#honestly of all the endings either part 1 or part 6's hurt the most

[starry-blue-echoes]

My DAILY THINK about Made In Heaven has arrived because, BY GOD, IT IS SOMETHING FUCKING ELSE MAN.

I'm a big fan of happy endings, I like it when my blorbos live out their lives completely fine and dandy and get some time to chill with their success!

SO LIKE, WHEN PART 6 HAPPENED AND ABSOLUTELY SLAPPED ME IN THE FACE WITH THAT FINAL BATTLE AND ENDING I GOT DESTROYED.

The sheer utter hopelessness of the situation is what gets to me. We've seen so many JoJo parts where, SURE, they're on the disadvantage but they BOUNCE BACK! Shit, Joseph pulled an absolute asspull to kill Kars and HE FELT FUCKING INVINCIBLE TO BEAT.

But this time, they're just done. The moment Pucci got MIH, they were fucked. No matter how much they sacrificed, gave it their all, clever planning, they all DIED. You hope that MAYBE, JUST MAYBE something would happen, like Jolyne getting a power up after Jotaro dies or something, ANYTHING.

But nothing happens.

The shot that really destroys me is that shot where they're all just decaying away. That just gives you this utter hopelessness that, shit dude, this is the end, Pucci won and everybody lost.

Anyways I hope you enjoyed the BIG THINK.

BROSKI SAME

Part 6's ending. OBLITERATED me. I'm so happy I went into the ending blind without knowing anything because holy mother of earth is hit like a bus. It was one of the single most emotionally painful moments given to me by watching a show and as much as it hurt it was so freaking good

because just. The whole time I was sitting there thinking about how some way they were going to pull this off but also being really freaking anxious because there was still a whole episode left and I was pretty sure Araki wasn't going to do what Part 5 did and give us a Look Into The Past episode

and slowly the feeling of They Can Do This started crumbling away more and more and I realized...... no. No they couldn't do this. Pucci was too powerful and they failed

and if you want to get technical, Jolyne's sacrifice DIDN'T EVEN WORK IN THE END!!!! The whole reason she gave herself up was so Emporio could escape but NO! INSTEAD HE JUST GETS BROUGHT RIGHT BACK TO THE PRISON MERE FEET AWAY FROM PUCCI

and honestly, seeing Emporio run away from Pucci...... god that was heartbreaking and so painful to watch. Because as capable as he was, this was a fucking 11 year old who just saw everyone he ever cared about get slaughtered before his eyes and he was left alone with their killer

[da-rulah]

The Mayor's Daughter - Mary Goore x f!Reader [Part 4]

Summary: Mary can't think straight; at least, not about anything but you. He's angry, and he's hurt - rightly so - but he can't help the feeling that he's missing something. His spider senses are tingling, and his saviour complex is nagging in his head...

Meanwhile, you're dragged to a formal dinner at the Town Hall with your father's sleazy political associates. What could possibly go wrong?

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Word Count: 13.6k

Warnings: Angst, childhood memories/trauma, alcoholism, addiction, minor drug use, creepy men being creepy, unwanted physical touch/harassment, abandonment, panic attacks

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 7 | PART 8

ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3 | MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

A/N: Once again, a huge thank you to @her-satanic-wiles & @angellayercake for workshopping and beta reading this fic with me! I live for their reactions every time I sent them an idea or a draft... 🤭 This chapter got away from me, as so many do, and ending up pretty damn long... Enjoy!

He had to be quick. Any longer, and he might be chased out. But he couldn’t help himself... he wanted to look, to touch...  

“HEY!” A gruff male voice shouted from somewhere behind him. Mary startled, stumbling back and shoving his hands in his pockets. “These are for people who know what they’re doing, not little hooligans!”  

The store clerk came rushing over, coming in between Mary and the beautiful Gibson Les Paul on display, hung up on the wall amongst the others. The body shone in a stunning hue of deep red wood, orange bursting from the fret board. He’d always dreamt of owning a guitar like this – or any at all. He just wanted to pick one up, to learn, to play.  

“S-sorry mister... I didn’t mean to-” 

“Go on, out with you! Comin’ in here every damn day, gettin’ in the way of my customers. Go on, get!” The old man shooed a 10-year-old Mary out of the store, shutting the door in his face and folding his arms behind the glass, watching until Mary finally sagged his little shoulders and sighed to himself, trudging down the sidewalk with his head hung low.  

Other people were allowed in to look at the guitars, to touch them, test them; why wasn’t he? Sure, he knew he was a kid but he wasn’t a bad kid... He knew he could never afford a guitar like that Les Paul, but oh how he dreamed of owning his own guitar. Just a little acoustic thing to practise on. He'd put in the work, he’d swear it. He just wanted to learn.  

Still, Mary headed home with his hands in his pockets and his head hung low, avoiding the eyes of the adults around town who looked down on him with looks of either disgust or pity; he was never sure which was worse.  

“Mom?” he called out as he walked into the small and run-down little apartment block on the edge of town. They’d had to move in here almost a six months ago after his father left, unable to afford much else on his mother’s salary; her job at the local diner didn’t pay well. 

Music from the radio filtered through the hall, along with the smell of yesterday’s spaghetti being reheated on the stove. “In here, baby,” a weak shout came from the kitchen. She sounded weaker with each week that passed, barely eating and drinking far too much to be considered healthy at all. Mary had spotted that, not totally understanding the ramifications of it at his tender age but he was wiser beyond most 10-year-old’s years. That’s the thing about a shitty childhood; you grow up quick. 

Still, he was grateful his father was out of the picture now. Honestly? The lesser of two evils. It was better him gone than be here still, hurting everybody around him. 

Mary headed into the kitchen, sitting down at the small table for the two of them and waiting patiently as his mum stirred the pot over the stove, her back to him. He watched as her left hand lifted a glass from beside the stove; a wine glass, half-filled with the cheapest red on the market. 

“Good day?” she asked, looking briefly over her shoulder. Mary just shrugged; he hadn’t paid much attention in school, and he didn’t want to tell her about being chased out of the music store. Although he wasn’t sure what he’d done to get kicked out, he still lived under the assumption it was somehow his fault.  

His mother hummed along to the radio as she heated their food, taking gulps of the wine to her left and refilling it before plating up two small bowls of food – hers noticeably smaller – and sitting opposite Mary as she placed them down. 

“Thank you,” he smiled at her shyly, never forgetting his manners as he tucked into his meal. His mother smiled fondly at her boy, twirling her fork in the pasta noodles as she sipped her wine. The radio played to fill the silence, songs from another decade that had his mother reminiscing over happier years. 

As he chewed, he thought back to that guitar, how he’d do anything to have one like that. But he’d settle for a smaller, cheaper, second-hand one. He’d be delighted with one. He just wanted to learn how to play, and then maybe one day, his mom could hum along to his songs on her radio.  

“Ma, I think I know what I want for my birthday...” 

“Oh? Well good! I was wondering when you’d give me some ideas,” she smiled. Mary hesitated, chewing his lip. Was he asking for too much? Perhaps, but he had to try at least. “Come on, baby, what is it?”  

“Well... can I get a guitar? Not like, an expensive one or anything... Just second-hand or something. I wanna learn to play, Ma. I think I’d get real good at it!” he rambled, his excitement barely contained as he thought about how people might change how they saw him if he could prove he was good at something, that he could work hard and prove himself.  

His mother’s smile faltered, fading as she dropped her fork against her bowl and grabbed her wine glass, finishing the rest of it off and pouring herself another hefty glass.  

“Baby, guitars aren’t cheap, even the second-hand ones...” she began, her voice quiet and full of regret. 

“No, I know, but I thought, maybe if I could get a job somewhere, I could mow lawns or something, maybe help Mr Rogers at the carpenters or get a paper route, then maybe I could-” 

“Baby you’re ten years old, you should just be a kid as long as you can,” she smiled sadly, her eyes betraying her as they glassed over with tears. It broke her heart to see her little boy so desperate to be a man, to help her, to help pay for his own damn birthday present.  

“I... I can still be a kid, I just thought I could help?” he questioned. 

“I just don’t think I can afford it baby...” Mary’s shoulders slumped, his own fork dropping into his bowl as he sat back against the chair in defeat.  

“Could you stop buying wine for a little, Ma? I just really want a guitar... And then you can get more again. Just for a bit, I promise!”  

If her heart wasn’t already breaking for her little boy, it did then. The guilt rose like bile in her throat, her eyes staring at the bottle on the table, her glass emptied again and the taste lingering on her tongue. She’d had her own selfishness reflected back at her, a mirror held up to the truth; the truth being that her lips were stained with the red of her addiction, paired with her sunken eyes, bearing the weight of her sorrow. 

She should try, she thought to herself. For him, for her little Mary. He never asked her for anything, and the one thing he wants in the world for his birthday was a crummy little second-hand guitar? She should be able to give him that; as a mother, she wanted to give him the world. He certainly deserved it after all he’d been through.  

“I-I’ll... I’ll try, Mary. I’ll really try,” her voice cracked, swallowing the guilt down and forcing the tears to recede. Mary nodded to himself, looking down into his bowl and back to hers that even untouched, still had less in than his half-eaten leftovers.  

He stood up, the bowl in his hands and placed it down in front of her. She needed to eat more, he thought.  

“Oh, baby no, it’s okay. You should ea-” 

“I’m not that hungry, Ma. Please take it.” 

She stopped protesting, nodding as she held a shaking hand out to hold his cheek, stroking her thumb over the pudge he was yet to grow out of with a gentle smile.  

“Thank you, angel,” she told him, pressing a wine-stained kiss to his forehead. “I promise, I’ll try harder.” 

Deft fingers plucked at the strings of a battered old acoustic guitar. The wood was splintering where the neck met the body, the varnish worn down in places that hands would dance over as it had been played to within an inch of its life. Stickers littered the body, hiding nicks and damages from over the years but they too were beginning to wear down to white patches of nothing.  

Still, she sang like a dream the way she always had. Mary’s skilled hands worked her strings mindlessly, drifting from riffs he’d learned of his favourite bands over the years to riffs of his own he’d written – the most recent sounding much more melancholy than he’d anticipated.  

Sitting in his dimly lit studio apartment, he reclined against the wall at the head of his bed with his first guitar in his lap. His intention had been to drift off into his own world, to write some riffs for songs he could present to the guys and form into tracks for upcoming shows, but he’d been unable to focus, his fingers working on muscle memory alone as his head drifted to the same thing he’d thought of for the last few days.  

He’d had time to calm down, for the fog of anger to dissipate and now he’d entered the reflection stage. The anger morphed into hurt, reminded once again that no matter if you wanted him or not, you still were ashamed to be seen with him. He didn’t fit your image, his mere existence in your life was inconvenient and a black stain on your pristine white image.  

He wondered if cleaning himself up was an option for a brief moment. What if he didn’t paint his face? What if he wore a shirt instead of his cut off band tees? What if he styled his hair different? All the ‘what if’s swam around his head, but they’d be lies. Mary was many things, but never a phony. He refused to bow down to public opinion and become one of the masses if it meant sacrificing everything that was genuinely him.  

He decided he’d rather be hated for who he was, than adored for something he wasn’t. Which is exactly the life you were living. 

You’d chosen a world where people loved you, fell at your feet to be known by you and yet somewhere along the way, you’d sacrificed whoever you truly were, covered it up with bows and frills and shiny trinkets. He almost felt sorry for you.  

Still, he couldn’t swallow the nagging feeling that he’d done something wrong, that he was letting you slip through his fingers. He wasn’t dumb; Mary knew there was more to you than this image. He’d seen glimpses of it, this vulnerable yet feisty woman clawing at you from inside. Frankly, you drove him crazy. He'd never wanted anything for himself so badly in his life, except maybe the guitar in his hands. He couldn’t lay his eyes on you without wanting you; perhaps up until recently, he thought that was simply physical attraction, a need to take you and have you both coming undone together.  

But the way you plagued his mind, how he thought of you during the smallest moments of peace to himself... he was beginning to understand he’d formed a kind of connection with you he couldn’t begin to explain. But he was starting to recognise a feeling within himself that stung like rubbing alcohol on a wound, a feeling that shot him right back to his childhood, to a place so painful he’d shoved it down and ignored it for years.  

Before he could go down that route, his shook his head to rid the memories and lay his guitar gently beside him, reaching for his smokes on his nightstand. Lighting one up with his zippo lighter, he rested himself back against the wall, swiping a hand down his face in exasperation. He’d spent too long on this, too many moments infiltrated by thoughts of you.  

If Mary was being honest with himself, he only had to ask himself one simple question; were you worth compromising everything he knew about himself? Were you worth him changing himself, becoming something he wasn’t so he could be ‘acceptable’ in your world? 

No.  

Because that was a world that would only ever see him as a delinquent. They had when he was a child, a teenager and now into adulthood. The second they’d known who his father was, who his mother was, they’d judged him. That would never change, so why should he? 

The town hall ballroom was the last fucking place you wanted to be at any given moment, let alone when it was filled with governors, police chiefs, politicians and seedy businessmen. If you’d had your way, you’d have stayed tucked up in bed, like you’d spent most of your spare time in the last week or so since the Bicentennial fair. Facing reality was something you’d tried to avoid, but that wasn’t going to be possible for Daddy’s big dinner party for all the town’s biggest officials. 

No, you were to be paraded like a shiny trophy daughter tonight, mingling with the rich and seedy underbelly of your father’s political career. These people made your stomach turn and your skin crawl. You observed them from the corner of the room, a glass of prosecco in a hand covered by white satin gloves to the elbow, in a fancy, floor-length, glittered evening dress of the same pale peach colouring as the bubbly. Your mother had picked the outfit, “elegance with a touch of sparkle” she had said. 

Watching them mingle and chatter away, you could barely help the expression on your face turning to one of vague disgust. Your father made his way around the room, shaking hands and rubbing shoulders with the elite while your mother followed in tow, laughing at all the jokes she must have heard a thousand times over the years and nattering with the wives in the room about the latest gossip.  

Shallow; all of this was so fucking shallow. But the worst part? This was your future. Your mother... her life was the future your father had paved for you, expected you to walk. You couldn’t think of anything worse.  

“Pumpkin! Come and say hello to Mr. Nelson,” you father flagged you down from your inner monologue of disapproval, notably stood with an old man you recognised as the town’s previous Mayor. Mr. Nelson had handed the title over to your dad when you were little, staying a consistent advisor in the governing of the town’s affairs ever since his retirement six years ago.  

You’d never liked him. There was something untoward about him, sleazy and manipulative; but that’s politicians for you.  

You knocked back the rest of your prosecco glass for a bit of liquid encouragement and walked towards them with your prettiest fake smile on.  

“Good evening, Mr. Nelson,” you said, taking his outstretched hand to shake. 

“Good evening, my dear!” He didn’t let go of your hand like you’d expected, instead tightening his grip and pulling you to lean forwards so he could press a whiskered kiss to your cheek – or what was actually closer to the corner of your lips. When he leaned back, he winked at you, still keeping hold of your hand to lift it, unashamedly scanning his eyes over your body in your dress and twirling you like a doll on a music box. “My, my... how you’ve grown, hm?” 

Your eyes locked onto your father, who was smiling at you fondly as if there wasn’t a problem. You, however, were exceedingly uncomfortable. You looked back to Mr. Nelson, smiling and acting the part. Honestly, you’d always wondered if acting would be a good career for you; you did it often enough.  

“Quite the beautiful young lady these days,” Mr. Nelson commented, letting go of your hand and coming to stand beside you, a hand resting on the small of your back as he turned to speak to your father.  

“She gets all that from her mother, of course,” he smiled proudly, squeezing the shoulders of your mother beside him, who swatted him with her own gloved hand.  

“Oh, stop it, you charmer,” she laughed. You recoiled from the interaction, uncomfortable that there was still a hand on you at all, let alone on the small of your back. 

“Your father was telling us about your college days; quite impressive, my dear!” Mr. Nelson said, his hand patting just above the curve of your behind.  

“Y-yeah... I mean, thank you, sir,” you smiled graciously. How could you get out of this?  

“Now, if only we could find her a nice man to settle down with,” your father joked, your mother smiling along with him as Mr. Nelson chuckled.  

“I’m sure that won’t be difficult, hm? Plenty of fine men about town. Any catch your eye?” he asked, looking down at you with a raised white eyebrow.  

Instantly, your mind flew to Mary. Certainly, he was not the kind of ‘fine man’ Mr. Nelson or your father would envision for you; in fact, you’re sure they would recoil in horror, but you couldn’t help but think of him. Any opportunity for your brain to remind you of how painfully you’d fucked that up, it would take.  

You took too long to answer, head full of Mary as it so often was.  

“Pumpkin, Mr. Nelson asked you a question,” he insisted with an expectant nod of his head.  

“Oh, not to worry. She clearly has somebody in mind, if the mere mention of a man has her daydreaming about him, hm?” he chortled, his hand now slipping lower to pat at the curve of your backside. Instinctively you jumped forward half a step to get away from the unwanted contact, head whipping to your father in the hope he’d seen that, that he’d step in and defend you. But of course, he didn’t.  

“Pumpkin? What’s gotten into you, hm?” His glare was disapproving, his eyebrow quirking as he waited for your answer, but an awkward silence fell on the four of you instead.  

“I, um... I’m so sorry, I think I lost my balance. These, uh, damn heels, that’s all,” you laughed nervously, averting the eyes of everyone around you.  

“Perhaps a little too much bubbly,” Mr. Nelson accused, tipping his head towards your empty flute in your hand.  

“Y-yes, maybe... Perhaps I need some air. Would you excuse me?”  

You were turning and leaving before your father could stop you, shoving the glass in your hand onto the tray of a waiter on your way to the door, ignoring the calls of “pumpkin!” behind you, sounding aggravated and embarrassed. Heads turned to watch you leave but you couldn’t look at them, overwhelmed and uncomfortable. You just had to get out.  

You headed directly for your father’s office, a small and private space to collect yourself before inevitably having to go back to the ballroom sooner rather than later, lest your father come looking for you.  

Finally alone and in a quiet spot, you slumped into your father’s chair behind his desk, spinning absentmindedly from side to side guided by your stiletto on the ground. You focussed on breathing, helping to subside the panic that had risen in you. Bad enough you’d been forced to come to this thing, let alone subjected to the wandering hands of a man who’d known you since you were barely out of diapers. This evening was the nightmare you’d expected it to be.  

Looking around your father’s office, it hadn’t changed much. The American flag stuck in his pen cup, the portrait of President George Washington on the wall, the photo frame on his desk that housed a very official looking family portrait taken when you were still in middle school. 

This was your life. This façade of pomp and circumstance, governed by sleazy men and dodgy business deals... this was all you could see for yourself. No wonder you were clinging onto Mary by your perfectly manicured fingernails, allowing him back in so easily whenever there was room in your mind. He was the antithesis of that horrendous life already mapped out for you. He was the embodiment of freedom to you, someone that lived their life governed by them and them alone.  

He liked dark things, heavy music, grungy clothes. He didn’t restrict himself, lived freely, chasing the dreams he so obviously strived for. He didn’t care what people thought of him, he lived his truth.  

You wished you could live like that. 

Lost to your musings and memories of brief encounters with Mary, you startled at the sound of the door to your father’s office slamming shut, with him stood before it. He’d come alone, his arms folded over his chest in his crisp tuxedo, and a hardened look of fury in his features.  

Your stomach dropped and you sat upright immediately; this wasn’t going to be pretty. 

“What the hell was that?” he asked, his voice just above a whisper and yet spat through clenched teeth. 

“Daddy, I just... Mr. Nelson, he-” 

“Don’t you ‘daddy’ me. Do you realise how embarrassing that was for your mother and I?” he scolded. You swallowed your words, thrown right back to being told off as a child. “Mr. Nelson thinks you were drunk. Are you?” 

“No, daddy, I swear!” you protested, having only drank two glasses... on an empty stomach and faster than a shot of your favourite flavour schnapps.  

“Then explain why you were so damn rude to him, hm?” he raised his voice, stepping towards you and leaning down on his own desk by his palms.  

“He put his hands on me! He’s a creep, dad!” you matched his volume, defending yourself. Your dad just scoffed at you, shaking his head in disbelief.  

“He’s a respected member of this community. One bad word from him, and this could all be over for us. My career, our way of life, everything! Do you understand that?” he shouted. How silly of you to think your own father might take your side when one of his creep associates lay a finger on you.  

“It was a knee-jerk reaction, he touched my ass dad, like some fucking pervert!” you yelled back, standing from his chair and finding the guts to finally answer back, to fight for what was right instead of pander to him. Mary would be proud. 

“You watch your mouth, young lady. I am your father-” 

“YES! YOU ARE! And as my father, I thought you might stand up for me, oh, I don’t know, maybe be disgusted when some old man lays a hand on your daughter’s ass!”  

Your father lifted an accusatory finger at you, wagging it in your face as if scolding a bad dog. “He was talking to you about your future. A future that he can take away with a snap of his fingers.” He demonstrated with the hand he waved wildly in front of you. “You’re lucky your mother has such a way with words...” 

“You mean she’s a good liar,” you laughed humourlessly. “Suppose you have to be in this kind of life...” His face paled, his eyes darkening and appearing to sink further into his skull as he stood up straight, his brow furrowing. 

“I have worked for over two decades to build us ‘this life’,” his voice deepened, darkening considerably as he loomed over you. “Look around you. Do you think this just happens? I have done nothing but provide for you, you ungrateful little girl.” 

“This is the problem... I’m not a little girl anymore, and you still treat me like I can’t think for myself. I’ve got my own mind, things that I want to do. Do you give a shit about that at all?” The anger inside you you’d caged up for too long was surfacing, the heat on that simmering pot turning up with every word out of your father’s mouth. Already you were too far gone to reel it back in. Whether he liked it or not, he was going to hear this. 

“I give a shit about this family!” he screamed. “I will not allow you to tear it all down in some childish tantrum!” 

“Tear what down?!” you protested, “I just want to be able to do something for myself for a change, to start my life! It’s got nothing to do with your prestige as Mayor, I just want to be able to finally crawl out from under your shadow!" 

Your father ignored you completely, still only seeing the pigtailed little girl from the portrait on his desk standing in front of him. He had no idea she’d grown up before his very eyes. He’d blinked and missed it, too damn focussed on his own career and image to notice.  

“You selfish little brat. You don’t get it, do you?” he sneered, “This is MY TOWN! MY LEGACY! You will live by MY RULES!” 

And truthfully, that was all it was ever going to boil down to. His fucking legacy.  

You sagged your shoulders in defeat, tears begging to fall out of anger. Everything you thought your dad still believed, he’d proven to you in just a few minutes; you were still a child to him, and his legacy was more important than your own happiness. Nothing you could say would win this fight. Nothing would make him see how badly he was hurting you.  

You took a deep breath, composing yourself to speak a little calmer, more collected. With emotions heightened, it was easy to yell and scream back at him, to get carried away but you were determined to show him this was not some ‘tantrum’. You meant this.  

“What if I don’t want to do that anymore?” you asked, staring him straight in the eye. The air seemed to thicken around you as you waited for it to soak in, for him to hear you, process, and respond. The silence was suffocating.  

“I’m sorry?” he asked, turning his head to present his ear as if he hadn’t heard you, but he most certainly had. He just wanted you to repeat yourself, testing you, warning you; did you have the balls to say it again? 

“What if... I don’t want to live by your rules anymore?” You spoke calmly, methodically. You will listen, you thought to yourself. 

Your father straightened up again, his head twitching as he tidied up his cuff links, straightened his bow tie and slicked back his hair before he gave you the time of day. This was just a part of his intimidation, his macho technique, reminding you he was a distinguished man, one with power. When he finally looked you in the eye again, his face was set in stone.  

“Then you can get the hell out of my office.” 

Like a punch to the gut, it knocked the wind right out of you. He wanted you to leave.  

“F-fine...” you stuttered, walking around the desk as if to head for the door, pulling your cell phone out of your clutch, “I’ll get one of your lap dogs to take me home, and we’ll talk about this in the morning,” you told him, trying to keep a modicum of dignity, prove to him you were an adult and taking the moral high ground. But your father laughed... 

“I don’t think you heard me. Perhaps you didn’t understand...” he turned around to face you, now stood by the door to his office. “This is my town, Pumpkin. This whole town is my office.” 

The weight of what he was saying fell like a barrel of hot tar over you, the scorching, searing pain radiating through you. You stared in disbelief, waiting for him to laugh, to tell you he was kidding, just pushing your buttons to see your reaction but nothing... He just stared at you, as you stared at him, like a deer in headlights. 

“Y-you’re not serious...?” you dared to whisper, shaking your head in denial. 

“Deadly. Get out,” he growled, “or do I have to call security?” 

Those angry tears turned into streams now falling down your cheeks silently while you were unable to blink, processing his command until your body moved of its own accord, reaching for the doorknob and opening it behind you.  

“I’m sure your precious town will love to hear about this,” you threatened, wiping the tears away with the back of your hand. He just smirked and folded his arms over his chest again.  

“Careful, Pumpkin. Daddy’s got one hell of a legal team; and they’re all eating out of his palm in that ballroom tonight.” 

He had you beat. Checkmate. Every credible lawyer – and the seedy ones – were on his damn payroll. You couldn’t win this no matter what you did. You just had to walk away...  

And so, you did. Quietly, you slipped out from the opulent town hall and found yourself stood on a street corner a couple of blocks away, out of the sight of not only your father and his invitees behind the huge windows of the ballroom, but out of sight of his cronies, already given the instruction to make sure you left quietly, and didn’t attempt to come back in. 

You were alone, as you had become so accustomed to being. 

Every riff felt wrong. For over a week now, Mary tried to write something new, something fresh that he’d never heard before, that excited him and inspired him but... nothing. He was beginning to think he’d lost his touch. He knew he couldn’t force inspiration to come, but this was a longer, drier spell than even he was used to... 

He reached for his pack of smokes on the nightstand where they usually sat, only to discover he was fresh out – that last cigarette had truly been his last.  

“Shit,” he cursed to himself, crushing the empty box in his palm and throwing it in the general direction of the trash can, hitting the rim and bouncing off to the floor beside two or three other crumpled cigarette boxes from the last few days.  

Whew, he thought to himself, smokin’ more now, too. Awesome. Still, ignoring the mess he’d neglected to tidy, he stood up from his bed with a stretch, abandoning his tattered acoustic on his bed. His leather jacket that he’d slung over the back of his couch still held his keys, wallet and cell phone from his last outing to the gas station, and so he slithered his arms into the sleeves and headed for the door.  

He knew he didn’t need to take the van to travel the four blocks to the gas station on the edge of town just for cigarettes, but there was something about a late-night drive that calmed Mary. It always felt like one of those rare moments where he got to be himself; a decent band on the stereo and some open road to clear his head.  

He also knew he didn’t need to go all the way to the gas station for smokes; the convenience store on the corner would do just fine. Except, Forrest usually worked the late-night shifts at the gas station, and he’d get to take advantage of his staff discount. 

“Hey man!” Mary called out as he walked into the store, the bell dinging above his head. Forrest looked up from the magazine he was reading, slumped over the counter. 

“Well, look what the dogs dragged in...” Forrest smirked, “where’d you fuck off to the other night?” 

Ah. He’d never explained where he’d disappeared to the night of the fair, nor had he seen any of his friends since. He hadn’t realised he’d shut himself off for that long, but seemingly, he had. 

“Oh, uh...” he stammered, thinking up an excuse.  

“Some chick got your attention, huh?” he stood upright and folded his arms, leaning against the edge of the counter. “I don’t know how you do it, man. You got ‘em lining up out the door. You shoot strawberry milkshake outta that dick, or what?” Mary relaxed instantly, his alibi already created for him.  

“Why, you wanna taste?” he mocked, shooting a flying kiss at him as he stepped up to the counter in an overly camp, seductive walk to make the other laugh. 

“I’ll stick to the slurpie machine, thanks,” he joked, pretending to gag at the thought of Mary’s strawberry milkshake. “You need somethin’, or you just here to entertain me?” 

“Outta smokes,” Mary shrugged. “I’ll grab the usual.” 

Forrest nodded, turning his back to fish through the cigarettes that lined the wall behind the counter, coming to the brand Mary would usually purchase. Mary looked to his left, seeing a special offer on party size bags of Takis and an array of candy bars. He chucked a bag up on the counter with some candy and fished inside his jacket for his wallet as Forrest rung him up.  

“Big plans tonight, huh?” 

“Oh yeah, big night in with my favourite girl, Mary Jane,” Mary waggled his eyebrows suggestively. 

“Explains the snacks, you always did get munchies worse than any of us...” he laughed, punching his employee code into the register to add his discount; something he did without thinking these days. Mary was always grateful. “$15.75” 

“Thanks, man,” Mary handed over a twenty, shoving the change back in his wallet just as his phone started to buzz in his other pocket. He whipped it from his jacket, checking the caller ID when his chest tightened.  

You. 

Mary sneered at the phone in his hand, shoving it back into his pocket with a scowl on his face. If Forrest noticed, he didn’t question it, probably assuming it were a telemarketing scam.  

“We should get a practise in before Saturday,” Forrest suggested, “I think Davey’s free on Tuesday? And I'm off too.” Mary hadn’t forgotten; they had a show to play in the city, some new goth club were having a metal night, and word of Mary’s band was starting to spread beyond the scene they’d been playing for the last two years. 

“Uh yeah.” His phone stopped buzzing in his pocket. He ignored the feeling of disappointment in him, that gnawing voice in the back of his head that told him he should have answered it. “Yeah, I think I’m free. You wanna see if Jed’s about?”  

Forrest made a noise that sounded vaguely like an affirmative as Mary picked up the bag with his purchases inside.  

“Alright, uh...” Mary’s phone began vibrating in his pocket again, barely any respite since the last call. He ignored it, trying to claw himself back to reality instead of letting his mind drift to whatever you could possibly be calling him for. He was sure it was only one thing, anyway. “Let me know, man!” 

“Yeah, see ya!” Forrest grinned, shutting the register with a ping and picking up his discarded magazine as Mary turned and left, the bell dinging above the door again. He stood outside for a moment, fishing his phone out of his pocket and seeing that it was indeed your name that flashed on his screen.  

Once again, he ignored it, shoving it this time into the back pocket of his jeans and skulking back over to his van, parked in a bay near the door. It stopped just as he wrenched the door open with a rusty creak, throwing his bag into the passenger seat. He climbed in behind it, slamming the door shut and settling into the seat as he shoved the keys into the ignition. As he turned them and the engine roared to life with his stereo, he took a deep breath, leaning back against the head rest and desperately willing the thoughts of you to leave him be. 

He’d wasted too much time on you already, and he meant what he’d said last time. He was tired of being everybody’s dirty little secret, and he wasn’t about to answer your fucking booty call. Not again.  

Reaching into the plastic bag beside him, he pulled out his carton of cigarettes and ravaged the packaging until he could pry one from the box and shove it between his lips, pushing the lighter button in on his dashboard and waiting patiently for it to heat. Closing his eyes, he waited for the telltale click, reclining into his seat, when his phone began to buzz in his back pocket once again.  

Mary’s eyes shot open, anger coursing through his veins. Were you that desperate to get laid? It wasn’t fair. He thought he’d made it clear where he stood, that he wasn’t interested in being picked up and dropped whenever someone felt like it anymore. He had to start thinking less with his dick and more with his head – and his heart. 

But you were not getting the message – ignoring your calls wasn’t working. Maye he just needed to say it in black and fucking white.  

Muttering curses to himself, he fished his phone from his back pocket where he sat, seeing that the caller ID did indeed read “Doll” again. He turned the volume of his stereo way down, took a deep breath, and answered the call.  

“Look, I’m really not interested in being your booty call, Barbie,” he spat down the microphone, “so you might wanna just give it up now before you embarrass yourself.” 

He was met with silence. He almost wanted to laugh, picturing the look of sheer shock on your face as you sat surrounded by your pink frills and stuffed animals in that ivory tower of yours. But instead, he waited. Would you dare speak? Argue with him? He’d managed to rile himself up enough by this point that maybe a fight was exactly what he needed to expel the rage.  

The silence continued for a beat too long, and confusion set in. His brow furrowed, checking his phone screen to see if you’d hung up but no, you were still connected. He lifted the phone to his ear again, waiting... and then he heard it. 

A sob.  

A sob so small and timid, he thought maybe he wasn’t supposed to have heard it. But instantly, his face paled, and his chest hollowed. Every muscle in his shoulders that had tensed in his anger when he picked up the phone instantly turned to jelly. He’d expected resistance, maybe a “fuck you, Goore” or something to that effect. He’d expected an argument, rage, denial or defence.  

He waited again, clicking the side button on his phone to turn the volume up in case he’d missed it. Now, he heard the sniffles too, along with the shuddering breath from an inhale that sounded uncontrollable. And then another small, suppressed sob. 

He panicked, sitting bolt upright in his seat and pulling the cigarette from his lips as he looked around his surroundings as if there was something, someone who could help. Of course, there was nothing.  

He didn’t expect you to react that way... Perhaps he’d been too harsh, maybe yelling at you wasn’t the right way to go about this, to cut his ties with you before they were truly bonded, but he hadn’t even thought it through. Mary just thought severing it with a quick, clean blow would do the trick... 

“I-I... d-didn't... know who... to call,” you wept down the phone, breathing irregular as if you were suffering a panic attack. “I’m s-s... sorry.” 

Instantly, Mary knew he’d fucked up. You weren’t calling him for a hook up, this was something different. Something had happened. You had already been in this state. And you’d turned to him for help. Mary swallowed a gulp of nothing, now realising his mouth and throat had gone dry whilst his jaw had hung open in bewilderment and panic. 

“What’s going on?” he asked, frenzied. He waited for a response, only hearing more sobs; ones that you clearly were unable to hold back as you tried to speak, to tell him what had happened. Whatever it was, it was bad enough that you couldn’t say it without losing the small semblance of composure you had. You were in no fit state to talk about this on the phone. 

The hand holding the phone dropped to his lap for a moment as he muttered a “shit” to himself, slamming his head back against the headrest. He was really going to do this, wasn’t he? He was going to run right to you, to go and fucking save you with some twisted sense of duty towards you. But then, yes, of course he was; Mary’s saviour complex had kicked in the second he heard that first tiny, frail sob. 

He held the phone to his ear again. 

“Look just... fuck, just breathe alright? Slowly, if you can. I’m coming, just make sure your window’s unlocked,” he instructed you, pressing his foot down on the clutch and shoving the gear stick into reverse.  

“’m not... home...” you sobbed. Mary paused, confused.  

“Well... where are you?” he asked, now more concerned as to what the hell had happened. If someone had laid a fucking finger on you...  

“R-Raynor... street...”  

Dead centre of town; anything could have happened, anybody could have been around.  

“Alone?” he asked, incredibly uncomfortable with the idea of you being alone at this hour in the middle of town.  

“M-mhm...” Mary cursed to himself again, holding the phone to his ear with his shoulder while he used both hands to spin the wheel of his van, quickly looking in his mirrors to reverse out of his parking spot before he could speed off into the night to come and find you. 

“I’m coming, alright? Stay there. Keep your phone close, stay on the line. You keep off the street ‘til you hear me coming, you understand?” His instructions were clear, almost military-like. He needed you to hear him plainly.  

“Oh...kay,” you sobbed, trying to quieten your sobs and regain control.  

“Keep breathing, I’m on my way.” 

Mary picked the phone from between his ear and shoulder and hit the loud-speaker button, throwing it onto his dash so he could drive easier through the streets as he headed into town. Thankfully the roads had been somewhat empty, most traffic lights turning green on the approach and no one to get in his way or flag him down for speeding at this hour. He just needed to get to you, as fast as possible. 

Turning onto Raynor street, he slowed right down and got a good look; you were nowhere to be seen. He prayed to a god he didn’t believe in that you’d just followed his advice, hiding down an alleyway off the main street to keep out of sight of any passersby with bad intentions. He turned his stereo back up, a clear indication that it was him who was driving slowly down the street, watching and waiting for you to pop your head out of somewhere. 

“C’mon, doll... where are you?” he muttered anxiously to himself, looking down every nook and cranny between buildings.  

The music you heard edging closer down the street echoed what you could hear from your phone speaker, telling you that the vehicle approaching was him. A wave of relief washed over you, and you stepped out from between a hair salon and an apartment block near the end of the street. Mary's headlights caught on your dress, the sparkle catching his eye immediately and he sped up until he could break suddenly right next to you, jumping out of his van and running around it to get to you as quickly as he could. 

His hands gripped onto your biceps and he held you out at arm's reach to get a good look at you; carefully placed make up had streaked from your tears, black rings forming around your eyes where your mascara had run. Your eyes themselves were bloodshot; how long had you been out here like this before you’d called him? You shivered in his hands, the cold of the night getting to you in this dress that left your arms and shoulders exposed, doing nothing to warm you at this late hour. He didn’t even think, shucking himself out of his jacket and wrapping it around your shoulders where his body heat had already warmed it.  

“Are you hurt?” he asked, cupping your face in his hands and swiping the tear tracks away with his thumbs. You shook your head no, another sob rising in your throat now that he was here. You weren’t sure what you had been expecting, his initial reaction to your phone call clearly indicating he was still very much mad at you; not that you could blame him. But it didn’t escape your notice that he had come anyway, and the expression on his face was almost one of terror before his eyes had fallen on you, and softened considerably. 

Something in him cared.  

“Alright, come on... get in,” he settled a hand between your shoulder blades, guiding you gently and quickly to the passenger side of his van where he opened the door for you, helping you up. You settled into the seat, curling in on yourself and hugging Mary’s jacket closer to you for the warmth the night had stripped from you as he climbed in the driver’s side. He turned the stereo right down, the music now only to fill a silence rather than to alert you to his arrival.  

“Is there... somewhere you want me to take you?” he asked, an awkwardness coming over him. He had no idea how to react in this situation, no clue what had happened or why you’d called him of all people when you had an entire security team on your side. 

You seemed to think about it for a moment, a fresh wave of tears trickling from your eyes and dripping to your lap when you looked down in an attempt to hide your face.  

“I... don’t have anywhere...” you sobbed, your fists tightening around the edges of Mary’s jacket to have something to ground you while your shoulders shook.  

Mary watched on helplessly, his heart pounding in his chest. He wanted to reach over, to pull you into him and hold you so you could let out the much more violent sobs you were so obviously holding back. He was so used to the feistier side of you; your smart mouth, your confidence... It’s what drew him in, what attracted him to you like a moth to a flame. This wasn’t you. 

It stirred up a need in him to help, to sacrifice his own discomfort in favour of your comfort. Instantly, he put you first, forgetting any resignations he had about ever seeing you again. That anger he harboured at how out-of-touch he thought you were? It dissipated the second he’d heard the first sob. He’d been triggered like a sleeper cell, instantly needing to patch up whatever wound you’d suffered. 

“You don’t wanna go home?” he asked, figuring he already knew the answer. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. When you shook your head violently, he got the confirmation he needed. “Alright, well...” He was going to regret this, wasn’t he? But he’d said it before he could stop himself. “You could stop at my place for a bit.” Yep, he regretted it. “If it’s not too weird, or anything... I mean, I live alone, if you’re worried about my friends being ther-” 

“Okay...” you sniffled.  

Mary stopped rambling, instead reaching for the cigarette he’d never lit and thrown on his dash with his phone. Once again, he pushed the cigarette lighter in to heat up, adjusting the heating in the van to a warmer temperature too to warm you up. 

“Alright um, sure...” He held the cigarette between his lips, shoving the van into gear and continuing down the street. “There’s a carton of cigs in the bag by your feet, if you want one,” he offered – more to fill the silence between you than anything. The quiet stereo could only do so much. 

You sniffled and reached down to the bag, fishing through the plastic until you found the carton he’d mentioned and pulling one out for yourself hoping it might help to calm you. With a pop, the lighter signalled it was ready, and Mary held it out to you first as he focussed on the road. You lit it carefully with a small ‘thank you’ and settled back into your seat. The first drag helped settle your nerves, the heating in the van calming the shakes you’d had too, although you weren’t sure if that had been the panic or the cold of the night. 

A few streets into the journey back to his place, you couldn’t take the quiet any longer. The awkward air between you felt so stale, icy in comparison to the warmth the van generated. As much as you wanted to relax in his presence – as he up until now had always been able to make you do – you just couldn’t. Not with the elephant in the back of the van, so to speak... 

“I’m sorry... for calling,” you mumbled, still too full of shame to be able to look at him directly, only stealing a glance from the corner of your eye. Mary took a long drag of his cigarette, flicking the ash out of the crack he’d opened in his window. He looked between you and the road, as if thinking through his response a few times.  

“You don’t have to apologise for that. I’m not one to leave a lady out in the cold...” he shrugged. He certainly wasn’t; literally or metaphorically.  

“Thank you for coming, Mary. I didn’t know where to go...” Every time you thought back to the fight with your father, fresh and hot tears would well up in your eyes. It didn’t escape Mary’s notice, and he wanted nothing more than to reach over and squeeze your hand with reassurance. Instead, he settled on trying to lighten the mood a little. Comedy always had been his defence mechanism, after all... 

“Dressed like that? I’d have said... Cinderella’s ball?” 

You scoffed, the first genuine smile he’d seen from you as you shook your head. “Shut up,” you told him.  

“You couldn’t call on the creatures of the forest to come help?” he continued, smirking when he saw your shoulders shaking in silent laughter, elbow propped up on the edge of your window. “Tinkerbell not got any pixie dust left for ya?” 

You reached over and playfully slapped his chest, earning you an ‘ouch’ and an act of feigned pain as he recoiled. But you giggled to yourself, the absurdity of it all finally hitting you. Here you were sat in your sparkly peach gown with your satin elbow gloves, high heels and fancy hairdo, cradled by Mary’s leather jacket in a beat-up van that was old enough to still have a damn cigarette lighter in the dash. Perhaps you were Cinderella... Did that make Mary your Prince Charming, or your fairy God mother? 

Now he’d heard you giggle – something he always loved hearing out of you – Mary could relax a little. There was still an awkwardness between you both, neither one of you could deny that, but the first layer of ice had been broken. For now, that would be enough. If you wanted to talk to him about what had happened when you got to his, then fine. If not, he figured that was okay too. At least he’d know you were safe and had someone by your side who cared about you; and yes, Mary could admit to himself now that he did care about you... 

Just, maybe not to you – not yet. But it wasn’t something he could exactly deny either, when he’d dropped his ‘big plans’ of getting high and demolishing a bag of snacks alone with his guitar the second he’d heard your despair. And all of that in spite of his lingering anger towards you. How quickly he’d flipped that, from wanting nothing to do with you to racing to your rescue. 

Mary’s apartment was small, as you’d expected. As you followed him inside, you looked around. The kitchen sat directly to your left cut off by a half wall to corner it in, a couch that looked like it had seen better days backed up against that half wall and pointed at an old television. Mary’s bed was unmade and pushed up against the far-right corner, facing the bathroom that took up as much space as his kitchen did but was the only room closed off. In the way of bedroom furniture, all he had was a small nightstand and a chest of drawers that had been knocked about some...  

It seemed cosy, lived in. It wasn’t particularly tidy; a blanket strewn over the tatty couch, vinyls laying on top of his little coffee table and around his record player in the corner of his living space, guitars laying up against the wall here and there, an acoustic on his bed, pots and pans stacked up on the draining board in his kitchen – clean, but not yet put away.  

Had Mary known he was having royalty stop by, he might have tidied up a little, but this was how it looked most of the time. He didn’t spend much time at home, especially now that his band were starting to take off a little. But truthfully, he avoided being alone at all costs. He got too much thinking done alone, hence why he had his distraction methods of weed and song-writing.  

Mary scratched the back of his neck awkwardly and went to flick on a lamp by the couch. He quickly whipped around the space, picking up the strewn vinyls, straightening up the blankets. “Sorry about the mess,” he set as he jetted past you towards his bed to pick up his guitar and straighten out the blankets and pillows. You stood awkwardly in the entryway, his jacket still hanging off your shoulders as you picked at your gloves.  

“No, it’s fine, it’s not that bad,” you told him, noting the few personal belongings Mary had too; most notably the little picture frame on a windowsill by the couch. A strikingly beautiful woman, and a goofy little boy snuggled tightly in her lap. Both were grinning into the camera, the boy’s front teeth missing. You guessed that was Mary, and the woman, his mother.  

“Can I get you anything? I don’t know, a drink maybe? Or, uh...” He stood awkwardly, nervously wringing his hands and fiddling with his rings. It was so out of character for him, usually cocky and confident in everything he said or did. In a way, it was quite endearing...  

“Maybe some water, if you don’t mind...” You winced at your own request, feeling like you’d already asked for too much tonight.  

“Yeah... yeah, sure!” He jumped into action, rushing into the kitchen to fetch a clean glass from the cabinet. “Make yourself at home,” he told you, nodding towards the couch he’d just tidied. You walked towards it, draping his jacket over the arm and sitting on the edge of it, playing with your gloves until he came and sat opposite you, handing you a cold glass of water. 

You took it with a thank you, downing a third of the glass once the water hit your tongue – you hadn’t realised just how thirsty the tears and panic had made you.  

“So, um... you wanna tell me why you’re dressed like that?” Mary nodded at your dress, getting himself comfortable and ready to listen. You looked down at yourself, feeling utterly ridiculous now. This was your world... glitter, glam, sparkles; and you despised it.  

“Fancy dinner at the town hall – pompous twats and vile politicians. Mom picked this out,” you scoffed. 

“Huh,” he mused, “I mean, if it helps, you do look pretty...” he shrugged. A warmth rose to your cheeks at his compliment. “The mascara smudges are a nice touch, I think.” You laughed at that, wiping your fingertips along the underneath of your eyes and seeing the black collecting on the white satin. “So... what happened?” 

He asked you so gently, and instantly you felt safe. His gaze wasn’t judgemental, just soft. In fact, it had taken you this long to mentally note that Mary wasn’t made up with his usual faded skull paint and fake blood. His face was clean, you could see every detail. You could see every emotive line, every twitch of his expressions and a vulnerability in him that the face paint usually masked. He had a kinder face than people gave him credit for. Suddenly, you got it. He was putting on a mask every day, just like you.  

And so, you told him. You told him how you’d felt in that ballroom, looking around and seeing the real scumbags of this town. You told him about Mr. Nelson; what he’d said, what he’d done. Mary’s face hardened at that, an anger and protectiveness washing over him that had his fists balling up tightly. You told him how you’d excused yourself, and how your father had followed you to his office. Throughout, he stayed quiet, letting you speak and listening to everything you said. He’d react every so often, fetched you some tissues when the tears had started again. You told him everything, including how your father had screamed at you to follow his rules to not damage his “legacy”.  

“And I told him I didn’t want to do that anymore... I wanted to do my own thing and live for me.”  

Mary’s eyebrows raised in surprise, and he leaned forward, elbows on his knees.  

“Shit... What did he say?” he asked, obviously knowing it hadn’t ended well.  

“Told me to get out of his office,” the tears came again, your voice raising in pitch as you tried to hold back the sobs, “that this whole town was his office. Threatened me with lawyers if I tried anything. So... I just left.” 

“He kicked you out into the street, alone, dressed like that, in the middle of the fucking night?” Mary’s anger was clear, spitting venom between clenched teeth. He couldn’t understand the nerve of your father, how he could be so damn stupid putting you in danger like that. “Fucking arrogant asshole...” 

It was clearer to him more now than ever that he’d been so wrong about you...  

He shuffled closer to you on the couch, cautiously wrapping an arm around your shoulders to comfort you in some way. Truthfully, he wanted to completely envelope you, to hold you and rock you and let you cry and sob and scream if you needed it. But it wasn’t until you lay your head on his shoulder that he felt okay to do so, finally pulling you into him to wrap his arms around you and let you cry into his chest.  

He felt so warm beneath you, his heart rate a little elevated but the thumping kept you grounded as you held onto his shirt, curling into a sparkly little ball in his side. Mary cradled your head to him, stroking your hair and whispering to you about letting go, that you were safe here. 

If he was being honest with himself, he knew how shitty he’d been to you. He’d become far too defensive too quickly, unable to see past his own injustices in his world to understand that your world came with them too. There had been signs of your confinement, of the tight leash you were kept on, but he’d wilfully ignored them, striking them off as privilege. Your bedroom alone should have been a giant red flag; how was a grown woman still sleeping in a child’s bedroom?  

“I’m sorry, doll...” he told you, muttering into your hair as his lips gently pressed to the top of your head.  

“Not on you, Mare. This has been coming for a while...” you sniffled, wiping your tears with your gloves as you snuggled into him a little further, utterly comfortable in his hold. 

“No, I mean...” Mary sighed to himself, “I’ve been an asshole. I got too defensive, thought you were just being a brat or something, y’know? I judged you and I shouldn’t have.” 

Slowly, you sat upright, turning to look at him as his arms fell to his sides.  

“You don’t have to apologise, I get it... I wasn’t exactly good to you either,” you admitted, looking down at his shirt now stained with tears to avoid his eyes. “You were right, I was treating you like I was ashamed of you.” 

Mary sat up straight, clasping his hands together as he nodded in understanding. “We’ve all got our shit, doll.” His eyes drifted to the picture on his windowsill, and you couldn’t help but follow his gaze. You saw how he clenched his jaw, fiddling with the rings on his fingers as sadness crept into his eyes. 

“Who was she?” The question slipped out before you got the chance to stop yourself. From the way Mary tensed up beside you, you could tell it was a sore spot.  

“That’s my mom,” he looked back to you, a sad smile on his face.  

“Is she...?” 

“Dead? No...” he laughed awkwardly. “But she is in a care facility. That’s just the only photo of us I’ve got.”  

You nodded in understanding, not wanting to push the matter. But Mary felt like sharing... You’d been vulnerable with him, shared your shit. Maybe he should share his too, or at least some of it. Maybe you were the only person he could be honest with. You were certainly the only person he’d wanted to get to know him in a long time.  

“She was a drinker. It got worse when my dad left, but he was a waste of fucking space anyway. We, uh, didn’t have a lot...” his eyes flickered to the battered old guitar that now leaned against the wall by his bed, “but eventually her liver kind of gave up, so she’s on dialysis for the rest of her life. She needs constant care, but she’s still with us.” 

“I’m so sorry... no wonder you thought I was just being a brat,” you laughed awkwardly, feeling a little pathetic now. 

“Like I said, we all got our shit. It's not a contest, I just... realised I wanted you to know something real about me.” 

Silence descended over you along with the weight of what he’d just admitted. Mary wanted you to know him. He wasn’t running or hiding himself from you. He’d shared something so personal to him, and you felt that it was something not a lot of people might know about him, if any. Something about you made him feel just as safe as a part of him did for you.  

You looked at him; really looked at him. There was a sadness in his eyes, something you could notice now that you were sat merely inches apart from him with his mask firmly ripped away and laying in pieces on the floor. Whatever wall he usually put up, he’d let down just for you. You felt close to him, unbelievably so. You felt an urge to protect him, defend him. You felt a pull towards him, undistinguished in its meaning but so strong you couldn’t ignore it anymore.  

And as Mary stared back at you, his wounds exposed, he too felt that same pull. Who was he kidding? He’d felt it for a while. How else would he explain being unable to go barely minutes without thinking of you over the last few weeks?  

His eyes flicked down to your lips, heart racing and mind spinning out of control. He’d never felt so exposed. He wanted to kiss you, to show you what he felt in that moment, but it scared him. He already had shared so much, feeling just as vulnerable as he had as a child.  

In your corner, the silence got heavier with every second that passed. If he was going to kiss you, you would let him. You couldn't think of a better way to show him just how much you cared, how close you felt to him; that you truly wanted him.  

Just as you thought he might lean in, he snapped out of his trance, sucking in a breath between his teeth.  

“Well, hey... you can stop here tonight. I can find you something to wear, I’m pretty sure I got something in the back,” he joked, wiggling his eyebrows, “I can take you from riches to rags!”  

He slapped his thighs and stood up from the couch, marching over to the dresser by his bed and rifling through his drawers. You stayed put, thrown off by his sudden escape. From such an emotional, tender moment to him throwing that wall back up, closing up shop... You almost got whiplash from the speed at which he put the brakes on. Disappointment lay heavy in your chest.  

He came back over with a folded t-shirt and some plaid pyjama pants you could tie up to keep them on. “There’s clean cloths in the bathroom under the sink if you wanna wash up, towels if you wanna shower,” he handed you the clothes where you sat. “I’ll take the couch, you got the bed and we’ll figure out a plan in the morning.”  

“O-okay...” you stammered, standing up with the folded clothes. Frankly, you felt a little dazed from his shift in demeanour, but you could hardly blame him either. Sharing that had to have been harder than you first thought. 

You walked past him into the bathroom, locking the door and pulling on the string light to awaken the fluorescent bulb above you. Now catching a glimpse of yourself in his mirrored medicine cabinet, you saw the state of yourself. Make up smeared all over your face, streaks of black running from your eyes to halfway down your neck. They looked bloodshot and tired, staring lifelessly back at you. Your hair had fallen out of place from its fancy updo, and you looked as if you’d been dragged through a cornfield by your ankles. 

Deciding against a shower, you settled for wiping the make-up from your face and taking your hair down, attempting to detangle it with the comb you found in the medicine cabinet. You’d found a bottle of cologne in there too, which when you sniffed, smelled exactly like Mary had smelled the night he’d climbed through your bedroom window. You smiled fondly at the memory, noting how the bottle was largely untouched, still having the price tag on it which only confirmed that he’d bought it and worn it just for you. 

By the time you were done and changed into the clothes Mary had found you, Mary had made himself a makeshift bed from the blanket he’d previously folded on the couch and one of the pillows from his bed. He was already laying under it, having changed into some old shorts and removed his shirt.  

“You can put your dress on the dresser, and I can run out and grab you something to wear tomorrow so you’ve got something other than this to wear,” he called from the couch, sitting up so he could speak directly to you.  

“Thank you. I’ll get out of your hair tomorrow, I’m sure my dad just needs to calm down...” you told him. Mary couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed, but also, protective. He wasn’t about to send you home to that, and he didn’t want you to feel like a burden on him either.  

“Sure, if that’s what you wanna do...” he muttered, his lips straightening into a line as he nodded. “Well... get some rest.” 

“Yeah, I will... thank you, Mary,” you told him. 

“Don’t sweat it,” he smiled, laying down on the couch and pulling the blanket over his bare shoulders. Without another word, you placed your clothes on the dresser and crawled into his bed, notably cold without him in it. Mary flicked off the lamp by the couch, plunging the apartment into mostly darkness save for the moonlight and the nearest streetlamp shining through his window. 

The same window where the picture of him and his mother sat.  

He could see it where he lay. In fact, he couldn’t look away. That smile on both of their faces reminded him of a time that was so rare. He could still hear her laughter mixing with his giggles as she’d hugged and tickled him, his grandmother who was long since gone snapping the picture on a whim.  

That little boy didn’t have many memories like that to come. He’d grown up far too soon, knowing how desperately his mother needed the help. His childhood was the two of them stuck out at sea, a hole in their boat – and Mary was the only one fishing the water out with a bucket. Eventually, it was bound to go under, so he worked harder, did everything he could to keep them afloat and yet... it wasn’t enough.  

The world had got him all wrong. When they thought he was bunking off school, he was working for a dollar an hour. When he’d been caught shoplifting, it was for a gift for his mother’s birthday. When he’d dropped out of school, it was to work every hour God sent to keep them from going hungry. When he finally did go off the rails in his late teens, it was after his mother’s liver failed. This poor, grown-up little boy had no one to look after anymore, and he’d spiralled. He was his only responsibility, but he’d never learned to care for himself – just the people around him. He always had to save them.  

Mary wiped the stray tear from his cheek, rolling over to face the back of the couch and will himself to sleep. He couldn’t tell if it was an hour or mere minutes that passed as he lay there, huddled under his old blanket on a couch that poked at his ribs under the cushions.  

“Mary...?” you whispered into the night, testing and hoping that he’d still been awake enough to hear. When he looked up, he saw you sat up in his bed, surrounded by emptiness, hugging your knees to your chest. In the dim streetlight, tear tracks sparkled on your face just like your dress.  

Before he knew what he was doing, his feet had carried him across the room. Tentatively, he sat at the edge of his bed, close enough that he could reach out and tuck your fallen hair behind your ear. Neither of you spoke; there was no need. It was obvious you needed the proximity, both vulnerable and in need of comfort.  

Mary’s eyes flicked between yours and your lips again, hesitating as his mind raced with conflicting arguments for and against giving in. He still wasn’t sure you truly wanted him. Maybe all you wanted in him was a friend, the sex having been a distraction or way to rebel. All Mary knew for sure was that you’d trusted him enough to be the one you called when you were in trouble. He didn’t want to break that trust now...  

But it was like you could see the cogs turning in his brain, the inner argument going on inside him. The battle wouldn’t be won by him alone; you were going to have to prove to him that you wanted him, that he wasn’t just your dirty little secret or some booty call. 

Slowly, you shuffled yourself closer to him, unwrapping your arms from around yourself and instead, pushing his floppy hair from in front of his face, getting a good look at him. That gorgeous face of his sat bathed in the dim light, caught between distant sadness and childlike wonder. With one last flicker down to your lips and back up to your eyes, he caught you smiling softly at him, your fingertips dancing across his jawline.  

And then finally, you leaned into him and pressed your lips gently to his. His eyes fluttered shut just as yours did, and he relaxed under your touch as if his limbs had melted. Mary, now feeling marginally more confident in where he stood, tilted his head to better sculpt his lips against yours. He was so gentle with you, his hands lifting to hold yours against his cheeks by the wrists. As the seconds passed, your lips moved together in tandem, both of you leaning into each other until he was able to wrap a hand around your waist and hold you against him, cradling each other in such a tender moment.  

This was undeniably different to any other kiss you’d shared. There was no move to advance, no desperation, no frantic arousal or rushed passion. This time, you simply held each other, seeking comfort in the affection you had for each other.  

As you parted, you rested your forehead against his, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck as he held you still so close to him, not yet willing to let go.  

“Stay with me tonight...?” you requested, hoping he’d have no problem with the idea. Mary just nodded dumbly, overcome with a warm desire to never let you sleep alone again. You reached around you, pulling the blankets off of your lap to welcome him into them. He climbed in beside you, resting his head on the pillows as you, without a second thought, curled into his chest and let his arms envelope you. Neither one of you wanted to be alone tonight after sharing pieces of your soul with one another.  

Exhausted from the outpouring of emotion, you were soon lulled into a deep sleep by his rhythmic heartbeat and natural warmth. Mary, although exhausted himself, was still barely awake when he felt your body go limp against him. He smiled to himself, satisfied in the knowledge that he’d given up a part of himself he was sure he’d never trust anybody with.  

And yet, the wound was still open; spinning with memories, his mind lingered on one in particular, triggered when his tired eyes had fallen on that battered and beat up old guitar against the wall. That thing served as a reminder that Mary had only ever had Mary looking out for him, and that given a choice between himself and somebody else, he would always save anybody but himself... 

Mary waited patiently on the couch, his attention span null and void as the after-school cartoons blared on the TV set in front of him. He sat on the edge of his seat, quite literally, his feet kicking back and forth as he watched the clock. 

With the big hand on the 2, and the little hand on the 6, she’d be home any minute now. So, Mary waited as patiently as he could. 

Except, it wasn’t until the big hand had done a full circle, and the little hand was on the 7, that he heard the keys fumbling in the lock of the front door, followed by a telltale creak, and the slam of it behind footsteps.  

Mary jumped up, already on edge and over-excited. He ran into the hallway, to find his mother leaning against the wall with her eyes shut, head back against the plaster. She looked sick, her skin paled more than usual and her lips tainted with a familiar red stain.  

“Ma?” he asked, placing his little hand on her arm. Her eyes shot open, and she looked down at Mary next to her.  

“There’s my boy!” she slurred, leaning down to smother a sloppy kiss to his cheek. He wiped his cheek in childlike disgust, giggling to himself. “Happy birthday, baby!”  

She stood as upright as she could manage, bringing her purse with her while she stumbled into the living room, into the armchair Mary’s dad used to occupy that faced the TV set. Mary followed, bouncing on his feet with excitement. He’d waited all day for his mom to come home, hadn’t been able to focus in school for even a second. He stood and waited in front of her as she settled into the chair, dropping her purse in her lap.  

“Would you like your present baby?” she asked, smiling through hooded eyes that could barely focus. Mary nodded frantically, his heart pounding in his chest.  

It had been weeks since he’d spoken to his mother about the guitar he so desperately wanted. He’d spent most of his weekends at Mr. Rogers’ workshop, sweeping up wood shavings and running errands for a little bit of pocket money to help his mother save for this exact moment. He couldn’t wait any longer... 

His mother giggled, reaching into her purse and pulling out a small, square-shaped gift wrapped in balloon wrapping paper.  

For a moment, Mary was confused... But this had to be just a decoy. He remembered seeing these CDs in the music store; ‘Guitar Basics for Beginners’, audio instructive lessons that would be far cheaper than real in-person lessons.  

He tore into the paper, throwing the trash to the side and flipped the CD around to look at the front. It was an album; State of Euphoria by Anthrax. Mary’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion, surprised to find it wasn’t what he’d thought.  

“That’s the band you like, right? Or... One of them,” his mother hiccupped, leaning on her elbows with a grin. 

“Y-yeah... thanks, ma.” His tone was unmistakably disappointed.  

“What’s wrong?” she asked, swiping her thumb across his cheek and pinching it lightly. Mary chewed the inside of his cheek, wondering if he should say anything. He wasn’t one to be ungrateful, this was still a pretty great gift. Anthrax were one of the bands he had found he really loved recently. 

“No it’s great, ma, really. Thank you... It’s just,” he paused for a moment, choosing his words carefully, “could I get my guitar now? I read this book that teaches you about the frets and the notes of the strings, and stuff!” His words were rushed in that way over-excited children speed up the longer their sentence becomes. 

If his mother’s skin could pale any more, it did then.  

“Well, I... I couldn’t get the guitar, baby,” she told him, trying to let him down gently.  

“But... I helped Mr. Rogers? I thought we had enough?” he asked, his cheeks heating as if he were about to cry, but he didn’t want to make his mother feel bad by letting them spill.  

“I-I’m sorry, Mary... I needed to use that money...” she shrank back within herself, shame and guilt weighing on her shoulders.  

“For what?” he asked, genuinely confused, his tears building in his eyes. He was devastated... He worked so hard to get the guitar, to prove his mind was made up and he wouldn’t give up on learning it. But his mother just stared at him, her lip trembling as she saw her little boy so heartbroken. 

She knew exactly what she had spent it on; the very thing she promised she’d try and give up. 

“I... I’m s-sorry, b-baby,” she sobbed, tears spilling down her pale cheeks and her chest tightening around her breaths. She broke down, sobbing into her hands and hiding her face from the son she’d just disappointed so tragically. 

Mary wanted to be angry. It wasn’t fair... It was him who worked for that money, him who had tried so hard to help her. She was supposed to be the one adult he could count on, they were a team, weren’t they? He never asked for anything, ever. But just once, he wanted this. But she’d put her wine and God only knows what other alcohol before him again.  

He wanted to be angry. He tried to be. But his mother was hurting, she was crying, sobbing in front of him. She needed help. She was broken. She hadn’t meant to do this... right?  

Of course not. Her alcoholism had just gotten out of control, and unfortunately, addiction is a lonely and selfish ailment. Sober, her mind wouldn’t even think of doing something so selfish. But these days, she was rarely sober.  

Mary looked at his mother, crumpled up and sickly looking, weeping into her palms, and he just wanted to save her. He always wanted to save her.  

“Ma, it’s okay...” he told her, trying too hard for an 11-year-old not to cry. “Ma, don’t cry... I can keep working for one, it’s okay. I like the CD, I really do.” he squished himself between her and the arm of the chair, wrapping his arms around her and cuddling into her. She was inconsolable, sobbing so loudly she drowned out the cartoons on the TV set. She’d lost control of herself, and Mary was the only one around to pick up the pieces.  

“Shh, ma, it’s okay. It’ll be okay!” he told her, squeezing her as tightly as he could. “I’m here, don’t cry.” 

She’d screwed up big time, and whether Mary had chosen to forgive her or not, she wouldn’t be able to forgive herself for this. If she wasn’t already buried up to the neck in a pit of self-loathing, this was the last shovel full of cement to trap her in. 

But Mary had already decided that he’d do what he could to dig her out. She was his mother, she did everything for him that she could... why wouldn’t he help her too? 

A guitar could wait a little while longer. For now, his mother needed him – and he’d work as hard as he needed to save her.  

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 7 | PART 8

Masterlist | Tip Jar

Tagging those who asked, and some of my mutuals who may or may not enjoy this!

If you want to be added/removed from my tag list, please let me know!

@writingjourney @portaltothevoid @anamelessfool @astro-ghoul99 @sodoswitchimage @through-thebrokenglass @ghoulette-knell @thylacourt @onlyhereforghost @mikathemushroom @jaymechaos @gardenghoul22 @mustluvecho @mlioravanfleet @tobbesdiscordkitten @the-did-i-ask @love-is-all-you-need-13 @fishwithtitz @xshadyladyx @redthefieryginger @preqvelle @arhiannababe @namelessdrool @jokerofthepack52 @popialover @alonso123 @copias-sewer-rat @kadedoesthings @popiaswife @thew0man @siouxbauhaus @copias-juicebox @ghostfangirlsweden

[i-am-a-fan-of-empty-spaces]

at the time being, what is your goal with art creation, or even, what is your goal with reblagging art that you like?

the answer i used to give was "so i can represent myself before god".

it is a neat and clean answer: god, an infinite reservoir into which we can displace our impossible and inchoate wants. to succeed at art, we only need to sharpen and complexify our capacity to want. for example: i am sad, so i represent the sadness honestly in a comic, indulge it and give testimony to it; i do this loudly and boldly in hopes that somebody up there notices. in this way the story of my life becomes about--rather than the person who made me sad--the way in which i feel my sadness before the ultimate audience the LORD.

there is a lot missing from this picture, by design. a whole world of objects, mediums, people. art is a social practice, with other selves, hurt feelings, insecurities, and i have spent maybe most of my early 20s writing about and obsessing over the aspect of holiness and before-god-ness. in part to hide from this fact. but i think it is maybe about time i take a closer look at the Things of This World.

here is a list of 9 depraved and carnal submotives to art-as-performance-before-god... Number 9 Will Shock You!

(sorry i tried making this short but it got very long and pretentious and edgy again)

1. pride in my own genius, in seeing myself AS someone who is driven to create art, someone whose soul has been imbued into many art objects. i have felt this lately looking back on 2017 me: they are a strange and messy creature with sculpey dolls and drugs in the mail and posters of neolithic sculptures on my wall. it feels exhilarating to create while you are riding a wave of inspiration; it feels almost as nice to look back years later and recognize yourself in it. i love that i love and need art, i need to love art so i can love myself. if i don't, i will fall apart.

2. the sympathy of others in seeing my sadness decorated. it felt nice when k told me he cried reading my mahavidya comic. it felt nice for s to appreciate my cat comic. william godfrey said mary wollstonecraft's book was perfectly designed to make him fall in love with her--i have badly wished this to be said about me and the way i externalize myself. someone who loves my art and writing loves me for how i wish to be seen. they have bought into my vision. isn't it breathtaking to lie so successfully? art is resentment and repression. art saves me from truth. art is the only way to live with the feeling of being painfully and disgustingly insectoid.

3. transmutation of my ugly bits into something powerful and sharp, capable of doing damage, of alienating. i feel an immense amount of anger. did you know, i hate people when they like me and i hate them when they don't. i hate myself that i care. i don't know what i want but i know who i am. i make art to feel like a well-crafted weapon. i know who i am and so i surround myself in protective spells and i keep them away. could they ever understand? but i understand, and i make so few concessions for them. the perfect performance is one in which the audience is perfectly ignored.

but it's also the opposite of all these things!

because 4. i am always trying to get better skillwise, to prioritize the production and product above the romance of Being The Artist. and 5. i want sympathy, but not at the expense of honesty; i am trying to get closer to truth undecorated, to a purer and less sensationalized story of my life, one that i can separate from my art and draw from with greater restraint. and 6. please, please, please notice me! i care so much what you think.

so i think in the end it's confusing and i don't know. but maybe it's like this--do you know karen horney's 10 neurotic needs? i see a place for art in each of these--

fig 1.1: neurotic needs (note: the dominant partner is the LORD my GOD)

but maybe this isn't really honest either, and it's a lot simpler. because all of these things come out when i create art, but when i pull up a page it is just because 7. my friend wants me to draw a picture of her as a skuncc. or 8. i was bored in church and fascinated by the shape of a cat's head. or 9. a ferret is very cute, and so i must draw.

fig 1.2: human child

anyway, i don't think you should trust very much what i have to say about why i make art.

[sylvarantii]

Boy, I'm really on a ball with these reviews!

Detective Conan Movie 9: Strategy Above the Depths is, summed up, a movie that probably could've been made into 2 1-Hour episodes.

But the good part is, I would've made for a fairly interesting and somewhat enjoyable 2 part special if it had.

I don't want to tear this movie apart because it really is not a bad watch and I would actually say to still go in and give it a chance because if nothing else, there's some good parts to it. And, who knows? Maybe you'll love it more than me.

Being a big ShinRan shipper, there were more adorable moments. I liked that it explored on the fact Ran is a good hider when it comes to hide and seek and Shinichi is the only one that can find her. That was pretty dang adorable.

Kogoro actually fucking having a really good moment of solving a case was really a nice thing to see too. I know he's supposed to be a bit of incompetent for the sake of Conan/Shinichi solving the cases, but I don't know, like, I was really happy for Kogoro to kinda get the spotlight and put the whole thing together. Good for him, honestly.

But then we had to get that classic 90's/early 2000's "I don't hit girls" and I...I get it, I guess I do see Kogoro as the type that wouldn't want to hurt women, but it also just kind of bothered me. I get it, the character is supposed to be chivalrous, but damn, as a woman growing up on anime since she was a kid, this does get a little old and tired. I didn't really feel much satisfaction from Kogoro getting punched around either.

Really, they would have done so much better if they just had continued using the likeness of the lady to Eri and him being like, "Well, I don't really want to hurt someone who looks like the woman I love." THAT I can understand and I feel like has more impact, but you know, it's a small thing I shouldn't spend much time grouching about.

Uh, other than that, I think they were...sort of going for a twist murderer ending? I mean, I guess it was a tad surprising, but also I don't know. Feels a bit weird to have the main antagonist have a lot of the attention drawn on him and in the end it's someone else right about at the very last second? It's just...very odd. But it did kind of make sense too, to be fair. I mean, the clues were still there, after all

I feel like the last half hour of the movie or so was really interesting, but also felt like the writers were kind of bsing it a bit as well.

One final note, this movie makes me laugh because I can't help but think they were going for a sort of "Titanic, but Detective Conan!" The end credits of the girl throwing the necklace into the sea feel like they even confirm this a bit, but it's very obviously a VERY loose adaption. Still amusing, all the same.

I love how this is the most I've rambled about a movie and yet I'm gonna end up rating it so low. I guess when I really like something, I have less to say, but maybe that's just because I figure it can speak for itself? I have no idea. Anyway, moving on!

1.) The Fourteenth Target (2nd Movie)

2.) The Time Bombed Skyscraper (1st Movie)

3.) Magician of the Silver Sky (8th Movie)

4.) Captured in Her Eyes (4th Movie)

5.) Crossroad in the Ancient Capital (7th Movie)

6.) The Phantom of Baker Street (6th Movie)

7.) Countdown to Heaven (5th Movie)

8.) Strategy Above the Depths (9th Movie)

9.) The Wizard of the Last Century (3rd Movie)

I really do feel bad for Wizard of the Last Century, this movie still beat it out due to it being a bit more memorable for me, personally. For the time being.

It's going to be funny going back to these in the future and having drastically different opinions on these (if I do).

I feel like the issue is also going to be that some movie plots are going to feel similar to certain episodes I've seen and that's going to cause some confusion on my end. Guess that's bound to happen though when a series has been running so long, has over 1000 episodes and...I can't remember...are they up to around 30 movies now? Might be more like in the 20s. I don't recall.

[vvanillavveins]

This one is such a cool idea, thank you for tagging me!! I am sorry this is so late- I had to actually sit & think about this for a good 2-3 days because damn it's difficult.

I had to talk through each one in order to work out an order, so i'm sorry for the incoming rambling if anyone reads this-

oh god oh fuck

1. The Vast, I think? - Open spaces? My own insignificance? Incomprehensible giant creatures?- Couldn't care less, actually, almost boring, in fact. Heights?- Love the adrenaline rush, can't get enough of them. However, my one & only life-long phobia is deep water. If you asked me what would be the worst possible thing that you could ever do to me, i'd say it'd be leaving me to tread water in the middle of the ocean. I can't even look at paintings of deep water without my pulse increasing. Those really cool little diorama things people make with the resin fake water? I stop being able to breathe when i look at them. No idea why. Phobias are just weird like that.

2. The Corruption - idk if its sensory issues or what but if i find bugs in my house i feel itchy and hot and start tearing at my skin and it's just awful.

3. The Eye - i don't like being watched. Being watched by The Eye means never truly being alone again & i need to be alone to keep sane.

4. The Desolation - on one hand, losing everything would be quite freeing. On the other hand, everyone around me being hurt isn't fair- if it's my fear then i should be the only one suffering.

5. The Extinction - like the Desolation, more depressing than scary. I think life in an apocalyptic wasteland would be way too monotonous for me though.

6. The Web - i can't handle change, so completely losing control of everything would not end well, lmao.

7. The Buried - i feel pretty neutral about all the physical manifestations of this one. It's the financial element that makes it stressful.

8. The Dark - eh, i've never been scared of the dark & i can't see very well in most light anyway. TMA is just really well written; it's the one of the only things that've made me understand why people fear the dark.

9. The End - again, no real strong feelings about this one. The lack of proper action is a bit tedious. But overall it just kinda feels comforting, in a way? I like the security/reliability of it. Also, i'm a massive coimetrophile.

10. The Hunt - i like adrenaline; i really love the feeling of being chased. Even if i logically understand that it's a matter of survival, some part of my brain still goes, "ooo what a fun ✨️game✨️", lmao.

11. The Slaughter - being chased is a game, so i'll run- but unless i am actually told to, running just doesn't naturally occur to me. Most of the time when i'm presented with an actual threat i skip past fear and go straight to anger. It's foolhardy, sure, but how dare anything have the audacity to think it can threaten me? I'm not saying I'd win a fight with a Slaughter avatar, but i would try. I think being a masochist helps.

12. The Spiral - less of a threat and more of just a continuation of my everyday life, i'm not sure what would change tbh. I do like liminal spaces, though, so that's a plus. Also, i feel like a Spiral avatar would be quite good company for a brain like mine- i could quite happily just chatter at them without having to over-explain & redefine everything.

13. The Flesh - gore & viscera are satisfying, and i honestly think i'd give anything for limitless body modification.

14. The Lonely - what makes the Lonely so appealing to me is how it isolates you; it either strands you in empty places or it replaces the people around you. If there's no one to reach out to, then you can't do anything to fix your loneliness. Never being able to form genuine connections with others is painful, but the Lonely would help get rid of the initial desire for connection. I think the Lonely would help me be much more at peace with myself.

15. The Stranger - i don't fear the Stranger because, ironically, it's the most familiar one. And i know for sure i could survive whatever it can throw at me; i already can't read faces or voices, i've already forgotten entire people like they were just deleted from my memory & i don't experience the uncanny valley effect- so it wouldn't get any fear from me anyway. Hell, in my lowest most paranoid moments, i've genuinely believed that my loved ones were replaced by shapeshifters. But i'm still here after all of that shit- so bring it on! Tbh, if i encountered the Stranger i'd probably ask to join it. It'd be nice if i could actually gain something from people's uneasiness around me. And the whole 'circus of the other' thing sounds like my childhood dreams come true, lmfao. 100% fuck yeah category material

fuck yeah

i ranked the tma fears from scariest to least scariest because i felt like it. no pressure but reblog with your rankings i wanna see!

oh god oh fuck

1. the corruption

2. the desolation

3. the hunt

4. the buried

5. the web

6. the extinction

7. the slaughter

8. the stranger

9. the dark

10. the flesh

11. the lonely

12. the eye

13. the end

14. the vast

15. the spiral

fuck yeah

tagging a couple of my moots if you wanna try :D

@encryptidarchivist @humanteethmarksonhumanbone @willdisappearintothelonely @styrofoamdoor @urnewsteppappa

[anthosaidsmth]

Empires Season 2 Survey Part 2: Predictions

[Part 1]

Thanks to y'all for filling in the survey. Some of you got the funniest responses 👍, this is fun.

Image ID under cut

[Image ID:

Image 1 the title reads "Any predictions?", with rows of entries, reading "*limps wrist*", "Everyone dies again /half joke", "The block men will be homosexuals", "women", "I will cry" "This is the homophobic season", which has a white arrow pointing out saying "diversity loss :(", and "Chaos and war [pride month edition]".

Image 2 the title reads "The Sheriff TM", with 2 images of Jimmy's minecraft character with his cowboy skin. There are rows of entries, reading "Jimmy gets his hat stolen", "Jimmy should go feral and shoot someone", "uh I don't know but they should give Jimmy a villain arc", "no one will respest Jimmy as The Sheriff :(".

Image 3 the title reads "Joel bullying zone", with an image of Joel's minecraft character in his Empires skin, the image is squished so Joel appears shorter. There are rows of entries, reading "the other empires make themselves canonically taller than 11 feet so they can be taller than Joel and he’s short again", "joel is short.", "We cannot allow Joel to be 11ft tall. Either we deny it completely or everyone else is just still taller :)", "joel gets shrunk and someone gets hatecrimed (for legal reasons thats a joke)".

Image 4 the title reads "Women (affectionate)", with rows of entries, reading "Gem's also either not actually a princess or not human and I can't tell which I like more", "The Gempire will thrive under the rule of its princess", "False gets assigned wings at fandom (ideally dragon) and that becomes the most popular portrayal of her. She notices bc she has Tumblr & gets a custom draconic elytra. I also think False should get the Tall treatment this season (like S1 Lizzie). Just a big old dragon False :3", "And also let gem have her villain arc".

Image 5 the title reads "Actual predictions", with rows of entries, reading "there’s GOTTA be something up with oli being on the server. like I’m pretty sure it was edited and blurred out when they realized like… something’s definitely fishy there. Maybe he’s responsible for the dragon not being there? (that could also just be explained by s1).", "Villain arc(s), Lizzie thinking no one knows she's not human when literally everyone does, the end being even more important than last season, and there being a reason behind Sausage being the only one to notice when people change skins (e.g the whole fWhip–blue sweater–goblin conversation)".

Image 6 is a continuation of image 5, reading "False's pov ends with her waking up in another world, whether it's her old world or a new one, it's far away from the people she called friend. Cut to black, end of season 2", "What if…the main bad guy was (the friends we made along the way or) made by each member accidentally pissing them off in some way. (Ex. Scott ”collects” something that belongs to the bad guy, Pixl finds the main hideout of the bad guy, Shelby finds a spell that hurts said bad guy, etc.)", "scott's or false's character has something to do with the end and the missing dragon pixlriffs will build something reminiscent of one of the empires for season 1".

Image 7 the title reads "Hall of fame", with sparkles drawn by the title. The rows of entries read "The reason why the ender dragon is missing is because there's actually a 13th empire in the end and it's the empire of the Orb. That's right, it's oli time ", "I have hopes for things but i am almost certain none of them will come true :(", "Angst that’s it we are all gonna sob and honestly can’t wait for that.", "I just want you to know I started with empires s1 entirely from Joel’s perspective, so when I started on Pearl’s…boy howdy".

Image 8 is a continuation of image 7, reading "I want pixl to be appreciated more. He is so good and i love him." with a small drawing of OP's character hugging a Tumblr anon icon, "same anon same..." is written beside the drawing. "Another sibling relationship also I know I'm mentally ill you don't have to tell me from my answers", "until we figure out what’s up w/ the end, im choosing to believe the empires crew accidentally showed up on someone’s completed speed run world. that’s why the dragons dead, but there’s no one who did it/the worlds empty", "lizzie and joel are gonna get married again. it might not be an Event like last season but they will get married again and it will be cute. (and hilarious. this time LIZZIE is the connecticut clark of the two)".

Image 9 the title reads "And the one with the most derp is... Me!", it shows the OP's Tumblr profile picture with a "DUM" sticky note from Among Us drawn on top of the image. The text under the image reads "For forgetting various options and also for accidentally leaving one of the optional question as required when I first posted the survey."

/End ID]

[sam-t-a]

Okay. 

*Deep breath* 

I think I’m finally calm enough to put into words exactly why I hated the finale and why I wasn’t completely surprised that I hated it. 

(Heads-up: this is really long and pretty negative. If you disagree, I would of course appreciate your point of view and love to hear it, but just thought I’d let you know in case this is the kind of post you would like to avoid.)

To me, it felt like every character on the show got betrayed in some way or another, but the main ones are Han Seo (devastatingly), Chayoung (obviously) and Han Seok (bear with me). 

Cha Young: 

She started out as a solid FL who annoyed some people for sure, but who had so much promise as someone unconventional and bold. The way her mother’s death affected her and caused a clear shift in her personality was a super interesting plot point that really never got explored. We have no idea how she came to sacrifice her morality in joining Wusang, just that she wanted to spite her father, which is a very superficial exploration. She gets cute idiosyncrasies in lieu of an actual character and an actual character arc. 

We also, halfway through the show, seem to forget that her father's death was the initial trigger. Cha young does not suggest bold ideas or intricate plans, she doesn’t fill the gaps Vincenzo is incapable of filling (because that would require that Vincenzo have flaws, and that’s not something the writers can abide), and she’s literally victimized in episode 19 and bedridden in episode 20, and that is IT. 

Someone who started out supposedly as Vincenzo’s equal just became another piece in his chess set, no matter how important a piece she may be. 

So her role as a badass avenger is trashed. That leaves her role as a love interest. Now, as Vincenzo’s love interest, she was supposed to get kidnapped in like episode 5 or 6 at the most if the villain has any brains whatsoever (Han Seok may or may not, more on that later). We need a reason for that not to happen too early. Cue villain is somehow in love with her for all of 15 minutes or so throughout a 20-episode series because a love triangle is inconceivable with the show’s current structure and for its purposes. 

So, she spends 15 or so episodes making the first move on Vincenzo, every time, putting herself out there, creating cute moments, getting nothing in return, and then he leaves. No confession, nothing much, he wasn’t even going to say goodbye or give her the choice of coming with him. 

I’m sure more chayenzo-oriented fans have already expressed all the necessary outrage over this, so I’ll move on to the part that I’ve personally been way more emotionally invested in from the get go: the Jang brothers. 

Han Seo: 

I was among the minority that  hated the “Vinny hyung” angle from the get-go and I’ve ranted about it in another post, so I won’t get into it here in-depth, but basically it was because I felt like Vincenzo hadn’t earned it, so to have the last words Han Seo hears be “You deserve to be my brother” or whatever the fuck he was on about PISSED ME OFF. It’s VINCENZO who doesn’t deserve to be Han Seo’s brother and hasn’t done a single thing to earn it. He was a good ally. The situation he allowed Han Seo to be a part of was beneficial to him, but Han Seo’s attachment to him was neither healthy nor heartwarming, and it certainly wasn’t returned on the level he offered it.

Vincenzo’s disregard of his death didn’t strike me as odd because I never saw enough indications that this was a two-way street and Han Seo’s safety and well-being came second so often that I didn’t get the impression Vincenzo was doing much to keep him alive. This is what I meant when I said the show was glorifying a torture survivor’s trauma responses. Han Seo himself, as a torture survivor, meant nothing to them. He was just there to create one more contrived comparison between Vincenzo and Han Seok. Instead of recovering from the trauma, it’s simply employed to someone else’s favor. He doesn’t go to prison for Han Seok, he takes a bullet for Vincenzo, and we’re supposed to see that as so much better.

All of that might (JUST MIGHT) not have ruined the show for me if he’d died better. 1) It was narratively pointless and totally avoidable, 2) they could’ve framed it as heroic, but instead Han Seok’s hand patting his head is pushing it down, so he can’t even get shot with his chin up and his back straight, Taec’s already taller, so the angle’s fucked and the whole cinematography screamed “kicking an injured puppy” and most certainly NOT “survivor finally stands up to his abuser”. The final nail in the proverbial and literal coffin is that he is mourned by no one. They’re FLIRTING not 3 MINUTES LATER, it felt so tone deaf and left such a bad taste. As I said, I didn’t expect significant mourning from Vincenzo (gotta say, I didn’t expect no mourning, that was a shocker), and Cha young and the tenants had no real interactions with him and no reason to mourn him, which left only one person who could. 

Which brings me to Han Seok. 

Han Seok started out as a solid villain, clear goals, clear skills that help him achieve his goals and basically make him a villain worth defeating, and a very complex relationship with both his own psychopathy and his brother. 

Let me get it out of the way: I do not believe Han Seok is capable of killing Han Seo because he had every reason and every opportunity to do so in previous episodes and couldn’t do it (I say couldn’t because a certain degree of reluctance is in itself inability). Han Seo’s danger far outweighed his material value the minute he shot Han Seok and then completely lost any value once he came out to the world as the chairman and it became clear that the prosecution would be going after him if anything happened, and not his brother. But time and again, he’s proven he’s all bark and no bite when it comes to Han Seo (killing-wise, specifically). 

The scene where he asks him to beat Vincenzo to death could be interpreted as him wanting to give Vincenzo the “painful death” he would have given him, but honestly, I think he was way past that point. He just wanted him dead in the “You crazy? we have to kill him before he kills us” sense. To that end, killing off a key ally of Vincenzo’s, who betrayed you and almost got you killed a bunch of times, should take priority, but Han Seok’s priority is reclaiming Han Seo by forcing him back onto his side. Now, much like his “love for Cha young”, Han Seok’s keenness on not killing his brother was essential to the writers so that Han Seo can justifiably make it this far and still be useful to Vincenzo (he can’t help if Han Seok completely excludes him from all events, plans and management processes, so Han Seok needs to want to keep him on his side enough not to do that even when it’s more prudent). 

All of this isn’t to say it’s unbelievable that he would kill Han Seo, but it’s DEFINITELY unbelievable that he would stay the same man after killing him. Someone here (I’m sorry, I don’t rememebr who) once said that Han Seo had become, over time, far more of a foil to his brother than Vincenzo was. To me, this means that Post-Han Seo Han Seok would be out of balance (tilted screen), unhinged in a way he never was before. The Han Seok we see shrugs and “oh, well”-s and moves on in a flash, not really any different from the villain he was four minutes and a whole brother earlier. 

This is very consistent with the way the show has been de-humanizing him from the start. I’m not saying this to defend Han Seok in any way, he’s a serial killer, an abuser and a total maniac. But you can be all those things and still a human being. In fact, you can ONLY be those things if you’re a human being. The show used its villain vs villain idea to justify a lot, but in the end, Vincenzo had to be a protagonist. He had to follow up every “I’m a villain” with a contrived “but at least I’m not (insert something worse)”. 

On the level of humans:

1) Vincenzo is supposedly different because he doesn’t hurt children or women (unless the women deserve it, and shooting a parent in front of their kid doesn’t count as hurting.) 

But we never see Han Seok hurting women or children either. In fact, if we proceed with the “chayoung is the myung hee of the good guys” comparison, he hasn’t hurt any women nearly as badly as Vincenzo did. 

2) Babel vs Mafia 

Babel’s corruption is compared a lot to the mafia, with Vincenzo commenting repeatedly that the people are WORSE than the mafia...which is bullshit. Babel is a set of companies that provide goods and services, but use illegal means to maximize their profit, so they hurt/kill people in the process because they want more money and care about money more than ethics. The Mafia is an inherently criminal organization that functions PURELY on the basis of its criminality. Every single dime Vincenzo spends is blood money. None of it is clean. And while we’re on the topic, I find the whole “taking Miri under his wing” thing pretty unreasonable too because he tried to have her killed you guys, I cannot believe we’re just glossing over that. He had everyone who worked on that vault killed, just random fucking construction workers. And he’s not sorry. And the show tells you he shouldn’t be. 

3) Repentance

Han Seok says outright he won’t atone, and while Vincenzo says no such thing out loud he just...doesn’t repent, I guess. He keeps the blood money, he goes back to being a full-time mafia dude doing mafia things. He leaves the same man he arrived. 

So, if on the level of harm inflicted upon humanity, Vincenzo and Han Seok are pretty much equal (and Vincenzo might actually be worse), then why should we root for Vincenzo? 

Well, my friend, that’s where the dehumanization comes in! 

I was initially very excited to see their portrayal of a psychopath because of the very interesting ways in which the informal moral code and official justice system surrounding a psychopath/sociopath/narcissist affect their behavior and their chances of not turning out rotten, and the show looked like it was looking at corruption in general. 

But as the show went on, the villain vs villain thing proved not to be enough, Vincenzo has to be better in some way (or if you’re as obsessed with him as the writers are, then ALL ways), so it became a villain vs monster narrative. Vincenzo isn’t ethical or fair or in any way interested in having a remotely positive impact on society, but at least he’s A HUMAN BEING unlike SOMEBODY. So, the characterization goes to shit, Han Seok becomes a cartoon card-board cut out of a villain and emphasis is put on how pointless his violence is, as opposed to how purposeful Vincenzo’s is. 

This is dangerous on multiple levels (and I promise this is the last point I’m making). 

1) For people in general, dehumanizing abusers/murderers/etc. makes us very liable to forget that you don’t have to be “a monster” to cause harm, and it makes people complacent in their belief that they are “not bad people” since they aren’t total monsters. The Banality of Evil is a thing, and in this series, it goes completely ignored. No one is inherently incapable of good or inherently undeserving of humanity. 

2) For victims of abuse in specific, it’s dangerous to portray abusers (including serial killer and non-serial killer ones) as entirely bad and unlovable, because it poses the dual risk of making victims less likely to acknowledge their abuse if it comes from someone who cares about or loves them on some level because the idea that someone cannot both love and hurt you is so stereotypical. Your abuser can genuinely want you in their lives and need you and, on some level, love you, and IT DOESN’T MATTER if that love doesn’t stop them from hurting you. 

On the other hand, portraying the victims of abuse as capable of flipping an off switch and hating the abuser with no hesitation or second thoughts to the point of unapologetically and cheerfully helping someone kill them and having no mixed feelings about it sends the message that if you CAN’T do that, then are you really abused? Are sure you’re not complicit in your own abuse? Do you even want to get rid of them? 

So this is basically why the way the show ended was so painfully disappointing for me. And the main reason it hit so hard was that it was initially so good and had so much promise. I really expected more.

[dialovers-translations]

DIABOLIK LOVERS Do-S Kyuuketsu VERSUS Ⅲ Vol.5 Shuu VS Yuma [Track 4]

Original title: 過去の確執

Source: Diabolik Lovers VERSUS III Vol. 5 Shuu VS Yuma [CD not owned by me]

Audio: Here

Seiyuu: Toriumi Kousuke & Tatsuhisa Suzuki

Translator’s note: This track hurt. Per usual, Yuma is really out there preaching the good shit. I have said it before and I will say it again, Yuma is honestly the most ‘chill’ character in all of DL. Yes, he can come across as intimidating because of his built, the tone of his voice and his aggressive behavior, but he has a very strong sense of justice and his values and morals are honestly on point most of the time. So let’s all applaud him for telling Shuu to move his lazy ass and BE A MAN already. :p I love Shuu, but he really does have a bad habit of running away from his responsibilities. 

Track 1 ll Track 2 ll Track 3 ll Track 4 ll Track 5 ll Track 6

→  LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

Track 4: Discord of the Past

You trail behind Shuu in the forest.

Shuu: ...Don’t follow me. Just leave me be. Just return to the human world where he is.

You shake your head.

Shuu: ...You really are such a meddlesome woman. Why do you always insist oー ...!?

*Kaw kaw*

*Rustle*

Shuu: ...Get down!!

Shuu tackles you to the ground.

*Thud*

Shuu: Don’t move...You’ll be killed by that eagle.

*Kaw*

Shuu: ...Buzz off!

He launches an attack at the eagle.

*Kaw*

Shuu: Stop flying from one place to another...Get out of my sight!

*WOOSH*

*Kaw*

Shuu: ...He ran, huh?

*Rustle*

Shuu: ...You’re unharmed, right?

You nod.

Shuu: Good. ...Hah. I didn’t think we’d run into one one those guys here. ...The eagle from earlier was part of the Adler Clan. I assume they caught rumor of me struggling to use Father’s powers to their full potential and are using it as an opportunity to strike. Your heart has a strong scent, that’s probably whyーー Ugh...

You grow worried.

Shuu: ...Uu...Stay away!

*Thud*

Shuu: Haah, haah...You should hurry up and...!

You ask Shuu if he is struggling to control the force inside of him.

Shuu: Why are these the times you actually use your brain...? ...I’m having trouble controlling Father’s powers...The moment I pick up the scent of blood...I feel as if I’m about to lose my mind...Ughーー!! Ah...Haah...What is this? ...Fuck! I shouldn’t have returned here...Hah...This thirst...won’t settle down...

Shuu bites you.

*Gulp gulp*

Shuu: Mmh...Nn...Hah...I might end up...killing you...Like this, I’m no different from those other guys...

You give him permission.

Shuu: You foolish woman...Even if you wouldn’t mind that, Iーー ...Fuck! I know this isn’t the time to be overwhelmed by my own urges but...! Hahn...

*Gulp gulp*

Shuu: Mmh...

*Gulp*

Yuma: Oi!? What the fuck ya doin’!? ...Move out of the way!!

Yuma punches Shuu.

*THUD*

Shuu: ...!?

Yuma: ...Oi! ...Che...Didn’t I tell ya to fight back!? 

You apologize.

Yuma: ...Fix up yer clothes. Don’t make me any more upset than I already am. Come on!

*Rustle rustle*

Shuu: Ugh...

Yuma: Heh. I can’t believe ya. Ya were makin’ a big deal ‘bout me takin’ out my anger on her earlier, but you’re no different, are ya? You’re just lettin’ yerself get pushed ‘round by the powers ya inherited from yer Old Man...I’m pretty sure your past self would have never let that happen. 

Shuu: ...

Yuma: Say somethin’...Don’t ya feel any sort of responsiblity now that you’ve inherited his strength!? Stop constantly runnin’ around...Ya need to step up and fulfill yer duty! Why don’t ya understand that’s the perfect way for ya to atone for what ya did to me and my family!?

Shuu: Atonement...? Don’t try and connect two things which are completely unrelated.

Yuma: They are related! ‘Cause you’re the one behind that fire!

Shuu: ...!? That’s...

Yuma: You’re gonna try and tell me ya weren’t the one responsible? Even I know that much. My memories might still be vague, but I’m smart enough to realize that Reiji started the fire ‘cause he was jealous of you. 

Shuu: ...!!

Yuma: However, just ‘cause Reiji is the one who lit the fire, doesn’t mean you take no blame at all. If ya had handled the situation a lil’ better, then maybe he would never thought of doin’ such a thing. Right!? ーー In that case, I wouldn’t have to be turned into a Vampire either. In other words, Shuu...You are the one who started it all.

Shuu: Haah...My responsibility, huh?

Yuma: I honestly don’t hold a grudge against ya or anythin’. It’s not like we can still bring back the lost village. I just want you to get yer shit together and take responsiblity now that you’ve got the power to do so. Don’t ya think it’s ‘bout time ya stop turnin’ a blind eye to everything? ...Don’t ya feel bad for her as well?

Shuu: ...Are you done now?

Yuma: Haah?

Shuu: I didn’t inherit these powers because I wanted them.

Yuma: Hah, I see. ...Ya really are hopeless shitbag, aren’t ya? ...Let’s go.

Yuma starts walking away as you try and convince him to talk to Shuu.

Yuma: Just give up. No matter what we say to him now, he’ll just ignore it. ...Don’t ya dare ever show me that face again.

Shuu: ...

You leave with Yuma.

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

[bronyinabottle]

MY LITTLE PONY: A NEW GENERATION (G5 Movie) THOUGHTS

It’s finally here. The beginning of Generation 5. Though before I get into the movie in some detail I’m going to reiterate one more time what G5 means for my content and a non-spoilery summary of the movie.

Again, I will say that the movie nor will the G5 series coming later have much of an effect at all on any of my blogs. The revelation in Secrets of the Dragon’s Tear that life itself is also magic means that a world that implied to have no magic for years would mean the extinction of all life (Perhaps resulting in the wasteland we saw in the Season 5 finale). There may be something I’ll probably do at some point on a certain different blog. But even then, that may likely be a one-time thing and probably come around the time the series is starting to air.

That said, just because I’m continuing with mainly G4 content doesn’t mean I disapprove of G5. In fact, my non-spoilers thoughts on the movie is I think it is a good start for this new generation. There are questions I have that I’m not sure will be answered (Though many of those questions are the same ones I had in my Trailer/Preliminary thoughts) quickly enough. But the movie is structured well enough, in fact it’s probably a better movie as a whole compared to any of the movies G4 had (The 2017 movie, Rainbow Roadtrip, and all 4 Equestria Girls movies). As the 2017 movie was fun, but it jumped around a lot, sometimes scenes transitioning too fast. And while Rainbow Roadtrip may have been this on purpose, the entirely slice-of-life story taking up a long length… made it something of a less interesting plot to follow. It feels like some of that special could of been cut to at least a two-parter length and keep the same beats they hit. And while i have a soft spot for the 3rd and 4th Equestria Girls movies, I’ll always say a full-length pony adventure feels better suited for what I want to see out of MLP then spin-off movies with high school movie cliches and weird pony/human world shenanigans.

So movie-wise I’m not a G4 purist. It’ll take some time to see how Gen 5 compares to Friendship is Magic when we get to the series. As I feel it’d take a lot for it to surpass G4 in my mind. But I’m going to try to be as fair as possible and judge on it’s own merits. The implied connection to G4 by referring to G4 being ancient Equestria is going to naturally get the staff and hasbro pressured by fans to tell us what happened in-between the generations. Because that’s the trap they put the writers in when they made it so they want to try to say it’s in the same universe. That’s the double-edged sword Hasbro chose to have, trying to appease the G4 fanbase and keep at least some of them around. But at the cost of questions both nitpicky (Such as character design being inconsistent) or actual honest questions that need to be known (Why did magic disappear, and what happened to the Alicorns) for some of us to truly see this as the same Equestria.

After the break, I’ll have more spoilery thoughts

Even for a brief moment, it was nice seeing the Mane 6 and 2D animation. The former because of course those are the ponies many of us that saw all of G4 loved. And the latter, because while the animation wasn’t bad in this movie. I’m one of those who’d prefer to have 2D animation in an animated film. As in most cases aside from Pixar, it’s just a strong preference of mine. If this had the animation of the 2017 MLP movie but otherwise everything else was generally the same here, I feel that would of have been great.

I wish they didn’t have to have Sunny’s dad die off-screen, as he seems like he could of been a compelling character. And not to mention if perhaps he has any connection the “ancient” days in any fashion. But *sigh* I get it, it’s an old trope where part of the character’s offscreen growth is not having their parent(/s) around.

On a side note there’s quite a few times during the beginning of the movie that somewhat foreshadow what happens to Sunny later. 3 times where she had a fake horn and wings on her. Once in the flashback, then 2 separate times when she’s doing her protest where she has her own costumed wings and horn. As well as the helmet and mechanical wings.

Also, there’s no way around it. Some of the discussions this movie are going to get quite political. (Namely one part of Sunny’s song that could be seen as having a double meaning of a jab at Trumpsts regarding “Building your wall”) From the very premise in the early times, we know that the inspiration for the story was last year’s Black Lives Matter protests. Which honestly, I do support the message they’re going for. Having an anti-racism message to tell kids from the very beginning and making a focus on it is important when in G4 it only got briefly touched upon in Bridle Gossip and the Heath’s Warming Eve play. Although it certainly rose up to some form of prominence with Season 8 and onward. Still, while you can argue if G4 executed the anti-racism message well. it does come with something of a problem that the series finale left Equestria in the least divided it’s ever been.

And personally, I feel it’s a terrible interpretation of time to say “Well, it’s a realistic take. Racism has existed for years in our world. Same should go for the ponies” and while yes, racism is still rampant in today’s world. That said, that ignores that if we went from The Last Problem to the start of G5. There’s a huge difference between our world and Equestria. There is no ancient civilization that we look at like “Yeah, those were the golden days of world peace” when normally the “Golden age” was reserved for the high classes of Ancient Greece or Rome. It was most decidedly not perfect, with slavery rampant and wars for the sake of expanding an empire. While if you look at The Last Problem’s Equestria, you not only have peace between the three main types of ponies. But you literally have non-pony citizens in Equestria. You can see a dragon handing off a flower to a pony which can imply cross-species romantic relations. With the Friendship school still going strong, and was the reason that the world was saved in The Ending of the End. While perhaps it may be too glowing to say that future is perfect for everyone even in-universe. It’s certainly a hell of a lot better outlook then comparing to how we view even the so called Golden age of ancient civilizations. The Last Problem’s Equestria implies it looks to ally with every country outside of Equestria, not conquer them.

So it should still be a valid question on just how this world collapses to the point it gets to where G5 is at the start. I at least assume that it’s not the fault at all of any of the Mane 6 nor Twilight. Or at least I hope it isn’t, as I’d rather the MLP fanbase not have to deal with a The Last Jedi Luke Skywalker situation. (Where after the joyful end of the original trilogy, things go wrong as Luke almost murders the son of one of his best friends and his sister despite trying to hard and succeeding at redeeming his father who at that point in the canon was a galaxy-wide known ruthless mass-murderer.) I assume we’re at a point where everyone of the Mane 6 sans maybe Twilight are presumed dead. And even in Twilight’s case, there’s a chance that G5 decides to say that G4 overestimated the whole Alicorn immortality thing. Though I wouldn’t put it past Hasbro to have some event where the Mane 5 of G5 meet the Mane 6 in some special event whether that’s a a Season finale or a sequel movie/special. Where either the Mane 6 return in a limbo situation similar to the Pillars at the end of Season 7 or Time travel gets involved. They may even string us along on answering just what in the heck happened until they involve a meet-up with the Mane 6 in that way. Though I hope they don’t, I’d really like the beginning of the series (Or I guess this supposed special coming up in Spring supposedly?) starts to answer some questions. G5 should get a chance to stand on it’s own, but I hope the writers are actually well aware there will be so many questions people have and address them in the show. A cynical part of me feels like they’re likely to string us along until at least the Season 1 finale.

Onto the characters for a bit. I think Izzy Moonbow was absolutely the most stand-out character in the whole movie. She was energetic, funny, and aside from “The pegasi are bad news” she along with Zipp and Sunny were the most averse to the way the world was. She was already the most popular due to the tennis ball memes. But now it feels like she legit stands on her own and most certainly deserves to be the most popular character of G5 thus far. Behind her in a bit of a surprise to me was Zipp, who I thought would be mainly a Rainbow Dash-expy. Though she really helps out Izzy and Sunny in Zephyr Heights. Despite having Twilight be my favorite pony from the very beginning of G4 all the way to the end, I didn’t feel as strongly about Sunny for some reason. So she’s in the middle of the pack, she could grow on me later. I just don’t know if I click with her as much as I did with Twilight. As for the last two, while I don’t hate either of them. Either one could be the lowest of the 5 for one reason or another. Pipp (Although I will say she's probably my favorite character design out of the 5) feels like she doesn’t do a whole lot in the movie and it takes until she’s forced to be an outlaw because the other choice was to get imprisoned like her mother was. So she may come off as quite pretentious, though it’s arguable Rarity was the same way early in G4. But she definitely grew later. Could be the same case for Pipp. And as for Hitch, he has shining moments in the film. But what might hurt him is the fact he was such a bad friend to Sunny up until the campfire scene. “I’m the last real friend you have. You really want to lose me too?” is not a healthy friendship. Hitch may have been Sunny’s friend the longest, but it definitely feels like Izzy connected immediately. I don’t know if this show will get into shipping any of the main characters between each other mid-show, but if they do. I hope it’s between Izzy and Sunny currently, cause Hitch and Sunny just gives bad vibes even with Hitch getting better later.

None of the songs I felt were particularly too special. Though I think the closest was Sprout’s “Danger, Danger” song that has similarities to Smells Like Teen Spirit in some parts of the song since I tend towards more rock/metal-esque music.

I touched upon it earlier, but there’s perhaps a stand-out reason for why the G5 movie outdid the 2017 MLP Movie. They have the typical “Our heroic group splits after a sad moment before coming together again for the climatic good end” in Sunny seeing that that the two crystals don’t instantly bring magic back, and when Twilight left the group after an argument that happened with Twilight trying to take a pearl. They perform the same purpose in the movie. But the crystals not working, crushing Sunny’s hope for a little while works better into the story. Where as Twilight’s part frustratingly brought the sea pony scene to an end too quickly and/or doesn’t feel right of Twilight to have done that. It felt forced in the 2017 movie, but works out in the G5 movie. Especially since a part of it is that it’s not the crystals themselves capable of bringing magic back. But it’s the journey going after the crystals that brings the ponies themselves their magic back.

Just a small note on dictator Sprout, he tries to cause a war. Though admittedly the film seems to treat him as a joke the entire time despite his seriously evil ambitions. With the only repercussions is he gets a wishy-washy answer on if he was a good sheriff from his mom. I don’t quite know how I feel about that yet, but I wonder what they’ll have in mind for Sprout given his actions. He and his mom are the only ones that feel like a true antagonist. Though they seem to be ok with things fast when the magic comes back.

But anyway on to the ending, we see that Sunny becomes an Alicorn. Which I guess with no other real Alicorns around, I guess it makes sense to alicornify her since she’s the real leader behind what united the leaders of each type of pony again. Though there is of course this weird thing where her horn and wings don’t seem like as much a part of her body compared to very obvious connected wings on Twilight when she got hers. Sunny keeps her horn and wings to the end of the movie, and has colored streaks in her hair. Though I do wonder if that;s truly permanent. If it is permanent, I suppose at least they got to have a headstart and have it established at the end of the introductory movie rather then have it shock people at the end of a shortened 3rd season. I still feel like Twilight had well earned her alicornhood considering that besides what she did in the series. She has a whole childhood and time as a teenager learning under Celestia. Which had to mean something, and I’m not sure Celestia just leaving her to live the rest of her days with her friends in ponyville was that. Sunny has no doubt been trying countless time to try to spread friendship throughout her life even after the tragedy of her father’s passing. So there’s no doubt she’s been through a lot, and may indeed be worthy of being an Alicorn at this point. Though in terms of screentime before Alicornhood it's definitely a lot less then Twilight had. And it is at least nice to see that it is possible for non-unicorns to become one. (The only case of that we sort of got was a children's book that may or may not be canon that implied Cadence was a pegasus before she ascended)

Though you have to wonder if the visual differences such as Sunny’s alicorn horn and wings, the cutie mark only on one side (Yes I know that’s how it was normally in the MLP generations before G4. But a distinct visual difference between shows is still noticeable even if the context of G4’s cutie marks on both sides of the flank was about it being easier on the puppets for Flash), and how animals can have wings or weird round shapes such as those bunnies when G4 has normal looking animals. There’s enough striking visual differences for any nitpicky G4 to say “This isn’t the same Equestria”. And if someone tries to say maybe some sort of evolution happened. That’s still trying to put a little too much real world logic on this fantasy world. And evolution tends to take millions of years to have such dramatic changes. Not 1000 years or so, there should still be normal looking animals at this point and time. And these small details are probably going to be the things most ignored but nonetheless can build a case that this isn’t the same Equestria. Even if they touch on the important questions like how magic disappeared and what happened to the Mane 6, there will be details they make different that will add to the case that this is it’s own universe if it doesn’t quite matchup with what was remembered about G4. There will be fans who will be that nitpicky to call G5 out of continuity for small details like that. That is again the trap they put themselves in when they decided to try to say it’s the same Equestria.

All-in-all though, I think that’s at least a good enough chunk about my thoughts on the movie to end off here. If there’s something I missed or something from the movie you’d like me to give a particular opinion about or elaborate on something feel free to ask me here. G5 is indeed off to a good start, just I will be along the many hoping some questions get answered sooner then later. And I’m not sure I’m confident in getting anywhere until a Season finale or a 2nd movie. And it’ll be a year before the series starts proper (Though again I guess there’s a 44 minute special coming in Spring to try to hold us over). But I could definitely see G5 finding it's own following, now there's just the inevitable clashes between some of the more vocal fans of each generation bickering at eachother. But hoping there will be enough that take the movie's lessons on divisiveness to heart and be able to enjoy both even if there may be preferences.

[cinnaminsvga]

autumn leaves | l.i.b. finale

→ summary: and in the end, we fall because we have no other choice. some get up easier than others, and we bury the ones who never do. 

→ pairing: ??? x reader → genre: angst, humor, fluff, lib!au → warnings: tae gets hurt a little but its an accident (he’s fine dw), small blood mention (from aforementioned accident), rage moments (rip lol), heartbreak (yum!), a happy ending (?) → words: 7.7K → a/n: oh my god we’re at the end?? after two months of SUFFERING?? how can this be happening?? lol but seriously thank you to everyone for going on this journey with me. writing lib was honestly so much fun, and it’s been a while since i’ve been able to kinda go “all-out” or whatever. i’m kind of nervous with this ending, but hopefully it’s something everyone will be able to enjoy. peace!!

prev // part 38 of 38 masterlist here. [series completed]

October 1, 2020 — 6:18 PM

Min Yoongi’s phone feels like it's burning a hole into his back pocket. It’s a heavy presence, weighing like concrete enough to bend his spine. His hands itch to reach for it, to check for messages he knows he won’t receive. But in the back of his mind, he thinks—desperately and senselessly, that if he wishes hard enough, then maybe it’ll come true.

I should be glad that she isn’t calling me, he tries to convince himself. The itch continues to grow, licking at the back of his mind like a fire begging to be extinguished. I should trust her decision. I should be proud of her. But there’s always been a difference, after all, to what Yoongi should do and what he wants. It’s a difference that he has fought to ignore for years now.

“Hyung,” a soft voice calls out to him, a hand placed gently on his shoulder. Yoongi blinks slowly out of his trance, his eyes dry from staring out his car window for too long. He doesn’t turn in his seat, refusing to face his companion in the backseat. “Hyung,” the voice calls out again, this time shaking him vigorously enough that Yoongi has no other choice but to turn lest his shoulders get dislocated.

“What do you want, Jimin?” Yoongi growls, sneering at the boy. Jimin smiles sheepishly, but he doesn’t back down under his glare.

“Sorry. You were gripping the wheel so tightly that I was scared you were going to break it.” Jimin shrugs nonchalantly, but there’s an edge to his tone, betraying his worry. Yoongi releases the wheel at once, switching to picking at the rips in his jeans instead.

“Didn’t notice. Sorry for snapping at you, I was just…” Yoongi trails off, expression glazing over once more. What was he trying? What was he doing here?

Jimin’s pupils flit all over Yoongi’s face, searching for something. “We’re not going to bring her home anymore?” he asks, but there’s a note of finality there. He knows that they aren’t going home with them tonight, at least not right now. They’ve been parked a block away from Namjoon’s childhood home for a few hours now, sitting in Yoongi’s car and waiting to see if you needed them to help you escape. Jimin has been watching Yoongi all the while, keeping track of the small changes in his friend’s expression.

They are hard to pinpoint sometimes, but Jimin sees them all. He sees the way Yoongi’s brow furrows slightly, sees the way his teeth nibble on his lips in worry, sees the way his head jerks every time he hears a sound, thinking that it might be his phone about to ring. Yoongi is like a pot about to boil over, hardly keeping everything together.

To many people, Yoongi often appears to be as unmoving as a rock. He hardly allows his emotions to control him, and he has always been proud to call himself a level-headed person. And for the most part, Jimin agrees with that. Yoongi is and always will be someone who thrives in times of turmoil, someone who relies on his wit to get him through adversity. He seldom gets angry, rarely raises his voice, never acts cruelly. He’s the person that everyone in their friend group often comes to for advice and support, as he’s always the one who seems to have the right thing to say.

But all those things begin to crumble, however, when it comes to you.

Yoongi is still human, too. He bends, he breaks, he yields—and he does so, especially for you.

“No, we’re not bringing her home,” Yoongi replies. The admission is there, hidden in plain sight. His words are laced with defeat, but it is a defeat that has been accepted long ago. Long before his text conversation with you.

“Then what are we waiting for?” Jimin asks, not unkindly. Even still, Yoongi winces. Jimin’s real question is there, hidden in plain sight as well. What are you waiting for?

Yoongi sighs, resting his forehead against the wheel. He hears Jimin shift in his seat, feels his presence get closer as he leans forward to place a comforting hand on his back. “Nothing,” he says. He breathes deeply through his nose and counts to three. Releases it. “We are waiting for nothing.”

Jimin hums and says nothing more. They sit there in silence for a bit longer, watching the sun’s final moments in the sky before the moon takes its place. The street lamps turn on, bathing the streets in its dusty yellow luminescence. Under the lights, Yoongi’s skin looks tired and worn, like a paper that has been crumpled and smoothed over multiple times.

“I wonder if they’ve finished speaking by now,” Yoongi says suddenly. He still hasn’t moved from his position, his face hidden from view. It almost looks like he hadn’t spoken at all, but Jimin had heard him. He looks at Yoongi in surprise but keeps his silence. Jimin can feel the beginnings of something about to break, and he is afraid that if he makes a sound, it might stop. Even stones break in the end.

“I doubt it. They have a lot of shit to talk about. Too much, in fact.” Yoongi sounds exhausted, his words slurring together like he’s falling asleep. But he’s never been more wide awake. “I’d have a lot to say if I were them. But I’m not them, nor will I ever be.”

Yoongi tilts his head high enough that he can rest his chin on the wheel instead. He stares blankly at the quiet street, listens intently to the sound of the wind beating gently against his car. Parked out there, in the middle of a small neighborhood in Ilsan, far away from the bustling streets of the city, he can almost trick himself into thinking that he’s the only person in the world—

“You love her.”

—but he isn’t alone.

Jimin says it without a shade of doubt. He says it like it's a simple truth of life, like there is no other possible way Yoongi could feel otherwise. The sky is blue. The earth is round. Min Yoongi is in love with you.

“Yes,” Yoongi breathes it out, the confession tumbling through his lips with quiet ease. It does not struggle; it does not resist. It just is. “I’ve loved her before I even knew it myself, I think.”

“I never thought you’d be the type to fall in love at first sight,” Jimin says it lightly, teasingly. There’s a shrivel of truth to it though, but Yoongi will deny it to his dying day; it’ll hurt less if he does.

“I think it started a year ago. When I was preparing for my junior year exhibition.” Yoongi remembers the long nights working until his hands bled, the recurring nightmares eating at his mind, the fear climbing his spine like a tightrope pulled taut. It’s one of the only times when he had bitten more than he could chew, piling impossible expectations onto himself. In those long three weeks of constant anxiety nipping at his heels, he had almost forgotten what it was like to be human. That is, until…

“She saved me. She taught me to slow down, to be compassionate to myself. She didn’t judge me or scold me or hurt me. She just… cared.” Yoongi exhales, clenching his eyes shut. He can see it in his head: your soft hands carding through his hair, whispering assurances and praise into his ears, guiding him to his bed and staying with him until he’d fallen asleep soundly for the first time in days. “Slowly but surely, I started to fall for her. There was just no other way. My heart refused to have it any other way,” he says.

Jimin hums. “I’d always guessed, but I never thought it was that early. You do have an awful habit of staring, hyung. Sometimes I feel like you have to remind yourself to blink.”

Yoongi laughs, hollow sounding. “I suppose I do.”

“Then why didn’t you do anything about it then?”

Jimin’s question is expected. It should be an easy one to answer, but Yoongi doesn’t quite know what to say. It’s easy to say that he knew Jungkook and you already loved each other long before he realized his feelings, and Yoongi was the last person on earth who would do anything to hurt either of you to fulfill his desires. It’s true, but it’s not the whole truth.

So instead, Yoongi responds, “It’s because I’m a hypocrite.” When he doesn’t elaborate, he sees Jimin give him a confused look from the rearview mirror.

Yoongi chuckles sardonically, shaking his head. His mouth feels like acid, as if bile had risen up his throat. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, but it would hurt more later if he didn’t suck the poison out right here and now. “Nevermind about that. The point is, I lost my chance and I don’t regret it. Yeah, it fucking hurts like a bitch, but what am I going to do? Cry about it? We’ve all known since the beginning that if anyone is going to get a happy ending, it’s certainly not going to be me.”

“Don’t say that,” Jimin says, frowning slightly. He had spoken so sternly that it impelled Yoongi to straighten up in his seat and turn to stare at him. It’s quite unlike Jimin to be anything but friendly and kind, so seeing him so severe is disconcerting. Though, it did manage to shut Yoongi up immediately.

“This is not the end of the world. You are not going to end up unloved or forgotten. There are people who love you, people who will love you. Don’t you remember? Those were the same words you told me when I got my heart broken the first time,” Jimin says, his voice trembling ever so slightly. Yoongi’s gaze flies to Jimin’s fists, clenched tightly by his sides.

Of course, Yoongi remembers. It’s hard to forget the sight of Park Jimin sobbing relentlessly into his shoulder, fat tears falling like raindrops and down his flushed cheeks. He remembers saying the same words to you, too. He wonders, not for the first time, if his words are as ineffective to you as they are to him right now.

“I know,” Yoongi says. He switches the engine on and watches his dashboard light up. The radio turns on, the last notes of a ballad playing through the speakers. Yoongi puts his hand on the wheel, carefully not to grip too tightly this time. It’s a start, he thinks.

They go home, leaving without looking back.

x x x x x

October 1, 2020 — 9:20 PM

Kim Taehyung locks his bedroom door the moment he gets home, after casting a furtive glance at the closed door across from his. He does not know what he expects; the door across from him has been closed for almost a week now. The entire apartment is still, but he is not alone. The ghost who lives in the other bedroom still haunts him, in more ways than one.

He drops his bag to the floor, still cradling a small bouquet of camellias that was slightly crushed when he had bumped into someone in the elevator. He unpeels the plastic wrapping, gently placing them into the vase near his windowsill. He fingers the vibrant pink petals, but they don’t brighten his room the way they once did. It still feels dark, but he has a sinking suspicion that he had nothing to do with his lights.

It’s me. I’ve changed.

He shakes his head, banishing the thought. No, it’s okay. Everything is fine. You’ve done nothing wrong. And yet, the door across the hall begs to differ.

Typically, this shouldn’t be a problem for him. When everything is said and done, Taehyung is used to this happening. The closed doors, the unopened texts, the cold shoulders. It’s all a process that Taehyung has lived through for years.

Guilt: an emotion that Taehyung has become accustomed to. Abandonment: an action that Taehyung has learned to anticipate. Isolation: a lifestyle that Taehyung has mastered. Every relationship with Kim Taehyung will always lead to these three things, so it shouldn’t be affecting him the way that it is.

But over the last three years, he’d grown comfortable. The people around him had convinced him unknowingly, planting seeds of hope and optimism in a garden he had thought to be infertile. For once in his life, Taehyung had found a home in these people, and he’d do anything in his power to keep it safe.

Or at least, he thought he did.

His original intentions had been guileless; he wanted to help Jungkook because he was his friend. Jungkook had been his first friend in university—if he wanted to be honest, then Taehyung would even say that Jungkook was his first friend in his entire life. The boy was kind-hearted and supportive, wrapped perfectly with a goofy personality. Of course, Taehyung wasn’t blind to Jungkook’s faults, but he was sure that Jungkook didn’t have a mean bone in his body. He had decided back then that he could trust this one, and once he had allowed Jungkook into his life, the rest followed suit.

It was easy to empathize with Jungkook because he was just so… awkward. It was like watching a newborn fawn learning to walk for the first time, except Jungkook had long since outgrown his baby status and should have been independent long ago. Taehyung and everyone knew this about him, but they still gave him the benefit of the doubt. They mentored him, guided him, manipulated him in the wrong ways in hopes of hastening him to change. That was until…

Everything fell apart. Taehyung understood long before the fall that he had played a considerable part in Jungkook’s ruin. His negligence, his willful involvement in worsening the situation had exacerbated everything. He had ignored the signs, had barrelled through with his plans without another thought, all because he allowed himself to be blind to what he truly wanted out of this mess.

If he genuinely wanted to be a friend to Jungkook, he would’ve stopped interfering way before you had gone to Ilsan that one fateful weekend in August. He’d been aware he was doing more harm than good to everyone around him, including himself.

No, he stopped wanting to help Jungkook a long time ago. It had turned into his own personal agenda.

“Fuck!” Taehyung screams into the night sky, slamming his hands against the wall. He grabs the nearby vase, smashing it against the floor and scattering water, petals, and glass across the floor. The impact causes a few shards to imbed themselves into his shin, but he does not mind them, for he does not feel them.

He breathes heavily, gritting his teeth in unspeakable rage. He’s angry, so furious. This red hot searing rage builds up in his body until he starts to feel dizzy, his vision blurred with tinges of black. Why is he mad? Who is he mad at?

Is he mad at Jungkook? Yes, but that isn’t new. He’s been angry at Jungkook for a while now. It frustrates him to no end how lucky Jungkook is without even knowing. How easily love comes to him, how pain and misfortune had never been in his vocabulary until just recently. Jungkook had you, Yoongi, and Jimin for longer than he has. Jungkook has been swaddled in affection since the start but has always been too stupid to see. If he had just stopped being so cowardly, he could have easily gotten the person he loves without anyone’s help.

If he just learned to ask, if he just learned to stop fucking locking his goddamn door—

Just like Taehyung.

They are two sides of the same coin, and it scares him.

This raw, unadulterated rage is not about Jungkook, but himself. It was always about him.

He lets out one last defiant shout at the frigid sky before dropping to his bed in defeat. The fury subsides as quickly as it comes, but it only leaves a desolate landscape inside of him.

He does not know for how long he lies there. When he stands, he leaves bloody footprints in his wake. “Appropriate,” he mutters to himself. He limps over to his door, hobbling to the adjacent bathroom to retrieve a first-aid kit. When he opens the door, Taehyung does not notice the small white box placed in front of his doorway. He nearly trips over it, saving himself by latching onto the wooden frame. He glances down, picking up the box gingerly when he sees a small sticky note tacked on top of it.

If you need help, just knock.

Taehyung looks across the hall. The door is still closed, but the person behind it is not.

His grip on the first-aid kit tightens. The first step is always the hardest.

x x x x x

October 1, 2020 — 1:03 PM

When you had run the moment you spotted Jungkook, Jung Hoseok had chosen to stay behind. He had pushed Jungkook to go after you, had yelled at him when Jungkook had hesitated for that one split second.

“Go!” he shouted, jolting Jungkook to his senses. He sprinted off, but not before giving Hoseok one last look back. Hoseok put on his bravest smile at him, throwing a thumbs up. “Don’t give up yet!”

Even now, ten minutes later, his throat still feels scratchy from how loud he had been.

He sits by the curb where he had parked his parents’ car. Namjoon sits beside him, a few inches apart. The autumn wind sends chills down his back, the afternoon sun doing its best to keep him warm. Though, he reckons that half the cold is because of the weather.

Hoseok clears his throat at the same moment Namjoon does. They share a glance, the beginnings of a smile playing on their lips. They look back to the ground, avoiding each other once more. Hoseok taps indiscernible beats with his feet while Namjoon draws shapes in the air with his fingers.

Hoseok tries again. “Umm. Namjoon,” he mumbles tentatively. He doesn’t know where to start.

“You don’t have to explain yourself, you know. I’ve known you since before you even learned how to walk.” Namjoon beats him to it, like always. “I can guess what you want to say.”

Hoseok hazards a glance at him. His friend is tanner than he remembers, the summer months having done well on his skin. He almost giggles when he notices the line where the edge of his shirt sleeve meets his bicep, the stark contrast of color evident whenever Namjoon moves his arm. It has been a while since he has seen Namjoon with a tan line, as Hoseok was usually there to remind him to put sunscreen on before leaving the house.

Usually.

Hoseok sobers up, the momentary amusement evaporating just like that. How is it that in only one month, so many things have changed between them?

“What do you think I want to say?” Hoseok responds. He tries to keep his voice level and cool, but he knows that Namjoon notices the small ways in which he falters. Namjoon knows how he rubs his neck when he’s nervous, how his ears get red when he’s embarrassed. He memorizes the exact time it takes for Hoseok’s mouth to downturn, forming into his signature pout.

He knows all these things and more. And yet, how could Namjoon possibly know the traitorous things that he has done?

“I think… you got sidetracked,” Namjoon says slowly, carefully. When Hoseok glances at him again, he finds that Namjoon is looking back. He has a contemplative expression on his face, his jaw clenched in the same way that it does when he’s solving a tough problem. “I think you wanted to help me get together with her, didn’t you? At least, in the beginning.”

“I still do,” Hoseok admits, breaking his gaze once more. He stares up ahead, where the park is bustling with children and their families. He watches a small boy swinging on a swing set, while another boy pushes him higher and higher. “Do you remember?”

“Remember what?”

“When you texted me while you were freaking out over how you were falling in love with her?”

Namjoon huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah. Of course. How could I forget? I’m still freaking out about it now.”

“I was just… worried about you, you know? I’m always worried about you,” Hoseok says. The boy on the swing set is still going, but one extra strong push from his friend causes him to tumble, landing face-first into the ground. The nearby adults begin to panic, but the boy rises unsteadily, dirt caked onto his scratched up face. But when he faces his friend, he’s smiling and laughing like he has just won the lottery.

“Not an unfounded concern,” Namjoon chuckles, causing Hoseok to put on a small smile. His laughter dies as quickly as it comes. “Was that the time you decided to help me?”

“I’ve wanted to help you since the beginning, but that was the first time I actually did something about it.” Hoseok’s heart is beating a mile a minute, his palms sweaty despite the chilly weather. “I only wanted to find out if Jungkook really liked her or not. I wanted to know if you had a chance before you fell any deeper because I didn't want you to get hurt.”

When Namjoon doesn’t say anything, Hoseok continues. “Even when he admitted that he did love her, I could sense that there was a huge chance things weren’t going to work between them as long as if some things were just… pushed in the right direction.” His voice grows smaller the more and more he speaks, the guilt feeling heavy against his windpipe. But Hoseok is determined to tell him, no matter what happens. It’s the least that Namjoon deserves.

“I suppose, in this case, it would be the wrong direction,” Namjoon hums, but he doesn’t appear angry or upset. Not yet, at least. From the corner of Hoseok’s eye, he sees him nod for him to go on.

“Yeah. I could tell he was insecure, and that insecurity was prone to growing into jealousy,” Hoseok runs a hand through his hair, tugging at the roots just to give his hands something to do other than to quiver. “I noticed that he shuts down whenever he’s cornered, so that’s what I did. I kept pushing him, forcing him to admit his wrongdoings but never berating him for them. So, in turn, he began relying on me for comfort instead of his friends.”

He keeps going, “I didn’t feel bad for it at first. I kept telling myself, ‘It’s all for Namjoon in the long run.’ But it didn’t take long for me to realize that I couldn’t keep helping you without hurting Jungkook in the process. I was manipulating this poor boy, and I didn’t even know it until it was too late.”

Hoseok waits for Namjoon to react. He can’t bear to look at him, far too ashamed even to consider turning. He’s sure he’ll find disgust in his kind friend’s eyes, and he isn’t sure if he’d be able to stop himself from running if he saw it. But Namjoon refuses to speak, probably not until Hoseok finishes his piece.

“Jungkook didn’t deserve what I did to him. All the things he did is nothing in comparison to the punishment I inflicted on him, especially when it was never my place to do so. I fed the monster inside of him when he was nothing but a boy who was just scared. Then, just when he still had a shot at redemption, when she was still willing to listen to him, it was also me who ruined everything. I told her about all the bad things he had done. I told her about—”

“The thing about Jungkook paying to spread that rumor,” Namjoon speaks so suddenly that Hoseok nearly chokes in surprise. He had been so quiet that he scarcely even seemed to breathe. “You told her about it, didn’t you?”

“I… Yes, I did. She told you about it?”

“Yeah. She never informed me who told her, but I suppose it makes sense. But there was something else you said, wasn’t there? Something even she wouldn’t tell me.”

Hoseok nods his head sadly. “Yes. I think she was probably more hurt to find out that Jungkook had been ignoring her in favor of hanging out with me. Indirectly, I fed into her jealousy, but instead of comforting her, I intensified her guilt.”

Beside him, Namjoon releases a shaky breath. “You brought me up.”

“Yes.” There’s no use denying it; after all, Hoseok has always been a terrible liar.

“Did you tell her..?” The question hangs heavily in the air, but Namjoon doesn’t have to finish it for Hoseok to understand.

“No, I didn’t tell her you love her. I just mentioned how she was hurting you by loving Jungkook. That’s all. I don’t think she even had the chance to understand what I meant.”

There’s a moment of silence. The two boys sit side by side, looking to all the world like friends just enjoying an autumn afternoon together. The sounds of children singing, of parents chatting, of lovers laughing try their best to fill the space, but the gap is already too big to mend. At least, not immediately.

“Okay.”

Hoseok startles once more, this time managing to gather enough courage to take a peek at Namjoon. He keeps his eyes low, staring at the mole on his chin. “Okay?” he repeats.

Namjoon shrugs half-heartedly. “It’s done. All we can do now is wait, I guess.”

“But… you’re not..?”

“Mad at you? No, I’m not. Am I hurt? Incredibly so.” Namjoon swallows thickly, his chin wobbling as he finds the strength to keep his tears at bay. “But I can tell you found your way back to the light, and I’m more relieved that you realized your mistake more than anything. I forgive you, but just know that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget.”

“That’s already more than I deserve, Joon,” he says shakily. He feels a hand snake around his own, and he looks down to find their fingers laced together. On Namjoon’s wrist, the bracelet he had made for him in the 7th grade is frayed and mangled, but still ever-present. “But… what now? If they truly end up fixing everything, will you be okay with it? If Jungkook is still fighting for her… why aren’t you?”

“Same goes for you, I suppose,” Namjoon says simply. He doesn’t explain what he means by that, but Hoseok is honestly too afraid to ask. He’s always felt like Namjoon knew a little bit too much about things that he shouldn’t. He smiles, but there is a tinge of melancholy there. 

Just out of reach, the way Namjoon has always seemed to be.

x x x x x

October 1, 2020 — 5:12 PM

At first, Jeon Jungkook is surprised to find the park more empty than when he was here a few hours ago. He supposes it is only to be expected, as dinner time is fast approaching and all the families have returned to their homes, preparing for the festivities. In another life, he might have been one of those families, sitting around a table with his brother and parents and eating to his heart’s content. Perhaps he might’ve asked you to join him, just like you had in the past.

He finds you seated on one of the benches near the entrance, kicking away fallen leaves absentmindedly. He takes this moment to observe you from afar, his breath getting caught in his throat when he realizes how long it has been since he last saw you.

His heart aches, the constant heaviness that has made a home in his chest growing tenfold. There are no words to explain the plethora of emotions flying through his head, but all he knows is that at the root of it all, he simply just misses you.

You hear him approach him before you see him. When he looks at you, Jungkook doesn’t know how you’re feeling. He used to be so good at anticipating your mood, always the first one to sense when you were upset or annoyed. Now, you just looked… blank, and for some reason, that hurts to see more than if you had been angry.

Jungkook stops right in front of you, his black boots crunching on dead leaves. You motion for him to take a seat beside you, patting the bench lightly.

“Hi. It’s been a while,” you say softly. You aren’t looking at him, and your hair obstructs him from viewing your face.

“Hello,” he replies, feeling dumb. He can’t think of anything better to say, all the things he had prepared in his mind suddenly blown away with the wind. The sight of you alone makes his mouth go dry, his hands to grow cold and clammy. He realizes, not for the first time, how terribly out of his depth he is.

“This has certainly been a long time coming, hasn’t it?”

“It has been,” he agrees. “It’s almost laughable how long it’s taken us to get to this moment.”

You bark out a laugh, the hoarse sound ringing in the air. “Laughable is certainly one way to put it, I guess.”

“Then why did you ignore me for so long? Why did you suddenly shut me out when you told me you wanted to talk? What happened?” He speaks without meaning to, the words flying out of his mouth before he can think of stopping. If his sudden inquiry startles you, you don’t show it.

“I could ask you the same thing.” You shrug, pushing back some of your hair behind your ear. He can see the slope of your nose, the outline of your lips, the shape of your eyes. He memorizes all these things about you, sees you in his dreams and nightmares, but nothing can ever beat real life.

“I’m sorry.” It’s a start: two words heavy with meaning. What does he apologize for first? The rumors? The jealousy? The betrayal? It wouldn’t matter which one he chooses to tackle first because he already knows sorry isn’t going to cut it, but he has to try at least. This isn’t really about him anymore or about asking for forgiveness. You deserve to know everything he’s done—if you wanted to know, that is.

You blink rapidly, but your eyes are dry. “I know.”

“You don’t have to forgive me.”

“I know.”

“You don’t have to trust me.”

“I don’t,” you say, and it hurts the both of you when you do. Jungkook feels his insides clench, feels his heart collapse in his chest. “I don’t trust you, Jungkook,” you repeat.

“I…” Jungkook has to take a few shuddering breaths, his vision going blurry as he tries to keep it together. He waits for the pain to ebb, but it flows like a river down his veins. “I hurt you a lot. It’s only right that you don’t trust me.”

“I have a lot of regrets,” you say, sniffling. You still aren’t crying, but your nose is red from the cold. He wonders how long you had sat here waiting for him to arrive. How long have you been waiting for him in general?

“I have a lot of those, too,” he says. “I regret being unfair to you. For keeping people away from getting close to you, like a property meant to be hidden away. I tried to steal you for myself, but that’s not a very good thought, is it? I shouldn’t have thought that you were a thing to be kept. You should have been someone I treasured.”

“Then why didn’t you treasure me?” The question echoes loudly in Jungkook’s ears, as it’s the very same question that has weighed in his mind the moment he started to wonder where he’d gone wrong. Why hadn’t he loved you the way that he should have?

“Because I abused your love for me, even when I wasn’t aware of it,” he says plainly. He has known the answer for a while now but refused to accept it until this moment. It feels like a cork inside of him has burst, releasing all the foul, wretched things inside of him and out into the open. And once they start tumbling out, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to stop.

“I think we both knew we loved each other for as long as we can remember. We skirted around each other because we were scared of change, of losing the friendship we had built over the years. We purposefully ignored each other’s feelings and brushed off our friends’ attempts to help us realize something we already knew.”

“We did,” you say. “That was both our faults.”

“But I was never good at bottling up my feelings. It was only a matter of time before the love I had for you began to grow claws and fangs, and somehow along the way,” he pauses, a breath of sorrowful laughter escaping him, “I had gotten lost.”

Your expression morphs then, shifting from pain, to grief, to acceptance. You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. Your eyes look glazed over, like your mind is somewhere else. When you come back down, you already have another question for him. “Why didn’t you ever ask me out?”

He should just say something else, but he can’t help but wonder—”Why didn’t you?”

“I tried—a couple of times. You never noticed they were dates,” you shrug. A leaf from one of the nearby trees gets caught in your hair, and Jungkook reflexively plucks it out. You both freeze when his fingers graze your nape, gazes locking with one another. He jerks his hand back, but doesn’t look away—doesn’t dare to.

(It might be his last chance.)

“I’m sorry for being dense. For resorting to buying rumors so that I could pretend to date you when I could have asked for the real thing. I’m sorry for setting you up with… Namjoon,” he hesitates on his name, and you notice. “It must have confused you greatly, only worsening the doubt you must’ve had for me.”

“It did.” The corners of your eyes look wetter than before, tears dangerously close to the surface. “When I asked you if I should go to Ilsan the first time... You told me to go, even though everyone told me you were jealous of Namjoon. I was starting to believe them, hoping that maybe it was a sign that everything before then had just been a misunderstanding. But that was all you, wasn’t it? Why didn’t you tell me to stay?”

“It was a mistake,” he mutters. He shakes his head at the memory: a frequent recurring nightmare of his as he is forced to remember the moment everything had started to go downhill. “I had realized I was being a jealous asshole far too late, and I was trying to clear my own conscience. I thought that… if I let you go, then you’d think better of me. That I might be absolved of my sins if I took your trip as my penance. I didn’t think you were trying to see if I would stop you,” he explains, but it sounds like an excuse even to his ears.

You sit together, watching the sun begin to set, bathing the world in its orange hues. Jungkook feels empty, wrung out like a towel left to dry. The wounds inside him ache and throb, but he knows they won’t last. As surely as the sun will rise, he will also relearn to feel whole again—even if it means you won’t be there to see it.

“I waited for so long, Koo.” You shake your head, allowing a few traitorous tears to fall. You let out a watery laugh. “ I waited for this moment for so long, but I never imagined it would be like this.”

Jungkook studies his hands. He desperately wants to hold you one more time, but the ship has already sailed. “We’ve already sailed past each other a long time ago.”

You nod your head sadly. “We have.”

“Is it bad that I wish that we hadn’t?” he whispers, but he doesn’t really expect a response from you. He rubs his face, covertly trying to wipe his tears away. “I guess there’s a reason why you called me number two, huh?”

You can’t even force out a laugh. You sob unabashedly, cupping your face in your hands. This is the end.

This is the end of a great long adventure between you and him—the time for your roads to diverge closes in, like a shadow looming over their heads.

Jungkook wraps you in an embrace for the last time. You shake like a leaf in his arms, clutching at his chest like you don’t want to let go. He drinks you in, tries to commit everything about you to his memory. “Thank you for loving me, even if it didn’t work out. Thank you for being my first love.”

x x x x x

October 1, 2020 — 7:07 PM

Kim Namjoon opens the door to his childhood home the moment he hears footsteps climbing up the stairs. He’d done so numerous times already, spooking one or two of his neighbors at his sudden appearance. This time, however, he finds the person he had been waiting for.

“Oh, Y/N. Thank god,” he sighs in relief when he sees you, rushing out the door just as you finish taking the last stairstep. You wobble in surprise when you notice him, nearly falling over with a scream before he catches you by the waist to keep you steady. He pulls you close, pressing your face gently into his chest.

“I’m so sorry for everything. I’m so sorry for bringing you to Ilsan even though Yoongi told us not to go. I’m sorry for not telling you that I knew Jungkook and Hoseok were coming here, too. I’m so sorry for—”

“Namjoon,” you try to interrupt him, but he keeps going.

“—wanting you and Jungkook to reconcile even if you didn’t want you to leave me. You just looked so sad all the time, and I knew you needed to speak to him at least one more time so that you could find closure, but I should have asked you first like a decent person—”

“Namjoon,” you repeat. Namjoon pauses long enough to see that our eyes are red-rimmed from crying, further increasing the panic rising in his body.

“Oh god, I didn’t want you to be sadder! I just… God! I just wanted to help you for once, because you always helped me with everything. I know you deserve to make your own decisions, to be your own person, but I ignored that in favor of following my stupid gut—”

“Joonie, the neighbors can hear you,” you hiss, furtively glancing at the doors opening around them. You can feel many eyes on you, watching curiously at the red-faced idiot babbling like a man possessed. You motion for him to stop, but he’s too caught up in the moment.

“For a while, I thought I could stop myself from falling in love with you, but it was so hard! You have to understand how impossible it is not to love you. Believe me, I tried!” Namjoon all but shouts the last part out, shaking you by the shoulders. “I don’t deserve you! I’m just not a good boyfriend! I’m insecure to a fault, I’m boring, I have mild sleep apnea, I forget to throw out the empty milk cartons—”

You yelp as he continues to shake you, gently having to pry his hands off of you to save yourself from being shaken like a bobblehead. “Joonie,” you say, firmer this time.

He rambles and rambles and rambles. He couldn’t stop even if he wanted to, hands gesticulating wildly like a human helicopter. He’s so wrapped up in his monologue that he doesn’t realize immediately when you take his hands in yours, forcing him to keep still.

“Joonie.”

“—and I’ve never been able to hold a relationship for longer than two months! My past girlfriend even left me after cheating on me the entire time—”

“Joonie.”

“I’ve never been good at being vulnerable and being myself, but you somehow managed to make me feel like I was worth something. You made me feel so so so incredibly loved. You made me feel important!”

“Kim Namjoon!” You shout, finally losing your temper and flicking him on the forehead. That finally manages to stop him, his eyes going cross-eyed like a cartoon character. You could almost see the flying stars orbiting his head. Properly silenced now, you push him back into his apartment, kicking the door with your foot before locking it for good measure.

When you turn back to face him, he’s still frozen where you left him. He stands in the middle of his living room like a robot, his mouth slightly agape as if his wires had been fried. Rolling your eyes goodnaturedly, you pull him to the couch, gently guiding him so that he doesn’t accidentally fall on his ass as he continues to short circuit in front of you. It takes him another whole minute to get his bearings together, but you’re a patient person. You sit in the adjacent armchair and wait for him to speak.

“Oh my god.” He swallows awkwardly, the color draining from his face. “What the hell did I do?”

“Welcome back to earth,” you smile, waving a hand in front of him. “Did you miss me?”

“I always miss you.” It seems as though Namjoon’s weird candor spell is still in effect. He has the presence of mind to be embarrassed this time, however, and you watch amusedly as his cheeks begin to redden. “I, umm…”

“Gave quite a show out there. I didn’t know you could rap,” you tease, your mouth curling up into a smile. The muscles in your cheeks feel sore, almost as if it has been ages since you last used them. This morning feels like it had happened eons ago.

“Sorry. I just… had a lot to say,” he replies lamely. He hangs his head, embarrassed to look you in the eye. “So… I’m guessing you spoke to Jungkook?”

He hears you hum in agreement, but you don’t say anything on the matter. Namjoon has never been one to pry, but his overactive brain can’t help but make connections out of nothing, trying to make sense of the world in desperation.

“I’m guessing you’re here to reject me, right? I’m sorry for confessing to you all of a sudden when you’re already spoken for. It was unfair of me, and you don’t need to try and spare my feelings at all. I’ve been prepared for this since August,” he speaks rapidly, nearly losing his breath in his haste. “It was my fault for thinking we could have happened. I mistook your kindness for reciprocation when I should have known better—”

“Joonie, my love. You’re rambling again.” Your voice snaps him back to reality. He turns redder somehow, sinking deep into his seat.

“S-sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” you huff, pouting in annoyance, but Namjoon catches the fondness in your eyes. “You aren’t unfair at all.”

“E-even so,” he stutters, heart hammering in his chest. “I shouldn’t have expected anything to happen between us. We were only going to fake date until the end of Chuseok, so it was foolish of me to try and… replace Jungkook, somehow. But I suppose, in the grand scheme of things… he’s a tough act to follow up to, huh? Seven years of loving someone is a long time. I don’t hold a candle to that,” he says dejectedly.

“But you do.” The words slip out before you can stop them. Your eyes widen, shocked by your own admission. Even so, you know what you said is true, and you wouldn’t take it back even if you could. 

For a moment, you think he doesn’t hear it when he doesn’t react. It takes a second for his brain to buffer, but Namjoon had heard you, loud and clear.

“What do you mean?” His tone is soft, hesitant. Afraid, but hopeful.

You shrug your shoulders. You want to tell him everything, but you are impossibly tired, your eyelids like sandbags just waiting to fall. Namjoon must have noticed because he stumbles out of his seat with his arms outstretched, ready to keep you from slumping over.

“Woah, there. I’m sorry for interrogating when you must be exhausted. Do you want to take my bed instead of the couch tonight?” he asks, kneeling in front of you.

You blink sleepily at him, nodding with a large yawn. “I wanna talk to you but I’m tired,” you say, before promptly toppling onto him. He doesn’t flinch at your weight, catching you in an instant. He lets you nestle your face into his neck, and he grabs your arms until they’re laced around his shoulders. Slowly, he gets up with you in his arms, a feeling of weightlessness filling your senses. Safe.

When he tucks you into his bed, the sheets smell familiar and homey. Namjoon sits by the edge, brushing a few strands of hair away from your forehead. “Namjoon?” Your voice sounds muted to your own ears, as if you were underwater. But you don’t feel like you’re drowning, not at all.

“Yes?” He watches you with kind eyes, the same ones he has always had. To you, he looks like a prayer come to life, a promise ready to be fulfilled.

“You’ll be here? When I wake up?”

Namjoon exhales out a laugh, smiling sweetly. I love your dimples, you want to say, but your body feels heavy. Tomorrow. You’ll tell him for sure.

“Yes, Y/N. I’ll always be here. For as long as you want.”

You close your eyes. Tomorrow.

It’s a promise.

[vulpes-z3rda]

SFW Alphabet ~ Nishinoya

A/N: HI HI!! I hope you all enjoy this and i hope the Nishinoya nation are doing okay ^_^

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Have you met this boy? Have you taken him in? Absorbed him and everything about him? Yes? Good. This fucking DUDEEEE, omg. he loves affection. 25/10 on the scale for him tbh. s he around at all?? He needs to be touching you. Whether it be linked pinkies or small pecks on the cheek or hugging you from behind. He needs to be doing it because he wants to show you how much he cares all the time.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

THE BEST OF BEST FRIENDS!!!!! Need to laugh? Bitch he's there. Wanna go on a random adventure that will probably end up with you both having to wear bandages and bandaids for weeks? He's down and ready to go! Movie marathons and being cuddled up together under a blanket? Human reading this, he'll do it.

The friendship started when he was running through the halls being his usual chaotic self and he accidentally ran into you. After you both got up and dusted yourself off you were going to yell at him when he started apologising. Forgiving him you said you'd hoped to see him around and giggled as he very enthusiastically agreed. (he also thought you were really cute and wanted to stick around with you!)

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Omg... of course. You don't think he would?? How dare you. That, my good reader, is a war crime of a thought. He isn't really bothered about how the cuddling happens but he much prefers being the little spoon. Being held by you, resting on your chest and just relaxing into your touch is something he loves doing whenever he can. Obviously he'll swap but its like... a surprise when he is the big spoon.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

He does want to settle down eventually. Once you're both comfortable with good jobs and a nice home, he'll be sure to settle down with you. For now, though, he just likes talking about your future together and where you think you'll be. Cooking?? Cleaning?? What are those? Please, for the sake of your home, don't let him near the kitchen. He can clean, he just doesn't like it. If you want him to clean you're going to have to make a game out of it. "You'll get a kiss every 10 minutes if you do it." "AHHH OKAY!!"

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

I think he would be scared because even though he doesn't love you in that way anymore, he still really cares about you and doesn't want to hurt you. But, he'd be upfront because you deserve that decency and he would make sure that you both stay friends because he still wants you in his life.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

We all know he simps. A pure-blooded simp you know? So he simps for you. He's 100% committed to you. He doesn't see anyone else, only you and he is more than happy with that. I feel like he'd propose to you after a few years of dating, like between 2-6 years maybe?? Then you've had time to properly settle together and gotten to know each other inside and out.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He can be gentle but given his chaotic nature, he's probably unintentionally brazen and rough around the edges. But he tries for you because he knows sometimes you just need him to be calm and to be more aware of your emotions so he tries his best.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Absolutely adores hugging you. Adores hugs in general tbh. They happen any chance he gets tbh. You've got your back turned to him because your mum asked you to do the dishes? BACK HUGS TIME!! Talking to him about something? You had best bet this man is going to tackle you in a hug.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Yes, he's affectionate but I feel like he'd wait a bit before he decided he says I love you. He wants to make sure everything between you two is comfortable and completely returned before he commits to it on that level. So I'd say he'd wait about 5-7 months before he says it.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they're jealous?)

We've all seen how he is about people flirting with Kiyoko and they aren't even dating, so Lord could only imagine. He would probably be by your side at all times and leaving snide comments to the person who is stealing your attention. More on the passive-aggressive side of jealous behaviour.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

His kisses can either be softest things or the most passionate things. There is no in-between with him. It all depends on his mood. Preferably, he'd like to kiss you on the lips and neck because he feels like it both shows how much he loves you and shows others your his. He loves to be kissed on the jaw and on the lips for the same reasons. It just screams "we love each other and want y'all to know" in his mind.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Considering he's a big child himself, I'd say he's pretty good with kids. 100% the type of guy to join in on any game to keep them entertained, will tell stories (mainly making you royalty and himself a knight who saves you (Tsukki is a dragon that kidnaps you)), he'll give piggyback rides if they want them and he's just overall ecstatic to be around them.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

You have to wake him up most mornings cause this mf is always trying to sleep in. You usually make his fave breakfast and then after that he drags upstairs again to cuddle again. This usually means he's rushing around to get to school and practice while you thought ahead and got ready before he dragged you back.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

SNUGGLES!! He'll make sure that once you've both done you're nightly routines, that you both wrap yourselves up in the bedsheets and just cuddle and talk about your day. His head is on your chest and he presses soft kisses to your collarbone as you sing to him or just play with his hair. Overall, it's just a soft loving experience for you both and he adores it and you all the same.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Give him a few months and that's when he really starts opening up. But, leading up to then he gives little hints about himself and drops little things that you might not have known every now and then. Then all of a sudden, he's saying everything. Every little detail he wants you to know, everything he's feeling and he tells you what he's insecure about because he wants you to know him.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

I mean... I'd say about average?? It depends on the situation. Someone's flirting with you? 0-100 real quick. Are you just upset about something and taking it out on him? He tries to keep level headed because he doesn't want to get mad at you. Someone making fun of his height? 0.0 well... short people tend to be the scariest and that's all I'm going to say 😌.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing or do they kind of forget everything?)

I feel like he's the kind of person who couldn't remember what 2 + 2 is half the time but if someone was like "What pet did y/n have as a kid??" and he'd be right there answering. Or they'd just ask "Hey, do you know y/n's favourite food?" and boom, he's giving a whole recipe on how to make it just how you like it. But on the odd occasion, he's just like "Oh fuck.... what's their favourite colour again??"

R = Remember (What is their favourite moment in your relationship?)

Your first anniversary. He made sure that he got everything you did on your first date and just sprinkled in little gifts of memories you made leading up to the anniversary. Not gonna lie, he also makes sure you have a nice little at home part of it too, You watch your favourite movies and eat your favourite snacks. This boy just wanted it to be special for you because he wants you to know just how much he cares.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

On a scale of 1-10?? I'd place him at like 9. We've all seen he is about Kiyoko... and she was a CRUSH! So what he'd be like over his s/o?? Jesus lord above. Noya goes ✨ bark bark ✨ when he protects you. Listen, people who flirt with you make Noya go brrrr, you know? *whispering* He likes it when you protect him by mocking or teasing the other person. Your witty remarks? Gold. His brain? Full of serotonin. His face? Basically just a smile. Hotel? Trivago.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

BITCH. Like I said, the effort he put in for your one year?? ✨immaculate✨. Like honestly sometimes your dates are 🌸🍡🍭🌈✨ and then other times they're like ⛓️🖤🔪🥀🩸. But he puts a lot of effort into making sure the date you do fits with your mood. Tired? Stay at home date. Hyper? You go to the beach or park. Chill? Stargazing. Craving stuff? Cafe and restaurant dates. As for everyday tasks... he lacks motivation and usually gets distracted when he starts them however he tries his best to do the things you ask him to do.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He tends to accidentally neglect you for volleyball. Does he mean to? No, but the boy struggles to prioritise for god's sake. (After Suga talks to him he tries to be better at it but sometimes he still falls into it). HE ALSO LEAVES DIRTY CLOTHES EVERYWHERE BUT WHAT TEEN DOESN'T??

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Averagely concerned. The blonde in his hair is fading?? Asks you to redo it for him. It's his signature look and he demands to be a standout libero. Just wants to be able to be noticed by something outside of his skills ig.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

IUYTRESXDFGHJK MAAM/SIR/HOOMAN. This puppy of a boy would practically d i e without you by his side. He doesn't care whether he has you in his life as his s/o or his friend. He just knows he needs you to be in his life. periodt 💅.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

He likes climbing trees but half the time he gets stuck and has to jump out meaning you're at the bottom catching him-

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn't like, either in general or in a partner?)

Doesn't really like it when someone easily gives up on their goals. He knows if you've seen yourself being able to do it, then you can. But if you give up super quickly?? He's gonna be disappointed.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

HE CLINGS TO YOU LIKE A KOALA BEAR!!! Hear me out, baby boy just wants to be close to the person he loves and so this lead to him holding onto you while you both sleep!

[borat123]

Analysis Pro NH Anti NS

Naruto Manga Part 2

Part 5

Naruto is seen thinking about Sasuke and seems sad that Sasuke doesn’t wanna come back to the village. After their encounter with him in Orochimaru’s base, it was obvious that Sasuke was a lot stronger than Naruto and that he needed to be more powerful to fight him. (But it is said that Sasuke actually used drugs to speed up his training, so he was probably a bit stronger than he should have. Also Naruto was weakened after his transformation into the four tails.) Anyways his thoughts get interrupted by Sakura and Sai.

Naruto says that he was ”devising a plan for them to look like they were going on a date”. But that’s not true, he was just thinking about Sasuke so why would Naruto say this? Also his face is not very serious at all either. Well first of all Naruto knows that Sakura loves Sasuke and he knows that he doesn’t actually have a chance with her (He knows this since part 1, probably even after chapter 3). He probably just says this to get a reaction from her and/or to piss her off. We all know Naruto used to be a prankster and he annoyed people to get their attention because it was better than to be ignored. The deeper reason behind him wanting to become Hokage is actually because he thinks that they hold the biggest amount of respect and then everyone would acknowledge his existence. He probably did more serious pranks on Sakura in the Academy and that’s probably why she used to hate him. He probably did pranks on everyone in his class except for Hinata who he probably thought was too nice.

Sakura is probably just joking but still, this girl calls him an idiot ALL THE TIME. Naruto even says she’s overdoing it. But maybe he’s indirectly saying that his previous statement about that date was also a joke? Naruto is also finally opening up more to Sai so that’s good.(i’ll be honest i didn’t like Sai when he was first introduced since i didn’t understand his point in the story, but he’s grown on me and he’s actually one of the funniest character and i like him for calling out on team 7:s bullshit).

Sai called her ugly. He’s right, she got an ugly personality. Also Naruto continues with the overdoing it thing (he probably thinks everyone is still joking). No but seriously when i first watched this in the anime i literally laughed out load and i never really do that. (Sai is awesome).

After their talk with Kakashi in the hospital Team 7 and Team 10 go and eat barbeque. Sai knows about Sakura’s reaction when he honestly told her what he thought of her. So he says the opposite to Ino and Sakura gets very mad since she wanted him to say the same thing to Ino (i know they are rivals, but what kinda friend genuinely wants that?). Anyways look at Naruto’s face, he KNOWS how she’s gonna react (he knows she’s a huge bitch).

I’ll be skipping the Rasenshuriken arc since there isn’t any important things regarding these topics there (just fighting and training arc).

We continue into the Second Sasuke Retrival Arc where Naruto is teamed up with Hinata. Naruto seems pleased with teaming up with her and he gives her a gentle smile. Look at how pissed and serious he was before but then when Hinata showed up he calmed down and looked happy. Its like her very presence makes him serene. Honestly if he got teamed up with Sakura (or anyone else) he would have still looked pissed and serious and just said ”Yeah!”.

A little of topic here but its relevant in chronological order for the story.

I’ve heard alot of people say that Jiraiya was weak because he lost against Pain. The thing is had Jiraiya known the same intel that Naruto did about Pain he probably could of defeated all of the paths EVEN the deva path and i’ll explain why. Since they were fighting in the rain village, Nagato wouldn’t have gone all out and used chibaku tensei or shinra tensei to avoid destroying his village. And that’s what Pain meant with that statement above. Had the deva path used all those jutsus though Jiraiya would have lost. Jiraiya should not be underrestimated though, to even take out 3 paths with no intel is still a huge feat since Pain is EXTREMELY POWERFUL. (Nerd rant over)

I’ll skip forward to here, Naruto hears about Jiraiya’s death and is angry over Tsunade’s decision of letting him go to the Rain Village. Naruto doesn’t show it, but he loves Jiraiya like a father figure and his death hits him hard. Also why is Sakura trying to scold Naruto here? She should know that Naruto spent alot of time with his former master and that he is upset over his death. Also if Naruto and Sakura were so ”close” then why didn’t he open up to her later about his grief over Jiraiya’s death, instead of just ignoring her? Honestly for being teammates they are actually very distant from each other. Naruto cant even be himself around her and acts stupid most off the time. There is no denying that Naruto didn’t even open up to any of his teammates first (not even Iruka). He actually opened up to Hinata about acting tough and putting on a bravado and how he actually was angry all the time because he saw himself as a failure. (It was probably her calm demeanour and charm that made him feel comfortable to open up to her, also because he sees her as a kindred spirit that would understand).

But after 3+ years he cant even open up to Sakura? For being teammates they are actually very distant from each other and you can tell that its a forced friendship just by reading the manga alone. It would have been easy for Kishi to give a better relationship but he did this on purpose for a reason. Naruto cant even act like himself and just acts stupid around her because they are so distant from each other. The only thing that brought them closer was their obsession with Sasuke.

Naruto wants to avenge his master and wants to beat Pain and thus wants Shizune to hurry up with the investigation of one of the Pain bodies. Look at what Sakura was saying too. She might be in the right Naruto shouldn’t stress her work but Sakura seriously doesn’t need to say the things she does to him. ”Throw him through a wall” da fuq?! He just ignores her again because as i’ve said in a previous part, if he talks back she is gonna hurt him.

That will be the end of this part. Next time we’ll be going over the Pain Arc, probably my favorite arc in the series. There is a HUGE NaruHina Moment there and i’ll have a lot to say about it so it will probably take more than just one part.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6

[grailfinders]

Fate and Phantasms #135: Martha (Ruler)

Summer goes by so fast, doesn’t it? Today on Fate and Phantasms we’re making the last of the summer 1 servants, Martha! By the end of this build you too can punch a dragon so hard people on the other side get hurt.

Check out her build breakdown below the cut, or her character sheet over here!

Next up: Mana prism power make up!

Race and Background

Martha’s still a Human, but since this is a variant of her normal build this is also a Variant Human. That gives her +1 Wisdom, +1 Constitution, proficiency in Animal Handling if the Tarrasque gets too uppity, and the Crusher feat. That nets you +1 Strength, and once per turn you can move a large or smaller creature when you hit it with a bludgeoning attack. Also, dealing critical damage with a bludgeoning attack gives advantage to all attack rolls against that creature for a round. We haven’t even hit level one yet and you’re already breaking bones.

Like last time, you’re still an Acolyte, giving you Insight and Religion proficiency. I don’t think I have to explain why those skills are good for Saint Martha.

Ability Scores

Despite everything you’re still a woman of the cloth, so your Wisdom should be as high as possible. Like I said in the opening your punches pack a punch, so Strength is second. Third is Constitution. Your Natural Body means you can shrug off poisons pretty easily. After that is Dexterity, because if you’re going to fight in a bikini you’d better be fast. Your Charisma isn’t great, mostly because we couldn’t make everything an 18, but we’re dumping Intelligence. It’s not like the other summer servants will notice.

Class Levels

1. If you want to punch through a dragon, monk levels are a must. First level monks get Martial Arts, letting you make an unarmed attack as a bonus action after you attack with your main action. There’s monk weapons too, but we’re just here for unarmed attacks. You can also use your dexterity instead of strength for attacks, but we’re not gonna do that. You can also use your martial arts die when you make unarmed damage rolls, and it grows as you level up. You also get Unarmored Defenses, giving you an AC of 10+ your wisdom mod + your dexterity mod to help with the whole “bikini armor” thing.

Finally, you get proficiency in Strength and Dexterity saves, as well as two monk skills. Athletics for a beach body, and History because you’re a servant, so duh.

2. Second level monks get Ki points, a number per short rest equal to your level, that you can spend to dash, disengage, dodge, or attack twice as a bonus action. You also get Unarmored Movement, increasing your walking speed as long as you’re only wearing a swimsuit. If the other players ask, it’s absolutely necessary.

3. Third level monks seek out a monastic tradition, and we’re going for a real throwback this time- the Way of Tranquility will give us all the holy power we need, and eventually, fists strong enough to tame a dragon. When you set down the Path of Tranquility you can cast Sanctuary on yourself for free once per minute. Any creature that tries to attack you must first make a wisdom save (dc 8+your wisdom modifier + proficiency) or redirect the attack. The effect still ends if you make an attack, but creatures that break through the effect are immune for an hour. 

You also get Healing Hands, giving you the same effects as a paladin’s Lay on Hands, but you get 10 times your level in healable HP each long rest. You can also replace a flurry of blows attack with this feature when you use it. Slap your party back to life!

You can also Deflect Missiles, reacting to incoming arrows and the like to reduce the damage you take. If you reduce it to zero, you can also spend a ki point to throw it back as a part of the same reaction!

4. Fourth level monks can Slow Fall, spending a reaction to reduce damage taken from falling. You also get your first Ability Score Improvement, bumping up your Wisdom for a higher AC and stronger Sanctuary.

5. Fifth level monks get an Extra Attack each attack action, and can turn their attacks into Stunning Strikes by spending ki, forcing the creature they hit to make a constitution save or be stunned for a round.

6.  Sixth level monks have magical hands thanks to their Ki-empowered Strikes, letting them get around resistances. Tranquility monks also become an Emissary of Peace, giving you advantage on charisma checks to calm down people, as long as they aren’t deception or intimidation checks. You also get proficiency in the persuasion skill.

7.  Your Evasion supercharges your dexterity saves, meaning you take half damage on failures and no damage on successes. If you’re going to tame a dragon you’d better get good at dealing with fire breath. Your Stillness of Mind also lets you end charms or frightening effects on yourself as an action. Honestly, you’re kind of the one who does the frightening around here.

8. Use this ASI to bump up your Strength for stronger and more accurate attacks. Now we’re talking.

9. Your Unarmored Movement Improvement lets you run on water and up walls, as long as your turn ends on solid ground. Perfect for those long walks on the beach.

10. Your Purity of Body makes you immune to disease and poison. Ki manipulation is really similar to being a cleric, now that we’re looking at it. Ah well, just makes it that much easier to reflavor it.

11. Eleventh level tranquility monks can Douse the Flames of War, using your action to force a wisdom save on a creature you touch. It automatically doesn’t work if the creature’s missing any HP, but if it does work it can’t deal damage or force saves for a minute, or until it’s attacked, takes damage, makes a saving throw, or sees its allies do any of the above.

12. Use this ASI to grab the Tough feat for a free 24 HP, plus two extra every time you level up. If you’re going to brawl, you’d better be ready to take some hits. For the lord, of course.

13. The Tongue of the Sun and Moon means that you now effectively speak and understand every spoken language. I mean, yeah, I guess that is technically a power Jesus gave to people, so it kinda fits. It also means you don’t have to wait for the translations Type Moon is never going to do on most of their work, so I envy you.

14. Your Diamond Soul gives you proficiency in all saving throws, and you can spend a ki point to re-roll a failed save. Pretty easy to reflavor that as god’s favor tbh.

15. Your Timeless Body now suffers no negative effects of old age (not that there’s any to begin with RAW) and you can’t be aged magically. Honestly that’s a really good thing considering we’re still sticking to the bikini.

Also you no longer need food or water, save it for your guests.

16. Use this ASI for more Strength, so you can punch even harder and nothing else. Stronks are always valid. You also get one point of Dexterity for... later.

17. If you’ve read this far, you’re probably thinking, “Fateandphantasms you dolt! You forgot to make this build super good at punching!” Hahaha, wrong. The final ability tranquility monks get is the Anger of a Gentle Soul. If you see a creature take someone else down to 0 HP, you can use your reaction to gain a damage bonus against them until the end of your next turn. That damage bonus is equal to your monk level. You can use this once per short rest.

18. Now that you can finally punch a hole through a Tarrasque, it’s time to diversify. As a Fighter, you get a Fighting Style: The Mariner fighting style gives you +1 to your AC, and you get a climbing and swimming speed, the perfect fit for a deserted island.

You also get a Second Wind, healing yourself as a bonus action, but honestly your healing hands are probably better.

19. Second level fighters get most of the reason we came here, Action Surge! Tack an extra action onto your turn for extra punching!

20. If you really want to powergame I’d suggest taking echo knight here for the extra attacks, but we’re sticking to character here, so go the way of the Champion for Improved Criticals. Now you deal critical hits on 19s and 20s!

Pros:

There’s a reason this UA isn’t really used any more. Adding a +17 modifier to your attack damage for a round means you can do ridiculous amounts of damage in a very short time. Toss in that action surge and a flurry of blows and you’re dealing 6d10+126 damage. That can ko a couple of builds on this account before we even start rolling!

Having proficiency on every save, nearly permanent Indomitable, and near permanent Sanctuary means you can just kind of ignore enemies if you don’t feel like fighting them. That doesn’t even get into the fact that you can shut them down on a save too.

You have more healing than a paladin, and you can move 110 feet in a round to administer that healing. If someone goes down, you can probably be there to help them back up. Or just kill whoever did it, either or.

Cons:

As a stronk, your AC isn’t amazing. It’s not even that bad, but when you’re a frontline fighter who can explode without warning you’re doing to bring a lot of attention on yourself, and that bikini isn’t going to help you here.

Playing to character means you’re only using your fists, which have a range of five feet. Flyers are going to be an issue, as are any monks who stuck it out until at least level 18.

A lot of this build is dependent on really old UA, so odds are most DMs aren’t going to let it slide for your average game. Ah well, Summer’s almost over anyway.

[papers4me]

Fruits Basket, Se03. ep 7 (part 1)

Just to clarify, the only thing I didn’t like abt this ep is tohru, the rest is so good. kyo’s mental state is at its lowest & you can feel for him! ugh!, surprisingly akito’s own lid was so well-done!, Ren & shigure were epicly disgusting & fascinating!, kureno was so well-written, the final scene of tohru & kyo rightfully setting for the climax! Before moving on to the good part,  I’ll quickly go over why torhu’s character was once again the most inconsistent character in the show:

Ep,6 ending showed us a completely broken kyo in full display in front of tohru, best furuba cliff hanger to date hands down, followup: tohru laughing, cooking & wondering if kyo is asleep!!!. Complete detachment & extreme insensitivity to what she witnessed earlier. Not an ounce of wonder if kyo is okay or if sth is wrong with him. Not a single inner thought of “ I hope he’s okay” or “ oh momiji don’t call him, He’s a bit tired” while flashbaking to his traumatized face. Honestly, all they needed to do was a small quick inner thought to connect the scenes. No need to write new scenes. Alas, Tohru’s complete lack of compassion struck me deep. I was told ep6 ending was an anime original scene, I don’t mind any diversion from the original since I don’t know the it, but those writers who wrote a complete new scene didn’t feel the need to transition from it to the rest of the manga? really? It’s hard to believe.

Choosing the kitchen’s happy scene after of kyo’s nightmare is not bad as it shows that nobody either care or know abt his issues, fair enough. However, choosing the kitchen’s happy scene after the PTSD in tohru’s own bedroom & not modifying tohru’s happy go lucky, let’s cook yay face to a realistic concerned expression is absurd! It really takes plenty from tohru as a character. This comes after tohru’s long awaited background ep which returns tohru back to square one.

Just last ep, tohru opened her lid in front of kyo & he comforted her, While she still yet to overcome her fears, she failed miserably in doing the only thing that she’s been doing since se01, ep1, being compassionate & thoughtful. Oh well, adding a light scene in the midst of kyo & akito’s dark sequence is more important than tohru’s character consistency & growth.

moving on from tohru~~~

-Kyo’s suffocation: (guilty or not, it doesn’t matter)

we get kyo’s nightmare really gave me chills & was visually well-done. it brilliantly conveyed the feeling of suffocation, blinding fear, & intensified trauma. The nightmare’s horror vividly showcases kyo’s deepest insecurities & trauma:

It started with his mother’s “ it’s not your fault” sth kyo craved to hear from her very badly. Yet, it contradicted her action: Choosing death over staying with him.

His mother brings salvation: the cat’s cage. The cat’s room parallel’s kyo’s real life at his parents house. In se01, eo24, kyo said, he wasn’t allowed to play outside or watch TV, while his bracelet ”handcuffs”  were routinely checked by his mom. Just like a prison. His mom sentenced him in the new prison fitting for more horrible sins. The cat’s cage for the rest of his life.

While kyo looks panicked & horrified but on the verge to refuse, kyoko appears. “I won’t forgive you” solidifying his mom’s judgement.

They both warn him of the consequences of living & be forgiven: tohru’s death. Go on, kyo. Add one more victim to suffer in your behalf while you roam free. You might think that you can escape the cat’s cage but your hands remain dirty with blood. Others might not see the blood on yoyr hands, but YOU do.

Kyo is torn between being an actual sinner or a victim, between causing intentional harm or unintentional hurt, between being guilty or not. It all doesn’t matter & kyo knows it. What matter is the punishment has been going for years now & he’s tired, broken, lost & just wants it all to end. Death. Slow death in a tiny cage is so fitting for all the pain he caused others, for all the pain he suffered.

Kyo knows (a) suffering in front of tohru is hurting her. (b) Accepting her love will lead to hurting her: confessing of kyoko’s death. (c) Abandoning her is hurting her. (d) kyo knows that he doesn’t deserve her, not after he caused all this pain. (e) Above all, kyo can’t live with himself anymore. being close to her hurt so much.

-Akito’s lid: ( broken home & broken self image):

I must say they did an excellent job of presenting akito’s past! (a) It was a mixture of narration through (shigure & Ren), (b) actual animation of her parents causing her pain & traumatizing her (the scenes of Akira’s last words, her mom’s accusations), (c) Actual animation of the origin of her parents (Ren & Akira’s relationship), (d) akito herself confessing abt her pain in front of kureno. Tohru’s own lid on the other hands was presented through (a) excessive narrative with minimum animation (the grandpa’s endless exposition of tohru’s background quickly wrapped up), (b) no real animation of kyoko actually hurting tohru or how she did it, just again the grandpa narrating that kyoko “went away”. (c) tohru’s own self recall of her past being cut into pieces & divided throughout the ep, once after running from shigure & another in the sheet scene. Tohru’s ep wasn’t bad at all, it was good, but it was evidently shortened & summarized lazily. Oh well. What both eps serve is painting tohru & akito as foils of each other:

Both are attached toxicly to their parent. Tohru: kyoko & Akito: akira.

Both were welling to create a fake persona or an image that keeps this toxic love alive & cling to it no matter what.

Both hurt themselves the most & are struggling to let go of this bond.

Both have parents that hurt them. Akito: ren & tohru: kyoko, altho it is not clear how kyoko hurt tohru but kyoko is more a ghost than a real character.

Both cling to a dead object that represent their deceased parent. Tohru & the photo frame & akito & the box.

Kyoko existed to be this perfect mother with no sins, the character that tohru embodied to “fix” & “ heal all broken kids”. She lives only in memories. Even other characters think of her as this holy being. It is alluded Kyo seemed to know her as a real person who can commit mistakes, therefore, to kyo, kyoko isn’t an angel or a holy being. However, thanks to their encounter at her death & her “ I won’t forgive you” words, kyoko now is a haunting ghost to kyo. Akira on the other hand, existed as this sickly, pale & fragile head of the house, treated with so much aura & holiness. He died but his sins remain in how he raised akito.

Both must let go of their toxic bonds. Tohru of her deep attachment to her mom & akito to the zodiacs.

Both must learn to form healthier relationships.

However, there are striking differences between them! tohru never abused anyone nor attempted murdering someone by throwing’ em from a terrace, or locking them & torment them or stabbing them with a knife!! Tohru’s sin is torturing herself which by consequence tortured kyo, too. Cuz there’s is a theme of a loved-one’s pain is mine as well. Kyo’s mom hurt her own self & ended her own life. This resulted in her son’s years of immense pain, trauma & self-loath & similar suicidal tendencies, se0, ep16 “ I’ will yuki & then kill myself”, & se02, e9 “ mother, if only you killed me instead”. tragic.

Side Notes:

I will say this with a broken heart....... Tohru must learn to let go of.... kyo.  She is suffocating him. Not on purpose. I want them to be together! so bad! they’re so perfect for each other, but also, right now is NOT the time for this. Kyo & tohru’s character issues is NOT abt romance. They have real traumatic issues that are hindering their growth as independent characters. Tohru’s growth might not be well-written or well-presented, but kyo’s growth is still not explored. Next ep is where his lid opened! it must be painful. A person suffering from extreme self-loath & suicidal tendencies shouldn’t be presented so lightly in favor for the love cures all fairy tale! PLZ! NO!

Tohru must learn to not repeat her mistake again & live only for one person. She must let go of kyo in order to gain kyo back. Right now, She can’t have him! kyo is suffocated by his own trauma & adding tohru’s guilt on top of it is devastating. I mean, This could go differently & kyo might accept her love on the spot, & tohru might save him again or sth. I can see this being going deeper or shallower depending on the desired theme. Which of furuba’s heavy themes will be given to climax?

why is momiji doing a rabbit burger? he’s not cursed anymore. I know he’s keeping it a secret, but I thought momiji’s whole growth was abt letting go of the past. he still identifies with the zodiac rabbit?

Ren is hella sexy! & her Japanese VA deserves an Oscar! The way she expresses sexiness, seductive, anger, hate, contempt, sarcasm, delusional screaming, pain! EPIC!

“I thought I was created to receive others contempt” ugh! this hurt, kyo.

Shigure’s line abt looking at Ren to fantasize how akito will look if she were allowed to be a woman, ewww!!!! hella disgusting! imagine sleeping wth someone & fantasizing abt her daughter or vise versa!

Honestly, this ep while not excusing akito’s crimes & abuse of others, it did paint her in a human light. I really don’t want her to end up with shigure. Akito’s whole life is abt misunderstood love. Give her time to discover herself. A guy who slept with her mom is never a reasonable partner even if he loves her for eternity. but oh well~

Shigure indirectly caused Isuzu’s near death abuse by Akito. all in his attempts to free akito from the curse. I love how disgustingly selfish he is.  I remember his “ you mom told you to not interfere, kagura” in se03, ep3. shudder!!! if hiro never met haru that day & confessed to him, if kureno never noticed the maid! Still, he went & visited isuzu after her 4 moths imprisonment in the cat’s cage her hospitals discharge & recovery!

ngl... Shigure & Ren’s sexual tension is the biggest in furuba. Eww!

I’ll talk abt kureno & akito more in part 2. but I felt nothing watching kureno get stabbed lol. this is due to the trailer spoiling it & the ED having him happily in love -_-’.  bummer!.

I love tohru & kyo’s outfit in the ep cliff hanger. lol. Tohru really dressed up to confess.

Tohru read the room! Even if you magically forgotten how sickly & out of it he was in your room earlier, remember this: Kyo always have bad mood in the rain! Then again... he did hug her for the first time & called her by her name in the midst of a rainy storm. se01, e024. >_<!

[erifin-alt]

Ok so I’m gonna go ahead and spit ball some Hiveswap theories despite the fact they may end up being incredibly wrong as expectations vs reality for the writing of Hiveswap is currently 6 feet under. This is going to be a long one, so to save y’all time the theories will be under the cut.

First off I’d like to state my own theory on the creature that that shot the train in the ending scene. Everyone is believing that it’s Fiamet’s lusus that did it, but why would Fiamet send her lusus to potentially hurt/kill Joey and Xefros especially knowing (or maybe she doesn’t) that Xefros is Dammek’s moirail? Honestly it wouldn’t make sense, given that she was the one that warned Joey about the world ending in 11 days. If it does end up being her lusus then she has a lot of explaining to do. Cause it kinda makes her a villain by hindering Joey’s and Xefros’ travel. Though I don’t think it’s Fiamet’s lusus. Here’s what I believe the beast could be-

1. The monsters from the first game.

We don’t really know the origin of the monsters from the first cut scene in Hiveswap act 1, and I don’t really think it’s all that much discussed. So where did they come from? Perhaps it was to do with something to do with the portal? Maybe. And we do know that the monsters can come in many varieties, including a monster with wings. (Though, more so bat wings compared to the feathered wings in HS:A2 final cut scene)

2. It’s someone else’s lusus. Okay, so I’ll actually be going into depth of how the beast looks like in the final cut scene. And with everyone theorizing that Fiamet’s lusus being an axolotl, I’ll try debunking the “Fiamet’s lusus shot the train” theory.

First off, the beast doesn’t even remotely look anything similar to an axolotl.

Let’s first look at the couple of screenshots I have (apologies for the bad quality)-

Does that tail look anything like an axolotl’s?? The answer is no, but of a course.

Here’s how an axolotl’s tail looks like btw.

Here’s some more screenshots of the beast that I managed to get-

Now, I know what you’re thinking- “But Erifin! Look at the side of the head! It obviously has external gill stalks like a true axolotl!!” That could be a red herring, though, as the things protruding from the side of it’s head could be fluff or feathers. And even it is gill stalks, and it IS an axolotl then why does it’s body look so different than that of an axolotl? Maybe because axolotl’s abilities of regeneration? It kinda seems far-fetched, to be completely honest. But who knows?

So who does the lusus belong to then? Well, maybe there’s going to be a new troll introduced in act 3 that will serve as act 3′s main antagonist Or maybe it’s just a wild lusus that itself will be the main villain.

So now it begs the question, what could this be? Well here’s some ideas I thought of:

1. It’s a weird lizard/amphibian and bird hybrid. It’s not the crazy for there to be a lusus like that, this is Alternia after all. I’m also getting some chameleon vibes from it. Though, this may be relating to the mythology of feathered serpents. Which, by the way, is a spirit deity from mesoamerica. Roughly around the same area that axolotl’s live.

2. A griffin. And yes, I’m bringing up mythological creatures into this. If the Pyropes can have dragons as a lusus then other trolls can have other mythological creatures as lusi as well. The body and proportions fit nicely to that of an griffin, even the tail!  However, griffins don’t breathe fire so it’s unlikely that this is a griffin.

3. A chimera, to me this seems like the most obvious choice, sense chimeras are already hybrids to begin with, as if number 1 is true technically this theory is gonna still be true (at least somewhat). Chimeras in mythology are a mash of an lion, goat, and snake, and I’m sure if the crew wanted to make creative decisions they’d also add in some avian wings in the mix. The proportions are similar to that of a lion, the fluff can also be it’s mane. The need to be on a rock, and keep low to the ground could a be a mix of a predators stalking skills and the serpent part. The tail? Obviously the snake head. Oh, and chimeras can breathe fire as well. However the goat part has me thrown off, so who knows if I’m even right.

4. And finally, number 4, I was somehow wrong. Somehow this was Fiamet’s lusus all along, and somehow it is an axolotl. Who knows, we probably have to wait another 1000 years to find that out.

That’s it on the beast theory, now let me ramble a little longer about certain hopes I have about certain characters that may end up becoming more important in act 3. Particularly the trolls that show up in the final cut scene. That is- Martsi, Cirava, Lanque, Tyzias, Elwurd, Mallek, Ardata, Chaut, and finally, Marvus. Now why would they be important? I don’t really know either, but I can sure take a fucking guess! And given that the train fell into a river, I guess one can go ahead and guess that many of the trolls on the train did die. And given that the train was shot near the rust/bronze and gold/olive carts I think it’s safe to say that the most fatalities are going to come from the lower bloods and not so much the high bloods (high bloods are tougher to kill after all).

Hopefully all the troll call trolls end up surviving the crash, but considering hmmm y’know I don’t think it’s likely. But, one can keep their hopes up! However, I do think the certain set of trolls that did show up in the final scene will survive. But why? What will they do that will earn them the chance to live? Let’s get into that.

Martsi’s up first. She was the closest to the blast zone, so there’s a chance that she ends up dying later on. However, if she does live, and from what we have seen in her friendsim (regardless of whether or not friendsim is canon) she seemed to take interest in being a doctor. So I can see her trying to look for survivors and tending to their wounds.

Next is Cirava, I don’t really know what Cirava would do, perhaps they decide to join the rebellion after being convinced by Joey and Xefros. Especially given that Xefros is starting to gain more confidence and thinking for himself for once. Meaning Xefros may go around trying to recruit some trolls to join him and Joey. Or maybe it has to do with something with psionics? Though, that would mean all other gold bloods are dead or passed out. I hope Joey and Xefros do get a party of sorts while they travel I think that’d be fun!

Next is Lanque and Tyzias. Tyzias is a little more obvious, her want to change the system, especially the judicial system, could lead to her joining the rebellion. If Xefros and Joey are trying to recruit others she’d probably join in a heartbeat. Lanque is a little more complicated, I think he will die, but will come back as a rainbow drinker. He does have the title as a life player after all. I think he will die either because the crash killed him, or he died saving someone. I can imagine if the other jades do survive, they’d probably be very shocked. Personally I think Wanshi would take it the hardest as I believe he’d protect her, thus showing us a softer side to him. And as they mourn him he comes back! And it’s very much shocking for everybody! As a monster of sorts he may end up deciding to leave since he’d no longer fit in, since he’s technically dead. He could also take it as an opportunity to finally be free from his duties. His glow/immortality can even come in handy in certain parts of the potential game play.

Next are these two, as for what they’ll do honestly I think Elwurd is just there for  fanservice and Mallek? Well, he may help with certain electronics if all the gold bloods besides Cirava do die. Like he takes apart certain parts of the train to make something? I do think they may want to join Joey and Xefros, but Mallek for rebellion moreover then Elwurd given we don’t really know what Elwurd’s loyalty lays.

And then there’s Ardata. She looks very suspicious, no? She may end up becoming a more important villain in act 3. Overall, she looks very...............shady.

And finally, the two eldest clowns. I don’t think they’ll join Joey and Xefros, rather I think they’re still going to be villains. Perhaps they decide to hunt Joey and Xefros down? Maybe they think they’re the ones who crashed the train?

That’s all I gotta say, I don’t think any of my theories will end up becoming true anyways. But hey, one can dream. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed my rambling, and apologies if my writing is terrible and there’s grammatical errors everywhere. But what do you think? Let me know!

[m3r1m4r5u333]

((Here, have my angry rant on biphobia within the queer community. This rant could, with little tweaks, be about the discrimination and ignorance of almost any other kind of multisexuality as well. But I struggled to come up with a umbrella term for that while I was writing this, and a shared name for the phobia of them all. So I simplified things. Also, we keep hearing the term 'biphobia' but I feel like many people don't recognize it when it happens, so I thought I'd focus on that.))

Anyway.

I once shared - to a gay guy - my upset about the fact that gay people use bisexuality as a stepping stone on their way out of the closet. He acted all understanding, told me that it sucks that people do that... And TWO DAYS later wanted to share exciting news! He'd told his dad that he's bi! He told me that he'd lied to his dad, and he knows he's not actually bi, but he'd figured he could test the waters that way!

I was stunned. I'd just told him in freaking detail that this is harmful to the bi community because nobody believes that bisexuality is real when eventually every 'bi' person just says they were lying and are actually 100% gay. So I wished that people who KNOW they aren't bi would stop telling people they're bi.

But there we were. He'd just happily shat on me and my people and then expected freaking congratulations for coming out. I acted calm. Told myself it's great that he came out - well sorta came out. Said my congrats. Honestly, what I really wanted to do was tell him to FUCK OFF. That freaking audacity to listen to my grief about how people treat the bi community and think 'hey, I think I'll fuck them over this way too, what a great idea!".

Gay people keep telling us that they want bi people to stop hiding, to be your allies? Then be ours in return! Dicks.

Btw, if you're very gay and gay only, and you're reading this, wish to come out somehow, think that dude's idea was a great one... It isn't the soft landing you think it is.

You'll likely have to come out twice to the same people, first as bi, then as gay. Btw, have fun regaining their trust after admitting to lying, they'll either think you can't be trusted or that you're mentally unstable because your understanding of sexual identity keeps changing - and most likely your family will cling onto the hope that the first announcement - you're bi - was the true one so have fun trying to introduce your same-sex partners to your family. They may just ignore your same-sex partner and keep trying to set you up with that "nice person" to get you into that nice 'straight' relationship because you have that potential, right? You're almost straight, right? They just need to find that right person for you and the problem is solved!

And no. You won't avoid religious rants by saying you're "only" bi, not fully gay. You will still run into people who are disgusted by thoughts of your sex life. People won't leave you be because you're only 'semi-gay'. No, they will still push heterosexuality on you. They will still ramble on about hell fire and your precious soul that needs saving asap.

So bisexuality isn't the stress-free joyride people think it is, most often you just get the traditional same-sex-relationship-phobia alongside with hatred from the gay community.

What hatred from the gay community? Nobody is biphobic, bisexuals have a letter and all! Right?

No. Let me just share some wonderfully ignorant (misquoted) biphobic insights from within the queer community that we keep running into!

1. "Bisexuals are just faking that identity to hide their true pure gayness. Bisexuality doesn't exist. They're still in the closet. They're all just gay like us! I'm gay, and I also pretended to like a different gender for a while! These "bisexuals" will come out FOR REAL any day now. So you're saying you're bi? It's a phase!

No it's NOT a dick move to say that to a bisexual person - it's concern for their mental health because friends look out for each other and it's healthier to REALLY come out. You'll feel so much better - just admit you're not bi already! You're not ready yet? It's okay! Once you get some experience under your belt and really taste that rainbow you can't go back. You'll soon be strictly into dick or pussy like I am. Haha haha!

Sure, it sucks when straight people try to invalidate us gay people by saying that our homosexual identity is a phase... but why would I, a gay person, remember that hurt when there's a chance to pass along the rotten unvalidation apple to someone else! After all, what's greater than to maximize that experience of doubt and disrespect! Let's make sure that this brainless hounding never stops - Some people will try to invalidate your sexuality because they're trying to save your soul and others will try to turn you gay because you need to be gay to really fit in the community, to really support the community, to hate any hint of the heteronormative lifestyle with us. Abracadabra be straight in the name of a god/ abracadabra be gay so that you'll never abandon the queer rights movement! Yeah sounds like a plan, we should just attack whenever the religious nutters wander away to really bombard this bisexual motherfucker with invalidation so that they can never have a moment of peace anywhere. The queer community isn't their safe place, let's remind them of that.

2. "Maybe they aren't bi... Maybe they're straight! Watch out! Bisexuals are just using you for easy sex!! Using you to experiment. Using you to look cool because everyone knows bisexuality is TreNdY. Using you to turn on someone they're actually into. Using you because it makes them feel good to be wanted when they feel nothing for you. Using you for your company until they abandon you and settle in that straight marriage. Using you because they want to avoid an ex and acting 'bi' will make that ex lose interest. U s i n g... y o u.... Can't think of a reason why right now - but there must be a hidden one, everyone knows those flighty bisexuals can't be trusted!"

3. (Basically these" well-meaning" fuckers never mind their business. When a bi/pansexual is in a same-sex relationship people keep trying to warn the same-sex partner that the person they're dating is actually straight and in a same-sex relationship simply for attention, convenient sex, or to experiment, and will eventually leave them for that heterosexual lifestyle.

When a bi person is in a different-sex-relationship people keep telling their partner that the person they're dating is actually gay and using them as a beard/the person they're dating is gay and they're just using their partner for their reproductive organs since they want to be a parent and it'a easier to have kids this way.)

4. Bisexuals CRAVE sex. They're insatiable. They cheat. They're addicted to sex. They're unable to be monogamous. They must have a female partner and male partner to thrive, this is a need they ALL have. They're ALL polyamorous."

5. "Okay, maybe they're not all polyamorous... But they're clearly unable to love or stay interested long-term! Even if they're monogamous they will just randomly get bored of the same genitalia and will break up with you to have fun with a different set."

6. They will INSULT you by really being bi!!!! They will tell you that they're bi, date you, and when the relationship some day ends... They ACTUALLY turn out to be bi by starting a relationship with someone of a different sex!!! How offensive!!! THIS IS AN ATTACK ON YOU AND YOUR GENDER AND YOUR COMMUNITY woop woop ring the fucking alarm! Clearly they picked their new partner just because they wanted to wave a middle finger in your direction! How dare they not be cured of bisexuality by your love/magical private parts! How dare they not consult their ex about who they get to date after the relationship ends!! How dare they abandon the discriminated minority and pick heteronormativity instead! They should always struggle like you do! How dare they undermine the superior mightyness of gay love by entering a different-sex relationship! How dare they forget about gay rights by not picking a partner that makes the gay community visible - the gay community needs their mascots! How dare they insult your gender and attractiveness by falling for someone who does not look like you! How dare they pick someone with different genitalia than you - you're a sex god and your ex should always crave for the same kind of sex they had with you! Obviously they should consider your feelings and choose a partner who doesn't hurt your tender self-esteem like that. Their new partner should actually look like your identical twin so that you know they're properly fucked up about the break-up! This is all about YOU. YOU. YOU. You get to decide who your ex gets to fall for. Their new relationships are your business because you own them even though you aren't even dating anymore. You think this logic is completely sane - but they're the asshole because they moved on from your biphobic ass."

7. They said they're bi and started dating me. This is a same-sex relationship. Obviously this means that they're fully gay now. Or... It means that you should be super paranoid that some day they will embrace their internalized homophobia and break up with you! Even if you've been out to everyone for years, attend pride every year.. Yes, clearly they're super ashamed of their sexuality."

8. "They said they were bi when they dated you, their same-sex partner. Now they're with someone of a different gender. It isn't a same-sex relationship... Which means that they're straight now! Because a dating history of being in relationships with more than one gender is somehow NOT bisexual behavior! How fucked up of them to go back in the closet and pretend to be straight!"

9. "Bisexuals must always choose a same-sex relationship. Anything else is offensive, homophobic and traitorous to the community. They must always choose the harder path. They must struggle. They can't choose a different-sex partner and avoid discrimination - that's selfish! They must suffer like we do even though they could be perfectly happy in a different-sex relationship. They must not use common sense and seek a partner with whom they can have child without needing to resort to adoption or surrogacy.

It's just homophobic to want that easier heteronormative lifestyle!!!! Nevermind that same-sex relationships are illegal in large parts of the world, nevermind that in large parts of the world people with same-sex attraction may end up dead, be executed by their own government, be attacked or end up in prison. Nevermind that in many countries same-sex adoption isn't an option, or surrogacy isn't legal. Nevermind that it likely costs fuckloads even if it's legal. Nevermind all that and everything else. They should just always struggle. It's more romantic to face hardship and date within the gay community - struggling soulmates baby! They must not set their personal needs first, they must not fall for someone who's different gender than them - they are our puppets, they exist to be mascots for the gay rights movement. Any decision to have an easier life will be seen as internalized homophobia and slacking. Fuck heteronormativity! And fuck bisexuals.

No wait - don't. Don't fuck them. Don't date them. They can't be trusted. Stay clear of them! What did you say, 'that's biphobic'? We're NOT biphobic. We HavE MaNy Bi FrIEnDs. BiSeXUaLiTy Is VaLId."