#did you know i was almost a pastor myself??

[lokirulzart]

Here’s a big ol pile of doodles of my new boys, please enjoy them! Because I got sick and now I wanna die.

Poor Ezekiel.

[ladyloveandjustice]

A Million Almosts- a Natsume Yuujinchou Fanfic

Here's the first part of the little fic about an older Souko and her feelings about Reiko I've been writing. It might be a while before I have time to do the second part, so, I thought I might as well post it and try not to put too much pressure on myself.

I've finally put it on ao3! The link to the fic is here.

---

It was such a long time ago. Why can’t I just forget about her?

When Kana suggested a family trip to the pastoral paradise Souko had recovered her health in as a teenager, Souko had agreed happily. And they were having a lovely time. Her granddaughter loved running through the unspoiled nature, screaming her little head off. Her daughter was taking so many pictures that Souko wondered how she had any storage left on her phone. And her wife was just soaking it all in, asking Souko all kinds of questions about the time she’d spent here.

She should just be relaxing and having fun. It was silly how her stomach turned whenever she caught a glimpse of that forest, how she couldn’t bring herself to walk there with her family even though it looked as beautiful as ever, how she was so afraid of strolling to the next town over.

Why was Natsume Reiko still haunting her like this?

Of course, Kana noticed Souko’s sighs and frowns. Souko could never hide it from her when anything was wrong. “It’s been bothering you, hasn’t it?”

Souko flushed, ashamed. “I’m so sorry. It shouldn’t matter anymore. I just…I just want to know if she’s okay. I want to hope that her life got better after…me.”

 Was it hurting Kana, knowing this was something she still worried about? How could she even be thinking of the past, instead of focusing on her wonderful present? Why was this regret as sharp and biting as ever?

But Kana simply took her hand, rubbing gentle circles on her palm with her thumb. “Souko, you have nothing to be ashamed of. It’s natural to think about your first love, and it’s natural to want her to be happy. Did you think I’d be jealous? Honestly!”

Souko shook her head, eyes burning. “I know. It’s silly. I know you better than that.”

“I remember how relieved I felt I saw Emi again with that big grin on her face! I’d never judge you for wanting the same. You should go. You might not find anything, but either way, you’ll know you tried, and it will be a load off your mind.” Kana cupped Souko's cheek, gently wiping her tears.

Souko put her hand over Kana’s and leaned forward, kissing her deeply.

So here she was, strolling through Reiko’s hometown, her nerves jangling. Now that she was here, she wondered what she should even do. The chances Reiko still lived here were very slim, and the chances of Souko just running into her on the street were even slimmer. Should she go around and just ask random people her age about Reiko? What had she been thinking, honestly?

She remembered how lost and clueless she’d been when she first walked through this town as a child, trying desperately to find Reiko. Apparently she hadn’t changed much.

She was about to turn around and leave when a boy suddenly tumbled out of nearby grove of trees. He pitched forward as if he’d been shoved, fell head over heels down the grassy slope, and finally skidded to stop when he reached the sidewalk in front of her, knees and palms hitting the concrete. He hunched over, panting. Then suddenly his arm shot straight up in the air, and he cried out, jerking his arm like he was tugging on something. There was a gust of cold wind, one that made Souko shudder, and the boy dropped his arm. His whole body seemed to relax, but his breathing was still shallow and strained. He glanced over his shoulder.

The people in front of Souko had halted, and she could see people across the street staring too. A man in front of her asked if the boy was okay, and he nodded. Souko heard the boy mumble "I’m sorry.”  The man walked away quickly, giving the boy a ridiculously wide berth, even though the kid hadn’t moved from the ground and was clearly not actually okay. His head was bowed and he was shaking slightly.

Souko rushed forward, dropping to her knees. Her back protested at this, but she ignored it. “Are you hurt anywhere? Do you need to go to the hospital? I can help.”

“Thank you, but I’m fine.” The boy looked up at her and Souko felt like she'd been hit by a truck.

Golden eyes with curious cat-like pupils. Soft, fine hair framing delicate features. A perfect, carefully practiced smile. An ugly bruise on the forehead, and she could almost hear her voice saying “Don’t worry about it.”

“R-Reiko!” She gasped. She scrambled to her feet, stumbling backwards. The phantom of her first love had appeared, gleaming in the sunlight, looking just as she had the day she met her. What on earth was going on?

The boy blinked at her, stunned, and she came back to herself. No, of course it wasn’t Reiko. This was just a child who looked painfully like her. As impossible as it seemed, that was all it was.

She ran her trembling fingers through her hair, trying to appear calm.

“Sorry about that, you just looked like someone I used to—"

But the boy’s eyes widened and he looked up at her intently.

“You knew my grandmother?”

“Grand…mother?” she said faintly.

The boy’s expression had transformed from practiced politeness to something raw and eager. “My name is Natsume Takashi. Natsume Reiko was my grandmother. Did you know her?”

“Oh…” Souko breathed. A grandson. Of course. Reiko had grown old just as she had, and had a family now, just like she did. A combination of nostalgia and excitement rushed through her. That meant Reiko had people she loved, surely. Just like Souko had always hoped, Reiko wasn’t alone anymore. Maybe she was even happy.

 She couldn’t imagine Reiko as a grandmother, but she wanted to see it, wanted to see Reiko with her grandson, gray in her hair and a twinkle in her eyes.

She smiled at Natsume Takashi. “It’s very nice to meet you. My name is Morinaga Souko. I did know your grandmother briefly, back when we were teenagers. It was a long time ago though, she probably doesn’t remember me—”

Natsume Takashi let out a loud gasp, jumping to his feet so suddenly that Souko stumbled back again. “You’re Souko?! You’re really Souko?!”

“Er, yes?”

The boy’s face split into the widest smile Souko had ever seen. It was almost blinding, that smile, so different from polite one he’d worn earlier.

It reminded Souko of the first time Reiko had truly smiled at her, right after she gave her the blue candy.  It had been so warm, so dazzling, such a contrast to that empty, bland one she usually sported, the one that didn’t even reach her eyes.

That smile is the best thing I’ve ever seen, she’d thought at the time. I want to make her smile like that until it’s as natural as breathing to her, until she never needs to fake a smile again. I want to see that smile for the rest of my life.

She imagined, she hoped, that Natsume Takashi had learned his smile from Reiko. That she grinned at him like that all the time.

“I can’t believe it! I’ve always hoped I’d meet you one day!” The boy was practically vibrating with excitement, for some reason.

“I…I’m sorry, I don’t understand. You’ve heard about me?”

Just then, she was interrupted by a grumpy meow. The strangest cat she’d ever seen was stalking out of the grove of trees and down the grassy slope. Its head was enormous, almost the size of his bowling ball shaped body. She had no idea how that head wasn’t snapping his little neck—if it had one at all.

Natsume Takashi didn’t seem bothered by its appearance. “Nyanko-sensei!” he called out to it. Was that seriously what he’d named the cat? “Nyanko-sensei, look! It’s Souko! Can you believe it!”

The cat made a grumbling sound like it was actually conversing with the boy, and Souko couldn’t help it, she burst out laughing.

Natsume Takashi flushed. “Ah, sorry. That must have seemed strange…”

“I like talking to my cat too, don’t worry. But it’s like yours actually answers back! How cute.” Souko wiped her eyes, and a genuine smile returned to the boy’s face.

The cat reached the boy, and it climbed up on him and settled onto his shoulder, making her laugh more. But then the cat gave her a long look, its unsettling pitch black eyes staring a hole through her. She shivered slightly, and Natsume Takashi lightly bopped that cat on the head. “Sensei, you’re making Souko uncomfortable.”

Then he flushed again. “Oh, sorry! I-I shouldn’t be calling you that. I apologize for being disrespectful, Ms. Morinaga, I—”

“Souko’s just fine,” she told him. He looked disbelieving at this. “I mean it, you can call me Souko, your grandmother did. And what do you like to be called?”

“Oh, uh, people usually just call me Natsume. I understand if that’s confusing for you though, with my grandmother—”

“No, Natsume’s just fine. But could you tell me how you know who I am, Natsume? Did…” Did Reiko tell you about me? She wanted to ask, but then she got a tap on her shoulder.

“Have you not noticed all the people moving around you two? You’re blocking the sidewalk.” The woman’s tone was extremely nasty, a little over-the-top for the situation.

Natsume looked mortified and immediately started apologizing, but Souko simply turned back to talk to him. “There’s a park near here, I think. Would you mind if we went there to talk?”

“Of course not! I’d really like to talk to you.”

As Natsume nodded eagerly, Souko noticed that the bruise wasn’t the only injury he was sporting, he had some cuts on his arm, long thin scratches, and his nose was bleeding slightly. His palms were scrape, and she imagined his knees were too. “We can also treat your injuries…I have some ointment and other supplies with me.” Her granddaughter was prone to mishaps, so she’d taken to keeping some medicine and band-aids in her bag.

Natsume’s cheeks turned a faint pink “It’s really fine. Don’t worry about it!”

Souko’s heart squeezed. He sounded so like Reiko. She’d always said the same thing when she’d arrived with random cuts and bruises. Like she was so used to such a thing it wasn’t even worth thinking about.

So Souko said what she’d wished she said back then. “Let me worry all I want. I just want to help you out.”

The boy looked a little surprised, but he nodded. The woman behind them cleared her throat, apparently incapable of walking around them, so Souko and Natsume got moving.

As she walked beside the boy, she couldn’t help but notice more similarities to Reiko. Little things she still remembered even after all these years. Like Reiko, this boy was incredibly alert. Not in a jittery way, he carried himself calmly just like she had, but whenever there was the smallest noise, his eyes would quickly flit in that direction. He’d scan around him, like he expected something to jump out at any minute. When they entered the park, he stared at an empty spot of grass for several seconds, even though there was nothing there, just as his grandmother had often done. He slipped into a casual protective stance, one she only recognized because she’d studied Reiko so intently in her youth. He shifted his weight, subtly shielding her, shoulders tense and eyes hard.

She’d always swooned when Reiko did this, but now she just felt annoyed that this teenager thought he needed to protect an adult from…whatever. She was getting up there, yes, but she wasn’t helpless. But she forced down her irritation. Maybe like Reiko, he wasn’t used to adults looking after him.

She sat Natsume down on a park bench, and he finally seemed to relax. She tended to him immediately, taking out her supplies. He looked sheepish, but submitted gracefully. She dabbed a little ointment on his bruise, cleaned his cuts, and put on band-aids on him. “I’m hope you don’t mind the dinosaur pattern. My granddaughter loves them”.

“I don’t mind,” Natsume laughed. His laugh was easy and light, another thing he shared with Reiko. Souko handed him some tissues, which he obediently pressed to his nose. She sat down next to him, and finally finished asking the question that had been burning this whole time. “How do you know my name, Natsume? Did your grandmother tell you about me?”

Natsume’s eyes lowered. “Not exactly. I…have something sad to tell you about Reiko.”

Souko’s heart sank. She somehow knew exactly what he was going to say. “Go ahead.”

“She…my grandmother passed away”.

Souko sucked in a deep breath. Her eyes burned. She couldn’t cry about this, it  would be silly to cry over this, she’d only known Reiko for a short time, so many years ago. But she’d always hoped that she’d be able to apologize to her one day. That she’d be able to see Reiko’s happiness and Reiko could see hers.

“I’m so sorry for your loss. Was it recent?” She hoped he didn’t notice that her voice was shaking. But the pity in his eyes told her he did.

“No. My grandmother died before I was born.”

Souko sucked air through her teeth. “How…how old?”

Natsume looked at her miserably. “I don’t know exactly, I’m sorry. I think it was probably somewhere in her mid-to-late twenties. Though it could be early thirties.”

“Mid to late—” Souko couldn’t help it, tears were falling fast down her face now. So young! So young! It wasn’t fair at all. Reiko hadn’t gotten to meet her grandchild. Reiko hadn’t been able to see her child grow up. She’s hardly had time to enjoy being an adult… Why did Souko get that joy, and Reiko didn’t?

Natsume dug around in his pocket and handed her his handkerchief. She was surprised at a teenage boy carrying one, but she took it and dabbed her eyes. Natsume looked at her sorrowfully.

“I’m…I’m sorry,” she said.

“Don’t be. Thank you for caring about her so much.” He said softly.

“But, if you never met her, who told you about me?”

Natsume hesitated. “It was…a friend of hers. I’ve been going around trying to find out more about my grandmother, talking to people who knew her. She told him what happened, and he told me.”

That was surprising. She wondered if Reiko had told him about her bitterly, angrily. She wondered if Reiko’s friend and her grandson knew how completely she’d failed Reiko. But even if that was the case, she was just glad Reiko'd had a friend to talk to.

“I need to tell you something else,” Natsume said, his voice suddenly urgent. She raised her eyebrows.

“What is it?”

“Reiko wanted to see you again. She came back to the forest the next day, and she waited the day after too. But then she assumed you weren’t coming back, and she never went back to that forest again".

Souko’s mouth fell open.

 “She…she did?” Souko squeaked. She felt like her heart was going to burst and rip a hole right through her. She clutched a shaking hand to her chest. “I-I wanted to see her again too, I wanted to apologize so badly, but I got sick. I was in bed for two days, but I did come on the third day, I swear I did.”

Natsume nodded, like he’d already known that, which was strange. But then he said, “When I heard the story, I thought it might be something like that. Reiko…she tended to assume the worst.”

Her tears were falling thick and fast now. She was absolutely soaking the kid’s handkerchief. “You’re sweet to say that, but It was my fault, if I hadn’t said what I said…All this time, I assumed it must have hurt her so much she didn’t want to see me again, it hadn’t even occurred to me that we’d missed each other.”

“You couldn’t have known. And Reiko didn’t begrudge you either, I’m very sure of that. It wasn’t your fault you got sick. I’m guessing you came as soon as you could.”

“I couldn’t even walk far without collapsing the first two days…I dragged myself there as soon as I could, and I waited every day for two months…” She started laughing uncontrollable, hiccuping so hard it hurt her throat. “God, it’s so incredibly stupid, isn’t it? An utterly ridiculous misunderstanding!”

“Did I upset you by telling you this?” Natsume said. He was looking over her face anxiously, like he could unlock a way to fix her distress if he concentrated hard enough.

“No, no, I want to know the truth.” Souko sniffled. Now that the shock was wearing off, a strange warmth was filling her. “Reiko really didn’t hate me? She still…wanted to be friends?”

“She cared about you a lot,” Natsume said softly. “I think if she’d learned the truth, she’d have felt just as distressed. But neither of you were really at fault. It was just bad luck���and Reiko just gave up too quickly. It wasn’t about you. She was just too used to being rejected.”

It honestly didn’t feel real, learning Reiko hadn’t hated her for saying that thoughtless, awful thing. That despite the stupid gossip she’d believed too readily and parroted so cruelly, Reiko had still wanted to see her. Reiko had cared. If they hadn’t missed each other, Reiko would have heard out her apology, and maybe even forgiven her…

Even after all these years, that comment had been one of her biggest regrets. She’d relived it over and over again in her mind, agonizing, wishing she could go back and change it. And Reiko’s grandson…her sweet grandson had lessened the weight of it all.

She wiped at her eyes one more time, trying to pull herself together.

“Thank you, Natsume. It means a lot that you told me this. Is it..is it all right if I ask you a little more about your grandmother?”

“Of course!” Natsume’s eyes lit up again.

Natsume’s cat—what was it, Nyanko-senpai?—had been watching them this whole time, almost as if he were listening to the conversation. But now he yawned, and settled down into Natsume’s lap.

“Is she related to you through your mother, or your father?” Normally she’d include “or are you blood related at all?” as her own daughter had been adopted, but this boy looked far too much like Reiko, it was obviously genetic.

“My mother,” Natsume said.

Souko wondered if Reiko’s daughter looked as similar to Reiko as this boy did.

“Would it be all right if I asked how Reiko died? You don’t have to answer if that’s too much.” But she longed to know. She hoped it had been something quick, something painless. She hoped it hadn’t been a drawn out, painful illness. And if it was, she hoped Reiko had spent that time with her family, getting all the goodbyes and love she needed.

Natsume’s face fell again, and he started fiddling with the sleeve of his hoodie. She was about to apologize for asking, but Natsume said, “I’m sorry. I don’t know how she died.”

“Your mother didn’t tell you?”

“My mother died soon after I was born. My father died when I was young too, so I couldn’t ask him if Mom told him anything.” 

The boy spoke matter of factly, in the tone of someone used to saying this. Souko’s mouth went dry. Her chest ached.

Not only had Reiko died young, but her daughter had too? And her grandson had lost both his parents? It was awful, truly awful. If both mother and daughter had died young, was it something genetic? An illness? Would it happen to Natsume Takashi too?

She didn’t want it to happen, not to boy who radiated kindness the way Reiko always had, but who didn’t mask it like Reiko tried (and usually failed) to do, who was full of obvious love for the grandmother he’d never met. Who carried such a terrible burden, but still looked at her with gentle eyes and comforted her about her small tragedy.

 She was seized by a sudden desire to protect him, to rush him to the best doctors in the world, to fight anything that would dare hurt him. She knew Reiko would have felt the same.

But she controlled herself, wadding her shirt in her hands.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, trying not to let how upset she was bleed into her voice.

“It’s okay. It was a long time ago.“

She paused, her desire to ask more questions battling with her desire not to poke at this boy’s tender spots. He seemed to notice, because he said, "It’s really fine. Please ask any question you want.”

She nodded. “…Do you know anything about your grandfather?”

She said it far too awkwardly. It wasn’t that she felt jealous exactly…it’s just she wanted to know Reiko had been happy with him, the way she was so happy with Kana. She wanted Reiko to have gotten the love she’d deserved. She couldn’t help but imagine what could have been, and she wanted to be sure whoever this man was, he’d given her a better life than she could have…

“I don’t know my grandfather either. No one knows who he was. He wasn’t around after my mother was born. Reiko raised my mother on her own.”

Her insides went cold. Her hands started to shake.

“He left her alone?” The pure ice in her voice startled Natsume.

“I mean, we don’t know that for sure!” Natsume said hastily. “Something could have happened to him. I’ve been looking for information on him too. And uh, I haven’t been able to find much, but I’ve found some things indicating that he might have been in a…dangerous position? Possibly a dangerous profession? I can’t say much more, but it seems complicated. So he might not have…abandoned her. I’m hoping he didn’t.”

Oh, he better have died or something else like that. Because if he didn’t, I’ll kill him myself. But knowing she shouldn’t tell this poor kid about her plans to murder his grandfather, she kept her voice neutral as best she could and said, “I hope so too.”

She couldn’t imagine anyone having Reiko in her arms and not treasuring her, she couldn’t imagine anyone leaving her behind…well, maybe she couldn’t talk, as she’d abandoned Reiko too, hadn’t she? She should have tried harder to find her and apologize to her. She’d only gone into town to look for her that one time. It wasn’t like she could claim she hadn’t hurt her, that she would have made her happy.

But still, what kind of garbage man would leave someone as wonderful as Reiko? Leave her alone with no help raising the child he was equally responsible for! Why was it that Reiko had to endure abandonment, to care for her child alone, to die so young, while Souko was surrounded by love, had a wonderful family, owned a thriving flower shop—she felt like she’d somehow sucked all the happiness out of Reiko’s life, and stolen it for herself.

“Are you okay?” Natsume asked tremulously.

She forced a smile. “Yes. So, I take it there’s nobody else you can ask about your grandfather or her passing?”

“A few of my relatives might know, but I wasn’t in a position to ask them.” He smiled a bit ruefully.

Not in a position to ask? What the hell did that mean?

He seemed to notice her confusion and clarified. “I was passed around by relatives a lot when I was younger before I settled here. They generally didn’t like me asking questions or talking about…” he stopped, looking a little pained, and Souko’s heart broke for him all over again.

Reiko had never said anything, but Souko had sort of picked up she’d lived with relatives or perhaps even strangers who didn’t like her. Maybe she’d noticed the signs because she’d been dealing with the same thing. It wasn’t that her relatives had been cruel to her, they’d just been…not very interested, and sometimes exasperated. It was always made clear to her that they were doing her dad a huge favor by letting her convalesce with them, and she had better be grateful.

So she’d bent over backwards to please them, doing all the chores she could, anxiously trying not to make them feel burdened or frustrated. But no matter how she tried, it never seemed to work, so she’d gone to the forest to be alone at times.

Had Natsume Takashi’s relatives been the same way? What kind of monsters would refuse to answer the questions of an orphan who was trying to know the family he never got to meet? And “passed around”—so none of them wanted to give this sweet, thoughtful boy who’d been through so much a stable home?

“Your relatives should feel ashamed,” she said fiercely. “They should have answered your questions. You deserved the answers.”

Natsume looked briefly startled and then shook his head. “It wasn’t like they were bad people. I was just a very difficult child, and it troubled my guardians, so that made it hard to talk.”

The cat made a small “hmmph” noise, and Souko barely restrained herself from doing the same.

She suddenly realized who else Natsume Takashi reminded her of. Natsume was reminiscent of someone who wasn’t like Reiko at all. The way he apologized so quickly, for things that weren’t even his fault, the way he was always looking at her carefully, looking for any hint of sadness, anger, discomfort, and reorienting himself to make her comfortable, the way he made excuses for people that hurt him. He’d likely spent his life apologizing for existing, pushing down any unpleasant emotion, and blaming himself for the cruelty of others.

He was just like her when she’d been younger.

She could see the pain etched on his face when he talked about these relatives. The pain that was probably etched on her face, the same pain she’d seen in Reiko’s face.

What had they done to him? Anger flowed like molten lava inside her. Reiko would have never stood for someone treating her grandson like this. How dare they.

Natsume, of course, seemed to notice her anger and immediately tried to soothe her. “Like I said, the Fujiwaras- my foster family- are extremely kind. They’ve truly made me feel welcomed and cared for. I… don’t think I could ever repay them.”

Souko let herself relax a little. It was true he seemed happy. He had far more confidence than she’d had as a child, and he was calm and content. He may be eager to please, but he wasn’t desperate. And she could tell he really meant it about his foster family too. The affection in his voice was almost overwhelming.

She hoped Reiko had been able to find that kind of refuge. Even though it seemed more and more unlikely with every thing she learned.

“I’m glad to hear that, Natsume. You deserve it. And a child repays a parent by finding their own happiness. That’s all I want for my daughter, and I’m sure it’s all they want for you.”

Natsume grinned. “You’re very kind. I’m glad I could tell you what my grandmother wasn’t able to. I’ve always wanted to do that, ever since I heard the story.”

Now it was Souko’s turn to fidget awkwardly. “Well, thank you for finding it out and telling me. I can tell you really care about her, even if you never met. Going around researching her like this is a big commitment. Is it just because she’s your family or…?”

Natsume rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I…well, I found out she lived in this town and…well, we’ve got some similarities. Um, I think both of us lost our parents and lived with someone else. And you’ve probably noticed I’m a little…” He ducked his head, face going red as a tomato. “…strange.”

There was a slight shame in his tone she didn’t like. “All the best people are,” she told him firmly.

He let out a surprised laugh at this, and looked her in the eye again. “Thanks. It’s just, I know people felt the same way about Reiko, though. That people…said things about her.”

Myself included, Souko though ruefully.

“And well…I’ve found people who accept me. People who truly make me feel like I belong. I want to know she had that too. I want to know that, in the end, she was happy. I shouldn’t get to have all the happiness for myself.”

Hearing her own thoughts echoed back at her was startling. She and this boy truly had too much in common. But hearing him say it unlocked something in her. “You deserve your happiness. Reiko would want that for you, I’m sure of it.”

Natsume gave her a very gentle look and nodded. “You too.”

She looked away. So he’d noticed their similarities as well.

“It’s actually kind of selfish,” Natsume assured her, like it would be deeply wrong if she thought too well of him. “I think sometimes I wish for her happy ending because that means…well, all this will last for me too.”

“That’s normal,” she reassured him. “It’s normal to want that.”

He nodded slightly, rubbing his eyes.

She leaned back one the bench, feeling almost dizzy with all this information, and burdened by her guilt about digging so deep into this boy’s past. “I’m sorry, I know all those questions must have been overwhelming.”

“Not at all,” Natsume said hastily, before Souko could continue. “I’m glad you want to know so much about her. But um, could I ask you some questions too?”

Souko blinked. “Of course.”

Natsume ducked his head shyly, petting his cat.

“Well, since I saw—heard the story, I’ve always wanted to know if you were doing well.”

She’d expected a question about Reiko. Why was he interested in her? “Yes, I am. I’m very happy. I still get sick somewhat easily, but my health has improved a lot since I was a child.”

“I’m glad,” Natsume said, his eyes shining. “Can I ask what made you come back here?”

“Oh, I decided to take a trip with my wife and our daughter and granddaughter.”

She braced herself. The chance he’d turn disgusted and hostile was sizeable, especially in a small rural town like this. Even in Tokyo, it was a risk, and she’d endured responses like “I mean she’s not your real wife, you know. Even if you got married overseas, it doesn’t count here. Those little certificates you get from Shibuya and other places aren’t real marriages either, you know.”  And then there were the obnoxious comments where she had to force a smile and fend off with a light-hearted comeback. (“Wow, I would have never thought you were a lesbian by looking at you!” “Yes, sadly we don’t come with manufacturing labels.”). And even among those progressive enough not to say things like that, there was that moment of shock and awkwardness to contend with.

But there wasn’t even a flicker of surprise across Natsume’s face, it was like he’d already known this about her. “That’s great! I bet you have a wonderful family.”

“I do,” she said, still reeling a bit. Was she just really obvious when talking about Reiko? Or had Reiko…known? And somehow that had come across in when she told her story?

Well, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was this boy’s acceptance made her feel a little bit like Reiko would have accepted her. Even if Reiko had turned out to be straight (Souko was still unclear whether she was, she knew sleeping with a man didn’t confirm anything, she’d done that once herself, and her own wife was bisexual) perhaps she wouldn’t have shunned Souko.

“You seem so much more confident now too. According to Reiko's friend, you were a little shy back then.”

 “I was definitely a shrinking violet compared to her,” Souko chuckled. “But, I became an adult, I had to fend for myself and I learned some confidence. My wife bought out a lot of my confidence too. She’s just as competitive as I am, so I had to keep up with her”.

Natsume smiled, “So you still like to play games? Like you did with Reiko?”

“Sort of. I save the games like the pebble throwing one for my granddaughter,“ She laughed. “But after Reiko beat me when we were kids, I really sharpened my skills, so I still  play that a lot. Kana is absolutely obsessed with beating me. I keep telling her it’s never going to happen. Just like I’ll never be able to run as fast as she does."

With a pang, she realized that it would have been fun to have a rematch with Reiko. But now she never would.

Natsume had that tender, wistful look about him again. “Souko, I want to show you something la—”

“Natsume!”

The boy whipped his head around and then waved to two teenagers in the distance. A tall boy with shaggy hair and a girl with a shoulder length bob were walking up the park path, and they made a beeline for Natsume. As they approached, Souko noticed the shaggy-haired boy was squinting at her suspiciously for some reason, his eyes flicking tensely between her and Natsume.

“Taki! Tanuma!” Natsume said happily. “What are you doing here?”

“We were on our way to meet you! We’re doing a study group, remember?” the girl named Taki replied.

“But I thought that was later—” Natsume checked his watch and groaned “Agh, I didn’t realize what time it was.”

“Who is this, Natsume?” the boy called Tanuma said urgently. He was still looking at her with suspicion.

“Oh, this is Morinaga Souko! She was a friend of my grandmother’s!”

Natsume saying she’d been Reiko’s friend made her flush a bit. It was nice to hear, but it also didn’t exactly feel like the truth. But if Reiko hadn’t been a friend, what was she to Souko?

Souko was derailed from that train of thought by a little squeal from Taki. The cat immediately jumped off Natsume’s lap and ran for the hills with surprising speed considering it’s stubby legs and rotund body.

But instead of looking at the cat, Taki clapped her hands excitedly, beaming at Natsume and then Souko. Tanuma and Natsume looked flabbergasted by this, as if they’d just seen Taki throw away 100 million yen.

“A friend of your grandmother’s! Natsume, that’s so wonderful.”

Natsume smiled shyly. Taki turned to Souko now, and with a quick bow she said “My name is Taki Tooru. It’s nice to meet you.”

Souko responded likewise, still a bit taken aback by the girl’s enthusiasm.

“I lost my own grandfather, so I always treasure when someone can share memories and stories about him,” Taki explained. “Natsume, I’m so glad you can talk to someone who remembers her!”

Natsume shifted with embarrassment, but that soft sincere smile remained.  “Thank you. I’m really glad too, that Souko was willing to talk to her about me”.

Tanuma had stopped glaring at Souko, and now was looking at Natsume with such deep fondness that it was a little bit overwhelming to watch. Most of the tension had left his body too, though he still seemed slightly on guard.

“Natsume, you’re the one who’s been helping me out,” Souko told him. “It means a lot to me that you told me what happened to Reiko, and how she really felt. It’s wonderful to know she has such a caring grandson. It sounds like you have something to do with your friends, but if there’s anything I can do for you, let me know.”

Taki actually clasped her hands at this. “Thank you!” she said at the same time Natsume did. Tanuma unsuccessfully hid his laughter behind his hand. Natsume’s lip trembled like he wanted to start chuckling too, though he forced a stoic expression. Taki looked chagrined, but Souko patted her hand.

“I can tell you’re a wonderful friend, Taki.” Her eyes flicked over to Tanuma, wondering if she should say it was nice to meet him considering they hadn’t spoken, but before she could decide, he gave his own polite bow. “I’m Tanuma Kaname. Sorry I didn’t introduce myself sooner.”

“That’s all right. Nice to meet you, Tanuma. You can both call me Souko.”

Natsune rose from the bench, looking a bit trepidacious. “Um, Souko, how long will you be staying around here?”

“Another week.”

“Would you mind…would you mind meeting up one more time? I want to talk a little more. There’s a few more things I want to tell you about Reiko…and something I wanted to show you.”

“I’d love to!” Souko said and his face lit up.

They exchanged phone numbers and agreed to meet in two days. Tanuma and Taki told Natsume they could skip the study session if he wanted to talk more to Souko, but he shook his head. “I need to get ready,” he said cryptically.

Souko waved goodbye as the three kids left. As they walked away, she heard Tanuma whisper “what happened?” as he looked worriedly at Natsume’s bruised face. Natsume said, “the usual” with a wave of his hand.

 Tanuma didn’t look any more satisfied with Natsume’s flippant answer than she would have been, and Natsume seemed to realize this, continuing “Souko patched me up, actually.”

  “She seemed so nice!” Taki said, still elated. “A friend of your grandmother’s! How long did that know each other?”

A friend, she thought as the kids’ voices grew distant, as they walked further and further away. It had been nice to hear Natsume say it, and it was nice to hear Taki say it…even if it wasn’t exactly true.

She and Reiko were an almost. Almost friends. Almost understanding each other. Almost two girls who fit their broken pieces together. There were a million almosts, a million things Reiko could have been to Souko—almost confidants, almost lovers… almost Souko’s first rejection, her first heartbreak, the first time that confessing her feelings cost her a friendship….or she was almost Souko’s first kiss, first time, first awkward teenage romance. There were so many lives they could have led, so many paths they could have gone down.

But they’d both taken their own paths instead. And on Souko’s, she had her granddaughter waiting, waving a stick with chubby fingers, demanding to see which of them could throw the farthest. She had her daughter, who would complain about Souko coming back so late and remind her they were all going to a drive-in movie, and there was Kana, ready to listen to Souko’s story, ready to crow she was definitely going to win at Shogi this time, ready to cuddle close to Souko and ask for comfort when she inevitably lost.  She had her flower shop, the young girl she was training to take it over, her art, and her garden…

She could only hope Reiko had experienced something just as wonderful on her path. At least she could take solace that a little piece of Reiko was living on, in the eyes and heart of Nastume Takashi.

She wondered what the boy was going to show her.

---

And that's it for now! I hope the conversation wasn't too tedious, I was just caught up in thinking what Souko's reactions might be to all the tragic details of Reiko's (and by extension Natsume's) life. It would be tough to have all that dumped on you at once. I could dither over it more, but it's a fanfic, I'm not gonna burn myself out over it.

Hoping to do a very short part two and then finish up the whole thing with part three. I'll just see how people respond to it I guess!

Ao3 link refuses to insert, but again, you can find it here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63207607

[beachlifelez]

"It's been so long, Rachel. I wouldn't even know where to begin."

Pastor's wife Rachel Jenkins smiled at congregant Millicent Mayer.

"Millicent, you are a vibrant woman who deserves to know that thrill of passion again. Now, if you'll just trust me, and follow my lead, I'll show you where to begin. I'm sure things will come naturally once we start."

"But to make love to a woman? I've certainly had my suspicions about other ladies in the congregation, but you, Rachel?"

"I realize this may come as a shock, but some of my most thrilling sexual experiences have occurred with another woman. And I'm confident that by the end of this afternoon, if you'll take the chance with me, you might say the same thing. Passion, Millicent, feel the passion with me."

"I must admit, Rachel, you do have me a bit worked up. I haven't felt like this in years. You really have me on edge. I think that's a good thing, right?"

"It's a very good thing, Millicent. And I think the first thing we need to do is to take that edge off. Then you can relax, and you can truly enjoy the pleasures of another woman. OK?"

"I place myself in your hands, Rachel."

With that go ahead, Rachel worked fast. Millicent was soon out of her skirt and panties and lying back, legs spread, on Rachel's sofa. As Rachel's tongue bathed her pussy with the most wonderfully pleasing strokes, Millicent did indeed re-connect with thoughts, and feelings, of true passion.

That it was happening with another woman was almost too much to comprehend. But it was, and the climax that was building inside her would show Millicent Rachel was right about loving from another woman. She was going to have to experience much more of this. And exactly according to Rachel's plan, there was plenty more in store this afternoon and beyond.

[winters8child]

It´s been a long, long time

Chapter 61

We touched down on what appeared to be a remote farm, a tranquil oasis far removed from the chaos of our usual missions. Clint had assured us this was a safe house, but it looked more like the idyllic setting of a pastoral retreat. As we disembarked from the Quinjet, the air was filled with the gentle hum of chirping birds and the warmth of a clear, sunny day. The contrast between the serene surroundings and the weight of our recent events was striking. This place, with its picturesque landscape and charming façade, seemed ill-suited for a refuge for bruised and battered superheroes.

We approached the front door with a sense of cautious curiosity. Clint broke the silence, calling out, "Honey?"—a code word, I assumed, though it felt oddly domestic against the backdrop of our tense situation. The interior of the house mirrored the exterior’s warmth and homeliness. It was an inviting space, filled with personal touches and an undeniable sense of lived-in comfort.

A sweet-faced woman emerged from the kitchen, her expression shifting from surprise to warmth as she took in the sight of us. She held a stack of children’s drawings, their colorful chaos a stark contrast to the disciplined order of our lives. Her rounded belly hinted at the presence of another family member yet to join us.

"Hi," she greeted, her voice soft and welcoming, as Clint moved toward her. They exchanged a brief, affectionate kiss, a silent conversation in their embrace. "This is an agent of some kind," Tony remarked, his tone edged with curiosity and confusion. "Gentlemen, this is Laura," Clint introduced, his arm draped casually over her shoulder in a gesture of intimacy.

Laura’s smile was warm and genuine as she waved. "I know all of your names," she said with a light-hearted chuckle as if our superhero identities were part of her everyday life.

The sound of footsteps echoed from the hallway before two small figures burst into the room. The children raced toward Clint, their faces lit up with unrestrained joy as they leaped into his arms. The surprise on our faces was palpable; Clint had never mentioned having a family.

Tony’s voice cut through the surprise with a touch of sarcasm, "These must be the smaller agents." “Did you bring Auntie Nat?” The little girl’s voice was brimming with eager anticipation, her eyes wide with hope. Nat’s face brightened with a radiant smile as she stepped forward, her demeanor playful yet tender. “Why don’t you give her a hug and find out?” she replied with a teasing, almost daring tone.

The girl didn’t hesitate; she flung herself into Nat’s arms with unrestrained joy. The sight of Nat holding the child was profoundly moving. Her expression, a mixture of warmth and wistfulness, seemed to convey a depth of feeling that resonated deeply with me. Given what Nat had shared about her struggles with infertility, witnessing this moment of connection was both heartwarming and poignant.

“Sorry for barging in on you,” Steve said, his tone sincere as he glanced around the cozy living room. Tony chimed in, his voice tinged with a mix of apology and humor, "Yeah, we would have called ahead, but we were busy having no idea that you existed".

Clint, with his arms comfortably draped around his wife and son, offered a reassuring smile. "Yeah, well Fury helped me set this up when I joined. He kept it off S.H.I.E.L.Ds files, I would like to keep it that way. I figure it's a good place to lay low." His explanation was casual, yet it carried an undercurrent of seriousness, revealing the importance of this hidden sanctuary in their lives.

The idyllic family scene stirred something deep within me, a bittersweet pang of longing. It was a vision of the life I had once imagined for myself—simple, serene, and filled with love. Facing the stark reality that this dream would forever remain out of reach was a painful truth, one that cut deeper than I was willing to admit. Overwhelmed, I stepped outside for a breath of fresh air, resting my weight against the cool railing of the porch.

As I tried to gather my thoughts, Thor, his face etched with tension, strode past me, his brow furrowed in determination. Steve followed closely behind, a look of concern on his face. Thor’s voice, laden with frustration, echoed in the crisp air. “I need answers. I won’t find them here,” he declared, before vanishing into the clouds above with a flash of impatience.

Steve’s gaze shifted to me, his worry evident as he took in my pale complexion. “Are you okay? You look pale,” he said, his voice filled with genuine concern. I hadn’t shared with him the turmoil I was feeling, but seeing Laura and her family had unearthed a well of guilt I could no longer suppress. The weight of it had multiplied tenfold, consuming my thoughts and leaving me unable to push it aside any longer.

I let out a weary sigh as he laced his fingers with mine, feeling an unexpected calm wash over me from the simple touch. There was something about the way his hand enveloped mine that brought a sense of peace I couldn’t quite explain. “The things that witch showed me... I can’t escape them. They keep replaying in my mind, and it’s tearing me apart,” I confessed, my gaze fixed intently on our intertwined hands.

Laura appeared in the doorway, her face illuminated by a warm, welcoming smile. “You guys can head upstairs; your room is ready. Just make yourselves at home,” she said cheerfully.

We expressed our gratitude to Laura and ascended the staircase, our hands entwined, finding solace in each other's touch. Once we reached the room, we gently closed the door behind us, sealing out the outside world. The room was a serene retreat, adorned in calming shades of blue. A king-sized bed, draped in rich teal bedding, dominated the space, while a white vanity stood poised against the wall opposite the bed. The room exuded a tranquil charm, with its soothing color palette and soft lighting. A small, neat bathroom, featuring a clean, modern shower, was tucked discreetly off to one side.

Steve placed his shield carefully in a corner, its metallic sheen catching the light momentarily before he removed his suit and boots. With a heavy sigh, he sank onto the edge of the bed, his posture reflecting the weariness of the day.

I moved toward the bathroom, feeling the need to wash away the day’s weariness. As I stepped inside, the cool splash of water against my face offered a momentary reprieve. I noticed Steve standing in the doorway, his expression a mixture of concern and empathy as he watched me.

“You can talk to me,” he said, his voice steady as he crossed his arms. The tight fabric of his shirt highlighted the defined contours of his broad chest and muscular arms, making his presence both reassuring and imposing. I gazed at my reflection in the mirror, the weight of countless unspoken words pressing down on me. I struggled to find where to begin.

Turning toward him, I leaned against the sink, feeling its cool surface beneath my hands. “She showed me something,” I began, my voice trembling. “She showed me you... you died in my arms. You looked at me... my hands were covered in your blood...” I faltered, the vivid memory choking my words.

Without a word, he gently guided me to the edge of the bed, his touch both firm and reassuring. As I sank down, the room seemed to contract around us, the weight of our shared pain pressing heavily in the confined space. "You died because I killed you, Steve," I confessed, my voice faltering, the words catching in my throat. His fingers began a soothing, rhythmic motion across my back, offering a silent comfort.

"You would never do such a thing," Steve's voice rumbled softly, filled with conviction and warmth. Yet, the depth of my anguish seemed to defy his words. "It’s not just that," I continued, my voice trembling as tears began to well in my eyes. "She showed me... I was pregnant. But there was so much blood... and I lost it." The tears finally spilled over, tracing silent paths down my cheeks as I struggled to contain the storm of emotion within me.

His expression darkened as the weight of my words settled over him, the memory of discovering my pregnancy before clearly haunting him. I could see the pain etched in his features, mirroring my own turmoil. As I began to speak, the floodgates opened, and the words tumbled out in a raw, unfiltered stream.

"I want it, Steve. I want this," I said, my voice breaking. I gestured helplessly around us. "I want a family, a simple, ordinary life. I couldn't admit it before because the pain was too overwhelming." Tears streamed down my face, each one a testament to the heartache I had buried.

"The loss of my baby... it hurts so much. If I had fully faced it, I'd have had to confront the truth that all I ever wanted was a family."

The realization of what I had lost seemed to engulf me, the depth of my longing and sorrow blending into a profound sense of grief and yearning. The unspoken truth about the family I could have had with Bucky lingered heavily in the air between us.

A sense of regret gnawed at me—perhaps I shouldn't have revealed so much. But as I reflected on it, I realized I was already burdened by too many secrets. The weight of honesty seemed both a relief and a burden, casting a shadow over the fragile moment we shared.

“We can still have it,” he whispered, his gaze locking onto mine with a mixture of hope and sorrow. He gently cradled my hands in his, turning his whole body to face me. “We can have a family when all of this is over,” he continued, his voice imbued with a tender determination. “We can buy a house, just like this one. We can get married, have children...” His smile, though tinged with sadness, was bright with the promise of a future we could still dream of. As he spoke, he painted a vivid picture of a life beyond the chaos, filling the space between us with a hopeful vision of what could be.

The vision he painted sounded like the perfect life. I could almost see myself standing on a porch, watching our children play with Steve, their laughter echoing in the air. The image brought a sense of calm to my restless mind, offering a fleeting moment of peace. Yet, despite the soothing picture, it felt strangely distant, as if I were peering into someone else’s life rather than my own.

Tags: @capswife

Next Chapter

[enby-wrights]

(warning i do not understand how tumblr works i have been on here for like two months and gathered absolutely nothing so i apologize if i did something wrong with like tags and the like? also i think i kind of sound like a youth pastor towards the end of this but it’s okay i do what i want. anyways)

greetings marble hornets fanbase i just have some (long) thoughts to share on tim and alex :) i have some Mental Health Hot Takes that are not worded well because i wrote this at one in the morning but feel free to read anyways. also i know that the marble hornets mental illness allegory conversation has been done to death but please let me throw in my two cents i am just a little guy and i even said please

in all my six long years traversing the Deep Dark Depths of the marble hornets fanbase, i’ve never been all that interested in exploring any kind of close relationship between alex and tim within the story-- i think 2006 alex comes off as a bit desperate and overbearing, and i think that would have made 2006 tim a little too anxious to attempt to get close to him. it’s just interesting to think that they wouldn’t quite fit together at the only point in their lives where they would have had the chance.

their position in the overall story as narrative foils to one another, however........... now that’s a tasty character dynamic if i do say so myself :) although essentially all of season three revolves around the conflicts between people as they react to the mental illness metaphor operator in their own Fun And Unique ways, alex and tim are undoubtedly the poster children of this concept. both of them begin dealing with almost identical issues, and their reactions to these issues shape their individual narratives in completely opposite directions. i was thinking about it while listening to the podcast great, more tapes today (which if you haven’t listened to it i totally recommend it even though it has been dead for a year) and it’s kind of a really great allegory for the ways in which people’s reactions to experiences with mental illness can either make or break our recovery. as someone who has intentionally made my own recovery worse on multiple occasions out of general manic faux edginess, the parallels kind of hit me really hard

i’m gonna highlight the differences between alex and tim’s reactions to the mental illness metaphor operator using a bullet point list because i’m autistic and all of my thoughts occur in bullet point lists actually

during the filming of alex kralie’s marble hornets, as their symptoms are both beginning to set in, we see alex alone incredibly often. tim, on the other hand, is always seen surrounded by other people (this also comes down to the contexts in which they were filming but whatever it’s artistic framing or something idk)

tim seeks medical attention. duh. i think it’s probably pretty safe to assume that alex did not seek any sort of medical attention for his mental health issues leading up to all that murder, otherwise there maybe wouldn’t have been murder

aside from seeking medical help, we also see tim seeking help (or at least visibility) from his peers. entry #66 is just tim yelling at jay about how scared he is. and even if jay isn’t really much help, he can at least see where tim is coming from in the future and has the opportunity to act accordingly (he does not take this opportunity but hey at least it’s there. as alex’s condition worsens, all we see is him lying to his loved ones about what’s going on. which is bad.

alex constantly walks in anger and fear. tim doesn’t stifle his emotions (i.e. him beating the shit out of jay), but he also acts logically and doesn’t dwell on them for too long

by season three alex is just fucking living all alone in the woods (which if you didn’t know is the opposite of seeking help)!! not only is he running around in an echo chamber but he chose to bring a gun into the echo chamber with him which is a really great way to become more mentally ill. tim on the other hand has a job, and a life, and people in his life who at least care enough about him to call him and see if he’ll be at work on time. he keeps busy and he interacts with the world around him and even when he’s having to constantly check in with his doctor to make sure he stays okay he is out and about and being a person

and it’s a weird thing to think about because when i’m at my worst psychologically i tend to bring a (METAPHORICAL) gun into my own echo chamber and sulk around in there until i start to believe some pretty shitty things about the world around me

but on the few occasions where i do manage to reach for help and respect my feelings while still existing outside myself it’s a miraculous feeling. i get better. and then i get worse again, because mental illness is a bitch, but it gets easier and easier to reach out every time.

and i think that’s part of the reason why alex gets eaten up by the idea of the operator while tim doesn’t. tim has experience with getting help, and he’s clearly developed a skill for taking care of himself. he just got lucky that his first time dealing with a mental health crisis wasn’t as fucked up as alex’s.

anways tldr alex kralie is my new example for what not to do in my mental health recovery journey also he’s a bitch 

(ps i don’t understand how i got to the end of this rant without mentioning masky a single time but i promise he fits into the mental illness allegory somewhere probably maybe)

[colonyorats]

So, all credit to my very close friend @silly-boi-broski for reminding me of this song because I need to write a whole entire other post about my relationship with this song and how I kept thinking about it and how well it fits with both my life and probably my favorite book, Hell Followed with Us.

*Deep breath*

I grew up in a very very religious household (I still live in one). My dad's a pastor, my mom works with the youth groups, and I was heavily involved from day one. I was taught to "Love thy neighbour" and that everyone deserved a chance at heaven, that Jesus loves everyone no matter what but at the same time I watched as the very same people would turn around and chase the teen mom out of church or shun the kid who came out as queer and whatever other bullshit things they did.

I remember people at my church saying the most racist and terrible shit ever, like, the kind of things people say on Twitter nowadays but in real life infront of the Pastor and his literal child.

Then, we moved somwhere else and I got sent to a private school up until 5th grade and saw the hate the teachers spread and how a bunch of people bullied this one kid because he was of color and all the rest of us where white and it was so bad that he had to be transferred to a different school the next year because of it but I didn't understand it at the time and he was my best friend so I was so fucking confused.

Same thing happened to a kid in a wheelchair, and, while it wasn't as bad for me, I was, and still kinda am, the fat kid so that made it suck on my part since I heard comments from adults saying things to my mom like "She'd be so much more beautiful if she lost a few more pounds" which, hello??? That's a fucking terrible thing to say about a literal 10 year old child.

That was about the same time I started questioning if any of it was really real and I had a huge drop in my mental health and personally went through hell and back during a bunch of personal stuff I won't get into right now, but involved a lot of questioning my identity and shit and a lot of family drama.

That's when sometime during 2022 my friend (also @silly-boi-broski) suggested me a book called Hell Followed with Us because he was going through some similar stuff. I was skeptical at fist but then I read it and was blown away that someone was writing about similar feelings I had.

The rage and justice I felt while reading it almost broke me because I had grown up in an environment, while not as literally deadly as Benji, was so similar to it that I freaked out and had to put the book down at times. I finally finished it and I felt so seen and understood that I couldn't not want to talk and ramble about it and now I've reread it more times than I can count and everytime it makes me feel so understood.

Fuck, then I remembered the song he sent me and hearing that for the first time made me feel all the same things I did when reading HFWU and it just shocks me.

While I don't align myself with the church in any way, I think I still believe. Kind of like how Faith said it in the book, "I do, actually. And I'm still trying to figure out how I feel about that. Talking to friends--you know, Sadaf is Muslim, Salvador is Catholic, Carly is Jewish--to see if anything clicks. Or if I'm just going to have to deal with believing in the same kind of God those motherfuckers do... I guess what I'm saying is, I believe in something, and I don't know what to do with it, and maybe, I don't actually believe in anything at all, and I just want to because I hate the idea of Trevor being faced with nothing." (-page 55 of the US edition paperback of HFWU)

This is already so long so I'll stop but I still have so much to say about this book and this song but I'll save that for another day.

Here's the song I was talking about btw

[phantomoftheorpheum]

In my opinion, there were plot holes in the season that are really off-putting. But I also think the writers were just really unwise about their narrative time. With 2 episodes less than the first season, they did not balance their characters and storylines well.

I’m flabbergasted about the amount of time that was spent on the love triangle (I refuse to waste anymore brain power complaining about.. all of that). We could have had less of that in favor of:

- Giving Mouse a real storyline > making Ash more prominent, giving her grandmother an actual purpose or just cutting the character all together.

- Showing us the character development that they only tell us Greg has gone through.

- Follow through with Imogen’s mental health, hallucinations scares, and concerns for her child’s safety that were only relevant in the first half of the season.

- Make redemption house even more sinister and/or show characters like Kelly, Henry, or Greg noticing everyone around them becoming obsessed with Spooky Spaghetti. It would’ve been so easy to permanently write out Henry by making him one of Wes’/BR’s followers but of course they didn’t do that.

- Show at least a little bit of conflict between Mrs Langsberry and Tabby’s mom - opposing mothers defending the reputation of their children. Although I will say, this might have made it too obvious.

- Maybe even including more conflict by not waiting until the last episode to finally accuse each others partners.

Just some thoughts :P

I agree! I think the biggest issue with this season was the reduced runtime (I don't know if that was at all due to the writer's strike, but I hope they get an absolute minimum of 10 episodes if they do a third season), and the mismanagement of the time that they did have.

To address some of your points specifically- I also felt Mouse was super sidelined this season (yes, she is technically the person most intent on solving the mystery, but she's basically just around to info-dump at everyone else, not have any personal growth), and Ash was barely present. I was particularly disappointed by this, because I knew the actor's billing had been upgraded, so I thought we'd get noticeably more Ash.

Greg's redemption arc, if you can really call it that, since it seemed to skip the crucial "oh, he's questioning his ways and changing" part felt super rushed (as did Kelly's turn from 2x06-2x08). I think they did film more of it (since we know of some cut stuff), but since it didn't make it to the screen, it felt very strange that Faran suddenly liked Greg (I'm not saying they played it like she's in love with him or anything, but I feel like they skipped the middle bit between "he annoys the hell out of her and she really dislikes him" to "he's apologized and now they're hooking up,"). It was just too fast.

I definitely expected Imogen's mental health to ultimately play a bigger role than it did, considering how much time they spent on it.

It is hard to believe Mrs. Beasley, Pastor Malachi, Kelly, Greg, (and presumably Henry, since they never reveal him as an antagonist) didn't notice that there was an entire additional cult in their cult.

The scene where all the girls started bickering about their SOs was one of my favorites from the finale. It felt so realistic that they wouldn't all just be on board with these new people they don't know at all (and most of them didn't interact with the new love interests that weren't their own almost at all) and assume they're all great. It was refreshing to see the girls disagree and take a few jabs at each other, because while I love them supporting each other, those moments of coming together feel like they mean less when they're all just always on the same page.

As a writer and creator myself, I understand that it is much easier to criticize than it is to create, but one of the big advantages of collaboration is that theoretically you have a lot of people looking at your work with a critical and constructive eye and shaping the story into the best version of itself. This season felt like it really could have used some editing and refining (in the writing process, before you even get to the film editing) to streamline the storylines and not get too bogged down in areas that don't pay off.

To leave things on a high note- I really did have fun watching the show this season & trying to puzzle things out. I just feel there were some pretty glaring flaws, as well.

[appalachiasferaldaughter]

7

Despite the dogma surrounding my life, I still found myself drawn outside with her: The mountains and her woods—the moon, her bride, And the critters, spirit and flesh, that were.

The fear of witchcraft plagued the clan and folk: Everything outside the church walls—dark. “Satan roams outside, Church!” The preacher spoke, Hushed amens and head nods the pews remarked.

I thought something was wrong with my sight. Where? My eyes could not see the doom out yonder. Summer, I saw life flourishing out there, Winter, snow covered the nude, deer wandered.

I sat under a tree to hide from heat, A mighty oak that provided much shade. I touched a branch, “Thanks for relief so sweet.” My Aunt heard me, and rebuked me, afraid.

I cried. What did I do wrong? She explained: “You were just being kind, I know. But God made the tree. So thank him. Don’t entertain Satan, for he hides, puts on a façade,

and it’s a slippery slope to darkness.”

“Why can’t we see him?” I asked my Aunt Fern. “Because,” she paused, “he likes to trick people, and make them think that, for sin, they should yearn. Dark turns to light and good into evil.

And if you don’t know Jesus,” a deep sigh, “You won’t know the difference ‘fore too late.” The elk flashed before me, I almost died, Satan almost had me—was that my fate?

My Aunt Fern smiled, “But you know Jesus! Yes! You have nothing to worry about, dear, Just remember God and your praise express, For the Word says perfect love casts out fear.”

But when I praise, why do I still have fear?

Questions that ran but did not go too far, Since we were not supposed to dwell on them, Pastor said to think of good things that are, ‘Cause Christ will come and to Satan condemn. “One day we will live in Heaven—such joy!” I watched the deer herd at the wood’s entrance. “And this wretched place burns—we will avoid!” Do animals get to have repentance? I felt the elk’s gaze, then turned to the cross.

[sister-pianist-chan]

Jere best bisexual 🍦

Yes yes!!!

As a bisexual myself, I must say... He does give bisexual vibes. Yes, yes! ^^ I do write him as such in my fanfics too! 😉 One can dream... 😍

And then the ice cream video made me have that moment where I thought so too! xD 🍦🍦🍦

I kind of had more to say about this at the bottom before some people yell at me, so I'll make it optional and put it under the cut. (I want to acknowledge that this fandom is my home and I love you guys so much that I can be myself -my very delusional self- around you guys and don't need to hide. I mentioned the yelling because I've had people yell at me for my fanfics, but that's ok!) This post means a lot to me! 🥹

Now, before someone decides to burn me at the stake, I'm not gonna say he is because that's for Jere to tell us if he ever wants to share that with us (In my delusional world he is a bisexual king. He said he's straight -but I used to say so too and I used to have secret relationships, and sometimes I still lie about being straight because I grew up in a religious family and work at a religious school. You can probably see why Brother!Jere is my comfort character even though I'm not Catholic myself. I almost wrote a hilarious au fic about Jere being a funny Baptist preacher in a secret relationship with Bojan after that cursed Youth Pastor look Jere pic came out.- That aside, I'm not saying that's the case with Jere. Sorry for my tangent.)

I know in Linnanjuhlat he did make me ask some questions 🧐 especially when they asked him if he had a gf (I was kind of mad at them for that! None of their business!) he said something along the lines of (and I'm paraphrasing, I may be misquoting so please don't take it as gospel) I don't know if a girlfriend or a boyfriend (Bro, nobody asked you about a boyfriend!!!!) is there or something like that. I screamed when I heard the word "poikaystävä" and even though that might not mean anything, I was like "boyfriend?!" 🧐🧐🧐💀💀💀💀 I've read some comments on Tumblr and on Twitter and such where people are like "did he just low-key come out as bisexual?" I asked myself that too. 😁

If he is, he'd be my ultimate hero and I'll love him even more for that! 🥹 In my delusional world, he is, and Bojan is his main bf, so is Nace, and then he's got his harem.

Sorry this post got lengthy! But thank you for your ask! 💚🍦

Have a K eating a Popsicle 😄

[oneatlatime]

The Winter Solstice Part 1: The Spirit World

I'll be watching this two part episode as two separate episodes.

Starting strong with some stunning pastoral views.

I like how Appa's shadow undulates over the clouds.

Is Aang passively airbending at all times when they're on Appa? Otherwise how do they hear each other? Unless it's a windless day and they're flying at walking pace there's no way they would be able to have a conversation.

Can you imagine the freedom of being able to throw yourself into the air with no consequences? Imagine how being able to ignore gravity since (presumably) a very young age would shape your worldview. Aang must look at the world in a fundamentally different way.

Blow dried Momo.

Could Katara stop babying Aang for five minutes?

The perspective is so funky in this shot that Appa looks Momo sized.

Did Gyatso say that Roku specifically would help Aang? He said that someone in that special room would guide him, but the only living creature in there was Momo.

Emotional support Momo. Maybe the help Gyatso spoke of actually was Momo.

Every time Iroh appears I become increasingly convinced that the creators of this show are fans of The Big Lebowski.

I love Iroh weaponizing teenage awkwardness to get himself five more minutes in the tub. I think I can also now declare myself officially used to Zuko's voice. I no longer find it muppety.

This is the environmentalism after school special.

The way this guy talks about flying Bison and airbender tattoos, is he actually old enough to have known airbenders?

Katara blindly trusts this guy because... he's old?

Pretty.

"It is the greatest honour of a lifetime to be in your presence." "Nice to meet you too." Yep, those greetings are definitely in proportion to each other.

I love the lighting in this scene. Everything has this golden glow.

The winter solstice sounds a bit like Halloween. The walls between worlds thin to almost nothing and things can cross over which shouldn't.

Aang's eyes are brown in this episode.

I love this attitude. Optimistic, upbeat. "I have to try, don't I?" is so true.

Is it just me, or is Sokka's ponytail weird this episode?

I think this is the Bumi guard voice guy again.

This episode appears to be taking place in a part of the Earth Kingdom that hasn't been taken over by the Fire Nation (unlike last episode). So for Zuko & crew, this is enemy territory. Iroh, who is a general with a fancy title, the brother of the leader of the fire nation (so I guess the next in line to the throne?), and so recognisable to the enemy that they can identify him without a single piece of insignia or even clothing denoting his country of origin, thought it would be a good idea idea to have a solo, unguarded spa day here? I bet the fire nation is happy the other brother is the one in charge.

More pretty.

Sokka racking up some major Big Brother points this episode. Aang may be the Avatar, which makes this kind of stuff his responsibility, but he's also 12 and clueless. He shouldn't have to face this alone.

This village must be close to the Avatar world's equator because that sun set ridiculously quickly.

You know, if I turned around and saw that thing following me, my first impulse would be to scream and run away, not introduce myself. This is why I'm not the Avatar.

If that's their water tower gone, this village is done for with or without the Avatar's help.

This spirit is throwing a proper tantrum. I love the way it moves too fast to see. I did not see Sokka getting kidnapped coming. I actually had to rewind and watch it again because it happened so fast that I did not see it at all the first time through.

I think the fire nation solider here is the Bumi guard voice too.

This is an insane shoulder to waist ratio. Also nice to see Zuko figure it out so quickly. This show has given me the impression so far that he's kind of stupid, but I guess not.

It's a panda! Black and White spirit, plus the environmentalism stuff from earlier, I really should have put that together sooner.

"I Failed." yeah you kind of did. So pick yourself up and try again.

Bird horses? Also those earth soldier helmets are probably really effective, but they look so stupid.

Proof that Katara is used to relying on Sokka to do all of her thinking and planning like I said last episode. If Sokka was the one left behind and Katara the one missing, he would not be so passive.

"All I have to do is figure out what I have to do. But once I do that, no problem." Even the most impossible tasks can be broken down into manageable steps. I love Aang's attitude.

It's so painfully in character that what gets Katara out of her funk is looking after someone else.

Where's Momo in all this?

In the spirit world, the avatar is just some guy? Can't bend. So what makes him uniquely qualified to be the guy who deals with spirits?

Dragons can talk with their whiskers. I'm sure I've seen that somewhere before.

Iroh can see stuff in the spirit world? Maybe it's an old people thing?

How stupid are these earthbender guards? Nice call back to the water heating trick. This show is really good at set up and payoff like that.

This dragon is very fluent at talking in pictures. Also the sky in the accelerated days and nights animation is actual live action footage of sky, right?

Earthbenders can skate on their bare feet. That's beyond cool. Imagine having an inborn ability to sock slide at will. I'd never walk anywhere again. Only slide.

Comforting Appa really did get her out of her funk and inspire action. Neat.

Aang and Zuko's stories do intersect this episode after all. Also I had no idea the two parties were this close to each other. Zuko showing this episode that in addition to deductive reasoning, he also has long-distance tracking skills.

I want to visit this village just to see the sunsets in person.

Iroh was right, they were clearly outmatched. These guys are just the worst. They're on a dirt floor in a dirt cave with the advantage of numbers and actual pants, and they still lose. Did Iroh even firebend?

I take back what I said earlier about Iroh being stupid for going off alone in enemy territory. If this is the calibre of soldiers he knew he would possibly run into, then he was perfectly safe all along. Although the last minute rescue from Zuko was a nice touch. Did anyone really believe that he would choose chasing the Avatar over his uncle? I didn't.

I like the creepy spirit whispering at the gate.

Did Katara yelling to Aang attract the spirit's attention to that main building? Because it seemed to be ignoring it before.

Chekov's acorn!

When Aang went to the spirit world, his body stayed behind on the statue's head. But when Sokka went his whole self was stuck there? Also that bathroom joke is payback for all the denied potty breaks.

Sokka's practicality and bluntness is just so perfect this episode. A nice counter balance to the spirity stuff. Just spent 24 hours in the Spirit world? That's nice. Can we have supplies?

Momo's back in these final scenes, but where was he the rest of the episode?

How does Aang know the island is in the fire nation? From the temple architecture?

Final Thoughts

I really like this episode! There is so much that is good: -beautiful visuals (so many sunsets!) -interesting sound design (that whispering was neat, and the single wind chime in the last spirit attack was so eerie) -so many well-executed set ups and payoffs (acorn, firebending heating stuff, how the spirit does relate to the burnt forest from the beginning) -So much good dialogue, from Zuko especially ("Now would you please put on some clothes?!?" / *sniffs* "Yeah, that's Uncle Iroh.") -relationship stuff (Sokka being big brother, Katara being lost without him until someone else needs her to be strong, Aang's relationship to his responsibilities both internally within himself and externally with how the village sees him and what it expects of him, the exasperated teenager and secretly amused parent dynamic between Zuko and Iroh switching flawlessly into a fighting team, then flawlessly back) -Everyone feels in character (optimistic sweetheart Aang, practical protective Sokka, caring Katara, super chill yet super skilled Iroh, Zuko just so fed up with everything) -The humour was downplayed this episode but the few jokes that were there were genuinely funny. Sokka getting hit with the acorn in particular. I'm thinking that there must have been a rule in the writing room that it's not a proper Avatar episode unless Sokka gets to be the butt of the joke at least once. -Zuko and Iroh finally getting fleshed out a bit. I feel like this is the first episode where Zuko hasn't come off as an asshole. -Worldbuilding (this is the first time the avatar's done his job as per the job description) -How it's supposed to be the first half of a two part episode but it doesn't feel like set up at all. It's a self-contained story with actual stakes, a conclusion that matters, lessons learned all around, and ALSO set up for next episode.

Once I had gotten a good look at firebending in the Southern Air Temple episode I started wondering how the fire nation hadn't completely decimated all their enemies. After I saw Bumi's bending skills I understood how the earth kingdom had resisted the fire nation for a century, but Bumi really was the exception to the rule, wasn't he? If these earth kingdom soldiers are typical of the earth kingdom army, I'm going to have to switch back to my original opinion and wonder why the fire nation didn't win the war 85 years ago. Because these guys are bad. They are surrounded by their element. Their prisoner is standing on their element. Just make the ground grab his feet! He'll be a sitting duck and they'll be able to do whatever they want to him. Better yet, just bury him completely. Or make handcuffs out of rock instead of metal. That being said, the soldiers' stupidity set up a really cool fight scene. How did Zuko not break his foot with that kick?

Everything is woven together so well in this episode. Almost nothing feels contrived - you can't tell me that Zuko didn't wait behind a bush somewhere so he could time his rescue of Iroh to have maximum drama. But otherwise this episode feels organic - like we were actually watching a couple of days in the life of these people.

I really liked this one.

[yohohonabottle]

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II

The question came, and the 'bride' internally sighs but otherwise makes an attempt to speak and give an answer...only to hesitate with uncertainty for a split second. (Something that doesn't escape the groom's notice but doesn't comment on it or react, merely notes the ever subtle squaring of shoulders and tightening grip on the pretty flowers. Interesting...) The words of the people behind this whole event flash trough Pirin's mind, the firm warning of what the consequences would be if the answer given to the pastor is a 'no'. 

A very shy and somewhat happy 'yes' finally tumbles out of the 'bride', a smile plastering itself onto those thin lips that matches the reply. Both the word itself and the smile have a sense of strained apology carefully hidden beneath the seemingly innocent, nervous veneer of joy. Almost as though being held at gunpoint point-blank that would go off should he dare refuse or make any attempt at asking for help, or if the wedding fails somehow.

Except the gun isn't literal, rather figurative. 

The pressure on the poor soul, however, was very much real. But Pirin couldn't let anyone here know-- "Or else"–He hurriedly shuts down the memory, focusing solely on staying in-character. 

..Although, honestly, the whole situation is rather funny, in a morbid sense: The wedding was organized so quickly, in such grand style and has nothing to do with my or my husband's preferences. Not to mention poor said husband is likely clueless that his 'bride' is actually a groom. 

It has all the flare, but lacks the most sacred part: Heart.

The priest's words after that hardly register in Pirin's mind as he just listens with half-an ear to the religious prattle, silently apologizing to his husband-to-be and family for all of this. Until the moment of truth came where they'd seal their fates and the union would be finalized. The moment I dread most...

Mentally counting up to hundred and keeping his breathing steady, he turns just in time so he's face to face with his future partner. Right as the clergyman pronounces the all familiar– 

—"You may now exchange rings and kiss the bride." 

Timidly, carefully, Pirin lifts the white veil obscuring his soft triangular face as the two of them are to exchange their wedding rings. Still, he keeps his serene veneer in-place, and true thoughts and feelings locked away to himself.  

This arranged union is..such a sick joke, to both of us. 

The feeling of a thousand eyes drilling into him is sickening, but manages to stay relatively calm-appearing. Just a smidge shy and bashful. He could hear some of the audience murmur all too accutely: 

'Ah, a shy one.' or 'So she's the timid type, eh? And what a pretty face! Such a doll! Wish I could steal 'er myself!', and 'Just how did such a beauty end up with a slacker like the lad anyways? He's no fine gentleman...Just like your typical womanizer. Would he even keep his vow?', 

'Bet he'd leave the poor lass for another as soon this is done.' 

'What a cheater, poor girl.'

It makes his stomach churn but no outward reaction occurs from him as he clings onto his 'role' in this mess. While internally feeling trapped and like suffocating little by little, wishing to just get away from everything--The flashy wedding, the tedious ceremony, the whispers and stares of the people, the stranger he's to marry. It's.. a little too much. But outwardly, Pirin merely keeps his composed, if slightly, demure veneer of nervous happiness, his best brave face.

For Rosa's sake. You're doing this for Rosaline and her family. Don't falter. 

The dress is pretty, not too tight nor too loose and has an air of icy regalness without being gaudy--Yet it feels wrong to him, humiliating. (Oh stars...so many stares–So many eyes, please look away–)

Don't. Falter. 

Stay calm. 

It makes him itch to just claw at it, get it off and hurl it away to gods know where. The way his hair is braided and spun into a bun that looks like a rose is elegant, but it makes him feel far too exposed. And the red underliner accentuating his eyes? Not atrocious, but he'd rather not have to wear it any longer than needed. 

—Thank the stars they didn't make me wear lipstick and jewelry. 

The pale young man's hands tighten their grip on the bouquet, mask threatening to slip, feeling far removed from his element– Caged and cornered, agitated and suffocated but manages to keep his internal turmoil strictly to himself. He carefully continues to maintain the picture-perfect image of a happy bride..or groom.

(–Why do you have to stare like this? Like I'm some exotic–)

Stay. Calm.

Don't crack. 

(Will the Syndicates still go after Rosa..? No, I'm doing my part of the deal. ...But what if they decide to pull the rug from under me– Change the conditions? Am I marrying this man in vain? No, no, no–) 

Don't. Crack. 

It'll be over soon, any moment now. Any moment. 

Taking the man's warm hand, the frail-looking bride hastily slips the simple gold band onto his finger and keeps on smiling jovially despite the imperceptible quiver to his gloved own. It'll be alright. It'll be over soon. Just a little bit longer. ('Pirin?') And takes a deep breath, swallowing thickly, mind chanting as if half in a prayer and half in a soothing mantra with switching to stern reminders to himself. 

Don't you dare crack. Don't you dare.

And here comes the next awful, most awkward part that's only trumped by the consummation of their marital bond afterward. It's possibly the worst thing about this entire disaster and most demeaning, disrespectful, humiliating. The kiss? Sure, it's stupid and I'd really rather not have to, but I can survive it. It's bearable, silly, easy to swallow down and brush off.. 

But..But to–To bear a human, one I don't know at all no less, children– The thought nearly makes Pirin physically gag, stomach lurching and twisting into knots. Once again, the bandits' words flash across his mind's eye making him internally shudder with a sinking heart. 

"If we don't get at least one nephilym–We'll find your precious little friend and burn her alive. Ya hear, blood-sucker? We'll burn her and her whole family alive, them and their house. Wanna know who'll be to blame? Bingo! You." 

"Oh and, if we find out you ratted us out in any way to anyone...Well then. Deal's off automatically. So you better keep your pretty mouth shut about this, yeah? No narcking, no calling for help and not a peep about our little deal, got it?"

 Swallowing, he tries to meet his fiancé's eyes for the part...But finds his throat tightening and a heavy lump forming, almost chocking. The glass is on the edge of overflowing. There's only so much more he can hold.. He can't. Can't lift his eyes from the flowers clutched in his gloved hands, can't bring himself to move. Paralyzed.

(Please...Let them stay alive and well. That's all I ask for.)

(Please. I'm begging you. That's all I ask you for, nothing more.)

Calm down. Stay calm.

A tear threatens to well at the corner of his eye and roll down his face. Pirin blinks it back. Anguish, fear, frustration, old deep sorrows, exhaustion, desperation and hopelessness well within his aching heart and rise into deafening crescendo.

Ioan of the Eclipse lost bloodline, last of his kind to survive the carnage of humanity's blind hatred, holds it all back. No one can see or know.

Play your part. 

You can't afford to make mistakes or fail. 

Gently taking the slimmer, shorter, man's other gloved hand in his own with brows slightly creased together, Valen takes the ring from the held up cushion and slides it onto the other's delicate ring finger. He's cold, inhumanly so..

Can't be. ..Right? Those died a century ago. 

Yet no other explanation makes sense. No human has eyes this clear or skin this frigidly cold and white as Death. The pupils are round, yes, but that's because of an illusion spell (most likely) and the fangs are slid up in his gums to look like normal canines.

So here this gorgeous phantom stands, in the flesh and right in front of his very eyes– A living relic and treasure-trove of secrets, knowledge and wisdom. One with an innocent face. 

You're becoming more intriguing by the second, my dear 'Pirin'. Wonder what kind of mysteries you keep...

Poor guy feels so stiff and tense, like on the verge of snapping, short-circuiting or breaking apart any second. Still, alas the 'show' has to go on. The solder's hand glides to lightly rest on the vampire's ghostly skin, thumb tracing over the high cheekbone as he lifts the doll-like visage to meet his. 

..And his heart clenches at the pleading look of fear in those mesmerizing light, haunting pearl-like irises as they meet his own lilac-purple ones. Begging him both for help, do something–anything at all– and to stay away, to not meddle in any way at all simultaneously. Conflicted, and so very scared.

The look of someone who feels like he has zero control and severely threatened at the same time, doing his best to keep it together...but is fast approaching the brink of cracking. A look the high-ranking Heroic Order knight is all too familiar with, having seen it etched upon the faces of others many times. 

Fellow colleagues both junior and senior, hostages and their families in cases of ransom, victims and those whom had lost enough and fear loosing more. 

Somehow, this ethereal and deceptively fragile-appearing being standing before him feels like he's all of the latter. But can't tell anything, else he or a hostage, or both, would get hurt badly by the mastermind. I'll have to dig into this, I'm afraid. Tilting the pretty face a little and leaning in, his warm breath ghosts over the smooth skin, countertenor voice low in subtle murmur meant only for the 'bride' as a small charming smile plays on his lips still.

Except where it was once one of detached faint coyness or jest, it's now one of understanding sympathy and quiet reassurance. It'll be okay. 

—"You alright?" The bashful smile almost wavers at the edges and the hands gripping onto the bouquet of sunflowers, white roses, lily-of-the-valleys and stems of wheat wrapped in pale gold ribbon force themselves to loosen their iron grasp. The narrow, boney shoulders tensed ever so subtly–stiffly and quickly relax, the cracked mask hurriedly 'patched up'. All the little cues he needs to know the answer and the truth concealed underneath– 'Yes' (No.) 

It doesn't take a genius to put two and two together & guess what's going through that pretty head. It's all practically written all over his soft angular face. 

Now my hands, too, are tied, aren't they? Good thing I didn't say no earlier or the hostages would've been at bigger risk. Assuming there are any, which seems to be the case... 

Closing the gap, both their eyes close, 'It's okay.' the nimble elite knight promises in soft whisper before pressing his lips to his bride's in a tender chaste kiss. It barely means anything, holds no real weight–Merely a formality, yet Valen still tries to make it sweet and warm to pass off as loving or one of simmering passion for the audience watching.  

And a little bit for Pirin, too, to an extent. 

Being thrown into a loveless marriage with a complete stranger while having a friend's safety at risk and the turmoil from dealing with it all is enough stress. No need to add the feeling of being unwanted and unwelcome to the mix. 

I feel bad for him–It's not like we can simply annulate the union or ask for divorce. It would likely put the captives in jeopardy. We're stuck together now. 

The cheers and whistles, and applauding doesn't so much as register in his mind. It's not important. The ceremony is over finally.

Pulling back and straightening up to his full height, he tucks a stray strand of snowy and silky hair behind Pirin's ear. The dazzling captain of the Solitaires finds himself unable to look away–Not even when the priest proclaims 'I now pronounce you husband and wife.' So lost in those eerie pale eyes and how the late afternoon sun's light is reflected in them like in a crystal mirror. 

Pearl-white and with a ring of black and grey specks around the pupils, a hint of brown amidst them. A tiny bit dull and like murky waters, yet breath-takingly captivating regardless. It's hard not to marvel and get lost, drown in those depths. He's probably had enough staring for today. Doesn't seem the type to like attention.. 

Sneaking an arm around the short night nymph's back, Valen calmly hooks his other around the slender knees and hoists him up. Pirin's shoulders square up in tension again and his whole body stiffens, heat rushing to his face in embarrassment, the bright rose red blush a nice color against the white.

A quiet gasp of startled surprise slips from him, and for a very brief second–The illusion falls to reveal thin vertical fox-like pupils that thin to slits. What are you doing?! –That much the violet-eyed lean man notices and couldn't help the little suave, cheeky and bit flirtatious smile that he flashes the other, before turning to call out to the crowd, voice clear and chiming like a bell. Just being his usual casual, easy-going, unserious and flamboyant, boyish self. 

—"Alright folks, thank you for attending–We'll be going now! Feel free to raise a toast in our name at the tavern tonight!" 

And with that, the handsome swordsman takes off, carrying his wife away from Holistone's plaza. Whatever gossips get flung around get promptly ignored with ease, just like their stares following after their retreating backs.

Some of the people tut or shake their heads in disapproval, some merely exchanged knowing looks and others either laughed or shrugged it off. Slowly, the spectators begins to disperse. Each to their own.

[thecryingprophet]

Chapter 2

That evening for dinner they had a microwave meal, for Kevin who was used to his mom cooking it was rough.

As they ate togheter in silence Kevin couldn't help but notice how much beer the pastor was drinking, he had at least four cans.

He chose to say nothing about it, he didn't wanna risk making him angry.

As soon as they were done Kevin asked if he could go on a walk "sure, just don't go too far...okay?" The priest recommended.

The boy nodded and walked towards the door, before exiting he gave one last look to the man, who was tidying up the table.

In the evening the town was even emptier, he walked a bit until he decided to go behind the church, it seemed like enough of a secluded place.

He leaned his back against the wall, in front of him the dark woods, he was kind of spooked out by them.

He took a lighter and a cigarette out of his pocket, lighted it and as he smoked, he lost himself in his thoughts.

He wondered why his father was always so strict and seemed unable to forgive him, no matter how much he tried to make amends.

He also wondered why no one seemed to like him, he had no friends and even his parents preferred to be far from him it seemed.

Tears were starting to form in his eyes when he felt a hand touching his shoulder.

He almost screamed in fear, but then realized it was pastor jonah.

"Is that a cigarette son?" He asked, strangely enough there wasn't anger in his voice.

The boy nodded and closed his eyes waiting for a slap, but it never came.

When he reopened them he saw the priests worried face, "I'm not the best person to tell you this, since I'm a smoker myself, but try to quit...it's not good for your health..."

Kevin was surprised he didn't receive the harsh punishment he was used to and asked:" Father, why did you come here? did you know i was smoking?"

The man chuckled "Nah...i was just worried for you, since it's very dark outside now...also just call me Jonah, please"

He responded walking away.

The young man followed him, still surprised.

He looked at the man with attention, he noticed that he was walking even worse than usual, he stumbled and struggled to walk straight.

When they got home he gave a quick at the trashcan, as he suspected, there were even more cans of beer.

He wanted to say something but he felt it was inappropriate.

He eventually went into his room and closed the door behind himself.

He laid on the bed and lost himself in his thoughts once again.

He missed home, he missed his siblings, his mom, his dog but not his father.

He hated that man, always ready to become violent with tongue and body.

He eventually started crying, silently, like he had trained himself to do over the years.

Tears flowed from his eyes and wet the pillow.

From the next room over he could hear Jonah snore, he was sleeping soundly.

The sound was infuriating, but he couldn't do anything about it.

He eventually fell asleep, fully clothed and with his shoes on.

[thesleepiestselkie]

i truly believe the trans community has got to start openly and loudly supporting detrans folks. i wanna share my story with y'all, and it is long and possibly triggering? and i say at least one nsfw thing. but i feel like a lot of trans people only ever see detrans stories weaponized against them, and therefore there's a good chunk of the trans community that has (understandably) a lot of vitriol towards detrans people. so since it's pride month, i wanted to talk a minute about being a nonbinary detrans person.

when i first started learning about trans and nonbinary identities, i knew pretty much immediately that i was nonbinary. i was in high school by the time i found out that you could be a different gender than the one on your birth certificate, and i was over the fucking moon. problem was, i was a homeschooled navy brat pastor's kid 3 for 1 combo and so my literal Only exposure to any world outside of patriarchal gender & sexuality norms was.... you guessed it! tumblr.

tumblr around 2013-2015 was a pretty weird and vitriolic place to be nonbinary. half the site claimed you were faking, the other half was trying to lure you in by spouting the weirdest genders on god's green earth. (i love y'all go wild with ur genders that's just not my brand of existence.) so like.... i picked a side? i decided when i was around 15 that being nonbinary was kinda cringe and from that point on i identified as a trans guy.

cue fighting with my parents for like 7 years about the whole existence of trans people, the idea that i was a trans people, this weird belief i had that i should have bodily autonomy, and this weird belief that they had that pretty much anything could be cured if you prayed hard enough (from anxiety to cancer to, surprise, transgenderism)

the only way i came out of that fight as myself was through transitioning. i very loudly expressed that i Would do what i wanted with my body, and they had no right to control me. when i started t shots, i was 19, and i loved it.

i was euphoric every time i got gendered correctly by a stranger, i celebrated the first time i shaved real beard hairs from my face, it was beautiful. genuinely. i was part of a community of other trans guys ("guys" here ranging from "100,000% binary ftm transsexual" to "transmasc nb who's just happy to be here") and we loved each other hard.

i think i started consciously having to push away real doubts about continuing to transition when i was pursuing top surgery. i really, truly, wasn't sure. but by that point, it felt almost expected of me from the one side, and absolutely forbidden on the other. and like, i don't know that i would have gone through with it if it was just our weird homoerotic groupthink, i was sick of my tits bc like. they're tits. they suck to live with regardless of how hot they are. i was sick and tired of choosing between binding (over ribs that had already been fractured at least once due to improper binding) or being misgendered. and i was exhausted of my parents telling me, at age 21, that i didn't have the right to do what i wanted with my body.

so i got top surgery. and, like, i was happy. but i think i knew i fucked up as soon as i woke up from the surgery. the surgeon didn't leave me with any areolas whatsoever, which i didn't think going in was even a possibility. and maybe this is trivial, but that sparked something in me that i was terrified to admit, and couldn't, until much later on: i felt dysphoria about not having my tits.

but like, i was committed to the bit, you know? i'd gotten used to being a guy, and it fit well enough, like a second-hand sweater. so i just kinda rode the wave as far as it would take me. i did my shots (with absolutely no regularity because through all 3 years i was on testosterone stabbing myself in the leg really never got less hard and scary) and if i was being real i would admit to myself that i was probably more transmasc than a trans *man*.

and then my brother died! of aforesaid cancer that my parents tried real hard to pray away. (to be clear, they also got him the best medical treatment they possibly could, they aren't full on religious nutjobs.) and, quite frankly, i hadn't realized before then how integral to my identity my brother was. (again, homeschooled military kid with exactly one similarly-aged person who was actually around for more than a couple years of my life.) it kinda broke the shell identity that i'd been hiding behind. i realized i had a responsibility to myself to be myself, and i just wasn't a fuckin trans guy.

so i stopped taking t, and i started opening myself up to dressing how i used to love dressing, before i got all truscummy. and i felt myself come back into my body a bit, for the first time in god only knows how long.

fast forward 3 (ish) long, godawful, miserable years of therapy and grief and more grief, and i'm a pretty well-adjusted nonbinary person. i have a wife and a 9-5 job and my creative drive has been returning in spades. but i'm still dysphoric about my tits. i miss them. i can't say whether i made a mistake in getting top surgery, because my mental health was so completely shot back then that it really might have saved my life in some way or other, but it feels like one now. they were pretty, and soft, and sensitive. i got my nipples pierced last year and literally could not feel it happening. i only have feeling in some parts of my chest. i look fine, and i've accepted that this is the body i chose to live in. but sometimes i wish i wasn't so afraid to talk about this feeling.

some of y'all talk a big game about supporting detrans folk, but i don't see it. in mainstream lgbtq+ culture, is it absolutely taboo to talk about detransitioning, and y'all know it is. and there is literally no one else speaking up for us. a lot of detrans people become anti-trans specifically due to the reception their detransition was given by the community. it is so transparently hostile towards us because we got it wrong. and if people can make mistakes, that might mean (*gasp*) you might make a mistake?? and then it's a Real risk and not a fake one that conservatives made up to scare the parents of trans kids. and we just can't have that.

shouldn't we be telling kids that in your life, you're going to do things you risk regretting, and it's okay, because everyone has regrets? it's not some trans-specific thing. i regret my college boyfriend and not taking better care of my first car. i also regret having top surgery. it's not a dirty word—i'm just some guy, and everyone fucks up, sometimes in life-ruining ways. mine wasn't life-ruining, just kinda hard to process. but man, it sure woulda been easier if literally the only welcoming community for detrans people wasn't coincidentally Extremely anti-trans 🙃

and like........ i'm also.... Still Trans? i detransitioned to the gender i was before i identified as ftm: nonbinary. i stopped my medical transition, i reverted back to they/them pronouns. i detransitioned, but the idea that only cis people detransition is overwhelmingly binarist if you think about it for more than 2 seconds. (idk if that's a word but i'm making it one. you literally know what i mean). i can participate in trans dialogue, but there are areas of my history that i just have to avoid because i'll start getting dirty looks.

so yeah. all that to say. please start including us. loudly. please make a safe space for people who made mistakes, because the only one that exists right now is built to radicalize us against the people for whom those choices weren't mistakes.

[ruminate88]

Forgiving Your Enemies:

You MUST forgive people because it’s freeing to your life and it’s healthy to your heart and mind. It gives your mind space to focus on better things. You won’t always get the opportunity to forgive people to their faces and some times it’s safer to stay away from folks whom you’re aware they can only harm you. You can still forgive them in your heart!

I heard a youth pastor say one time how his father abandoned him as a child and he grew up holding hard feelings towards his dad but it always affected his life negatively. This pastor learned he had to forgive his father even though he never got to see him face to face. Once he forgave his father, he felt released from the hurt and disappointment. He felt as if he could start his life over with a clean start.

Forgiving someone in your heart, is choosing to accept the situation and then let it go. Stop carrying it with you everywhere and instead of harboring negative feelings towards that person, choose to just say “what happened is in the past and it’s over, can’t change it.” Let that person make mistakes and remind yourself you also make mistakes. If that person never changes and can only hurt you, don’t let them back in but pray for them to do better. Hope for their well-being. Seeking revenge only puts you down at their level. Be the bigger person and just live your best life with hope and peace. Don’t create drama against that person or continue to dwell on everything wrong that happened between you two.

I can only write this blog NOW because I myself am just now in a place where I understand forgiveness a little better and I’m learning to forgive people that hurt me. My ex Andrew was a narcissist and he used me, lied to me, cheated on me and broke me down in ways I was isolating myself and becoming a very cold person. Andrew almost stole all the love I had.. Took me years to understand him, the situation, I faced a lot of anger and bitterness but NOW I’m finally coming to a healthier mindset towards him. I’m praying for him more and trying to have more compassion for him.

You’re never gonna perfectly love every one on this earth and you’ll still make mistakes. It’s learning from your mistakes that is helpful to your future and your relationships. Forgiving someone is setting yourself free and allowing them room to grow too. If you constantly beat them up and hold the past over their heads, that’s as bad as whatever they did to you. I know it took me years to get here. Just a month or so ago I was struggling to get over how angry and frustrating my ex made me. He’s human though and I should feel sorry for him, be the bigger person and hope better for his life. I should want him to be healthy and happy!!! ❤️‍🩹 (even if he never would want the same for me, Jesus help us all please!)

[hislittleraincloud]

You haven't made it in fandom until you've garnered hate, and that's what's happening now under Insomniac's Wenovan story.

Some asshat is spewing the usual garbage about the ship. But instead of sticking to the fiction, the bish went full-on MAGAt and inserted that us 'liberals' are all trying to push an agenda of pedophilia onto people, which to me just screams Warriors for Innocence (and I was waiting for Bible verses...alas, they didn't come).

It's almost like none of Wenovan's critics understand what fiction is.

That, plus MAGAts like that anon who cry about liberals are all ignoring the fact that the vast majority of men arrested for sex or inappropriate relationships with minors have been MAGAt-y right wingy 'Christians'*** and conservatives.

Former youth pastor in Colorado was convicted of sexual exploitation of a minor on October 13th.

Former youth pastor in Florida arrested on October 10th for transmitting harmful material to a minor.

Youth pastor in Ohio is on the run after being charged with 14 counts of sexually abusing minors on October 9th.

Former youth pastor from Duluth, MN charged with sexual misconduct with five teen girls on October 5th.

Former youth pastor in Wisconsin sentenced to 20 years on October 3rd for repeated SA of a teen (and wow, "will also not be allowed to serve as a pastor unless approved by his supervising agent" 💀)

Church youth leader arrested at the end of September for multiple counts of sexual battery (yet some news organizations protect his name because...Florida...but his name is Gregory Norton).

Former youth church leader in South Carolina arrested for criminal sexual conduct with a minor in late September

There's more from September, but I want to end this list on a doozy: a former KINDERGARTEN teacher and SENIOR PASTOR in North Carolina arrested and charged with child sex crimes on August 22nd

Less are the cops, and the rabbis, the Muslim clerics (in this country, at least), and the above list is just a fraction of the 'Christians' arrested within the couple of months. But I also pointed out that a pro-life, anti-abortion pill Texas state Republican secessionist who proposed an anti-drag bill "to protect children" had to resign in May for grooming: he plied a 19-year-old intern with alcohol, raped her, and then drove to a drug store so that she could get that very same Plan B pill that the hypocritical fucker was so against everyone else having.

That's our reality that we live in. But it's not the reality of fiction, where we can explore all sorts of issues and relationships safely (or, at least, we're supposed to be safe here).

You don't have to like Wenovan. In fact, I know that this fandom doesn't like it because this fandom is filled with the Gen Z types who have been indoctrinated to believe that merely writing about something makes you an advocate for what you're writing about. It's a seriously misguided application of identity politics that prevents creative writers (and actors, and producers, etc.) from exploring these issues without guilt or being guilted away from telling a story. It's called censorship, whether it be external or self-regulated...it's censoring what you as a writer and artist want to express through your work.

This is old hat for me. Very old hat. Shortly before I was arrested on that bogus attempted murder charge, I was persecuted in my school for simply writing a poem called "Little Catholic Girl". My English professor thought it was brilliant, and couldn't figure out how I was able to capture Catholic Guilt without being Catholic myself...I didn't have any answer for her aside from me wanting to be a writer and to do that I needed to walk in others' shoes. Plus, that poem was written about my most recent ex at the time, a girl who was quite into me and what we were doing, but was also crazy fundie about Catholicism (having gone to a parochial school before coming to public school like our high school), and more than a few times after she did something she felt guilty over, she would zip into a corner of her room or my room and start praying aloud.

I'm not fucking joking. Not even a minute after an orgasm and she'd be in a corner, crying and praying. Yet she would always be the one to initiate. (We never even got naked...it was all my handiwork.)

But I digress. I had submitted the poem to our lit mag, and someone reported it to the house master (we had houses in our little high school, and I was in the color and mascot equivalent of Gryffindor 🤮), and the next thing I know, I'm in his office and he's red-faced and pacing with a copy of my poem in his hand. He finally says to me, "Do you know what this is about? It's about lesbianism!" I just said, "Uh...well, I wrote it." because I couldn't think of anything else to say without being rude, and I already knew I was in trouble. They ended up pulling the poem from consideration and banning it, telling me that it wasn't allowed to be considered for the lit mag again. They censored me, because I wrote a poem about my short relationship with a crazy Catholic girl.

So of course I printed the most explicit excerpt of said poem onto a t-shirt with a suggestive graphic and wore it around school the next day. I got many dirty looks from the house master and the fucking bullfrog of a social worker who was also shitty to LGBTQ students, but I never changed nor did I cover up. I was 'outed' by it, but didn't care; it was 1990, so I put up with a LOT of anti-LGBTQ crap at my high school. 🫠✨

I learned at a very young age that there will always be some asshole looking to tell you what you can't write. But I have never listened to them. I have been an artist and writer for as long as I can remember, and what comes out of my creative brain is mine, and I'm not putting a gun to anyone's head and forcing them to read what I share.

I've also known hypocrisy for as long as I can remember, and it's usually the worst hypocrites who are quick to cast their sanctimonious judgments directly at writers.

If you don't like what we're writing about, why are you even here? Do you see any of us writers hopping on over to your Facebook pages to laugh at and mock your religion? While we should, we just don't have that kind of time. So how is it that you have the time to sit there and whine about something you read--presumably AFTER you read the tags? I'm normal, I read the tags of a story on AO3 and if I don't think I'll like, I ✨gasp✨ DON'T READ IT.

Jesus. Is it really that hard not to read something? I mean, I buy books that I desperately want to read but don't ever get around to it. I'm actually spending money on things I want to read but haven't, yet here we've got Karens who read shit that they'll tell you they don't like.

Anyway. My current depiction of Wenovan is a healthy one (aside from Wednesday's sex addiction). If you think it's unhealthy, it's because you're still stuck in your lens of 2023 reality...when I am writing from a lens of a fictionalized world where your morals don't precisely apply. I could write a different storyline/AU of my own story where she IS groomed or assaulted, but it would look very, very different from what I'm writing here, or what Insomniac wrote. Maybe some day I will take up that lens, but I'm currently not interested.

I'm writing a positive story about a couple doomed to their fates (Donovan, because he is old, and Wednesday because she will lose her greatest love sooner than she should have to). I'm not going to give out too much info right now (except for what I leak in comments and posts here 🤓), but the positivity is that they will weather their political/social storms with the kind of grace that Wednesday is known for, and they will be happy because that's what she wants in the current Afterburn timeline.

No one's censorship should prevent an artist from telling their stories. No one's moralizing comments should prevent an artist from telling their stories, and I sincerely hope that anyone else who would 'dare' write Wenovan (or even Weemsday, when Wednesday is 16/current) can ignore these hypocritical Moms for Liberty-like Karens and publish their work without guilt.

*** Afterburn Wednesday actually addressed this very thing in the text of the last upload I made, in her flashback speech to Mr. Fortunato, her parochial school AP Lit professor. She made him aware that she knew of several inappropriate teacher-student relationships at the school, relationships where the girls were trading sex for better grades.

[29pageshomestuckeveryday]

Homestuck, page 3,714

Exit.

storyboards:

Author commentary: That's it for exactly two years of Homestuck. That's six fairly hefty books' worth of stuff, which really seems like a lot when you put it that way. That means I was cranking out the original material contained entirely by one of these books every four months or so. And the books don't even really show off the animation work that reliably. In reviewing all this for the sake of annotations, there is one point it's almost impossible not to return to frequently: this was an absolutely staggering amount of content produced at a shockingly rapid pace. At this point, I'm having trouble actually matching the rate of one book every four months, and all I have to do now is talk about the shit I made, not make it. I don't know what sort of demon was responsible for this cautionary tale of hyper-productivity, but whatever it was, I'm glad my floppy, vulnerable torso no longer seems to function as its host.

This brings us to the end of Book 6 Act 5 Act 2 Part 2 Year 2 Disc 1. Which has been released more than ten years after Homestuck began. We sure had some fun together. Did I actually say anything useful?????????? God, I hope so. Almost as much as I hope the next book can actually make it to the end of Act 5 without stretching it over to another fucking book. If that happens... I don't even know what I'll do. I'll probably just print out all the remaining pages of Homestuck, lock myself in my room, and proceed to literally EAT EVERY SINGLE PAGE, until somebody calls the police. Once I realize no one is going to call the cops, because nobody actually knows I'm doing this insane thing, I just end up having to call the cops myself. What choice do I have? I need SOMEBODY to come over and help me EAT ALL THESE GODDAMN PAGES. /Drops the mic. It's actually my youth pastor's femur, which clatters loudly on the floor./