#he keeps up his tough image but we all know deep down he is an absolute softie

[krishna-sangini]

I really love this incident from Ramayana. The one where Shri Ram catches the little squirrel doing its best to help build the setu to Lanka. Like, it really justifies how He notices even the tiniest effort we make to go towards Him.

He acknowledges it and takes one step towards us too. And that one step is equal to a hundred...✨

[lassieposting]

I like to think that once things have settled down post-game, Tav will start addressing Astarion's critically low self-everything issues.

Like, this man's obnoxious, vain exterior is a paper-thin sheet of ice over a bottomless lake of insecurities and negative self-talk, and we see that the whole way through the game. He's been taught to believe that his only value is in his body. He'll bitterly call sex the only thing he's good for. He's shocked if you dump another companion for him, because he sees himself as having nothing to offer but baggage. He knows, in an abstract way, that he's attractive, but he doesn't remember what he looks like.

Perhaps one evening he asks what they see in him, and when they ask what he thinks their answer will be, he's stumped by the question.

And Tav decides it's past time to do something about that, because there is so much about him that is worthy of love.

Consider: Astarion rolling out of bed at like noon, padding naked to the bathroom to wash and style his hair, and catching sight of something tucked into the frame of the mirror. It's a sketch of him, one of Tav's, and beside it, they've scrawled the words you're beautiful. He grins, and traces the charcoal strokes with a fingertip while he brushes his teeth, because that's not a difficult one to believe, and he's touched.

But then he starts finding more little sketches, and more little notes. When he reaches for the book he's been reading, there's one tucked into the page he's dog-eared - a little caricature of himself, curled up in an armchair reading a giant book, captioned you're clever. He snorts a laugh, a little self-deprecating. Loathe as he is to admit it, he's no Gale, and he has brain fog more often than not. But...well, he did graduate law school and pass the bar once upon a time, so technically they're not wrong.

You're brave is resting on his pillow when he comes back from splashing his face in the bathroom one night, still trembling from a nightmare. His eyes well up when he spots it, and when he crawls into open arms and buries his face in Tav's clavicle he mumbles that he doesn't feel very brave at all. That's a hard one to accept, but they will keep telling him.

You care about me... is simply sitting on a dresser one day. Two little drawings with that one; in the first, he's bandaging a cartoonish bump on Tav's head. On the back, though...he recognises that image, Tav tied up and spitting rage at him through the night, lost to their Urges, as he kept watch. In smaller letters, his own words are reflected back at him: ...even when that's an objectively stupid thing to do.

You never gave up is in the medical kit kept under the bed, the one stocked with salves and oils for the bone-deep ache of two hundred years of consistent injuries. Tav will rub his shoulders for him if he asks, he knows that. But, well, two centuries of hiding any sign of weakness makes for a tough habit to break. He touches the reminder gently, as though it's fragile, and after a moment's hesitation, calls them in for help.

And on and on they go, dozens of little notes, a tangible list of things they love about him. Repeated, sometimes, some more than others, as and when he needs to be reminded of them. Often accompanied by little drawings that make him laugh or snort or cry - snapshots at how Tav sees him. His ridiculous bedhead. His unflattering blood-drunk expression, gawking into the middle distance, utterly lost in the sauce. The way his ears will sometimes twitch in his sleep. The Sexy Side-Lean pose he didn't realise he tends to do in doorways. His dramatic readings of appalling erotica.

And gradually, he begins to believe them.

[jungwondazed]

18+ only / emotion heavy sex w heeseung

i think there’s a loneliness hidden deep inside heeseung that is sort of masked with his flirty and bold interactions with fans. he’s charismatic, no question but i like to think there’s some of us who can kind of see through that.

i believe he longs for a love so deep it could heal the innermost parts of him, the parts of his childhood that he couldn’t live out regularly due to the stress of trying to debut. growing up in the spotlight under strict scrutiny and never having the chance to be like any other young adult, leads me to believe that heeseung craves a genuine relationship.

he’s gentle with you, patient. he plays his role of a man well. protective, caring, and nurturing you in the times that you need. when you come to him about personal problems he nods with every sentence you express, he tilts his head at your hurt, and wraps his hand around your fingers, reminding you of his presence. heeseung is anything but abrasive and abrupt, he is the wind blowing through a field that follows you every way.

he loves so hard that it hurts. there is no getting mad at him, he’s never wronged you of any sort. he’s sensitive, more than most guys are. as tough and head strong as he is, when he welcomes someone like you into his life that turns him into a vulnerable man there are softs spots that you must tip toe around because loving him is learning the parts of him that needs healing.

with his emotions set in place, it translates over to how he takes physical affection, and he is a fool for it. heeseung would never casually sleep with anyone, his values and life experiences has shaped him into a guy that can only get off if it’s with someone he desperately loves.

“is this okay?” he asks every single time like this isn’t anything you aren’t used to. you nod, and he continues, his breath staggering when you grind down and he pushes up.

heeseung doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to this overwhelming feeling of love and warmth through genuine and meaningful sex. the way your skin presses on him, the outline of your body in the dark when you ride him, how pretty your face is so up close he could kiss every inch of it. there were days when he was so alone that even if a thousand people showed up at his door the isolation swallowed him whole. with your one body on his, he thanks all his lucky stars that he was patient enough to await for someone like you. the nerves on the pads of his fingers are stimulated by your breasts, how he loves feeling them knowing you gave all yourself to him. his grip on your waist as you fuck yourself is tight, not wanting to ever let you go.

heeseung stares at you like the world gives him a few seconds of more time, his gaze lingering down your face and body like there is no tomorrow. he soaks in the image as if there aren’t plenty of more chances to make love, yet he treats you with speciality each time.

“ah”s and “oh”s fall from his lips, some stuck in his throat when you stroke him with your walls. he feels your love in every way like this, never closing his eyes despite how good it truly feels.

“i love you, ____” he’s the first to say those three words each time, and you kiss them right from his mouth, giving it to him like he needs it.

he fucks like both of your lives depend on this one moment, thrusting up into you when you’re too tired to keep going, showing you how love is supposed to be. that we bear the weight when the other can’t, that there is a pleasure is doing the labor for our partner.

“feels too good hee,” your grip on his shoulder almost hurts but that thought vanishes in seconds when he hits it right where you love it. he keeps his pace at that same spot, listening as you tell him over and over again how good he makes you feel, how you love him so much, drinking your words up.

he presses you tight against his chest when you’re both close, trembling as each passing stroke inches you towards your high. there are moments in life heeseung looks back on that makes him think every hardship he has encountered was worth it. some of them being his first call back, first congratulations from his family, and a performance here and there. but the majority of those moments are all linked to you. memories of how you look when you cum on him flashes through his mind, because there is no closer bond in love than through feeling a moment so intense together: with you struggling to take it, spitting out i love you’s and every word of affirmation there is, he’s delighted that all the sacrifices and tears that he gave, rewarded himself with you. he cums in you deep, almost whining by the time it spills into you. he loves you so much, the feeling of his orgasm and his never ending affection for you is euphoric, you experience it in every part of you. he is raw and tender, making you feel like it was the first time after each one ended.

“i love you so much, ___, i love you, just so you kn-“ and you’re all over him again, not once letting him slip out of you.

[chanswifey]

Seventeen as your boyfriend | Woozi

The cool boyfriend

Like he tries so hard to keep his 'tough-guy-scary-producer-genius' image on the outside

But when he's with you he is the softest boy

I've said this before and I will say it again, this man is very much clingy

Don't get fooled by the disgusted face when presented with pda, that's all an act, baby

And most importantly it's about intimacy

For him, it's just something very special and personal that he likes to keep private

He loves to be hugged and kissed and spoiled. Sometimes he doesn't know how to initiate it but when you see him following you around like a lost puppy or when he comes and gently places his hand on your lower back, that can only mean one thing

He would DIE if the members caught these moments tho, that would begin the endless teasing

But at home or when it's just the two of you in his studio...

He often waits for you to get there when he's working late nights so you two can nap together

And no, he is NOT the big spoon here

He is the one laying on top of you, the one that needs to be hugged to fall asleep

He loves when you play with his hair and when you give him forehead kisses

He is also SUCH a tease

He likes to make you mad just for shits and giggles

Like, he will avoid a hug or wipe a kiss just to mess with you

Regrets it and apologizes really fast when you threaten to leave or give him the silent treatment

His idea of dates is just getting take out and eating on the couch in your pajamas

If you really want him to go out you have to actually tell him

It's not that he doesn't care or doesn't want to make an effort, he's just a bit clueless on this kind of social cues so he needs you to lead the way

He will happily agree to do whatever you want, it is a very rare occasion for him to ask to do something else or nothing at all

And it's usually because he either got caught up on something at work or is just really, really tired

He will make sure to make it up to you later, like getting you breakfast in bed or buying you something you said you wanted

SPOILS YOU SO MUCH!!!

We know he doesn't really care about money but he loves that he can spend it on you

All dates, gifts, traveling tickets, bills, that's all on him

It's like being married-but-not-married

He literally handed you his card one day and refuses to get it back

He can get a bit reclusive sometimes, he's very hard on himself when it comes to his work

So you have to take care of him just as much as he takes care of you

If you don't step up and do something he will refuse to eat or rest for hours

It's a common occurrence for you to order his meals and get them delivered to his studio, or just show up to clean around a bit and drag him out of the computer

"You need to rest your eyes, do you wanna go blind?" You complain to him daily.

"What am I? Your child?" He says teasingly.

"Shut up and come cuddle me, grumpy"

*he then proceeds to fall asleep within 5 seconds*

He's a HUGE show-off

He WILL try to turn you into a gym rat just like him

He will say it's because it's good for your health but deep down he just loves to show off to you

And if you can't make it to the gym he will make sure to send you a gazillion pictures of him flexing because he knows it will turn you into a blushing mess

I do believe he writes songs for you, but he would rarely release those, they are too personal and dear to him

He does it for you, and you only. He knows he's not the best with spoken words so he adds a melody

He will also gift them to you randomly, whenever he needs to say something. It's like saying 'I love you' is not enough and can't contain what he really feels

But in all honesty, as much as you adore and cherish all the songs he has given you, you can feel his love even when he's silent

It's in the way he looks at you, with stars in his eyes. The way his voice softens when he talks to you.

The way he touches you, so gently and carefully as if you're gonna break. The way he hugs you after a stressful day and you can feel the tension leave his body as he exhales.

It's in the way he listens to you, so attentive and interested like every word that comes out of your mouth is poetry and it's in how much he trusts you to share his deepest thoughts and struggles and his weirdest interests

And finally, it's in the way he makes you feel safe, secure, and taken care of.

×××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××

2023 © chanswifey — do not repost or translate

author's note: can u tell I'm biased?? Cause I am, I love this man with all my heart it's ridiculous!!! I could talk about him all day and never get bored 🥺🥺🥺 please like and reblog if you like it 💗

mlist | request here | what I write

[joffyworld]

COTL Freaky Tierlist

ALRIGHT LISTEN UP CHUCKLEFUCKS

I'm about to drop some life changing lore and if you can't handle it, that's tough titties my brothers, sisters and theys. If you don't agree with this tier list, you're either a normal person (in which case why are you here run for the hills) or you're so damn freaky that God forgot that was possible when he made me.

WITHOUT FURTHER ADO, FROM LEAST TO MOST FREAKY:

F:

Kallamar - Need I say more? This loveable twink is soft as his husbands knickers and by God would we not have him any other way. This fucker can't even fathom anything beyond the most painfully dull missionary imaginable, and that's just as an excuse to cuddle more afterwards. "But Joffy" I hear you say, "He's a renowned slut he should be in A!" Wrong. He couldn't be more vanilla, it's all an act and anyone with more than 3 spouses is just fucking lying at that point. Cmon, he may be a God, but deep inside that cowards octopussy is a love for the mundane.

D:

Heket - Controversial I know. But hear me out here. Heket has spent all her life getting fucked by life, she has literally no time for your stupid fleshy appendages, and to top it off she's the most desperately useless lesbian this side of the lands of the old faith. Renowned from Darkwood to Anchordeep, this bitch is fucking stupid when it comes to "rizzing a shawty" and it shows because she spends all her time yapping about the good ol' days. She's only slightly freakier than Kallamar because she's probably into being burned by cigarettes or some shit, but let's face facts. Inexperience guides this poor phrog into the D tier, despite her aversion to "D" to begin with.

Leshy - This stupid dumb stupid worm barely knows that sex exists, and if you asked him what his favourite position is he'd say "1st" and then promptly challenge you to a footrace. The God of Chaos has no time for ropes and rails, but he's at least got a good heart and is pretty gay for that cat. I've watched this stupid fucker get divorced in two different AU's because he couldn't live with the guilt, you think he's surviving post-nut clarity? No. Enough said, he's keeping it clean and calm in the bedroom, and that cat couldn't be happier about that considering his daily life is fucking mental. Keep the Chaos outside, inside? Domestic worm only.

C:

Goat - Now this is where it gets tricky, you might think that the gruff exterior of a mass murdering psychopath is enough to demonstrate a willingness to get tied upside down and spank the monkey till the sun don't shine. But brother, let me tell you, it ain't fuckin true. Don't get me wrong, this goat can fuck, and boy does he, but most of the time it's all bark no bite in the flirting department. Easily flustered, puts up an external image of punk-rock to hide that he's an utter cinnamon bun, the whole works. That being said, with a long term partner? Buckle up. That crown isn't dildo-purple for no reason, prepare for bliss and potential bliss-ters.

B:

Lamb - OKAY HOLD YOUR HORSES this is gonna be a tough one. You've gotta be thinking, that's either wayyy too high for this silly lil fella, or wayyy to low for this absolute cock devouring demon, but let me remind you, this one here is subjective. This is the only character I've seen written as everything from an asexual to a violent and sadistic cannibal, so what fairer rating than the exact middle? It truly does depends, if you're on your "cannibalism is routine and fun" shit then you're gonna be rocketing right up there, straight to S baby, unless you have some kind of twisted mentality you need checked by a licensed psychiatrist to somehow think that's tame; not to shame it mind you. But if you're more on the side of the lamb's that typically get posted by a cuter artist, than you're gonna be rocking a D or even an F. This little fuzzy fucker is traumatized, some type of gay no matter what, and certainly a wildcard, and what better way to celebrate that then with a middle-of-the-road approach? Besides, their most famous partner is certainly a bit more repressed, which leads us to:

A:

Narinder - Are we surprised? This fuzzy little furball has been trapped in prison for 1000 years with his two kids and NOTHING ELSE to do except hope he can get back on the market. The moment he's freed, it's gonna be hell unleashed, but thankfully 99% of the time he's either so angry or so oblivious it turns into a slowburn of passion with his fuzzy lil sheepguy that he definitely "doesn't" have a thing for. But, as the well versed know, this motherfucker has seen shit, and being the God of Death is gonna give you a weird taste in, well, "tastes" than a normal life will. I mean really, the guys fuckin surrounded by miserable dead people all day, he needs stress relief and his enthusiasm for revenge borders on the horny-sided. This guy fucks, but mostly gets fucked, and remains The One Who Bottoms in almost every AU. Cmon people, if you've read this far you've fuckin seen it with your own eyes, do I really to lecture about it more?

S:

The Mura™ - The fucker that started it all. I bet until now you thought I wouldn't include this loveable spider and awful mother-sibling of 4, but here we are. This goddamn spider has single-parented a family of genocidal psychopaths since history started being recorded, and to match that then had to almost literally kill one of their own brother-kid-things to save the others. Stressed and in need of relief? Check. You know what makes a motherfucker freaky? Repression, and this spider is goddamn dripping in it (pun intended) and is ready to burst. I myself may be a Shamura aroace truther, but if I have to put a letter on it, it's 100% in the universes where this spider fucks. Copulates, eats your head, kills your family mid-coitus, the whole shebang, but boy is that gonna be the best last nut you'll ever bust. This spider's an expert, literally the God of War and by God are they gonna wage war on your holes, not to mention ALSO being the God of Wisdom? I mean come on, somebody had to write the Kama Sutra, and it was this horny bastard

And that's it

You may have questions, you may have alternative takes, to be honest I'll probably change my mind the moment I hit post and remember that actually Heket deepthroated a glizzy on the 5th of October last year, but honestly? Who gives a shit. These gods be gay people, that's all that matters.

Goodnight, Lamb Bless, and may you never encounter The Mura during ovulation. Godspeed soldiers, amen.

[tecitodefrutillass]

ALL the content that i did for my shipp with pentious, these are a lot of drawings,, but i love themmm

🍃LORE OF ATHENA MEAT🍃

(don't read if u dont want to)

ATHENA MEAT

She and Sir. Pentious met in an accidental and unconventional way, how to say, less traditional than usual among demons of hell.

Since Athena arrived in hell she went from job to job, each one more vague than the last, she always had the image of someone tough, who only knows how to use brute force to get what she wants or simply exist.

Her longest-lasting job was as a hired thug, anyone could go to her, give her money and send her to kill or hurt someone very badly without reason, some paid her with reasons of hate, others just because they were bored, but money was money and she didn't waste a cent.

You could say that she enjoyed that job halfway, but no, deep down she hated it but it was the only thing that gave her a somewhat "stable" livelihood within her existence. It wasn't until Mr. Pentious arrived with a large ship with the intention of conquering hellish lands, exactly the sector where Athena made her living that she had to fight to not lose the only thing she had.

She did what she could to get on and enter Pentious's globe with the intention of stopping him, or more clearly killing him without scruples and without wandering in her decision, he himself was not going to let some random shark girl try to finish him off so pleased by a fair fight, as any gentleman would do, he accepted. At first it was an intense, fast and very fierce fight, but what was seen as such very soon turned into a chase.

Sir. Pentious, despite his great skill in fighting, could no longer keep up with the shark girl who did not stop following him without breaking a sweat that showed fatigue in her, far from that, she threw bites, tail swipes, scratches, kicks or punches to be able to reach Pentious who, far from reciprocating, only deigned to flee through his ship, begging and screaming at her to stop, that she won.

Even his poor servant eggs tried to hold her back, which was useless, quite useless and even funny to imagine. It was not until Pentious saw himself cornered that he begged for mercy.

— ENOOOUGH! I surrender, don't kill me, I'll do anything! I'm a gentleman, I accept my defeat gladly, just leave me alone and I swear I'm leaving lady... Shark... —

"Athena... And I'm sorry, well, not really, I can't let you go, you'll come back with your cheap little toys to destroy the territory where I work and that will only be worse for you"

— WAIT! Wait! W-We can fix it, you don't have to finish me off... You're... You're a hired thug, right? I'm saying that because you look like one... And I-I don't mean that they look bad! —

"Just get to the fucking point lizard."

— LIZARD!? I'm a snake! —

"Just say it before I eat you and your balls alive with delay."

— LET'S WORK TOGETHER! Even though you just insulted me and my lackeys... Your strength is enormous, great strength is what I need to conquer more lands! If you help me... I'll hire you, and I won't destroy that land of yours, win win, right? —

To her, the snake's words sounded like a real lie, she sighed without any other choice, moving away from him, if according to him that would keep him away from her territory she would accept, anyway nothing could go worse for her, or for him.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

Who would say that after that interaction she would end up actually working for him, Pentious and she lived together for a long time before arriving at Hazbin Hotel.

Pentious took it upon himself to teach her manners and make her a uniform just for her. It was curious how within the rough, coarse and aggressive personality of the shark lady there was a girl full of a loving character which apparently only he could perceive since she tried very hard to hide it. More than his assistant and bodyguard, she became his companion, a friend. She came to hear Mr. Pentious's deepest thoughts, sorrows and joys, and he hers.

꒰🫐꒱﹒ CURIOSITIES ﹒⟢

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ Before being a hired thug, she was a bartender and sometimes a stripper.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ In life she was murdered by a man.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ She has selective muteness (She only speaks with those she wants and believes convenient to do so, with other people, she remains completely mute.)

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ For hand-to-hand combat, with sharp weapons or bladed weapons, she has an impeccable and deadly combat tactic.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ Her claws have an uneven and cracked edge that turns them into knives that destroy and cut everything she wants, for that same reason her uniform includes gloves that eliminate that problem.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ She covers one eye with a lock of her hair, that eye is dead.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ She dies along with Mr. Pentious in her sacrifice to save her friends, instead, she sacrifices herself for love of him trying to save him, therefore she also ascends to heaven.

⋆౨ৎ��⟡˖ Pentious's lackey eggs call Athena "Mom" or "Mommy".

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ Since she works with Pentious, she does not cause fights or anger until he gives her permission or orders to do so.

[gareleia]

THE KNITTING SAGA BUT MAKE IT SAD

update: my co-writer friend FINALLY got a tumblr account, so I can tag them now!!

previously: part 1 part 2

next: part 4 part 5

lets talk about relationships, shall we. i'm gonna focus on Athena & Telemachus this time, but Hermes will have his turn later

let's be real, Athena is a hardass. sure, she cares, but she's so emotionally constipated that it really doesn't show that much. especially before she goes through that character development arc after her break up with Odysseus in My Goodbye

(and what a crisis that is)

(because her masterpiece??? failed her??? but she trusted him??? she made him much as in her image as possible??? he was supposed to be perfect???)

(and if he's not perfect, then she failed,,, and she can't fail, she doesn't fail,,, she's a goddess,,, war strategy is her domain, surely there is no way her plan could be flawed,,,)

(what even is the point of her if she's not perfect)

so yeah, she's a hardass. even on baby Telemachus who'd never held a sword before - especially on baby Telemachus, because he's the son of her favored Champion. he may be waaay younger than any of her previous pupils, but she's expecting him to shine just as bright.

Athena, on the first day: let's get down to business! make your father proud! you won't have a weakness! by the time we're done! you're the saddest pupil that I've had! and you haven't got a clue! but I will make a man outta you! Telemachus, a literal toddler, holding a wooden sword as big as himself: ٩(๑❛ᴗ❛๑)۶

and for years to come she trains him relentlessly. she's honestly trying to be nice about it, too. it's just that Athena doesn't do soft or gentle, her default is a neutral face of displeasure, and her idea of encouragement is saying 'you're not as bad as you used to be', or something along these lines.

Telemachus: *succeeds at something* Athena: *raises an eyebrow in a slightly different manner than usually* Telemachus: *le gasp* could it b-be? am I doing a good job??? Athena: it's… acceptable, for your age.

she never once tells him she is proud of him. because surely he already knows. he doesn't need to hear it. his father didn't, after all (ody so fucking did)

and this goes on until Telemachus reaches double digits. then My Goodbye happens, and Athena has Feelings™. she's having an existential crisis, and has to confront the fact that she had done something wrong while training Odysseus, and she can't understand what. which is terrifying, because what if she makes a mistake like that with Telemachus. will he fail her too?

will she have to leave him too, so she doesn't watch him die horribly in a tragedy that could've been prevented if only she had made him see-

so Athena doubles down and starts demanding more and more from Telemachus. the praise goes from sparse to non-existent, and nothing he does seems to be enough anymore. she goes from tough love to borderline verbal abuse, thinking that it's the only way to keep him safe and prepare him for the future.

and Telemachus endures. he has to, because he doesn't want his mother to worry. doesn't want to appear weak. Odysseus had done it, so it's only fair his son should too. and when his dad comes home, he'll be sooo impressed. he can do it!

except…. not really. it's been a losing battle since the beginning, and deep down he knows it. he can't win with Athena, not on his own.

???: if you want to impress her, you'll need the blessing of a certain god! divine intervention! someone who's not afraid to- telemachus: aeolus, what are doing in my closet?!

so anyway, Aeolus and the winions start helping him via winds and stuff, and Telemachus actually starts exceeding everyone's expectations. it's not that he'd been bad before, but he's soft, and not quite strong enough physically to make up for his gentle constitution

everyone is cheering him on. he's the talk of the palace! his mom is so proud! the suitors start sizing him up with consideration instead of dismissing him outright! (and tele, baby, that's not a good thing! ಠ_ಠ). Athena seems pleased for the first time in ages!! but he knows that it's all a lie, and it's killing him.

cause he's a good, honest boye, and he wants to succeed on his own merit, not because of cheating and lying to everyone he loves. that's vile and dishonorable.

que some very important island-wide competition that everyone is expecting him to join and win. maybe it's even his duty as a prince. like, a right of passage from complete boyhood to adolescence.

and there's,,, a lot of pressure on Telemachus to suceed. everyone and their mother are telling him that of course he's got this, he's a prodigy! def his father's son! nobody doubts his incoming victory! he's got this! he definitely won't disappoint them!

random noble: we'll be cheering you on, young prince! truly, we are blessed by the gods to have such a talented successor to the throne! we'll watch with keen eyes as you triumph over your foes and bring even more honor to your family! b(￣▽￣*) telemachus, eye twitching: y-yeah… thank you… (ㆆ _ ㆆ)

so, the night before the competition Telemachus can barely sleep, he's so wrecked by guilt and nerves. he keeps thinking - what would his father do in this situation? all the stories he'd ever heard of Odysseus always painted him as some kind of invincible, righteous, all-capable genius. so the idea of his dad ever grappling with guilt and feelings of inadequacy is just laughable. (oh, if only he knew)

so, he goes to his mom for advice. because Penelope is awesome. but he can't bring himself to admit that's he's cheating - what if she's ashamed of him? he brought dishonor to his father's name, and if anyone knows - will he get exiled?

so yeah, he basically has a panic attack and cries for like, half an hour straight.

telemachus, bawling: if I lose tomorrow, will you hate me? will dad hate me? I can't do anything right and I'm a failure and a horrible person and- just- what do I do, mother? penelope, holding him: oh, love. sometimes you're so similar to your father I wonder if the gods haven't returned him to me in spirit through you.

because no matter what everyone else says, Penelope knows the truth - Odysseus always followed his heart. oh, how he may have tried to forget he had one, to only ever use his head. but a heart he did have - does have, they have to believe that - and it's a bright and gentle one. he may have been hardened by years of pain and struggle in a way that Telemachus hadn't been yet (and Penelope's heart breaks from knowledge that her son will be, one day). but deep down, at ther cores, Odysseus and Telemachus are strikingly similar. and she loves them all the more for it.

and so, with his mother's blessing, the young prince does just as she told him to: follows his heart. he thanks Aeolus for their help, and asks them to stop giving it from now on. either he'll suceed on his own merit, or he'll wear his failure as a badge of honor and an incentive to do better.

and he loses. badly.

and the world,,, doesn't end? sure, the suitors sneer and jeer, but there's a surprising lack of disowning and exile going around. and the nobles tone it down significantly with undeserved adoration, which is definitely a plus, as far as he's concerned.

the only thing is. Athena.

oh boy.

because she's not stupid. Telemachus may have gotten away with cheating so far, but now he'll have to answer to her why he had flunked so badly, and she won't buy his go-to excuse of 'I got nervous!'

athena, expression unreadable: so. care to explain yourself, my stupid pupil? telemachus: w-well, you see… ha-ha… it's, uh… a funny story… athena: you threw away your best advantage! you've had a god perfectly willing to assist you and yet you still somehow managed to lose! telemachus: wait, what-

so yeah, Athena knew all along.

athena, mildly insulted: how stupid do you think I am, boy? telemachus: but! but! but!.. you never said anything! didn't even scold me for cheating! athena, even more insulted: child, I am the goddess of war strategy, where did you get the idea that I ever play fair and straightforward? leave that to ares, the simple-minded fool!

to clarify, she's not upset at him for cheating. she's upset that he stopped doing so. so she throws some choice words at him, implying he lacks both talent and intelligence

and Telemachus defends himself by saying that he'd rather fail on his own merit, than abandon his principles and win by lying and dishonoring his family. in response, she calls him naive.

he tries to implore to her connection to his father by saying that he was just trying to do what's right. he was following his heart, just as Odysseus had always strived to. and he's training to fight for his loved ones, not for glory of being known.

it's a one hit K.O., because it reminds Athena of her recent break-up with Odysseus. of everything they spat at each other during My Goodbye. of anger, of hurt, of disappointment, of betrayal, of I loved you and you failed me, of I loved you and I failed you, of good riddance! and y̶͈̔o̴̘̖͆u̶̻̱͆͒'̸̫̩̌̉r̷̼͝e̴̩̒ ̴͎̻̈́̎ȧ̸̦l̵̗͙͌̐o̸͚͕̚n̷̟̯͠e̵̳̩͠

and is their whole line just cursed? is this their way of punishing her for something? why do they both hurt her so? is it her fault?

telemachus: athena? are… are you okay? (‘-’*) athena, coming off MG flashbacks: well, obviously, boy, why would you even ask that (ಥ﹏ಥ)

Telemachus just hugs her, because she obviously needs it. and she melts into it like never before.

because she wasn't made for empathy or kindness. she's been born to be ruthless and cold. she's not supposed to love and be loved care about anything but winning. it doesn't come natural to Athena, until recently she had truly thought herself unable to, and yet-

yet here, right in front of her, is a boy who loves for the both of them. loves the whole world - sincerely, selflessly. a truly kind and caring soul (the nobles even joke that his true father is Polites).

she can't love.

but maybe… maybe he will teach her.

maybe he already did.

or maybe she always could.

she forgets sometimes, that her fingers know not only the roughness of swords and spears, but also the gentle softness of weaved silk. creation goes hand in hand with destruction, and she can bind countless threads together without breaking them.

and what are humans, if not strings, waiting to be cut by the fates?

also, if Telemachus can teach the goddess of cold cynicism and detached cruelty kindness of all things, then she can teach him swordplay.

yes, it's a threat.

[belsasim]

Kit had been staring at that last message for a while now. The Landgraabs or their associates couldn't know about Sarah's remarks about Rayne's moustache when he was on his undercover mission.

His heart was still pounding, it was as if he had been running up and down a football field non stop. What now?

"I'm sorry for taking your picture without permission. I just had to be sure. It's been deleted."

Well at least this Dylan Sigworth had some decency.

"Do you want to talk to your mother? I'll make sure the connection is safe and encrypted."

Kit took a deep breath. He missed his family so much. He worried about them. He didn't want to show Penelope too much, as she was already feeling guilty and had the pregnancy to deal with. He loved her and was glad to be with her, but he also felt alone without his siblings, his mother and even his father.

It had only been a couple of weeks and his heart was bleeding constantly even when he managed to think about something else.

"Ok."

"Great. I'll activate your webcam and you will see each other, but you will have to type to speak to her. Can't have people know here that you're video chatting and your mother has security concerns of her own, so it seems. You'll have 5 minutes, I'm sorry. Give me a moment."

Kit waited for a few minutes, staring at the screen blankly, not really sure what to expect. Then, a window popped up and he saw his mother. She was sitting at her desk and she looked tired. For a second he thought he was looking at a screenshot, as Sarah wasn't moving, not even blinking. Just looking at the screen with wide eyes.

Just when he moved to type a message, he saw her bring her hand before her mouth, her eyes filling up with tears. Then she started typing.

"Are you ok?"

Kit nodded.

"Is Penelope ok?"

Kit nodded again and then... He just broke down. Tears running down his cheeks, he started to type as fast as he could.

"She's pregnant, but she's ok. I'm so sorry. I miss you so much. We didn't know what to do. The Landgraabs. I don't want to lose her. And I don't want to lose our baby. Mom, I'm sorry, I don't know what to do. How is everyone? I miss you all."

Sarah almost didn't get a chance to get a message in between.

"Pregnant? Kit, it's ok. I'm relieved you two are ok. The Landgraabs have been harassing us, since you two disappeared. But your father isn't having it, he'll keep them off our backs, don't worry. I know they're having us under surveillance though, so you just stay where you are. Dylan will help you, he's a good friend of mine. Your siblings miss you, Kit, we all"

The connection was cut. The window with his mother's image closed. The computer shut down and started to reboot. Kit buried his face in one hand. This was so messed up. Now he had to do all he could to subdue his sobbing, take a breath and act normal.

He felt a hand being placed gently on his shoulder, giving him an encouraging squeeze. A warm, soft voice said: "Come, kiddo, I understand it's tough. Walk with me for a bit."

[louisupdates]

Review: ‘All Of Those Voices’ proves Louis Tomlinson has always been the coolest member of One Direction

WE GOT THIS COVERED

Francisca Tinoco | Mar 23, 2023 10:50 am

Everyone loves an underdog story, and it doesn’t get much better than Louis Tomlinson‘s. Often ignored in the first few years of One Direction’s short-lived run, the singer had a point to prove from the jump, and he hasn’t stopped chasing that “gotcha” moment since. The former boy bander’s documentary All Of Those Voices is a testimony to Tomlinson’s no-nonsense approach to fame, and how he has always been the most interesting artist to come out of the British pop sensation.

The doc doesn’t waste any time in addressing the aspect that surely drew in most of the audience, the One Direction breakup. It doesn’t reveal much that isn’t strictly related to Tomlinson’s perspective and lived experience of the events, but within those limits, it goes deep nonetheless, effectively setting the tone for the remaining hour and a half.

Back in the heyday of 1D, you could always count on Tomlinson to be the one to tell it like it was, and it’s warming to see that that hasn’t changed one bit. If anything, the freedom now of not being as high-profile as he once was has allowed Tomlinson to relax into his identity as a good-natured troublemaker willing to be vulnerable enough to sit in front of a camera and talk about his most profound insecurities. At one point, the singer’s voice coach, Helene Hørlyck – with whom he is shown to work extensively – in what is a reflection of his commitment to exposing all his sorest points, says “he’s so gentle, he’s so sensitive on the inside.”

Only those who have followed the artist closely can know exactly what Hørlyck is talking about. Life toughened Tomlinson up by dealing him more than a few tough hands, and the excitable, sensitive, bubbly teenager he was at the start of his career can only be found now in specks when he’s hanging out with his son Freddie, looking at old photographs of his mother with his grandparents, or in private videos from his closest friends. On the outside, he’s built a very lad’s lad image, always down to party, with a beer or joint in hand, but the way his feet have always been so firmly planted on the ground is entirely connected to that core gentility Hørlyck mentions, which in turn is largely a result of his relationship with his mother.

Johannah Deakin passed away in 2016, followed shortly by her 18-year-old daughter – and the singer’s sister – Félicité Tomlinson. Obviously, these losses had to be referenced in the documentary, whose purpose was to document Louis’ evolution as a solo artist; an endeavor that was seriously altered by the untimely passing of the two women in the first year after One Direction’s breakup. The tone in which the events are addressed, however, is never melodramatic or sensationalist as it could have easily slipped into at the hands of another director.

Charlie Lightening crafts a film that perfectly reflects the artist and person at its center. It’s genuine and open but doesn’t ever wallow in the misery – and there was plenty of misery to be wallowed in. Tomlinson’s family and friends praise his ability to keep his head above water after so much heartbreak, but for the singer, there was never any choice – that’s what his mother would have wanted, and the only thing she would have accepted.

With all the cautionary tales in the industry, All Of Those Voices becomes a fascinating music film purely because it documents the life of someone who managed to stay focused and humble, not only throughout being a part of the world’s most popular act at one point but also through immense personal tragedy. Tomlinson’s ability to survive temptation and stay focused on the music, with no intentions of becoming famous or necessarily filthy rich is refreshing.

There’s a piercing moment that perfectly encapsulates this duality, where Tomlinson reflects on the contrasting aspects of the life he has kept in the small South Yorkshire town of Doncaster – where he still lives for the most part – and the pop star mode he has to turn on when he attends talk shows and promotional tours. He admits to struggling with it and feeling easily overwhelmed, because that’s not at all the life he leads the other 90 percent of the time. Still, if that’s what he has to concede to be able to tour the world and play live music – the favorite part and driving force of the job for him – then so be it.

“I need you, and you need me, and I f*cking like that ” – a spur-of-the-moment declaration made by Tomlinson in one of his first solo shows – has become a sort of motto among his fandom. The truth is, fans of the underdog are always more protective and loyal. So, even though it came as a surprise for the former member of One Direction that, even after taking four years to release his first solo album, he was still able to sell out arenas, it made complete sense to anyone paying close attention to his trajectory.

Even after all that, Tomlinson had to deal with an agent who told him he wasn’t sure he would be able to sell tickets in Mexico – a moment he proudly wears on his sleeve after proving him wrong. He knows he’s the perpetual underdog, and while that used to bother him in the past, now he treats it as his biggest weapon.

All Of Those Voices very effectively documents this journey toward self-discovery for Tomlinson, both at a personal and an artistic level. What it lacks in behind-the-scenes exclusives of his songwriting process, it makes up for in heart, authenticity, and plenty of footage from the singer’s time on tour, which he prioritizes anyways.

On stage, by his own admission, Tomlinson feels like a “god,” but once the show’s over, he invites the band around to the back lounge of the tour bus for some beers and mischief, or takes them on a helicopter ride to a private yacht in the middle of the Brazillian sea. Even if the former might feel a lot more attainable than the latter, his presence always makes any party feel like a get-together with old friends at the local pub.

[simslegacy5083]

Today's (10/28/2024) Episode: Game, Developed

After Noemi and Luigi helped Skye deal with his new diagnoses it was finally time for them to celebrate a big personal milestone of their own.

“Well today’s the day, are you ready?” Noemi asked her husband “Honestly, yes and no” he replied, “its amazing to think that this dream of mine is coming true, but I’m terrified that its going to be a flop. I’d hate to go down in history as a failure.” Especially considering what I sacrificed to get here he thought to himself, gently making a fist under the table with his “bum” right hand.

“I highly doubt its going to fail” she said “I know I’m biased but, seriously, Watcher Tales is good. Now let’s go get ready for the launch party!”

“What should I wear!?” Luigi mused nervously as they entered the bedroom “I want to look professional, but grounded, put together but not overdressed. It’s tough.”

Noemi bit her tongue to keep from laughing. She walked up behind him and placed a hand firmly on his lower back. “I can help you find the perfect outfit” she whispered in his ear, “but before we get you dressed up, maybe getting undressed would help calm both our nerves…”

Luigi pulled her in, surrendering to her hungry kisses. It wasn’t the best woohoo they’d ever had, but when they emerged a few minutes later he couldn’t deny he was feeling calmer “Now my butt is sore” he groused, grinning “but it was totally worth it. Let’s do this thing!”

The Watcher Tales launch party was being held in Del Sol Valley and sponsored by UnorthoBox, one of the largest gaming console manufacturers in the nation. The game would be launching for both PC and, exclusively, on the new UnorthoBox 2 gaming system for console.

Exiting the teleporter just outside the conference center where the event was being held Luigi fired up Yoshi to capture some footage of the launch party. Grabbing Noemi’s hand, he took a deep breath and headed inside where his friends, family, and fans were all eagerly awaiting their arrival.

Luigi took his place in front of a wall of pictures featuring high-res images captured from the game itself, while Noemi settled nearby at a small table offering hard copies and digital codes of Watcher Tales for purchase.

Luigi was in his element, his natural cheerful enthusiasm on full display as talked up his “masterpiece”. He kept Noemi busy, sending a constant stream of fans and gamers to her table to buy first release copies of their game.

Luigi and his wife weren’t the only ones working hard to make the launch party a raging success.

Rather than hiring an unknown sim of questionable skill to man the bar Luigi had asked his grandpa Don to do the honors, and he’d gladly agreed.

Nearby Denton and Cullen were streaming a demonstration of Watcher Tales primary multiplayer features to their fans. Across the room a long rows of PCs had been setup, giving sims attending the release party a chance to “try before you buy”. Many of Luigi’s friends and family had settled there to show their support and see the game he couldn’t stop talking about.

Noemi was thrilled with how quickly copies of the game were selling, but as the afternoon wore on, she found herself feeling a bit overwhelmed.

Shutting her eyes for a moment in between customers, she suddenly heard the familiar and oh so welcome voice of her friend Amaya. “How you holding up pretty momma? The girls and I just arrived, and our kids are out back playing with your little one.”

“Honestly, I could use a break” Noemi told her. “The launch is going great, but this crowd is a bit too much for me.”

“Say no more!” Amaya replied, gesturing for her to rise “I sell nectar from the ranch every weekend at the market in Eco Harbor; I can handle hocking Hot Stuff’s pride and joy for a bit. Go give your boy a kiss and say hello to the ladies.” Noemi sighed with relief, heading out to sunny, quiet, playground.

Luigi merely chuckled when he noticed that his old flame had relieved his wife at the sales table. The meet and greet line shut down shortly after that and when one of his favorite songs started playing on the stereo system Luigi decided to give his fans a little show to thank them for coming.

“My fellow gamers” he announced “you inspired Watcher Tales, and your support means the world. I hope you’ll help me end this party in style!”

He found a small patch of open floor and began an impromptu dance party, gesturing for everyone to join him. As he danced along with the other happy sims celebrating the game’s launch, he silently hoped he’d find as much success as he’d enjoyed that day in the days to come.

View The Full Story of My Not So Berry Challenge Here

[protect-daniel-james]

I have been writing! There is so much inspiration out there, and my life has been - surprisingly? - going so well lately! I just want to finish some fics before I go on holiday (Netherlands and Belgium) in two weeks.

So, what's in store? Please note that the names are not the real names, they are the names of the files I write the fics in (yes, I am no longer writing directly in drafts of AO3, it was a bit too brave and backfired a couple of times)

Daddy A in the army - this one is taking forever because it is....tough. I got the Zinky Boys book from my local library, and I will probably have to go through that for some more inspiration

His uncle was more pragmatic. “God helps those who help themselves," he said when Roman Arkadyevich brought up the topic of young men returning from their two-year service with wives, kids, apartments, and a bumaga entitling them to vacation in Bulgaria.  With that in mind, Roman Arkadyevich bought the three lucky packets of cigarettes; ready to meet Lady Luck halfway. Naturally, his packets of cigarettes were confiscated on the first day.

Pippo's wedding - this should be a short lemon-y smut because we all know the Inzaghis and we know what they are.

It’s not even ten in the morning and Simone is on his second glass of wine - it’s not a big deal, everyone around the house has already had something, right after their morning coffees, toasting to the groom’s health and happiness, but Simone stayed sober throughout the season, pedantic and precise as ever, wanting to always keep his mind clear throughout the season. Now even the small amount of alcohol, combined with the heavy humid air before the rain that was forecasted for the day, made his head swim.

Numa numa iei - because what's not to love about random EURO pairing

“Nikoushek.” Now he’s mocking him. Nikoushek is a specific memory that not everyone knew about. “Nikoushku,” he corrects him, burying his fingers in the dark roots of his hair. He wishes Adrian kept it longer, all over his head, and didn’t shave the area around his ears and nape. “You use the vocative case when addressing someone.” “Vocative case, what is that. Nikoushku,” Adrian repeats, and his eyes shine brighter than before. “I can’t even speak Romanian properly,” he jokes, before laying his head down on his captain’s bare chest. He can’t resist, and places a quick peck on the skin. He likes the contrast between the bare, hairless chest and the arms covered in tattoos of significant memories from Nicolae’s eventful life. The arms are for the world to see, to learn Nico’s birth date, see the image of his grandmother, admire the colors of the flag, read the names of his children, and get to know the sources of his motivation, Biblical, fictional, inspirational – but the chest is only for him to see.

Juicy - finally putting on "paper" the food kink Ange/Poch fic that celebrates juiciness in all forms, good food, loving good food, loving yourself, and all the good summer Greek-Aussie-and-Argentine stereotypes together.

Juicy. He couldn’t think of a better word. There was so much under his skin - so much to touch and knead and hold onto and rub - and the excess of everything about Ange, his body, his hair, his deep voice, the smile that usually played in the corner of his lip, it all filled Mauricio’s head with a soothing sense that everything will be alright.

Lentemente - it is called this because of the Django Reinhardt song Lentemente mademoiselle, no idea *why* though. It's the Unai x Andoni bookstore!librarian!AU, it's fun and sweet and soft and pointless

“I’m sorry – I noticed you have been standing here with this specific book – “ He quickly glanced at the book’s cover, just to quench his private and nosy curiosity over the book that seemed to have captured the customer’s full attention. It looked like one of those cheap paperbacks dedicated to sensationalistic retelling of history, politics, or anything else – but the cover was nicely done in a clean, aesthetically pleasing way, showing a traditional house façade. Que disent les maisons basques? He had to smile; it didn’t seem like the most thrilling read. “ – and there is a line outside,” he finished his sentence, trying not to seem too judgemental of the book of choice. He made some calculations in his head already – he’d never seen anyone even just remotely interested in buying this book, and he certainly never sold a single copy of it. It was one of those volumes that was always there during the physical inventory and yet Andoni wanted to keep it – if nothing else, it had a nice cover and looked professionally made, which wasn’t the case for some of the faster-selling ones. It was a French-language book, which added a sense of internationalism – and it concerned a local theme, the traditional inscriptions on the lintels of rural houses. It was exactly the kind of book he liked to keep in the shop, even if it wasn’t selling well – it added a sense of rootedness to the place.

[dujour13]

For those highly interesting prompts and if you're up for writing something: "You have to stop, it's going to kill you!" 👀

Thank you! I'm still working on the final battle of Colphyr, but this prompt just worked perfectly for the aftermath. ❤️

Prompts here!

With his hand in this condition, Woljif wasn’t going to get much sleep anyway. The pain came in throbbing waves, with foaming peaks of agony when one of the delicate ligaments tried to thread itself back together. He’d hit up Daeran, Sosiel and Ember, and drank three potions, and the pain hit a plateau that would respond to nothing. Daeran had warned him, a hand would take time.

Besides, it was hard to sleep with the recurring image of Hepzamirah on her knees roaring, bulging black eyes rimmed with red and filled with hatred, blood spilling down her chin. And that wasn’t even the worst. Every time he closed his eyes there was a flash of a vast, evil goat’s head burned into his brain. Sheesh, some family. He realized with a bitter smile that old Gran could have given any one of them a run for their money.

He got to his feet and paced around Hepzamirah’s quarters, keeping an eye out for hidden stashes to kill time, and was just rationalizing waking someone up for more healing when he noticed Siavash was not in his bedroll.

On watch, Arueshalae directed him to the dark portal on the far side of the hall.

Siavash stood framed against it, head bowed. In the dusk of the mine he glowed softly. As Woljif approached he noticed little blue flowers springing from the cracks in the floor made by Baphomet’s hooves. Elysian magic flickered in the darkness around Siavash like green fireflies.

He felt a little pinch in his heart: another burst of mythic power had transformed him again, and now that he knew the source of that power he would be more than a little disturbed by what was happening to him. It was like the Moon of the Abyss, but worse. Thrust upon him whether he wanted it or not. Spiraling out of control.

Speaking of which… walking past the stale ash that had been the body of a demon lord and his Nephilim daughter, that little pinch in his heart grew into a cold bolt of fear. Talk about spiraling out of control.

Siavash tried to smile as he approached. “How’s that feeling?”

He opened his mouth but found he couldn’t make up his mind between milking it for more sympathy and making a show of being tough.

Instead, what came out was a third, unexpected thing. “Scary.”

Siavash sighed. “I know.”

“I mean, I oughtta be dead. All of us.”

“I know,” he said again.

“What in the nine hells chief? I mean, the Fleshmarket was touched in the head, but pickin’ fights with demon lords?”

“How was I supposed to know she was going to summon Baphomet?”

“And then when we’re all nose-deep in Pharasma’s tits you get cheeky with Nocticula?”

“I only did what I—”

“Far be it from me not to pocket somethin’ lyin’ around, but you didn’t need that crystal, did you?”

“That crystal is a piece of the puzzle of what Areelu Vorlesh did to me,” Siavash said quietly.

“Yeah, aright, sorry. I get it. But you didn’t have to—"

“Do you think it’s going to my head?” His eyes were wide. Woljif peered closer. They had changed from the old warm hazel to glinting colors like in the surface of diamond. He searched his face for a moment.

“No,” he said eventually. “Not like that. Not like making you different. Just like magnifying you. Don’t get me wrong, chief, I like you. It’s just that… it’s scary sometimes.”

His shoulders relaxed slightly. “I know.”

He rested his good hand on his shoulder. “We did it, y’know. We stopped Hepzamirah. We can go back and put this all behind us now.”

As he feared, Siavash just looked sad.

“Right, chief? We’re done.”

“No. I’m sorry, Woljif. I wish I were.”

Not that he was expecting anything else. He leaned his forehead against his shoulder. It was true, it wasn’t over for Siavash. He himself had laid the Moon of the Abyss to rest, had swallowed his fear and faced what was hunting him and beat it all by himself… well, all by himself with some help. That had ended well. But this, he feared, wasn’t likely to.

“I know,” he said quietly. “I’m with you.”

“Thank you, Woljif.” Siavash turned to wrap him in his arms very carefully, mindful of the hand in the sling and the mending ribs. “You’re the bravest person I know.”

[xtruss]

Titanic Mission To Map Wreck In Greatest-Ever Detail

— By Jonathan Amos & Alison Francis | 12 July 2024

Six-tonne robots will spend up to 20 days mapping and cataloguing the wreck site

A team of imaging experts, scientists and historians set sail for the Titanic on Friday to gather the most detailed photographic record ever made of the wreck.

The BBC had exclusive access to expedition members in the US city of Providence, Rhode Island, as they made preparations to leave port.

They'll be using state of the art technology to scan every nook and cranny of the famous liner to gain new insights into its sinking.

This is the first commercial mission to Titanic since last year's OceanGate tragedy. Five men died while trying to visit the lost ship in a novel submersible.

A joint memorial service will be held at sea in the coming days for them and the 1,500 passengers and crew who went down with Titanic in 1912.

The new expedition is being mounted by the US company that has sole salvage rights and which to date has brought up some 5,500 objects from the wreck.

But this latest visit is purely a reconnaissance mission, says RMS Titanic Inc, based in Atlanta, Georgia.

Two robotic vehicles will dive to the ocean bottom to capture millions of high-resolution photographs and to make a 3D model of all the debris.

"We want to see the wreck with a clarity and precision that's never before been achieved," explained co-expedition lead David Gallo.

Titanic was the largest and most luxurious passenger ship of its day

The logistics ship Dino Chouest is going to be the base for operations out in the North Atlantic.

Weather permitting, it should spend 20 days above the wreck, which lies in 3,800m (12,500ft) of water.

It will be a poignant few weeks for all involved.

One of the five who died on the OceanGate sub was Frenchman Paul-Henri ("PH") Nargeolet. He was the director of research at RMS Titanic Inc and was due to lead this expedition.

A plaque will be laid on the seabed in his honour.

"It's tough but the thing about exploration is that there's an urge and a drive to keep going. And we're doing that because of that passion PH had for continuous exploration," explained friend and historian Rory Golden, who will be "chief morale officer" on Dino Chouest.

On its last visit in 2010, RMS Titanic Inc made a sonar map of the wreck site

There can be few people on Earth who don't know the story of the supposedly unsinkable Titanic and how it was holed by an iceberg, east of Canada, on the night of 15 April 1912.

There are countless books, movies and documentaries about the event.

But although the wreck site has been the target of repeated study since its discovery in 1985, there still isn't what could be described as a definitive map.

And while the bow and stern sections of the broken ship are reasonably well understood, there are extensive areas of the surrounding debris field that have received only cursory inspection.

There is still much to learn about Titanic, even its famous bow

Two six-tonne remotely operated vehicles (ROVs) intend to put that right. One will be fitted with an array of ultra-high-definition optical cameras and a special lighting system; the other will carry a sensor package that includes a lidar (laser) scanner.

Together, they'll track back and forth across a 1.3km-by-0.97km section of seafloor.

Evan Kovacs, who's in charge of the imaging programme, says his camera systems should produce millimetre resolution.

"If all of the weather gods, the computer gods, the ROV gods, the camera gods - if all those gods align, we should be able to capture Titanic and the wreck site in as close to digital perfection as you can get. You would be able to quite literally count grains of sand," he told BBC News.

Powerful cameras should return unprecedented detail from the deep

There's huge anticipation for what the magnetometer aboard the sensor ROV might produce. This is a first for Titanic.

The instrument will detect all the metals at the wreck site, even material that is buried out of sight in the sediment.

The sensor instruments, including the magnetometer, will return fascinating new data

"It would be an absolute dream to determine what has happened with Titanic's bow below the seafloor," explained geophysics engineer Alison Proctor.

"Hopefully, we'll be able to deduce whether or not the bow was crushed when it hit the seabed, or if it might actually extend down well into the sediment intact."

The team wants to review the state of some well known objects in the debris field, such as the boilers that spilled out as the opulent steamliner broke in half.

A rendering of what the electric candelabra might have looked like

There's the desire, too, to locate items thought to have been sighted on previous visits. These include an electric candelabra, which in its day would have been a fascinating curio, as well as the possibility of a second Steinway grand piano.

The musical instrument's wooden surround would have long since decayed away, but the cast iron plate, or frame, that held the strings should still be there, and perhaps even some of the keys.

"For me, it's the passengers' possessions, especially their bags, that are of greatest interest," said Tomasina Ray, who curates the collection of Titanic artefacts held by the company.

"It's their belongings - if we are able to retrieve more in the future - that help flesh out their stories. For so many passengers, they are just names on a list, and it's a way to keep them meaningful."

Rory Golden says the memorial plaque for PH will be placed upright in the sediment

This will be RMS Titanic Inc's ninth visit to the wreck site. The firm has attracted controversy in recent years with its stated desire to try to bring up part of the Marconi radio equipment that transmitted the distress calls on the night of the sinking.

It won't happen on this expedition but if and when it does occur, it would mean extracting an object from inside the disintegrating ship.

For many, Titanic is the gravesite to the 1,500 who died that night in 1912 and should not be touched, its interior especially.

"We get that and understand it," said company researcher James Penca.

"We dive to Titanic to learn as much as we can from her; and like you should with any archaeological site, we do it with the utmost respect. But to leave her alone, to just let her passengers and crew be lost to history - that would be the biggest tragedy of all."

It is the personal items, some preserved inside bags, that tell the stories of the dead

James Penca has the famous ship's radio call sign - "MGY" in morse code - tattooed on his arm

— Additional Reporting By Rebecca Morelle and Kevin Church

[ishouldgetatumbler]

"Ooooh Ivyyy!"

The words came sing-song, high and sickly sweet. It was the tone of voice Harley Quinn used to irritate the caped crusader, but more dangerously, it was the tone of voice Harleen Quinzell used when she wanted to convince her partner to make a bad choice. No. Absolutely not she decided. She coated her heart in iron, readying it for those giant puppy dog eyes. She set down her book as Harley's shoes tapped up the stairs, feather light and skipping every other step.

Harley skipped her usual pig tails because, despite her endless complaining, they were keeping a low profile. She wore a long red and black winter coat, possibly because she couldn't stop herself. Ivy crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes.

"Hello Harley."

"Hello Ivy! And how is the best girlfriend a gal could hope for?"

"Increasingly suspicious," she said coldly.

"Well..." Harley squeaked, "you know the rules?"

Ivy smiled like permafrost, cold and hard.

"Yes I do dear. Did you happen to forget?"

"No I-"

"Repeat them for me." Ivy said and, after deciding her tone was harsh added, more softly "please."

Harley took a deep breath, then repeated; "No costumes. No explosives. No mallet. No heroics and no contacting Mistah Jay."

"And...?" She prompted.

"And no pets," Harley added sadly.

Ivy nodded, and her smile softened to something actually affectionate as she said, "I liked Bruce too, but keeping a hyena and staying under the radar are exact opposites."

Harley pouted, and out came the puppy dog eyes. God, they were the size of dinner plates. The steel wrapped around Ivy's heart began to flake and rust at the edges.

"What is it Harley?" Ivy said.

"Nuthin."

"Harley." Ivy repeated.

You would be amazed at the cool dread a trained professional can fit into a single word, even moreso when the word is your name.

"Well, I was out doin some shoppin'. And you know how I like to do my shoppin' round abouts of crime alley?"

Ivy put a hand coated in potting soil to her head as it conjured a thousand bad images to her mind. She imagined Harley good-naturedly patting a dog the size of a small horse. She imagined harley procuring a mallet out of her purse and doming some ruffians with it. Most of all, she imagined Harley being torn away from her, shoved into another wailing, flashing car of Gotham's finest.

But she just nodded, unable to break her eyes from Harley's own brown gemstones. They shimmered in the wet, soft yearning of her eyes.

"Well there was a few rough types intimidatin' a kid. So I says to them I says 'hey, pick on someone your own size.' So the guys leave him alone, walk over to me, start whistlin' an' talkin' about size and a nice lady like me. So I hits 'em."

"Harley-"

"Lemme finish Ives." Harley said, "I didn't bring my mallet like you said, so I hits 'em with the brick I keep in my purse."

"Harley!"

"Lemme finish! I finish hittin 'em with the brick, and I go over to the kid to see if he's alright, but the kid is playin' it real tough like, 'I didn't need any help', 'I'm used to being alone' real tough guy Batman stuff. So I says to him 'feeling the need to be strong and isolated can be a sign of childhood trauma' and he says 'how do you know that' and I says I'm a liscened therapist, not mentioning I don't practice no more, and he says 'a therapist who hits people with bricks?' And I says yeah, Gotham's a hell of a town."

"Harley, you didn't."

"Please Ivy, lemme explain. His stomache rumbles and I ask he's eaten and he says piss off, I say I know a place nearby"

"Harley, you didn't!"

Harley kept on, driving the conversation like a stolen snow plow, "so we get some burgers, and he gets to talkin' about his folk, how the want to vivi-dissect him or sumthin, so I says 'hey, I know a place you can stay where no one is tryina cut you up-'"

"Harley. Tell me you did not steal a child."

Harley scowled at the accusation. "You can't steal sumthin that wants to be stolen. That's kidnappin."

"That's not-" Ivy started, but stopped herself, focusing on the larger issue, "He's not yours. You have to give him back."

"Finder's keepers." Harley said as she crossed her arms, half turning away from her partner and stuck out her tongue.

"No." Ivy said simply, and crossed her arms right back.

Harley broke instantly, wrapping her hands together like Ivy was the god she prayed to as she broke out her pleading voice. "Aw come on Ivy, I'll take really good care of him!"

"No. I am not letting you adopt a- wait, how old is he?"

"14."

"I am not letting you adopt a 14 year old. We have the rules for a reason." Ivy said.

The metal coating her heart was shredding and curling under the grating pressure of not giving the woman she loved most whatever she wanted. Those damn eyes.

"But he's not ageinst the rules!" Harley wailed.

"No pets!" Ivy snapped back.

"Please!" Harley wailed again, dragging out every sound as she begged. "Please my lil' flower, he's got no where else to go! They was really thinkin' about cutting him open!"

Ivy glared at Harley and watched as the wetness build and bubbled in her eyes.

Ivy sighed like she was letting out a breath of pure tension.

"How are we not getting caught?" Ivy asked finally.

Harley's expression glowed. "I'll ask Brucie for a favor! He owes me big from last time."

"The hyena?" Ivy asked skeptically.

"No! Bruce Wayne! He loves black haired kids with tragic backstory. It's part of his charm. He'll sort it out."

Ivy sighed again, less dramatically and put a hand back to her head.

"I'm going to regret this." She said quietly

"No you won't!" Harley said merrily, "now come on, Danny is downstairs. You two will get on like a house on fire, he's transgenda and full of ghosts!"

Harley took Ivy, arm in arm, down the stairs to meet their new son.

Random idea that just popped in my brain:

Danny goes to Gotham (yeah yeah I know) but when he gets there he accidently walks in on Harley doin something (idk that's up to you) and Harley is all like 'look at this traumatized child, well guess he's mine now. Ivy, make the bed we have a son now!'

(also Harley and Bruce should be besties for no reason other than I want them to.)

[knowlesian]

having hit two notes (izzy’s and stede’s, twice over) in this fucked up three part finale harmony: it seems only fair to close it out and finally get to do the one that hits me in the face and says ‘you are going to cry about this until the day you die. now say thank you’.

ed’s turn at the pain wheel.

so: it’s been a tough week for him. a real fuckin’ tough week. ed offered more than his heart to stede— he offered himself. he told stede the truth, again and again. he gave things up. he was willing to fold socks and lick the king’s boots; he was ready to run away to china and kill the men they used to be, to be new people together. 

these were things he was ready to give up, and he very much wanted that life together: but the way they were about to obtain it would have ruined it for them both in the end.

i’d like to think, down in the part of ed’s soul that understands it is fucking imperative he keep an eye on all the exits in dangerous situations and had to build up an immunity to this sort of thing, he knows poison fruit from a poison tree when he sees it. that’s why he turns melancholy, not angry; he lost the thing he wanted most, but that life wouldn’t have lasted.

half-truths you build out of half-lies start to taste sour, once you get down to the rind. ed of all people knows that.

so he’s sad. he’s ready to listen to taylor swift alone in his blanket fort and cry, until lucius introduces him to the healthier version of what ed proposed to stede on the beach: what if, every single time we take a breath, the version of us that lived before that breath is gone?

what if that isn’t just dying? what if it’s... finding our way into this newest, complicated self, and living again?

and, in ways that break my heart, in ways olu and jim would understand and in some ways, their reunion echoes: ed hears every fucking word. they understand each other; lucius cries for his pain, and ed glimpses a pathway out.

twigs and all.

he sings his sad little breakup ballad on the deck this time, in full view of the family he’s trying to guide in stede’s absence; it’s so real it kind of makes me cringe, but in the way where i want to shield him from view because i too have been trained that when you are open like that they hurt you.

watching ed sing his song makes me feel the way i feel when i can’t deal with my shit enough that i lose it and cry in public, and i mean that as a compliment. you’re not supposed to do that outside your bedroom or the shower in a pinch. we can only get that open where people can’t see us, my training says.

my heart is happy for ed, my instincts say: look out, baby, they are going to hurt you.

which is why i both hate and entirely understand what one mister izzy big ol’ motherfucking duffel bag of shit hands does next.

he looks at edward, the man he’s built his self-image and career around, considers losing it all in one go, and thinks: look out, baby, they are going to hurt you.

(is the you in that sentence izzy, or is it ed? 

yes.)

and then. ohhhh, and then.

izzy decides, why the fuck not. one more hold his beer moment for the road. and then this dumb motherfucker goes nuke-ya-ler, dubya style.

ed has no idea it’s coming. izzy was clearly not thrilled by his performance: but hey, he’s perfectly aware izzy spends a lot of time being not exactly thrilled with shit ed does. still. ed saved him from from meeting the devil at the bottom of the deep blue sea for a reason.

for better, but mostly for worse: izzy’s been there. izzy has been his sad, violent version of loyal, and when you do the emotional math as edward shows he is capable of, again and again he knows: in izzy’s mind, he licked the king’s boots for ed. can’t you see? i did it for you, edward. i did it for us, and if you want me to stay with you by fucking god you’re going to have to stay down here with me, fucking silent and fucking violent until we fucking die, hand in unlovable hand, is the desperate sad ballad izzy’s singing here. and edward can’t be edward but only in private with izzy if he’s edward in public, too.

fear, turned outward through anger and devastating words and made a weapon. jealousy, trauma, pain, all melted and formed into a shield that grows into a wall and becomes a weapon all its own: what do we mean, when we say violence?

because what comes next sure feels like violence to me.

ed’s trying to clean up: he’s talking to izzy like they’re still the unit they were before stede rolled up, but in a way that incorporates the more authentic man he’s trying to feel his way into being. 

this is what fucks me up most on a long list of things that fuck me up about these two, if i’m honest. izzy makes me think in ways that are uncomfortable and very valuable about certain parts of myself i am less fond of; and as a fictional exercise in ‘why are we all so grubby and weird and why do we ruin our own lives sometimes????’ case studies, he is Peak. for a million reasons, he makes me sad.

but what ed shows here is a flickering attempt to build himself up into the sort of hearthfire olu gives jim. (and why i think olu and jim and ed and izzy carry a lot of sad/dark mirror narrative beats together.)

come with me, iz, the subtext here says. can’t believe we were living like this.

if i can save you i can save me, if i can save me i can save you: we don’t have to do this, you know that right? stede didn’t want me; stede left. he didn’t want to be new people with me.

i’m so fucking sick of just surviving. i want to have space to be new people, ed keeps begging everyone around him. lucius heard what he meant, and gave him the words for it. now he’s offering to share with izzy the kindest, most beautiful gift ed’s ever been given; even more beautiful than stede’s finery, or his unsure confession of happiness and desire, because ed thinks it was a lie.

all that happened, and ed still has the courage— the generosity, the need to not be alone, the fear and the altruism all wrapped up in one very beautiful and very complicated man— to clean up the evidence of his grief bender and say to izzy, a lot of shit has gone down lately, but why not. let’s do this whole new people thing together. 

he’s sad; he’s healing. he’s still off-kilter.

and here comes the push.

I should have let the English kill you. This... whatever it is that you’ve become... is a fate worse than death. 

the way ed’s face falls as he hears the man he’s lived alongside for years say he wishes ed wasn’t alive; he draws in this little breath and it’s almost like he can’t quite process izzy’s actually said the horrific thing he just heard. it stabs me in the heart, every single time.

because here's the thing; there are a million killers. there are a million sailors and a million first mates and a million cranky lil boat guys who want to serve under a legend.

i’m sure a lot of them would have been the kind of yes-men who would have also hated stede, and hated this change; they would have dealt with it and shut the fuck up, or left, or done a million things but do izzy’s sad and gross version of fighting like hell to keep his subtextual man.

i think it’s that sad and gross fight that spells out the answer to the obvious: so why keep him? question.

because they saw something in each other. and because emotionally, ed got something he needed from izzy; and emotionally, izzy got something he needed from ed. people will do horrible, painful things to get what they need, if they think that’s their only way of getting it.

for years they did those kind of things to themselves, and to each other.

ed kept izzy around for all this time, his purse dog-slash-middle manager from hell sidekick, and now he would like to keep him around in this new world. for better; again, mostly for worse, they kept each other safe at the same time they kept each other in pain.

and izzy just said: i wish you were dead. i wish i hadn’t done it. my years of loyalty and my recent betrayals, the ones you understand i considered both unsavory duties to my captain and sacrifices made for the man my captain becomes, but if and only if he is alone with me; i will take all of it back if you keep trying to be new fuckin people, edward, izzy is telling him. if you won’t stagnate here with me, be my monster and my subtext boyfriend, you can go ahead and just die. these are your options if you want to keep me in your life.

(and what kind of life could you have, without me in it?)

ed thinks stede could only want him when he’s a gentleman like stede is a gentleman— like he was a gentleman, before he entered and exited the underworld of his original flavor toxic masculinity, entirely unknown to ed— and now he knows: unless izzy ever figures his shit out, he will only want ed when he’s a monster.

and then, quiet part horrifyingly loud: izzy says what whatever he is now? this beautiful complicated man with his soft underbelly and heart on display at once, finally, who is taking such extreme emotional risks despite very recent disappointment? who is braver right now, breathing deep in the face of izzy’s fury, trying to keep it together and stay open, than he has ever been in his entire life?

(because make no mistake: ed has had to be very, very brave, for his entire life.)

better ed be dead than be... this. “whatever it is”, the writers choose to have izzy say, and throw in vague tones of dehumanization via ‘it’ as well as the way they have izzy refer to ed in terms that imply he holds dominion over ed’s life and death. (which sets up their later use of ‘boyfriend’ even better.)

not i wish they had; not they should have. i should have let them.

these writers are precise and very, very mean.

so ed pulls back, trying to salvage some of his power and assert who he is while dealing with that fucking... load of soul-crushing pain, all without losing sight of the path lucius revealed to him.

Well... I am still Blackbeard, so...

No! This... this is Blackbeard. 

they give this moment time to breathe in a way that kills me. izzy shoves the cartoon in ed’s face; ed stares at it. stares at the monster the world wants him to be; the monster izzy says is all he could ever be.

and i think maybe, deep down in his heart, ed thinks: the monster that stede might have actually wanted, more than the failed attempt at pretending ed could be a gentleman. izzy wants the monster, the world wants the monster. stede left, after seeing the monster’s a man, too; maybe that’s why.

maybe this is all they will ever want. all anyone will ever want.

the man he was falling in love with, and thought might be around forever left him; the man who has proved he will stick around forever, even when ed tells him not to, has just said he wishes ed would die if he won’t be what izzy wants. he’s found izzy’s limit, after years and years of spiraling into greater depths of toxic pirate bullshit together.

the limit: ed. being a full fucking person. ed, doing things he wants to do instead of things other people want him to do, because they want him to do it.

‘what have they done to your face’; ‘i should have let the english kill you’. 

‘this is blackbeard.’ ‘a bloodthirsty killer, born of the devil.’ 

even in the dialogue, even when they don’t know they’re doing it, even when he doesn’t know they're doing it: people keeping this shit to ed. he is so, so tired of people doing this shit to him.

which leads neatly into:

Not some namby-pamby in a silk gown, pining for his boyfriend.

in the same way stede can’t know why ‘from the devil’ would cut so deep, i doubt izzy knows why what he’s just said is such a specific cut. the general surge: yeah, he knows. he’s trying to provoke ed; you provoke people by being provocative.

but silk. a silk gown, this sad and mean and in desperate need of therapy and like... so, so many more punches to the nose in this moment man said.

izzy thinks he is communicating, in so many words: edward. you're being weak. shape the fuck up and get with it again. it’s like a very smart sock once said: this is how the world works. those who do not hurt others get hurt by others, and i have chosen my motherfucking side of the knife here. have you forgotten how this dance goes?

ed is taking all that in, and on top of it seeing a red silk handkerchief and a mother who loved him as well as she could, but only in the ways she’d been taught; and she had been taught in so many ways that to yearn for more than your lot is to set yourself up for heartbreak. you reach: you fall.

and when you fall, it will be because god wanted you punished for the sin of thinking you could ever deserve more. whenever you hurt, whenever you suffer, whenever you have no family or food or shelter, not even an emotional place you can feel safe and call home: that’s where god finds his home, ed’s mother was taught. that’s where god finds his joy. your joy comes at the end of a life of silent, willing service to those god loves best. 

god is not there, not when you are joyful; not when you are not serving them.

they own everything; why shouldn’t they own god, too? how kind they are, to share these scraps with us and teach us to call them the road to glory.

these are the things ed’s mother was taught; these are the things she taught him.

what do we mean when we say violence? the generational trauma forced christianity wrought centuries ago is still hurting us today. still keeping us trapped in these horrible, binary cycles.

one above; one below. how can god we own love us more, if he doesn’t love you less? that’s the secret at the heart of why the world needed ed’s mother to hold her child close, and try to convince him not to look violence in the face and call it what it fucking is.

and so ed explodes. hand around izzy’s throat, calling izzy the dog izzy implied ed might as well be, by saying he should have essentially allowed the english to put him down; and worse, izzy enjoys it. ‘there he is’, izzy says. breathless: worshipful. touch tender as his words weren't, one hand coming up to cup ed’s cheek; this is how we love, izzy thinks. i hurt you until you hurt me back, and once we slice each other to ribbons we can use the wounds as an excuse to touch each other gently and say it’s because we have to, not because we want to.

we could never want to. if we wanted to, what would that say about us?

this is not ed’s world; this is not ed’s love. not his tenderness. he’s used violence as a tool and been horrified by it. he’s been scarred by it in more ways than one. then he’s enjoyed it, sometimes, or at least acknowledged its helpful byproducts in his life.

it’s never his instinct. in one of the ways he makes up a narrative pair with olu, ed’s about community.

ed will hurt people; still, ed doesn’t want to hurt people. it’s a fine line, but like ed’s own distinction in canon it’s an important one.

so he shoves izzy away, disgusted with everything going on right now. his life is hell; lucius promised him it could be better. that ed could be different. stede lied; maybe his playthings do nothing but lie, too. stede took a while to reveal himself, didn’t he? that felt so good at first, didn’t it? he thought he was safe then. thought he finally wasn’t alone.

and now here he is: alone again, anyway.

alone with izzy! who is fucking elated. this man is nearly crying with joy, he is staring at ed’s mouth, he is like... way, way, way too fucking horny on main. this is it: he can taste forgiveness resting heavy on the back of his tongue, even now. ed needs a little more pushing before he’ll do it right and let izzy breathe easy, but that’s fine. the end’s in sight, gory gory what a hell of a way to die. just a little bit more now, and they can forget it all happened and go back to the way it all was before. hell, it can be even better! because it can be even sadder, now, and a whole lot worse.

so izzy pushes ed again. blackbeard’s his captain, it’s blackbeard he serves. edward, on the other hand? edward better prove he’s worthy of being a man again when they’re alone, or izzy is going to keep this shit up until he does.

izzy thinks they’re connecting; izzy thinks this is how they keep each other safe. this is how they love each other. 

ed looks at a man who loves him, but doesn’t see him. izzy’s love is conditional as god’s ever was; if ed wants to keep it, there are going to be rules he has to follow and boundaries he has to stay inside. 

there has to be one above, and one below.

suddenly, the things ed thought he might have been wrong about start to settle back in. 

when izzy leaves it there and stomp stomp stomps off in his little booties, unaware he is enjoying his last day on earth still in possession of all his toes, this battle is still only sort of won. because ed might have pulled it back here! maybe! if by the magic of things happen when we want them to, fuck you, ofmd definition of time, stede arrived then and confessed everything, maybe that would help. maybe lucius could have walked in; maybe ed could have had five fucking minutes alone to deal with izzy’s shit and not get immediately thrown into yet another reminder of his trauma.

instead of any of that, the crew calls for a song with a new, even more affectionate nickname. eddie, they call him, and ed does some emotional time travel as he’s thrown back to the party in e5. they pretended to like him, too; they said he could be funny without being a joke, if he was with them.

they were lying; stede fucked them up for him, but stede’s gone now and might have been lying, too.

is this the latest lie? are they making fun of him? is he a fucking joke again? 

izzy just told him he’s better off dead if he keeps trying to be authentic; izzy has done the opposite of laugh at him. and izzy, for all his many... many flaws, has never entirely flat-out lied to ed. gone behind his back! obfuscated and left out key details in service of his own agenda! but izzy just looked him in the face and said the meanest fucking thing you can say— their shit’s aaaaaalllll out there now. so in a way: izzy has been honest and now he’s safe, for some very narrow and horrifying values of both words.

ed understands what izzy wants from him. what does the crew want?

moving through the world on his own, ed has learned he has two options: he can be an unthreatening joke, or he can be a monster. 

ed also knows that when he doesn’t pick fast enough, the people around him will pick for him. 

izzy just said it right out loud. he wants the monster, and being the monster kept ed safe at the same time it hurt him. he knows he can survive that pain. 

what does the crew want? they want eddie to sing them another song. and they might want it because they’re laughing at ed’s stupid song and his stupid pain and his stupid reaching for better. how could ed ever know? how could he trust them? 

that’s the problem. there’s no litmus test for love, and izzy has offered concrete evidence for his sad version of the word. the crew asks ed to take it on faith he’s not the butt of their joke.

the crew calls for him, inviting him to join them topside again and enjoy the stupid, silly, joyful things they can do and be together. this is what hurts the most: we as an audience know they love him more than they ever have, in this moment. they see ed: all they want to do is have some fun, with ed. none of their laughter would hurt. they love him: he could make jokes with them and not be a joke to them.

but stede left ed, and izzy has made it clear he’s out for good if ed doesn’t straighten up and fly right p-d-fucking-q; and you can’t know for sure people are lying when they say they love you, not until it’s too late.

illuminated by the window, ed makes his choice.

all right, then. monster it is. 

monsters don’t need hearts; monsters don’t wear fine things well. and so: overboard goes the red silk, floating off into the stede-less moonlight.

(i want to do something else longer about ed and lucius so i will just paste this in the gap now: the way lucius is confident in his ability to call ed by his name and speak to him like an equal, and the almost deadened look on ed’s face as he allows lucius to twist in the wind, letting the gift lucius gave him die to an down to ember until the mood shifts and ed shoves him over the side all do a lot of painful things to my heart. ouch.

also: lucius is alive, his shoe goes flying and does a ZOOM WHOOSH thing, there’s a whole sound!!!!! he clung to the rope or the side and he is now in the walls eating paper. the end.)

which brings me to: one gun, one knife, and gloves that keep a barrier between ed and everything he touches.

we don’t see ed’s face in full, not once in this scene; we see the whole of the cartoon, but only fragments of the man. his body; his weapons. his cheek, as he draws back on the beard that made him safe. we see his eyes reflected in an implement of violence and of penetration, as ed tells himself: i am the kraken.

not blackbeard, a mantle that in some ways allowed ed to try and bridge the gap between ed the man and ed the monster, but the kraken. 

this is how he heartbreakingly survives everything going to shit at once, naming himself all monster and no man. stede didn’t see enough worth sticking around for in the man; the world keeps demanding the monster.

and izzy. sad, cruel, suffering izzy: izzy wants the monster.

and now, ed’s going to give them all what they want. 

let’s see if they choke on it.

that’s right. let’s do this: the Weird Vore is nigh.

this scene is very jesus-flavored. there are jesus sprinkles atop this horrifying sundae of pain and a crunchy jesus shell coating. this shit is like... thirty one flavors of super gross in the most catholic and subtextually gay way possible.

so obviously, i fucking love it.

izzy is posed on the bed in a way everyone dragged to mass and forced to stare at a bleeding, ripped white dude in an equally white loincloth would find familiar. (izzy’s is black, which is a neat inversion as well as a hilarious nod to the white hat/black hat cowboy movie politics that in some ways helped build our cinematic language on these things.)

his feet are bare, his legs are bare, his chest is bare. he’s almost naked; he’s vulnerable. open.

in polar opposition ed is armored up and closed off. he touches izzy: izzy does not touch him. his hands are going to stay clean under their leather, no matter what he does next.

and what he does next is use some big fuckin’ scissors and make himself a diy first communion starter kit. he’s got body and oh boy does he have blood, and izzy ever so kindly holds his mouth wide fucking open while he screams, a parishioner waiting for the host.

he’s held edward up as his god. now, after all izzy’s years of service and suffering, edward’s going to be his priest, too. and why not? this is what izzy wanted, wasn’t it? 

unfortunately: yeah. stede got what he wanted and was properly horrified to see the rot at the bottom of it all. izzy, on the other hand? after years of waiting at edward’s elbow and watching him cut off other men’s toes, loom up over them and force them to swallow, izzy has played himself some very, very stupid games. 

and worst of all— he is so, so very happy that he is at long last going to receive his very stupid prize.

ed always knows what to say to put izzy off when he won’t quit it and give ed a little breathing room. the trick is telling him what he wants to hear in that moment. i’m not interested in stede, oh no. i’m going to kill him, and then i’m going to prove i don’t care that everybody talks shit about you literally shitting your pants last time you babysat alone. i need you, i hate you, i want you to go, i wish that you’d stay. 

he also knows words aren’t going to cut it, not this time. if he wants izzy to back off enough to let him breathe, he’s going to need to give him more. izzy wants the monster; ed will be nothing but the kraken. 

so who takes izzy’s toe? who makes sure ed doesn’t have to be the kind of alone that doesn’t come complete with a crowded room to be alone in, the monster or the man?

the answer is once again just yes, because on this show it’s almost always both/and, not either/or.

half-truths, half-lies. it’s like arguing about the existence of ghosts or god, determining where the exact ratio sits, like trying to find a way to measure and quantify love so you one hundred percent absolutely no doubts know it’s the kind that won’t crumble and leave you in more pain than before you had anything to lose at all.

ed is edward is blackbeard is the kraken is ed, on and on into forever. 

we are a choir, a mob, a whole fucking world, even when we are all alone. we contain multitudes; i draw a breath, you draw a breath, and the people we were crumble to dust and then linger in the corners, haunting us with their presence and the ways we can’t ever go back to who we were before, not really. no matter how hard we try.

we die and become new people a million times, every day, until we don’t. 

so who exactly is it that rests his hand on izzy’s chest, right over his heart? who clamps the other over his mouth, as gentle as izzy’s notions of love are not? and who feeds those notions to a man who only wants ed when he’s not the entirety of ed, making sure he chews them up good so they don’t get stuck in his throat? who subtextually fucks izzy through the mattress, and who hates himself the whole time because none of this was what he wanted?

all of them, all at once, because it’s all ed or none of it is. like the ghosts of the people we were, the gods we own or love we can be sure isn’t a lie— either it’s all real because you can’t prove it’s not, or it’s all bullshit because you can’t prove it’s not. 

we want things to be simple. we want there to be An Answer, so we don’t have to exist in uncomfortable, ambiguous spaces.

fortunately, ofmd is pretty fucking comfortable in those spaces.

[kiyosamu]

remember.

----♡----

pairing: rintaro suna x female reader.

genre: yandere, dark, light romance. // one shot, 4k words.

synopsis: abusive relationships can seem impossible to leave. when you open up to a classmate, your life takes a dramatic turn in the best and worst ways imaginable.

content warnings: assault, domestic abuse (not from suna), descriptions of violence, yandere themes.

----♡----

“hey, kid.” suna’s voice caught your attention as you passed by him in the university corridor. he was quiet, only speaking loud enough for you to hear right as you were walking by.

“hey, rintaro.” you stopped for a moment, refusing to look up at the tall man towering over you.

“i haven’t seen you in a while. everything okay?” he leaned against the wall and clutched a textbook to his chest. “you haven’t even been to class. kinda been missing my project partner.”

“you got my work though, right?” you asked him, partially covering your face with your hair. “i emailed it to you.”

“i did.”

“okay… good.” you cleared your throat, awkwardly shuffling and offering a suspiciously sudden goodbye.

“hey, wait-" suna grabbed your wrist to keep you from leaving. the small amount of pressure more than enough on your deep bruise to make you wince.

suna noticed your pained expression and immediately let go, stepping back.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to hurt you. i just wanted to ask you if-“

“it’s okay!” you interrupted, knowing you’d already spoken to him for too long. you needed to get out of there before anyone noticed. “you didn’t hurt me. sorry, i have to go. bye!”

your behaviour was erratic. your speech was rushed; forced and strained with every word as you tried your best to appear normal.

unfortunately it was much harder to pretend everything was okay than you’d originally thought it’d be.

you quickly turned and headed down the hallway to drop off the assignments to your other professor. the last one you’d have to see for the day before heading home. you were almost there. so close you might not even run into him.

you’d hoped, anyway.

----♡----

after seeing your professor, you walked out into the fresh evening air. the cold stinging your cheeks and the wind pushing your hair out of your face.

your cheeks burned from the freezing air, but it was your black eye was that hurt the most.

“i’m sorry, i just lost my temper.” his words echoed in your head, “you shouldn’t have pissed me off.”

you nodded, essentially agreeing with him. it’s true, if he didn’t get mad, he wouldn’t have hit you. and why was he mad? because of something you did. so really, it was your own fault.

you were the one apologizing to him that night. doing anything you could to make it up to him. all of this with a deep purple bruise forming on your face.

when he finally left your dorm and went back to his, you were mentally exhausted. you fell asleep and woke up right before your second class of the day.

he had started forcing you to miss classes, to do everything at home and only go in to submit your work. this was for two reasons.

the first, you could spend more time with him due to your schedules. if yours was freed then you’d have more time together.

the second was to stop you from talking to other men. completely.

...and then he found out suna was your lab partner.

“i don’t want you working with him.”

“i have to. the professor is the one who chooses.”

“then work from home and submit the stuff online. that guy is a manipulator. he’s dangerous and will take advantage of you. i just know it.”

you’d never gotten that type of vibe from suna, but you obeyed your boyfriend because you didn’t want to know what would happen if you didn’t.

secretly, though, you missed class. you missed working with him. laughing, getting to know each other. he’d become a good friend over the past year and since you had the same majors, you two shared quite a few classes.

he was calm. funny and quiet, but definitely not timid. his energy made him come off tough, but not scary. if anything, he made you feel… safe.

just for those few hours you had together.

and whenever class would end, you found yourself missing that feeling.

----♡----

“i have to go to class tomorrow.” you said, refusing to make eye contact with your boyfriend who’d invited himself over to your dorm.

just like he does every. single. night.

“why? you gonna go talk to that suna guy?” he approached you, giving you a terrifying smile that you know wasn’t coming from a place of happiness.

“yuji… please.” your words were barely a whisper when you felt his fingers wrap around your throat. “my professor told me i need to start going. my grades are falling behind.”

his fingers tapped rhythmically against your skin. dancing skillfully as he toyed with the idea of choking you. you held your breath, expecting the worst.

“you should try harder.” he growled, digging his fingertips into your neck and you clenched your eyes closed. “get your grades back up so you don’t have to spend any more time with that guy.”

“okay, okay!” you grabbed onto his wrist and his eyes widened. “i will! i’ll get my grades up so i don’t need to see him anymore.”

“good girl.” he smiled, the evil expression he’d previously worn had melted away into a false image of a kind man. “always listening so well for me.”

yuji leaned in and kissed you. you kissed back, barely, but just enough for him to be satisfied and leave you alone.

“time for me to go.” he sighed as he heard the dorm advisor do a final walk through to knock on the doors and let the students know it was time for guests to leave.

“see you tomorrow?” he asked, tilting your chin up to look at him.

“sure…” you whispered. you trembled under his touch and wanted nothing more than for him to leave your sight.

“good. it’s a date.” he said happily and gave you another kiss, practically skipping down the hallway back to his own room.

you shut and locked your door, desperately wishing that was the last time you’d ever have to see him.

----♡----

“well, well, well.” suna cooed as you took your seat next to him. “as i live and breathe, i never thought i’d see the day. you finally made it to class.”

you nodded and pulled out your books.

“had to. my grades are slipping.” you sighed, looking around at the science classroom. “what are we doing today?”

“lab day.” suna said as he nudged an instruction sheet towards you. “should we put on our coats and get to it?”

“okay...”

you started to have an internal panic attack. your wrists were as bruised as the black eye you were hiding behind your hair.

suna stepped away to get your lab coats.

this would all be visible, and you didn’t want suna (or anyone) to see any of it.

you nervously approached your professor and she looked up at you with a disinterested stare.

“ma’am, i need to be excused from class today.”

“absolutely not.” she scoffed, “unless you want to fail my class, which i know you can’t afford to do, you’ll stay and do your lab.”

you opened your mouth to reply but she kept speaking.

“go put up your hair, roll up your sleeves and get your lab coat on. you should be thankful you have such a competent partner.” she crossed her arms, leaning back in her chair, “actually, i think the two of you should spend some time together. he’s my top student and you definitely need some tutoring.”

“i don’t think that’s necessary-“

“mr. suna, come up here please.”

suna walked up with a confused look, unsure as to why he was being brought in to the conversation.

“something i can help with?” he asked.

“yes,” the professor smiled, “i’d like the two of you to do tutoring sessions a minimum of twice a week, an hour each time. could you do that?”

“oh, sure. i don’t mind.” he smiled, “was that all? we should get to our assignment.”

you felt backed in to a wall. of course you were okay with this, you enjoyed spending time with suna.

unfortunately, you were terrified of the repercussions.

even worse, there was nothing you could do about it.

when you got back to your table, you put your hair up and silently thought of a plan. keep your head down, don’t make eye contact. maybe he wouldn’t notice.

you rolled up your sleeves and put on your white coat. it was barely long enough to hit your wrists, but did a decent job of hiding the bruises.

the first half of the lab went well. suna explained things in a way that made it easy to comprehend and you were genuinely enjoying yourself.

until you completely forgot.

you began to pour the green liquid into the tube. suna was writing his lab report when he looked up and noticed your mistake.

“oh, hey,” he stood up, putting his hand over yours to tilt the container back up. “you need to pour it slower, like this.”

when it started to pour just as he’d wanted, he let go and you found yourself missing the brief comfort of his touch.

“good job! you did it.” suna smiled and you looked up at him with an excited expression. finally. finally you were getting something right.

when the two of you made eye contact, his smile immediately dropped into a look of concern.

“what happened to your eye?”

“oh,” you stepped back, covering it with your hand. “i fell.”

suna carefully held onto your wrist and you winced in pain. his intentions were to move your hand away from your eye, but he took immediate notice of your reaction and pushed your sleeve down.

the bruises in the shape of fingerprints stained your skin a deep purple.

“what about here?” he stepped closer. you tried to read his expression but he looked completely emotionless.

“from the same fall, i’m just clumsy.”

“and your neck?”

suna pushed back your lab coat to see the same fingerprint bruises scattered around your neck.

you were suddenly thankful you’d chosen the table in the far back end of the classroom. nobody was ever watching.

“yeah.” you said, practically a whisper. “i’m just really clumsy.”

suna leaned down and looked into your eyes.

“why don’t i believe you?”

“five more minutes!” the professor called, interrupting your intense conversation and the two of you snapped back into action.

you finished your lab report and quickly packed up your stuff before rushing out the classroom door.

suna followed closely behind.

“it’s your boyfriend, isn’t it?”

you stopped dead in your tracks and turned around to look at him. suna’s expression was no longer emotionless. he was angry.

“okay,” you sighed, grabbing his wrist to pull him to a secluded space outside. the two of you sat down under a large tree, away from everyone else.

“yuji gets upset with me and… hurts me… sometimes.” you choked out. “i haven’t told anyone because i’m scared of what he’ll do to me. i haven’t left him because i’m scared of him. i’m stuck.”

you hadn’t said these words out loud to anyone, ever, and the way they were flowing so freely had you crying before you were even aware of it.

“please don’t tell anyo-“

“i’ll take care of it.”

you looked up at him. suna looked completely calm, his voice smooth and gaze held on you.

“what do you mean?”

suna stood up and ran his hands through his hair.

“i mean i’ll take care of it.” he smiled, “see you tomorrow afternoon for tutoring?”

“wait, suna-“

“later!” he gave you a passive wave before walking back towards the university building.

----♡----

that evening you waited for yuji to come by your dorm, but he never did.

you waited for him to call you, but he didn’t.

you worried about what suna had meant. maybe he was going to talk to him, maybe even threaten him. you’d hoped he wouldn’t do that, but you really didn’t know what he was capable of.

surely the rumours about him couldn’t be true. an honour's chemistry major being involved in a more sinister, underground group that nobody even knew if it was real or made up?

he was too nice. there was no way.

----♡----

after class you headed back to your dorm to get ready for your evening. suna had asked you to meet him under the same tree from the day before. around 7pm.

you debated on calling yuji, but ultimately decided against it. maybe he’d come to his senses. maybe he was remorseful, and just wanted to move on. to leave you alone and pretend your relationship never happened.

that was what you wished for the most.

----♡----

you stepped out into the cold evening air. the wind blowing softly and brushing the hair out of your face.

you clutched your books to your chest and took a short cut through the back fields separating the dorms from the main university campus.

you checked your phone, you were early. suna would be there in about 15 minutes.

you reached down to grab your phone when it was immediately snatched from your hands.

“you did this, didn’t you?” a familiar voice snapped at you. you glanced up to see yuji, sporting a similar black eye and a bandaged cut on his cheek.

“i- no, of course not!”

he rolled his eyes at your reply, clearly not willing to listen to a word you were saying. yuji grabbed your wrists, forcing you to drop your books and pushed you against the back wall of the university.

“you did. tell me right now. everything you said. who you said it to. and why.” the look in his eyes was horrifying. scarier than any other look he’s given you before.

this made it seem like his previous bouts of anger were nothing but minor inconveniences.

“i didn’t-“

yuji pulled back, immediately hitting your chin with a hard punch that knocked your head back into the concrete wall.

“try again.”

your vision was hazy. mind blurring memories together and you couldn’t even form a proper sentence.

you felt a warm, wet sensation cascading down the back of your neck and were immediately soothed by the feeling. the warmth was comfortable, even though you didn’t know what it was from.

yuji’s hand wrapped around your throat and he pressed his forehead to yours. his fingers dug roughly into your windpipe, causing you to choke out the remaining air in your lungs. you felt yourself get sleepy, closing your eyes and letting darkness overtake you as your body went limp.

----♡----

“hey, wake up.”

snapping fingers in your face had you looking around curiously. you couldn’t focus on your surroundings. it was unclear who was with you, unclear what was happening around you, and unclear why you were there.

the sounds of multiple men. grunting, panting. speaking quietly between deep breaths and harsh exertion.

what were they doing?

“hey.” the fingers snapped in front of your face again.

“what…” was all you could manage to say. your body felt heavy. weak. you were just so tired. all you wanted to do was fall asleep. you submitted to the exhaustion, closing your eyes again.

“don’t go to sleep.” a soothing voice lifted the back of your neck, pressing something soft against your head. “stay awake and listen to me.”

“ya like beatin’ up girls, huh?”

whack

“wanna put a girl half your size in the hospital, for what? to feel like more of a man?”

whack

“a real man would never hit a woman.”

whack

“a real man would beat the shit out of losers who do hit women, right ‘tsum?”

“right. maybe we’ll even put him in the hospital.”

whack

whack

“oh, he’s gonna be there once we’re done.”

you finally recognized the last voice. it was suna.

he spoke again, his voice raspy and dark but still audible from where you were.

“i hope to fucking god you didn’t hurt her so badly that she’s knocked out…” suna trailed off and let out a small chuckle. “because there’s nothing i want more than for her to hear you cry like a little bitch when this blade goes right…”

the sound of yuji’s sudden scream was immediately muffled by what you were sure was the hand of the other man.

“…through you.”

your eyes widened and you were starting to understand what was happening.

all you could feel around you was danger.

you started to hyperventilate. panic was taking over.

“focus on me. come on, we need to get out of here.”

“who…” your head started to hurt now. badly.

“my name is osamu.” he bent down and cradled you in his arms, bringing you close to his chest and picking you up bridal style. “hold on to me if you can.”

“i’m scared…” you whispered.

“i know.” he murmured, carrying you away from the scene and back through the field. “i’ll keep you safe. we need to go to the hospital.”

“what about…”

“the only thing you need to worry about is stayin’ awake right now, okay? it’ll all be okay.” osamu’s voice was soothing. his body was warm and his strong arms supported your body in a way that made you never want to leave his hold.

you gave him a weak nod. even if you wanted to get away, you couldn’t. so you decided to trust in this man and hope for the best.

----♡----

“hey, sweetheart.” the calm voice of a nurse slowly woke you up. “you’re finally awake.”

“where…” you choked out, your throat was dry and you could barely make out where you were. it was all so… confusing.

“you’re in the hospital.” she said as she stood on her tiptoes to change the fluids on your iv pole. “you were assaulted. your injuries aren’t good but you’ll make a full recovery.”

the nurse leaned back down and held onto your hand. “you have a real knight in shining armour, you know. your boyfriend hasn’t left your side since you were admitted. he’s going to be so happy when he finds out you woke up.”

boyfriend?

your heart started to race at the thought of yuji coming in. you looked around, preparing for the worst when you heard footsteps enter the room.

“hey, sleepyhead.”

“speak of the devil.” the nurse smiled, giving your hand a squeeze. “i’ll let you two have some privacy. please press the call button if you need anything, i’ll come back and check on you soon.”

the footsteps grew closer and you heard the squeak of a chair being pulled up next to your bed. you opened your eyes to see suna giving you a compassionate smile.

“rintaro?” you whispered, “what are you doing here?”

“making sure you’re okay.” he crossed his arms, “been here since you were admitted.”

you tried your hardest to remember even coming to the hospital, but you just couldn’t. everything was gone after your head hit that wall.

“what… happened?” you asked, your eyes pleading for him to be honest.

“someone attacked you and your boyfriend.” suna leaned in, “do you not remember anything?”

“i remember yuji being upset with me…” you blinked, your mind working as hard as it could to remember something of importance. “my head hit the wall and it’s kind of fuzzy after that.”

“i see.” suna nodded.

“wait, how did you know i was in here?”

“some people mentioned an attack on campus. i got worried when you were late for our study session, and when your phone rang and you didn’t answer i felt like something was up.” he shrugged, taking a moment to think of his next words. “i called the hospital and asked if you were here, and then came right over when they confirmed it.”

“oh. okay…” you went to scratch an itch on your scalp and were met with searing pain at the slightest bit of pressure. “ow!”

“careful.” he smiled, taking your hand away from your head. “it’s gonna be sore for a while.”

“yeah…” you trailed off, trying to make sense of the situation. “what happened to yuji?”

“why do you care?”

“huh?” you glanced at suna who’s expression had turned sour.

“why do you care about what happened to him? he could've killed you.”

“i just wanted to know if he…” your voice was shaky and you tried to compose yourself. “if there was a possibility of him coming after me again.”

“not a single chance.” suna leaned over the railing of the hospital bed and took your hand. “besides, even if there was, i won’t let anything happen to you.”

----♡----

you’d found out yuji had suffered from severe injuries almost taking his life. he was beaten, stabbed, and his spinal cord suffered so much damage he was permanently paralyzed from the waist down.

while you were relieved the abuse would be over, you constantly wondered who had assaulted him.

you remembered telling suna and him saying he’d take care of it, surely that wasn’t him, right? there was no way suna could do something like that.

----♡----

months went by while you recovered from your injuries. you’d been discharged from the hospital after 3 weeks, and suna had stuck by your side every day.

“i’m happy to say you’ve essentially made a full recovery.” the doctor smiled, shaking your hand. “i’m so proud of your progress. you’re truly a walking miracle.”

“what about my memory?” you asked, “when will i remember what happened?”

“oh, you might not ever remember. you hit your head hard and from what we gather, you were unconscious.” the doctor stood up, clutching his clip board before walking out. “it’s probably for the best that you don’t remember what happened. you should focus on moving on, now. take care.”

----♡----

“well, should we celebrate?” suna asked as you walked out of the hospital together. you stopped, causing him to turn and look down at you. “what’s up?”

“i just wanted to say thank you…” you said, feeling your face getting hot. “i don’t think i could’ve done this without you.”

“you could’ve. you’re the strongest person i’ve ever met.” he leaned down, brushing the hair out of your face. the same hair that used to cover the deep bruises, now showing your true complexion. “and the most beautiful.”

you felt your heart flutter at his sudden compliment. suna’s hands found your waist and you instinctively draped your arms over his shoulders.

“you really mean that?” you asked, looking into his eyes.

“of course i do.” he smiled, leaning in to give you the long awaited kiss the two of you had been dying for. his lips were soft and you melted into his arms. he pulled away, resting his forehead on yours. “beautiful in every possible way.”

you felt tears well up as you were being complimented. the sweetest, kindest, most handsome man touching you so delicately and speaking to you with nothing but respect.

you'd completely fallen in love with him, and it was everything you ever could’ve asked for.

----♡----

a few weeks after the two of you made it official, your honeymoon phase was in full force. you couldn’t keep your hands off of each other. you were experiencing your first true relationship that made you feel loved and you cherished at every moment.

one evening, you decided to go to suna’s dorm to surprise him.

knock knock

“rintaro?” you called out, opening the door to let yourself in. “are you home?”

“in here, baby.” he replied from the kitchen. he was sharing an apartment style dorm with two other men, but you hadn’t met them yet. they weren’t ever there when you were.

“we finally get to meet your girl, huh?” one of them cooed as you walked in. he had dyed blonde hair and smirked at you as you walked by. “damn, she’s a looker, huh ‘samu?”

samu… why did that sound familiar?

“don’t be such a pig.” the other boy replied. you realized they were twins when he stood up and walked over to you. he smiled, holding out his hand. “nice to meet ya, i’m osamu.”

osamu.

no.

“my name is osamu…”

it couldn’t be.

“…hold on to me if you can.”

no, no, no.

the memories of the night of the assault came flooding back to you.

it only took a moment to realize...

...it wasn’t a random assault at all.