#foreshadowing to the story having to deal with both

[inkbirdie]

kdh things i noticed on my rewatch

this is lowkey long asf so i’m putting a break

⁃ in How It’s Done/the meet and greet, the girls are all wearing yellow (gold), pink, and turquoise somewhere in their outfit (which represent Rumi, Mira, and Zoey respectively). they don’t always wear each other’s colors but it happens a lot ⁃ A soda tab pop sound effect goes off when Jinu introduces the Saja Boys to Gwi-Ma (where does that shit come from) ⁃ this one’s pretty obvious but Rumi’s first performance costume has big shoulder pads. her next ones are also covering the shoulders, with some asymmetrical pieces, while her last one is sleeveless ⁃ other people have pointed this out, but the ray of golden light falling across Rumi’s left eye at the start of the Golden mv foreshadows her demon eye (also, it’s interesting that demon eyes are gold when that’s the same color as a Honmoon that bars them from the human world. usually pink/purple is demon colors) ⁃ also in the Golden mv, Rumi starts off with a blanket that covers her whole body that she then discards. she mirrors this by taking off her robe to reveal her patterns. both of these moments kind of combine into how she feels at the end, when she finally accepts herself ⁃ Mira reads their own magazine while at the fake doctor’s office ⁃ re: the saja boys getting Huntrix on the variety show—can jinu fucking autotune his voice on command? is that part of his deal with Gwi-Ma or what ⁃ Jinu literally has patterns on his shirt from the variety show/bathhouse. boy is not subtle ⁃ Rumi’s right earring for her costume with the yellow jacket is shaped like patterns ⁃ ‘time goes by and i lose perspective’ could be a reference to how the story Jinu tells Rumi differs from what Gwi-Ma says later. either he did lie to her on purpose, or shame has shaped his perspective over time ⁃ the bracelet the woman gives Rumi is the same shape as the Huntrix symbol (which makes it cuter that Jinu takes it imo) ⁃ is it just me or do Mira’s eyebrows get less pink when not performing? ⁃ Jinu’s chain magically changes length and color twice around 1:10 ⁃ Mira’s golden shoulderpiece tassels look like the ones on Zoey’s weapon ⁃ the tiger is holding the bracelet!! (in the demon world right before the your idol performance) ⁃ there’s a guy wearing Gwi-Ma merch behind Mira as she enters the Saja performance arena. also all the saja boys shirts get patterns on them during the concert ⁃ “preaching to the choir” as he addresses a whole crowd that already has Gwi-Ma in their head. lowkey saying this whole song is unnecessary lol ⁃ Zoey’s bathhouse hair wrap goes over her buns (does she ever take them out)

bonus thoughts 🎤 ⁃ i want a full version of Jinu’s song that he sings to Gwi-Ma ⁃ i wish we got more of Zoey talking about turtles. that girl is so autistic (she does have some on her pjs/relaxation outfit) ⁃ did Jinu teach the Saja Boys to walk sexy or did they already know how to do that ⁃ how the hell did Jinu completely knock Rumi over with one shoulder tap. my guess is that Rumi is so strong naturally that Jinu using a shit ton of force to bump her felt normal ⁃ “it doesn’t look like they’re going to hurt anyone” Zoey says after she just got floored by a heart the Saja Boys blew at her ⁃ i still don’t like soda pop at all and i’m not sorry. your idol goes really hard tho ⁃ baby makes me uncomfy ⁃ I wonder if Mira and Zoey ever wondered why Rumi’s hair doesn’t fade or grow roots (assuming it’s from her dad) maybe they thought Celine always dyed it and Rumi periodically pretends to get it done ⁃ the flowerpot scene is so fucking funny ⁃ why the fuck does mystery bark. what is up with that. assuming he was human once, why is that his reaction to people. was he a furry ⁃ we only get one mention of missing people in the whole movie. korea i get you love music but oh my god focus on the dead people. a whole train full of people went missing dude ⁃ i really want to know what Jinu starts a fight with the Saja Boys about ⁃ i bet the fans theorized like nuts about Rumi’s ‘secret tattoos’. i bet they were all theorizing about her never taking off her layers for YEARS ⁃ do the Hunters’ weapons only hurt demons or can they cut humans? would they cut Rumi? I would assume so since Rumi asks Celine to kill her with her own sword ⁃ 1:16:20 might be my favorite shot in the whole movie it’s so good ⁃ i wonder if Rumi can turn her demon eye on and off ⁃ jinu basically becomes Fi from skyward sword at the end (so he can come out of the sword right? he can come out of the sworddddd) ⁃ ‘leg the jagged edges meet the light’ as in let Rumi’s jagged patterns be seen

[not-poignant]

Love how efnisiens progression with his ability to accept affection being like "I will absolutely not move even an inch into this guy patting my head or I will end my own damn self" to [casually crawls into Gary's lap, much to the guys awe]

Meanwhile Gary's progression overtime with his possessiveness being like "if you do anything to upset him, we'll be having words" towards anton in the first few chapters then becoming "if you hurt him I'll kill you" towards temsen, its so fucking funny

I do appreciate the little sprinkles of possessiveness Gary showed from the beggining, its all very consistent, and makes it all the more satisfying when he finally does go all "peak alpha" about it

Hi hi anon!

I do think by the time we see the full weight of Gary's possessiveness / protectiveness instincts, we'll be like 'oh yeah I guess...this isn't actually that surprising.'

Although I still think Gary will be shocked by his own actions!

But Gary's protectiveness instincts will save lives. Sometimes it's good to have a peak alpha around :D

[ebodebo]

The Conditioning: A Salt to the Wound Prequel

➛ companion piece to Salt to the Wound

PAIRING⁀➷ simon riley x fem!reader

WORD COUNT⁀➷ 12k

CONTAINS⁀➷ 18+ SMUT MDNI, fem!reader, rough & unprotected sex, p in v, complicated grief, complicated family dynamics, an attempt to repress memories, mentions of military & war trauma, cutting skin for blood, graphic depictions of death, foreshadowing, mentions of gun violence, little to no effort doing johnny's accent, mentions of abuse, heavy angst, mention of prescription drugs, mentions of death, questionable ethics & morals, religious speak, fluff, intertwined plot points from original fic (more on that below,) purposeful omission of tags to avoid spoilers, & no use of y/n.

AUTHOR'S NOTE⁀➷ before reading, i would like to note that this is a direct prequel to salt to the wound. i highly encourage you to read that before this. anywho, i’m back with an expansion of the salt to the wound universe! i’ve decided to expand upon the original story, but not in the way i initially intended. i thought it would be interesting to explore more of simon’s perspective on his marriage and the deal he made in the original fic, thus this prequel was born. although, this fic does pov switch, it does so less occasionally. regardless, i sincerely hope this installment is satisfactory. if salt to the wound left you sad or unsatisfied with reader's ending, i hope this brings you some satisfaction. i don’t want to spoil anything, so i won't say anything more. i hope you enjoy. read at your own discretion.

The lines between Hell and Earth are blurry…

The air carried a bone-chilling cold that seemed to penetrate Simon's very being.

It felt as though the night carried a treacherous vengeance that was cowardly whispered in the form of icy wind.

Despite the cold, Simon hovers near the front entrance of the Thai place he had been dragged to on a blind date set up by Johnny, a fresh cigarette between his fingers, the smoke offering him a little warmth.

He should have known better than to take up Johnny's offer.

It was naive of him to think that an older brute like himself could find someone who would take him, baggage and all. 

How could anyone possibly love a man so rough around the edges, broken and battered by life? 

He's got scars that run deep, both inside and out, and they're the kind that won't heal easily. 

Might not heal ever.

Still, he's convinced that someone will come along and fix him, make him whole again. 

Always had his head too high in the God-damn clouds to see the storm brewing where he ought to be on the surface.

Out of the cold night, a voice broke through. "Think I could bum a cigarette off you?" Simon's eyes snapped up to see you standing before him, a warm smile on your face, a sudden spark of connection in the icy air. 

He narrows his eyes skeptically. "You smoke?"

"Not really," you shake your head. "Just had a shitty night."

He doesn't ask you to explain; he really doesn't care. He flicks a cigarette from his pack and hands it to you.

"Can you light me?" you ask sheepishly, putting the cigarette between your lips and hovering closer to him.

His lip quips as he flicks his lighter, hovering just below your cigarette. The flame quickly lights the end, sending smoke down your lungs.

You suck down the smoke gracefully, closing your eyes softly trying to seize your nerves.

Simon watches you for a moment. "Shouldn't be doin' that," he mumbles. "It's bad for you."

Your eyes snap open, a smile growing on your face. "You're one to talk," you say, blowing the smoke out between your lips. "I saw you smoke three through the glass," you cock a brow, eyes darting to look down at the ground next to his boot to see smashed cigarette buds. 

He tilts his head back, smoke blowing through his nostrils. "You been watchin' me?" His voice is rough, but you can tell there's humor in his words.

"Maybe," you shrug, tilting your head forward slightly to look at him through your lashes, a cheeky grin on your lips. "Saw you with a woman in there," you casually say, taking another puff. "You didn't look so happy."

"Saw you with a man," he counters, eyes shamelessly darting between your eyes and lips. "You didn't look too chipper either."

Your shoulders sag at the thought. "Yeah… my boyfriend, well, ex-boyfriend," you correct quickly. "He dumped me." Your voice carries a mix of sadness and a palpable sense of relief.

Simon cringes. "Oof. Heartless bastard."

You chew on your lip, your curiosity piqued. "And you?"

He lifts a brow, taking another drag. "What about me?" he prompts curiously. 

You roll your eyes playfully. Men. "Did you have a nice date?"

He puffs out the smoke, nodding along lightly. "That was my little sister."

Your face morphs into horror. You even drop your cigarette on the ground from how fast you cover your mouth with your hands. "Oh! Oh my God… " you start, genuine horror in your tone. "I'm so sorry… I, I just assumed—" you stutter, face stiff. 

Your shoulders relax as he lets out a gruff laugh. "Relax. Just takin' the piss," he chuckles. “Nah. Didn't know the girl. Was a blind date my mate set up for me," he explains through a dry laugh. "She was too uppity for me."

"She was cute," you try to find some good. "But, yeah, I overheard her talking about her daddy's multiple vacation houses in the Hamptons, before proceeding to complain about the price of the champagne," you agree with a chuckle.

He leans just an inch closer, now interested in the conversation. "Did you hear her go on about her father’s private broker firm?" He brings his cigarette to his lips. 

You giggle, leaning closer. "Yeah. Looks like daddy's raking in the big bucks, huh?" You nod, sarcasm dripping from your voice.

Simon pulls back, flicking his cigarette on the ground, stepping on it purposefully. "Broker firm sounds like a euphemism for where daddy parks his questionable investments."

You make a faux cringe face. "Yikes. I can see the raging jealousy oozing out of you," you gesture to him, with a sardonic infliction that's hard to miss.

He smiles. "Oh, yeah. Just riddled with jealousy," he goes along with it, his smile growing as you share a laugh, the warmth of your camaraderie evident in the air. 

The following words that flow off Simon's tongue come without warning. "Would you wanna grab a beer at the bar down the road?" His eyes flick to yours, looking back to his as your laughter dies down.

His nervousness is palpable, evident in the way his Adam's apple bobs as he maintains eye contact. "Are you asking me on a date?" you inquire, sensing his unease.

"I'll pay," he says, skirting around the question. 

You let out a dry laugh. "Well, I didn't think I was going to… " You trail off, only now realizing that you didn't even know his name. 

"Simon," he fills in without hesitation. "Call me Simon."

"Okay… Simon." His name rolls off your tongue in a purr that has him at a loss for words. "I'll get a beer with you, although I'm shocked you would settle for someone as dull as me after being dazzled by Hampton royalty," you jest, smiling at him.

He smiles back, harder. "Mhm. Always been more interested in the common folk," he jokes, as you spin on your heels, laughing, walking next to him towards the shitty dive bar on fifth.

In that moment, Simon sees his future.

A future that he had never dared to dream of until that very moment.

It all flashes through his brain in a light blur.

He sees simple mornings, when the light casts a warm glow on your skin, almost bringing him to tears. He can almost feel the softness of your skin and the warmth of the morning sun. 

He can see you in a long wedding dress with a sheer veil, not daring to fully conceal your beauty before he sees his babies on your hip as you bounce them lovingly. 

So many years full of pure love, until you both find yourselves on rocking chairs on your porch, connected to your grand white house, wrapped in a white picket fence that he will have spent years building up from the mud with his bare hands.

By then, half your grand babies will be learning to walk, while the other half will be busy decorating your driveway with chalk drawings, begging him to take them for a drive to see their uncle Johnny.

His visions of his fantastical family looked like the picture a soldier keeps tucked away in the pocket of his military uniform to protect it from spilled blood.

Serves as a reminder, motivating him to keep fighting through the war. Even in the direst moments, with a gun pointed to his head, his humility laid bare, he will keep fighting for his family, for they are where his heart lies, still untouched by vengeance, pure as the heavens above.

His future, as he envisions it, is a canvas of bright potential.

Yet, he remains oblivious to the looming shadow of a devil's bargain that will one day bind you two, leaving your soul eternally tainted and trapped.

For now, he can continue his fruitless efforts, ponder you with heart-filled eyes, and dream carelessly innocent dreams.

But the devil does not bargain with such innocence, for a darker fate awaits him.

A few months later, Simon is parked in the creaky chair of his home office, filing some paperwork. He is shivering; no amount of heat can warm his skin.

His raging fever, which had ruined his sleep, had carried over from the night before, leaving him feeling his skin flush and dry, barely able to sit upright in the wooden chair.

But that's the thing about Simon, he doesn't know when to quit.

He is stubborn, strong-willed to a disturbing degree. 

He hadn't yet found his limit; the breaking point that would make him just stop.

Must have gotten that from his mother because his father sure knew when to quit while he was ahead.

Simon leans over his desk to scribble on some files, each movement seemingly being harder than the last. He grunts just as he finishes a sentence, lightly tossing the pen to wipe his tired, sunken eyes.

His head flicks up at the sound of his doorbell ringing. With a sigh, he slowly stands and moves over to the door, opening it to see you with a bright smile and a warm pie in your embrace.

"Made you pie," you say, lifting the pie to ensure he sees it. "Hopefully, you like cherry," you smile meekly, watching his eyes drift to the pie.

He lifts his head to look at you, trying to keep his voice steady. "Love cherry," he mumbles, though some emotion has seeped through his tough front.

He can't believe you went and made him a pie.

You had been on a handful of unofficial dates in the past few months, but nothing official came about. 

You were just friends, at least he assumed you were friends. 

But here you were, the sweetest girl he's ever met, with a fresh pie you say is meant for him. He couldn't have possibly imagined you would go and do something that would make him think you care about him. 

"Are you alright? You look tired," you ask, narrowing your eyes in concern. You observe his deep eye bags, and your worry is palpable.

His eyes flick up to see your concerned ones. "Think I caught a cold," he murmurs. "Thanks for the pie, sweetheart." He takes the pie from your hands.

You pass the pie along, and the warmth of the pan spreads across Simon's skin, making him close his eyes softly. "Are you taking care of yourself?" you ask, a slight frown on your lips as you see the tip of his nose tinged red. 

He doesn't answer, just looks down at the pie.

You had made a beautiful lattice, and only a little cherry filling broke through the sweet dough. 

"Simon," you urge, your determination to make him open up evident in your voice. "Are you taking care of yourself?"

He looks back at you. "I'm alright."

You frown again; he hasn't been. "Can I come in?" you ask, your patience reassuring.

"Wouldn't wanna get you sick. Too pretty to be bedridden," he tries to joke, but his chest rumbles with a rough cough.

Your skin warms at the compliment. "I take my vitamins," you assure. "Don't worry about me, okay?" You place your hands on your hips, so he knows you're serious. "Now, am I going to have to shove you to get inside, or are you going to let me in willingly?" You arch your brow, your lips pursed. 

His lip quips; he is too tired to fight you, so he simply steps aside, allowing you to step through the door with ease.

He doesn't feel the surge of nervousness he probably should, as you step into his house and observe every fine detail, down to the scratches on his light wooden floors.

"You have a cat?" you ask, turning to him with a smile.

He shakes his head. "Nah. The other owner did," he explains, moving to grab your purse, which is hiked on your shoulder, and gently laying it across his kitchen island. 

"Are you taking any medication? Drinking enough water?" You start questioning as soon as Simon's shoulder relaxes.

"You some kind of nurse?" he asks in a humorous tone, a playful glint in his eyes, but you don't laugh. 

"I'll take that as a no," you roll your eyes, hands moving around his kitchen blindly to find his cups.

"I can get you some water," he moves over to you, unable to let you do anything alone. You swat his hand away, narrowing your eyes at him.

"It's not for me," you explain, grabbing a large glass and putting it under the tap to fill it to the brim with cold water. "Drink up, boy boy," you shove the water into his chest, and only a little sloshes over onto the floor.

"I'll clean that," you smile sheepishly, already moving to grab a rag off the counter. He sets the water on the counter, his hand gripping your shoulder, beckoning you to stand. 

"What are you doin'?" he asks with equal parts humor and confusion. 

Your lips morph into a confused smile. "What do you mean?" you ask, genuinely puzzled by his question.

He gently grasps the wet rag from your hand. "I mean you bringin' me pie, askin' about medicine, makin' me drink water," he lifts a brow. "What's all that about?"

You tilt your head to the side. "I'm taking care of you, Simon," you say with a reassuring smile, your eyes reflecting your genuine concern.

His lips flat line, mind swirling. "Takin' care of me?" 

"You're sick," you say, taking the rag from his hand. "Shouldn't be doing anything," you move to set the rag in the sink; you'll wash it later. "You need rest," you tilt your head forward, a glint in your eyes.

Simon is left utterly speechless, his mind struggling to comprehend what he is hearing.

Here comes you, this sweet girl who forces her way into his house bearing a pie and a gleaming smile, wanting to take care of him.

Nurse him back to health.

"Go sit," you tell him before he can ask if you're serious, ushering him to his couch. "What do you want to watch?"

His eyes stay glued to yours, his mouth slightly open. 

"Since you won't say, you'll have to watch what I want to," you flick through the channels until a trashy British reality television show dawns on the screen. The room is filled with the sound of some too-on-the-nose pop song that just so happens to sing the exact same scenario as what was occurring.

His eyes flick to the screen, a small smile growing on his lips.

"Lay back," you urge, pushing him back to lie against the back of the couch. "Where do you keep your medicine?"

He looks at you, utterly perplexed. "The, the bathroom. First drawer to the right," he murmurs, with a stutter, his confusion evident. 

You roam over to the bathroom, the only place you've ever seen in his house. You had to pee on the way to the cinema and made him stop at his house so you could. 

You didn't snoop through his things like you would usually do to the guys you've dated because you suspected he could smell any ounce of disorder like a hound. 

His eyes stay locked on the television as he hears you fish for the medication in his drawers. He taps his foot against the floor, feeling uneasy at the thought of lying still and doing nothing.

His fear of being deemed useless is a constant companion, driving him to move even when he can't.

It's the soldier in him who's seen and done things that most can't even imagine. 

He keeps moving, his mind never stopping, to avoid fully comprehending what he has had to do. 

Blood forever spilled in the name of protection.

Or so he says.

He hears your feet pattering on the wood back to him; you had stripped your shoes off at some point. "I got you some ibuprofen for the aches, some Afrin for decongestion, and some cough drops, I think, for… well, you know," you dispense the pills into your palm, handing them over for him to take. "You need water? Let me get you some water." Your care is a balm to his weary soul.

"I'm fine. Had to swallow some pain pills in the desert one time. Couldn't even use my own spit cause my mouth was all dry," he reaccounts, taking the pills dry. 

"You're drinking the water," you say, as you grab the cup and put it on the coffee table in front of him. Then, you hand him the cough drops. "I've never seen cough tablets before," you say, looking down at the table.

He lets out a dry laugh, grabbing the tablets from your hand to drop them in his mouth. "They’re some Scottish thing. A friend gave them to me," he mumbles, leaning deeper into the couch, feeling relaxed.

"Mhm," you hum, watching his eyes close gently. "Get some rest," you sweetly say as his eyes completely shut and he drifts off, a soft snore coming from him as he sleeps comfortably. 

When he wakes up some hours later, he feels less hot and achy than he had all night and day. When he moves to yawn, he almost chokes on the thermometer in his mouth. He pulls it out gently with a soft sigh and a confused mutter. 

He moves to stand, and a cold compress falls from his head to the floor with a soft thud. The thin linen blanket that covers his legs bunches up and slips off him.

He can hear the soft hum of water hitting the porcelain tub in the bathroom. He quickly stands, reaching for the gun that is normally strapped to his person, but feels nothing.

The padding of feet comes closer, and before he can react, his shoulders sag as he sees you smiling at him with lavender foaming bath soap in hand. "You're awake," you observe. "Good. I drew you a bath. It'll help soothe your muscles," you walk over to him, gesturing for him to follow you to the bathroom. 

"I'm not gettin' in the bath." A part of him believes you're joking, so he laughs. 

You aren’t.

"So, you're just going to waste the water?" You cock a brow and plant your hands on your hips.

He tilts his head back with a deep sigh. "You use it."

"I drew it for you, Simon. Don't be rude," you narrow your eyes at him, and he feels a little scared.

With a deep sigh, he moves his feet towards the bathroom. "You better not tell anyone about this," he instructs with a rough voice as he ducks into the bathroom.

"Scouts honor," you promise with a cheeky smirk.

He begins lifting his shirt over his head, and your mouth drops open at the sight. He glances at you. "Your jaw will lock if you keep it like that," he jokes with a smirk, tossing his shirt to the side.

You shake your head, slightly embarrassed. "Shut up, you old man," your face warms and when you look at him, he just gives you a rough chuckle. 

Once you turn out of the bathroom, he strips with an irritated noise, dipping himself into the warm bathtub, the bubbles creating a soft embrace. 

You come in and are pleasantly surprised he actually got in the tub. You sit on the toilet lid, feeling the humid air. "Can I wash you?" you ask, as you grab a stray loofah from the cabinet just above the toilet.

He nods, and you soak the netted material in the sudsy water and begin gently washing his chest, repeatedly collecting the water and squeezing over his aching bones. 

"Can't believe I'm lettin' you give me a bath," he mumbles after a moment of silence, though he feels a sense of peace he hasn't felt in years. 

You laugh before he sees your teeth chatter and your body shake.

He grabs your hand, halting your actions. "You cold, sweetheart?" 

You shrug. "Just a little."

There's a glint in his eyes, and before you know it, he's gripping your waist, hauling you over the porcelain side of the bathtub, and submerging you into the warm water.

"Simon!" you yell, laughter falling off your tongue as the water spills over the side and onto the bathroom floor as you straddle him. Your laughter seizes when he kisses you, deeply and passionately. 

He doesn't know what has come over him.

He just needed to act on impulse.

He just had to kiss you.

His lips move against yours with an ease he doesn't feel scared of. Your hands drape over his shoulders, and your lips move in sync.

He finds himself pulling back slightly. "Stay the night and the rest of the week," he mumbles, desperately trying to find the right words.

You smile at him, brushing his hair back off his forehead. "Are you trying to ask me to be your girlfriend?" 

He grips you tight, pupils widening. "What do you say?"

You press a kiss to his cheek. "I say yes."

His lips press back to yours fervently, and you can't help but put a break out in a toothy smile. 

Spontaneity can kill.

Acting on impulse shows no willpower.

Simon must really be his father's son.

Always so quick to act without thinking.

Guess some habits are hard to break, aren't they?

And what a shame he found someone to indulge his recklessness.

Pity, really.

Was starting to actually like her. 

"You sure about this?" Simon asks, holding your hand, his beer long forgotten. You both sit, squished into the booth at a small diner downtown.

"Come on. Don't tell me you're nervous?" you tease, feeling his tension. He sighs through his nose, his eyes wandering to the salt and pepper containers neatly lined on the table. 

"Soap… Johnny… he's… a bit outspoken," he mutters, hand twitching in yours.

A frown etches into your face before your hand releases its own and brushes against his cheek, making him turn to look at you. "Simon, I love you," you smile. "It only makes sense for me to meet the people you love," you say as if it's the simplest thing in the world. 

Simon could feel his stomach dip at your words.

You love him.

A pure and innocent, no strings attached kind of love. 

He doesn't get to ask why before seeing Johnny strolling in. The confidence that oozes off him as he approaches the booth you and he are sitting at makes him roll his eyes.

"Aye, Simon, my boy," Johnny greets Simon warmly, a hint of familiarity in his tone that Simon can't help but bristle at.

Simon swallows any bad taste Johnny had put on his tongue when he came in.

He was family after all. 

"Who do we have here?" Johnny slides into the booth seat across from Simon and you. You smile a welcoming smile before you stick your hand out for Johnny to shake, giving him your name.

Simon raises a warning brow when Johnny almost bursts out laughing at your chivalry. Johnny smothers his laugh, taking your hand in his, giving it a slight shake, and playing a sly smile on his lips.

Once you pull away, Johnny makes himself comfortable in the booth seat, leaning forward slightly. "So," Johnny starts, already grinning. "How'd this happen?" He gestures between Simon and you. 

Simon throws his arm around your shoulders. "The Thai place," Simon gruffs. 

Johnny's keen eyes widen. "She's the girl, then?" he prompts, but before he can be corrected, he leans forward towards Simon. "I told ye' that goin' on the blind date was a good idea, ye old prude. Ye got yer'self a pretty bird out of it," he laughs excitedly.

Simon rolls his eyes, and you can't help but smile. "She's not the girl I went on the date with," Simon gruffly corrects. Johnny's expression changes, like a kid who's just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. 

Johnny shifts over to the table to whisper to you. "There was no date. Just jokes," he tries to save, sending Simon a wink as if he had saved him from revealing some big secret, and you laugh.

"I was also on a date," you explain, eyes glancing at Simon. "We met outside the place," you laugh as Johnny releases a breath of relief at the admission.

"Phew, thas' a relief," Johnny pretends to wipe his forehead from faux perspiration. "Thought the big guy was gonna wring me out."

"That option isn't completely off the table," Simon roughly says, though it carries some humor. 

Johnny's laughter abruptly gives way to a serious expression, catching Simon off guard and causing your amusement to fade. "He's not payin' ye to be here, right?" he questions, his tone now skeptical.

You let out a fake gasp, hand hovering over your heart. "How'd you know?"

Johnny's eyes widen and flick between you and Simon. "Ye… paid her to come?" His words hold more admiration than criticism. 

"She's fibbin', Soap," Simon chuckles, his hand playfully pinching your side. You can't help but yelp a little. "Not payin' her." 

Johnny's skepticism is met with a playful eye roll from you. "I came here willingly. No money involved," you confirm, swaying your beer. 

"Don't trust ye, birdie," Johnny muses, a mischievous glint in his eye. He then turns to Simon with a sly smile. "Have ye two podged?" 

"Speak English, Mactavish," Simon says, sipping his beer.

"Sex," Johnny says with ease. "Ye two done that yet?"

His bluntness leaves you wide-eyed, and Simon's grip on his beer tightens. "Johnny," he warns.

Johnny rolls his eyes with an innocent shrug, eyes landing on you. "Come on, birdie. Yer folks have had that talk with ye, yeah?" He prods, paying no heed to Simon staring daggers at him.

"We're taking it slow," you say, swallowing the shock of the question. You opt to just answer and try to ease the palpable tension coming off Simon. 

"Takin' it slow? Where's the fun in that, Lt.?" Johnny's teasing tone raises the tension, causing Simon to let out an audible sigh and his hand to come to his tired eyes, the air thick with discomfort. 

"We're adults, Johnny. Not horny teenagers. We don't just crave a quick fuck," you murmur over the rim of your beer, causing Johnny's eyes to snap in surprise, even making Simon lip quip from Johnny's shock. 

Johnny narrows his eyes, trying to find a crack in your facade. "Fair point. But what if it's piss?" He leans back in the booth, oozing a confidence you can't place.

Simon goes to speak, probably to tell Johnny to shut the hell up, but you go before him, hand gripping Simon's tighter.

"Oh, trust me, it won't be," you say with a confidence that Johnny marvels at.

Johnny gives you a lopsided smile. "I like yer bird, Simon. She can hold her own," he nods towards you, giving you a stamp of approval that wasn't needed. 

You don't get to say anything before you see your phone buzzing on the wooden table. You grab it quickly to smother the sound and flip it over to see your sister calling you. "Do you mind?" you ask, eyes shifting between them.

"Go ahead, sweetheart." Simon picks his arm up so you can slip out of the booth easily. You give him a smile and start walking towards the front door, heading outside.

"Simon," Johnny begins when you're long gone, getting Simon's attention. "Take care of yer' bird," Johnny says, eyeing Simon. "She's a special one," he breathes out, his eyes wandering to you pacing outside, the warm sun setting, hitting you at just the right angle to highlight your skin.

Simon notices the glint in Johnny's eyes when he looks at you.

He doesn't ask; he doesn't want to know.

"I will, Johnny," Simon mutters, grabbing his beer.

A part of Simon might have once thought he would always hold you close, but the reality is Johnny can preach to Simon like a priest holding a sermon, to hold onto you, keep you close. 

But some things are bound to slip through his fingers.

No matter how hard he tries.

Especially when the weight of his own darkness becomes too much to bear.

Simon can hear your laughter transcending through his house, clouding his eardrums, sending a shiver up his spine.

He stepped into the living room, his grin widening as he watched you make yourself at home on his couch, a soft blanket enveloping you and a half-eaten bowl of popcorn resting on your lap.

"What a prick," you shout, tossing some popcorn into your mouth. You're engrossed in the same trashy British reality show, a guilty pleasure you've come to enjoy.

"Some harsh words, sweetheart," Simon jests, moving to sit next to you, throwing his arm over the back of the couch, his hand sneaking into your popcorn bowl.

"He called his girlfriend mediocre," you explain, eyes glancing at Simon to gauge his reaction.

He quips a brow, eye looking at the television. "Hell, he is a prick."

"Told you so," you laugh, tossing more popcorn in your mouth and snuggling into Simon's side. 

He finds himself smiling, but not because of the two women now arguing over something egregious on the television screen before him, but because he can see you smiling beneath him. 

He isn't smiling because he can hear his neighbor next door yelling at her cat to get off the fridge but because you've moved yourself closer to him, pulling the blanket to cover his legs, even though it is far too small. 

And he certainly isn't smiling because Johnny just sent him a picture of his dog with a slice of cheese on his head, but because he finally believes you when you say you love him. 

It's the most strange feeling in the world.

To have someone who truly loves you without transaction or expectation.

He is free to be whomever he wants to be, not who you expect.

You don't expect anything from him.

Well, maybe he should throw the trash out; it's too heavy and smelly.

But, regardless, you see him.

And you still love him. 

"Marry me," his fingers move to massage your scalp. 

You laugh in his lap. "Just had to share my wee little blanket for you to want to spend the rest of your life with me. Your standards are tremendously low, Simon," you mumble, eyes softly closing.

"I'm serious," he says, his fingers still moving.

Your eyes open softly, eyes shifting around the room to make sure you heard him correctly. 

"You want to marry me?" you mutter with disbelief and curiosity.

He lets out a gruff laugh. "Don't sound so surprised, sweetheart," his tone carries humor.

You turn to look at him, a soft look in your eyes. "You want to marry me?"

He tilts his head back. "Am I not supposed to want to?"

You shake your head, chewing on your lip. "No. I just… why?"

His eyes widened a little at the question, contemplating for a second. "You're easy," he says.

Now your eyes widen in offense, mouth hanging open. "That's a dick thing to say." 

He quickly grabs your shoulder, shaking his head fast. "No. Fuck, no. I meant that life with you is easy. Never had anyone who made anything easier for me but you… you do that for me," he says earnestly, with pure love. 

You can already feel your eyes brimming with tears as you grab his hand to squeeze. "I'm glad I do that for you, Simon," you murmur, massaging his hand with your fingers. "You… you do that for me too." The confession almost makes Simon drop to his knees and sob at your feet.

"I… I make things easier? For you?" He asks skeptically, eyes tinging red from impending tears. 

You sniffle, feeling the warm tears move down your cheeks. "Loving you is easy, Simon. You make it so damn easy. I would love to marry you," you lean your forehead against his for comfort.

His hands shake as he pulls you against him, embracing you with a deep, passionate love. 

After a moment, you pull back, wiping a stray tear off your cheek. "Simon. You're still active," you say, tilting your head. "You'll leave me."

He exhales, his skin glistening. "It won't be for long, bug."

"Can't you just… leave," you try to reason with pleading eyes. 

He shakes his head, brushing his fingers against your hand. "I can't, sweetheart. Those guys… I need them just as much as they need me," his voice is clogged with emotion. 

"I need you," you say desperately so he'll understand. 

He presses a sweet kiss to your cheek. "Just one more mission, sweetheart. It'll be in and out."

You looked at him for a moment; he wasn't going to budge. "I don't want to be a widow, Simon. You come back to me," you warn, squeezing his hand. 

"I'll come back. There's nowhere else I'd want to be," he smiles.

You lick a salty tear from your lip. "Promise me, Simon."

He pauses for a moment before he murmurs, "I promise."

Foolish kids.

Man doesn't simply go to war without leaving a part of himself out on the field.

The question is, what's left when he returns?

Simon had kept his promise to you.

He did come home some weeks later, but not entirely, not truly. 

Once Price had shown up at the house, with Simon right behind him, in a wheelchair, you knew a part of Simon's soul had turned to ash that reeked of gunpowder and blood.

He moved past you and Price without a word into the house. Price explained that Simon had made a split decision to return to the warehouse they had just escaped from because he knew they had information on you.

They had yelled and shouted for him to come back to the chopper and escape while they had the means to do so, and they could deal with the fallout when they were safely out of active fire.

He didn't listen.

Guns blazing, he sprinted back in, trekked up numerous flights of stairs, and blasted through doors until he found the group of men who knew of his sweet wife back home.

He shot them dead where they stood.

Shot at their bodies, round after round, before he tossed a hand grenade to deal with the equipment and files they had. 

He trekked back out, sore but satisfied.

He didn't even see the pipe bomb being thrown in his direction; he was too focused on the chopper that still hovered near the ground, waiting for him. 

Everything happened so fast after that.

Hauling him into the chopper, not sure if they should call you and tell you he was KIA or if there was a chance he could live. Carrying him to the hospital, where the doctors performed CPR before they shocked him awake.

They all felt a rush of relief when he opened his eyes.

The doctor said he had nerve damage that caused temporary paralysis in his legs that would subject him to a wheelchair, and, eventually, he could make a full physical recovery. 

You couldn't even believe him when he told you, your mouth agape as your eyes shifted towards Simon, who wheeled his way into the living room to gaze out the window. 

"Just… call if you need anything, okay?" Price says, calm and reassuring.

You give a nod as you walk him to the door, brain spinning from the information.

Sure, Simon had gone in on the pretense of something potentially happening to you, but he could have died in that very spot.

That was all you could think about.

"Why would you do that?" you mumble as you make your way into the living room.

Simon doesn't answer; he just keeps looking out the window.

You run your fingers through your hair anxiously, tears brimming your waterline. "You could have died, Simon. You do realize that. Don't you?" Your concern was evident in your trembling voice.

"You want to chastise me some more, or am I free to roam?" His voice is rougher than you remember, and you feel your stomach drop.

"I… I'm not even going to answer that," anger slips off your tongue. "Do you not care that you could have died? I… I could have lost you," you choke out, flailing your arms around.

Yet, he still doesn't turn to face you.

"Will you at least look at me, Goddamn it!" you almost shout, voice strained.

He huffs a deep breath before he slowly turns around to face you.

His beard had grown in, lightly gray and messy.

His hair is slightly longer, and his eyes are darker than you remember.

You almost had to ask yourself who the man was before you; he was surely not the man you had married not too long ago.

"You look different," you mumble absentmindedly.

"Tends to happen," he mutters, fingers gripping his wheels.

You release a shaky breath, unsure of what to say. "I wish you didn't do it, Simon," is all you can muster.

He closes his eyes gently, shaking his head before he starts to spin his wheel. He eases himself towards your shared room, leaving you alone in the living room, nervousness and defeat now bubbling in your stomach.

You had both managed to avoid each other for hours.

You stayed in the living room, even going to the bathroom and taking a bath, while he kept himself locked away in the bedroom, or so you thought.

Once you start cooking dinner, you look out of the window to see heavy rain hitting the ground. Among the coverage of heavy rainfall, you see Simon.

His wheelchair was deep in mud, and he just sat there, the rain soaking through his clothes, the chill seeping into his bones.

You gaped at the sight, tossing your kitchen rag onto the kitchen island. Quickly grabbing a raincoat off the hook, you moved out the door and onto the porch.

The rain smacks against the porch's wood, and you can see Simon leaning his head back against the back of his chair. "What the hell are you doing out here?" you shout loud enough so he can hear you over the rain.

He doesn't look back at you, just nods his head along.

"Simon. Look at me!" you yell, your voice filled with frustration and concern.

He spun his chair around slowly, his eyes blinking fervently from the rain splashing on his face.

"Are you insane? You need to get inside. You'll catch a cold," you say, your voice tinged with worry. You raise your hand to block the heavy rain droplets from hitting your eyes.

He eased his fingers on his wheels to inch closer, but before he reached the yard's edge, his wheels wouldn't budge, wedged in the thick mud. He looked at you at the doorway, his eyes pleading for help.

As you clutched your jacket, a wave of confusion washed over you, your pride standing firm in the face of uncertainty.

He noticed how your shoulders tensed, and he couldn't bear the distance between you two. His heart ached with the weight of unspoken words.

He wouldn't let some damn mud stop him.

Determined, he climbs out of the chair, the large water puddle splashing as he lands in it. His hands grip the ground, mud slipping and caking between his fingers as he crawls through it.

Your eyes widen. "Simon… don't, don't do that, baby," your voice is slightly shaky. “You, you're going to get all muddy," you say, feeling useless to the wave of emotion that washes over you.

Despite the sound of his labored breath and the squelch of mud under his hands, you remained resolute, your feet firmly planted on the old wooden porch.

He crawled halfway through the grit of the Earth's surface and then stopped, looking at you with a mixture of exhaustion and longing.

Something inside you finally snapped when you saw him, mud on his face, soaked clothes, and pleading eyes. You took a step forward, then another, until your foot sunk into the mud, and the rain pellets hit you with force, no longer blocked by the house.

You find yourself kneeling beside him in the mud when you reach him. Without a word, you wrap your arms around him, holding him close as the rain pours.

"I did it for you," Simon finally murmurs, emotion clogging his voice. “I had to keep you safe, bug." He looks up at you, eyes red, water pouring down his lips. “Couldn’t live with myself if they… hurt you,” he mutters, voice going soft. 

"Simon… " The words caught in your throat as you gazed at him through your wet lashes, your emotions threatening to overwhelm you.

He lets out a dry laugh, shaking his head. "Got my legs all fucked up, and everyone's actin' like I'm some kind of fuckin’ hero," he says with slight irritation.

"You are a hero, Simon," you say without a second thought, eyes searching his.

"No," he lightly shakes his head. "I'm yours," his fingers softly brush against your bottom lip. "I'm all yours, sweetheart."

Tears started pouring down your cheeks, and you leaned your forehead against Simon's.

He was now holding you up so you didn't collapse.

His voice lulled against your skin, offering you comfort.

Though his own mind swarmed with visions of what he had done, all the blood on his hands that were now wrapped around your innocent face.

The man faced enemy fire with courage, tied his own soul to blood in the name of protection, and yet no matter what tough front he put on, inside, he would always be a weak man.

Some months had passed since Simon had come home to you, battered and bruised.

You had adjusted to being his caretaker, which you really didn’t mind.

He, on the other hand, did.

His worst fear was being rendered useless, a fear that now tormented him in the depths of the night, seeped into his soul and rattled his skin.

He was grateful for your help, but he felt like a burden.

You had repeatedly reassured him that he could never be burdensome, but he struggled to accept that truth.

“Do you need another blanket?” you ask as you walk into the bedroom with three blankets in hand. The moon casts a glow over the room from behind the window.

Simon shakes his thoughts away as he sits up in the bed at your entrance. “Eh, sleep hot. You know that,” he lets out a gruff laugh, tugging his shirt off and tossing it in the laundry bin in the corner of the room.

“Good aim, soldier,” you tease, setting the blanket near him anyways and flicking off the light before throwing yourself onto the bed beside him.

As soon as you hit the mattress, his hands wrap around your waist, and he tugs you close to him so you rest on his chest. “Love you, bug,” he says softly, kissing the top of your head.

“I love you, Simon,” you whispered, feeling the warmth and comfort he provided.

You could feel the lull of sleep lick your brain, and you closed your eyes gently, quickly drifting off to sleep with the fan's hum and the faint glow of the lamp of the street lights outside to keep you company.

In the depths of the night, you dream.

Carelessly innocent to start, but somewhere between the walking fridge and laughing animals segment, you're laying in a bed similar to one you are now, but slightly different, more rugged, less domesticated.

You lay bare, in nothing but your wedding wing dawning your finger.

You begin touching yourself, your finger moving smoothly down your body, savoring the touch that sends a warm sensation to your lower stomach.

Before you know it, a man is kneeling before you, his tongue lapping at your clit, eliciting an outpour of moans that fall off your tongue.

When he looks up, there's a glint in his eyes.

You realize he is not your Simon, your devoted husband and nurturer.

It's Johnny.

"Simon's a lucky bastard," he mutters into your thigh. "Gets ye' all to himself," he presses a deep kiss into your inner thighs, making you arch your back off the mattress. "Gets this pretty pussy to himself every night, eh?" He brings his mouth back to your cunt, sucking and licking you until you shudder on his face, your arousal coating his tongue.

You spring awake, panting and sweaty.

Turning to your side, you see Simon peacefully sleeping despite your rapid movements. 

You pull the blanket back to see your arousal seep through your panties and drip onto the cover sheet of the bed.

You let out a quiet curse, grabbing your phone before slipping off the bed to go towards your drawers, making a mental effort not to wash the sheets tomorrow. 

You grab a fresh pair of panties, feeling the fresh feeling of shame as you trudge into the bathroom, shutting the door quietly. 

You quickly change your panties, turning on the facet to gather some water to splash onto your face, mind riddled with guilt. 

That dream was no wild fantasy, a simple wet dream.

It was the truth.

That one regretful night, all of two weeks ago, a drunk you had succumbed to Johnny's drunk antics and pursuits while out by yourself, unbeknownst to Simon. 

Johnny had fucked you in the same very outfit that Simon had relished in before you had stepped out of the house.

Simon's favorite lipstick of yours had now covered his best friend's lips and chin. 

You grind your teeth at the reminder, the weight of guilt pressing down on you, your mind a whirlwind of regret and ache. 

You're pacing around the bathroom, the walls echoing your inner turmoil, unsure of what to do.

You know you should tell Simon, and you will, but only when he gets a little better.

You decide you can't deal with this mind warfare, so you open your phone, swiping to open your text thread to Johnny.

Your fingers hover over the keyboard anxiously before you type out a short sentence to which he responds almost immediately.

Me: We need to talk.

Me: Can we meet at that bar with the weird name tomorrow?

Johnny: Bang Bang Bar?

Johnny: Everything okay?

Me: Can you just meet me there tomorrow at six?

Johnny: I'll be there.

You release a shallow breath, the thought of seeing Johnny again sending a shiver down your spine.

But you know you need to talk to him.

You leave your phone in the bathroom and head back to the bed, slipping beside Simon without disturbing him. 

The amount of guilt you feel sleeping in the same bed where you just had a wet dream about his best friend, which wasn't even just a wet dream but a reminder of the night you had shared, is crippling. 

You reach to grab a bottle of prescribed pills from your nightstand, popping two and letting them hit your system. 

Once again, you find yourself drifting off to sleep, though this time, instead of a peaceful send-off, you can still feel the nerves on your skin even with the pills.

But for now, you could let sleep claim you, shushing away the feeling of inevitable doom yet to come.

The bar was crowded when you showed up, which was good. 

They won't be focused on you talking to Johnny; they'll be more focused on the woman who has just stripped her top off and the booze floating around the room. 

You step through the throng of people, stretching your neck to look for Johnny. 

Seeing his signature mohawk and prominent figure perched up in a booth doesn't take long. The waitress next to him flicks her manicured nail across his strong bicep, and he gives her his signature boyish grin.

You roll your eyes, moving towards him. He sits up straight as you approach, his eyes locking with yours immediately. 

"Aye, Birdie. Take a seat," he greets, leaning back, gesturing for you to sit as the waitress moves away quickly. 

"I'll stand," you stand firm, pursing your lips.

He leans forward, the same boyish smirk on his lips. "Come on. Don't make me look like an asshole," he jokes, sipping his beer. 

You shake your head, heart pounding. "I won't be long, Johnny."

He nods his head before he gestures for you to speak your peace.

You inhale a deep breath, tugging your purse tight. "Johnny…" you begin, your voice already tight. “What we did…" you continue, shaking your head in disbelief. “It can't happen again. It was a mistake.” You look at him with guilty eyes. “I love Simon."

He nods as you speak, tongue in his cheek. "Know you love Simon. He loves you."

"That's why I can't see you again. Ever," your tone is firm as you shuffle on your heels. 

He narrows his eyes in contemplation, sipping his beer, but doesn't say anything.

"You're not going to say anything?" you ask, confusion in your tone. 

He shrugs. "Think you already made up your mind, no?"

Your lips flatline; he was right. 

You already said your peace, so what were you still doing there?

"Yes. I did," you nod.

"Then that's it," he takes another sip of the beer like he doesn’t care.

You're not entirely sure what you expected.

Maybe, selfishly, you wanted Johnny to put up a small fight. 

Make it feel like what you did was even a little worth it.

But this is good.

This is right. 

"Good. I'll… I'll see you around," you utter quickly before you spin on your heels as you push back through the hoard of people and head back through the door, the rush of wind hitting you and rushing to fill your lungs as you inhale deeply.

You feel slightly disappointed but overall satisfied with your meeting with Johnny.

It was the right thing to do.

The only thing you could think to do to ease your conscience before telling Simon. 

Made you breathe easier. 

Soothed your brain that was going into overdrive. 

You're so consumed in your thoughts as you walk down the paved sidewalk that you don't even hear the voice calling your name behind you until you feel a tap on your shoulder.

You yelp at the touch, turning around to see a disheveled Johnny before you. 

Your eyes widen. "Johnny?"

"I couldn't… couldn't just let ye walk away," his words are jumbled, half labored from running over as if he can't fully believe what he's doing.

"What do you mean?" Your eyes search his light eyes, full of confusion.

"I don't know. I just…" he trails off, hands wiping over his face. He eyes you for a moment, takes a step toward you, grabs your face between his hands, and kisses you deep enough to swap spit.

You can't help the way your body slumps into him as his tongue moves in your mouth.

His lips move against your familiarity and a fiery passion you can't explain or deny.

You don't know if you want to cry from guilt or moan from pleasure.

Johnny pulls away before you can decide. 

You wipe the saliva from your lips when he pulls away. "Johnny…"

"I know. I know," he agrees. "Just had to one last time… but I'll go. See ye around, Birdie." 

You stand there, shoulders sagged, when he walks away with a bland goodbye. 

It's for the best, but why did he have to kiss you?

It made it so much damn harder to let go.

You ponder the interaction as you take the five-minute walk home.

The feeling of shame washes over you when you step inside the house. The lights are dim and warm, and the air smells of coconut and mahogany.

You can hear the creak of the wood as you slowly take off your coat to hang it on the hook. Once you look up, you see Simon rolling in to greet you.

“Sweetheart,” he smiles, beckoning you down for a kiss.

You want to die, but you think that would send Simon into an early grave faster than finding out you had slept with his best friend. 

You bend down and kiss his lips.

His eyes close as he kisses you back with a more profound passion, his tongue sliding across your lips, which makes you audibly whimper.

He pulls his head back, head tilting back in thought. “You’ve been with Johnny,” he says more as a statement than a question.

Your eyes widen, your stomach churning at his words. You struggle to find the right words. “I… how did you know?” you manage to stutter.

“I know what he tastes like,” he says with a straight face, no ill will.

You tilt your head to the side in contemplation. “You… and Johnny have…” you trail off, hoping he can fill in the blanks. 

“Did you fuck Johnny, bug?” he asks, once again with a straight face. 

There it is.

The question of the hour.

You shake your head in shame, eyes still on his because he at least deserves that. “Simon… there’s no excuse at all, but I… we were both drunk,” you mumble out.

“He told me,” he gruffs out stoically. 

Your eyes twitch. “What?”

“Called me right after,” he shrugs with ease.

“You… you knew?” you prompt. “This whole time?”

He nods. “Doesn’t bother me.”

Your mouth hangs open slightly.

The unexpected turn of the conversation leaves you in a state of disbelief. 

“He’s temptin’, huh?” Simon raises an amused brow. 

“He’s… well, he’s… kind of. I don’t know what to say,” you voice slowly. 

Johnny told Simon.

He told your husband that he slept with his wife, and he was still alive to tell the tale. 

That’s why Johnny didn’t seem nervous at the bar because he had already told the one person who mattered the most in the situation.

"Bet you had Johnny in near tears, huh?" You hear Simon roughly ask with an amused smile. 

"Simon…" You can't help but feel a spark of heat on your skin as he speaks. 

He tilts his head back, licking his lips before beckoning you closer. You step close enough so he can grab you by the waist. He bends his face so his lips press into your lower stomach through your shirt before he moves his lips lower to plant a kiss on your cunt through your jeans. 

You let out a breathy moan, fingers threading through his hair. 

"Felt too good squeezin’ around him, yeah. Bet he was prayin' in this pussy," he mutters into you, teeth skimming the fabric just enough to nick through it. 

This is strange; you must have known that much.

But, God, you couldn't help the way your cunt ached with untamed greed. 

His canine skimmed across the sensitive skin. "Go on, baby. Tell me. Was Johnny prayin' in you?" His voice felt rough on your skin. "In what's mine?" 

"Fuck… Simon," you manage to choke out as he presses another deep kiss to your cunt. 

"Sit in my lap," he urges, low and husky.

You oblige, hands coming to rest on his shoulders to position yourself to straddle his lap delicately. Once you sunk on his lap, you looked down at him, pressing a deep kiss to his lips that he reciprocated with equal passion. 

"Too fuckin' perfect for Johnny, baby," he murmurs against your lips, fingers slipping to tug down your jeans. You chew on your lip as you sit up a little so he can tug them down to reveal your panties, complete with a growing spot of arousal in the cotton.

“You see that?” he tuts, pressing his finger against the wet spot, making your twitch against his fingers. “Johnny could never get you this wet. He didn’t get my wife this wet, did he, sweetheart?” he grits, pressing, dragging his finger lightly against your slit, nearing your puffy clit. 

“He didn’t,” you moan out as you shamelessly rock against his fingers, desperate for more contact. “I… I need you, baby,” you whine, gripping his shoulder tight. 

“I’m gonna fill you, babe. Keep you squirmin’ on my cock till you can’t walk,” he presses a sloppy kiss to your neck, sucking on the flesh with urgency. “Get me ready for you, baby,” he mumbles against your flesh, teeth running against your collarbone. 

Your eager hands move to unzip his jeans, slipping them down to reach for his erect cock, the tip already flush and leaking pre-come. You stroke him once before he’s gripping your waist and, without warning, pushing you down onto him.

You both hiss at the contact. Simon grits his teeth as he rocks you against his cock, coaxing your sweet release bit by bit. He leans closer, soft lips gliding against your ear. “She fuckin’ missed me, sweetheart. Takin’ me so well. So deep,” he murmurs, brushing his tongue against your helix. 

You let out a loud moan, eyes shutting closed with intense pleasure. “You always take…” you pant between moans. “...such good care of me, Simon,” you finish, fingernails digging into his shoulders through his thin cotton shirt.

He kisses your lips. “Always gonna take care of my girl,” he bites your bottom lip slightly as his cock pounds into you. You practically scream as he hits just the right places, not even noticing his fingers slipping past your lips and moving down your throat.

You choke a little before you fully welcome them down further, his eyes peering at your mouth as you coat his fingers with your saliva. He pulls them out after a moment, humming with satisfaction at the gleam of them before using his freshly wet fingers to ease against your clit, offering you even more pleasure.

“Feels so good,” you whine, rocking yourself against not only his cock, but his fingers too, the stimulation all-consuming. 

“Come on, baby,” he urges, moving his fingers with urgency as he feels his orgasms start to wash over him. “Come all over my cock and fingers,” his eyes drift to watch his fingers moving in you, your fresh arousal coating them.

Your orgasm crashes over you right as he gets a third finger in, and he follows close behind. You heave in his lap, body shaking with gratification. 

You feel yourself slump against him, cheek resting on his shoulder, but only for a moment, before he picks up his fingers covered in your arousal and nudges them against your pouting lips. You open your mouth widely, and he glides them across your tongue and slightly down your throat.

You wrap your hand around his wrist as you turn to face him, lips closing around his fingers, sucking them clean, even taking them out with a loud pop that has Simon giving you a lopsided grin. 

He bends forward, tongue darting to collect the extra arousal on your lips before he gives you a deep kiss. 

Your heart is still pounding at the turn of events, but not just Simon accepting, no welcoming the fact you had slept with Johnny, but the sex that ensued after.

You have had sex numerous times, but this time it felt more carnivorous, possessive. 

And you loved every fucking second of it. 

Made you realize it was Simon.

He was the one, the love of your life. 

Poor girl, so naive.

So disgustingly pure. 

Couldn’t have foreseen the darkness that lurked; the abyss that waited patiently to swallow her whole.  

The months pass, one by one until a new year brings more rainfall and a vengeance that has single-handedly obliterated Simon’s entire world, his marriage, leaving him a shell of a man even a month later. 

Johnny had died. 

His best friend, no brother.

Taken from him with no forewarning, a sudden and brutal twist of fate that left Simon reeling in disdain. 

Price told him it was painless, but Simon knew.

He knew as soon as you passed the phone to him, your hand shaking and face devoid of any emotion, Price whispered his words over the phone in the same voice he would use to belie brutal truths. 

That Goddamn Johnny had got himself into something. 

Simon didn’t know what exactly; maybe it was better that way. 

He wouldn’t have to picture Johnny flailing around, bleeding himself dry before he didn’t so much as twitch anymore, his body and soul gone before his very eyes.

And yet, even with no inkling as to what occurred, he still did imagine the worst.

He was a soldier, after all, having seen the worst deaths imaginable and even facilitated many of them himself.

Perhaps it was naive, given his profession, but he never imagined Johnny being the one on the other side of the gun, the shot piercing through his skin, an ally, not an enemy.

The thoughts replayed in his mind every day since the news of his death had come his way.

Nothing could pacify the sheer ache he felt deep in his bones.

Not even the Bourbon he tossed back that is now burning a path down his throat.

Nothing could numb him, so he’ll at least try to get a slight buzz to ease his sorrows.

He’s perched over the wooden table of the bar, hunched over on the stool, as he signals the bartender to pour him another.

You were at the house doing something or another; he didn’t bother to ask before he left.

He really didn’t care.

Something he’s gotten exceptionally good at.

He’s been distant, sure, but even worse than that, he’s been colder.

He doesn’t even know himself anymore.

“You got a wife at home?” He hears the gruff voice of an older man as he moves to sit on the stool right next to him, even though the bar is nearly empty. So many spots are vacant, yet he chooses to sit directly next to him.

Simon doesn’t answer; he just takes a brisk sip of the whiskey.

The man gives him a chuckle, signaling the bartender, before he lazily points towards Simon. “I’ll have what he’s having.”

The bartender nods, fixing him a whiskey and setting it in front of the man. He takes a sip, a calm smile on his face. “This Kentucky? Got good taste, my boy,” he praises Simon as he takes another light sip.

Once again, Simon doesn’t answer, turning his attention to the football match on the television in front of him: Manchester United vs West Ham.

"Can feel the sadness wafting off you," the man mutters to Simon, his voice carrying a hint of humor. 

Simon glances at him. "You some kind of shrink or somethin'?" he gruffs, clearly irritated. 

The man laughs, a deep belly laugh. "I'm no one," he says before he leans closer next to Simon. "I can give you what you want," he promises, tilting his head at Simon's narrowing eyes. "Bring back your friend, but… it'll come with a price," he assures, smiling at Simon's wide eyes full of anger.

Simon sets his whiskey down with a soft thud. "The fuck did you say to me?"

The man chuckles. "I know you hate semantics. Just like me. Thought I wouldn't beat around the bush." He sits up on the stool. "Your friend… Johnny. I've seen him. He's a good boy, and he misses you dearly, Simon."

"Who the fuck are you?" Simon erupts, drawing the bartender's attention. 

The man smiles at the bartender, trying to ease his concern. "Someone who wants to help you," he simply says. "But it'll come with a price."

"Price?" Simon asks without much thought.

"The devil doesn't bargain for free, my boy," the man gruffly utters. 

Simon has no reason to believe this man.

He could very well be a homeless man trying to take advantage of him, but he's desperate.

He misses Johnny. 

"How much?" He fidgets for his wallet before the man extends his hand, halting his actions. 

"You think the devil cares about your money?" He shakes his head with a deep laugh. "No, no. He wants something more… practical."

"Like what?" Simon tips his head back, eyes wide, giving the man a good look into his soul.

He was desperate, a hopeless soul.

The man takes a sip of his whiskey. "An essence or soul, if you will, must be promised… sealed in blood," he voices so low Simon almost doesn't hear him. "Doesn't have to be yours…" he supplies, sensing Simon's unease. "But it has to be someone you're close to. Say… a spouse."

Simon ponders for a moment, the weight of the decision heavy on his mind. A vision of you crosses his mind. “My… my wife?”

“Mhm,” the man tilts his head in thought. “That would work mighty fine.”

The man, with an air of mystery, pulls out a paper and a small Bible, complete with large, gold Cardo font and a cross hovering above the text from his large coat pocket and holds it down low for Simon to see.

“This has all you need. Do what you wish, but you must not wait too long,” he hands both the paper and Bible to Simon, his voice carrying a sense of urgency. “For the Gods are hungry.”

He can hear the sound of the TV when he trudges in from the bar, his heavy boots revealing his presence. 

The paper and small Bible burned a hole through his jacket pocket. 

He reaches for a glass, carefully fills it with some tap water, takes a sip, and swishes around his mouth, not bothering to greet you, curled up on the couch. He can sense your anxiety, glancing at your foot, tapping steadily against the vinyl flooring.

He runs the water to clean the metal sink of his salvia before he takes a proper sip, clearing out the taste of Bourbon and betrayal coating his tongue. 

"Sit. Our favorite show is on," you chime, a warm small growing on your lips.

He closes his eyes gently before he turns to you, shaking his head. "Not feelin' it tonight, sweetheart."

"Come on," you urge, pointing towards the television with your pointer finger. "We're about to find out if Henry is staying or leaving."

"I'm, I'm not in the mood," he mutters, only with slight annoyance.

But that doesn't stop you. "Come on. Would be nice to see you." 

He can feel the irritation bubbling. "Stop asking," he cuts sharply, setting the full glass in the sink.

You narrow your eyes slightly. "Why are you being so mean?"

In the back of his mind, he can't believe what he's doing.

That doesn't stop the words from flowing out of his mouth. 

"Christ, I already said I wasn't in the God-damned mood." 

Ice and venom coat his words as his hand slams into the countertop.

His heart sinks when he looks up to see a frown etched into your beautiful skin. 

"Well then," you murmur, eyes still on his. "Guess that settles it."

He releases a shallow breath, opening his mouth before shutting it promptly. He sees your eyes squint as you take a deep gulp.

He doesn't say anything else as he just moves to his office, shutting the door with a thud. 

He knows he's a coward.

Hell, he's more than that.

He's a man caught in the web of his own fears, constantly evading his problems instead of confronting them.

A master at doing nothing, a virtuoso of avoidance.

And to think he was now walking without his chair, the very thing he claimed made him feel useless, but he doesn’t realize that uselessness doesn't just dissipate.

It lies dormant.

Waiting and willing for the next opportunity to crawl back under the skin and whisper in one’s ear.

His heart raced as he frantically wandered around his office, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts.

He chewed on the inside of his cheeks, the heavy thud of his boots the only sound accompanying the blood rushing and thumping in his ears.

With a quiet curse and the churn of his stomach, he reached deep into his jacket pockets, grasping onto the loose paper and Bible the man had given him.

The instructions etched into the paper ominously read clear. 

“Beg for what you seek.”

He shuts his eyes softly, hand holding the paper shaking.

Tears stream down his cheek, dropping into his full beard. 

He shakes his head, defeated. “I… I want him back,” his words are cracked. “Please… I need him,” he licks his lips, tasting the salty tears of defeat on his tongue.

Sniffling, he reaches for the knife he wears tucked into a holster on his jeans, pulling out his knife and hovering the blade just above his thumb. With a deep groan and slice of his flesh, fresh blood gathers on his fingertip as he squeezes the skin. 

He presses his thumb, covered in his fresh blood, into the crinkled paper, turning the white a deep red. 

Ironic really. 

Because this time, instead of sealing his own fate, tying his own soul with his blood in the name of protection, he was damning your soul, in his blood, in the name of selfishness, so the darkness can hereby claim you, and he can find solace in this wretched bargain.

The sky was a deep, foreboding grey, with clouds that seemed to swirl and twist in every direction. A torrential downpour drenched the streets, with rain coming down in rigid sheets that threatened to wash away everything in its path.

And even though the storm is fiery, thunder growling and primal occurring outside.

It didn't stop the storm from brewing inside Simon's home.

His mind was a tempest, churning and devouring itself at the news of your passing.

It was a heavy burden, a weight that crushed his soul. The hospice nurse's words, 'died of natural causes related to your heart disease,' were like a verdict, but he knew the truth. 

It was his doing.

He had stolen your life, snatched up your bright potential, and set it ablaze for a self-serving wish that would swap your current life for Johnny's past one.

He had sold you out.

And so he was reaping what he sowed.

The house had been torn apart.

No longer the picture of warmth and comfort, it looked like a tornado, or in this case, a madman had run through, obliterating all that was. The furniture was overturned, the walls were marred with angry gashes, and the once serene atmosphere was now a chaotic mess.

Glass shards from the vases lay on the now scratched and wrecked vinyl flooring, while picture frames hang crooked and cracked from his fists that are bleeding and bruised.

As his rampage ensues, he hears a loud knock on his door. His eyes flick to the door, eyes red and full of unpacified rage; his boots make loud thuds as he wanders over.

His sagged shoulders tighten for a moment.

Despite the palpable anger over your passing, he finds himself considering the deal, and his spirits unexpectedly rise at the thought of seeing a familiar face.

The only face he has left to see.

His hand reaches for the door handle, pulling it open promptly, only for his eyes to widen at the sight.

It wasn’t Johnny at the door, reaching out to him.

It was his own uncaring father, caked in a thick coat of mud and reeking of brimstone.

Simon’s heart raced, and his hand trembled as he struggled to process the sight.

"I told ya you'd be seeing me again, son," his father's mud-caked face twisted in a grin. "Aren't you gonna greet your dear ole' dad?" he asks, holding his arms out. 

Simon's voice trembled with shock. "I... I don't understand. How are you..."

"How am I here?" His father finishes with a crude laugh, dropping his arms to his sides. "I fulfilled your wish as spoken, boy."

Simon's eyes widened in sheer terror, his brain struggling to comprehend what was happening. "No. I... I wished for Johnny back," he tried to rationalize. "Not you."

"You wished for him, boy," he informs, watching Simon's face drop even further with the revelation. "If Johnny was who you desired, you should have been more specific. The devil does not guess," he purses his lips. "Been watching you a long time, boy," his father gruffs, shaking his head. "Longer than you think."

Simon's eyes snap to him, his mouth open in disbelief. "You've been… watching me?"

"Didn't even realize it was your own father at the bar. Shame on you, son," his father shakes his head in disappointment. 

"You… you were the one who… who gave me the paper and… Bible?" Simon asks though he's scared to know the answer. 

"Crawled out of the pits of Hell just to be there and here… and now… you'll never be rid of me."

The darkness that lurks beneath this world is truly insidious. Humans will never know the true terrors awaiting them, possibly having crawled up from the fiery pits of Hell to coexist with them on Earth.

I’ve seen it firsthand.

And so I urge you to heed my warnings.

Be careful who you pray to, dear readers, for the Gods are not always benevolent.

At least… I know I am not.

MINI AUTHOR'S NOTE⁀➷ please let me know all your thoughts in the comments, or if you have more specific questions, my ask box is always open. thanks so much for reading! also, shout out to my queenie @lavenderdaisychain for helping me get through the serious burn out i got writing this & reading over some parts i was hesitant about! love you!

[alicentsgf]

working on the basis jackie and shaunas relationship has always been blatantly and very deliberately homoerotic and that they were both silently habouring feelings (which i do), i find the rabbit motif even more interesting.

its been said before but the rabbit motif isnt so much representative of jackie as it is representative of the false version of jackie. her own parents didnt know her, her teammates didnt, even shauna didnt fully know her, etc, but thats not by accident, jackie simply didnt make herself easy to know. the girl looks miserable every time we see her alone in the pilot, but she pulls on a mask for others. for jeff. for shauna. we see her seemingly have a crisis over sleeping with her boyfriend and then she gets in the car with her best friend and buries it all, not letting shauna know shes struggling. starts talking about losing her virginity to him like its no big deal, like its what she wants, when its pretty obvious to both shauna and us as the audience that it isnt.

we later find out from the meat shed conversations that shauna knew about jackie's struggles. deep down she knew, even though they didnt discuss it, she saw jackie was lying about her relationship. but shauna has never been a good communicator and also perhaps was too afraid of upsetting/losing jackie to have an honest conversation with her. and if shauna knew that jackie was hiding things from her, obviously that causes resentment in someone like shauna. shes irrational, reacts to percieved rejection in unhealthy ways, and this is her best friend whos lying to her. something shauna sees as a form of rejection.

the first act of violence we see from shauna in the show is her adult self killing the rabbit. it cuts to this directly after we see her sleeping with jeff in the teen timeline and i dont think its as simple as parralleling two acts against jackie. like maybe its foreshadowing jackies death, aka that shauna sleeping with jeff will ultimately lead to it, but given that we've been shown time and time again how rabbits are mistakenly attributed to jackie, it could be something else instead. if the rabbit is representative of jackies perfect, manicured facade, then having sex with jeff and killing the rabbit are one and the same. shauna gains control. she takes all the power out of jackie's facade by sleeping with jeff. ruining the perfect lie. which makes her actual objective clear —

she hates the fake exterior jackie maintained. her adult self literally murders it. she is desperate for jackie to be truthful with her. to confess. be open and vulnerable. and as if that desire wasnt homoerotically charged enough, their entire conversation about jeff later in season 1 furthers it; jackie saying she should have said i love you back the day before they left, saying she shouldnt have made "him" wait, saying she just wanted it to be perfect, all fits within the circumstances of jackie and shaunas relationship as well. jackie didnt say i love you back thay day, she did make shauna wait (for jackie to be honest with her), she was too fixated on some perfect ideal to share her true feelings with shauna. i think its relevant that another big way the rabbit motif resurfaces is as a mask that melissa wears. like... a literal mask. worn when she tries to kill shauna and cant because she does love shauna, despite how badly she doesnt want to.

and for me the conversation about jeff, jackies struggles, everything about jackies character, if we put it all together, hardly makes any sense at all without accepting that jackie was in love with shauna. like yes it can be explained away, because of course it can, but does any of it actually add to the story? why was it included? if jackie wasnt, there is no obvious reason for the focus on it. why do we see her express her worry that she'll die and someone else will be jeffs first? just so we can see shauna feel guilty? the framing of the scene makes it so obvious this is about far more than that. and then jackie does die and someone else is shaunas first.

shauna is the only one who knew jackie didnt like rabbits. aka shauna was the only one who even came close to knowing the real jackie. but one thing jackie would always put up a facade for with shauna was when she'd talk about jeff. she didnt love him, barely even liked him, and shauna knows that. we see her confusion when jackie says she should have said i love you back.

shauna killing the rabbit then becomes very specifically about her killing that lie. the jeff lie. just like her having sex with him is. she wants control, she wants honesty, she wants an "i love you". she wants the lie jackie was telling her dead, but she also EATS it. she consumes it. accepts it. makes it part of her. never actually confronts jackie on it. eating the rabbit, making her family secretly eat it, as a metaphor for both her and them accepting the lie that their family is based on. a marriage she got into out of "guilt and shame" because she was in love with her best friend and her best friend loved her back and on some subconcious level shauna has always known that and cant face it, didnt dare make jackie face it either. i think any true conscious realisation of it would kill shauna. it honestly might be what eventually kills her. or rather, it might be what she has to face at the end. because if we're talking about things coming "full circle", as things often do in this show, then shaunas story would have to end with jackie and the secrets they kept from each other in that car in the pilot.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

lilia dorm uniform vignettes + book 7 parallels

I was rereading Lilia's Dorm Uniform vignettes recently and honed in on the third part, which reminded me a lot of the events of book 7. I think it's highly likely that part 3 here foreshadows book 7, similar to how Ortho's Precision Gear vignettes foreshadowed the original Ortho's passing, revealed in book 6.

***Lilia Dorm Uniform vignette(s) and Book 7 spoilers!***

Quick recap, these vignettes focus on Lilia looking after a baby bat with an injury. The third and final part involves Malleus chatting with him about the experience. Lilia describes parenting as thus: "There's never a guarantee in life that someone will be there to support you. Once you fly out into the world, there may be days when you go without a proper meal and sleep on an empty stomach. You'll experience failures and setbacks. You may have days where your heart feels like it'll shatter into a thousand pieces. As long as you're alive, there will be moments—many moments, in fact—when you must face adversity entirely on your own. A parent must ensure their child can handle such harshness while the little one is still under their protection."

Knowing what we know now... It sounds as though Lilia is reflecting back on his time traveling the world in hopes of finding a way to hatch Malleus from the egg. Firstly, Lilia (especially in the past) has expressed sentiments about being alone. He was an orphan taken in as a ward by the Draconias, yet he still never felt as though he "fit", not with the way the senate treats him like a lesser being, and not with his two best friends (Maleanor and Raverne) marrying and conceiving a child--starting a family, something Lilia feels he does not have and cannot have himself. There's never a guarantee in life that someone will be there to support you. And that's true of Malleus as well. His father is missing and presumed dead, his mother died in a battle to ensure his safety, and his grandmother is kept busy with royal duties to be there for him all the time. That's why Lilia had to step up as his father figure--because otherwise Malleus would have no guidance, just like Lilia did in his youth, which led him into becoming closed off and unwilling to learn about the world beyond Briarland. He doesn't want Malleus--or any of his "kids"--to perpetuate the hatred and distrust that claimed so many lives and left scars on the survivors.

Once you fly out into the world, there may be days when you go without a proper meal and sleep on an empty stomach. This line is reflective of the experiences Lilia had on his travels. In the beginning, it was particularly difficult due to the prevailing anti-fae sentiments among humans. Lilia was not welcome in their communities; he'd have things and nasty words thrown at him and literally be chased out of towns. True, he's also had to deal with rations and always being alert while serving as a general, but it feels particularly frustrating in this context because 1) none of his men are around to support him in these moments; he is lacking the feeling of being a part of a group, and 2) the harsh treatment is being committed by a group for which he cannot retaliate, so it forces Lilia to stand there and just take it... Both conditions which are also true of Lilia when he is able to safely bring Malleus's egg to Castle Blackscale. The senate gang up on him, isolate him, and deem him unworthy of touching the heir... and Lilia can't do anything about it. He isn't accepted at home and he isn't accepted by the world. This makes it that much more meaningful when, later on his travels, he meets an elderly couple in Harveston that welcome him into their house and home. They offer him a warm bed, food, and, more importantly, they are his company. They want to hear his stories, learn more about him and his life experiences. They’re that light at the end of his tunnel--but those things aren't promised to him, and Lilia knows he can't count on them all the time, especially as he travels to the most remote regions. And don't we all fear that dreadful realization of being out on our own with no net to catch us if we fall?

You'll experience failures and setbacks. You may have days where your heart feels like it'll shatter into a thousand pieces. As long as you're alive, there will be moments—many moments, in fact—when you must face adversity entirely on your own. Again, Lilia is also speaking about himself. He was forced to abandon his princess and flee with her child. He lost his best friends and large sections of his home country to a bloody conflict. He took the senate's verbal abuse and degradation. All of this, he faced alone--even when Baur tries to stand up for him, Lilia silences his ally because, deep in his heart, he thinks he deserves this. The wild bat incapable of love, only able to slaughter, doomed to be alone forever. It's through his forced exposure to the world that Lilia learns to open up, and it's through the connections--after enduring so many hardships, so many trials and tribulations--he makes with others that he comes to learn he is capable of love. As Silver says, this must be why the happiest moment of his father's life is the moment of Malleus hatching. A dragon's egg can only do so with the love of a parent--and Lilia has always been that for him. Diasomnia is Lilia's new family, and he's no longer alone. The problem now is that it's Malleus's turn to learn harsh life lessons, and he isn't exactly prepared for them. A parent must ensure their child can handle such harshness while the little one is still under their protection. I think this line perfectly summarizes Lilia's motivations for leaving in the fashion that he does. When Lilia attempted to depart NRC without so much as a formal farewell to Malleus and Silver, many fans were confused as to why he was acting so callous towards his children. Some theorized that Lilia was lying about losing his magic or had some other ulterior motive for lying--when, really, I think the answer is much simpler than that. Lilia wanted to leave as soon as he could, without facing his kids, because that's just in his nature. As Malleus points out in the vignettes: "Is that why you took the approach you did? [...] I suspect this bat will thrive in the wild." This entire time, Lilia hasn't been the gentlest or the most prudent with the baby bat. He fed it milk from a cup instead of a bottle (which resulted in getting the bat all wet), roughly toweled it off, allowed it to hang in a tree when it may not be ready to fly yet, brushed off the possibility of it being hurt again if it falls out, etc. On a surface-level, it looks like bad caretaking. But Malleus wonders if it's intentional. Because the bat was put through those experiences, it can take care of itself once it has parted from Lilia's care. I suspect Lilia may think the same of how he raises his own children. After all, Silver and Sebek sometimes bring up how hellish Lilia's training sessions with them were. Some of his bad childcare is due to Lilia being disorganized and just winging it in the moment, yeah (something which Malleus comments on at the end of the vignettes)--but a lot of how he raises others is also built on the idea that this should make the kids stronger and able to stand on their own.

When Lilia goes to return the baby bat to its flock, he says, "Go on, little one. You can't cling to my hand forever. Get flying." Then Malleus laughs and remarks, "Heh, it seems rather attached to you. It doesn't want to let go." Lilia continues with, "I'm shaking my arm and it's still not letting go... Goodness gracious. I didn't raise [the baby bat] to be so clingy. There comes a time in every creature's life when they have to take action. This is your time, little one. Don't miss your window." And, at last, when the bat is able to take off, Malleus realizes, "[...] I must say, it was rather harsh of you to forcibly shake off the poor fellow when it clearly liked you. Did you intentionally act detached so that it wouldn't fall too far behind the colony?"

THIS WHOLE SCENE IS AN ANALOGY TO LILIA TRYING TO LEAVE NRC WITHOUT SAYING GOODBYE TO HIS KIDS.

In this analogy, Malleus is that bat that Lilia has reared--and when it comes time for Lilia to leave, Malleus won't allow for it. Malleus is the clingy baby bat gripping onto his caretaker for dear life. I wonder if Lilia knew that his prince would have a hard time with it, so he tries to have one last happy send-off--so he can grant Malleus the happiness of being invited to something, to be included, and to provide him ample opportunities to socialize with his peers from all the dorms and make other connections so they can be there for him when Lilia is no longer able to. Then Malleus was late, and the time for Lilia to depart has already arrived. But maybe it's better this way, Lilia may have reasoned with himself. If Malleus doesn't appear, maybe he can't be hurt. If Lilia acts detached, maybe... just maybe... it will give Malleus the final shove he needs to let him go, to open up to the people who are going to be present around him, so he won't "fall too far behind the colony", like what happened with the actual baby bat he raised. This is especially suspect because Lilia makes the same plea to the first years earlier in the party by asking them to please give Sebek a lil' push if he ever needs it. "Just... If you notice [Sebek is] ever stuck at some point during your time here... I would ask that you card soldiers give him a little nudge."

THE LILIA DORM UNIFORM CARD FIRST CAME OUT ON THE JP SERVER IN FEB 2023 ALONG WITH SOME EARLY BOOK 7 UPDATES 😩 It’s such good foreshadowing for what happens much later in the same book… OTL I just hope that Malleus is able to learn the lessons Lilia wants him to. Then Malleus can finally be the baby bat that’s able to take flight on his own and join a flock without his guardian at his side forever and ever…

[ajedisith]

Damian is a key character for the SpyxFamily story moving forward. He had the fourth most panels after the main three in 2024. Endo focused quite a bit on Damian so far, from his developing friendship with Anya, strained relationship with his father/family, deep connection with Emile/Ewen, and positive interaction with Loid. This leads me to believe that he will have a bigger role in the upcoming story arcs. Afterall, he is the son of the supposed villain of the whole story. And I do believe Anya and Damian are the central dynamic of this story, at least for now and how Endo set it up 100+ chapters in.

Although him and Anya are not yet friends, they are on their way to a friendship. Their relationship grew a lot from him being a very mean bully, to him sabotaging some of his chances at personal happiness in favor of Anya’s comfort. He is the first person in the whole story to hear about Anya’s telepathy from Anya herself. That’s a huge deal. I believe it foreshadows that he’ll learn the truth and they will be the only two to know about her telepathy for a while before anyone else finds out (ie. his friends, Becky, etc).

Moreover, I find it interesting that Damian first interacts with Loid in a setting where he is both vulnerable due to his father’s looming presence and guided upward by Loid’s encouraging comments (regardless of how fake Loid was in that moment because he will likely be more genuine later on). Damian is left with a positive impression of Loid and it’s likely he will have more interactions with the Forgers that will leave him wishing he could have that for himself.

Endo also emphasizes both Damian’s strained family dynamics and stabilizing friendship with Ewen and Emile.

His dysfunctional and depressing home life is meant to be a contrast to Anya’s peaceful and fun one, illustrating that found family can be just as powerful as a “real” family. Damian and Anya find themselves in these contrasting environments and, as we’ve already begun to see, they will play an important role in the pair’s dynamic moving forward. Damian craves Anya’s family dynamic, a present father figure like Loid, and loving mother like Yor, while Anya understands Damian’s desire for his father’s approval, because she herself doesn’t know for certain if Loid actually loves her. She mostly thinks about two things — operation strix and Sy-On boy because deep down she wants Loid’s approval and love.

Damian’s friends are one of the few stabilizing aspects of his life. They are a constant, reliable part of his life and their presence humanizes him and creates a space for him to grow as a person instead of the machine that it sometimes feels Eden Academy wants him to be.

It’s always fun to speculate about the future story, so if I’m wrong, that’s totally okay! I love hearing about what other fans think of the future Damian and Anya, so please do share your thoughts!

[rationalnerd62]

Seeing some of the tags I got on the CR timeline post, I think I loved C3 for the exact same reasons some folks disliked it or struggled with it.

I liked the overarching arc. Don't get me wrong, mini-arcs like with VM and M9 are perfectly fine, but there's something narratively satisfying to me about BH following this consistent thread all along the campaign. This group started with a few questions (Who attacked Keyleth? Why? What is the meaning of those dreams? Where are Fearne's parents?) and uncovered a whole conspiracy that then revealed itself to the entire world. It reminds me of reading those Fantasy series where the characters hear about the upcoming battle in book 1 and finally get to it in book 14. I can't wait to rewatch and see the foreshadowing and hints that brought this group to this point.

I liked the constant discussions about the Gods. Listen, as a gay person raised in a Catholic family, boy I've had my dealings and issues with religion. But I find it nice to be able to put our own world aside and watch this fantasy world ask questions that would be very controversial in ours. What we know of the Gods of Exandria has fundamentally changed from the first episode of C3 to the last. We went through both ExU Calamity and Downfall during that time. Those Gods have changed from being so removed and above mortals, mystical entities incomprehensible to anyone who dared trying, to beings with a past before Exandria, a family they're willing to protect at all costs no matter how hurtful their siblings are to the mortals, aliens with flaws and faults and failings, full of nuances and grayness in a world that put half of them in a box of "Good" and the other half in a box of "Evil". And as those Gods have been humanised in front of our eyes, it brought the question of whether their power over mortals is still justified and relevant. And now Exandria is about to change, and I find it exciting. IMO, it gives even more of a reason to keep exploring Exandria in the future of Critical Role than if the status quo was maintained. It's hard to do something new in a world that doesn't evolve with the story.

And while I understand people would have loved more time with Bell's Hells (I would have loved that too!), I also kinda loved how rushed and short in time they've been feeling since they've heard of the solstice. They've had a ticking clock ringing in their ears for a while now. People make different decisions when they don't think they have the time to get some sleep on it. Would have Ashton tried to absorb the shard if the group didn't have to leave for Ruidus the exact next day? Would have Orym taken a sword that maybe shouldn't be his if they didn't have to leave for Aeor the next day? Would have Imogen absorbed Predathos if watching Downfall hadn't made them realise that the Gods will break the Divine Gate to keep the secret of Predathos hidden?

IMO, we still got plenty of very interesting character moments despite the limited amount of time those characters spent together. They've been through some shit together, and the friendships they made through the shared trauma will stick with them for years. Because yes, they are friends (except for Braius, that one is on a tightrope lol). But they've proven over and over again what they're willing to do for their tight crew of broken people.

Boy I am so very fond of them. Saying goodbye will be hard 🥹.

[meraki-sunset]

so your crow strider au gave me inspiration for my own au, but i've built up the idea in my brain so much that now im scared to try to put it to paper (oops) did you ever deal with this while making crow strider? (and if you did, how you got over it would be much appreciated thanks fhdjks) also your art is cool :]

Hi, sure, i encountered a few blocks when writing CSAU and other projects. I think my method comes down to a couple rules

You need to know how the story ends from the start, so everything in the story leads to the end. Things can change about the contents of the story as you write it and you change your mind about the events that will transpire in it, but you need an end goal you can build your story towards. Most importantly, this is what allows you to add foreshadowing for said ending and structure the narrative in a clear direction. Otherwise, you might come up with a cool ending too late and regret some choices from past chapters that now don’t help this new ending you want

On that same note (and i’ll proceed to copy and paste from an old post) You need to have a Word document with a rough timeline of the events from start to finish. You need to know how it ends from the beginning and how they get there. It can be really, really vague, but it has to be there. It can go like

. They start the game, the trolls bother them.

.both games go to hell

.scratch

.trip, develop relationships

.new set of kids/teen drama

.old kids they get there

.to hell again

.John retcons everything

.new timeline

.they win

And that's homestuck simplified, Those are your Acts. With them, you will know where you're going and if you need to change something earlier. Everything will be constantly up to change of course, but you will be going from point A to point Z more easily.

From there, you go to every point in that list and create a Word document for all of them. I have them in different folders to have every act separated and in order.

A folder for each Doc for every Act, Numbered, and in each one make more lists like that one telling what happens, for example

WordDoc1 - ACT 1 "They start the game, the trolls bother them"=

.John needs to get his game

.introduce Rose

.introduce the trolls on pester chats

. John gets the game

.introduce Dave

.etc

And those are your chapters. Now you can know the extent of what you want to do and if it makes any sense.

I addition to that, every Folder can contain not only the Word document for the Act but also relevant texts and art that are connected to the Act, so evey folder is all about that specific act and any inspiration for it.

Another piece of advice I can give you is to hint at anything important. That's a rule of comedy; actually, the comedian usually closes the show with something related to the first things they said.

That works for everything, and makes people go, "Oh the thing! The meaningless thing they said earlier, it was a clue all along!"

Interconnect it like a web, and that web will stop the story from falling

Homestuck is so ridiculously interconnected that you lose track of the stuff and objects that repeat that have no way to be where they got to be, songs and people and events that are too similar to not be connected but nobody addresses, things like that make it feel like you're dealing with a universe and not just a line of events.

3. Yet another thing, it's something I'm still trying to assimilate, and is that less is more, sometimes things don't need to be said, specialy not bluntly, and an expression, a gesture, a flinch can summarize them. Backgrounds can be reduced, and ideas can be conveyed.

one example is, In homestuck, it's never said that Dave was raised with lack of food. He never sais it, but it's shown in how happy he was to find a warm bottle of juice in his closet, how there is only weapons on the kitchen and no sign of food, how he later sais he never learned what the purpose of a fridge was until he saw it on tv. If someone is lacking something, don't have them say, "i grew up without X thing" show what filled that space in the absence of X thing.

Instead of some character saying, "My dad was never there for christmas" have them say how they thrited for presents at the local goodwill, payed with their lawn mowing money and put the presents under the tree themselves for their siblings and mom.

4. Something that I always have in mind when writing the dialogs and sketching the scenes, is

"I have an idea; what's the easiest way for someone to get the idea, to get the feelings i want to transmit from the idea?" I made the art something I could handle drawing hundreds of times, simplified the coloring, the aspect symbols, the way I draw backgrounds, the way I write dialogs, etc.

That will save you time and work and could prevent you from getting stuck with a project too big to handle

5. This is the most important one: The first draft’s only purpose is to exist.

Writing is like playing darts sometimes; you only get closer to hitting the center by missing it and learning what not to do. That’s an actual rule on animation and a motto on the Disney office. “Get it wrong as quick as you can,” because when you learn what you’re doing wrong is when you start learnign what doing it right means.

If it helps, title your first draft “the dumb version,” because that’s what it is—the version to get the idea out of your head, and then you built over it.

On the same note, once you write "the dumb version" don’t correct it. Rewrite it. It’s annoying, I know, i know, but fixing and fixing a text only carries the mistakes from the first draft, and everything looks kind of disconnected, because it ends up being a Frankenstein text of all the versions of the story mixed together.

This also applies to art; that’s how I handle both writing and drawing; if it’s not working, hold onto the core idea, new page, restart.

Rewriting it puts it in perspective; it feels like a text of its own, with a clear intent in mind.

I think that’s all I have. Making a story is mostly about managing your strengths and weaknesses, organizing and not being scared of it not being perfect.

Hope this helps.

[moonsceptre]

Fusing & Merging Souls

Just a theory 🦌🌈✨️

Dark Romanticism often explores the intense, emotional and psychological contrasts of two characters, and the theme of two opposite souls coming together.

In my post here, I spoke about the themes of Charlie and Alastor suiting Vivzie's favourite musical, Phantom of the Opera. This is another classic dark romantic story.

The Phantom wants to fuse his soul with Christine's, which he sings about in "Past the Point of No Return".

Christine understands this, and that the two must become one.

Charlie and Alastor's Fusion

Before the release of the show, Vivzie would leave us crumbs of what was to come in the future. A few of her doodles during livestreams have already been fulfilled within season one, but there are still so many that leave us asking questions...

Of course, it could just be a fusion joke, but with everything else we've picked up on, there's always the possibility of it being something more. Watch this scene where Charlie gets stressed out and does a scary laugh. Her appearance changes slightly to resemble Alastor: pinhole pupils, sharp teeth, her eyelid looks like his monocle, her horns look like his ears. But most importantly, her creepy laugh had his radio filter over it.

It's almost like they fused together.

But what would be the point of a Charlastor fusion?

In literature, particularly within Dark Romanticism or Gothic contexts, the fusion of two characters (emotionally, spiritually, or psychologically) can serve as a metaphorical expression. So what if I suggested that fusion in Charlastor's context is a metaphor for marriage? Fusion implies a permanent, transformative union, just like traditional views of marriage: two become one flesh.

There's also a great deal of foreshadowing concerning these two when it comes to marriage...

Charlie owes Alastor a favour, as long as she hurts no one. Alastor wants power. Potentially, Alastor's ticket to power is to become King of Hell, which is vaguely told to us through his lament in episode eight.

I wrote about it in a previous post, but these lyrics are much more clear in the official Spanish version, which plainly have Alastor admitting he will soon be King. But King Alastor was already foreshadowed too, wasn't it?

"I dub thee King Roach!"

For Alastor to become King, there are three obstacles. Lucifer, Lilith, and Charlie. As of now, Lilith seems to be out of the picture, or maybe she's working with Alastor? Charlie, though? She's a Princess and next in line to the thrown. Marrying her would mean he and Charlie are both next to become the King and Queen.

I also feel this was foreshadowed in the pilot episode. Three Apples on the jackpot would symbolise the three Morningstars, but the third one is a deer skull, and Charlie falls right into it.

So that leaves Lucifer, the literal King of Hell. How can Alastor possibly usurp the King!?

I guess we'll see if something happens to Lucifer, or if he's faced to give up the throne. But I find it interesting that Lucifer is depicted as a Ring Leader as in a circus troupe. If Charlie became Queen, she would have to become the new Ring Leader, too. Is that why Vivzie drew her and Alastor as Ring Leaders together?

Let me know what you think...

[kopykunoichi]

This whole chapter, man...

Oberon is shipping these two so hard, the randy deviant. Elias and Chise's mutual shock is telling. Elias had clearly not considered this yet. Obviously, we now know from later chapters that his idea of marriage was vastly different than a human's; or rather, it was lacking in some key details. Sexual intimacy and procreation were not even factors for him.

But, at this point in the story, Chise is still uncertain about Elias' intentions. He has proven he's not an actual pervert, but now she realizes that the fae are expecting them to have a marriage in full. Does that mean that he really does intend to marry her and make children with her?

She had been clinging to him this whole time, and then when she thought about him in *that* way, she lets go, embarrassed. This is definitely the first time she's imagined being with him intimately, even with all his talk about "honeymooning".

His reaction to seeing her looking at him like that and blushing, is his non-existent heart thudding against his chest. He's not fully aware of everything that's happening in Chise's head, but he's having a reaction to seeing her thinking about him like that. Then Titania acknowledges that Oberon could be useful. He got them both thinking about kids, or rather the getting of them. Even if Elias still seems clueless about it, Chise is not.

It seems Oberon even got Titania herself shipping them. To her, a wager on whether or not Elias and Chise will eventually be married in full is silly, it's a given. It's wiser to bet on how prolific they'll end up being once they get to that point.

This chapter deals with the topic of sexual intimacy more so than any others, albeit in a way that is safe for teenage viewers to watch. As we see later, the story goes on to focus much more on their emotional bonds rather than their physical relationship, which is both necessary and wise. Neither one are ready for sex, they're still too immature and broken for that. But I don't think that this chapter was the result of a publisher forcing the author's hand, either. I think the idea of this being eventual endgame was presented early in the story for foreshadowing.

Interestingly enough, this is also a chapter that gives a lot of hints as to what Elias actually *is*. Titania refers to him as her own child, but Spriggan calls him a Liath anam - "grey soul".

He is a half-baked thing. Spriggan seems to be implying that many fae souls were lost to make him, giving credence to the idea that he's a chimera. Oberon says that was the result of human sin. This makes me think he may have been created as one of Cartaphilus/Joseph's experiments. Perhaps Titania gave him life.

In any case, I think that these two topics are inextricably linked in the story. Chise and Elias are already married. There are parent/child (or master/apprentice) aspects of their relationship that apply to both of them. At different times, they parent and teach one other. But their bond has grown beyond just those roles. There relationship has become romantic, but not yet sexual. They love each other as husband and wife, and Chise will develop a stronger sex drive as she matures.

I'm not sure if Elias will, but he definitely seeks out physical intimacy with her. I think once he's aware of the possibilities, he'll crave it. He's not totally uneducated on the topic. He knew what Chise meant when she asked if he and Angie were lovers, and he also thought that Renfred might want Alice to further his lineage. He's got at least some rudimentary knowledge, but he doesn't see to want it for himself.

Of course, all that depends on *what* he is. He has no organs, but he has physiological reactions as if he does. His non-existent stomach is in knots when he's worried for safety. His non-existent solar plexus is pained when Angie punches him there. His non-existent heart thuds against his chest when Chise blushes at the thought of making love to him. His non-existant blood runs cold when he's lonely. Might his non-existent...er...man parts experience sensations as he unlocks "new" feelings associated with her?

Could unlocking those feelings be the key to him discovering his true form?

The primary point of Elias finding Chise was a journey of self-discovery. Oberon refers to his flesh as something he wears for her sake and wonders how long it will hold. Perhaps he was simply referring to Elias hiding his more inhuman looking form from her. But I don't think we've ever seen Elias' true self. He shifts forms based on mood and convenience. I think that when he discovers who and what he really is, he'll be able to settle on that form, and that it will be compatible with Chise in all sense of the word "husband". Chise will be able to be completely vulnerable and fulfilled with him, and he will delight in the fact that there are looks she has for him that she gives to no other person.

In the meantime, it is a pure delight to watch them grow as individuals and as a couple. There relationship is so pure and so sweet exactly as is. I do think there will be more for them one day, but they are also content with the way things are now, and that's beautiful to me.

[velvet4510]

What The Sequel(s) to X-Men: Days of Future Past Should Have Looked Like

I haven’t even seen X-Men: Apocalypse or X-Men: Dark Phoenix start to finish but thanks to this app i know practically the entire plots of both films and i’m just so utterly appalled by them. Not just with the way they mess up the timeline (Jean & Scott as teenagers and Warren as a young adult in 1983?? Excuse me?? No way Logan’s time shenanigans altered people’s birth dates, what??) But also with the way they just butcher every character arc - Charles being selfish? Erik settling down with a human instead of continuing to fight for his cause and make up for his 10 years of inactivity? Giving Erik an OC daughter JUST to kill her 2 seconds later rather than focus on his fatherhood story with Peter? Erik and Ororo siding with Apocalypse to destroy the whole world? Hank turning on Charles when he alone stood by Charles post-beach divorce all those years? Raven being ungrateful to Charles for creating a better world for mutants? Trying to convince us that Charles was somehow in love with Moira and Erik was somehow in love with Raven? The X-Men throwing Charles out of his own house?? WHAT IS THIS?????

Frankly I don’t get why the writers tried (and failed) to give us more Jean and Scott and Ororo when we got plenty of them in the other movies and we know thanks to the end of X-Men: Days of Future Past that Charles will still eventually recruit them. Jean and Scott’s very presence at the end of that film shows that the sight of Logan’s memories of Jean’s original fate prompted Charles to NOT repeat his other self’s mistakes and instead use a better approach to help Jean that enabled her to keep the Phoenix under control and not hurt Scott. That’s all we need to know about them in the new timeline. We don’t need to see Charles messing up yet again when it comes to Jean when that ruins a huge layer of the meaning and impact of DOFP’s ending.

James McAvoy himself pointed out how unnecessary it felt to recycle characters from the original trilogy when the X-Men in the comics are full of plenty of other characters that could’ve been introduced in a DOFP sequel instead. He’s absolutely right.

But here’s what I really think: if any sequels to DOFP just HAD to be made, they shouldn’t have tried to stuff in even more characters. If they HAD to include another old character we’d seen before, it should’ve been Kurt Wagner and Kurt Wagner only. Why? Because he’s Raven & Azazel’s son. And this would only add to the parenthood theme already present through Erik & Peter, and Charles & his students; add a new dimension to Raven as a character as we explore how she feels about being a mother, and what happened that caused her to be separated from her child; and add a new dimension to Hank as we explore how he feels about potentially being a parental figure to Kurt as a result of following his heart toward Raven.

The sequel(s) should’ve focused on developing the relationships that actually had been established/hinted at, and those that would naturally branch as a result:

Erik & Peter as father and son

Raven & Kurt as mother and son

Charles’ parental relationship with his young students

Charles & Erik getting back together

Hank & Raven getting back together

Hank dealing with being Kurt’s possible stepfather

Charles & Raven reconciling as siblings once again

Charles & Peter as stepfather and stepson

Charles & Kurt as uncle and nephew

Alex seeing all of this and being reminded of his bad relationship with his own parents that led him to get locked up before Charles and Erik found him, emphasizing Charles’ place in his life as his true “father,” and foreshadowing Scott by revealing he’s not in touch with his family (meaning he doesn’t know he has a much-younger brother)

Erik bonding with Kurt and making Kurt comfortable through being the only other native German speaker in the group

Erik & Hank dealing with their rocky post-DOFP relationship; Hank giving Erik a proper calling out for sending Charles into such a depression for a decade and for trying to kill Raven

Erik bonding with Charles’ other students and slowly realizing there is a place for him at the school

(Logan may or may not work as a character in such a sequel. But whether he has a big or small role, it must be acknowledged that Raven, not Stryker, saved him from the Potomac at the end of DOFP. So now he is on a different path, and is NOT Weapon X. Either he’s still at the mansion or went his own way with the open possibility of returning; I think the latter makes more sense since he’s such a loner and considering he wouldn’t remember the events of DOFP, he’d be pretty overwhelmed. Plus his explained absence would allow space for the film(s) to focus more on the other characters.)

Regardless, any villain(s) of those hypothetical sequels should’ve been the kind of antagonist(s) whose threat inevitably brought those aforementioned characters together and, in the process, fleshed out those relationships.

Also, no stupid 10-year time jumps between every movie. Keep it to 5-7 years after DOFP, at the most.

Think of the emotional impact that would bring:

Charles & Raven dealing with the fact that she chose not to come to him for help when she became pregnant

Hank & Raven discussing Raven’s history with Azazel and both of them admitting they went to great lengths to try to get over each other but nothing worked

Raven exploring motherhood and her feelings about either having abandoned Kurt as a baby or accidentally losing him, and Hank supporting her in this

Erik exploring his newfound fatherhood, and Charles supporting him in this

Peter’s feelings toward his dad for being absent from his life for so long and also for being a terrorist

Kurt’s feelings toward his mom for being absent for so long, and possibly for intentionally leaving him

Peter & Kurt becoming besties and bonding over being super-fast travelers who have spent too many years not knowing one or both parents

Hank wishing things had been different with Raven and that Kurt could’ve been his son and thinking about stepping into a stepfather role for Kurt

Erik & Peter perhaps getting stranded/separated from the rest of the group and forced to bond while trying to find their way back

Erik saving Peter’s life in battle, cementing their new bond

Hank fully embracing his Beast form (mutant and proud) in battle while protecting Raven and Kurt

Raven, Hank & Kurt as a badass blue family

Erik finally deflecting a bullet successfully to save Charles

Charles & Erik fighting side by side once again and realizing they’re better together than apart

Erik & Hank managing to find some common ground as they both have been unexpectedly thrown into fatherhood (see, no need for female fridging!)

Erik coming up with Quicksilver as Peter’s superhero name, at least getting the chance to name his son in this way

Basically the whole group becoming a big family

Perhaps closing with a flash forward a few years: Erik & Raven are now teachers at the school; young Scott arrives at the school and meets Alex for the first time; Charles & Erik hear about young Jean and head out to meet her; Hank & Raven manage to discover Logan’s location and head out to bring him back to the mansion - tying into the finale of DOFP

Those are just a few things that could’ve, and should’ve, been prioritized in a sequel to DOFP.

[starcurtain]

your phaidei essay....chef's kiss so good!!! amazing read, thank u.

I just wanted to say stuff about the part in the end: there is lore reason for mydei to leave - 3.1 established nikador was taking huge part of black tide monsters and without them we're having grove catastrophe. my question is why they aren't even trying to get some sort of connection with mydei (hello trailblazers? teleports? after we make a deal of them when we arrived in 3.0?) but suspension of disbelief and drama for story purposes are a must

also about queer-bating and queer-codding part also, 100% agree that cautiously optimism and let hoyo cook best way forward. there is one more chapter in the book for mydei, so he certainly comes back one more time at least (hopefully more).

(also like you said, there is anaxa and I woudn't be surprised if they decide to maximize fujo involvement and bait with him and hi3 feels another part of fujo audience 😂 if thats a case i will watch with curiosity but honestly after this patch my interest is set)

See, I agree that they tried to give a reason for Mydei having to go off to Castrum Kremnos to fight the black tide, except they didn't take the time to provide enough explanation there to close the obvious plotholes:

We're told Mydei needs to go back to Castrum Kremnos because he has a duty to hold off the black tide, which is what Castorice told Gnaeus they would do with his coreflame. Cool, theoretically Mydei taking on that specific duty makes perfect sense.

...Except that they never bothered to explain why literally being in Castrum Kremnos is necessary to do that. Tribbie doesn't have to stay in Janusopolis to open Century Gates. Aglaea doesn't have to stay in the Grove to maintain Mnestia's golden webs. Why would Mydei have to stay inside the literal Blade of Fury to wield Nikador's power? Is he actively hunting the blade tide using a psychic connection that can only be accomplished by staying in the vicinity of the Blade of Fury at all times? The game never bothers to explain this, making it look like there's no valid plot explanation for Mydei's sudden need to depart.

All it would have taken to solve this issue is to throw in a brief scene where Mydei discusses with Gnaeus exactly what it will mean for him to take on Nikador's duties. All they had to do was add one line: "In order to stave off the black tide, you will need to inhabit the Blade of Fury." Like, just a single line could have done the trick to at least lend some tiny plot credence to Mydei not being able to ever return to Okhema.

There wasn't even remotely any foreshadowing to this in 3.0 either. What would Aglaea have done if Phainon beat Nikador's trial? "Oh, okay, bye Phainon, guess you have to go live in Castrum Kremnos all by yourself now!" Why wasn't there a single discussion in 3.0 that taking on Nikador's power would mean leaving Okhema forever? Why let that plot point just swerve in out of nowhere in 3.1?

However, even if they had managed to explain why Mydei needed to stay in Castrum Kremnos permanently... I think the dev team forgot the entire point of Castrum Kremnos in the first place.

It's both a city-state... and a mobile war machine. That's literally what made the Kremnoans such effective conquerors: They didn't have to string out massive supply lines to fuel their armies; they literally just picked up their entire nation and moved to wherever they wanted to conquer!

The entire reason that Aglaea and Tribbie had so much trouble finding Castrum Kremnos prior to the events of 3.0 was because it had floated away.

So... What is the lore-related reason Mydei can't just... move Castrum Kremnos to the sky over Okhema?

The devs didn't even bother to put in the slightest hand wave, another thing that wouldn't have been too hard to do: "Castrum Kremnos's machina have been dormant for years. It may not be possible to move the fortress freely anymore. I'll search for a way, but until then, I won't be able to return to Okhema."

So... While I'm willing to give them the benefit of the doubt and say "Perhaps they have some plot-related reason they need Mydei to go stay in Castrum Kremnos. I'm willing to give them at least a little wiggle room and not claim immediately that this was 100% bury-your-gays to get rid of him after 3.1..." I'm not willing to say they did it well at all. 😂

The fact that they didn't even bother to add a hand-wavey lore explanation does make Mydei's departure look worse than it is. Since they never bothered to explain why it was necessary and never bothered to explain why they couldn't take advantage of their own world-building to avoid the separation, the whole "I will never return" plot looks especially egregious. The timing is just insanely suspicious and lines up unfortunately well with the notion "write the gay romantic interest out of the main plot as soon as his banner ends."

All that said, I'm not a downer on Amphoreus's plot. At the very least, I have a feeling we'll see some kind of payout to the "in another life" concept. And we already know Mydei will still have some role in the plot.

I'm letting the devs cook... but still side-eying their writing decisions, lol.

[ellestra]

Beyond the Wasteland of Vengeance

I just watched Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga and I loved it. It was hard at times as this is a harsh world and the rule of prequels tells us who has to die. But it was so worth it. We already know this is story of hope in the end. We know how Furiosa's Fury Road ends. It's starts with the same unrelenting determination (like the way she makes sure no one could tell of her home).

The cast is great (even if Chris Hemsworth fake face is somewhat distracting) but I think the most impressive was Alyla Browne who is Furiosa much longer than I expected for a film marketing Anya Taylor-Joy so heavily. She has some of the most badass parts (if you thought you hated Immortan Joe's sons before... well, thinking of their deaths is even more satisfying now). She is also made look so alike Anya that I initially missed the moment they switched.

But Immortan Joe and his band of monsters are just background creeps showing the decay of the world in general. The main villain is the one who took everything she loved from Furiosa. And didn't even remember half of it because he destroyed so many lives hers was nothing special. The one who set her on this path.

There is something sad about Dementus. You can almost feel, not compassion, but at least pity. You can see glimpses of a person he used to be before children died and you see how the end of the world destroyed him. It's like the voiceovers at the beginning describe what happened to his mind and soul when everything fell apart.

He's embodiment of that rot (and him going through white to red to black phases makes it even more clear). And he destroys everything he touches. At least the lords of Citadel, Bullet Farm and Gas Town built something. Something horrible and cruel but something. He can only destroy. He thinks finding Abundance will save him but he will only destroy that too. As I said, allegory.

Furiosa is his opposite because she doesn't let the cruelty of the world destroy her like this. She doesn't let the rot take hold of her and use her to spread. She never trusts the monsters surrounding her and she doesn't believe any of their promises. There is no safety in just letting them do that one thing. The cruelty will not end and will not be just that one thing.

I loved how she never stopped fighting. Not during her kidnapping. Not during her imprisonment. And then she found a way to escape one into another and then escape that one too. Using the very way those men wanted to poses her to plan her escape. Even when she loses her way home (figuratively and literally) to have her revenge it doesn't last. Even if she needed help in to follow her dream.

It's hard to trust in this world because a single act of kindness may cost you everything. But not everyone is evil. Even in Wasteland she finds someone who actually gives her help she needs. Someone she wishes to share her goal with. This films actually did "not all men" and it was great because it was earned but also because it helped explain why she would trust Max eventually. She already knew there are ones you can trust.

I tried to be pretty generic so far but behind this cut are SPOILERS for the very end (even though I don't say what it actually is - you can watch it yourself).

That ending was perfect both as foreshadowing who she will become but also as a callback to the beginning of the movie. Dementus tried to make her his daughter and use her to replace his children but she rejected him completely. Even if that was just swapping one monster for a bunch of even worse ones. And here at the ends he gloats about turning her into his daughter anyway. One in spirit anyway.

That like him she becomes creature of revenge and cruelty that nothing will ever satiate. Someone so obsessed with vengeance she will never stop even when the other side just want to leave (the mirroring of all the time he chased his prey and her chasing him was pretty nice). He thinks his death would just seal the deal because his suffering will never be great enough to soothe her pain.

You know, your standard - you will become like me spiel a villain does in moment like these. And lesser movies have heroes let villain go to prove them wrong (and then he tries to kill the hero anyway so the hero can have “my life was in danger” excuse to kill them anyway).

And she does lets him live but she doesn’t let him win. Once again she rejects him just like she did as a child. She remakes him into a symbol of her new purpose. She creates life out of a rotten man who did nothing but destroy lives of those around him. She makes him suffer for all the suffering he caused but that suffering is to build something new. And to create hope and future for those who have been abused by men like him.

And just like he asked she made it epic but as one last “fuck you” to him trying to control her story no one knows (well, almost no one). It’s epic and it’s a secret.

There is also something poetic that Furiosa eventually took over the Citadel - something he wanted so badly and never achieved. It retroactively made ending of Mad Max: Fury Road even better. And since it only took few days of them being gone he’s probably still there as she remakes it into the new Green Place.

[sleepyorchidmonster]

Soo, remember in Glorious Masquerade, when Malleus came up with the story that the cause of the Crimson Lotus was unknown, and Rollo was actually trying to save everyone alongside the NRC students?

What if that's another bit of foreshadowing for the end of Book 7?

Briar Valley is in a really precarious position now, still recovering from the Silver Owls, with the Senate mostly taking over while Maleficia grieves, so Malleus overblotting is just another blow to the fae, even if students like Leona, Kalim, Vil and Idia manage to advocate on his behalf.

So why not spin the tale of how there was an unnamed threat on the island that was so Dire (pun intended for Crowley) and all-encompassing that Malleus had to go all out?

To avoid collateral damage and prevent the issue from reaching the rest of the globe, he had no choice but to use his UM to cover the whole island, keeping everyone safe in a peaceful slumber while the threat was dealt with. Luckily, STYX coordinated efforts with the rest of Briar Valley and they managed to subdue the threat both inside and outside the barrier, and everyone is safe now!

That way, the world can see Malleus not as an uncontrollable monster, but as a fierce protector who might go a bit overboard, but means well (also he's a dragon and his remaining family was on the island, so his protectiveness is understandable). Therefore, it's best to befriend the fae and Briar Valley than make enemies out of them!

The only problem is the rest of the student body and staff that saw the overblot at Lillia's farewell party, but I'm pretty sure STYX's Lethe program is back on to deal with the mobs, while the rest of the cast can be sworn to secrecy in exchange for having Malleus owe them a favour (they can use Azul's UM for the NDA).

As for the problem, NRC has been dealing with overblots at least once a month, not to mention the STYX invasion, and the Phantom Dwarves back in the mines, and how Book 7 might introduce the true mastermind and that's what we have to deal with in Book 8... They just have to pick ONE of the options above.

As a sidenote, having Sunset Savanna become Briar Valley's fiercest allies because Leona told his brother that Malleus is his friend would be so funny. Falena sees his depressed brother going to the trouble of making a whole Power Point presentation to convince the council on the benefits of allying to Briar Valley, all to save a school friend, and just decides that Malleus Draconia will have his unending support. Kifaji too.

(Leona has been ignored and belittled so many times that he prepared for the worst and made a whole slide presentation in hopes of defending his point well enough. Shoud've just led with "Malleus Draconia is a friend of mine who just went through a very traumatic experience and I want to help him" Kifaji and Falena would accept in a heartbeat).

BONUS:

Leona: *Practicing his Power Point presentation at 2AM*

Cheka: Unca, what are you doing in the middle of the night?

Leona: I'm just practicing, no one (my dormmates aside) ever likes my ideas and I have to make sure this works...

Cheka: Why?

Leona: Well you see... [starts explaining the inportance of supporting Briar Valley at theur moment of need and the benefits an alliance may bring to the table] ... also the Lizard would love if-

Cheka: Why do you keep calling Malleus Draconia "Lizard"? Is he your friend? Do you want to help him?

Leona, sighing: Yeah kiddo, he is my friend. He's been going though some tough times, almost lost his father and brother, and as much as we butt heads, well, no one deserves that...

Cheka: So why don't you just say that he's your friend and you wanna help him instead of talking about those "tweatwies"?

Leona: First of all, it's "treaties", and second, well, Briar Valley is in trouble, and helping them might get us in trouble too. Also I'm just the accursed second prince, people never listen to me, I need to back up my proposal with facts.

*random noise that sounds like a mix between a growl and a sob (Falena and Kifaji are eavesdropping lol)*

Leona: What's that?!

Cheka, panicking: Probably the wind....

*THE NEXT DAY*

Leona, finishing the presentation: And that's my proposal, any questions?

Random councilman: Well I-

Kijaji, smiling menacingly: I think it's a splendid idea, Leona. Briar Valley has been a longtime friend of ours, so it's only right that we help them in their time of need.

Falena, also smiling menacingly: Agreed! I'm so proud of you, my brother!

Leona: Wait, seriously!?

Falena's wife, smiling and sharpening a knife while subtly observing the other councilmen, marking targets: Of course, Leona! You have a sharp mind and this is a good plan. Briar Valley will have Sunset Savanna's full support for the coming criais, isn't that right, councillors?

Other councillors: Yes Ma'am!! Don't kill us pls

[sy-on-boy]

Some SxF Ch 108 thoughts! (a bit scattered)

(In response to Damian making fun of Anya holding hands with Yor) Anya really is a kind and empathetic character— earlier in the story she probably would be offended and maybe even hurt (esp after Ewen's comment that Yor's not her real mom), but now she feels comfortable enough to take off her mask and reassure Damian about something she fears (feeling unloved by parents). And this is coming after Anya read Melinda's mind and she literally thought "how I wish Damian would just go away!" (among other contradictory things).

Anya doesn't snark at Damian like she might usually do. The sparks show us she's reading his mind, and it's probably something like "my mom doesn't love me". I love the detail of Anya taking off her mask. To me, it feels like a direct parallel to the school dance when she told him she can read minds. Anya is hiding from everyone, but she lets it slip for Damian. Despite everything, she trusts him with her deepest secret. She puts it back on after the moment of vulnerability.

Damian is surprised and flustered that Anya knew what he was thinking. And Anya, instead of deflecting, tells him "believe me, I know." Damian clearly thinks of mind reading as a joke, which should be Anya's way out if she wants to keep it a secret, but it doesn't seem like she wants to hide it from Damian. Or she thinks it's more important to tell him than to keep her powers a secret.

"Take off that stupid mask already!" could mean for "just tell me the truth!" but Anya literally did. She took off the mask to tell Damian what she perceives as the truth (that Melinda loves him). She told him the truth before— she can read minds. And having Yor back Anya up makes Anya seem more "legit".

"Sy-on mom is being bullied too?" is such an innocent way for Anya to describe the psychological distress Melinda is in due to Donovan. She's concerned about Damian's family not getting along, because her own family is precious to her. And while (in the English translation) she uses the same term "bully" to describe what Damian does to her, Anya's facial expression tells us she knows it's a different and more severe ("grown up") form. Her and Damian are bickering kids, but Melinda is an adult dealing with adult stuff and is under great distress due to another adult. You can see it in her eyes. She's shaken by what she learns from reading Melinda's mind.

As for Anya's "This feeling... I think I've felt it before", I'm not sure what she's referring to, but it could be Melinda picking up Damian post bus hijacking, since she similarly cares for Damian in spite of Donovan. Melinda is strange to Anya, but at least she seems consistent in that she wants to care for Damian even though she can't really express it. So Anya decides to express it to Damian on Melinda's behalf.

Also, mention of telepathy. Either a set up for the Desmond family being involved in the experimentation done on Anya, or a red herring. I noticed Melinda's hand was on her ear when she mentioned telepathy, which reminds me of Melinda's earrings (note: jewellery/hair accessories are important in SxF— Loid and Fiona both wear WISE merch, Becky's hair clip is a bomb in reference to her family's business). I've never noticed if she wears a wedding ring, but this chapter she seems to only wear rings on the middle finger.

This chapter was delicious in a lot of ways. The melancholy felt by Loid and Anya, Melinda's whole deal, the ending gives us a lot of fun implications, tarot cards, possible foreshadowing with the telepathy/occult, ominous Grim Reaper/Yor parallels, follow up on "Anya tells Damian she can read minds", etc. I'm surprised by how packed this chapter is yet it leaves questions without answers that we likely won't know ("What feeling did Anya feel before?" "What did Damian secretly think?").

The gentleness of the Forger family stood out to me. Yor was very kind to Melinda and persuaded her to seek help. Anya was kind to Damian despite him insulting her. And while Loid has less screentime, the flashback to his childhood makes me think he genuinely had a fun time hanging out with the caretakers (while trying to get intel because he never stops working). He also stayed because Anya wanted to (and they got Anya that strange mask). Maybe it's intentional in a chapter about Melinda— as the two major families, the Forgers and Desmonds are heavily contrasted. Melinda seems genuinely fond of Yor, and it's due to Yor's own personality/sincere kindness/efforts that she unintentionally gave Loid one of his biggest opportunities (at least, we would assume so). Yor is the only one out of the Forgers who's clueless to Operation Strix, so she isn't trying to manipulate Melinda. Maybe that's why Melinda finds her refreshing. She was also seemingly amused/happy when Anya said Damian bullies her but she still wants to be friends with him. We know a lot of Damian's peers suck up to him, but Anya doesn't. She's not exactly honest, but at least she admits Damian's faults instead of blindly following him.

[whetstonefires]

you know how in the thousand and one nights the story of aladdin is putatively set in china?

i wanna see that done, just taken and run with, by one of those chinese studios that put out eleventymillion period dramas, on film lots so crowded the sound has to be recorded separately and dubbed in, because if they tried to do it at the same time as the video, lines from other dramas would keep showing up as background noise.

just take all the specific story beats of 'aladdin' and portray them according to the aesthetics and rules of Period China and see how it comes out.

the bit where aladdin hides behind a door to spy on the princess without her veil is i think doable by the standards of television if not of like. real actual historical china. hits a bit different tho, because traditional persian veiling is you know. kind of a big deal. while chinese traditions of elite female seclusion followed slightly different principles.

aladdin's mom requires no modification whatsoever, except she has to stay in the story past his marriage in some capacity.

i don't think they could stand to keep the princess that one-dimensional though; they'd have to do some character development in order to fit something approximating a decent romance in. modern audiences do not accept love interests with no traits or dialogue.

and to foreshadow the part where she gives the magic lamp away because aladdin didn't trust her enough to admit it was important. that bit the chinese costume drama studios would also have no trouble adapting lmao.

i also want to see how they design the lamp (like, oil lamps were most definitely a Thing in real china but i don't know what visual design approach a studio would go with to represent one so it was both recognizable to a modern audience and recognizably chinese) and how exactly they translate the concept of djinni for their standard milieu.

i would not put it past them to wimp out and just import the lamp and genie (and ring and genie) set entire from a middle eastern sort of setting, in some elaborate mobius double reacharound olympic feat of orientalism.

but assuming they didn't, what would they do instead?