#from the same revue are

[s-aint-elmo]

i've connected the dots

[caramelmochacrow]

"You know that I want you And you know that I need you"

[nozomijoestar]

It took me two watches but of course Nana and the Giraffe work together so well as a backstage team, the movie spells out how much they are literally and metaphorically the food everyone else takes from as their own fuel

[waffleweirdo]

The existence of Siegfeld jhs as specifically future stage girls is one of its most fascinating themes.

The central conflict that they all must overcome is finding the determination to become stage girls.

They have all in one way or another already failed. What awaits them now is to exit the stage, unless they can find the resolution to decide to keep standing on stage.

As future stage girls they face extinction, they lack brilliance, and are weighed heavy by their failures. However stage girls can always improve and be reborn. If they can make that step, find that courage, they can continue to stand on stage and can overcome it all.

Throughout all of Regalia we see their failures and struggles made apparent. Akira antagonizes and goads them. It is clearly spelled out that their life on the stage is going to end.

They lose in Revue Siegfeld. But ultimately by then it didn’t matter. Because all of them simply decided that they were willing to stand on stage. From there, a stage girl can do anything.

Elle’s farewell message makes it clear, “A revue is not once-in-a-lifetime. As long as you don’t give up, you will have as many chances as you want.”

Regalia is fascinating because it is a story focused on becoming stage girls rather than being stage girls. Especially because through the somewhat outside lens the many harmful aspects of performance and pressure are made abundantly clear as they are forced onto characters who are the youngest in the entire series.

Regalia does not pull punches. But ultimately the message is that those pressures can’t actually stop you. They are real, and harmful (as revue starlight shows extensively), but as long as you can accept that being a stage girl will mean facing them, and still choose to stand on stage that’s enough.

The only death to fear is before you are reborn. Simply resolving to be a stage girl is enough.

Translations referenced are by: https://spicyveggiesub.tumblr.com/

[dude1818]

Still thinking about my theory that the giraffe is the end consumer of the girls' Shine. The two auditions that the anime focuses on are both anomalous, but we do briefly see a "normal" audition at the London Academy. That seems to follow the basic template: eight contestants, one becomes Top Star, the others lose their Shine. We never see what the winner's Stage of Fate is, and actually she's still participating at the Academy after the auditions are over. She seems fine in the short-term

The Seisho Academy auditions are weird. Nana wins and uses it to create a time loop. It takes all the other girls' Shine to do that, but then the giraffe doesn't get his reward because he's also affected the time loop. Based on what happens to Hikari in the finale, he doesn't get to feed until the performance is over, and Nana accidentally ensured that never happens

But the giraffe is the one creating the time loops, so if he's not happy about this, he can affect things. That's why he "cheats" and lets Hikari into the loop in the show. He expects Hikari to play by the book and let him get his due, or at least throw Nana off enough that someone else can win for once

[thedoncasterk3]

I am genuinely still so floored and amazed that project sekai actually went through with making mizuki transfem, like holy shit how much other larger-scale media can you remember actually commiting to something like this instead of just coding a character?

Genuinely down to the reveal where the other students talk about her not being a "normal girl" and asking Ena if "she's a boy too", down to mizuki's utter horror of being outed to her friends by someone else, down to mizuki not being worried about their acceptance but rather being utterly terrified of how they might never treat her the same as they used to, of how they'd step on eggshells around her, IT'S SO FUCKING PEAKKKK-

ALSO THIS WAS AFTER 4 YEARS OF BUILDING UP TO THIS POINT TOO (i haven't been here that long BUT STILL)

Genuine congrats to colorfulpalette for committing to this because holy shit this will live in my head rent-free for a WHILE to come.

ALSO THE VOICE ACTING I'VE SEEN FROM CLIPS??? I knew Hinata Sato shines as Junna in Revue Starlight but she went above and beyond for this, and Minori Suzuki also went absolutely crazy with her voicing, Ena screaming Mizuki's name to try to get her to stop after she runs the second time is the most emotion i've seen someone put into a voice in a while LOOK AT THIS.

sidenote: mizuki akiyama is probably my favorite character ever now i think

[doyouknowthisanime]

Happy Halloween, everyone!

I've got some good news - I've finished tallying up the results of the favourite anime survey and can now, finally, reveal what Tumblr's favourite anime actually are. To start with, I'd like to thank everyone who responded - yes, all 1172 (wow!) of you - and to apologise for he delay in actually getting these results out. For anyone who needs a reminder, these results are based on how many points each anime received - a first place ranking was worth five points, a second or third place ranking was worth four, a fourth or fifth place ranking was worth three, a sixth-tenth place ranking was worth two, and a eleventh-twentieth place ranking was worth one. When multiple anime had the same number of points, the anime with the most first-place votes was placed higher. The results are below the read more right here - I hope you enjoy reading!

100. Yona of the Dawn - 82 points

99. Devilman Crybaby - 83 points

98. Monogatari Series - 83 points

97. Lucky Star - 84 points

96. Toradora - 84 points

95. Dr. Stone - 86 points

94. Princess Jellyfish - 86 points

93. ERASED - 87 points

92. Noragami - 87 points

91. Wolf's Rain - 88 points

90. Azumanga Daioh - 90 points

89. Paranoia Agent - 90 points

88. Odd Taxi - 91 points

87. Banana Fish - 93 points

86. Digimon Adventure - 95 points

85. Akira - 95 points

84. Higurashi no Naku Koro Ni - 95 points

83. Psycho-Pass - 96 points

82. Little Witch Academia - 96 points

81. Monster - 97 points

80. Mononoke - 98 points

79. Free! - 99 points

78. Kekkai Sensen - 99 points

77. Trigun Stampede - 102 points

76. Haibane Renmei - 103 points

75. Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters - 104 points

74. Gintama - 105 points

73. Violet Evergarden - 107 points

72. Dorohedoro - 113 points

71. Made in Abyss - 113 points

70. Mobile Suit Gundam: The Witch from Mercury - 113 points

69. Eizouken ni wa Te o Dasu na! - 115 points

68. Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind - 116 points

67. SK8 the Infinity - 117 points

66. Samurai Champloo - 117 points

65. Your Name - 118 points

64. Castle in the Sky - 119 points

63. Perfect Blue - 119 points

62. Promare - 120 points

61. One Punch Man - 122 points

60. The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya - 126 points

59. Kiki's Delivery Service - 129 points

58. Kaguya-sama: Love is War - 136 points

57. Inuyasha - 136 points

56. Assassination Classroom - 142 points

55. FLCL - 143 points

54. Pokémon - 144 points

53. Death Parade - 148 points

52. Dragon Ball - 150 points

51. Natsume Yuujinchou - 157 points

50. The Apothecary Diaries - 158 points

49. Revue Starlight - 159 points

48. Durarara!! - 160 points

47. Yu Yu Hakusho - 162 points

46. Naruto - 163 points

45. Black Butler - 165 points

44. Attack on Titan - 167 points

43. Houseki no Kuni - 168 points

42. Steins;Gate - 172 points

41. Cardcaptor Sakura - 186 points

40. Code Geass - 186 points.

39. Gekkan Shoujo Nozaki-Kun - 187 points

38. The Disastrous Life of Saiki K. - 192 points

37. Kill la Kill - 194 points

36. Bungou Stray Dogs - 194 points

35. Baccano! - 198 points

34. Bocchi the Rock! - 201 points

33. Chainsaw Man - 208 points

32. Demon Slayer - 209 points

31. Serial Experiments Lain - 213 points

30. Jujutsu Kaisen - 227 points

29. Spy x Family - 236 points

28. Howl's Moving Castle - 238 points

27. Princess Mononoke - 240 points

26. Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann - 241 points

25. Sailor Moon - 249 points

24. Mushi-shi - 249 points

23. Princess Tutu - 254 points

22. Nichijou - 263 points

21. Trigun - 265 points

20. Spirited Away - 266 points

19. My Hero Academia - 266 points

18. Fruits Basket (2019) - 269 points

17. Soul Eater - 292 points

16. Sousou no Frieren - 300 points

15. Yuri!!! on Ice - 333 points

14. Fullmetal Alchemist - 364 points

13. Ouran High School Host Club - 374 points

12. Death Note - 437 points

11. Cowboy Bebop - 450 points

10. Haikyuu - 457 points

9. Neon Genesis Evangelion - 496 points

8. Jojo's Bizarre Adventure - 496 points

7. Hunter x Hunter (2011) - 516 points

6. Revolutionary Girl Utena - 537 points

5. One Piece - 633 points

4. Puella Magi Madoka Magica - 664 points

3. Mob Psycho 100 - 943 points

2. Dungeon Meshi - 985 points

Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood - 1106 points

Congratulations to FMA Brotherhood for winning! For more detailed results, go to this spreadsheet. Once again, thank you all for participating, and waiting so patiently for the results!

[pallastronomy]

YOU. YOU GET ME

(I uh. May have gone autistic about my problems with Revue Frontier + Misc. Aruru thoughts in the tags. Oops.)

Every day I wake up and think about how irreversibly Arcana Arcadia has altered my brain chemistry. They did not have to go that hard for an arc exclusively in the mobile game and yet

[tokyo-tower-symbolism]

In Revue Starlight, we see two different endings for Claire and Flora in Starlight.

In the first one, Flora is blinded by the light and falls from the tower, leaving Claire trapped and the two of them separated forevermore. In the second ending, Flora is blinded and falls, but then she ascends the tower once more and reunites with Claire at the top, fulfilling their promise this time.

But there is actually a secret third ending.

In Kaoruko and Futaba’s revue in the movie, it ends with the two of them barreling forward on top of two trucks towards each other. It is very similar to how their last revue ended, with the two of them charging towards each other in a similar straight line.

In the show’s revue, Futaba is blinded by how dazzling Kaoruko had been in the past, and how dazzling she continues to be, and is unable to swing her weapon, so Kaoruko manages to win that revue. In the movie’s revue, Kaoruko is dazzled much the same way and is unable to swing her weapon, so this time Futaba wins the revue.

Only in the movie, this whole thing is happening on top of a very tall building, so after Kaoruko is blinded, she falls, just like Flora.

But this time, Claire, I mean Futaba, is able to hold on to her.

Instead of the two being separated or reunited at the top, this ending has Flora and Claire fall to the bottom of the tower, not quite achieving their promise yet, but still together.

[fuck-you-upmusicbracket]

One Day More (Les Miserables)

Watch 'em run amok (tomorrow you'll be worlds away)/Catch 'em as they fall/Never know your luckWhen there's a free-for-all/We'll be ready for these schoolboys (and yet with you, my world has started)/Tomorrow we'll be far away/Tomorrow is the judgment day/Tomorrow we'll discover what our God in Heaven has in store

"You have like ten different choruses all at the same time making a harmonious closing to Act I of Les Miserables."

Super Star Spectacle (Revue Starlight)

It's beautiful, it's dazzling, it's painful, it's frustrating/To take, to be taken from, it's heartrending/Being captivated, growing closer, being attracted, parting/In you, I end up losing myself

"I'm going to try to not say anything about the source material itself and start by saying this song has everything. It has the somber ballad at the start! It has the audio nightmare (loving) for dramatic effect! It has the more upbeat, catchy melody! It has the flute solo! It has the moment where it finally turns somber again, but in a more bittersweet way! Finally, it has the grand closing audio, sending off the song, the scene and the series as a whole! I will admit right now, between the scene it was in and the song itself, I began weeping the first time I heard that ending because of what it represented, and I won't deny that I sometimes cry over it! There might be songs from this series which I ultimately prefer just by a little, but no song fucked me up as much as this one did."

Super Star Spectacle submitted by @insertbrowsinghere

[dadvans]

STIEPPER AUUUUUU AU UAUAUAU UAU AU (thats me making wolf noises)

this is one i have fully fleshed out and am excited about, but it's also suffering from the "i've re-written every scene three times until perfect," so i don't have a great, long snippet to share.

the premise is essentially that instead of moving to peru from oregon--where let me just remind everyone, portland is one of the few places in the US where you can get full nude and drinks without a crazy amount of legal maneuvering or being grandfathered from an older age--buck met several strippers and followed them down to los angeles instead. he works second string at a bar that does magic mike/thunder from down under-esque revues, but every other week has a gay night, where he takes extra shifts because the money is good, and it's the best night for tips, since the usual headliners aren't performing. working as a stripper for gay men makes buck realize he's into guys much earlier in this universe. he meets tommy on thanksgiving while working a private party for a divorced CEO who wanted to celebrate the holidays with some costumed strippers (thanks for that one, robert downey jr!)

tommy, still mostly closeted and with the 118, ends up getting flirted with, going to a gay night where buck recognizes him, and they start having a secret romance, which includes tommy flying him and some stripper friends to palm springs for some extra events, and them going to desert parties. but no dates in public.

their relationship comes to a cross-roads when the same week where buck suggests they go on a date for valentines, tommy runs into one of buck's stripper friends in another, non-stripper related emergency, and gets spooked. dun dun dun!

[caramelmochacrow]

"Beating so fast, seems like it'll burst..."

[our-lady-of-haymakers]

Of all the ships I've seen that suffer from a transposition into the usual fluffy barista shop/ magic academy/ regular college type of AU scenario that is all too common in fanworks, MayaKuro have to be at the very top?

Like, no offense to anyone who likes their domestic fantasies, but I genuinely struggle to imagine any context in which these women would be interested in each other that did not involve some manner of smashing each other's heads into a table or nonconsensual knifeplay. This is a dangerously cancellable take, but I think that MayaKuro without the potential for at least a little mutual domestic abuse is the equivalent of shipping rich celebrities and cooing over paparazzi shots of them at the same airport. The primary thing that makes these extraordinarily privileged women captivating is their ability to negate said privilege by laying into each other, ideally with some manner of murder attempt. Yeah, sure, they support each other as destined partners or whatever, but Revue Starlight's entire narrative appeal comes from its dizzying and breathtaking alternations of extremely homoerotic friendship and even more homoerotic enmity that are meant to embody a ruthless industry. Remove that cruelty and all you have left is a glowing PR narrative.

A MayaKuro story that does not evoke the mixed bliss and dread of knowing that the person who probably understands you best in the world is also gunning for you in a zero sum game with every one of your greatest weaknesses mapped into her brain, and the fact that this turns you on so immensely that you cannot live anymore without this thrill of mutually assured destruction, is a MayaKuro story without flavour. *Giraffe voice* I paid to see them hurt each other.

[waffleweirdo]

Thinking about how Revues are themselves an embodiment of inescapable change. Revues are the dramatic breaking point of conflicts between stage girls.

No one is able to emerge from a Revue unchanged. Something will be broken, something will be learned, something will be altered.

To run away, to be defeated, to emerge victorious, all will inevitably cause change. In that sense the stage itself is an existential force of change.

Beyond just the stage girls, Revue Starlight reinforces this idea by showing us the world be physically altered by the revues.

Ultimately revues are explosions of stage girls’ passion. To participate in a revue is to stand on stage with your heart bare. And because there is unstoppable change no matter the outcome to stand on stage means one faces inexorable change.

Crucially this applies, win, or loss, or flee. Even stage girls who don’t wish to change or deny change are already changing others and being changed.

[metamorphicmuse]

War-Time Love (Based on a True Story)

Here's a real letter which was written by a World War 2 veteran to his lost lover, a fellow soldier. While rarely documented, this attestation to love among soldiers stands out as a tender, if impossible, reminder that it did occur. I've imagined they must have been part of the Special Services Branch based on historical details. The letter is a real artifact. The images are imagined but no less real.

Dear Dave:

This is in memory of an anniversary–the anniversary of October 27th, 1943, when I first heard you singing in North Africa. That song brings memories of the happiest times I’ve ever known. Memories of a GI show troop–curtains made from barrage balloons–spotlights made from cocoa cans–rehearsals that ran late into the evenings–and a handsome boy with a wonderful tenor voice. Opening night at a theater in Canastel–perhaps too much muscatel, and someone who understood. Exciting days playing in the beautiful and stately Municipal Opera House in Oran–a misunderstanding–an understanding in the wings just before opening chorus.

Drinks at “Coq d’or”–dinner at the “Auberge”–a ring and promise given. The show for 1st Armoured–muscatel, scotch, wine–someone who had to be carried from the truck and put to bed in his tent. A night of pouring rain and two very soaked GIs beneath a solitary tree on an African plain. A borrowed French convertible–a warm sulphur spring, the cool Mediterranean, and a picnic of “rations” and hot cokes. Two lieutenants who were smart enough to know the score, but not smart enough to realize that we wanted to be alone. A screw-ball piano player – competition – miserable days and lonely nights. The cold, windy night we crawled through the window of a GI theater and fell asleep on a cot backstage, locked in each other’s arms– the shock when we awoke and realized that miraculously we hadn’t been discovered. A fast drive to a cliff above the sea–pictures taken, and a stop amid the purple grapes and cool leaves of a vineyard.

The happiness when told we were going home–and the misery when we learned that we would not be going together. Fond goodbyes on a secluded beach beneath the star-studded velvet of an African night, and the tears that would not be stopped as I stood atop the sea-wall and watched your convoy disappear over the horizon.

We vowed we’d be together again “back home,” but fate knew better–you never got there. And so, Dave, I hope that where ever you are these memories are as precious to you as they are to me.

Goodnight, sleep well my love.

Brian Keith

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

~~What follows below is my imagined story of these two lovers, with the names changed to protect the dignity of the dead.~~

As Time Goes By

Nathan had never expected to be here.

One week ago, he was just another soldier in the North African campaign—following orders, keeping his head down, surviving. His uniform was dust-streaked, his boots worn, his days spent waiting. Then someone heard him singing. Just a quiet song in the barracks, something to fill the empty space between letters from home and the next long march. But it was enough. A lieutenant pulled him aside, asked a few questions, and by the next morning, his papers were signed. He was being transferred.

Now, he stood beneath a makeshift spotlight, on a stage stitched together from sandbags and salvaged wood, dressed in the same uniform but with a different purpose. The GI show was a ragtag affair—curtains made from barrage balloons, footlights crafted from tin cans and spare bulbs. Soldiers filled the seats, some smoking, some waiting, some already half-drunk.

Nathan exhaled, shifting slightly under the warmth of the light. His heart pounded. It wasn’t the audience that made him nervous—he’d sung before, in another life, in school productions and local revues. It was him - Matthew.

Nathan had only been in the troupe a few days, but he knew exactly who Matthew was. Everyone did. He was the leading man, the showrunner, the one who kept things moving, cracking jokes between acts, slipping effortlessly into character when the stage needed him. Matthew owned this world.

And yet—Nathan had felt his gaze on him all evening.

It had started the first day he arrived, during rehearsals. Matthew, watching. Matthew, teasing him—just a little, just enough. Trying to figure him out. But tonight was different. Tonight, Matthew sat in the front row, expression unreadable, arms crossed over his chest, eyes locked on Nathan as if he were waiting for something.

Nathan closed his eyes, took a breath. And he sang.

*You must remember this, a kiss is still a kiss…*

His rich tenor voice lifted through the dimly lit theater, wrapping around the men in the audience, filling the spaces between them, touching something unspoken. The song wasn’t new, but it was fresh in their minds—the war had seen to that. Casablanca had only come out last year, and everyone had felt something in it, even if they didn’t say it aloud.

But for Nathan, and maybe for Matthew too, it was something more. They had grown up knowing that love stories didn’t belong to them. They had spent their youth on stages where the romances they played were never theirs to keep. They had studied love, rehearsed it, recited it in iambic pentameter, and pressed their lips to women in the dim glow of theater lights, knowing it was all just an illusion.

And yet, here they were. In uniform. In a war zone. Listening to a love song that felt like it belonged to them for the first time.

Nathan didn’t see the audience anymore. Didn’t see the dim glow of cigarettes or the quiet, reflective faces of men thinking of sweethearts back home.

He only saw Matthew.

Matthew, who had been caught off guard. Matthew, who had spent weeks running this show, calling the shots, knowing exactly what to expec5—until now. Because Matthew hadn’t expected Nathan. Hadn’t expected this voice, this moment, this feeling curling inside him like something dangerous and real.

The lyrics rolled over him, soft and certain.

*The world will always welcome lovers, as time goes by…*

Nathan let the final note hang in the air before stepping back from the microphone, his pulse still pounding in his ears.

The applause came—steady, appreciative, a welcome break from war. But Matthew didn’t clap. He just sat there, staring at Nathan, eyes shadowed, expression unreadable.

And Nathan? Nathan finally understood.

He had never been the leading man before.

But tonight?

Tonight, Matthew had looked at him like he was.

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

A Series of Almosts

Things progressed as they usually do.

A glance, held a second too long before Nathan turned back to adjusting the microphone stand. A casual joke at mess, Matthew’s voice pitched just a little lower than usual, meant only for Nathan’s ears. A brush of fingertips when one passed the other a prop backstage, neither lingering but both aware.

A small but meaningful liberty—the kind afforded to soldiers whose jobs weren’t measured in miles marched or rifles fired. It was never much. But in a place where nothing belonged to them, these moments were their own.

Until the night they almost had too much.

They had minutes—maybe less. Matthew had pulled Nathan into the stockroom under the guise of looking for spare canvas, the pretense so thin it may as well have been an open invitation for trouble. The dim light made it easier to forget they were still in uniform, still in the war, still being watched even when no one was there to see.

Nathan was the first to falter. “You know this is a bad idea,” he murmured.

Matthew, standing close enough that their breaths mingled, barely smirked. “That never stopped us before.”

Nathan swallowed. He didn’t move away. Matthew lifted a hand, slow enough to let Nathan stop him. He didn’t. His fingers brushed over Nathan’s sleeve, tracing the place where their hands had met a dozen times before—only this time, neither of them was passing a prop or adjusting a collar or making an excuse. This time, Nathan let him.

This time—The door creaked.

Nathan barely had time to move before two lieutenants stepped inside, both of them carrying the casual air of men who weren’t looking for anything but had already found exactly what they expected.

“Ah, there you are,” the first said, too cheerful, too pointed. He didn’t bother asking why they were here.

Matthew straightened just a little too fast, stepping back to grab a crate, as if this had been nothing at all. “Sir.”

The second lieutenant didn’t even glance at the crates. Instead, he leaned against the nearest shelf and sighed, as if settling in for a long, excruciatingly dull conversation. “You know,” he started, “I was just saying the other day—logistics out here are a damn mess. I mean, supply routes, requisition forms, the whole thing. Just a nightmare, really.”

Nathan stood completely still.

The other lieutenant made a noise of agreement, shaking his head. “And don’t even get me started on fuel rations. God, the paperwork.”

Matthew nodded along, expression perfectly neutral, but Nathan could see the tightness in his jaw.

Neither lieutenant was looking at them anymore. They didn’t have to. The message was clear.

We see you. We won’t say anything. But don’t be stupid.

After droning on about the various papers to be pored over before the night shift, the first lieutenant clapped his hands together, as if that thrilling conversation had settled all matters of logistics and rationing for the evening. “Well. I think we’ve spent enough time on that.”

His gaze flicked to Matthew, then Nathan. Pointed. Brief. Final.

Then he turned for the door. The second lieutenant followed, but not before muttering something under his breath—too soft for Nathan to catch, but it made Matthew’s jaw twitch.

Then they were alone again. The air had changed. Nathan exhaled, forcing himself to look anywhere but at Matthew. His hands were shaking, so he grabbed the nearest crate and made himself useful. Matthew, beside him, did the same.

Neither of them spoke. Neither of them had to. They had been given a warning.

They had also been given a choice. And the next time—when they had another moment, when there was another quiet place, when fate gave them the smallest sliver of privacy again—

Nathan knew exactly what choice he was going to make.

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

A Quiet Favor

The base was quiet.

No rehearsals, no performances, no last-minute scrambling to set up a stage. Just soldiers moving through their routines, mail being sorted, the distant sound of a radio crackling out big band music from someone’s tent. No show tonight. No show tomorrow.

Matthew leaned against the doorway of the officer’s quarters, one boot resting against the wooden frame. He had spent just enough time building an easy rapport with Lieutenant Calloway—the kind of officer who liked things running smoothly and saw no reason to make a problem where there wasn’t one.

“The base is quiet today,” Calloway muttered, signing off on a requisition form.

“That it is,” Matthew agreed, casual as ever.

Calloway sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He wasn’t a bad officer. He was a man who appreciated the things that kept his soldiers from losing their damn minds, and the Special Services troupe had been doing just that—keeping spirits up, making the long weeks a little more bearable.

Matthew and Nathan? They were the best part of the show. Nathan had that voice—the one that made men pause mid-drink, made them lean forward without realizing it, made them forget where they were for just a moment. And Matthew? Matthew made it all work. He was the one who made Calloway laugh even when he didn’t want to.

Were they inseparable? Yes. Did Calloway care? Not even a little.

He exhaled, looked up, and smirked. “Let me guess. You want to get off base for a few hours.”

Matthew grinned. “Could be nice to stretch our legs.”

Calloway eyed him, then flicked his gaze toward the motor pool. The captured French convertible sat under the shade of a canvas tarp, a sleek little thing in dire need of a proper wash. It had been one of many vehicles left behind when the Vichy forces surrendered—now a “general-use” car for errands and, occasionally, small liberties.

“Lunch at the coast,” Calloway said, voice dry, as if he already knew the excuse Matthew was about to offer.

Matthew tilted his head. “Something like that.”

A pause. The lieutenant tapped his fingers against the desk, then sighed. “Take the convertible.”

Matthew barely held back a smirk. “Obliged.”

Calloway pointed at him with the end of his pen. “Back before sundown. I don’t want to have to explain why my best performers disappeared into the goddamn Mediterranean.”

Matthew gave him an easy salute. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Nathan was waiting by the barracks, already knowing, already anticipating. He straightened when he saw Matthew approaching, a faint hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “We got it?” Nathan asked.

Matthew tossed him the keys. “We got it.”

And just like that—They weren’t soldiers. They weren’t performers.

For one afternoon, they were just two men with a borrowed car and the open road ahead of them.

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

A Stolen Afternoon

The road curved, dipping toward the coastline, the sea stretching wide before them—deep, endless blue, sunlight glinting off the waves like scattered gold.

Nathan slowed the convertible as they neared a small cove, a secluded stretch of beach where the sand sloped gently into the water. The wind carried the scent of salt and warm earth, the air thick with the kind of quiet only found far from war.

Matthew grinned before the car even stopped moving. “Come on,” he said, already reaching for the door handle. Nathan barely had time to cut the engine before Matthew was out, boots crunching against the sand as he stepped onto the beach, hands on his hips like he was staking a claim on the entire Mediterranean.

Nathan shook his head, smirking as he climbed out, stretching his arms above his head. The sun felt different here—hotter, brighter, like it had never known war, never known uniforms or rules or anything beyond this moment.

Matthew turned back toward him, then glanced at the waves, then back at him. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

Nathan raised an eyebrow. “That the water’s probably freezing?”

Matthew’s grin widened as he hastily untied his boots. “Only one way to find out.” And then he bolted.

Nathan laughed, kicking off his boots before running after him, sand shifting beneath his feet as they raced toward the shore. Matthew hit the water first, letting out a startled yelp as the icy Mediterranean crashed around his ankles.

“Jesus—that’s cold.”

Nathan skidded to a stop just as the waves rolled over his own feet, hissing between his teeth at the shock of it. The heat of the sun had lied—the water was sharp and biting, enough to make his skin prickle.

Matthew groaned dramatically, running a hand through his wet hair. “That’s it. I’m staying right here. No deeper.”

Nathan snorted. “Coward.”

“Smart,” Matthew corrected, stepping back to stand beside him.

For a moment, they just breathed it in. The war felt impossibly far away. There were no uniforms here, no lieutenants watching, no stockrooms with creaking doors. Just the rhythmic pull and retreat of the waves, the soft laughter of gulls, and the sound of their own breathing blending with the tide. Nathan started to lose himself in thought, and Matthew edged closer to rest his forehead on Nathan's.

Another cold wave crashed at their knees. Matthew sighed. “I’m starving.”

Nathan shook his head with a small smile. “We’re on a beach in the Mediterranean, and you’re thinking about food.”

“I can appreciate both.”

With that, they waded back onto the warm sand, settling near the car, where their makeshift meal was waiting—ration tins and two bottles of Coke, still lukewarm from the heat of the day.

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

Nothing

Nathan cracked his open, the fizz hissing softly in the still air. He took a sip, grimacing. “Tastes awful.”

“Yep,” Matthew agreed, doing the same. He lifted his bottle slightly. “To stolen afternoons.”

Nathan met his gaze, watching the way the sun lit Matthew’s profile, the way the light made everything golden and unreal, a moment slipping between reality and something else entirely.

“To stolen afternoons,” he murmured, lifting his own bottle in return. They clinked them together gently, letting the sound vanish into the waves.

The sun sat higher now, warming the sand beneath them, casting light over their skin, their uniforms, their discarded boots beside the car.

Nathan had leaned back, hands pressed into the sand behind him, his bottle of cola resting half-finished beside his knee. He was still gazing out at the Mediterranean, watching the waves roll in, slow and steady. Matthew had finished eating a few minutes ago, but he hadn’t moved.

He was watching Nathan. Had been for a while.

Nathan must have felt it because, after a long silence, he sighed and let his head tilt toward him, his expression unreadable. “What?” he asked, though his voice lacked curiosity.

Matthew smirked, shaking his head. “Nothing.”

Nathan held his gaze for a second longer before exhaling through his nose. He stretched his legs out, letting his bare toes dig into the warm sand, his body easing further into relaxation.

Matthew shifted, leaning back on one arm while his free hand absently traced lines in the sand between them.

It wasn’t nothing. It was everything.

It was the weight of a stolen afternoon, of borrowed time, of knowing what he wanted and not knowing if he’d ever have it again.

Matthew cleared his throat. “You’re quiet.”

Nathan made a soft, noncommittal sound. “Mm.”

Matthew tilted his head. “Thinking?”

Nathan smirked, glancing at him. “Not everything is thinking, you know.”

“Mm.” Matthew mocked his answer, a teasing glint in his eyes. “So what is this, then?”

Nathan exhaled, tilting his face toward the sky. “Existing.”

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

A Test

Matthew watched him for another long moment. The sea breeze shifted Nathan’s hair, and the way the sunlight caught on his cheekbones, the line of his jaw, the curve of his throat as he breathed—

Matthew’s fingers twitched against the sand. He sat up.

Nathan barely moved, only watching as Matthew shifted onto his knees, brushing sand from his trousers. The tension was there, but it wasn’t sharp. It was slow. Heavy.

The kind that sank into your bones and made you feel alive in a way you couldn’t explain.

Nathan didn’t move, didn’t speak as Matthew reached for his wrist.

A test. A question.

Nathan let him.

Matthew traced his thumb over the inside of his wrist, slow, deliberate. Felt the warmth of his pulse beneath his fingertips.

Nathan exhaled through his nose, his lips parting slightly.

Matthew watched his mouth.

Nathan swallowed. “We should—”

“I know.” Matthew’s voice was quiet, but sure.

His fingers slid higher, barely brushing over Nathan’s palm, and Nathan let him.

The tide pulled in.

Nathan’s breath hitched as Matthew leaned in, close enough that he could see the sunlight reflecting in Matthew’s eyes, catching in the lighter strands of his hair.

They weren’t careless.

They weren’t reckless.

They were just here.

Matthew let the moment sit, let it breathe, watching Nathan watching him, feeling the way Nathan’s fingers curled slightly, barely resisting, barely holding back.

The waves lapped at the shore.

Nathan licked his lips.

Matthew made a choice. He didn’t kiss him. Not yet.

But he leaned in, until their foreheads touched, until the sun-warmed space between them was gone, until Nathan sighed—deep, surrendering, wanting.

And then—finally—Nathan lifted his hand, resting it lightly against Matthew’s jaw.

An answer.

A yes.

And this time, Matthew took it.

Nathan didn’t move at first. Not away. Not closer. His fingers rested lightly against Matthew’s jaw, as if testing the weight of his own decision—of his own want. Matthew let him.

The Mediterranean air was warm against their skin, the waves rolling in, the sand shifting beneath them. It was safe here. As safe as the world would ever allow.

Nathan inhaled, slow, steady. Matthew could feel the breath against his lips, the barest quiver of hesitation between them.

Then—Nathan closed the distance.

It was careful. Measured. Deliberate.

A kiss like something discovered, not taken.

Like something they had been waiting to find.

Matthew exhaled against his mouth, leaning into it, feeling Nathan—really feeling him—without the weight of war, of uniforms, of fear pressing between them.

For one afternoon, they were only this.

Matthew's fingers curled against Nathan’s wrist, holding him there as their lips met again—slow, savoring, as if learning the shape of something they weren’t allowed to name.

Nathan sighed against him, his thumb barely brushing against Matthew’s cheekbone, and something in Matthew’s chest cracked wide open.

They didn’t rush. Not this. They let the moment linger, let it settle, let it exist in a way neither of them had ever been allowed to exist before.

And when Nathan finally broke away, it was with a breathless sort of laughter, forehead still pressed against Matthew’s, eyes half-lidded in the golden sunlight.

“God,” he murmured, shaking his head slightly, his lips barely brushing against Matthew’s again. “We’re idiots.”

Matthew grinned, breath still uneven. “Biggest ones in the damn war.”

Nathan exhaled, a small smile curving at the corner of his mouth. But his fingers lingered against Matthew’s jaw, as if committing the moment to memory.

Matthew knew they couldn’t stay here forever. Knew that the sun would lower, and the car would have to return to base, and that this moment—this impossible, stolen, sacred moment—would have to end.

But not yet.

Not yet.

Matthew shifted, pressing one more kiss to the corner of Nathan’s mouth.

Then, just as deliberately as before, Nathan pulled him down into the sand, where the waves rolled in and the world disappeared.

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

How Long Do They Have?

Long enough to breathe.

Long enough to linger.

Long enough for Nathan to keep his forehead against Matthew’s, their breath still uneven, their bodies still tangled, their fingers still grasping for something neither of them wanted to let go of.

Long enough for Matthew to let out a quiet, shaky laugh—a sound of wonder, of disbelief, of something unspoken but deeply felt.

Long enough for Nathan to trace the edge of Matthew’s jaw, his thumb skimming the damp skin at his temple, his lips parting as if to say something—but not saying it.

Long enough to not need words.

Long enough for Matthew to close his eyes, to sigh as Nathan shifted against him, as the heat of the sun and the warmth of each other blurred into one.

Long enough to memorize this.

Because there would not be another afternoon like this. They both knew it.

Nathan could feel it in the way Matthew’s fingers curled, but never fully grasped—never fully held him in place. Matthew could feel it in the way Nathan’s breath caught, but never turned into words—never became something permanent.

They had minutes. Maybe longer. But the sun was inching toward its descent.

And Nathan—who had spent his whole life waiting—did not want to wait for the moment this would end.

So they did not move. They only breathed. They only existed in the space they had made for each other.

Because they had made this, together. And if all they had left was his fading golden hour—then they would not waste a second of it.

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

The Cooldown

The sun hangs lower now, stretching golden fingers across the sand, spilling light over them in a quiet benediction.

The afternoon wind shifts, cool against their warmed skin, stirring the waves into a gentle call.

Nathan’s fingers flex, brushing against Matthew’s knuckles, and then he exhales, stretching. He turns his head toward the sea, as if remembering where they are, as if remembering that the moment is still theirs.

Matthew watches him for a beat longer. Still memorizing. Still holding on.

But then— Nathan tilts his head back toward him, a slow, contented smile on his lips.

"Come on," he murmurs, his voice still drowsy, still wrapped in warmth. "The water’s waiting."

And just like that—he is reaching first this time.

Nathan rises, shaking off the last remnants of stillness, of surrender, of rest, of love settled deep in his bones

Matthew exhales a soft laugh, shaking his head as he watches him go. But he follows. Of course, he follows.

They leave their uniforms folded in the sand, wading into the Mediterranean with the same ease, the same inevitability that brought them to each other.

Nathan moves first, stepping forward until the waves lap at his ribs, his head tilting back as the water cools the last traces of fire from his skin.

Matthew watches, standing just behind, before a smirk pulls at his lips and—with one decisive motion—he splashes him.

They push, pull, tumble, weightless in the salt and the sun, until breathless gasps turn to easy floating, until the playfulness settles into something quieter, something softer.

And for a while, there is nothing but the lull of waves, the endless stretch of the horizon, the feeling of existing completely, entirely, within a moment that cannot be taken from them.

The war will call them back soon.

The car will carry them away from this place, this day, this version of themselves that exists only here, in this golden light, in this fleeting, eternal afternoon.

But not yet. Not while the sea still welcomes them. Not while their bodies are still weightless in the salt and the sun.

Not while they still belong to this moment.

And so they go, to wash themselves clean, to cool the fire on their skin, to step together into the waves, knowing that no matter what happens next—

They were here.

This was real.

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

The Ring, The Promise, The Memory of the Sea

They return to base regretfully.

The drive back is quieter than the drive there, the air thicker, heavier, full of something unspoken. The road winds ahead, dust curling behind them, the scent of salt still clinging to their skin. They do not rush, but they do not linger.

The world is waiting for them again. By the time they arrive, the golden hour has faded into the cool edge of twilight. The moment has passed, but the weight of it remains.

Lieutenant Calloway watches them approach, standing near the barracks, arms folded. He doesn’t look annoyed. He doesn’t look surprised. "How was the swim?"

Matthew, ever quick, ever the showman, gives a casual smirk. “Good, sir. Refreshing.”

Nathan glances at him—just a flicker, just a beat—before nodding. "Yeah. It was good."

Lieutenant Calloway looks at them both. He sees more than sun-kissed skin. He sees more than wet hair and salt-streaked arms.

He sees the change in them.

The way they stand just a little closer. The way their voices are too steady, too careful. The way they look at each other without looking at all.

But Lieutenant Calloway is no fool. He does not ask what he already knows.

Instead, he exhales, gives a short nod, and mutters, "Good. Glad you made it back before dark - barely. Get some rest. Big show coming up."

And just like that—the world returns.

The normalcy.

The routine.

The performance of daily life.

Nathan sings again. Matthew charms a crowd again. Their days resume, full of staged laughter, careful movements, rehearsed lines.

But the sea has not left them. The rising and the falling of the tide still pull at them.

It stays in Nathan’s voice, in the way he sings just a little differently now, in the way Matthew hears something new in every note.

It stays in the weight of their gazes, the brushes of their hands when passing a prop, the slow, lingering minutes before sleep takes them at night.

And then, one night, after a show, Matthew finds his chance.

The world is quieter in the wings, where the only light is the glow from the stage beyond. The last soldier lingers off, laughing in the distance. Nathan is rolling up a spare cord when Matthew catches his wrist, tugs him back into the shadows.

Nathan stills, looking at him, questioning. He sees something raw in Matthew's eyes, something full of urgency.

And then—Matthew presses something into his palm.

A ring.

Cheap. Small. Nothing. Everything.

Nathan exhales a soft laugh, looking down at it, laughing, touched. “What the hell is this?”

Matthew doesn’t laugh. He watches him—serious, steady, certain.

"I mean it," Matthew says, voice low, voice careful. "After the war. We'll find each other."

Nathan blinks, his fingers curling around it instinctively. He swallows, tries for something easy, something light, but it doesn’t come. Because Matthew means it.

Nathan doesn’t say yes. He doesn’t say, I promise.

Because promises in war are fragile things.

But he slips the ring onto his finger. And Matthew sees that for what it is.

A vow. An answer.

A quiet yes when the world does not allow them to speak it aloud.

Nathan keeps it. Wears it.

And within a few weeks, he is gone. His unit is called to a new front.

Because that is how war is.

Because the world does not stop for love.

Matthew watches him leave. Nathan does not look back.

But Matthew knows— That Nathan carries the sea with him now.

That Nathan carries that day with him now.

That Nathan carries him with him now.

And somewhere, in the folds of a uniform, against the skin of his hand, the ring remains.

A promise.

A memory.

A hope that, one day, the sea will bring them back to each other.

[cephalophora]

Hi, i'm not particularly familiar with that series nor are we mutuals or anything but this appeared on my for you page and i love magical girls so i hope you don't mind if i give my 2 cents lol!

Firstly, i have to say that i really love the second rough draft! Imo, though Lady Maria wears very muted colors even compared to other knights of Cainhurst, adding a little color in magical girl settings is almost mandatory (in my humble opinion). I'd think she'd keep being mostly dark brown and black with touches of red, but the addition of blue was a really nice touch that really helps the red & black stand out much more! I love that effect a lot.

Now, since you mentioned you do want to keep her looking butch in her transformed form (as opposed to like Sailor Uranus who has to wear the same government mandated miniskirt as everyone else RIP) i think there are a lott of possible ways to incorporate that in a magical girl outfits that could look very cool! Below is some badly done collages of outfits i think that could give you some inspo in general, one for fictional characters and one for ouji lolita styles which i think work wonderfully for masc magical girls. I think magical girls do not have to be PreCure levels of over the top to work (like, MadoMagi franchise has a distinctly simple shape to their girls, usually based on real life lolita fashion and it works really well and is, in my controversial opinion, more charming to look at) but you can overexaggerate those as much as you want!

As for the clock motif, i just think... Steampunk. Just like. In general. Those guys do love gears and clocks where they weren't supposed to be but hey, it does look cool. The possibilities are truly endless and there's no real wrong way to apply that principle.

Cases in point:

Is anyone a fan of bloodborne and also Ginjnaninjaowo's Prism series?? Please I'm fighting for my life trying to make Maria into a magical girl Notes on First Rough Draft:

I realized I didn't know how the hell magical girls worked. I only ever watched madoka and it's a lot like a very intricate clock to me, as in I can see somewhat how it works, but the actual components are foreign to me. In trying to be as extra as a magical girl, the whole thing feels incohesive. The thing is, Maria has to have a strong color palette since she's one of the old hunters and I don't know how to even begin balancing said palette if black and white don't count. I'm also at a disadvantage since most of bloodborne is covered in red and black and the clocktower is an intentional washed out grey. I couldn't find a shape that was simple enough to read as "prism shape" to me. This was somewhat fun but what the hell reads as "Clock" here other than her weapons? So definitely more references are needed.

Notes on Second Rough Draft:

I just looked up pirate magical girl since I'm very attached to the cravat and I just wanted to figure out how someone would keep that while doing magical girl stuff. As someone who is a firm lover of butch women, this felt like sacrilege- almost like I just drew Gherman's fantasy. There are colors though! And she has her funny lil hat that I love. The trim is bit weird but I was afraid of overusing the clock ticks. Still feels miles ahead of the other design though so I'll take it!

please, if you have any questions or suggestions- dm me or throw something in my ask box. Thank you ;-;