#except not really since it's not for the end of the ep

[burnthatbridge]

8x01 misery missing scene

post the sad zoom birthday party

They stick around long enough to help clear up. 

The party decorations come down faster than they went up. Each balloon that Buck pops is a perfect mirror to the ball of excitement in his chest that had shattered at Chris’ lacklustre response, at the stuttering video connection. Except, instead of slippery, soft rubber, the shards it left behind are hard, cutting glass. 

“The cake was excellent,” Tommy offers, with forced cheer, into the silence that descends once the sound of balloons bursting and streamers rustling stops. 

“Take the rest with you,” Eddie says, turning away, heading into the kitchen.

Buck follows him, Tommy close behind, and watches Eddie shove the happy birthday banner into the trash, the party hats too. Buck bites his lip on the protest that Eddie should keep them for next year — he doesn’t think he can bear to hear Eddie voice the fear that they might have as little use for them then as they did today. 

“You’re serious about the cake?” Tommy asks, crossing to where it sits on the kitchen table, one solitary slice consumed. Buck had a bite of Tommy’s, and it was good, but he didn’t feel like having his own. And Eddie hadn’t seemed up to stomaching any at all. 

“Yep,” Eddie nods, without looking over. “I don’t want it.” 

Buck pulls a large tupperware container from the cupboard, hands it over to Tommy, who boxes up the cake. But Buck also takes down a smaller container, saves a single slice, and tucks it away in the fridge. He knows Eddie will crave it later — maybe not tonight, but certainly by tomorrow morning — and will wish he hadn’t given it all away. It will be a nice surprise for him — a much needed one — to find that Buck didn’t let him. 

Buck walks the knife used to cut the cake to the sink and Eddie steps in to wash it. Buck hovers at his side, taskless. They had been going to stick around after surprising Chris, have a couple of beers, watch something, but, with how things went, it’s clear that’s not going to happen. 

“Eddie,” Buck starts, wants to ask if he’s okay — knows he’s not — but Eddie cuts him off. 

“Thanks for coming,” he says, clearly a dismissal, bidding them goodnight without looking up for scrubbing at a knife that must be long clean. 

Tommy replies, “Thank you for inviting us,” even though technically only he was; Buck — never a guest in Eddie’s home — more co-host than attendee, had helped to plan the party, and his presence was assumed, certain. 

At the same time, Buck says, “Of course.” He wouldn’t have been anywhere else today, on Chris’ birthday. Not unless flying to Texas to actually see him would have been an option. Hell, if Eddie had wanted to drive over to El Paso to visit, Buck would have gladly played chauffeur for the whole twelve hour drive. 

Tommy drops a reassuring hand onto the stiff surface that is Eddie’s shoulder, pats it, once, twice, three times, to no noticeable softening. “See you later, man.” He moves to the kitchen door, pauses, looking back at Buck. 

Buck takes a tentative step in Tommy’s direction, says, “See you tomorrow, Eds?” It’s supposed to be a statement, like Tommy’s. A stronger one, even, since Buck and Eddie have a shift together the next day, so their seeing each other should be a concrete occurrence, not a vague likelihood. But the words come out sounding more like a question and he doesn’t follow Tommy out of the room until he sees Eddie nod in answer, agreement. 

They only make it as far as the front door before the gnawing concern in Buck’s gut is too much.  

“Wait,” Buck says as Tommy turns the handle.

Tommy stops, door cracked open an inch, but not opening it any wider, and twists to face Buck, looks at him, expectant. 

“I think–” Buck starts, but he doesn’t quite know what he thinks, only that he shouldn’t be leaving now. Even though there’s nothing left to do: all traces of the party stripped away, their evening plans abandoned. Still, he shouldn’t be leaving. Shouldn’t be leaving Eddie. Not like this.

And he should tell Tommy that, explain it to him. Except… He probably doesn’t need to. Tommy knows him, knows Eddie, and he saw firsthand how things went down tonight. So Buck simply asks, “Can I make my own way? Catch you later?”

“Sure, babe.” Tommy’s expression is full of understanding, eyes soft. He tilts his head, slightly. “I’ll wait up for you?”

Buck nods. “Yeah, please.” He leans in, putting his mouth to Tommy’s mouth, pressing goodbye and gratitude into the kiss. 

Tommy pulls back, graces Buck with a small curling of his lips, the smile dimmer than his usual given how the evening has played out, and then he’s over the threshold, toting the tupperware filled to the brim with uncelebrated birthday cake with him. 

Buck closes the door behind him, gently, then pads back through the house. 

Eddie is in the kitchen, but not quite how Buck left him. He’s still facing away, but now, instead of washing the same spot on the blade of the cake knife over and over, he has his hands braced on the edge of the counter, his head hanging down, like the effort of keeping it up has become too much.

He’s got to know Buck hasn’t left, must hear him reentering the room, a single set of footsteps, but he doesn’t acknowledge him in any way. 

Buck goes to him. Stands at Eddie’s side, tries to see his expression in his dim reflection in the window, but it’s tricky with Eddie’s face lowered. “Eddie,” Buck says and is finally rewarded with Eddie looking up, raising his head so that his eyes meet Buck’s in the window.

The agony in his gaze is palpable.

Buck doesn’t know how to help. He saw how little comfort Eddie took from Tommy’s touch, so it seems pointless to try the same. But his hands itch to hold, to smooth over Eddie and check for points of pain, even though he knows his hurt is of the heart, not body. Knows it, because his own is the same. Buck hurts too: for Chris, for Eddie, for himself. 

“Eddie,” Buck repeats, with no destination in mind except a route out of Eddie’s misery. But, if anything, the anguish displayed plainly on Eddie’s face only deepens. He squeezes his eyes shut and his hands fist, fingers curling in so tight his knuckles whiten. 

“I’m losing him,” Eddie says. 

“You’re not,” Buck answers back, automatic, but no less insistent for it. Eddie isn’t losing Chris. He can’t be losing him. They can’t be losing him. 

“I am,” Eddie pushes back, lifting his hands from the counter to gesture wildly, grief uncontainable. “I’m losing him and it’s all my fault.”

“No.” Buck catches Eddie’s wrists, squeezes them, tries to press his belief, his faith, in Chris and Eddie’s relationship into Eddie’s skin, to transfer it to him. “You made a mistake, but he’s going to forgive you. He just needs a little more time.“

“I don’t think I can take any more time without him,” Eddie confesses, and there are tears shining in his eyes. 

Buck drops his hold on Eddie’s arms, but only so he can wind his own around him, tug him into an embrace.

Eddie lets him, tucks his face into Buck’s neck, chokes out, “I just want him to come home.”

“I know,” Buck murmurs, smoothing one hand down the line of Eddie’s spine, his other arm wrapped firmly round his shoulders. “I know. I do too.”

“He loves his grandparents,” Eddie goes on, voice muffled in Buck’s shirt collar. “He could decide to just stay with them.”

“He loves you,” Buck states, an irrefutable fact. This he knows: he has been privileged to witness so much of the love Christopher has for his dad. “He’s not going to stay with them forever.”

“But,” Eddie protests, sounding lost and unsure, his fingers wound in the fabric of Buck’s shirt, his breath damp against Buck skin, “You love your parents. That doesn’t make them good ones. Ones you’d want to be with if you had a better option.”

“You are nothing like my parents.” Buck squeezes Eddie tighter to him, in tune with the ferocity of his words. “You– you are the best father I have ever seen. You love Chris so, so much. And– and he knows you do, he doesn’t have to doubt it.” Not like Buck did, every day of his life.

He continues, “Your mom and dad are not the better option for him. Sure, he’s having a nice summer with them. But, even if he’s still upset right now, I know he’s missing you too. He’s going to come home, because he belongs here, with you.” Of that Buck is sure. It’s Chris and Eddie: their bond is too deep, their relationship too strong, to be broken. 

“But,” Eddie says again, “But what if he–”

“No,” Buck stops him, not willing to let Eddie hurt himself with his thoughts, his fears, more than he already has. “Chris loves you, Eddie. And he’s going to come home to you. He is.”

Buck doesn’t know if Eddie fully believes him, but his words are enough that Eddie slumps completely against him in something like relief. And all his stress and hurt over being separated from his son comes pouring out.

As he sobs, the spasming of his chest heaving against Buck’s and the trickle of his tears sliding down Buck’s skin, Buck holds him. Holds him and presses his lips to his temple and thinks please, Chris, please come home soon. Come home to us. 

[dollsome-does-tumblr]

i’m having sort of a hard time with this season of ted lasso specifically AS the last season. if this was just a new season and we could anticipate a fourth season after it that would feel more ‘this is the end!’, i’d be fine and have more patience, but the countdown clock of “oh god, there are only this many episodes left and i don’t get why we’re doing all this” is really making me melancholy. the thing that makes me the absolute saddest is roy and keeley being parted in a way where it’s becoming increasingly clear that we won’t get to see them chill and happy together as a couple again because there just isn’t time (esp. with jamie seeming to potentially be in the mix for her romantically again). but i feel weird and sad about so many things. there are some shows where the final season has really felt like a final season to me in a really emotionally resonant way, and i gotta say, so far this season isn’t doing that for me at all. (and i kinda expected better from this show since its whole thing is feelings and they’ve had the whole story plotted out from the beginning!!) it really feels like another mid-series season to me instead of THE END.

this is just how i feel about it personally, so obviously other people are watching and having a totally different experience. and i don’t even know how to fully articulate what my problem is. but something about the pacing this season and what the show chooses to focus on has just got me feeling so WEIRD and at sea!

oh my goddddd, only four episodes left, helpppppppppp D:

[raayllum]

Been thinking about it as I approach 5x08 in my S5 rewatch but something something "the actual character arcs are wrapped up steadily either prior to or within the finale" spread out across the main cast is brewing

[astrxealis]

hozier yoo

[zombieweek-g]

Finally finished watching all the Capaldi seasons of Doctor Who

[llycaons]

the great is quite good. quite good

[zosanbrainrot]

part 05!!

01 02 03 04 05 06

It's been a while since I last worked on this comic, I've been busy

☘️🦋☀️ experiencing summer ☀️🦋☘️

which was and still is a lot of fun!

ANYHOW, I feel like when I stop drawing for a while it usually does me good, like, I'm very happy with my art quality in these panels and I didn't change much since the first draft (I still overthink some of the decisions but not as much as with the last part lmao).

It's like when in games you have a separate bar for running/stamina and it can only fill back up fully once you go slow and just walk for a while, but if you insist on running all the time it's never really at full capacity. Can't think of a better analogy, but lmk if you feel the same!

One of the things I maybe would have done differently is to have Yonji take the spear out of Zoro's shoulder, maybe?? It was so good when I first saw people draw a parallel between Zoro and Yonji because of their hair color and that maybe Sanji subconsciously has thought about this too ever since he and Zoro met. Not a meaningful thing for their relationship but more of an offhand thought that would surface from time to time. Him carrying the memories of his childhood all the time with him.

But! The upside of me not picking Yonji is that both Ichiji and Niji have the goggles so without their eyes visible they feel kinda distant emotionally and that works both bcs of who they are and also bcs the comic is not about them, in that panel where Niji has Sanji in a headlock the emotional focus is solely on Sanji.

And also Yonji just turned out so good there that I didn't wanna go back and change him lmao

I admit, when I was coming up with the plot of this comic in a frenzy right after watching these eps I kinda forgot about Nami slapping Sanji lmao I only recently remembered :' ) Don't wanna dwell on it too much though.

This part feels maybe more distant overall - I don't have any closeup shots (except the spear!) and the last moment you see Sanji's face fully is when he looks at Zoro. Zoro who got hurt. Again. Because of him.

I can't remember what I'd been thinking while boarding these, it'd been mostly vibes based, but I think the function of this part ended up being about showing a sequence of events rather than focusing on the emotions. It's pushing the plot forward and I think if I added closeups to the Vinsmokes then it'd be derailing a bit, again, it's not about them.

On the other hand it also works for Sanji shutting his emotions off, once his brothers and Judge enter the scene he has no leeway, he can't let his true feelings show. He's already shown too much. And what did it lead to? Everyone getting even more hurt. He let himself slip up during his fight with Zoro and Judge quickly put him back in his place. As long as the Strawhats were on the island they weren't truly safe. So he turns on his heel and walks back to the carriage, not looking back, he can only hope that Zoro's gonna pull through. He always does, he's been through worse, right? Right? They've never fought like this before though... The burn marks will take long to heal... And Luffy, has he woken up yet? No, no, no, he can't look back. And Nami...

So that's that! I got part 06 half finished already, so that should be out soon <333

as a bonus thing - some of the refs I've used for this part

3D models posed in Magicposer!

[lem-argentum]

hi did you know umm i love prom <3 yeah :•) <3

[tlou-reid]

okay i know i literally posted the first blurb of popstar!reader x spencer but i can’t stop thinking about them so this is how i picture them meeting

popstar!reader x spencer reid au

spencer checked his watch with a sigh, doing his best to increase the pace of his steps, hoping to make it to his guest lecture on time. the head of the anthropology department had set this up months ago, spencer couldn’t ruin it now.

despite it not being one of spencer’s many masteries, he was here to educate the department’s students on forensic anthropology; the study of human skeletal remains. it was a skill he used a lot in the field, and was more than excited to be able to talk to all of the students who signed up to visit the lecture. he wasn’t sure how many it was, but he looking forward to it nonetheless.

all had been going perfectly, until his train had been delayed due to the track being icy. he understood the dangers, but was really tee-ed off at the situation.

so, here he was, trying not to embarrass himself on campus. it felt like his college experience all over again, except he was just over college age, rather than multiple years below. the ground was slippery, so he looked like a white mom with the way he was speed-walking.

“excuse me,” a chipper voice called out. there was no one around, meaning she was definitely talking to him. spencer debated ignoring her, but didn’t want to be rude, especially if she was one of the students. “hello,” he answered, trying his best to hide his annoyance. covering up his emotions was never one of spencer’s strong suits.

“do you know where the stadium is? i’ve been looking around forever, but i can’t seem to find it. the map has faded out, it definitely needs to be repainted.” she asked. “follow that path,” spencer gestured to one that split between two buildings, “to the right and it’ll be straight down.” he’d barely finished his sentence before he was trekking along, desperately trying to make it on time. “thank you, professor!” she proclaimed.

professor?

that crisis was one spencer would have to deal with later. he knew his ties and dressed pants made him blend in with an older crowd, be he’d at least thought he’d be labeled as a master’s student at most.

oh well, he has somewhere to be.

“i’m so sorry for the delay,” spencer said as he arrived to the large lecture hall. he sat his bag down, before going to shake the professor’s hand. “it’s no issue, dr. reid. it’s not like we had much of a turn out, anyways.” for the first time, spencer directs himself to the seats. six of them are full.

“i’m sorry if this is a disappointment,” the professor said as spencer dismissed it with a head shake, “we had a lot more sign up, but once they announced who was playing at the festival, a lot of plans changed.”

“festival?” spencer’s face twisted up, not understanding what the professor was talking about. a student interjected, a blonde boy with glasses, “yeah it kicks off the start of holiday festivities. it’s usually really lame, but y/n is playing it this year and her ep was a banger.”

spencer nodded, pretending he knew what the word banger meant. “i’ll try to be quick so you guys can make it to see, too.” spencer smiled at the students who did show. he appreciated their dedication, especially since there was somewhere else they could be having a lot more fun. the students smiled back at him.

talking fast is a skill spencer had mastered, so he ended up using 50 of the 90 minutes he was allotted, and sent the students off to the festival, telling them to have fun and be safe.

“they really appreciated you letting them go. i heard danny and rebecca talking about how much they wanted to be there, but they needed the extra credit for one of their courses.” the professor smiled at spencer. he remembered having professors like him, and hoped one day he could be similar.

“you should go check it out too, i heard y/n’s really good live.” the professor said as he stepped out into the hallway. spencer nodded, and finished packing up his things.

after some internal debate, spencer decided he would. he was using his first PTO day all year, so he minus well spend it doing something that could have some semblance of fun. he followed the same path he’d directed someone down earlier, and used his guest pass to come in through the side. he was standing side-stage, watching y/n perform her last song. while pop wasn’t usually the genre he chose, he could admire how strong she was vocally, especially considering the way she danced across the stage.

he smiles as he realizes that y/n is the same girl he’d given directions too. it was nice to know someone else was running late to something important today.

“thank you!” she says, waving goodbye to the crowd of students. she’s moving closer to spencer before he can even realize it. he didn’t know that he would be standing where she exited, but he wasn’t upset about it all.

“professor!” she cheers when she sees him, wiping down some sweat that had accumulated at the top of her head. “how’d you get back here?”

spencer’s cheek went red almost immediately, feeling like he’d been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to. “i-i just followed the path i sent you down,” he stuttered. she giggled at him, “well, i hope you liked the show.”

“i did!” spencer squeaked, with a small voice crack, before relaxing himself a bit and adding, “i just made it in time for the last song, but it was really good.” all of the knowledge he possessed about music and music theory was wiped away when she got close enough to him that he could see the individual specs of glitter on her eyelids. he wished he could compliment something technical about her performance, but his mind was blank.

“guess i’ll just have to get your number so you can come to a full show,” you smiled at him. if spencer’s head was empty before, it was full now, with nothing but thoughts of you. “y-yeah, that’d be cool.” you giggled again, reaching for his hand. “my phone’s somewhere backstage, but here,” you held his arm steady, using the sharpie you’d been given to sign autograph with to scribble your personal number across his arm.

“use it, sometime.” you declared, skipping off when you were done. spencer nodded at no one, trying to forget about the amount of chemicals seeping into his skin from the permanent marker.

shit, he thought, i’m gonna have to get a phone i can text on.

[slavghoul]

Interview from Sweden Rock Magazine 10/2023

Hi, hi. There is an interview with Tobias in SRM’s newest issue, but it’s in the subscribers only section, so I thought I’d translate/share since I guess not many people will be able to get their hands on it. It is about Prequelle and it’s part of SRM’s „200 best Swedish hard rock albums of all time” series. Prequelle placed #68. The other albums may have scored higher, but for now we don’t know the whole list. Either way, enjoy. Very insightful. 

„Do you think that "Prequelle" is Ghost's worst album?” Now that’s an unusual opening question. Especially when the interview is about an album that Sweden Rock Magazine's writers and qualified Swedish hard rock musicians (including Tobias Forge) have voted as one of the 200 best Swedish hard rock albums of all time. The question wasn’t planned, but comes spontaneously, as a reaction to the first thing Tobias Forge says when we sit down on opposite sofas in the record company office. I'm here for a two-part interview, partly about the EP "Phantomime" (published in #6 2023), partly about "Prequelle". Neither record companies, artists, voters, nor even our writers who conduct interviews for this series of articles have any idea what placement an album has received. Interviews are often done well in advance and we simply don't want placements to leak and become public long before publication.

No Ghost album has ever been on the list before. The idea is actually to end the day with the "Prequelle" talk, but when Tobias Forge suddenly starts with a funny little comment that this album is probably the one that those who have voted think is Ghost's worst or least popular album, I just have to take the opportunity to ask the question: Do you think that "Prequelle" is Ghost's worst album?

No, absolutely not, he says and laughs. If I'm going to be completely pragmatic, I'd say: "How many songs do we actually play from that record?" There are songs that work damn well live and sit where they should. So it's a pretty strong album.

But is this what you are basing it on? "Prequelle" was released after Ghost had become really big so it can't be compared to "Opus Eponymous" and "Infestissumam" which you don't play many songs from. I mean, no matter what kind of record you had released when "Prequelle" came out, you would still have played many songs from it and they would have worked precisely because Ghost's songs nowadays are moulded more to the arena format.

I don't know how to answer that, it's difficult. If the album had been different, it would have been. If I'm going to talk somehow both artistically and practically, I know that for every record we have become exponentially bigger. "Prequelle" was definitely no exception, but it also took us a big step forward and upwards and we became bigger and broader. To the extent that when we introduce old songs in the live set, you notice that there are elements on albums one and two that make some songs more difficult to play. Not technically, we can play the songs, but they don't work in quite the same way as the later songs, which means that there is a slight favouritism.

I asked the original question about whether you think it's Ghost's worst album only because you directly said that this means it's the least popular one.

I'm just so full of myself I assumed all the other albums are also in the top 200, which may actually be incorrect. This might be the best album and the others aren't even there, haha.

It wasn't long after "Prequelle" was released that you were self-critical of the album in interviews, saying that it was too ballad-heavy and a bit too soft. I haven't noticed that before, you being so self-critical shortly after the release.

Yes, but I still feel that way. If, as an artist, I am only going to look at the work with the criticism that one can feel towards one's own work, I think that if things had been different or if I had more time, I might have wished that I had managed to get maybe two more hard songs. Maybe one more hard song would have fit on the album and another harder song might have phased out one of the ballads. Now five years after the album came out, I know that the two ballads ("Pro Memoria" and "Life Eternal"), which I may not think are bad, are one too many. But I know that many of the people who like the band like both of them, so it's kind of a useless argument.

Who sets the length of an album? Have you set a limit, that it can't be longer than this and have no more songs than that?

No, but it must fit on an LP disc and there is a physical limit. I think the absolute pain threshold is 46 minutes and that's 23 minutes on each side. Now maybe Mikkey Dee (co-owner of Spinroad Vinyl Factory) will raise his hand here: "But I can make it longer!" And it's maybe 48 minutes, I don't know, but I do know that when a disc starts getting so full that you start getting close to the sticker, it starts to sound bad. Especially nowadays, because recordings today are so very maximalist in scope. It's one thing if you record 60s music with drums, a guitar and bass where the sound is cleaner and finer or if you play acoustic stuff with just vocals. Bob Dylan records could have eight songs on each side and it worked all the way through. But this kind of fairly compact music doesn't work well. Not only am I a militant vinyl advocate, I think we should respect the fact that most artists don't manage to create more than 45 minutes of good music on a regular basis. A lot of famous double records are not that good. I don't think the Rolling Stones "Exile On Main St" is very good. It might as well have been on one disc. And if I'm actually going to turn it into something completely mundane, I'd say that I think it's irresponsible to sit and make records with twelve songs if it results in the record being 63 minutes long and you automatically have to make a double record. It's pretty wasteful.

When you said that it's irresponsible, I thought you were going to say that it's irresponsible to print a double vinyl because of the environmental destruction that it entails.

Of course, if we're going to be completely straightforward and not do anything that harms nature, we shouldn't even release any records, so I say this with reservation. But with that in mind and for the sake of art, I think more people should embrace the actual given format that has been the most prevalent in rock history. There is a reason why a film is usually one hour and 30 minutes. You can’t take any more. There's a certain dramaturgical structure and there’s a certain comfort in it. Then the CDs came along they screwed that up, and suddenly there weren't two sides anymore but it started one way and ended another. Now that the CD is no longer important and we've gone back to vinyl, creators should follow suit and start embracing the physical rules.

Are there songs that have been rounded off just because you thought „I have to round off here, because if I continue, it won't fit on the vinyl disc"?

We actually had that problem on the last album. „Watcher In The Sky” ended the A-side and the outro is much longer on the CD and digitally. Two minutes longer I think. Much, much, much longer. It's long, noisy and has all these dives. It's a very chaotic soundscape. You get the feeling that it goes on and on, and on the vinyl it's just the beginning of an outro and then it drops almost immediately. I think that was a huge mistake.

So the overall sound quality was more important than vinyl buyers getting everything? Because you could have pressed the vinyl and it would have fit, but you would have had to compromise the sound quality.

Yes, exactly. You can get the song to just keep going until the vinyl simply runs out. Then it just starts spinning in the middle, depending on what kind of record player you have. But the problem then, if you want to anticipate events at a creative stage, is that people today buy and listen to vinyl records and are sensitive. It's quite common for people to complain that the record is broken. I don't just mean our records, but people complain a lot about the presses. If you make ten songs, it's therefore stupid to have a too thick soundscape towards the end of song number five and song number ten. If you want to be really good and old school, that's where you put a piano ballad because it's an easier sound to handle so far into the record. This is what I think about when I make records. But clearly sometimes I miscalculate.

This must cut right through the record collector Tobias Forge's whole body and soul, that "Watcher In The Sky” is shortened by two minutes on the vinyl of all versions.

Well... I don't toss and turn and wake up in the middle of the night thinking about it anymore. But when it happened, I was livid. Luckily it was just an outro. It would have been worse if it had continued with some kind of narrative into the next song. Now I can't remember in my head how long "Prequelle" is, but if I'd had to go back in time and just re-construct it, the re-construction wouldn't have had much to do with the existing material, I would have just wanted to add a scene. And it's not a scene that's missing, it's just for the sake of balance. It became asymmetrical in a way that bothers me a bit.

You've talked about this before, but it was before "Prequelle" that you really started to talk a lot about how you were thinking about what kind of new songs might suit the live show. Can you get stuck in that mindset, thinking more about what songs are needed live right now rather than creating an album that will last 30 years?

Hmm... (long pause)... The reason I'm sitting here thinking is because I'm trying to come up with examples of other bands that I think might have gone through something similar. I’m looking for examples to the answer I'm about to formulate and that is that: yes, I think there comes a point in the career when most bands make a record because they simply feel they need to… Because what we're talking about is that when you go from playing in small smoky clubs in front of an already inveterate audience that already understands the perhaps a little more chewy expression, that experience can change if you start playing in front of a larger and especially a different type of audience. When a different type of audience comes and you play in a different format, you discover that this song doesn't work very well, it doesn't sound very good and it's difficult to get the sound right. Then there's usually a record or two or three during your career when this transition happens where you start filling in with songs that work better live. Look at Piece of mind", "Powerslave" and "Somewhere in time". There's a reason why Iron Maiden didn't play a lot of the first two albums there and then, because it was easier to play the new songs. You get to that point somewhere in your career and it's very difficult to say when it is - there's no given rule and there are artists who continue to release relevant records and have an amazing ability to release new records and just play the whole new record. Well, now Iron Maiden does that and tests their audience a little bit in that way, but then they will always compensate by doing like a "best of" set the following year so everything is forgiven. Now we're in the middle of the "Impera" period here and have a very strong set, but I'm starting to feel that now that I'm about to start writing a new album, it feels like it's not really on my agenda to write three more albums that will change the live setlist ten years ahead. I think we already have the blueprint for what is Ghost's setlist, especially if you include the entire catalogue. After a while, each new record you make becomes a little less important. It's really hard to know when that point comes, but the truth is that new records don't matter in the same way. Slayer didn't have to release "Divine Intervention”. They definitely didn't have to release "Diabolus In Musica". I didn't care about it and I just wanted to hear the old stuff. If they had just come up and played "Reign In Blood" I would have been soooo happy. And that's the way it is with most bands. Nobody would be sad if the Rolling Stones came up and didn't play anything from "Emotional Rescue". And that's just the way it is. In the future, I can see a scenario where there is probably a basis to possibly build up an alternative setlist. There are so many songs that we do not play and that I have nothing against - I love them too! But it would almost be easier to build up a completely alternative setlist and run a show with only the odd songs. There are so many songs now. There's no reason not to build on that. But when I want to make a new record, it's irresponsible for me not to consider that there might have to be some songs that are a bit more direct. But it doesn't hurt me if we have more songs that we don't play live. I don't know if this answers your question...

I would actually like to ask exactly the same question again, because I wonder if you yourself feel that you get stuck during the making of the record. You said that you would have liked to include another hard song because "Prequelle" doesn't have the balance that you would have liked to have in retrospect.

Exactly, but the explanation for that has more to do with my mental capacity there and then. I simply couldn't cope. I felt that I had probably maxed out… It was probably about as much as I could do that year. That's the simple explanation. To get another song that would have fit and that would have fulfilled this requirement that I now in retrospect would have wished I had, it would have required something that I did not have there and then. The only thing that could have made it easier is if I had more time. It is difficult to reason about it, you see.

I was in the studio for a few days during the recording and it's one of the few times in all these years that I've done interviews where someone has started crying during an interview. It was quite obvious that everything that had happened with the split of the band affected you.

Yes. Of course. It did.

Is "Prequelle" a difficult album to listen to for you? Can you sit and listen to it all the way through? 

Well, at the moment I have to do that from time to time, and listen to all the records, because we're just about to start rehearsing again and then I sometimes have to go back and just listen to the record to go: "Fuck, is that really how I sing?" Especially when we start rehearsing, I can be a bit like: "Damn, who changed this bit?” Then I usually sit down and it hits me: "Oh, it's me who has changed my song!" You simply do that over the years, you start singing it in a slightly different way. So sometimes I have to go back and listen, but it’s more practical. I don't think it's fun to listen them. I do it until they are finished. I listen over and over and over again and really try to listen with all the imaginary ears and all the imaginary perspectives you can have. "How would I have listened to this if I had heard it from this perspective?" Just to get as "objective" a perspective as I can until I'm satisfied, but then it's like „No, I don't want to hear this anymore". But I have to say that I think "Prequelle" is a very tolerable disc despite everything that interfered with the process. Therapeutically, it works quite well considering that we are still playing at least half of the album. For every artist there are songs that you want to play, and there are songs that you don’t want to play because they feel too personal. I don't feel that way about this one, it's more like: "Ah hell, they're part of the setlist and people like it and it sounds good. So that's what we're doing."

On a personal level, was Tom Dalgety the perfect producer for you, the way you were feeling at the time? Tom feels like the kindest, sweetest producer you can meet. He wasn't the kind of producer who pushed you very much, it was more of a nice atmosphere between you.

Yes, really, and it would have been different if Klas Åhlund, who is more confrontational, had been in the room. Now Klas and I are great mates, so it would certainly have been very therapeutic also, but it would have been a different process. If an artist comes in who is in such bad shape that they can't make a record, or a band where the main songwriter has just left them, then a Bob Ezrin goes in and says: "If you don't make the record, I'll make the record myself.” And he goes and makes Kiss "Destroyer" or Alice Cooper records. I'm not saying they didn't make them, just that you hear that Bob Ezrin made "Beth". It's a type of producer that's very different from a lot of other producers who maybe act a little bit more like buddies and cheerleaders and make the atmosphere good. Bob Ezrin doesn't care so much about the atmosphere in the room. Klas is somewhere in between, I would say. Given the condition I was in during "Prequelle", the result could probably have been different if Klas had come in. Ironically, there was actually talk of him doing it, but he didn't have the time and we'll never know how it would have turned out. I only know that it would have been different, but right there and then Tom was fantastic. I know that a lot of bands like to work with him because he is technically brilliant. He's really good at those typical sounds that people like: cool drums, guitar, bass, tone and clarity. He is also very "happy go lucky", a nice guy who sits and jokes all the time. Even if he has a bad day, it doesn't affect anyone else, which is convenient.

Let me compare it to when a writer contacts me after an interview and says "that was such a nice interview". For me, "nice" is not something positive in such a work situation and the result is often better when there is a little friction.

Mmm, and that is more Klas. There is more friction and more confrontation. And I was much better equipped for that at "Meliora" and later at "Impera". I felt better and was simply stronger. There wasn't the same survival instinct as on "Prequelle". If I think back, not about how the album turned out and how I have to live with it, but if I think back to the situation I was in, I was very anxious all the time. Even though I'm happy with the result, I wouldn't want to go through the recording again, even though Tom was great. Because it's hard to work when you're under attack. I realised that now when I made "Impera", when it was no longer like that. You are much more comfortable, it doesn't feel the same, you are more mature, you make better decisions, you are more controlled or dare to be uncontrolled. When things are this serious, you can end up in a freeze mode. Maybe that's also why there wasn't another song. The song that I miss doesn't exist because I simply squeezed out everything I had. If I had been in a different emotional state, I might have been more comfortable working out something at the last second from bits and pieces. But I felt that I really just wanted to get it done, deliver it, get back out on tour and start over again.

When you described being more mature during "Impera" you sounded like a 70-year-old, kind of like all the Aerosmith-like bands that have been fighting all their lives and now that they're in their 70s they say "we're soooo mature,” haha.

I think with all artists, especially when they're required to work in a group, there are many recordings that have been a collision with a wall because you're expected to function in a context all the time, whatever and whenever. But you do change and from one year to a few years down the line there can be a huge difference in a person's drive, hunger and priorities in life. Whether you have the same band structure as I do or whether you play in Metallica, people come in one state and they may end up in another, because you have different priorities at different times. It's unfortunately against the whole rock myth. I think that's the biggest problem for bands and businesses, that you always have this idea that if you just get to a certain stage - not just monetarily or career-wise, but you get to a certain stage of fun - then we've reached the status quo. But that is never the case! Never! There’s always something. Even in the best moments when everything is working, the band is awesome, everyone is working well, the crew is awesome, everyone is laughing, it's just a party all the time mentally, you have the world's best tour manager, everything is flowing and the tickets are selling, there will always be someone who doesn't like it and then has to break away and want to do their thing because it's no longer fun. It's usually somewhere in the lead-up to a stage where it's interesting and then once you've achieved it, it all becomes a bit boring. Just like in a relationship some people may eventually think, "well, that's a bit boring, I have to go out and do something else".

Since I was in the studio when you were laying down guitars on "Witch Image", my heart beats a little extra for that song and I thought it would be a great live song, but you've barely played it (at the time of writing it's Ghost's forty-fourth most played song live).

We did it during the "Prequelle" tour, or "A Pale Tour Named Death" as it was called. Then we did quite a few "an evening with" concerts, for better or worse. The advantage was that if you were a big fan of the band we actually played a lot of songs and actually a lot of the first albums, like "Idolatrine" - or "Witch Image". We did a set, a break and then a whole other set. That was a bit of a taste of what I was talking about earlier: doing a slightly larger set and then a slightly smaller one. You just shouldn't do it on the same night because it gets a bit stale. We played for two hours and 30 minutes or something and that wasn’t a good idea, haha. At least we did "Witch Image", but it has fallen behind a bit and it doesn't mean that we will never play it again, just that we don't do it right now. What I've been happy about is that there has been a feeling for the records that we've made recently, "Prequelle" and "Impera", that people still want to hear the new stuff. We haven't gotten to that stage that I talked about earlier when it doesn't matter anymore. Then it's very fun to try to find a new way to perform the songs, not technically, but suddenly a song like "Witch Image" might fulfill a very nice purpose between a completely new song and another song.

Let me speculate: in 30 years, I think "Rats" will be considered the great hard rock song, "Dance Macabre" the great hit and "Life Eternal" the great ballad. What do you think? Will this in the future be seen as the three big songs of the album?

Yes, that makes sense, I think. I understand that an instrumental song automatically ends up in the wake of a "best of" collection, in the sense that you do one in 30 years. I realise it's not a hit but the instrumental "Miasma" is a big part of our live show. It's strong and feels like such a keeper. Now we don't play "Life Eternal" very often actually, but it was very well received. For some reason people like to get married to it, I don’t know why, hehe. It's nice but it's also a bit like U2’s „I still haven't found what I'm looking for" and you don't use that one at a wedding. But people like it and I guess interpret it differently to me. It’s also a song that I don't think is fun to play live.

And why not?

Because I find it hard to play ballads. Physically, they don't feel the same as rock songs. I miss the "dunka dunka". Now everyone who plays music today knows what I mean - sorry, readers who don't play music - and it's that there's a small problem with having in-ear monitors. This means that you have to reach a certain frequency of beats in order to feel the music, unlike when you played at clubs with only a guitar amp behind you. You felt every single note you made and it just went through your body. Nowadays, I think it's sometimes hard when you play slow songs, because you have to trust that it sounds good, whereas when you play a rock song, you feel that it sounds good.

Does it also apply to "He Is” which is such a huge ballad, not least live?

Well, just the intro and then it gets going quite quickly and suddenly becomes a hard and rather fast-paced song. The classic ballad concept has always been that you play so-called edge beats to make it sound soft, while "He Is” is actually a rather hard-played song considering that it is a ballad. Once the drums come in – boom, boom – it's got AC/DC bite to it. It has a rock feel to it that "Life Eternal" doesn't really have. As I said, I don't think that "Life Eternal" is a lot of fun to perform, but that doesn't mean that it isn't quite good to listen to. It’s just that when I play "Dance Macabre" or "Mummy Dust" I feel that I can express myself physically more in line with what the text says and what it means.

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - Everything Went a Bit Weird Allasudden

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

BL OLYMPICS! Week 2

I'll be passing out metals in various sporting events, as part of the weekly updates (through mid August) just for funzies.

Aug 2024 Week 1

Ongoing Series - Thai

The Rebound (Weds Gaga) eps 11-12fin - THE STAIRS ARE BACK and now they’re evil! Frank is truly great. He's out acting everyone else, but I'm just happy to see him pine. OK yes, the ending wasn’t awesome but I still really enjoyed this show. 

In conclusion: (deep breath)

This was a sports romance Thai BL pulp with everything I could have asked for given this sub genre. More, actually, since MeenPing are both great basketball players and the team component really did form part of the connective tissue of the show (vital in a sports romance). Meen has his shirt off within the first two minutes which is all I needed but he's still pretty great as the sullen secret keeper against Ping's cheerful survivor - childhood sweethearts torn asunder and now reunited. Then Frank sweeps in to give everyone a bad case of second lead syndrome. I always try to judge BL for what it is AS BL, and what it’s trying to do within its own territory and purview. This did exactly what it claimed on the tin: gay boys play b-ball and fall in love. That was all I wanted from it. Sure there was random kidnapping and a light bought of mass murder, but what’s a BL in 2024 without a touch of the mafia? You do you little pulp, I’m disposed to be pleased.

Thank you, Rebound, for being exactly what I wanted. Is this gonna be anybody else’s favorite BL of 2024? Probably not. But there is a real good chance it’ll be mine. Is it perfect? No. But for me, it got as close as a pulp can get, so I’m giving it 9/10.

My Love Mix-Up Th (Fri YT) ep 9 of 12 - Them being boyfriends is so damn adorable. Like PondPhuwin I think I could watch G4 just be boyfriends for 16 eps and not fuss about anything in life. They're my emotional support pair brand. Back to the show:

My goodness Atom is such a frenetic high strung babygirl. He is a near constant emotional pingpong.

Gold in Table Tennis

K is a teenage saint. The lights thing, and the hands to head (reminiscent of certain previous characters from this pair), all made me coo and laugh. 

However, this ep was mostly about the hets. It’s always funny to me when the gays have their shit figured out in a show but the hets are in chaos.

Also they're touted as "a teacher and a baker" but they're playing the gay dads of this narrative and I LOVE THEM SO MUCH. More gay dads in BL!

This Love Doesn't Have Long Beans (Fri iQIYI) ep 5 of 8 - I’m just gonna say it, because no one else is, this pair kisses like they’re in a Taiwanese BL. There’s no other way to put it except there’s a whole body genuine interest and enthusiasm to the way they do physicality that’s comparatively rare in Thai BL. This kind of on-screen sexual maturity is my favorite, especially in grown-up characters like these. The side couple = awesomesause. JJ is a very appealing character. He hates Methas, he likes him, he loathes him, and also... he definitely wants to see him naked. 

All praise aside? I have questions about why half the hair in this show is so absolutely ghastly. Like bad enough for Japan. Enough of that now, Thailand. Tut tut. Cut cut. Style style. Please & thank you?

Then again who cares when we get...

They already won silver last week, but I guess they're going for

Gold in Weightlifting

Century of Love (Weds Gaga) eps 7-8 of 10 - Well THAT is an interesting take on a Faen Fetale. As expected, a somewhat doomy ep 7. I did enjoy the doctor punching San tho.

Bronze in Boxing

Meanwhile, that camel jacket is a sin against all things, especially Daou. But I eventually got a crying kiss. I love a crying kiss best in the world. Next week looks good! But I miss my nine tailed fox nod. Will we get back to that or was it just a brief weird thing?

The Trainee (Sun YouTube) ep 5 of 12 - It’s kinda great actually. The romance is the only bit that isn’t really hitting for me. Gun’s smile at the "oppa" is so adorable. His little dimples.

Sunset X Vibes (Sat iQIYI) ep 8 of 12 - I really do not like the pet name in this one. Khun Dad is too weird for me. But I do think their relationship is ridiculously cheesy and endearing in a terrible way. These two are the equivalent of that couple that always speaks in baby talk. It’s a good thing they’re pretty because they’re not so bright. Wait! No Christmas music in my BL! That's far too weird. 

Bronze in Diving

I Saw You in My Dream (Weds Gaga) ep 3 of 12 - I’m liking this a lot better now. It’s still a little slow for me but since the bullying has stopped relatively quickly I’m not as upset as I was. Also, look at those eyes, our P'Seme is IN LURV. That said, I’m not wild about the sudden suicide plot line. That feels... weird.

Battle of the Writers (Sun YT) - TutorYim are back and so far this is better than Middleman's Love - but that's not saying much. For a second there I thought they were going to open on the REAL blindfold scene from Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation. But then I remembered that that’s more Mame than anyone else. On a completely different note, I do like this pair. And I’m willing to give them ever more chances. That said this is very, I don’t know, weird? I’m not sure what is happening, and I’m confident that’s not my fault. I hope it makes sense eventually.

Knock Knock Boys (Thurs Gaga) ep 11 of 12 - Peak's dad is so completely frustrating and kind of psychotic. It’s annoying to watch. So I spent most of this episode upset. I'm glad he came around in the end but it was a lot, mostly unforgivable, from this side of the screen.

Love Sea (Sun iQIYI) ep 8 of 10 - It's committing the greatest sin of all (in the realm of entertainment). It's mind numbingly dull. I'd sooner be offended than bored. Trash watch

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

I Hear the Sunspot AKA Hidamari ga Kikoeru (Japan Weds Gaga) ep 7 of 10 - I don’t remember the camping trip from the manga, but I really enjoyed it in this series.

Takara's Treasure AKA Takara No Vidro (Japan Mon Gaga) ep 5 of 10 - The bit with the kid was cute but I’m still finding this rather slow and the central relationship unappealing. I think the balance of power has to shift for me to engage, and I don’t see that happening anytime soon.

It's airing but...

Bad Guy (Korea YT) - yeah, erm, no thank you.

Sugar Dog Life (Japan Sun ????) 10 eps - OMG a uni student who looks too young and a... COP. GAH. The subversion and kink of it all. Please SOMEONE pick this one up?

4 Minutes (Thai Netflix/Grey) - A rich boy at uni suddenly gains the supernatural power to see four minutes into the future. I have a source, but I've decided to hold off and binge if it ends okay, since it's only 8 eps. I depend upon y'all to tell me how it goes.

Meet You at the Blossom (China) - it's your funeral (or, more likely, one of the main characters'). You can argue but... statistics. You know my feelings on this matter. MY BLOG, remember?

In case you missed it

The Time of Fever AKA Unintentional Love Story 2 (Korea movie) trailer IS COMING IN SEPTEMBER!!!!

Next Week Looks Like This:

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

Coming Up This Month!

8/6 Cosmetic Playlover (Japan Tues Gaga) 8 eps - office romance around the makeup counter featuring a younger seme and sexual blackmail. I'm intrigued. DFTUJ (don't fuck this up, Japan).

8/8 Monster Next Door (Thai Thurs Gaga ) 12 eps - I am so DAMN excited to see Big finally lead a BL. I can't even with this, one of my most anticipated of this year. He's a great kisser ya'll, he's kissed a lot of boys as second lead. I can't WAIT.

8/12 First Note Of Love (Taiwan Mon Gaga) 12 eps - About a singer with stage fright and his timid fan stars Charles (H4 the puppy one) and Michael Chang (the youngster in My Tooth Your Love), plus side couple featuring a Thai actor Jame (Koh in Gen Y) and Liu Min Ting (of Guardian fame). What a damn tean. I can't wait. With thier powers combined!

8/13 Addicted Heroin (Thai Tues YT) - supposedly Jinlo with air this on their YT channel. Stars August (Love Sick) so I'm excited despite Jinlo's poor reputation. From the trailer it looks like it's following the original pretty closely just Thai style.

8/16 The Last Time (Thai Fri YT) ? eps - Convoluted story of loss and possible reincarnation or something.

8/22 The Paradise of Thorns (Thai movie) theater release - Jeff Satur is back but this does not look like a BL (the gay lover's death is the inciting event). More in Goodbye Mother vein. Looks dark and dramatic. He opposite and extremely well known actor Toey Pongsakorn who has never done gay before.

Addicted Heroin (Thailand adaptation) is also supposed to release this month. GIVE IT TOO MEEEEEE. I don't care about anything else but August back on my screen. It's been almost a decade since he did BL.

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

This is the kind of jealousy I like to see. Boys getting pissed about the stupid stuff.

Also, more counter making out. I'm not complaining, but babies the bed is way more comfortable.

All from Long Beans.

(Last week)

Streaming services are listed by how I (usually) watch, which is with a USA based IP, and often offset by a day because time zones are a pain.

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @sunflower-positiiivity @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious @saezurumurmurs

Sigh, Tumblr in its infinite wisdom doesn't like too many tags.

Sports in Play (the jokes write themselves)

Boxing

Breaking

(That's Not) Cricket

Diving (yes, for that)

Fencing (yes, with those)

Handball (exactly what it says, no, read the word.. again)

Rhythmic Gymnastics (obvs)

Squash (snicker)

Surfing

Swimming

Trampoline

Table Tennis

Weightlifting

Wrestling

[whateverisbeautiful]

♥️Reveling in Richonne - TOWL

#32: The Safety (1.04)

gif cred: @riickgrimes

It was very clear up to this point in TOWL that Rick hadn't felt alive in years. But in this next scene, we learn that Michonne hadn't truly been feeling safe in years. And why? Because the only time she feels safe is with Rick Grimes. 😭

Danai wrote and delivered a line that moved me, broke me, and healed me all at the same and I have so many thoughts on it because I appreciate it so much 🥲...

So inside the gym, Rick lets Michonne know that the CRM took out the helicopter because they always destroy any evidence that they exist. Then he acknowledges that the whole building is buckling but Michonne is preoccupied with something that’s caught her attention.

When she doesn’t respond to him, Rick says, "Michonne?" and she takes hold of a note left behind by a deceased innovator, Lakshmi Patel. Michonne starts to read it aloud and it explains that this place consisted of like-minded innovators trying to live off the grid and create a new, sustained, and hopeful future.

Patel clearly lost hope in that vision saying that their motto of ‘progress and redemption through innovation’ is now like a sick joke. It’s interesting the letter then says, “I can’t face how much I have failed everyone” because that connects to something Rick feels, especially since when he chose to die he believed he died a failure.

Patel says she can’t continue to watch their mission die and apologizes. Meanwhile, Rick reads a much-needed message on the wall that says “Trust in your ability to adapt and overcome. Your past doesn’t define you.” And he def needs to hear that. 

gif cred: @clonecaptains

Michonne concludes reading the letter as Patel expresses her hope to be remembered as someone who refused to leave the world the same way she found it. And then Michonne gives a sad look at the body beside the letter seeing the somber fate of Patel. 

Michonne knows there are some connections to be drawn between this letter and Rick so she notes how it tends to not work out and fall apart when people try to save the world their own way. And just to make it extra clear she’s talking about Rick she says, “Sound familiar?”

(Side note: I like how she stays having one side of her shirt hanging off her shoulder. There’s something casual and comfortable about it plus it’s sorta like she’s trying to get Rick to realize the shirts already hanging off and he can take the rest off if he gets it together lol) 

Michonne says, “It’s just like this place. They thought they knew it all.” And then because these two can’t resist throwing some jabs in their arguments this ep she adds, “Oh except the killing of innocent people. Except that part.”

Also, I like the framing with a literal barrier between Rick and Michonne that paints the picture of the figurative barriers between them as well. Then Rick sounds the most CRM-ish he’s ever sounded when he responds saying, “The city stands.” Had me like...

And Michonne felt the same because the way she sighs - she’s so over this Commando front Rick is putting on. What happened to 'this isn’t my city'? I miss that energy.

And then Rick says, “And I’ll stop the killing. I’ll find a way.” He's so prepared to just burden himself with this mission. And Michonne challenges that, mentioning just like Patel thought she’d find a way...and we see how that worked out for her. 

Rick says, “You still don’t understand.” And the reason Michonne 'doesn’t understand' this is because it’s not the actual root of why Rick won’t go home. She can’t be fooled. And what Michonne does understand is that what Rick is proposing to do is basically, “Signing up for lifelong duty to the enemy.” But Rick rebuts that, “This is about ending the enemy.”

I love that Michonne is quick to respond saying, “This is not you, Rick.” She keeps trying to emphasize this because she knows him deeply and she knows this is not him being anywhere near his true self.

It's really fascinating to see this scenario play out where Rick has lost himself and is now back with the one person who knows him better than he knows himself, who can continually and accurately remind him that this version of him is not really him.

gif cred: @riickgrimes

But Rick thinks there are some aspects of this version of him that are authentic as he says, “This isn’t me how? That I would give everything - my hand - my life for you. That’s not me?”

gif cred: @riickgrimes

And I do love hearing Rick basically say I would give absolutely everything for you and how that's him to his core. And it is him, but also a healthy Rick would be fighting to be with her too, not just die for her.

gif cred: @riickgrimes

As Rick makes his way over to her side of the barrier he yells, “This is what I need to do to keep you safe!” Safety has understandably been such a huge priority for Rick to provide since the very beginning of TWD. And when he yells this I can hear this fear in his voice that he genuinely doesn’t think there’s another way to keep her safe than the one he’s taking.

I appreciate how passionate Rick feels about keeping her safe but also…the tone of it just needed to come down a few notches because no one should be yelling at Michonne. 👌🏽

Also, this made me think about how in the season 4 finale, Rick tells Daryl “I want to keep him safe. That’s all that matters” regarding protecting Carl after the horrible night with the Claimers. Keeping his family safe is such a driving force of Rick's character and he feels the same intense devotion to protecting Michonne as he yells that he has to stay with the CRM to keep her safe.

Her safety is all that matters to him rn and he’ll do anything to preserve it. But that’s why it’s such a perfect and impactful gut punch for Michonne to then reveal where her true source of safety comes from in this scene.

gif cred: @riickgrimes

Despite Rick's more ramped-up energy, Michonne, like she so often had done in the main show, (with that bullet moment from Clear being top of mind) approaches Rick's antsy energy with this arresting calm and beautiful vulnerability as she just melts my heart by softly telling Rick....

“The only time I feel safe is when I’m with you.”

gif cred: @figmentof

Y’all…😭😭😭 Perfection. I love it so much and it’s truly my favorite thing she’s ever told him. 😍

Before I started writing these TOWL posts I knew two lines were basically going to need a whole post dedicated to the line alone and it’s this one here from Michonne and another line from Rick in episode 5 that we’ll talk about later. There’s just so much to unpack with Michonne telling Rick that the only time she feels safe is with him. It makes total sense.

I had made a post right after episode 4 that incorporated TWD gifs of all the moments where it was evident Michonne got her safety from Rick. And I just think it’s the sweetest thing on the planet to know that in this dangerous world, the one thing that most made Michonne feel like it’s gonna be okay is Rick. 🥹 I once saw someone say Michonne makes Rick strong and Rick makes Michonne safe and I love that. Gospel truth. 💯

It’s such a big deal too because Michonne is an incredibly strong, competent, independent woman who many look at and quickly assume she can just fearlessly protect herself. And while she can protect herself, Michonne has always had so many layers to her so she’s also vulnerable and needs to feel safe and reassured from something outside of herself too. And I love that she knows she found that in Rick. 🥹

gif cred: @coolpartytimefan

Then the utter pain comes in when you realize this means for almost eight years Michonne hasn’t truly felt safe. She’s had to gracefully balance the responsibilities, fears, and expectations of motherhood and leadership as well as establish security for others and some semblance of security for herself, all without the personal safe space of her husband to turn to. It breaks me. 😥

And this is another reason I’m glad TOWL gave Rick and Michonne this space to be not just fighters, community leaders, or parents, but a husband and wife trying to find each other and themselves again.

Also, I love that she says 'the only time.' Like genuinely she’s either safe with him or not really feeling safe at all. And I feel like that’s also clear in her TWD scenes post-Rick with all the ways Michonne would cling to Rick's memory through various items. It's like she was trying to garner some sense of comfort again from the only person she ever completely let her guard down and trusted she’ll be safe with.

I remember I received a message a few months ago that touched on if I'd explore when Michonne seemed to realize that she only felt safe with Rick in TWD, how it impacted her actions, and what that evolving journey of safety with him looked like. It took me a minute to get to, but I said I would definitely talk about it, and so I want to break that all down now, right here. ⬇😊

When it comes to Michonne and her safety becoming tied to Rick. I think it happened before she knew it happened. 👌🏽

Now of course in season 3, Rick and Michonne are strangers so it doesn't happen this season. But it does seem like Michonne's inherent safety with Rick started at least budding even this early.

I especially think this because of that beloved scene in Clear where she tells Rick about talking to her dead boyfriend. That’s a very personal and vulnerable thing to share, especially from someone who didn’t even tell Andrea much about herself when traveling with her for months. (Which was a smart move considering the way Andrea stayed gossiping 🙂)

To me, it shows that somehow Michonne felt safe enough with Rick to open up about herself - I think because she recognized that she and him have qualities inside of them that are uniquely similar.

And then at the end of season 3 when Rick comes real close to delivering her to the Governor she still comes back and shows grace, trusting that she could return and be safe with them. But again I don’t think it’s season 3 where her safety is tied to Rick yet.

I think that comes in season 4.

However, not 4A just yet because I think in the first half of season 4 Michonne is absolutely starting to feel more safe and comfortable with Rick but that in itself feels unsafe to her at the time. Which is why she keeps herself at a warm distance from him.

I never lose sight of Michonne’s backstory when thinking about what’s made the character who she is because it’s so important. I know the show sorta put her losing a son and boyfriend in the background but for me it always informs so much about her, in the early seasons especially. And that’s such a traumatizing thing she had to go through and so you just know that it’s probably a lot to now be growing closer and closer to this man and his son at the prison knowing how things turned out for the man and child she lost at that refugee camp.

Michonne clearly really likes Rick and Carl in 4A but letting them in close after knowing profound loss is a bit of a fear for her so instead she’d always find ways to keep Rick at a friendly distance and stay out and about, of course for other motives like tracking down the Governor but also to run from the potential “danger” of being hurt again if she lets Rick become a safe space for her like he’s so naturally becoming. 

...But then the prison falls and so too do some of the walls around Michonne’s heart.

She tries to go back to her isolated ways after the prison but she can’t. She’s found family in those Grimes boys and she knows it and so even if she doesn’t know where those footsteps lead in After she knows she has to follow the call of her heart to be apart of something again.

In a heartbreaking scene in After (4.09), Michonne talks to Mike one more time, vulnerably saying she misses him and even saying she missed him while he was still here. It made me think how Michonne had probably also been keeping her distance from Rick out of a sense of loyalty to Mike. Just like Rick wrestled with feeling like he needed to be solely grieving Lori all the while falling hard for the katana-wielding woman that’s entered his life, I think Michonne also was subconsciously wrestling with feeling this intrinsic connection to Rick so soon after losing her family.

I really feel like Rick and Michonne’s immense sense of loyalty played a part in their slow burn being slow despite catching feelings for each other so quickly. Because while both of their former partners weren’t their person, they still weren’t just going to give up on them or abandon the memory of them, it’s not who Rick and Michonne are - they’re both loyal to the core, even to partners who weren’t loyal to them.

In some ways it seems like Mike might have stopped being able to understand Michonne, figuratively disappearing on her and giving up while she kept fighting, similar to how Lori just couldn’t understand Rick. But then Michonne and Rick met each other and felt exceptionally seen, known, heard, loved, and safe in ways that probably even surprised them towards the beginning of their bond. They finally found someone who could love them as loyally as they love, which is part of why of course their love can never be stopped or denied, not even by each other.

I think about how in season 3 Lori tells Rick he’s not a killer. But the thing is that killer is a part of him. It's not all of him but it is in him as we saw him really confronted with that side of himself at the end of season 4.

What’s beautiful about Rick's relationship with Michonne is she knows he’s a killer, even verbalizing that outright to Merle early in season 3, and she doesn’t have to deny it or change it to love him. Michonne gets that it’s in Rick and respects that as one of the many parts of him she respects and understands, not just from the outside looking in but personally. Basically, Rick and Michonne are each other's match in all the ways.

So in a beautiful act of resilience, Michonne fights the fear of being close to people again when she finds Rick and Carl in that house. And she truly embraces them as hers from here on out.

And I think here in this wonderful 4.09 moment when she finds Rick and Carl in that house is when Michonne more readily embraces that she feels most safe with Rick. 

In Claimed (4.11), I think we start seeing more visibly how Michonne's safety is tied to Rick and how she subconsciously senses it. In that home, both Rick and Michonne express that they need each other and are willing to possibly make a home with the two of them and Carl. An unspoken agreement that they're forever family now.

One of the many interesting things about that scene between Rick and Michonne in Claimed is that Michonne says she’s done taking breaks. But she wasn’t necessarily leaving the prison to take breaks, she was going on runs and hunting down the Governor. However, phrasing it as 'breaks' could imply that part of her constant trips away from the prison was her leaving to run from how close she was becoming to Rick and Carl - to “take a break” from becoming reintegrated into a family after the tragic aftermath of her last family turned her into a lone wolf.

But I love that when she said she’s done taking breaks she meant that and lived up to it. And then in each 4B scene, we see more and more how Michonne starts to draw closer to the Grimes boys and feel safe enough to be herself with Rick.

Rick gets to see Michonne's playful side with Carl, he wants to include her in family hunting excursions, they like talking to each other and smiling over dinner, and they both often check in on each other to make sure they’re taken care of.

By the end of season 4 when Michonne knows she’s okay because Rick's okay, I think she's now cognizant that she feels safe with Rick in a way that’s different than anything & anyone else. And truly how beautiful is it that in a world where safety is a true rarity, Michonne found that so fully in Rick. 🥹

Also, as I've detailed in many a post, this is also the point where I believe she's subconsciously fallen in love with him. 🥰

And where Rick’s previous wife and his former best friend/sheriff's deputy doubted his ability to keep people safe, Michonne trusts Rick wholeheartedly as a good man capable of protecting his family against anything. 

That's one of the great things about rewatching TWD Seasons 1 & 2. Those early seasons make it so clear that Michonne is a love Rick has never experienced before. We don’t just feel like their love is different we get to see it in how much more Michonne loves, respects, understands, believes in, and just all and all likes Rick as opposed to his former wife and best friend.

Last year I wrote a whole reflecting on richonne post about how Michonne and Rick rarely ever split up in TWD and were always paired up for most things. It was proof of their magnetism, trust, fondness for one another, and love.

But I like how now Rick and Michonne never splitting up in TWD is also such a clear sign of the safety they brought each other. And in season 5, that’s especially clear because they really are side by side through so much that season.

I think about when Michonne put her hand on Ricks before they entered Alexandria and how that was her way of offering comfort to him while also being comforted by his presence too. Just like Rick, a large reason she felt safe enough to walk out of that car and approach those ASZ gates after everything they’d been through is because she had Rick by her side.🥲 

The one time they’re not operating side by side with Rick hiding the gun plot from her, they both feel so weighed down by having anything come between them, and they're eager to repair the distance by the end of the season.

Michonne had felt both asleep and restless when they arrived at ASZ and part of it is because her source of safety was sorta losing his mind. When Rick begins his return to sanity - and Michonne really is a core source of sanity for him - we see a sense of safety return to Michonne as well as she declares she’ll always be with him.

I always adored that s5 'I’m still with you moment' and I love it even more now knowing that part of why she so confidently knows she’ll be with him no matter what is because Rick is who she feels safest with. 😭

In 6A all of Richonne's scenes continue to solidify that Michonne feels most safe with Rick. And when Rick goes out into the horde in NWO Michonne full-on panics because he’s doing something unsafe and her own safety just evaporates as she expresses a rare moment of disarray. 

And then in 6B we get to see a more personal and intimate way that Michonne feels safe with Rick. Even just walking around more stripped down in a robe and towel shows he’s made her feel super comfortable.

The heightened safety she feels with Rick is especially evident in their canon era - from the way they decompress on that couch before their first kiss, the way he calmingly reaches for her in the RV and it seems to immediately bring her peace, to just the safety to let herself be adored and loved on so fully by Rick’s good kind heart in all their comfy and sensual moments at home. 🥰

When she confides in Rick and tells him at the end of 7A that she only wants to go forward if it's with him - "you and me" - she means it.

And all through season 7 it’s clear she knows full well that the only time she truly feels safe is with him. It’s why she nearly throws in the towel - or throws in the sword - when she thinks walkers got to Rick in Say Yes and so vulnerably runs into his arms when seeing he is alive.

Michonne knew she couldn’t lose him on that honeymoon run. Not just 'I don't want to lose you,' she knew 'I can't lose you,' - something Rick too would grasp fully once taken from her for years. With soulmates like this, they lose each other, then in many ways they lose themselves.

When Michonne told Rick she couldn't lose him in Say Yes, I knew she felt it was because she loves him deeply but after TOWL it’s clear how she also knew she’d never truly feel safe again if she were to lose him. 😭 They are each other's security in this crazy world.

Then, after getting in that brutal brawl in the s7 finale, Rick makes getting to Michonne a priority and when he finds her against that wall, she just hears his voice and feels his touch and it looks like a sense of safety has been restored to her. And to Rick too.

In season 8, sirens go off in Michonne's head being away from Rick during the war and it’s clear she won’t be able to rest truly until he’s back.

And in that season's msf I’ve always felt it’s so clear that when she tells Judith she’ll bring her daddy back, Michonne is excited for both her baby girl and herself that they’ll have Rick back finally - the man who makes their family feel complete and safe. 👌🏽

After tragically losing Carl (which is forever heartbreaking 💔💔💔), both Michonne and Rick try to be a safe space for each other even despite their own immense individual pain.

And they do find their way back to each other, saying i love you and holding hands off to war because no matter the circumstances if they can hold each other they can feel a sense of safety.

And in s9, before Rick leaves, Richonne really feel so at home and safer than ever with each other. It’s a beautiful time for them and all their nice season 9 scenes show how Michonne is wrapped in the love and safety of her husband. Even literally just waking up with his arm wrapped around her.

When Michonne had some real apprehension regarding if the people could really band together after Negan, she always knew she could voice those concerns with Rick and he’d reassure her so encouragingly. Also for a woman to agree to get pregnant in an apocalypse - that requires feeling a lot of safety and Rick made Michonne feel safe enough to do that. 🥲

But then Rick is taken and it’s devastating. 💔 And with his absence, Michonne’s safety also goes away.

She had to bring the beautiful life they created into the world without him. And you can just imagine there were so many nights alone in bed during her pregnancy when she’d longed for him to be there. And so when she looks at Rick with the CRM in ep 3 and yells you were alive ‘with them’ in this episode, I always sense this added hurt because those CRM people, who don’t even appreciate Rick, got to be around him all the time while she was miles away longing for him to be with her and feeling unsafe without him.

And this profession that she only feels safe with him makes all those moments post-Rick where she’d still find ways to connect with him all the more meaningful because even after he’s gone, she still only feels at least a semblance of safety with him.

Be it through the ring she wears and even fiddles with on her finger when needing to think, a Sherriff action figure, the bullet shell from his gun that she always wears in her hair to keep him close, talking to him in their bedroom, and most notably wrapping herself in his clothes just to try to remember how safe she once felt in his arms.

It moves me so much how she still only felt safe with Rick even after he was taken from her. She tells Judith how she felt so lost after Rick was gone. And because she’s strong she figured out how to keep going of course, but the world became an ultra-dangerous place again so it makes sense why she’d become as cautious as she became. Nothing could make her truly feel safe until she was back with her true love.

And when Michonne is back with Rick in TOWL, you see that sense of safety start to come back. She has no clue where he’s taking her or how they’ll get out of this CRM place but she trusts him. She knows he’ll do anything to keep her safe.

But the surprising aspect is Rick will do anything to keep her safe…including trying to destroy being her safe space so that she’ll be willing to leave him and make it home. 🥀☹️

And that is exactly what we see happen as this heart-gripping gym scene continues. So my extra self has to do a part two to talk about the latter half of this gym scene.

I'll conclude this post by saying, “The only time I feel safe if when I’m with you” is such a deeply beautiful, meaningful, and memorable line. 😭 Black women, both in fiction and in reality, don't always get to express that innate want to feel safe with someone/something outside of ourselves and so seeing Michonne get to say that her safety doesn't just come from her but from her husband was powerful and lovely. 👏🏽

I forever love Danai for knowing Michonne would feel this way in her relationship with Rick and allowing her to voice it so perfectly and authentically here. This episode really was written by someone who knows Rick and Michonne inside and out and I adore the way Richonne is each other's truest safe space. 🥹👌🏽

[seirei-bh]

Summary and opinions of Jason's route ep 5! SPOILERS

Well, well, well, if you're the Jason route, congratulations, my friend! We're celebrating here with cocktails and ugly sobs because we FINALLY get a moment with Jason that last more than two minutes! + a moment alone with him! applauses!

In general it was a good ep, I liked it! I still need to play it with other routes to get a complete opinion, but I enjoyed it.

And now, before continuing, this post contains BIG SPOILERS!!! about this ep in this route, so if you prefer to enjoy the content of the ep by yourself I REALLY recommend that you wait until the day of the general release and play it before read this.

Btw keep in mind that I'm going to make this post with humorous notes on purpose, so pls take it in good vibes!

As soon as I started the ep I got angry because Thomas was two hours late to work without any consequences -Devon was 100% ok with that, like???- while my Sucrette was awake since 7AM as a clown, and then she had to hear how Roy and Amanda argued over a cool project and about how Thomas got the coolest one and then they let my Sucrette take care of the shittiest project of all, thanks Devenementiel! I felt loved and considered! I'll be happy to betray all of you soon! :D Except you, Elenda, you're a sweetheart and wonderful, pls be my wife. I love you, honey.

My sucrette Lily proceeded to take on the project herself without ask help and without making any calls to the client (because she's stupid and because I wanted she suffered alone so Jason could manipulate her later, I'm evil yeees), and ofc she ended up screwing up. Then Elenda tried to cheer us up and then my sucrette went for a walk alone to catch a depression for having disappointed Devon, her coworkers and even her goose. Dishonor on your goose, girl!

Then we found Jason in the park!! Basically our girl was seeing her life passing away in front of her eyes and then our lovely knight came to make fun of her, like a perfect Fool knight in a fairy tale. I swear this man has to have a location chip on us that also detects our emotions, otherwise Idk how we match up with him in every episode XDDD I guess his cell phone alerts him and he will go into "OMG my future wife need my bad jokes! I must go with her so she notices me!" and he runs out of his office.

In short, he offer us his help while he tries to hide his horns, his trident and the infernal flames from the ground , we end up telling him our problem because Sucrette is an idiot, and we make a deal with the devil, but not before Jason telling us to ask him nicely like "pleasee help me", and my Sucrette goes into: desire to kill increasing mode. Jason calls Danica to get info about the project, and while we wait for her response, Jason smirks and thanks us for liking his Instagram photo, while Sucrette tries not to k*ll him. When he gets the info very proud, she also mocks him and comments that "If you track everyone like this, it's no wonder you already have gray hair." and Jason responds that it's not from stress or age, it's poliosis, and that it's hereditary, and his father had them too. And there I wanted my Sucrette to shut up, lol, I'm embarrassed, girl.

Then comes my favorite moment: Jason takes us to Goldreamz!! Here we get a tense scene in which he touches Sucrette's back, they look at each other intensely, she has contradictory feelings because she thinks she's betraying her Devenementiel's coworkers, she doubs about his intentions, and then… *laughs* I love sm this:

Jason is sooo proud of his office and his company that asks Sucrette her opinion about it, Sucrette comments that she has no opinion on it, like meh~ I'm not impressed, man, this is Ikea, and Jason responds like a total offended diva XD Then he counterattacks by making fun of Devenementiel's decoration and both tease each other like always. I love my two fools.

His expression was priceless. And she doesn't give a f***, lmao, tell him, girl. This pathetic man wanted to impress sm his queen and he failed. Someone should call the ambulance, the rival boss is having a shock *laughs*

Next, they both discuss the processes they will follow for the project, Sucrette contributing ideas and Jason getting her very good and surprising contacts. Then there's another of my favorite moments, Jason shows briefly vulnerable when Sucrette asks him a couple of personal questions about his childhood. Jason reveals to us that his parents were not millionaires, that his birthday parties were quite modest, and that his father died when he was a teenager, and then he ends the conversation. And I wanted to hug him.

Here I want to give my opinion. This is the first time that we get info about his family and I'm surprised! Because I thought Jason came from a rich family, like Amanda, and the plot twist about his father leaves me intrigued. The only thing I can theorize now at least is that Jason became an ambitious person perhaps due to this, and I wonder what exactly happened to his father, whether he died from an accident or illness.

Finally, Sucrette thanks him and Jason tells her that she shouldn't forget that now she has an outstanding debt with him that she'll have to pay at some point, dramatic pause----! He doesn't tell us what he wants, but I've a couple of ideas: either Jason will try to get something from Devenementiel by using us (despite Sucrette told him she would never betray Devenementiel) or he will try to get us to go on a date with him to a dinner or an event, without we won't be able to reject his invitation, to try to seduce us.

I already suspected that Sucrette on his route would end up visiting Goldreamz at some point, but I admit I didn't expect it to be so soon! It was a pleasant surprise. We didn't meet Danica and Spencer yet though.

After that, Sucrette presents to her colleagues at Devenementiel the project she has worked on with Jason, without meantion him ofc, Devon congratulates her, Elenda hugs her (my queen Elenda being the best girl always), and Sucrette feels horribly uncomfortable because she thinks she is betraying all of her coworkers by hiding the truth about Jason's help. Hahaha, I'm really would like Devon and the others finds out that Jason helped us, I want to see their reaction *evil masochistic laugh*

At the end I had the date with Roy at the pool, since I will do the ones with Amanda and Thomas in a few days. I loved it! Roy's illu is so beautiful, so colorful and bright! <3 Although Beemoov are cowards for not giving us mermanRoy, he'd have look so hot! U__U Regarding Jason's illus with him in the company, I also really liked the intimacy and tension of the scene, and the detail that their faces are in shadow, as to emphasize the forbidden nature of that secret meeting and that you're making a deal with the devil.

About the PAs, I spent around 1.700, but I forgot to use jokers this time, so I guess for other people could be cheaper.

You can also get a sea background for your room and furniture of that theme in your closet at the end of the ep. They are available to buy whatever you want. I used the background for my bedroom and I love how it looks!

[tiredmamaissy]

Non-Unrequited Love

Non-Unrequited Love: Part I

Read Part II, Part III & Special Ep. I here. (Links are also below)

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Characters: Lo’ak (18) x Omatikaya Reader (18)

Warnings: Slight NSFW, cursing, lots of fluff, lo'ak in rut

Word count: 3.6k

Authors Note: This series is really a continuation of one event. It has a slow start, but nearing the middle and end it gets pretty steamy.

Synopsis: You and lo'ak have been friends all your life. Everyone knows that you like each other, except the two of you. Fed up with him flaking on you constantly, you follow him one day and find out he's in rut. Now your alone with the love of your life, on a secluded island, whilst he's in rut.

Intro:

Lo’ak experienced his first rut at the early age of 17. He chose to endure his rut alone, until the girl of his dreams (y/n) had chosen him as a mate. It was rather painful and lasted much longer than normal – 3 entire days. His only form of release was himself. His father brought him to a secluded island, near to hometree, where he could go and endure his rut alone.

He’s had feelings for you since you guys were in your early teens. You two did everything together. You’ve tamed your ikrans together, learned how to use a bow and arrow together, and even got in trouble together. You two were inseparable and knew everything about each other. Nothing could pull you guys apart, and everyone around you knew that you were destined mates. However, you have also been waiting for him to choose you as a mate.

Despite the continual encouragement from his older brother, Neteyam, telling him to express his feelings to you, he still chose to wait. Thus, he has spent the last three, very painful ruts on his own. He had gotten used to the feeling and learned ways on how to cope with it. He would start by taking a bath in the lake, eat some grub, and embark on his, several, intense self-love-making sessions.

Coincidentally, every time his rut came around, there would be some sort of special event that he would have flake for. Outside of these special events, he deemed himself as a reliable companion. His first rut came on your birthday. The day of, Neteyam came to you and explained that he was extremely sick and needed to rest.

The second time around, he had promised to go with you on your first real hunting trip together. You waited on him for 2 hours at the meeting spot, before giving up and going back home. Later, Kiri came to you and explained that Lo’ak got in trouble for stealing his father’s assault rifle and that he was grounded for a few days. Seemed believable enough.

On his third rut, he promised to take you to the hallelujah mountains to a hidden spot his parents showed him when he was younger. He said he would make it up to you there, and that he’s been wanting to confess something to you. Jake himself, told you he was sick again, and that he would make it up to you another time.

Today, it was your uniltaron (dream hunt), where you were supposed seek your spirit animal. It was important to you that he showed up to this rite of passage. When Neteyam came running to you with his tail between his legs, head hanging low, you didn’t even let him speak.

 ------------

“Y/n, I – I’m sorry. Lo’ak, h – he, he -.” Neteyam stutters, out of breath from running to meet you at the tree of souls.

“No, not another word.” You say, tears welling up in your eyes. “He always does this! What is this? He is supposed to be my best friend. What kind of best friend misses this?” you cry, motioning over to the ceremony.

Neteyam looks sorry for you and tries to explain. “I know, but there’s a good reason, y/n. If you would just let me explain!”

“No.” you take your small dagger out from your chest and point it in his direction. “tell me where he is! Where is this bitch hiding this time?” you shout.

“y/n... I can’t.” you step closer to him, and he steps back, looking behind him trying not to trip. “I can’t tell you!”

“Neteyam, I will pluck the eyeballs right out of your face!” at this point, he’s on the floor and you’re towering over him, like a predator trapping their prey.

“He’s on the island! Okay? The island!” his hands are in the air, covering his face.

You calm down a bit and withdraw your dragger slightly. “Which island? Where?” Neteyam looks hesitant to answer.

It seemed as if he were trying to choose whether he wanted to be maimed by his brother’s crazy mate or face the rath of the great Lo’ak. Neither seemed very appealing to him, but he’d rather take his chances with Lo’ak.

“The island right across from here. You will find him there. But y/n, he is not himself right now. He’s not the Lo’ak you know and love. You should just wait for him to come back.” Neteyam warns you.

You hiss your teeth, “Love? Pshh.” you get up in a huff, fuming with rage, and make your way to your ikran, mounting it swiftly.

“Crazy woman... they’re really made for each other.” Neteyam mumbles under his breath, shaking his head.

------------

You had been to this island once with Kiri before, to harvest some sort of rare plant that is supposedly able to relieve a third-degree burn in minutes. You and Kiri got the plant, but at the expense of almost losing a few limbs. No one is really supposed to go here, primarily because of the large population of Thanators.

You have heard of a rumor though, that there is a hidden spot, nestled deep into the jungle, where na’vi go to mate before Eywa. It’s supposedly some sort of obscure spiritual sanctuary, that only higher ranking na’vi like the Olo’eyktan, Toruk Makto, and other great warriors know about.

This didn’t stop you, though. The blinding rage that courses through your body is enough motivation to fly there just to maim Lo’ak. What was happening here that was more important than your ceremony?

Your ikran makes a large thump when you land on next to a tree on the island. You dismount her and explore your surroundings. You can recall most of the island, seeing that Kiri would not let you leave until you sourced that ridiculous plant.

With your bow and arrow in hand, you lean against the trunk of the tree next to you, “Lo’ak! I know you’re here. Come out!” You yell.

Lo’ak is hiding high in the canopy of the tree directly above you. He peers down at you, squinting his eyes to get a better look. After confirming that it is indeed you, he takes a deep breath to steady his heart rate.

Why is she here? How did she figure out where I was?

His breath steadies, and his heartrate slows. His rut was approaching any minute, and he was finding it hard to keep calm. The girl he’s loved for so long just stepped foot into a secluded island with him while in rut, what could possibly go wrong?

“Lo’ak! Come out, come out wherever you are” you taunt, just like when you were playing hide and seek as kids. You slowly load your bow with an arrow.

He studies your posture, seeing that you’re armed, and angry. He removes his dagger out of its casing and climbs down on the branch below him. He’s calculating his every move, planning out exactly how he’ll deal with you.

Just as you were about to give up and search another area, something large and heavy attacks you, pinning you to the ground. You shriek from the unexpected blow, huffing and puffing from the pressure in your chest. Your hands are trapped under your own body, and its paw is holding your head down firmly. It exhales hot air onto the back of your neck, making your ears perk up.  

A Thanator? Shit!

You go into fight or flight mode, and surprisingly for a mighty warrior like yourself, you choose flight. You know you’re no match for the jungles biggest and baddest predator. You begin to wriggle underneath it, trying to release yourself from its tight grip so you can make a run for it back to your ikran.

“You should not be here.” the Thanator speaks.

Surprised, you look behind you to see Lo’ak pinning you down, with his knife out.

“Fuck! I thought you were a fucking Thanator, Lo’ak. Great Mother. Never do that to me again.” He releases you from his grip, letting you scurry away.

“I may as well be.” He spits, through breathless pants.

You put away your bow and arrow and put your hands in the air. “You too.” you look wide eyed at the dagger in his hand. He carefully places it back into its casing.

“Why are you here?” he says in a cold voice. It stung to hear the man you secretly loved didn’t want you here.

“Why are you here?” you ask back, crossing your arms over your breasts.

He looks down, and takes note of the placement of your hands, staring a little too long. He looks back up at you, with emerald, green eyes, “I’m trying to protect something very valuable to me. But it’s not working out how I planned.”

You take interest in the sudden change of his eye colour, but you find what he just said more interesting. Intrigued, you ask “Protecting what? If it that valuable to lock yourself away on an island, you could have just roped me in for some help, Lo’ak.”

He chuckles and shakes his head. “It is not a what, it is a who.”

“A who?” that stung even more. Who’s more valuable than his best friend? You look down, deep in thought, trying to think about who could be so valuable to him that he would miss your ceremony to protect.

He sees the sadness in your face and feels sorry for you. “It is you, y/n.”

“Me?” butterflies flutter in your stomach, “how is hiding on an island and missing one of the most important ceremonies of my life ‘protecting’ me? Protecting me from what?” you’re so confused, and ready to solve this mystery once and for all.

“From me.” He states, his pupils morph into slits and his green eyes glow even darker.

You hear his breaths become raggedy as he starts backing away from you into the darkness.

“Protect me? From you? Lo’ak...” you chase after him. 

“Y/n, go home.” He walks away from you, climbing back up the tree.

You’re not taking no for an answer this time as you’re on the verge solving this mystery. You climb up the tree behind him, getting a whiff of rain and leather hide mixed together. You look around to see if it’s raining, and to your surprise it’s not. All you can see is the bioluminescence of the flora around you.

“No, tell me Lo’ak. What is it? I’m not leaving until you tell me!”. You catch up to him and tug on his tail, “seriously Lo’ak, I thought we were close, but I guess I was wrong.” your voice lowers into a whisper.

His face grimaces, you can see the hurt in his eyes from what you just said to him. This, on top of the very little self-control he has left makes him snap at you, “I’m in rut, okay? Are you happy? You should go, I can really feel it now.”

He makes his way further up the tall tree, with you following closely behind him. “Lo’ak! Rut? You mean the thing that we learned from Mo’at about the na’vi cycles?”

“No shit, y/n.” he hisses.

“I didn’t know you got yours already, I’m still waiting for mine.” You whine, a bit jealous that he got his first.

How does this boy climb so quickly? You’re panting, at this rate.

He stops abruptly, pulling you aside onto the large branch that he’s standing on. You look at him intently, the beads of sweat on his forehead drip onto his chest, which is glowing under the night sky. Big green saucers for eyes look back at you, as he takes your hand in his.

“I have spent my last three ruts alone, on this island, by myself. Each of those ruts, I had something planned with you and had to make up an excuse so that I wouldn’t hurt you. When I’m in this state, I’m delirious, completely out of control. I have these... urges, that I can’t stop, and with the way I feel about you... I – I don’t think I’d be able to keep myself back. So, I come here, with the help of my father, and hide for the three days that it lasts.”

That was a lot to unpack. For a minute, you’re speechless, just registering and processing all that he just said to you.

How he feels about me? Urges? Three days? Doesn’t rut usually last a day, at most? You had so many questions, but nothing was coming out.

You may be a bit slow, but you are no fool. As the puzzle pieces together, it dawns on you that he has feelings for you, and to protect you from the animalistic... sexual, urges, he locks himself far away from you. How romantic.

He looks at you for a while, waiting for a response, to be met with nothing. He scoffs, drops your hand, and looks away, “I knew I shouldn’t have said anything. Go home, y/n.” he starts making his way towards the trunk of the tree.

“Wait!” you grab his arm and pull him towards you. “I, I – I have these feelings too, Lo’ak. I’ve had them for some time now. Every time you flaked, I felt stood up. I’ve been waiting for you to choose me, first.” you look away, shyly.

“Y/n. Are you saying that you want to be my mate?” he grips both your arms, staring deeply into your eyes.

“Yes. I’ve always wanted to be your mate, Lo’ak.” You whisper, as if other people could hear your confession.

He can’t help but smile at you, searching your eyes to see if you’re being honest. He swallows his spit, and glances down at your lips. You notice this, and glance at his lips, too. The tension in your chest is intense, it feels like knots in your heart. He inches closer and closer to you, close enough for you to hear his quick heartbeat. His lips crash into yours, hungry and inexperienced.

Not knowing what you’re doing either, you kiss him sloppily, using your tongue to explore his mouth, your teeth clinking together. Both of you reeked of desperation. All these years, you’ve looked at your relationship with him as unrequited love – a girl who settled to be his best friend. Unbeknownst to you, he’s felt the same way about you this entire time.

This is what the sky people would call ‘making out’ it seems. His tongue wraps around yours, much like his arms wrap around your waist. He’s never touched you like this before, in fact, no one has ever touched you like this before. You’re so nervous that he picks it up.

He pulls away from your lips, “What is it? Is this, okay?” He pants, trying to catch his breath.

“Yes... it’s nothing. I’ve just never done this before. I don’t really know what I’m doing.” you too, are panting and trying to catch your breath.

“It’s okay, me too. We’ll learn together, just like we do everything together” he smiles before he leans back in and kisses you excitedly.

His hands explore your body, in places he’s never touched before. They make their way up and down your back, and then around to your breasts. He brushes past them, unintentionally flicking your nipples that peak through the thin cloth on your chest. A soft moan escapes your mouth into his, as you flinch from his touch.

“Sorry.” He apologizes, breaking the kiss.

“No, it felt good. Keep going” you demand, kissing him back.

His hands work further down, past your stomach, down to your lower thighs. Your body moves on its own, rolling and whining to dance with his hands. At this point, he is groaning too, allowing his own body to succumb to his ‘urges’.

You start kissing his neck, and make your way down to his collarbones, caressing the dip in them with your tongue. He closes his eyes, savouring the pleasure that he’s feeling, breathing in your natural scent. The bulge in his loincloth becomes more and more visible, something you’d never seen before. You were curious to see how it feels, if it was really as stiff as they make it seem to be.

You allow your hand to move slowly down his stomach, playing with his belly button on the way down. You cup his bulge, squeezing gently, trying to feel the shape of his member. He jerks slightly, from the sudden touch of his most sensitive area. Soft moans evade his mouth, while he lets his hands move from your thighs to the soft flesh between your legs. You gasp for air as he rubs your most delicate area.

“Whoa. You’re really wet, y/n” he says, making an innocent observation.

“And you’re actually rock-hard” you look up at him, surprised.

His vision becomes hazy, and his heart starts thumping. He tries his best to fight the feeling, and continue to have this moment as himself, but his rut is proving to make that difficult. He lets go of you and takes a deep breath while stepping back.

Did I do something wrong?

“Y/n. My rut. I can’t fight it anymore. We should really stop here.” He says through clenched teeth and furrowed brows.

“Then don’t.” you say, stepping towards him, grabbing his hand.

“Don’t?” he shakes his head, confused and foggy.

“Don’t fight it, Lo’ak. I am here now, and if we are destined to be mates...” you stroke his queue with your other hand, “then is it not my duty as your mate to be with you, now more than ever?”

“Yes. But you don’t understand, y/n. This is not my first rut. I – I can’t control it. No matter how hard I try, it is insatiable. I don’t want to hurt you, especially during our first time...” He takes another step back.

“I want it. I’ve been wanting this. I am ready, Lo’ak. Besides, you owe me for all those times that you stood me up” You giggle, lightening the mood. You cup his face and stare deep into his dark green eyes. “I trust you.”

He shakes his head, “Agh. Okay. But you must listen to me and do exactly as I say, y/n.”

“I’ll do anything you tell me to do.” You look up at him, smirking.

He takes your hand and hurries all the way up to top of the tree, where his hide out rests. There is a woven mat, food, water, and other necessities. It’s nestled among several branches that veer off in all directions. It really looks something like a prison; it saddens you to know he had been dealing with this while you were upset at him for not showing.

He quickly packs his bag with some supplies and food and calls for his ikran who is resting, quietly hidden in the canopy.  There is a great sense of urgency in him, as the height of his rut is fast approaching. You both mount his ikran, and you sit comfortably between his legs. He steers the ikran with one hand, and wraps his other hand tightly around your waist. You soar through the sky towards a small hill deep in the thick of the jungle.

“Should you be flying in this state? Where are we even going?” you ask curiously.

“I’m alright for now. We’re going to a sacred place that my father showed me once. He said to me ‘if for some reason you are lucky enough to mate with someone, bring them here to impress them.’” he chuckles. “Perks of having your father be Olo’eyktan and Toruk Makto, I guess.”

So, the rumor is real. Huh.

The landing is rough, probably due to Lo’ak’s foggy state of mind. He disconnects his queue from his ikran and dismounts him. You hop off on your own, taking in the view. This hidden, sacred place leaves you breathless. The flora glowed in the night sky, as the waterfalls burble into the large, crystal-clear lake. Vines and panopyra dominate the woodland, wrapping around and hiding between the shrubs and trees. Even Lo’ak was glowing before you, hazy eyed.

Woodsprites float like jellyfish, surrounding Lo’ak, and then you, bringing the two of you closer together. “Does this mean that we are destined to be?” you ask, jokingly.

“Maybe.” He says, seriously, taking his queue and holding it in front of him. “Are you sure you want this?”

You take your queue and hold it in front of you, looking at the tendrils dancing before you. “Yes, do you want this?” you bring your queue closer to his.

“Yes. Definitely, yes.” Your queues come together, creating a spark that only the two of you can feel.

Your eyes dilate, ears lay flat, and your lips part ever so slightly – you are both connected through tsaheylu now. You feel his breath, his heartbeat, his rut. It feels like a deep sensation of sheer frustration, not only sexual, but a craving for a deeper, emotional connection, expressed through sex. Your tail sways back and forth as the feeling travels through every inch of your body.  

Do you feel it?

You’re taken aback by his voice in your head. You swore you didn’t see his lips move. You look at him, really concerned that you’ve gone mad, searching his eyes for an answer.

“Tsaheylu makes it so that we can hear each other’s thoughts.” He speaks.

Like this, my pretty girl.

You smile at him, embracing your mate.

Now we are mated, before Eywa. Your chest gets hot.

For life. He kisses you passionately.

Read part II & III here:

Part II:

Part III:

Special Episode I:

[yumespooki]

☆Why Gregor is so important than you think and the series' relationship with tone

Im obsessed with an old man and I have all reasons to be also I have to sleep but I really need to make a colleague of gregor photos as the header image-

◇Part 1 - How The Tonal Shifts happen to be

Episodes 1 to 3 was all silly fun, though we have the idea that the series is gonna have a progression to having a consistent plot and story since Episode 2 setting up the episode formula of events/segments:

Skid and Pump doing mischief around town, there's separate segments of major characters that they come across t and the villain that sets up the plot - who are in concept supposed to be parodies of horror villain stereotypes.

And its all fitting in Pelo's style except its actually understandable and not have characters turn cartoonishly eldritch every 2 seconds.

Yknow we got SM 1 was an average pelo video then SM 2 is where we got the formula, everyone were just trope templates and the one that sets up the lore

SM3 is where things get normal but it's still silly, you can tell by the soundtrack, Moloch's theme is on dubstep it bangs BUT also introduces the Episode ending set up for its next villain.

Then SM4 happened. Oh Deadly Smiles my beloved, still my personal favorite

This where the good shit happens with different segments under 20+ minutes with finally having a grasp on how the episode formula works

Though this episode is kinda.. the chillest one among the episodes???

Everytime Skid and Pump goes around town with Spooky Swings playing, it's always fast paced and they immediatly go to the next in a few seconds but in Deadly Smiles, they take long stops before going to their next location. Most Characters also spend most of if not any of their screentime without Skid and Pump in it. [especially Kevin] it has its own unique tone and its cozy solely for it being winter themed.

Other than the more chill pacing, You got the rabid doll running place to place and getting thrown around to people to people to show what hes suppose to parody that when Dexter actually shows that he can be a threat is a really effective moment and really got me going "Oh shit OH SHIT"

But the scene that truly shaped Spooky Month the way it is now is the scene where he snaps at the kids, that moment is so important to the series because of the sudden change of tone to spooky/silly to scary. We couldn't see Dexter as a threat before this because the tone and plot prevents him to be one especially to poke out the trope of Doll killers but at this moment, the moment he expresses his situation and conditions, he went specific. and from there you don't see Dexter as a simple parody for the sake of being a parody anymore, Especially being a parody based on Chucky --who uses dolls on his advantage-- but For Dexter, below the surface is a man doomed from the circumstances that he desperately wanna get out of.

Episode 5 immediatly tells you its meant be atleast scary from the get-go since it was already established seconds into the episode, and only in the last minute with Lila it left us with an ominous note

Ok to be for real, I consider Episode 5 kinda standard compared to Ep 4 and 6 but will be more better than the early 3 eps and I appreciate as the middle ground between Deadly Smiles and Hollow Sorrows. And also more cop screentime my luvs

And mainly the reason why I said this because of Bob. The villains of Spooky Month is always tied with the tone because they are the guys that bring the tension. Bob's kinda monotonic because his behaviour pattern in this episode is repetitive: He slowly approaches people, give them meat fact, dosent or fails to kill them, gets slapped with slapstick. Even at the climax where he's actually at his most effective by being actually terrifying, he still gets disrupted for comedic purposes.

He has a balance of being actually terrifying and being a parody by his slow movement trying to set up tension.

Incomparison to Dexter, yea he gets thrown around but they get to take him seriously at the right moment and being thrown around to different people showing this disadvantage will show you the wide range of what the characters will do with the doll, Bob just scares them throughout the episode.

And I can't be mad about it because Bob purposefully is doing that to distract the cops from the cult case especially thinking he can't die.

But Bob is still effective as a villain. He manages to get you on edge and also opens questions to more lore stuff. And this episode is also the most creepiest because of Bob's behaviour along with that Lila encountering him along with finding out he's in her photo book probably shaped Lila to her behaviour in episode 6.

Still a good ep. Alot of insight of other characters' lives is my main highlight of this ep

Then Episode 6 has Father Gregor finally established as a proper character now that's where the interesting THING starts;

◇Chapter 2: Why is he weird in a weird show

When Father Gregor is on screen, do you feel.. put off especially when he's first introduced into the episode? Like when we were first introduced to doll Dexter with actual spinechilling ost and visuals we were already accustomed to this to be something expected through the Newgrounds endings with its ominous tone, expecting to transition it to the main story especially in with Tender Treats being almost that except more heightened.

But with Gregor, I don't have the exact words to explain the tonal dissonance he gives us. He has a very clear leimotif soundtrack throughout the episode everytime he's on screen even disrupting themes of other characters or locations [like the candy club like what the fuck gregor excuse yourself] that it even turns to a more epic variation of itself with Moloch's exorcism.

since this guy has seconds of screentime on his 1st debut,he's unpredictable especially when each episode has a formula of events with characters that we are familiar off. and we know that there is atleast something goofy going on with them - except for the cops but for them they act silently or accompany moments with the characters - But Gregor dosent accompany character moments he's the goddamn spotlight, the emphasis on his scenes are on HIM like out of nowhere we got this guy coming along. Its kinda of a new breathe of air to have him around because we never got anyone else to come along with the Spookeez all around town and setting up their dynamic with the kids.

Oh and finally we simply state the whole point of Gregor and why he's so out of place -- his seriousness. He was never associated with the series' shenanigans, and questions his surroundings. He dosent enable himself with the series' comedy and at somepoint that it tries to bring him along for a second with the spooky dance. Hes not only unfamiliar in story wise but by environment wise. there was a little analysis essay I made a while back with how Gregor as a person in the setting is off to the townsfolk as they are mostly unfamiliar with Religious figures as the church was newly built, and everybody else never acknowledges his presence as a priest — Kevin and Frank calls him an old guy/man Radford dosent take him seriously because he mostly seen priests through movies, Jack has to ask if Gregor is one and Skid and Pump dosent know how the term father works in the church that even tells something. Only a few characters recognizes his role as a priest being Michelle, John, and Evermore.

Now let's move onto Gregor not following the goddamn script of being part of a parody

Ep 6 has the basics of a parody of exorcism movies: demon - check, priest - check, the victim check that's your main elements, but they never utilises these as.. parodies, because when one of the core elements acts like a normal guy and has a standard behaviour of a priest in those kinds of movies that wasnt exagerrated for the parody and has never been that early into the series to being so associated with the silliness of it making fun of horror. We had time with Moloch since Episode 1, 2 and 3 We witness his time from being just a gimmick character to being one of the mysteries and coming back as a serious threat.. or is he? Because on the 2nd half of the episode, Moloch's running away from Gregor, and attempts to fight back by trying to possess anyone on his way but in the end Moloch is defeated and the kids seeing this breaks their relationship with Gregor. At this point he himself is also an antagonist.

With Gregor breaking the law of parodies, and also breaking the traditional set up of villains for this series, he also differs alot of the standard priest character that he's supposed to be because usually those characters cannot exist outside of being the guy battling the supernatural forces—they are not the main focus. With Gregor, he's more than just an exorcist as for the most part we see him as a normal priest first, exorcist second, he's so determined in his job that any threat given to him makes him more motivated and half of the episode he spends his time teaching the kids to behave.

◇<Gregor and Tension>◇

We already established Gregor as a villain so what else is weird about this bald fuck

From Episode 4 we now get ourselves a consistent line of villains with Dexter being a strong start with the earlier mentioned being the guy responsible for the main story's tonal whiplash

Dexter, Moloch and Bob are villains with their main thing and concept as something terrifying — Dexter's an insane doll, Bob's a cannibal butcher and Moloch's a child eating demon who gives terrible side effects at something he possessed dead or alive.

Horror villains always relied in creating tension to make anyone scared. Dexter creates tension with his uncanny presence as a doll, along with his fast movements contrasting this with Bob, being slow and uses psychological intimidation than being fast, and watches his victims reacting to the situation their put into. Then for Moloch, he is tied with Gregor because how he creates tension is in complimentary with him.

The scary thing about Moloch comes from the ARGs mostly since that's where they build him up as a serious thing to handle in the series after Episode 3, but unfortunately for him as his debut as a serious threat has to be shared with just a dude

OK Moloch's scenes relies on a psychological effect because of his ability to possess people which he possess characters we seen before and are individuals. If you think about Dexter, we saw him killed off for a fucking joke then proceeds to be a threat for a whole episode by the result of his decreasing sanity of being stuck inside a doll. then you realize he's also someone's son. Both got killed by Moloch and used their images as his best attempt to manipulate Gregor which only angers him and makes him more determined to finish him off. Even psychological moves dosent work on him. Now at that point, Moloch lost the hold of the tension's weight. Rather than heightening a terrifying scene like a typical spiritual fight scene, Gregor steals it and heightens it by what made him unnatural since the start – he's constant seriousness that defies the the overall tone that it becomes a keypoint from the episode onwards, making Moloch run away.

Their last confrontation has Gregor on the upper hand with a successful exorcism and a banger of an ost that I still think about to this day, and it was never something to replicate horror. They were no terrific aftermath or a good ending, only the tears of children that comes after it, a dislikeness to the religious figure, and an awareness to how the series' main thing of silliness and chaos was all from an unsupervised kid and a bit carefree mother.

◇Chapter 3: the old man has a hold on the narrative

At the start of Episode 6, We were dismissed with a moment with Skid and Lila, about her situation arranging the house and Skid's Dad with her distracting Skid to go play with Pump. We know somethings off but this was already delivered from the ending of Episode 5.

Gregor states himself at the start as a guide to the children to reflect and be better, but how he delivers this wasn't clear to Skid and Pump and goes around apologising with no single thought other than this being important to their parents. The episode's main point was because of Father Gregor assisting the kids.

then the second that they got the parent thing shoved to their faces is with the cops, also one of the more grounded characters in the series but again they enable the goofiness of the series especially with Jack and his lowkey high kill count- Now that's when the themes of family are very stressed with the whole thing now about to ingrain in Skid and Pump's head.

Now to the scene where Skid and Pump cries for Moloch and now hates Gregor. It's all on him – he leaves without the need of approval but get his message and judgements clear. As he leaves the main cast and onto the church, he's finally at his most vulnerable. the tension spotlight is not on him anymore and has no control of the atmosphere as the Cult comes into the scene.

But what he does have control of was the effect he gave on the kids as his message of apologising and reflecting was the episode's ending note. Not only that, We got the tonal shift to scary, serious to bawling our tears out?? It was implied throughout the episode that the themes of family, especially broken ones are strong and the last scene of Skid apologising and hugging his mom was the perfect completion to build all of that. Not only the tension between Moloch, and Gregor is there the other important thing was the emotional tension.

This signals that Gregor's presence was such an impact that it still lingers, like the piano at the last scene that he's always accompanied with in the soundtrack. in the end it shaped the kids that gives a significant emotional weight into the narrative from now on.

And what do we do now if Skid and Pump finally reflected?? Will things change? Will they not go out and do havoc anymore? Will things lose the general comedic feel to something more serious? We don't know

But it's all really thanks to Father Gregor Raguel.

Conclusion:

Tldr: Gregor is so odd to the show because of how serious he is that it extends to him breaking in series and horror traditions to the fucking narrative of making the series have some emotional weight

[heich0e]

bittersweet - vash the stampede/f!reader (trigun stampede): 7k, listen there's only been 2 eps and i don't know the lore so i am loudy and emphatically declaring creative license, in my mind this is set before the start of stampede but not by much, heavy on the wild wild west core here, light angst, smut, fingering, needy vanilla sex, domesticity, mentions of alcohol/alcoholism, boot-throwing related violence. 18+ NSFW MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT

The desert smells bitter.

You wouldn’t think that sand would smell like much at all, but the fragrance that hangs perpetually in the air is heavy, singed, and acrid with the heady scent of life and its misery. Waste and runoff make their unpleasantness acutely known on the hottest days, and the fumes from old machinery that’s barely functioning thanks to age and disrepair—that no one can afford to fix, so they have to hold out hope it keeps running—clogs up the already noxious atmosphere as it rattles on throughout the day. 

Mama used to tell you that outside of Jeneora Rock, the world smelled different. There’s somewhere else past the walls that mark the edge of the only town you’ve ever known, even past the wastelands—a place where almost no one ever goes, but that your Mama saw once. Or at least she said she did.

She told you it smelled clean. Sweet. Untouched by anything but the sun’s heat and the five moons’ glow. 

Mama’s gone, has been for a long time now, and even though she never had much to give to you in the first place, that story is the most precious thing she left behind. You think about it almost as often as you think about her. 

The end of another long day is marked by a familiar heaviness to your bones. Between the suffocating heat that makes you groggy and a hard day's work, there’s a palpable weight that bears down on you as you climb the never-ending metal stairs to your front door—your feet drag a bit more with every step.

The lock to your home is getting hard to turn. You’ve noticed it a few times now: a resistance as you slip your key into the keyhole, a pressure as you urge the mechanism to turn and let you in. There may be sand built up in there to clean out, or maybe it needs some oil.

But oil costs money, of which you don’t have much, so you really hope that it’s the former rather than the latter. 

You examine the keyhole once you manage to force the lock open, dropping to your knees outside your door to peek into the narrow opening on the tarnished face of the lock. It doesn’t do you much good because the sun’s already dropped dark, and even if the light of day still hung overhead you doubt it would be enough to make the issue any clearer. You drag your thumb idly along a little scratch beside the keyhole that's probably been there for years; the metal is still warm to the touch from the heat of the day that still hasn’t quite broken, the surface a little rougher where the score is chipped in.

You sigh, picking yourself up off the ground and dusting off your skirt, and turn the knob into your home. 

It’s dark when you get inside, but something feels wrong.

You shut the door behind you as you enter, pressing your back flat against it as your eyes struggle to adjust to the dark. Your home, like every other one in town, isn’t really much to look at even in the plain light of day. You’re luckier than lots of people though, you’ve got a couple rooms all to yourself where some families have no choice but to cram many people into just one. Papa left you this house, cause now he’s gone too just like Mama, but not much has changed since the day he left it to you—except now there’s less empty bottles rolling around underfoot, and you get to call the little bedroom off the main room yours.

It takes a second for your eyes to get used to the dimness with the door shut tight behind you, so you blink hard to make it happen faster. You see the rickety little table against the wall near the door, and the chair on the other side of the room where you sometimes sit by the window to mend your skirts when they wear and tear—but only when you get home early enough to catch the last few moments of sun, cause Mama always used to warn you about sewing by lamplight. The shutters on the window are closed and locked now, but there’s no light outside them to let in anyway. 

Something shuffles in the dark.

Papa left you a gun, too. Even taught you how to shoot it. Mama hated that. She hated how good you were at it even more. She used to say that shooting was gonna be your husband’s job someday, and that even in a world this wicked Papa was teaching you things you didn’t need to know.

But now Mama’s gone. And Papa’s gone. And the world is still wicked. And you’ve got no husband, but you have a gun you know how to shoot.

You keep it and a little stash of 7 bullets underneath your bed where you can get to it quick, but it’s on the other side of the house, and even though that’s not very far away you don’t know what’s waiting for you between the door and your bed. You don’t know if it’s faster than you are, either, so running for it would be a fool’s errand. 

Inside your chest, your heart starts pumping a little harder, ‘til you can feel the wet thump, thump, thump right in the back of your mouth.

You know you need light. You need to be able to see. You can’t make any decisions until you know what’s between you and your Papa's gun tucked up safe underneath your bed.

Slowly your eyes flicker over to the lamp on your table, just within reach. 

You suck a little gasp into your lungs to steel your nerve. The air is less sour in here—more familiar, a little more comforting—but the acrid scent of the desert still lingers on the edge of each breath. Slowly you reach towards the lamp and flick it on.

“PLEASE DON’T SHOOT ME!”

The frantic plea frightens you so terribly that it sends you tumbling to the hard floor, landing flat on your ass with your back thumping painfully into the wall beside your door. In front of you is a face that has no right being as familiar as it is; eyes wide in panic beneath a round pair of glasses, blonde hair tousled in disarray, two hands (one flesh and one crafted) lifted in innocence. 

Your heart is beating even faster now under the tight pull of your laced waistcoat. 

“Are you an idiot?” you hiss, instinctively tugging your boot off your foot and lobbing it forcefully at the unexpected intruder. “You scared the daylights outta me!”

The man sidesteps the projectile easily, and it clatters to the floor. The expression on his face morphs from one of panic to something a little more chagrined.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says, drawing out the word. His tone sheepish, and his lips pull into an apologetic little smile.

You place a trembling hand on your chest, pressing down on the spot where you feel your heart thumping the hardest and willing it to slow. You stare at your scuffed floorboards and take a few breaths to ease the frenetic beat of your pulse, and feel yourself begin to wilt as the adrenaline in your veins starts to fade. 

“How’d you get in here, Vash the Stampede?” you ask, looking up again at the man in front of you from your place on the ground.

“I knocked first,” he says with a grimace, “but you weren’t home and I…”

“Broke in because you’ve got someone looking for you?” you finish his explanation for him, your tone flat and entirely unsurprised.

He sighs, shoulders slumping dejectedly as his head hangs forward. 

“I didn’t know where else to go.”

He lifts his chin only enough to guiltily meet your gaze.

“It’s just for one night,” he murmurs the plea, his bottom lip weighed down by a pout.

You shut your eyes tight, hands balling into fists over your skirt to hide the way they tremble.

“Fine.”

Vash falls to his knees in front of you, hands pressed to the floor as he gets right up in your face with a wide, cheerful grin. He’s almost nose to nose with you, the light of the lamp glinting in his glasses.

“Thanks so much! I promise I’ll be outta here before you know it!”

He doesn’t need to tell you that, because the pang in your empty stomach tells you that, even unspoken, you already knew it to be true. 

Vash is travelling light again, just like the last time you saw him. He’s only got one bag that he begins to unpack onto the rickety table in your kitchen, leaving you to quietly go about your own business like you would if you hadn’t found him in your home that night. On the other side of the kitchen you unpack the meagre amount of food you’d managed to buy for yourself that day from little satchel you carried it home in. It’s barely enough food for one, and now you’ll have to stretch it between two. 

“Where’s your father?” Vash asks as he fiddles with his gun at the table behind you. “I thought it was him coming through the door, and I thought for sure he was gonna blow my—“

“He’s dead.”

The silence that follows is heavy. Uncomfortable, even. Vash’s hands still even as yours keep quietly peeling the sad, withered skin from the vegetable in your hand with the blade of a half-dulled knife. 

“I’m sorry,” his next words are quiet. “Your father was a nice man.”

“My father was a drunk who got himself shot in a bar fight with a merchant who came to town and was talking big. He just worshipped you because you saved the plant.”

That same uncomfortable silence creeps in again in the wake of your words, but after a few moments you hear Vash pick up his tools and start tinkering away at whatever he’s working on once more. 

“Is the plant still running?” Vash is the first to speak again, though a fair amount of time passes before he risks another attempt at conversation.

“More or less,” you remark, setting a little pot on the stove to boil with whatever ingredients you’d been able to scrounge together into a meal. You watch the flame of the element burst to life as you flick the switch, a little hiss as the fire licks at the edges of your only copper pot. “Some days it’s more reliable than others. But whatever you did seems to be holding up all right.”

“Good!” Vash says behind you. “That’s good.”

You turn to face him, the unevenly mended hem of your skirt swishing around your ankles. You lean against the little countertop behind you, with your arms crossed behind your back.

“I’ll pop by the plant before I leave town—” 

You watch as Vash’s fingers nimbly fiddle with his gun, broken down into its component parts to be cleaned and maintained. You’re sure it doesn’t need it—are certain he’s fired less shots from that gun in the two years since you’ve seen him than you’ve heard in town this week alone—but it’s kind of nice to watch him work, to appreciate how certain and precise his every move is, and to see how concentrated he is while he goes about it. 

“—just to make sure everything’s still in good shape.”

He looks up at you, like for the first time he feels your gaze as it traces the lines of his profile. He smiles again, that same wide, willful expression of cheer that he always endeavours to wear even though he might be the person least entitled to it.

You hum. “I’m sure everyone would appreciate that. You should stop by to see Rosa too, she’ll box my ear if she finds out you blew though town and didn’t go see her.”

The two of you eat across the table from one another in silence. Just the scrape of cutlery and the occasional loud swallow passing between the two of you. Vash seems hungry, but appears to be trying his best to be at least a little restrained as he eats with you. Even though you’d given him the larger of the two portions, he’s still finished his plate before you’ve finished yours, but he sits patiently across from you waiting for you to swallow your final bite.

“I’ll take these,” he jumps to his feet before you have the chance to even push your chair back from the table, snatching both of your dishes up into his hands. “I’ll clean up, since you’re letting me stay.”

You don’t deny him, and instead slump back into your seat, dragging your wrist along your forehead. Your skin feels grimy from the hot day and the filth outside. Normally you would have bathed before you cooked, but you hadn’t eaten a proper meal all day—and Vash looked like it may have been even longer than that. 

“I’m gonna wash,” you say, standing from your seat. You pause, your fingertips tracing against the rough, rutted surface of the tabletop. You know you don’t have enough water for two baths in your tank. You used to bathe with your mother when you were little, then once you were older and Mama was gone, you got the bathwater first and Papa would get in after you were done. It’s never been an issue until now. “Er—Vash?” 

At the sink where your uninvited house guest is scrubbing at the dishes in the washbasin that you’d filled ahead of time, Vash pauses, glancing at you over his shoulder. He’s taken off his familiar red coat, left hanging off the chair he’d been seated in at the table, and the black turtleneck he wears beneath it stretches taut over the musculature of his back as it faces you.

“The bath… there’s only enough water to fill it once. I don’t…Do you want…?” you aren’t sure what you’re even trying to ask him, but whatever is coming out of your mouth is even less clear than the thoughts running through your head.

“I’ll bathe second, don’t worry about me.” 

Vash’s smile is gentle and obliging, his eyes crinkling at the corners as they narrow into little crescents. You nod stiffly, feeling heat flush through you at the softness in his expression, and shuffle off towards the other side of your home while avoiding his gaze.

The walls of your home are paper thin, and you’re certain that Vash can hear the splash of water in the tub as clearly as you can hear the scratchy, garbled sound of his radio from the other room. Once your skin’s been scrubbed clean of the day, you sit in the water with your knees pulled to your chest and your chin tucked between them. You strain to try to make out what’s being broadcast, but it’s difficult to hear since the reception in town is always so piss poor, and whatever coherent bits of news you manage to catch are just as abysmal as always.

It’s strange, hearing someone else in the house. It’s something you didn’t realize had become so foreign to you in the time you’ve learned to live alone. The idle puttering in the other room is a sound you didn’t realize you had missed. You lean back and dunk yourself into the water, where everything goes quiet. 

The bathwater never gets very hot to begin with—tepid at the best of times, which seems unfair given the climate—but you know it’s not fair to waste time in the tub when someone else is waiting for it. You pull yourself up out of the metal basin, careful not to disturb the stopper in the bottom of the tub, and dry as much water from your skin as you can. Once you’ve deemed yourself sufficiently towelled, you pull on your nightdress and a threadbare housecoat overtop.

Vash looks up from the chair in the corner by the window when you emerge from the bathroom, and he meets your eyes so unwaveringly it feels decidedly like he’s trying hard not to let his gaze wander elsewhere. You fidget under his stare, fiddling with the fraying ends of the towel around your neck that’s catching the droplets that fall from your hair. He must realize that he’s unnerving you, because he averts his eyes to a point on the wall over your shoulder after a moment. 

“My turn?” he asks, his tone chipper but polite.

“All yours,” you nod, stepping into your bedroom and leaving him to his business.

There’s an old trunk at the bottom of your bed where you keep some of the things your father left that you haven’t yet been able to sell or make use of. You find an old shirt of his near the very bottom, soft and worn-thin from years of washing. It’s something you could have easily sold or traded by now, but that you couldn’t quite bring yourself to part with—though you’re certain the day will inevitably come when sentimentality can no longer outweigh your basic needs.

You stand outside the bathroom door for a moment, your father’s shirt clutched tightly in your hands. You can hear the splash of bathwater you’re sure has gone cold from where you stand, only a few feet and a thin door between you.

You muster your nerve and tap your knuckles lightly against the door.

“I have a shirt if you need something to—“

The door opens, and you find yourself unexpectedly facing the bare chest of your one-night housemate, still damp and glistening from the bath, lined with silvery scars that the low light catches on.

You toss the shirt at him unceremoniously and turn quickly away, and Vash himself makes a little sound of surprise.

“Sorry, I didn’t expect you to be—“

“It’s fine,” you answer before he can even finish his apology, still refusing to meet his gaze. You gesture vaguely over your shoulder without turning. “Just take that.”

The bathroom door clicks closed again, and you clutch the belt of your housecoat over your diaphragm. 

You need a drink. 

You cross your home to the cabinet in your kitchen, reaching to the back of the nearly-bare shelf and pulling out a dusty old bottle that’s been there since your father died. It wouldn’t have lasted a day if he were still living, and you’ve made it years without ever so much as cracking it open. 

Today however, you feel it’s well-deserved. 

The dust caked on the bottle smears against your palm as you open it, and you wipe the grime furiously against the material of your housecoat as you pour a long glug of the amber liquor into a waiting glass. It’s vile, lukewarm from the constant heat of your home, and burns every inch of the way down—but as you set the empty glass back onto the counter, you still find yourself grateful for it. 

You pour another drink. 

“Take it easy,” you hear a voice say behind you, accompanied by a breathy little laugh.

You turn and see Vash hovering not far from you, his black turtleneck folded over one arm and your father’s shirt over his no-longer-bare chest. His hair is wet, a towel draped around his shoulders just like yours, and he’s taken off his usual eyewear. The mole underneath his eye seems more prominent now that he’s scrubbed himself clean.

Your empty glass dangles from the tips of your fingers, the acerbic taste of the liquor lingering on your tongue. You hold it out to him in offering, and he scrunches up his nose a little bit. 

“I really shouldn’t—“

“It’s rude to turn down a drink your host is offering you, y’know.”

Things like rudeness don’t mean anything to anyone these days, least of all yourself. Decency is a luxury few people can afford. 

Vash sighs, still smiling, and takes the glass from you. Your fingers brush as it passes from your hand to his, and then you take the bottle and pour another healthy splash into the waiting cup. He brings it to his lips, wincing against the fumes alone that waft up from the glass. 

“It’s better if you don’t sip it,” you offer him, though even then you know the guidance doesn’t help much.

He tips it back and drains it.

Two drinks were enough to have you feeling woozy, but you pour yourself a third for good measure. You spare Vash the pain of another, much to his apparent relief, and let him off with just the one before tucking the half-drained bottle back into the cupboard you’d dug it out of. 

When you turn around again, Vash is crouched down, examining something on the ground. 

Your boot. The one you’d thrown at him earlier. 

He peers up at you from the floor, he lifts the shoe slightly. 

“It broke again.”

A memory floods back to you then, unbidden. 

Sitting side by side with Vash on the edge of the steps outside the same house you live in now, but when the way you lived was different. The plant had just been repaired, and there was a palpable feeling of effervescent joy sizzling through the town around you. An uncharacteristic camaraderie amongst the people of Jeneora Rock as the celebration of Vash’s handiwork spreading through the narrow, grimy streets. The two of you were away from it all, sitting quietly together in a strange sort of celebration of your own.

You were less a woman than you were a girl back then, but still somehow neither. He’d patched the sole of your boot back on when it had ripped loose. And you’d laughed when he handed it back to you with an endearingly clumsy flourish, the sound as high and bright as the sun that hung in the sky overhead. You still remember the way your laughter had made his smile grow.

The patch job had lasted a year. You’d sobbed the day it came loose again, just shortly after the death of your father. You’d been using twine tied tightly around the toe of the boot to hold it together ever since.

Vash blinks up at you from the ground as you stare down at him with what you’re sure is a vacant look in your eyes. 

“I brought you something,” he says, hopping up and skittering over to his rucksack with your boot still in his hand. He rifles around in the bag for a moment, his mechanical arm shoulder deep as he roots for what he’s looking for. His eyebrows shoot up and he grins when he locates it—a wide, brilliant smile splitting across his face as he pulls his arm out. 

He holds his find up in triumph. 

You look at it with narrowed eyes.

“What… is it?” you ask, after a moment of trying to identify the small, relatively unremarkable little container in his hand.

“Boot glue!” he says excitedly, waving it in front of your face. “I thought of you when I saw it! The merchant wanted an arm and a leg for it but I managed to—”

Tears have sprung up in your eyes against your will, and you quickly turn away from him to hide them from his sight. 

“Hey, are you okay?” Vash’s voice is softer now, less enthusiastic and more concerned. 

That softness is what upsets you more than anything. Tenderness is a foreign thing in the desolation of the wastelands.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, scrubbing your hand over your stinging eyes. 

For thinking of me.

For knowing that you’d come back.

You leave that part off, but you feel it just as much as what you say.

You drain that third glass that’s been sitting on the counter waiting for you, hoping the burn of the liquor as it sloshes down your throat to your stomach will give you something else to focus on. Or, if nothing else, that it might numb the sudden pain that’s laid roots down in your core.

Vash sits at the table as he patches up your boot under the lamplight, much like he had the first time. You watch him from the chair in the corner, under the shuttered window, with your knees drawn up into your seat with you. You’re more shameless now than you had been while he cleaned his gun, observing him keenly as he scrubs your boot with a rag and leftover water from the dish pan. He makes sure no more grime clings to it before he carefully smears a thick layer of the glue along the sole, pressing down firmly to make sure the adhesion takes. He holds the boot up in front of him when he’s done, his tongue poking out from the corner of his mouth, eyeing it from every angle to survey his own work.

You watch him just as raptly. 

He turns in his seat once he’s satisfied, holding the boot up. 

“All done!” he says, hopping up to his feet and shuffling towards you. He crouches down in front of you and holds out his hand expectantly. Slowly, you stick your foot out, and he cradles it gently in his roughened palm.

Carefully he slips the boot onto your foot, tightening the laces once it’s fully in place. 

“How’s it feel?” he asks you, peeking up at you from his place on the floor. 

“Feels good,” you reply, with an equally breathy tone. 

The lamplight doesn’t reach this corner of the room quite as brightly as it does at the table, but you can still make out a blush that sits high and pretty at the top of Vash’s cheeks. You wonder if he’s starting to feel the flush thanks to the liquor, or if maybe it’s something else entirely. 

“G-good!” he stammers a little, fiddling with the laces at your ankle. “I’m glad!”

“That glue must have been expensive,” you say. “Thank you, Vash.”

He shoots you a smile as he loops his fingers through the laces. “It's the least I could do, especially with you putting me up for the night.”

For the night. 

Just for the night. 

The reminder makes you ache a little.

Vash helps you slip your boot off again, carrying it over to the door and setting it down beside its mate.

“I’ll leave this here for you, in case you need it again,” he says, screwing the top back onto the little pot of adhesive at the table. “There’s not much left, but there’s some.”

You nod from your seat in the corner, one leg up and one leg still down—your nightdress drawn up to your knee from when he’d helped you into your boot. 

Vash ruffles the hair at the nape of his neck, dry now after his bath. Yours remains a little damp, but you’re sure it won’t last long as the residual heat from the day still hangs in the air even though the sun has long set. 

“It’s late,” he finally says after a moment. “You should sleep.”

You hum in agreement, moving to stand from your chair. The room spins slightly around you, those three glasses you’d knocked back sneaking up on you while you’d been sitting down. Your foot hooks in the hem of your nightdress because of the way you’d been sitting, but before you can stumble theres a strong arm wrapped around your waist to keep you steady. A warmth pressing into you as your face meets a heaving chest.

“Let’s get you to bed,” Vash murmurs, his grip on you tightening for the briefest moment. 

Your hands clutch at his shirt, and you don’t meet his eyes as you nod, letting him lead you towards your bedroom. 

Your hands fumble at the belt of your nightdress, pulling it off and tossing the garment across the end of your bed as Vash helps you onto the mattress. You tuck your feet under the thin sheet before leaning back against your pillows, and Vash is quick to turn and head towards the door after helping you pull it up to your waist.

“Wait,” you call to him before he can retreat. He pauses in the doorway, glancing at you over his shoulder. “Where are you going to sleep?”

You hadn’t thought much about this, and you ought to have considered it earlier. You only have the one bed, but you have two pillows you can share and a spare blanket in the trunk at the end of it that you could offer him if he wants to sleep on the floor. 

But you don’t want to tell him that.

“I’ll just take the chair,” he says with a blithe smile, jutting his thumb towards the armchair in the other room. 

It won’t be comfortable. You know that from experience, having fallen asleep there a few times yourself after a particularly gruelling day. The stuffing is lumpy and the springs are painful if you press against them the wrong way. You know he won’t complain about it. You even know that it’s probably still more comfortable than lots of other places he’s rested his head over the past two years. 

But you want to be selfish.

For once you don’t want to be alone. 

“Vash,” you say quietly, and you watch his entire body go rigid at the sudden bare vulnerability of your tone. “Please stay with me.”

You’d asked him the same thing once before, but different. The words once murmured desperately against his lips as you clung to his red jacket. Staring at him with eyes full of hope and a freshly patched boot on your foot. 

He’d looked at you the same way back then too. That smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. As gentle of a no that he could ever offer you.

“I know you have to leave,” you murmur, eyes downcast to your hands as they rest atop your lap. “I don’t expect anything like that from you. I know it’s just for tonight.”

“Please don’t cry.”

The bed dips beside you, and Vash tilts your face up towards him. He looks troubled when you meet his gaze, even in the dim light of your bedroom you can make out the conflict on his features. It’s strange to see him not smiling, wrong almost.

But your eyes are dry.

“Stay,” you repeat yourself, meeting his gaze resolutely. You swallow hard over the lump in your throat, bracing yourself for the impending sear of rejection. 

Vash cups your cheeks in his hands, and you can’t tell if it’s your cheeks or his touch that feels so warm.

“You deserve someone that can say yes to that and mean it properly,” he says ruefully, not dissimilarly to what he’d said the first time you’d asked the very same thing of him.

“I’m not asking anyone else,” you whisper, “I’m asking you."

You wonder if your mouth still tastes like liquor as Vash’s tongue dips inside of it, hovering over you as you lay sprawled across your bed. 

It didn’t start like this, of course. The first kiss had been gentle, hesitant even—like Vash wasn’t quite sure if he was going to see it through at all, poised to flee at any moment. But neither of you could deny how right it felt when his lips brushed yours, an immediate wash of relief and of unadulterated want inundating you all at once. You’d been the one to crane up and bridge the gap, but soon Vash was crawling into your bed overtop of you, easing you back to lay flat as he succumbed to the same need you felt thrumming through your veins.

Your hands are tangled in his hair now—a gesture that earned you a pitchy, needy little groan from him as your fingers twisted through the blonde strands. It only seemed to make him more eager as he parted his lips against your own in a deeper kiss.

There’s something a little clumsy about it all, an eagerness and inexperience to every touch and graze. But it’s not the same as it was at first, no longer hesitant or wary—his reservations have been peeled away as surely as the clothes the two of you are wearing, until you feel nothing but his skin against your own.

Vash’s hands are as greedy and rapacious as his mouth; touching, grabbing, grazing anything he can reach. His calloused fingers cup themselves around the swell of your chest, squeezing lightly, and when you reward him with a little moan it stokes the flames of his curiosity, and his touch moves to the pebbled bud of your nipple next. He rolls it tentatively between his fingers, pinching ever so slightly, and when you gasp against his mouth, arching further into his touch, he makes his own little pleased sound of surprise before lavishing your other breast with equal attention. 

His metal hand touches you more gingerly than the other, and he tends to favour the one made of flesh and bone. The contrast in sensations is a little disorienting—smooth, hard metal versus the life-roughened heat of skin on skin. It’s dizzying. You want more.

“Vash,” you murmur against his mouth. 

Your lips are stinging now from the constant kissing. He’s scarcely left your mouth uncovered by his own since they first connected, but at your hoarse whisper of his name he pulls back slightly, watching your face for any sign of reproach. 

“Touch me more, please,” you say to him, cupping his cheeks as he presses his forehead into yours, both of you sharing the same breath in the little space between you.

He makes a sound halfway between a grunt and a hum, nodding a little, and kisses you again as his hands slip further down your willing, waiting form.

If he’s surprised by the wet wet heat he finds between your legs, it doesn’t stop him. One finger and then two find their way inside you slowly; he moves in gentle thrusts and scissoring motions that have your jaw going slack. His palm presses against the swell of your clit, and each time your hips jump it grinds into the heel of his palm, earning a keen from the back of your throat.

“Feels good?” Vash trails kisses up the top of your cheek until his lips are by your ear. His breathing is laboured and the air of each breath is hot as it ghosts across your skin. Your tongue feels leaden, but you nod repeatedly, wrapping your arms around his neck and keeping him close.

“Yeah,” you finally manage to breathe out, “’s good.”

It’s even better when you feel the stretch of him pressing himself inside.

The sound that’s pulled from the depth of Vash’s broad chest as he carves his way into you makes your toes curl—high and sweet and desperate.

“’S hot,” he slurs, his hips giving a shallow, desperate thrust.

He’s needy, pulling you closer as he moves you how he wants you. He loops your knees up over his elbows, his mouth frantically finding it’s way back to yours as the weight of his entire body bears down on you. 

The next thrust is harder, deeper. And the pace only increases after that.

The rickety headboard of your old bed knocks against the wall each time he brings his hips down against yours. It’s loud, but so is the sound of skin on skin, and you have the distant thought as the bed frame creaks that it sounds like it might splinter underneath you—but you don’t find it in yourself to care as the pressure in you core steadily builds, threatening to burst. It blinds and deafens you to anything but the pulse that pounds in your throat. It makes your fingers curl against the skin of Vash’s shoulder blades until your nails dig into skin.

He’s still kissing you, wet and messy and noisy as his tongue presses into your mouth. He never stops kissing you.

It's nice to be with someone. To be touched. To feel wanted and needed.

Especially by him.

Your eyes flutter open, and as though he can sense your gaze on him Vash’s do the same. His expression is heavy-lidded as he pants, a little drop of sweat sitting high on the edge of his blushing cheek. He smiles a little, a soft, gentle expression you’ve never seen before.

A tenderness in his gaze unlike any you’ve ever experienced.

The pressure in your core comes undone.

He takes your face in his hands as pleasure rips through you like a sandstorm, blistering and unescapable. He’s still kissing you. Keeping you so near. In the haze it’s hard to tell where you end and he begins, everything clouded into something thats both and somehow neither. Something new.

“Close,” Vash whines, grinding his hips down against your own.

Your muscles ache, the pleasure has worn you raw, and your lungs are pricking with the need for a full deep breath you haven’t been able to draw into them now for some time. But even so, you don’t want it to be over. Can’t bear the thought of being apart.

The headboard rattles a few more times, and then the pressure between your legs is gone as Vash pulls out and spatters his spend across your stomach with a long, low groan.

It’s hot. The mess on your skin, the sweat that clings to you, the paltry breaths of air you draw into your lungs. Even the sheets of your bed have absorbed the heat from both of your bodies, sticking to your skin as you collapse into them in boneless heaps, chests heaving and hearts racing side by side.

You tilt your face towards the boy crowded into your narrow bed beside you, and find him watching you expectantly.

“You okay?” he asks, brushing a piece of hair away from your eyes.

You hum, leaning into his touch.

Vash’s gaze travels down your body, eyeing the mess he’s made of you with wide eyes. He pops up suddenly, clambering out of bed and tripping clumsily over the sheet that’s fallen half-way off the mattress as he skitters out the door. You’re not too worried that he’s going far, considering he’s still stark naked, but you watch the doorway curiously as you wait for him to return.

When he does, he has a cloth in hand—still damp from your bath earlier in the evening. As gently as he can, Vash cleans you up; the cloth cool is against your sticky skin, and feels nice. Once he’s satisfied with his handiwork, he presses a kiss to the valley between your ribs, lifting his face to smile up at you.

You shoot him a feeble smile back.

He slips into bed beside you once more, crawling up towards the pillows and pulling the rumpled sheet up to your chins as he goes. He settles in, and with one sweep of his arm he tucks you safely against his chest, with your ear resting over his heart. His hand pats gently along the back of your hair down your spine, keeping you close to him.

Vash smells good. Clean and comforting. It makes you think of the place your mother told you about once. You wonder if he smells like that place, or maybe even better.

You wonder if he’s ever been there before.

You wonder if he’d tell you if you asked.

You open your eyes, though the effort pains you in your exhaustion, and you see him peering back at you. Vash’s lips pull into a smile, but it's one of the ones that doesn’t quite meet his eyes. An expression that you know is more for you than it is for himself.

You think the two of you have a lot in common, then. That maybe the two of you understand the same loneliness. The same feeling of being haunted.

Your ghosts live on in the trunk at the end of your bed and at the back of your cupboard, covered in dust, tucked away out of sight. 

Vash’s live on inside of him, and it’s where he seems determined to keep them. 

In that moment you know that even if you were to ask, he’d tell you nothing—and he’d do it for your own sake.

Tomorrow you’ll wake and the air will smell bitter and burnt, and he’ll be gone, but your boot will be mended, and the little pot of glue will remind you he was there. But tonight you’ll dream about the place your Mama told you about, and tomorrow you’ll still have the smell that clings to your sheets. So for now, the world smells different. 

And that has to be enough.