#i know truthfully that she does this to cope with the choices she’s made to marry him & stick with him throughout 30+ years of abuse

[gamjuni]

its is just so deeply frustrating the lengths my mom will go to defend my dad’s emotional and verbal abuse .. how she stayed with him even as he beat my brothers because divorce would be too shameful. and it is just a reminder that despite what she says that she is not someone who i can rely on to protect me

[lullaebies]

To Make It Up To Your Inner Child: Alicent with Helaena and Aegon with Jaehaerys

So, haven't been here for a while, but now that the season is back on I have some reflections on the Targtower family generational trauma and how parent characters take to their same gendered child. This post is of course about Alicent and Helaena, while comparing them to Aegon and Jaehaerys. This post speaks solely about the House of the Dragon characters, and not their book counterparts. We will start with Alicent. We know that at 14, she was an anxious child, scratching her fingers and being very visibly uncomfortable when Otto asks her to be a part of his plans to win over Viserys. She is abruptly shoved away from childhood to being a woman, queen and a mother, practically made to shove herself in a succession crisis and lose friends on the way, all in service of her own family and accepting her duties. And she has her boys, the duties she had for the crown fullfiled. Those boys are hard to handle. Aegon and Aemond as we see on the show, are very much hurting from their father's decisions and other circumstances. Aegon takes to alcoholism and sex, Aemond takes to hatred and eventually is revealed to also cope through sex, though it isn't evident in the first season. Alicent, although she tries, cannot connect to them on certain levels - she often feels unheard by them instead as she states in S2. She takes a different personality when they have to be handeled, which I would argue is in order to make a facade of strength for them to respect her. She lacks tenderness with them - in S1 it was very evident with Aegon, in S2 it clear Aemond is feeling shafted by her as well. Between those boys however, she did have on girl. Helaena is her secondborn, her only same gendered child. Despite being unable to connect to Helaena fully due to her personality, she is the one person Alicent is very clearly trying to connect to desperately. We see her trying to hug her several times, we see her being as gentle as possible in words and actions when she is speaking to Helaena. I think, we are made to understand, that Alicent thinks that her reflection is Helaena, though Helaena is far more unfiltered and raw about her emotions. She poses questions and challenges duty in a manner that Alicent can very much empathize with. Because she was there; Alicent didn't want to be Queen, and didn't want her son to be King, and didn't wish for any of the duties that had been placed on her. She can see Helaena hurting from the same thing she is hurting by. Her daughter is hurting, and she notices that she needs someone to help her, because she had felt once as helpless too.

"All I wanted was for someone to say that they were sorry for what happened to me" - Young Alicent Hightower, S1 "But what they’ve done to my girl…” - Older Alicent Hightower, S2

Note how the first quote is speaking of Alicent's late mother, her death, and how alone she felt at the time of her death. Alicent wants to connect to Helaena as a mother, and be the light that her mother had been to her. But duty overtakes that position from her, and all Alicent can offer is tender reassurances, to the best of her abilities, to connect to Helaena through the grief of carrying the Crown. She does her best to heal the inner lonely child she had been, because her only girl would only ever be tended by her, and she knows it - none of the other people who build the Crown would be there for her in the same way. Alicent views Helaena as a mirror to the past, and now, she may also be a mirror to the future, in more than just the dreaming, as the death of her own children is impending through this war. And yet, a mirror to her in a different way exists in her eldest, Aegon. Aside from the casting choices magic, that make it seems as Tom Glynn Carney and Olivia Cooke are truthfully family through visage, it has been noted by plenty of others that Alicent and Aegon both throw themselves into similar patterns of behavior, such as falling deep to vices that hurt them. (Alicent's reliance on the Faith while Aegon reliance on alcohol for coping, self-harming ways shown from both characters, and also having sex as coping mechanism - shown from Aegon in S1, and from Alicent in S2 due to the addition of Alicole). Aegon also seems to be trying, just like Alicent, to make up for his inner child's trauma through making it up and being there for his same gendered child.

"He could have, but he never did because he didn't like me." - Aegon II, on his father not naming him heir, S1E9

Aegon has been noted to have self-worth issues. He has been neglected by his father and pushed aside by him in what would many would consider his rightful inheritance; his father did not look at him as an heir to the Throne, or even a child worth caring for and minding the feelings of. Attention was not given to Aegon II by Viserys I, and struggled with that for many years. But immediately upon being given the power to make it different for Jaehaerys, to let him know that he loves him, he named him heir; he takes him to the councils, he makes a show in order to flood the boy with the attention he had never received. The throne, due to societal constructs, has been deeply tied for Aegon with love and self-worth. It is a gift from his parents and sign of belief in his capabilities. Jaehaerys is four, and hardly cares for any duty. He does not associate any of this with his father's love. But Aegon did not want him to grow feeling robbed of his inheritance, and of his parents' love, or think that his parents never fought for his rights. In him Aegon sees his little mirror, not yet tainted, not yet shattered, deserving of attention and titles he is able to bestow Jaehaerys as his father. Love is subjective, as is love language. Alicent and Aegon look at their same-sex children, and look at them as flowers to tend to. Flowers to make sure will not wilt the same way they feel they did. When they wilt regardless of their effort, it is the worst of grief. They have failed the next generation and somehow fell to the same trap of hurting them regardless. The mirror they thought they have is shattered and ruined, and they are left pained, at their breaking point...

"The gods punish us. They punish me." - Alicent Hightower, S2E2

And at the point of boiling.

"Fuck dignity. I want revenge." - Aegon II, S2E2

The stage is set for them to spiral further and further, now that hopes of healing the generational trauma had been robbed of them. The nuances of what they do next, I would only be able to explore in the future to come, but needless to say, mother and son are parallel lines, trying to navigate now that the ground had been robbed off their feet.

[redsbrainrot]

Gruvia Week Day 6 - Agony

warning: mentions of blood

_ _ _

"Juvia, what're you doing up again?" 

03:30 in the morning, Gray caught his wife of six months pondering around the kitchen, dressed in his shirt and nothing underneath it, other than silky underwear and knee-high, odd, socks covering her porcelain legs. Her hair had been in the same messy ponytail for the past two days; bumpy and greasy. She hadn't showered in almost a week. 

She glances up at her Gray-sama, the portrayal on her face remains bleak as she blankly shrugs, "Can't sleep." 

"Again?" 

It'd been five days. Five days since the agonising, tragic loss she never even dreamed of having the trauma of going through. Awakening one day to buckets of rain dripping down the window, stomach cramps the same pain rate as being stabbed by a steak knife, and later that day her sheets are stained with blood dripping between her legs, followed by screams so harsh she'd lost her voice. 

Juvia shakes her head at Gray's questioning, breaking the simple eye contact and continuing to circle around the central counter. 

Gray forces her aimless pondering to stop as he takes her hand. Her eyes dart from the light grip on her hand to his eyes, hers narrowing in annoyance. 

Gray couldn't bare it. Juvia never looked at him with such hatred. She can't control the way she's feeling right now, and he's aware that anything she may spit at him won't be from her heart. It's not her, he had to remind himself. She's suffered a loss, and he has too. Her end is only much, much more painful, as she was the one who had to experience losing her unborn child. 

The two hadn't been married for long, and after Juvia discovers she's pregnant only five months into their marriage, she was delighted with excitement anyway. They never discussed exactly when kids could go on the table, yet the surprise out of nowhere was bliss. 

Juvia would go day and night protesting she needed solitude, and begged him to take a job request. On the verge of accepting, he changed his mind in an instant and stayed for her. Gray couldn't control his thoughts and his worst fear was that Juvia may do something stupid to hurt herself. 

She snatches her hand out of his grip, turning away and continuing to dawdle, "Juvia, can you come back to bed?" She shakes her head, "Please?" Another objection as Gray follows her circular path. 

"Can you take a shower then? I think it'll do you good." 

Her head shakes roughly this time, and Gray manages to catch a brief sound of sniffling, her feet remaining fixed on the floor. 

"Bath?" Gray suggests, keeping his distance in case she slaps away his touch once more, "It'll make you sleepy." 

With a release of an exhausted sigh, she agrees. "Fine." Juvia's never so blunt in her words. 

"I'll run it," He leaps in front of her before she can enter their bedroom, "Lie down for a minute, okay?" 

Juvia obliges, carefully placing herself on the edge of the mattress, not lying down, instead slouched in her seat, her fingers fiddling and pulling with the ends of her socks. Anything for a distraction. 

Gray was still in surprise of how the girl hadn't yet fainted. She'd lacked in both sleep, and eating. Truthfully, he can't remember the last time he saw something enter her system. She hadn't dropped by the guild since before the incident, refused to allow people inside the apartment, including Gajeel, and had stop using the terms "Gray-sama", when referring to her beloved husband. Gray may have found it irritating way back in the day, but now it's just not the same. He can't stand watching her suffer. What struck him down most is that he may have been trying his best to make life easier for her, however nothing was helping. 

The only other person aware of their current situation was Erza. She advised Gray he just needed to give her time, she'll come around eventually. Her biggest concern was Gray's wellbeing. He's gone through hell, and this time instead of moping around, complaining about life and frankly wishing he wasn't around anymore, he wasn't letting himself cry it out. He desperately wanted Juvia to at least smile. Her smile is what keeps him going. Without it, what's the point? 

Honestly, all Gray needed right now was to weep his depressive thoughts into someone's chest. Only this time, he can't to Juvia. She's already killing herself with guilt. 

Juvia dismally thanks Gray for running her bath as she enters the bathroom, her shirt already undone and the shoulders draping down her arms. Gray choses to leave her in peace, about to open the door and wait eyes open in their bed for her. Until Juvia latches her hand onto his, tugging him back inside. "Can you stay in here with me?" 

Juvia swirls her hand around the decently heated water, while the other is in Gray's hand as he is sat on the floor next to the tub. Her hold was weak, but at least the two were touching each other, even if it was only a hand hold. 

Neither of them spoke. Sitting in silence with each other was enough for now. 

"I'm really sorry." Juvia startles Gray as her voice cracks, breaking the silence.

"For what?" 

"The past few days," Her hand swirling ends, looking up with her watering eyes into Gray's, "I've been really cold to you. I'm not making this any easier."

"Nothing about this is easy, Juvia," If anything, Gray's wishes were the opposite of her sincere, unneeded and unwanted apologies, "You don't have to apologise. You don't need to," He lifts his hand from hers, brushing it down her dampened hair, caressing her cherubic cheeks, "It's only your way of coping. I know you don't mean anything you say." 

Juvia appreciates nothing more than her darling's kind words. Even though no smile was emitted, he knew she took his words to heart as her hand placed on top of his, turning her face slightly and planting her lips on the corner of his palm.

Unfortunately, his light touches and sweet words weren't enough for her to keep back a gush of tears. Her gloomful teardrops splatter into his hand, whimpers and sniffles following. 

_ _ _

Juvia pleaded Gray to leave her in peace in the lukewarm bathtub after her flood of tears had escaped. Gray was unsure of what to say. All she needed from him was brief contact, and of course an immediate change of heart occurred as her drops of sadness had faded. 

Gray left behind another one of his shirts and some clean underwear for Juvia. He refused to acknowledge his exhaustion and remained awake while patiently awaiting Juvia's return to their bedroom. 

Almost 04:30, Gray peeps up at the door as it creaks open. Juvia tiresomely walks through, the drips in her wet hair seeping through her braids, and the buttons on her shirt done up in the wrong order. It didn't bother her, though. She probably didn't even notice. 

Gray opens up the covers for her side, the eye contact absent as she crawls in beside him, switching off the lamp as she does so. 

Juvia lays on her side, facing Gray yet not exchanging any form of contact with him. Gray desperately wanted to pull her close to him, cuddle in their sleep and once again be comfortable with one another. She craved the space, though. 

"Juvia," He breathes, trailing his hand towards hers, implying a moment of contact, which thankfully she agrees to, "I hate seeing you beat yourself up." 

Silence. 

"Tomorrow will you at least go outside? Even if it's only a small walk." 

Her grip in his hand loosens, thinking it over. "I don't know..." 

After picturing the absolute elation portrayed on her face, spectating her suffering was agonising for him. 

At first, she was panicky, anxious and frightened of what Gray would think of her pregnancy. On the outside, she remained mature and adult-like, keeping the situation and her emotions under control. 

"Gray-sama?" Juvia starts as she's sat on the bathroom counter, Gray opposite and leant on the wall with his arms folded, "What if it really is positive? What will we do?" 

Juvia had been concerned whether she was pregnant or not for about four days. She first noticed her period was late, but that had happened before. Her cycle was up and down, so the notice in change wasn't a first sign of pregnancy. 

"What do you want?" Gray wasn't sure at this point. 

Gray was the one who proposed taking a pregnancy test just to make sure, as much as Juvia objected that she couldn't possibly be. 

"Well, would Gray-sama mind if Juvia is pregnant? Would it bother you?" 

Gray's response is quick with a head shake, "To be honest, no." Juvia peers up with her teeth nibbling her lip, "My main concern if you, Juvia. If you don't want to have a baby right now, that's your choice. This isn't really mine to make." Gray's tone had always been bland and he's a closed book, making their moment difficult for Juvia. 

"I want your opinion, Gray-sama." 

He tilts his head for a moment, what did he really think about this? 

"I..." Gray questioned his possible skills as a father, already wondering whether he made a good husband before hand, "We've been married for almost six months, and these months have been the best of my life. I like having fun with you, when it's just the two of us. I know you want kids at some point, and so do I. So... if you wanna have a baby now, I'd be happy with it." 

Juvia profoundly smiles at his honesty. She'd enjoyed her relationship with Gray-sama before they were even in one. She's loved him for years, and being pregnant with his baby would make her happier than ever. Even if it's sooner than she thought it'd happen. 

She realises the timer had ended, and takes the test behind her, hovering her thumb over the result before taking a look. Gray steps closer, grabbing her hand while staring down at the test. Trembling, she slips her thumb aside to see two red lines, indicating a positive test. 

"Juvia, I'm back." Gray announces himself as he enters their apartment.

As he closes the door, he quickly takes note how it's suddenly began to pour rain from outside. The windows are drowning in the water, and only a moment ago the sun was out. He hadn't seen rain like this in god knows how long. 

"Juvia?" He calls again, after no response. 

After searching the kitchen and living room, he heads to their bedroom. He opens the door to notice ruffled sheets, and towards the edge of the bed, a puddle of red was sinking into the mattress. 

Gray catches the sounds of whimpers coming from the bathroom. Struck with confusion, he storms inside and witnesses his wife on the dark towel covering the tiled floor, dressed in one of his shirts. For support, her arms depended on the edge of the bathtub, while her face dug into her arm, soaking with tears. 

Gray drops to the floor, gently shaking her arm in attempt to get words out of her. She refuses, shaking her head over and over again as her whimpers become cries of distraught. Finally, Gray notices a gush of blood between her legs. 

[gukieoppa]

not again | pt.1

➢ summary: he wanted a challenge, a good, innocent fuck, so why did his heart race at the sight of her?

➢ genre: romance, following angst and fluff, (as of now) no nsfw planned, college au

➢ pairing: fuckboy!jungkook x reader

➢ warnings: cursing, fluff, mentions of sex, body image insecurities

➢ note: i did this instead of homework and paying attention to class lmao. also it’s only 1.55k so i’m sorry if you wanted a longer chapter but expect short chapters from me because i’m not an excellent writer. i also decided to post this today because i’m going on trip to the beach for three days and i don’t know when i’ll have time to write. oof.

← teaser & pt.2 →

◇ ◇ ◇

Ever since you met Jeon Jungkook, you couldn’t get him out of your mind. His face was the only thing you could see when you closed your eyes. You finally understood why he was so popular, but that didn’t mean you would associate yourself with him even further. 

Truthfully, you didn’t go to the library after you talked to Jungkook. You went straight back to your dorm, catching a glimpse of his figure as you walked to the building. His figure, though, wasn’t alone. A silhouette of, what you assumed to be, a girl was beside him, their lips locked. You grunted and felt sickened by the sight, reminding yourself that it was better to have distance.

Jungkook, on the other hand, wanted to get closer to you, but he was afraid. Evidently by his title, he didn’t do relationships, but when it came to you, he felt something different: a feeling of need and possessiveness. That was why, when you were out of his sight, he pulled the closest girl who was ogling him to the nearest bathroom.

A good fuck was the only thing Jungkook felt he could cope with.

◇ ◇ ◇

Park Hyejin: you loved to hate her. She was your dorm mate, best friend, and so-called stylist. She’d always wanted to major in fashion, but her parents never allowed her, saying it wasn’t a stable job choice. That led her into the business major and to meeting you. 

◇ ◇ ◇

You saw a brunette sitting on a bench, crying her eyes out. Seeing as you had just had a pretty shitty day as well, you approached her.

“Sky looks nice,” you commented, standing beside the bench with your arms crossed.

The sky was plain. Nothing but smooth, grey clouds filled the sky. Though the sky itself was dull, the red and orange leaves made up for it. The autumn leaves desperately hung onto the tree branches, some blown off at the slightest breeze. 

You heard the girl let out a choked laugh, “Sure does.”

“Bad day?” You asked, looking over at her. She nodded, her brunette hair bouncing at the movement.

She wore a cream, knit cardigan atop of a black mock neck that was tucked into a brown, plaid, pleated skirt. Her shoes were basic combat boots, but they finished the outfit with a punch. 

“Aren’t you a little overdressed to be sulking on campus?” You teased, seeing as you were only in an oversized hoodie and sweats.

She let out a quiet sigh, “I guess, but what better way to display my fashion if I can’t pursue it?”

“May I give some feedback on the outfit?” You asked, feeling as if her outfit was missing a piece.

The girl sat up, improving her posture, “Please do.”

Your hand rested on your hip, “Though the overall outfit is gorgeous and much better than I could ever put together, I feel like there’s something missing.” Your finger rested on your chin as you thought. Then, it came to you, “A hat! Yes, that’s what's missing. Specifically, a beige beret. If you don’t like hats, though, you could put in those long hair clips things on the side of your head. Know what I mean?”

She perked up at your suggestion, “That’s actually a great idea! Are you secretly into fashion?”

That made you laugh.

“If I were into fashion, I wouldn’t wear the same pair of sweats every other day,” she grimaced in disgust.

“I should style you, then,” she smiled.

“I’ll have to think about it,” you suddenly realized that the pair of you hadn’t properly introduced yourselves. “By the way, I’m Y/N L/N. You are?”

“Park Hyejin,” she smiled and stuck out her hand for you to shake. You shook her hand, a warm smile on both of your faces.

◇ ◇ ◇

“You talked to Jungkook? Jeon Jungkook?” She laughed loudly.

“Yes, I talked to him, but he approached me first,” you frowned at the girl you called your best friend.

“Doesn’t matter! You still talked to him,” she smirked, “So, how was it? Talking to the Jungkook?”

“Quite boring, not going to lie. We just made small talk, and, I kid you not, after talking for about five minutes, he suddenly said that he needed to leave,” you said, an unimpressed look plastered onto your face.

“Only five minutes? You must’ve been boring,” she snorted. 

You glared at her, “Me? Boring? Never, but I did see him devouring some girl’s face when I was coming back to the dorms.”

“Damn, he moves fast,” the two of you shared a mutual laugh.

◇ ◇ ◇

Jungkook was already on his third bottle of beer when Jimin burst into the house, whining about the lack of sex he had because of homework.

Park Jimin was one of Jungkook’s closest friends, apart from Kim Taehyung. Jimin also enjoyed one night stands, but he never went to the extent of Jungkook. Instead of spending every Friday night partying and getting drunk off his ass, Jimin would occasionally spend his time at the dance studio practicing. 

“Just pick up a random girl,” Jungkook slurred.

Jimin looked over at his intoxicated friend, “Drinking already? What happened?”

Jungkook let out a sarcastic laugh, “What do you mean? Can’t I drink when I want?”

“Alright, so this isn’t about that girl I saw you talking to this afternoon,” Jungkook’s head snapped over to look at the ash grey haired man.

“What?” The brunette seethed.

“Haven’t seen you talk to a girl like that in a while,” Jimin sighed, “What’s up? You know you can tell me.”

“Just leave me alone, hyung,” Jungkook groaned.

“She'll be good for you,” Jimin whispered before leaving the maknae to himself.

◇ ◇ ◇

“Taehyung,” you shouted, jogging over to your friend and study buddy. You hopped onto his back, arms wrapping around his torso, eliciting an “oof” from him.

“Y/N/N,” he looked over his shoulder to smile at you.

“How are you? I haven’t seen you in a while,” you pouted.

“We literally saw each other like 5 days ago,” he said in disbelief.

“That’s 5 days too long.”

You hopped off of the blonde’s back and walked in front of him, “Hyejin dressed me up again,” he let out a small laugh, “Hey! What do you think? The outfit itself is gorgeous, but on me, it looks like, well, it just looks bad. I feel like I’m a walking potato.”

You were very self-conscious about your body, seeing as your best friend had the body of a model. It wasn’t that you didn’t go to the gym and work hard to have your desired body, it was that your expectations became harder to achieve as each day passed. 

“If you’re a walking potato, then what are the other girls? Moving trash cans?”

You gasped and slapped his arm, “You can’t say that! That’s rude.”

“I’m only speaking the truth,” he huffed, “I can’t deny it. You look fucking hot in that outfit,” he bit his lip and let his eyes roam your body.

“Ey! Eyes up here, buddy,” you slapped the side of his head lightly, earning a chuckle from him. “But seriously, are you sure I don’t look fat?”

“Y/N/N, you’re not fat. You’re gorgeous on the inside and out. I’m being completely honest right now,” you looked at your feet, “You need to treat yourself better. You don’t see all the jealous glares girls send your way because you always take the breath away from other guys.”

You gave him a weak smile, “Thanks, Tae. Love you.”

“Love you, too, princess,” he teased.

Laughing and shaking your head, you grab his arm, “Do you have time to help me study tonight?”

“Study?” He smirked, “What kind of studying are you talking about?”

You gagged and pushed him away, “Never mind! I can study on my own.”

“No, wait! Come back, babe,” he chased after you as you ran away from him.

“Be gone,” you say as you get into a fighting stance.

Then in perfect sync, you both yell, “Thot!”

◇ ◇ ◇

Hand in hand, you and Taehyung approached the double story home. 

“Fair warning, it might be messy on the inside,” Taehyung spoke up.

“You live here?” You asked, flabbergasted.

“Yeah,” he chuckled, “But I have two roommates who, by the way, are my best friends. They’re almost always horny, though.”

“Aren’t you always horny?” You smirked.

“Would you like to find out?” He winked, nudging your shoulder with his.

Your nose scrunched in disgust, “Gross,” he laughed, “We have work to do and not a lot of time, so let’s get it!”

You skipped over to the door, waiting for your friend to unlock the door for you. When he reached where you were, he pulled the door open without unlocking it.

“You don’t lock the door? That’s so stupid,” you scolded him.

“Oh hush. My roommates are probably home already,” he spoke as he walked into the house.

The smell of beer stung your nose, and you winced in disgust. You looked around for the source of the odor to find bottles of finished beer sitting on a table. Beside that table, though, was the culprit responsible for the placing of the empty bottles.

[nctzendreamz]

off the table — lee taeyong

genre: angst w/ hints of fluff.

warnings: language, mentions of drug abuse, and mental illness.

featuring: nct members + chan and felix from stray kids.

authors note: taeyong was perfect for this in my head. also, thank you ariana grande.

is love completely off the table?

will I ever love the same way again? will I ever love somebody like the way I did you?

it had been almost a year. almost a year since he had heard your laugh. you know, the one only he was capable of getting out of you. it was gentle, yet so vibrant that it could color even the most plain and unpleasant rooms. he had seen you do it a million times, but his favorite work of art of yours was the one you did on his heart.

obviously, he couldn’t see what the inside of him looked like. but he could feel it. before he met you, he was certain everything was pitch black. to be specific, the darkest shade of the night sky one could possible fathom. so much pain resided in him. some he brought to himself, some he did nothing to earn. regardless, it was there, and as anybody with demons did, he found coping methods.

that’s how he met you, actually. holed up a strip club he had no business being in. one, because there was no one here he truly wanted. he would never admit it outloud, but the thought of love warmed him. not much, but it did. more than silly one night stands that have soul ties no one wanted to keep.

you were clearly out of place in the building filled with the scent of marijuana and flashing lights, although it did perfectly consume your complexion in the most beautiful way. he observed you for what felt like hours, just admiring you. he had no idea he would want to do this for the rest of his life.

it didn’t take much liquid courage for him to approach you. he could sense your fear when his slender fingers touched your exposed shoulder. for some reason though, the minute your eyes locked it was as if you were looking at someone you had known for a million lifetimes. or maybe that was just Taeyong’s point of view. maybe, everything was all an illusion. meeting you. falling in love with you. you falling in love with him.

“it’s been awhile.” a voice snaps Taeyong out of his deep thinking. the minute his concentration breaks does his surroundings suddenly blast into the center of his cortex. the volume increases. he is in the real world again. he isn’t high, yet.

“yeah.” is all he can spit out. all of the different coversations he could hear take place all of a sudden was making him extremely frustrated and unable to form coherent thoughts. or maybe he wanted it that way so he wouldn’t have to think about you.

you loved coming here. he hated coming here. but he loved you, and your favorite thing to say to him was, “when you love someone, you do things you hate. just like me sitting and watching you smoke for hours without stopping.”

he never realized how much you hated his distractions.

the here, was a restaurant that resembled a sports bar back where you are from. the food was less Korean and more greasy chicken tenders. and you really admired their honey mustard. it was kind of ridiculous how much you loved this place. it was always crowded. the smell was odd - a mixture of people who can’t seem to do anything but drink beer and yell, and foreigners who hated living in Korea. this was the only taste of home they got, so they took advantage of it.

did you feel that way too?

he doesn’t know. and he doesn’t want to think about it. some soccer game was on. people were cheering. he was just waiting on his to-go order.

“how have you been?” the familiar woman asks behind the counter. she was definitely in her mid-50’s. he assumed. she always would be here when Taeyong was dragged along, and she was always nice. who wouldn’t be with all the money you gave to this place.

“i’ve been fine.”

taeyong feels a little cheery conversating with another human. if it wasn’t his dealer, there wasn’t anything to say if he was being quite honest. his relationship with his family died out a long time ago. the only person that he could talk to was himself. the guys who were constantly down in the basement at his dealer were cool, but they never really got him. they thought he was weird, violent. only you cared enough to see how sweet he was. to paint him.

“good to hear. you tell your lover that i miss them!”

his heart, still colored from the mention of you, breaks. it had broken many times from your presence on this earth being acknowledged. everytime his chest would explode into his stomach.

he couldn’t say anything.

he simply walks out the place, not caring about manners. he just wants to go home. he doesn’t even like these fucking chicken tenders, but he’s going to go home and eat them. in your honor.

“excuse me.” a voice exclaims as he finally makes it outside.

once again, words don’t leave his mouth. the woman was probably lost. he truthfully didn’t care. he didn’t care about anything anymore.

“sorry,” she begins. her hair is almost a white color. it’s clearly dyed, but she might have been naturally a darker shade of blonde since the coloring seemed too perfect. “i just...i’ve been watching you - wait, that sounds incredible creepy—“

no one could compare to you, but she reminded him of you. you always did this when you were nervous, or had a severe lack of sleep. you would say things you considered to be silly. fumble with your words. and you would always ruin it more by acknowledging it.

but he was never irritated. he thought it was the cutest thing in the entire world. you were the cutest thing in the entire world.

even now, he’s okay. maybe because he was reminded of you, he can appreciate the art.

“you’re really cute.” she finally spits out.

he couldn’t respond, for the third time today.

why was this so hard? it has almost been a fucking year. a year without you. a year without touching you.

yet, no one could ever compare. not the blonde woman standing in front of him. not the sky. not the stupid bar. even his drugs seemed lackluster to the high you gave him whenever you told him you loved him.

he walks away. he needs something. something to make him unable to think for the rest of the night.

never thought you’d be so damn hard to replace. i swear I don’t mean to be this way, if I can’t have you? is love completely off the table?

“y/n? you there?” you feel vibrations from snapping on your face from the man sitting beside you. he snapped three times, to be exact.

“yeah! yes.” you quickly correct, adjusting your posture along with it.

“i know you appreciate the arts, but that painting is nothing to stare at.”

the painting chan was referring to, seemed plain to a simple eye. it simply, was a black square. but you saw worlds in it. you saw him.

“you know christopher,” you cooed, giving his slim cheek a quick sqeeze before continuing, “just because something seems boring to the naked eye, doesn’t mean it actually is. sometimes, a simple work of art such as that lame black square can hold a thousand meanings.”

he smile is radiant. honestly, the neon colored walls in the movie theater couldn’t compare to it no matter how hard it tried. lately, you had been trying to predict what he would say when you tried to be somewhat of substance around him. you were truthfully scared of boring him.

maybe you saw yourself in the black square as well.

“you really find it interesting, love?”

his accent - God his accent. it had an effect on you that truthfully wasn’t healthy, but even so you always felt guilty when your heart would papilate as it touched your eardrums. but why? you were single. you were moving on.

you can’t even look at him anymore, so you settle on the painting once more. now that you think about it, it was kind of scary that it was in a movie theater. maybe chan was on to something - what was its purpose? to simply cause you pain? to make you think about things and people you could no longer have? a person who is the worst possible thing for your growth, but the best food for your pitiful, lonely soul?

“never mind, you’re right.” you stand promptly, suddenly wanting to get as far away from the evil on the wall. it didn’t matter how chilly it was outside.

“woah.” chan chases after you. you’re too quick though. you’ve practically swam through the crowd to escape into fresh air. what is wrong with you?

it doesn’t take long for you to find yourself at his car. his pride and joy by the way, in which he never let anyone else ride in yet. he had been saving for so long to get it. you didn’t know the model, all you knew was that it made loud noises when he wanted it to. the car was originally white, but the two of you agreed that it was the worse possible color for a car, so he got a paint job and now it was as black as a dark hole.

the stars are beaming, and it’s odd. you used to love nights like this. you preferred the day time, but it was something about a light in the dark, such as the moon that pulled you in. it always destroyed you in the end though.

“what did I do?” his voice snaps you out of your thoughts.

“huh?” you wizzle in confusion, not understanding why he believed he had done anything but gave you a peaceful night not lost in your thoughts.

his eyes tell you everything you need to know before his mouth does. he isn’t questioning your ever changing emotions and happiness to hear satisfaction from your mouth - to boost his ego. he truly feels as if he’s ruined any chance he’s had with you simply from being himself. even so, as he waits for you to answer he’s taking his bomber jacket off for you to wear. he was sweet like that.

“chris, you are always perfect. why would you think anything different?” you say as you put the jacket on.

he’s holding back a smile, but you can tell it’s more so from your proper word choice, and not what you said.

“you trying to sound English?”

“no.” you giggle, pushing his shoulder lightly. “I’m just trying to communicate with you.”

“then tell the truth.” he prompts, taking a step closer to you.

“can I lean on the car?”

“yes.” he laughs in a low tone. “you can lean on the car.”

“okay.”

“okay.”

silence is filling the air, and it’s making you sick even though it shouldn’t be.

“y/n.” he finally speaks. you decide you have the balls to look at him even though it feels so wrong. the stars - they’re sparkling right into his eyes and you know you are the dumbest idiot on earth.

why can’t you just choose him?

the question is repeating over and over in your head, but no answer comes. well, no answer you want to hear comes. this should’ve been easy money. the perfect guy, with a good family and solid morals is madly in love with you. he’s still here, even when you barely give him anything to work with, and you’re thinking about others who were nothing close to that no matter how they made you feel.

“my confession ruined everything, didn’t it?”

it was about two months ago that chan confessed his love for you. you laughed a bit, as it made no sense. the two of you had been in the same circle for awhile, and you had been notified of his appreciation for you long ago, but he had seen you break. he watched you go from happy soul to broken and he still liked you? in what world?

you enjoyed his company. that’s why you began to hang out with him practically everyday - doing whatever you two wanted. most of the time you two just watched movies, or played silly board games. but sometimes you would go shopping, or he would play you his music he worked on. you could tell he lacked confidence on what he could become, but you knew he had the potential to be so great.

his confession was short and sweet. and the way he approached you, you could tell he was somewhat confident that you would feel the same. you did feel the same, but you also still had feelings for others. when you declined his request to take things to the next level, he didn’t get upset. or at the least he didn’t show it.

he promised the two of you would move at your pace. and that was all you needed to hear to know that maybe one day, when you got yourself together, the two of you could be something.

chan always protected you. you never felt endangered, or unsafe when you were with him. to you, he was sweet, to others he was still sweet, but he knew when to be stern.

“no. i promise.” is all you answer. “it’s cold.” here you go again trying to change the subject. this wasn’t like you.

he promptly unlocks the door to his car, opening it for you as well. it isn’t long before he’s on the drivers side turning on the car so you could feel some heat on your body.

“i won’t bring it up anymore.” he sighs.

“no chris. you bring it up everytime you feel it. i like you, okay? i do. i know I’ve never said it out loud before, but I do. i just...i don’t know what I’m doing right now. there are some things I have to get over you know?”

you can tell the amount of words you used - probably the most you had spoken to him in months shocked him, and made him feel extremely guilty. you know he didn’t want you to feel like he was trying to pressure you. all he wanted to have was something. something that made him feel as special as he knew you had made others feel in the past.

“y/n I’m a fucking idiot. God, don’t listen to me. you are perfect okay? we are working at your pace and we always will. i - fuck.” his face goes directly in his hands.

it’s cute - the way he cares about his every move around you so deeply. you remember what it felt like to feel like that. it was the most nerve wracking, yet butterfly giving thing to experience when around someone you admired so much.

“chris...” you whisper, removing his face from his palms. he had the softest hands ever. “hey, don’t beat yourself up okay? i know what you want and I know you have nothing but the purest intentions. if I didn’t feel that way I wouldn’t want to spend everyday with you okay? whatever you think this is, it is. i promise.”

“okay.” he sighs the biggest breath of relief you had heard in a long time. “okay. i know what we need.” he offers. your hand lingered on his, and he decided it would be best to hold yours as the opportunity presented itself. it’s nice - the warmness. yet, it feels incredibly wrong.

you truly didn’t mean to be this way. you would do anything to not be this way.

“let’s go cop something from felix. hm?”

what chan was reffering to was the good ole’ mean green, weed. you smoked a lot more in the past than you did now, but you were still no angel. especially tonight did getting high sound like the best decision you could have made.

“yes please.” you say without hesitation, leaning back in the seat. your left hand is still in chan’s right, and you don’t plan on letting go. felix’s house isn’t that far from here, so you know your pleasure will be coming sooner or later. chan starts the car and begins the journey. usually, the two of you drive with music on, but tonight the silence was what the both of you wanted.

secretly though, chan snuck his AirPod into his left ear. he loved music, but he could tell you weren’t in the mood. and he didn’t mind that. he would do anything for you. the lyrics resonated with his with his soul so much that he felt it ache, even though he felt he had no right.

i’ll wait for you

even if I always feel like I’ll be number two

to someone you can’t hold anymore

taeyong can’t even recall how long he had been pent up here, high as hell. intoxicated as fuck. the chicken tender meal he brought had been long gone, but not from his mouth. the junkies smelt food, and took food like the animals they claimed to be.

this all sucked so bad. he hated being here. but he couldn’t move.

it was so loud in here. the boys he knew - johnny, mark, and jaehyun were all present. they seemed to be the leaders of the basement and they also seemed to be functioning quite well considering how high they also were. taeyong couldn’t fathom or make out what their conversation were, but he assumed it was about girls. he caught, “they’re supposed to be here any minute now.” from jaehyun’s lip. he seemed to be the strongest ladies man. all taeyong knew, was that he wanted no parts of the drug induced orgy he knew was going to take place. he also knew if he didn’t leave, they didn’t care. they were going to give a show regardless.

“taeyong!” johnny yells, bringing him back to focus. johnny was always very intimidating. he wore a smile when he got what he wanted, but if he spoke to you and you didn’t listen, he quickly got upset. maybe he was different when he was sober, but that was never.

“what’s up.” taeyong answers dryly, still not looking at him.

“you know,” johnny sits down in the dirty floor right beside him. “you’ve never been fun, but you were more fun before than you are now.”

“i went through this phase.” mark interrupts, taking the seat on taeyong’s opposite side. “what is it? mommy issues? a girl? or a boy? if you get spicy like that.” he chuckles. he coughs right after.

“how about everything. except the last part.” taeyong whispers.

“oh...you have it rough. was your mom a druggie too?”

“no - well, I don’t know. i met her like once when I was younger. she told me ‘i did it for your good’ and left.”

“so you were in a foster home? or did you get adopted?”

“foster home. neglected, so now I’m like this.” he chuckles. he’s laughing, but in reality to admit these things out loud hurt, even though he was sure the other boys had similar or worse stories.

“and the girl?” mark asks. he had began to roll up another blunt in the midst of taeyong’s life story. maybe it was too much for him. or maybe he was just an addict.

“i cheated. and i was mean. she was the best thing ever though. she got me clean.”

“for what? a day?” johnny laughs outloud.

“well, not clean clean.” he explains. “but off the hard stuck like coke, and lsd and shit. we both smoked weed. and I smoked cigs.”

“ew!” the two of them exclaim. “cigs?”

“so you’re telling me that the two of you do every drug under the sun, but cigarettes are where you draw the line?”

“duh!”

“have you seen all the commercials? with the person with the hole in their throat sounding like the old shriveled lady from spongebob going ‘chocolate!’ we don’t want that!”

“cigarettes aren’t the only thing that can cause that, you know?”

“whatever.” johnny shivers as if he had just gotten the worse news ever. “so this girl wasn’t a druggie? why did she even like you?”

“i don’t know. still to this day I don’t know. but she did. and she tried everything to make me happy. it just felt too good to be true, so I ruined it.”

“damn bro.” mark sighs, taking a deep puff of his blunt. “i thought people only did stupid shit like that in the movies or tv shows.”

“hey hey now, markie.” a voice speaks out of the corner. “be nice to our new friend.”

it’s jaehyun. funny enough, jaehyun tried to get at you once long before you met taeyong, but you had no interest in him once you found out his issues. then again, while he was attracted to you, he didn’t want you to love him. he just wanted to corrupt you.

“our boy is broken hearted. seems to me like he just needs some fun.”

“relax, jae.” johnny explains. “he’s not there yet. let him fall for us on his time.”

“what are you on right now?” jaehyun inspects.

“just a couple of blunts.”

“so just a starter?”

“hyung...” mark sighs.

“okay okay. fine. but when the heartbreak starts to kick in more, i got something that’ll change your life. you just let me know.”

“he will.” johnny and mark say once again in unison.

“boys!” a voice yells. it makes everyone stand up minus taeyong, as he had no idea who it was. he can hear feet coming down the steps. there’s a boy with blonde hair. the same boy who let him in. he was a new face, but clearly an important one from the way even jaehyun was waiting for his comment.

“hi felix!” everyone begins to repeat after eachother.

his voice is deep as he speaks, and his accent is thick. his face itself may have not been scary, but the way he carried himself was.

“clean up this fucking mess. i know you can’t do anything about the shitty couches, but make an attempt. i got some good people coming over and I need quiet. when I bring them down here to show them the product, i need everyone on their best behavior.”

“what exactly does that mean?” taeyong speaks. maybe he shouldn’t have, because everyone is looking at him as if he just called the president a bitch to his face or something.

“you’re new here.” felix explains as he finishes his strut down the stairs. he can be seen more clearly now, and his outfit reminds taeyong of someone you knew. he couldn’t remember his name, but it was chan or something. “well, new to me.”

“and?”

“and...” felix crouches to his level. “im the boss. and all of you do what I say. my brother ran this like a crackhouse. i want us to make some real money, therefore you all will be getting cleaned up. there will be people coming in and out, looking at what we have, so try not to act like the druggie you are. thanks.”

“yes sir.” taeyong says, although he has no intentions of respecting this felix cat.

the doorbell rings promptly. the house wasn’t so big that they wouldn’t be able to hear. clearly this felix had plans to change that, but for now he had to settle.

“that’ll be them. look like friends so they won’t be scared. they’re not like us. or, what you will be.”

with that he leaves. everyone is silent as they want to know who exactly is this person. they all expected some rich man with a million connections to be at the door. they hear one voice - an accent is present. he’s laughing, and they hear the sound of them dapping up.

“friend.” the voice says. they must have not seen each other in a long while. “what’s up? how have you been?”

“oh, I’ve never been better.” felix says. “and y/n.”

the sound of your name makes taeyong’s heart stop in his chest. what the? how could you of all people be here? you hated drugs. this was clearly a trap house. this is where taeyong would go to get everything you wanted, but you always refused to go with him. what male had you here?

jaehyun is smiling as he recognizes your name too. taeyong can’t notice though as he is genuinely about to have a panic attack.

“come downstairs will you? since chan told me it was a special occasion, I decided I’d let you two take a look.”

“felix...are you running a trap house?” you joke, not realizing how true your words were.

“not at all, sweets.” he relaxes you. “i just have good shit from my brother that needs to be sold. this is our little secret though.”

“we know.” chan answers for you. “snitches get stitches.”

“and end up in ditches.” felix finishes. “there are people down here, but they’re just chilling. don’t be scared.”

the three of you make your way down to the basement. jaehyun is the first face you recognize. you feel sick, but he didn’t phase you that much.

the black haired boy though, sandwiched between two other guys, makes your trip and fall on the disgusting floor.

it’s him. it’s really him.

why? all you wanted to do was have fun. all you wanted to do was forget him.

you can see in his eyes does he want to explode. but this was his fault. this was all his fault.

to be continued...

[cwnahyoung]

KWAK AHYOUNG’S ROYAL REPORT

who is this clover fourth tier royal? what is she about? what is she hiding? and who is she paying attention to? 

though she is not one to abide by orders and do what she is instructed to do to make her be ranked up to higher tiers, she didn’t think that filling out a report would be much of a big deal. a part of her wonders as to why the queen would want her to do this in the first place, considering she expected to do something more… verbal rather than something written. but she’d rather be writing about her experience so far as a “princess in training” in her room rather than going out and making sure she’s drinking tea the right way at a garden party. 

as she reads the prompts of which she should answer in her report, her brows furrowed. why was there so many questions? surely, she isn’t expected to answer all of them, is she? no. she is only expected to answer three at least… but perhaps she could get on their royal highnesses nerves as a way to continue with being at the fourth tier. she was comfortable here, even if she could be possibly be kicked out of this life if she continued with her fooling around any longer. she’ll give them what they want… she’ll give them way more than what they want from her. 

what would you say is your biggest fears? how would you cope if you were to face them in your life as a princess? 

what a loaded question! she already knew the answer to this question, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to let it be known to them of all people what it was. then again… perhaps if she went on about her answer, they’ll grow tired and end up not reading it all. perhaps she should do that with all of her answers from here on out! that wouldn’t be much of an issue, would it? 

she decides to save that particular question for later because obviously, she wants the least vulnerable answer to be the one the royals will be less likely to read. 

in fact, she finds herself looking through past a lot of the prompts. of course, she plans on answering all of them, but she wants to make sure she doesn’t immediately make the queen think she’s putting her heart on her sleeve. she’d rather die than let anyone be aware of that. 

TRIGGER WARNING FOR DEATH, DEPRESSION, EMOTIONAL ABUSE 

in the case you were not in your position in your kingdom right now, what else would you be doing in this moment? 

an easy question, really. she feels like she’s made it obvious to everyone about how she really didn’t want to be here. she did not wish to be living this life of luxury and power like her mother forced her to. she’s pretty sure she made some people question why she was here in the first place. even now, her heart still yearns for a certain path that grows distant from her every second she spends in the clover kingdom—or any of the kingdoms, for that matter. the most she can do is daydream… that, or have this whole competition for the throne to be over so she can go back to her normal life like she wanted to. 

she writes the following: 

“i wish to be a performer like my father. it has been my dream since i was merely a child. i have grown up loving music ever since the day i was born. had it not been for certain circumstances, i would try to pursue my music journey in another country far away from where the kingdoms are. perhaps, even farther away than where my family are. i’d like to believe my father would be happy for now, had i gone for that path rather than the current one i’m in now. as of now, his opinion doesn’t really affect my future anymore… unfortunately.” 

what would you do if your title was suddenly stripped and you were banished from the palace? 

an interesting question to consider and most definitely something the girl wouldn’t really seem to mind that much. though she’s found some company that’s made her stay at the clover kingdom, let alone the other kingdoms that surround the center of diamonds, she still would rather be anywhere else but in the position she was in right now. royal life was simply not ahyoung’s calling, no matter who or what tries to convince her otherwise. so, even though many people would consider banishment to be an awful punishment, she mainly saw it as an escape. a ticket to freedom provided by whatever action she has done. of course, she doesn’t have the balls to actually do something scandalous enough to get her banished, but if the opportunity was easier than it sounded… who was she to reject it? 

she writes down: 

“perhaps, i’d continue to live my life as it was before i arrived at the palace. even if my father is not here with me, meaning my journey to having a music career will be more difficult than it was before, i will continue to try and pursue that career path, as i believe it is my destiny. will it be even more complicated, as i’ll be known for my banishment? perhaps, but i could also use that as an opportunity to gain attention for what i wish to do in the future. the more people who will pay attention to me, the more likely i am to be successful in the music industry… right? that’s how it works, nowadays!” 

onto the next question that wasn’t anything too uncomfortable for her. 

if you could do something that would normally cost you your  title but without receiving those repercussions, what would it be?

an interesting question, as ahyoung couldn’t really see herself really breaking any rules just because she felt like it. if she wouldn’t have to get a bunch of scary punishments for it, she might’ve considered. but with how over-the-top the kingdoms were, especially the queen of clovers herself, ahyoung wouldn’t risk to do anything… however, if she were to not receive any kind of repercussions, her mind begins to delve into thoughts of what she could do. when she thinks of some ideas, she immediately writes them down on the paper so that she doesn’t forget. 

“i’d slap the queen of clovers in the face. i know that sounds very bold of me and i would never do that intentionally to hurt her majesty. but i feel like if i did that, i’d prove a point to let everyone know how much this entire process means so little to me. not only that, but if i took the opportunity to disrespect her majesty while also getting away with it, i can already imagine how my beloved mother would behave. and i love nothing more than to see her be embarrassed because it’s what she deserves for being so kind and lovely to me.” 

which other royal do you think is your biggest competition and why? would you eliminate them if given the chance? why why not? 

she wasn’t really sure if she had an answer for this. because if she had to be truthfully honest, she really didn’t care much about the throne. she was only here because her mother forced her to and she was willing to not try at all until the day she eventually finds herself kicked out of the palace for wasting the queen’s time. but of course, stubborn to make sure that the queen plans to not read through all of her answers, she decides to come up with a random answer to this question, based on how she interacts with others. 

“if i had to be honest, i think that baek dabin would be my biggest competition, considering we are both on the fourth tier in the clover kingdom. she likes to think of me as her main rival and while i don’t really see much point in the throne, i like poking fun into the rival concept every now and then because i think it’s entertaining how she thinks i’m actually trying when it comes to this whole entire ‘royalty turns to princess’ thing. and though i wouldn’t really consider him my biggest competition, i do want to be able to see if i can try and take choi jaejin down. i’m not particular fond of him. i feel like he patronizes me because of my low tier, but not in the way that han hyunsu does. while hyunsu is vocally arrogant and likes being upfront about his dislike for me, jaejin does it in a way that makes me feel uneasy rather than annoyed. really, i feel like i want the hearts prince to actually leave me alone rather than the other… who i don’t really mind much. that being said, though those are the people who i’d see as competition, i don’t think i’d try to eliminate them. i think that’s reaching a little too far, not to mention i think they have a better chance at getting the throne than me anyways. at least they want it.��� 

if had had the choice to either a) gain the crown but your best friend is killed, or b) save your best friend but lose the crown, what would you do?

when she reads the word “best friend”, her mind automatically jumps to the thought of him: son junyoung. she’s known the prince since he was practically a baby and the two have been through a lot together, even spending a few years away from each other before rekindling their friendship when ahyoung arrived at the clover kingdom. he’s the person that made her feel comfortable in this new life of hers, considering he’s had more experience with it and he, being the kind hearted gentleman that he is, was willing to help her along the way. to think of a reality in which she was able to get the crown rather than him… that sounded unreal, especially given the fact that she feels he deserves it more than she does. it’s not only the fact that she saw no purpose in being official royalty, but it’s more on the fact that jun needed that crown. he needed it for the most selfless reasons, meanwhile ahyoung’s mother wanted her to get it for selfish reasons. 

besides… if she had to witness another death of a loved one that she could be able to prevent from happening, she could never forgive herself. she’s already lost her father. with the fact that she just got jjuni back in her life, she didn’t want to lose her precious friend yet again… but forever, this time. 

“i’d easily choose option b, in which i save my best friend but lose the crown. to me, the crown is not that much of a big deal. it is not the reason why i’ve decided to stay a little longer in the kingdom rather than up and quit. my friendships with everyone here is what keeps me going and what makes me try even a little at staying in the palace for longer than i want to. not to mention, i had just reunited with my best friend. to lose him all because i’ve decided to be selfish… that’d be a grave sin that i’d never ever be able to recover from.” 

what is your biggest desire? 

easily a question ahyoung could answer. she feels as if most of her answers from before were already indicating it. at the end of the day, what else could she want in life? her true dream life was answered in the first question she answered and though her path to getting to that dream career seems more impossible than it did before, kwak ahyoung still found herself holding onto a little bit of hope. 

even now, as a royal, she finds herself trying her best to surround herself with whatever she can get of that desire. she’d play the piano in one of the rooms in the palace and sing to random songs by herself so that she could be able to relieve her stress or anger or whatever upset emotion she felt in that present moment. no matter where she is, that desire always finds a way to reach out to her in the times she needs it, whether it be as solace or even as a friend. 

“music is my desire. it always has been and probably always will be. i still wish to be a musician, but i get enough joy playing the piano and singing songs to myself. i also enjoy going to opera shows in the hearts kingdom whenever i can, even if that’s not the style of singing i’m totally experienced in. in general, music is my remedy. it is my comfort. it is my love. i would die without it.”  

and it’s after this question that she returns to the question that threw her off in the first place. 

what is your biggest fear? 

“disappointing my father.” 

she wonders if it’s appropriate for her to write more. after all, she wants to ramble as much as she can so that no one would have the energy to read it… but at the same time, it’s hard to talk about. after all, it’s the reason why she’s here to begin with. her mother told her that the least she could do in honor of her dad is do the one thing he’s worked so hard to keep her from being, making it sound as if ahyoung’s wish to not be a princess was a burden to the whole family. and even if she hasn’t said it, a part of her wonders if her mom thinks the same as her. that if it hadn’t been for her, he’d still be here right now. 

it’s all ahyoung’s fault as to why she’s here. she just refuses to admit it because she wants to still find herself likeable.

she doesn’t want to believe her mother’s words, no matter how much they apply to her. 

what is your biggest secret? (when answering this question, know that this answer is confidential and only the highness of your kingdom will read it.) 

“fuck off.” 

they did not need to know about her guilt over the accident. no one needed to know that she was the one who was driving the car. that had she been more careful, this whole entire situation could’ve been avoided. sure she didn’t mean to do it. the accident was simply an accident! but even then, the girl wakes up in the middle of some nights drenched in sweat, haunted by the nightmares in which she sees the car crashing right into them, the car flipping over on its side and how she screams for her dad’s name before she sees black. 

she doesn’t trust herself to get behind the wheel. hell, she can’t even trust herself to be at the front seats. she knows it’s not her fault. she knows that it’s not her fault that the car came at her. their light was green, after all. it was the other driver’s fault. but even so, she remembers waking up in that hospital room and crying when she heard of the news. because at the end of the day, she was the one near him. she could’ve saved him at that moment. 

but she didn’t. 

what is your biggest regret? 

kwak ahyoung is a flawed human being. 

regardless if it was against her wishes, she could have complied with her mother’s pleas of getting her into the royal life earlier on. that way, she wouldn’t be as much of a burden in the family. 

she wouldn’t have burdened her father with a wish that he’d have to fight with the hopes of it coming true and seeing her smile. so that way, on the day after his funeral, she wouldn’t have been told by her mother about how she had to make it up to him for burdening him so long until the day that he died. 

that way, she wouldn’t have yelled at jun for leaving her for the royal life, seeing him doing it for his family as an “act of betrayal” because he told her a completely different reason. she wouldn’t have cursed at him and told him that she hope she’d never see him again. 

she wouldn’t be here in this palace, despite her wishes against it, because of the accident that was caused by her. because of her father’s sacrifice for her. 

with a sigh, she writes down her last answer before completing her report. 

“surviving.” 

[seizethecarpe]

Appetite || Dave and Griffin

Timing: Current Summary: Dave is hungry. Griffin knows the feeling. One is definitely coping better than the other with this.  Content: Animal death

His stomach was bloated. Blubber smeared his hands like oil slick, the breast of his shirt bloodied. His whole body trembled with a growing revulsion as he looked at the carcass laid strewn on the rocks, evidence of a messy meal. Seal fur was caught between his teeth. Less control than a starving dog. He swallowed uneasily, turning and wading into the water so that he might wash off the mess and sin. Jesus christ, there was so much blood all over him, covering his clothes like a coat he couldn’t take off. His stomach felt distended, filled like a stuffed chicken, but still, his mind whispered for more. At this point, it was sheer arrogance that kept Dave  in denial, but it suited him to pretend nothing was wrong. For some reason, he lurched towards land the second he saw a figure moving along the beachside hungrily, long before he realised why he was moving. 

 It was thankless work, looking for floaters, but someone had to do it. As far as Griffin saw it, it was a waste of good brains. Someone had to clean up what with the way the White Crest mortality rate went. Or it was a nice, rose-tinted glasses thought to see it that way. Truthfully, he was just hungry. That’s all it was. Death on White Crest’s shoreline wasn’t unheard of and he wasn’t against sifting through wet sand. The zombie could feel it, the way it tugged at his gut like a rope, and he wandered closer to the water. Something was nearby. Something dead. His teeth ground together. How was its head? Focused on the craving, it took him a moment for the rest of his senses to catch up. Such as noticing that he wasn’t alone and Jesus Christ, the guy looked fucking rough. His eyes flitted from the carcass--was that a seal?--on the rock and the guy coming towards him. Water edged close to his feet. There was something familiar about the movement. The zombie unlocked his jaw but didn’t move himself. “You alright there, guy?”

 Dave strode out of the water without pause, uninterested in whatever the man had to say, knowing only that the feeling drawing him towards the man was insistent and pressing. Maybe he’d be able to help whatever the hell was going on. All he knew was that his instincts were as demanding as a current, dragging him forward by his stomach. Perhaps he could even get a sna-

 Dave inhaled and lurched to a stop, six feet away from the man, who did not smell so appealing at all. His stomach twisted at the thought, still ravenous but repulsed at… at what? He hadn’t been considering eating the man. No one sane would do that, it wouldn’t even cross their mind. But this one… this one smelled like week old road kill preserved by a january freeze. In short: he smelled dead. “Don’t know,” Dave replied honestly, when his jaw started working. “Are you?”

 Griffin’s eyes fixed on the other man in a dead stare. The shuffle, the gait. The way the body moved after something it needed. Mix in a hint of restraint, shake in some desperation, strain it over some ice…The zombie’s head tipped back by a slim margin. He didn’t blink. “Don’t know either,” he retorted. He glanced back to the seal on the rock. Not his first choice but little really was. “...You’re hungry.” It wasn’t a question. It had already been answered when the man stopped dead in his tracks before he could make it to Griffin. Dead meat didn’t taste so good. He lazily gestured to what remained of the seal. “That yours?”

 Dave dragged his mind back from the brink of starvation, sick with how full he was and how much more he still wanted to eat. Under the scrutiny of the man, unflinching and hard, Dave began to feel the first creepings of shame. He didn’t want to eat that kid, nor the woman in the lake, nor anyone else, but it was a need deeper than anything he;d ever felt. Even his hunger for revenge had never been so loud. Even now… would it really be so bad to eat a corpse? It’d taste a little bland, but that human flesh would taste so much better than a seal ever would. For some part of him, it’d still be a step too damn far, and the indecision threatened to tear him apart. Dave staggered, saliva dripping from his lips. “Something’s wrong,” Dave admitted, finally. “Never been like this. Never… not like this. I ain’t some beast.”

 Except now, blood stained, clothes torn, with a seal corpse behind him, he wasn’t so sure. His hesitation wavered in his stoic voice. He looked back at the carcass behind him, his body shaking. “Shouldn’t have done that. She had pups.” His first thought was how delicious those would be too.

 Griffin had never seen someone hunger for seal before. It was an interesting choice, to say the least. He wondered why that was. There were easier things to grab. Rats, the neighborhood dog, a raccoon or two. But it wouldn’t be the same. It never was. Even after he got his fill of Homeward Bound, there would always be that...emptiness. The zombie fixed the other man with a calm look as he dug into the pocket of his jacket to grab a handkerchief. Old habits, he thought to himself, before he tossed it over. “Yeah, ‘course you’re not,” he said honestly. “You’re just hungry.” 

 He poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue as he thought, eyes on the seal’s corpse. 

 “Did you…” What was a good way to ask if someone had died? He hadn’t quite learned that one. “What happened to you?”

 Dave Dave caught the handkerchief out of instinct, and looked down at the crumpled material with something approaching shame. It already picked up blood stains from his fingers. He wiped the corners of his mouth, and a fatty strong of blubber smeared into the cloth along with all the blood and spit.

  "I don’t know," Dave admitted hoarsely. I don’t know. I woke up hungry a few days ago, and I keep eating, but it keeps getting worse. Like… like I’ve got some sort of parasite. I'm full, damn near bloated, but I'm still hungry." Ravenous. Ready to eat decaying meat even as it offered him a tissue. Dave could barely fit another thought in his mind other than the crushing command to eat. Like if he didn't, the very thought might consume him surer than a mermaid's bite.

 "You're dead," he stated after a long moment. "I'm not… I'm not going to eat you. I… it's fucked, I want to. I won't." Probably. He took a step back into the water. "We're not… we're not like that."

 “I am, yeah,” Griffin muttered, pale brow creased. “Seems like you’ve still got a pulse. Probably. Did anything...bite you?” He understood having the hangups, even if this man wasn’t...dead. Like him. There was a little confusion brewing in him at that. It took time to break down the mental barriers in place to prevent, or strongly discourage, people from eating one another. Like the whole idea of you could bite through your finger like a carrot if you really wanted to. Griffin wasn’t sure on that one. He and carrots hadn’t seen each other in awhile. He huffed a laugh, an odd sound in the quiet they shared marked by death and famine.

 “Thanks. I’m not gonna eat you either,” he said with a wry smile, then a slight rise and fall of his hand. “It was like this at the start for me too. Just a diner and...more people.” He gestured around him, a fanned out motion, before he glanced down and worked his jaw. “It gets easier,” he said. “The, uh, eating. You don’t think about it as much. It’s always there but it’s not...you always, you know?”

 Dave nodded slowly, as if he was briefly unconvinced by the assertion about his own pulse. At the question about whether he’d been bitten, Dave frowned, looking at the unravelling bandage on his arm that he wasn’t supposed to get wet, that he should have changed earlier in the day. It was increasingly hard to remember he had a body that needed caring for. Right now, he was more hunger than man. “A werewolf. It should make me sick, not anything like this,” Dave said, lowering his arm again, licking his lips as he looked at Griffin again. “Shouldn’t eat people. Shouldn’t eat seals, not like this.”

 “How does it get easier? I’m getting hungrier every day. My stomach’s fit to burst, but it’s like I haven’t eaten in weeks.” Dave insisted still, not realising how intently rude he was. “I’m not like you. The hunger- it’s not supposed to be like this. Not for me. We don’t… We don’t lose control.” He looked at the carcass behind him, entrails bobbing in the waves. They weren’t the signs of someone in control. He shuddered, dropping to his knees on the hard rocks, rubbing his face like he might snap himself out of it “I have to get away from here.”

 Griffin eyed the bandage. He wasn’t an authority on much, if anything at all, but he knew hunger. The death that followed it. It usually started with teeth and it ended, whenever it ended, the same way too. A werewolf. Right. Those were around too. It was becoming apparent that his knowledge of strange and unusual was frustratingly limited. A byproduct of avoidance. He frowned to himself before he echoed what the man said. “A werewolf? How do you know that it’ll just make you sick? I’m not...familiar with ‘em.” The question came from his own curiosity and the strange, sympathetic notion that maybe if the man talked about it, it might help. Wasn’t that what people said? Fuck if he knew what people said. The man seemed really hung up on the seal. “You shouldn’t eat seals like this?”

 “Maybe easier isn’t the right word,” Griffin admitted. “It gets more manageable. It’s all just... meat in the end. That’s all it needs to be.” All it has to be. The zombie held the man with pale eyes, his own pallor sickly and drained. Not the flash fever that this man seemed to be going through. As the man stumbled some, Griffin took a confident step forward and held out a hand. “You haven’t tried to eat me yet so...control.” He lifted and dropped a hand with a shrug. The step made the carrion call in his gut a touch louder. “Whatever this is, it’s different. I’ve never gone for seal before but...” He stopped himself. “There somewhere you can go?”

 Dave turned his head to look at the man looking over him, squinting at the sunlight shining in his eyes. Griffin’d never had a craving for seal, but Dave would bet his home that Griffin had died a human, before. Dave… well, Dave’d never been human. Maybe the werewolf had been a werewolf zombie, it’d explain the strange healing and the surviving being shot to a face. Dave panicked and touched his wrist,k but his heart was still beating loud and strong. For now. “Control. Feel like I’m holding on to that with a thread.”

 “Got my van,” Dave said quietly. Picked up a pebble worn smooth by the Sea. She didn’t do that to folks, she wore wrinkled into their faces and callouses into their skin. The quiet texture grounded him. “Too many towns nearby. Too many humans.” Dave rubbed his face. “Too much temptation. I need to get away away. Maybe on a boat. Ride this out. It shouldn’t work like this.” Because if he waited long enough, right, it had to go away. Washed away like the hard edges of his rock.

 “You’ve still got your mind,” Griffin said as he tapped a finger against his temple. “That’s something. Use both hands to hold onto that one.” A sardonic smile came and went. A funny thing for a zombie to say, he figured. The pull of the dead was strong. Had been ever since he moved closer to the man. A few more steps, water up his shins, and he was on the seal carcass. Crouched beside it and fingers prepped to peel the meat. At the mention of too many humans, Griffin picked his eyes up from the meat and cocked a brow. His tongue pressed against his bottom lip before he nodded in understanding. 

 “No humans here,” Griffin said with a puff of needless breath through his nose. “Haven’t been that for awhile.” The meat was slick in his fingers and when he swallowed it down, there was just a hint of salt. It wasn’t bad but he kept that thought to himself. He almost felt bad for the seal but it was dead now. It couldn’t feel anything. All it had left to do was rot and feed. It might take time for the man to understand that. If what he was going through lasted that long. “Do you think a boat’s a good idea? Where more...seals are?” He wiped the gore against his bent knees. “It’s your call but…” He paused and scrutinized the carcass, then looked at the man again. “This...hunger. It’s, ah, hell. But if you…” He hadn’t done this in awhile. “You’re not like me, we established that, but I get it. This.” A loose gesture was made between the carcass and the man standing. “If you need help...somehow, I don’t fuckin’ know, I’ll try my best.” More dead meat was torn between his teeth. “...That’s all.”

 “Barely,” Dave replied gruffly. “For a while, huh?” It was like the hunger had filled every inch of him, and now with nowhere else to fill, it had begun to squeeze him out like putty through a sieve. If it pushed hard enough, Dave wasn’t sure there’d be much left of him. He frowned as Griffin leant in to eat the carcass too, nearly tearing the zombie away. He wasn’t allowed. But then neither was Dave, and at the very least like this nothing would go to waste. Her body would be used whole, the way it was meant to be. “Out in the open water’s away from most things. Seals included. Better than this, it’s got to be.” Better than calling out a hunter. Better than admitting something was wrong that he couldn’t fix.

 “S’a kind offer. More than I deserve.” Dave grabbed Griffin’s arm sharply, squeezing tightly. There was hunger on his mind, thick as soup. Every second it mattered less that Griffin was less fresh than the carcass on the beach, that he was being kind and fucking understanding. There was a desperation to Dave’s hunger, stuffed full of flesh as he was. Nothing was hitting the spot, not fish nor squid nor seals. He needed to try something new, something better. “I think. One of us oughta go.” Before he tore out Griffin’s throat. His nose wrinkled, he looked back in disgust at the thought of wanting to eat anything, anyone, but mostly at the thought of eating anything so rotten.

 But his stomach gurgled loud of enough for even him to hear. He couldn’t quite get himself to let go. 

 “Yeah,” Griffin said. “A while.” He didn’t want to further elaborate and he was sure that Dave got the gist of it. One nearly empty cup of half-and-half, that’s what he was. He continued eating until the man grabbed his arm and he stopped. The grip was tight, desperate. There was a war happening behind the man’s eyes, the kind that cracked ribs and split flesh. Griffin nodded again. “You go where you have to go,” he said. “Wherever is...comfortable. To figure this out and shit.” And then tell me what that’s like, when you find this Shangri-La, he thought bitterly to himself. Such places didn’t exist. Wouldn’t ever. Not with things the way they were.

 As delicately as he could, Griffin unfurled Dave’s hand from around his bicep and stepped away from the seal carcass. Before he walked away fully, he pocketed his dirtied hands and glanced back. “I’ll see you around. Don’t forget my offer, huh?” Or yourself. The hunger had a way of eating at the self too. With a slim smile and a faint wave, the dead man was gone.

[bluecoloreddreams]

(Disclaimer: this contains spoilers for the Fruits Basket and Fruits Basket: Another manga, as well as taking into consideration tidbits from Takaya’s twitter.) 

So, okay, first of all we have to address the YMMV aspect: Some people don’t like this ship. As long as they’re respectful, I have no beef with that. I’m well aware that some people cannot/choose not to make the distinction between “real life” and “fiction”— I have the luxury of this choice, so some of the “problematic” ships/character aspects within Furuba don’t bother me (for the most part). It’s fiction, and I’m aware of this.  

Again, some people cannot/do not make this distinction, and that’s none of my business because that’s their personal life. I’m aware that people dislike aspects of Akigure, and that’s fine. 

Personally? I’ve been reading Furuba since like, basically the dawn of time. I was reading scans on, like,  MSN groups. I remember a friend at church (of all places) telling me about the Akito reveal because I was behind on updates. It’s literally engrained upon my shipping heart at this point. 

(Headcanons ahoy! Like literally, this is all headcanon/my perspective on the series as a whole. YMMV/YKINMK/Dead Dove, the whole works, if you know you know

YES I wrote it like it’s an actual research paper because I have No Chill At All, please forgive me. It’s long and pretty rambling.) 

Addressing the first elephant in the room: Given my limited interactions with the fandom, my impression of Akigure from a generalized fan POV is that it’s pretty divisive. Every episode she comes up there are “I hate this kid” comments and I cry

Akito is a favorite of mine, and it’s impossible for anime-only’s to make a deep, informed call on her character. On the other hand, a lot of manga-readers dislike her too. 

So, why am I talking about whether or not people like Akito as a character? 

I’m of the opinion that it impacts people’s ability to view her character arc as one that deserves a happy ending. That she doesn’t deserve to have love, happiness, or forgiveness, all of which are given to her when she and Shigure finally end up together on equal footing. (Do I think the way it’s rushed in the original Furuba ending? Yeah, but hey. Sensei had like a huge ensemble cast to wrap ends on. Now there’s Furubana to look to and it’s just chef’s kiss.)

There’s a mental aspect in this, involving the dichotomy between “reality” and “fiction”. 

There is absolutely zero argument that are a lot of things that Akito does that uh, listen, if it was IRL she’d be in jail! Jail for terror baby! Jail for life! 

Fortunately, Fruits Basket is a work of fiction. These characters aren’t real, they’re idealized brushstrokes of human nature created to move a plot and a message along. 

That’s why Akito and Shigure work as a couple and as characters: 

They’re both incredibly deep characters that get passed off as one-dimensional by a lot of people (and the original anime, woof). Some of it is again, because anime-only fans just don’t have the whole story, since Akito’s arc is one that builds gradually until it hits a point where all hell breaks loose, which we are a ways away from. 

So what’s the message that their relationship and characters are supposed to pass on? 

Well, it breaks down into two categories: world building and thematic arcs. The latter is more important and what I’ll be focusing on, while the former is just a little spice that I, personally enjoy, and won’t really talk about in depth. (It’s that the magical realism in Furuba sets up the idea of soulmates, it’s just…. Something I enjoy and it’s really heacanony, so I can’t really justify spending more words on it!) 

When discussing Fruits Baskets in any capacity, I feel like we must first keep in mind the thematic “lessons” of the series: 

There is an inherent loneliness in living as a human being, since loss, grief, and hurt are indelible parts of the human experience, and learning to cope with these feelings in a compassionate manner is a life-long lesson 

People react differently to the loneliness of existence, and their reactions are based upon their personalities, their upbringings, and their own choices 

Everyone is capable of change and learning, if they choose to do so, however: 

Personal agency is taught, but in the vacuum of positive reinforcement, the ability of a person to choose to be compassionate is stifled or outright inaccessible

Therefore, if you are not taught to deal with your grief and existence outside of others, your ability to connect may become warped, manipulative, or abusive, and this is not the fault of the child but instead the parental figure 

Eventually, you will be aware of your actions, and then it is your burden to choose—some people do not take this choice (the head maid, Ren, Kyo’s bio dad, Rin’s parents, Sawa’s mother in Furubana)  

Abuse has long lasting effects on the psyche and can be physical, emotional, and/or mental in nature and must be dealt with in order to grow as a person

“Dealt with” does not mean that it goes away, but that it is acknowledged and given a positive outlet (Yuki’s garden, Aaya’s shop, Rin’s art, Momiji’s violin playing)

Forgiveness is not linear

Forgiving yourself is a long and arduous process, and happens independent of other people’s forgiveness

This is really brought to the forefront in Fruits Basket: Another, when Shiki talks about how his mother interacts with the rest of the Sohma family. It’s shown she’s done what she can to make amends, but recognizes that while she can individually hold relationships with certain family members, as a whole, it's best if she allows them to be away from her. 

This is a whole tangent on its own, but there’s a certain blanket of casual forgiveness given to Akito by the entirety of the shown Zodiac in Furubana, in that they trust that she’s raised a kind and thoughtful son and allow him the grace of his own family. 

Again, in Takaya’s tweets post-series that acknowledges that Akito’s friends with Uo-chan, despite her relationship with Kureno (and it shows a depth of awareness on Kureno’s part that he stays away

People flourish in environments where love and positive reinforcement is given freely, even when people are in the wrong

This doesn’t mean that no one is ever scolded: see Komaki and Kakeru, Kisa and Hiro, Hatori chews out Shigure all the time, but never ceases being his confidant 

So okay, that’s A Lot. But every single character in Furuba follows these themes in their own manner, because the series is about healing and learning how to heal from abuse, neglect, and isolation. Someone’s gonna have to be doing it. Point blank, the end, to tell a story there must be conflict, and boy howdy, there’s a lot of conflict in Furuba. Every personal thematic arc in the series ends up tying into a romantic one, because Furuba is a romcom drama. 

There’s a loop that goes “personal betterment”->”crush”/”friendship”->”conflict”->”personal growth”/”relationship growth” in the series for every character. That’s the bread and butter of Furuba. 

But anyway. To the question: 

I love them because they work, they’re both their own people with their own narrative focuses, motivations, conflicts, and flaws. Both Shigure and Akito are believable in their own right in the context of Furuba, and I think Takaya did wonderfully in crafting a story where their personalities mesh well and give each other reasons to better themselves.

To talk about them together, you have to talk about them separately. 

I’m gonna start with Shigure because, truthfully? 

I just want to lament about how often he’s simply passed off as either comic relief or absolute trash. He’s so underestimated! 

“He’s a joke of a grown man… He is reliable and I trust him.” (Another, v. 3)

He’s incredibly intelligent when it comes to interpersonal relationships, which is why he’s able to do what he does. He’s also incredibly kind—no one made him take in Yuki or Kyo or Tohru. He could have just went “ah, I’d prefer not to” and moved on. But he didn’t, made up some bullshit so Haru would feel like taking in Yuki was a transaction, and let me just tell you, I am the same age as Shigure and if you gave ME three teenagers to be the guardian of?! It would be a full on disaster.

He’s actually incredibly trustworthy (if he wants to be), insightful, and a genuinely good guardian despite his jokes and wisecracking. 

He forced Kyo to go back to school, knowing full well it would be good for him. He lets a whole host of children run rampant through his home. Kids who actually enjoy his presence. He’s shown as having a good familial relationship with Rin (who tries to warp that for her own means), Kisa, Haru, and Momiji. His advice to Tohru is genuine, insightful, and ridiculously helpful. 

Shigure is good with people. He gets up at the crack of dawn to drive Shiki to see Sawa in Furubana. He’s who Mutsuki and Hajime immediately go “holy shit you need to do something about this” to when they find out Shiki’s getting nasty notes about Akito. He’s who Shiki goes to when Sawa fell down the stairs as a child. As much as Shiki and the others make fun of Shigure, he’s obviously someone who’s trustworthy. And that’s not some new development, he’s always been trustworthy in regards to those he loves. No one asked him to show up to Tohru’s teacher conference, he volunteered. Like this dude loves people, he’s the dog spirit after all, and rightly so. 

Does he have his own motivations? Of course! But so does everyone else in Furuba. He’s a complex character, man! 

He laughs and jokes a lot because he’s projecting this image of a laid back, doofus. When you think about who he’s friends with, the whole middling goofball act makes a lot of sense. Just like some of Ayame’s over the top behavior is a defense mechanism, I believe that Shigure casts himself as a generally unappealing man to keep himself safe from advances when he was in school, but also to temper the wildly unequal personalities of his other two friends. He’s the sort of person who would just go “eh, whatever makes it easy”, and that’s just how he is. 

He doesn’t mean the creepy school girl thing, it’s a bit and I think the only people who don’t realize he’s running a bit are Yuki, Kyo, and Tohru who are absolutely too stupid to realize he’s playing them for reactions. He thinks it’s funny. 

Anyway:

When the older Zodiac had the dream of Shigure, Shigure is the only one who made the active choice to seek out that feeling. His soul was touched, and he decided that he wanted that and only that. This doesn’t necessarily mean he went full Jacob from Breaking Dawn, but it does mean he acknowledged there was a bond, and he wanted it. 

When you get into the technicalities of the curse, it’s mentioned that their Zodiac spirits influence how they interact with Akito, and that going against her can cause physical and emotional pain. Yuki cries when meeting her, and it’s mentioned that that’s just the normal reaction for the Zodiacs. 

It’s hard to say how much of their early interactions are influenced by the curse, but it’s obvious that Shigure has genuine fondness for her. She wasn’t always absolutely broken, as shown in Yuki’s backstory, and was a precocious child, one who sought affection openly. 

Shigure has an indulgent personality, and is shown to love being adored. Guess who loves him! Akito! Guess who wants lots and lots of affection! Akito! 

Their personalities are very well matched as they get older: They’re both intelligent and coy. They both have fairly sharp tongues when needed, and have no qualms about doing whatever it takes to get what they want. 

Shigure wants Akito to be independent from the curse. He’s made it clear to her he doesn’t want to be her father, he doesn’t want to be her friend, he wants to be her lover. Those are boundaries that Akito’s never been given before, and his frankness with her and his jealousy with Kureno is something she agonizes over, simply because she’s never been given any sort of serious interpersonal boundaries, or repercussions for her actions. He’s always kept himself separate from her, because of those boundaries, even when they were children. 

That’s important. It opens the door to the idea that her actions have consequences, and is a persistent nagging in the back of her mind. 

“Even though you hadn’t realized it, I was waiting for that day.” (ch 101)

For the bulk of the series, the only person who sees Akito as a person separate from the curse, and sees a future where she can grow is Akito. He has an extraordinary amount of patience for her, and forgives her for a lot. 

There are only two incidents that Shigure cannot forgive: Her sleeping with Kureno, and at the very end of the series, I’m of the full opinion that if Akito had pushed Tohru off the cliff, Shigure would have been done with her. Look at that expression, that is the look of someone who is toeing the line of throwing away all his hopes and dreams. If she really had pushed Tohru, I just...... The series would have taken a much darker tone. 

OKAY that’s enough about our favorite terrible author! (Okay, an aside, Shigure, please share your work ethic, you goof off so much but you’ve published so many things…how…)  

ONTO AKITO! 

“I’ve  finally realized… she hated her own shallowness all this time, from the very start.” // “It’s frightening because you have no choices.” (ch 121) 

A lot of people dislike Akito because she, for the bulk of the manga, is violent, manipulative and just downright unpleasant. And that’s fine, but it’s not the point of her arc or the themes of the manga.  (It is, however, the point of Rin’s: you don’t have to forgive everyone.) 

She’s not the only violent person in the series. If we as readers can forgive Uo-chan and Kyoko, or even Hana-chan for her moment of violence, why can we not extend the same grace to Akito? 

Violence is often shown as a knee-jerk reaction to fear and sadness: Kyoko, Uo, Hana, Kyo, Rin, and Akito all react violently to negative situations and feelings. Even Kisa reacts violently when she’s at her worst, biting both Haru and Tohru when she’s in her tiger form, which is shown to actually cause pain like a real tiger would. (It’s played for laughs, but has anyone been bitten for realsies by a house cat? That hurts! How much more would a house-cat sized tiger hurt!!!) 

Out of all of them, Hanajima and Kisa are the only characters to show immediate remorse, because they have what the others don’t: A positive support system. Once positive role models and support systems are in place, all of the others begin to learn how to react differently and ease out of the knee-jerk reactions that were ingrained in them. 

It’s made explicit in the manga that you have to be taught how to react positively, you have to learn and choose to be good, to be friendly, to love yourself outside of others’ perceptions of yourself. Look at Yuki’s arc. Look at Uo-chan’s. Kyoko’s. 

Yuki sums it up nicely in the last chapter of the manga, where he tells Tohru that she taught the Zodiac how to become human. She allows them to grow into people who can make the choice to be loving, compassionate individuals. 

Just because Akito doesn’t interact positively with Tohru for the bulk of the manga, it doesn’t make it any less true: 

Akito is kept in a juvenile state of being: No one teaches her to suck it up, that the world exists outside of herself, that other people are people and not things. In fact, she’s actively encouraged to act the way she does. She’s incredibly broken, between the maids of the Sohma estate just… allowing her to do whatever the fuck she wants and her absolutely jacked up relationship with Ren and Akira. She has no moral compass at all. No one bothers to teach her that her actions have serious consequences. 

She knows, in a roundabout way that hey, these people don’t like me. There’s a serious mental dissonance between what she latently knows—these are all people with no connection to her other than the bond of the curse. This is why Tohru is able to break through to her at the climax of the manga: 

She knows she’s wrong, but no one has ever told her she’s wrong but understood why she’s doing it. Akito just didn’t have the words to explain herself. What do children do when they cannot communicate? They lash out. Kids will bite, scratch, yell, kick, fall to the floor and have screaming tantrums out of frustration. Eventually, most kids learn that there are other ways to express frustration, and move along. (Not all, though, but most.)

Akito was taught that this is acceptable, allowable, and is her right as god. She is actively broken and kept that way through the neglect of the Sohma family maids, Ren’s abuse, and how Akira framed her role in the Zodiac. 

I can go on and on and on and on why the way Akito was treated for her role in the Zodiac by her parents and the rest of the Sohma estate was just awful. I hate it, it’s terrible, she never had a chance to learn and grow and be the genuinely thoughtful woman we know she grows into. 

She doesn’t force her path of forgiveness onto others and is fully cognizant of what she did, the repercussions of her actions, and lives her entire life after the curse breaks trying to right what she did wrong. 

“Even if she gets hurt, she says she deserves it. She tells me not to let it bother me, but… I’ve always, always loved her so much.” (Another, ch. 13) 

Tohru opens the door for Akito. She extends her hand, offers her friendship despite having seen the absolute worst of Akito. She tells Akito that everyone is lonely, everyone wants bonds, and acknowledges Akito’s worst fears, that Akito herself is selfish and dirty for wanting something assured and unending because she, Tohru, herself is dirty and selfish. Tohru knows what Akito has done, knows she’s injured some of her beloved friends, had plans to lock up Kyo, hurt Hatori. 

Tohru still forgives her. One of Tohru’s striking traits in the manga is that she is suffering, every day, she struggles with the grief of losing her mother and the fear of being alone in the world. Through nothing but her own empathy and realization that loneliness is universal, she’s able to forgive people. She forgives Akito and cares for her, and through Tohru, Akito is introduced to the realization that she’s been wrong and that maybe, she shouldn’t be forgiven. 

Shigure also forgives her, and this is the crux of their ship. 

To me, that itself is wildly important. 

They’ve always circled around each other, and Shigure has always been waiting for Akito to be able to come to him again, in full control of her life and choices. He wants Akito the woman, not Akito the god. 

He’s been waiting for the day Akito can meet him as an equal. Akito wants it too, and has wanted him to turn and see her for a very very long time. But she’s been terrified, the entire time, that when he does see her as herself, Shigure won’t like what he sees, and will leave. She’s aware of what she’s done post-curse, she’s aware of the impacts it will have on the former Zodiac members, and she’s aware that once the “bonds” of god and the animals is gone, there may not be anyone left for her.

Neither of them are under any illusions at the end of the series: Akito knows she has to atone for what she did, Shigure knows she has to learn to grow into a person who can function alone. They both know that there are people who are against them changing the oppressive structure of the Sohma family. 

Neither of them care. There are things that they want, together, and it’s enough. There’s a whole new world for them to explore and learn about. And in Furubana, this is shown to be a lifelong effort on their parts: 

“She said after meeting me, she learned so many things for the first time. She smiled happily as she said it.” (Another, #13) 

To close, I’d like to take a moment to talk about the curse and Shigure, and how he set things in motion. 

Without Shigure, the curse would have devolved on its own, yes, but the circumstances would not have allowed for the freedom the Zodiac had at the end of the manga. It would not have ended with Akito being able to learn and live freely. Allowing Tohru into the Sohma family cracked open a door to compassion and kindness none of them had ever experienced before, because the Sohma family seems to exist in a vacuum of stability and love. 

It wasn’t that Shigure knew instantly that Tohru was kind and loving and thoughtful, if anything, his read on her was “completely normal, albeit strange, teenage girl who obviously has a rough life”. But she was normal, she was from outside the Sohmas, and he knew that was enough. No one in the family was stepping up to change the status quo and how stifling and abusive it was, so he did it himself. 

He did it because he loved Akito. 

Not because he felt bad for himself, or Hatori, or any of the others, but merely because he loved her to the point of manipulation. It backfired in his face, because he got a big ol’ dose of “loving and respecting” juice from Tohru, but he still got the end he wanted. 

What I mean to say is best summarized in  chapter 123: 

“It would be nice to live in a kind world, without any troubles, without any fear, without hurting anybody, without ever being hurt, only doing the right thing. I wish I could reach this kind world by the shortest path possible. … “That’s wrong”, or “that’s stupid”: If it’s someone else’s life it’s so easy to make such irresponsible comments. ...It would be great, but it doesn’t exist. … Little by little, walking one step at a time, is all you can do.” 

We get to experience the roughest part of the path with Akito and Shigure, we got to watch them be terrible people who were lonely and in want of love struggle and learn how to get up and move on. 

They tease each other, Shigure is thoughtful of the distinction between “the person Akito was raised to be” and “the person who Akito is”. He’s seen her at her messiest, and she’s seen him at his most jealous. They still chose each other, despite the hurt they caused each other, and others. They make up for it, reflect, and live a life that demonstrates that they have learned. They have friends who are thoughtful and loving and would not hesitate to drop everything and help them, lend an ear when they’re frustrated, help them not to make the same mistakes. 

And then we get to see them be wonderful, kind, thoughtful, loving parents in Furubana. 

We got to see their adorable, kind, compassionate child be friends with the children of the people Akito hurt, because everyone in the former Zodiac’s family collectively decided “never again, no”. 

Their child adores them. Shiki in Furubana #13 radiates love for Akito and Shigure the same way Mutsuki and Hajime do. 

They are genuinely good parents, even when they tease Shiki, and I think that is testament for how good they are for each other and how much they’ve changed as adults. 

I think that’s enough of a reason to ship them, don’t you?

[beetlemancy]

top five Liam RP moments?

1. Vax’s goodbye.    There’s a lot here. Vax’s entire storyline was quite a feat and was so meaningful to so many people, but especially to Liam himself. As many of us know but maybe some CR2 critters don’t, this was during a time in his life that was really tough and a lot of what Vax went through was Liam working out his POV on death, family, and the purpose of existence. It was especially moving for those of us who have dealt with this kind of death - the kind that you can see coming. It’s different from other kinds, and so rarely portrayed as beautifully and as truthfully, ugliness and all, as Vax’ildan. Because of all that, this scene is still monumentally heartwrenching and is my go-to cry catalyst when I need to parse through my own darkness.

2. The Wedding Gift     This came after several VM oneshots where we were aching for Vax. We knew it could never happen because both Liam and Matt never wanted to do a disservice to the story. Yet it was still like being unable to scratch an itch - watching everyone but Liam get to play in Vox Machina’s skins again was SO frustrating. And so when this happened, it was in equal parts amazing and horrific - perfectly Vax in every way. Liam’s choices made here were especially strong. The voice being familiar, but different. His movements being slower, more fluid, but still so clearly Vax. His distance, but then the way he sank into his sister, the way he wrapped Keyleth up in his arms. Liam also made an excellent choice in playlist for this one-shot. Seriously, its genuinely spooky how well they all fit. He also spoke about how he was inspired by the Stephen King short story ‘The Jaunt’ for when he thinks about what Vax is going through. I highly recommend you read it if you can handle existential spookiness - it makes everything about Vax hit different, especially the playlist song ‘Far From Home.’

3. Caleb and the Scourger | (both times)     I have earlier Caleb moments that I think are fantastic RP moments, but it wasn’t until this went down that it was all skyrocketed up to another level entirely. This was our longest taste of how he decided to play with the fact that his native language is Zemnian. He loses the German accent and he loses the filler words and the stumbling. We see Caleb as how he actually is - frighteningly brilliant, witty, and biting. Underneath all that Common and Anxiety is a weapon, after all - but with that anger, such a gentleness and a compassion for his brothers and sisters. The emotions never feel contrary. Yes, they are complicated, but they make perfect sense. Plus, it never fails to impress me how he can come up with things like “Some of us get tired of macabre fairy tales. So you enjoy your mouthful of lies when they choke it out of you” and “I don’t know how my brothers and sisters could stomach wearing that mantle of loyalty knowing it was woven so thoroughly from sin.’ Like, go off, boo.

4. The Experience     I’ve talked about this scene before, but you’ve given me an excuse to only focus on Liam here. This is… possibly in my top five clips that I rewatch the most often. It’s just. so. fucking. funny. And I live for watching all of the cast, but especially Liam, eat up the crowd’s energy and place it right back into the RP. Before he was dealt his particular fate, Vax was always a trickster first. He never lost this, not even later on when things got very dark. I appreciated this. Gallows humor is a common coping mechanism for those of us who can see the end a little more clearly. In this case, I just really appreciate the word play. There is a theory that Liam is actually The Bard himself, reincarnated, and this scene is definitely one that showcases that potential. The fey chaos in his ability to improv all of this doublespeak, purposefully weaving ‘accidental’ innuendo into every line, never ceases to amaze.

5. Liam and his Badass Cleric Ladies     This might be cheating but its something I wanted to talk about in particular - Liam gives his other characters SUCH life and such fascinating differences and I want mostly to talk about the body language and vocal aspect of his RP. I made a big post about the whole casts’ body language forever ago and it was super fun. But to this day it still impresses the shit out of me. These two are my favorite one-shot characters of his but they’re also a fun way to show the subtleties of difference and how important those differences are to the characters. On surface level, they’re both Liam playing a cleric, a woman, and they have similar accents. But even context aside, they feel different, and its due to the quirks in body language and vocal quality he gave them.Liam as Lieve’tel Toluse : floaty, slower, she has all the time in the world and she’s seen more shit than you. She’s looked Death in the face and decided to have a chill life. She is calm in the face of rage and has practice doing so. It’s reflected in the ease in which she holds herself and how she talks. Tall, but relaxed. Flirty, but like she’s not worried about the result. He gives her grace. She speaks gently, but loud enough to be heard by all. Her body language is open too - she’s there for support and makes it known in how she presents herself.Liam as Jayne Merriweather: a bit like Lieve’tel in that she floats in a similar manner, both physically and vocally. But Jayne stops. Like, she will find a spot and stare daggers. She cackles when she can’t contain her madness. Her quiet isn’t relaxed - its itchy. Listening to and watching her is like watching a cat about to pounce but being always stuck in the tension just before it does. She’s got a devilish smile and you can almost see the metaphorical flames behind her eyes. Liam plays her most of the time with an expression somewhere in the middle of amusement and ‘come at me bro.’ Jayne is hungry - mostly for chaos. Although her accent is essentially the same as Lieve’tel, her voice is a bit higher, and more sinister. She’s also not as slow as Lieve’tel, just more deliberate. Her confidence doesn’t come from being steady. It comes from always being one step away from a murder spree.

[theredherb]

The Red Herb’s Top 10 Games of 2020

Hey, fuck 2020. You might notice that many of the “Best Of” lists you read this year and last can’t help but mention how terrible 2020 was. That’s because every day was like hitting a new, splinter riddled branch on our 365 day plummet off a shit-coated tree. The year brought with it a viral pandemic that served as a pressure cooker for the societal and systemic issues boiling beneath the surface of our every day life. And we’re not out of it. 

At least one positive holds true of 2020: the games were pretty darn good. One has to wonder, though, if 2020 was the last year of what can be called “normalcy” for the video game industry. Now that the remainder of titles brewed in pre-Covid times are out in the wild, what will the future of gaming look like as studios shift to work-from-home and distribution models migrate to digital as the primary bread winner? What will games look like going forward?

I have no fucking clue. We’ll get there when we get there. But looking back, I’m glad to have had such solid distractions from the stress and strife. If 2020 is any indicator for the industry going forward, then my takeaway is that games will continue to grow in prominence because of their ability to help us cope and, more importantly, stay connected.

Anyway, here’s video games:

10. MARVEL’S AVENGERS

Oh, Marvel’s Avengers. I know you expected to be on more prestigious Top 10 lists than mine. Truthfully, I debated whether or not you should be here. But I had to search my soul (stone) on this one. Really assemble my feelings. Tony Stark my thoughts (?). Here’s the short of it: Marvel’s Avengers has a great story campaign with a surprising amount of emotional weight thanks largely to Kamala Khan’s quest to reassemble the heroes of her youth. Once the final cutscene ends, though, players were expected to take their play box of Marvel heroes, jump online, and duke it out against hordes of villains for the privilege of precious loot and level gains. It would be impossible to get bored because Crystal Dynamics was going to continually Bifrost in new quests, cosmetics, and heroes -- for free!

Except, after fans blasted through the campaign (took me a solid weekend), they found a multiplayer mode filled with repetitive fights against non-descript A.I.M Bots, a handful of dull, un-Marvelous environments (the PNW?! In a video game?! Wowwee!), and a grind for gear that became useless minutes after it was equipped. Oh, and bugs. Tons of bugs. It must be hard for A.I.M. to take earth’s mightiest heroes seriously when they’re falling through the fucking earth every other mission.

So why the Kevin Accolade™? Of all the mistakes and underbaked ideas, Crystal Dynamics got the most important thing right: they made me feel like I was a part of the Avengers. Cutting through the sky as Iron Man; dive bombing, fists-first as the Hulk; firing gadgets at cronies as Black Widow; cracking a row of skulls with Cap’s shield… Avengers is a brawler on super soldier serum.

The combat is crunchy and addictive, and surprisingly deep once you unlock your character’s full suite of skills and buffs. The gear matters little. But choosing a loadout that works for you -- like ensuring enemy takedowns grant you a health orb every time or turning area clearing attacks to focused beams of hurt -- does matter. When it comes to games with disastrous launches, Avengers is the most deserving of a triumphant comeback story because, if you clear the wreckage, I think there’s a solid game here. If I was able to spend hours playing it in its roughshod state, I can see myself digging in for the long-term once it’s polished up and given a healthy dose of content. You know...if Square Enix doesn’t outright abandon it.

9. STREETS OF RAGE 4

Here’s a fact about me: I love beat ‘em ups. From Final Fight to X-Men to The Simpsons, I prioritized my quarters for the beat ‘em up machines (and House of the Dead simply because House of the Dead fuckin’ owns). Unfortunately, Streets of Rage wasn’t in arcades, and I didn’t own a Genesis growing up, so I didn’t get around to the series until Sega re-released as part of a collection. Though my history with the 29 year old brawler is shorter than some, the basics stand out out right away: it’s an awesome side-scrolling brawler filled with zany character designs and high octane boss fights.

SoR4 nails that simple spirit while adding an electric soundtrack, buttery smooth animations, and an art style that looks like a comic book in motion. You can button-mash your way through the game or master your timing to combo stun the shit out of bad guys. Same screen co-op is a requisite for the beat ‘em up genre but I have to call it out nonetheless given that it's next to obsolete these days. The story campaign is, of course, finite but a stream of unlockables and a Boss Rush Mode pad out the package nicely.

I really don’t have to go on and on. I’m on board with any game that captures the arcadey high of classic beat ‘em ups, and Streets of Rage 4 does it with flare.

8. RESIDENT EVIL 3 REMAKE

Resident Evil 2’s remake was my game of the year in 2019. It’s a pitch perfect revision that captures the pulse-pounding fear of the original while beautifully updating its graphics and gameplay for modern audiences. The most striking aspect of RE2’s remake is how it expands and reconfigures the classic game’s environments and set pieces. Capcom managed to recontextualize, and even improve on, the original’s design while staying faithful to its tone and atmosphere.

Resident Evil 3’s remake is less successful in modifying and improving on its source material. If the game feels like it was handled by a different team than RE2R, your gamer hands have good eyes (roll with it). It was developed by a separate internal team (three different teams, in fact), but that’s actually one of many choices mirroring its 1999 forebear. Just like the original, RE3R is a tighter (i.e. shorter) experience that launched less than a year after its predecessor. And just like the original, the game skirts away from survival horror in favor of action horror.

Unlike last year’s remake, however, RE3R paints in broad strokes with the original material much in the same way that 2004’s Dawn of the Dead remake shared a vague resemblance with Romero’s ‘79 classic. Capcom at least nails down what matters: you play as Jill Valentine, beaten and discredited after the Arklay Mountains incident, during her last escape from the zombie besieged Raccoon City. Her exit is complicated by Nemesis, a humanoid missile that relentlessly pursues her from minute two of the game. Her only chance of making it out alive is by teaming up with a gaggle of Umbrella dispatched mercenaries, including an overly handsome fellow named Carlos Oliveras that you control for a spell. But fans struggled to get over what Capcom didn’t remake. Several enemies, boss fights, and a “divergent path” mechanic that had you choose how best to escape the Nemesis in a pinch were omitted from the remake. Even an entire section set in a clock tower was cut. But, let’s be honest, the biggest omission is a secret ending where Barry Burton saves the day using only his beard. For real, YouTube that shit.

If you look at what the remake does instead of what it doesn’t, you’ll find a lightning paced action game highlighted by tense, one-on-one fights against the constantly mutating Nemesis. The tyrant’s grotesque transformations evoke the mind-rending, gut turning creature designs found in John Carpenter's The Thing. It’s sad that Nemesis doesn’t pursue you through the levels as diligently as he did in the original, or as Mr. X had in last year’s remake, but these “arena fights” end up being harrowing and fun, culminating in a memorable final encounter. The remake also treats us to the best incarnation of Jill to date. She’s a cynical badass, exasperated at how Umbrella upended her life, and can take a plunge off of a building yet still muster enough energy to call Nemesis a bitch. RE3R also shines thanks to its snappy combat, including a contextual dodge that feels rewarding to pull off, less bullet-sponge enemies than RE2, and an assortment of weapons to get you through Jill’s Very Bad Night(s). It makes for a necessary, though shorter, companion to last year’s stellar remake.

7. HADES

I’m experiencing a new type of shame including a title that I haven’t beaten on my Top 10 list, but I can assure you that I’ve dumped hours into its addictive death loop. It’s probably because of my resistance to looking up any tips, but given the skill-check nature of the difficult boss fights, I’m almost afraid the top shelf advice will amount to “die less, idiot.”

My failings aside, Hades is brilliant. It’s the perfect merger of gameplay and storytelling. You play as Zagreus, son of Hades, and your entire goal is to escape your father’s underworld domain. You pick from a selection of weapons, like a huge broadsword or spear, and attempt your “run,” seeing how far you can make it before an undead denizen cuts you down. It’s familiar roguelike territory, but where Supergiant separates their game from the pack is in the unique feeling of constant progression, even as you fail. With each run, not only is Zagreus earning a currency (gems or keys) that unlock new skills that make the next go a little easier, you’re also consistently treated to new lore. The fallen gods and heroes that line your father’s hall greet you after each death and provide a new insight into their world. The writing is bouncy and hilarious, the voice acting ethereal and alluring, and the character designs could make a lake thirsty.

Supergiant’s stylistic leanings are at their peak here. They’ve managed the impossible feat of making failure feel like advancement. Sure, it totally fucks up other roguelikes for me, but that’s okay. None of those games have Meg.

6. DEMON’S SOULS

Whereas Capcom takes liberties with their remakes, Bluepoint took the Gus Van Sant approach and made a 1:1 recreation of the 2009 title that launched the “Soulslike” genre. The dividing difference is a 2020 facelift brought to us by way of the PlayStation 5’s next-gen horsepower. There’s been online arguments (surprise) regarding the loss of Fromsoftware’s visual aesthetic in translating the PS3 original in order to achieve a newfound photorealism. It’s true, some beasties lose their surreal weirdness -- a consequence of revisiting designs without the worry of graphical or time constraints -- but the game’s world is still engrossing, morbid, and bleakly gorgeous.

That’s not to say all Bluepoint did was overhaul the graphics and shove this remake out the door. No, their improvements are nuanced, under-the-hood changes that gently push the genre into the next-generation. For one, the loading times are incredible. You could hop between all five archstones in under a minute if you wanted. And this game is a best DualSense controller showcase outside of Astro’s Playroom. You can feel a demonstrable difference between hitting your sword against a wall compared to connecting it with an attacking creature. Likewise, the controller rumbles menacingly as to let you know enemies are stomping across a catwalk above you. “Better rumbles” was not on my wish list of next-gen features, but the tactile feedback goes great lengths to make you feel like you’re there.

Granted, sticking so closely to the original means its pratfalls are also carried over to the next-gen. The trek between bonfire checkpoints is an eternity compared to the game’s successors, and Fromsoftware hadn’t quite mastered the sword ballet of boss fights prevalent in Dark Souls. Instead, a handful of bosses feel more like set pieces where you’re searching for the “trick” to end it versus having to learn attack patterns and counters. Still, it’s easy to see the design blueprint that bore a whole new genre. From having to memorize enemy placements to hunting down the world’s arcane secrets in the hopes of finding a new item that pushes the odds in your favor. Bluepoint’s quality of life improvements only make it kinder (not easier) to plunge into the game, obsess over its idiosyncrasies, and begin to master every inch of it. That is until you roll into New Game+ and the game shoves a Moonlight Greatsword up your ass.

5. YAKUZA: LIKE A DRAGON

Here’s a fact about me I’m sure you don’t know: I love beat ‘em ups. Streets of Rage 4 had an easy time making it on this list because it can be classified as both a “beat ‘em up” and “good.” Here’s another fact about me: I’m not the biggest fan of JRPGs. I’m told this is not because of any personal preferences I harbor, but rather due to a distinct lack of culture. I’ve made peace with that. At least my uncultured ways are distinctive.

But my disinterest in JRPGs is notable here because it illustrates how very good Like A Dragon is. Transitioning the Yakuza series from a reactive brawler (entrenched in an open-world SIM) to a full-blown turned-based RPG was risky -- especially 8 entries into the mainline series -- but it pays off explosively for Like A Dragon. Not only does the goofiness, melodrama, and kinetic energy translate to an RPG -- it’s improved by it. Beyond a new protagonist -- the instantly likable and infinitely affable Ichiban Kasuga -- we’re finally treated to an ensemble cast that travels with you, interacts with you, and grows with you. Their independent stories weave into Ichi’s wonderfully and end up mattering just as much as his.

The combat doesn’t lose any of its punch now that you’re taking turns. In fact, it feels wilder than ever and still demands situational awareness as your enemies shift around the environment, forcing you to quickly pick which move will do the most damage and turn the fight in your favor. RGG purposefully made Ichi obsessed with Dragon Quest (yes, specifically Dragon Quest) as an excuse to go ham and morph enemies into outlandish fiends that would populate Ichi’s favorite series. It’s a fun meta that never loses its charm.

This is the best first step into a new genre I’ve ever seen an established franchise make and I hope like hell they keep with it for future outings -- and that Ichi returns to keep playing hero. There’s plenty of callbacks and treats for longtime fans, but RGG did a masterful job rolling out the virtual carpet for a whole new generation of Yakuza fanatics.

4. GHOST OF TSUSHIMA

Sucker Punch’s dive into 13th century Japan doesn’t redefine the open-world genre. But like Horizon: Zero Dawn before it, Ghost of Tsushima takes familiar components of the genre and uses them exceptionally well, creating an airtight experience that can’t help but stand out. I can tell Sucker Punch mused on games like Assassin’s Creed and Breath of the Wild, tried to figure out what makes those games tick, and then brought their own spin to those concepts. You can feel it in their obsession to make traversal through the environment as unobtrusive as possible, letting the wind literally guide you to your destinations instead of forcing the player to glue their eyes to a mini-map. You can feel it in how seamless it is to scale a rooftop before silently dropping on a patrol, blade first. You can feel it in the smoothness behind the combat as your sword clashes against the enemy’s. Every discrete part is fine-tuned yet perfectly complements the whole. The game is silk in your hands. 

The mainline story can be humdrum, though. It mirrors the beats of a superhero origin story, which isn’t surprising when you account for the three Infamous titles and satellite spinoffs under Sucker Punch’s belt. But Jin Sakai’s personal journey outshines the cookie-cutter plot. His gradual turn from the strict samurai code to a morally ambiguous vigilante lifestyle (to becoming, eventually, a myth) is a fascinating exploration in shifting worldviews. This is bolstered by the well-written side-missions dotting your quest, some of which play out in chains. It’s these diversions about melancholy warriors and villagers adjusting to life under invasion that end up being the essential storytelling within the game. Whatever you do, don’t skip a single one.

Before GoT can overstay its welcome with collectible hunting and stat-tree building, the ride is over. If you find exhaustive open-world titles, well, exhausting, Sucker Punch coded enough of a campaign to sticking the landing and not more. But if you were looking for more, the game’s co-op Legends mode is the surprise encore of the year. It strikes its own tone, with vibrant, trippy designs, and a progression system that embarrasses other AAA titles in the space (I mean Avengers. I’m talking about Avengers).

3. THE LAST OF US PART II

The Last of Us is widely regarded as a masterpiece. It’s a melancholic trek through a realistic post-apocalypse, driven by the budding bond between a world-weary survivor and a would-be teenage savior. The fungal zombies and violent shootouts with scavengers were scary and exciting, but ultimately just window-dressing compared to the level of complicated, and honest, human emotion on display throughout the tale. While a segment of detractors helpfully pointed out that The Last of Us’ story isn’t unique when compared to years of post-apocalyptic books, comics, and movies, that argument seems to forget that a narrative more concerned with the human protagonists’ connections to one another instead of saving the world or feeding into a hero complex is pretty unique for games -- especially a high profile, AAA budgeted game.

Still, fans made heroes out of Joel and Ellie because of their own connection to their journey. And that connection is almost instantly challenged in the opening hours of The Last of Us Part II to heartbreaking effect. But I’m here to tell you that any other sequel would have been dishonest to the legacy of the original game. To be given a hero’s quest as a continuation, an imagined sequel where Joel and Ellie do battle against the viral infection that’s swept the earth, would have been a despicable cash-in. It would have been a mistake to follow-up the original’s careful examination of human nature just to placate an audience that seems to have missed the point Naughty Dog made. The Last of Us Part II hurts. But it has to or else it wouldn’t have been worth making. It’s a slow-burn meditation on the harmful ripples revenge creates, how suffering begets suffering, and how, if we don’t break the cycles of violence we commit to, suffering will come for us.

To drive this point, we’re given two distinct perspectives during the meaty (and somewhat overlong) campaign, split between Ellie Williams, the wronged party seeking revenge, and Abby Anderson, an ex-Firefly whose actions set the sequel into motion. The greatest trick Naughty Dog pulls off isn’t forcing us to play as a character we hate, it’s giving us reasons to emphasize with them. It was gradual, and despite some heavy-handed moments meant to squeeze sympathy out of the player (how many times do I have to see that fuckin’ aquarium?!), I eventually came to love Abby’s side of the story. The obvious irony being that she unwittingly walks the same path Joel did in the original.

My love for the narrative shouldn’t distract from how well designed the world is. Being a King County local, the vision of a ruined Seattle strikes an uncomfortable note -- it was eerie seeing recognizable buildings overgrown with vegetation but otherwise devoid of life. Maybe the heart-wrenching story also distracts from the fact this game is, by definition, survival horror. Exploring toppled buildings in the dark, hearing the animalistic chittering of the infected, defending yourself with limited resources… It manages to be a scarier entry into the genre in 2020 than even RE3R. There’s a particular fight in a fungus covered hospital basement that easily goes down as my Boss Fight of the Year. Human enemies make for clench-worthy encounters, too, with incredibly adept AI that forces you to keep moving around the environment and set traps to avoid getting overwhelmed.

Admittedly, the subject matter -- or more to the point, the grim tone -- was tough to stomach during an actual pandemic which has happily treated us to the worst of human nature. Still, The Last of Us Part II is absolutely worth playing for its balance of mature themes and expertly crafted world, and the way it juxtaposes beauty and awfulness in the same breath.

2. SPIDER-MAN: MILES MORALES

The most impressive thing about Miles Morales is that, despite being a truncated midquel rather than a full-blown sequel, it’s a better game than 2018’s Spider-Man. It’s not because of the instantaneous loading times or the fancy ray-tracing techniques used on the PS5 version of the game. Rather, it’s how it takes the joyride of the original game and hones it into a laser focused experience filled to the brim exclusively with highs. Like Batman: Arkham Asylum going into Arkham City, Miles starts the game off with his mentor’s best abilities and tools. From there, he discovers his own powers, his bioelectric venom strike, which ends up feeling like the missing ingredient from the first game’s combat.

Your open-world playground -- a locale in the Marvel universe called “New York City” -- is exactly the same size as the previous installment, which helps avoid making the game feel “lesser.” But Insomniac wisely consolidated the random crimes Peter faced into a phone app that Miles can check and choose which activity to help out with. Choices like this really trim the fat from the main game and help alleviate “the open-world problem” where the story’s pacing suffers because players are spending hours on end collecting feathers. This is great because Miles’ story is also great. The narrative kicks Peter out pretty early on, focusing on how Miles assumes the role of city protector, primarily focused on his new home in Harlem. Insomniac avoids retreading the same path paved by Into the Spider-Verse by telling a relatable tale where Miles defines his identity as Spider-Man. With a strong cast led by Nadji Jeter as Miles, the game lands an impactful story that weaves its own new additions to Miles’ mythos (light spoiler: I loved their take on The Prowler).

Miles Morales was pure virtualized joy from start to finish. A requirement of the platinum trophy is to replay the entirety of the game on New Game+. I didn’t hesitate to restart my adventure the minute the credits were over. Everything I loved about 2018’s Spider-Man is here: the swinging, the fighting, the gadgets, the bevy of costumes. But it gave me a new element I adore and can’t see Insomniac’s franchise proceeding without: being Miles Morales.

1. FINAL FANTASY VII REMAKE

I love subversive media, I do. And Square Enix’s “remake” of one the most beloved video games ever made subverts expectations by openly acknowledging that, yes, the original story you love exists and is consistently referenced in this game. But this is not that story. This is something..else. Because the truth is, SE could never have recreated FFVII and delivered a title that matched the Sacred Game fans created in their heads. That impossible standard is like an imagined deity, given power by feeding on raw nostalgia reinforced by years of word-of-mouth and appearances on Top 100 lists. I’m not saying FFVII is a bad game or that fans give it too much credit. Not at all. There’s a reason it’s so influential -- it’s good! But memory works in a funny way over time. We have a tendency to codify our perception of a thing over the reality of it. The connection we make to certain media, especially when introduced at a young age as FFVII had been to a whole generation of fans so long ago, creates a legend in our heads. Unfortunately, it’s a legend no developer could achieve when tasked with remaking it.

So Square...didn’t. Final Fantasy VII Remake has the same characters, setting, and plot beats as the first third of the original game but it’s not the same game, nor is it a remake of it in the traditional sense. It’s something new. And I fucking love that about it.

Everything is reconfigured, including the combat. After years of trying to merge RPG mechanics with more approachable (and marketable) real-time action (see FFXV and the Kingdom Hearts games for examples), Square Enix finally landed on the perfect balance. You fully control Cloud on the battlefield, from swinging your impossibly huge buster sword to dodging attacks. The ATB gauge (no one knows what the acronym stands for -- that information has been lost to time) gradually fills up, letting unleash powerful moves. But best of all, you fight in a party, and you can switch who to control on the fly.

That may not sound revolutionary, let alone for a Final Fantasy, but each character has a completely unique feel and suite of moves. At times, it feels like playing a Devil May Cry game where you can switch between Dante, Vergil, and Nero on the fly (that’s a free idea, Capcom. Hire me, you cowards). You can soften up an enemy with Cloud’s buster to increase their stagger meter, switch to Barret for a quick gatling barrage, and finally switch to Tifa to crush them with her Omnistrike. You can accomplish this in real-time or slow down the action to plan this out. It’s a great mix of tactics and action that prevents the game from feeling like a mindless hack n’ slash.

What really, really works here is the character work. Each lead walks in tropes first, but the longer you spend with the members of your party, the more their motivations and fears are laid out. You end up having touching interactions with just about the whole main cast. There’s a small segment, after Cloud saves Aerith from invading Shinra guards, that the two make an escape via rooftop.They make light conversation -- small talk really -- but it’s exchanges like this that feel genuine, perfectly framing their characters (stoic versus heartfelt), and grounding an otherwise larger-than-life adventure.

Many bemoaned the fact that FFVIIR only revisits a small portion of the original game, but I think it was a brilliant choice -- to massively expand on areas we only got to see a little of in the original. I honestly didn’t want to leave Midgar. It’s a world rife with conflict and corporate oppression, sure, but Midgar is beautifully realized, from the slums below the plates, populated with normal people trying to make the best of life, to the crime controlled Wall Market, adorned with gaudy lights and echoing honky tonk tunes. It very well may be years before FFVII’s remake saga comes to a close, but if each entry is paved with as much love and consideration and, yes, storytelling subversion as this introductory chapter… It’ll be worth the wait.

[twiceblackvelvet]

Walk It Out

A/N; i have no idea what inspired this but it made me very sad then happy and then sad again. apparently the way i cope in life is to write about jeti. anyway, enjoy. 

New York Fashion Week. The epitome of hell if you ask Tiffany. People rushing around everywhere, bloggers furiously typing up reviews on their phone and all for some clothing that is not practical for everyday living whatsoever. If she could skip out on attending, she definitely would. However, it’s become the norm for her to be invited to such events and they always get approved without her being offered a choice in the matter.

Weaving through traffic with only a few minutes left until she’s due to walk into the venue, her manager tries his best to reassure her that they’ll make it there on time. It may be a pain to sit through these shows, but showing up late is simply unacceptable. The majority of the best seats are usually reserved for celebrities with reporters and the like sprinkled in among them, however, if she doesn’t get there soon it’s likely her place will have been taken by one of the many hungry photographers desperate to get closer to the runway to make sure their shots are perfect. Not that she’d mind being stuck toward the back, but, things can be spun so negatively nowadays on the internet that it’ll be seen as her no-showing rather than just not being in her assigned seat.

Between the hours on end it took to get ready because of course, appearance is everything and the thousands of cabs that have decided to suddenly line the streets when Tiffany desperately needs them to be clear, she ends up being the last to walk into the venue where infamous fashion label Yves Saint Laurent is showcasing their latest collection. There are still photographers eagerly snapping pictures outside and even a few fans call out to her as she darts inside, apologizing with every single step that she can’t stop and greet them all. She promises to do so after the show. 

There are arrows and people ready to guide any late stragglers inside luckily. She’s pushed before a large backdrop with the brand’s logo for a few quick pictures before being hurried along inside the darkened room with an enormous runway positioned in the center. To say the place is filled would be an understatement. People are crammed together, photographers huddled over each other, yet, the celebrity tables remain untouched and away from the people actually working and not just here to sit and look pretty. 

A small woman with blonde hair begins to lead her to her assigned seat, though, Tiffany already knows it’s likely taken. As they get closer, she can see that someone with long brown hair is already seated at the table, though her back is the only thing in sight, she can tell that whoever it is, looks expensive based on the way they are perched on their seat and the clothing they’ve decided upon. 

“Here you go.” The guide speaks, her voice barely audible over the people bustling around the room. 

However, it seems that the person she’ll spending her afternoon seated beside managed to hear it also as they turn to face the direction of the voice. In one swift movement, Tiffany is met with a sight she never dreamt of seeing in a thousand years and definitely not in a situation like this. 

“There must be a mistake.” Tiffany tries to inform the blonde woman, however, she’s already turned and waltzed off to likely guide another late attendant. 

“No mistake. Your name is on the card. Don’t worry, I’m just as surprised as you are.” 

Truthfully, Tiffany knew that Jessica would be attending this particular show. She had read the various articles that fans had flooded her Twitter mentions with and proclaiming that they hope for the two of them to interact. But, she didn’t think it would actually happen and would not vote to be seated beside her if she had the choice. Whoever decided the seating plan must hate both of them to pull a stunt like this. 

For a second too long, Tiffany takes in Jessica’s appearance. Half out of curiosity the other half out of self-consciously comparing herself to her. Fans had done it for so long after Jessica left the group and she took over the majority of her lines in their songs that it’s become an unfortunate habit she’s picked up to think about just how she fares against her once upon a time friend. Her skin is without a single flaw which is intimidating alone, though she seems to be slightly more slender since the last time they saw each other. Which, Tiffany thinks, could have ended up being the last time ever if it weren’t for today.

“Are you going to stop staring at me and sit down? Or do the people behind us need to watch the show around you?” Jessica’s tone is without malice, though her words still seem harsh to Tiffany’s ears which have become unaccustomed to hearing it.

“Do you think that’s a good idea? I probably shouldn’t even be stood here beside you.” She answers, finally.

“Well, you already are. You may as well sit. What harm could it do?” 

Oh, Tiffany can think of a lot of harm it could cause if even one person within this room snaps a picture of them seated beside each other so casually as if the distance and lack of interaction between them for the last few years doesn’t exist. Which, they definitely will capture it. It will go viral. They both will be hounded for hours or even days on end about it. Yet, for some unfathomable reason, she does place herself beside Jessica and ignores the consequences her current actions will have. After all, it’s going to spice up what will undoubtedly be a boring experience for her. 

“Thank you,” Jessica states flatly. Her eyes avoid Tiffany’s completely though it’s clear she’s deep in thought. “I suppose we’re both going to have to explain this after we leave.” 

“Well, yes. I can’t imagine people will just ignore us being together, here, and sitting mere inches apart.” 

“No, they won’t.” 

The conversation, if you can call it that, comes to a dull end just as the lights dim further ready for the show to start. Out of the corner of her eye, Tiffany can see that every few seconds, Jessica will spare her a glance looking over her entirely and then tries her best to focus on the show. Her fingers tapping gently against her forearm anxiously as if she’s ready to burst from having to be in her presence. 

Several models make their way down the runway, every outfit growing more flamboyant as the show goes on. Tiffany thinks about how this is Jessica’s dream and how deep down inside, she’s glad that she’s working towards it, though she won’t be telling her that anytime soon. 

The show comes to a pause halfway through to allow the designers to speak briefly. Tiffany takes this as an opportunity to try and talk to the woman beside her once more. 

“I can move if it’s bothering you that much,” Tiffany whispers as to not disturb the person on stage speaking. 

“I’m fine.” 

“You don’t seem fine.” 

“Well, I am,” Jessica shuffles in her seat with every word. “I just wasn’t expecting this.” 

“You didn’t see the articles?” Tiffany asks her voice louder than previously which gains the attention of the people seated in front of them. She mouths an apology and turns back towards Jessica. 

“I saw them. I just figured you’d either no-show or that we’d be on the opposite end of the room to each other.” 

As the two women continue to size each other up, neither of them knowing where this reunion of sorts will lead them. A photographer kneels in front of their table face lined with an insincere smile that barely raises his cheeks.

“Ladies, photo?” He asks both of them, politer than either was expecting. 

“No, thank you.” Jessica offers for both of them curtly. “We’re not here together.” 

“Come on, it’s one photo, surely you can spare me that?” He begs voice lacking politeness and replaced with eagerness. 

“I said no.” 

“Okay.” 

They both answer at the same time and the man decides to only listen to Tiffany’s acceptance of his offer and not Jessica’s denial. He quickly grabs the camera around his neck and points it towards them. They both plaster on faux smiles for the quick picture but Jessica’s ears have begun to turn a bright red. If steam could come out of them, it would have filled the entire room. 

“Thanks.” The man shuffles off almost tripping over his own feet, likely thinking about just how much he’ll make from managing to get a picture of the two of them together. 

“Why did you say yes? Are you insane?” Jessica’s voice is definitely harsh this time, in fact, it’s flat out filled with anger.

“I don’t know, seemed like an easy way to get rid of him.” 

Though she doesn’t say it with words, Tiffany can tell that she’s managed to worm her way out of going against Jessica and that she can’t find a way to fight her reason for allowing someone to no doubt reveal that they’re sitting beside each other today and communicating for the first time in years.

The designers finish up their speeches and once again people storm the runway. Jessica tries her best to remain focused on the show. Tiffany tries her best to remove her focus from Jessica. Neither of them is successful. Luckily, the music accompanying the models walking drowns out their conversation.

“You look well.” Jessica offers first. Tiffany thinks about how difficult it must have been for her to offer the first compliment and decides it’s probably best to reciprocate it even if she’s unsure Jessica will trust her words.

“You do too. Though, you always did.” 

It’s difficult to say whether it’s the lighting or not but Tiffany is sure she can see a light blush rising on Jessica’s fair skin. 

“I don’t know what to say to that. Or to you, in fact,” They both look at each other but avert their eyes once the staring becomes a little too awkward.

“Me either.” 

Jessica ponders on her next words carefully, unsure of whether she should speak it out into the world or allow it to remain inside her head to never be heard by anyone else but herself. Her voice, however,  disobeys her insecurity and releases her innermost thoughts. 

“I… I missed you.” Her voice cracks slightly as she barely stutters the words out but they manage to hit the intended target. “I mean that. I know that it probably just seems like I’m only saying it because we’ve both ended up here but truly, I missed you.” 

Tiffany decides that her eyes must focus on the plethora of women walking upon the stage instead of the one currently threatening to make tears spill from her eyes with her words. Jessica was always described by others as a cold person, yet, there’s nothing but warmth in her words despite them mourning what was once a strong bond and unbreakable friendship that was left in tatters. 

Her heart wrenches in her chest when she eventually does turn towards Jessica as she’s picking up her black clutch bag from the table and standing to leave. Out of instinct she grasps hold of her wrist and forces her back down into her seat. A camera click can be heard in their vicinity but Tiffany doesn’t care if the whole world is to witness this moment, she can’t let Jessica leave without telling her that she has felt incomplete since her departure from their group. 

“Stay, please.” Jessica does exactly that, though not by choice as she’s placed back into her seat by force. “I missed you too. Things weren’t the same for any of us once you were gone. I know that might seem ridiculous to say since we’re all at fault one way or another for everything, but, something was always missing whenever it was just the eight of us.” 

“I figured. I watched a few clips of you guys,” Jessica laughs lightly before continuing. “Is it bad that I always pictured myself in any gaps whenever you were all on stage? Or in photos and stuff?” 

“No. Not at all. I used to think sometimes they’d do it on purpose so fans could photoshop you in,” They both laugh in unison, something neither would have guessed would be happening upon Tiffany’s first arrival at Jessica’s table. “I still get tagged on Instagram in pictures of us two.” 

“Me too.” 

Their eyes meet briefly as the laughter comes to a halt but the air around them feels less like it’s bubbling with tension and more like they’ve just resolved an undeclared war neither wanted to participate in. 

“So, where do we go from here?” Tiffany cautiously asks. 

“When that photo gets out, I’m not sure we’ll be able to continue this stalemate of ignoring the existence of each other anymore.” 

The lights suddenly brighten up the room and both women realize they’ve missed the entire exhibition. However, fixing their issues seems far more important than some hideous blouses. Although, Tiffany is unsure if Jessica will agree as she notices the small scrunching of her eyebrows. They both stand now, though the crowd around them makes it impossible for them to leave yet as they shuffle forward slowly. 

“What are we going to say about that by the way?” Tiffany stops Jessica dead in their tracks this time to try and strategize their next move. 

“Don’t ask me, you’re the one who agreed to it,” Jessica initially brushes off. “Let’s refuse to acknowledge it and say it was our doppelgangers, that’ll work.”

“Very funny Sica.” The shortened version of her name rolling off the tongue naturally. 

Jessica twists Tiffany’s body to face her own so as she can talk in a hushed voice without anyone else around them overhearing her. 

“Look, we have two options. We buy the photo before we leave, it never gets mentioned and we go about our lives as if this didn’t happen,” Tiffany tries her best not to seem hurt by this choice. “Or, we let them release it and we tell the world that there are no issues between us. It’s up to you.” 

Tiffany’s thoughts flash through her mind at a thousand miles an hour. Could she really deal with all of the questions about Jessica that she’s done her best to get out of neutrally over the years again? How will the other members feel about this sudden appearance of Jessica beside her looking as friendly as possible? Can she go back to ignoring Jessica and forgetting that she’s just admitted to missing her? The choice seems obvious and yet she’s conflicted between them. 

Jessica proceeds to walk toward the strange photographer having taken Tiffany’s silence as the answer is the former. But once again, Tiffany manages to pull her back and stops her from erasing their reunion from existence. 

“Stop. I can’t just forget you again Jessica.” 

For what feels like forever since she’d last seen it, Jessica finally grants Tiffany a smile that feels sincere. They stand stuck in place for several moments simply taking each other in. Neither wants to move out of fear that this was all just a fever dream and when they do things will go back to neither knowing one another anymore. Jessica moves first, though, it’s not what Tiffany expects as small arms wrap tightly around her neck and remain there. 

Many people passing by them stare, but Tiffany doesn’t care. Jessica could hug her for the rest of her life and it wouldn’t feel long enough. When it does come to an end, they decide to exchange numbers and agree to keep in contact with one another from here on out. They part upon reaching the doors to the lobby and agree to exit separately so as not to cause the fans still lingering outside to pass out. 

Jessica turns in place before she pushes the doors open to leave.

“Hey, Tiffany,” She simply nods in response. “I can still hit those notes better than you though.” Jessica flips her hair as she strides out of the door and away from Tiffany whose jaw is agape but she can’t help but laugh at Jessica still making things a competition between them even now. 

Maybe fashion week isn’t so boring after all. 

[hellowkatey]

angstpril day 10: don't look back

[ part 1 ] [ AO3 ]

Unfinished Business (pt. 2)

It didn't take much convincing at all to get the council to knight Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon holds the lightsaber in his hand, and it feels heavier than normal. Maybe it's his weakened state since Naboo, or maybe seeing his padawan kneeling before him, trying his hardest not to smile, is causing him to want to let this moment stretch out as long as he can. His moments are numbered, and this is one he wants to remember.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi," Qui-Gon says, igniting his lightsaber and lowering it to the shoulder of the boy he watched grow into a man. His face is illuminated in the darkened council chambers by the lightsabers of the council, who granted him this exception to knight his own padawan. Yoda stands beside him, and Qui-Gon taps into the calmness of his presence to get him through this moment. "By the right of the council; by the will of the Force; I dub thee," and he flicks his wrist, the delicate movement taking the braid off in a single hiss. "Jedi Knight of the Republic."

Qui-Gon watches the braid fall to the floor, and a polite smile spreads across Obi-Wan's face as he rises. There is cheering from the council, and Qui-Gon deactivates his lightsaber.

He lets Obi-Wan get whisked away by the crowd of his friends. The post-knighting celebration is always an exciting one and one that with any hope, Obi-Wan will not remember entirely the following day. (Mace made damn sure of that at Qui-Gon's own knighting. He still can't even think about cinnamon shots without feeling queasy).

He looks at his padawan-- former padawan who beams in his direction, his braid held tightly in his fingers. Pride blooms in Qui-Gon’s chest. The boy he raised from his youth now stands among his friends, some lacking their braids and others who are soon due. Their arms wrap around him and words of congratulations fill the air, and Qui-Gon has to resist the urge to run up to them and tell them how right they are. How Obi-Wan stepped up against a foe even he couldn’t defeat, and now he even inquired about taking on Anakin as his padawan in a few years if Qui-Gon is still feeling the effects of his injuries. He raised an excellent Jedi, true and good, but he must make sure Obi-Wan knows how good he is before Qui-Gon accepts his demise.

But will there even be time for that?

The question constantly lingers in his mind. He can feel the eyes of his council members who know the deal he made. He's been their constant study ever since he explained what had happened in that chamber. It feels like they're afraid to blink around him-- that one moment he'll be living and the next the Force will take him before their eyes. Had Qui-Gon known he would become a captive animal he would have succumbed to his rightful fate weeks ago.

A joke, he projects into the Force. Only a joke.

Maybe he will disappear in an instant-- it certainly feels that way sometimes. Ever since Naboo, he is at the very peak of a metaphorical mountain. Solid ground is virtually non-existent at this point, with only the treacherous cliffside around him if he wavers from his upright stance. He is posted up at the very edge of his Life Force. Yes, he can stand here almost comfortably, but even mountains weather over time. Soon he will have to fall and accept his entry into the Cosmic Force.

"They grow up so fast," the sardonic voice of his friend says, with a hand resting on his shoulder. He looks to Mace Windu who may be the only member of the council who isn't obsessed with his current existence. Or at least he hides it better.

"Indeed. One day I'm pulling him out of a fire beetle pit and the next he's besting a Sith in a duel."

"A testament to your lineage. With hope, your maverick ways weren't hereditary."

Qui-Gon chuckles. "If anything, it skips a generation."

"Then I'm not giving Kenobi any say in his padawan choice."

"Much like Yoda did for me then?"

Mace clears his throat, straightening up. Yes, maverick ways certainly skip a generation in this lineage. Yoda may be the worst of all, somehow even getting the Force on his side to do his bidding.

"The creche master sent a comm during the ceremony," the Master of the Order changes the subject ever so subtly. Qui-Gon perks up, looking at his friend.

"Is it--"

"It's Skywalker, yes."

Qui-Gon glances over at Obi-Wan, still in the midst of collecting praises.

"If Obi-Wan asks, I am stepping out for just a moment."

Windu nods, and Qui-Gon moves quietly away from the party.

The walk to the creche feels longer than normal. Perhaps it is his new philosophy to savor the moment he has left in his home. Walks through the temple are different now that he knows they are the last he will take. He looks at every art piece, glances into every room. Though he isn't spending as much time sightseeing, it still feels long.

His focus lies on Anakin now.

Qui-Gon is a hypocrite. He so often took the time to lecture about not reflecting on the past, and now here he is, wishing he could have done so many things differently. One such choice is how he dealt with young Anakin.

Impulsive is a word used on numerous occasions to describe him through his knighthood. Usually, he ignores such critiques since they so often come from senators with no concept of what it means to be a Jedi and know the Force... but this time they may have a point. At the time it felt like the right thing to do. Anakin was a slave with untapped potential and the answer to a prophecy he's been studying for years. He's undoubtedly the Chosen One who will save them from the darkness. But maybe if he'd just waited...

He strides into the dormitories to find Master Rose, Anakin's creche master, waiting patiently for him.

"Master Jinn," she says, her lips pressed together. "They're happening again."

He sighs. "Can I see him?"

She nods, stepping out of the way. The dormitories are just as he remembers from his own childhood. Rows of beds, little privacy, and always a little musty from the older younglings that aren't keen on hygiene yet. It's empty at this time of day-- Anakin has been granted additional rest hours because of the nightmares he's been having ever since his arrival at the Temple. A recommendation from his mind healer. The boy sits on the edge of his bed, arms wrapped around himself as though he's cold or simulating a hug. He only looks up at Qui-Gon when he approaches and sits next to him, his eyes rimmed red and nose running.

"Was it her again?" Qui-Gon asks softly, wrapping an arm around the boy. He leans into his side, sniffling in the process.

"Yes, Master Jinn."

"The same as the others?"

He feels the nod. Anakin has told him of his nightmares before. His mother, Shmi, sitting in the window staring out to the horizon. He calls for her, but she doesn't turn around. So he runs at her, only to be held back. The creche master would wake up to him screaming for her in the night. Pleading her to look at him. If his dream progresses enough, she does turn around, but she doesn't know him. Doesn't remember him. And then he screams louder-- but in despair.

"The mind healer told me it's because I'm attached," he looks up, his eyes a bright blue from crying. "Master Jinn, how can I not be attached to my mom?"

The question pangs in Qui-Gon's chest because truthfully, he doesn't know the answer to that question. Biological family is not something he's ever known or really put much thought into. The Jedi have always been his family, but not quite in the way that Anakin feels for his mother.

This is where his regret comes. He didn't consider the fallout of Anakin's attachment. Obi-Wan tried to warn him but he admittedly wasn't in the market for advice at that time. As much as he's trying to make things right by having the boy see a mind healer to cope with the change, he isn't sure the boy will ever figure out how to overcome his attachment. It worries him. He knows it worries the council. Obi-Wan has come around on the idea, but with the condition that he works with the healers.

"What is it you fear, Anakin?"

His face scrunched up. "What do you mean?"

"What do you fear."

"You said Jedi aren't supposed to fear."

Qui-Gon smiles. "You are a Jedi in training, young one. And Jedi do fear, they just know how to deal with it. How to release it and not let it affect their connection to the Force."

"Because fear is the dark side, right?"

"You learn quickly. Fear is not inherently the dark side, but it can lead to it. Now tell me, what is making you afraid?"

The boy takes a deep breath. "What if she... forgets about me?" As he speaks, his voice cracks. "What if she is hurt or needs help, and I... can't help her? I shouldn't have-- I shouldn't have left her all alone."

The tears come now, hot and fast. And stars, the Force... when Anakin cries just feels like it's crying with him.

Qui-Gon has learned that sometimes tears just need to flow. For the young, it is a necessary release. He lets Anakin have his moment, lets him collapse into his lap, and ball his robes in his little fists. Qui-Gon just sends calm sentiments through the Force, even though it feels like he's holding an umbrella to a gale. When his sobs turned to sniffles, Qui-Gon ruffles his fingers through the floppy blond strands of his hair. His dry heaving and hiccups shift to controlled breaths, and then the Jedi Master speaks.

"Now how do you feel?"

Anakin sniffles, sitting up again next to Qui-Gon. "A little... better."

"Your mind healer has told you to release your emotions, right? This--" He sets his hand lightly on the boy's chest. "--feeling you have. A weight off your shoulders, and your emotions calm. This is the feeling you are looking for."

"So I have to... cry when I meditate?"

The master smiles. "With much practice, you will find you can release any negative emotions with just your strength of mind. To be a Jedi is to be in control of these emotions. To think and act with a clear mind. Now tell me young one, these dreams. Your mother. Now that you have released your anxieties, what is it telling you?"

The boy looks up at him, eyes wide and bright from the residual tears. Anakin's lip quivers, but he bites the inside of his lip.

"Don't look back. She told me not to look back."

He nods. Qui-Gon remembers the moment vividly, Shmi's jaw set but face soft when Anakin looked at her. He could see her strength, her desire for Anakin to have a life better than his current one, but also her love for her son. When Anakin didn't turn around, Qui-Gon did. Shmi stared back, a smile still on her face and a nod in his direction. A promise--I will be okay-- and a request-- take care of him for me.

"Yes. Don't look back, look forward. If you learn the ways of the Jedi, learn to regulate your emotions, and become the great knight I feel you could be, then you will be making her proud. You are living the life that your mother wanted for you. I know you can feel that."

"I can feel it," he says softly. "I just... don't know if I should believe it."

"Trust in the Force, Ani. You've done it naturally all your life, and now it's time you learn to hone it. And don't look back."

"Look forward," Anakin finishes for him, pushing off the bed and standing. "I'll try, Master Jinn."

Do or do not, there is no try, his grandmaster's voice automatically replies in his mind. Qui-Gon walks with Anakin back out to see his creche master, who will take him to his next mind healing session.

And then he's alone walking back to the council chambers. When he's alone, he is aware of the ticking chrono constantly ringing in his ears. It grows louder with every day he awakes, every additional moment he strongarms his way through. Maybe Qui-Gon would wonder what this world would look like had he perished in that chamber, but he need not wonder.

It's what he hasn't yet told a soul, and it weighs on him. When he held on for dear life to that final thread of life, he saw a future clad in darkness. Light and dark clashing in a heated fury of heartbreak and loss. It was cold, laced with pain and treachery he could hardly comprehend. This was a future of suffering, and he has woken in a cold sweat every night since he felt it.

If he died in that chamber, the galaxy would suffer. He tries to tell himself what Shmi told her son-- don't look back-- but the very idea of such a shatterpoint over his existence is horrifying. He can't help it. But it's given him a reason to do what he can to fix this mess he has created. To prevent that pit of despair he could feel in the shadow of his former padawan's future. To preserve the light that shines so brightly within a boy who had every reason to live in darkness. Don't look back-- Force, but what if he had died? What if he was too slow, too weak to keep himself from going into that light?

He stops outside the council chambers, sitting on the bench and breathing deeply. The sounds of celebration still rage in the next room, and from here Qui-Gon can feel Obi-Wan and the gratification that has made his Force presence feel like a raging bonfire. It's warm, inviting, and feels as though it could burn for an eternity.

So much to tell him. So much to share. His learning as a padawan may have stopped, but now his future as a great Jedi knight lies before him. But he clutches his chest, feeling like his breath has been stolen from his lungs. The hallway seems to spin, and Qui-Gon knows he is teetering over the edge of that cliffside. So much to share. So much to do. But the Force has waited long enough.

[megalony]

Teacher’s pet- Part 3

This is the next part of my dad! Ben Hardy series, thank you to everyone for the lovely feedback it is much appreciated. I hope you all like it.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogermeddow @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @rogahs-drowse @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @peterquillzsblog​

Summary: Gwilym sets Ben up on a date with (Y/n) who teaches at the school Ben’s kids go to. But Ben is hesitant in the relationship, desperate not to make the same mistakes and needing to put his kids first.

Series masterlist

Enjoy.

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"Alright buddy, I'll see you later." Leaning down Ben kissed James' head, ruffling his hair to make him smile before the seven-year-old turned and trotted over to the front door. A smile on his face since he could go out with his mum who had finally come over to take him out for the day.

Heading over to the door, Ben leaned against it and watched the pair of them leave before he closed the door, turning around to look at his other two boys who were staring at him with very different expressions. Whenever Ellie came over to collect James, Finn never ended up asking about his own mother, whether it was because he simply didn't care or he had some sort of instinct not to want to be with his mum, Ben wasn't sure. He only knew that Finn was happy with Ben alone and that was how Ben wanted it to be.

Carter, however, wasn't so happy. He still remembered Jamie, he remembered her being around until he was five and then the memories seemed to grow fainter until they stopped completely. He asked about her from time to time, asking Ben why his mum didn't come for him but it was more out of jealousy than curiosity. He was jealous that James got to go out with his mum when he himself didn't.

"Where's he gone?" Carter asked, turning to follow Ben into the kitchen as did Finn who was always Ben's little shadow. He didn't seem to know what to do with himself if he wasn't following Ben around or being cuddled in Ben's arms.

"Out with his mum for the day, bud." Ben flicked the kettle on to make himself a drink but when he leaned against the counter and turned to look at the boys, he didn't like the expression on Carter's face. The eldest had been a bit out of sorts today, he didn't know what to do and when he was like that it made him anxious and irritable.

"Where's my mum?"

A sigh passed through Ben's lips as he pinched the bridge of his nose to try and calm himself down. This conversation never ended well and Ben had gone through this far too many times for his own liking. Gwilym was so much better at talking about this stuff with Carter, he could explain things better and say them in a way that wouldn't annoy Carter so much. Gwilym was one of the best teachers Ben knew because he was so patient and understanding and he was great with the kids with special needs. Ben himself was great with Carter but there were just times he didn't know what to do.

"Carter, we've been through this before, you don't see her anymore, I don't know where she is buddy." Ben leaned his back against the counter which he was gripping harder and harder each second that ticked by with no response.

He couldn't say anything else because he didn't know where Jamie was, what she was doing, where she was working, Ben knew nothing about her. She hadn't texted him in months now, she could have another kid for all Ben knew but truthfully he didn't care. She had washed her hands of Carter, if she said she couldn't cope and just visited him on occasion like Ellie did with James then Ben would understand and happier but she didn't so Ben decided to wash his hands of her too.

"Why not? Why won't she come see me?" Carter's brows furrowed and his lips pouted as he folded his arms over his chest as if it was Ben's fault, like he was keeping Jamie from him when it wasn't Ben's choice.

"I don't know Carter, I have no idea where she is or what she's doing anymore, buddy I'm sorry but that's just how it is. You've got me, nanna, grandad and uncle Gwil, you don't need her." Ben could hardly tell Carter that she won't come and see him because she didn't want to be around him anymore. He couldn't say that his own mother didn't want anything to do with him and she couldn't cope with him because it wasn't Carter's fault. He couldn't help the way his temper flared or how his mood's changed, Jamie was his mother she should learn to help him like Ben does instead of walking away.

"That's not fair! Why can James see his mum but I can't? It's not fair!" The moment Carter stomped his foot against the floor Ben noticed Finn shudder, his light sea-green eyes darted to look at Ben with uncertainty, not knowing what was going on.

"Finn go upstairs please, I'll be there in a minute." Ben watched his youngest hop off the chair he was sitting at next to the table, hugging his toy to his chest as he scurried out of the room to be out of the way because Ben just knew Carter was going to have some sort of tantrum. "When was the last time you saw your mum?" Ben rose his brows as he crossed his arms over his chest to match Carter's stance, locking eyes with him as he shook his head, waiting for an answer he knew Carter didn't know.

He couldn't remember the last time he saw his mum, he didn't know what she looked like anymore, he didn't remember her voice, he didn't know when he last talked to her in person or on the phone. He didn't even know her name and it hurt Ben that Carter was upset about someone who didn't care about him anymore. Ben wished Carter could be satisfied that she wasn't around anymore but he knew it was hard to come to terms with the fact that she was alive somewhere but wasn't with him.

Sometimes Ben wondered if it would have been easier to tell Carter she passed away, then he wouldn't think he had been abandoned. But he knew in the long run it was easier this way, he didn't want to lie to him and then have Carter find out in the future that he had lied.

"See, you don't know her Carter, for the last five years she hasn't been around okay? I don't know why she doesn't want to talk to us but it doesn't matter because we don't need her." That was the only way Ben could phrase it but it would never be enough. Carter always got angry about his mother at some point and it always made Ben feel angry too.

"I want to see her! It's not fair why can James have a mum but I can't? I want my mum!"

Ben could feel tears prickling in his eyes when Carter reached out and slammed his hand down on the kitchen table as if he demanded to see her then she would suddenly appear in front of him. He started to shake from both anger and pain before he forcefully kicked one of the kitchen chairs causing it to screech against the floor making shivers run down Ben's spine.

Breathing through gritted teeth, Ben moved so he was standing in front of Carter and grabbed his sides, pulling him away from the table but his body stiffened when Carter started to cry, lashing his hands out at Ben wherever he could. He wasn't intentionally trying to hurt Ben, he was trying to let out the anger he was feeling but that meant lashing out and right now he was hitting Ben to do that.

"I want my mum-"

"Well you can't have her!" Ben rose his voice but his tone deepened as did his eyes until they looked like voids Carter didn't want to get lost in. The ten-year-old started to cry and continued to bash his fists against Ben even when Ben hit his arms away and took his face in his hands to get him to look at him properly.

Sobs left Carter's lips as he snapped his eyes closed but it did nothing to stop his tears of rage from leaving his sore eyes. He dragged his short nails down Ben's arm to try and get him to let go but Ben kept hold his face and shook his head a little until he relented and opened his eyes. Repeats of 'it's not fair' left his lips in broken cries as he felt cheated, all the other kids at school had a mum that they saw or even a mum that was dead which was better than one who didn't want to see you. Why was he so different?

"I know it isn't fair Carter, she left me too you know! She doesn't want me anymore so she left and she clearly doesn't want to talk to me and for some reason, she doesn't want to talk to you. I don't know why she doesn't want to see you, maybe she's not well or upset or maybe she's gone away somewhere, I don't fucking know! You can beg me for her all you want but I can't give her to you because she's gone, okay, gone."

Ben breathed harshly as he felt himself shaking when Carter stopped lashing out so he could take in what Ben had just said. He seemed to mull over what he had been told and for a split second, Ben thought he was going to nod or say sorry or at least calm down, but then the sobs started again.

His foot bashed into Ben's kneecap but it hurt him a lot more than it hurt Ben but that didn't stop him from trying to punch Ben, managing to clip him on the jaw before he turned to run away to his room where he would undoubtedly scream the house down out of frustration and pain. He didn't get very far before Ben grabbed hold of him, tightly holding both his wrists in one hand which he used to pull him closer.

"Don't you dare start punching me or I'll punch you back." Ben spat before he moved so he was sitting down on the cold floor of the kitchen. He roughly spun Carter around and pulled him until he haphazardly fell down onto the floor with Ben.

Ben wrapped one arm tightly around Carter's middle securing his back to his chest before he wrapped his other arm around Carter's neck, applying not nearly enough pressure to stop his breathing but enough to stop him from fighting and trying to escape. This was how Ben normally had to restrain Carter so he didn't lash out and hurt his brothers or anyone else, it was a routine they were going through more and more lately and it was one that Ben hated. He hated sitting down and restraining his own son until he was calm enough to be trusted not to hit anyone. But it was the only method that worked when talking didn't.

Clenching his jaw so hard that his teeth started to grate and grind together, Ben moved his arm that was wrapped around Carter's waist so he could slap his side before reaching up to grab Carter's chin when he bit down on Ben's other arm.

"That's enough! You dare start trying to hurt me and I'll pin you to the fucking floor." Ben turned Carter's head so their eyes locked, his very stern message getting through to the ten-year-old when he clamped his lips shut to imply that he wouldn't do that again. Ben often had to restrain people at work when they got vicious, he knew what to do so he didn't hurt them and he had to do this a lot with Carter but being pinned down was something Ben tried hard not to do because they both hated it.

He was used to Carter trying to hurt him but it didn't happen often because Ben wouldn't let him get away with it, he either got hit back or he got pinned down or some sort of punishment. Ben had to show him that he couldn't carry on trying to hurt him or anyone else or Carter would continue to do it.

"Now you listen to me. Finn doesn't see his mum either, he doesn't know her at all just like you, and I know that isn't nice and I know it isn't fair but it isn't my fault. You can ask for her all you want but she isn't coming. You have me, you got that? I'm the one that's here with you right now, I'm the one who's always there when you throw a tantrum or when you hurt yourself or when you're sad. I love every bone in your body and I'm all you've got. Am I enough?"

Ben leaned his chin down so that he could press his lips to the top of Carter's head, holding him closer when a whine passed through Carter's lips. He hated when Ben asked if he was enough because it made him feel sad and guilty, it made him feel like he was telling Ben that he didn't want him but that wasn't what he was saying. Ben was more than enough and he always would be, Carter just wanted to have a mum too.

Carter didn't hold the ability to talk anymore so he simply nodded his head as much as he could manage with Ben's arm being in the way. He dug his hands into Ben's arm but not to try and hurt him, instead to try and hold him as close and as tightly as he could.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Are you okay?"

"Hm?" Confusion sparked in Ben's tired eyes as he tilted his head up so he was looking over at (Y/n) who was sat down to his left. His mind seemed to come back to reality after realising he had zoned out for a moment but when his eyes followed her gaze, a sigh passed through his lips.

Pushing back, Ben slouched in the rather comfy leather seat in the quiet cafe round the corner from (Y/n)'s place. His fingers danced around the crystal white coffee cup in front of him that held the strong scent of freshly made coffee and just a dash of milk. He leaned his head back against the seat, letting his head drop to the left so he was able to look at (Y/n) who still had a look of worry in her eyes.

"I'm fine, Carter had a meltdown yesterday, it's nothing."

Ben's words didn't do very much to make (Y/n) feel at ease as she slowly scooted over so she was sitting closer to him. Without thinking, she reached out and ran her fingers delicately over the scratch marks on Ben's exposed arms and the bite mark on his left arm. She knew that Ben had told her he could get bruises or scratches or the occasional broken nose from work if the prisoners got angry or rowdy but so far she hadn't seen a mark on him from work. Nor had she seen any marks that were from Carter.

It was clear from how both Ben and Gwilym spoke about Carter that he had anger issues, but it didn't cross (Y/n)'s mind that the young boy would get physical with Ben. She had seen the way Carter looked at Ben, even if he was mad with him he still had adoration and respect in his eyes for Ben and he clearly loved him. Hurting Ben wasn't something (Y/n) thought Carter would have done or been able to do.

Deciding not to push the subject any further in fear of upsetting or provoking him, (Y/n) hummed in response as she continued to run her fingers over the marks. The bite mark wasn't bleeding or deep at all it barely scratched the surface and only one or two of the scratches had drawn blood but they were still there and still eye-catching.

A smile tugged at Ben's lips when (Y/n) leaned her head on his shoulder causing small shivers to run up and down his spine. He rested his cheek on her head as he continued to stare at his coffee that was half-empty.

"Are you busy next Saturday?" (Y/n) kept her head resting on Ben's shoulder as she asked the question she had been meaning to ask since they arrived. A wave of content washed over her as she smiled, watching Ben's finger start to tap on his mug as his head started to move back and forth as he counted the days to add up his shifts. Days seemed to become irrelevant to Ben since he worked different days every week, he just seemed to know he was working this day and that day but the days got lost.

"Don't think so, I'm not at work anyway, why?" The weekends only seemed relevant to Ben because the boys weren't at school. He didn't have to work out his rotas and get his mum to pick them up when he was at work or rush from work to collect them from school or take James to football after school on a Wednesday. Weekends weren't busy unless he was working.

"I thought we could go out somewhere, dinner or something?" (Y/n) slowly linked her arm around Ben's before leaning over and grabbing her drink with her free hand, finally lifting her head from his shoulder to take a sip of her tea.

Turning her head, (Y/n) looked up at Ben as he seemed to be debating something or trying to work something out in his head. His finger started to tap against the mug again but it was more from anxiety than having to think or count in his head. (Y/n) was beginning to work out Ben's habits and what made him tick or his anxiety spike, but she learnt that the boys were what really made his anxiety kick in.

"Yeah, I'll just have to see if mum can have the boys." Ben ran his hand over his jaw, nodding his head as he thought that it should be fine.

"Why don't you bring the boys along?" The response was so instant and so casual that it caught Ben off guard for a few seconds. His eyes widened and scanned over (Y/n)'s expression to see if she was joking or if she looked like she instantly regretted what she'd just proposed but she didn't. She looked calm and her expression seemed to wonder why Ben hadn't already thought of this.

Ben opened his mouth to speak but no words seemed to escape because he didn't know how to respond. No one had asked him something like that before, they'd never wanted the boys to tag along and the last person he went out with didn't want to get to know the boys at all.

"You... you wouldn't mind?" There was a lot of hesitation in Ben's voice and his eyes were wary because he knew how this normally played out. The boys tagged along and either they didn't get along with the girl or the girl paid no interest to the boys and the relationship ended right then and there. Ben didn't want to bring up the subject of meeting the boys yet because he didn't want to push things or make (Y/n) feel like she had to get involved with them right away.

"Of course I wouldn't, I want to get to know them since we're... together. As long as they'd be okay with it?"

(Y/n) could feel the nerves building up in her stomach and swelling in her lungs when she dared to lift her eyes to look at Ben the moment she spoke. They hadn't talked about them actually being together but they had gone on quite a few dates now and (Y/n) felt that they were basically together anyway even if they hadn't officially said it yet.

But her nervous smile widened when Ben bit down on his lip to stop his smile from spreading too wide.

They were getting serious and that meant that (Y/n) would have to meet the boys sooner or later if this was going to continue. (Y/n) wanted to meet the boys, Ben told her about them and so did Gwilym and she had already talked to Carter on a few occasions already. If she and Ben were going to be together, she had to get to know the boys and there was nothing (Y/n) wanted more.

"They'd love to meet you... we'd have to be careful with Finn though, he doesn't do well with strangers. It took Gwil over a month to get Finn to talk to him and be at ease around him." Ben moved (Y/n)'s arm that was wrapped around his own so he could intertwine their fingers as he tried to calm down his erratic heart.

He knew James would be excited to meet (Y/n) and Carter would be okay, especially since (Y/n) worked at the school and he knew briefly of her. Finn was the only exception because he had anxiety that was worse than Ben's, he wouldn't take to anyone for a while. He wouldn't speak and he would hardly move but once he got to know (Y/n) and felt more comfortable around her there would be no problem, Ben knew it.

"Baby steps." (Y/n) stated with a smile. She was a teacher, she knew how to approach children who were anxious or scared or held back and she knew it took time, that wasn't a problem. They had all the time in the world.

"Baby steps." Ben agreed quietly before he leaned over and closed the distance between them.

He moved his free hand to cradle her jaw, brushing his thumb over her jawline causing (Y/n) to smile nervously into the kiss. For the first time in a while, Ben didn't feel anxious when the thought of the boys came to mind, he wasn't fearful of them meeting (Y/n) or how it would turn out when he would normally be going into overdrive already. Somehow, he just knew this was going to go the way he wanted it to.

(Y/n) was the one.

[nochanchu]

ipso facto, two.

» def. latin by that very fact or act.

pairing: park chanyeol x reader (unnamed oc) genre: fwb + fake dating au, drama, romance, themes of heartbreak and unrequited love (at first) | includes unhealthy relationship dynamics wc: 1,092 description: Park Chanyeol has always made poor decisions, always, maybe—just this once—he has it right this time.

✗ INDEX

On a night approximately two years ago, the roar of Chanyeol’s best friend’s car dies off into a blissful and comfortable silence, taking the crisp heat alongside it as soon he opens his door and lets more of the outside cold seep in. But because she makes no moves to leave yet, he doesn’t either.

From underneath the incandescent light of the overhead lights, her questioning eyes keep him in place and a sense of unease begins to creep back into his system again. He had hoped to leave those thoughts back at his apartment, but it seems like there’s no escaping reality even now.

“This is a terrible idea,” she says, with a frown pressed into her lips. “You and Minju just broke up.”

“I think it’ll be good for me to get wasted,” Chanyeol replies dismissively, and somehow still trying—emphasis on trying—to sound certain that this won’t backfire in his face. Truthfully, he doesn’t know whether it will or it won’t. He’s not going to admit that aloud, nor does he want to.

There have been hits and misses with doing this same thing in the past, but deep inside his gut he feels that smidgen of uncertainty tainting its way all throughout his confidence. He thinks twice about why he’s doing this and what led him here, and the one thought he meant to push out completely seems to rear its ugly head again too.

In thinking through everything else, Chanyeol has to let himself wonder how everything went downhill so fast. He actually felt like things were going well with Minju, that he wasn’t repeating past mistakes by being too boring or too out there, too clingy or not too clingy enough—those sorts of things that often vary from person to person—and he really believed he had it right this time.

They were both Music Production majors who took the introduction class to music theory just as seriously as an upper division course, because it mattered that much. When they were partnered together (thanks to a switch-up) for the final to analyze musicians and what they were doing, they actually enjoyed following the rhythm of percussion, watching guitarists get lost in their solos for a handful of minutes at a time, and noting the techniques from all of the vocalists. What they shared beyond the understanding of theories in that class was this understanding of how music gets you to feel without trying. It made Chanyeol happy to share that with someone.

Sure, he has his best friend, who will hear him out and accompany him to concerts but that wasn’t the same. She’s his best friend, not a lover, and Minju differentiated those relationships.

At least until questions arose and he had to make a choice. He always has to make a choice.

“I think you’re just looking for a rebound,” she points out.

Chanyeol doesn’t say anything, thinking it best not to, though the offended expression on his face does break her frown into a small smile. He knows she doesn’t want to be too harsh on him, but he doesn’t like that she’s calling him out like this.

The silence proves her point (at least to her) and he hates that he walked right into that one. It’s semi-true, but he wants to keep his expectations low in case nothing happens and he winds up deeper in his own shitty feelings than when he started. “Could you ease up a bit? I am still hurting from all of this,” he points out, albeit weakly against her raised eyebrow.

“I’m all for letting you cry your heart out and binge-watching That 70’s Show to cope, but listening to Baek by going to a bar sounds a lot more like a morning-after regret you’ve exercised way too many times before,” he hesitates to retort, especially when she adds, “Plus, he’s the reason you got with Minju in the first place.”

“I mean it wasn’t like that was a mistake or anything… well, I don’t know. It was and wasn’t, but the prospect of booze on a depressing night sounds like the perfect way to exercise my singledom,” Chanyeol says. He knows she isn’t convinced in the slightest, still stuck on the idea of what could go wrong tonight instead of what could go right. “You’re being too negative,” he frowns, messing with the top of her hair. “Just trust me.”

She snorts, half-heartedly attempting to swat his hand away. “Drunk you should never be trusted. I want your phone before we get in there—”

“Wha—?” The incredulous sound dies out about halfway through his voice. She has such an uncanny way of effectively shutting him up with one all-too-knowing stare.

“—You are unbearably embarrassing as a drunk texter and caller, Chan. Phone. Now.” She sticks her hand out and obtains the plastic device, shoving it into one of the pockets of her never-ending cavern of a purse, and giving a nod. “Alright, you have your fun. We leave at one.”

As soon as they leave the car and enter the bar, Chanyeol takes one drink after another. Each one is even more bitter than the other until they stop coming at some point.

/

Chanyeol finds himself with a pounding headache the following morning, and a phone number scrawled on his forearm.

She has two ibuprofens, a cup of coffee, and some other food laid out just for him. A note scrawled beside his phone gives him some answers, not enough to sate the curiosity of the phone number’s owner that flashes across his mind.

He remembers her very vaguely. He knew he had been drunk and too tired to differentiate between faces, because they all looked like Minju then. Everyone he could speak to, he hoped and wished it was the strawberry blonde that shattered his heart, so he could ask her why she had decided he wasn’t enough. He wanted to know why he was never enough. But then came Dohee, who grinned at him and offered to be his shoulder to cry on when he was sober.

He recalls her being bold and beautiful, daring and carefree, and most of all, new and oh-so-inviting. It’s the first time the chase was taken to him. The kind of chase that he has never dreamt of participating in, because he has always been a runner. Her attention flattered him, reeled him, and made him feel like he was the most special guy in the world—actually, he felt like her whole world.

If only he had known then.

[ziamhaze]

Hi, I hope you're well! I just want to start off by thanking you for all the wonderful fics you have blessed me with!

I just finished Red vs. Black and was hoping you wouldn't mind answering some questions I have. As someone who risks his own life to save others, how does Liam justify being with someone he knows has killed innocent people? It'd be one thing if Zayn had only killed those directly involved with what happened to his family, but he's killed innocent civilians over minor inconveniences (such as the teenagers in the convertible). Does Zayn still think he is justified in doing so? Does he ever feel guilty about it? If not, how would Liam and Zayn be compatible if their moral compasses are so different?

Also, did Zayn's father ever make his way to the UK? Or was that just a lie he told Zayn to comfort him? Does Zayn ever find his family, especially his younger sister?

I know it's a lot, but I'd really love to hear your answers if you want to give them! Again thank you for all of your wonderful works!

So sorry it’s taken me this long to reply, but I didn’t forget!

To start I’d like to thank you for clicking, and finishing, Red vs. Black.  It isn’t the shortest of fics, nor is it the most delicate - to put it lightly.  For the latter alone, thank you.

These are such poignant, important questions.  Ones that are nearly word for word what I asked myself while planning the ending.

                         SPOILERS FOR ALL OF RED VS. BLACK

1)  How does Liam stay with Zayn after learning of all his senseless killings?

Honestly, I questioned this the most when feeling out the concept.  As a fic writer it’s expected of me to write not only a romance, but also a happy ending.  Of course fics exist that do neither, but they’re very rare and not exactly well-loved.  And truthfully, a massive point that I wanted to get across - and which in effect answers this question - is that despite people’s pasts, they cannot overcome them without being given the opportunity.  100%.  No ands, ifs, or buts.  For a prisoner to assimilate back into society and not go back to their old ways, they need to be trusted with a job.  With a salary (no matter how small), they need to trust themselves to be able to not buy anything that may contribute to poor habits: drugs, alcohol, weapons, gambling, a means of transport that will give them the ability to visit bad influences (more of a psychological thing, but still).  A lot of prisoners are never given this opportunity (especially in the United States), and therefore fall back into their old ways, which are more often than not coping mechanisms to deal with the fact that they can’t fit into society as easily as privileged people to begin with; it’s a terrible cycle.  However, there are plenty of success stories of those that truly wish to change and are lucky enough to stumble upon an employer or mentor or sponsor of some sort that hands them an inkling of hope/trust that they use to fight their way back up.  The fic is fantasy, and while Zayn’s story is rooted in real world PTSD, I think the prisoner analogy is easy for us to envision and therefore, understand why Liam acts the way he does.  I also made it a point in the last scene when they’re talking things out to have Liam voice his contingency: if Zayn so much as spits at anyone, he’s done for.  That’s to say, he’s not wiping his slate clean just yet.

2)  Does Zayn still feel his useless killings were justified?

I’m going to answer assuming that you’re referring to the time after the fic ends.

Looking back at his actions is something that would be inevitable when he starts therapy, and this is a perfect example of one of the questions his therapist would ask.  You may not like my answer, but as an author I find it imperative that I speak of my characters realistically and to keep them true, not how I want them to act.  That said, yes, Zayn would still find justification in why he’s done what he’s done.

There are a few instances in the story where this is actually explained.  Take the scene in the bar with fancy mixologists.  Zayn begins to get aggravated over the people in the room simply because they’re ignorant to the feeling of significant pain.  There’s also the scene where he’s back home in Cheshire and Harry straight out tells him, he may be furious at the unfairness of the world, but he needs to learn how to come to terms with it.  It’s not going to change.  This right here is what a therapist would work with him to do, and also why I had Harry be the one to bring this up in the story - he is one.

I know it sounds incredibly foreign to the average person, but trust me when I say that people struggling with anger problems founded in (un)fairness, exist.  I’ve spoken with professionals about it.  Add on crippling childhood PTSD and a villain like Zayn can definitely be born.  It’s why treatment is needed, and why the answer is ‘yes’ in the beginning of Zayn’s journey to peace.  When his answer switches over to ‘no’, that’s when it’ll be outwardly apparent that he’s beating his ailment.  Unfortunately, for many, the inner battle with mental health is lifelong; the answer ‘no’ will never turn solid.

3)  Does Zayn feel guilty about the above?

Again, there are a couple times when I write Zayn to literally mention how he feels zero guilt.  However, if you really really pay attention you’ll notice that these instances aren’t villain related.

For example, meeting Liam’s parents:

After handing his father and Zayn each their tea, Liam looks between them suspiciously. "Leaving the two of you in a room together was a bad idea."

"Don't know what you're on about," Geoff replies innocently. "We were just talking about cars, weren't we Zayn?" Even with all eyes on him, the pressure of lying doesn't get to Zayn. It never does.

"Yeah," he agrees, bringing his drink up to his lips carefully, "cars."

Or, after Zayn walks out from the comedy club:

"It takes a lot of courage to get up there and do something like that, don't you think?"

"Not really."

Liam looks to the side, hoping that he can interpret more from Zayn's answers by seeing the expressions that go with their frankness. "So if I signed you up, you would do it?"

"Why would I want to make a room full of strangers laugh?" Zayn retorts, his right eye scrunching up in distaste, like it's a mannerism of his provoked by moronic questions. "I don't have a superiority complex." Liam thinks he might, but. "I know I'm better than those people, no mediocracy to cover up here."

So we’ve got those, but then we’ve also got this massive character point:

Right as the last of the snake's body emerges, Zayn snaps his fingers, triggering heavy hip-hop music to flow through his headphones and drown out the man's blood curdling cry.

If he could permanently damage people who deserved it, not always because they did something to Zayn, but because he liked to play god and throw them a massive curveball like life had done to him, then why shouldn't he? So long as he pulls his soundproof headphones off the little robot on the inside of his right arm to avoid listening to the pain his choice brutality caused, there's no valid reason he shouldn't take advantage of the gift he was given.

From where he's sitting, he probably won't be able to hear anything, but he fastens the equipment over his ears just in case.

All at once, the atmospheric sounds of central London, mixed with the terrified screams of those in the burning building beneath them, hit Zayn at full force. The sensory overload alone would normally be enough to piss him off, but tack on his protection from audible trauma being taken and being spoken to while in villain mode, and he's seeing red as deep as the pits of hell he knows he's destined for.

I wrote Zayn’s headphone usage as a way to alert that the reader that he does, in fact, feel villain-related guilt.  He can’t act on his anger without them on.  He’ll have his victims screams stuck in his head, and he’d never be able to handle that a.k.a. there’s zero satisfaction from their literal pain.  Think about that and it’ll answer your follow-up question.

4)  What happened to Zayn’s family?

Zayn’s father meant what he said - he’d do whatever he needed to reunite his family.  That wasn’t a falsity at all.  The problem is money.  And politics, but let’s start with the issue of money.  It took Yaser nine years to save up the amount he paid to have Zayn and Waliyha smuggled across the border.  The whole concept of smuggling is that it’s a cheaper option than the legal one.  So if we look at this, you can see how long it would take him to save for three adult visa fees, three adult plane tickets, and enough to stay afloat for a month or so when they get to England.  Now add in the politics of the early 2000s and the Afghanistan/Pakistan region.  We know that Yaser fixed air conditioners for a living.  No person with that average of a background is going to have an easy time immigrating anywhere.  Even so, would it really take him over 18 years?  While it’s plausible, perhaps a man with such determination would find another way.  Or...was that unnecessary because he was fed lies?

Think about it.  After several weeks and no word from his children, don’t you think he’d cause a riot?  He’s the type to drive over to Badar’s house and demand his relatives get in contact with him to find out what’s going on.  But, given the flashback Zayn has, it’s obvious that Badar never planned on accompanying any of the children to the UK, and if that’s the case, he clearly couldn’t return to Quetta.  I imagine a fully rehearsed story was told to all of the children’s parents about how they were killed somewhere along the way.

As for Waliyha, her whereabouts were told to my gang over on Patreon a while ago.  In short, yes, she’s still alive and I plan on pitching the book’s sequel to publishers as a graphic novel series revolved around her location.  Louis’ dark web bot finally found a hint as to where that might be, so Zayn and Liam go on a journey across Europe to find her.  Each issue would (probably) take place in a new city and involve both fighting a single bad guy.

Just a quick reminder to anyone who reads this, Red vs. Black and all involved characters are my intellectual property and cannot be replicated, manipulated, or stolen.

Again, thank you for your question and time!  I know my fics aren’t short and take a huge time commitment to finish.  If you have any other questions, don’t hesitate to send them my way!  I’m super busy writing the next story and doing critical work, but I promise I’ll get around to it.

[emptymanuscript]

Letting it drop - Lords of Pain 2 - 2/6/20

One of my very best friends gave me my favorite metaphor for Pain. She described Pain as like a liquid. We hold that liquid as if in a vessel. Each of us has a Pain cup.  pain pours into it and as it fills up we become overwhelmed. 

A small cup can only hold a little bit of pain. Even a little of that liquid drowns the individual’s ability to cope. But you can’t stop feeling pain just because you have pain. So the cup does not overflow. Instead, the pressure of that pain forces the cup to expand.

A larger cup can hold more liquid. A person who has experienced more pain, although they still feel the pain the same, can deal with more. Their cup can hold more of the liquid.

This means that you can’t compare cups, and you can’t compare pains. The same amount of pain acts differently on different cups so different people have no choice but to deal with their pain differently. That I can deal with a certain level of pain and another cannot does not make me better it just means that I’ve had more pain. That they cannot deal with as much pain simply means that their cup is size differently. So there is no way to value the cup interpersonally.

People don’t feel in numbers. It’s the same reason why a year feels a different length when you’re 10 compared to when you’re 30. We feel in something like percentages. I feel that this has been a certain fraction of my life and that fraction is consistent while the numbers are very different. The cup is the same. I can ignore 10% of my cup being full. If my pain cup is 90% full I can’t do shit. But someone who can hold 10 ounces of liquid pain will be overwhelmed by 9  ounces while someone Else who can hold 10 gallons wouldn’t even notice 20 ounces, more than twice what the 10 ounce cup can hold in its entirety. 

Because were human the temptation is to see that as being better. My friend calls this comparing misery dick sizes. It actually holds no value. A 10 gallon cup cannot compare to a 10 ounce cup because what they feel cannot be passed. The literal tan just can’t be felt. The 10 ounce cup couldn’t hold that much pain so while it would expand the person would just pass out. They just don’t have anything to do with each other, their personal. So, do your best to ignore that temptation. An individual must feel their individual pain and no other.

I’ll almost certainly talk about this again, it describes a lot for me. But for myself, and I think most others, this then ties into the Spoon Theory. 

The Spoon Theory is the idea of limited resources. Everyone has a certain number of spoons but as things deplete your capabilities you have less spoons to use on tasks. Permanently deplete abilities and you permanently have less spoons. Large scale depletion means you have a small number of spoons and you have to learn to count and ration them. 

I like the spoon theory a lot. It makes a lot of sense to me. 

But just for myself, I like to ponder where those spoons go. Do the used spoons go into the filling cup? As I do tasks, am I raising the level of the liquid pain? 

Because pain seems to come in colors for me but I don’t seem to get multiple cups. I don’t get one cup for my chronic pain, one cup for what I need to work on during the day, and a third for what I need to do to prop up my relationships. Hurting when I stand, coming up with a story, paying bills, doing a bit of plumbing work on the house,  talking to my sister, and bending low and jabbing with my fingers to give my wife a massage for her back pain all seem to come from the same (re)source pool of spoons and all pour their waste into the same sewage system flowing liquid pain into my cup. 

Which means, at least for me, it’s really hard to make that estimate of what I can and can’t do. I can think about it at 12pm and be quite certain that I have 18 spoons to use until 6pm but the act  of using those spoons means that my pain goes up so I have less spoons to use and that circles back to more pain in my cup and less spoons to use in a vicious cycle. So by 3pm I don’t have my estimated 9 spoons remaining but only 5 instead. 

This happened fairly blatantly this last weekend. We live in an extremely walkable area. So we just walk to the movies. If I am smart and take my cane, even if I feel fine and mistakenly believe I don’t need it, I’m fine with that walk. But I have more stress than usual right now. Not more physical pain, more emotional stress, just this little dollop of cloudy cataract colored liquid metastasizing at the bottom of my cup, making it feel full faster. So instead of being able to walk all the way to the movies pain free, somewhere around 4 blocks away I had to grit my teeth to the movies because it hurt like hell. Which also means I fell asleep during the part of the movie that bored me a little. Which gave me extra discomfort on the walk back for having to admit that. So it was more like six blocks from home where I’m trying not to cry and just wanting to collapse because it fucking hurts and I’m tired and I don’t want to deal with anyone or anything now. The slight imbalance was enough to make me quite noticeably wrong about what I was able to do, even having plenty of experience with the same activity. 

Unfortunately, this isn’t a one off for me. I’m bad about figuring out what I can do and energy / pain budgeting more often than I’m good. I can severely underbudget, and often do, but that ends up being like not cutting down a dog’s nails close enough to the quick. That ends up making the quick grow and you can’t cut your dog’s nails down as short. You can just accept that you’re going to be miserable which ain’t great for your mental health. I truthfully wish I knew how people budgeted well enough to thread the needle most of the time. I mostly carom off the edges of the space, getting fairly within my budget but either avoiding what I could do in favor of what I want to do or what I’m afraid I won’t be able to do if I budget higher OR I overspend and find I just don’t have the energy or discomfort tolerance to do what I want or know I should. 

This came up yesterday. My wife reached over, ran her knuckles along my cheek, or the hair on my cheek really, and said, “Ok, we have to figure out what we can do so you’ll shave outside the shower. Or take a shower every day like you should. Because this isn’t working for you. You’re looking pretty scruffy.” 

Because that kind of self care, being clean, taking care of my body’s needs besides for rest and food, is pretty much the first thing I drop. I decide that it isn’t the budget if I want to get x,y, & z accomplished. Or my budget has run out by the time the end of the day has rolled around and it’s simply too much effort and too much expectation of pain.

That’s partly because a good portion of my chronic pain is most likely psychosomatic. Things have hurt enough that I now expect things to hurt. The shower is going to hurt. Never mind that the water on my skin only hurts one time in ten, maybe. The association has been made and now I expect it so I overbudget for the shower. That’s two spoons of effort instead of one, and it’s three ounces of pain instead of one. Which often leaves me saying to myself, “I can’t. I just can’t. I’ll do that tomorrow.” And the ball drops. 

Because tomorrow is the same except now I also have that extra eighth of an ounce of oil-slick black guilt curdling in my cup, and so my budget is just that little cumulative extra off, meaning I run out faster and I just can’t. I can’t stand in that shower under the beating water and run a razor across my face until it burns for… for what? Do I really care? Do I care about any of it? Is anything worth the effort? Do I even want to do life today? Do I even want to do life??

And the ball drops. 

I feel guilty for letting the ball drop. I feel ashamed for letting it drop when we JUST talked about this and I promised to try harder. And clearly I didn’t / couldn’t / just wouldn’t because I suck. I let it drop right into the cup and dissolve into that oil-slick black shame, raising the level of the liquid until I feel like I’m drowning and the stress pours in in its cataract white. Then I push because I “know” I’ve got 18 spoons and I really can’t and the pain from burning into the spoons I really shouldn’t be using because I am going to use 18 goddamnit, even though I really only have 8, sears through me in its own blinding ruby biting sharpness into the cup rushing straight for the brim. And I just let it drop because fuck you and fuck me and fuck everyone and everything, I can’t. I really can’t. And I hate that it is even being asked of me.

And the ball drops and I’m sitting here typing this out with an unshaved face and unwashed pits even though this was yesterday. And I can already feel my pain rising. And my worry rising that I’m going to let it drop this evening, too. Because there just isn’t room for everything. That doesn’t mean not room for stretching myself. That means there’s so little room that just the mundane everyday tasks we’re all supposed to do every goddamn day is a stretch and way more often than I like, something needs to be cut. I think. Because I’m guessing. And I have no answers. Just a cup filling up.