#i chose this path i have no one to blame but myself

[demonsslayersstuff]

I’m here for you (Levi Ackerman x Reader)

A/N: Here is an angst heavy Levi fic. Post mission, Levi is there to comfort you in his own way as you struggle with the trauma of a failed mission beyond the wall. (Gender Neutral Reader)

Warnings: Mentions of death, survivors guilt, ptsd, trauma, and suicide. If these trigger you, please do not read! This is not a happy drabble, but it is ends on a lighter tone.

You slide off your horse with a defeated slump. Today had been easily one of the most difficult days in your life. You were use to death, nearly every scouting mission past the walls resulted in someone’s death. But today, today you’d lost more than half of your squad.

You look over your shoulder to see the three remaining members you had left. You note the hollowness in their eyes, the gauntness in their faces. Your words still in your throat and for the first time in a long time, you feel tears form in your eyes. You turn your face back towards your horse, gripping the reins tightly as you lay your face against its neck, trying to calm yourself.

“Captain”, you hear called meekly out to you, forcing you to take a deep breath. “Dismissed, you all deserve a much needed rest, report back tomorrow morning”, you manage to get out in your typical commanding voice, but deep down you didn’t feel like a captain, you felt like a failure. You watch as they dismount, leaving their horses to the stable hands before they quietly make their way to the barracks in silence, clearly traumatized by the previous events that had befallen your group.

You sigh knowing you should do a mission debrief with Erwin, wash the wet blood that caked your face and clothing, and probably eat. But you do none of those things. Instead you find yourself heading towards the wall, the very one whose gates you just passed through. It’s not long before you find yourself atop the stone structure, walking the familiar path. You walk past squads who are taken aback by your appearance, but say nothing, something that you are grateful for. You find a quiet place, one that rarely gets much foot traffic, and plop down, feet dangling off the edge.

You sit there for a long time, numbly staring out of the vast expanse of an unknown world, knowing that somewhere out there were the corpses of your squad members, unable to be brought home for a proper burial. You sit there long enough that the blood that coated your face and body has completely dried and the sun has long set past the horizon. It’s only then do you feel his presence. “How long have you been watching me?”, you ask quietly, making no effort to look in his direction. “Long enough to miss dinner, so I guess we are both going hungry tonight”, he states before finally walking towards you. “You’re not my babysitter, you could have left”, you remark finally glancing to your left, taking in his figure.

“True, but something told me to stay”, he replies gruffly coming to stand next you. He lowers his gaze to yours, looking at you carefully. “I’m not gonna kill myself Levi”, you mutter. “I know”, he simply replies, though his tone indicated that he didn’t fully believe you. You don’t say anything, instead focusing your vision back out towards the darken fields, sighing. You had a job to do and you needed to do it, regardless of how you were feeling. “Should probably go shower and hand that mission report in”, you say, but still make no effort to actually get up. “It’s not your fault”, Levi tells you suddenly, easily reading your thoughts. You look up at him, anger flashing in your eyes. You open your mouth to say something, but he’s quick to cut you off. “Don’t do this to yourself, don’t. They chose to join the scouts on their own accord. They knew what they were getting into, so you cannot blame yourself”, he tells you sternly.

An uneasy silence falls between the two of you. You knew his words were true as harsh as they sounded, but they didn’t help ease the pain that you were feeling. Levi sighs before offering you his hand. He wasn’t very good at handling big emotional things, but Levi knew how well you easily responded to his touch, his physical presence often helped calmed you down when you were having a bad day. You look up at him questionably, surprised at the fact he was openly offering you his hand, in public no less. “Just take it brat”, he states. You place your palm in his own as his fingers interlock with yours. Levi gives you a subtle, but reassuring squeeze. “Let’s go get you cleaned up”, Levi says, his tone a bit softer than his previous remarks as he pulls you up to your feet. You follow him quietly as he leads the way towards the barracks, his grip on your hand remaining as you weave through streets.

It’s not long before you find yourself in front of the shower house, practically deserted at this late hour. “Go shower. I’m going to grab you some fresh clothes”, Levi tells you, his authoritative voice back as he loosens his hold on your hand. With a squint of his eyes he quickly recedes down the hallway towards your shared quarters as you push open the door. You strip your dirty garments, tossing them into the laundry bin before you step into one of the showers.

The temperate water stings your skin, loosing up the caked blood. You watch as the draining water turns a dark tone of red and you wonder which of your squad members blood it was. Memories flash through your mind; laughter over a drink on a rare evening off with your crew, teasing during trainings, proudness as you watch them take down their first titan. As quickly as it started, it quickly ends and you feel a strangled scream erupt from the back of your throat, the reality of their deaths crashing down on you. All you’d have of them now would be memories.

You hit the concrete wall with your fist as you cry, the pent up emotion spilling out from years of keeping your feelings in check. The pain as your knuckles scrape against the hard material keeps you grounded from completely losing it. As you move to hit the wall again, you feel a hand grab your wrist, stopping you. You turn your head to see Levi standing there with a look on his face you’ve never seen before. His blue eyes lock on to yours and you can see the sadness that lingers in his gaze, equal to the worry that is held in them too. “I just…fuck I just…I don’t even know”, you cry. Levi pulls you towards him, not caring that your wet body soaks his clothes, he wraps his arms tightly around you, holding you. “Just let it out”, he whispers.

The two of you stand in a tight embrace for a long time as you cry into his shoulder, before the tears eventually subside. You pull away from him slightly, a guilty expression evident on your face. You open your mouth to apologize, you’d never been this emotional in front of Levi before. However Levi just shakes his head, “Don’t, sometimes we need to let it out”, he tells you. Levi leans up to briefly kiss your forehead before stepping away to grab you a towel. When he comes back you let him towel you off, relishing in his gentle touches.

You quickly put on some fresh clothes before you finally step out of the shower house, back into the dark hallway. “I suppose it’s too late to give the commander my report”, you muse as the two of you walk down the hall. Levi makes no effort to talk about the breakdown you’d just had. But that was Levi, never forcing you to talk about things until you were ready to. “Seeing as it’s two in the morning, probably not. Do it first thing the morning”, Levi tells you, as he opens the bedroom door. You nod your head as you step through the threshold, kicking your boots off as he quickly changes out of his wet uniform.

As the two of you slide underneath the covers you turn to face Levi, scooting closer to him. “Thank you”, you whisper. He wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him, maneuvering your head to his chest. “I’m always here for you”, he simply says, leaning down to kiss your temple. “Now sleep”, he commands softly as you snuggle into his body, feeling a bit better. You knew a simple cry session would wasn’t going to fix this, but you knew with Levi by your side you’d get through it.

[sgiandubh]

Anon rebelde

Tardes lo que tardes en asomarte por aquí las cosas no cambian o eso puede parecer a un lector ocasional. Lo que ese lector no tendrá en cuenta es la escalada en amenazas y ataques a blogs prominentes en el lado shipper como es tu caso. El nivel de bajeza moral de ciertos mal llamados blogueros y anons no tan anónimos, cuando su verdadero nombre debería ser carroñeros, ha subido varios escalones debido al cambio de actitud sobre todo de Cait en esta promoción. Hemos pasado de la madre superiora con gesto serio, adusto y justo con su compañero de trabajo, casi hermano a la novicia rebelde que no puede parar de tocar, poner cara sonriente y hablar un lenguaje no verbal pero muy sensual con ese mismo compañero desbaratando la retórica vieja y manida del lado oscuro. La ausencia pública de ese nombre que figura en cierto documento añade la dosis necesaria de nervios a cierto sector que se ha vanagloriado de tener la certeza absoluta e indiscutible de la verdadera relación personal que no laboral de Sam y de Cait. Siempre se ha dicho que las cosas tienen que empeorar antes de mejorar y si ese empeoramiento viene en forma de ataques, bienvenidos sean porque eso demuestra que estamos en el buen camino. Fuerza, paciencia y adelante, que son pocos y mal avenidos.

Dear (returning) Anon Rebelde,

Gracias por tu mensaje reconfortante. Era muy necesario y muy, muy apreciado. Y ahora, adelante con la traducción:

'However long it takes to drop by in here, things don't change, or so it may seem to the occasional reader. What that reader won't take into account is the escalation of threats and attacks on prominent blogs on the shipper side, such as yourself. The level of moral baseness of certain so-called bloggers and not-so-anonymous anons, when their real name should be scavengers, has gone up several notches due to the change in attitude, especially Cait's, during this promotion. We have gone from the mother superior with a serious, stern and square attitude towards her co-worker (almost a brother), to the rebellious novice who can't stop touching, putting on a smiling face and speaking a non-verbal but very sensual language with that same co-worker, that destroys the old and trite rhetoric of the dark side. The public absence of a name that appears in a certain document adds the needed dose of tantrum to a certain corner that has boasted of having the absolute and indisputable certainty of the true personal, not work, relationship between Sam and Cait. It has always been said that things have to get worse before they get better, and if that worsening comes in the form of attacks, they are welcome because that shows that we are on the right path. Strength, patience and keep going, because there are few and they are not well-matched.'

I am watching Purv's desperate efforts to remain relevant to her dwindling, credulous minions with an enormous eyeroll and a smirk. What this toxic nincompoop with a HUGE ego never took into account is the reaction my landing in this corner of the fandom has triggered in here first, and then everywhere else. The kerfuffle, the speculation, the Chinese whispers games and then the ones who started to openly and directly question, more or less aggressively, my timing, my purpose, my identity. I will never blame people for merely questioning, of course: however, I am human and judged and blamed I did at least one prominent shipper blogger who shamelessly and tastelessly did so without having the basic courtesy to ask me first and then persisted with the bullshit. However, all the circus made me realize very quickly that shrouding myself by fiction was unnecessary and ridiculous. And I chose to answer all those more and more pressing questions by patiently and deliberately playing my own hand at this poker game, in full honesty.

This is how this fandom has been treated, very quickly, to...

...my own diplo car plate, or heh - a carefully clipped version of it (https://www.tumblr.com/sgiandubh/723038171325169664/you-know-shw-usually-illustrates-her-cryptic?source=share - July 17, 2023)...

...my own voice in a short video (in Romanian, ROFLMAO), while I was filling up above car at the BP pump of Mesogeion Avenue/ Karatheodori street, in Athens (https://www.tumblr.com/sgiandubh/725983370933354496/jeez-louise?source=share - August 18, 2023) - all this after really, really heavily hinting I was an Eastern European...

...my office, my passport and my former daily cup of Greek frapp�� (https://www.tumblr.com/sgiandubh/732329266407243776/and-in-real-time-from-my-office-in-sorry-no?source=share - October 27, 2023)...

I'll mercifully spare you the rest: the list would be really too long. Suffice to say nothing has been left into the shadows, spare my name. A very easy charade, if one would have spared literally half a minute and two clicks. But that was never offered as such for public consumption and saying otherwise is a LIE. Not surprised.

I am laughing even more when I am reading that I 'recently doxed myself' - a short stroll through my archives shows this:

[Source, LOL: https://www.tumblr.com/sgiandubh/725913426953715712/when-boredom-strikes - August 17, 2023: how is this recent, that's beyond me].

It took the Queen of SOURCES, FACTS AND PEOPLE SHE KNOWS Nothing one year and a half and a self-written Anon to finally spill the beans and triumphantly trumpet 'mystery solved'.

She has been sitting on this for a long while, of course. She kept it as a Plan B, for those moments when shite hit the fan. The real reasons of this desperate choreography are S's recent quip about Shatner and his minion, C's subtle shift during this promo, the unbearable idea shippers are neither stupid, nor scattered in fright and of course, the realization that some blogs are more successful than hers (I seem to share this dubious vainglory with other usual suspects, sorry Marple).

By the way, how comes she never showed up at any Californian promo event or con (and there have been many) in a long while? Doctored pics of the peaks do not count.

[ryuzakemo128]

Grim Reaper Part Nine

Pairing: Poly 141 x female reader / Female reader/ You x Her mental health x König

Content Warnings: Violence, bloodshed, injuries, Premeditated murder on the brain (Female Reader), swearing.

Words: 756

Note: Sorry for a short one. Wanted to get this one out. Next one will be longer I promise.

Masterlist - Prequel - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine

Supernatural AU — Poem

Credit for Dividers:@cafekitsune + @strangergraphics

Summary: Was I stupid to love you? Was I reckless to help? Was it obvious to anybody else? That I have fallen for a lie. You were never on my side.  Fool me once, fool me twice. Are you death or paradise?

Was I stupid to love you? Was I reckless to help? Was it obvious to anybody else? That I have fallen for a lie. You were never on my side.  Fool me once, fool me twice. Are you death or paradise?

Was I the problem? Did I do something to make you hate me so much? 

Why didn’t you just leave me instead of lying so many times to my face?

Was I stupid to love you? Was I reckless to help? Was it obvious to anybody else? 

I hope you rot in this hell you have made yourself. It’s my last gift I will give to you.

You knew how my life was before I met you. Yet you still did this to me. 

Cold. Calculated. That is all you will ever be.

If I had the power to curse you. I would have done it long ago. 

Once I leave this house, this country all over again. Do yourself a favour. Stay away from me.

Stay far, far away from me.

Otherwise, I can and most absolutely will kill you myself.

If you wish to keep your life.

Stay in your country and I will stay in mine.

I don’t want to be pushed into a corner. But you keep being adamant on doing so.

Don’t blame me when I bite you. Blame yourself for ignoring the warning signs.

You are the reason we are no longer married. Take accountability for your actions and shut the fuck up. 

König. You still don’t know if that’s his actual name or just simply a call sign. He never told you either way. 

But what does it matter? 

The man who had once been the epitome of comfort and support in your life had become a shadow of his former self. The trust that had once been as solid as steel between you had been shattered into a million pieces.

Leaving a gaping chasm of doubt and anger in its place. 

The coldness in his eyes, the way he looked at you now, it was like you were nothing but a stranger to him. 

Someone who had merely crossed his path at the wrong time.

"I will leave, and you won't see me again." you snarl, getting up to get your things.

König remains seated, his expression unreadable. "Reaper, I know you're upset, but we need to talk about this."

"There's nothing to talk about. You chose to cheat. You made that choice. Suffer the consequences. I'm not the one who needs to explain anything. You're the one who broke our vows.” 

“My life is in my hands. I will not become who you are.” You told him. Your knuckles turning white from the way you turned your hands into fists. You were so tired of the kind of excuses coming from the mouths of men who neither cared nor wanted you around. 

You weren’t going to let König know you again. To choose death than suffer through his presence a second time. It made so much sense to you. You do enough talk. What did you learn from your mistakes? Did you even learn from them at all? 

If he can’t see it. May he drown inside his endless well of pitiful tears. 

You are not his wife, his friend, his punching bag. The call sign ‘Grim Reaper’? You earned it for a reason. Too bad he’s too blind to see it. 

What has eyes but cannot see? 

Escape.

Escape and run faster than he can hope to catch up. 

If he can’t take the hint, then…..you would have to kill him yourself.

Can’t be too hard to kill a six-foot ten adult man, right?

You can hear the shouting between him and his girlfriend. A sickening, twisted grin spreads across your face. Sweet revenge for the child you lost years ago.  Weight began to lift from your shoulders. It wasn’t over by a long shot. But now you know how to twist the knife to get what you wanted in order to leave. 

To head back home where you felt like you belonged completely. 

Home. Your home. 

The one where you don’t have to hide from broken bottles, yelling, shouting, endless need to feel like you have to explain yourself. 

Could it still be there when you go back? Will it still be there now?

[essenyare]

LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT

—Jack Krauser, written on my sixtieth birthday.

I, Jack Krauser, in full clarity of mind and unwavering will, set forth this testament.

1. All of my assets—including but not limited to land, finances, weapon stockpiles, personal documents, and records—shall belong solely to Leon Scott Kennedy. He is the one I cherish above all else. No matter the path we took to get here, no matter how time has shaped us, he remains the only person to whom I entrust everything.

2. The home we built together, wherever and whenever that may be, is his to do with as he sees fit. He may choose to keep it, or to burn it to the ground. If it is the latter, I hold no grievance—for we have never been bound by walls. Home was never bricks and mortar. It was always each other.

3. As for my remains, I do not desire a grave, nor do I wish for Leon to be burdened with needless rituals. I have walked the edge of death for most of my life, and now that I have finally found peace by his side, I wish for my ending to be just as quiet. I am to be cremated. A portion of my ashes shall be left to Leon, should he choose to keep them. If not, he may scatter them in the place where we once stood as enemies and chose, instead, to save each other.

4. I wish for Leon to live unbound—free from legal constraints or the expectations of others. He has already walked beside me for a lifetime. He owes nothing to anyone. If he so chooses, what I leave behind will be enough for him to live out the rest of his days in peace—but I know he won’t stop. I won’t ask him to. To love him is to accept him entirely.

But I hope he remembers—wherever he goes, there will always be a place waiting for him to come home to.

---

Leon,

I suppose I’ve never said this properly in my life, but I don’t want to leave any regrets in the end.

As your instructor once before, I have to admit—the worst student I ever trained was my thirty-three-year-old self.

Back then, I thought I had it all figured out. I believed my body, my will, and my skills were at their peak, strong enough to justify every choice I made. I believed power could override everything, that I could decide what was right and wrong. I even thought that if I was determined enough, the truth itself would have to bow to me. But I was wrong. I was arrogant, stubborn, too caught up in my own damn beliefs to see that I was driving myself into a dead end. And the worst part? I dragged you down with me.

I know you never blamed me—not out loud, at least. But I owe you this: I’m sorry, Leon.

I forced you to make choices you never should’ve had to make. I pushed you into a fight you never should’ve had to endure. Back then, I told myself it was necessary—it was a trial, a law of survival. But some nights, I still hear your voice, your anger. I still see the way you looked at me in the end. And in that moment, I knew I had no right to teach you anything anymore—because the man who should have protected you has already strayed from the right path.

But you still turned back for me. You knew it would hurt you, but you still pulled me out of the pit I had thrown myself into. You stubborn bastard.

It took me years to learn what I refused to back then—to learn humility, honesty, to admit that I had been a damn fool. I know I can never undo the damage I caused you.

So if this letter is the last thing I ever get to say to you—remember this, Leon, I love you.

This love isn’t something that should be shackled by guilt or hesitation, nor should it be clouded by the mistakes we’ve made. It is the one truth I have never questioned. And you’re the reason I found it.

I know you’re still learning to let go of the pain we’ve lived through. But you need to understand—I have no regrets. If not for this path, I never would’ve found my way back to you.

We’ve both been wounded, both hurt each other, both questioned whether love could withstand everything we’ve been through. But every time you hold me, every time you say my name, I know—that’s my answer.

You always called me a stubborn old bastard, always said I never took care of myself. Well, for once, I’m listening. I’ll go first. One less thing for you to worry about.

If I have one regret, it’s that I didn’t figure this out sooner—that I didn’t say these words to you earlier. But you always knew, didn’t you?

I love you, Leon Scott Kennedy. My comrade, my home—my only place to return to.

Jack Krauser 19 March 2031

[blue-violin]

The dragon prince season 7 spoilers

Season 7 got me so mad (happy new year, by the way)

•Seeing Ezran almost fall into bitterness was heartbreaking. No one supported him the way he should have been supported.

(Can't really blame them. Everybody was fighting their own situations)

•I loved Rayla from season 1 to season 6, but the way she acted when Ezran refused to forgive Runaan was annoying to me. What was she expecting? "Oh the one who took my father from me? Oh Yeah he can go, bye!!"

Hopefully, she makes it up. She's still Rayla <3

•Aanya being loyal is everything. Since her first appearance, she did nothing wrong.

•Zubeia did Rex Igneous dirty by distracting him bruh :/

•I just knew what Aaravos would do to Karim because we know he hates people blinded by power and traditions. It was SO satisfying.

•Callum went through a lot. He needs the biggest rest. I was a little disappointed because his plan didn't work and now we've got to wait 7 years. Obviously, I'm glad he is still alive. I don't think I've ever been mad at something Callum did. In this season he decided to give Rayla support for her whole family thing. He knew he would come back for Ezran. I just hope we'll see more of their fraternity, just like season 1 and season 2.

•Rayllum still did its work this season. We stan

•Zym being stressed around Ezran </3

•Zym SPEAKING ???

•So we just had to give Ethari back his partner to be alright

•I never thought I would prefer Viren over Claudia. He realized all he did was wrong. He tried and looked for redemption and a new life and forgiveness. He tried to convince Claudia to change and leave the darkness behind, and She refused. She chose her path. Yes, Viren was the one showing it to her, and he tried to make up his mistake. Claudia claims to be the same nice girl and she is convinced of it. At this point who can help her ?

Her own father wants her to leave him alone.

Aaravos is now a father figure to her, someone who could make her keep going the dark things, which is something I suppose she grew up with. I don't even get her goal anymore.

Her brother leaves. Her father leaves. Her boyfriend leaves. I mean, even I would question myself.

•Oooooh and the plan of making an illusion of her mother was so annoying. Of course, they didn't have the time to look for Soren and Claudia's mother but could have at least tried. I felt bad watching it. It was straight-up manipulation :/

•And let's be honest, the plan of Aaravos of tormenting the high stars thingies is confusing I didn't even understand. It won't even bring back his daughter.

•King Harrow? Hello ??

[thesummerstorms]

I can acknowledge that the text SAYS that Annabeth Chase worked out her problems with her dad, that her stepmom seemed "nice", and that her "resentment" is described as seemingly unimportant in Blood of Olympus. I can acknowledge the text SAYS that Annabeth's family problems are resolved.

However. That does not mean that I actually buy it. If RR wanted me to accept that outcome, he should have done the actual work of proving it.

Yes we have the scene with the plane and Mrs. Chase telling Percy that Annabeth has a home.

But those two scenes in TTC don't actually work as a source of a resolution to that plot thread because they don't address the root of the problem- Annabeth being hurt by Frederick's neglect and her step-mother 's blame/callousness.

Even if they ARE trying to do better now (which to honest, feels like a cop out to me, almost as if RR just decided he no longer wanted to write that thread and cut it off quickly) the problem lies in what already happened in the past and how badly Annabeth was hurt by it.

She could have died so, so easily, and even if you want to argue perfect intent for the Chase adults (which I don't) she was emotionally fucked up by what happened for years. This has already happened.

But there's not even a hint of an apology or actual reflection on what caused those events and how things need to be moving forward. It's just assumed that TTC automatically fixes everything.

And yes, I actively have a post going around about how an author has to pick and choose their narratives and what they want to focus on for what characters.

But I would argue that RR already chose to make that plot line an important part of the plot- given how it drives Annabeth's motivations and actionals on an emotional level for pretty much all of TTC- it's just that he handled it badly.

If it was going to be addressed, especially if it was going to be "fixed", then we needed more to convince us that Annabeth had reason to trust her parents again. And again, for me one plane scene that doesn't go into what Annabeth has already experienced doesn't work for me personally.

Especially when you look at things like how Annabeth was still living in boarding schools full time, her description of the night she ran away in HOH, her persistent fear of abandonment.

And before anyone brings it up, I do actually have some sympathy for Frederick Chase. I personally am deeply adverse to the idea of having children of my own, so putting myself in his shoes of having been given a whole infant I never wanted and didn't know was a possibility, freaks me out a little too!

BUT. That doesn't change the fact that he had a responsibility as an adult-

to either choose to raise Annabeth fully as his child and accept the responsibility that entailed

OR

to find someone who could take care of her the way she deserved if he was not emotionally or mentally able to fulfill those needs.

I'm not saying any of it would be easy, but he did in fact have a basic obligation to make sure Annabeth was receiving care from SOMEONE. That's basic decency as an adult with some form of power over a child even if he DIDN'T want to be her father.

But his refusal to actually commit to either path just did MORE damage in the long run.

And he's free to try and make amends, I guess. People can change.

But I just don't feel there's enough to show that he really has long term, much less to give ANNABETH reason to believe he has.

[clarisse0o]

Camp Wiegman-Part 19

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe : Military School

Words: 5k

Masterlist

———————————————————————

Monday, November 23; 9:40 AM - Class.

It's been a week since I returned to camp. Bronze managed to get my leave denied even though I had gone a week without any infractions. The worst part is, I hardly saw her during the week and weekend, even though she stayed too. The only time I'm sure to see her is in the morning during checks and in the evening to catch up on my classes. I could have finished long ago, but the teachers overwhelm us with too much work. It's annoying because I can no longer stand Bronze's silence. Not only is she still mad at me, but she makes it clear. If she wanted to punish me in her way to make me remorseful, she succeeded! I can't even blame her because I'm in the wrong.

Now, with a new week just starting, I content myself with scribbling on my paper at the beginning of class. I don't plan to make as much effort as last week if it means I won't get a pass in the end. I occupy myself as best as I can since the classes don't interest me at all. I'm lost in half the classes because of my backlog and have no desire to catch up. Unlike me, Alexia is very attentive for once. I try to entertain myself without her. I almost regret not deliberately arriving late this morning. I refrained, remembering Bronze's behavior. She would have certainly taken the opportunity to get back at me. I sigh for the umpteenth time in almost two hours to show my displeasure. Sometimes I wonder what I'm doing here.

- "Well, since I've finished my class and we still have some time... It's time to talk about your specialization for the second semester."

- "Our what?" I asked Alexia.

- "You don't know? We're supposed to choose an option for the second semester."

- "What? Is this a joke?"

- "It's always like this in the second semester. Wiegman Camp is a private school, so it's Wiegman who decides how it operates."

- "And what's the system?" I sighed.

- "I thought you knew. Well, we have general courses in the first semester and have to choose preferred specializations in the second. It's like this for three years. It operates this way so we can change specializations once if we think we chose the wrong path. It's good like this because if we join a new field, we have to catch up on everything ourselves."

- "Basically, I'd be screwed in any field since I wasn't here for the first two years..."

- "Yeah, pretty much," she chuckles.

A stack of papers arrives. I take two sheets before passing it back. I look at the form with curiosity after handing one to Alexia. It's an enrollment form with a list of options. I'm completely lost. I haven't been to classes for two years. How am I supposed to know what I want to do? I sigh, scratching my head. This is an unexpected problem. I would have preferred general courses until the end of the year.

- "You know the drill," starts our teacher. "Three choices are possible. You'll be accepted based on your first-semester report card and the number of available spots."

- "Will the classes be mixed then?" I asked Alexia. "Or will we only be separated for the options?"

- "No, the classes will be mixed," she grimaces at my dismayed expression.

Oh no... This means we risk being separated. Not to mention I'll have a new schedule and new teachers. My situation was fine as it was! Why do they always have to change everything?!

- "The enrollment form is due by the end of the week, with no extensions."

This whole thing already annoys me. End of the week? It's short notice for someone who wasn’t informed and doesn’t know what they want to do. I'm sure everyone already has an idea since they've had this before. I pack up my things as the bell signals the end of class. I'm the first to leave the room. I have five more hours of classes, including the lunch hour. Luckily for me, my morning passes quickly. To be honest, this options thing occupied all my thoughts during my last two hours before noon. I studied the sheet all morning. I reached the same conclusion: Nothing interests me. It's driving me crazy. Luckily, I can finally eat to clear my mind by seeing the others. This joy quickly fades when the main topic is about the specializations. I avoided the discussion until now, but Alba invites me to join by asking a question.

- "And you, Ona? Do you already have an idea where you're going?"

- "No, not really."

- "Join sports with me," she suggests. "It would be cool if we were together for once!"

I furrow my brow as the rest of the table bursts into uncontrollable laughter. A smile escapes my lips. I really like Alba, but she's very clumsy in her approaches. She should know that's not the kind of option that interests me, or she's really dumb. I find it almost adorable that she wants us to be together.

- "You're really dumb," Leah comments. "Ona, in sports?"

- "Everyone knows sports and Ona are like oil and water," her sister adds.

- "But you do jogs with Bronze!" Alba defends herself.

- "I haven't done them for a week. It was just to clear my head before classes. Your sister is right, I hate sports."

I smile at her adorable face. I almost feel bad for disappointing her like this. She's between the shame of proposing such a thing and the sadness of my refusal.

- "Come with Pina and me in engineering then," Patri suggests.

- "Engineering?" I repeat. "I'm good at practical stuff, but not in that field, sorry," I giggle. "I don't know what I'll do yet, I'll see."

- "You have a week to think about it, be careful, it's short," Leah tells me.

- "What are you taking?" I asked.

- "No idea," she shrugs. "Probably the same as the last two times..."

If I want reassurance, I just need to look at Leah. At least I know I'm not the only one lost. Sometimes I wonder why she's here. She doesn't care about anything and doesn't hide it. The proof is in all the infractions she commits. That's why I adore her and think it's mutual.

- "Too bad for you there's no art in the options," Alexia tells me.

- "I admit, I wouldn't have had to think if there was."

Since Bronze's gift, I haven't stopped drawing before bed if I'm not too tired. It's not a passion I would hide since even my supervisor knows about it. Alexia keeps asking to see my drawings. I find it hard to show her because I find my sketchbooks very personal. I tend to prefer sharing my paintings, which are more abstract, but I have no materials to make them. I finally gave in and showed her some because of her persistence. Alexia has a persuasion I underestimate every time. The topic didn't fall on deaf ears, given how the whole table reacted. I'm bombarded with a multitude of questions that I enjoy answering. It's always easier to talk about something you're passionate about. Now I hope my next classes will pass quickly, but it will be difficult given my racing thoughts.

Monday, November 23; 4:10 PM - Hallway.

My day is over. Or almost. Alexia suggested we work together at the library, but I had to decline, reminding her of my obligations with Bronze. So, here I am on my way to her office. Arriving, I'm surprised to find the door closed. It's the first time it has been. This stresses me out even more than I already am. Since my return, things haven't been the same with Bronze. I take a deep breath before knocking. I recognize her voice giving me permission to enter. She looks surprised to see me, given her expression. I quickly notice the empty desk opposite her. It's surprising that Engen is not at her post.

- "Ona," Bronze snaps me out of my thoughts. "What are you doing here? Did you do something I don't know about?"

- "No... Am I not supposed to come to catch up on my classes?"

- "Oh, right. I thought you were done. Well, sit down and leave the door open."

If I had known she would forget, I would have stayed with Alexia... I timidly enter the room while she clears space on her desk. I sit across from her, in my usual spot. She doesn't pay much attention to me and continues her work.

- "Engen isn't here?"

- "She has a day off."

- "Oh."

- "Do you still have a lot to catch up on?"

- "I don't think so. Do you mind if I prioritize my math? I have a test on Wednesday."

- "Not at all, manage as you see fit. It's you who'll stay here longer."

I would gladly do without this obligation, but it doesn't bother me much either. At least I'm at peace here. I'm not a diligent student, but I'm far from stupid. I just lack motivation, and my sigh expresses it well.

- "Bronze?"

- "Hmm? What do you want now?"

- "Never mind, forget it."

I was about to make a big mistake. Fortunately, her sharp response brings me back to reality. I dive into my math without adding anything. She sighs in turn.

- "Come on, talk, I can see you're troubled."

- "No, it's fine, don't worry. My request is ridiculous..."

- "No request is ridiculous if it's thought out. I have the right to judge it myself, don't I?"

I didn't expect her to insist. I know Bronze is naturally curious. The only time she doesn't insist is on taboo subjects related to my past. I nervously run my hand through my hair. I decide to show her instead of answering. I rummage in my bag and hand her a sheet. She takes it under my watchful eye. She quickly furrows her brow, looking up at me.

- "Why are you giving me this sheet? It's for choosing options, right?"

- "Uh...," I say, turning my head, embarrassed by the question I'm about to ask. "I was wondering if you could help me with my choices. I have no idea what I want to do."

- "Wouldn't you rather see this with your parents?"

I sigh, snatching the sheet from her hands. I knew it was a bad idea. I wonder why this idea crossed my mind. It was really stupid of me. I put the form away while answering her.

- "Forget it, I told you it was ridiculous."

- "Hey, don't take it like that," she smiles. "It was just a simple question. Why would you rather see this with me than with them?"

- "I'm not on good terms with my mother," I admit. "You're the only 'authority' I have," I added, miming quotation marks.

- "Why didn't you tell me? By the way, how did your return go? Tell me you still live with them at least?"

I can't help but smile at all her questions. Finally, my request is good. It feels like everything is back to normal, even though it's far from it. I take a deep breath. She has the right to know, after all. I just hope she won't ignore me anymore after our discussion. I couldn't bear it any longer.

- "I live with my mother, her boyfriend, and their son, Joan. So yes, I still live with one of my parents. Otherwise, my return went well until I saw my mother after work on Saturday. We had a violent argument about what happened, but well, it's not new," I shrug. "I cleared my mind by taking Joan to the ice rink and... And by going to a party," I admit, lowering my head.

Making the connection, I realize that Bronze scolded me for the same reasons as my mother. The difference is that Bronze has the right to be mad at me. Unlike my mother, Bronze gives me the chance to defend myself and understand me. She worries about me in a different way.

- You see, this is what I blame you for. Why didn't you come talk to me instead of forgetting your problems for the evening? I gave you my number for this reason. You could have avoided an argument between us too.

- I know, I'm sorry.

My throat is tight. I'm on the verge of crying, realizing my mistakes. Bronze forces me to lift my head, which makes things even harder to face.

- Everything is settled now, isn't it?

- Yes, I learned my lesson... I won't go to parties anymore, and I want to apologize again. I didn't mean to worry you.

She smiles at me in a strange way. I couldn't interpret her expression. All I want now is for her not to be mad at me anymore. I'm determined to listen to her for the rest of the year if necessary.

- If we go back to the first day you set foot here, you would never have said something like that. I'm proud of you Ona, you have evolved a lot since you arrived. I almost... I said almost, regret calling you immature.

I look at her with wide eyes. If she wants me to crack, she's close to succeeding. No one has said such words to me in a long time. I don't know how to feel after so much recognition.

- It's not perfect yet, but your behavior is redeemable, she says playfully.

- It's hard, you know... To get back up when you're at rock bottom.

I swallow hard, thinking back to everything I've been through since my teenage years. I haven't had an easy life. I feel like it's been rough on me, even though I'm partly responsible for some things. I try to convince myself that I'm happy, but that's far from the truth.

- I know, Ona. But you're making progress step by step, and that's very good.

- It's thanks to you, I whisper.

I think she heard my words, but I'm relieved she doesn't bring it up.

- Well, about your wishes, of course I'll help you if you want. You didn't have to be shy. You should know you can ask me anything. My answer was already yes just by hearing your question.

- Thank you...

- I'll finish my file first. It'll take me half an hour. You can continue your math, and we'll discuss it afterward, okay?

- OK, I replied, making her smile.

All my stress evaporated. Bronze has this influence on me, without me understanding how. I'm no longer used to asking for help. I feel embarrassed every time. It's the first time in a long while that I've made a request. Normally, I manage on my own, or Bronze always offers first. That was the case when she helped me during withdrawal. Everything was a proposition. This time it was different. I had to ask her. I tend to forget she's here now. Mapi is probably right. I should confide in her about my past. The only thing that blocks me is that there are so many things that are hard to say out loud. I've kept these topics deep inside, never having had the courage to talk to anyone about them. I push these thoughts away to concentrate actively on my math. I would like to get a good grade for once. It will be difficult given my level. Not only do I have a crappy teacher, but I'm also behind. These are chapters I've already studied in high school, but it's been too long to remember them. I feel like my teacher confuses me more than anything in my logic. I delve into my exercises without paying attention to the time. I started to think that half an hour should be long, so I looked up. It seems I was right. She must have been watching me for a while, given her amused look. I remove the back of my pen from my mouth with slightly red cheeks. I have the habit of nibbling it unconsciously when I'm deep in thought. I deduce that she finished her work because I no longer see a file on her desk. The show I was putting on must have been entertaining for her not to stop me in my work.

- Do you need help, perhaps?

- No, it's fine, thanks, I declined.

Without asking my permission, she takes the sheet full of scribbles. I must have restarted this exercise three times. She smiles before getting up. I don't immediately understand her intention until she sits on the empty chair next to me.

- Everything is wrong. Give me your pen.

I hand it to her without thinking. It's just a simple quadratic equation. I've always been good at math, even if it's not my favorite subject. However, nothing is working out for me this year. I feel like my teacher explains too much for nothing. I was forced to go back to basics because of him. That's what I was doing, but I realized that even I couldn't manage anymore. Bronze studies my sheet attentively. She must be looking for the mistake.

- If your formulas are wrong, you won't get far, she indicates.

She turns the sheet over to the blank back. She rewrites the new formulas as well as the equation before sliding the sheet back to me.

- Here, try again.

- You don't have to do this, we can-

- If I remember correctly, you have until the end of the week to submit your wishes, right?

- Yeah...

- So we have until Thursday evening to study them. The most important thing right now is your math test. We'll work on them together until dinner time.

I blush at the thought of her helping me with my homework. I think it's something that hasn't happened to me since primary school. She smiles at me and places the pen on the sheet. She leans back in the chair, crossing her arms.

- Come on, get to work, she orders. I want all the exercises you do tonight to be mastered when you leave my office.

- It's going to be hard to catch up on two years...

- Is it like this in all subjects?

- Not all, but most, yes...

- I don't understand why they put you in the final year if you haven't studied since high school, she murmurs, probably more to herself than to me.

- I was good in high school, I shrugged. My mother must have had something to do with it.

- Well, let's start by working on your math tonight. It would be a shame if you got a bad grade when you're trying so hard. For the other subjects, come see me if you have any problems.

- I don't want to bother you...

- If I offer my help, it's not a bother. The last thing we need is for you to fail your final exam.

- You really don't have to do this, Bronze...

- It makes me happy, I assure you. Don't hesitate to ask for help. I'm here for that too.

I don't know what to say to her. I doubt she's here to help me with my studies. But it's reassuring to know she'll be there if I have questions. I smile at her timidly before leaning over the sheet she points to. I start the equation again for the umpteenth time, with the correct formulas this time. Bronze watches me attentively while I work. It's strange to be under such supervision. It hasn't happened since I was old enough to do my homework alone. What delights me the most is that we're finally talking normally again after a week of silence. When I finish, I show her what I've done. She looks for a moment before smiling.

- See, when you want to! Give me that, she asks, pointing to my pen.

I see her write a new equation next. I don't complain. She's doing this to help me after all. I get back to work without a word. We continue this way for a good hour. She gave me simple equations at first to get me back on track, then she gradually increased the difficulty. On top of that, she varied the equations to cover all the chapters I've studied this year. If I got stuck on something, she took her time to explain my mistakes and gave me another one to do right after. I must be on my fifth rough draft sheet since we started. I admit I'm starting to get slightly fed up. While I don't mind continuing, it annoys me when I can't get it right. That's exactly what's happening with the sign tables. I think it's the tenth time she's explained the principle, but I still don't understand and I'm starting to lose patience. I hate when I don't get something right away. It often means I'll never understand.

- Make an effort, Ona. Focus, it's not that complicated!

- I can't do it! You can see I'm always getting it wrong! I grumble in frustration.

- Why did you put "plus" here? she asks me.

I remain silent in response to her question. I'm afraid of giving the wrong answer. Bronze sighs. She must be as annoyed with the situation as I am. She gets closer to the paper, and therefore to me as well.

- Did you listen when I explained it to you?

- Of course! I retorted.

- Then explain to me. Why did you put a "plus" here? she points to the table.

- Because it follows the sign of "a"? I say in the form of a question, not being sure.

-Are you sure?

She leans back in her chair again, crossing her arms when she realizes my hesitation. She just wants to destabilize me to see if I’m sure of myself, and she succeeds perfectly. She already did this earlier by asking me a question when my answer was correct. This time, I don't dare to respond immediately. I prefer to think it over to be sure, but I get nowhere. I groan in frustration, throwing the pen on the desk. I watch Bronze pick it up with an amused smile. I was about to make a remark, but we get interrupted by someone knocking on the door. We both instinctively turn to see Alexia at the door. I furrow my brows, not understanding why she’s here.

"Hello, Bronze."

"Hello, Alexia," she smiles.

"Were you looking for me?" I ask.

"Yeah, it's seven o'clock. We’d like to have dinner with the others, so I wanted to know if we should wait for you or go ahead?"

Is it already seven o'clock? I hadn't noticed the time passing. I first look at my unfinished exercise on my sheet before glancing at Bronze. I’d like to go, but I’m not sure she’ll let me before I finish.

"Don’t look at me like that. Of course, you can go. I’m hungry too. Just finish this exercise by tomorrow and think about the question I asked you."

"Are you serious? You’re giving me homework for tomorrow?" I ask, astonished.

"Remind me who we're doing this for?"

I roll my eyes, unable to argue. She’s taking time out of her day to help me, after all. I sigh but nod. I gather all my things that have invaded Bronze’s personal space and put them in my bag.

"Alright, for tomorrow. Always after my classes?"

"Always, you haven't finished catching up on your courses yet."

"At this rate, I’ll never make it," I laugh.

"Don’t say that, we made good progress tonight. We reviewed all your equation chapters in just two hours."

It's true that it's not bad for two hours. The best part is that I almost understood everything. I understand Bronze’s explanations so much better. She hands me my pen, and I put my things in my bag. I zip it up and stand to stretch my legs. I put my chair away and smile at Bronze, who has also stood up.

"Thanks for your help..."

"No problem. Don’t hesitate next time."

She walks around the desk to get her jacket after tidying up her desk.

"Well... Have a good dinner and a good evening."

"Thanks, you too. See you tomorrow."

We smile at each other before I join Alexia, who has been waiting at the door since the beginning. We leave, and she waits until we're far enough to talk without anyone eavesdropping.

"You kept your personal study sessions with Bronze a secret from me," she teases. "So, things are better with her now?"

I must have told Alexia about my weekend and how Bronze found out I was out partying. I would have preferred to avoid it, but Bronze’s behavior towards me hadn’t gone unnoticed. She inevitably asked questions that I had to answer. This earned me some remarks from her, agreeing with Bronze. I then had to reassure her that I didn’t intend to go back to drugs. My last withdrawal was more than enough.

"It’s not what you think. She just helped me when she saw I was struggling. Otherwise, I think things are better... We talked a bit and I’d say the tension has been relieved."

"Yeah! Anyway, I’m glad she’s talking to you again. It seemed like you were about to fall into a depression because of her ignoring you."

"Nonsense!" I retort, hitting her shoulder.

"Oh yes! You didn't even realize. How did you get her to listen? Because she didn't seem like she wanted to let you explain yourself."

"I asked her to help me with my preferences..."

"Oh yeah? Why?"

"I have no idea what to do... I haven't been in school for two years because of my detox and all that. So, we talked about it, and I ended up apologizing for my mistake on Saturday night..."

"Well, at least it ended well. Did she say yes to help you with the preferences?"

"Yes, yes. We're going to discuss it before Friday."

"That's cool of her. I find her cooler since you’ve been here."

"Bronze cooler? Are you kidding me? She was mad at me for a whole week!"

"You asked for it," she giggles. "But seriously, it’s true. She rarely takes care of anyone else besides you now, and it seems like she's nicer to you than the other students."

"Oh no, she’s not nicer to me," I grimace. "She’s demanding. Should I remind you that she banned me from all parties during my free time and threatened to revoke all my outings from the camp if I come back in a state?"

"She banned you from parties?" she exclaims. "Because of your last weekend?"

"Yeah," I sigh. "I guess I asked for it according to her."

"Yeah, but still! You're right, it's exaggerated! It's normal to go out when we’re free. She shouldn’t have the right to forbid you from doing things outside the school grounds."

"Except she’s completely right."

"Yes, but still... She shouldn’t. She has no influence outside, normally. She doesn't even have a way to verify it."

"True, except I'm a terrible liar in front of her," I laugh. "I mean, she knows everything I do here down to the second, so I have this impression it's the same when I’m outside."

"I see," she giggles. "If you’re acting strange, it’s normal for her to notice something’s wrong."

"At the same time, she has that look that makes me talk, you know? She has so much influence over me now that just talking about it, I feel like I could feel bad at a party just thinking I'm disobeying her."

"Are you serious?" she bursts out laughing. "I didn’t know Bronze scared you that much! Everyone thinks you’re the one who isn’t impressed... You’re breaking my heart, shattering the legend," she says dramatically, putting her hands to her heart.

"Shut up," I laugh. "You’re really stupid, you know that!"

I gently hit her, joining her laughter. We change the subject when we reach the cafeteria. I like talking to her, but I don't really want to discuss this topic with or in front of the others. Alexia is the person I’m closest to here, and that's just fine with me. The others are already at the table waiting for us. So, Alexia and I quickly get our food to join them and finish my evening more calmly.

[aspiring-writer-hidden-voice]

🧊

“This is it…”

I hear you whisper and the crunching of snow beneath your shoes while entering the dilapidated and once impressive military grounds. Another intruder? That’s the twentieth one this month. With a sigh, I move from where I had been seated within what had been my private tent and step out into the snow.

The temperature today is in the negatives, appropriate for the heart of winter season. To those not of Belobog it was difficult to distinguish them apart from one another but for us who were born and raised here it’s clear to identify. For several moments I simply watch as you walk around the remains of this military camp. You certainly are a curious one. Which is dangerous.

“You are not authorized to be here. Leave.”

A little scowl threatens to form on my face when you freeze with a shriek before spinning around on your heel, eyes wide and fawn-like. You clearly can’t see me, judging from how your head is swiveling, but I calmly approach, allowing the snow to reveal my movements as I come to a stop to your right.

“I’ll say it once more…leave. It’s not safe for you—“

“It’s you.”

If I had a breath, or a beating heart, I would swear they would hitch as your head suddenly snaps in my direction. There’s no denying it now that I’m closer: our gazes have met.

You. Can. See. Me.

No, this is impossible. No one’s bee capable of this…so why you? What makes you so special?

“State your name.”

My eyes narrow as you blink up at me. You’re probably as surprised as I am with this turn of events. However, specter or not, my patience, even when alive versus in death, is starting to wear thin.

“Have you no voice or tongue in that mouth of yours? Speak. Who are you?”

The moment your name slips between those lips of yours it’s as if I feel that blow which had taken my life, twisting and burying into my still chest. It can’t be…it’s impossible…it’s been years since the Astral Express crew had been here last when assisting with the Stellaron. And yet you appear as though you haven’t aged a single day…

“…Gepard…”

And then you whispered my name…that voice which I recognize now with that face…it felt as if the plane of existence I had found myself trapped upon suddenly became warm.

Slowly, I lower to one knee within the snow. I haven’t felt the cold since my death in battle, it no longer soaks into my Silvermane Guard uniform that is torn in several places nor does it cause the metal pieces of my armor to grind loudly in creaks when I move. My head slowly bows, one gloved hand rising to rest against my chest as it suddenly feels heavy.

“It’s been too long, Trailblazer…I apologize for the state of which I am before you. I swore to you, and my beloved Belobog citizens, that I would protect from all harm. And yet I have clearly failed—“

“I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.”

My head snaps up, my azure gaze which had been similar to sapphires meeting your own to shockingly find yours spilling tears. Rising to stand I want nothing more than to reach out to you, to comfort or attempt to ease your guilt. But I never can touch anything again.

“This wasn’t your fault. None of it was. You had the path you chose to traverse, I had my own. No one is to blame for this…so, please, don’t blame yourself for this.”

It’s as tears spill down your cheeks that I can’t resist anymore and I step closer, attempting to touch your cheek with a pained expression…only for your tears to pass through my fingers then land in the snow in frozen droplets. Your name slips from my lips as the very hand I had raised slowly clenches into a fist, trembling slightly as I curse the monster for the millionth time who had made my heart stop beating. It wasn’t enough that it had taken away my life but me away from those who relied upon me?!

“…I miss you so much…Gepard…”

Hot, searing emotion suddenly floods my being as I watch helplessly while you meltdown in front of me. Your sobs ring across the ruins of war, the snow capped rocks, and remains of monsters which have been preserved in the freezing temperatures. And it makes my non-existent heart twist. What can I possibly do or say in hopes of easing your anguish?

Force of habit makes my shoulders rise in a breath I will never need, I softly hum that stupid little turn that belonged to one of my sister’s songs. You always seemed entertained whenever you caught me lost in thought humming it to myself. It was an embarrassing habit of mine, I hated to admit.

Slowly, your tears cease and raise your head once more so our gazes meet, my clenched fist relaxing as I once again attempt to reach out to wipe your face clean of the tears—

—and felt the world tip when your hand rises in time for our fingers to brush. Well, they would have brushed if I were alive, but now they simply pass through, leaving only the faint traces of your warmth behind. I shake my head when your expression suddenly becomes determined.

I know that look all too well: you are going to try to achieve the impossible.

[cakeinpants]

📱: The number had an area code traceable to The Palace roster, but the other digits would be new and unrecognizable to The Principal Dancer. If he chose to answer, a voice he hadn’t heard before - feminine tone only kissed by age and therefore youthful in accent, anger vocally simmered away but boiling beneath her tongue, regret appearing within sadness that’d almost phased away completely since the evening of the party - would begin a soft tirade. But it was timid and hesitant; enough time passed to assume it was a crank caller, before a slow sigh crawled through the speaker.

“I’m sorry for how I behaved, Lok. I was immature, and I should have been focusing on my Patron instead of . . .” The gentle whirr of Glinda’s hand, beckoning, broke Freya’s trailing off. She stretched her wings, feathers rustling from nerves and eyes glued to the faux Queen on the Shrink’s screen, half-looking like a child begging their parent for forgiveness. “‘Advertising myself to those who don’t the money or right to even request my presence.’ I’m not blaming you for just being a bodyguard, though. Our paths weren’t meant to cross, is all I’m saying.

“And I haven’t told anyone about your . . . Preferences,” she whispered, “so no one should think anything but that a Queen was flirting with you and Lorelei. And I want to send this apology to him: I’m deeply sorry for how I approached his gender, and I hope I’ll have the chance to correct that, by face, in the future.

“But,” her volume rose quick enough to not send her robotic companion into investigation. “Please let your Master know that ‘my behvaior will not be something to wordy about in the future. I will improve, and I will not allow my feelings to dictate my behaviors — especially when it is my responsibility to avoid contact that tempts me to those actions.’ Have a good morning, evening, night - whenever you receive this.”

It ended with the rhythmic sound of a landline being closed. Within two minutes, a horrid electronic noise would erase the contact from Pat’s answering machine; he was too far from her habitat, considered a threat, and therefore banned from reaching back unless he’d remembered it quickly enough.

Pat: "...

.......

Well... that sounds like some Palace drama that I do not wanna get myself involved in."

[ten-devils]

An inconspicuous letter found under a floorboard at Shinra Mansion:

Dearest Vincent,

To say that this is an apology would be an insult. There are no words I can offer to justify what has been done to you, nor will I try to find them. I do not seek forgiveness, and I accept the consequences of my actions, albeit with a heavy heart. But as I sit here in the dark watching you breathe, I listen to my watch tick away the hours and am overcome once more with an all consuming desire to explain myself, something that I repeatedly failed while you were present, even though you gave me countless opportunities to do so. My ever patient sentinel.

How cruel that the trance was to be broken so late. The trance, of course, being my everlasting hunger for knowledge, a once innocent endeavour fuelled by your father, turned sickly and twisted overtime. I’m not sure where it started, Vincent. Had I noticed, I would have pulled away like a hand over a flame, but instead I stayed my path. Now, I watch my flesh burn and try not to complain from the pain, knowing all too well that I lit the fire myself.

Once, I would find myself blaming Hojo. That his twisted ways had rubbed off on me. That he’d coerced me or convinced me or dangled the carrot in front of me long enough to lead me down a path of his own choosing. Upon reflection, though, I realise it was me all along. I mean, of course it was. It was me who chose to study Jenova alongside one of science’s most controversial researchers. Me who allowed her baby to be experimented on knowing full well that it was the wrong thing to do. I could have just been honest with you. I should have just told you how scared I was. But I was too proud. I had come so far, and I wasn't about to undo all of my progress. A pitiful, childish concept in hindsight.

I never wanted a child, but it just happened. In that time I was searching for a distraction, and the scientific potential of having a subject so close at hand during the experimentation process was an opportunity I couldn’t ignore, a fact I am deeply ashamed of today. I am ashamed of lying to you about your father; ashamed that I was too cowardice to even explain myself to you after the fact, choosing to instead fall into Hojo’s arms and stupidly get myself pregnant in the process. I should have known better. I did know better. But nonetheless, again, I never wanted a child, but despite this I think I could have loved him with all of my heart like a real mother, given the chance. As my belly grew, so did my regret, along with the love for this baby I never really wanted. And now, I won’t ever get the chance to see him, to hold him, to hear his voice. Now, he is company property.

I was such a fool, Vincent. I was such a damn fool. And I am so frightened of the fact that now there is nothing I can do to set this right. I’d do anything, bit it’s no use. Shinra has me in its grip. I cannot leave Nibelheim. I can’t even leave the mansion. I am powerless. How ironic, after everything, that I should lose it all in the end. It’s what I deserve, I suppose - a bitter pill to swallow, but I will do so willingly, now that I can see clearer.

I hope you know that it was you that changed everything, Vincent. It was you who finally opened my eyes, with your saintly patience and your persistence. You who finally broke the trance and pulled me from that devastating temptation for power. I admit, I allowed it to consume me, to obliterate me. I was so blinded to the consequences that would undoubtedly catch up to me that I marched ahead with the vigour of a thousand soldiers. But when I saw you bleeding on that floor, those beautiful eyes losing their light, everything became suddenly clear to me. You broke the trance. If I can say sorry for one thing, it’s that it took you getting hurt for me to finally wake up. Despite everything, I don’t think I can ever forgive myself for that.

I love you so damn much, but I loved the science more. I didn't realise just what I was losing until it was all too late. All I had known for so many years was science. All I had told myself I needed was science, which is what drew me to Hojo in the first place. We were kindred spirits, him and I, at least until his morals darkened to a shade so black I could no longer follow. I tried for a little while doing things I don’t wish to recount, but it didn’t take long for me to cower from such methods.

Then you came along, and for a small moment I let myself wonder if there could be something more, something other than science. I grew restless, aware that suddenly something was missing. I know you felt it too. The pull you have on me is stronger than the pull science has on me. You’re magnetic, Vincent, and despite how hard I tried to pull away from your orbit, I just couldn’t shake the thought of you. Even now my tears fall as I watch you in the preservation tank, your face so serene it’s almost like I haven’t been battling with the fates for three years to keep you alive. Hojo says the deterioration will set in any day now, but I won’t let that happen. No. You will walk this planet again, Vincent. I will not let your story end here.

This isn’t an apology, because I will not say sorry for trying to save you. I cannot take back all of the terrible things I’ve done, but I can try to do this one thing before I go. The world is better off with you in it, and I will do everything in my power to keep you from dissolving into the Lifestream. I couldn't save your father. I couldn't save my son, but by Gaia, I can save the man I love, or die trying.

I love you, Vincent. I should have told you before you were hurt. I should have told you the moment I knew, but I didn’t, and that’s something I’ll have to live with for the rest of my days. But if you ever happen upon this letter, just know that none of this was your fault. You did everything you could. This was a losing battle from the beginning, and I wish I could have spared your involvement in it.

I love you, Vincent.

I hope the Lifestream brings us together again someday.

Eternally yours, Lu.

[some-pers0n]

Oh yeah I forgot to share this pretty angsty lil' letter from Clearsight to Darkstalker. Kinda like the letters in AGTTDW. How goofy :]

Editor's Note: This is a letter recovered from Clearsight's tomb, unearthed in 5,013 AS. Date of when the entry was written is unclear, but assumed to be the end of her life.

I wonder if you dream. A part of me wishes you did. Another wants you to remain in darkness forever. I don't know what to believe. Even after all of these years, I still feel like the same, innocent dragon. Like all of my growth and change on this continent cancels the moment you cross my mind.

You were my love. You were everything to me. Even when you fell into your path, I still mourn you.

I know it's foolish. Writing this letter addressed to the dragon I know fully well is sealed away is foolish. You cannot read this. You are gone. Not dead, as you can never die, but gone. I hope you fade into obscurity as you rest under the mountains, locked in an eternal sleep. I hope that, when I and everyone you harmed have passed on, your name is never uttered again.

And yet I love you. For what reason I can only theorize. You are an eternal enigma to me. You were my light. You were the dark that almost swallowed me whole. I had hopes that you and I would have a family and live happily. You dreamt of ruling the world with utmost tyranny and ruthlessness.

Do you still dream of that? If you can dream, of course. I would hope to believe that, somewhere in your subconscious, you reform. Reflect. Through millennia of contemplation, you learn to remove that evil from your soul. I would hope that, if you ever return to the surface, you emerge a changed dragon. The dragon whom I loved.

The dragon I love now is different. The life I love now is different. Because of you, I traveled to a continent far beyond our imagination. I recall late-night conversations of exploring the world. We would joke and laugh over the prospect of being some grand adventurers. It's a shame I am the only one to fulfill that wish.

Pantala is beautiful. You would have loved it. It's more than anything you and I could have ever dreamed of. My husbands and children are more than anything I could have wanted from life. They still thank me for warning them of the hurricane that brought me here. I wonder if you would've saved them had you received that vision. If you had seen the destruction that would've befallen the continent and chose to save it out of the goodness of your heart or leave it to rot. Perhaps you might have saved it to exploit them. To let them worship you.

You wanted that the most out of life. A part of me feels guilty I am surrounded by love while the only company you have is the lonely cave you are trapped in. A part of me lavishes in it. Yet, I knew that's what you wanted most. Love. It's what made you the way that you are. Your love, both your search and way of displaying it, is the reason for this future.

You blamed your father for everything. Arctic. I never once heard you talk of him with anything more warm than a hateful sneer. I knew even before I met you that you hated him. I had seen visions of you killing him. Some with pity. Some far more gruesome than I could have ever imagined. You saw him as the catalyst. That he instilled the ideas you held.

I do not doubt that. I had been around Arctic long enough to understand what he did to you and your family. I had heard the stories, both from you and Whiteout. He was a monster in his own right.

You were a monster in a wholly new way. A monster that I deluded myself into believing I loved the current version of. I loved the future version. I loved the Darkstalker in my visions who treated me with respect. The one that would never use his magic unless it was for the one-off spell for an anniversary gift. The one who would be there at my side when I needed him most. The one who loved me for who I was and not what I represented.

You were not that dragon. You had the same scales and you talked the same, but you were not him. You were a dragon who I watched be corrupted by rage and hatred for the world. You were angry at Arctic. You were angry at the world. You felt as though you knew better than anyone. You were the savior. You would bring the continent to its glory with you at the top.

I did not love that dragon, but you loved me. You thought you could trick me. You thought you could warp my mind and shape me into somebody agreeable and nice. That earring is when I knew for certain you could never be the dragon I loved. You saw me as a partner, but I saw you as nothing more than a force of evil cloaked in the scales of the dragon that was my soulmate.

I feel conflicted about everything you were, are now, and could've been. I did love you when you were alive. I loved the future version. I don't know what now. I am nearing the end of it all, and I still cannot find a proper answer.

I always find myself asking whether you dream. I dream of you. They are nightmares no matter what way I spin them. Even when they are memories of the days we would laugh and play, I wake up with tears in my eyes. I wonder if when I die I'll be granted the luxury of a sleep without you. I want my last thought to be of my friends and family on Pantala. I want to think of what I've done rather than my past. Rather what could have been.

I know this letter may never reach you. Maybe it does, and it is simply that my powers have finally found their limit. I write for some release. Closure. That, when this is sealed away in my tomb, it remains with me. That the memories of everything you've ever done die with me.

I am not the dragon I was when I sealed you away, and yet in many ways I still am. I still hold a flicker of love for you, despite knowing that you can never be the dragon I wanted.

I remember that brief moment when I wanted to stay next to you when the earthquake would cause the mountain to collapse. I felt so grief-stricken over the loss of you that I wanted nothing more than to die next to you. I made the best choice. I know I did. The alternative was me dying when I was a young, naive child.

Yet I can't help but still feel I should have. My love for you persists to that extent. I love you. I hate you. I want nothing more than you to rot under that mountain. I wish could dream of a world where life could have been different. A life where we both made it work. Where we were happy.

Darkstalker, you were my love. Perhaps in another, more kinder life, we could be together.

Dream of our dragonets if you can.

Clearsight

[polarisbibliotheque]

The Matrix - Tiffany | Tiffany | Trinity.

Tiffany | Tiffany | Trinity.

Pairing: Trinity x Neo (I'm a sucker for them, leave me be)

Summary: It's when she's alone that she can hear the noise. It doesn't stop. It hammers a name inside her head, forcing her compliance. Until Tiffany hears in the back of her mind someone calling her a different name... Trinity.

TRIGGER WARNING: Crazy identity crisis, bordering (or even being) dissociation. Lots of anxiety, questioning reality and one's own identity; questioning authority, life paths and memories. Big blurry lines between reality, dreams, memory and imagination. If you struggle with those themes (and dissociation, psychosis, etc.), I advise not reading it.

Author's Notes: I know, weird one. But it's that time of the year I'm getting older (my birthday) and I generally hate it - so I decided to do my Keanu Reeves marathon. Chose The Matrix to kickstart things and I just really love those damn movies. They always make me think and I think it's good I'm rewatching now - precisely when I needed to.

That being said, I wrote this random thing after watching Ressurections for the first time with my sister a couple of years ago (you guys know I haven't been writing for a while). It's been completely forgotten, until I found it again recently, for my amazement. Turns out, I really like it. Never posted it 'cause it's very different from what I usually post, but figured why not. I write because I like talking about certain things - and these movies are a punch in the gut for me.

When I was a kid, I always wanted to be like Trinity when I grew up no wonder I literally dress like her in the last movie. But things turned out pretty differently and watching her story in the 4th movie made a LOT of sense to me. And I too would've kicked The Analyst's jaw off if he named me Tiffany for 20 years.

I'm thinking about eventually writing different and new things like that - don't worry, I'll keep writing for DMC, that's something I'll never stop; but you guys have NO IDEA how much I've been controlling myself over the years not to write Cyberpunk 2077 stuff I have a soft spot for Keanu Reeves, blame it on him

As she scrubbed her hands with the foaming soap, the warm water untied the stress on her shoulders, gradually making her feel at home.

It was funny how a hobby could also be a chore - and how being a mother was, sometimes, extremely tiring. Tiffany kept rubbing her fingers in an absent-minded manner, furrowing her eyebrows.

Tiffany.

She could hear her children calling.

Tiffany.

She could hear her husband calling.

Tiffany. Tiffany. Tiffany.

That name - her own name... - hammered inside her head as if it wanted to force her acceptance... As if taming her. She could hear her husband's voice saying it over and over and over and over again. Tiffany, Tiffany, Tiffany...

"Trinity!"

The voice that echoed in the back of her mind wasn't her husband's.

She immediately opened her eyes and stopped scrubbing her hands. Looking around, there was no noise but the falling warm water, filling the bathroom with its hot mist.

She was alone. And, even if she was surrounded by her children and her husband, their happy and average family... She was always alone.

Her heart began pounding a little faster and that familiar lump in her throat started forming, ready to take her breath away. Why did she feel like that? It made no sense. She was perfectly happy, perfectly normal, with a perfectly good life. She wasn't alone.

Trying to take her mind away from that, Tiffany started scrubbing the motorcycle grease from her fingers once again.

This time, while closing her eyes, she saw something else. The hands cleaning her fingers weren't hers... They were someone else's. Long, warm fingers taking their time in a smooth touch - much too loving to be her husband's. Much too loving to be Chad's hands.

Opening her eyes once more, Tiffany looked around, covering the upper part of her body.

But she was alone.

The only noise to be heard was the water. The only breathing body was hers.

Chad wasn't home from work yet. The kids were at their grandma's. Those hands she saw weren't hers.

Her heart pounded as if it wanted to break out from her chest. That touch... She longed for that touch. She wanted to feel it again... As if she felt it before, so many years ago, and her heart finally found solace once more.

That made absolutely no sense.

Shaking her head, Tiffany grabbed the soap and started to lather up from her fingers to her arms, making her way to her shoulders.

And again, while closing her eyes, she could see another set of hands doing it for her. Warm, loving, familiar... Going up her elbow until finally arriving at her shoulders, starting to massage the constant pain on her back up to her neck.

She felt the owner of those hands approaching, her body burning as she felt his body coming closer to hers from behind.

Tiffany's eyes shot open again, her feet turning around in a violent spin.

No one.

She was alone.

Again.

Then why did she feel that...? It was so real, it...

It was home.

During all those long years married to Chad, raising their children and living their lives like the perfect suburban family they were, she never felt at home. And she could only understand it now, feeling that presence - that strange vision that felt like a memory.

A memory from a life lived so many years ago. A life forgotten. A life from distant tales and great deeds.

A life completely different from her mundane reality.

She tried to keep on with her shower. She had to finish quickly and prepare dinner: there were too many things to do before she could call it a day.

But... At the same time she didn't want to close her eyes again, she did. It was more than a morbid curiosity. As if something inside herself kept telling her, constantly, she needed to know. She needed to see that again. She needed to feel it again.

She had to see his face.

As soon as she closed her eyes, she could only see flashes. It wasn't her beautiful, well decorated bathroom - it was gray and improvised, almost like a cave. Water fell on them. She wasn't alone. She was never alone - not in that life. Those hands... Those hands ran on her body, helping her shower. She was younger, her hair was shorter - too short even.

And then she felt his lips at the base of her neck, with a quick peck before whispering something. A word that made her feel at home.

"Trinity."

She was violently kicked back into reality as she opened her eyes, finding herself alone in that perfect bathroom. All the air in the world couldn't help her breathe properly again, all the grounding couldn't make her stop trembling. She spun around, searching, looking for something, without knowing exactly what it was. Her chest was bleeding - but as her hands cradled her heart, there was nothing there but water.

Then why...? How...? What was that crippling void that filled her soul, slowly eating its way into her mind? Who did she see? Who was Trinity?

What was all that? Who was he?

And why, oh why did it hurt so much?

She was alone, completely alone, in that sterile white bathroom that seemed like a cage, too big for her - she was small, she was alone, she was... Tiffany? Why did that name suddenly inspired such loathing on her? Why her glass-blue eyes couldn't stop weeping desperately? Why did her arms long for holding something... Someone...?

Even if she held her children... Even if she held Chad. It wasn't what her soul was searching, it was something else... Someone else. That empty space inside her she always knew was there but never really managed to put into words. That part of her that seemed to be missing, to be long gone. That made her eyes water and her chest hurt, that made her lose her breath and cry - as if she was nothing but a scared child missing someone she loved so.

Why couldn't she find him...? Was he alive? Was he dead? Who was he? And why did it seem he loved that Trinity so much - why did it seem she was her?

"Tiffany! You're taking some time in that shower, are you ok?"

Completely startled, she turned back at the door, one of her hands leaning on the cold tiles of the wall while the other pressed on her forehead. Her eyes stared at the entrance of the bathroom, wide as the pale moon in the sky.

Tiffany.

Tiffany.

That was her name. That was her reality. Those tiles, that cozy, well-decorated room, those fuzzy towels, Chad knocking on the door.

Tiffany.

That was real. That was... Real?

Was Trinity real? She felt real. The man who called her name also felt real - much more than all the caresses, touches and kisses she had exchanged with her husband up to that point in her life. Trinity wasn't alone... Trinity didn't have that void inside her chest, slowly taking up her soul, just like Tiffany had. As if the person she was would slowly disappear, all alone and forgotten - being just a shadow of who she once was. But...

"Hey, Tiff! Answer me! Are you ok?"

Was she ok? Was Tiffany ok? What about Trinity? How was she...? She wasn't... She missed something.

Tiffany missed something.

"I miss something..." She muttered mindlessly, feeling as the tears ran from her wide-open eyes, face completely expressionless.

She closed her eyes tightly, trying to stop that noise. That lack of breath. That heartbreaking loneliness.

"I'm always with you, Trin." Again, he was standing behind her, holding her tightly into his arms, entangling his fingers with her right hand while keeping his head cradled on her shoulder. She could feel herself smiling. Trinity was smiling.

"Tiffany!"

Trinity.

"Tiffany!"

Trinity.

"TIFFANY!"

"I'm alright!"

She finally managed to scream back, opening her eyes one last time. She could barely breathe and could barely hear whatever Chad was going on about on the other side of the door.

"I'm alright." She whispered to herself, running her hand on her forehead before shutting down the water from the shower and getting out of the box.

The feeling of the fuzzy towel was grounding. For a few moments, she wasn't sure who she was. What did they call that again...? Dissociating?

It was probably what happened to her. It started since the therapists said something about PTSD after an accident she was involved - but then again... She didn't know if it was real. It could've been a dream and maybe she had a dream about the therapists too. She wasn't sure.

Looking at her right hand, it was as if she had a residual of that presence behind her, of those arms holding her. And, once more, she was struck with that feeling... That longing... That something missing.

That absolutely nothing she already had could fill that empty space inside her chest.

"Tiff! You're sure you're ok? I'm tired from work and need to take a shower, are you taking too long to get out...?"

"No, no, I'll be out in a minute, Chad." She shook her head, starting to dry her body as fast as she could. "I'm gonna make us some pasta for dinner, ok?"

"Yeah! You're the best, Tiff!"

There was still too much to do before she could call it a day. She had to get a grip and get back to her life, it didn't matter how real all of that felt.

But something inside her, a small sparkle that she decided to ignore completely, wanted another voice to call her "Trin".

[ben-talks-art]

We need to make "explain but doesn't excuse you" a more popular sentence

I was thinking back to my list of favorite characters, and how I have people like Rameses in it and thought to myself "Why do I like this guy again...?" and then I started to recall why I was so into his story, and honestly ended up liking him even more.

Something that I noticed about the way writers try to handle backstories nowadays, is that they love to use a sad past to make people be on a character's side and then proceed to absolve them of their crimes.

Like, we love redemption arcs, we love character development, we love bad guys turning good... But I feel like we might love it a bit too much, as if we were waiting to forgive a character for all they did before even getting to them realizing the mistakes they made.

People love picking a villain they're into and going "Oh, it's not their fault, it's because they were raised that way, it's because they were abused as kids, it's because they lost someone they loved, it's because society treated them like trash, it's because they never had friends, it's because their girlfriend dumped them on Christmas eve..." and so on.

There is an obsession with "My character did nothing wrong because their past justify their actions!"

And here's something people tend to forget. A past explains one's actions but doesn't justify it.

Being abused by society, being trained by terrible morals, being oppressed and attacked... they all explain why someone would think it's okay to hurt others, but doesn't actually justify them hurting others.

Just because we know why someone's doing all the things they do, doesn't make the stuff they do any less bad.

This is why I love Rameses. They show the human side of him, they show he wasn't just born evil, they show that he could have been a decent person if he just had the right people to raise him.

They could have so easily made him just a cartoon villain who happened to be born evil and take joy in making others suffer under his command, but no, they show how he became this way, how he went from just a regular kid to a tyrant unable to feel sorry for others' pain and suffering, who was so brainwashed by the traditions of his family that he couldn't even process the harm he was bringing to others and why he couldn't even see the slaves as actual people in agony.

And, again, what I like about this story is that they explain how he became this way, but they don't paint him as blameless. The story acknowledges that he has blood in his hands, even if he himself doesn't, and it makes sure that he pays for what he did, even if what he did was the result of a long process of terrible lessons being passed down by generations that he didn't start.

At some point he became an adult, he became free from his father's command, free to make his own choices, and free to listen to the right people, free to look at what his actions were causing...

He had agency for his choices... And he still made the wrong decisions.

I feel like if others tried to tell this story today, they would either have made Rameses more evil from the start so you wouldn't feel bad for the tragedy that befalls him, or they would give him some sort of realization where he thinks about the harm he did and develops a change of heart in the last second.

I keep thinking about how there was a group of people going "Azula did nothing wrong!" when the new live-action Avatar show started and they basically tried to move all the blame from her to her "big bad evil father."

It makes me wonder if they released Prince of Egypt today, if there would be some sort of revisionism where people would try to argue that Moses is the villain for "not saving his brother" or something like that.

To the point I'm beyond curious about how things are going to end up in Arcane, since that series has a very similar story with two siblings that ended up splitting apart and reuniting but realizing that they were completely different in the paths they chose to follow, with one trying to fix the errors from the past and the other embracing them and trying to view them as part of who they are.

Is Arcane gonna go all the way and make Jinx an irredeemable monster that needs to be taken down, or are they gonna try to pull a "deep down, Powder is still there!" stuff?

I really hope they don't. I hope they give her an ending similar to Rameses where he's defeated but doesn't even get the luxury to die, just left alone and powerless while watching his most beloved family member moving on with his life while he's still stuck in the past and suffering the consequences of his actions and realizing that he achieved nothing.

And what I especially like about his ending is that even at this point he still doesn't realize why he's being punished so much, just showing at full power the danger of ignorance and refusing to see what's right in front of you.

It would be a terrible tragedy, but I think it would make for a great message.

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for stranding my character in a desert wasteland?

I suppose this may take a bit of explaining, won’t it?

I (rude question, M) will say that in the past I have had a rather… difficult time making decisions for myself. I’m a… well, technically I’m a ‘game designer,’ and I had this wonderful idea for a new game. But I lacked a good protagonist! I assumed that given the right character, they could also assist me in making decisions for the game. It was a wonderful idea, if I do say so myself.

Eventually, I stumbled on just the right man for the job. He (34, M) is a rather boring fellow, but he seemed very good for my intentions. He would even fit right in to the setting I’d been imagining— how wonderful is that! Finding the perfect character is an almost unparalleled feeling.

I truly thought the process would be straightforward— direct him down the correct path, have an interesting plot twist here and there, and my game would be perfect. But right from the get-go, he began defying my instructions. You give a man clear expectations, and he decides to go against exactly what you say! Really, how rude is that!?

I had a script prepared and everything, but he simply was not keen to follow my instructions, forcing me to improvise instead!

Despite it all, I was helpless to stop him— not even my control over the setting could help. As much as I attempted to remove possible choices, they would either return on their own, or he would find a way to make them anyways. It was terribly frustrating, but I’d grown rather attached to him as a protagonist at that point, and I was dead-set on making it work.

Fast-forward a little while, and my game actually did catch on! Something about my character being able to make his own decisions was rather appealing to my audience, and so begrudgingly, I chose to let him stay.

However, the developers made the decision to make a sequel of my game— which had absolutely the intention to stain the integrity of my original game. They didn’t even think to give it any worthwhile features!

Despite it all, my protagonist decided that he enjoyed these pointless features, and I could tell the developers were winning him over. But no, no, I couldn’t have that!

You see, I had an area that I’d stashed within my game— one that only I knew about, one very, very special to me. It contained every one of my positive experiences with my original game, so I could remember it without any blasphemous new additions attempting to appeal to a wider audience.

Now that my protagonist was wanting the features of the ‘new game’, I decided to bring him to this area, in an effort to remind him how good the old game truly was.

I’ll be honest, I don’t really remember what happened next— my protagonist seemed rather distraught by it, kept telling me he was happy to see me again— as if I had gone somewhere, hah! I wouldn’t abandon my game like that, I don’t know where he could’ve gotten the idea.

But either way, I had a new idea on how to win him back over— a burst of new ideas and features that I chose to implement into the old game! Beat that, developers!

At this point, my protagonist had settled into his routine of going against what I said, but at least he was listening to me some of the time.

I’ll admit, it was rather nice. No longer did it seem I had to fight with him, and I had even developed a script for every wrong choice he made! No more surprises.

…However, that is, until he got UNREASONABLY attached to one of the new features I’d implemented.

I wouldn’t blame him it he simply liked the object I had given him, but no! He carried it around everywhere he went, and even had the gall to get upset when he lost it!

And not only that, but this progressed into him thinking that it was speaking to him! Can you believe it!? And because of that, he began ignoring me for the sake of following perceived directions from this object!

I gave that thing to him because I’d noticed he was lonely, and obviously I couldn’t be there with him, so I thought that it may be nice for him to have something else to hold.

However, it all came to a point where I was going over good memories I had shared with him, and instead of listening to me, he blatantly told me that he wanted his bucket back.

I suppose it was a sort of ‘straw that broke the camel’s back’ situation, as it were. I was done with him and his bucket-loving nonsense, and I didn’t NEED him to make my decisions anymore. And so I cast him outside of the game, into a desert wasteland, because it was the only other map I had on hand.

I will admit, for posterity sake, that I do miss him sometimes. He was a wonderful protagonist, and if I could bring him back, I certainly would. But I simply do not think I could deal with the fact that he’d chosen an object over me. Me! The man who’s been with him since the start!

So, dear reader— am I truly the asshole in this situation?

Edit: What’s with all this nonsense in the comments? I keep saying MY protagonist because he is the protagonist to my game! It’s simply easier to type! I don’t know what you all are implying, but it certainly doesn’t have the connotations you think it does.

[caffetteria-centrale]

Conclave Minor Characters Fest 2025 Challenge #1 - Sister Agnes & The Daughters of Charity

The Conclave Minor Characters Fest is now up and running on AO3!

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Concept:

Roughly once every two weeks, a character/group of characters will be announced. You are encouraged to create fanwork that focusses on that character/some or all of the group of characters. Optional prompts to help you kickstart your work will also be provided, and there will be achievement badges for each challenge plus a special badge for those who complete all challenges.

Complete table of challenges with dates, prompts, and badges

Current Challenge:

Mon Feb 24 - Sun Mar 9

Focus Character(s): Sister Agnes & The Daughters of Charity

Optional prompts

One Word: Bird

One Line: “No no no, sorry! I just-… I honestly didn’t think you even knew my name.”

Scenario: A scene involving a medicine cabinet.

Detailed schedule & rules under the cut

Mon Mar 10 - Sun Mar 23

Focus Character(s): Minor Cardinals

One Word: Elusive or Ephemeral

One Line: “To me, red is the color of life.”

Scenario: A scene in which something gets broken

Mon Mar 24 - Sun Apr 6

Focus Character(s): Minor Clergy

One Word: Paper

One Line: “Faith may be blind but loyalty isn’t.”

Scenario: A scene in which a character reviews a series of voice notes.

Mon Apr 7 - Sun Apr 13

Focus Character(s): Giulio Sabbadin

One Word:Protection

One Line: “This was the path I chose. I only have myself to blame.”

Scenario: A scene in which a gesture plays a key part.

Mon Apr 14 - Sun Apr 20 (Holy Week)

A special event, technically unconnected to the Minor Characters Fest, but with the same format!

Rules/Further information:

At the beginning of every challenge period (roughly once every two weeks from February 24 to April 20), a focus character or group of characters and some prompts will be announced. As soon as the announcement is live, you can begin creating and posting fanworks.

Fanworks must contain the current focus character or group of characters. You are welcome to incorporate the prompts into your work, but they are optional. Late submissions are not permitted.

Fanworks of any kind and with any rating are allowed and encouraged.

Please post your finished work to the collection.

Have fun!

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

Meryl, Luida, and Bridging the Gap

This is just a quick little side-note I wanted to make about the similarities between Meryl and Luida that I noticed as I was reading, and how they end up occupying similar, yet complementing roles in the story.

***Disclaimer: I was sick when I wrote this and my head is full of fog lmao. If I have completely left out a word or something... don't even worry about it it's fine.

First off, on a surface level, they both are characterized as capable, intelligent, level-headed women, who are suddenly thrust into leadership positions, with Meryl being assigned the task of tracking down and mitigating the damage caused by Vash the Stampede plus looking out for her new protégé, Milly, and Luida stepping up to take charge of Ship 3 and its residents after Doc's death.

While the demand placed on them both is immense, nonetheless, they are shown to be quite capable of shouldering this kind of responsibility - however, given their intense focus and objective-driven personalities, they actually both get scenes where they are somewhat horrified by their own temporary prioritization of objectives over morality. We see this with Meryl in Trigun Volume 1 when she doesn't react in righteous anger to Badwick threatening his parents and had shut herself off from writing to her own in pursuit of her job, and with Luida when she briefly considers the idea of another July incident to stop Knives. Both think negatively of themselves for this - of course, I'm of the mind that since they are upset with themselves on reflection, this proves the exact opposite, really. I think they both have hearts of gold, they're just under a lot of stress, especially as time goes on. The two of them are human beings who falter, but whose morals ultimately align closely with what Vash wants to see in the world. Really, what the two of them hate most here is the idea of their own inaction or taking the easy way in the face of wrongdoing - a concept that drives them into action going forward.

[ID: Two images from Trigun and Trigun Maximum. The first is from Trigun Volume 1. Over images of trees and Badwick's father, Meryl says "But I... I just stood there and took it all in without even budging. I am such a cold person. I chose this path of blood and tears without thinking about the rest of my life. All I can see is what's right in front of me." Meryl starts to cry as she continues, "Why could I not see... that when I closed myself off to him, something was wrong? I..." She then slaps her cheeks and says "No... never mind!" The second image is from Trigun Maximum Volume 8. A single tear runs down Luida's cheek. Meryl says "Miss Luida...?" Her back turned to Meryl, Luida says "I'm sorry. I... was thinking for a moment. If something like July would happen again... it could stop Knives, but... ... I'm a terrible woman. End ID.]

Both of them also have a connection to Vash's past that gives them a different perspective on him as a person, instead of just an ally - Meryl, of course, gets brain-blasted in Volume 5 with Vash's memories (poor thing), but Luida is also more familiar with him than even a lot of the people on Ship 3, it seems - enough that she calls him out for blaming himself after the attack, clearly used to hearing this from him. She also is the one to clear up at least some of Wolfwood's confusion and uncertainty.

We also get this interesting parallel of them both watching Vash walk away to face Knives, him having rejected their offers of help. It's something that clearly saddens them both, as they watch him fight alone again and again, and wish he wouldn't. Both of them have moments where they feel they can't offer much in the way of assistance, or that their best efforts aren't enough.

[ID: Two images from Trigun and Trigun Maximum. The first is from Trigun Volume 2. Vash, his back turned, runs off into the chaos, a Plant seen above him and the city ahead, as he yells back "Get as far away from here as you can! Get to safety!" Meryl watches him from the door. In the second image, from Trigun Maximum Volume 8, a grainy flashback shows Vash's turned back as he walks away from a young Luida, who is reaching out to him. End ID.]

Of course, we the readers know this isn't true at all! Meryl and Luida do so much over the course of the story.

Interestingly, they don't start off as the ones completely in charge - Meryl works for Bernadelli even if she is in charge of her assignment, and Luida is presumably part of the Council, but the one in charge is initially Doc. But once they do take over - Luida after Doc's death, and Meryl once the world is thrown into ruins and Bernadelli no longer exists - there is a striking difference in the way they act from their predecessors.

Meryl goes from simply following Vash around to taking a self-directed and active role in assisting him however she can - looking for his old belongings and anything else of potential use, asking Marlon to repair his gun, creating a distraction with Milly, and helping the Earth Federation in the final hour with no hesitation.

Luida takes a much more active role in rallying Ship 3 to assist Vash as well. While some of this may simply have been because the stakes were raised much higher after Volume 3, Ship 3, while already a base of support for Vash, was a distant safe haven, kept largely separate from the rest of the world. Up until that point, they had provided Vash with aid, but not fought alongside him, something that clearly bothers Luida on multiple occasions. She decides to change this. She's the one who sets out to help as many of the towns ravaged by the Ark as possible. She rallies the Ship 3 residents for a rescue mission to help Vash. She's the one to step forward and attempt to bring all the leaders around to standing with Vash.

Which brings me to my last comparison point. They're both staunchly supportive of Vash, quick to come to his aid, and quick to defend his character from those who doubt his intent - Luida even sharply calls out her own people for their moment of mistrust after hearing about July. These two know and care about Vash on a more personal level than most - and as we all know, due to his avoidant tendencies, this is not an easy thing to do. Vash is frequently misinterpreted, and these two are often the ones to set the record straight.

[ID: A panel from Trigun Maximum Volume 3. Luida, sternly, says "That's a foolish question. You would know the answer just by looking at the scars on his body. If he had used his true immortality, those scars would not be there. End ID.]

In this way, much like Vash is a bridge between humans and Plants, Meryl and Luida are something of a bridge between humans and Vash.

And they're able to do this because deep down, their ideals align closely with his - they're not just supporting someone they care about; they have a similar desire to see the kind of world he fights for, and they choose to fight for it too.

But while Luida is something of a spokesperson for Vash, reaching out to humanity, it is almost as if Meryl becomes the voice of humanity reaching back, responding to him, and agreeing that not everything in the world is awful; that it is worth believing in the best in others. They need to stand together.

[ID: A panel from Trigun Maximum Volume 14. Meryl, in a spacesuit, with frank determination, says, "Because we decided to stand together. We stand with Vash the Stampede." End ID.]

Meryl is the voice of proof that some people believe in the love and peace he speaks of, and are willing to say it back to him in turn.

Updated on my masterpost - my other book club stuff can be found here!