this is all your thoughts on me?” he prompted, closing the folder over.

“Actually I was so inspired, and sure you’d agree with my assessment, that,” she began, leaning down grab a thicker folio from her bag, “I’ve already selected three clients who are compatible.”

He looked at it, the black folio hovering across the table between them.

“That eager to get rid of me?” he questioned, eyes wandering up her arm, across her shoulder, but he stopped short of reaching her face.

His brows twitched, and he seemed transfixed by her throat. Neither of them had mentioned meeting in the supermarket day before last, and sure as hell had not uttered Subaru’s name – but Goto’s stare lingering there reminded them both.

Finally, he managed to refocus his gaze back into her face.

Then there was his tone. It lacked all humour, it lacked everything; and an emotionless mural painted over what Miho had seen happen several times before in this very situation.

Jazz’s voice rang in her ears – how sometimes clients, having enjoyed their time with them after long spells of loneliness or romantic disconnect, thought they felt more than they truly did.

“At MJS we pride ourselves on being both thorough, and efficient,” she responded – the line from their glossy brochure.

“Ahh, yes,” he nodded, still looking right over the folio Miho refused to lower. “You satisfy your clients, 100% guaranteed.”

“Mr. Goto,” Miho levelled, “if you are in any way dissatisfied with my service up until this point, then please say so. Only then can I do my utmost to correct the problem, and meet your expectations. Before that, however, all I ask, is that you at least glance these profiles.”

At this he frowned, his gaze diverted, and she saw him inhale a breath of strengthening resolve before he asked his next question.

“Which one is yours?”

“Excuse me?” she blinked once, the weight of the folder she held now causing her extended arm to tremble.

“Profile,” he clarified, and though she could see he wanted to avert his eyes, he did not. “Which one is yours?”

The sigh from earlier was suddenly resurrected, and had escaped from between Miho’s lips before she could clamp down. She couldn’t reward the courage it had taken him to ask that question, to convey to her in not so many words he wanted her among those prospective brides.

“Look,” she exhaled, finally placing the folio to the side and returning her hand to the base of her glass. “Sometimes during this process, that does involve the exposure of deeply personal…”

“Is that the MJS handbook speaking?” he interrupted, and Miho’s response was quick.

“Yes,” she said sharply, and a little louder than she had intended, “but also me, from experience. And every single client who thought they’d fallen in love with his or her representative, is now in a very happy relationship of our design.”

“You’re that good a profiler, you know exactly how I feel then?” he pressed, body completely still.

“You were bonded with someone with whom you had an absolute trust,” she articulated clearly. “Shared interests and lifestyle and occupation, by all accounts what should have been perfect, but it was taken from you. By your own admission, you blamed yourself and became convinced you were therefore not worthy of being loved again. You isolated yourself, and then here I am, sifting through all the dirty and unpleasant secrets you knew you’d need to face if you ever wanted to be happy again, and of course I accepted them.

“It’s my job to know you well enough to accurately find you a match so heartbreak, external factors aside, doesn’t visit you again – but asking me that, suggesting that…”

Shaking her head, Miho took a sip of her wine, but it was tasteless now.

“… It may seem harsh to say it so bluntly, but any affection I showed, was necessary to coax out how best you respond to intimacy; like our one-day marriage, it wasn’t real, merely a facilitator.”

Ice formed in her alcohol.

In her head the words were clear and definitive, to her ears, sure, stalwart.

“Your hands are shaking,” he pointed out.

“No they’re…” she began, but again he cut her off.

“You may be some manner of relationship profiler, Miss Fujiwara,” he said evenly, firmly, “but I’m a detective, and a highly trained one at that. I know lies when I hear them. I know lies when I see them. And I know dirty and unpleasant secrets that haven’t yet been faced, when I see them. For a woman who said she would own every word she speaks, I think you’ve strayed a little.”

A sardonic chortle sounded, and Miho shook her head again.

“We’re going to start parroting one another again?”

“I’ll look at your profiles,” he declared, “if you tell me why you’re so desperate to convince me I’m not truly attracted to you.”

Forget crossing her legs, Miho really wanted to get up and run, but that was not how one did business, and above all else, she was stubborn.

“This… isn’t about me,” she managed, but her voice was far thinner than she’d have liked.

“Correct,” he agreed. “It’s about a customer, and unless I’m mistaken, they are always right.”

There was a corner, and though Goto not once raised his voice, not once moved a muscle toward her, Miho felt herself backed more and more into it – not a feeling she enjoyed one bit.

“What I hear,” he continued, gesturing now with his hand as he spoke, “is a lot about me. Wouldn’t it just be simpler to say, I’m sorry Mr. Goto, but I’m not interested in you? Why not just say that, if it’s true?”

How the hell was she supposed to answer that?

“I…”

… am really glad neither Jazz or Selina are here to see this?

“You will look at the profiles?” she said finally, changing direction.

What does it even matter if he knows?

“Yes,” he agreed, watching her indeed like a cop just waiting for a suspect to crack.

“I was married to a police officer who spent much of his career undercover,” she revealed in more of a rush than she’d meant. “He was betrayed by his comrades and murdered, leaving behind a wife who couldn’t identify his body, and a family who didn’t care for justice, just wanted to forget.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” he pointed out, a little more gently.

“Of course it does,” she chuckled, but it was an empty sound. “You told me yourself you’d often taken reckless chances in your work; should I encourage you to believe your feelings for me are real? Should I set myself up to…”

Miho bit her tongue – she’d said enough.

“That, answers your question, I believe.”

Nodding slowly, Goto took up the black folder and opened it, and Miho inhaled very, very slowly, counting in her mind to find some semblance of calm.

Then Goto closed the folder, and pushed it over to her.

Swapping upset for exasperation, she scowled from it to him.

“You said…”

“I said I would look at them, and I have,” he responded, “but what I want isn’t there.”

“I, will… take this under advisement and provide you with more suitable ma…”

“Actually, I think I have decided this marriage set up thing isn’t for me,” he announced. “Of course you’ll be paid everything you’re owed, but this process has helped me see love can’t be subcontracted.”

While Miho just stared at him with her mouth slightly open – a dumb expression no doubt – Goto glanced at his watch.

“We should get going,” he prompted. “The restaurant is only down the corridor, but we’re already five minutes late.”

Pursing her lips, and fighting down the heat of frustration that he wouldn’t just let it go for both their sake, Miho stuffed both folders back into her handbag and slid out of the booth.

“We’re not having dinner together, Mr. Goto,” she told him stiffly. “I have other work besides…”

“Another client?” he asked, standing also, though never getting in her way, never blocking.

He could see she was fixing to bolt, see how she struggled to keep it beneath the thin veil of her job, and knew his question was a mean one; so very not like him to be spiteful, to find himself submitting to his own frustration.

“You really shouldn’t ask questions to which you already know the answer,” she told him thinly. “Since we’re in the game of quoting past me, I’m sure you’ll recall I said I wouldn’t lie about what my work entails, you know perfectly well, and in fact you agreed no man in his right mind would dedicate himself to a woman who does what I do.”

Before he could respond, she held up her hand.

“And don’t say you, because we both know how much seeing me with Mr. Ichiyanagi pissed you off.”

By this time, a number of other patrons’ curiosity had been piqued – the standing pair seemed unhappy with one another, shrouded in thick tension: she like she might like to slap him, he like he would let her do it and go back for seconds.

“It did,” he admitted quietly, reaching for her collar that only partially hid the little red welt.

The sound of Miho snatching Goto’s wrist before he could reach his target was quiet, but their audience was attentive. They saw it came as no surprise to him, but to her…

Even after several meetings of deep discussion about the most intimate parts of a client, even after test driving, Miho had managed thus far to see them as words on a page, one part of a product requiring her to find the other in order to be successful in her work. This disassociation allowed her to enjoy the time she spent with them, but to cleanly let go at the end of the day – no baggage, no emotional attachment, because her job was to make them happy with someone else.

She’d been pushing so hard to see him as ‘client’ and not ‘man’, that the warmth of his skin actually surprised her, but before she could recoil, he deftly slid his hand through her hold and laced their fingers together.

A woman across the room audibly gasped.

Despite his audacity, Goto blushed; this was so far outside his comfort zone he barely knew himself; but at the same time, he knew he’d regret letting her just walk away before he was absolutely certain what he saw in her eyes was just his own wishful thinking.

“You’re going to make someone very happy one day,” she told him, a whisper so slight Goto had to strain to hear it.

“Give me a…” he began, but Miho was already pulling her fingers free and making good her escape.

She shouldered her bag and he watched her weave through the tables and exit before another female voice actually startled him, the woman who had gasped, a foreigner by appearance.

“Shouldn’t you go after her?” she half questioned, half suggested.

With a decisive nod, Goto left the bar, calling a room number out to the bartender as he left in order to cover his untouched drink.

“Miho!” he barked, seeing her enter the elevator at the end of the hall.

She turned to the sound of her name, scowled and shook her head, and even as Goto jogged toward her she pressed furiously against the ‘close doors’ button.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Goto, can you just let it the hell alone?” she growled, but closed her eyes, closed them, closed them tightly so she didn’t need to see his face that split second before the doors came summarily between them.

Despite appearances, Miho was relatively rational. She had come to a foreign country alone and now was part owner in a successful, lucrative business. Educated and worldly, financially secure and not at all bad on the eyes, she was ‘a catch’ – though we all know her attitude could use a little adjustment. The point is, it wasn’t as if she thought herself unworthy of a man like Goto.

Fear, is perhaps the most difficult thing to rationalise.

And so if Goto, being all other things the same, was not a police officer, this narrator can safely say you’d be thigh deep in smut again by now… or more likely still thigh deep in smut.

Miho knew he was being the honest one, watched him hedge his way out onto an ever narrowing limb in an attempt to get her to do the same; and she shook it furiously trying to dislodge him – not because she didn’t feel the same, but because the acuteness of burying a casket of ‘remains’, nothing even remotely resembling her husband, made her want to curl up into a ball and sob like a frightened child.

“It’s easier to be a bitch,” she shuddered out, trying to catch elusive breath and even more elusive calm.

No one would argue she wasn’t good at it.

It provided armour, and though she hadn’t truly ever had to use it against a client before, it had saved her many times when she’d felt her strength wane; but all she could see when she looked at her reflection in the elevator’s ear glass wall, was Goto’s face, and the expression he wore after her sucker-punch.

Ding.

The doors rattled open behind her, and the face she saw in the glass changed.

His hair was dishevelled, his posture slumped, his suit jacket askew, but he looked up from where he’d skidded before the doors to catch his breath, to see her turn: bewildered.

“Did you just… run, thirteen flights of stairs?” she murmured in shock, several hotel patrons and a couple of staff wondering something similar.

“You’re so… stubborn,” he panted, swallowing as he straightened and wiping the back of his hand over his forehead.

“Says Mr. Won’t Take No For An Answer!” she exclaimed, vexation emerging out the other side of shock.

“You haven’t said no,” he pointed out.

The doors began to close, but Goto pushed them back again, filled the space between them with his determination for one, last, attempt.

“Tell me plain, say no,” he told her, dark eyes serious and impossibly frank, “and you get your cheque in the mail and that’s the last of it.”

Just one syllable.

Almost as if searching for help, Miho peered beyond him at the various and sundry trying to look like they weren’t looking at the curious and dramatic scene. Her lips moved, they opened but seemed to lose their sense of language.

Goto stepped into the elevator and turned to the foyer.

“Sorry for the inconvenience,” he apologised, bowed, then allowed the doors to finally shut.

Miho turn back to the rear of the elevator and glared at the ground floor garden through the glass.

“Drama isn’t in your profile,” she said, her voice small – far too small for the likes of her.

“It’s certainly not my preference,” he responded, hitting the button for the top floor, perhaps to buy them some time, “but when necessity calls.”

“Ha, well,” she chortled thickly, “I’d make some revision, but you said you’re done.”

“I can’t and won’t force anything on you,” he scowled over her shoulder, there mere thought of that terrible thing.

He remained at what little distance the confined space allowed, despite his pursuit not wanting her to feel boxed in.

“But,” he continued, combing fingers through his messy hair, “I also don’t want you to refuse yourself the possibility of… love… out of fear I might be hurt, that I might leave you.”

“So you’re on a crusade to save me from myself, huh?” she snorted self-deprecatingly.

“You’re not the only idealist here,” he stated. “I don’t like to let go of the things that are important to me.”

“I’m not an ideal… anything,” she choked out, shaking her head, perhaps to hide the red creeping into her eyes.

Finally, Goto stepped up to her, and when she didn’t move he placed his hands lightly on her shoulders.

“Fine,” she inhaled sharply, dropping her chin. “You’re in my head, you’re under my god damned skin, hell I even…”

Before she could say something in breach of contract, she chewed off the end of her sentence and started fresh, digging out the strength she knew she had to turn and face him.

“But none of that changes why I have to finish this job and forget you.”

Ding.

The doors opened at the top most level, revealing the entrance to the dimly lit rooftop bar. Once more, Goto slipped his fingers in between Miho’s, and with gentle encouragement she followed him out.

He waved away the waitress that drew close when they approached a table, pulling out one chair for Miho before settling himself, their woven grip remaining throughout.

“When Natsuki was killed,” he said, his voice low causing the small candle between them to flicker, “the world I knew, cared for, ended.”

Miho didn’t want to hear this – it just made fighting the burn of ugly tears that much more difficult; but it wasn’t like she could tell him to shut up right there when he was sharing arguably his most painful memory.

Well, she could, but even for Miho it seemed there was a limit to how horrid she could be.

“I’ve already told you how I took stupid risks, not caring if I lived or died because, what was life without her? The one person I could trust without any doubt.”

He didn’t move to wipe the tears away as Miho finally blinked them free, just squeezed her hand and continued.

“I took my frustrations out on the criminal world, and it didn’t matter if I was hurt because, there was no pain more acute, than losing her,” he elaborated. “And I had even convinced myself it would have been better if I’d never met her, or been partnered with her at all. It took a long time, but I finally realised that was a terrible thing to think about someone who’d meant so much, and who had had such a positive impact on my life.”

That was quite the monologue, and Miho just stared at their hands entwined on the tabletop, trying not to sob.

“I know your pain,” he told her more softly, thumb grazing over the back of her hand, “and I would never wish that on you again, but I would gladly accept all that hurt myself… for just one day with you.”

“I hate you,” she muttered under her breath, words tangled in her throat. “You make it sound so god damned simple, but you can’t… promise you won’t…”

“No, I can’t,” he agreed, weathering her defensive abuse. “Some things are beyond my control. But give me a chance to make you some promises I can keep.”

“And if I do?” she murmured, and when she looked up, Goto was struck by the open vulnerability in her swimming eyes.

But he smiled a warming, penetrating smile.

“I’ll make you happy, for as long as I’m able to,” he replied, “and you’ll make me happy by allowing me to.”

“You know what I do,” she pointed out thickly, her fingers twitching in his.

“And I love that your job is about making people happy,” he nodded, then tilted his head a little to one side, hair sliding across his forehead. “Though… when I saw you with Ichiyanagi, knowing why you were with him…”

He paused, his scowl drawing his eyebrows right down over his eyes.

“I could barely stop myself from pulling you away.”

Miho’s lips pursed and her eyes drifted back down to their hands.

“Work is work… but… I wanted you to,” she admitted, drawing in a deep breath and exhaling a slow, calming sigh. “So, you’d ask I give up my career, my business?”

“Mm, no,” he answered, finally leaning across the table to gently wipe the watery drip of tears and mascara from the point of her chin. “Like I said, I like that your work is about helping others find love; but the whole sexual test drive part…”

He winced – was he asking too much already? It was clear in his expression he wasn’t sure, but at the same time, he had to think that client, ex-client of man she met in the street, ultimately to be with him completely she would surely have to give up sleeping with other men, even if it was part of her job.

“But,” he went on, obviously steeling himself, “until you’re sure, about me – us – I know I don’t have a right to ask you to give up anything, other than some time for us.”

“Really?” she sniffed a little incredulously, taking up a napkin from the table and dabbing under her eyes. “Hm, that’s generous and all Mr. Goto…”

“Seiji,” he corrected with a somewhat diffident smile.

“Seiji,” she managed, though even she felt a little self-conscious saying it now, even though she had moaned it during his date scenario. “But if I was going to try my luck with a man, seriously, there’s no way I could even think about intimacy on any level, with another.”

“Um, so?” he frowned, not quite sure what that meant exactly, whether it was a she would stop because she was going to try her luck with him or if she was just posing a hypothetical.

“I don’t know, what Jazz is doing and Selina…” she began, lolling her head back to look up at the clouded Tokyo sky, “but I guess, if I can get her to finally realise she and Aikwara need to get it together then we’ll have to employ some new staff for test driving.”

She had stopped crying, and seemed to be in serious thought.

“I should get onto Kyobashi about that,” she mused, chewing her lower lip.

“Kyobashi?” Goto questioned, trying to draw her back to the table.

“Oh jeez, forget I said that name, that’s, that is not supposed to be common knowledge,” she rushed, blinking back to the moment at hand.

Finally Got felt like he could relax a little – she wasn’t crying, she wasn’t fighting or defensive, and he thought she was already thinking of a strategy that meant she wouldn’t have to do client test driving anymore?

“So, you want to try for dinner?” he offered tentatively, giving her hand another squeeze to ground her further. “Or maybe just… room service?”

“Room service?” she repeated slowly, narrowing her eyes at him, and instantly he was rubbing the back of his neck in that embarrassed gesture becoming more and more familiar to her.

“I wasn’t going to give up,” he told her after a few seconds of squirming. “So, I banked on success, but… we don’t have to of course, we have a reservation at the restaurant and you’ve no obligation at all to…”

“Courage,” she sighed, really looking at him properly, her shoulders slumped as if really exhausted. “I’d add a note to your profile about how it’s one of among many of your admirable qualities, but I guess that’s a bit redundant.”

“It is,” he agreed with a smile, and stood from his seat. “So… which is it?”

“Room service,” she declared, also getting to her feet, but she remained where she was, with their hands still joined but a little stretched. “But, before that could you show me, that courage, just one more time… so I can, borrow, some of it.”

Kindly he smiled at her and in the faint candle lit night he stepped against her and cupped one side of her face.

“I will show you as many time as you need me to,” he whispered, before lightly touching his lips to hers, no matter who or how many were watching.

And when they parted, he was heartened by the soft, relaxed expression on Miho’s face, and the gentle pressure of her free hand against his chest.

“Come on,” he urged with a slight tug on her hand. “No one else needs to see that face.”

“Possessive?” she smirked, bumping into his side.

“Maybe, just a little bit,” he admitted, touching her collar to the side, and this time she didn’t stop him. “It’s hard not to be, when I know he’s marked you like that.”

“Mhmm,” she murmured, cringing a little when she thought her throat was only the tip of the iceberg. “Yeah well, I’m not with him now, am I?” she tried to reason.

“No, you’re not,” Goto agreed, and urged her back in the direction of the elevator.

SUGGESTED LISTENING for this scene - CLICK HERE Goto and Miho’s theme song - ‘Flames’ by VAST

Miho remained quietly at his side as they rode down to the seventh floor, following along to his suite without protest, but deep in thought.

“I feel like we’ve done this kind of backwards,” Goto chuckled nervously, looking back at her as he swiped the hotel card to open the door.

“You mean, we got married first?” she sought in clarification, her voice a little sheepish.

“Perhaps I need to carry you backwards over the threshold to undo it,” he suggested. “Though, if I’m honest, I don’t really want to.”

“I always thought I’d only get married once,” Miho admitted with a reserved shrug of her shoulders, following him into the suite. “Life, doesn’t always give us what we expect.”

“Nope,” he agreed, tugging her hand sharply and drawing her into his arms, “but it sometimes gives us second chances.”

Miho’s brows twitched, even if she hadn’t meant them to.

“And every single time you get that frightened look in your eye,” he said, brushing her hair back and holding her face, “I’ll kiss you, so you remember it’s worth being brave.”

“Please kiss me,” she begged in a whisper, and there was nothing in Goto’s expression that suggested he had any intention of non-compliance.

The slide of his hands into her clothing was slow and unhurried, like the gentle trace of his tongue between her lips and breath that sighed her name. Piece by piece their attire was cast aside, until Goto pushed Miho back to arm’s length and looked her up and down.

“Would you hate me, if I was to replace all these marks with my own?” he asked with a scowl, glossing his fingertips over each mark Subaru had left on Miho’s body.

“No,” she answered simply, turning her head to expose the first he’d spied on her throat.

With painstaking dedication, leaving no part of her unsearched, Goto applied adequate pressure with his mouth to renew the vitality of each palling welt, signing purposeful ownership over her flesh in a way Subaru could not have. And when he’d laid her down and suckled over the last against her right breast, he returned to her lips as if for reward.

“Feel better now?” she smiled dreamily, looking up at him, carding her fingers through his hair with one hand, stroking him lazily from base to tip with the other, until he had readied the condom to protect them both.

“It’s going to take a little more than that,” he told her honestly, walking fingers down her abdomen, and Miho closed her eyes.

This time she didn’t need to imagine it was him touching her, parting the slick warmth between her legs and working her clit so desperate for his ministrations alone. And she remembered every ridge, each standing vein that caused Goto’s shaft to pulse with the racing of his heart.

She believed it raced for her – but while hers pounded against the confines of her chest as she rolled, straddled him and looked down into his face her fears bubbled… bubbled… bubbled.

“No,” he hissed, rocking up, crushing is already ridged cock between them and bringing their lips together once more. “Right now it’s just you and me and how I feel about you.”

“You hardly know anything about me at all,” she frowned, arms wrapped around his neck loosely. “I could be an axe murderer for all you know; shit have one conversation with Jazz and she’ll tel…”

He cut her off with the surprisingly fierce thrust of his tongue into her mouth, and the clamp of his arms, hands that slid down her back and lifted her ass up from his lap, just enough to position the standing call of his length against the dripping welcome of her core.

On her knees, she hovered with him just resting there, looking into his eyes with growing determination – she didn’t want him to have to keep telling her to stop being pathetic, even though he’d never say it like that.

So she pushed him back until he flopped down on the pillow.

“I, on the other hand, know more about you than anyone else in the whole world,” she told him, her eyes rolling upward as she slid herself slowly down onto him. “Including how, perfectly you stretch me.”

When she focused again, it was to find Goto gritting his teeth a little, lying still, but the tensing in his thighs told her he badly wanted to move.

“If anyone else knew that,” he groaned as she leaned just a fraction and dug onto him even more firmly by digging down with her hips, “I’d be… upset.”

“You’re normally so composed… Lieutenant,” she grinned, rolling forward, undulating her body and squeezing tightly each time she drove against him, “I can’t quite imagine you, upset.”

“You nearly didn’t have to,” he hissed, digging his fingers into her thighs, aching to make her move more swiftly. “If you’d turned me away, I… I don’t know…”

Miho smiled, falling forward against his chest to speak against his hungry lips.

“You don’t need to know, Seiji,” she exhaled, nibbling, pecking, teasing until his grip tightened and he bought his body up to meet hers.

Amid gasping breaths, the slap of bodies meeting in the middle, and the heightening frequency of deep throated moans and passionate utterances comprehendible only by them, Miho and Goto found equal ground.

In the physically intense union of flesh and sweat, and the surrender of fear and baggage, both let go what tomorrow might bring – even if only for that night.

“You cum first tonight,” she declared, leaning back and supporting her body with her arms, bucking vigorously, bringing them as close as unreserved penetration could – and it had the desired result.

“Gah… Miho that’s…” he growled, strong hands clasping her knees urgently, until he forced the fingers of one hand to relax and release her, then applied them where they’d bring her the most pleasure.

“Think I’m… going… to let you get the… best of… me twice in one night?” she snarled, slapping one hand over his where he’d begun rubbing it against her clit.

“Hey!” he barked as she tried to pull his hand away.

The fight became so spirited in fact, Goto sat up again, and together they toppled right off the bed onto the floor – where he pinned her down.

“Best you know I’m trouble now,” she laughed, fighting the good fight, actually struggling with all her skill, but Goto’s strength and ability at subduing felons won out until both Miho’s hands were pinned either side of her head.

“Trouble I can handle,” he breathed against her throat, wetting it with his saliva, speaking cool against her flaming skin.

“You sure?” she scowled, snapping her teeth, then sinking them into his shoulder when she couldn’t capture his lips.

This did not deter his zealous efforts to thwart her plan, the depth of his plunge far and beyond their mere bodies. Legs clinching and trembling, fingernails digging and scraping, toes curling, and short, desirous breaths, intermingled with the profound longing for a peace both had told themselves was beyond their reach for too long.

It crashed together in a furious crescendo, the twist and grasp and ardent, uninhibited exploration of bodies holding nothing back, until both laid draped, content and spent in an embrace finally made tranquil by two hearts slowly resuming their normal rhythm – as one.

“You hoped that I’d remember,” he whispered against her brow, her head resting on his shoulder, “then told me to forget – that was never going to happen.”

“I’m sorry I said that,” she murmured, one finger outlining his nipple lightly. “It was selfish, and unfair.”

“I know why you did,” he smiled, kissing her lightly, enjoying the ache in his legs and the warm dampness of their interwoven limbs. “It actually gave me hope, that you felt more for me than just as a client.”

“Need to work on my poker face I guess,” she chuckled wryly, kissing his chest to the point where he let out a little noise of surprise at the sting.

“Did you?” he blinked, tilting his head to look down.

“Think you’re the only one who gets to leave marks?” she smirked, thumbing across his lips but refusing to kiss them.

“I suppose you haven’t looked at my back and shoulders?” he snorted, shrugging a little for emphasis. “I’m not going to be able to take my shirt off at work for weeks.”

“I don’t have issue with that,” Miho laughed, kissing against the various red impressions of her teeth across his broad shoulders. “This body is… perfect,” she added with a sigh, and Goto looked away, actually embarrassed. “Really?” she chuckled, wrapping her arm over him and squeezing him tightly. “You’re getting all embarrassed about how insanely sexy you are after what we’ve gotten up to?”

“For all you have difficulty saying, what comes to you easiest is what affects me most,” he grumbled, but it was an affectionate sound that lingered lovingly in Miho’s ears.

“And this is why women secretly rule the world,” she grinned, scratching her teeth down his right pectoral.

“Hungry?” he questioned.

“Well, this is the second time you’ve made me miss dinner,” she pointed out cheekily, sitting up and stretching her arms over her head.

Goto’s hand flat against her spine, ghosting slowly down its length, caused her to shiver and look back at him.

“I’m hungry too,” he told her frankly, index finger gliding slightly into her rear crevice before falling away, and Miho’s eyebrows raised. “What?”

“Nothing, I ahh, just didn’t really peg you for an ass man,” she snickered, purposefully shimmying back and sitting right on his hand, much to Goto’s surprise.

“Peg… ass…” he repeated, turning this over in his mind, and as he did, he looked a little more panicked. “Wait, you don’t think I was suggesting that I, that we…”

“So that’s a no?” she questioned airily, wriggling against his trapped hand.

“It’s not a… no,” he frowned in consternation, a little confused perhaps and a whole lot unsure. “It’s just not something I’ve really, ever thought about or – would ask a woman to… you know.”

“God you’re precious,” she gushed, rolling on top of him just long enough to kiss him firmly, before continuing on her way off the bed.

“I’m going to end up with a complex,” he muttered, rubbing his forehead, but Miho only laughed and strode over to snatch up the room service menu.

“Okay, my ass aside, what else are you in the mood for?” she teased, flopping back down on the end of the bed.

 They ate, drank, and watched half of Madagascar before a tickle war devolved into another round of passionate exchanges that stretched well on into the morning.

Goto couldn’t remember the last time he woke up with a woman in his arms, let alone one like Miho.

Beautiful.

Successful.

Opinionated.

Fearless, and yet… fractured.

Forthright and formidable, but… fragile.

“I want to protect you,” he whispered into her hair, kissing against her temple lightly.

“Mmm,” Miho murmured sleepily, turning her face against Goto’s skin. “I will bite you again.”

“Please do,” he challenged, lips moving to her ear.

“Calling my bluff?” she grumbled, words muffled against his chest, dragging her leg up over him until her knee was bent against his stomach.

“I wouldn’t dare,” he chortled, tracing up her shin, then along her thigh. “Breakfast?”

“I don’t swallow, no matter how hot you are,” she snorted, giving his cheek a solid pinch.

“Vulgar,” he quipped, turning his face into her hand snatching a couple of her fingers between his lips.

“You don’t know the half of it,” she smirked, allowing him to suckle for a few seconds before she drew her fingertips down his stubbled chin.

“I’ll learn,” he smiled, genuine and determined. “No regrets?”

“No,” she smiled back, her expression serene, her heart calm. “None.”

“Okay, then go have a shower and I’ll order us some coffee,” he prompted, throwing the blanket off their naked bodies.

“Ughh, you know, the last time you told me to take a shower, I got out and you were nowhere to be seen?” she pointed out with a pout as he lifted her up, and actually set her on her feet.

“But you remember what happened after that right?” he pointed out, tucking wild wisps of her hair back over her ears. “And, you trust me?”

Miho turned her head against his palm – warm and wide, skin firm and manly, not too rough, not too soft.

“I will start calling you Aladdin,” she warned, kissing his hand before backing away.

“I could see you as a princess,” he mused, then suddenly looked a little abashed, perhaps realising he stood there totally naked before Miho’s open and obvious appraisal.

“Cuuute,” she grinned impishly, then ducked into the bathroom.

 Miho didn’t loiter in the shower very long, and was actually a little disappointed Goto didn’t join her. Still, it gave her some space to process what she’d done and mull over her feelings.

The death of her husband had ruined her - this was a truth she had spoken to herself over and over like a mantra meant to save her life – but with Goto on her mind somehow those words didn’t have as much power.

If she was so defeated, then how did she have the close friends she did? How had she built a successful business with them? How had she not shoved out of that elevator, and stomped the hell away with that mantra ringing infallibly in her ears?

“Back to being spoiled instead of ruined?” she asked her reflection, smiling though her body was dotted with little marks… some not so little.

To her surprise, that question’s first answer was not to run the fuck away and hide, even though she’d had her fears, fears that could not be erased completely in one night, but had been at the very least weakened.

“Of all the men you’ve come to know,” she exhaled. “A lot of men, you never felt like this about any of them since...”

There was no way for her to pinpoint when she’d crossed the line between seeing him as a client and fighting against seeing him as more. All she had was where she stood now, with a pleasant fatigue still lingering in her muscles, pleasant memories of the night just passed, and a tentative hope those were not the last they’d make together.

Eventually, fighting a sense of déjà vu, Miho exited the bathroom.

There were no candles this time, but a spread of delicious breakfast goodies on the table.

What was familiar, was the lack of Goto.

“Seriously, if he went to shower somewhere else this time, I’m going to be really pissed,” she muttered, drawn by the small of strong coffee to the table, where her gaze perused what was on offer.

Fruit, muffins, cereal, miso, salad, various warm dishes hidden beneath silver lids, and a curious white box with a blue ribbon tied around it, accompanied by a little card instructing her to open it.

Suspicious, Miho looked around, expecting Goto to jump out and scare her – not that she thought he was really the prankster type. Apprehension still twisted in her stomach; she wasn’t a huge fan of surprises, but she picked up the box and tucked away the bow, inhaling and holding her breath as she lifted the lid.

Within was a tiny piece of folded paper – certainly not what she had been expecting – not that she had been expecting anything!

“What are you up to?” she whispered, smoothing out the paper to find a short note written inside. “I hope you’re at least a little bit disappointed,” she read aloud, “because that will make this a whole lot easier on me. Huh,” she frowned, staring down at it like there was more to glean from just those words alone. “The hell is that supposed to me…”

“Miho,” Goto said to her left, and Miho’s head snapped in that direction.

He was perfectly groomed.

Expression unflinchingly attentive.

Dressed in a tuxedo and positioned beside her chair on bended knee.

“No… way,” Miho exhaled, staring.

“Despite coming to MJS without expectation,” he told her, serious beyond measure, “I did so with every intention of finding that woman with whom I could share the rest of my life.”

“You’re really-” she began again, eyes wide, but got no further when Goto placed a finger against her lips.

“I had my doubts about the inorganic nature of the process, but every time we met I realised more clearly, something very natural was developing despite us. And when you left the other night, when I saw you with… at the grocery store, it hurt so much, I had to face the fact I’d fallen in love with the one person you wouldn’t offer in your meticulous profiles.”

The little diversionary note fluttered forgotten from between Miho’s fingers to the carpet, settling in the small space between them.

“And I’m amazed that you’re here with me now,” he pressed on, gaze undaunted despite the weight of each word, “grateful, blessed… and hopeful.”

The cry of tiny, old hinges called Miho’s attention to the scuffed wooden ring box that was pinched between Goto’s thumb and forefinger, and the very obvious symbol nestled in the black cushioning within.

Miho’s next breath entered her lungs as a gasp, a half-sob, and was imprisoned there as the world ground to a vivid halt. There was no sharper focus than that moment, nothing else around them but the hum of sincere emotions limited only by the frustrating constraint of verbal language.

“Please,” he entreated, and yet it didn’t sound like he was begging, just expressing not desire, but need, “let me be a support to your triumphs,” he went on a little breathlessly, but his offering did not waver in the slightest. “Please, let me stand beside you and face your challenges, as our challenges. And when this indomitable woman - who has dominated my affections so completely - finds her strength failing, please let me be the one to hold her safe until she finds herself again.”

There was no thought.

Amazement wasn’t thought.

Bewildering, unrestrained, unbalanced, shuddering, rocking, wonder wasn’t thought.

“There isn’t a single woman,” she managed shakily, hands twitching unconsciously where they rested across her knees, “in the world,” she continued, “straight, gay, undetermined, who could say no to that.”

“But I only need one, to say yes,” he pointed out solemnly, but his lips finally upturned, just slightly in an optimistic expression that shattered whatever reserve of resistance Miho had reflexively been clinging to.

“Let me be your husband,” he whispered, gently taking up her left hand and kissing the place where he’d already placed a ring once.

Not be my wife – let me be your husband.

“Yes,” Miho uttered, the last of the air she’d been holding in her lungs, but the purest response possible.

With audible relief, Goto plucked the ring from its moorings and put the box aside, before settling the antique polish of the ring just over her fingernail.

“You… you’re sure?” he asked again, and Miho slid off her chair to bring herself to his eye level.

“You really want me to change my mind?” she chortled thickly.

“I don’t think I could survive that,” he admitted sheepishly, pushing the ring onto her finger, before entangling their fingers.

It was a little big, would need to be resized, but that was hardly a consideration for that moment.

“When my grandmother died,” he said quietly, resting his forehead against her lightly. “My grandfather gave me her engagement ring, pretty uncommon for their era, and told me I wasn’t to part with it for anything less than the love he’d felt for her.”

“How long were they married?” Miho asked, tilting her head up, desperate to kiss him.

“Over seventy years,” he replied softly, sliding his hand into her robe to pull her against him. “A pretty impressive record.”

“We got this,” she smiled, claiming what was of him, hers, allowing him to claim what was of her, his.

And thankfully, reverently, together they once more indulged in what was theirs.

@hifftn @nitelotus @smutmylifeup @smile-smile-ichthys

[thearabkhaleesi]

Game of Thrones 7x4 “The Spoils of War” Recap/Review

WARNING SPOILERS AHEAD

All my Game of Thrones episode reviews/recaps are sorted by location & contain no spoilers based on leaks or set photos, but might include predictions for the following episodes/rest of the season. 

King’s Landing

Not much action at King’s Landing in this episode, but Tycho Nestoris strongly emphasized that Cersei has to pay off the debt so that she can gain the support of the Iron Bank. We saw Jaime take the Tyrell gold at the very beginning of the episode, and then Randyll Tarly tells him that all the gold has safely crossed the border into King’s Landing; this means that she’ll be able to pay the debt to the Iron Bank, and in return they will back her against Daenerys by giving her more money, armies, weapons, and more…💸 Cersei also mentioned edthat Qyburn managed to get the Golden Company to fight for them, which is definitely in her favor; the Golden Company is a mercenary, assassin group located in Essos, with a military of about 10’000 fighters… I have to say seeing Cersei gain power is scaring me because I obviously don’t root for her, and she’s stronger and more merciless than ever.

Winterfell

OH. MY. GOD! I’m trying my best to make this professional, so let’s start in chronological order. First of all, we finally see the Catspaw dagger! If you’ve been following me for a while I’m sure you’ve seen that I discussed it many times before, and the fact that there was a magazine cover months ago with Arya holding the dagger. As Littlefinger mentioned, the Valyrian steel dagger, “Catspaw”, was given to an assassin to kill Bran in season 1 (most likely by Jaime Lannister.) I DID NOT expect it go down the way it did, with Littlefinger giving it to Bran, who gives it to Arya! As Sansa said, Littlefinger giving it to Bran is without a doubt suspicious, since he never does something without expecting something in return, as he’s always after his own benefit only. He even subtly refers to Bran as “Lord Stark” because he thinks it might start a rift between him & Sansa. I still think he has tricks up his sleeve and I really thought Bran would have a vision of Littlefinger betraying Ned Stark in season 1, but that could still happen.. I have more predictions but you’ll have to wait for my episode 5 predictions post for more! Notice how during their discussion, Bran tells Littlefinger, “Chaos is a ladder”. Those words are exactly what Littlefinger says to Varys in the 6th episode of season 3, about how he likes to stir up trouble and then seize opportunities for himself amongst the chaos (which is exactly what he’s been doing all throughout the series; Bran mentioning it to him could be his subtle hint to Littlefinger that he knows his true intentions, what he did in the past, and what he wants to do in the future. - Meera left! Even though Bran was pretty emotionless when they said goodbye, I felt sorry for her & a bit sad to see her go, especially considering all that she’s done for him. I also thought it was interesting how Bran says he’s not “Bran Stark” anymore, but remembers what it feels like, and that the real Bran metaphorically died in the 3-Eyed Raven’s cave. Bran’s speech in this scene reminded me of how Arya was training to become no one & leave her identity behind.

Aaaaand.. WE GOT THE STARK REUNION!😭❤️ I don’t know how many times I cried during the reunion this episode. I was in tears from the second Arya looked out from the hill onto Winterfell. Then the scene of her trying to get in the castle was so perfect, and so Arya, & it was a callback to season 1 when the guards at King's Landing didn't allow her to get into the Red Keep. Seeing her happiness just to be at Winterfell and seeing the Stark banners made me extremely happy.❤️ When the guards inform Sansa of Arya’s arrival, Sansa was looking through Maester Luwin’s papers & letters, and I think there’s a possibility Sansa could discover something in the letters in the next episode. Seeing Arya & Sansa reunite in the Winterfell crypts was so emotional for them & for us! I’m so happy that they’re happy and that Arya’s truly smiling again.💙Arya also mentions that being Lady Stark suits Sansa, which is a callback to the last episode where Littlefinger says that leadership & being in command suits Sansa; it’s also a callback to a scene between Ned & Arya where he tells her that she’ll be lady of a castle one day and she says “That’s not me”. And It’s true, being a Lady suits Sansa rather than Arya and I’m just so happy to see them reunited!😭 I loved the conversation between them, with Arya thinking Sansa killed Joffrey and Sansa’s reaction to Arya’s kill-list, which shows that they both really grew and went through so much, and then Arya’s reaction to knowing Bran is at Winterfell and alive was pure joy and it just all made me feel so warm and fuzzy. The full Stark reunion with Bran was so heartwarming, and Bran giving Arya the Catspaw dagger was the cherry on top, I’m so glad Arya has a Valyrian steel weapon now. The shot that got to me the most was most probably seeing the three of them walking around the castle together, showing their bond as a family, walking in their own home after all they’ve been through.😭❤️

I LOVED the scene of Arya and Brienne sparring at Winterfell. It was such a perfect and genuine scene for the two characters; I love Arya & Brienne’s chemistry and am so happy we got to see them reunited in this way, as their past interaction wasn’t quite as happy. I also really liked the nod to the Faceless Men when Brienne asked Arya who taught her how to fight like that and she said “No one”. I hope we see more of their bonding in the future.❤️ It was so evident that Arya saw right through Littlefinger at the end of the scene, she knows he’s playing games and gave him such a knowing look that was awesome.👀 I really really liked Arya in this episode because I felt like it was the first time in a long time that we’ve seen her the true Arya; she’s been through so much and we can clearly see that she has grown & matured, but back to being herself which made me ecstatic. I also loved the detail that Arya was dressed almost exactly like Ned did in season 1.😭❤️ Everything to do with Winterfell in this last episode made me so emotional, the Stark reunion was perfect, I couldn’t stop crying, and I just hope we get to see Jon reunited with them again. (he & Arya especially were the closest, and he’s the one who gave her Needle).

DRAGONSTONE

I like seeing Daenerys & Missandei being so close, and that Dany finally knows that Missandei & Greyworm like each other. Next we see Jon showing Daenerys the cave, filled with “all the dragonglass they'll ever need”, as Jon says. I’m so pumped and excited for them to start mining the dragonglass and turning into weapons, which of course would be vital in fighting the White Walkers.❄️ He then shows her the ancient cave drawings by the Children of the Forest and humans, which convinced Daenerys further that Jon is telling the truth about the White Walkers; & to me it felt like Daenerys does actually want to help Jon but the reason she wants him to bend the knee first is because she needs his guarantee that they’re allies. And in Jon’s defense, the Northerners are already against him for even agreeing to meet with Daenerys, so bending the knee to her could definitely result in a rebellion against him. I understand both of their viewpoints, but they’re both stubborn and proud people who want to help each other, and in due time, they will come to an agreement.🙌🏽 The scene between Jon, Davos, and Missandei was really cute and when Missandei was confused why Jon isn’t a Stark, and maybe I’m reaching here but her not understanding that concept felt like a very subtle to nod to Jon actually being a Targaryen. Missandei’s words about Daenerys also further convince Jon & Davos that she’s a good person and a good leader, since her people believe and have faith in her for who she is. I also think that starting from this episode, we can also see Jon slowly falling for Dany and Dany in turn trusting him. We also get a quick unpleasant reunion between Jon & Theon, with Jon telling Theon he would’ve killed him if he didn’t help Sansa. To be honest, who could blame Jon? If I were Jon I would’ve beaten him up a little too When Tyrion informs Dany of what happened at Casterly Rock, she's furious and at this point she’s had enough; Tyrion has lost her so much and every single plan that he had has failed, proving that he’s a good politician but a bad general. She’s ready to take Lady Olenna’s advice and be the dragon that she is, by taking charge of the situation on her own terms. Asking Jon’s opinion shows that she’s beginning to trust him and knows that he’s a good military commander and eventual ally; therefore, instead of taking her dragons right to King’s Landing and going against the people, she decides to go herself right to her enemies at Highgarden…

HIGHGARDEN

What a battle! The last time I was this tense was during BOTB! Daenerys & Drogon’s entrance was EVERYTHING🙌🏽🐉 The second the appeared with the Dothraki, it was obvious that the Lannister army didn’t stand a chance. Jaime tried to pretend like he was brave and that they could hold them off, but he was clearly afraid and to me it felt like he knew they weren’t going to win. Daenerys, Drogon, and the dothraki were so tough and epic, I love seeing the dragons in action and every time Daenerys yells “DRACARYS!” I feel chills.🔥 I couldn’t be more surprised that Randyll & Dickon Tarly are still alive, as this would’ve been the perfect timing. but I guess we’ll just have to wait and see…👀 I’m pretty sure we all hate Bronn now? When he took out the “scorpion” (aka the dragon-killing machine), I felt a lump in my throat. I didn’t expect it to be there and actually started feeling afraid for Drogon. I was cheering so much when he kept on missing the shot but the second Drogon was hit, I started yelling. Seeing Drogon fall through the sky broke my heart and made me so upset and worried that I actually felt like it happened to my child (I don’t call myself khaleesi for nothing)😭🐉 When Daenerys & Drogon landed for Dany to take the spear out of Drogon, to me it felt like Jaime was in awe for a second, until he decided to run at her with a spear. The way Jaime ran towards Dany is also a callback to the way he killed her father, the Mad King, which is through the back. But then Drogon immediately defends his mother, Dany, and was just about to roast him if it weren’t for Bronn rescuing him at the last moment by pushing him (&himself) into the water. Now, Jaime is obviously not dead. It’s too early for him to die, & we’re most probably going to see him wake up in the next episode. As for Bronn, I hope the dirty rat drowns or lives until the day Drogon burns him to death. I thought it was very interesting to see Tyrion there, obviously on Dany’s side, but also wishing his brother makes it out alive; after all, Tyrion & Jaime have a good bond and Jaime was the one who helped Tyrion escape King’s Landing at the end of season 4. A lot of people thought that the Lannisters lost the Tyrell gold during the battle, but that’s not the case. As I mentioned, Randyll Tarly told Jaime beforehand that the gold has made it into King’s Landing; the gold that was thrown on the floor belonged to Bronn only, it wasn’t the Tyrell gold and neither were the barrels that Drogon burnt. Those barrels were the food that Cersei has ordered to be taken from the region.🔥 People have also said: “Why did Daenerys take Drogon into battle on the first attack in Westeros? He’s too valuable, she should’ve taken Rhaegal or Viserion!” WELL to that I tell you that actually in GOT, once a dragon has a rider, that rider cannot ride any other dragon. So Daenerys wouldn’t be able to ride Rhaegal or Viserion into battle, but she could command them as we’ve seen last season. The whole battle (and episode tbh) was epic and mind-blowing; the battle is also a callback to a very important battle during Aegon's Conquest (Dany’s ancestor who first took over Westeros), in which House Targaryen defeated House Lannister using dragons, which resulted in the Lannisters bending the knee to Aegon.🐉🔥