#but i can’t fully face that concept yet. i’ve tried but eventually i come back to the pain and the comfort of believing

[digitaldiseas3]

.

[darthkruge]

hello lovely!! i’ve been getting back into star wars lately and i’ve been loving your fics!! and i was wondering if i could make a request?? sort of like,, anakin but he doesn’t turn to the dark side type thing?? like he maybe confesses he’s scared to lose you and you help him through it?? maybe obi wan helps out?? honestly you can take it however you want :)) ty ty

anakin skywalker x reader || rewritten

summary || a rots fix it fic where i take many liberties and give anakin a support system + everyone gets better communication and we think about how it would perhaps end differently

warnings || hella canon divergence, angst w/ a happy ending, some violence (non graphic and not super described)

words || 5.1k (i am legit shocked)

a/n || hello and thank you!! i’m so glad you’ve been loving my fics! this fic was honestly super challenging for me and it ended up being the longest thing i’ve ever written. i made some big changes and lots of smaller ones, but each one was fully intentional. i really, really hope y’all like it <3

main masterlist || anakin masterlist 

gif credit

-----

Anakin awoke with a start, chest heaving and covered in sweat. He was gripping the blankets as he tried to ground himself, frantically looking around as if to discern between reality and the horrid dreamscape his mind created. He whipped his head to the side, visibly relaxing as he saw you staring up at him, a confused look on your face. 

You were no stranger to Anakin’s nightmares but this one seemed unlike any he’d ever had. You slept curled into him and, thus, his jolt caused one of your own. Unsure if he wanted your touch just yet, you reached out to him with the Force. Panic, loss, grief, fear, terror, insecurity. You looked into his eyes, watching as they slowly cleared and he registered your presence. He blinked quickly, trying to clear the tears from his vision and gave you a slight nod. 

Reaching a tentative hand to his shoulder, you suppressed a gasp as you felt him shudder beneath you. You quietly whispered his name and placed a finger under his jaw, guiding his face to yours. You nodded back at him and opened your arms in silent invitation. He crawled into your embrace as you pulled him impossibly close to you, situating yourself against the headboard so you could better wrap yourself around his shaking body. Choked sobs erupted from his lips, each one tearing a hole in your heart. As he finally let himself cry with his face buried into your neck, you held him. By the Maker, you held him. 

He didn’t want to speak just yet and you understood. You’ve always extended the same respect back to him as he gives to you. Tucked into you, Anakin’s fingers squeezed into your flesh, as if trying to remind himself you were solid. You placed a few kisses into his soft hair and onto his forehead, hands running up and down his arms and back. You physically pressed reminders of your love into his skin for hours and, somewhere in the midst of your embrace, he let himself fall into a state of limbo. Unawake, unasleep, umoving, yet feeling everything you had to offer. 

----

When morning came, you reached out once again. The emotions from last night were still evident, just not as strong. Simultaneously, you allowed a small smile to come to you as you felt something new. Warmth, comfort, love. You ran your fingers through Anakin’s hair to pull him to consciousness, needing to see his eyes. Stars, his eyes. While they were absolutely gorgeous, they also always gave him away. You once told him that. “Only for you, my love.” He’d replied. 

“Hi.” He croaked out, meeting your gaze. Your eyes fluttered closed for a second as you took a deep breath in relief. His eyes were clear. You didn’t know how long the shadows would be banished for, but as long as they weren’t constant, you had hope. 

“Hi, baby.” You whispered, allowing yourself to give him another forehead kiss, made easy by your position that you’d somehow remained in throughout the night. You looked at him expectantly and knew he knew what you were asking.

“You… you died,” Anakin started. His eyes were already filling with tears. “It wasn’t clear. There was so much blood. And you kept begging me to help you. You screamed and screamed and screamed and you were in agony and…” 

You took his hand in yours, squeezing his fingers in encouragement to go on.

“I never- I never came for you.” He spit the words out as if they were venomous and shook his head. You could hear the self-hatred in his words, the way he couldn’t grasp the concept of hurting you, ever, and yet how seriously he took this. 

“Hey, hey. Stop, my love.” You said, hoping to pull him out of his spiral. “You would never harm me, Anakin. You would come for me, you always have. That was a horrible dream and I’m so sorry you had to experience it. But it was just a dream, Anakin. It’s not real.” 

He pulled away from you as if he couldn’t stand to feel your gentle touch. “No, no, no! It-” His words were cut off by his uneven breathing, his pulse racing as he relived the nightmare. “It felt like the ones I had about my mother. It felt… prophetic. I’m scared, Y/N, I can’t lose you.” 

You walked over to him, placing your hands on his cheeks and rubbing your thumbs over his cheekbones, hoping to calm him. “You won’t. It takes a lot to kill me, you know? Especially when I have you by my side.” 

Anakin nodded but you could tell he was unconvinced. 

“How about you talk to Obi-Wan about the dreams? He’s always helped you before.” You suggested. 

While normally this would be unthinkable, as it would expose your relationship, Anakin felt himself pulled toward the choice. Inwardly, he admitted that he could definitely use a friend right now. And Obi-Wan had always stood by him. Somehow, he just knew that now would be no different.  

------

Obi-Wan easily swung the door open with the Force before Anakin even had a chance to knock. He knew his former Padawan’s force signature like the back of his hand and had sensed his distress for days. Unbeknownst to Anakin, Obi-Wan had canceled his missions due to this, wanting to stay close for when Anakin eventually came to him for guidance. 

Obi-Wan looked up from his paperwork as he realized Anakin refused to come closer. Huddled behind the door frame, a conflicted and fearful look on his face, Obi-Wan was struck by how similar Anakin looked to the little boy he’d found on Tatooine all those years ago. Many nights, young Anakin would come into Obi-Wan’s room, plagued with nightmares. Just as before, Obi-Wan never turned him away. 

“Something’s troubling you.” 

Anakin sighed, taking a tentative step forward. “You know Master L/N?”

Obi-Wan smiled knowingly, having a sense of where this is going. “Yes, of course. A brilliant strategist, much like yourself.” 

“I…. I’m involved with them, Master.” 

“Involved?” Obi-Wan replied, with a quirked eyebrow.

“Please don’t punish Y/N for this, I know the Council frowns upon relationships. If you need to report it, I understand. But just report me, say they had nothing to do with it. But before you do anything please, Master, listen to what I must tell you. I wouldn’t unless it was absolutely necessary.” Anakin pleaded. 

“Anakin, I know.” 

“Yeah, I mean it truly is necessary-” 

Obi-Wan placed a comforting hand on the younger Jedi’s shoulder. “You misunderstand. I mean, I know.” 

Anakin’s eyes widened with realization before confusion filtered into his gaze. “But we were so careful!” 

“Not as much as you would think,” Obi-Wan said with a slight laugh.

“And you’re not upset?”

He sighed. “Being honest, I was a bit at first. Anakin, you know the rules and you can be so reckless at times! But how could I fault you for your own humanity? And I knew who you were when I met you. I was always aware of your compassion, your capacity for emotions.” Anakin nodded and smiled, but the faraway look in his eye never wavered. 

Clearing his voice, Obi-Wan continued. “Are you alright, Anakin?” 

“No.” The strength of the word shocked them both and caused Anakin to take a moment to compose himself. “They’re dying.”

Panic flashed through Obi-Wan’s expression. “They’re what? What happened? Was it a mission? Do the medics know? Is-” 

“- No, nothing… nothing yet. But it will.” While Obi-Wan didn’t exactly understand, he could tell through Anakin’s tone that his former Padawan believed this with his entire soul. 

“I’ve been having more nightmares.” Anakin said. 

“Like the ones with your mother?” 

Anakin nodded, his gaze muddled as his mind wove through every possibility on how to save you. Coming up with none, he looked up quickly, the lost confusion clear. 

“It’s going to be alright, Anakin. We’re going to do this together.” Obi-Wan offered, trying to comfort his friend. When Anakin nodded this time, his expression had more hope in it. Obi-Wan returned the gesture, tipping his head as Anakin walked out. Before Anakin reached the door, Obi-Wan called his name. 

“Talk to me if you feel troubled. About anything, my friend. And just know… it’s okay to feel afraid. And you’re no less a Jedi because you love them. At least, not in my eyes.” For the first time since he’d walked in the room, Anakin gave a true smile. His former Master inhaled deeply, realizing after hearing those words, Anakin looked more like himself than he had in a long while. 

----- 

A few hours and a Council meeting later, Anakin walked back into your chambers, closing the door with a huff. He wasn’t enraged, per se, but definitely conflicted. You approached him cautiously, heart falling when you saw those familiar clouds back in his eyes. 

“Did Obi-Wan not take it well?”

Anakin shook his head. “It’s not… he was supportive. But the Council has assigned something to me and…” He trailed off and looked at you. Only then did you see his bloodshot, puffy eyes. 

“What did they ask of you, Anakin?” You questioned, coming behind him to gently massage his tense shoulders. 

“I’m needed to spy on the Chancellor. Apparently there’s a Sith Lord somewhere in the Order. They suspect him.” He tried to keep his voice strong, but you could see how torn apart he was by the inflection in his tone. 

You took a breath and tried to process the information. “Will you do it?”

“I don’t know… if the Council tells me I must, then I must. But the Chancellor has only been good to me. I worry about betraying him but I don’t want to let down the Order. I’m not sure how to do this without causing someone harm.” He confessed. 

“They shouldn’t have put you in this position, it’s unfair. And you don’t have to, Ani. I know it feels like you do but you don’t need to bend to each of the Council’s requests. Whatever the fallout, whatever you choose, please know that I’m with you. And so is Obi-Wan. Not that it fixes anything, but at the very least, you’ll always have us.” 

Anakin turned around so he was facing you. “I don’t know what to do.” He whispered, voice laced with hopelessness. 

“Trust yourself. You have a good heart, intelligence, and strong morals. They’ve never failed you before.”

He nodded before leaning into you and your arms instinctively wrapped around him. Your fingertips found their way to his hair, gently weaving through the golden strands. 

“We’ll get through this, yeah?” While it was a question, you both knew you meant it as a statement.

“We’ll get through this.” Anakin echoed. He mumbled the words into your neck where he had buried his face. As if the words could seep into your skin. As if the hope could find its way to your heart and stay there, ever protected, ever true. 

-----

The next day, Anakin found himself in Palpatine’s office. He was wary, guarded. It was evident by the look on his eyes, the way he took a moment before taking another step. It was his training as both a Jedi and a General that allowed him to do this. The careful complexity of planning every move. 

“I heard the Council debating whether or not they should have made you a Master. It seems they do not trust you or value your talent as they should.” Palpatine’s words made Anakin freeze. Rationally, he knew this was wrong. At the very least, Obi-Wan trusts him and so do you. But there was a part of him that felt so validated by the Chancellor’s words that he wanted to hear more. To bask in them, in feeling wanted and appreciated. He hated himself for it. 

“I… I’m not sure what you mean by this.” Anakin attempted not to give himself away any more than he already has. 

“Well, they care about your potential. But they hold you back. They’ll never show you your true power, for they don’t want you to understand. They just wish to use it, no matter your own fate.” 

“I feel cast aside. Like I don’t matter.” Anakin wasn’t even sure why he shared these words. Somehow, in feeling so praised, the doubts just bubbled their way to the surface. He felt like a child in these moments, so painfully fragile. 

“You don’t. Not to them, Anakin. But with me I can teach you your power. I can teach you the ways of the Dark Side. I know of your fears, of those nightmares that plague you. I know about your secret marriage and how close you are to losing it all.” 

Anakin froze, his heart hammering in his chest. His thoughts raced as he tried to piece together the truth from all the lies. The mentions of Darth Plagueis. The Dark Side of the Force. 

“You’re the Sith Lord!” Anakin said, igniting his lightsaber and pointing it at the older man’s chest. 

Palpatine bowed his head slightly, a small smile gracing his lips. “Well done, my boy.” Anakin felt sick as he noted the pride in his tone. And yet that aching part inside him still swelled, ever so slightly.

“Now, don’t do anything rash.” The Chancellor reasoned. “Only the Dark Side can save the one you love.” 

Anakin wanted to do the right thing. He wished to be the one who could stand up and arrest Palpatine without a single ounce of guilt or regret. But as soon as Palpatine mentioned you, it’s like all his logic disappeared. He just wanted to save you, to not fail you as he’d failed his mother. But then he thought back to your words. “Strong morals.” And to his Master’s. “We’ll do this together.”

“I’m turning you into the Council.” 

“Wouldn’t you prefer to kill me?”

“Yes.” Anakin’s remark was forceful and clipped with anger.

“Then do it. Give yourself over to your wrath.”

He felt himself burning with betrayal, with resentment toward both sides. Even so, he could still tell right from wrong, selfless from selfish. And whatever Palpatine was doing… it certainly did not have the will of the people in mind. Without so much as deigning him with another response, Anakin turned and walked out of the room.

“If you turn me in, you’ll never save them!” Anakin tried to will Palpatine’s voice out of his head as he ventured back to the Council chambers. When he arrived back, he decided to slightly alter his plans. While he knew he must face all of them eventually, he wanted to talk to Obi-Wan first. Perhaps his Master could give him guidance, like he did about your nightmares. 

“General Skywalker… are you alright?” Anakin stumbled as he walked right into another figure, too caught up in his own head.

“I’m fine, Master Windu. Thank you- I’m sorry.” Mace looked at the younger Jedi with an unreadable expression. While there was much in his eyes, concern was definitely a part of it. 

“Have you seen Master Kenobi?” Anakin said after a brief pause for composure. 

“He’s supposed to leave for his next mission any moment now. If you hurry, you can probably still catch him.” 

Anakin thanked Master Windu before taking off in a run. No matter how fast his legs carried him, he felt his mind was working even faster, the internal conflict brewing more intently by the second. 

-----

Obi-Wan opened the door as soon as before Anakin could even knock. He looked at Anakin and gestured at a vacant chair, a silent invitation to sit. Anakin shook his head quickly. The younger Jedi’s eyes were scattered and conflicted, as if he’d been shaken to his very core. 

“Palpatine is the Sith Lord.” The words came out rushed, yet clear. As if Anakin needed to get them out as quickly as he could but replayed them in his head until they were all he knew. The intensity showed Obi-Wan that there was no doubt in his friend’s mind. 

Obi-Wan blinked. “Okay.” He stroked his beard, trying to find the words to say. “Are you alright?”

Anakin looked at Obi-Wan in confusion. Certainly there were more important questions his former Master would want to ask than that. 

“I know you and the Chancellor were close. This can’t be easy for you. I just wanted to ask if you were alright.” 

“I’m not sure.” Anakin said after some hesitation. “I don’t really know what to think… Palpatine is evil, right? But he believed in me when no one else did. He saw my potential, allowed me to confide in him. He told me he could show me how to save Y/N. Would someone evil do that?” 

Obi-Wan’s eyes softened as he looked at the painfully conflicted young man in front of him. “Anakin… he was manipulating you. He was isolating you so you had no one to turn to but him. It was a tactic, a ploy. He doesn’t care for you.” Anakin looked so heartbroken that Obi-Wan knew Anakin believed him. “I’m so sorry.” 

“But what about Y/N?” Anakin asked desperately.

Obi-Wan sighed. “Loving someone in the Order isn’t easy. Especially after everything you’ve gone through. And losing someone… it changes the way you love. You fear constantly, wondering when your love will evade you. When it will fall apart, like all the rest. But living like that, loving like that… it leaves no room for growth or peace. And that’s what relationships are for, aren’t they?” His voice was filled with compassion and wisdom. From experience, perhaps? Regardless of the reason, Anakin was reminded that someone did understand him. Despite the circumstances, he felt content. At least a bit. 

“Is there any way to save them?”

“I’m not sure. Let’s focus on Palpatine for now, alright? And we’ll bring Master L/N with us so you know they’re safe.” Obi-Wan wished nothing more than having a set solution to save Y/N. But some things were even out of his grasp. “I know this must be impossible for you, Anakin. I truly am sorry.” 

Anakin nodded. After all, it was true. If there was anything to describe the impending threat of losing another person he loved, impossible summed up the process. “I know. You’re doing all you can. Thank you, Master. And yes, I would like to bring them with us.” 

Obi-Wan clasped a hand to Anakin’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze as they met each other with a smile. “I’ll send them a message right now.”

----

You gasped when you received Obi-Wan’s message with the details of the Supreme Chancellor’s truth. Your heart cried for Anakin, knowing the betrayal must be breaking him. All you could do was wish that with Obi-Wan’s help, the two of you could support Anakin until he felt like he could breathe again. And you had faith in him. You always had faith in him. 

Grabbing your cloak, you jogged to Obi-Wan’s quarters. As soon as you opened the door, you ran to Anakin and hugged him to you, needing to feel his presence. Somehow, you knew he needed it, too. 

“Ready?” Anakin and Obi-Wan gave you nods of confirmation and you gave a tentative smile. “Alright. Let’s do this.” 

-----

Anakin entered Palpatine’s chambers first. For once, he felt sure of himself. He finally knew what he had to do. His gaze shifted to you, making sure you were alright. You placed a hand on his arm, rubbing your thumb up and down to reassure him. He inhaled. Exhaled. And ignited his saber. 

“I knew you’d come back, Skywalker. I knew you’d join me.” 

“Think again.” Obi-Wan responded as you and him walked into the chambers. Pure, unfiltered rage flickered through Palpatine’s eyes in response.

“Anakin, they’re trying to corrupt you. They’re trying to keep your power. Come with me, boy, and I’ll teach you all you wish to know. I’ll teach you how to save them.” He said, pointing a pale finger toward your face. 

You let out a sharp breath as you suddenly understood Anakin’s conflict. Of course Palpatine was using you as a bargaining chip. Using Anakin’s fear of abandonment, of losing his loved ones against him. It was disgusting, even for a Sith. 

“I… you can’t possibly know how to do that. It’s impossible!” 

“Not on the Dark Side. Look… Obi-Wan has turned them against you. He’s the cause of this! I’m sure he didn’t even pose a solution to saving Y/N. It’s because he doesn’t care about you, not like I do.” 

The shadows returned to Anakin’s eyes as his gaze switched between Obi-Wan and Palpatine. He couldn’t even bring himself to look at you, to see the pain in your eyes as he struggled with a choice that for others would be so simple. He hated himself for being weak but he truly couldn’t fathom losing you. 

Obi-Wan stepped forward, backing Palpatine against the wall and pointing his lightsaber at Palpatine’s throat. Anakin stepped back, too frozen to move, and unconsciously placed himself between them and you.

“It’s over, Chancellor. Don’t make this more difficult than it already is.” Obi-Wan said.

Palpatine shot lightning from his hands, causing Obi-Wan to deflect the matter with his lightsaber, redirecting it to Palpatine himself. As Palpatine shook from the force of his own blast, he once again called to Anakin.

“If you let him kill me, dear boy, Y/N will die. If you don’t try to save them, you will be the cause of their death.” 

Anakin’s eyes widened, those words hitting him right in the chest. He moved forward, pointing his lightsaber at Obi-Wan but refusing to make the final cut to end his life. Obi-Wan looked like he wanted to speak but the effort of holding of Palpatine’s lightning rendered him useless. It was Obi-Wan, after all. His former Master, his friend. The one person who he trusted with the secret of his marriage. He couldn’t kill him, right? He faltered, stepping slightly back. 

“Ani,” You said, your voice calm as you tried to reason with him. “Ani if you do this, you can’t come back from it. I know you don’t want to lose me and if you kill Obi-Wan, you will, regardless of the fate of my life. You aren’t too far gone, yet. You haven’t done anything irredeemable. Remember who you are, my love.” 

Anakin heard your words and looked at your face. You. He wanted to do good by you, to do good by all of them. He wanted to make his mother proud, make himself feel like leaving her for the Jedi Order meant something. And then his gaze filtered over to his friend. Obi-Wan stood tall against the force of Palpatine’s lightning, reminding Anakin of his friend’s strength. It was something Anakin wanted to emulate, too. 

Understanding his choice, Anakin took a step forward to position the blade toward Palpatine’s chest. His hand was shaking, movements unsure, eyes glossed over with immeasurable pain. But before he could make contact, you swiftly moved in front of him and killed Palpatine instead. Obi-Wan was thrust backward as the lightning ceased, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. 

“Why would you do that?” Anakin asked as he looked at you. 

“I didn’t want you to have to kill your friend. No matter what he turned out to be.” You said as you shifted on the balls of your feet. The weight of Palpatine’s death now weighed on your soul, as do those of every life you’ve ever ended. You could bear it and you knew Anakin was strong enough to do so, as well. You just didn’t want him to have to. 

Anakin nodded and whispered a thank you back to you. You just smiled, the love for him clear in your expression. Anakin turned around, walking to his friend and extending a hand for him. 

“I never doubted you.” Obi-Wan said simply as he met Anakin’s guilty eyes. 

“I should have made the choice to believe you earlier. I shouldn’t have let him get to me. I’m sorry, Master.” 

“Look at me, Anakin. We all struggle with our morals. We struggle and we’re unsure and we pray and hope to land on the right decision. And you did. You have nothing to apologize for.” Looking at your and Anakin’s arms around each other, Obi-Wan made one last decision. “How about the two of you retire for the evening? I’ll debrief with the Council, you’ve been through enough.” 

Once again, Anakin was struck by the older Jedi’s strength and selflessness. He nodded, as did you, before he accompanied you back to your quarters. 

----

You kept one arm around Anakin’s waist the entire way home, mirroring his that was around your shoulders. You couldn’t bear to separate, not after the events of the past few days. Seeing Anakin so torn up inside, it was eating away at you. Knowing you couldn’t save him was one of the hardest things you’ve ever had to deal with. 

Now, Palpatine was finally gone. There was no more threat to the Jedi Order, the Force once again balanced. But both of you still understood the one solution that hadn't been found: how to save you. It made everything easier, that you chose to kill the Chancellor. Anakin refused to voice the doubts in his head, wondering if he actually would have gone through with it knowing he would lose his chance at saving you. 

The air was melancholic surrounding you both. Heavy. Neither of you knew what to say, words failing in a moment that was so conflicted it almost overwhelmed you. But your heart warmed as you saw Anakin scamper in front of you to open and hold the door for you. You loved him so much, for doing the little things even in moments like these. It gave you hope.

You were okay with death, so long as it only affected you. When you joined the Jedi, you had to make your peace with it. But after you fell in love everything changed. You didn’t want Anakin to go through the pain of losing you. He’d been so open with you about, well, everything. Especially his past. He’d gone through so much, felt such raw pain and loss, you didn’t want to add to that. 

Taking his hands in yours, you looked into his blue eyes. 

“I don’t want you to die.” He whispered, the desperate, deflated tone making your heart break. “I won’t.” You wished to say, but you knew you couldn’t. 

“I don’t want to die, either.” You chose these words instead, relying on their honesty. 

“Palpatine could have saved you.” Anakin said after a beat. 

You sighed. “You don’t know that.” You stated, knowing it wouldn’t change how he felt. 

“Neither do you!” 

“But at what cost? At the cost of losing your soul? Anakin, you would have had to join the Sith! That’s no longer you! You’re good and you couldn’t have saved me if you were there, don’t you see that?” You pleaded. You wished he would see your logic, the truth behind your words. How even though he thought otherwise, he made the right decision. 

“What good is saving the Order if you won’t be a part of it?”

“What good is saving my life if I wouldn’t have you to live it with?” You countered. 

Anakin let out an exhausted breath before pulling you into him, hugging you. The fighting was too much and, frankly, he didn’t want to argue. Not with you, not ever. You both let out a humorless chuckle as you leaned into each other. 

“I love you.” His tone conveyed it all. 

“I love you.” You replied, your voice muffled from being pressed into his robes. 

“Can we sleep? I don’t want to face this right now. Can we just put this aside, if just for a moment? Can I lay with you and can you hold me and can we just have each other?” You questioned breathlessly.

“I would like nothing more, my love.” He smiled slightly and pressed a kiss to your head as he added the words of endearment, wanting you to understand he wasn’t upset with you. You already knew that, though. You were in love with Anakin Skywalker. Of course you’d argue from time to time. But at the end of the day, you were two hopelessly in love Jedi just trying to save each other. 

Crawling into bed, sleep came for the both of you quickly. You were holding him and he was holding you, tangled together as you nestled his warm embrace. He tucked his face into your neck as you did so and savored the feel of you next to him. Safe. 

Drifting off, Anakin tried to fight the pull of sleep, knowing he’d just suffer from another nightmare like he had every day since the first one. One where you’d die and he could do nothing to stop it. Amidst these tumultuous thoughts, his breathing evened, lulling him under. 

You were in the grass, a flower crown atop your head. Anakin was leaning against a small house. It was quaint but beautiful. Small, not outwardly flashy, but full of love and meaning. Looking around, he smiled as he saw green vines crawling up the sides of the house, a garden of your favorite flowers out front. You always had a soft spot for that. 

We are on Naboo, he realized. It was peaceful. It was the dream you always talked of together. Anakin’s breath caught as he felt the certainty of this dream. It felt just like his nightmares, except this one left him content. He didn’t want to entertain the thought for too long, afraid of jinxing it. But he knew it was prophetic. He wasn’t sure how he changed his fate, what exactly gave him this future. Something inside him just knew that when he wakes up the next morning, all will be okay. He felt infinitely lighter as he understood the threat was gone. 

When you looked up and saw him, you raced toward him and jumped into his arms. Anakin stumbled but caught you, breathing in your scent as you kissed the side of his neck. As he held you, his thoughts slightly wandered. But he was grounded by your presence, reminding him that you were safe and he was okay. With you, he was finally, completely, home.

-----

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[kindness-ricochets]

I’ve been seeing a lot of thoughts and hc of autistic wylan lately and you seem to also be a fan of the concept. May I ask why? Exactly? I could definitely kinda see it but wanna hear you thoughts you’re always so eloquent

Hey there anon! Sorry for the delay—I’m guessing you already found an answer to this elsewhere while I was off Tumblr for a bit, but just in case, here are my thoughts. This will be heavily personal, but… well, you can’t very well ask an autistic person about autism and expect neutrality!

Autism is different for everyone and can be difficult to pin down, so while Wylan is arguably autistic, he misses several beats that for me would have made him definitively and undeniably autistic. For example, when the bells start to ring, triggering black protocol—I work in a place with a lot of bells and am frequently caught too close to one and normally press my hands over my ears until it’s over because that sound is like shrapnel raking across my insides. All of them. Not just the ear and brain parts. Wylan doesn’t have that sort of visceral reaction, but that may just mean he doesn’t have the same sensitivities that I do, or to the same level. He also never, that I recall, eats meat—as weird as that might sound, eating meat is incredibly complicated with heightened sensitivities to taste and texture. I’m not sure how old I was when I realized it was strange to get up from the table to spit out my food because it viscerally repulsed me. So it might be that Wylan is autistic and has different experiences than I do. Those are things I would include in a story as major indicators of a character being autistic. This might also mean that his father’s way of raising him taught him to hide unusual reactions and stimming behaviors. It’s not that much of a reach to assume a man who tried to abuse the dyslexia out of his son would take the same approach to autism. (More on autism and abuse later.)

So while I’m going to lay out why I read Wylan as autistic, that’s why I think it’s valid to read him as not being autistic as well. Both are valid.

A final caveat, I am well overdue for a reread of the books, so I likely left something out or could have found better examples. Take this as a few of my reasons for a personal headcanon. Anyone who feels differently, that's fine! We can each read things our own way :)

1 - Hyperfixation: The way Wylan loves music

Most of the Crows’ backgrounds color how they see the world: Kaz’s shrewdness, Matthias’s tactical thinking and superstition, Inej’s faith and Suli wisdom, etc. That’s a sign of good character writing. But very little of Wylan’s upbringing seems to have influenced how he sees the world. It comes closest when he thinks about how his father would scorn his new friends, but we never see that scorn from Wylan.

The way a hyperfixation feels, it’s like you’ve always lived in a close parallel world, never fully been a part of the other one where it seems like everyone else lives, but suddenly there’s this bright shining piece of your soul laced through the other world. It lets you connect, it lets you exist in their realm, and you can’t help but filter everything new through that lens because it’s the brightest, most wonderful thing. (I had been between hyperfixations for a while when I started a new job; six months into that work, I read Crooked Kingdom. One of my coworkers thought I had fallen in love, it was that marked a difference.)

So, combining these: Wylan never really acts like he was part of his father’s world, and indeed is in some ways separate from the other Crows, but he parses everything through music, his hyperfixation. He sets words to music to remember them, like he does with the contract. Even his own anxiety is made sense of through music, when in his first narrated chapter, he sets it to music: what am I doing here what am I doing here…. When he’s overwhelmed, his thoughts are “a jangle of misplayed chords”. The Crows have backgrounds that influence how they react to the world, but Wylan’s hyperfixation is his means of experiencing and understanding the world.

2 - Literal thinking: Wylan responds to exact words

In this post, I went into detail on the line where Wylan suggested waking up men to kill them. Wylan is generally unsupportive of killing people—Oomen, Smeet’s clerk, his father… he advocates not-murder in each of these situations. Accepting his aversion to murder, his suggestion to wake men up and kill them seems like a genuine reaction to Jesper saying he doesn’t want to kill unconscious men. Wylan takes things literally.

This happens the most with Jesper, probably because Jesper talks to Wylan the most. Nina and Matthias don’t really register him past how he might be useful, Inej is usually quite direct, and Kaz is very deliberate when he speaks with Wylan. This really interests me because Kaz tends to vary his speech more than the others do, he adapts more to being around other people. He jokes a little with Jesper, spars with Nina, speaks more openly and more sharply with Inej, and he’s precise with Wylan. Kaz may not know what autism is, but he recognizes what’s effective with Wylan.

Another example is when Wylan is sketching the Ice Court plans and Jesper says it looks like a cake. There are plenty of valid responses here: pointing out that concentric circles look like lots of things, that it’s just a sketch, telling Jesper to stop looking over his shoulder. Instead, Wylan says that the Ice Court is sort of like a cake. That… doesn’t sound like something Wylan would normally say. He’s not addressing the whole situation, he’s addressing the specific words Jesper said.

One of the most heartbreaking examples of this (to me, anyway) is with Marya. Wylan does the same thing with his mother, when she asks if he’s there for her money and says she hasn’t got any, and his response is, “I don’t either.” We understand as readers that what Marya is communicating here is that she is so accustomed to being utterly ignored unless she is being used, and if she told Wylan that no one visited but to take advantage and she assumed he was here for the same reason, he would say it wasn’t the case. But he just responds to the immediate statement.

There are a lot of examples of this.

3 — 0% perception, 100% creativity

Wylan can identify things that don’t make sense or that he doesn’t understand, but at the beginning of the series he can’t make leaps, only ask questions. On the Ferolind, he wonders about the source of water at the Ice Court; though Kaz doesn’t say as much, he was clearly wondering, too, because he eventually figured out the underground river. There’s an interesting parallel here where, in the beginning of Crooked Kingdom, Wylan asks a question about how they’ll break into Smeet’s and Kaz tells him to use his eyes instead of running his mouth—at which point Wylan is able to figure it out. I don’t think this is because he never tried before, though, but because no one ever bothered to teach him. Kaz can be harsh but he gives harsh corrections rather than harsh rejections and Wylan learns from him.

It’s hard to understand the world for people with autism. The world is designed and run by and for people whose minds are fundamentally different from ours, whose thoughts and experiences are unlike ours. Imagine trying to learn English or Spanish or Mandarin or any other spoken language if your first language was olfactory. That’s sort of what it’s like for someone with autism to just get dropped into the world and expected to figure this out.

This can be attributed to Wylan’s upbringing, but I disagree with that because none of the others were brought up in the Barrel, either, and Wylan doesn’t understand trade or politics with any special skill. Kaz wasn’t born in the Barrel, but he managed to go from “stealing is wrong” to “wrong isn’t my concern” real quick; Colm Fahey didn’t raise his son on gambling and firefights; the Ghafas never expected their daughter to be away from the family. Only Nina has relevant training—and even that’s precious little, she left school way too early. The others figured it out; Wylan needed a bit more help. He also seems surprised by the way his father conducts business. Wylan takes things on face value—like the time he’s surprised someone would do something, simply because it’s unlawful. This is something he expresses to a group of gangsters. He’s never been taught the way of any world and these things are not intuitive to him.

But Wylan isn’t stupid.

He doesn’t know how to understand the world, but he does understand how things go together. Given a pointy diamond, a handle, and a screw, he cut through Grisha glass. He carries flashbangs and magic napalm, he recreates military hardware—Wylan understands how to make things interact for a specific result. But to me the most telling thing isn’t just that he puts together chemical pieces, it’s that he figured out Jesper controlled bullets. He saw the pieces and put them together.

Wylan can understand when things don’t make sense, but he can’t make sense of them—yet when he understands things at their basic level, he understands them without preconception, for what they are. This is a very autistic way of thinking about things, it goes back to the literalism. He can’t make the leaps of logic other people can, but he also doesn’t make the assumptions they do—“I’ve never heard of a bullet Grisha, so that’s not a thing” vs “Well Jesper’s an almost impossibly good shot and he controls metal and bullets are metal, so why not?”

4 - Broken brain/body connection

Wylan’s great at chemistry and drawing and playing flute or piano—but he’s something of a disaster other times. This is in particular contrast to the other characters, all of whom are physically adept. Meanwhile it’s a challenge for Wylan to climb a rope ladder and he spends a full paragraph trying to figure out what to do with his hands. It’s easy to say, well, he’s used to a sedentary lifestyle, but at this point he’s not. He’s worked in the tannery for months. He’s just physically awkward.

I have less to say on this point only because it’s about something I don’t fully understand myself. I don’t really understand what it would be like to have a body that just… does things? Like normal stuff? Without tics and stims. No idea. Only that Wylan’s discomfort in and seeming lack of mastery of his own body feels very relatable to me.

5 - Abuse

One of the most familiar things about Wylan is how he has been so thoroughly abused and broken down that he’s afraid to do or say much of anything. Again, this is a place his background can be an obscuring factor. Of course Wylan didn’t think to blow up the walls when the first met the parem-juiced jurda and got trapped, he’s a spoiled rich kid! Except, he also startled when Jesper said his name later. Wylan didn’t hesitate because he was spoiled, he hesitated because he had no confidence.

He also thinks Kaz would laugh at him for playing music at his mother’s grave. Now, personally, I can’t see Kaz laughing at Wylan—being indifferent, thinking it’s pointless sentimentality, shaking his head, maybe commenting sharply that they need to go if they don’t have the time. But not laughing. Kaz is a snarky, sharp-edged jerk sometimes, but he doesn’t go out of his way to criticize, he just lets people know when they inconvenience him.

Wylan has been trained to identify attention as negative by an overbearing abusive father who literally saw him as less favorable than a demon. Now, that may have been hyperbole, but Jan criticized everything he could about Wylan—art, music, emotion—and made clear that he was worthless and competent to nothing. (Jan Van Eck can suck a rotten donkey dick but that’s neither here nor there.)

A lot of people with autism experience levels of bullying that have similar impacts. Or as the kids these days are calling it: we go to school. We go to school where we are weird. Where we look weird and move weird and talk about weird things and there’s a whole little bevy of asswipes to makes sure we know it. I got teased more for playing Pokemon and sitting alone reading than the kid who pissed himself onstage at assembly. (This was before Pokemon was cool. I’m old.) And that is not unusual for autistic kids. It’s also not unusual for this to be compounded by relatives or even parents who may be trying to help but don’t understand and can make things even harder.

So we can’t read social cues and we’re taught at a vicious age that everything that comes naturally to us is wrong. Imagine trying to interact in society with that background. There is no guide and most advice from neurotypical people isn’t actually what they mean. It breaks you down.

Wylan’s anxiety isn’t definitive of autism, but isn’t something that was incredibly familiar as someone whose neurodivergent experiences created a strong level of anxiety.

6 — High Compassion, Low Social Competence

Wylan isn’t very good at making friends. In fact, none of the Crows likes him much in the beginning, and only some of them soften toward him by the end. (Matthias and Nina come to respect his skills as a chemist but neither seems to particularly like him.) But you can see throughout the books that Wylan wants to connect with them and be one of them, he just… isn’t. He’s off-beat. He’s weird. He asks questions and mimics behaviors (trying to be cool and tough like Jesper, saying “mission” like Matthias does, imitating Kaz’s scheming face) but he doesn’t quite get how to adapt.

But he still cares about people. Not just them. Everyone. He cares about the people they leave in the ditch outside the prison wagon, he cares about Hanna Smeet, he cares about Alys. He cares about the people who’ll take a hit from Kaz’s sugar caper.

Wylan’s awkward social skills have undeniable big autism energy. I posit his compassion does as well. This is simply who Wylan is, and that means being someone who cares about everyone. I have nothing to back up that this is related to autism. I can say that it’s like me. (Not to brag.) I can’t turn off the part of my brain that says everyone matters. Individuals can opt out of that compassion, but they have it by default. There’s a certain agony in feeling a pull toward and love for just about everyone and yet an inability to develop meaningful connections with them, and that keen loneliness… it just burns.

Again, it’s not definitive of autism, but it’s very similar to an autistic experience.

I said in the beginning that I didn’t think Wylan certainly had autism and I stand by that, but he is a powerfully honest reflection of many people who do. So he can be understood to have autism, and that’s part of the reason some people have that headcanon.

[tiramisiyu]

Thoughts on Xia Yan’s Anniversary/Kiss Date

Not a translation, but rather an unleashing of the many thoughts I had for his date because it made me feel so many emotions and think so many things;;

Wordcount: 2.8k

Date Translation

Preamble

Tears of Themis’ 1st anniversary features one of the most significant in-story events you can view within an otome game - the confession event between MC and respective male leads. The gravity of this confession event, however, is intensified with respect to the ML Xia Yan, as their emotions towards each other is not the only focus of said confession - he must also reveal the heartbreaking truth that his life is likely to end in three years. 

In the below sections, I will discuss the significance of various components that comprise Xia Yan’s anniversary date. My primary focuses will be on Xia Yan’s internal struggles, his care for MC, and the nature of the confession, and I aim to ultimately express why this date had such a major effect on me and whoa if you’re still reading this rambling part, I applaud you. I’m really just doing a fancy thoughtdump here.

The Nature of the Confession Event

From the beginning, XY never intended for the confession to be full of pomp and circumstance - and this was out of concern for MC, fearing that she would be too swept up in emotion to make it. Based on how the other guys’ cards look (them being outside and MC’s all dressed up), I assume that there was some ceremony-like aspect to their respective confessions, and I think that this draws a stark contrast to XY’s (who staunchly refused Yang Xiao’s offer to help make his confession just as ceremonial). In XY’s, MC’s not dressed up the way she is for the others, and both have been drenched in rain and are dissolving into tears of sadness as they speak. In addition, their desires are conflicting (rather than a situation where both parties confess and get together, and thus have coinciding interests) - despite what XY has said before, he does not want MC to be with him, while MC wants the exact opposite. It’s not a beautiful or gorgeous scene by design - instead, it’s very raw, very 狼狈 as the two lay bare their own painful emotions, discuss/cry about heavy topics, and show very vulnerable sides to each other, trying to get through to the other person. 

Speaking of showing vulnerability, the fact that Xia Yan is so anguished by what he has to say that he has to sit down and cry hits particularly hard because he has always, always tried to put on a strong face in front of MC. Whenever his illness strikes and MC sees it, such as in aquarium date or Neruda poem date, he’ll smile and/or joke about it after. When the two were talking about his posthumous letters during the RRG date, he still had a calm smile on his face. Even when he talked about being shoved into a car trunk to be “disposed of”, he was still calmly smiling. As MC noted, his job has taught him to have extreme control over his emotions, so it’s almost overwhelming, trying to imagine how much sadness pushed him to that point.

Pathetic fallacy also plays a part in increasing the impact that the confession event had. In the days leading up to the last part of the date, storms keep striking suddenly, such that it’s even described as “strange”. Storms are, of course, generally associated with less-pleasant things, such as conflict, anger, depression, difficulty, and so on. The meaning behind why they appeared suddenly or frequently is a little harder to understand, but my assumption for the frequency of the storms (rather than an ongoing storm or gloom) reflects how things could not completely “clear up” (despite uplifts in emotion from time to time) until they confronted each other with their feelings. During the confrontation, not only is the storm still going on, but they’re also harshly drenched in the cold rainwater. It is only after the kiss, after their interests finally coincide, that the storm lifts and the beautiful starry sky casts its light on Xia Yan, who was holding the majority of the conflict/sadness/depression between the two of them. (This is also highlighted in how MC notes that Xia Yan feels slightly cold (during the kiss), and she tries to transfer her warmth over to him, trying to alleviate that heavy emotion that’s wrapped itself around him.) 

The Location

The attic of their old home remains an important location for these two, and I pretty much can’t think of a better choice to set the confession. It contains their childhood memories, and it also came into play during Xia Yan’s first birthday after his return (i.e. the idea of continuing to make memories there). It’s also interesting to note that Xia Yan, from his rational mindset, did not intend to see MC… yet he still came to this place - a place that was equally meaningful to both of them, and a place where he’s likely to get lost in emotion. He may be restraining his emotions for MC’s good, yet they still show in small places. (At least, there doesn’t seem to be any logical reason for him to be there, since he wasn’t setting anything up there…)

The Humanizing and Internal Conflict of Xia Yan

I call it “humanizing” because I’ve done some commenting before on how Xia Yan has felt a little superhuman - so many skills everywhere, and rarely a moment of weakness. Now, this date really drives home that he is just human too, with the harsh reality of imminent death hanging over him (especially since we also learn a few more concrete details on exactly what his illness is). This point is brought into attention when he talks about how he’s neither able to be as brave as Schumann (who acted based on emotion) nor as silently strong as Brahms (who acted based on reason). He’s pulled in so many directions for all the things he wants - a desire to stay by MC’s side and do so much with her, whether as family or as something more, versus his rational mindset that tells him to not see her at all, to disappear from her life after, or to push her away even after her confession. There was also his “rationally” created plan in which he would give her the letter and let her decide, yet he still tries to convince her to not be with him. 

The Schumann/Brahms comparison shows how he keeps getting pulled back and forth between reason and emotion. He reveals his feelings to MC (Schumann), but wants her to make the optimal decision, which he believes is to not be with him (Brahms). He then kisses her after hearing her conviction (Schumann) and then gives her the gift that’s linked to Brahms. In realizing that he’s not able to stick to either path, he calls himself a coward - but he doesn’t need to be like either person. As MC says, his restraint is a part of his own background, and his emotional wavering is because of his care for MC - all in all, his motivations are because he is Xia Yan, not Schumann or Brahms. 

Personal Story Chapter 2 Parallels

In Xia Yan’s personal chapter 2, Yang Xiao sets up the story of 零/Zero and 玛丽薇莎/Marivisa to mirror MC and Xia Yan (respectively). The mention of what will bring Zero and MC happiness is starkly similar in these two situations:

⊳ Personal Ch.2-9

Xia Yan: 因为...这样，零会更幸福... 她不是在牺牲，她只是用自己的方式让零能幸福。Because this way, Zero would be happier… She wasn’t sacrificing herself. She was only using her own methods to make Zero happy.

MC: 但零的幸福就是她啊。But Zero’s happiness is her.

Xia Yan: 她已经无法给零幸福了。 It’s already impossible for her to give Zero happiness.

⊳ Date

Xia Yan: 如果你选择别的男人。。。只要��能给你幸福。我只会带给你不幸，我没有时间了。。。If you choose another man… As long as he can make you happy. All I can bring you is unhappiness. I don’t have much time left…

MC: 你怎么可能带给我不幸，你怎么可能做不到给我幸福。你在我身边，你的存在本身，就是我的幸福。How is it possible that you can only bring me unhappiness? How is it impossible for you to bring me happiness? You being by my side – your very existence – is my happiness. 

Yes, the Zero/Marivisa story was intentionally made to parallel these two, so it might feel moot to compare them like this. However, I still really appreciated that they brought this discussion of what brings MC/Zero happiness back, especially since XY’s chapter 2 was very major in developing his character. Back then, MC is vehement in that Zero would have been happier spending all the time he could with Marivisa, as well as even having the choice to spend that time with her. I think that this part was instrumental in Xia Yan eventually deciding to tell her the truth and letting her make her own decision (as he explicitly stated to Yang Xiao in part 1 of the date). However, he still wasn’t fully convinced by what MC said back in chapter 2, so we satisfyingly see this discussion of happiness come full circle by the end of this date, when Xia Yan finally trusts MC to make the best decision for herself. 

Xia Yan’s Considerateness

Xia Yan’s enduring consideration for MC displays itself in nearly every single action within this date. 

The flashback, when he thinks about MC potentially having to go through what the widow is now experiencing, and how his own happiness for three years isn’t worth that

His conviction to give her the right to decide in this matter that involves both of them, because he can’t be the one to decide everything

He insisted on not making it a romantic event, because he wants MC to make the best decision without having a mind clouded by emotion. He’s also made peace with the idea of not being with MC, for the sake of her long-term happiness. All he wants is for her to know the truth of his feelings and illness.

His decision to still make MC a gift to retain some aspect of the romance in the confession (but he only gives the gift after MC has made her decision, again to ensure that her mind isn’t clouded). I think the concept of the gift is particularly beautiful - the little, happy holograms of them inside the glass, as if ensuring that he will always be by her side in some way; the music that brings back their childhood memories and alludes to an enduring, quiet, and protecting love that puts the recipient first (i.e. Brahms to Clara); and the rainbow, which has its childhood memories and treasure implications that are already mentioned in the date, but it also reminded me of the miraculous double rainbow in his Lost Gold date. That double rainbow was the trigger for Xia Yan to proactively seek out a future with MC, when he took the initiative to ask MC if she could be with him to seek out more miracles. Overall, there are a lot of beautiful memories and implications wrapped up in that music box/snowglobe. 

The little comical segment where he worries about the optimal time to deliver the letter, worrying about MC’s sleep or if she’ll be able to eat well.

His stress over what he should’ve done after the letter was delivered, and how he immediately answered MC’s call out of pure worry, despite being so resolute about not answering her calls that he’d turned on airplane mode before. 

Their ensuing discussion in part 3 is just full of Xia Yan’s consideration for MC at its peak - 

Rather than being ecstatic about MC’s confession, his first instinct is to tell her to take a few days to think about it logically. (But really, emotions aren’t logical to begin with, so it’s not like MC would’ve stopped liking you after mulling it over for a few days, haha)

His immediate apology after yelling that he has to mention his death

His worry about how MC will cope after he’s gone, going so far as to saying that she would be better off with another man 

I think that this particular (above) line got a particularly visceral reaction from Xia Yan fans, including myself. Because like MC, our initial thoughts fell along the lines of “How could I ever choose someone else when the only person I like is you? There’s just no way someone else could make me happier…”. Another reaction that I’ve seen among Xia Yan fans (yep, including myself) is how we originally viewed the story in third-person, seeing “MC” in the story, but this date (and this particular scene, where MC says nearly everything that I myself would want to say) dragged us into a first-person position. 

The heartbreaking scene where Xia Yan cries from being unable to give MC the happiness that he wants to give her (or so he thinks). 

He’s just so painfully selfless. I also really like the line during the kiss where MC tries to transmit her warmth to him, trying to balance things out between them and have him feel better, when he had already written himself off by thinking that his happiness is better off sacrificed for hers. 

Jin Xian’s Voice Acting

Jin Xian’s voice acting deserves a whole section to itself, because I think that he did an amazing job of portraying the intense emotions Xia Yan feels during the date. Just going to list some lines that really hit hard - both because of the content, and because of the voice acting that really considered how Xia Yan would be feeling then. 

我可以去追她，我甚至可以和她结婚。我可以把最后的三年过得很好，过的毫无遗憾，但是然后呢？她一个人要怎么办。。。谁陪她走出来，谁来照顾她。。。(“I could pursue her. I could even marry her. I could live my last three years happily, without the slightest of regrets. But what about after? How will she cope on her own… Who will be with her as she handles this? Who will take care of her…”) The ups and downs of this section’s voicing really hit hard.

The gentleness with which he speaks about what he plans to tell MC, especially the line 她从来都是这样 (“She’s always been like that.”)

He’s so cute in Part 2!! The tone’s a lot happier and relaxed and it’s really nice to see and hear. 

In part 3, the vehemence with which he talks about how the risks of MC’s work aren’t comparable to his established time limit, which then softens into something sadder when he talks about how Yang Xiao’s efforts haven’t extended his time by much. 

The intensity when he says 我必须说 ! (“I have to say it!”) (when MC reacts to him using the word “death”), and how he immediately softens his tone after. But then his voice starts to rise again as he worries for how MC will bear his death… and then he takes a break to calm down, and then makes the suggestion of MC finding another man with a near-inflectionless tone that gradually slips into a whisper

His whispering voice makes the impact of 我在乎。。。！(I care…!) hit even harder because it’s suddenly loud, and you can clearly hear the tears in his voice. Once again, he takes a breath to calm himself down and quiet his voice. But even as he keeps talking in a voice that descends into a whisper again, you can tell that he’s still on the verge of crying…

Also the 我也。。。好喜欢，最喜欢你. (I also… like you. I like you the most) line left me screaming with how it was whispered but really strong and adamant-sounding aaaaa

Anyways I could list more but at that point I might as well list Jin Xian’s entire script lmao. He did such a good job!!!!!! 

Sound Effects 

I’m laughing at myself for including this section - if you turn off the music that accompanies Xia Yan’s card, you’ll… hear some very interesting sound effects [狗头]

They’ve got to make the most of their limited time together, after all, and this is the only date out of the set of four that’s indoors… it makes sense…

Other Thoughts 

Two kisses!!

What sort of treatment would leave Xia Yan infected with drugs with prohibited components? What were they even trying to do? 

The date was short relative to the other, super-long Themis dates, but I’m personally alright with that because it places focus on the confession itself. It hit all the points that I personally was expecting for Xia Yan’s confession, including his past struggles with the idea of staying with MC, his confession about both his feelings and his illness, and how resolute MC is about staying with him vs. how hard he tries to get her to understand the implications of being him, considering that he doesn’t have much time left. 

I think now’s a good time for the two of them to get married if they’re well aware that Xia Yan’s time is limited, so Xia Yan, where’s the ruby ring? 

I wonder what implications this will have on the main story - e.g. will the rest of NXX find out about Xia Yan’s illness in Chapter 7.2? Or will they never know? Actually, I wonder if they’ll have MC be aware of his illness in the main story because… that implies his confession happened, which might anger fans of the other boys. 

Conclusion

I love Xia Yan and I love this date. 

[mysterious-prophetess]

Thanks to there being something of a resurrection of the Phandom on my dash, I’d like to share an AU concept I’ve come up with.

I call it “Fenton’s Inferno.

The rest will be below the read more

Danny died mere days before the Portal accident was supposed to half-kill him.

This has set all sorts of timelines into disarray.

Maddie Fenton, reeling from her son’s death throws herself into her work double-checking everything and finding the ‘On/Off’ switch was INSIDE the portal so she made sure it was unplugged flicked it on and once they’d done more of their due diligence, the Fentons fired up the Portal.

Shortly after, they use their Specter Speeder to go into the zone and find the Ghost Zone is nothing like they’d imagined. 

As Jack is blathering about the data, Maddie’s eye is caught by strange doors in front of strange pockets. 

One in particular seems to be a door that looks uncannily like the one to their ghost zone and it’s in front of what looks like Cape Canaveral crossed with the Moon. They enter it after a moment.

There, with a sort of blue-white skin tone, white hair, and glowing green eyes floating in front of a space telescope was Danny.

“Mom? Dad!?”

His retaining of his sentience and memories was a shock.

“Is it really you, Dan-o?” Jack asked.

“In the…ectoplasm,” Danny said awkwardly.

“What is this?”

“It’s my lair! All Ghosts have them, or so my mentor says!”

“Mentor?”

“Yeah, like a ghost that guides you through being dead?”

“But you weren’t supposed to die that day,” Maddie said suddnely. And in her heart she somehow knew that to be true.

“I’m not even the youngest ghost here,” Danny said rubbing the back of his neck.

“Aren’t you mad you’re dead?” Jack asked.

“Disappointed maybe? There was so much I wanted to do but I’m ok. It wasn’t your fault,” Danny said.

“Then come back with us to the human world.”

“Can’t do that. Ghosts belong in the ghost zone,” Danny said.

“Has anyone ever tried to fix death?” Maddie asked.

“Way too many and it doesn’t end up well,” Danny said. 

He paused and floated over to a corner of the lair and came back with something.

“My…mentor ghost. He…he doesn’t think I should have died either. Take this. I have a spare.” 

It was a cog-shaped medallion with “CW” on it.

“Talk to him.”

——————— ———————

Him turned out to be a powerful entity called Clockwork.  He agrees with Maddie.

Danny should not be dead.(fully)

Danny’s premature full death has royally screwed up the timelines and mostly in negative manners.

“Though, should we bring him back? He seemed happy in that lair,” Maddie said.

“But he wasn’t. Maddie, he was only tying to make us feel better so we could move on.”

“That’s precisely what he was doing. Your son has a remarkable capacity for helping others.”

“How can we bring him back? You’re the master of all time? Can’t we time travel back to when he died?”

“Afraid not in this case. A couple of near-sighted eyes are keeping too close a watch on me to simply allow humans through.”

“Then what can we do?”

“There is a way to restore your son’s human existence, something only a human can do. Follow me.”

———————————— —————————

Clockwork leads Maddie and Jack to a part of the Ghostzone that feels both empty yet filled with…something

“This is as far as I can go. Within you’ll face many trials. Life is not cheap. To restore your son, you will need to pay a hefty price.”

“Name any price and I’ll pay it!” Jack said.

“Even your own life?”

“If that’s all it takes, you can have it!”

“Good. Keep that passion. You’re going to need it and this: good luck.”

——————————— ———————

From here the idea is Jack and Maddie have to face different trials based on their own lives, fears, and ambitions all while passing lower and lower into this strange dungeon like building.

Unfortunately for them, they’ve had a stalker: Skulker.

He reports them to Vlad who first barges into Danny’s lair to meet “the little badger”

He’s shocked that Danny’s lair is so complex when Danny’s only been a ghost for a month.

It’s my personal HC that Danny would have always been a powerful ghost and Full Ghost!Danny’s powers are celestial based and he’d, eventually, be strong enough to challenge Pariah Dark but the Observants don’t care that Vlad’s actions would cause wide-scale death and destruction in the human world by the time Full Ghost! Danny had grown powerful enough to take on the Ghost King and take his place.

As far as the observants are concerned, Clockwork merely needs to groom Danny into a good future Ghost King and keep him safe during Pariah’s rampage.

So Vlad tries schmoozing up to Danny realizing this ghost would eventually be powerful and offers him protection.

Danny declines and taps his medallion.

Vlad can’t exactly top Clockwork in power level and he knows it.

So he finds the Descent with Skulker’s help

Vlad being a halfa can, of course, enter but Skulker cannot.

But Vlad’s ghost powers are on the fritz.

So now it’s a race between the Fentons and Vlad to get to the bottom and bring Danny back.

Vlad, so he can have Maddie and Danny in his debt.

The Fentons because they love their son

——————— —————

That, so far, is all I have for this AU.

BTW the reason Jack and Maddie aren’t trying to rip ghosts apart  “Molecule by molecule” is Grief. They’re not their usual selves.

[amyscascadingtabs]

the way you keep the world at bay for me

post-the set up, a.k.a jake taking care of hungover amy, hungover amy taking care of sad jake, and mac caring mostly about himself because he’s a baby 😌

read on ao3

Jake doesn't get a lot of sleep that night, and for once, it's not even Mac’s fault. It's not even due to the pizza parlor simulator game either, although he does play a couple of rounds when Amy's finally snoring next to him after ranting to herself about the babysitter’s club for a solid ten minutes, but not even that can fully distract him from the dull sense of doom that's made itself at home deep in his chest. 

This is bad. Holt wants to see him tomorrow, and Jake knows there will be consequences. There has to be. There should be. He made a mistake, and he's going to get punished for it, and there is nothing he can do but accept his defeat. He already knows what he has to do; the nerve-wracking thing is the fact that it's still hours away, and his brain is spinning too fast for sleep.

He really wishes he could talk to Amy. She's sleeping on her stomach with her mouth open, arms straight out to the sides like she’s trying to push him out of bed, but he still can’t be mad at her. He hasn’t seen her this drunk since before she got pregnant, and he’s seriously worried about the hangover she’ll be sporting tomorrow, but he also knows she did it for him. Because they’re a team. Because she trusts him, sometimes even when it turns out he was wrong.

He wrongfully arrested someone. The sentence keeps repeating in his head, appears pasted in bold font on the inside of his eyelids if he tries to go to sleep, and displayed in luminescent letters on the ceiling of his bedroom when he gives up and opens his eyes again. He should have known better, has learned his lesson time and time again since his early days of constantly glorifying his job and letting his impulsivity get the best of him, and he still made a mistake.

  /

He just wants someone to tell him it doesn’t make him a bad person. If only Amy wasn’t so drunk he’s scared to wake her up right now, Charles wasn’t so devotedly biased in all questions involving Jake’s role as a detective, and Mac wasn’t, well… so completely unable to grasp any of the concepts involved in the question.

Amy lets out another mighty drunken snore, and Jake hopes she will consider it a testament to his love for her that he doesn’t voice record it. He turns his head instead and picks up his phone to go back to the pizza game. Maybe just a few more virtual customers will be able to lure him to sleep.

 ~

 He must have fallen asleep eventually, because when Mac does start babbling to himself over the monitor, the morning sun is shining through the windows, and Amy’s stopped snoring. She’s only moaning uncomfortably to herself now, and Jake’s guessing from her strained grimace that the headache has kicked in hard.

“I’ll get you coffee and aspirin as soon as I’ve checked on Mac,” he whispers to her with a kiss to her neck, and he thinks he sees the hint of a smile as she reaches out for him in what’s probably an attempt of a pat on the back, but ends up more of an unintentional slap to his butt. Or maybe she’s still drunk, and it is intentional. It’s hard to tell.

  /

Mac may have no clue about what’s currently going on with Jake, but at least it’s impossible not to smile when he hauls himself up and rocks back and forth on unsteady feet in excitement over the fact that someone’s coming to get him. He greets Jake with that wide grin that shows off all of his four teeth – two up and two down, and they’ve kept everyone up at night for weeks, but they’re so pearly white and cute so maybe it was worth it – and a laugh that’s been Jake’s favorite sound on Earth since the first time he heard it.

“Good morning, bud,” Jake tells his son as he lifts him up in his arms. “What do you say we get you a bottle and mama some coffee? Hmm?”

“Bah,” Mac repeats. Jake decides to give him the benefit of the doubt and say it means he agrees on the bottle.

“Bottle, exactly. You're so smart,” he says, booping his little nose and smiling as it makes Mac giggle. “Let's try another one. Dada.”

There's a tense moment of them both just staring at each other, and then finally, his son goes,

“Bah.”

“One day,” Jake says with a sigh as he carries Mac out of the nursery. “As long as you say me first, okay? We’ll get there. We’ll practice.”

  /

He puts Mac in the high chair while he tries his best to work the coffee machine and the bottle warmer at the same time. It's trickier than to be expected on almost no sleep, but at least he manages to pour the breast milk from the freezer bag into the bottle and not into his coffee this time. He's only made that mistake once (fine, maybe twice, and he kind of liked how sweet it tasted but he's never gonna tell anyone), but he suspects Amy's never gonna let him live it down. He gets Aspirin from the medicine cabinet while he waits, and puts a couple of slices of toast in the toaster. His own day feels already pretty much beyond saving, but at least maybe he can improve Amy's.

  /

Though, when she stumbles out of the bedroom, still in her pajamas with her huge glasses and hair on end and looking like she's either seconds from being sick or going straight back to sleep, he worries whether she might just be beyond saving, too.

“How are you feeling?” He asks as she gives him one drained look before walking up to the couch and face-planting on it with another pained groan.

“I think I might be dead.”

“That's called a hangover, babe. I think you used to be familiar with the concept once upon a time, but I guess it's been a while.” Jake grins at Mac, who only reaches his chubby hands out for the bottle out in response. “Toast?”

“Do I have to?”

“It's going to help.”

“Fine.” Amy pushes her head off the pillow to look at Mac. “He's not drinking the milk I pumped yesterday, right?”

“I poured that out for you. I know they say moderate amounts of alcohol are fine, but, well, you were speaking British.”

“Good call,” Amy mumbles as he puts the coffee, aspirin, and toast down in front of her. “See, this is why I married you.”

Jake just hums, but he does smile to himself as he goes to grab his own cup of coffee.

  /

“I wish I could call in sick to work today,” Amy says between bites of toast, and Jake looks up from where he’s absentmindedly brushing crumbs off the countertop while finishing his own. “My head feels like it’s going to explode.”

“I mean, you did very much go through contractions while managing an entire precinct during a blackout once. You could think about that?”

“No, this is worse than giving birth,” she states confidently, and Jake has to try very hard not to laugh. “Don’t tell my past self I said that. Or my future self if I ever give birth again.”

“Yeah.” He grimaces. “I’m pretty terrified to go, too.”

“Why?”

“Because yesterday? All of it?”

“Ohh.” Amy sighs. “Right. Maybe we should both just stay home.”

  /

Jake’s about to tell her how much he wishes that was an option when Mac drops the finished bottle against the tray, immediately starting to twist in his seat. Jake unclasps the belt and lifts him out before he manages to rock the chair – that kid’s shockingly strong – and Mac immediately crawls away towards the walker. He doesn’t use it to move yet, but he’s been pulling himself up with it for over a month, and the anticipation is high every time he lets go with one hand only to sit back down on his booty the next second. Sometimes Jake could swear his son does it for attention. At least Mac doesn’t seem to have inherited his impulsivity, Jake thinks, and then he’s back to beating himself up in his head.

  / 

“I just don’t know why I did it,” he mutters as he sits down on the floor next to Amy’s head on the couch. She nods slowly, and Jake takes it as a sign she might actually be able to listen to him now. “I should know better, right? These are, like... the kind of mistakes I used to make. I thought I’d gotten better at this kind of stuff. Smarter. Less impulsive. Less of a bad cop. But instead I arrested and tailed an innocent man, all because I thought I had a gut feeling and thought I was being set up.” He shakes his head. “I guess that FBI jerk was right about gut feelings.”

“You’re a great detective,” Amy says without missing a beat. “A lot of the time, your gut feeling is right.”

“That doesn’t excuse it. I still shouldn’t have done it.”

“No.” Amy sighs. “You shouldn’t have.”

“It sucked.”

“Yeah. It did. But there’s nothing you can do to change it now.”

“Do you think I’m a bad person for it?” The question comes flying out of him, and Amy frowns.

“Why would I think that?”

“Because it was a shit move! And because I’m definitely gonna get suspended for it, and that’s going to lose us money. And then we’re not going to be able to save as much for Mac, or pay for his baby music class or baby gymnastics. And then he’s going to end up broke and untalented and it’ll all be my fault, and then you’ll be ashamed of me and leave me and I’ll die sad and alone in a ditch.”

“And you don’t think you’re spiraling just slightly right now?” Amy asks. The smile on her lips is one of amusement, and it humbles him, bringing him out of his cycle of self-pity.

“I don’t know. I didn’t get a ton of sleep last night.”

“I don’t think you’re a bad person,” she says, and that does make him feel a bit better. “I think you made a really stupid mistake. There's no getting away from that. I’m not happy about it. But… I know you'll take responsibility for it. That’s already a whole lot further than a lot of people care to go.”

  /

Her fingers brush through her hair, calming him as she speaks. The hangover has made her voice a little scratchy, Jake notices when she's this close. It reminds him of mornings after long evenings out before they were parents, a time that always feels far longer ago than it was. Sometimes he thinks everything before Mac might as well be another lifetime.

  /

“And we'll work it out if you do get suspended,” Amy continues, talking over the obnoxious melody playing from a toy Mac has found. “It's not great, of course. But we can save lots of money on daycare if you stay home with Mac. That helps.”

“Like a paternity leave,” Jake says. He does like that thought.

“Oh yeah.” Amy laughs. “You’ll be just like one of those hip Scandinavian dads who get to stay home with their kids because they live in countries where they don’t hate people for having kids. And you two can go to all of the cool classes and playdates together. You’d be the sexiest dad at baby swim class for sure.”

“Wouldn’t I also be one of the only ones?”

“Good point. Make sure to mention your wife a lot. But hey, Mac’s going to love it.”

 /

As if wanting to confirm Amy’s point, Mac crawls over to Jake and tries to climb up on his knees to sit in his lap. He does this sometimes when he’s playing on his own; retreats to their arms for a hug or a quick cuddle, only to try and wriggle out of their grip and go back to whatever it is he’s doing in the next moment. Jake thinks it might be one of their son’s sweetest qualities. Mac rests his head against Jake’s chest, almost hugging him like that, and he wonders, not for the first time, how a person that’s not even one year of age can make every other issue in the world seem so insignificant. Even if it's just for a moment, it's a pretty damn good moment.

 / 

Fueled by the most powerful motivation of all – their son’s love and attention – Amy sits down on the floor too, patting her knees.

“You want to come to mama, Mac?”

Mac squirms for a moment in Jake's arms, and Jake lets go of him. Using the couch as support, for a second it looks like he’s almost about to take a step toward her. Both parents gasp in anticipation, and it must confuse him, because he reacts by giving Amy a shocked look and sitting right back down on his butt. Jake laughs as their son crawls away again, heading for the soft building blocks outside the playpen.

“He's such a tease.”

“He gets that from you,” Amy says, and Jake huffs in mock-offense. “Are you sure we shouldn't just stay home from work?”

  /

Jake thinks of his upcoming meeting with Holt. He's been fearing it for so many hours now, and he's starting to wonder if the anxious anticipation might just not be worse than the meeting itself. He already knows what he has to do; the only thing left is to rip off the band-aid.

“I don't think it will make anything better if we don't.”

“Yeah.” Amy sighs, closing her eyes and leaning on his shoulder. “I love you.”

“Love you too. And you should probably shower and put on makeup unless you want everyone to know exactly how hungover you are.”

“I know you're right, and I hate it.”

Jake grins and strokes her hair before getting up from the floor. “I’ll go get Mac ready for the day.”

  /

“Jake?” Amy calls out before he can leave for the nursery with Mac in his arms, and he turns around. Her voice is still a little hoarse.

“Yeah?”

“It's going to be okay, babe. We’ll figure it out.”

 / 

Jake brushes his fingers through Mac’s already unruly curls. He thinks of playground dates, the storytime for toddlers their library holds every Wednesday, and how much time he’ll have to make sure Mac says his name first now. Then he thinks of the bigger image; of daring to set a good example for this child, even when it's hard. If he wants the world to be a better place for his son, he's going to have to start by taking responsibility for his own actions.

“Yeah. I know.”

  /

For the first time that day, he dares to believe it.

[maxwell-grant]

i have been watching old (and sometimes new) gmod animations and i grew up watching enough ytps to know the general idea behind them, and i recently gained a sort of fascination for them. there's something special about them that i couldn't quite put into words, but i think you got it down perfectly in your post about grand guignol. basically, thanks a bunch for that.

Well thank you! And, yeah, I pretty much grew up watching GMOD and YTP constantly and even today I still come back to those a lot when I'm restless and taking a break from work, and I think there's genuinely a lot that can be learned or discussed from them as uniquely 21st Century art forms.

I've been rewatching a lot of Raxxo's content lately and I think it was his content in particular that kind of convinced me that the "GMOD/SFM - Grand Guignol" analogy wasn't nearly as much of deranged word salad as I assumed it was, because in all honestly, if you had to try and condense his videos into a genre or definition or something of the sort, what the hell else can you possibly call this that in any way comes close to describing what you experience?

Like, all of his videos are described as "GMOD animated in SFM", because SFM is usually associated with more straightforward dramatic content while GMOD has been cartoon madness from the start (and it's fascinating to watch just how tame even the early Rubberfruit videos are compared to the kind of stuff Eltorro64 or Dr Lalve are putting out), and Raxxo is the latter in the style of the former.

And his videos are not just a non-stop barrage of brain-breaking, because they have weirdly dramatic pauses, and moments of straightforward action, or simple sentence mixing, and there's continuity between his videos, and incredibly smooth and natural gestures following by the characters stretching and deforming like jello monsters on the next second as their screams warble to drown the soundtrack and then everything's back to normal, and then they start doing things that kinda even make some sense as a narrative, but you cannot even begin explaining properly why, and I've watched these so many times that I even kinda start to see what makes sense and what doesn't, even though literally no one other than Raxxo is ever going to guess why he made the choices he did, and god these jokes must have taken hours if not days to render, why does the scretching Soldier head saying "Sputnik!" shows up in everything he does, and oh did I mention he also makes up the soundtracks he uses himself and they don't match in the slightest most people's perception of his content?

And for the finale of the Soldier Dispenser saga he created maybe the most batshit collaborative animation effort on Youtube, which is about an hour's worth of 200 animators all creating their own little batshit mini-stories in reference to his own and, seriously, who the hell could have possibly predicted something like this existing back when computer game Team Fortress 2 was announced in 2007? Or when Youtube was created?

Who could have possibly predicted something like this existing at any point in human history? Where else could anyone possibly experience this much audiovisual chaos anywhere? I can't even bring myself to watch the video in full again, but that this exists at all, and that it's far from the only one of it's kind, and that Team Fortress 2 fan content has spiraled so hard past anything the creators could have possibly predicted that it has self-sustaining meme ecosystems (Remember when smexuals were a thing? Or the Freaks?), that it's still fucking going 15 years past the game's debut, is, it's kind of a lot, is what I'm saying.

Like, I'm speaking as someone who studies a lot of pop culture and combs through it's most obscure and weirdest recesses to find stuff to write about, I'm still just as baffled by how far these things have gotten as I was when experiencing it for the first time. And you can find a lot of stories like these digging through Youtube Poop and the specific styles of certain creators or certain developing memes for franchises that grow and grow and permutate.

Think about what has to have happened to make a video like iteachvader's What'll It Be? happen.

Long John Baldry, blues musician extraordinaire, voiced cartoon villain Dr Robotnik in a Sonic cartoon. Said Sonic cartoon and performance was lucky enough to survive through Youtube clips. People noticed one of said clips of his performance has him saying a word that sounds like penis in a funny way, so they start making jokes about it, and parodies, and then literally hundreds of parodies popularizing the concept as a source of comedy, some of which take the form of music. Said music is done by cutting, remixing and splicing audio from said performance over music beats, which can be a PAINSTAKINGLY LONG PROCESS as someone who's tried doing that several times now, all this to make something with "Poop" in it's name (which I guess isn't that different from pulp writers spending weeks and months breaking their fingers to put out a novel's worth of content every month, for newspapers and magazines that were literally going to be used as toilet paper later)

These parodies catch on a bit and die out for a bit, until iteachvader comes along, and he proceeds to build a career not just by making funny parodies of said cartoon, but also knocking out genuinely really, really good musical parodies, editing voice clips of said performance to make it sound like the villain's singing (and additionally, he also creates his own tunes, and he's shown that literally every sound he uses is taken from the show, which is just, absolutely mind-boggling effort). He's also created over the years a running joke of Tails being Dr Robotnik's son that people liked enough to ask for more, and then we come to the video above, which is a song about Dr Robotnik spoiling his son Tails asking him what he'll want, which is not at all in line with how the two characters are canonically. And said remixes would eventually get remixed even further, even with crossovers with other characters or musicians, and so forth.

And that is the story of how dozens of creators working separately, and with little intent other than goofing around, single-handedly revived a dead man's music career, as the voice of the fan reinterpretation of a animated adaptation of a videogame villain, popular to the billions if not dozens of billions of views over a decade in the making, on a broadcasting platform said man didn't even live to see being created.

I think sometimes we like to think of ourselves as advanced and jaded enough that nothing surprises us anymore, and if we went back in time and showed an iphone to our great-grandparents they'd start screaming in sheer confusion. And, maybe they would, yeah, but imagine if you were Long John Baldry at any point in his life, even after he finished recording his lines as Robotnik, and someone showed up to you and explained that all of this was going to happen to you, to your voice, to your performance. Imagine if you were one of Valve's lead developers working on Team Fortress 2 during the nine years it spent in development, and someone showed you Raxxo's work and Soldier's Dispenser Quest and just, everything that had happened to characters you hadn't even fully created yet.

I imagine Long John Baldry would have taken it well enough eventually, by all accounts he was a fun person who loved to try new things, and he was an openly gay British vocalist in the 1960s when it was literally illegal to be gay in Britain, so I imagine nothing could possibly rattle his cage that deep in the long run.

But can you honestly tell me you wouldn't freak out at least a little trying to understand just what exactly the future was showing you? Can you honestly tell me your cynicism and world-weariness would be worth anything in the face of all this knowledge about what the world was going to do with your creations and work?

Can you honestly tell me, just now, that you have any idea what the hell is your legacy or reputation as an artist, or even what your art is known for, going to look like in a decade or two from now? And that things aren't going to get weirder than they are now?

I find that fact both frightening and strangely assuring at points, and exciting above all.

[c-is-for-circinate]

So as close as I am to fully escaping Hades for the first time, I figure I might take this opportunity to write down a couple of things I'm scared of from this ending. The story is so good so far! But I have seen good stories before! And there are patterns, right, patterns it's so easy for even good stories to fall into, so yeah, I have fears, and they mostly come down to Hades himself.

(Yep, this one got long again! People seem to be enjoying my game-reaction rambles, so, for your enjoyment under the cut: themes of separation and reunion, predictions for what Zagreus is the god of, and a whole lot of discussion of familial abuse dynamics, how they're depicted in fiction, and the work it takes to change them in real life. Stay warned! Stay safe!)

(ALSO, I still haven't made it past the first couple of chambers in the Temple of Styx, so no spoilers in the reblogs/comments please! Yes, even though the whole post is me going on about predictions and hopes and concerns about the path the story might take. I WILL GET THERE SOON.)

It has been really interesting watching some of the stuff the game is doing with themes of parting and reunion, and how that corresponds to life and death. So many of our social links are about reuniting estranged loved ones: Chaos and Nyx, Eurydice and Orpheus, Patroclus and Achilles. Hades is estranged from Olympus, Persephone left. And every time we leave, or try to leave, it is both an attempt at a parting (and Meg and Than are so hurt by that goodbye, or lack thereof) and an attempt at a reunion with our mother. Every time we die it's a reunion, every time we die it's fun, it's great, we get to go back home and check in with all of our friends and be impressed by whoever made Employee Of The [Timeperiod] and sell fish to the cook and put down yet more rugs. (My Zagreus has something of a rug addiction. What can you do.)

It's at the point where I feel pretty secure in stating that Zagreus is going to discover eventually that he is both life/death/rebirth god, and god of partings and reunions. Both halves of both of those things. People leave each other when they die and re-find their loved ones in death; you go away from one group of people to come back to another; you have to depart to return, and I really think that's where we're going to end up with Zagreus. He's going to reunite his various friends with their loved ones, he's probably going to restore communications between Hades and Olympus and even Persephone, he's going to reunite with his mom, and he's going to come back to the Underworld before he leaves to see everyone up top all over again. And of course the vehicle for all of this coming and going is death, because death is the ultimate departure and reuniter. (This is absolutely a religious concept containing a whole bunch of "oh hey our culture has a lot of Christian influence, doesn't it", Greek trappings aside, but that's fine, it's a game made in 2018 not 300 BC, these things happen. They keep calling the Underworld 'hell' and 'infernal'. It's all good.) Of course he's a cthonic god. Of course he bleeds, because you have to bleed in order to die, and Zagreus has to die again and again and again. That's his whole thing.

Thing is, though, looking at those themes, I am also continually aware of the fact that some partings are for a really good reason. Some partings should not end in reunion.

Yes, of course this is about Hades the abusive dad. I have been talking about Hades the abusive dad basically non-stop since I started playing this game, where did you think this post was going.

There are a few things I'm nervous about, separate but related, and at the core it all comes down to, I'm not okay with it if we learn why Hades got to be this way, and Zagreus forgives him as we-the-audience are meant to do, and Hades promises to do better, and nothing concrete about the situation is forced to change. Actual, meaningful, practical, logistical, non-hypothetical non-metaphorical change, not just for Zagreus but for Hades himself.

Because I know how this story tends to go, in fiction. Fictional abusive parents (especially in fantasy/sci-fi stories) tend to come in two types: 'coerced their offspring into actual murder with a side of physical abuse and optional unethical lab experimentation', or 'this was here to create character conflict, we didn't mean for it to read as actually abusive, this parent just has flaws to make them a good character, we swear!' Hades isn't the first type--we have never once seen Hades strike his son, or anybody, or even come out from behind his desk--which means that the fear is, always, always, in every piece of fiction, that he's the second. That the writers are going to decide that the right response to his abuses is remorse, forgiveness, and one really good conversation. That they don't realize it's abuse in the first place.

And, like. They have to know, right? They have to. They can't have done this by accident. (Sometimes, writers get so close by accident.) They can't have done so well at drawing out this situation simply by going, 'well, people are meant to fear this god, so they'd probably react like this, and I guess based on what I've seen in other stories or vague acquaintances they'd then do this,' and never put the name on the situation. Every single time we leave to the tune of a Hades word-flash, he's being dismissive, insulting, and sometimes downright cruel. He is cruel. They have to know!!!

But oh boy have I been consuming media for a lot of years, and oh boy have I run into a lot of writers who don't know.

Reconciliation is such a loaded word, but stories about dysfunctional families really do love it. Stories based around themes of reunion are primed for it. And of course, it's nice, it ties a happy ending off with a sweet little bow, everyone gets to be with the people they love and the family is safe and nobody gets hurt, but so rarely have I seen stories that show the actual work required to rebuild those relationships in a realistic or meaningful way. So rarely do stories trying to build that happy ending actually let the victim of abuse set and maintain boundaries. The character never gets to actually just cut the damn ties to the thing that hurt them. The character so rarely even gets to be safe.

And it's so hard in this game specifically, because "THERE IS NO ESCAPE", because every single thing about this game says that the story's not over when Zagreus gets to the surface, that no matter what he's going to have to come back. It's so hard, because this is a game about reunions. I am not going to get an ending where the abused kid trying to flee his toxic home and abusive dad actually gets to leave and stay gone, not in this one. And that hurts (I have watched and supported and done my best to help multiple real-life friends get the fuck out of homes like that, and stay gone, I have seen how hard it is, how complicated, how awful, and there are never stories for that), but I can live with it, if I get an ending where Zagreus is at least safe. Where things change. Where they really change.

Which is why I need actual, concrete, material changes in the logistics and power structure of the Underworld for this ending to be okay. Understanding why Hades is Like That doesn't cut it. Remorse doesn't cut it! Because look, even if Hades wants to do better, even if he admits he's at fault and tries to be better, he is still set up in a position as an all-powerful tyrant, and trying to become a better person is hard. There is nobody around who can keep him in check when he starts backsliding, which he will. Even if he doesn't want to, he will.

Because people are people, and it's really difficult to break patterns! Especially if everything around them stays the same. Hades is going to slip at some point, be cruel, be callous, be tyrannical, no matter how much of an effort he's making. Not to mention, it is STRESSFUL to face your own crimes and improve, it sucks, it feels bad. And what do habitual abusers do when they feel bad? What's the only coping mechanism Hades appears to have established for dealing with his own shit? That's right, it's inflicting suffering on everyone else around him. (This is why it doesn't really matter what circumstances drove Hades to act this way, why it can't matter--I believe that he is suffering, but he copes with that suffering by inflicting additional suffering on everyone around him, everyone who relies on him, and that's still true no matter what made him feel bad to begin with.) So then we just get a great old guilt-->lashing out-->more guilt-->more lashing out merry-go-round of abuse even as Hades is trying to change. That's how these things work. And yes, change is possible, improvement is absolutely possible, but the environment needs to change first. The system that enables and rewards Hades for acting this way can't stay in place. Things need to actually change, with people who are around to support Hades in his growth and also check his power, people who have power of their own to stop him. And however it happens, for this story with this protagonist with these goals to feel like a happy ending, Zagreus needs to be safe.

It would be okay, though a little disappointing, if those changes were mostly based in magic and fate and, idk, divine mind-control. (This story has been so grounded in actual human dynamics that a fantastical solution to a realistic problem would feel like a letdown, but if it actually solved the problem I'd be okay with it, more or less.) It would be okay, though a little disappointing, if the responsibility for bringing Hades to heel fell upon Zagreus and Persephone, if the two family members who he hurt badly enough that they felt the need to run away from him entirely now had to shoulder the burden of helping him fix himself. (There are definitely ways to write that dynamic better and ways to write it worse, and I think I trust these writers to land on the 'better' side of the scale, but I still don't love the implications.) I think I'd be pretty into it if Hades took a vacation off to Olympus to Work Out His Shit with his own family, while a coalition of Meg, Nyx, Thanatos, Zagreus, and Queen Persephone took over running the Underworld in his absence. I think we might end up getting some combination of those things. I'm hopeful. I think these writers might know what they've written. I think they might have a sense for what it'll take to fix.

But yeah, I'm nervous. (Nervous enough that I might switch to God Mode just to get through, combat has started getting really tedious instead of fun, I want to know what happens next, and this is a game and there is no shame in making it more fun for myself by making the boring parts a little quicker and easier.) I've seen so many stories go wrong. This one has done so much to earn my trust. We'll see if it breaks.

[carewyncromwell]

Another addition to the Peter Pan AU concept I’ve done some stuff for...this time with Wendy!Carewyn as a ten-year-old, when she first met the shadow belonging to the Boy Who Never Grew Up, Orion Amari. 

It all started when back in Neverland, Orion was called out to a private meeting with a pirate solely called Jack, who deliberately kept the meeting quiet from both the Captain he served and the rest of his pirate crew. He was the youngest of Captain Hook’s crewmembers, and yet still far too much of an adult for Orion to ever take into his ranks -- but it was what the pirate requested that so intrigued the eternal 12-½-year old. It seemed that even though Neverland had done its work and made Jack forget just about all of his previous life, including his real name, there was someone outside of Neverland who Jack did still remember...and that person was someone he now implored Orion to protect. 

“Her name is Wyn. Or, at least, that’s the name I have...I feel like there was more to that name, once. The rest of the crew calls her ‘Winnie’ sometimes, but I don’t think that’s fully it either. Regardless...I know Hook wants to capture her, like he did me, and I...I don’t want her here, with him. I don’t want her to become a pirate. But I don’t know where she is, except that she’s in London. And as long as I’m stuck with Hook, I...I can’t protect her. So I’m asking you to find her first. She’s younger than me -- much younger, with ginger hair -- small and sweet as a cherub. She’s brave and sharp and she sings like a bird. She’d fit right in with your sort -- no one would have any idea she has anything to do with me. Just...spirit her away, like Hook did me. Take her with you, and keep her safe here, in Neverland. She doesn’t need to know I’m here, or even why you took her, just...just keep her away from Hook. Please.”

Orion cocked his eyebrows. 

“And what will you give me in return?”

The pirate called Jack looked lost for words. His hollowed-out blue eyes -- so like Captain Hook’s and skull-like, even upon such a pale, handsome face -- rippled with desperation. 

“Anything,” he whispered. “Anything.”

Orion’s black eyes grew a little smaller, examining the pirate critically. He’d never heard anyone, let alone a pirate, express that amount of caring about another person before. He looked after his Lost Kids, of course, so long as they chose to not grow up -- led them on adventures and told them what to do...but not even the fairies who had first brought him to Neverland ever expressed such...well, selflessness, before. It intrigued Orion enough to decide that maybe he would look out for this “Wyn” -- maybe she could be something useful, if Hook had such interest in her. And if she were still a child, then maybe she’d make a decent Lost Kid. 

Orion flew around London off-and-on for about an Earth year (which felt more like a week or so, in Neverland), keeping an eye open for this girl called Wyn. It was the ginger hair that helped, as one day a mane of ginger hair caught his eye, and he followed it home to an entire ginger-haired family -- a poor clan called the Weasleys. 

The mane of ginger hair Orion had seen belonged to the eldest of the Weasley children, a twelve-year-old named Bill, who had just finished up with his job as a newsboy, making deliveries for a late-night newspaper route. After he bounced his infant sister Ginny up and down in his lap for a while to make her stop fussing, he immediately set about telling his younger brothers -- Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, and Ron -- all about his (in Orion’s opinion) perfectly boring day. Orion took stock around the room and, after seeing nothing but boys, was about ready to give up and look somewhere else when Bill asked his brothers about where someone named “Carey” was. The second-eldest brother Charlie responded with a mischievous smile.

“Just give a listen, and you'll know.”

And when everyone quieted, Orion likewise saw what Charlie meant. A voice was singing from somewhere upstairs -- a song that Orion had never heard, and yet contained a word he never would’ve ever thought he’d hear in London --

“Neverland.”

Immediately interested, Orion flew up toward the upstairs window, which had been left ajar. Somewhere in the next room, he heard the little bird-like voice singing, only being able to make out some select words. 

“When there’s a smile in your heart...there’s no better time to start...”

The voice was moving down the hall. Orion felt the urge to try to sneak inside the house, but the girl’s singing being interrupted by a woman’s more maternal speaking voice made Orion falter, hiding just out of sight beside the window. It was Mrs. Weasley, Bill’s mother, telling the girl -- Carewyn -- to go ahead and leave the rest of the mending for tomorrow, since it was almost time for supper.

Carewyn, Orion realized as he heard the little girl dash away down the stairs. The pirate called Jack had said there was more to the name he remembered, once. “Wyn” had to have once been “Carewyn.”

Unfortunately for Orion, although he himself was hidden beside the window, his shadow, cast in the light of the streetlamps down onto the window ledge, was not -- and Mrs. Weasley, startled at what looked like something peeking into their window, immediately rushed over and shut it. Orion, alarmed himself at the abrupt slamming of the window, tore off into the night -- leaving his shadow trapped between the closed window and the sill. 

It wasn’t until that evening, when Carewyn, Charlie, and Bill were getting ready for bed that Carewyn caught an odd squeaking sound coming from the window of the bedroom she shared with Bill and Charlie. It was, as it turned out, Orion’s shadow, which -- after Mrs. Weasley had left -- had started contorting and writhing in an attempt to escape from its place trapped under the windowpane. Upon finding the window locked for some strange reason, Carewyn enlisted Bill’s help in undoing the latch -- as soon as the shadow was free, he catapulted around the room, flying all over the walls with reckless abandon and stumbling over the shadow of everything in the room, even slapping the walls as if looking for something. Charlie and Bill both tried to catch it before the noise it made could alert their parents or younger siblings -- Charlie finally managed to snag his ankle when he jumped up high enough on his bed and yanked the shadow down with all of his strength so that Bill could grab onto him too. Carewyn, who’d refrained from trying to grab the shadow largely out of the desire not to hurt it, instead tried to reassure him. 

“It’s terrified, can’t you see that?” she cried at Charlie and Bill at one point. “Why, a shadow isn’t meant to be completely alone -- and in a house full of strangers, no less!”

“It was stuck in our window, Carey,” said Charlie rather dryly. “I reckon we’re past being ‘strangers.’”

“Well, I’ve certainly never seen him before, nor the person he belongs to!” huffed Carewyn. 

Despite Carewyn’s instinct to coddle him, the Shadow Without an Owner was indeed too wild to be left to its own devices. Throughout that night and into the next morning, the shadow kept darting around the room, crashing into different shadows that in turn made the objects attached to them wobble or even fall over. At one point he even knocked over and almost broke the old table lamp by the armchair. It made all three children worry that the shadow was going to get them in a lot of trouble, when Mr. and Mrs. Weasley found it -- but at the same time, all three of them weren’t sure if they wanted to share him with the two adults in the house. The shadow seemed incredibly reluctant to be seen, disappearing completely from view whenever Mr. or Mrs. Weasley popped up. 

“He’s afraid of them,” said Carewyn, her voice full of empathy and concern.

Bill tried to offer the shadow a reassuring smile. “Aw, now, you really don’t have to be...Mum and Dad are great! I’m sure they’d be happy to help you, if you -- ”

But the Shadow Without an Owner stubbornly crossed his arms and settled himself down on top of the shadow of Charlie’s headboard with his legs and arms both crossed. He was not going to accept help from any grown-ups. 

It was soon decided that Carewyn would look after the shadow while Bill was on his newsboy route and Charlie was at the canning factory. Since Mr. Weasley would be at work and Mrs. Weasley would be largely kept busy with two-year-old Ron and one-year-old Ginny, it was generally Percy and Carewyn’s responsibility to look after Fred and George and help Mrs. Weasley with the chores. And since Carewyn knew there was a lot of mending still to do, she decided she could take all of it upstairs and work on it in her, Charlie, and Bill’s room so that she could keep an eye on the Shadow Without an Owner. 

The shadow -- who Carewyn had started just calling “Shadow,” since she didn’t know its owner’s name -- was quite restless, being stuck in one room the whole day. It kept skipping across the tiny bedroom, fluttering from the windowsill to the wall and back. It was peculiar to Carewyn that this shadow seemed to have no sense of gravity -- she had heard plenty of stories from her mother about an island where people could fly with a single thought, but she was sensible enough of a child to presume they were only stories, meant to cheer people up where they were sad. 

Eventually Carewyn felt enough pity for the restlessly fidgeting Shadow that she offered to sing him a song or two, to help pass the time.

“I like to sing whenever I’m doing my chores for Mrs. Weasley,” she explained. “I don’t know if you’ll like it, but...maybe it might cheer you up, since you’re stuck inside?”

To her surprise, Shadow seemed immediately interested. He skipped over the shadows of all three of the children’s beds over to the shadow of the armchair next to her. It hovered on the wall over the chair for a moment before it flopped down onto its stomach on top of the armchair’s shadow, its focus down toward her. 

Smiling despite herself, Carewyn started to sing for Shadow.

“Think of a wonderful thought -- any merry little thought... Think of Christmas -- think of snow --  Think of sleigh bells...off you go, Like reindeer in the sky... You can fly! You can fly! You can fly!”

Shadow seemed captivated. He actually crossed his translucent arms and leaned his head down on them to listen, his feet absently kicking behind him, while Carewyn sang as she sewed. When Carewyn was done with one song, she’d start another, and Shadow would listen to all of them. The ones he seemed to like best, though, were the ones her mother Lane had taught her and Jacob, so long ago. The ones about that beautiful, make-believe land that had once captivated her and Jacob’s dreams. 

Carewyn put down the blanket she’d finished patching up to look up at Shadow. His hands were clasped together as he watched her. Although he had no eyes or expression, Carewyn sensed he was considering her carefully.

“You like the songs about Neverland, don’t you?” she asked him at last. 

Shadow nodded. 

“My mum taught them to me,” Carewyn explained. “She used to sing them for my brother Jacob and me, when we were little...and then Jacob used to sing them for me, after Mum...”

The memory of her mother sick in the hospital, and of Jacob squeezing her tight in his shaking arms in a vain attempt to shield her from her grief, made Carewyn’s heart hurt. She brushed the end of her sentence away and put on her bravest face. 

“Bill and Charlie like them too,” she said pleasantly. “Percy, Fred and George too, though Percy tries to act like they’re silly, sometimes. And Fred and George are kind of like you -- they’re more the sorts to want to get into mischief than just stay quietly indoors.”

She giggled behind her hand. 

“Ginny likes them too... though I reckon it’s just because she likes attention, period, at the moment -- being a baby.”

Shadow seemed a little restless again. Carewyn surmised that he was losing interest -- but, she supposed, considering he couldn’t properly talk, conversations were bound to be less engaging for him. 

“Mum had this pretty lullaby she used to sing for Jacob and me,” she offered. “She said she forgot the real words a long time ago, but the melody stayed with her enough that she sang it anyway. Do you want to hear it?”

Shadow’s head popped up, interested again, and he nodded. Carewyn took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Maybe if she dreamed hard enough, she could hear her mother’s voice, singing it too...

“Once upon a time and long ago, I heard someone singing soft and low. Now, when day is done and night is near, I recall a song I used to hear -- ‘My child, my very own, Don't be afraid -- you're not alone... Sleep until the dawn, for all is well.’ Long ago, this song was sung to me... Now it's just a distant melody, Somewhere from the past I used to know, Once upon a time and long ago...”

Shadow actually seemed to settle down, leaning his head down on his folded arms again. When she was finished, he stayed still for a long time -- so long, in fact, that she thought maybe he’d fallen asleep. After several minutes, though, Carewyn realized that Shadow was actually hugging himself tighter, hiding his face under his arms. 

“Shadow?” said Carewyn, concerned.

Shadow raised his head, looking right at her. Once again Carewyn got the feeling he was examining her closely. Then, hovering weightlessly down off the armchair, it settled itself down on the wall behind her beside her shadow, crossing his legs and holding his own hands. 

Carewyn tilted her head, looking over the shadow with pity in her eyes. 

“...You feel lonely,” she murmured, “don’t you?”

Shadow didn’t answer. His focus was down on his clasped hands. 

Taking the lack of response as good enough of one, Carewyn adjusted her knees under her, smoothing out the skirt of her one nice dress, and looked up at the ceiling. 

“It’s okay if you do,” she said softly. “Everybody feels lonely sometimes. And...well, I s’pose being without your person must be very sad. I’ve never been without my shadow.”

Her eyes grew a little smaller and sadder.

“But...I do know what missing someone feels like...it feels awful.”

Shadow didn’t move. Considering her own shadow on the wall and then Shadow carefully, Carewyn tentatively brought a hand out so that her shadow’s hand ended up on top of Shadow’s clasped hands in his lap.

Shadow immediately bolted up off the ground in alarm, hovering in mid-air over her. It felt like he was staring. Carewyn likewise tensed up when he quickly retreated. 

“I’m sorry!” she said at once. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Shadow put his hands on his hips, almost looking faintly offended by the suggestion. He wasn’t frightened. Startled, maybe, but not frightened. 

Carewyn felt herself smiling wryly despite herself. “Well, you did kind of react like a scared cat, just now!”

Shadow’s hands clasped in front of him and he leaned forward, looking down upon the smaller girl with an almost snarky posture. 

Carewyn giggled behind her hand again. 

“I must wonder, Shadow -- is the person you belonged to as odd as you are?”

Despite the dryness of the question, her eyes betrayed some genuine fondness as she returned to her sewing. 

“Tender shepherd, tender shepherd...let me help you count your sheep...”

Somehow Carewyn managed to entertain Shadow that entire day until Bill, Charlie, and Mr. Weasley returned from work that evening. Shadow even managed to stay a bit more subdued afterwards, only knocking over one table before Bill, Charlie, and Carewyn came up to bed for the night. When Mrs. Weasley came into the room to bid them goodnight (and Shadow hid behind the armchair to avoid being seen), she once again latched the window, instructing Bill to leave it closed that night. She hadn’t told Bill about the strange shape she’d seen at the open window the previous night, for fear of frightening him, Charlie and Carewyn -- a decision with some logic behind it, though she regretted it for quite a while afterwards. 

Despite Mrs. Weasley’s words, however, Carewyn immediately got up and unlocked the window anyhow. 

“Shadow’s owner might come back looking for him!” said Charlie when Bill tried to argue the point. 

Carewyn nodded, shooting a look at Shadow, who had settled himself on the windowsill as if waiting. 

“Your mum said to keep it closed,” she said stubbornly. “She never said we had to keep it locked.”

And so Shadow waited patiently by the window as the three ginger-haired children slowly fell off to sleep. It was just after midnight that there was movement outside the window again, and the Shadow Without an Owner leapt up seeing his other half -- the Boy Without a Shadow -- on the other side of the glass. Flying beside Orion was a pink-eyed pixie with yellowish-green wings bathed in sparkling gold light. 

 Orion fixed his shadow with a faintly resigned expression. 

“You’re in a right pickle, aren’t you, my shadow?” he murmured.

Shadow’s shoulders fell noticeably as Merula shook her finger at him, her voice a huffy tinkling of bells. 

“You’d better not have let anyone see you!” she scolded.  

Orion reached out and gave the window a light pull. To his relief, it was unlocked, and he pulled it the rest of the way up so he and Merula could fly inside. 

Merula at once set about exploring the room, landing on a pile of folded, patched-up clothes next to a modest stack of old stuffed animals. 

“What a dump,” she scoffed. 

She gave a light kick to one of the teddy bear’s noses. The kick, however light, nonetheless was enough to bring the teddy bear down on her, making the fairy jingle in frustration. 

Orion idly lifted the teddy bear off of her without even looking at her, instead focusing on his shadow. Illuminated once again by the streetlamps outside the Weasley home, Shadow immediately darted further back into the room, hovering just over Carewyn’s bed and pointing frenetically. 

"I know,” said Orion. “That would be the ‘Wyn.’ The one who sings like a bird.”

Shadow settled himself down on top of Carewyn’s headboard, looking down at her as she slept. 

Orion frowned slightly upon his shadow. 

“...You like her, then?” he asked lowly. 

Shadow nodded. 

Merula crossed her arms huffily, looking down at the girl with active disdain. “Look at her, though! She’s got the wrinkles -- those of knowing solemn things. She’s way too old to take...” 

Orion took a few steps forward and considered the sleeping ginger-haired girl in the bed. 

She was indeed as small as the pirate called Jack had said -- smaller than her age would suggest, Orion thought. She already had these little wrinkles kissing the corners of her lips, and yet they were a peculiar kind of wrinkles. They weren’t wrinkles of age, per say -- instead there was something almost warm, about them...like the kind of wrinkles a well-loved teddy bear has. It didn’t make her look tired or resigned like so many adults did, but rather oddly resilient. The girl wasn’t smiling in her sleep, and yet she still slept peacefully. Her dreams no doubt weren’t as carefree as Orion would like -- but they were not the dreams of a grown-up, either. There was still some weightlessness there, especially since this family she was with wasn’t even hers. She’d still likely be able to fly...

“...She’ll do,” Orion said at last. 

“What?!” said Merula, taken aback. 

Orion’s voice was very lackadaisical, but his eye remained on Shadow, who seemed oddly pleased by his decision. He even brought a translucent hand down and -- very tentatively -- patted the top of the girl’s own shadow’s head. It was a gesture that made Merula look at him with bewilderment. 

“What are you doing, she’s not some little puppy dog for you to coddle!” she jingled at Shadow irritably. 

“Come now, my shadow,” Orion said stridently. “Must work out how to restore our balance, before we set about making our proposition to this ‘Carewyn.’”

Shadow quickly bolted up and away from the sleeping Carewyn, looking almost sheepish. Orion glanced around the room, before his eyes settled on a drawer. Striding over, he opened it and ruffled through its contents until he found a bunch of sewing supplies, including a collection of buttons. 

Aha. This might do.

Unfortunately buttons were indeed not what was needed, to properly restore a shadow. Orion tried to work them out several times, to no avail, but since the poor boy knew nothing about how buttons were fixed on to begin with, he couldn’t figure out how he could “button” his shadow to him the way two sides of a shirt could. Orion and Merula also tried several other things in the drawer, like some spare ribbon -- but since he naturally couldn’t tie his shadow securely enough to himself, he was left only with a bar of soap he found by the nearby basin, which he tried to use to stick his shadow on. 

After about an half-hour of failures, Orion was starting to get anxious. What if he never got his shadow back on? Would he be stuck without a shadow forever? Would he have to chase after his shadow forever, the way his shadow used to for him? Would his shadow even be able to follow him back to Neverland, if there were no lights that would maintain his form? Would he be trapped here in London forever -- in this house forever?

“Orion?” Merula tinkled uncomfortably. 

Orion actually found his eyes welling up with tears, though he tried to force them back. 

He didn’t know what to do -- what was he supposed to do...?

A very quiet gasp from the bed caught Orion’s attention. Stiffening like a cat, he shot to his feet, his black eyes very wide.

Sitting up in bed was the little ginger-haired girl called Carewyn. Her eyes were very wide, almond-shaped and china blue -- the same shade, Orion realized, as those of the pirates back in Neverland.

The same shade as Captain Hook’s eyes...

And yet those eyes welled up with so much compassion upon meeting Orion’s. 

“Oh,” she whispered, looking from the soap in his hand to up to his face. “Oh, please...please, boy, please don’t cry.”

[ickle-ronniekins]

sunkissed

A/N: the fic we never asked for but didn’t know we needed;; shirtless quidditch matches at the burrow. pond fights. high asf emotions. soaked through t-shirts clinging to wet bodies. wildflower makeout sessions. it’s fine, are y’all emotional yet? ‘cause i am. OKAY WAIT I HOPE THIS LIVES UP TO EXPECTATIONS SOMETIMES I WORRY THAT I SUCK; also i did not proofread this so forgive me

pairing: george x fem!reader

concept tag list: @dreamer821 @thoseofgreatambition @frediweasley @andromedaa-tonks @laneygthememequeen @myblissfulparadise @harrysweasleys @enjoying-fantasyland21 @samnblack @fortrapsandfordaphne

george tag list: @mintlibri @georgeweasleyx @seppys-return-to-madness @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @darling-details @lupinsx @keoghans @helloallthethingsilove @bobduncanlover @feffffffy @the-hufflepuff-of-221b @62442-am @wtfweasleyy @obsessedwithrandomthings

When he tapped you on the shoulder, very rudely interrupting your game of exploding snap with his sister and Hermione, you groaned in frustration. You whirled around, the sight of him sending you into a frenzy. You gulped over your nervousness; why is it, you thought, that you found yourself, time and time again, attracted to someone that was off limits. An absolute no-no. Definitely not allowed to happen, according to Ginny. You’re not allowed to date any of my brothers, she’d said. You’re my best mate! But that was years ago, back at the mere age of eleven. She couldn’t possibly still feel that way now, could she? You suppressed the thought with a slight cough.

“Y/N,” he began, his air of confidence engulfing the room fully, “come join us, would you?”

You tried your best to ignore the thin line of sweat at his hairline, the water-droplets of beady sweat attaching themselves to the fabric of his shirt; clearly, you weren’t doing so well at suppressing your feelings, as adrenaline coursed through your veins like a rapid fire. Bloody hell, it was already one million degrees — you didn’t need the sight of him alone getting you all hot and bothered.

“For what?” you asked George, trying very hard to not sound as excited as you felt.

“Quidditch,” came Fred’s voice, and he appeared next to you. He ran his hands through his hair. “Perfect day for it.”

Ron and Harry appeared as well, looking positively dreadful. “The earth is on fire, mate — I’m not playing Quidditch in this weather,”

“Come on,” the twins chorused together. Fred continued, “don’t be so dramatic, Ronniekins. Besides — why not make it more interesting?”

You and Ginny peered up at the twin grinning cheekily to himself. To her older brother, Ginny inquired, “Interesting? How d’you mean?”

“Winner gets two galleons,”

Ron’s eyes widened in delight alongside Harry’s smile; Ginny immediately began tugging her long hair back into a ponytail, as Hermione went to fetch the brooms with Fred from the garden shed. Guess you were all about to play for some money.

“So,” George started, taking you by surprise, “you coming or not?”

You stood, sizing him up; he was nearly a foot taller than you, easily better at Quidditch than you’d ever be, and yet — you felt this strange surge of confidence take you over. You pushed him gently on his chest and said, “Can’t wait to kick your arse, Weasley.”

“Oooh, confident, are we?” he teased, jabbing you in the ribs as you both headed out toward the field, the hot, sticky air attacking you as soon as you’d stepped out the door. He slammed a pair of sunglasses onto his face and suddenly you weren’t feeling so confident anymore. You hated that. He just had this way about him. “We’ll see who wins in the end, darling.”

You were about to throw a rather rude suggestion his way, but you were a bit taken aback at the sight of him. You nearly choked on the air you were breathing in. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion when he ripped his shirt off of his back, displaying his very toned torso and beater arms, and he winked at you before taking a place next to his twin, who was doing the exact same thing. Once more, George turned around and tossed his shirt in your direction; you were frozen solid, it nearly hit you, but landed gently at your feet. He laughed a bit haughtily at your flustered state before mounting his broom and soaring into the air, the piercing sun biting at his exposed skin.

“Y/N?” The sound of your name made you jump; you turned slightly to see Ginny standing there, hand on her hip, growing smirk plastered on her face. Shit. Her words from all those years ago echoed in the back of your head. You’re my best mate! Guilt engulfed you, but you hadn’t even done anything wrong. You regained your focus when she tossed the Quaffle at your head. “Ready to play, or not?”

The match had only lasted about fifteen minutes before Ron, rather dramatically, mind you, fell to the ground and lay directly in the knee-high grass, not moving, but instead moaning, “It’s too bloody hot — I’ve died — I’m dead — I’ve survived, but I’m dead,”

You were rather happy, actually. You’d missed more goals than not, and you very much wanted to blame the stupid redhead in front of you, twirling his shirt in the air like the idiot he is, but you held your tongue. It was very rude of him indeed to look the way he did and flaunt it so dramatically, especially when he knew how you felt. Of course he did. Everyone did. You wondered if Hogwarts Quidditch could rid the uniforms, because Blimey —

“Grow up,” Ginny growled at her brother. Before Ron could answer with a snarky retort, he found himself biting down on his lip, both due to the sharp blow he took to his shin, and also to prevent himself from shouting words he knew his mother would most certainly not approve of.

“Alright, I dunno about you lot,” Fred started, shaking the sweat from his hair, “but I’m about two seconds away from sticking my head under the sink. We’ll all go in pairs — us first since we’re mums favorites,” he smirked.

The unmistakable sound of Ron snorting from the meadow hung in the air. “In your dreams,” he replied, earning yet another sharp blow to his shin from George. This time, he wasn’t so careful at keeping those inappropriate words to himself. Hermione scolded him while Harry did a right awful job of holding back his laughter.

You tried desperately to ignore George’s lingering look — it didn’t help that the sun was highlighting each and every crevice of his body where the sweat had pooled; your knees buckled at the thought of pulling him into the nearby garden shed and shagging him senseless. Instead, you ignored it, “I’m not waiting for you idiots to use up all the cold water,” you told them, tying the bottom of your shirt in a knot at your waist. You met George’s gaze, and you were both baffled and elated to see him a bit taken aback at your stance; eyeing you up and down as if he was only just seeing you for the first time. And without a second thought, you pushed past them all, kicked your shoes into the grass at the water’s edge, and jumped into the very inviting looking pond just outside the Burrow.

The cool water rushed over you; you felt revitalized, as if you were breathing properly again. When you resurfaced and peered toward the group, the majority of the lot just laughed but didn’t seem to keen on swimming, so instead they left for the Burrow — you could hear Ron and Fred arguing over who was going to use the sink first, and were almost certain you could hear Ginny’s frustrated groans lingering in the air.

George was standing at the water’s edge, looking intrigued. It’s really not bloody fair, you wanted to tell him, that playing Quidditch for years has done wonders for his physique — you were both pissed off and dangerously attracted to him. You noticed the tan line from his jeans near his waist; the sun had kissed his skin perfectly. He slowly dipped his foot in and slammed his hands into his pockets; instead of diving in, though, he just watched you with dazed eyes and a lazy grin.

You bobbed back and forth in the water, still feeling the side effects of the heat. Was it the heat? Or was it —

“You going to join me?” you asked, floating on your back in the cool liquid. “Or not?”

When he only laughed, you made sure to kick enough water that it hit him square in the chest. He painted a shocked expression on his face, earning himself a laugh from you, before running a hand through his bright red hair. “Now that’s just rude.”

“It’s called, getting you back for nearly knocking me off my broom,” you told him straightforwardly, again kicking him with a bit of water, “so now we’re even.”

“No we’re not,” he replied, and he kicked off his own shoes and jumped in, completely drenching you and causing you to swallow a mouthful of pond water; you shivered a bit and managed to elbow him in the ribs underneath the water.

“Thanks a lot, you prat,”

“That’s not a very nice thing to call your favorite person,”

“What’re you on about? Last time I checked, I called him Fred,”

“That’s cruel, Y/N.”

You replied by splashing him a bit, and he did the exact same thing back.

It must’ve been hours the two of you were out there; eventually, the heat began to subside, the sun fell behind the trees, and yet there you both were, still goofing off and splashing one another like five-year-olds, ignoring Hermione’s calls from inside the house that dinner would be ready soon. But still, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something very sharp was lodged in your throat; each and every time George sent eyes your way, you felt that sharp feeling growing stronger — nothing could rid you of it.

“Hey,” he replied, wiping the water away from his eyes. “Y/N?”

Just then, a very enormous storm cloud above you both that you’d neglected to notice opened up; you were lucky you were already drenched, or you would’ve stormed the Burrow immediately. But instead you stayed where you were, dancing foolishly in your rain-soaked clothes, as George just watched you again.

Each and every time he blinked, you watched the water droplets from his eyelashes fall onto his cheekbones.

And each and every time he glanced at you, he couldn’t help but peer admiringly at your soaked-through shirt, the amused expression you had painted onto your face. When you removed your shirt completely, squeezing the excess water out, exposing your abdomen and chest, George felt his insides constrict. He tried his absolute hardest not to pounce on you.

“What?” you asked him, noticing the very rise and fall of his chest. Teasingly you asked, “not going shy on me now, are you, Georgie?”

When he inched forward, both of you stopped short at the sound of a shrill voice coming from an open window at the Burrow. “Kiss her, you idiot!”

The unmistakable sound of Ginny laughing echoed through the air; you supposed, if she was yelling at you both through her window, she could see what everyone else could — what everyone had been screaming at you for the longest time. What you’d yearned for for years. This, this exact moment, when George finally took the next step and closed the gap between you both.

His bare skin felt electrifying beneath your fingertips; clumsily you both slipped a bit, causing yourselves to fall into the water in a very un-graceful like state. It was hungry and dizzy and desperate, years in the making so there was absolutely nothing innocent about it. You tugged gently on his hair, nearly sending him backwards into the water in a flustered mess. But his hands found your body again; he gripped you tightly around your hips as you both bobbed absentmindedly in the filling pond. You ran your fingers gently over his muscles, breathing in the scent of rainwater mixed with sweat, nipping gently at his bottom lip before he hungrily moved toward your neck. Then a call for dinner came.

You hummed a bit dramatically against him. “C’mon,” you laughed begrudgingly, standing up and attempting to pull him to his feet, “your mum’s going to kill us.”

“So let her,” George replied breathlessly, pulling you back into the water. His wandering fingers made their way up your back, and he found the clasp on the back of your bra. The garden shed idea once again flooded your mind. He pressed his lips to yours again, grinned like a cheeky bastard and said, “‘m not quite finished with you yet, love.”

reblogs, feedback, comments, all are appreciated! thanks lovelies x

[ameryros]

Black Butler Shinigami & Thorns of Death speculation ramble

Major musical spoilers!!! Read at your own risk! I recommend watching Kuromyu 2, the most beautiful death in the world before reading uwu

Okay so we know that to become a shinigami, a human must take their own life and in return they shall return as a shinigami as punishment. They also do not remember their past life, so they probably do know that they commited suicide, but they don’t know why. They also “work” until the day they are forgiven, but isn’t specified when or how they reach that point.

Shinigami’s work by reaping and collecting human souls and that they cannot interfere once the name is on the list. A human can have their life spared if the human is someone “ who has potential to be beneficial for this world “, which is rare according to the official wiki.

It is said that the thorns of death is caused by a soul of a human that is destined to die, but fight’s back against the shinigami. If that was the case, shouldn’t there be more shinigami’s who have the thorns? I doubt there are very few humans that accept death that peacefully and lets the shinigami do their thing. 

William should have the thorns as well seeing that Thomas fought back against him during his first reap. it was also the only time we ever saw emotion out of that man. If anything, I’d reckon that most of the shinigami’s have the thorns of death.

In the second Black Butler musical we follow Alan Humphries and Eric Slingby. For those who haven’t watched it yet I don’t want to spoil, but the gist of it is that Alan has the thorns of death, and Eric is stealing human souls to try and save Alan (cue crying noises). A thousand human souls to be exact. 

Speculation #1 : The Thorns of Death isn’t from souls fighting back, but rather the Shinigami showing compassion/emotions and/or second thoughts about reaping the soul. The Thorn’s are also not lethal. It is also not a disease or illness.

This is kind of a well known speculation but I wanted to put my thoughts into writing. We know that suicide is what makes a human a shinigami. Wouldn’t it make sense that they would be punished if they showed compassion or kindness to someone who is destined to die? 

They were not kind to themselves, for whatever reason they took their own life and they were reborn as Shinigami. So if we play by the idea that their punishment for committing suicide as humans is to take human life, it would be ironic that they now feel or have second thoughts about taking it. 

Their last act as a human is take their own lives, and in death they shall do it infinitely. 

This brings us to the emotions part. We know that William is all about work. He is robotic in a way, emotionless and numb to everything as long as it doesn’t interfere with his work. As mentioned above the only time we ever see William show emotion is during his first reap, where Thomas essentially fought back, not wanting to die. Since then the William we know and love was born.

“If only I could understand their pain a little better”

“Thinking you could understand another’s feelings as they face death is sheer arrogance”

“Though I’ll never fully understand other’s thoughts as they await death, I feel I’ve gotten a bit closer”

"I was born alone in this world and alone I will die. If this is my fate, why are tears coming out of my eyes?"

- Alan Humphries, Kuroshitsuji Musical, The Most Beautiful Death in the World

 Alan in and of himself is filled with emotions. He is empathetic and wants to understand feelings and emotions of the very people he is taking lives from. To the souls he reaps, he is death. Just as he took his own life, he also faced death. I think he feels the need to understand what they are feeling, whether it’s because he wonders deep inside how he felt when he died, or because he is just a pure and kind soul. (We do not know how Alan died, his Death Scythe is a long handled garden slasher and no other distinct qualities or sign as to how he died) 

Shinigami will spend eternities watching cinematic records, observing human life, and death. It would make sense that a shinigami wouldn’t care if they took human lives, it’s just their jobs. 

Ronald Knox has emotions, he flirts, he is playful and occasionally seen with human women and interacting with them. But he does not care about their lives. As seen in the Book of Atlantic he bids the human woman he was with goodbye, ending it with “if you’re still alive”, which he probably already knows that she does not survive. So it’s entirely possible for a Shinigami to display emotions and a personality, as long as it does not interfere with their job of reaping.

For this speculation emotions is what causes the thorns. And it can be stopped if the Shinigami stopped having feelings or empathy for the human souls they reap. 

William for example, it would make sense that he is entirely void of emotions. If this speculation is right, then he would have the thorns from Thomas, which if he continued to feel or think about, would eventually kill him. If he did the same thing with every soul he reaped, he will die even faster. Getting rid of emotions would essentially get rid of/ not have the thorns, hence surviving. 

Either way, William may or may not have eradicated the thorns, but if he stopped it early enough I don’t think a small amount of thorns would be lethal. He may still feel the prick or pain of it, but it will not lead to his death.

Alan on the other hand is portrayed naturally empathetic, he is filled to the brim with emotions and thoughts about the souls he reaps, and as long as he continues it, the thorns will only sink deeper. 

In my opinion it’s more of a consequence than an illness if we go by this speculation and it is entirely avoidable. After all, they took their own life selfishly, it is now their punishment to take others, but now they hesitate? Or feel for the humans? It’s a baffling concept considering it goes against their whole existence. 

Shinigami’s are the neutral ones. They hold no opinion over the life or death, they just take. So for them to not be neutral, if would still make sense that they get the thorns as punishment/consequence.

Speculation #2: A thousand stolen human souls is needed to “cure” the thorns, but why? 

Let’s say that there is no other way to get rid of the thorns. Once you have it, there’s no stopping it. (We’ll forget about William’s case and focus on Alan)

In the musical we see Eric taking the souls for himself to collect and eventually give to Alan. He goes out of his way to make a whole opera play to garner enough humans to take souls from. 

But why would this work? 

Selfishness. This ties back to why the thorns were there in the first place. 

Feeling or trying to understand human pain or emotions is what gave them the thorns, so if a shinigami would take so much lives so selfishly, so greedily, to save themselves, it would negate the thorns that they acquired.

Having no regard for human life would most likely get rid of the thorns purely because it contradicts the thorns presence in a shinigami. 

But isn’t taking human souls for themselves against the rules? Why, yes, yes it is.

Which is why Eric was sneaking around doing it. He only formulated the mass soul reaping when he realized that Alan does not have much time left, and he needed the souls immediately to save him.

Let’s talk about Eric Slingby for a moment.

“And yet somehow.. somehow I have finally found... one fragile ray of light.

“Forgive me Alan, I can’t give you up. I just can’t give you or your life up!”

-Eric Slingby, Kuroshitsuji Musical, The Most Beautiful Death in the World

We talked about how having emotions or feeling empathetic towards humans cause, thorns. But it doesn’t seem to apply to shinigami relationships.

Eric is literally intervening with Alan’s eventual death by collecting the souls, so do the rules of being neutral not apply to them? Are they free to save each other?

I don’t really see a problem with this, I can kind of see that it might not be included in the rules since well, they aren’t human, and it just makes the story even more heart-wrenching.

Eric also has emotions and a personality, and even though he doesn’t understand why Alan is feeling the way he does when it comes to human emotions towards death, he still sees him as a friend and wants to save him. It just goes to show that even shinigamis can have healthy relationships. (cri)

Okay we’re back. During the musical Alan learned that it was Eric who was taking the human souls to save him, and he immediately tries to stop Eric. They have a bittersweet moment and decide to run away together and Eric promising not to kill anymore to get souls, and they leave their glasses behind, signing their resignation.

But the thorns didn’t stop. And eventually Alan is on the verge of death, and Eric breaks his promise, he wanted to save Alan no matter the cost. Eventually Eric needed one more soul to complete the task, and the only human left that he could kill quickly was no other than Ciel Phanthomhive. But  just as he was about to kill Ciel, Alan dived in between, Eric’s death scythe killing him.

Eric was devastated, and begs Sebastian to kill him which he does with Alan’s death scythe. Everything he had done was to not lose Alan, but in the end fate was cruel to them. As the very thing he wanted to protect disappeared by his own actions, he essentially killed himself once more by asking Sebastian to take his life. 

He lied beside Alan, in his second time tasting death for himself, at least in death they were still together.

The souls he collected erupted from his body and rained down on the ground, Ciel and Sebastian musing that the souls were beautiful, white, and pure, it was innocent. It was the most beautiful death in the world.

So what would happen if Alan didn’t take the souls? Would Eric just have 1000 souls with him? Would he return the souls to the dispatch center? Would they be fired? I don’t know really, but all I can most likely assume is that everything Eric did to get the souls would be useless and for naught. Alan I think would have died either way, he would never have taken the souls. 

I can see Alan and Eric still alive and happy together if they ran away earlier and the thorns weren’t as bad. 

Another ending would be Eric letting Alan die per his wish, and Eric turning into an emotionless void like William from the sad event. I can see Eric getting the thorns for himself as he would probably remember Alan whenever he takes a human soul, and the guilt of not saving him would also probably eat him alive. A lose-lose situation.

Even another one would be Alan surviving if speculation #1 was true, but then he would also be emotionless and unfeeling, unless he figured out how to exclusively not feel for the humans and their souls, but that’s a far fetch, I just don’t see Alan doing that. And even if it did happen, I'm quite sure Alan and Eric's dynamic would change and it wont be the same. Also a lose-lose situation. 

It’s a bitterweet ending for Alan and Eric, I can only cry and curse at the world so much for giving them such fates. 

I guess that’s what fanart and fanfiction is for amiright?

If you read everything and got to this point, wow, don’t you have a life? Just kidding. I hope you enjoyed and let me know your thoughts if you like.

I might write more of these if I find more stuff I feel like is interesting, or people can give suggest stuff through dm’s or messaging.

Stay safe, healthy, and hydrated!

Much love, Ames

[gohyuck]

pairing: lee donghyuck (haechan) x reader

genre: fluff, suggestive

word count: 1.5k

warnings: mentions of sex, nudity, some swearing... he almost eats the reader out. it gets super close

part of a series?: yes, 37.5% viewer ratings, my hyuck bday celebration

🎵 dizzy - renzo

☀️ mornings together

you wake up to the distinct touch of fingertips dragging gently across the bare skin of your side. the hand - disembodied by your groggy state and gaining its own identity for the moment - finds purchase right above your hipbone, pressing gently into your skin as a disembodied pair of lips meets your hairline.

and your nose. and your left cheek, then your right. suddenly, they’re all over your face, and they’re not so detached from reality anymore.

“hyuck!” you call out, half in laughter and half in exasperation. your eyes fly open to meet those of your boyfriend, the corners of his eyes crinkling before he leans in again, chastely pressing his lips to yours in a good morning kiss. as you get adjusted to the bright rays of sunshine that are filtering in unstopped through your window due to the curtains being wide open, you become aware of just how close donghyuck is to you: his right arm rests beside your head and his left leg is thrown halfway over you. he’s propped up on his right side, staring down at you fondly while you’re fully on your back.

you begrudgingly turn away from his warm gaze - and warm body, you’ll never cease to be in awe of how reminiscent he is of a furnace - to check the time on your phone. 6:06 glares back at you, and you can’t help but furrow your brow at how early you’ve been woken up.

“we forgot to close the blinds and the curtains last night, and it woke me up.” donghyuck mumbles, his mouth now against the curve of your shoulder. he must’ve noticed your questioning look. hyuck drapes an arm over you, palm splaying out flat against your lower stomach, and you’re suddenly extremely cognizant of how straight up naked you both are. he, at least, has the luxury of having boxers on; though, you can’t be too angry when you distinctly remember him offering to let you wear his shirt while sleeping and you outright rejecting the idea.

♕ ♕ ♕

“think of it like this,” you’d explained, cheeks as rosy as possible and chest rising heavily and painted with a light sheen of sweat. “i’m already heated, and you’re stupidly warm anyways, so why would i want to put on any layers? that, and waking up to me naked can be your present.”

“i like to think i’m smartly warm, actually - don’t hit me,” he’d broken off in a soft chuckle, catching your hand against his own heaving chest as you tried to smack him gently. “and it’s not my fault someone went and got me all hot and bothered.”

“you are so lucky we have great sex,” you’d rolled your eyes, kicking the sheets off of your overheating body and turning your back to your boyfriend. he’d immediately turned you back over, forcing you to look at his overexaggerated pout in response to your words. you’d rolled your eyes yet again, though you couldn’t hide the adoring smile that had overtaken your expression. before he could say anything else, you’d leaned towards him, capturing his lips against yours. one of his hands had come up to cradle your face, gently guiding your mouths, while the other had trekked down your back, resting, finally on your ass before giving it a good squeeze and pulling your body closer to his. you’d snaked your arms over his shoulders, letting him pull a moan from you as he’d tugged on your lower lip with his teeth, as he’d dug his fingertips into the skin of your thighs. the concept of bliss had found a home in lee donghyuck, who in turn had become your vice. this was nothing new. 

eventually, you’d both come up for air. you’d stared at him, eyes scanning his darkened cheeks and hazy eyes. he’d given you a once over as well, not hesitating to roll his lower lip between his teeth as a show of his appreciation of all of you. 

“i’d suggest a round 2, but i’m fucking wiped,” he’d eventually said upon separation, and you’d nodded in agreement, your head burrowing against his chest, excess body heat be damned. “you’re really not going to wear anything?”

you’d shaken your head, and he’d afforded you a laugh at the tickling sensation that came from your hair scraping across his skin.

“guess i’m getting one hell of a birthday gift when we wake up, then.”

♕ ♕ ♕

“hey,” you roll over within his grasp, finding yourself nose-to-nose with him. “it might be early, but at least it’s early on your birthday.”

“right,” donghyuck hums, the hand that’s lying over you shifting so it’s firmly clutching your waist. “looks like i’ve already unwrapped my first present.”

his words have his trademark, teasing lilt to them, and you think you’d feel as if he was getting ready to devour you alive if it wasn’t for the way his eyes are absolutely sparkling. hyuck is an even mix of sharp edges - you reach up a hand, tracing his jawline softly with the pad of your index finger - and rounded curves - you run a thumb over his cheek, right underneath his eye. from the fondness in his expression, he’s seeing you the same way you see him. donghyuck pinches your hip as delicately as possible and his smile grows as yours does.

as he beams at you, you can’t help but want to keep that expression on his face forever.

you place a kiss on the tip of his nose just to watch him crinkle it, all while his entire form is bathed in morning sunlight. by this point, your thoughts have already hung a turn towards ‘sappy’, and you don’t believe you want them to hit the brakes. 

“you’re so beautiful.” donghyuck breathes, and you realize he’s beaten you to saying the words that were about to fall off your own tongue. before you can respond with a glib ‘birds of a feather’ remark, he shifts the two of you, forcing you to lay flat against his pale blue sheets. both his forearms cage your head onto the pillow underneath it, one of his knees coming up to keep his entire form balanced exquisitely above you. 

“so,” he bends to mouth along your jawline, smiling against you when you let out a pleased sigh and allow yourself to sink further into the pillow. you reach a hand up to run it over his collarbone, and he captures it easily before pressing his lips to your knuckles. once he drops it, you reach up again, though this time your grip finds light purchase in his hair.

“fucking,” donghyuck kisses into the expanse of skin above your bellybutton. he’s actively using his knee to leverage him on his descent (and, consequently, your ascent) down your body. the honey in his skintone is made even more evident as the sun’s rays wash him with warmth. if you squint, you can almost make out a halo of light resting in his hair. there’s no way for you to dwell on this, though, not as he presses chaste - too chaste for your liking - kisses over your hipbones and thighs. 

“beautiful.” hyuck finally finishes his statement, looking up at you with a mischievous gleam in his eyes before sliding fully onto the floor at the foot of his bed. he straightens up onto his knees and gives you no warning before grabbing your ankles and dragging you to him, causing you to yelp loudly.

much to your chagrin, he just laughs at your reaction, his amusement growing louder as the furrow of your brow grows deeper. before you can chastise your boyfriend, though, he places his hands on your thighs, one on each, and pulls them apart from each other. donghyuck leans in to nip gently at your inner thigh, and you can’t help the breathy gasp that escapes you.

“wait!” you cry out suddenly, causing your boyfriend to pull away immediately. he sits up, concern replacing his expession instantly.

“baby? what’s wr-” he starts, only for you to interrupt him.

“it’s your birthday, not mine. i should be doing things for you, not the other way around.”

donghyuck goes silent, and so do you, and you watch as his expression becomes unreadable for a moment. you wait two, five, ten seconds for him to speak to no avail. you’re about to sit up when he shakes his head, placing his hands back on you again.

“i promise, i’m doing exactly what - and who - i want to. i’ll even spell it out for you, if you want: you look like a literal angel or some shit in the sunlight, and if you’ll let me, i almost need to take advantage of it. it’s my birthright. birthday right?” he quirks an eyebrow in confusion at his own phrasing, though that doesn’t stop him from leaning in, his hands running idly up and down your thighs as he waits for your response.

your resolve has already weakened.

“...shouldn’t i at least make you breakfast first?” you try, though you’re already situating yourself on the pillow again. you feel rather than hear donghyuck chuckle against your skin, though you don’t miss the dark excitedness in his tone when he speaks again.

“i already have my breakfast spread out for me.”

[j0elmill3r]

Me And You Together Song

Chris Evans x Daughter!reader

Jaeden Martell x Reader

Chris Evans Masterlist

Part Two of The Tonight Show [Read Here!]

Warnings; Swearing, mentions of past abuse, mentions of manipulative exes, ft. sebby stan

word count; 2.1k

A/N; Kinda didn't follow what the request was looking for because I didn't know how to write it, but I hope this is okay. I made sebby appear because I can and it's not a day in New York without the man himself

--

Chris sighed as your phone went to voicemail for the fifth time. You were meant to be up an hour ago so you could go and get something to eat, but you were still sleeping, as per usual. Chris was trying his hardest not to go into yours and Jaeden's room, he wasn't hoping to see you in bed with someone that was your boyfriend, not yet. To him, you were the same little girl who came running in from the backyard after falling from the swings and cutting your knee, and you needed him to kiss it better. But eventually, he had to go and get you, first of all, he was worried, and second, he was hungry as fuck. Chris was glad Jaeden had given him a spare key last night, but he knocked first.

"Y/N, Jaeden. Are you alive?" There was no response except snoring, who Chris couldn't identify if it were yours or your boyfriends. Chris sighed and opened the door, relief flooding his body when he saw that both you and Jaeden were fully clothed and cuddled up to each other, his arms around you tightly. "I don't know whether to gush or throw up," He said to himself. Chris tried making as much noise as possible, but neither of the 17-year-olds in the bed woke up. Moving over to the lightswitch, Chris flicked the switch on and off until he heard you groan. You twisted out of Jaeden's arms and your arm flopped out of the bed.

"Jae, quit it," you groaned, your eyes still clenched shut because it felt like you were in a colourless rave.

"That's not me," He told you. Your eyes opened and from the shape of the body standing over at the light switch, you could make it out to be your dad standing with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Hi, Dad," You greeted him. Chris walked over to the nightstand and pressed the home button on your phone and saw his contact name on your screen.

Dad

5 Missed Calls

"5 times. You really have a habit of forgetting things, Y/N. Do I wanna know what time you both fell asleep or did you just fall asleep?" He asked. You sat up and sat still for a second before looking up at your dad, your eyes still squinted.

"What time is it?"

"9 am," He told you. Jaeden laughed dryly and turned to you, a tired look on his face.

"I told you we would regret staying up until 6," He told you. You rolled your eyes and playfully pushed his shoulder. "Ow," He groaned.

"Shut up," You turned to your dad. "Look, I'm sorry. We didn't plan on staying up so late and we kinda forgot that time was a concept" You pulled the puppy dog eyes that you had learned from your dad, he could never stay mad at you for long if you used them.

"It's okay. I have some stuff to do today, so you two are on your own. If I come back and either of you is in anyway undressed, you," He pointed at you. "Are grounded for life," You nodded. "And please don't get lost, I don't wanna drag Sebastian around New York looking for both of you," He said.

"You're gonna go see Seb?" he nodded from where he was standing at the door. "Tell him I said hi," Your dad said goodbye and then left both of you.

"Okay, we need to go and get food. I don't know about you, but I'm starving," You nodded at Jaedens suggestion. "There's a place I saw a few blocks from here,"

"And you just happened to be on the lookout for places?" You asked him. Jaeden turned to look at you and gave you a serious look.

"Of course I was, I couldn't be wandering around New York not knowing places to go and get breakfast. Jesus Christ, Y/N, who do you take me for?" You laughed at him as you fell back onto the bed and onto his chest.

"I don't know, I certainly didn't take you as someone who was so into food places in New York. I was literally just gonna go to iHop," You told him. "And anyway, I thought you hated going out in New York because you get scared you'll lose me in the literal sea of people," You reminded him.

"Yeah, but you've grown around 3 inches and I can see you now that you dyed your hair lighter," He ran his fingers through your hair that you convinced your dad to let you make more blonde than it was, it was similar to your dads', but a little darker. "But, if you wanna go to iHop, that's fine, I don't mind," He smiled down at you.

"You should go shower," You suggested to him. He looked down at you with a furrowed brow.

"Are you trying to tell me something?" You sat up and smiled at him innocently, shaking your head.

"No, but you should just go and shower," You said, putting your hand on his chest. He huffed and got out of bed, turning back to face you. But as if you could predict what he was going to say, you throw a pillow at him full force, causing him to grunt as it hit his face. "Shower!" He threw the pillow back at you and went into the bathroom. In the space of an hour, you were both ready. Your laptop was open and playing your playlist from Spotify, Bloody Valentine by Machine Gun Kelly playing from the speakers.

"This song is stupid," You turned to face Jaeden, shock was written on your face. "I mean, what is it even about?" He asked you.

"It doesn't matter. Megan Fox is in the music video, that's all that matters," You told him. Jaeden closed your laptop and put it in your bag. Then crossing his arms and tilting his head, his hair falling to one side.

"Okay then, would you rather me or Megan Fox?" He asked you. Your jaw dropped to the floor at his question, picking between those two things was like asking if you had to choose between a brain or a heart, both things are important. "Did you seriously just ask me that?" Jaeden nodded and smirked. "You, obviously. But it's Megan fucking Fox, you're telling me you don't find her attractive?" You asked him.

"I think everyone finds her attractive," He murmured.

"Thank you! Don't get your underwear in a twist over Megan Fox, Jae. You have my heart," You told him as you kissed him on the nose. Jaeden pouted, making you furrow your eyebrows. "What?" "You missed," He told you. "I did? Well, I apologize, but that's what you get when you shit on Machine Gun Kelly,"

--

"Do we have to?" Jaeden whined. You nodded and took his hand, dragging him into Macy's.

"Yes, because if I go home without something for Miles and Stella, they'll never talk to me again and that'll be really awkward when I have to babysit," You told him. "And I thought the toy aisle was your favourite?" You asked him mockingly. Jaeden shook his head and flipped you off. "Jaeden Martell! How dare you make such obscene gestures in the children's toy aisle!"

"My sincerest apologies, Lady Y/N," He said. You laughed and picked something out for your younger cousins. "Alright, can we like sit down or something, my feet hurt," He complained.

"Okay, we can go for lunch now if you want, that way you can stop bitching," You told him.

"For the daughter of Captain America, you really do have a mouth on you," He said. "I would quote the line but you're probably sick of hearing it between fans and your dad," You nodded.

"Okay, since I chose breakfast, you can choose lunch. I don't mind where, I'll pay," You told him.

"You sure?" You nodded. "Alright, I know a place. Jack told me about it and said it was pretty good, I know where it is though," He said.

"The last time you said that we ended up in downtown L.A and nearly dying," You reminded him. "We were just lucky because Scott happened to be driving around,"

"That was one time,"

"And I'm sure it won't be the last," You left Macy's and walked to the place Jaeden was talking about, and walking in you knew he had asked Jack for recommendations. "This is nice," You said as you were seated. You took your jacket off and shivered as your bare arms were exposed to the air.

"How are you cold?" Jaeden asked you incredulously. You shrugged and smiled as he pulled his hoodie off, handing it over to you.

"You're amazing," You said fondly. Jaeden chuckled.

"I try my best,"

--

"Y/N looks a lot happier," Sebastian said. Chris took a drink of his beer and nodded. "I know the last year wasn't exactly easy, but she's doing better," Chris nodded.

"Yeah, she deserves it, really, she does. Jaeden helped her a lot too, I can't take all of the credit," Chris told Sebastian.

"Yeah. That Lucas dude fucked her around, I'm surprised you didn't kill the little dick," Chris laughed and nodded.

"No, that night I saw the look in Y/N's eyes and knew she needed me. And trust me, I would have," Chris hated thinking about Lucas and what he had done to you. He was manipulative and if you ever said you were thinking of leaving him, he would say he would hurt himself and it would be all your fault. He had hit you on a few occasions too, but you would always tell yourself he never meant it, and that the bruises your dad saw were just because you were clumsy. "But, I know that Jaeden would never hurt Y/N, not on purpose. I trust him with her, and I trust Y/N to know the signs now,"

"I don't know much about this whole 'parenting' gig, Chris, but I know that you're doing well with Y/N, ever since I've known you, you always put her first. I mean, you basically told the Russos that if they kept you on set for an hour longer, you wouldn't be there the next morning because you were gonna be late for her soccer game," Chris laughed at the memory Sebastian had brought up.

"Yeah, she won that game. She scored the winning goal," He smiled. "They're probably still awake," Chris looked at the time on his phone, 01:34.

"You should probably go, don't you have a flight at 12?" Sebastian asked. Chris nodded.

"Yeah, it's not me that has the problem waking up, it's the two insomniac teenagers who stayed up until 6 am yesterday,"

--

You were snoring away softly while Jaeden was watching something on his phone, using your head as a stand. Your head was laid on his chest and your body was pressed up as close as possible against his. Jaeden's other arm was around you, his arm going all the way around you and coming to your waist. The door clicked open, but it was only your dad.

"Shit, sorry. I thought you'd both be awake," Chris said. Jaeden put his phone down on the nightstand. "Since when did Y/N fall asleep before 3 am?"

"She was saying she was tired today, we were watching Netflix and next thing I knew she was asleep and now I can't move her," Jaeden said. Chris sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Do you want me to move her?" Chris asked. Jaeden shook his head and looked down at you.

"It's fine, she'll probably move anyway," He said.

"Alright, I'll go," Chris stood up and walked to the door, but turned back last minute. "Thank you, Jaeden," "Oh uh- what for?" Jaeden furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

"Looking after her. I know she can be closed off sometimes, but she really loves you Jaeden. Next thing I know you'll be running to me asking to marry her," Chris said. Jaeden laughed quietly, and the vibrating of his chest made you groan in annoyance.

"Give it a few years," Jaeden moved down and tried not to disturb you again in fear he might get a pillow to the face. "Good night, Chris,"

"You guys talk too loud," You said tiredly. "My dad really likes you," You told him. "Thanks?" You got delirious when you were tired. "You should go back to sleep, it's late," He told you.

"You go to sleep too then," You said. "And plus, 'm not even tired," You said, a yawn interrupting you. Jaeden nodded, playing along with you.

"Right, just put your head back down and cuddle with me again, I'm cold," He said. You put your head back on his chest and fell asleep in about 3 seconds. "Not tired my ass,"

--

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[dc41896]

Winter Wonderland

Pairing: Ransom DrysdalexBlack Reader

⚠️: Ransom being a tiny bit of a jerk, the usual fluff

Sat on the couch comfortably wrapped in your boyfriend’s burnt orange throw blanket, your eyes stay glued to the meteorologist pointing to the map on the wide screen in front of you as you mindlessly bite your thumbnail.

“This again?,” Ransom asks returning from his shower to sit next to you. Forest green tee shirt over his black sweatpants, the scent of sandalwood wafting off his skin brings you closer eventually resting your head on his shoulder while you silently take in a couple deep breaths to savor the smell. “What, are you trying to be a weatherwoman now or something?”

“No, I’m just trying to stay updated. You know, watching to see if it’ll maybe rain or snow...”

Moving his laptop from the glass coffee table to his lap, soon his fingers tap away at the keyboard below as he tries to answer emails he missed while being away with you and your family for Thanksgiving.

“Hopefully it doesn’t. I’ve got too much to do for the power to be turning off.”

“...It would be nice to see though you know?”

“Mm,” he simply replies, mind still comprehending the email from his assistant with his schedule for the upcoming month.

“Snow covering the ground perfect to make snow angels or a snowman with a cute little scarf and carrot nose. Ooh and maybe a snowball fight-!”

“You sound like a kid who’s never seen snow before,” he chuckles. Noticing your extended silence, he sits up meeting your innocent eyes as you play with one of the tassels from the blanket. “You’ve never seen snow, have you?”

“I mean yeah in movies and pictures, but never in person. Remember, it doesn’t really get that cold where I live.”

Only four months in, your relationship was still fairly new. And most of that time he was flying to see you, which was slightly concerning at first. Once he told you about his dysfunctional family though, and you briefly heard it firsthand, it made sense why he wanted to get as far away as possible.

It was just a small mistake when some of his business documents were sent to his parents’ house, but of course they assumed it was his sly way of asking for money. Not even giving him a chance to explain, a shouting match soon ensued and hence why Thanksgiving was spent with your parents.

He still wanted you to come visit to show you his home, where he grew up, and some of his favorite places especially since you showed him yours. He’d just have to be extra careful to avoid any of his family members or those who worked at his grandfather’s home if the two of you went to town.

So far though, you two didn’t have to worry since you’d either been happily snuggled on the couch or in bed since you arrived.

“Well, it’s more of a pain than anything. You need the right tires to drive on the road and even then you have to worry about them being too slick. Then sometimes the snow is like mush that basically starts melting as soon as it falls, and don’t even get me started on the shoveling,” he rants as the small smile on your face slightly falls.

“Yea I’ve uh heard that it’s not so great once you get used to it,” you respond turning the channel to some random movie before handing him the remote. “Looks like it’s not gonna snow anyway though so no worries.”

“Good, I’ll be able to make all of my meetings then.”

As you sat in silence, Ransom could feel that you were disappointed about the sunny and clear forecast. He still stood by all the negative things he said earlier, but he also remembered how excited he’d get as a kid once it started to get colder. That meant snow would eventually come, bringing snow days from school and playing all day in the backyard. That is until his mother would yell at him from the back door not to mess up his clothes or send the nanny out to get him if she felt he wasn’t listening.

Hearing your soft snores, he carefully removes his phone from his pocket, moving his typing from his laptop to the smaller device in his hand as he sends a quick text to someone who might be able to help.

———

The soft chime of your alarm from the bedside table causes you to mentally groan as you reach to silence it before it could disturb Ransom. However feeling his arm tighten around your waist bringing you closer to his bare chest, you could see you were too late.

“Sorry babe. Go back to sleep, you still have time before your meeting,” you whisper.

“No,” he mumbles, face falling to the crook of your neck making you giggle from the sensation of his breathing paired with his pouted lips against your skin.

“Can you let go then? I have to log in for work.” Shaking his head, you roll your eyes at how clingy he could be under that tough, careless facade. “Ransom come on it’s my last workday before Christmas so I can’t call out. As soon as I’m done though you can have me all to yourself okay?”

His only response is silence as you try to escape his grip thinking he drifted back to sleep. You’re slightly startled as your body is turned to face your boyfriend with his eyes still closed and a tired yet playful smirk gracing his lips.

“I already took care of work for you,” he replies opening one eye while the other stayed pressed against the plush pillow.

“What do you mean?”

“That you don’t need to worry about work until the new year.”

“How? You just told my boss I wouldn’t be in for a while and she said okay?”

“Well darling as you know I can be very persuasive,” he cockily states with a wink. Sitting up with arms crossed over your chest, he chuckles at your unamused expression sitting up himself to lean against the headboard. “I told her how I had a secret trip planned for us and asked if you could be out until you were due to be back in January. She said you had the time so it was okay and for us to have fun. If you don’t believe me call her yourself.”

“How long have you had this planned? And where is this secret trip too?,” you finally speak trusting his words.

“A while now, and it wouldn’t be a secret anymore if I told you dear.”

“Then how am I supposed to pack for said trip honey?,” you ask matching his sarcasm.

“Already took care of that too. All you have to do is get ready so we can leave in a couple hours,” he smiles gently grabbing your chin to kiss your lips. “Unless you want to go to work then-,”

“No, I’ll get dressed!” Giving him one last peck as you crawl over his relaxed form, he chuckles watching you excitedly hurry to the bathroom to start your morning routine.

After both of you were dressed and Ransom placed your packed bags in the trunk of his newly rented Range Rover, his hand stops you from entering the passenger side slightly confusing you.

“It’s a surprise remember?,” he smirks pulling a black blind fold out of his jacket pocket.

“You know, this is how a handful of those lifetime movies start before the main character goes missing and her family then sets out to find the boyfriend even though he swears he’s innocent,” you state making him deeply chuckle as he finishes tying the cloth over your eyes.

“Relax, you’re fine. Plus how do I know this isn’t like those movies where the gorgeous girlfriend acts all innocent and sweet until she gets her boyfriend away so she can kill him and take all his stuff before moving on to her next victim?”

“Touché. I guess we’re gonna have to trust each other then.”

“I guess so,” he laughs kissing your cheek before carefully helping you in your seat and closing the door behind you. The drive there didn’t seem too long as you and Ransom talked about everything from each of your favorite vacations over the years to his new book ideas and what was soon to be published under his company. Of course you tried to get him to slip and say where you were going and what he had planned, but his lips remained sealed.

Every time you asked, he’d just chuckle telling you to be patient before kissing the back of your hand.

Soon enough your questions would be answered as the car slowed while it turned maintaining the same speed until coming to a complete stop. “Are we there? Can I take off the blindfold now?,” you excitedly ask.

“Go ahead before you bounce a hole in the seat.”

Removing the cloth, you blink your eyes adjusting to the brightness of the remaining daylight outside before they can focus on what was exactly in front of you. Dark brown wooden outside with a blue green roof and stone chimney, the modern looking cabin with wrap around porch peering into the surrounding woods on one side and the calm lake on the other.

“I hope your silence isn’t because you’re currently regretting coming with me,” he speaks peering at you with soft crystal blue eyes. Leaning over the middle console, your hand finds the back of his neck bringing him closer to connect your lips with his.

“It’s beautiful! The perfect Christmas getaway,” you smile.

“Well not perfect yet. This is just part one of your surprise.”

“Ransom, you don’t-,”

“I know, I don’t have to. As you see though, we’re here so are we gonna sit in the car and stare at it or go inside?,” he smirks before getting out to open your door.

You weren’t surprised to find the inside just as charming as it’s outside view. The modern, minimalistic aesthetic along with high vaulted ceiling and open concept made it seem as if there was no end in sight for the cozy cabin. From it’s overall inviting warmth enveloping you as soon as the both of you crossed the threshold, you weren’t sure if your boyfriend, or anyone, would get you to leave when the time eventually came.

Once settled and full of dinner made from what was in the fully stocked fridge and freezer, courtesy of his assistant, you could feel the day’s toll finally weighing on you as multiple yawns escaped your mouth and eyelids began to droop.

“Don’t fall asleep on me yet, you still have your last surprise to see,” he chuckles gently nudging your arm.

“Ransom seriously everything has been more than enough. What else could you possibly have planned?,” you sleepily smile peering up at him through partially opened lids. Gently pulling you up with him, he guides you to the porch with muscular, sweater covered arms wrapped on your chest just under your neck. He places a kiss on the top of your head as you lean back into his broad chest admiring the bright crescent moon along with the shimmering stars scattered behind it in the black sky.

“Although I do love gazing at the moon with you, and think this is a really nice surprise, it’s getting cold,” you speak feeling the vibrations of his quiet laugh through his chest.

“You really need to work on your patience dear,” he whispers, lips resting next to your ear. Watching the breath from your nose turn to smoke, you soon see something fall from above making you slightly lean forward to see if your eyes were deceiving you. Sure enough, a similar white speck descended with a small swirl as you gently gripped Ransom’s arm gasping. As more and more fell, you reach out over the banister feeling bits of cold ice touch your palm before melting into miniature puddles.

“Is this real?!”

“No, there’s a man on the roof with a wind machine. Yes, it’s real honey,” he chuckles kissing your cold cheek.

“But the forecast said there was none coming.”

“Yea for where we were. That’s why I brought you a bit further north where it usually snows around this time of year. Luckily it still happened or else everything would’ve been ruined.”

Turning to face him, your arms wrap around his neck as you reach on your tip toes to deeply kiss his lips. You prop your chin on his chest, adoringly looking up at your boyfriend with a soft smile.

“Yea no snow would’ve been a bit of a bummer, but everything would still be wonderful because I’m here with you.”

“Stop you’re gonna make me blush,” he dismisses with a dramatic wave making you giggle.

For the next few moments, you both comfortably stand in each other’s arms with your head now lying on his chest gazing at the steady falling flurries, and Ransom doing the same finding himself truly happy to see snow for the first time in a long while.

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If anybody wants to be tagged, has asked to be tagged but don’t see your name, only want to be tagged for certain people I write for, or no longer wish to be tagged just let me know🤓!

[tomodachimeter]

Answering old asks

m(__)m

That is all.

Emojis aside, I really am so very sorry it’s taken me so long to get around to responding to messages since the manga ended, I’ve been extremely busy in my personal life so it was kind of all I could do to cope with the manga ending during that time too, haha. As of now even the last volume and fanbook are already out, but I’ll leave a few comments on the messages I’ve been sent as they were. I’m also grouping together messages that are more of readers’ own comments rather than questions for me and responding all at once, so please forgive me if I couldn’t get around to responding individually!

“My heart pains to seeing the end ahahhhhh ashiya and abeno parted waysI really really really hope for something to come next. it kinda feels sad for meabt this ending”

“Honestly I like the ending but I didn’t like how the author left out information about abeno’s background. For instance, what happen to his parents?, where did he come from?, how did he come meeting Ao?,etc. I really wanted to see all of that, including how ashiya told his mom and sister about sakaes death. Other then that, I REALLY LOVE THE PROPOSAL!!! What is with shouen manga/anime with these different type of propsals like, “I’ll skate infinity with you”, “ I will die so you won’t be alone”,etc. Like COME ON!!! I also want to see a adult ashiya and abeno 🙏.”

I feel the same, I love the ending in its own way but I also expected so much more and I wanted to see more of their adventures. So I respect sensei’s decision but that just means it’s a free-for-all in terms of headcanons after!!

“Now that the manga has ended, I really wish the anime hadn't screwed up with the season 2 ending, so we could have gotten a continuation... I really miss animated Fuzzy running around, Ashiya's screaming and Abeno's "Hah?" (´꒳`)♡”

I wonder what they’d do for a season 3 if it ever came to pass. There are a few ways they could go about it like kind of just continuing down the manga, or they could ignore what they animated at the end of s2 and then keep going (Ao no Exorcist style), or I don’t even know, honestly. No matter how dissatisfied I am with how they do anime, I’d still watch it though. :U

“Wow I can't believe it took me so long to realize this! Recently, I noticed that the dynamic between Hanae-Sakae-Aoi-Abeno and the plot revolving around them is very similar to what happens in the manga Switch (Kai-his dad-Hal's dad-Hal). The relationship between Kai and Hal is similar to Hanae and Abeno's. Kai's dad died and this is related to Hal's dad, who has survived thanks to the death of his friend (Kai's dad). Plus Kai manifests what seems to be his dad's personality when he's in danger.”

“So much tears! I really don't want this to end, but I knew it was too good to be true. Though, the way the way the manga ended felt like a new beginning. Hanae made a promise/vow to Itsuki that he will return, no matter how long it takes, so he hopes Itsuki will wait for him. Also, that picture of Sakae and Aoi on the counter makes me hope that Hanae and his family (plus Sakae in heaven) has peace now. I felt like crying more. Thank you for everything and I hope to see you again!”

“ok rip Abeno's past... rip yellow eyes... rip this cliffhanger ending...“

“Suddenly I see that anon ask about OPs and EDs and partings & separations in a new light... darn. (╯°Д °)╯╧╧”

Fittingly enough, Sensei mentioned in the fanbook that Mononokean has always been a story about meetings and partings too, but still...! More...!!!

“I think this ending is very fitting. Ashiya was never truly part of the youkai world, he was always taking one step in only to step out soon after, and going back and forth between loving youkai and being afraid of them. Ashiya's state of employment has always had a "temporary" feeling to it, including, for example, the fact that he never changed his clothes, and his Mononokean-crest clothes were "borrowed". UItimately, Ashiya didn't seem like he could dedicate his life to youkai, unlike Abeno. (continuing from my previous ask about "Ashiya not being part of the youkai world") It wasn't only Ashiya's feelings on the matter that kept him away from the world of youkai. Abeno contributed greatly to this, as he constantly tried to keep Ashiya away from the Underworld, from danger, from knowing too much, and from youkai themselves, even though Ashiya was technically his employee. If Abeno had tried, even a little, to pull Ashiya into his world, Ashiya would have responded to him, I'm sure. (another "Ashiya not being part of the youkai world" ask) The fact Abeno actively blocked Ashiya from his world was the greatest reason why Ashiya didn't feel like he belonged there. But he still felt connected to Abeno, at least. Rather than dedicate his life to youkai, Ashiya seemed like he might dedicate it to Abeno. Yet this feeling was also met with a wall. By the time Abeno realized how precious it was, having someone who saw the same things as him by his side, it was already too late. (last ask in the series "Ashiya not being part of the youkai world") Ironically, the Mononokean and most other youkai were more open and willing to welcome Ashiya into their world. Still, if and when Ashiya can see youkai again, I hope Abeno will have realized the opportunity he'd wasted. When these two reunite, I hope Abeno won't push Ashiya away again. That's all. I wanted to share these thoughts with you. Please let me know your opinion on the matter. Thank you for reading! :)”

I think you’re right on point with the themes you’ve pointed out and I believe that’s what Sensei was going for too, but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s terribly lonely for them to be separated from each other. ___(:3 At least we’re left with a (high) possibility of them getting back together (heh) and even moreso with the fanbook extra content too, so here’s to their continued adventures.

“I am not sure if you are familiar with this anime/manga/light novel series “No. 6” because the end of the Mononokean manga series appears similar to the end of the former in terms of the bond between the two male leads if you get what I mean.”

I know of it and it’s something I’ve always meant to get around to watching, but I have not seen it yet!

“Nooo, I can't believe it's over! 😭 But you know, ever since FNM's ending was announced, I've been looking for something to fill the void this precious story would inevitably leave in my heart, and then someone said "Watch Natsume Yuujinchou, the themes are similar and it's heartwarming". So I started it and, oh boy, I've been screaming at every episode because I'm not used to people openly showing their affection! 😂 So much hugging, hand-holding, head-patting... I'm melting!! (send help pls)”

“Hello Spring! We've reached the end of this wonderful journey, it seems. It's time for a new start. Thank you so much for everything you've done for this fandom, it wouldn't have been the same without you! Seriously, thank you, from the bottom of my heart! 😌 (PS: I forgot to mention, I opened this blog on my old old laptop, with its 1280x720 resolution, and the "ON YOUR OWN, BUT NOT ALONE" strip was right there covering Ashiya's and Abeno's faces, I had such a good laugh! I'm sorry I laughed!!)”

“This ending was really beautiful and yet sad. The promise made me hope but.. it's still so angst that maybe it will take years to hanae be able to see yokais again. I wonder if wazawa-sensei is okay, like, usually when a manga is ending they advertise previously, but the news was so suddenly that made me worry about sensei's health status. I also don't think that the publisher canceled the manga. So, I still don't know if this sudden ending was planned or not.”

Haha when I first made that tumblr theme, I kind of liked the effect that the strip had in covering Ashiya and Abeno’s faces somehow, but it always moves around depending on resolution lol.

In the afterword of the last volume and the fanbook, Sensei touched lightly on their various reasons for ending the manga (which I plan to cover eventually... when I have time...) and while I don’t think we’ll ever know fully, I got the impression that sensei personally seems in good health and even expressed that they would like to make another manga in the future, so as readers and fans we don’t need to worry too much.

“The manga ended well but we are left with unanswered questions : What is Abeno's past ? / Are golden eyes and hair special ? / What about Aoi's face ? / What really happened the day Aoi came back injured ? At this time she wasn't infected but Sakae died trying to save her (something is wrong with the plot) ?! / What about Fuzzy gender and his "human form" ?”

I will just say we got answers to some of those questions in the fanbook, and some we did not. :Y Please hold on for fanbook info!

Hey there. I’ve just read through the last chapter of the Mononokean. What a story. There are still a few questions that left me wondering: (1) What is the origin of the Mononokean itself?, (2) What is the origin of the Influence that flows within specific characters of the story?, (3) If Aoi was able to provide young Ashiya with a part of Sakae’s “Influence,” could it be done again?, & (4) If Ashiya could still see Fuzzy, what do you think this means for his potential abilities?

1. We were told in the first fanbook that the Mononokean was originally a well-loved tea ceremony room, and as we know in the Mononokean universe (also generally a concept in Japanese culture/religion, you can looked up the term “tsukumogami”), things that are used/loved sometimes end up gaining a sentience of their own, and if I remember right that’s how the Mononokean came to be too. (it’s been a while since I’ve reread the first fanbook so if I’m wrong please do correct me). As for any other specifics, we only know that Aoi and Abeno have been the first and second masters respectively, I’m pretty sure.

2. This was answered in the fanbook, which I’d like to summarize eventually! But Influence seems to be a natural power that develops in babies who have been in close contact with yokai before they were born, and golden hair and eyes are also a sign of that.

3. The partial Sakae Influence (lol wording) that Aoi gave to Ashiya as a baby was what Ashiya returned to Aoi to save them. I suppose since they’ve already done it before it’s technically possible, but that’d defeat the whole purpose of what they tried to do already haha.

4. I think it’s as Abeno theorizes, that Ashiya always did have a bit of ability to sense yokai on his own as well!

“I was looking for more FnM content and found out about your fanfictions on Ao3, so I read them all and oh my Lord! They were *so* good!! And I was very surprised and very glad to find out you ship Ashiya x Abeno, I'm especially happy because you ship them in that order, since I was so sure everybody would be shipping them in reverse order! Thank you so much for sharing your works!! (≧▽≦) ♡”

Thank you for your kind comments, I’m always so happy to hear someone loves my fic! I do love writing them even though I haven’t done it for a while and I have so many ideas and WIPs that I’ve still never gotten around to completely, but I swear I will do them someday... While I do think the reverse order is more popular in general, there’s a decent AshiItsu (the Japanese term for the ship haha) fandom thriving on Twitter!

Again thank you so much everyone! Look forward to fanbook info I’d like to get around to posting about soon!

[allsassnoclass]

Hazel! Can I submit ““i got you for secret santa so i got you this really expensive but sentimental gift that you’ve always wanted, hoping you’ll never find out it’s from me - and that i’ve been in love with you 1234567 years” for lashton??

as you wish my dear

Ficmas Day 2

Rating: teen and up

Read on AO3

Ashton knew he was screwed the moment he picked Luke’s name out of the hat for Secret Santa, but it doesn’t fully hit him until the night before the last day of school before break.  They’re going to exchange gifts once all of the students leave at the end of the day, and Ashton has to admit that he went a little overboard.

He’s supposed to wrap and bring one gift.  He has six.

“Hey, Calum,” he says once the other person picks up the phone.  “So.  I’m in a bit of a pickle.”

“Why?” Calum asks, voice tinny and almost overpowered by Michael’s very loud singing in the background.  He gasps.  “Ash, tell me you didn’t leave Luke’s present until right now.  There’s no way I can help you with less than 24 hours to go.”

“How do you know I have Luke?” Ashton frowns.  “Have you been snooping?”

“No, but I saw your face when you drew the name.”

Ashton sighs.  “Fuck, do you think he knows?”

“Well, he’d have to know that you’ve been in love with him since he started at the school, and we both know Luke is not self-aware enough for that.  You can’t drop hints with him, because he won’t pick them up.  Remember when we all went to eat and the waitress was tripping over herself to flirt with him?  He didn’t even notice.”

Ashton remembers that night well.  It hadn’t been the first time a stranger tried to chat up Luke, and just like every instance before Ashton had to tamp down his jealousy.  Luke is an attractive and appealing guy.  He can’t fault other people for noticing that too and shooting their shot.

“That doesn’t help my crisis.”

“Which is…?”

Ashton glances at the presents sitting on his floor with wrapping paper next to them.

“Can you come over?” he asks.

“You didn’t get him another dog, did you?” Calum asks dubiously.

“Of course not,” Ashton says.  “I’m not an idiot Calum.  Dogs aren’t surprise presents.  I just… still may have gone a bit overboard on this one.”

“Overboard how?”

“I have six presents and I need you to help me choose.”

Calum sighs.

“I’ll be there in five minutes, and I’m bringing Michael.”  He hangs up before Ashton can protest.  

Great.  Now instead of being subject to Calum’s quiet judgement, he’s going to have to deal with Michael laughing at him, too.

They find him sitting on the floor of his living room, wrapping paper tube in hand but no closer to figuring out what he’s doing.

“Hey,” Calum says, sitting down next to him.  Ashton grunts.  “Walk me through the presents.  Let’s see what we’re dealing with here.”

Michael flops down on the couch behind them.

“Well, I got him a cookbook, because I saw it at the store and know he wants to start cooking for himself more, plus it says they’re easy.  But cookbooks are so bleh, so I made a donation to the shelter he got Petunia from in his name, but I don’t want to show up and have him be the only person who doesn’t get to take something home with him at the end of the night, so then I started thinking about how he’s always late so I got him this personalized watch with his name and an engraving on the back, but I don’t want him to take it as something passive aggressive so I got him a framed artistic map of his hometown since I know he misses it, but then I thought that’s lame because he can get a map anywhere, so I called up his mom and there are these rings that you can get thumbprints engraved on so I worked with her and got one of those with her fingerprint because I know he misses her like crazy, but that’s way too much and I wasn’t sure if it would arrive on time so I got one of those books of affirmations and personalized a few for days when he feels bad.”

Calum gapes at him.  Michael pats him once on the head.

“I think you should just fuck him for Christmas.”

Ashton groans and buries his head in his hands.

“Shut up, Michael.  No one asked you.”

“I’m just saying!”

“Ashton,” Calum says slowly.  “We are teachers at a public school.  There was a $20 cap on the presents.  How much did you spend?”

“Um,” he says.  “If the cookbook was paperback it might have been less than $20.”

“Well,” Calum sighs, “at least you aren’t the economics teacher.”

“If you fuck him, it would be free.”

“Shut up, Michael!”

“Babe, stop antagonizing him.”

“But I’m right!”

Calum gives Michael a look that makes him sulk off to the kitchen, probably to eat all of Ashton’s ice cream.

“Okay,” Calum says.  “You can’t give him all of that in front of everyone.  He’ll definitely know you’re in love with him, and it’s not fair to everyone else getting smaller $20 gifts.  Wrap the cookbook and give him the rest later.”

Ashton grimaces.

“Luke deserves better than just a cookbook, though.  He’s…”

“He’s what?”

Ashton has known Luke for three years and is still no closer to figuring out how to describe him.  He’s an English teacher, yet all words fail when he thinks about the math teacher who’s classroom sits down the hall.  It makes him want to read more Shakespeare or Browning or EE Cummings to see if someone else can say it better than him.

Luke is a breath of fresh air when he’s been underground too long.  He’s flowers in bloom, meteors visible from Earth, and rain when the sun is still shining.  He’s incredibly grumpy in the mornings when he comes in to work, but always gives Ashton a smile.  He gives his students pop quizzes but doesn’t count them towards their grades, only uses them to see what concepts need clarifying.  He has his students complete logic puzzles for extra credit and brings snacks on Fridays.  He has stupid rhymes and songs to help people remember formulas and they actually work.  Ashton had never seen a group of students truly excited about math until Luke joined their staff.

“He deserves better than a stupid cookbook for his present.”

“Meet him later to give him the rest,” Calum says.  “Unless you want everyone else on staff to know you’re hopelessly in love with him, too?”

“You don’t,” Michael calls from the kitchen.  “If you think I’m bad, you have no idea what Sierra is capable of.  When she found out I like Calum, it was brutal.  Hey, do you have any chocolate sauce?”

“You were no help tonight.  You don’t deserve chocolate sauce,” he calls back.  Michael appears in the doorway with a bowl and spoon, distressed.

“I said you should fuck him.  If you need different advice, then do what Calum says.  He’s smart most of the time.”

“Aw, thanks,” Calum says.

“Most of the time,” Michael emphasizes, brandishing his spoon.  “You’re still stupid for liking the lesser science.”

“Please don’t start that again,” Ashton says.  “If you two start arguing about chemistry and physics I’m kicking you out.  I know it’s foreplay for you, and that makes it weird.”

“Well, Michael and I do have a lot of chemistry together.”

“Nice,” Michael says.  “We should use my lever to shift your center of mass.”

“I hate you both so much,” Ashton groans.

“You’d hate us less if you had a boyfriend of your own,” Michael says over his shoulder, already heading back to the kitchen.

“That’s not the point,” Ashton says.  “I’m not trying to get a boyfriend right now.  I just… I don’t know.  I want him to have nice things.”

Calum clasps his shoulder, giving him a small shake.

“You’re a nice thing, too.”

Ashton buries his head in his hands again.

“Hey.  He’ll love his cookbook, and if you give him the rest he’ll absolutely love that, too.”

Something crashes in the kitchen.

“I’m going to go check on him,” Calum says.  “Give Luke the cookbook.  Ask him to meet you later so you can give him the other presents.  I’ll be right back to help wrap them.”

Ashton nods miserably and unrolls the wrapping paper.

-/-

Ashton wakes up the next day with a headache already pressing against his skull.  Calum and Michael had stayed late the night before, helping wrap the presents and then poking at him until he agreed to play a few rounds of MarioKart with them.  Halfway through the first race he remembered that he still had papers to grade that he promised the students would be done before break, so he moved his grading to the living room and listened to Michael and Calum trash talk each other and the cheesy music of each course.  Nothing managed to fully distract him from the presents sitting in the corner, though, and even when he eventually went to bed he spent most of the night tossing and turning.

The kids are always squirly the day before a break, but the lack of sleep only makes his patience shorter.  The end of each class period brings a sigh of relief for everyone, and he relishes in the few minutes he gets where he can relax instead of teach as long as he doesn’t dwell on the impending gift exchange.

Not even seeing Luke this morning and having lunch with him had managed to ease some of the tension pressing against the base of his skull.  He can’t fully enjoy his company when he’s the source of his problem.

When the final bell rings, Ashton wishes he could rush out of the building with the students, but instead he puts his classroom back to rights, monitors the hall for a few minutes, then grabs his present and heads to the staff lounge.

“Hey,” Michael says, sliding up to him after he deposits his present on the middle table.  “How’s it going?”

“I’m shitting bricks,” Ashton says.  “And I slept like shit because you and Calum didn’t get out of my house until midnight.”

“Relax, dude.  It’s Luke.  What’s the worst that could happen?”

Ashton doesn’t say he could hate my present and then hate me or he might figure out that I’m hopelessly in love with him.  He shrugs.  Michael snorts, then promptly forgets about Ashton as soon as Calum walks in the door.  Luke walks in right behind him, so Ashton pretty much forgets about Michael, too, because Luke is wearing a red button up and black slacks and his hair is a big curly mess.  His math classes seem to be perpetually bursting with activity, and Ashton loves seeing the transition from grumpy and put-together to beaming and unkempt throughout the day.  Luke is the only person he knows who gains limitless energy from his students, always bouncing after the last class instead of exhausted by a full day of work.

Ashton doesn't have a chance to greet him before Principal Feldman walks in, promptly starting the gift exchange since "so many of us will be happy to go on break and there are a lot of us to get through."  He takes it upon himself to start passing out the presents.  Ashton joins along with everyone else "oooo-ing" and "ahhhh-ing" at each gift, but he's too distracted to try to help people guess who their particular Santa may be.

Michael gets a stapler and a gift card to an office supply store because he keeps misplacing his desk materials.  Calum gets a shirt with a chemistry pun from Anne in the office. Ashton ends up getting a small care package from Calum with some bath bombs, chapstick, and a scented candle because Calum says he needs to learn how to relax more.  Ashton is just happy it wasn't another mug with a book pun on it, because Calum likes sending him pictures of those whenever he runs across one but Ashton already has too many to fit in his cupboard.

Luke is one of the last people to open his gift.  He comments on the cute snowflake pattern on the wrapping paper then tears through it, flipping the book around to fully read the cover.

"It's a cookbook!" he enthuses.  "I need this.  Who knew I needed this?"  He looks around the room, lighting up once he locks eyes with Ashton.  "Ashton!  Is it you?"

"Yeah, that's from me," Ashton says.

"Thank you!" Luke beams.  Feldman quickly moves on to the next present and Luke opens the cookbook, pursuing the pages instead of paying attention.  By the time everyone has their present and starts to filter out of the lounge, Ashton has been doing breathing exercises to ensure he doesn't psych himself out.  Michael pats him on the back when he drags Calum out, which does less to encourage Ashton and more to ignite his nerves, but he's not about to let the other five presents he has go to waste.

"Hey, Luke," he calls.  Luke pauses in his tracks, stepping to the side to get out of the doorway and let the rest of their coworkers pass.  "Can you stop by my classroom?  There's another part of your present I need to give you."

"There's more?" Luke asks.  "Ash, the cookbook is already amazing, I don't need anything else."

"Don't you want to know what it is?" Ashton asks.

Curiosity wins out over any lingering politeness.  Luke eagerly follows Ashton out the door and through the halls to his classroom. It's tucked into a corner, which Ashton likes because it means he has a lot of windows, and he's been there for long enough that the walls are covered in posters, quotes, pictures, and some particularly striking student works.  Four boxes and an envelope sit wrapped on the desk in the same snowflake wrapping paper.

"Are all of those..."

"Yeah," Ashton says.  "I got a little carried away."

"Wow."

"Here."  Ashton hands him the envelope.  "Start here."

Luke tears open the flap as messily as he tore open the wrapping paper earlier, pulling out the donation receipt inside.

“This is the place I got Petunia,” he says.

“I know.”

“Thanks,” he says.  “I try to donate to them every year but… thank you.  They’ll be able to do some good with this.”

Ashton clears his throat.  “You’re welcome.  Here’s the next one.”

He unwraps the map next.

“I know you miss it,” Ashton says.  “There’s some star stickers in there, too, if you want to mark important places.”

Luke’s eyes glitter with memories as he looks over it.  He gasps and turns the frame towards Ashton.  “Here’s my house!  Right there.  And then over here was my school, and the movie theater…. Sorry.  You don’t want to listen to me go on about this.  What’s next?”

Ashton could listen to Luke tell him stories about his hometown all night, but he’s looking expectantly at him and there’s still three presents sitting on his desk.

He tosses him the watch next.  Luke fumbles when he catches it.  Ashton is extremely thankful that it’s packed in the box well and won’t break, especially when Luke shakes it.

He laughs when he sees what’s inside.

“I get it.  I won’t miss our lunch dates anymore.”

“Sure you won’t,” Ashton teases.  “There’s an inscription on it, too.”

Luke takes the watch out of the box and flips it over.

“‘Education is our passport to the future.’”

“‘Education is our passport to the future,” Ashton recites, “for tomorrow belongs to the people who prepare for it today.’ Malcolm X.”

“Appropriate,” Luke says.  “Thanks.”

He puts the watch on, struggling a little with the clasp.  Ashton reaches out and helps, careful not to make it too tight or too loose.  Luke’s wrist is soft beneath his fingers, a patch of smooth pale skin covering his pulse.  When he finishes, neither of them move away.

“It’s wonderful, Ashton.  Thank you,” Luke says.  “I’m going to wear it every day.”

“It suits you.”

Luke gives him a smile that sends Ashton reaching for another present before he does something uncalled for like lean forward and try to kiss him.

“This one’s for bad days.  It’s not much, but I wanted you to have reminders of how amazing you are.”

Luke rips off the paper and softens like butter once he starts flipping through the book of affirmations.

“A lot of them are generic, but there are a few personalized ones in there, and all of them are true anyway.”

“Ashton, this is too much,” Luke says.  “This is insane.  You went above and beyond Secret Santa.”

“Well.”  Ashton scratches the back of his neck, the feeling of a blush prickling under his skin.  “I can’t exactly return them since they’re personalized.  I kept seeing things that made me think of you.”

“Thank you.  I don’t--” he laughs-- “I don’t know what to say.”

“Save it until you get your last gift.  Then you can judge them all.”

The last box is the smallest, but it’s heavy with a phantom weight.  Ashton went above and beyond for this one, going so far as to contact Liz when he’s only talked to her a few times before, and Luke is either going to think it’s sweet or creepy.

“It’s small,” Luke says, testing the feel of the box in his hands.  He glances up at Ashton before taking off the paper, then again when he sees that the box is a ring box.  Ashton holds his breath while he opens it, wanting to spare himself from seeing Luke’s reaction but not able to look away.

The silver ring glints in the light, a thick band pinched between Luke’s fingers so he can look at it closer.

“What…” he trails off.

“I talked to your mum,” Ashton says.  “The engraving on the outside is her fingerprint.  I know you miss her, and this way you can have a piece of her with you all the time.

“I can’t accept this,” Luke says.  “It’s too much.”

He tries to hand it to Ashton, but he closes Luke’s hand around the ring and pushes it back towards his chest.

“It’s personalized,” he says.  “It doesn’t mean anything to me, so you need to keep it.”

Luke briefly looks down at the ring again.  When he meets Ashton’s gaze, his eyes are glistening.

“You’re going to make me cry,” he laughs.  “Sorry.  Thank you.  So Much.”

He reaches for him, and Ashton’s thankful that Luke seems to fit perfectly in his arms.

“I can’t believe you got all this for a stupid Secret Santa,” he sniffs when he pulls away.

“You deserve it,” Ashton says earnestly.  “I kept seeing things I knew you would appreciate.  Guess I got a bit carried away.”

“A bit,” Luke teases.  Ashton smiles.  Luke’s teasing is a different kind, always giving the impression that it’s somehow an inside joke between them instead of Luke laughing at him.

“I have something for you, too,” Luke says.  “I know I wasn’t supposed to, but if you got me so much I feel better giving you this one thing.”

“Oh?”

Luke reaches into his messenger bag and pulls out a book.  Ashton can tell what it is even before Luke hands it to him.

“Leaves of Grass,” he says, running his hand over the vines and leaves adorning the hard cover behind the gold leaf of the title.

“You said you wanted another copy since your old one is full of annotations.”

“You didn’t have to do this,” he says, tracing the swirling script of Walt Whitman’s name.

“Okay, Mr. I-got-a-billion-presents-for-my-Secret-Santa.  I wanted to give you something nice.”

It’s a thought Ashton has had thousands of times during his own gift-buying process, and that’s what compels him to finally ask “Do you want to go on a date with me?  We could go to dinner or a movie, maybe ice skating or something more festive?”

“I thought you’d never ask!”

Ashton grins, smile threatening to split his face in two.

“Maybe not ice skating, though,” Luke says.  “I’m all legs and no coordination.”

“Dinner, then,” Ashton says.  “Do you like Italian?  I could pick you up next week.”

“I love Italian, and getting picked up.”

“Good,” Ashton says.  “Great!”

“Great!”

Ashton knows his smile is verging on dopey, but it’s okay because Luke has the same stupid-happy look on his face.  Luke’s phone rings and shatters the moment, but Ashton can’t even be that upset when Luke takes a few steps away to answer, glancing back with immense fondness and answering the person on the other line with vague and distracted noises.

“I’m so sorry,” Luke says when he hangs up.  “I have to go.  I promised Sierra I’d help her with some last-minute classroom things.”

“That’s okay,” Ashton says.  “I’ll call you.”

“Okay,” Luke smiles.  “Please do.  I mean--yeah.  I’d like that.’

“I will,” Ashton says.  Then, because someone has to be responsible and get Luke out the door instead of locked in a staring contest, he stacks Luke’s gifts and passes them off to him.

“Okay.  I’ll see you later!  On our date!”

“See you, Luke!”

Luke stumbles on his way out the door, too distracted trying to look back at Ashton.  He’s right: he really is all legs and no coordination.

Watching him leave with his new book in hand, Ashton thinks that he got the best gift of all this year.