#full of contradictions that make PERFECT sense when you think about it for longer

[darkacademiaarchivist]

according to like all the papers i've been reading about it there was / is a lot of discourse about whether Frederik Ruysch should be considered and artist or a scientist and i say it completely goes hand it hand, it doesn't have to be either or... he clearly did a lot of things that went beyond scientific curiosity but also made so much scientific progress so yeah... both

[ganonfan1995]

hmm I lied I do have more writing! This is an alternative scene with Zelda revealing the truth of her presence in the past to Gan. This one is a lot longer, more poetic. I actually posted a snippet of this here with some art earlier in the year. It’s an entirely different direction, a bit softer, but I wasn’t entirely happy with how flowery it was.

Not even going to lie I’ve written this scene more times over than I’d like to admit. Though I feel like this could still work in the greater fic. This is only half of the truth after all~

Zelda was perched neatly on the edge of the rooftop, her sun-kissed knees pressed tightly together, betraying her discomfort. Gan stood a short distance away, leaning against a pillar with his arms loosely crossed.

“Is there something I’m missing, or are you going to keep that a secret from me as well?” he prodded.

Zelda remained silent, prompting Gan to roll his eyes in frustration. Despite spending months together, he hadn’t gleaned much from her, aside from the sparse details she deigned to share at the tribunal. Suppressing his irritation, he shuffled closer and settled beside her. She avoided meeting his gaze at all costs, but the reddened edges of her eyes indicated she had been crying.

“Listen, I—” he started, but she drew a knee up to her chest, resting her cheek against it. She seemed impossible to reach, but Gan felt compelled to speak his mind.

“I’m not trying to make you feel worse, Zelda– Really, that’s not my intention. It’s just– I know next to nothing about you. You contradict yourself at every turn, you're cold and detached, and whenever I try to get close to you or even try to help, you treat me like I’m some sort of villain…”

He noticed Zelda fidgeting, her fingers tracing a crack in the stone. She was listening but had nothing to offer, so Gan continued.

“Sometimes it feels like I’ve done something unforgivable to you,” he confessed. Pausing, he noticed a few stray tears roll down her cheeks as she turned her head slightly. “It’s almost personal, and I want to apologize, to make amends, but I’m not even sure what I’d be apologizing for. For taking you in? For saving you from being thrown out of the city during the upheaval? For trying to be a friend, to understand you?”

If he had been concealing his bitterness, it was now on full display. He pushed a hand back through his hair, exhaling in frustration.

Zelda finally spoke, her voice tinged with grief that continued to elude Gan. “So you truly don’t remember.”

That was cryptic.

Gan puzzled her question for a moment before remembering that this woman had been nothing but cryptic since they met. Deciding to humor her, he replied bluntly. “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about. I truly do not remember.��� He attempted to scrub any hint of sarcasm from his tone, but the statement alone felt bizarre enough to verge on sounding sarcastic anyways.

Zelda rubbed her face, her demeanor stoic, but something about his response seemed to soothe her into a more reasonable disposition. “Okay,” she stated plainly, honestly. “I guess I really have no other option but to trust you.” Her words carried weight, yet Gan didn’t let them affect him. He might have been a scoundrel, a brat, and a bit of a smart-ass, but he liked to think he was trustworthy. At the very least, he was true to his word when it truly mattered.

The day's scorching heat peaked, the coast offering little relief with its near-cloudless and unforgiving sky. So when Zelda spoke, Gan couldn't shake an inexplicable shiver down his spine. “The first time this happened, it felt uncanny, unbelievable, but I admitted it right away to the first people who would listen,” she said carefully, still withholding full trust from the ears eagerly listening. “This time, it’s hard to admit it out loud, even to myself. When I’m here with you, and you’re— You’re you, but you’re not him.”

Gan struggled to follow, finding her words making perfect sense to her. He tilted his head curiously, urging her to continue. “Have you always talked in riddles?” He smirked, but Zelda furrowed her brows as if in secret disagreement with herself.

“Ganondorf,” she said, hugging her knees so tightly he feared they might break. “How well do you know yourself, your ambitions, your desires?”

“What kind of question is that? What are you getting at?”

“Please, just… answer the question.”

“Fine, okay!” He gestured dismissively. “It’s not really a question I even know how to answer. How well can I know myself right now? I know my favorite foods, the music I like to dance to at banquets, maybe my ambition is to make my parents proud, to feel like I’ve really grown to fulfill the role of Heroine. As for my desires…” He paused, letting the silence linger between them. “I guess like anyone else, I want a fulfilling life surrounded by good things and good people.”

Zelda seemed content with his answer, and with a heavy sigh, shut her eyes in deep contemplation. “I had a great power once.” She started, carefully articulating each and every one of her words. “I was a princess, born with the sole purpose of defending an old and weary kingdom. Had it all gone as planned, perhaps I’d have grown old in that kingdom, taken my place as queen as my ancestors had all done before me. My people held claim to that power, my power, it’s what brought us peace and prosperity, a gift from our goddess. But we forgot ourselves, our history, and I so selfishly yearned to uncover it.

The last calamity was my first, and I failed in my task to prevent it from taking place. It was my only job, the only thing my station required of me. But my ears were deaf to divine words, and I struggled to find my latent powers until all I had ever known and loved was shattered, destroyed right in front of me. Finally, when I thought it had all come to an end, when my last hero fell in the field, that guilt, that remorse, that desperation came flowing out of me all at once. Whatever grief I carried with me, the demons, the pain of losing my friends one by one until all that stood between me and that beast was a soldier no older than myself— then, and only then I felt it. I felt that power, that light. I wasn’t able to turn back time, funnily enough. If I knew that I could, maybe it would have turned out for the better. He’d have his life, I’d have mine, and all those I held dear would be returned home.

There’s a beast who haunted our kingdom, and for the longest time I never understood what that creature wanted. I spent a long time with it after that final battle, after my power had awoken bound together in a stasis that spanned a century. All the while I watched as my home crumbled and my people rebuilt. All that time I kept thinking to myself, the second I step foot on those hallowed grounds, breathing in the smell of sweet grass and summer wine, I’d do better. I’d rebuild with them, I’d change, I’d do as I was told, I’d keep sweet and do what was right for them.

For some time I did that, I settled down, built a school— and as reluctant as I was, even taught at it. I adored those children, and they adored me, but strange as it may seem I was deeply envious of their blissful innocence. Initially, I taught history to emphasize the importance of our losses, but if I’m honest, I only ever wanted them to grieve as I did— to take with them a piece of my own misery so I felt less alone. But children don’t like scary stories, and overtime they become less interested in their historical lessons. Their parents preferred that I spent time on more productive matters, farming, animal husbandry, you know, practical pastoral skills fit for rural life.

I was born nobility, so naturally I spent less and less time at the school, until I found myself locked up in my study, away from prying eyes. Despite having sealed the beast away with my own two hands, I felt something pulling at my soul, like there was something unfinished. And one night, one cold and long forgotten night, a memory from my childhood lurked at the edges of my mind. A story about an evil that slept under the floors of my home, deep under the old bricks, the old halls, in a crypt long since sealed off. And I couldn’t let it go. For months it lingered in my subconscious, like a broken shutter rasping day and night against the side of my house. Somedays I would forget it when the wind was still, but then it would come all over again, creaking, creaking, creaking.

I put together a survey team, I set up a base, and in my foolishness I stormed my former home and prison with a purpose. And through the basement, down the stairs, and the winding dusty crypt there stood a door. An old, old, door, made of iron and steel. It was shut tight, but I urged our team to break it down–I ordered them��even though they were scared, even though they were finally safe, after a century of misfortune. I ordered them to break down the only thing keeping that— that monster from resurfacing, and they followed through, because I was their ruler, their goddess, their princess returned. They loved me, they trusted me, and I betrayed that trust for a selfish little hobby.

And there, down deep in that crypt I heard him call to me, a voice sweetened with venom, urging me closer, ever so close. It was an angry voice, wrought with hunger and disgust, but I beckoned to it as if it were a siren call. Somewhere deep within my soul that shutter broke clean off the hinges, it lay broken against the foundation of my home, and I knew I was somewhere I shouldn’t have been. Yet I was satisfied, my curiosity quenched like a desperate thirst in the blistering heat. I know now I should have fixed that shutter, bolted it shut so it could never rasp again, yet I let it remind me over and over and over again, that something more lay dormant beneath the halls of my childhood home. But when I saw him, his mangled, aging corpse, suspended in time, with the hand of the founding king buried deep within his chest, I felt everything but regret. All my apprehension faded from my subconscious, long enough to allow myself to be seduced by that unyielding and violent melody. Then in a split second, all I knew slipped out from underneath me yet again, I slipped into what felt like an unwinding eternity, and then I awoke, not in the crypt or under the castle.”

Gan sat rigid, eyes fixed on her with avid interest. He sensed a faint familiarity to the tale, a fleeting remembrance from a long-ago dream. However, the feeling dissipated as quickly as it arose. Without feeling compelled to interject, he allowed her to continue with rapt attention. At that moment, Zelda unfolded her knees from her chest. From a necklace concealed under the collar of her tunic, she retrieved a small stone bead, no larger than the palm of her hand. Her secret stone, nestled among jade and copper beads, had lost its divine luster— the surface now dulled to a shallow sheen resembled a quartz more than anything else. Holding it loosely between her fingers, she let it sway gently. Gan observed intently, searching for any significance it might hold.

"At first, I believed it to be a nightmare, or maybe I had perished in the cave-in. Despite its appearance now, this bead once possessed a property that allowed its user to amplify the power latent within their souls. And my power... was time, and I had unintentionally transported myself back in history…precisely 40 years from now."

Gan leaned in for a closer look, but almost instinctively, she snatched the gem away, her eyes wide with an unfounded fear. Though he had no intention of taking it from her, Zelda's strong reaction prompted him to give her space. He reclined on his arm, giving her room.

"So, how did you get here?" he asked innocently. Zelda remained guarded, her eyes scanning Gan for any potential threat, any sign of trickery or deceit. But in the young man who remained composed and genuinely curious, she found none. She tried to ease her nerves delicately, coaxing them to settle, but the result lingered in uncertainty.

"I should— that's enough." Then, without hesitation, the tension that had built up inside her reached its peak, prompting her to rise and leave.

Gan hurried to catch up, but she moved swiftly. Instant anxiety gripped him, and with a quick reach, he caught hold of her cape, halting her abruptly. Zelda froze, unmistakably gripped by sudden fear. Trembling, she fiercely swung her hand to bat away Gan's gentle grip.

"Don't touch me!" Her shout pierced through him, not directed at him, but seemingly through him, as if he were the beast from her past.

Gan stood there, dumbfounded. Zelda did not dare move a muscle, like a fawn caught by hunting dogs. “I’m sorry.” He quickly apologized, retracting his hand in an instant. “I shouldn’t have grabbed you, I didn’t think.”

Zelda blinked, caught in a daze by his sudden apology, and took a step back.

“Please, don’t run away.” He urged, sincerity plain on his face. “I don’t want you to run away, I only wanted to talk. I won’t hurt you, you’ve been through a lot, thank you, Zelda. Thank you for telling me, we can stop now.”

Zelda steadied herself, drawing in a shaky breath, her gaze seeming somewhat distant. "Why are you apologizing to me?"

Uncertain if she was addressing him directly, Gan gestured in confusion. "What do you mean— You're shaking like a leaf? I clearly crossed a boundary." He explained, sensing Zelda’s unease. Lowering his gaze, he spoke calmly, trying to convey patience. "Listen, I don't fully understand what's going on, and if you're not comfortable talking about it, we don't have to. I don't want to push."

She nodded, her gaze fixed on her feet, her hands a picture of anxiety. Despite her unease, she didn't show any intention of fleeing. Instead awkwardness and fear warred within her, keeping her rooted to the spot. “Thank you.” A small voice fluttered from her lips, it was sad but rife with gratitude.

He nodded in turn, and without really thinking, offered her his hand. He had no idea how to comfort her, only that he wanted to, but Zelda wore thorns for armor, and any kindness he showed prior was usually met with sudden fear and hostility. However, this time the gesture was small and from a distance, and her thorns ceased to pierce his skin. To his surprise, delicate fingers found their place against his and held on tight, as if a century of grief could be unwound with a single hand held.

They stayed like that, under the heavy heat of the afternoon sun, hand in hand on the roof of his childhood villa. They spoke no words, shared no glances, only the pulse that emanated through Zelda’s fingertips percussed the space between them. Had it not been for the crashing of the waves from the nearby shore, he’d have heard his own heart percuss as well, in time with hers.

[doshmanziari]

While returning to a piece I've been working on since last year on the question of what constitutes a reasonable challenge in game design, I've been thinking about the “perennial” discourse on difficulty FromSoftware's relatively recent titles resurrect each time a new one comes out — in particular, this idea that the difficulty should always be “intuitive." The idea seems to be a way of applying a sort of hindsight bias, casting every prior game as both The Hardest Game Ever and yet eminently predictable (with Dark Souls 2 as perhaps occasionally situated as an outlier in this regard). I was reminded of this contradictory sentiment while viewing the video above — which, just so you know, is not a 2.5-hours monologue, but a condensed, boss-centric playthrough of Dark Souls 3, done with the purpose of answering the question posed by the video's title.

Said differently, the contradiction we find is that people want these titles to be able to evolve in the challenges they present, but they also don't want them to be "unrealistically" hard. There is this notion that there is a kind of pure way to play, which stems from a purity of design, and that playing this way should come easily, intuitively, upon each new challenge. But! — you actually can't have all of those things. And with each new FromSoftware release, so many people seem to forget how the prior release, once lambasted for having finally crossed the threshold of absurd difficulty, has since been resituated as more or less reasonable, with the newer release now being so unfair that baby must cry, and may cry forever.

Is it not strange to go onto the Fextralife wiki and see comments about how Elden Ring's larger opponents are "unrealistically" fast? or to hear, in a video about Malenia, anger over bosses not conforming to imaginary symmetries of allowances? — as if it's just way too mean when a boss introduces an asymmetrical mechanic (despite the player being able to introduce their own asymmetries which far exceed any one boss')? And this persistent belief that the game is full of "unavoidable" attacks — obviously, this would forbid the possibility of perfect all-boss playthroughs; yet, even if there were some unavoidable attacks, why would that be unforgivable? A lifebar exists to make room for error, or the unexpected. Hypothetically, it also makes room for more malicious and surprising sorts of design. I think that the inability to enjoy cruder and nastier situations — such as those in Dark Souls 2 (especially Scholar of the First Sin) — implies a humorless prudishness rooted in prescriptive expectations. In fact, I think that Dark Souls 3 suffers from a lack crudities and inconveniences. Immaculateness is spread over the game like a waxy sheen, and one senses a loss of struggle and texture.

We have to be careful when we say that this or that thing is a "betrayal" of core design principles, because a closer examination may show that either those design principles never really existed, or that, if they did (to certain extents), a strict maintenance of them would only lead to a stagnation of design. In some cases, we may find that what is taken to be an aspect of one of these games is in fact an effect of the surrounding culture, which reinforces a kind of perception of the relevant media. Certainly, this remains powerfully at play for the first Dark Souls, such that, for instance, Demon's Souls tends to be excluded from the picture. Elden Ring came out when I was no longer compelled to spend much time learning its bosses' particularities for very long; but I suspect that the loudest whining about Elden Ring being the coffin of FromSoftware's Core Design Principles has mostly come from people who were soundly put in their place after thinking that the ability to own Dark Souls 3's (mostly brain-dead) bosses would automatically transfer over to a new game of similar build. Maybe we'll have to wait for this Shadow of the Erdtree DLC for FromSoftware to "finally" transgress (again), and for Elden Ring to, like all the ones before it, be seen as just fine.

[dyed-red]

What are your thoughts on how much time Sam’s soul spent in The Cage? If we go by established time lines in the show, 18 months = approx 180 years. But Lucifer is an arch angel and we know angels can manipulate time so I think it could have been longer, or least made to feel longer. I also believe that Sam would have been fluent in Enochian after spending that much time with Lucifer and Micheal. Thank you for answering if you have time! And I hope you enjoy and holiday time you have :)

welp - you did it.

you asked a question i’ve been thinking about for over a decade and unleashed the full fury of my brainworms in action. this is the type of meta i expect like 4 people total to be interested in, but i’m going to spend days working on because I Have Thoughts.

the short answer: somewhere between 180 - 5000 years, with my personal headcanon landing just over 700 years, or 1400 for maximum whump.

The behemoth long answer is under a cut because long and math and meta. Skip to the end if you just want the math. The tl;dr is that SPN canon implies that hell has layers and that time distorts more the deeper that you go, and we can build an equation for that distortion and get to basically whatever number suits our purposes depending on what assumptions we make going in.

Time Distortion in Hell

The length of time Sam’s soul felt/experienced the cage is a function of two factors: how long he spent there in earth terms, and the degree of temporal distortion hell creates.

The first piece is easy if we assume Sam’s soul spent 18 months in the cage* (footnotes at the end).

The second piece... Dean spent 4 months dead (time in earth terms) which was 40 years on the rack in terms of his experience/perception. If we take this assumption that 1 month = 1 decade, we get to use some very simple math to say that Sam spent 180 years in the cage.

But.

I’ve always personally interpreted Hell’s time distortion to run a bit different than a static 1 month = 1 decade. This headcanon derives from some hints in canon (or at least, this headcanon is not actively contradicted by moments in canon) and from other pieces of media.

I believe that the deeper you go into hell, the greater the temporal distortion is.

This is basically like the move Inception, I’m not even gonna try to pretend otherwise. There, the deeper you go into the dream within a dream, the more time dilation there is. It makes sense to me that SPN’s Hell canon works the same for several reasons.

For starters, when Sam's wall is breaking in s6, he has flashbacks where 2-3 minutes is equated with what feels like a week in the cage (episode 6x14). We can take this at perfect face value (meaning that Sam’s soul experienced about 5000 years in the Cage). Or we can interpret this to be a function of the episode he is experiencing, where temporal dilation is exaggerated because of the nature of his flashback, or we can say he is speaking in hyperbole.

I think it makes sense for the truth to be somewhere in the middle - Sam is speaking off the cuff, not entirely literal or exact about how long those 2-3 minutes felt like, but nonetheless honestly that they felt like days, felt much longer than our formula of 1 month = 1 decade allows. And I take that as a realistic reflection of his time spent in the pit.

Another, and far more overt piece of evidence comes in Season 11 when Sam visits ‘the Cage’. In 11x09 (O Brother Where Art Thou), we see Rowena, Crowley and Sam in Hell whereas Dean is on Earth, and there appears to be little to no temporal distortion occurring between the events below and the events above. This remains true in the following episode (11x10, the Devil in the Details) when Crowley phones Dean and when Dean comes down to join them in Hell (and Cas as well shortly after).

So - what gives? Is there temporal distortion occurring in Hell or not? Did they retcon that, forget about it, what?

Well, Crowley explicitly refers to this area of Hell as ‘Limbo’, which brings us to an understanding of Hell’s temporal distortion through the lens of the circles presented in Dante’s Inferno.

Circles of Hell

It’s fair and frustrating to say that canon doesn’t give us much in the way of understanding the structure and hierarchies of Hell. That gives us a lot of leeway, but I like to anchor my headcanons to canon if and when I can.

Thankfully, there is at least some reason to believe that Hell in this universe is structured at least somewhat similarly to Hell in other popular works of fiction that derive their conceptions of it from Dante’s Inferno (which itself is the popular mainstream view of hell that even a lot of Christian/Catholics have adopted, often without realizing at this point).

Dante’s Inferno provides a view of hell that has 9 circles, or layers, each one deeper into Hell than the last. SPN implies the same.

We get this from the use of Limbo, as stated above, since this is the term in the Inferno for the first circle. Crowley refers to Limbo as the “furthest reaches” of Hell, whereas in Dante’s Inferno, it’s the top layer. SPN plays fast and loose with what it takes vs. leaves from real-world mythos, but I take this to mean that “far” or “furthest” not in the sense of depth, but as a place which may be vast and largely empty, and which few demons can enter (since, as per the Inferno, it’s not a place where guilty souls actually end up, so possibly has quite restricted access to demons).

We also get evidence of these circles from Word of God through Sera Gamble, who has apparently said that the Cage is “At the bottom of the lowest depths of the ninth circle of the worst bit of Hell.” That’s pure Dante’s Inferno, ba-bey. (/mcelroy voice)

More evidence comes from Season 8 when Sam rescues Bobby’s soul from Hell, since he goes through Purgatory as a sort of back door to Hell, being told that Purgatory is “Hell adjacent”, which is true as well in the Inferno.

Another within-canon indirect hint of this is the association between Lucifer and ice. Dante’s Inferno keeps that the ninth circle of Hell, reserved for treachery, is a large frozen lake. And in the Inferno and in SPN canon, this is where the Devil is kept, in the Center of Hell, in the deepest frozen depths of the pit, the frozen lake in the ninth circle.

Also remembering that in early seasons, Lucifer and his Cage were buried so deep in Hell that most demons weren’t sure if he even existed. His existence was a matter of faith, no different than humans believing in God, according to 3x04 (Sin City).

Based on all this, I think it’s perfectly reasonable to surmise that Hell is vast, but potentially its vastness manifesting in the way in which it is layered, and that there are regions, planes, or depths that most demons do not or cannot tread to.

But okay, even if you’re on board so far, why do I believe that time works differently at different layers? And what circles have we seen in canon?

Situating Each Circle

My fundamental argument here is that temporal distortion in Hell is more extreme at the deeper depths, in a mathematically determinable way.

If we accept that Hell has nine circles (or planes or layers), then we can assume that we’ve seen three - probably five - of them. There is Limbo, as per season 11 and stated above, in which there seems to be little to no time dilation. This makes some sense if we accept that it’s the surface-most plane*, the first circle.

We have also established what’s in the ninth circle, titled Treachery, which is the Center of Hell and The Cage. Given its depth and the lines from season 3 Sin City, we can assume that, much like Limbo, this is an off-limits zone for most demons. If we accept my argument that times moves differently at the different layers, this is where time distortion - really, time dilation - should be the most extreme. It is the furthest removed from the material plane and the deepest well (do not call it a gravity well do not call it a gravity well do not call it a - )*, dilating time and everything around it at its depths.

In between, we have seen The Rack (where Dean was tortured), we have the Throne (where Rowena sat and kept court, since many of Crowley’s ruling scenes are implied to be on the surface rather than in Hell proper, although any of Crowley’s ruling scenes would be on this same level, I imagine), we have The Dungeon (from which Sam rescued Bobby’s soul as part of the Trials), and we have the glimpse we caught of how Crowley restructured the place into endless lines as a method of torment. There’s also the space where Lilith’s horn is kept, as per the Belphegor and Cas scenes in the early episodes of Season 15. I take that to be the same level as the Throne level, since it seems to be where ruling demons would both preside and reside.

Based on the seeming lack of time distortion we tend to see (in late seasons...) when we get scenes relating the Throne level, my headcanon is that this is the second circle of Hell (Lust). In the Inferno, incoming souls are judged here and then sent to which circle their sins have them belong, so I think it’s at least somewhat fitting for this to be where the Throne is. Keeping it closer to the surface world / material plane also has some advantages if doing so minimizes time distortion, since keeping closer time with Earth allows easier monitoring of Earth and tracking of things like deals etc. It also means that higher ranking aka more powerful demons who preside here are closer to Gates of Hell and therefore have less far to travel when slipping out and onto Earth.

In contrast, I think that The Rack is pretty damn deep. There is a lot of time distortion going on to get to 1 month = 1 decade (especially if we allow that a very small amount of dilation is happening at the topmost circles, even including Limbo). This makes sense to me in that The Rack is a place of exceeding misery and horror, literally the center of Hell’s most violent and excruciating tortures.

For that reason, I place The Rack as circle seven, aptly titled Violence. This is not to be confused with the sin of Wrath, which is actually the fifth circle. Rather, the seventh circle (to quote wikipedia at least), “houses the violent”. What better way to re-interpret that in the world of SPN than that circle hosting the torturers and their tortured? Within the seventh circle are those who committed violence against neighbors, against self, and against God. What better place for someone who sold his own soul (violence against self and against God), who killed?

Of course I don’t think it’s so straightforward that violent souls get sent to The Rack. I think any damned soul can be called there for a torture session. But Dean spent his entire time in Hell on The Rack, and that can’t be standard. Bobby spent plenty of his time in hell in a cell, as per 8x19 (Taxi Driver), and demons come here to torture him.

I don’t think it’s a huge leap for me to infer that Dean was special and spent his entire time on The Rack because they were so determined to use him to break the First Seal, and that most damned souls only do short stints on there, either due to limited real estate or so that souls don’t become numb to the violence (since let’s face it, most demonic torturers probably can’t keep them in anticipation of further horror as well as Alistair can, after a few days or months being cut into.) They’re probably returned to their cells to marinate in the memory and anticipation with only minor tortures until they’re brought down again. This is what we see with Bobby and probably with the endless lineups in Crowley’s redesigned Hell.

So - without too much to go on, I’m going to tentatively place the Dungeon with Bobby and other damned souls as being in the sixth circle, Heresy. It’s a circle described as hosting souls in flaming tombs, which I think fits this notion of a dungeon with cells holding on to souls, and keeps those souls close at hand and ready for another go in the seventh circle where The Rack is held. 

And this allows me to place the endless line as actually being either in the fourth circle, Greed, or the fifth circle, Wrath. The fourth involves a nation of lost souls who, in this pit of hell, lose their individuality and become sort of empty, which fits what we see in that brief clip of the Hell line. The fifth includes a “savage self-frustration” that seems fitting of the concept of that awful endless line, with sullen and angry souls fighting each other in muck and slime.

Regardless of fourth or fifth (I have no strong sense of which fits better), I see that line as being meaningful outside (above) the sixth circle, in a torment that is less acute, as souls that are less unique and differentiated, less violent, less worthy of turning into black-eyed demons.

Because in the Inferno, there’s this critical division between the fifth vs. sixth circles as the transition between the two being the transition into “Lower Hell” and the sixth being behind guarded walls, with another steep drop from the sixth to the seventh, and so on. This makes sense to me as Lower Hell being a place where they keep the Dungeon and guard the doomed souls, whereas that place outside those walls hosting the damned but less special, less differentiated, the more generically doomed... yeah, it just makes sense to me (your mileage, as always, may vary).

This distinction is important also because of that drop down. If distance and depth are important to temporal distortion, then it matters if the first few circles of Hell involve less of a steep drop one to the next. Here we should note that the seventh circle involves three rings, and the eighth circle (Fraud, aka Malebolge, another very strong contender for the location of The Rack since it’s essentially an amphitheater for torture, so I’ll do the math both ways below)*, well the eighth is basically a funnel with 10 separate rings or steps downward.

Why does this matter? So glad you asked!

Increasing Temporal Distortion at Each Level

If you’re following the hints I’m dropping, what I’m implying about getting deeper into Hell and the further drops down at the later levels is that the time distortion in Hell does not increase linearly. It increases exponentially.

Limbo has temporal distortion that is so minor as to be barely perceptible, if perceptible at all. The Rack gives us an explicit (if fuzzy) estimate of 1 month = 1 decade in terms of perception. The Cage is implied to be much, much more than that, at the extreme end up to 2-3 minutes = 1 week in terms of perception.

If the time distortion was linear, meaning that from circle 1 to circle 2, and circle 2 to 3, and 3 to 4 and so on, we should expect that the amount of time distortion from Limbo (circle 1) to the Rack (circle 7 or 8) to be a much, much wider gap than the amount of time distortion from the Rack (circle 7 or 8) to the Cage (circle 9). Like... it should be 7-8x as much distortion.

And I mean, you could take a linear headcanon approach to it. If we accept that SPN Hell has circles or layers as is Word of God and overtly implied by the narrative time and again, you could say that there’s x amount of distortion at circle 1, and 2x at circle 2, and 3x at circle 3, etc, and this would works okay when we got the math right, but like... it’s not my preference given the way canon works.

What I mean (especially for those who hate math so might not be automatically sussing what I’m saying), is that, for example, if 10 seconds in Limbo = 1 second on Earth (sure why not) then if the time distortion increases the same way (”linearly”) at each new circle of hell, then on the Rack we get 70 seconds = 1 Earth second (or 80 seconds = 1 Earth second, if the Rack is in the eighth circle).

That specific math doesn’t check out (it equates to 23.3 years on the Rack instead of 40, or 26.7 if the Rack is the eighth circle instead of the seventh), but to figure this out we should of course work backwards starting from the 4 months = 40 years. Which tells us that each second on Earth feels like 120seconds (2 minutes) on The Rack. If that’s happening at the seventh circle, then a linear difference between each circle of hell means that the time distortion in Limbo is roughly 17 seconds for every Earth second. This math works out a little prettier if the Rack is the eighth circle because that’s an even 15 seconds for every Earth second.

To me, that’s stretching how much time distortion is implied to occur at Limbo and vastly exaggerating what we see with Sam rescuing Bobby from Hell. If Bobby is actually kept in the 6th circle, that’s 102 (7th circle) or 190 (8th circle) seconds in Hell for every second on Earth. It just didn’t seem that Sam was spending a minute and a half in Hell for every second that Dean was spending on the surface in Taxi Driver, but then again, I haven’t rewatched that episode so I’d have to double check to know for sure.

Between those implications about time distortion in Limbo and Bobby’s rescue and even the Throne room when they visit Rowena to the way Dante’s Inferno (which SPN canon clearly drew from) funnels more extremely downward the deeper you go in the circles, to what Sam’s episode of Hell memories could imply about his experience of time dilation in the Cage (assuming we accept his statement about his episode “feeling like a week” even if we don’t take that number at exactly face value)... an exponential increase just makes more sense, mathematically?

And again, for anyone who doesn’t like math or doesn’t know what that means and why I keep using this word “exponentially,” what it means is that the difference between the first circle and the second circle is not as big as the difference between the second circle and the third circle. At each depth, the intensity of the time dilation increases. So that you might not even notice the difference in time dilation between circle 1 and 2, but the difference between circle 5 and 6 is massively noticeable, and the difference between circle 8 and circle 9 is like several times even that big. Like Inception!

So let’s run some final calculations and get you your answer(s), Anon!

Some Final Math and Estimates*

Assumption 1: Equivalent Dilation

If we assume that there is no difference in time dilation from one region of Hell to another, then the ratio that Dean gives us in Season 4 is accurate for all of Hell, and 1 month (30 days) in the pit feels like 10 years. That’s 120 seconds below to every second above.

This would mean that in 18 months in the Cage, Sam experiences 180 years worth of torture.

Assumption 2: Linear Dilation Circle 7

Assuming The Rack is in the seventh circle, then a linear difference at each level means that 120 seconds on the Rack equates to 154 seconds in the Cage at the ninth level. That would mean that in 18 months topside, Sam’s soul spent 231.5 years in the Cage.

Assumption 3: Linear Dilation Circle 8

Assuming the Rack is in the eighth circle (which, tbh, I kind of thing makes more sense even though I argued differently above, but shhh let’s pretend otherwise), then a linear difference at each level means that 120 seconds there equates to only 202.5 years for Sam’s soul in the Cage. Slightly less awful! 

Assumption 4: Exponential Dilation Circle 7

The simple way I’m doing this is that instead of taking the time distortion at Limbo and making it x2 at the second circle, x3 at the third, and so on, I’m taking the time distortion at Limbo and making it to the power of 2 at the second circle, to the power of 3 at the third, and so on. I still have to start with The Rack being 120seconds on Earth time and work backwards to get that initial Limbo starting point before I apply the exponent, but otherwise that’s all I’m doing. There are definitely more sophisticated ways we could approach it since that’s a pretty simple linear increase in the exponent, and we could instead make the exponent itself an equation we’d derive through more complex means but... I’m really not about to do that.

So.

If we start from The Rack = 120seconds (2mins), using the exponent assumptions above, then Limbo time dilation is roughly 2 seconds (actually 1.98167 or so) in Limbo for every Earth second (works beautifully for what we see in canon, basically imperceptible), and time dilation in the ninth circle is 471 seconds (7.85 mins) per Earth second. Yes, that big of a difference, because that’s how exponents work.

This would mean that Sam’s soul spent approximately 707 years in the Cage.

What a great number! What a reasonable number, and a pretty damn canon-compliant number to headcanon. I like this number.

Assumption 5: Exponential Dilation Circle 8

As above in terms of the exponent assumptions, if the Rack is actually in the 8th circle of Hell, that much closer to the Cage, then here the math works out so that 120 seconds on the 8th circle being... roughly 2 seconds in Limbo. Because that’s how exponential functions work. It’s actually 1.81928 in Limbo vs. the previous 1.98167, but that rounds to the same thing (2 seconds) in terms of human experience, even if it makes a big difference when we take it out to the difference it makes in months, years, etc.

(But like, this is why I think it’s exponential, because this works so much better for what canon implies about the time dilation there*.) 

Anyway, here, this would mean that Sam’s soul spent roughly 327.5 years in the Cage instead of the 707 from above. That’s a big difference.

Assumption 6: Off the Rails

We can also take Sam’s statement about 2-3 minutes on Earth (having a Hell flashback) feeling like a week in the pit. If we estimate conservatively and go with every 3 Earth minutes = 1 week in Hell, depending on how we approach it (depending on if you go with minutes in a week vs. a month and which way you get to a year), you get somewhere around 5000 years (in my present calculation it’s 4984, but I also calculated it another way to get to just over 5000).

Assumption 7: 9th Circle vs. The Cage

Dante’s Inferno distinguishes between the 9th Circle on its own vs. the Center of Hell as the place where Lucifer resides, right at the deepest depths. The Cage itself is remote in Hell, distant from all other demons, enough so as to be a matter of faith to many of them. If we allow the possibility that this all means that the Cage is deeper than the ninth circle itself*, we can add another linear layer or else another exponent (take our equation to the 10 instead of to the 9).

This works out to be:

Rack 7th Circle, Linear: 257 years

Rack 8th Circle, Linear: 225 years

Rack 7th Circle, Exponential: 1400 years

Rack 8th Circle, Exponential: 596 years

Meaning this is a good place to note that... depending on the final number you want to get to, you can use whichever assumptions you want to get there and justify it by math. Remember kids, there are lies, damn lies, and statistics.

TL;DR!!!!!

How much time did Sam’s soul spend in the Cage? My headcanon is that he spent probably either 600 or 700 years there, on the assumption that it was 18 months between Swan Song and Appointment in Samarra, and assuming time dilation gets more extreme the deeper that you go in Hell.

For people who want to make more conservative estimates but still embed some complexity to Hell’s time dilation and/or who be more canon-compliant to other glimpses we’ve seen of Hell’s time distortion (Limbo, etc), I think anywhere from about 200 years to 330 years is perfectly reasonable.

For people who want to go with maximum whump, the sky (5000) is the limit, but you can mathematically point to up to 1400 being pretty reasonable.

*Footnotes

1. Because canon plays fast and loose with how many months exactly have gone by, and some people headcanon that only about 4 months have passed in Season 6 before Appointment in Samarra when Death pulls his soul out. I personally read it as more like 6 months having gone by and think this is the more standard headcanon, so your 180 years is the most common interpretation, and definitely the most easy to defend. I also made calculations for Sam having spent 16 months in the Cage instead of 18 months there though, if anyone is interested.

2. There is also the Vestibule in the Inferno as the opening to Hell, before the first circle, and this requires passage from Charon to cross over and into Hell proper. This is where the quote “Abandon All Hope, Ye Who Enter Here” is from at the Gate of Hell, which of course is evoked in season 5 as the episode in which Jo and Ellen die.

I like to think of the Vestibule in the world of SPN as being any and all of the many Hellgates implied by canon, including the one that opens in AHBL2. No time dilation occurs within the Vestibule(s), as a person has to enter into Hell’s circles to properly separate themselves from the material plane.

3. Not getting into it here but if I ever get around to writing an original piece of fiction about angels and demons etc like I kind of want to, some of my worldbuilding will explicitly connect/relate angels to celestial bodies, like literally to stars, with the depth of hell essentially being a black hole, hence why the closer one gets to it, the greater the time dilation there is. Gravity and heat increase near the center of hell in this unbearable way, and then at the very center, like within the black hole itself, it becomes unbearably incredibly cold, like that frozen lake in which Lucifer is half-submerged in Dante’s Inferno. Lucifer existing impossibly both within and outside the event horizon. But I digress.

4. When you think about how many angels are implied to have died in order to rescue Dean’s soul, compared to how simply Sam snuck into Hell to rescue Bobby, I think the circles of Hell interpretation becomes quite important. If Dean was in the seventh or eighth circle, like especially that eighth circle, that’s so much deeper in than the Dungeon. The angels also couldn’t infiltrate subtly, methinks, and had to storm the walled and heavily guarded gates at the sixth circle, through that dungeon, then fight their way down the three rings of the seventh circle and possibly down into the amphitheater of the eighth. We know that their powers alone can’t kill a demon as powerful as Alistair even on Earth, so on their home turf in Hell, it makes sense that demons would have put up a really solid fight against the angels. This helps resolve some of my own frustration at what seems to be discrepancies in the abilities of angels and how dangerous they are to demons in canon.

5. Please be aware that all maths above involve some rounding, since I didn’t think anyone wanted the detailed decimals. I also calculated months as being 30 days and for simplicity, calculated years as being 12 months. I could rework the math into weeks with 52 weeks being a year instead, which gives slightly different numbers, but it’s work so I’m just going to go with these approximations. Also noting that I used calculated everything using excel to save myself a headache. I’m sorry if there are any errors, especially when it comes to the exponents, my brain got very tired. Please let me know if you find any.

6. When it comes to the exponential ones, if The Rack is in the 7th circle of hell, then if the Dungeon where Bobby was kept was in the 6th circle, then each Earth second is 60 seconds (1 minute) in the Dungeon. That’s more time dilation than I think canon implies, because 60 minutes (1hr) in the Dungeon is only a minute on Earth? In contrast if The Rack is in the 8th circle, then 1 Earth second is 36 seconds in the Dungeon. I honestly think both of these are more extreme than canon implies, but again, it’s been a million years since I watched that episode because it’s written by Bucklemming and I cannot stand their writing. But as a count in favor of the exponential argument instead of linear, if time dilation increases the same amount at each circle then 1 Earth second translates to 103 seconds in the Dungeon (Rack in 7th) or 90 seconds (Rack in 8th), both of which are a lot more dilation than our exponential account.

7. For simplicity, I’ve also ignored the different rings which occur at the 7th and 8th circles. Those would, of course, change the math here as well, and we could add another linear or exponential step for each of those rings. That would lead to some crazy numbers because we’re talking about 13 additional steps. Linearly we’d add a few thousand years, but exponentially we’re starting to talk about a geological timescale. I don’t think it’s productive to make that extreme of an assumption about those rings, but I think we could comfortably stretch the distance between the 7th circle and the pit in which Lucifer’s cage sits at the deepest depths of hell if we wanted to, if you wanted to reasonably get closer to that 5000 years estimate.

8. Since your ask mentioned it, Anon, I realize I don’t touch on Enochian in this post but I have two tag-rambles about my thoughts on enochian and I thought I had a proper post on it somewhere but can’t find it. I could/should probably make a post with a tumblr ficlet about that, since I started drafting a canon-divergent post-Hell fic with Sam and Enochian and there’s like... no chance I’ll ever finish it. But anyway.

Thanks for reading this far, to anyone who did.

[4dtk]

jaehyun as a bf

anon: “your writing brings me butterflies i love it you are so underrated!!!!! would love to request a jaehyun bf headcanons (like the one you did of mark <3)” thank you for the kind words anon <333 hope you enjoy this one!

(a bit of a plug lol but check out NCT 127's ideal r/s headcanons in this post!! i appreciate you checking it out! <3)

brief mentions of sex, but nothing explicitly nsfw!

likes to talk about music with you

especially jazz. there’s a plethora of songs out there with different renditions and sometimes he likes to ramble about who’s rendition he likes best

would play the piano for you if you asked, just maybe not after schedules or something. but usually when you’re free or alone together in the room, he likes you to sit beside him to listen to him play

you guys like to play a little game where he’ll play the chords and you play like a random note to create blobs of music

even if you don’t know how, the way the session always dissolves into giggles is his favourite thing in the world

if you know how to play the piano that’s great too!! jaehyun just likes the unexpected notes that come out since there’s no set melody in his mind

jaehyun needs to have some part of his body on yours at all times. like he has to hold your hand all the time, or a finger hooked around your backpack, or an arm around your waist.

at least when you’re together he does it very often and he’s just. obsessed with you lmfao

it’s also the reason he buys a promise ring when he’s sure of you as a significant other so you always have a part of him with you (his love)

would buy you those lockets for you to put pictures inside. he doesn’t care where you wear it though, around your neck, wrist, ankle, as long as the locket is on your person

he clings onto you like crazy in the mornings. jaehyun’s a heavy sleeper and likes to hug you on his side, so you’re always having trouble trying to pry him off of you in the morning

a bit nsfw: he likes morning lazy sex lol, ngl. jaehyun adores the rawness of your relationship in the morning and the sleepiness in your eyes when you’re gently pushing him away. he knows you don’t mean it but he makes sure you really want it first

loves the sunlight kissing your skin and the slow, gentle movements

so so intimate, he prefers it to the rougher forms of sex, but sometimes he doesn’t have that luxury since they leave for schedules quite often in the wee hours of dawn

for cuddling sense, jaehyun likes it when you’re under his arm and cuddled into his side. classic position but he dies every time inside when you look up at him and there’s this clueless look you have. has the biggest smile on his face after and you have to repeat the stuff you said bc he’s too distracted by how your eyes shine

second hot favourite (more of when you’re making out) is when you’re straddling him. nothing sexual, just like you on top of him when you’re kissing and stuff. he digs it when you’re pulling away for oxygen and he has to lift his body to reach for your lips again

gets flustered from kissing, but doesn’t show it. if he’s found a way to suppress the crazy crimson on his ears (which i doubt) then he will but his words will always contradict his expression

jaehyun can say “are you nervous, y/n?” with a smirk but his ears keep giving him away!!!!

mfer’s hands are shaking too when he trails it over your body. in disbelief you’re his.

sometimes shamelessly moans into the kiss LOL, not too loud but he whines when you pull away, and has to kiss you breathless again

when you kiss him, expect like a long-lasting kiss. doesn’t mind small pecks and stuff but he’ll want to savour your lips a little longer than a mere peck

jaehyun likes your neck too. when you’re hugging his face is always in your neck, placing small little butterfly kisses

you need to look out for him, always. mans always tripping over something at some point. it’s become more frequent now that he has you and my god he’s so unable to keep his eyes off of you that he trips over simple things. he once tripped over nothing

on the daily when he’s not tripping over you, he’s clumsy in a sense where he drops food on the table. he once struggled to tie up his growing hair into a mini ponytail bc it was just too little hair. the hair tie slipped from his fingers and shot itself into your face - those kinds of small small mishaps

it’s endearing but sometimes you can’t help but laugh at him

likes to take you out on impromptu dates. dates that are close by and easy to plan (?) i guess.

not saying jaehyun is a lazy boyfriend but he likes the more candid dates where you decide what to do as you go along. of course if it’s a big day like your anniversary or birthdays then he’d want to plan something out.

other than that, he just either lets you choose the places to go there or you two decide along the way. he doesn’t want to impose options for you and pressure you. if he’s being honest, he wouldn’t know where to go either lol so he just follows wherever you bring him

laughs so much when he’s with you. giggles, deep laugh, whatever you name it. your relationship is very light-hearted and he finds that he’s the one laughing more when you deliver jokes even tho he wants to make you laugh too

i can’t lie… his jokes can be dry sometimes i’m sorry jaehyun 😭 so he backs it up with laughter and has to catch his breath sometimes bc he finds it really funny

you’re not laughing at the joke, rather at his laugh so you might have to tell him that some way or another bc he’ll just keep making bad jokes i’m sorry y’all

he can’t handle the suuuuuper cheesy physically affectionate films or series (with shitty plot) but i feel like if the story’s interesting enough he’ll pay attention. likes bittersweet films too, i feel, gets him thinking

doesn’t mind cliched plots (fake dating / idealist girl meets realist boy / idk any others lol) but would propose something at the end that he thinks will make the movie/series more interesting

jaehyun likes to share his theories with you

unironically wants to learn the la la land tap dance scene with you. he ALWAYS hums city of stars too, no matter what. idk why but it sticks to him, in bed, in breakfast, when he’s doing something random

he did it once on the radio and he received a text from you in break that told him he was humming along to the song

with that said, jaehyun wants to try out the stuff in the rain quite a bit. making out, dancing, lying down, running, he likes that fascination that society has with doing things in the rain

doesn’t like it too much that he’ll get soaked, but as long as you’re with him and willing to do it, he’s all for it

jaehyun would def want kids in the future. wants to dote on them and buy them stuff and whatnot. wants to see them running around the house with laughter while you both struggle to contain the bursts of excitement they have

doesn’t care for the dynamic much. if he’s the one to stay at home to take care of them while you work, he can work with it. if it’s the other way round, he’s okay too

he just worries that if he’s still involved with the entertainment industry, you might have to take a back seat since he’ll be the one earning the money, and he doesn’t want babysitters either.

heart is so so full when he comes back home and you’re just playing with the kids, or singing them to sleep. any sight of you with him is enough to make him melt into a puddle

HAS to hold them even if they’re asleep. wants to always have them close to him while he nudges you to shower or get the food ready.

like jaehyun, he would wanna meet someone in a vinyl shop or bookstore. he knows it’s cliched but the thought of meeting someone when you’re buying something is exciting. anything unexpected for him, he welcomes it

the next few are just random, miscellaneous headcanons: he likes to see you in his clothes, preferably with nothing underneath. just his shirt lol. cheeky man

jaehyun likes it when you shower together (again, nothing sexual, just likes the domesticity)

likes it when you fall asleep on him

will never stop gushing about you to his parents, first time you met them they’re like “he’s told us so much about you!” and he really did

feels comfortable in your presence, no makeup, messy hair, no need for a perfect bod. he’s just jaehyun. jung yuno if you will

adores it when you call him “lover” i mean boyfriend is good, significant other is good, but lover is just chef’s kiss

it is a bit cheesy if you think about it, so it’s not often that you say it. when you do say it in songs when you’re singing it to him, he can’t stop smiling

plays lover, you should’ve come over when he’s on tour bc it’s the closest thing he can get to a replica of how he feels for you

and when jaehyun falls asleep to the song, all he can remember is your honey voice singing it to him. he’ll just have to hold onto it before he can see you again

<3

[foodieforthoughts]

When the ball drops

Summary: It's your third year in the Big Apple and you still haven't found your midnight kiss for when the ball drops, until tonight.

Pairing: Henry x Reader

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: Fluff!!!

A/N: Happy New Year to everyone! ✨ Watching the ball drop on New Year's Eve in Times Square is my ultimate bucket list! Also not beta read, so don't mind the errors, just had to get done in time before @infinite-shite celebrates New Year's before the rest of us! This baby deserves all the love in the world ❤️

*divider by @firefly-graphics

Title: When the ball drops

The cackle of people's laughter ringed through the pub as the hours ticked by. In contrast to the cold winter air of New York, the inside of the enclosed space felt warm. You quickly pulled on your apron and slid behind the bar, relieving your co-worker from their shift. He hugged you for the New Year that was to ring in about an hour later, happily weaving through the crowd towards the staff exit.

You sighed, grabbing the dish cloth to clean some glasses.

The excitement of coming to the Big Apple had quickly died down for you. You had dreamed of living in the city like the various shows potrayed, feeding lies that everything is magical and full of opportunities in this concrete jungle. But you could disagree with all the contradictions between facts and fictions and align them in a PowerPoint presentation. Not only were you yet to secure your dream job, you lived in a mediocre place with little to look forward to everyday.

Another sigh left your lips, your shoulders slumping despite the merriment around.

"That would be the second time you sigh." The crisp accented voice of a stranger sounded from across you. "What's the matter, love?"

You knew who he was. You ogled at his pictures on a regular basis, especially when he became Superman. But he looked nothing like the Henry Cavill you saw on the red carpets. Clad in a plain blue shirt, jaw sprinkled with the hint of a stubble and hair combed to perfection, Henry titled his head at you with a smile. You looked around at the other patrons, unsure if he was talking to you indeed.

Henry chuckled at your look of confusion. He took a seat at the barstool and grabbed the menu from the stand. With a dish cloth still inside the glass tumbler, you stared at the Hollywood heartthrob. The pub you worked at was frequented with celebs on a regular basis, the only downside being you usually worked for the day shift which meant by the time you rolled out of work, the big shots were only just waking up.

"Can I get-"

"Guinness?" You interrupted him. You meant to say it in your head but the word left your mouth before you could control your lips.

But Henry didn't flinch. He just smiled widely, the dimples in his chin dipping charmingly and his eyes shining like the brightest star under the flickering strobe lights. He slid the menu back towards you and clasped his hands together.

You blinked your eyes several times to rid yourself of the flutter in you belly as Henry smiled at you softly. He watched as you got him a glass and filled it up with his beer. Your hands trembled so much with the nervousness of serving an A list actor, who not only was doing well in industry but was exceptionally sexier in person, that you were worried the foam gathered at the top would dribbled down the sides. Noticing your struggle, Henry extended his hands and placed them over yours to secure his glass.

Electricity. In the most clichéd scenarios of romance movies, you felt a jolt of electricity when your hands touched his, the sparks travelling down your spine to your toes. Sucking in a sharp breath you handed him the glass, chiding yourself over your hyper aware mind.

"What is a pretty lady like you working in a bar at this hour?" He asked, sipping his fermented pint of alcohol.

"Coworker has plans with his girlfriend, like everyone tonight." You shrugged your shoulder, going over to another customer ordering drinks. You could feel Henry's eyes on you as you readied the customer's order. The sound of giggling girls pulled your attention just as the man left with his drink.

You walked back to where Henry sat, nursing his beer. "Anything to go with that?" you enquired, rearranging the shot glasses under the bar counter.

"I am still wondering how, in the world, a pretty woman like you, is stuck here."

You scoffed, more to yourself than him. "Because this supposed pretty woman is single as fuck." The mirth in your voice hid the sense of self pity edging at the corners of your mind. It had been three years since you had first arrived in the city with a possibility of reaching for the stars in both personal and professional life. You had been left disappointed with the jerks and assholes you ended up with, ultimately sitting at home and questioning your choices in men.

You noted the softness creasing at the corners of Henry's eyes. The last thing you wanted was to be seen as a miserable bartender at the end of the year, so you cleared your throat and smiled at him. "What is superman doing at a bar, in New York, alone?"

Henry chuckled. His gravelly thick laughter ringing louder than the music in your ears. "I was just stopping by the city, thought I'll stay to understand what the big deal is with the ball drop."

"Oh my God. Watching the ball drop and kissing at midnight is the most romantic thing you can do with your partner. You should be at Times Square!" Your excitement over the whole New Year's Eve shenanigan was flowing through in your speech.

"Too crowded." He shook his head, groaning and sipping his beer.

You rolled your eyes. "As opposed to this cramped pub?"

Henry chuckled again, throwing a wink at you. You felt the familiar flutter in your belly. You peered at him under your lashes, Henry seemed to be having his eyes only for you tonight. The giggling ladies were desperately trying to grab his attention while sipping on their Margheritas wearing their embellished dresses with low cuts and frills. You glanced down at yourself and frowned. Over the faded blue jeans and white t-shirt, you wore the black apron with the pub's insignia on the left breast. You suddenly became profoundly aware of how 'basic' you might look in comparison to the other ladies.

Self doubt clouded your mind. You politely smiled at Henry and hurried to the other side of the bar to serve the other customers. Maybe Henry only wanted someone to play the horizontal hokey-pokey with him for the night, or maybe he was bored and since you were obligated to talk nicely with him, he had pitched a conversation. Whatever the reason, you did not like how the multiple scenarios would end. You knew your feeble, fragile heart. You would get hurt, one way or another.

"Hi," Henry appeared again in front of you. He had his beer in his hand, his other elbow resting on the counter. "Did I offend you in some way?"

"No. But you are pretty much making me realize, how miserable my life is." Your voice sounded bleak against the booming voices. Tucking your hair behind your ear, you watched the couples snuggle up to each other. It had been ages since you had felt the loving embrace of a man, even longer since you had shared a meaningful kiss with someone special.

"What would you have been doing instead?" Henry's voice pulled you out of your desolated reverie.

"I would be in Times Square, with my significant other, which I don't have. We would get some drinks while standing on the outskirts of the crowd and watch the countdown."

There was a stir of activity in the pub as someone announced that there were only 90 seconds to the ball drop. You hadn't even realized that time had passed so quickly whilst you had juggled your conversation with Henry.

"Well, you have the drinks," Henry reached forward to grab a glass and poured half of his beer in the empty tumbler. "We are at the outskirts of the crowd since everyone is huddled near the TV." You nodded as you watched the couples gather near the enormous flat screen mounted on the wall. "We aren't at the Times Square, but we are in New York."

The countdown read 60 seconds with the red numbers counting backwards. Henry stood up and leaned forward on the counter. You watched with bated breath as he grabbed the strap of your apron and pulled you towards him.

His hand rested lightly on your cheek, his thumb grazing your cheekbone. The smell of beer, his perfume and musk enveloped you, bundling you in everything that signified him. You gazed into his cerulean eyes, the fleck of brown going dark against the blue ocean. Your hands hung by your side, flabbergasted by the surprising turn of events.

"I might not be your significant other," His breath washed over your heated face, his eyes transfixed on yours. "But we can perhaps change that."

"Happy New Year!"

Like the fireworks going off on the One Times Square Building, when your lips collided with his, there was a burst of colorful sparks celebrating the union of two people from across the pond. Henry pulled your face closer to his by grabbing behind your head, his fingers threading through your hair. You finally could think straight as you moaned into the kiss, holding onto the collar of his shirt as the pub erupted with loud cheers. In that moment, everything seemed perfect in the world. You felt your legs turn to jelly as Henry pulled back, breathing through his mouth, tugging at your lower lip with his teeth.

The smug smile on his face returned as he sat back on his barstool. You grabbed onto the counter for support as you gulped lungful of air.

"Did that count as something for when the ball drops?" He asked, sipping his beer and watching you from the brim of his glass.

You nodded. The heat on your cheeks traveled down to your chest, a grin spreading on your lips. Biting your lip you reached for the other glass of beer Henry had poured. "Happy new year to me." You announced before clinking your glass with Henry's.

✨HAPPY NEW YEAR GUYS✨

[teawaffles]

Forbidden Games: Chapter 7

One day, three assassins had gathered for a gunfight.

The three of them had varying levels of skill with a gun. The first assassin had perfect aim. The second could land two shots in three. The last was only able to land one shot in three.

They were to take turns choosing one of the other two to shoot at. In order to compensate for their differences in skill level, they would start from the most inexperienced assassin, who could only land one shot in three.

Now if you were this person, what would you consider the most reasonable thing to do?

The right answer is—— to fire straight into the air, without aiming at either opponent.

Ordinarily, one would think to target the most dangerous assassin, who could land every shot. But if they were struck down, then on the next turn, you would find yourself in the sights of the remaining opponent, who could land two shots in three.

As such, if you were to avoid shooting either party, the next player would definitely target the most dangerous opponent. If they succeed, the subsequent turn would cycle back to you. Hence the best course of action is to shoot no one at the start.

An action that seems meaningless at first glance, may in truth be the most logical choice.

This was a paradox —— the gap between logic and intuition.

“While there are some slight differences, our game bears a striking resemblance to this story, which is why I chose to apply it today. Although, I admit I may have been a bit too dramatic when aiming the gun at myself.”

A contradiction for a contradiction. Saying that, a small smile rose on William’s face. It was the smile of a demon.

For a moment, the extent to which he’d misjudged William had made Alan break out in a cold sweat. But he quickly regained his composure.

“I get it — you’re smart enough to know what you’re doing. But now, what will you do? The chance that your gun will fire in this turn is two-in-five. As for me, with one bullet fired and two left, my chances are the same. We’re even now.”

“But that’s not true. I believe you know very well that on your next turn, your gun will fire,” William asserted.

“……What?”

William brushed his thumb over the revolver in his hand.

“It appears that the guns we were given have been rigged, such that the cylinders will stop at predetermined positions when they are spun. These positions have been marked with scratches. In other words, this game has been a lie from the very beginning.”

William looked at Alan, who was in a daze, as he continued.

“That’s why you were able to add two more bullets to your gun with no hesitation whatsoever. You knew that even if Mr Holmes were to face off with five rounds, the gun would never fire.”

He then struck his index finger against the table.

Alan had been thoroughly shocked when the secret behind the guns was revealed. But now, he retaliated in full force.

“That’s right. These guns are for cheats. Why wouldn’t I use them in this game? Counting from the chamber where the cylinder stops, my revolver has three consecutive chambers loaded. But only the last two chambers of your gun are filled. ——Do you get it? This means your gun will not fire this turn, and on my turn, mine will definitely fire. The game has already been decided.”

“I’ll throw that question back to you. Do you understand what it means for us to know about this trick?”

Somewhat stunned by his opponent’s lack of awareness, William proceeded to explain the situation with eloquence.

“In our previous match, I said something to Mr Holmes. ‘Allow me to advance a proposition. Two chambers— don’t fill them.’”

There was another meaning behind those awkward words. “What it meant was, ‘Advance by two chambers’. After that, Mr Holmes violently loaded the gun —— so much so, that he had scratched the cylinder too.”

Alan covered his mouth with his hand as he looked at his own gun.

“……No way—”

“Because the two of us were given new revolvers, and you chose to use the gun from our previous match, you are now holding a revolver with two chambers’ worth of scratch marks added. Although the previous scratches remained…… since it was Mr Holmes who made them, I trust that the new markings were able to fool your accomplices.”

With no need for any further explanation, William fell silent.

In a game of Russian roulette where the number of rounds loaded increases over time, Sherlock had unexpectedly done something rash.

Alan had taken his sudden change in attitude to be mere desperation. But in reality, Sherlock had received William’s message, and while maintaining his composure, he proceeded to act as if he had no regard for his own life. By doing so, his violence in loading the gun, as well as his choice to fill the cylinder to its upper limit, were all interpreted as the products of a meltdown — and they were able to avoid any suspicion that they had seen through his trick.

However, this method of using Alan’s own trick against him was not foolproof. Although they had added new scratches to the cylinder, the original marks still remained. On close inspection, it might be possible to distinguish them.

With that in mind, Alan turned to face his accomplices behind him. But they said nothing, perhaps out of confusion. They had no confidence that they’d loaded the bullets in the right chambers. A sense of unease began to swell within Alan.

If Sherlock’s trap had succeeded, the positions of the bullets in Alan’s gun would now be off.

His revolver had six chambers. Counting from where the cylinder would stop, the first three chambers were supposed to be filled. Now with the markings “shifted” two positions forward, it would be that the first, and last two chambers were filled instead.

Since one round had already been fired, only the other two bullets remained. He was essentially in the same situation as William. In that case, as William had the first move, he would be able to fire on Alan one turn earlier.

In short, in this perverse version of Russian roulette, Alan had employed rigged revolvers, his accomplices had mistaken the positions of the scratch marks, and William had elected to go first. With these three conditions in place, William’s victory had been secured.

“What kind of joke is this……”

From the start, the game’s outcome had been set in stone.

That had originally been Alan’s plan. But William took advantage of it and turned the tables on him.

Despite being in a position of absolute superiority, victory had escaped him a second time. Alan’s blood was boiling.

“A—Again! I will surely win if we play again!”

William put his revolver down, and shook his head in pity.

“Unfortunately, there will be no rematch. Both of us no longer have the time to humour someone like you,” he replied curtly.

Alan lost his patience and slammed the table.

“Do you look down on everyone, you brat?!”

“All you do is envy others, and that is why you have lost yourself,” William said, with the air of an educator.

Before Alan could make sense of that, the sound of a revolver’s hammer being cocked emanated from the floor.

“——Don’t move.”

Then, the fallen detective staggered to his feet. Even though he had been shot in the abdomen, his face betrayed no trace of pain, instead wearing the grin of a child whose mischief had succeeded. In his hand, was a fully-loaded revolver.

“Holmes, why you bastard—”

“I don’t feel like explaining myself right now. Anyway, all of you raise your hands like grown men,” Sherlock ordered sharply, amidst their confusion.

Perhaps they were caught completely off guard, but Alan’s accomplices put up no struggle as they timidly raised both hands. The young man who had been held hostage edged quietly away from them.

William rose from his seat in a leisurely manner.

“From the start, our goal was to create this exact scenario. You have no intention of giving up no matter how many times your opponent wins. In that case, we should overturn the entire stage. To that end, this game, which allowed Mr Holmes to be eliminated by faking his death, presented the perfect opportunity.”

Just as William had planned, his act of near-suicide right from the outset had thrown them off balance, such that no one paid any notice to the fallen Sherlock. Then Sherlock came back to life with perfect timing, providing the key to their counterattack.

With their plan a roaring success, William and Sherlock were brimming with satisfaction.

“You two……”

Alan glared at them with hateful eyes.

“Oh, you’re not going admit defeat at this stage, aren’t you? That might actually be a good idea. Since all of you outnumber us, if you all take your guns out right now, you could certainly kill us. But Mr Holmes is sure to take a few of you down with him too. Is anyone prepared to be one of those ‘few’?”

“Now this is a genuinely fair and exciting challenge. Come on, who wants to join the game?”

Against the two of them, who were proudly putting their lives on the line, not a single person made a move.

In the end, the ‘equality’ that Alan and his accomplices had put forward, was nothing more than a hollow notion bragged about from within their circle of safety.

Having truly fought for his life and come out standing, to these men, William directed a gentle smile.

“Since it seems no one wishes to participate, ——this is game over.”

T/N: You may have noticed that the explanations of the trick are somewhat awkward (haha). It wasn’t explained 100% clearly in the Japanese text — I took a while to get it myself — so I decided to drop more hints within the text, rather than do so in a footnote. I hope it made sense for you!

[fangirlovestuff]

Seasons of Love - Chris Evans x reader

a/n - hey lovely people!! this idea would not leave my head and i really like it so here i am writing it:) the years in the fic are according to chris’ birth year (1981). also, this is more chris centeric, which i haven’t really done yet and i liked how it came out, i’d love to hear your thoguhts on that if you have any! enjoy<3

Summary: the story of chris and you, told through specific seasons of your life. a fluffy (and a bit angsty) coming of age story.  

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: like one bad word i think, a teeny bit of angst

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Summer, 1998. 

It was a special summer. Chris always knew he'd remember this summer forever. It was the first summer he fell in love.

"Summer is full of possibilities."

You and Chris just finished hiking a trail not too far from home, your water bottles nearly emptied due to the heat, your clothes slightly disheveled. Not too different than any other time you did that together.

The two of you were sitting down under a tree, watching the view, when you spoke that sentence.

"It is," Chris agreed. He turned his head to look at you and continued, "that's kinda awesome."

"Yeah," you said softly, still not looking at him, "but it's also scary as fuck." You chuckled dryly. "It's our last summer. What if we don't make the best of it?"

"It's not 'our last summer'," Chris chuckled, "it's just…"

"Our last summer," you completed with a grin once you saw he was struggling to find the words, finally turning to face him.

"Whatever," he laughed.

"What do you want to do this summer, Chris?"

He frowned slightly. "I'm serious," you continued, "what do you wanna do? Really."

"I don't… know. Same old, I guess?"

"See, that's why summer is so scary!" you turned your whole body to face him now. "It feels like in no time, our entire lives will be just 'same old'. And we'll have endless possibilities, but it will still be just same old! I refuse to admit I'm that boring," you huffed, "at least for now."

"So, what do you want to do this summer?" Chris asked with a smile, amused by your antics.

"Something remarkable. Something I can tell my children about and say, 'when I was your age, I did…' whatever it is we'll do, you know?"

"I guess," he shrugged.

"Okay, so what's something you've always wanted to do but never thought you could?"

He pretended to contemplate it for a second, and before he could open his mouth you cut in, "and don't say something like eat only candy for a week! Something real," you pointed two fingers towards your eyes and then to him, as if to indicate you're watching him.

"Okay, okay," he chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender, "something real."

A comfortable silence stretched over the two of you as you both thought about it. In truth, you both knew the answer. It was as clear as the summer sky stretching out above you. But in your still teenage minds, it seemed to be as heavy as the noon heat.

When your eyes met his, you laughed softly. "I feel like we were thinking about the same thing, which is kinda stupid honestly. I mean, why wouldn't we ju-"

He swiftly leaned in and planted his lips on yours, the kiss only lasting ever so long before the smiles you both sported got in the way. Your eyes were still closed when you spoke, but you could feel Chris' gaze on you when you started, "yep," you finally opened your eyes and smiled, "definitely thinking about the same thing."

That summer was made of so many forevers Chris truly thought it would never end. Moments that seemed to stretch on in the most beautiful of ways, as if the universe was giving you her blessing, giving you time.

You knew each other so well sometimes Chris thought you were more in his head than he was. And every time he looked into your eyes, every time you laughed, every time he kissed you, every night you spent watching the stars, every day you spent at the beach, or at home, or really wherever, he knew that fear of yours didn't come true.

You two did the most remarkable thing you could've – you've fallen in love.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Autumn, 2000. 

Autumn in LA was different than it was back home.

At home, his mom would probably be stocking up on candy for Halloween, and his siblings would be playing around with their dog in the fallen leaves, and he'd be forced to take a jacket with him even if it wasn't even that cold outside because people cared about him.

Not that in LA they entirely didn't, but it wasn't the same. Mostly because you weren't there.  

You two talked a big game, sure, always making plans to meet soon. But with the both of you being so far apart, and being so busy pursuing your dreams, it never came true.

And when it finally did, after a while, it wasn't like it was that great either.

"I don't… I don't think we… this-" you fumbled over your words and sighed. "I don't want to hold you back."

"I know. I don't want to hold you back either," he sighed, rubbing your arm in a soothing manner.

You were laying on the couch, his arm around you, pulling you close, and really, it was a weird position to be having this conversation in, but at the same time, he kind of couldn't imagine it happening differently.

He understood what you were trying to say. He thought you were right. But that doesn't mean it didn't hurt to hear it.

"I just… I don't think long distance works that well with us," you continued, and then sighed again. "Ugh, this is terrible."

"it kinda is," he chuckled quietly, and you slapped his chest lightly in annoyance. "You know I understand, right?" he said, more serious this time.

"I know. You know I don't really want to do this, right?"

"I know. But I know why you are."

"Good," you said softly. "My flight leaves tomorrow at 8, so we probably won't see each other in the morning."

"Okay," he replied, simply wrapping his arm tighter around you.

He didn't know if he dreamt it, but the next morning, in the early hours before the sun rose, you came into his room and planted a soft kiss on his forehead.

"See you later," you softly whispered, and a few minutes later, the faint sound of the apartment door shutting reached his ears.

Fall at home was a fun time. Chris loved Halloween, loved watching the beautiful leaves fall, the world around him preparing for a winter's slumber. The air was crisp, the heat, on days when it appeared, wasn't as heavy, and the cold not that harsh. It was beautifully balanced.  

Out here though, he started seeing fall not from an outside perspective, but, in a way, from a tree's perspective.

The beautiful leaves fell, and he couldn't reach them again. He was left to stand bare against the oncoming winter cold, a sight that to an outsider would seem impressive, a feat of the majestic strength only nature can possess.

To Chris, it just seemed lonely.

He knew it was a natural process, drifting apart. Just like the leaves falling, it was somewhat inevitable, wasn't it? high school sweethearts were too lucky to be true. But that didn't stop a small but powerful part of him to hope. A hope that didn't come true, and now, where did that leave him?

If autumn at home was balanced, this autumn was anything but. It was almost as if he'd lost an organ, a limb. He couldn't balance the way he did before, he'd have to find a new way, but for now, he just existed in the unbalanced. It consumed his mind, what could he have done differently? Could he have stopped this?

Of course, these questions can't really be answered. Not by him or anyone else. So, he'd grow that limb back. Spring would come, and the leaves and flowers would blossom again.

But that fall, you two fell apart. And in those moments, the bareness of winter seemed insufferable.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Winter, 2006. 

Winters always seemed long to Chris.

As a kid, it was because he couldn't really play outside as much, his mother fearing he'd catch a cold. So, he was sentenced to long days inside, which were often very nice honestly, hot cocoa and warm blankets never in short supply. But kids sometimes can't help but want what they can't have, can’t they?

Well, that notion clearly never left Chris, even if he's not a kid anymore.

Winters were always long, but without you, they seemed longer than ever.

You talked on occasion. You come from the same relatively small town, so losing contact wasn't truly an option, especially because you used to be so close. People would always joke about you being a package deal, hanging out together so much it became second nature.

If Chris became too bored in his own house, or just plain tired of his siblings, it was the obvious thing to go to your house, and vice versa. Now, that refuge wasn't an option anymore.

At first, it was noticeable, like a gaping wound that wouldn't close that he couldn't help running his finger over, checking if maybe it healed already. Now, it was only a dull reminder of what used to be.

It's not like Chris didn't date. He did. And from what he heard (again, small town, friends from childhood. People always filled him up on what you were doing, even when he didn't ask.) you were dating too.

He really had no right to say that it bothered him.

You came up in his mind less and less, as time went on. But winters, being gray, and void of sun, full of storms, were always more introspective. That one especially, no one special really being in his life. Not that it wasn't fun, but he missed home, being grounded, happy. He was happy, in a way, just not the way he was used to.

It was full of contradictions, his mind struggling to make sense of his entangled feelings. You weren't there, and it hurt, but really it was so long since you've been there, and there's no one else at the moment, so was he just missing you or did he just miss loving someone the way he loves y- loved you?

The clean snow a perfect juxtaposition to his clouded mind, he decided to take a walk.

The streets were bustling as always, everyone walking around with a purpose, a destination in mind, which allowed Chris to slip between the crowds, unnoticed. He went to a coffee shop, got something hot to busy his hands with, and continued his aimless journey.

He ended up at a park, sitting down on a cold bench. He took a sip from his cup, wincing slightly at his still hot beverage, before sighing, closing his eyes for a split second before opening them again at the vibration of his phone.

Pulling his phone out of the pocket of his jacket, he held the cup carefully in his other hand as he opened the message.

Think of the devil. Although, you were anything but.

How are you?

Before he could type up an answer, his phone buzzed with another message.

I'll be in town in a week, thought we could maybe get a coffee, catch up. If you want.

He chuckled at the wording. Not a question, but a statement. Well, maybe there was some type of question there, between the lines, but to him, the answer was just as clear as the one to your question many summers ago.

Sure. When are you coming in?

Maybe, spring will be here closer than he thought.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Spring, 2015. 

Spring was the season of rebirth, the blossoms thriving once more, the weather warmer by the day.

You once told Chris spring was your favorite season.

"Really?" he asked, turning towards you, "why?"

"It's a rewarding season. It's like… for the entirety of winter, the trees were standing bare, the animals were confined to their lairs, more or less. And now, they've made it to see the beauty, the profusion. The next year, they do it all again, of course, but spring will always be there to show them it was worth it. Plus, the weather warms up, but not too much, which is a blessing. Especially to your sweaters," you joked, referring to the countless ones you'd pretty much stolen.

But Chris knew what you meant. The blossoms of happiness were spreading out across his life these days. Not everything was perfect, of course, but it was as near perfect as it could be.

"So, what do you wanna do for your birthday?" you asked next, surprising him with the sudden change of topic.

"Uh, I don't know. I haven't really thought about it," he shrugged. "but there's a while yet. Why, you had anything in mind?"

"Not really," you said, "that's why I asked. Anyways, think about it, will you?" you smiled and patted his shoulder affectionately before getting up, probably to put your empty cup in the sink.

He didn't know the answer to that. He had everything he could want and more.

There was something inexplicably comforting about spring. As a kid, springs always seemed like endings to Chris. The end of the school year, the end of a long winter. Only as he grew older he realized that springs are also wonderful beginnings. It was a fresh start, but also respected the past. It seemed to value the experiences of the past, yet prompting you to open a new page, giving the opportunity to start again.

Chris took that opportunity with both of his hands, especially when it came to you. Sure, every spring there would come the time of his birthday, but that was minor. Really, he celebrated you, all year but in spring especially.

Spring was the season of going to concerts together, you laughing at Chris as he's doing his best not to get recognized in his cheesy disguise of sunglasses and a hat. It's the season of going on spontaneous picnics because, "look how beautiful it is outside, Chris!", and he can't tell you no about anything. It's the season of taking Dodger out for long, long hikes, so when he comes home he falls right asleep, usually in your lap. It's the season of going out in the afternoon and it's warm, but by the time you come back it's night and it gets chilly, so Chris gives you his jacket, teasing you about how you always forget your own.

It's the season of preparing for summer as well, going through the cabinets and moving the winter clothes to the back and the summer clothes to the front. It's the season of finally using the pool again, and inviting his nephews and nieces over as well, and watching you splash around with them, carefully of course. It's the season of remembering that first summer together, and how far you've come since, together and individually.

Growing up was never easy. Growing up together was insufferable sometimes. But you fought, and you grew, and you talked things out. Spring, in a way, resembled the fact that you could overcome anything. Even after the harshest winter comes spring in all of its glory, blossom and vibrant colors.

And so, you two set out for one more great spring, and everything that will come after it. Summer was full of possibilities, but together, these possibilities didn't seem all that scary anymore.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

please tell me your thoughts<3 and stay hydrated besties!! btw, i opened a taglist for only chris & his characters fics so tell me if you’d like to join it / move taglists or really whatever you want to tell me i love talking to people:))

Taglist:  @horny-nd-bored​ @shannon124 @perfectlyharolds​ @wintersoldierslut​ @iceebabies​  @sleepingpapermouse @steverogerswasalwaysworthy @holtzkinnon @angelicl-y @stydia-4-ever @thatoneperson5000 @fangirlfree​ @kaitcordx25 @bequeening​ @steve-barry-damon-logan​ @itscrazycherryblossomcollection​ @hollandxmarvel​ @stargazingfangirl18 @readsreblogsfics @onetwo3000 @beritmetal @harrystylesholland @jazbot2000 @anobscurename @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @peggycarter-steverogers @evansphnx12 @starlightcrystalline @procrastinatingsapphictrash

Chris & co. taglist: @patzammit 

if you wanna join / be removed from a taglist, comment/message me! much love <3

[mxvladdy]

Barbatos- True Form

It’s here! Thx for your patience's I hope it’s worth it :<

Last but not least for this series is: Belphegor  

Of all the demons you’ve met, he unnerves you the most. Not because of his demeanor or temperament. No, no you genuinely like him and his company. There is just something about him that unnerves you sometimes. He is just so hard to place.

You see- how can I explain this. The brothers are easy to understand’ easy to neatly categorize and compartmentalize in your mind as friend or foe. For as ancient as they are you do share some common traits. Family lineage for one. Traceable origins. It’s familiar, it’s comforting.

Hells, even Diavolo has an origins, a genealogy one could trace. A family made of stone flesh and blue blood. (He’d be happy to tell you about it too- if you have a few eons to waste).

But Barbatos? Barbatos had just always been- here...there? From the context clues you’ve picked up from Lucifer and Diavolo he was older than even the great kings of the past. He even helped raise the crown price. He grew in experience and expanded his talents, but never aged. Did he have kin? A bloodline? Hell did he even bleed? His very existence raises the hackles of your self preservation skills. 

If he is older than the old kings is he old then the concept of time itself? Does the idea of time really exist to him at all? 

The odd fight or flight feelings he gives you lessen and disappear over time though. He knows he can be quite uncomfortable to the human psychic and evolutionary survival traits instilled in you after hundreds of thousands of years fighting to the top of the food chain. 

It took you a bit, but one day you finally warm up enough to ask him about- well him. How he works, and what is relation with the idea of time even is. It was shot in the dark question. He is a notoriously private demon. But for you he will open up a little. Besides it’s not like you could do anything with the information anyway. Just promise to never tell Solomon. 

The best he can explain time to a mortal is in an analogy. If time was an object it would best be described as a stream or creek to him. And all the little minnows and guppies trapped in it’s currents were the beings of the three realms. While they are bound by the waters he would be the one standing on the riverbank. 

Most of the time he is happy enough to walk alongside the flow. Other times he enjoys simply dipping his feet in and watch it all pass him by seeing what it all does without his intervention. 

Others he’ll slip in himself and gauge out new deviations and channels of his own. He loves to see what flourishes in his hand crafted areas without intervention.

He does confide in you however. Despite his age and maturity he can still slip up from time to time. He is not infallible after all. Barbatos’s corporeal existence depends heavily on his emotional state and mental fortitude. If he is not careful he has a tendency to just-get swept up. 

One moment he is having a delightful time with you over a fresh pot of tea and the next… You had a lovely funeral. Wait- hmmm no. Honestly, humans can be so gaudy sometimes. He was actually offended on your behalf. The flowers weren’t even freshly cut. 

Ah well. Once he is stable he’ll simply dam this stream and kill the flow before this travesty would happen. Now where was he? Ah yes, do you think this blend goes better with Madame Screams or a human bakery? 

Truthfully Barbatos doesn’t use his abilities all that often. It gets boring real quick. But sometimes he is tempted. Anything to do with you is a struggle to be exact. Most streams involving you he is happy to let slip by. All the ones of you falling for the brothers, or his highness, even the angel. There are even a few of you falling for Solomon. Those he doesn’t wise to see. 

But the streams where you fall for him? The itch to look is overwhelming. Just a peek, a small taste of your favor. What had he done to make you his? Did he have a chance in this timeline? He always loved a good mystery. So he’ll bide his time and wait. 

Now naturally there are some other rules to his existence. Being constantly hyper vigilant of himself can get exhausting and he needs to rest. He doesn’t sleep though, not by human standards anyway. You’ve walked in on him “resting” once or twice. He calls it a stasis period. To you he looks like he’s frozen. Stock still and just standing there in his room. His lanky form flickering in and out of focus. After images appear around him, hundreds of different hims there but not. 

It’s an absorption stage, or so he explains. All the input from the trillion parts of hims scattered about all sharing like a hive mind their encounters and experiences. This is the one time every version of him is in sync and very vulnerable. 

While he can convene with all his scattered parts of him in stasis he still cannot be in the same visible area as them. One of the two would have to yield to the other. The weaker one reabsorbed quite violently. It is a most unpleasant feeling. 

After exerting large amounts of energy and not resting it can take him a bit to recover, and it is very noticeable. He lags hard after such instances, literally. The first time you saw him snapping and rubberbanding around the castle gave you a few more grey hairs then was normal for your age. He’s normally smooth movements were now choppy and stiff. It would have been funny if you weren’t so worried for his well being. The only thing to stop him is Diavolo himself having to throw his weight and power around to get him to rest. He hates being reprimanded. 

Don’t get me wrong though. He loves serving the royal family. The years spent in the Devildom have been an utterly delightful vacation. The menial labor and tasks keeps his mind anchored in the present and mutes all the other voices of him to a manageable static. 

Now when it comes to his form quite frankly even he has forgotten what he originally looks like. He has been in this form for so long he might as well call it his original form. You ask to see it once, beyond curious. If you could see it that was. Was he like Dia? A formless form? A mass of contradicting layers stack one on one on top of each other?

He is hesitant to say the least. He consults with himself on this. Have any of the others come across this yet? If not he promises to look into it for you. He practices with Simone, knowing that aside from Solomon he knows the limits of a human. Once certain he comes to you delighted to share himself with you.

He is so smol small. His form fitting neatly in the palm of your hand. He is warm and pulses like with a faint heartbeat. You can’t really make heads or tails of what his defined form really is though. His tiny form is covered in a glowing haze flicks of distorted images and sounds invade your senses whenever you hold him. But one thing you can sense in some kind of bony nodules and slender legs. Thousands of them all skittering and tickling your flesh, like an obscenely long centipede.

Now that you know of this form he likes to pop up from time to time when he misses you. His favorite spot to appear is in the breast pocket of your uniform. It’s dark and quiet and close to your heart. While he can’t talk in this form, the physical closeness is enough for the both of you. 

Mini Fic

“Be honest with me. Which one of me is your favorite?” You flip over onto your pleasantly full stomach. His tea sandwiches and cakes make you feel sleepy. You stretch out with a grunt of happiness enjoying all the little touches that were distinctly Barbatos. The blanket protecting you from the early morning dew smelt of elderflower and juniper. The fleece material was a personal favorite, soft, warm, and perfect. Even the foods had all been your favorites. He had crafted this all with you in mind. Surely you were the favorite. If he would put this much effort into it.

The demon in question hums from his chair. A steaming cup of tea resting lightly on his bottom lip. A perplexing thought. Each one of you was a delight to his many senses, so similar, yet so different at the same time. Like a reflection in a broken mirror. Each one so stunning and vivacious in a way only a human could be. Yet so few even glanced his way. “Does a parent have a treasured child?” He quips back. 

Your peal of laughter warms him better than any tea. “Ha! You must be an only child then.” You snort. He matches your smile, pleased that you were pleased. 

“Perhaps-” He takes a sip cutting off that train of thought there. He didn’t need to sour a pleasant morning with such melancholy questions. Was he an only child? Surely he at least had a sire. If he had such kin would they have not met by now? He was on every plane of existence that he knew of. Had they missed each other? Slipping past each other like ships in the night.

More likely they would be more like two similar ends of a magnet being forcibly kept away by their molecular structure than merely missed chances. Incapable of existing in the same dimension at the same time.

Ignorant to his inner turmoil you flip back over to your back eyeing the snack tray he refilled. “How much longer now?” He checks his pocket watch then looks out at the carnage below them.

The Battle of Omosu was in full swing. The ancient warriors below oblivious to the strangely dressed human and otherworldly man sitting on top of a neighboring cliffside to observe the preordained outcome. “Any moment- now pay attention.” He chastises you but without any heat. Pocketing his watch he comes to sit beside you on the fleece blanket. You scoot closer, happy to have his naturally warmer body beside you. The heat of which fends off the cold sea breeze. “There, look.” He points to a growing patch of bubbles by one of the enemy ships. 

The water turns turbulent, oily green, and black bubbles foaming on top of the surface. “Wow.” It was all you could manage to whisper. 

Leviathan enters the fray now, called forth by his pact barer. The great serpent emerges like a ghost from the depths. Invisible to the other mortals you watch fascinated as his massive tail wraps around a boat crushing it as easily as if it were a stick. Another capsizes, getting pushed away by his massive shoulder. 

The sailors fall into the choppy water mouths open in silent screams. They would not survive after hitting the water. Levi’s legion waits below, ready to drag them deeper down. Their bodies will be added to the Devildom navy. Something dark and humanoid darts around the remaining boats. From what you remember from class Levi had called forth an umibozu from the nearby depth for this fight. Its bloated grey body jostles the boats knocking more sailors overboard whole. The two of them make fast work of the enemy ships. The human sailors pick off the rest.

“Quite impressive.” Barbatos remarks. “I can see why humans want to make deals all the time. But what a terrible cost, don't you think?” 

“What’s going to happen to the pact holder?” You ask. 

“Depends on whatever Levi feels like. Mostly his holders are trapped in the depths of his realms. Left to the devices of their victims. But each brother is different.” The air around you both grows thick with your sudden fear. You rub subconsciously where your pact mark rested, eyes blank. 

He places a firm hand on your thigh bringing your focus back to him. “Don’t worry. Like I said the choice is up to the demon that holds the pact. I doubt you would be advantageous to the royal navy.” You chuckle weakly, still rubbing at the growing chill climbing up your arm. “Will this be enough for your project?” He removes his hand begrudgingly away from your soft leg. “It is getting late.”

You nod glancing back down to the battle. It was already over-with the great sea beasts and demons in the water, Takeda’s forces didn’t stand a chance. You don’t wait to see Levi’s victory lap. “Yes, thank you for your help.” You accept his help in picking up your books and supplies. “I hope Kinz is happy with this.” You had been having a bit of trouble in your history class with Professor Kinz. Nothing major, you had assured him. But if it continued your ranking within the school would be at risk, and with it your scholarships. 

“Any time.” Barbatos moves an elegant hand to the center of your back escorting you away from the edge. A door slowly emerges from within the mist. He grabs the semi-translucent knob and opens it for you. “I know it will be more than satisfactory.” 

“Ye?” You adjust your pack’s shoulder strap bracing yourself for the weirdness of time travel. “Think you can give me next week's lotto numbers? I’m asking for a friend.” Your teasing pulls a deep rumble from him. It was all in good fun, but truth be told he came to find that not keeping one of his many eyes on you had the most enjoyable outcomes. You little human ramblings and witty comebacks being one of them. You at least weren’t afraid to joke around him. 

“Now, who said I did anything of the sort?” He chuckles. Keeping a firm grip on your forearm he ushers you through the threshold. You clung to him hating the sticky feeling of the space between time. It clung to your skin, thousands of webs grab and pull at your clothes knowing that you were not supposed to be outside of their control. You were envious of the fact that you couldn’t experience it the way Barabatos did. To him, this was nothing more than the feel of a cool shower. The pulls of time merely buffering off of him. Hardly a threat like it was to you. 

He sees you off at the gate to the house bowing deeply as you hop up the front stairs waving at him. You had to hurry lest you be late for dinner. Once you had disappeared through the door he melds into the timestream once more emerging in front of your classroom. A week had passed and your paper was due. He was excited to see what you had gotten and just didn’t feel like waiting this time. He could indulge from time to time. 

The bell rings and your class files out. They pay him no mind. The prince’s butler was nothing to gawk at. He counts heads. His frown deepens when you do not appear from the lecture hall. Kinz leaves the room last, her heels clacking obnoxiously on the marble. “Oh! Good afternoon Barbatos, are my services needed by the prince?” She smiles showing far too many teeth to be considered polite. Their mutual dislike of each other was a poorly kept secret. But she had a talent that Diavolo needed; for the moment. 

He matches her predatory smile. “I was here looking for our esteemed exchange student.” Her smile falters, her hackles raising for a moment before her face goes blank. 

“They didn’t show up today.” She flicks her tail dismissively. “You know how pathetic humans are.” She challenges him, locking eyes with him like the fool she was. 

“Hmm. I do not share this sentiment, but it is unusual to have them miss class.” All airs of pleasantly evaporate from him. The cold fury of his ire permeates the narrow hallway. Kinz flinches, breaking eye contact with him. Her weak attempt at dominance is gone. “A moment if you will-” His voice brittle and laced with malice. “I shall return for you later.” He bows shallowly and blinks out of existents leaving the woman quaking in the hall. 

________________________________________________________________

An insult, a complete violation of the rules set by Diavolo himself. If the celestial council caught wind of such a flagrant disregard for your mental well being- the program would be in jeopardy. Hiding your death had been hard enough. But a room full of demons acting out unsupervised? 

Barbatos struggles to control himself. He could feel his grasp on himself waver with each passing second. His very self unraveling at the seams. Your tears fuel his rage.

Kinz stands over you mocking your relentlessness in front of your peers since the brothers were not present in the class. You had been so excited to test your merit on your own, believing that after getting to know the student body you could handle it. Diavolo approved, figuring his name and the program's initiative was enough to protect you- at least on campus. In theory, it seemed like a good idea, you were well liked among the student body. But that same feeling didn’t bleed over to this particular teacher it seems. A grave error on the councils’ part. 

Barbatos watches along with the rest of the silent class as Kinz burns your paper at the front of the lecture hall, berating you for “showing off” and “abusing your statues for brownie points”. You leave halfway through the start of class. A trail of salty tears and ashes left behind in your wake. 

Such disgustingly uncouth behavior. To a guest of the prince no less. To you. 

He arrives inside Diavolo’s office in a blur, filling the empty air by his prince’s side. The younger demon used to the sudden comings and goings of his most trusted ally didn't even look up from his paperwork. “Something the matter? You are getting a little wispy around the edges.” Diavolo asks signing off on a form. 

Barbatos inhales deeply focusing on his present self. The unneeded action of breathing, the expanding and contracting of his chest cavity was soothing. Not necessary for him, but nice. Yet another odd quirk he had picked up during his time in the Devildom. “Kinz has been putting the program in jeopardy.” He grinds out once he finally locks himself back in. 

“Oh?” Diavolo dips his pen in its ink well. “That is quite unfortunate for her. Do you suggest a council meeting on the matter?” Barbatos bites his cheek. 

“I believe her offense far outweighs just a slap on the wrist. I believe her tenure should be revoked. This isn’t her first strike.” 

Diavolo chuckles resting back in his chair. He gives his full attention to his butler who was bustling around the room, tiding an already spotless room. “I haven’t seen you this bloodthirsty since those scribes in Alexandria poked at you.” 

“I gave them a fair warning. As I have with Kinz.” He bristles. Diavolo waves a hand, willing to listen. “Kinz has taken up public humiliation and verbal abuses since the brothers are not around to interject. You know how she is. This will only accelerate in time if not nipped now.” 

“Is that what you see?” 

“I don’t need to to know.” 

Diavolo sighs deeply, weighing the pros and cons of losing such an asset. He already knew his verdict, as did Barbatos. Even without his powers, they both knew either one of them would bend for you. “Fine.” He returns to his desk of papers. “I will let you do as you please. Just don’t tangle things up too much.” 

“Thank you, my lord.” 

In a way, it was a pity. Kinz is- well- was one of the Devildom’s more esteemed historians. Her place amongst the upper echelon had been a commendable feat. She certainly lasted longer than the archivist and scribes that had come before her. 

 Barbatos stares in disgust at his once stark white gloves. But better soil a pair of gloves or two then touch her wretched corpse with his bare hands. Ugh. Was that some viscera on his wingtips? The cruor of it turns purple as it oxidizes in the open air. Perhaps he had gone a bit overboard. Though to him, it was merited. She had been a pain in his ass for years. Plus the past thirty or so versions of her had put up a bit of a fight. Once even he had walked in on a reflection of him taking her down for some other transgressions. He rolls his shoulders as a phantom twitch shoots up his spin. Merging consciousness was unbearable. Yet, as he went about his duties “cleaning” he realized he would handle as many as needed to see you safe. Fascinating. 

At first, he had debated with himself on at least keeping a few versions of Kinz around. While he universally hated her, there were a few less volatile Kinz floating around. If only to steal her work for the prince and his goals. But even without her, her discoveries and advancements would be found by others. He had even found a diamond in the rough, a potential successor. Given time to grow and which paths they take they could benefit Diavolo greatly. Even more than her. A gamble he was happy to take. With that discovery, Kinz’s faith was sealed. She was set to be only a figment of a memory left in his mind. The rest of the universe will never remember her.

 ______________________________________________________________

You stare bewildered at the aged bronze plaque on the door. Something about it didn’t sit well with you. But damned if you could place it. It had something to do with the name. Des Moines...Moines? Who in the hells was that? You glance at your schedule like it was your first day of school instead of your 150th. 

Room 325- Demonic history: Professor Des Moines Riel.

This can’t be right. Where was Kinz? You grab at your head crying out at the sudden violent throbbing that erupted between your eyes. The queasiness it caused was beyond description. It was enough to send you to your knees. Indecipherable images layer themselves in your mind, folding and stacking on top of each other. The mounting pressure scares you and then-

Nothing.

Bliss and clarity. Like sucking in a breath of fresh air after a near death experience. What were you thinking about again? How did you end up on the floor? Shaking yourself from your stupor you stumble back to your feet. The school hallway was too stuffy for some reason. You needed to walk away, especially from this door. Just looking at it made your stomach clench. Yes, you needed some fresh air. That’s all. 

“Is something wrong?” Patent leather shoes appear beside you matching your hurried gate effortlessly. You shake your head, not trusting yourself to open your mouth lest you start feeling ill again. Barbatos stops you with a gentle hand on your waist. He scrutinizes you, teal eyes roving over every inch of you. Shucking a glove he places a warm palm on your forehead. “You are clammy.” 

“I’m fine.” You lie through your locked jaw. “Just got dizzy for a second.” He looks alarmed. “Don’t worry about it- probably just one of those mysteries of the school.” 

“I’m not worried about it, but you on the other hand.” He looks up from your flushed face to the hallway you had vacated in such a hurry. The history wing. Could you? Impossible. “Is there an issue inside the department?” Had he missed something? 

“What? Oh, no really! Everything is great! I think.” You lean into his hand now resting idly on your cheek. It felt so good compared to your cold skin. “I just- I could have sworn. Is Riel new?” You rub at the bridge of your nose. A knot was growing between your eyes now. “Where is Kin-Kinel? You draw a blank. A name was on the tip of your tongue. You glance up at Barbatos. His hand on your cheek becoming stiff. “What?”

“Nothing my dear.” He recovers smoothly. The hand on your cheek slides down to your shoulder. “Perhaps you should sit out of this class for today? You sound like you're overworking yourself. I’ll make a note of it to Diavolo and Lucifer so it won’t be counted against you.” 

“I- don’t think that’s wise,” You argue meekly. “I have a paper to work on for this class-”

Barbatos ignores your weak plea. Drawing you close to his side he steers you down to the lower floor. “Nonsense. Why don’t we spend some time together? I can help you with that paper later as a trade.”

Hmm. That wasn’t a bad idea. If any demon could get you out of class and help you make it up it would be him. Maybe a little break would be good for you. Though you can’t remember why you needed it in the first place. 

[thefairyletters]

✨ Spooky Recs✨

I read a lot of fanfictions... More than I am proud of. I thought I should recommend as I go before I lose sight of their existence among the sea of my favorites.

Since past few days I have been craving for some creepy, unnerving fanfics that will keep me restless and awake at night. I remembered my favorites and wanted to read more of the kind so I looked up, patiently going through each story that sounded compelling. I also revisited old stories for nostalgia's sake.

Of course, rare as they are, in Naruto fandom no less, it's even harder to find a horror and mystery fic that is well written, not dropped under 2 chapters, and really keeps your attention.

🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹

Genre: Horror, Mystery, Comedy

I've rated 4 aspects of the work -

Writing – I don't judge writing based solely on the grammar and vocabulary. I also consider how the author expands upon a subject, if they are consistent with the facts, if they are able to keep the attention of the readers regardless of their creative writing skills.

Characters – If the characters are well-developed, in their given character, if OCs have any real significance to the story.

Plot – How gripping is the storyline, if the story sticks to its original plot, the structure of the story, plot holes.

Flow – Mother-of-slow-burn, slow-but-steady, steady, fast, I-am-speed

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When the flowers cry : TCOOKIES777 || M || AO3/FFN || SasuSaku || Goth Horror || Post-Canon, set during Blank Period || Ongoing

When one of the greatest medical-nin in the world goes missing in what should have been a simple delivery to the Land of Spring’s Hidden Snow Village, the rest of Team 7 must reunite to find her. But even the most powerful team of shinobi will find themselves challenged in a battle against the supernatural. With Sasuke's return, vengeful ghosts of the past will test him and his love.

My thoughts : One of the best stories I've read in a while, and top tier SS stories. I read this in one sitting. I never listen to music while reading, preferring silence, but for this one, I suggest you do as the author says. Also, keep some tissues and food with you. This story is major in mystery and minor in horror but otherwise full of SS fluff.

Writing: 10/10

Characters: 10/10

Plot: 9/10

Flow: Steady, if a bit confusing (but that's why it's mystery)

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Kyuro : silver_shot || T || AO3 || SasuSaku || Mystery || Post-Canon || Complete

“Oh,” says Naruto, “well, its sort of like that. Except in this village, the story has a way more darker ending – it basically goes like this: the girl and the guy plan to run away together. The guy steals a bunch of treasure, and stashes it away. But then, when he goes to get the girl at her village, he kills her and decides to run away with all that money. But then he is killed by the guards of the girls village and now they're both dead and the treasure is hidden away somewhere”. Sasuke stares blankly at the blond, “that story makes no sense”.

My thoughts : I know you must be thinking the same thing as Sasuke – "makes no sense". I did too, but it's a pretty cool short story. It lies on the funny, creepy side that slowly starts to lose its funny touch. SS makes stupid mistakes later on but it could be because they are MCs. The ending is very ambiguous. It's not my favorite mystery but it is something. Enjoyable read but not something I will pick again.

Writing: 8/10

Characters: 8/10

Plot: 8/10

Flow: Fast

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Moon stuttering in the sky : xfrinz || T || AO3 || Gen || Mystery || Pre-Shippuden || One-shot

Kakashi is suspicious of many things about Haruno Sakura. Too many things about her don't make sense, with too many incongruous explanations.

My thoughts : Author of this story just summarised Pre-Shippuden in less than 4k words and made some tiny changes to it. Not much though. One of my favorite gen fics yet. Read it if you haven't yet. You'll feel more sad than thrilled tbh. But worth it.

Writing: 10/10

Characters: 10/10

Plot: 10/10

Flow: I-am-Speed

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Breath mints : silver_shot || T || AO3 || SasuSaku || Comedy-Mystery || Post-Canon || Ongoing (maybe)

Their home no longer exists with the life it once had – in fact no settlement thrives anymore; they exist only in a snapshot that contradicts time itself. Families within their own homes sleep in a slumber that they cannot wake from. Those that were chatting on the street prior to the event simply drop their heads and remain unresponsive.

My thoughts : I picked it up for Mystery but I stayed for Comedy. But of course that's not to say supernatural elements in this story is not it, but it sure pales in comparison to effortless humor in this story. Lee and Kiba pair is something you don't see often but they get along too well here. Charactisation is on point as well. SS angst! + NS angst (but it's downplayed)

Writing: 10/10

Characters: 10/10

Plot: 9/10

Flow: Steady

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The Curse : sincerelyLen || T || FFN || SasuSaku || Horror || Post-Canon || Ongoing

Team 7 is unexpectedly assigned an S-Ranked Mission involving an unsolved mystery of 10 years. An eerie adventure that will test their teamwork, strengths, and greatest fears. Do you believe in Curses?

My thoughts : My all-time favourite horror Naruto fanfiction. To me, this sets the standard of how mystery and horror elements should be handled. I have never been able to get this story out of my mind even it's been years. Perfect charactisation of Team 7 with Smart-yet-Stupid!Sakura, I-can-fight-aliens-and-reanimated-corpses-but-keep-ghosts-away-from-me!Naruto and I-dont-get-paid-enough-for-this!Sasuke. I especially love OCs here. They kinda reminds me of Pillars from KnY. You must read this story, loosely based on Zombie apocalypse + curse concept.

Writing: 10/10

Characters: 10/10

Plot: 10/10

Flow: Slow-but-Steady

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Silent High : Istoria || T || FFN || Gen || Mystery || Post-Canon || Complete

A bit of the Silent Hill series mixed in with Naruto. Trapped in an illusion whose rules are unknown, they struggle to find answers before darkness consumes them.

My thoughts : One of the best mystery fanfictions I've read. I especially loved how this story handled Genjutsu in the best possible way it could without it turning into some cliche, ghost story. Though really, this story has shown what my greatest fear actually is. I will never be able to leave my back open to a wheelchair. This story has simple writing yet it gives you creeps with the twists and turns. A must read one because it is unlike any other in this list.

Writing: 9/10

Characters: 10/10

Plot: 10/10

Flow: Steady

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Silence of the Damned : Daystar Clarion || T || FFN || Gen || Psychological Horror, Mystery(?) || Pre-Shippuden || One-Shot

When Naruto wakes up to a dead body in his bathroom, he begins a quick spiral into madness.

My thoughts : Listen to Halsey's Control while reading this. Quite chilling, deals with mental issues and morbid but in a fascinating way. It gives a new meaning to Dark!Naruto, but one that actually makes sense. I never saw the ending coming... I had something else in mind and I was convinced it would be, but nope. Here's a sequel to this One-Shot (Uzumaki's War) which I never picked up.

Writing: 10/10

Characters: 9/10

Plot: 9/10

Flow: Slow-but-steady

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To the Victor : Letta || T || FFN || NaruSaku || Psychological Horror || Shippuden || One-Shot

Naruto loses the fight and Sakura is a trophy of war.

My thoughts : A very twisted NS, if you squint. It's not horror but it might as well be... it is still a disturbing story to see from the eyes of Sakura. Quite chilling to be in Sakura's shoes. But I love this because it is one shot and I loved the ending.

Writing: 9/10

Characters: 10/10

Plot: 8/10

Flow: Steady

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Under the Skin : BukkakeNoJutsu || T || FFN || Team 8 || Body Horror || Pre-Shippuden || One-Shot

Your actions don't make you a monster. Your reasons do.

My thoughts : There's a reason why Shino is my favourite team 8 member. In my opinion, Shino is also one of the strongest Shinobi of his generation. His clan techniques are just that horrifying. This story is testament to that. He is so terrible.

Writing: 10/10

Characters: 10/10

Plot: 10/10

Flow: Slow-but-steady

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Instant Message : Keelah || T || FFN || SasuSaku || Murder mystery || Modern AU || Incomplete

She gave him names to kill, in order not to be killed herself. But having blood on her hands was turning out to be much worse than dying. "…There's still round 2…3…4…" When does this game end? She asked. "Don't you see, Sakura?" He said, "It never does."

My thoughts : I read this story a long time ago and have read this twice. Personally, it has the most interesting concept of all stories in the list. It reminds me of Vocaloid series, "Bookmark of the end". Kind of. To those who are thinking of picking this up, go ahead! It's a great book and has one of the best suspense I've read in Fandom. BUT, it has been stopped in mother-of-all-cliffhangers and Author is MIA for 4 years now. But, all things considered, it remains to be one of the best stories I've read.

Writing: 10/10

Characters: 9/10

Plot: 10/10

Flow: Steady

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Monomoth : Ohtze || M || FFN/AO3 || SasuSaku || Horror || AU || Incomplete

Everything ends, eventually. Eight years after the war, Sakura's unhinged and Sasuke's obsessed. The fields are filled with corpses.

My thoughts : I read this story right after "The Curse", my favourite. From what I remember, Sakura and Sasuke are both mentally deranged, in different ways. Lots of death and gore to stomach, so not for weak readers. There's no speak of fluff in this one. Zero, Zilch, Nada. I wouldn't call it your classic 'Horror', but it is very disturbing, so psychological horror is more like it. Don't eat food while reading this one. Did I mention how Sakura is mentally disturbed beyond help in this one? And Sasuke is obsessed. If these suit your tastes, go ahead.

Writing: 10/10

Characters: 9/10

Plot: 10/10

Flow: Slow

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I hope you enjoy this list. Let me know your opinion in comments.

[xo-cuteplosion-xo]

Hello! I want to start by saying that I’m totally in love your BSD works. If it’s alright, I wanted to make a request~ I’d love to see a Kunikida x Reader (preferably she/her) angst fic 💔 with the prompt “Please... please don’t look at me with such hatred, I’m begging you.” (coming from the reader)

It might be something related to a case they work on that contains a controversial topic and the reader turns out to be morally grey about it, creating a contrast with Kunikida’s snow white, ideal morals and maybe triggering his past traumas. Or anything else that you think would create a beautiful angst with Kunikida, this was just an example! The ending is also up to you, you might just finish it in a dark, angsty mood or shift to fluff/comfort; I’d probably prefer the second ending but if you don’t feel like it, I’m alright with anything!

Oooo I don't get requests for Kunikida much, so this one made me super excited to write! I hope it lives up to your expectations. 

The gray between right and wrong |Kunikida x Female Reader|

Prompt|“Please... please don’t look at me with such hatred, I’m begging you.”|

Warnings| mentions of implied abuse ( the case being worked on)

Notes- there are she/her pronouns used. (third-person for a few paragraphs)

Words- 2163

~

Beneath what appears is always an underlying layer of difference. Between the right and the wrong, there is always a between. Separating black from white lay a thin sheet of gray. With every decision, there is indecision. No mortal can exempt themselves from these concepts. To be morally white is to ignore being human. To be perfect is to ignore your imperfections. Even those with the strongest of morals have moments of doubt and indecision. There is always the what if I was wrong. While a person's morals appear crystal clear and white to them, to another, to society, their morals may not be as clear as they say. While one may say that theft is gray, one may also argue theft is black. It can be gray because theft may lead to survival. While the counter-argument says it is black, as it takes what could have helped earn somebody a living without giving in return. As long as the person believes they are right, their morals can be completely white. Such a person does exist, a person who sees it all, every right and wrong choice, every counter and rebuttal, they do exist within the mundane world. Such people turn to their ideals as a way of living life. Such was the case with the agency’s Doppo Kunikida. A man whose life was completely planned out, a man who lived his day on a schedule created for his specific needs. His every movement a routine planned out without a second of hesitation. There was another within that agency who found her morals to be pure and untainted. To him, she was the ideal woman, level-headed and strong on her own. Somebody he could rely on, without worrying his schedule would suffer.

The case the two were working on was fairly simple, but involved complicated matters. Drama among the home was always complicated. While upfront one would say the situation was dreadfully obvious, another could notice something missing. These situations, especially involving abilities, can become a tangle of lies, deception, and cunning twists. This was one of the few cases one could rely on their moral sense of justice. These situations were the trickiest, lying within morally gray areas of different sizes and classifications. He looked at her walking while jotting small notes and thinking to herself. He wondered what was on her mind as they went on their way to investigate the crime. “Is there something bothering you?” he asked before looking down at his watch, it was alright to slow their pace. Arriving too early would disturb the latter of their day. Judging by their location and the remaining distance, they could half their current pace and still be thirty seconds early. Best not to risk it considering traffic and unforeseen issues could arise at any given moment. Slowing down just enough to talk would not hurt though, even if they came into a disturbance, they would be there on time.

Looking at him with e/c eyes, you shrugged. Closing your notebook and pocketing the pen you had been holding. If there was something on your mind, it would be the confusing state of this case. On one hand, there was black, murder, and on another hand, there was something else. It wasn’t white or gray, but closer to a blackening gray. Murder was wrong, no matter what, at least that was how Kunikida, your partner, would view it. To him, there was no doubt in his mind that this case was going to end in the pursuer being sent to jail, tried for the sin they committed. 

Then why, why was it that you found yourself morally gray with this case? You had never been so unsure of an answer before. An accidental murder, an act of defense, an act of pure hatred. Did these concepts change the black to gray? Murder stayed indifferent, it stayed wrong, but could it be justified? Surely Kunikida would agree that at times certain morals had to be bent, laws had to be made to accustom these morals. So you answered him honestly, for lying in itself was never the right decision, even in the event to spare another's feelings, you were honest and down to earth with your approach. “The case is bothering me, that’s all.” It was not a half-truth, simply not the full reason. He never asked why, just as you never pressured to why he had so many ideals written out in that notebook of his.

Stepping inside the warehouse where the case had originally started, one of the family members stood waiting. After your kind introduction, the woman, in her late twenties, answered little of what pressed on your mind. Though she did make one small flutter of anxiety run rampant over your heart. Like a stampede of gazelle rushing to escape a predator, your heart pounded under the force. While she covered her words with unsure and terrified stillness, her hands had trembled and her words contradicted with the smallest of minuscule details. It reminded you of a memory you had. So the question softly fell in the silence. Your words pin against the stone; an unpleasant ding to stir up the room. So morally confident that an accidental death inflicted by self-defense as an ability activated unconsciously for the first time was unpunishable. Sometimes, bad people get karma in unimaginable ways. The fault falls on the cruel ways of that person. “You're the wife, so you should be able to answer with honesty. Was he kind to you and your daughters? Did this man ever hurt them?” with a horror-stricken face, the woman leaped from the box she had fallen onto earlier. Her face contorted in rage and shock. For a moment, a fading bruise showed itself on her wrist.

With a confident stare, you met her quivering eyes. The smallest tear pooling out of the corner. With such tender lips, the woman looked to the blonde you cared so much for. When her eyes settle back onto yours, she held nothing but regret. “He would have killed her, my baby girl.” She whispered such words softly, and you nodded. Walking her out with shaking hands, you smiled. “Your child did nothing wrong. The fault lays within the attacker.” Was it those words that triggered the beloved blond? So focused on comforting the mother you had forgotten you had him with you. So overly confident in your decision, you did not realize how morally gray that sentence had been. No human, no matter how evil deserves death's punishment. For most that punishment is nothing but freedom from hell. That was something you had learned from another co-worker. The suicidal maniac had a thing for death and would say the harshest yet most delicate sentences that stuck with you.

Kunikida stared in shock, never had he imagined she’d speak such words. Somebody who had fit all his ideals, somebody whom he had connected with, was justifying the slaughter of a man. It didn’t matter whether this man had hurt others, you locked a criminal up, you did not murder them. Murder, no matter the reason was murder, there was no right or wrong when it came to murder. As he listened to those words, a memory peaked inside his head. There were reasons he believed in what he did. Criminals have families, mothers, and fathers. If you kill a murderer, then the amount of killers does not decrease. The world would never be peaceful if all justice did was kill. An even punishment was required for the crime. His eyes couldn’t leave you, even as they narrowed and his brows dipped. His head shook in both shock and resentment.

Your heart nearly dropped from its cage. The look on his face was never a look you had thought you would find pointed at yourself. You knew you were right about this. Though your mind knew the decision; the thought you had come to was wrong. That it wasn't morally right, but it wasn’t wrong either. In fact, it was that heavy gray spot so many people trapped themselves within. You denied it though, saying your decision was not gray, but white. The longer you stare, the more an image is painted into your head. A loved one looking at you with such hatred, even you loathe yourself. It had been Kunikida who pulled you from that spot and showed you the light of the world. He had been the one your morals aligned to. It went silent, like the moment just before the tsunami’s wave came crashing down. When the torment of peace faltered, your hands came up to your chest and your eyes fell silently shut. Shaking your head with a striking, stabbing feeling in your gut words parted through your lips. A muffled scream, a plea to not he was not so harsh with you. “Please... please don’t look at me with such hatred, I’m begging you.” those words seemed not to reach him at first. His voice lashing out as if your words had been the lightning to this storm.

Though his voice is not loud, his words stuck with a heavy weight. “How could you say something like that?” he hissed through confusion and disappointment. Though his anger was no longer purely directed at her. The memory stirred within his mind, pulling the feelings he had about this topic to rise. “No matter how you look at it, nobody deserves to be slaughtered. A loved one always ends up feeling the fault, blaming themselves and hurting.” There would never be an exception. Even the most hated, dangerous, and cruel criminals had people mourn their death. Yet, he could not look past that to see the suffering he was causing the woman who stuck by him.

The louder his words became, the more they echoed and tore at your heart. With every passing second, you became less sure of your morals. Unsure if what you believed was truly above the others. Were you destined to be alone and isolated forever, to morally set for others to care, but not enough for him? Your voice repeated the same line again, this time your eyes leaked water. Rain was adding itself to the storm. “Please... please don’t look at me with such hatred, I’m begging you.” The words escaped your lips again as the thunder sounding about stopped abruptly. The only sound came from the rain; your soft tears. The smallest hiccup of your voice, as you tried to explain your reasoning, to explain the memory that drove you to think in such ways. To explain the view of such a thing from a female's perspective. Sometimes violence was the only thing to keep yourself alive and safe. In extreme situations, accidentally killing somebody happened. Bashing one over the head to keep them from harming you was the easiest way. Sometimes, those actions went too hard, and instead of simply knocking them out, they bled to death from the inside out. So why, why did he have to look at you the way they always did? It wasn’t fair, being a woman in an abilities world. These accidental deaths happen more frequently, men and even at times other women who seem to think they can get away with things, become victims to an ability reacting on its own, something appearing for the first time.

Kunikida glanced at the time with conflicted thoughts. His mind trying to settle on what he should do. For as much as he hated pushing things back, he knew he had hurt you. He’d never meant to lash out like that, especially not against you. Everybody had reasons for believing what they did, surely you did as well. Watching your shaking form, his arms grabbed onto you and pulled your head to his chest. The waves fell to a calm, a single drop of water plummeting before they were no more. Shock taking over your body as he embraced your shaken form. He whispered a word he did not often use in his large vocabulary. For you, he could set aside pride and show you a softer, caring side. “I apologize for… lashing out like that.” He found it so difficult, apologizing despite the difference in your opinions regarding this matter. He owned you a celebration for solving the case, but he’d brought you to despair instead. Deep down guilt flooded him, and he held you closer until the sniffling of your nose had stopped, and your shaking had come to a close. With a light smile, you reached to his cheek.

“It’s alright…” you whispered watching as the blonde pulled away and lightly patted your back, before looking down at his notebook and schedule the rest of his day.

"Great because I planned a small relaxation for later," he grumbled, with a slight red to his cheeks. This was out of the ordinary, but he'd been free enough to add it.

[inosukeslefttoe]

SO i just finished wonder egg priority and i think that with confidence i can say it has been one of my favorite animes like... ever ?? and not even from hyperfixation or obsession over it just... its so fucking real yet so simple in a way that i havent rlly seen shown in any other shows you feel ??

but first i wanna talk about how sexy the art and animation is real quick... HOMIE ITS SO GOOD LIKE EVERYTHING ABOUT IT JUST... serotonin... the characters are all so unique and iconic and fun but not over the top in their designs yknow ??? they seem like regular every day girls but they stand out and theyre all sO CUTE !!!! also i love how the style is like this soft bubbly slice of life lookin stuff with bright happy colors and the most beautiful scenes you could find but they also have the SICKEST fight scenes complete with whimsical animal helpers and terrifying villains and crazy weapons unique to each character. and the animation. god DAMN shawty i am obsessed with everything in this show. i might make a post solely about the art later lol bc i wanna get into the other stuff.

so the themes in the show right ?? it starts just as this cute lil magical girl kinda deal but within the first episode we see that like.. oh damn... thats kinda heavy... tbh i was a little shocked and thought about stopping bc yknow bad mental health BUT i was so intrigued that i had to keep going and i am SO GLAD that i did. because this show just so beautifully discusses all these heavy topics in such an eloquent and artistically expressive way. and also like, , the juxtaposition of the charming childlike vibe with bright colors and 14 yr old girl protagonists against the dark themes of suicide and so much else,, i think is just perfect. bc a lot of heavy animes are more of the seinen genre and have some middle aged dude as a protag or make the entire color palette dim or offer little relief to the pain of these heavy themes right ?? but NO not wonder egg bitches B) because these problems arent just things that ppl face later in life or just problems that need to be talked about among adults or the edgy seinen watching squad,, these are REAL problems that face people of every age, gender etc and i think its awesome that wonder egg addresses that. some may cringe at the thought of their high schooler watching animes that discuss sexual harassment, suicide, abuse, self harm, eating disorders etc,, but in reality it is the most comforting thing i have ever come across and is basically jsut free anime therapy. because not only does wonder egg present these themes to the viewers as something real that happens to all kinds of people (making said people feel heard in a way that maybe they hadnt before), but it also makes sure to vanquish all of these forms of trauma. and the way the trauma is vanquished isnt always beautiful and it isnt always just magically gone with a poof. the struggles of overcoming or living with that sort of thing are shown in such a real and relatable way that addresses every hardship trauma survivors have to go through. and i just. god i cry bro. 

oh m y GOD and the lgbtq+ rep in this show ?? like shawty... as soon as i saw episode one i was picking up on some gay/lesbian themes but then again im sapphic and project that a lot so i tend to see that sort of stuff like... everywhere... but NE WAYS... episode ten made me FUKCING CRY BRO LIke i cant believe there was a whole trans character with a whole trans pride hoodie like LKGHKDGH my heart is just so.. so fucking full thinking about him. bc like yeah i know there are trans characters in anime but i feel like theyre always very ambiguous about actually being trans or not or erased or portrayed as a harmful stereotype or theyre constantly misgendered and still refered to as their assigned gender at birth and i hate it. HOWEVEr... Kaoru.. *chefs kiss* it was so amazing to see a character straight up say “yeah im trans” in such a casual yet powerful way bc i personally have never seen that before. and i love love loved how he went into his backstory and talked to momoe about gender bc i think thats what she rlly needed and that it helped her find herself and it makes me so happy oh my god,, and the way they talked about it never seemed forced or like it was the focal point of his existence yknow ?? like yeah he existed to help momoe overcome some of her trauma but he also just existed to be HIM yknow ?? also... personally, i headcanon momoe as a trans girl even though i dont remember it being explicitly stated plus the school scenes of her and stuff would seem like they suggest otherwise ??but,,, SHAWTY THE AMOUNT OF SUBTEXT and her complicated relationship w gender is... something i feel like a cis girl would not go through so harshly yknow ?? with all of the questioning and feeling detached from femininity or feeling like ppl dont see her as an actual girl and only like her as a guy or for her masculine traits,,, but dont take my word on this bc i myself am a cis girl but that was just my take on it as someone in the lgbtq+ community trying to educate myself on the transgender community :) either way,, wonder eggs portrayal of momoe and kaoru and the way that momoe becomes so passionate about expressing herself the way she wants to as a girl is just... good lord im gonna cry its so perfect,,,.so ... i just love this show way too much. i also am honestly super lost about the relationship btwn acca and ura-acca ?? bc i was gonna mention ura-acca as a canonically gay guy bc when i was watching i interpreted ep 11 as him being in love with acca and being jealous of Azusa (bc i mean,, they lived together (i swear to god there was only one bed in that apartment) and had a daughter together and def loved each other and also when Frill said they were husbands and then when ura-acca said he wasnt attracted to azusa but he was def jealous of their relationship ??) but then i saw somewhere that theyre brothers ?? which would make sense ig since they look kinda similar and accas daughter called ura-acca “uncle”.. but at the same time its ANIME SO THEY ALL LOOK SIMILAR and referring to gay couples as siblings is an EXTREMELY common euphemism soooo... IM JUST LOST HERE... but yeah i tried doing research and found different things so i cant say anything for sure >:( however,,, if they are canonically a lil fruity for each other... when frill refered to acca as ura-accas husband i imploded dude you never hear that sort of wording in anime.. but if theyre related i am so sorry. 

god this is so much longer than i planned it to be oops but i also love the theme about like.. relying on friends to help carry your weight but at the same time not becoming completely dependent on those friends and using their support to learn how to love yourself and rely on yourself yknow ?? bc that is exactly what healthy friendships look like. bc i think ai sort of had a codependency thing goin on with koito maybe ?? but now she has a whole squad of funky friends that are so so different but all struggle with different kinds of trauma and although they fight over it, they always get through it with each other together. and they push each other no matter what to be the best versions of themselves and they teach other that getting hurt is okay because theyre always gonna be there to pick up the pieces no matter what happens. they can give each other space when they need and adapt to meet each others needs but theyre always able to balance it out with their own needs and thats such a beautiful thing in friendships especially at their age like damn i wish i had that maturity when i was 14 but no all i had was depression. another thing is that through these friendships you get to see all the different sides of each girl; you get to see them being strong or a shining light to their friends when theyre hurting but you also get to see them being hurt and weak and allowing themselves to be on the receiving end of the comfort. their friendships allows them to have weaknesses but it also allows them to highlight their strengths and thrive off of each others. I LOVE FRIENDSHIP DUDE

next i wanna briefly mention some of the themes connected to suicide that ive noticed. a big one is the survivors guilt that ai feels once koito is dead. several times she screams that she wishes she couldve gone with koito and she dreams of a “perfect world” where they committed a double suicide. one of the main reasons for her troubles is that she blames herself for koitos death and feels like it should be her thats dead... but at the same time she feels like too much of a coward to do anything now that koito is gone. she just has all these complex and contradicting feelings that wear away at her in ways that ppl that havent gone through the suicide of a loved one could never imagine. a lot of the times when things like this are portrayed in media i feel like its more in a way thats meant to guilt trip those that have taken their own lives and paint suicide as this selfish sin thats unforgivable but... not only does wonder egg reject that idea and instead portray it as a heartbreaking tragedy with,,, so so many terrible reasons, but it focuses on the feelings of ai separate from koito without blaming her in any way. not once did i feel like the show antagonized koito or that ai blamed koito for doing any of this, but they simply mourned her loss and touched on ais reaction towards the event but separate from koito herself if that makes sense. and i think that discussing survivors guilt without painting koito as the bad guy is something so beautifully done in wonder egg that can really resonate with those that have lost a loved one to suicide and have struggled with these same things.

okay i think this is the last thing ill mention,,, but HOMIE THE PARALLEL UNIVERSE BIT AT THE END. I AM. OBSESSED. i am such a whore for anything about the multiverse okay n e ways...,, not only did this make a super epic trippy ending of season one and add a little bit more magical girl whimsy to the show,, but it had such a powerful message. from the perspective of og ai,, finding out that you killed yourself in another world is... i mean its definitely not a surprise but at the same time it rlly makes you think how close og ai herself couldve been to that point and what decisions led her out of that dark place in her life. if i were in her shoes i would be terrified and id cry bc the thought of going back to such a dark place and actually going through with something like that is my worst fear and probably something that ai fears too. but at the same time,,, think from the perspective of ai two !!! like yeah its true that theres this awful terrible version of ai that dies but theres also a whole version of ai that is a superhero magical girl fighting off monsters to save countless ppls lives !! and she has a badass lizard and a gang of awesome friends !!! at first i was worried that ai two would be jealous of og ai and compare herself to her and feel inferior but like.. THEYRE LITERALLY THE SAME PERSON AND CAPABLE OF THE SAME THINGS !!! and ai two realized that !! just within the span of one episode, she went from the version of ai who took her life,, to the version of ai jumping in front of a friend to take a bullet for them and save their life. and that just inspired THE SHIT OUT OF ME. i think that ai was sent another version of herself to sort of beat her own worst enemy yknow ?? those doubts and fears that shes no good or that shes that same bystander from episode one and that she hasnt changed at all. but getting to interact with her parallel self and see her grow was just what she needed to realize that while yeah sometimes the worst thing can happen and things can be terrible but on the other hand sometimes the most wonderful thing imaginable can happen because she has the power to do either. 

so im gonna go ahead and stop rambling bc i got all my thoughts out that i wanted to for this post :D but yeah lol i might make another if i feel like it sometime. long story short: this show is perfect and it is going on my favorite of all times.

[papers4me]

Fruits Basket, Se03. ep 6.(Part 1)

The main female protagonist who, has been the “mother /psychiatrist/ fixer/curse-breaker” for 57 eps & 2 seasons, has finally had her own “I’m a real person with my own issues” ep !!!! YESS! So happy!!! also, so underwhelmed. Tohru has been painted to be this utterly selfless & altruistic character for long, that when she’s finally a balanced character it’s presented in half an episode? Don’t get me wrong, I like the ep, but there’s also the same feeling of bullet train that I felt in momiji’s ep! ugh!! I hated that feeling! Go away~ oh well.. I’ll quickly state what I didn’t like, before jumping into what I liked, in order to end with a happier note~

What I didn’t like:

Tohru’s monologue after leaving shigure & Isuzu felt more like a background exposition more than a true character’s thoughts. The reason is that It is quickly narrated with quick flashbacks from the past with intentional pieces missing from the flashback. Pieces like” how did Kyoko hurt tohru? She said to kyo, in se02, ep “ I feel like I’ve only caused her sadness” &  tohru’s flashbacks in se02 of her mother leaving/ closing a door. All these things not included in tohru’s 1st ever personal monologue made it seem like quick fill in for the audience more than tohru’s main struggle. Compare it to Yuki’s 3 ep monologue in se02, filled with all his own background info, hence, we as audience sit back & just feel. With tohru a little brain work is needed of putting things together in the puzzle is needed because NOTHING abt her trauma has ever been explained to us prior to her monologue . Also, compare this kyo. A character who ONLY have 2 eps dedicated to him in 57 eps, yet even without monologues & with hidden secrets for climax purposes, his emotions are clear cuz his background was explained early in se01, ep24 & se02, ep9. Compared to them both, her monologue felt a bit lacking.

What’s up with the following scene? Her crying & kyo comforting her mid-street. He saw her crying, asked what’s wrong & she couldn’t say & he gave her a comforting advice. All good. Kyo always give the most needed advice for tohru to be herself & feel comforted. Se01, “complain more, be selfish” Se02, somen table scene & asking her abt her future plans & the hiro incident. Kyo has tried to guess whats wrong first. Here he saw her cry in the middle of the street & just gave her an advice? couldn’t he at least guess wrongly if it is her granpa? school? anything? This scene is AMAZING but it feels off a little.

Kyo’s “ now I remember” EXCUSE ME?????? se01, ep14, valentine ep, he got a nightmare, then when shigure talked to him, we saw a quick flashback that we didn’t now what it is but now it IS kyoko. se02, the entirety of ep9 & the “ I won’t forgive you” & the flashback of young him with kyoko talking abt tohru. se02, ep 22 his fight with yuki & the clear face of kyoko telling him abt something regarding the hat. His entire shutdown of tohru IS abt kyoko NOT abt him being a monster cuz tohru accepted monster kyo in se01 ep 24! so.. REMEMBER WHAT????? the accident?? I feel like being hit with a rock. I mean, it makes sense that kyo will get PTSD after seeing the hat, cuz he remembers the bloody accident vividly. But it is the dialogue that IS weird. “ I remember” ?? it makes no sense? unless it is another hidden secret & will be revealed later. If so, then forget this point.

Kagura (more on her below). Now, let’s talk abt what I liked!

-Grief (the most difficult theme to express in literature): Excellent writing!

Grief is one of the most diverse human emotions. ppl who grief a loved one either erase everything abt them in order to cope with the pain of loss & live on, or drastically engrave everything, not want any memory to slip away, or hold the deceased on a pedestal, or hate them irrationally in order to forget abt them, some deny that the loved one is gone, others talk to them daily, some act & live normally for years & suddenly it hits them that this loved person is truly gone & they breakdown. Others, direct their disbelief of losing a precious one into the envy that other bad ppl are still living, why my precious one is dead?. Thats why, it is a difficulty emotion to understand by others. Ppl watching you will always think that comforting you is enough & that the longer you take, the more impatient they are with you. Tell me, watching tohru this ep, didn’t you feel that:

Come on. tohru, you can love your mom & kyo! who says only ONE person can be your precious?

Umm, why she cries for her mom NOW? 2 years after her death? Is she over it already?

Tohru~~ your mom aint going no where cuz you loved a guy? she’s in your heart, girl. Ugh!

Compared to yuki who was abused by his parents & kyo whose mom commit suicide in front of him, tohru’s trauma is meh~

Feeling this way abt tohru is exactly how many feel abt ppl struggling with grief. You are NOT a bad person if you felt this way. It means that thankfully you weren’t struck by grief to tohru’s extent or that your grief went about differently than tohru. Grief is a crippling feeling. It is valid, strong, overwhelming, paralyzing & above all very unique to the person themselves. Tohru feeling that her mom is slipping away from her memory is so realistic & utterly heartbreaking. Grief hurts & moving on from grief hurts more!!!! The more you go on & live your life, the more you feel like you betray your loved one.

Tohru’s entire existence is for her mother & so her mother LIVES inside her:

Finishing high school cuz it’s her mother’s request.

Getting a job to sustain herself cuz she has no one to support her financially.

Giving her mom’s wisdom & teachings abt life to others.

imitating her dad’s speaking style to prevent her mom from “leaving”.

Being the perfect girl in order to portray that her mom, who is a gangster & is hinted by the ugly relatives to be unfaithful to her husband due to tohru not taking after her dad, actually raised a respectful girl!

Talking to a dead cold lifeless picture as if it is a living human being & going into panic attacks when she looses such pictures.

Suppressing all her true “ ugly, negative” emotions & only giving the fake smiles & positive attitude.

She fears that ppl will leave her if she isn’t “comforting, happy”, hence, the whole facade of “ i’m okay, I’m okay”.

Immersing her self in ppl’s issues so she won’t face her own feelings of utter loneliness, fear of the future, & being left behind when everybody moves on with their lives.

Thinking that having selfish desires contradicts the “ hopeful, kind” girl images, hence, the fear to actually wants sth for herself. Everything HAS TO BE for the sake of the others.

Tohru is deeply traumatized & her complex, unhealthy but extremely realistic attachment to her mom must be broken. Tohru must learn to LET GO.

-Kagura’s character’s assassination. aka (violence heals y’all!)

The show wanted to express the emotion that kagura is still in love with kyo, but is learning to let go & accepting kyo/tohru love. I love that. Her speech with kazuma abt not being able to face tohru cuz her face will show her emotions is so relatable & it hit ME personally. Loved that. Then, she learns that tohru truly loves kyo & should confess to him not talk to Isuzu & I get that, it make sense that she lashes on thru & teach her the value of being open abt your feelings & dont loose him. all cool & understandable. BUT:

How dare you slap tohru like that? you don’t know what she’s going through? tohru is wearing funeral clothes for God’s sake! she just visited her dead mom, you insensitive woman! How dare you assume that all tohru is struggling with is love love, romance romance yay~ confess, kiss, be happy?

Tohru & kyo’s issues are deeper than typical, normal, shallow shojo love. It is related to child trauma & abuse. To their own individual identity & self-image! Their romantic love is meant to guide them towards better choices for the future, not magically heal everything. Their mutual love is NOT the answer to their issues.

How dare you slap someone to make them go back to their senses? this is such an anime move! ugh!~ it cheapens the emotional weight of character’s emotions.

“ I’m not apologizing to tohru. We communicate thro fists” excuse me?  you arent even communicating with kyo thro fists! he sees you & run! the only time he thanked you for, was when you didn’t “ communicate thro fists” & played with him as a child! Not only make her hit tohru but not apologize??

No one told her off? are you foreal?? Isuzu pouting lips is no match for Isuzu powerful emotions when she’s embarrassed, & kazuma! where you at? Happy at the “ open confrontation”? Why do you kill kagura’s character like that?

Side Notes:

I hate how this went by in half an ep like they did with machi!! tohru is THE main character for God’s sake! But it looks like the show is not so fond of the true tohru who wants stuff & screams & talks to herself, alas she isn’t the angelic, innocent girl that is saturating the heck out of all shojo amines. Oh well~ perhaps tohru’s issues will be visited again in the finale?

Kyo gets PTSD reaction in front of tohru. great. Now what’s next? I won’t ever forgive the anime if next ep, kyo & tohru are all normal or worse the episodic theme prevents the continuation & jumps elsewhere. Nearly all the eps that didn’t end with a happy note, started the next ep somewhere & totally forgot the cliff hanger. such as, Isuzu’s ep in se02, it ended with tohru’s nightmare & next ep started yuki’s issues with tohru all smiley & bright. Another example, the Cinderella play ended with kyo/tohru torn symbolism where each is awkward with the other, next ep machi !!!!!! & kyo/ tohru all normal in kazuma’s house. But this time, it will be an epic mistake to do the same. Kyo going full traumatic in front of tohru to the point of her screaming is not sth you skip & start over erasing. Don’t disappoint me show! you can’t screw that, can you?

I love the symbolism of kyoko disappearing from the picture & the crack of her framed pic at the end with it still continued in he ED. Good job.

They are building for a hug clashing scene between kyo & tohtu. it must hurt. It is designed to hurt. I wanted it to hurt. It is not abt romance. It is abt mental & emotional trauma. I’m excited. But I’m scared. After today’s ep, I can confidently say I don’t trust the director. I’m an anime-only, but tohru’s part in the story is the least touched upon, the quickest to get over with & has the wackiest animation. They just don’t know how to depict an emotional tohru~ sigh~

Tohru is written to be a unique protagonist in the sea of innocent, selfless & always happy shojo heroine & opposed to the badass, physically strong female protag in shonen. She is the most realistic, but so much of her potential is wasted so far~~

“ saving the sohma’s. breaking the curse for others is a lie, in reality I wanted to do it for kyo” This line is supposed to be liberating for tohru cuz for once she is putting herself FIRST! It is not abt kyo. It is abt herself! it is cuz SHE wants him. See the difference? See how this line gives tohru the biggest character development!! but still sth is missing. I duno..

I have lots to say abt tohru, kyo, shigure, the grandpa, kyoko, Isuzu & even kazuma! I’ll do that in part 2.

I still liked the ep tho. It is solid. I”ll like it MORE if they continued from here & didn’t cut it cold.

[winnetou-oldshatterhand]

That scene with Nscho-tschi in the bushes

So yeah, I collected and translated a few versions of that scene I wrote. For completeness’ sake: The first one is Karl May’s version, also translated by me.

Then we have a scene from my fic Das Buch, two scenes from a WIP with time loops that probably won’t make sense without context and at the end a little something about sibling banter written by someone with no siblings lol. That one is just for fun and written in about fifteen minutes max.

Original: (translated by me, from Winnetou 1 as on the Karl May website. Page ca 436)

I was already in the process of reaching out with my hand when something Winnetou said stopped me.

„Should I fetch him?“, he asked, whispering.

„No“, Nscho-tschi answered. „He will come.“

„He won't.“

„He will!“

„My sister errs. He has learnt everything very quickly; but your trace passes through the air. How is he meant to find it?“

„He will find it. My brother Winnetou has told me that Old Shatterhand is impossible to lead astray already. Why is he now claiming the opposite?“

„Because today he is facing the hardest task possible. His eye will find any trace; yours, however, is only to be found with his mind, and he hasn't learnt that yet.“

„Still, he will come, for he can do anything he wants.“

She merely whispered those words, and yet there was such confidence, such trust in her tone, I could have been proud of it

„Yes, I have never met a man who so easily learns new skills. Still, one thing remains he will never learn, and Winnetou feels deeply sorry about it.“

„What is it?“

„The wish all of us share.“

Just then I had wanted to make them aware of my presence; but Winnetou spoke of a wish, something that stopped me in my tracks. What wish would I not have loved to fulfill for those good, kind people! They had one and weren't telling me because they didn't believe I would fulfill it. Maybe now I would hear what it was. Therefore I stayed silent and listened.

„Has my brother Winnetou already talked to him about it?“ asked Nscho-tschi.

„No“, replied Winnetou.

„And Intschu tschuna, our father, hasn't either?“

„No. He wanted to tell him but I wouldn't allow it.“

„Not? Why? Nscho-tschi loves this white man deeply; she is the daughter of the supreme chieftain of the Apaches!”

„That she is, and more besides, much more. Every red warrior and every white man would be glad if my sister wanted to be his squaw, everyone but Old Shatterhand.“

„How can my brother Winnetou know this if he hasn't talked to him about it?“

„I know it anyways because I know him. He is not like other white men, he has higher wants than them. He will not take an Indian woman as squaw.“

„Has he said that?“

„No.“

„Does his heart belong to a white woman?“

„Neither.“

„You know this for sure?“

„Yes. We spoke of white women and from his words I understood that his heart hadn't spoken yet.“

„So it will speak for me!“

„My sister mustn't deceive herself! Old Shatterhand thinks and feels differently than you believe. If he chooses a squaw she must be amongst women what he is amongst men.“

„And I am not?“

„Amongst the red girls, yes; no one is equal to my beautiful sister. But what have you seen and heard? What have you learnt? You know how women live amongst our people but nothing of what white women must have learnt, must know. Old Shatterhand looks not for the glimmer of gold, nor for beauty of a face; he looks for things he will not find in a red girl.“

She lowered her head and stayed silent. So he lovingly caressed her cheek and said:

„It hurts me, breaking my good sister's heart, but Winnetou is used to always speaking the truth, even if it is a sad truth. Maybe he knows a way on which Nscho-tschi might reach the goal for which she strives.“

Upon hearing this she rapidly lifted her head and said:

„Which way is this?“

„The one leading to the cities in the East.“

„That's where I should go, you think?“

„Yes.“

„Why?“

„To learn what you must know and be capable of if Old Shatterhand is supposed to love you.“

„So I will go, and soon, very soon! Will my brother Winnetou grant me a wish?“

„Which one?“

„Talk to Intschu tschuna, our father, about this! Ask him to let me go to the cities in the East! He won't say no, he - - -“

That was all I heard, as I started crawling back silently. It felt like sin, having listened to the sibling's talk. If only they didn't notice me now! What shame for them, and even more so for me! Now, on my retreat, it was even more important to remain careful than on my approach. The slightest noise, the smallest coincidence, was enough to betray my knowledge of the beautiful Indian woman's secret. And in that case I would have to leave my red friends the very same day.

The Book: (Winnetou decides to read Winnetou 1)

Of course Charley described their last practice, the last test in detail. He had done incredibly well, many more experienced warriors would have taken longer to find the trace.

Wait a moment – Charley had attempted to sneak up on them? Winnetou vividly remembered him approaching them from the opposite side of the clearing. His brother had overheard him talking to Nscho-tschi? How could they not have noticed? Apparently he didn't have every right to criticize careless young warriors if he himself had paid that little attention.

Of course, he knew why he hadn't been paying attention. His plan had been to tell Nscho-tschi about his own feelings for Charley while they were sitting in the bushes, waiting. Telling her the true reason why he hadn't brought up her feelings for his brother. He had changed his mind at the very last second – a choice he was feeling eminently grateful for in hindsight.

Maybe his reaction to Nscho-tschi's words had been a little harsh but he had been jealous, pessimistic and his own heart had already been broken. Of course he had wanted to wish them all the best, his sister and his friend, but he hadn't known what exactly Charley wanted. His assumptions had gone towards someone just as perfect, as smart, as educated.

But back to the book. The wish he had meant, the wish he had refused to elaborate on was one his brother still hadn't fulfilled. To simply remain in the West, at Winnetou's side, with the Apaches. Of course the rest of his family had wanted Charley to stay as Nscho-tschi's husband, he himself would have preferred that didn't happen, though he'd never have said that. So his words sounded supportive, his deeds were less so. Sometimes Winnetou wished for his sister's confidence, but how could he ever hope his brother's heart would speak for him.

Maybe if he'd been less harsh, if he'd reacted differently to his sister's pain, anything but quickly suggesting education in the cities of the East, maybe his family would still be alive, maybe they'd never have met Santer.

Winnetou still felt surprised that he'd so entirely missed Charley's approach and retreat. Regardless of his heartache, you couldn't pay that little attention. Had it been an enemy both of them would have died. Still, why would Charley have felt he had to leave them over this conversation? Shame of overhearing them and still not reciprocating Nscho-tschi's feelings? That wasn't his fault, no one could control their heart.

After Nscho-tschi had asked to be allowed into the cities of the East, Winnetou had gotten lost in his thoughts. He had worried for her, considered the prejudices she would encounter, all for some vague hope. Their father hadn't been able to deny them any major wishes, not since they had lost their mother, not since he had lost the love of his life.

As of yet unpublished time travel/time loop fic 1:

Maybe it was a mistake, following the script his memories provided, but as of yet he hadn't woken up in the past again... Still, Charley didn't know if he could repeat all of his actions from back then, not identically at least. He had changed.

In spite of his twinging conscience Charley hid back behind that same bush in which he knew the siblings were hiding. It was truly remarkable that he had managed to succeed in sneaking up on Winnetou – a feat that had never been easy, neither in the past nor in the present.

„Should I fetch him?“, Winnetou asked, whispering.

„No“, answered Nscho-tschi, „He will come.“

„He won't come.“

„He will!“

„My sister errs. He has learnt quickly, astonishingly so; but your trace goes through the air itself. How is he meant to find it?“

„He will find it. My brother Winnetou told me himself, Old Shatterhand can no longer be deceived. Why is he contradicting his own words?“

„Because this is the hardest possible task. His eye may find any trace; but yours can only be found with thought. Winnetou doesn't know if his brother has learnt that already.“

Maybe it was his imagination, but Charley felt as if Winnetou had just a little bit more trust in him. Barely there, but something had changed.

„He will come, he can do anything he puts his mind to.“

Nscho-tschi whispered this, like she did back then, her voice full of trust.

„Yes, I have never known a man who is as skilled in everything he touches. There is just one thing he won't do, and Winnetou is terribly sorry about it.“

„What are you talking about?“

„The wish we all share.“

The wish to take Nscho-tschi as a wife – Charley didn't want that, true. If the wish was him staying in the West, well, he was planning on it. Last time he had desperately wanted to figure out which wish to fulfill but no one had ever told him. Would they speak of their wish now?

„Has my brother spoken to him?“, Nscho-tschi asked.

„No“, Winnetou replied.

„And Instschu tschuna, our father, has he asked?“

„No. He wanted to tell him but I refused.“

„You refused? Why? Nscho-tschi loves him, he respects our culture and knows our language; and she is the Apache chieftain's daughter!“

„She is, yes, and she is more than that. Every red warrior and every white man would be happy to have my sister as his squaw. Everyone but Old Shatterhand.“

Winnetou was right about that, unfortunate as it was, Nscho-tschi was not someone who would make him happy, regardless of her skills or beauty.

„How can my brother Winnetou know this, if he hasn't talked to him about it?“

„I know it anyways, I know him. He is not like other white people, he wants freedom. He will not marry.“

„But if his heart speaks? If it speaks for me?“

„My sister must not lie to herself! If Old Shatterhand chooses a squaw she will be amongst women as he is amongst men. He wants to travel. He won't stay.“

She lowered her head and remained silent. Seeing that he lovingly stroked her cheek and said:

„It hurts me to be breaking my sister's heart, but Winnetou will always speak the truth, even if it is not a happy one.“

Nscho-tschi paused a while longer before she suggested: „I could go to the cities in the East, learn, what Klekih-Petra meant to teach us. Learn what Old Shatterhand would want in a squaw, learn his culture as he learnt ours. Not just for him.“

„Winnetou knows Nscho-tschi wouldn't head to the East just to change for a man. She may like Old Shatterhand but what she really wants is to find a way for us to survive.“

Charley was glad to hear as much. He knew her love for him had little hope of ever being requited. She was a beautiful woman, a good friend, but once upon a time he had married a beautiful woman whom he had appreciated as a friend and as a person. Neither of them had been truly happy.

If anyone could find a way to preserve the Mescalero culture Nscho-tschi was surely one of the best candidates. But she had to die. This was his hell and there was nothing he could do.

This was everything he needed to hear so it was time to head back out of the bush and greet his friends openly.

As of yet unpublished time travel/time loop fic 2:

Those hunts and practices that once filled their first months together were fun now, not schooling. Charley proved himself over and over, proved that he knew his way around the West. Rather than painstakingly learning culture and language of the Mescaleros from Nscho-tschi he helped her teach what Klekih-Petra used to teach. He made friends with other warriors, sat with them at night to talk about the hunt for buffalo and bears. He listened to them talking about their squaws and children.

He was more part of the tribe than he had ever been in his first life.

This time when Charley got the task to find Nscho-tschi after Winnetou carried her he didn't listen in on them. He would be fine, regardless of what they were planning. If they wanted something they needed to tell him.

This time he entered the clearing openly, calling them out of the bushes straight away. Winnetou clearly showed his surprise at the speed at which they had been found, proud of the brother who had barely ever been his student as far as he remembered.

A new one with actual banter as a treat: (this is pretty much crack)

As I slowly and carefully crawled towards the bush I knew Winnetou and Nscho-tschi to be hiding in I began hearing furious whispers.

„You never let me spend time with him alone!“, Nscho-tschi was accusing her brother.

„Well I met him first! He's my blood brother, my friend first!“

„That doesn't mean you're his only friend!“

„Of course not, shut up!“

„You shut up!“

I had never witnessed the siblings quite so relaxed, even in their argument there was no malice behind their words.

„Nscho-tschi do this, Nscho-tschi do that, Nscho-tschi I don't want to play with you, Nscho-tschi ate all the berries daddy!“

„Oh shush you did eat those berries.“

„You're just jealous he wants to spend time with me too!“

She seemed to be poking his side as she was talking.

„Seriously Nscho-tschi, shush – if we keep this up Charley will find us just by hearing us talk!“

„You started it... But fine.“

And certainly, the siblings quieted down. Of course, I had already found them, not because of their noise, but they wouldn't believe that if I showed myself now.

It was strange, listening to them tease each other like I had witnessed my sisters argue about dolls and playmates, argue like I had argued with my siblings about everything and nothing at all. Winnetou had always seemed so regal, so otherworldly. He was human though, just like the rest of us.

As if on cue, Winnetou whispered a last time: „This is not going to be a Fort Tennessee situation, clear?“

Whatever he had meant with that, it was time for me to retreat.

[cinna-wanroll]

Obi-Wan’s Unusual Behaviors Towards Satine Kryze

Ft. 2am character analysis notes

 Obi-Wan Kenobi is hardly a people-pleaser. In fact, it is speculated in Wild Space that he may never have told a single flattering lie in his entire life. Prime examples of this trait would be in the TCW movie, where he has tea and friendly banter with the enemy general- he even winks at his opponent. He unashamedly flirts with Sith assassin Asajj Ventress multiple times throughout the series- even in front of others. He lets himself lose terribly in a fight during the Kadavo arc to buy Anakin and Ahsoka time, and constantly makes snarky/sarcastic commentary. He can be rather blunt, and isn’t afraid to contradict other people’s ideas, views, or tactics. He does this with Anakin throughout the series, with Count Dooku in the Dooku Captured arc, and even with Captain Tarkin in the Citadel arc. All in all, Obi-Wan is a confident man who doesn’t let the judgments of others affect the way he operates. 

That is, until mid-season two. 

Why, Cinna? You ask, voice full of curiosity. You have no idea where this is going. You’re on the edge of your seat, waiting for me to tell you. Are you ready? Do you wanna know? I’ll give you one hint- I never shut up about her.

Yes ladies and gentleman, I’m talking about Satine Kryze. 

You gasp, shocked. 

When she shows up, Obi-Wan suddenly displays multiple uncharacteristic habits. He constantly touches her, constantly checks to be sure she’s safe- which shows doubts in his own abilities as a protector, and he even seeks affirmations of friendship from her. 

He isn’t afraid to look into her eyes, but is shy at some moments, which we almost never see from him in any situation, ever, unless he’s being touched. See: the moment he’s being hugged by a Talz. 

Examples of his shyness around Satine would be the way he looks down after she teases him about falling and dropping her, or when she comments about his beard ‘hiding too much of his handsome face.’ He doesn’t instantly make a snarky or light-hearted comment back to her gentle teasing here like he normally would, instead he asks her seriously why she doesn’t like it. 

“Why? What’s wrong with it?”

Although I would like to note he never truly looses his Obi-Wan characteristics here- he doesn’t shave after she makes the comment, but his questions show that he cares not just about what she thinks of him as a person, but physically as well. 

This adds a softer, sweeter side to the Jedi Master/ my husband, and is an indicator of a difference to all of his other relationships. Upon further analyzation, I have broken Obi-Wan’s stages of relationships into six stages of companionship.

Stage 1- Puts up walls, distant, stiff, snarky/witty, deflective, non-emotional, sometimes chiding. An example of someone in this category might be Sugi, from the Trouble on Felucia arc. (although I mean there is some sexual tension there, its probably because shes also played by Anna Graves who plays Satine, but-)

Stage 2- Friendly, cheerful, lets his guard down a little. Dex would probably fall under this section.

Stage 3- Still a little distant but will show he cares about you in some ways. Will defend you. This is probably where all his work friends go- Yoda, Mace, etc.

Stage 4- Listens to you, checks on you, jokes with you, will give you advice. Ahsoka is a good example of someone in this category. 

Stage 5- Basically Anakin. Will confess his flaws and internal struggles.

Stage 6- Satine Kryze. Cares about what you think. Probably thinks about making out with you a lot.

Now there is another important component of their relationship to discuss- their PDONAs, or public displays of non-affection. 

The over-the-top argument on The Coronet in front of the senators is a perfect example of this. While Obitine may butt heads on occasion alone, their squabbles are usually tedious and are centered around one thing: tension.

Whether it’s the tension of a dangerous situation, physical attraction, or things left unsaid, they take every opportunity to deny their tensions to both one other and themselves. This of course is aided by their intellectual and stubborn personalities, however their private disagreements are a lot more about their concern for one another than they are grandiose like the aforementioned Coronet argument. A good example of this is when Obi-Wan responds to Satine’s comment on him hurting people by fretting:

“You don’t seem troubled that I could’ve been killed back there.”

Obi-Wan could have said so many different things to counter what Satine said, like ‘Would you have preferred I stood by while they ground me/you to bits?’ But no, instead he very directly asks the question, ‘don’t you care about me?’

This is the heart of their personal arguments. However in public, not only are they trying to convince themselves they aren’t in love- they also have an audience. And since they are both stubborn, passionate, and very extra, things explode. 

Obi-Wan isn’t really disputing Satine’s beliefs- he’s known about her political views since they were young. So the argument they’re having only makes sense to me as a young Obitine argument. No, he’s convincing those around him that he could never be with her because they have different interests. 

Satine doesn’t think Obi-Wan is war-hungry, she knows that he’s almost as dedicated to peace as she is, and she’s intelligent enough to understand he just has a different opinion on how peace is achieved in the first place. So when she is accusing him of such things, she is attempting to erase their history and understanding so that their audience won’t know what is going on between them or what went on between them. 

In that episode (Voyage of Temptation) the inner turmoil felt by both Obi-Wan and Satine is palpable, and driven by the rekindled emotions which were never properly burnt out- only unhealthily buried by two emotionally constipated and overly-responsible young people. 

Their desires are coming to the surface after all these years of repression faster than either of them knows how to deal with. So, they attempt old methods of burying their emotions from when they were apart- i.e. convincing themselves they are too different, they have different goals, one of them is incompetent, etc. Except no it’s not just themselves they are dealing with, and the truth is in front of their faces so it’s harder to deny their chemistry and compatibility. 

This eventually dissolves into Obi-Wan becoming more physical with Satine, constantly needing to be around her and not being able to get her out of his mind. 

He is seen watching her defend her world when he’s admitted to disliking politics and has different views. He attempts to comfort her afterwards, even running to catch up with her and grabbing her arm, then later attempting to grab her hand. He seeks her out after she’s been avoiding him to make sure she’s okay and when she says she “didn’t want to worry him,” he replies, “on that count, I’m afraid you failed spectacularly.” 

He doesn’t say, ‘Well, I was,’ or even ‘on that count, you failed.’ 

No, he adds spectacularly, which shows that most likely all he’s been doing is worrying about her. He grabs her by the shoulders and leans his face in way too unnecessarily close just to talk with her.  

He’s shown gazing out the window worriedly while Satine is on the run. He stares at her (which is technically putting her in more danger the longer he waits!) just to watch her and how good she looks in her disguise. He even smiles like a fool at her. He only comes to his senses when police pass by. He sits with his hands close to hers and then when he’s about to enter the senate building he looks back to make sure she’s okay. 

They both touch each other like crazy in every episode, and as I mentioned before, Obi-Wan has expressed how uncomfortable he is with physicality, which shows how comfortable and trusting he is around and of Satine. 

In conclusion: Obi-Wan is soft for Satine.

[hlcreators]

AUTHOR REC: only_angel_28 / @beau-soleil-louis​

Don’t forget to leave kudos and comment to show some love! ♡

a week and thirteen days (1k)

Harry falls in love with the morning sun. 

I can’t do this alone (sometimes I just need a light) (7.8k)

“Harry,” he says after another contemplative moment, “can I hug you?”

It’s been...well, Harry doesn’t actually know how long it’s been. Less than an hour, probably, but already Louis says his name like it’s safe in his mouth, and now he’s opening his arms like Harry could be safe there too.

“Please,” Harry nearly sobs, and sinks into him the way butter melts on toast. It’s an apt metaphor, really, because what Louis is giving him is as essential and sustaining as a loaf of bread to a starving man. His basic need for physical affection is as vital as his need for sustenance, for sleep, and he can’t believe he’s allowed himself to ignore it for so long.

Or: Harry is having a rough time. Louis is the kind stranger who makes him smile again.

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“Do you ever think about boys?”

The words fall from Louis’ lips casually, but they’re fragile like a gossamer thread, a single silken strand from a spider’s web of labyrinthine thoughts. They’re the product of literal months of careful introspection, of soul-searching and agonizing and over-thinking. They’re words that he’s never dared to utter aloud, a mirror of his own swirling inner-turmoil of thoughts. Thoughts he previously held tightly to his chest, locked away in his heart along with all his other feelings regarding his best friend.

*Or the arrival of spring brings a new beginning for Harry and Louis.

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Louis honestly doesn’t know how he gets himself into these types of situations.

Well, actually, that’s a lie. He’s doing this because he needs the money, and because he’s curious. And, okay, maybe because he might be a little bit lonely too. He has always had what his mother affectionately calls an “adventurous spirit.” Couple that with being a (tragically single) broke grad student and voila! here he is scrawling his signature on a release form provided by the university’s sociology department. Essentially, he is agreeing to snog a stranger on camera for the sake of science.

Shouldn’t be a problem, right? All he has to do is lock lips with a (hopefully) fit bloke, collect his money, and be on his way. Easy peasy. Little does he know, fate has other plans for him in the form of one adorably quirky art student who goes by the name of Harry Styles.

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*Or the one where Harry has been in love with his best friend for four years, and New Year's Eve at his family's holiday home in Switzerland is perfect for finally telling Louis how he feels.

Breathe Me (13k)

The story of what happens when Harry finds a stranger sleeping inside the car his late grandfather left him.

“Louis?” Harry queries softly, his voice nothing more than a whisper. “Why are you living in my car?”

Louis sighs, and this time it’s laced with a mixture of sadness and exhaustion, the sound of it tugging at Harry’s heartstrings. “Long story,” he says finally with a weak smile.  

“Will you tell me?” Harry prods gently, his demeanor akin to that of someone approaching a wild animal with their arms outstretched in a gesture of submission. “You don’t have to, like—I mean…it’s just, I’m a pretty good listener, and you seem like maybe you could use a friend?”

“What gave me away?” Louis jokes dryly.

*Or the one where Harry has a broken heart, Louis has a broken home, and all it takes is one night together for them to fall in love.

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“No!” Harry shrieks, his voice bordering on shrill. “No,” He repeats a little quieter, calmer, “I just—I’m, er, kinda…big, I guess.”

Louis rolls his eyes in fond exasperation. “That’s hardly a problem, curly.”

*Or Harry is insecure about a certain rather large part of his anatomy that is apparently intimidating to the point where it has actually scared off potential shags. When he ends up confessing this to his best friend and roommate, Louis takes it upon himself to prove that Harry’s size doesn't have to be a curse, and decides to help show him just how perfect he is.

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Louis starts squirming, desperately needing something to do with his hands. Needing to do anything, really, to distract him from the perfect male specimen standing naked in front of him. In the end, the only thing he can do is strip out of his own jeans and briefs, which he does with trembling, clumsy fingers, his heart beating out a violent, chaotic rhythm in his chest the entire time.

He hears Harry’s sharp intake of breath, and slowly raises his eyes from where he was staring at his own bare feet to meet his gaze.

“So,” Harry says bashfully, his voice gone even deeper somehow. “We’re naked.”

“Yup,” Louis squeaks.

“You okay?”

No!

“Yup,” Louis repeats, sounding just as unstable as he did the first time.

This is the last favor Louis Tomlinson is ever doing for Zayn Malik. (Because, after today, he’ll be dead, but that’s neither here nor there.)

*Or the one where Louis agrees to help out Zayn with one of his art projects and ends up getting much more than he bargained for.

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“You’re fucking kidding me right?” Harry laughs incredulously.

Louis is resolute in his posture as he continues to observe Harry, the slight arch of a brow his only acknowledgement of Harry’s question. That’s fine, Harry decides, it was mostly rhetorical anyway.

“A gay cowboy who rides for a living, can you imagine all the Brokeback Mountain jokes I’d have to endure on a daily basis? I don’t really fancy being compared to Jake Gyllenhaal.”

A hint of a smirk tugs at the corners of Louis’ pursed lips. “Now you’re the one who must be joking, because you are so clearly Heath Ledger in that scenario.”

*Or Harry came to the bar to forget. Louis gives him a night to remember.

Your Love Is My Turning Page When Only The Sweetest Words Remain (8.4k)

“Crying already, Styles?” Louis chides him teasingly, unable to contain the smile that’s breaking across his face.

“So what if I am? What are you going to do about it?” Harry sniffs indignantly.

Louis makes a show of pretending to consider this, steepling his fingers in front of his chest and giving Harry a contemplative once-over.

“Marry you.” He decides, smirking at Harry.

“Guess you won’t be able to call me Styles much longer then.” Harry counters, biting down on his own barely-contained grin.

“Guess not.” Louis agrees happily.

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Harry hates flying. Louis is the kind stranger who helps him when he gets sick in the airport restroom. The rest, as they say, is history.

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"Hello?" His voice came out all high and breathy like an anxious school girl, and he cringed internally at how wrecked he sounded already.

"Lou?"

Harry's voice was the same as ever, deeper than the sea and somehow both gravelly and smooth as silk. Harry was full of infuriating little contradictions like that. It drove Louis crazy. He had spent a good portion of his life questioning if Harry Styles was actually even human; on paper he just didn't make sense. He was an enigma, an anomaly, the exception to every rule.

*After dropping his new single, "Back To You" Louis gets a text from Harry inquiring about the true inspiration for the song.