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miraculouslbcnreactions · 7 days

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Since you've mentioned Scarlet Lady in one of your posts, what's your opinion on it?

I've mentioned before that I'm a big Scarlet Lady fan, which is the only reason that I'm comfortable answering asks like this one. I don't publicly criticize the content of hobby creators. That's wildly inappropriate! Punch up, not down.

The linked post was a general discussion of the adaptation process and how @zoe-oneesama did a fantastic job, so for this one, I'm just going to do some general gushing because I do actually like praising and enjoying things!

Scarlet Lady's chosen format (comic) allows it to have this wonderful conversation with canon where it can rely on the framework of canon to tell it's own story while also using canon for jokes and meta commentary. This means that Scarlet Lady is about as close as fan content can get to a direct reboot because it's able to have moments like this one from the comic's first post:

[Image description: Adrien standing in his room after transforming into Chat Noir for the first time. He is beaming and his eyes are shining with excitement as he exclaims, "This is gonna be awesome!"]

A single picture that communicates everything we need to know about Adrien getting his miraculous. When I've done this same thing in fanfic, I had to write out the full scene because that's how novels work. You have to give the full picture. With a comic, you can just quickly acknowledge this thing that we all already know and then move on to the new stuff. A picture really is worth a thousand words! (Or, in my case, more like two thousand...)

This allows Zoe to keep the same akumas that we get in canon without her story feeling like a boring rehash because she can focus on what's different in her version. A novelization of the same content would have to show both the stuff that stays the same and the stuff that changes for it to be coherent. That's a lot less fun to read and write. It's why I basically never revisit canon akumas in my own stuff. It's just too derivative for the written word.

This is one of the big reasons that I loved Scarlet Lady. Because it was able to have that more directly conversation with canon, it was able to take canon and say, "hey, why don't we embrace the tone that you established in season one and retell the story with that vibe?" That's something that I desperately wanted to see, but that is totally unsuited to my chosen artistic form. It couldn't be a novel. It had to be a comic.

If you want to know what a true formula show version of Miraculous would look like, Scarlet Lady is it. It does everything that Miraculous should have done:

Sticks to a lighthearted tone where nothing is ever super serious

Keeps Gabriel entirely unsympathetic

Has slow character development and background hints at a bigger plot as the only serial elements, allowing the individual episodes to be their own story while never feeling incomplete or rushed

Allows characters other than Marinette to shine while keeping Marinette as the clear main character

Makes Adrien narratively important

MAKES THE LOVE SQUARE CUTE SO I CAN ACTUALLY SHIP IT

Understands that Lila and Chloe can't coexist as antagonists

Reverses the love square, which is the best way to tell their story. Yes, I will die on my "love diamond" hill. It's a good hill. Come join me. I'll bring cookies.

I could keep going, but you hopefully get my point. While Scarlet Lady is certainly not the only way to do a formula version of canon, it's proof that a formula version does work! You don't have to go the serious route for Miraculous to be successful.

I want to take some time to gush about the ending, but I don't want to spoil it, so I'll put that gushing under a "read more" in case anyone hasn't seen it. I'll finish out this less spoilerish section with this:

I feel like some people are surprised when they learn that I love Scarlet Lady because - as some of you have probably picked up - it is quite different from my ideal version of canon. I'm not sure why that would stop me from enjoying a thing, though. It's important to remember that our personal ideals are not the only way to tell a good story. There are lots of ways to take what canon gave us and make something wonderful! It's part of the reason that I enjoy being in a fandom.

If I only wanted to see my ideal take on canon, then I'd stick to writing/imagining my own stories. But I don't want that! I like seeing alternate takes, too. Scarlet Lady is one of my personal favorites. It's completely different from anything that I'd ever think to write and that's why I'm so glad that it exists! I like being entertained just as much as I like creating my own entertainment and I don't want to only read stories that look like something I'd write. That's boring!

Spoilers below:

I've mentioned before that there are many, many ways to properly handle Chloe's character and Zoe did such a good job with her take on that! Chloe isn't absolved of all the things she did wrong, but she's also treated as a young woman with the ability to change.

While the comic bares the name of Chloe's alter ego, she was the never the main character. She never went on a journey. The story kept her to her shallow season-one self: a petty brat who just wanted attention. It did this because that's who Chloe was in canon and who Chloe needed to be for the comic to work.

The first time we see any complexity from Chloe is in the comic's final few episodes, which was absolutely the right call for Zoe to make! In a recent post, I talked about how the end of a formula show is the only time when you can break the formula in catastrophic ways and that's what Zoe did. She kept Chloe static until it was time to end the story and that's when the formula breaks. That's when Chloe gets depth because, once she has depth, the formula doesn't work.

That depth is not used to redeem Chloe, but to show us that there's hope for Chloe. That this petty brat who we've been dealing with has some serious issues and needs help. Help that she's going to get far away from the people that she's hurt because her issues aren't an excuse for what she's done. They don't erase the harm that she caused. At the same time, understanding her issues makes us hope that she can be better now and Scarlet Lady took a moment to give us that hope. To show us the START of Chloe's true story.

That is the kind of ending that I have wanted to see in so many properties!!! It was so wonderful to finally get one that did this right. A story that understood that full redemption to the team and damnation to death/suffering are extremes on a scale of possibilities. You don't have to go to extremes! You can fall in the middle and the middle is a perfect, natural place for Chloe to land in this kind of story. Fully redeeming or even fully damning Chloe simply doesn't work in lighthearted formula content. It's too big a lift as canon has already demonstrated.

I also loved Zoe's take on Emilie. I've mentioned that I don't like evil Emilie in part because it makes her revival feel like the start of a new story. She's back and she'd bad, so we have to take her down now! But I don't want that. I want the story to end when Gabriel is stopped. Zoe does this by giving us an Emilie that is another perfect middle ground. She matches canon's uncomfortable implications without feeling like a true villain who is a threat to society.

#blackmonarque #scarlet lady praise #scarlet lady comic

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the-offside-rule · 7 months

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Lando Norris (McLaren) - All Over Again

Requested: yes

Prompts: 5) "If I could, I'd like to fall in love with you all over again."

48) "I love our cuddles."

49) "Stay here tonight."

Warnings: none tbh

Lando couldn't believe he was back in England, the familiar sights and sounds bringing a rush of nostalgia. He had done what he always did; gone for his morning run, ordered a hot chocolate to take away, and head on home to have his pre-made breakfast. As he strolled through the town, he couldn't help but wonder what had changed since he left for his racing career. Little did he know, he was about to encounter a significant blast from the past. He figured he may as well have a proper look around this time and so, he made his way up a side street, looking around and even spotting a few new shops.

Walking up a small street, off from his usual route, Lando's eyes widened as he spotted Y/n, the girl he had once been deeply in love with and even dated whilst he was in Formula 2. They broke up in 2020 since they both just didn't have the time and promised that if the opportunity every rose again, they would revisit it. Time seemed to freeze for a moment, and then, recognizing him, Y/n's eyes lit up with surprise and joy. "Lando? Is that really you?" She exclaimed, a mix of disbelief and excitement in her voice. He grinned. "Yeah, it's me! How have you been?" Lando asked as the pair embraced one another. "I'm good. Still on the hot chocolate or have you made the move to coffee?" She asked, pointing at the cup in Lando's hand. "I've never liked coffee and I never will. How's uni going?"

"I just finished up last year. I'm kinda just working for now until I have enough to move away." She replied. "Move away? What would make you want to do that?" Lando asked. "Well you tell me. Last I heard of you was you moved to Monaco. Very fancy." She joked. They exchanged stories, catching up on the years that had passed since they last saw each other. Laughter echoed through the air as they reminisced about old memories and shared new experiences. It was as if time hadn't dimmed the connection they once had.

Lando, felt some serious nostalgia. "I'm going to have to head now. I have some things to do. But good luck and it was lovely seeing you again." Y/n smiled. "Yeah, we should get coffee or something sometime." He replied and watched as Y/n walked past him. As she walked away, he couldn't help but think that maybe this was the time to revisit their relationship, and so, he turned and jogged back towards her to give a suggestion. "Hey, why don't you come over to my place? We can continue our conversation there." Y/n shook her head. "I have a few things to drop of to my mum's. I really can't."

"I'll come with you. I haven't seen her jn ages anyway." Y/n thought for a moment. Her mum would make such a fuss over Lando being back. She always brought Lando up, even to Y/n's last boyfriend. That conversation about Lando led to their break-up and since then she's always shrugged off any Lando conversations. "Okay fine." She said as Lando began to walk with her. "Do you want me to take something? Your hands seem full." Y/n nodded. "Please take the shopping bag. Its killing me here." Labdo laughed as he effortlessly lifted the back and hoisted it up over his shoulder. "Alright. Don't be such a show off."

Their break-up hadn't left a bitter taste, and they remained friends. The sun was shining, adding a warm glow to their amiable conversation. As they approached Y/n's mum's house, memories flooded back. Lando couldn't help but notice the nostalgia in Y/n's eyes. The door swung open before they even had a chance to knock, revealing Y/n's mum, who beamed at the sight of them. "Lando! Oh, it's been too long!" She exclaimed, enveloping Lando both in a tight hug. "Nice to see you too, Mum." Y/n mumbled as Lando grinned. "Come inside, I've just brewed some tea."

Once inside, the cozy aroma of freshly brewed tea filled the air. Y/n's mum ushered them to the living room, where memories of shared laughter echoed. They settled in, sipping tea and catching up on life. Y/n's mum couldn't help but glance between them, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "And that crash in Germany last year. Dreadful." Her mum said. "It was Belgium, Mum." Y/n corrected. Labdo turned and smirked at her. "Thought you didn't keep up with F1." The last time he saw her, she didn't really. She only really watched it when she was with Lando. "I can watch it if I want." She replied, sipping her tea. "Oh, you two always made such a lovely couple. Any chance you're getting back together?" She inquired with a mischievous grin.

Y/n spat her tea into the cup, as Lando gave an amused glance towards Y/n. "No, we're just good friends now." Y/n explained with a smile. "Well, that's good to hear. I always hoped maybe one day you'll find your way back to each other." Her mum said. Lando's lips twitched into a playful grin. "You never know. We could probably..." Y/n interrupted, taking it as a cue to change the subject. "Well, Mum, we've got a few more errands to run. Thanks for the tea!" They bid Y/n's mum farewell, stepping back into the sunlight. "Smooth, Lando." Y/n couldn't help but roll her eyes at Lando's comment. "What?" Lando asked as if he didn't know what he had just done. "You always know how to keep things interesting," Y/n teased. Lando chuckled. "Hey, just keeping the possibilities open, you know?" Y/n shook her head, laughter bubbling up from deep within. "You haven't changed a bit."

Lando led the way to his new home. It was huge. Bigger than the one he grew up in and Y/n found that mental. "This is yours? Are you sure?" She asked. "Trust me, it's mine." He replied, opening the door. "There's a few boxes around the place. This is all just moving stuff. Don't mind them."

The aroma of spices and sizzling ingredients filled Lando Norris' kitchen as he worked diligently to prepare dinner for his good friend, Y/n. He hummed along to a tune playing softly in the background, feeling a sense of accomplishment in trying his hand at a new recipe.

Y/n walked around, a glass of wine in hand, looking at the photos that hung on the walls. From family photos to podium photos, she enjoyed looking at them. One in particular caught her eye. It was her at Lando's final Formula 2 race. They were all smiles and she couldn't help but feel the memories washing over her.

Just as Lando reached for a pot handle, a sudden hiss of pain escaped him. Lando winced, realizing he had touched the hot surface without protection. He quickly pulled back, shaking his hand in an attempt to soothe the sting. "Fuck." Lando muttered to himself, glancing around for a nearby kitchen towel. Y/n entered the room, drawn by the sound of his exclamation. "What happened, Lando?" she asked, concern evident in her voice. Lando winced, trying to brush it off. "Yeah, just a little mishap. I guess cooking isn't exactly my forte."

Y/n chuckled softly, gently taking his arm to examine the burn. "Let me take care of that for you." As Y/n tended to his burn, Lando couldn't help but admire her delicate touch and caring nature. His gaze lingered on her, filled with a warmth he couldn't contain. "Don't look at me like that." Y/n said softly, catching Lando's gaze. Lando smirked teasingly. "Like what?" Y/n rolled her eyes playfully. "You know exactly what I mean." He shrugged. "Have no idea what you mean." Rolling her eyes again, Y/n suggested, "How about I do the cooking, and you just help grab things when I need them?" Lando nodded.

As Y/n stired some pasta around in the pot, she jumped upon hearing music. "Oh, sorry. Too loud." Labdo mumbled as he turned the volume down on a speaker nearby. "Why are you playing Put Your Records On?" She asked. "I like it. You like it too last time I checked." Lando said, beginning to dance a bit. "Last time you checked was four years ago." Y/n replied. "Oh come on, you haven't changed that much." Lando chuckled. "You wanna bet?" She challenged.

Lando nodded, moving her hair across her shoulder and placing a gentle kiss onto her neck. "You like neck kisses, don't you?" Y/n found herself blushing and biting her lip to hide her smile. Lando's arms made their way around Y/n's torso, his chin resting on her shoulder. "You're playing a dangerous game, Lando." She said. "I know." Y/n set the cooking spoon to the side and gave in, turning and lifting her arms up around Lando's neck, swaying along with him. Soon enough, they were dancing, spinning and jumping around, carefree and happy. "Oh shit! The pasta!"

As they settled on the couch to watch a movie, Lando wrapped an arm around Y/n, feeling the warmth of their shared history. The prompts echoed in his mind, and he couldn't resist expressing his emotions. "I love our cuddles." He admitted, a genuine smile on his face. Y/n snuggled closer. "Me too. It feels like we never missed a beat." Lando looked up to her, the look of a lovestruck puppy in his eyes. "Stay here tonight." He asked. "Lando, I have work tomorrow." She replied. "You're acting like something is going to happen." Lando said, wiggling his eyebrows. "Oh shut up." The pair began laughing. As the laughing quietened down, they found themselves leaning in, centimetres away from eachother.

Y/n swallowed the lump in her throat as Lando looked between her eyes and then down to her lip. "Alright, but only if you promise to make breakfast tomorrow, and I get to teach you how to cook properly." Lando grinned. "Deal." And with that, he leaned in and closed the gap between them, Y/n kissing back into his lips.

The movie faded into the background as they continued their kiss, both missing the feeling of the others lips on theirs. "If I could, I'd like to fall in love with you all over again." Lando whispered between kisses. He could feel Y/n smile against him. "Maybe we can take it one step at a time, starting with breakfast tomorrow morning." Lando shook his head, lifting her up off the couch and walking towards the door. "Or we could start now and just start where we left off."

#f1 imagine #f1 blurb #f1 oneshot #f1 oneshots #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x oc #f1 x you #f1 x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x oc #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris imagines #lando norris #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fluff

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silverdragonfly · 17 days

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Time Zone | Aemond x Reader

pairing: modern!Aemond Targaryen x Reader

warnings: none, pure fluff with few implications :) English isn't my first language.

word count: 1.1 K

summary: Day 5. Aemond is still on another continent, 11,000 kilometres and 9 hours away. The best part of the day is when you two chat on FaceTime.

a/n: those photos of Ewan Mitchell got me thinking in this direction. plus, i remembered the song Time Zone by Maneskin, and it turned out to be a great combo. i’d really appreciate your feedback, likes and reblogs 💗 enjoy!

divider credit @cafekitsune

The buzz of the smartphone in your hand pulls you fully awake. The screen brightness feels harsh against your eyes as they struggle to adjust. When your vision finally focuses, you see "Aemond 🤍" appear on the FaceTime app. As you sit up, you instantly swipe the arrow to the right to answer the video call. While the connection stabilises, you flick on the table lamp, and the room's greyness vanishes.

A warm smile lights up your face when Aemond’s image finally comes into view. A few silver strands fall across his forehead, making you instantly wish you could pull them back.

“Hi, love,” he murmurs, his rough voice still laced with the remnants of sleep.

“Hii,” you smile sheepishly at him.

“Shit, did I wake you?” His eyes widen in realisation.

“No, it’s alright!” you reply, noticing your dishevelled reflection in the corner of the screen.

“I’m so sorry!”

“It’s OK, I just dozed off,” you say, fixing the stray strands. “No way I’d head to bed without talking to you.”

“Next time, I’ll call you before breakfast,” he says firmly. His background contrasts sharply with yours—the day is just beginning in Dubai, a reminder of the vast distance between you.

“How are my girls?” He tilts his head, revealing the gleam of a silver chain.

“Your girls miss you a lot, right, Vhagar?” Adjusting your phone against the pillow, you stand and quickly return holding a Scottish Fold. You sit cross-legged and cradle the cat in your arms, her fluffy grey belly exposed to the camera as she settles into your lap.

“Hi, Vhagar,” he murmurs, a tender smile spreading across his face.

You plant a few kisses between her ears and gently brush her nose with a finger, making her purr contentedly.

“Okay, I see! I’m the third wheel here,” he teases, raising his hands in mock surrender.

“Say hello to daddy,” you say in a high-pitched voice, holding the cat up to the phone.

Aemond chuckles at the nickname.

“What? Technically, you’re her dad.” You pout playfully at him.

“I am,” he nods in acknowledgement, “which means you are her mum, or would you prefer mommy?” The teasing edge in his tone is prominent.

Your cheeks flush. “Stop it,” you say, petting Vhagar along her back, feeling her soft purring beneath your hands.

“You wanna say there’s not even the slightest hint when you say ‘daddy’?”

You fight the tug at the corners of your lips, butterflies flutter in your stomach at the little game. “No, it’s simply for Vhagar.”

He leans close to the screen as if to expand the video, his eyes narrowing. “Then why do you blush?”

“I don’t! It’s just the lighting.” Vhagar jumps off the bed. “See, you made Vhagar feel awkward.” You triumph in steering the conversation your way.

He snorts, leaning back in the chair. “Alright. When I’m back, we’ll revisit this conversation!”

“Come back sooner,” you whine, clutching the phone as if it could bridge the gap between you. “I wish time would go quicker. I miss you a lot.”

“I miss you too, love,” his gaze softens. “Trust me, I hate this business trip as much.”

You know he isn’t lying. A few weeks ago, when Otto announced that Aemond would have to travel with Aegon, he nearly lost his temper.

“How’s the negotiation going?”

He shrugs with casual calmness. “Quite well. We’ll seal the deal today.”

You haven’t doubted it could go the other way, not with Aemond. That is the main reason why he accompanies his brother.

“How’s Aegon?” you ask, not bothering to hide curiosity in your tone. Aegon is a walking drama queen. Wherever he goes, there’ll surely be a story to tell.

“As always. Business by day, partying at night. Honestly, I will never understand how he juggles those two,” he says, shaking his head with disbelief and condemnation, causing you to giggle.

“You just have a different routine, that’s it.”

“I’m counting the days until I return to it and you.” His gaze feels intense even through the screen.

“And to Vhagar,” you add, lying down on your side, biting your lip in a smile.

“And Vhagar,” he agrees. “So, you’ve had your little update. What about mine? What have you been up to today?”

“Mm, nothing special. Baela and I had a yoga class. I don’t know how much time I need to master the advanced poses,” a faint sigh escapes you. “I manage with the basics, but nothing more.”

A cheeky smile plays on his lips as he leans closer to the screen. “Well, you manage advanced poses with me quite well.”

Your toes curl at the implication and the way his deep voice lowers.

“Perhaps it’s because I like you more than my yoga instructor,” you say, rolling onto your stomach.

“I love hearing that. In a few days, we’ll resume our classes. I’m eager for us to try something new.”

Your breath hitches at the promise in his words. Even after a year together, he still manages to overwhelm you.

“Sounds promising,” you murmur, nipping at your lip.

Suddenly, a series of loud knocks echo from the door, making you both startle.

“Give me a moment. I’ll see who it is,” Aemond says, standing up. His grey sweatpants come into view as he moves.

“Sure,” you reply, setting the phone on the bed, your hand feeling numb from holding it.

You hear Aegon’s muffled voice, followed by him saying, “Shit, have I interrupted your phone sex?”

Uncontrollable laughter bursts from you, shaking your entire body.

A few moments later, Aemond returns. “You heard?”

“Yeah,” you admit, taking the phone back into your hands, your cheeks aching from smiling. “His directness is his charm.”

“And my pain in the neck.” His fingers adjust the silver chain, causing warmth to spread in your chest, knowing he’s wearing your gift even miles away.

You look at each other in comfortable silence, your gaze tracing his facial lines, knowing exactly what they feel like under your touch.

“I have to go.” An apologetic flicker appears in his eyes. “And you should try to get some sleep.”

You nod in agreement, despite sensing this night will be filled with tossing and turning without him by your side. But you keep that to yourself.

You force out a cheerful smile. “Have a great day. Best of luck with the deal, and… don’t go partying too much with Aegon.”

He chuckles. “You know I won’t. Sleep tight, love. I’ll see you when you wake up.”

“See you,” you murmur to the screen, prolonging the words in anticipation.

Taking the phone into his hands, he says, “Love you.” It feels like you’ve just been given the warmest and tightest hug. Your chest could explode from the intensity of the feelings within.

“I love you too,” you reply, noticing the flicker of a smile on his lips before the conversation ends. The photo of you two shines brightly on the screen.

Pressing the phone to your chest, you feel your cheeks still warm with excitement.

Gods, you love him so much.

#aemond targaryen #modern aemond x reader #aemond x reader #modern aemond #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond x you #aemond fanfiction #hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond fluff

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dropespeon · 4 months

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considering how much isat is a deconstruction of the rpg genre in itself i love the way they handle smaller rpg tropes like. rpgs let you go into people's houses, but they're rarely more than one room (since they mostly only exist to build the world and provide side quests). going into people's houses is normal in vaugardian culture, but only the first room. the broken bridge that serves as a way to prevent you from going a certain direction can be leapt over really easy, actually. you don't need to pay for food and equipment, because of course people will be happy to help the group trying to save their country!

but isat still understands why these things are the way they are, and uses them anyways. the houses are still used for sidequests, and the game really wouldn't gain much from letting you explore more anyways, so why bother? the bridge still serves as a barrier for progression, because the story wouldn't work without it. you can still try to pay for food, but you're too broke so you just get it for free anyways

in any other game it'd feel like a cheap jab at the genre's quirks (despite the game falling into the same pitfalls), but isat isn't making fun of these tropes. it's just acknowledging them for what they are. and well.

here's what lies at the core of in stars and time: all of the grindy, miserable repetition of an rpg's endgame; optional conversations and sidequests that you won't gain anything from seeing; dying to the same boss over and over, and either fighting it again and again out of stubborn willpower or grinding on weaker enemies; cutscenes that you've already seen before and skip without a second thought; a path you cannot stray from, because you can not and will not choose to jump over that broken bridge.

and it's about revisiting that same story, again and again, because for all its flaws, you can't help but love it. it's about finally putting that game down when it stops bringing you joy. it's about how, even if you've moved on from something, the love you had for it was still real.

and it's about how you can still go back and revisit it, even if it's no longer the part of your life you wished it would always be.

#drop #I dont know if this is even remotely comprehensible but it's ok 👍✨️#anyways i think more people should talk about the meta elements of this game i think the meta elements are awesome actually #isat #isat spoilers

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rubycruzin4abruzin · 4 months

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Forbidden Crown - II

Summary: Five years after your last visit to Tir Asleen, you finally get to see Kit again. Although you promised your mother you wouldn’t let Kit influence you, her fiery personality and strong will draw you in, and open your eyes to a whole new world of excitement and adventure.

Pairing: kit tanthalos x princess!reader

Contains: fluff, reader’s subtle mommy issues, rebellious kit, weapons, sword fighting, stumbling upon mature illustrations, childlike innocence, implied parent death, one bed, sneaking out

Word Count: 5.6k

A/N: this chapter does contain adolescents stumbling upon some ‘sensual’ illustrations in library books. It is purely meant to be part of a ‘coming of age,’ and I even had others proofread it to make sure it comes off that way. Anyways, here’s the second chapter of Forbidden Crown! :)

Almost immediately upon returning to Azarenth, you began pressing your parents about revisiting Tir Asleen.

Your inquiries began innocently. “Mommy, can we go and see the twins today?”

Each time, she’d shake her head. “Not today, sweetheart. Our responsibilities leave no time for such an endeavor.”

Then, you resorted to excuses. “Father, we’ve been so busy, we could really use a holiday. How about a trip to Tir Asleen?”

He’d chortle at the suggestion. “Princess, if we were to go on holiday, it certainly would not be to a place such as Tir Asleen!”

Every day, you would pose similar questions, and as time went on, your parents' refusals became curt, tinged with vexation. Eventually, you ceased questioning altogether, not wanting to further irritate them.

Despite your silence, your mind occupied itself with thoughts of Kit. You longed to keep in contact with her, but your parents thought you weren’t old enough to have your own carrier pigeon. In an attempt to keep her close, you even secretly wore her breeches beneath your dresses until they no longer fit, then kept them stashed in the bottom of your storage chest, hidden from your parents or any prying maids.

Every day, you wondered how she was doing, and every day, you wondered if she thought of you as well.

It wasn’t until just before the summer of your tenth year that you thought you would ever see Kit again. On a golden May afternoon, you heard your mothers voice calling you in from playing outside with some children from the nearby village. Disgruntled, you bid your friends farewell and trudged back in through the castle doors.

Upon entering, you immediately saw your parents sitting in the Great Hall, hands folded on the table in front of them. You gulped; this room was rarely ever used, with the exception of large gatherings or very important meetings. Hypothetical scenarios swarmed your mind as you desperately tried to figure out what horrible thing you had done to warrant a meeting in the Great Hall.

Walking in, you took a seat across from your parents, folding your hands in your lap and refusing eye contact.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why we called you in here,” your mother began, never one to beat around the bush.

You nodded slowly, still declining to meet her gaze. Your father cleared his throat, taking over the conversation.

“Princess,” he began. “As you’re well aware, you are a child of nobility. It is very important to us that you grow up receiving the best education and training possible, and that includes learning crucial life skills such as independence and adaptability.”

Furrowing your brow, you nodded, confused. You didn’t have a clue where this conversation was going and frankly wished your parents would just get to the point so you could go back outside.

Almost as if she could read your mind, your mother jumped in. “Your father and I have been exchanging letters with the Queen of Tir Asleen. You remember Sorsha and her twins, don’t you?”

Your ears perked up at this, the mere mention of your long-lost friends sending a wave of sweet nostalgia to wash over you. “Of course! I loved playing with Kit.”

“And Airk,” your mother interrupted, hardening her gaze.

Forgetting that your mother wasn’t necessarily a fan of the Princess of Tir Asleen, you were quick to agree. “Yes, Airk too, surely.”

“After some back and forth,” your mother took a deep breath before delivering the news. “Queen Sorsha has agreed to foster you temporarily. You will be staying in Tir Asleen with her and her children for the summer months.”

Just for a brief moment, you swore your heart stopped beating before a burst of warmth exploded in your chest. Three whole months spent with Kit? Staying in the Tir Asleen castle? Away from your parents? The very thought made you tingle with excitement.

“This is not a holiday,” your mother interrupted your daydream as if she could see your thoughts. “You will be studying under an array of tutors and governesses, receiving a rigorous education and learning proper court etiquette. I hope you don’t think you’re going to spend the entire summer rolling around in mud with that filthy girl.”

Your mother’s slander against Kit made your blood boil underneath your skin, evaporating to your face and turning your cheeks a dark crimson. Every cell in your body wanted to stand up and scream at your mother before shouting Kit’s praises. Instead, you decided to seethe quietly, fearing that speaking up could jeopardize the trip.

As the conversation came to a close and you got up to leave, your mother called your name just before you made it out the door. You took a deep breath, forcing a grin as you turned to face her.

“Yes, mother?” Your voice came out strained and tense.

Her expression turned serious as her jaw stilled, mouth tight in a straight line. She peered at you through her brow, not breaking her gaze for one moment.

“Don’t let that Kit girl influence you. I mean it.”

The following fortnight seemed to drag as you waited impatiently for June to arrive. Each day seemed to tick by slower than the last, until you managed to develop an irrational hatred for the month of May.

When the morning of your departure finally arrived, a servant entered your bedchamber to fetch your storage chest, only to find the room empty and the chest missing. After informing the castle and a brief moment of panic, one of the guards found you already in the carriage, having dragged your storage chest by yourself all the way outside at the first sign of daybreak.

“May we leave now?” You asked, ever impatient.

The castle staff shared a hearty chuckle over your eagerness when your parents stepped outside, dismissing the crew before bidding their final farewells.

“Luck be with you in Tir Asleen, Princess,” your father began, bearing his familiar kind smile. “You’re not to worry about traveling alone, I hired the best coachman in all of Azarenth to ensure your safety.”

Returning your fathers warm grin, you leaned out the carriage window to wrap your arms around his neck. Your mother, nowhere near as affectionate as her husband, simply gave you a tight smile and a curt nod.

“Be on your best behavior for Sorsha, please.”

The day-long journey to Tir Asleen was long and winding, the wheels against cobblestone bricks gently rocking the carriage. Traveling alone for the first time had you a tad nervous, but the friendly coachman made sure to keep you company.

Soon, as the late afternoon sun began its descent, the castle of Tir Asleen gradually came into view. Nostalgic memories rushed through your mind as the stone battlements seemed to pierce the clouds. You leaned your head out the carriage window, feeling the warm wind on your face and breathing in the familiar smell of dew.

The carriage came to a halt at the castle entrance, the sudden stillness of the car making you wonder how long your hands had been shaking. Peering out the carriage window, you saw Airk near the front, sword sparring with another boy around his age.

Disappointment shadowed your face at the absence of Kit, but you tried to hide it. As you waited for the coachman to gather your things, you busied yourself watching Airk spar. He was quite the swordsman, staying quick on his feet, and countering each attack with focus clouding his uncovered face.

Despite Airk’s impressive skill, his opponent still seemed to have the upper hand. You couldn’t quite make out who he was due to a faceplate covering his features, but his technique was precise, perfected, almost as if he’d had to work twice as hard as Airk to get where he was.

Suddenly, Airk momentarily lost his footing on a slippery rock, allowing his mysterious opponent to take advantage and deliver one final strike. Airk tumbled to the ground, the anonymous swordsman moving to stand over him as he conceded defeat.

You couldn’t help but erupt into applause, after all, duels rarely happened in your kingdom. Startled, Airk and his friend turned towards you, noticing your presence for the first time since you’d arrived. You were about to approach Airk and exchange pleasant greetings when his masked adversary suddenly removed his faceplate, shaking out his hair and revealing his identity.

Shock hung from your features. This mysterious man wasn’t mysterious at all! Or a man! It was Kit!

“Kit!” You exclaimed, your voice coming out as an involuntary squeal.

She called your name back and ran to you, enveloping you in a hug. You buried your face into the crook of her neck, damp with sweat from the humidity of the faceplate.

“Your hair got so long!” You commented after pulling away.

It was true. Kits original short chop now flowed in waves down to her mid-torso, making her look oddly feminine even in trousers.

“I hate it,” Kit groaned, pinching a lock of her hair and frowning down at it. “It gets so hot, and I hate having to put it up.”

As she fidgeted with her hair, your gaze traveled down to her wrist, noticing a sandstone silk strand peeking out of her sleeve. Curious, you took her hand and pushed her sleeve up, revealing the ribbon she had stolen from you all those years ago.

“My ribbon!” You exclaimed, surprised and genuinely touched. “You still wear it?”

“Every day,” Kit answered truthfully. “It reminds me of you.”

You turned her wrist over in your hand, admiring the ribbon. The previously bright pink silk had faded into a blush beige, bleached from sun exposure. Once perky bunny-ear loops now drooped down her wrist, tickling the bottom of her palm. It was almost unrecognizable, this old ribbon that time had not been kind to, and the fact that Kit had worn it all these years warmed a special place in your heart.

Airk cleared his throat, startling you slightly as you had forgotten he was there. You offered him an apologetic smile, letting go of Kit’s wrist to shake his hand.

“Forgive me,” you chuckled nervously. “It’s good to see you again as well, Airk.”

The rest of the evening was spent catching up; the three of you laid on patches of grass and recounted events from the last five years until a maid rang the dinner bell. Even at dinner, all of you prattled incessantly. Airk eventually found he’d said enough and focused on his meal, but you and Kit talked through mouthfuls of food, much to Sorsha’s chagrin.

“You can eat or you can speak, but it’s terribly impolite to combine the two,” she scolded.

After the third or fourth lecture, you noticed how they would only come from Sorsha. A brief glance around the table confirmed your suspicions: Madmartigan was absent.

“Where’s your dad?” You whispered to Kit, worried that asking Sorsha directly would upset her.

Kit, however, perked up at your question, eyes sparkling at the mention of her role model. “He’s on a quest! He’s going to fight inside a worm!”

“He’s trying to destroy the Wyrm from the inside, Kit.” Airk corrected.

Kit brushed off her brother, ignoring his comment and continuing. “He’s been fighting the Wyrm for some time now. He’s so busy, but he always has a letter delivered to us on the first of every month!”

She sprang up from her chair, dashing to fetch the most recent letter before being stopped by Sorsha. “Kit, how many times have I said not to leave the table without being excused?”

Kit spun around with a dramatically curtsy and mimed pulling on an invisible skirt. “Mother, may I please be excused from this fine supper? Oh mummy, please may I?”

You stifled a giggle at her theatrics. Sorsha sighed, dismissing her with the wave of her hand. Kit sped out of the room, returning seconds later with a piece of paper and thrusting it into Sorsha’s hands.

“This one arrived today.” Kit explained, leaning over her mother’s shoulder.

Despite Sorsha’s annoyance with her daughter, she couldn’t help but smile as she gingerly pinched the corners of her husband's letter.

“My dear family,” she began reading as Airk rushed over, joining Kit in reading over their mother’s shoulder. “As I venture forth on this perilous mission, know that my thoughts are never far from all of you. My journey to confront the Wyrm may be ripe with danger, but carrying the strength of our family has gotten me through some challenging moments.”

“To my daughter, Kit,” Kit perked up at the mention of her name, leaning farther into the letter as Sorsha continued to read. “Your unyielding spirit and fearlessness are sure to serve you well in all that you do. Always remember to keep your sword sharp and your wits sharper.”

“To Airk,” it was Airk’s turn to lean into the letter. “My son, every day you continue to amaze me. I look forward to returning and watching you grow into the man I know you’re destined to be.”

“And to my lovely wife,” Sorsha’s voice cracked as she read. “Not a day goes by where I don’t picture your face. You are the light that leads me through the darkest tunnels.”

Sorsha sniffed, attempting to discreetly wipe away a tear before reading the last section. “I promise to return one day, victorious and bearing plenty of stories. Until then, I hope you’ll take comfort in these letters. All my love, Madmartigan.”

Kit looked up from the letter, eyes shining with undeterrable admiration. “When I grow up, I want to be just like him.”

Later that night, as you readied yourself for slumber in one of the castle's many guest rooms, a knock interrupted your solitude. You granted permission to enter, fixing your posture and bracing yourself to be greeted by Sorsha. However, your tension eased when the door cracked and Kit’s face poked through.

“I need your help with something,” she whispered, cautious not to disturb any sleeping residents.

“Why? What happened?” You inquired.

Without another word, Kit seized your hand and led you away. You protested at first, feeling naked in your thin nightgown outside the walls of your bedchamber, but Kit's hand wrapped around yours felt soothing, like a warm glove on a cold day, and you knew that no matter where you went, you would be safe as long as Kit was there.

She led you to the end of the hall, down a flight of stairs, and through the doors of the basement, only letting go of your hand to ignite a taper candle and shed some light into the dark room. Weapons of all shapes and sizes mounted the walls, their silver blades illuminating in the candle light. Various types of armor decorated the corners, including the faceplate Kit had worn earlier in the day.

“Is this…”

“The armory.” Kit answered your unspoken question.

You nodded, marveling at the room. Azarenth had an armory in their castle too, but it was heavily guarded, and strictly off limits to you.

Kit plucked a sword from the wall and laid it flat against her palms, presenting it to you. “I need you to cut my hair.”

“What?” You searched Kit’s face for any sign of humor, but found none as she stood completely serious.

“I need you to cut my hair,” she repeated. “I can’t reach back there, and Airk won’t do it because he’s afraid of getting in trouble.”

“What if I get in trouble?” You asked, still in disbelief at her request.

“You won’t,” she replied, completely sure of herself.

Kit still sensed your hesitation, so she put the sword down and took both of your hands in hers. “You’re not going to get in trouble, I promise. My mom won’t let me cut my hair because she says it makes me look ‘pretty,’ but what good is beauty if I’m constantly uncomfortable? Please, I really need you to do this for me.”

There it was again, that feeling of safety that surmounted whenever Kit held your hand. You sighed defeatedly, nodding in agreement. Kit beamed at you as she placed the sword in your hands, but the large piece of metal turned out to be much heavier than you expected and you ended up dropping it, the sword falling to the ground with a loud clatter.

“I haven’t actually… used a sword before,” you admitted sheepishly.

“Hmm…” Kit thought for a second before her face brightened once again, running to a nearby rack and picking up an oddly-shaped knife. “Dagger?”

You agreed, and Kit handed you the dagger, showing you how to grip the handle. As you clutched this foreign weapon, a new sense of power washed over you. You suddenly felt invincible, safe, but a different kind of safe from when Kit held your hand.

“How short do you want it?” You asked, still examining the jagged piece of metal.

Kit shrugged. “I just don’t want to have to tie it up in order to spar.”

She turned around, facing away from you and shaking out her long locks so they all flowed down her back. You gulped, gathering her hair in a handful just below her neck, hands shaking as the previous power evaporated into thin air and replaced itself with anxiety. With one quick slash it was all over, the sharp blade passing through her delicate hairs with ease. A sigh left your lips, relieved to have completed your task. You glanced down to admire your handiwork, but were met with a sight so horrific that the dagger fell from your unsteady hands, dropping to the floor with a sharp clang.

Her hair, once long and beautiful, was now absolutely botched. Tresses meant to float over her shoulders now curled just under her ears, while crooked sprigs stuck out in all directions.

“How does it look?” Kit asked, but you were too afraid to answer.

When you didn’t, she picked up the sword off the ground, admiring her reflection in the shiny metal. Her jaw dropped, eyes wide with shock. She reached up, carefully running her fingers over the butchered ends.

A lump rose in your throat as you became overwhelmed with guilt. “Kit, I’m so…”

“I love it.” Kit said in a low voice.

You blinked, not quite registering what she said. “Huh?”

“I love it!” Kit repeated, grinning from ear to ear. “It’s exactly what I wanted: short!”

“But it’s so choppy and uneven!” You exclaimed, confused by her elation.

Kit shook her head, sprigs flying in every direction. “I look the way I’ve always felt inside: a harbinger of chaos!”

She swung the sword around for effect, giggling like a little kid. You felt yourself relax as you watched her, relieved she wasn’t angry and somewhat enamored by her unbridled joy.

All of a sudden, the unmistakable slam of a basement door reverberated throughout the armory. A tall figure entered, holding a large torch that cast a looming shadow. You and Kit froze, tension palpable as the figure stepped forward, revealing itself to be Sorsha.

Her gaze immediately fixated on Kit’s hair, expression hardening into unreadable stone. “There was a clatter. I was afraid there might be an intruder.”

Slowly, she approached you two, both of you holding your breath in anticipation. She reached out to touch Kit’s chopped tresses tentatively, as if they would scald her. “Your hair…”

You glanced between Kit and Sorsha, a sense of dread settling inside you as you prepared your confession. “Your majesty, I…”

“I did it,” Kit interjected, surprising you. “I got fed up with my long hair, and since you wouldn’t allow me to get it cut, I snuck down here and did it myself.”

Sorsha squinted at her daughter, skeptical at her story. Noticing her doubt, Kit gestured towards you. “She’s here because she tried to stop me.”

Sorsha’s gaze shifted down, noticing Kit still holding a sword, while your hands were empty. She took a step back, her face darkening with a quiet anger. You held your breath, bracing yourself for the explosion, but instead her eyes softened as she turned to you.

“Your mother raised such a well-behaved young lady,” she remarked sweetly before redirecting her attention to Kit. “I wish I had done the same…”

You glanced over at Kit, who appeared unfazed by her mother’s hurtful words.

“We’ll continue this discussion upstairs,” Sorsha muttered through clenched teeth, seizing Kit’s arm and leading her away.

You watched as Kit was pulled out of the basement, the guilt from going along with her lie eating you up from the inside. Part of you longed to follow, to confess your involvement, but your feet stayed cemented to the floor, blocks of concrete too heavy to move.

Just before disappearing through the door, Kit turned to look at you, noting your terror-stricken face. You attempted to mouth an ‘I’m sorry,’ but she vigorously shook her head. Instead, she offered you a reassuring smile, sending a wink in your direction that made your heart squeeze. And just like that, you became certain that everything would be alright.

It would be a full month before you could speak to Kit again.

You were right to be worried about getting into trouble, because Kit had gotten herself into a lot. As punishment, she had been confined to her chambers for the past few weeks, only being let out to assist the scullions with chores. Sometimes, you would pass her walking with the maids in the hallways, and when no one was looking, she would shoot you a funny face that never failed to make you laugh.

The weeks without Kit seemed to stretch, each day growing longer than the last. You eventually grew bored with Tir Asleen, the absence of your friend diminishing the kingdom’s original appeal. Luckily, you at least had Airk to keep you company.

“Why do you think our parents keep pushing us to be friends?” You asked him one day, while you were both taking a stroll around the palace gardens.

Airk simply shrugged. “I wonder that too sometimes. Perhaps they want us to learn about each other's homes?”

You shook your head. “Azarenth is only a day trip away from Tir Asleen, not much to learn. Maybe they just want us to get along.”

“But I don’t recall any conflict between our kingdoms,” Airk remarked.

These were the typical conversations between you and Airk: mundane, frivolous words meant to fill an empty space. It’s not as if he wasn’t pleasant company, but he just didn’t excite you the way Kit did.

One early morning, near the end of the month, you were sound asleep in your guest bed when you suddenly felt a crushing weight moving on top of you, followed by the inability to breathe. You opened your eyes to see a dark figure over you, holding its hands over your nose and mouth. Fear coursed through you as your survival instinct took over, thrashing under the dark figure and screaming pleas muffled by its hands.

“Shh… shh… Princess…” the figure leaned down to whisper in your ear.

Your stifled breath hitched in your throat at the familiarity of the figure's voice. Forcing yourself to calm down, you stared up at the figure, eyes adjusting to the darkness until Kit’s unmistakable face came into view.

“Kit…” you whispered as soon as she removed her hands from your mouth. “What are you…”

“I’m not in trouble anymore,” she cut you off. “I’m free.”

“What…” you sat up to lean on your elbows. “Kit, that’s wonderful. But, what do you mean?”

“My mother’s focusing on Airk now,” she replied. “Come with me.”

She seized your hand once again and pulled you out of bed, disclosing her intentions while leading you across the castle.

“I’m usually awoken this early to assist the scullions with chores,” she explained. “However, this morning one of the more prying maids told me that I’m no longer needed, that Airk will be doing chores now.”

“But why?” You inquired.

“I’ll show you.”

She led you down to the large double doors of the palace library, opening them cautiously to avoid getting caught. The overwhelming smell of old books hit you as soon as you stepped inside, smacking you in the face before enveloping you in a warm hug. Your castle didn’t have a library as much as a few bookshelves here and there, so you couldn’t help but stop and marvel at Tir Asleen’s vast collection of books piled high as the ceiling.

“Come on,” Kit insisted, yanking you out of your daydream and pulling you towards a table in the back of the library that was covered with half-open books. “The maid said that my mother caught Airk reading these late last night, and that’s why he’s in trouble.”

“For reading?” You were puzzled.

“Not just reading,” Kit explained. “She said the literature was lewd.”

“Lewd?”

“Bad.” Kit clarified, a wicked grin spreading across her face.

Your brows furrowed, still confused. “But… how can a book be bad?”

Kit seemed unsure how to answer your question, but was curious to find out. She pulled a paper manuscript off the top of one of the piles and opened it to a random page, both of you gasping at the sight. While the text was nothing extraordinary, the margins of the pages were filled with graphic drawings of women in various states of undress.

Your finger trembled as you pointed at one of the women, the top of her dress pulled down to her stomach. “Is that…”

“I think that’s what they’re supposed to look like. When we’re older.” Kit whispered, not taking her eyes off the page.

Both of you sat at the table and stared at the page in awe, neither of you daring to speak. After a moment, you decided to pick another book off of one of the piles, the cover reading “Carmina Burana.” You glanced at Kit, who bore into you, silently daring you to open it.

Flipping to another random page, you came across a translated poem entitled “Si Puer Cum Puella,” and began to read. “If a lad and his sweet lover, in a room together linger—an ineffable game begins, in their abandoned lips and limbs.”

Looking over at Kit, you expected her to explain what the poem meant, but she seemed as confused as you were. Turning the page, you found more marginalia, these drawings far different from the ones in the manuscript. In the corner of the page was a drawing of a man, carrying a sword in a full state of undress that exposed his flaccid…

You slammed the book shut in disgust, cheeks burning a dark crimson.

“What happened?” Kit questioned.

With a shaky hand, you pushed the book in her direction. She furrowed her brow at you and flipped it open, thumbing through the pages until coming across the drawing. Horrified, she let out a sharp “eek” before slamming the book shut once again.

“Shhh…” you reminded her, remembering what happened the last time you two got caught sneaking around. She nodded, slapping a hand over her mouth.

Both of you stared down at the book as if it had burned you. The air around you felt thick, the only audible sounds being shallow breaths and your own heart beating in your ears.

“Airk has one of those,” Kit finally spoke in a low voice. “I’ve seen it. We took baths together when we were younger.”

“Do they all look like that?” You asked in disgust.

Kit shook her head, gesturing to the abandoned book. “Not like that!”

The two of you stood frozen for another minute before you decided to take a leap of faith, grabbing the “Carmina Burana” and flipping back to the offending page. You tore out the drawing, ripping it to shreds and shoving it down one of your stockings to dispose of later. Glancing over at Kit, she stood shocked, her mouth agape.

“I think boys are nasty,” you exclaimed, grabbing the previous manuscript and revisiting the page with the drawings of women, a satisfied grin spreading across your face. “Much better.”

For the rest of the summer, you and Kit made it a habit to sneak around in the dead of nights, embarking on secret little adventures just for the two of you. Sometimes you would revisit the back corners of the library to explore banned literature; other times, you would break into the kitchen to eat an entire jar of fruit preserves between the two of you.

But most nights were reserved for nothing but late-night chatter. You would hide in each other's rooms, whispering secrets that dissolved into the quiet of the night, like you did when you were younger.

However, these late nights did take a toll on your daily schedules; neither of you could stay awake during the day. When summer classes started around mid-July, you often found yourself dozing off in the middle of them, frequently waking up to the angry scolds of a palace tutor following the sharp thwack of a ruler against your desk.

One Saturday morning, you were at the breakfast table eating with the Tanthalos family, when you felt yourself start to nod off before being awoken by a sharp jab in the ribs.

“Ouch,” you exclaimed, glaring daggers at Airk, sitting next to you. “What was that for?”

He held up his hands defensively. “You fell asleep on your toast.”

Groaning, you took your napkin and wiped the butter off your cheek. Now that you were awake, you couldn’t help but notice that Kit, who usually sat across from you in a similar state of stupor, was missing.

“Where did Kit go?” You asked Airk.

He gave a half-hearted wave in the direction of the kitchen window. “It’s the first of the month. Where do you think she went?”

Sure enough, Kit had glued herself to the kitchen window, refusing to look away from the nothingness of the outside in case a messenger were to appear out of nowhere.

“Kit,” Sorsha sighed in exasperation. “Come back and finish your breakfast.”

“But dad’s letter hasn’t arrived yet!” Kit protested.

“It’s early morning, the day has just begun. I’m sure your father’s letter will arrive later, now come eat!”

Kit grumbled as she plopped herself back down at the breakfast table, wolfing down her meal in seconds flat before excusing herself back to the window.

Unfortunately, the day’s sun came and went with no letter in sight. By nightfall, Kit was still perched at the window, wringing her hands like a damp towel.

“Time for bed, Kit.” Sorsha commanded, a hint of pity in her voice.

Kit looked up at her mom with wide eyes. “What about dad’s letter?”

Sorsha sent her daughter a reassuring smile, not showing any concern. “Sometimes messengers can get lost, nothing to worry about. I’m sure his letter will turn up soon.”

Several days passed with Kit stationed at the window, growing increasingly anxious each day as she waited for something that never came. By the end of the week, still no letter had arrived, and even Sorsha’s calm composition began to falter.

“Mom,” Kit called from the window, voice coming out small and frail. “Where’s dad’s letter?”

Sorsha rested her hand on her daughter’s shoulder, peering out at the fading sky alongside her. “I’m not sure, Kit.”

“Is he alright?” Kit looked to her mother for reassurance, a small child desperate for a glimmer of hope.

Sorsha opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She turned away from her daughter, letting the silence settle between them like a thick fog. And that was the moment all light died from Kit’s eyes, the innocence of her childhood crumbling before her like a glass vase shattering on tile floor.

That night, you were preparing for a restful evening when your door flung open. Startled, you whipped around to see Kit standing in your doorway. She seemed fragile, like a baby bird with a broken wing.

“Hey,” she whispered, her red, puffy eyes visible in the dim candlelight.

“Hey…” you responded, confused. Your midnight retreats had been put on hold after Kit’s attention turned towards her father’s letter.

“I’m worried about my dad…” Kit admitted in a low voice. “Can I sleep in here tonight?”

Her words tugged at your heartstrings, filling you with sympathy. You agreed, climbing into bed and patting the space beside you. Kit smiled gratefully and crawled onto her side, pulling the covers over the both of you. It was a bit of a tight squeeze to cram two adolescents into a twin bed, as you both had done a lot of growing since your childhood sleepover. But as Kit buried her head in your chest and snuggled up close, the proximity didn’t bother you. The warmth of your bodies merged like two flames into a single fire, becoming one and the same.

“No one knows where he is,” she mumbled into the silk of your nightgown. “Do you think something happened to him?”

You gently scratched her back and soothed her labored breaths, taking a moment to choose your words carefully. “Kit… you are one of the strongest people I know. I really, truly mean that. If your dad has even a fraction of your strength, I know there’s nothing that could stop him from seeing you again.”

Kit’s breathing evened out as your words seemed to reassure her. Her eyelids fought to stay open, a week of restless nights finally catching up to her. You bent down, planting a gentle kiss on her head before you both drifted off to sleep.

Tag List: @chloepricesgirl @canmargesimpson @yourelliewillms @valenftcrush @camilleee222 @prettygirlfemme @slaytillieswooo @love4lyn @joanvisitsrome @athenalive @mih11 @j-pacifica @everybodyhatesari @vii-ofswords @sofi4v13

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awarmcupofmilk · 1 year

Text

Gojo x reader "Broken Mirror"

afab!reader

summary: you knew gojo was the one. gojo wasn't so sure.

content warnings: breakup/sad, angst, deviations from gojo’s past arc

word count: 1,226

note: hi lovelies, I'm back! I'm thinking of turning this into a series, thoughts?

please don’t repost, edit, translate, use, or copy my works on any platforms (if you’d really like to please reach out – reblogs are welcome)

You’d known for a while Satoru was the one.

When he’d thoroughly humiliated the elders through cheeky comebacks and downright threats because Gakuganji made a remark about your way of dress off-duty.

When he called off classes for the day to host a hot dog eating contest, just because you were having a hard time with your sister getting engaged---fresh out of high school.

When he literally saved your life on that mission.

But what sealed the deal was this adorably clueless look on his face, set so vividly apart from his usual smirks and sneers, when he got daifuku on his cheek.

You were in love. And in it bad.

At first, you knew you were alone in your convictions. Satoru hadn’t ever prioritized love and you didn’t think you’d convince him otherwise. You told yourself it was fine, that you’d date for a few months, maybe a year and then move on for the better.

But you don’t move on from the strongest.

You couldn’t taste anything else once you’d had him. Nothing else held appeal.

You kept telling yourself it was fine. You were still young, you still had time to date without a future. But the smell of his aftershave, the way his hair curled behind his ear, his distaste for alcohol. It all drew you in, too deeply, and you wanted it too badly.

Satoru would stiffen when you brought up the future.

He was happy to make plans for Friday date night, but anything about revisiting the clan or moving in or god forbid, marriage had him giving non-answers and changing the subject at the first opportunity.

It was a stabbing pain, seeing the look on his face, and a few times after a particularly sobering conversation you’d almost considered ending it. But he was so sweet. By all other accounts he was a wonderful boyfriend. Chivalrous---opening the door for you, insisting on paying the bill, unfolding the napkin at restaurants to cover your lap. He genuinely listened. And yes, he had a slight habit of being a little too friendly with no doubt interested women, but he’d always own up and do better when you called him out. And you just clicked. So effortlessly, so seamlessly. So, you told yourself it was fine.

You had your whole life ahead of you at twenty-three. And you knew, any third party would tell you that you were being unreasonable. But you loved him. You were sure about him. Surer than you were about most things. Maybe anything. You used to be so cynical about marriage. You didn’t buy anything about soulmates or true love or the one. But Satoru was it for you. You just knew.

But the more you wanted him, the more anxious you were to hold on, to not lose him. You found yourself asking, “Are you going to break up with me?” As a joke from the outside but in truth a deep fear, seeking opposition or confirmation, you didn’t know.

And Satoru would always respond easily, with that trademark suaveness, “Not planning on it.”

You asked more and more often, and whether or not Satoru noticed, more and more anxiously.

And each “I don’t see that happening,” each “No” followed by a soft kiss sold it to you more. You stopped telling yourself it was fine. You’d be together forever. You were sure of it.

Things weren’t perfect. You two had your rough patches and fair share of fights. But you wanted each other enough to make it through anything. If the you from a few years ago could hear yourself, this madness probably would have been put to an end. But you loved him. You loved him in that cliché, film way that looks manufactured in hindsight. But it felt so raw, so pure, so real. You’d be together forever.

Soon, despite yourself, you began hinting. Rings. Nice houses. And even, though you were now appalled at the memory, babies. Not to be had then, of course, just for the far-off future. You could be patient if commitment was promised.

And for whatever reason, Satoru played along. He started engaging in talks about the future, even though he used to say he didn’t want to make these promises, didn’t want to plan so far. You had reminded yourself of what he used to say, that look on his face when you brought up plans. But for some reason hidden to him and you, he bought into it too. He started fantasizing with you. Of course, to you it didn’t feel like fantasizing. But he seemed to want it, almost as badly. You thought his face lit up picturing your lives together in the next few years. You thought he smiled a little wider, laughed a little louder.

He wants this too. You told yourself. We’ll be together forever. You said.

You told this to yourself like a mantra, and soon it became indisputable truth.

✧

“Hey,” you started, leaning on Satoru’s shoulder. You snuggled closer to him on the couch and pulled the blanket over your shoulder. “Does it ever bother you that I ask about the future?” You said.

Satoru stiffened, and your heart dropped.

“What do you mean?” He asked.

“You know, like do you not like talking about plans long-term?”

You were fishing for an easy answer, some artificial reassurance, a “No, I like it fine.”

But he paused. You couldn’t breathe.

“I thought I told you I didn’t want to make promises.”

“Oh,” was all you could say. It sounded like you had let out a breath. A small cough.

“I mean, it’s kind of fun to fantasize,” he said.

You hadn’t realized how much the word “fantasize” bothered you. How seriously you took your “plans”.

“But I mean, I can’t promise what will happen in a few years,” Gojo continued.

You felt dizzy. “You don’t see us together in a few years?” You asked. It sounded like a whimper and you hated yourself for it.

“I just mean I don’t know what my life looks like in a few years.”

“Oh,” you said again.

There was silence. You’d stopped resting on his shoulder and you didn’t know what to do with yourself. You pulled the blanket off and fidgeted, eyes glued to your lap.

“…where do you see this going?” You finally asked. Quietly.

He let out a breath. “Look, I’m going to be honest, I’m twenty-four, I can’t make any commitments right now.”

“Oh.”

You felt oddly calm. “Um, thanks for being honest with me,” (finally, you thought).

“Sure,” Gojo said.

“So we have an expiration date, huh?” You asked.

Gojo frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean this is going to end at some point.”

“I mean, I’m not making a decision right now about the future,” Gojo said, you thought he shrugged. “I still want to be with you now,”

But he didn’t understand. That was the point. You’d decided on forever without a second thought, and he just let you. But sooner or later, when he decided it was time to experience life without you, he’d leave you behind. You didn’t want now if you couldn’t have the future.

You didn’t meet his eye. “Gojo, I think we should end things.”

It’s funny how the things you love the most can shatter in an instant.

✧ Masterlist ✧

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acrux-jr · 10 months

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Meeting Abby -

(Extension of Carousel - prequel)

Summary: What Mike didn't know was the two of you had already met, and Abby wholeheartedly approved.

Word count: 2.3k

Tags: pre-established relationship, fluff, dates

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

This was your 3rd date since the carousel meeting. Mike was still well Mike, the more quiet, nonchalant, and tired type.

Mike really was interested in you but his mannerisms did leave you questioning if he did or of he was trying to get a quick fuck.

The two of you sat at the diner, it was 1 in the morning. It was an odd ass hour to have a date but Mike said it was because of his work hours. Though there was a tinge of fear that maybe you were a side chick or he was trying to land some action.

You were wide awake, you had a nap after class so the sleep wasn't creeping on you but it was slowly on Mike.

Every so often he would nod off and blink himself awake, hoping you wouldn't know; you did.

"Do you want to schedule this for another time?"

He furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head 'no.'

"You look tired Mike."

He liked it when you said his name, and showed concern.

"S fine. I have a semi-normal shift tomorrow."

"Then you should be sleeping then. I don't mind waiting. "

Mike didn't want to say so he shrugged instead. "S fine," he repeated.

You gave a sigh but nodded. You noticed the book by. "What's the title?" You asked, cutting the country fried steak to eat.

"Oh um it's called dream theory. It's … hmm.. it's about how every single thing we see is stored in our brain in like this deep vault and dreaming subconsciously unlock those tiny details."

"Hmm. I think I've something similar to the whole we remember everything subconsciously but I never really looked into it. Though I guess it could explain my art."

"Your art?"

"Yeah about half my paintings are landscapes, but I don't really remember any of those places when I was too small. Like um when we went to see snow the 3rd time around when I was a little older and able to grasp some things, I remember I dreamt this oasis of cold in the redwood forest, a tree had fallen down and was mostly covered but some red was showing. Anyway, I dreamt it but don't remember the actual day, just that one scene and when I painted it my mom was shocked I even remembered that specific place. I was still small, she even showed me pictures."

"What made it stick out that you mom knew it was the place you guys went too?"

"Oh um hehe yeah, there was this small grave with flowers on it. It was in the painting as well."

"How old were you?"

"Maybe anywhere from 3 to 5."

"And you remember that detail."

"I'm assuming so, the picture my mom showed was when I was like 1 but we revisited again about that age range. There were no pictures at that spot again because of the grave. We recently started going again and I leave flowers."

"That's nice, I mean to leave flowers for someone you don't really know."

"Yeah, I guess. It was such a lonely place for a grave though so I guess maybe that's why I leave flowers, so they're spirits can know someone else enjoys that spot too. They must have really loved it to be buried there."

"You believe in spirits and the afterlife and all that?"

You hesitated, "I don't know. Do you?"

"Maybe," was his short reply. The conversation came to a stop as the two of you ate quietly.

Glancing at the time, you say it was 1:30 a.m. now.

You quickly finish as Mike finishes his. "Come on l, get up." You leave $25 on the table for the food and tip. Mike protests but still allows himself to get dragged away.

The moon is full, and the asphalt is wet from the earlier rain. You jump on the bed of the small beat pick up truck, patting the seat next to you. Mike took the offer and sat next to you.

With the dead of night and few lights, the two of you stargaze. Mike listens as you ramble on and on about the constellations, giving a nodded and humm of acknowledgment to show he's following along.

He looked at you. As you talked and talked, he loved how your hair frames your face, or how he noticed you fret about your mascara even now and then especially if you laughed a little too hard you'd cry a bit, he liked how passionate you got, and he really liked how kind you were.

While he would get praised for taking care of his sister from strangers, for being kind and self-less. He still felt selfish in a way.

He looked at your headband, shiny black and small. Abby popped into his mind. He knew that after texting for a day he was already too deep to let this be a fling.

It became silent after you were done listing the constellations, now just appreciating the night.

Mike cleared his throat to talk, and you turned your attention to him.

"Would…," he breathed out, "would you want to meet my little sister Abby?"

Your eyes widened in shock. While Mike didn't say much, he said even less about his sister. Another reason why you thought this was maybe just a fling, or trial run before he really got out there.

You opened your mom to speak but nothing came out.

Mike sighed and got up. "It's fine. I gotta go-," "Wait!"

Mike stared as you went up, "I wanna meet her! I do, really. It's just I was shocked since you've never like well talk about her."

Mike stared at you still not really knowing what to say. "Look Mike. What do you want out of this? Before asking if I wanted to meet your sister I was kind of getting the impression this was like a fling. And I'm not really interested in a fling right now."

"Oh."

"Oh?" You questioned.

"Well what made you think this was a fling?"

Mike looked down, not really wanting to look you in the eyes. "I don't know, I just got the feeling you weren't too interested. Mike, well we've only been together for about 3 dat3s. I genuinely can't recall anything you like or dislike or memories you've shared. Even when I text you it feels a bit one-sided."

"Oh."

You hummed as you continued to look at the stars, giving Mike some time to collect his thoughts.

"I'm not really a big talker if you haven't noticed. To be honest, I like to listen to you talk. You have a nice voice."

"Okay."

He gave you a look, "Okay?"

"Okay I can work with that. I just needed to know if it was disinterest or if that's just how you are."

"So it's fine? If I don't speak a lot most of the time."

"I guess we'll find out together, but between you and me I like that whole stoic, "bad boy" look / attitude you have."

Mike laughed and smirked. "Bad boy?"

"Mike every now and then you look like a genuine degenerate."

Mike raised his eyebrow. He closed the distance between the two of you. "Yeah? Isn't that what you like though." He whispered before he gave you a chaste kiss.

You blushed and gave a small laugh. "Yes, yes I do."

You brought out your phone and the time read 2:30 a.m.

"What time do you have work?"

"11 a.m. to 5 p.m."

"Mike!"

He had an amused look on his face, "What?"

"Oh my god! Go home already you have work in less than 12 hours ! You still have to sleep!"

"Don't sleep much to be honest." You huffed air out of your nose.

"Well you should."

Mike grinned, and he put his arm around your waist, pulling you closer. "I like the color green."

You smiled back. "Green? Hmm…"

"Hmmm… what?"

"It fits you."

"Is that a good thing?"

"Yeah of course, green is a very strong but soothing color."

"It is."

The two of you sat in silence before Mike's phone rang. He looked at it and rolled his eyes.

"Hello. Yeah. Yeah, got it. Okay I'm on my way."

He gave a sigh, "Sorry that was my aunt. I asked her to babysit but I guess something came up at her place."

"Oh okay that's fine. Text me when you get home so I know you made home safe."

He gave a tired smile, "Isn't that my line to you?"

"It would be if you weren't running on minimal sleep."

"Fair enough. But text me too okay, in case I forgot while talking to my aunt or you get home first."

You gave a nod and he gave you another chaste kiss. You blushed again, and smiled. He hopped off the truck and waved bye. You waved as he left the parking lot in his beat up car.

You rushed inside your car and towards home, excited to tell your friends everything.

With texts of 'I'm home,' and 'goodnight' s, the two of you feel asleep dreaming of each other.

A week had passed before Mike brought up meeting Abby again. This date was way earlier and on his day off.

"Do you think she'll like me?"

Mike paused. "I'm not sure to be honest. Not ! Not that you're unlikable or anything like that! She's just a timid kid, hell she barely likes me."

"I'm sure she likes you Mike."

"Yeah well you haven't met her," he grumbled.

You gave an amused look but relented. "So she gets out in an hour right?"

Mike nodded.

"Okay and you said she likes art right? To draw and such?"

Mike nodded again. "Okay, perfect. I'll be back here at 3!"

As you started to slide out the booth, Mike stared at you confused. "Wait where are you going?"

"Don't worry I'll be back." You practically dash out the door to your car.

Mike gave a frustrated sigh and got up after paying the bill. 'I guess I'll just have to wait until 3 too then.' He ran a hand through his curly hair and hopped in his car.

Mike parked at the diner, looking back at Abby. "Okay we're gonna meet a friend of mine okay Abs?"

Abby furrowed her brows, "Your girlfriend?"

Mike nodded. Abby stayed silent. He got out of the car as did she. He held her hand as they entered, he spotted you immediately.

You h/c shining from the sun, you were drinking water while reading a book. Lost in your own world Mike cleared his throat. You looked up at him and then down at the little girl.

Abby recognized you as you recognized her. "Hi!”

Before you could get another word in, Abby motioned you forward. You raised an eyebrow towards who gave a shrug reply but you went with her request.

“Don't tell Mike about Mr. Bunny.” She said in a hushed whisper.

You stared at her then at Mike and then at her again. “Okay. Got it. But why?”

Abby looked at Mike, shoved him slightly to get away from their secrets. She cupped her hand, “Because I want to have a secret between us. I like you, you gave my Mr. Bunny when you didn't have to.”

You gave a warm smile, “ Okay deal. Pinky promise, and seal the deal.”

As you pinky crossed and thumbs stamped together, Mike gave you an expectant look.

Abby slid in across from you and Mike sat next to her.

“What?” He rolled his eyes.

“What were you two whispering about?”

“It's a secret!” Shouted Abby.

Mike looked at you again. “Sorry can't see, those are the secret rules and it's backed by a stamped pink promise. You'll never know.” You have a sad look and shrugg. Abby laughed at your expression and Mike shook his head.

“Well I guess it can't be helped.” You and Abby nodded.

You remembered a thought, “Oh yeah!” You rummaged through your bag and got the present for Abby you bought.

“Here you go Abby. It's a sketchbook for your private drawings.”

“Private drawings?” She turned her head to the side.

You smiled at her, “Yeah, drawings for yourself. I have a lot of them that I don't wanna share because they're private and for me.”

“You draw!”

You nodded and hummed. “Can you draw me something?”

“Uh sure. Is it fine if it's in your book?”

She nodded vigorously. “Okay what do you want me to draw?”

She pondered the question. “Oh! A bunny!”

“A bunny? Hmm okay like a realistic bunny or a cartoon?”

“Cartoon.”

“Yeah sure.”

Mike smiled. “Yeah she's been obsessed with bunny's after some girl won one and gave it to her instead.”

You fought off the smile as you drew, and Abby giggled. Mike gave her a questioning look but all Abby did was stick out her tongue, which Mike did back, only for a split second though.

Mike and Abby watched as you sketched out the cartoon bunny, erasing and redoing the line a couple of times. You finished the outline as food came, Mike ate and watched as you stuck your tongue out slightly finishing up the little details. It had a top hat and a bow.

“Alright Abby, here you go!”

Abby squealed in delight. “Thank you!” She stared are your drawing as she ate, it did resemble Mr. Bunny. Mike noticed that too but thought it was a mere coincidence.

The meal went smoothly, with Abby begging for a shake and Mike giving in. Sitting here, you thought it was nice, maybe something to get accustomed to. In fact, you hoped it was.

♧♤♧♡♧♡♧♤♧♤♧♤♡♧♤♧♡♧♤♧♤♧♡

Y'all I can't stop writing im procrastinating 😩 anyway enjoy!!

Taglist: @stinkii-boii @hellothisisprincesskitty

#fnaf movie #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x fem!reader #mike schmidt x reader #x reader #josh hutcherson #abby schmidt #mike fnaf #fluff

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soracities · 4 months

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hii! do you ever get into a huge reading slump? i would say ive been in one for about 3 years now and im desperate to escape it and read again but i cant find anything that's 'popular' enjoyable and have no idea where to start in finding content and books i actually enjoy by myself without tiktok or booktube 😭

Oh I've been in a particularly bad slump for at least 2 years so yes, absolutely! I think the key thing here is to try and remove the pressure off yourself as much as you can: don't look at every book you approach with the mindset of "THIS is will be the antidote to my reading slump" or "THIS novel will save me" because it will most likely stop you from actually enjoying the book: when you go in with such high expectations, you're also bringing a very distracting form of hyper-vigilance with you, waiting for the magic moment to hit, counting the pages until it does, being too conscious or worried when it doesn't in the way you envisioned it. It will turn reading into a chore, an endurance test which you either succeed or fail at, and this will only cement the slump further.

Everyone is different and I don't know what kind of books you like most, but the best thing I can advise is to go back before your slump and see what some of your favourite reads were. One way to ease back into reading is to revisit books you loved and read them again--this eliminates some of the pressure and I think it can also help rebuild that excitement because you know you're returning to familiar ground you've enjoyed before. That, or find other works by those same authors whose writing / style you liked and slowly expand from there. I don't log my reading through apps or websites anymore (and I stay away from booktok like the plague but that's a whole other conversation)--I have an ask on how I find my books here and I hope that helps too--but I've heard really good things about The Storygraph so if tiktok and booktube haven't done it for you, this might be a much better way to move towards books you actually enjoy because it's based on your preferences, not an influencer's or what an algorithm is pushing.

Whatever book you decide to try next, I would also advise you to start slow and / or small if that's what you need (more here)--don't force yourself to plow through several hundred pages in one sitting or 2 days. Sometimes breaking a slump is far more sustainable when you do it chip by chip, slowly, but consistently in a way that makes it less daunting than thinking you have to finish 2 novels every week. Something as simple as setting aside 15 minutes to read in bed before you go to sleep each night can do it. You can also look at audiobook versions, or short story collections in whatever genre it is you enjoy most!

Best of luck, anon, and I hope some of these answers will help 🤍

#ask #Anonymous #book talks

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raina-at · 3 months

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Self-rec Thingy

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. spread the self-love ❤

Thank you for the tag, @calaisreno and @weeesi

This is surprisingly difficult. I shamelessly admit that I like all of my fics, otherwise I wouldn't have posted them ;-)

So. Favourite five.

I'll start with Spare Parts, my Sci-Fi AU. I loved writing this fic, and I love the worldbuilding, I love the hostility of the environment and the resilience John and Sherlock show to not only survive, but thrive in a hostile world. It's set in the 24th century on Titan, but of all my AUs, it's actually the most canon compliant, ironically. It's also me going into the meat and bones of what Reichenbach meant for Sherlock and John, and my thoughts on why Sherlock did what he did. (it's also probably my most underappreciated fic in terms of effort versus response, but I love it, and that's all that matters ;-))

Next up is Nothing Gold Can Stay, a fix-it for S3. I carried this idea with me for months, and the fic came out in little bursts of hundred-word-snippets (in stark contrast to the sequels, which flowed out of my pen in a matter of days), but I'm really happy with the end result. I also always wanted to write a series of short fics that hang together, and this was the starting point for the series that I will continue, promise, as soon as life isn't quite as crazy. My plan is to continue the series as a sort of parallel to S3, but let's see what life does to me over the next few months.

Since this is about fics I like best and not necessarily underappreciated stories, it would be remiss of me not to honour the bakers here. Bakers with Benefits is by far my most popular story, and I like it a lot. It was great fun to write (I grin like a loon when I re-read the cake war chapter), and I love revisiting them in ficlets (which should be obvious, given how often I do it ;-)) They're so much fun, and they're so comforting. I love writing established relationship with them, because you can just throw whatever at them and you absolutely know they'll get through it together.

It almost feels unfair to my lesser-loved stories to pick my fic with the most kudos here, but, well, I really like it. Don't Read the Last Page is probably the most realistic life with a child fic I've written (and parts of it are directly ripped from real life), and it has one of my top three favourite conversations between Sherlock and John I've ever written in there (and also probably my second favourite first kiss).

So the last one is really hard, because like I said, I like all of my fics. But just for the sheer joy of writing it (I can't describe how eager I felt to "spend time" with this fic when I wrote it), and for the love of theatre and Jane Austen that's always in my heart, I'm picking my theatre/Persuasion AU Take Two. There's fics you struggle with, fics you labour on, and fics that take over your body and just pour out with sheer joy and creative flow, and this fic was definitely the latter. It also has PINING!, and I love me some good PINING!

Tagging @helloliriels @jrow @meetinginsamarra @lisbeth-kk and @blogstandbygo , but if you see this and want to do it, consider yourself tagged!

#johnlock #bbc sherlock #five favourite fics #bakers with benefits #spare parts #don't read the last page #take two #nothing gold

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sapphicscholar · 4 months

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Hacks Episode 3x09 Thoughts

Okay, so back during S2, I wrote up my thoughts about each pair of Hacks episodes as they dropped – partially for sharing but largely as an archive for myself of my own thoughts/feelings to revisit when I watched the episodes later to see how they held up, how it compared to watch them serially vs. as a whole season, etc. Anyway, I was incredibly stressed out and busy for much of this season (after over a year of that being the key set of words to describe my life), but I wanted to throw out my thoughts about the finale before they grow too stale! And maybe I’ll come back and revisit the prior episodes in posts later when I have the time (hopefully in just a couple short weeks!) to enjoy them properly

As always, disjointed bulleted lists are the name of the game, going from the big picture to the detailed:

Overall, this felt like a very solid episode in the vein of season 1 in many ways! It brought us back to the interpersonal as the primary ground of conflict after many episodes (here and in S2) of the new hour, the special, and the Late Night host gig quest being our main plot drivers (which, at many times, made for weaker storytelling for reasons that exceed the scope of this post!). In particular, I felt like this episode hit its stride around the halfway point, and never really faltered after that in impressive ways!

That being said, I had two somewhat significant critiques of the finale (both of which reflect larger trends about strands of the show that continue to leave me a little disappointed)

We should have seen Marcus' conversation with Deborah about the new job. Period. I'll get into what could have been cut in my second critique, but even if there weren't weak spots in the episode, I still would have been deeply disappointed in the show for this oversight, especially since they apparently filmed it. Although Hacks is clearly a show with a leading duo, it once had a core ensemble, but S2 saw them moved more and more to B-plots and bit roles, and now S3 has seen many of the characters we know and love eliminated almost entirely--a point that's particularly galling given that it's almost entirely characters of color (many of them canonically queer) who have been cut in favor of new white characters. Moreover, this scene would have been SO IMPORTANT - I could have seen it going 2 ways: a) Marcus quits after the convo where Deborah tells Ava she's willing to lose her, and Deborah has a reaction that is so utterly outsized because it's the terror of losing the person she's had with her the longest now compounded with the reality setting in that she's also driven away the woman who gave her new life when she most needed it; or b) Marcus shows up to quit, and Deborah immediately launches into a rant about Ava's leaving, which puts Marcus in the awkward spot of adding to that at a pivotal moment in the career of the woman he's spent much of his adult life with or giving up something he needs to do for himself; it could have been a lovely callback to S1 when he shows up with his whole speech prepared but then accepts the promotion without ever telling Deborah how he feels - only this time Marcus would have changed so much, and he'd have the opportunity to showcase that growth by insisting that he needs to do this for him. So many lost opportunities...

re what could have been cut because imo it did NOT work: Kathy Vance's return. Now, I love Hacks in large part because it insists on the complexity of its characters. No one is purely the victim or the hero of the story, and Deborah's "click" moment showcased that better than anything. AND YET the writing here did not work. Back in the Christmas ep, I messaged a friend saying I was glad that they brought Kathy back but seemed not to ask us to side with her - after all, she comes crashing back into Deborah's life, doesn't take ownership over her actions and in fact insists she was in the right because it only happened a few times, because Deborah wasn't sleeping with him (very "you weren't playing with it, so it's mine now" little sister energy that is deeply unappealing in a grown ass adult), and because they were the "better couple" which is, I'm sorry, NEVER the fucking thing to tell someone whose marriage and life you destroyed. I joked then that I'd take back my compliments if her role in the finale suggested that actually we should be on Kathy's side here. And lo and behold... What's a real bummer is that there were ways to do this better! Because you can have sympathy for an imperfect character--this show is a testament to that fact!--but not like this. We as an audience have no reason to side with Kathy when she insists that Deborah will be worse than ever and berates her for cutting their weekend short. Instead, we see a woman with a large sense of entitlement she's done nothing to earn and directorial choices that don't make it a smooth transition. But what could have been lovely is, for instance, treating the Christmas and finale reunions as these deflationary moments of anticipation and disappointment because they are, after this many decades, essentially strangers to one another. Had we seen two women who longed for the deep affective ties of their childhood relationship only to be confronted with the cold hard fact of their estrangement from one anther, it would have been so much more powerful. And here you could ACTUALLY garner sympathy (some) for Kathy by having it be this moment of "I lost my sister" partially through her own actions "to Late Night once, and now, right when I have a chance to try to build something with her again, I feel like I'm going to lose her again before I can even really try to do right by her this go around." THAT could have worked. This was just too much time on something that did almost nothing in the grand scheme of the plot (because we didn't have the emotional connection to feel it as another compounding loss for Deborah in an episode where Ava's "and you're going to die alone" could have landed with even more force)

Okay so it turns out this is getting hella fucking long, so some shorter praise and giddy feelings things:

I LOVE how often Ava got to say the things we've all been squeeing about for years during this episode - especially that the material is good because of their relationship, not the other way around; their dynamic is not incidental to the work, and that's so important to me personally.

I had guessed that Ava would be offered head writer and quit her current job, only to have it taken away because Deborah was too scared to rock the boat, but I did NOT see the end coming! In fact, I kind of thought Ava might end up suing Deborah for intellectual property theft (using material Ava wrote outside of her contractual appointment for the new show because, surprise surprise, the writers who sucked when she was a guest still suck now compared to Ava!) In fact, I sort of thought that end scene might end up being a return to the car scene, and was relishing the thought of Ava's mimicking Deb's "It'll be fun, honey." But the blackmail as a form of love/devotion was soooo much better. Truly chef's kiss.

Also the way this rewrote the S2 finale even as the underlying message remained the same is so special to me - I'll stay with you even when it's bad for me (sacrificing my career -> sacrificing my morals) because it's good for you and more importantly it's good for us and the work. JPL know how to write a finale, and I'd give up a kidney to have that same energy be there throughout a whole season again (not that the eps are bad, but they lack some of the sharpness in writing and emotional depth that JPL do so well with finales and also often with the first couple eps of a season too)

Lastly JPL going on the record that Deborah was turned on by that final scene + Ava's "I would, wouldn't you?" and "Let's begin" - truly some of the hottest TV. We're so back babyyy. No more half naked superheroes with all the eroticism of a desk chair. Give me messy women determined to fling themselves into the air because they know the thrill is worth everything good and safe they're leaving behind, even if they hit the ground with no parachute!

I have many, many thoughts about S3 and what's to come, but I'll save them for another post because phewww this got long as fuck

#hacks hbo #hacks season 3 finale #hacks 3x09 #deborah vance #ava daniels #my thoughts #this has not been proofread ill get around to it later lmao #my meta

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elderwisp · 6 months

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The Creative Process ‧₊˚✩彡

Because I love to be distracted

Hi! Ok, I wanted to share wif everyone my process in which I create a story post from conception to the final post. I would say I'm a very structured person when it comes to projects like these however, I've learned a lot and maybe someone could find something useful! We'll be referencing this scene. Oke, let's start!

✩ Rough Drafts

So, of course everything starts off with a vision. While I always say, write what feels authentic to you, I also know it makes things much more difficult if you don't have a solid ground to build from. I think I've scrapped this particular story about twice already and even reshot the first chunk of Tessellate so there was a better foundation. I like to start off with understanding a character before moving onto creating a plot, otherwise people start bleed into another. Greta Gerwig makes a really awesome statement about how characters come first to her before plot. OKE with that in mind, this particular scene, I wrote it well over a year ago, however there wasn't much flow in the initial draft. In fact, the two look nothing alike. This conversation was supposed to occur during France's concert, but I moved it to to this particular scene and I'm so glad. I felt like their current relationship was strong enough to have this conversation but also it allowed me to really focus in on the two. I am a huge advocate for jotting down dialogue even if things change because you can always expand on an idea. And if things don't work, scrapping is okay, but at least you gave it a shot! After that change, I didn't revisit that scene up until about a month and a half ago. I like to let things sit for a good while. In the initial draft, Taryn was reserved throughout a majority of the conversation. There was limitations in which how I wanted her to express things but things change in a year. When I looked at her as a character and how she's progressed throughout the story, the draft no longer aligned with her lack of response. And then that created the question of what the heck does one say? Because people aren't typically very graceful or eloquent when it comes to confrontation but also we're telling a story so how do I balance the two out? Since, I've followed these little blorbos for a while, knowing their characters and motives allowed me to flesh everything out. Atlas is much more cunning than he lets on and is excellent at painting a pretty picture for those around him if it means getting what he wants. Taryn on the other hand is perceptive and unwavering so being around someone like him, someone that she finds herself slowly falling for, is a complete, well, mind fuck. We can also see from this interaction that there's a hint of feeling inadequate and the lack of confidence to know that maybe he does like her. We also see that Atlas maybe isn't the most mature when it comes to developing something real so the two have plenty to work on just from this scene alone. Like Greta Gerwig says, writing is listening.

I also wanted to mention LocalScriptMan and this video all the time because it just about changed how I viewed dialogue in general. I think it's such a great tool! I've probably shared it a billion times.

✩ Blender & Posemaking

So I would like to preface this by saying, you do not need to use blender to achieve a vision. There are still scenes that I still use poses/animations from other creators! I wanted to list a few references! Rebouks, Rascgal and Simmireen have an amazing variety of poses to use! I literally use Becca's bumper packs RELIGOUSLY! However, if you need any suggestions, SurelySim's has an excellent breakdown on getting started with posemaking from tiny details, to SimRipper and using accessories! She also talks about Vyxated's Pose Helper which is a god send! For this scene I wanted to fully pose it. In my script, I italicize anything I want to pose, I'm such a sucker for the mannerisms that people have. When words fail, body language speaks. Are they fidget-y, or do I imagine them to be more composed? Taryn's stance is grounded, she doesn't move at all in the scene except for when she leaves and I think it's a great representation of her stubbornness. Whereas Atlas is watching every single move, up until he makes his incredibly bold (ridiculous!) statement. As for emotion when he made that statement, I wanted to go with shame but then I felt like his expression radiated ruthlessness. I personally enjoyed that 10x more because it represented two things for me, his character and that he felt comfortable enough to show that part of himself. When posing a scene from start to finish, it takes me about 1-3 days depending on how complex it is. I'm a huge advocate for using references! I love referencing hands, posture, how to grab a book ANYTHING! Because this was a conversation and not much action happened, it took me about a day.

✩ Taking Screenshots and Composition

I began taking photos for this scene on March 6th. I use to use this reshade preset by growfruit however, after tinkering with some settings I use like a mish-mash blorbo of a preset. Amobae and Sforz have some cool LUT's for download (I think of it like a filter? That's probably not what it is but MEH) and I love the qUINT's lightroom shader as well. Huge advocate of relight, I was today years old when I learn that you should load it at the top of your shaders order so you don't get like a weird whitecast. These spotlights though are super fun too if you don't use reshade! There are some photographers on instagram that even go over how to use lightroom and it can translate to game as well! For the most part, I try to keep screenshots pretty simple, editing-wise but there are moments when I doodle in little hairs, add in some texture and include shadows for, uh, DRAMAAA. Lately, I've been incorporating intricate fonts because idk sometimes my brain enjoys a little graphic design moment. Sometimes shooting conversation heavy scenes can get so repetitive so I like to look at film stills on pinterest or pay close attention to a film and how they present the camera work in a conversation. Rule of thirds is a great reference tool to use, I believe GShade has a shader for that. However it's okay to experiment, it's not an end all be all. I love looking at animators and how each frame is incredibly intentional, whether it's a shot from above or a really close frame. The beginning of this scene, I honestly didn't have a clue as to how I wanted to open it up since they were walking down a hall. Then I noticed the detail in the fencing and how the tiles were opposite. Using the TOOL mod, I was able to get them both in the center and it created a strong opening shot of how different these two are.

✩ Editing

My god, I love editing but also this is usually the moment where I get so freaking distracted. This process takes me a day if I am focused.... But realistically it takes three days.... That's why I try to keep things to a minimum. I do use Photoshop. I like to use this sharpening action (the other actions are awesome too!) for story posts, I crop each photo (I use a 9:5 ratio and a 16:6 ratio if I need to focus on something specific idk why i picked those numbers yo), and add in text. Dafont has a lot of different free fonts. I like to use these little guidelines if sentences needs to be centered.

For adding umph to text, I like to use two things: The warped text option when using the type tool or just going to the distort panel and using the wave option!

Also bottom right of your layers channel is an fx layer. I like to use stroke and drop shadow on all text so it doesn't get lost within a photo!

✩ Finalization and My Schedule

That story post was uploaded on March 29th. As of right now, I like to stay three weeks ahead so I have three weeks worth of story posts marinating in my queue LMAO. I always reread things like a bajillion times, sometimes I'll go back and tweak conversations if they feel a bit stiff. Having that three week buffer also gives me time to really dedicate myself to details and focus on being present with a future scene. Another perk is, it allows me to work on cleaning up the script, plotting for future arcs, and having fun with edits. When I used to upload story videos on youtube, I didn't really plan ahead and it was so chaotic for me. Sometimes I didn't have enough time to actually create a solid episode so things felt rushed because on top of that I had a schedule I committed to. This isn't necessary but structure and patterns is something my little brain needs.

I hope this maybe provided some tips for people wanting to start out or it was just a fun little thing to read! One final OP tip is to write about something that you enjoy, something that matters to you. I'm one mf that loves a fleshed out character arc, that doesn't like linear plots and for fucks sake I love a good slow burn and I think all of that reflects a lot which helps me be engaged.

#damn me really talking about my hyperfixation with the fellow gamers #there might be hella run ons sorry my brain is a run on i don't control dat #u get one sneak peak too in the film roll #i wish i had rough drafts of dialogue but bc i use google docs i don't have any prior copies >.<#idk wtf to tag this #tessellate: extras #sims 4 story #sims 4 story tips #creative process

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m1ssunderstanding · 8 months

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Get Back Rewatch 55 Years On: Day 16

Not the Love Actually India footage! https://archiveofourown.org/works/40600110/chapters/101720886 by @inspiteallthedanger is a favorite I should revisit after this painful day.

“Yes, what Were we doing?” Literally, why did you start this conversation, Paul? What did you think John and George were going to do? Just let you have your little casual chat about the footage? Come on, you know them better than that. “In your room?” “Yeah, right. I remember, yeah.” You set yourself up for this, babe.

I would LOVE to know the real context for John’s mic-job. Because yes, that is real. He really did do that while staring like That at Paul. But it wasn’t after he said, “I don’t regret anything. Ever.” What was the real moment where John decided that was his move? And did Paul really just keep talking right over all of that? Beatles tumblr deserves access to all that footage just for all the obsessing we do.

It is noteworthy, certainly, that we know for a fact that a good chunk of John’s India footage is just Paul, but in how much of that footage, I wonder, is Paul also focused on John?

We all know Paul approves, but why did we have to use valuable time to show monkey sex? I did not need to see that.

“I have all the tapes, too.” Those laughs. You guys aren’t as sneaky as you think you are. Also, @ Lennon estate you won't release the tapes. Chickens.

George is just SO sick of their shit. “Because that was the purpose of going there was to try and find who yourself is.” AKA ‘I took your dumb asses on this beautiful spiritual retreat and you had to make it about your stupid psychosexual obsession just like you do with everything else.’ “And if you were really yourself, you wouldn’t be any of who we are now.” AKA ‘if you two would stop fucking hiding, we – me and Ringo too, you’ve dragged us down with you – wouldn’t be in this hellish mess.’ And here’s the thing. He’s pissed off. And rightly so. But he’s still going along with their veils and secrecy. A callback to his strumming over Paul ranting at him. He’ll still protect them even when he fundamentally disagrees. George is such a beautiful person and so underrated by people like me.

Paul’s appreciative little look as John finally ends the difficult conversation.

"Bye, Bye Love” is DEFINITELY *meaningful*

John calling Two of Us “Four of Us” is so sweet. Like saying to George and Ringo, “You are important too. Just because we don’t have weird thoughts about your physical adjacency to Elvis Presley, doesn't mean we don’t love you.”

I think John’s willingness to be taught is also an underrated leadership quality of his. All the old men obsessed with Leader Lennon won’t acknowledge it, but that’s what it is. It’s humility and a recognition of other’s strength and it’s leadership.

Literally everyone else: Just don’t look and it’ll go away. John: what? Don’t look at Paul? I don’t know how to do that.

George and Ringo honestly had the patience of saints to just sit there and play through Two of Us eight million times so John and Paul could do their little accents and silly voices.

And then John can also do the traditional leadership, too. “Start again, ey. Shh, don’t talk when he’s playing there, gang.” And really, he’s the best of the four for that job by far.But it’s far from acerbic or cutting. Get Back John is certainly almost undiluted Lovely John.

Quick reminder to anyone who may have forgotten: those boots George is wearing are literally Paul’s hand-me-downs. Earlier on the nagra reels, George was describing a kind of boots he’d like a pair of and Paul was like “I’ve got some you could have.” Permanent baby brother status.

“That’s a good idea, John.” “Yeah, well I’m full of ideas like that, I’m famous for ‘em. Literary Beatle, you know.” Puhlease. I know fics with more realistic dialogue.

“The things that’ve worked out best for us haven’t really been planned any more than this has, it’s just. You know, you just go into something and it just does it itself.” Yeah, George. Because of Brian.

Paul really wants to do a big Thing at the end, because he loves performing, yeah. But what’s this about John and Yoko’s black bag? Does he think that performing together will remind John that being a Beatle with Paul is what he loves? Or does he just want closure before everything falls apart?

He really does hate to see him upset, doesn’t he. Like, I think he does a lot of things purposely to get a reaction out of Paul. And sometimes he needs to see him hurt to know he even cares. But from the way he’s watching Paul chewing his nails and rocking, you’d think Paul’s worries affected John physically. And then he breaks into “I Lost My Little Girl” almost as a sort of knee-jerk comfort instinct.

These two shots are comedic gold.

My cabaret boys again. Heck, maybe I’ll write it just for myself. Honestly though I love that the two Beatles who loved performing and who would’ve been performers in any life (would’ve been performing circus elephants if they’d been reincarnated as animals) got to continue doing it into their eighties. One of the few happinesses in the end of the Beatles.

Get Back really is such a great character study, though. George hands John a drink. John takes it without looking at George, let alone the drink, and gulps. George hands Paul a drink. Paul smiles at him, then proceeds to sniff it and swirl it and inspect it like it might be poison before he gives it a taste.

John chewing the mic. I hope you didn’t do That to Paul’s dick in India. What if that’s all that happened?

Bitching and gossiping: top requirements in the job description for John Lennon’s Codependent Special Person.

In these last few minutes of the day, I’m relating more and more to George. I’m sick of John and Paul and all their drama and stupidity. John suggests they write another verse of Let it Be together, and Paul looks frankly horrified at the idea.

So John lays his head in Yoko’s lap, reminding me painfully of that “ . . . except you can go to bed with it and it can pet your head without . . .” quote.

And then a few minutes later, Paul’s spiraling again and asks to go home to which John responds with a tease. “I’m just tryna get the group working, you know,” and “You’re gonna have to be strict, Paul.” And it’s just dizzying and frustrating at this point. Where are they possibly going to go at this rate?

#sorry that this one was late #And probably less coherent or insightful #Two jobs and a teething baby and a depressed husband today so it is what it is #paul mccartney #the beatles #john lennon #mclennon #ringo starr #george harrison #get back

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sunflowerseedsandscience · 6 months

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Various Storms and Saints- Prologue

"You still haven't told me if he's cute or not."

Scully sighed and pressed the heels of her hands against her forehead, cradling the phone in the crook of her neck. Nobody could make her regret bringing up a subject as quickly as her sister when she put her mind to it. "No, Missy, I haven't," she allowed. "Because it's irrelevant. Mulder's good looks aren't the reason I miss working with him."

"So you admit it? He is cute?"

"Missy. Can we please have a serious conversation, for once?"

"Fine, fine," Melissa acquiesced, though her tone made it clear this point would be revisited in the future. "Tell me why you miss working with him, then."

"Well... part of it is the cases we tackled together," Scully said. "The autopsies I'm stuck doing now that the X-Files are shut down seem so boring in comparison to murderous clones and mind-controlling worms in the Arctic."

Melissa whistled. "Yeah, I can see how that might be a little bit of a come down. What's the other part?"

"What other part?"

"You said the cases are part of the reason. So what's the other part?"

Scully closed her eyes. How to define this most indefinable of relationships, especially to Melissa, who so often seemed to think every person in her life fit into a neat box? "I miss the way he spoke to me," she said finally. "He never talked down to me, not even when he was standing so close I practically had to break my neck to meet his eyes. He made me feel like the things I have to say are important... that they carried real weight with him, even when he didn't agree with me." She chuckled ruefully. "Which was most of the time. He's always shown me a respect that I don't get that often, being surrounded by men in positions of authority who all love to hear themselves talk."

"That does sound like it would be tough to leave behind," agreed Melissa. "Couldn't you... I dunno, lobby to be his partner on whatever assignment he's on now, though? Then at least you'd still be working together even if it wasn't in the X-Files."

"He's working with someone else," said Scully darkly. "At least he was on his most recent case. I don't know if they're officially partners or not."

"And you don't like whoever it is," said Melissa knowingly. "I can hear it in your voice." "I don't really know anything about him," Scully admitted. "But... there's something strange about him, you know? He just makes me nervous." There had been something about Alex Krycek's fresh-faced innocence that had seemed less than genuine, even if Scully couldn't quite put her finger on it.

"Bad vibes, huh?"

"Maybe." Scully sighed. "For all I know, it's just my jealousy getting in the way because I want to be the one out there with Mulder."

"See, I knew you liked him," crowed Melissa, and Scully groaned, exasperated.

"Melissa. It's not like that."

"Fine, fine, whatever you say," Melissa huffed. "Hang on a sec, okay?" The phone was muffled, as though Melissa had put her hand over the receiver. Someone's voice asked a garbled question, Melissa gave an equally garbled response, and a moment later, she was back. "Hey Danes, I gotta go, okay?"

"Wait, Melissa, what's your--"

"There's a meditation session I'm supposed to lead and they're waiting for me. I'll call you soon, okay?"

"But Melissa, where are--" There was a click, and the line went dead.

Scully dropped her bedroom extension back into its cradle on the nightstand and sank back onto her bed with a sigh, snuggling into the cardigan she'd pulled on over her work clothes when she'd walked into her apartment. She'd come home from work for lunch, having finished her morning teaching session a little early, and had been available purely by chance when Melissa called for the first time in two months. Phone conversations with her older sister, while always welcome, tended to be exhausting these days. She hadn't seen Melissa in years, not since the day after her graduation from medical school. Melissa hadn't made it to the event itself, but she'd shown up at the party her parents had thrown her afterwards. Melissa hadn't understood her sister's disappointment, and Maggie Scully, as she so often did, had defended her elder daughter to her younger.

"You know big ceremonies aren't really your sister's thing, Dana," she'd said, patting Scully's shoulder consolingly. "She barely sat through her own high school graduation. Just be thankful she's here for the celebration, all right?"

Sitting through a graduation ceremony was boring, to be sure, but that hadn't stopped Scully from doing it for all three of her siblings when they'd finished high school, plus for Bill and Charlie when they'd finished college. In her opinion, it had nothing to do with how exciting or boring the ceremony itself was, and everything to do with showing up for the people she loved when their hard work and accomplishments were recognized.

Showing up. That was something Melissa had traditionally had difficulty with, when it came down to it.

They hadn't even had a working phone number for Melissa last Christmas when Ahab had passed. Scully, tasked with handling everything while her mother waded through her initial shock and grief, had called every friend of Melissa's she could think of, trying to locate her sister, and had failed. She'd been reduced to sending a letter to Melissa's last known address in hopes it might get correctly forwarded. But it never got to her, as was evidenced three months later when Melissa had called home, chatted with Maggie cheerfully about her recent travels, and then had asked to speak to her father and had been completely lost when her mother had burst into tears.

"Free-spirited" had always been how the family had described Melissa. But deep down, in her darkest and most shameful thoughts, the word Scully sometimes landed on was "selfish."

Scully's cell phone rang, startling her out of her reverie. She half-expected it to be Mulder, begging her to do another autopsy he couldn't trust with anyone else, but it was Roy Seekamp, a fellow FBI pathologist whose office in the Hoover building was next to Scully's.

"Where are you?" asked Roy. "One of the AD's came looking for you but your office is locked. Skinner, I think his name was?"

"I came home for lunch. What's going on?"

"Something big is going down in Virginia," said Roy. "Some hostage situation with an escaped mental patient."

Scully frowned, confused. "Why would they need me for that?" she asked.

"I don't think they actually need you or anything," said Roy. "The AD was just looking for you to let you know your old partner is there on the scene."

Scully's heart skipped a beat. "Mulder is there?" She got off the bed and raced out of her bedroom, tearing off the cardigan and snatching up her bag. "What's he doing there? He's not a hostage negotiator!"

"No idea," said Roy. "I think AD Skinner just wanted you to hear it from him. You coming back to the office?"

"Yes," Scully said, pulling on her shoes. "Be there soon." She ended the call and stuffed her phone into her bag, then looked down and realized she was still clutching her cardigan. She folded it in half and draped it over the back of her couch on her way out the door.

It stayed there, untouched, for over a month.

#my fic #x-files fanfic #Various Storms and Saints #Some of y'all are gonna HATE this #angst alert #Mulder/other resolving into MSR #JUST TRUST ME I WOULD NEVER STEER YOU WRONG

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rahuratna · 2 months

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Hi Rahu!!! My Nanami-loving, schmutt-reading, STEM-girlie, critical-thinker friend! Today I bring up a character who I have been actively avoiding thinking about: the one and only Satoru Gojo.

My overall reactions to Gojo are very mixed. Season one, I didn’t really pay him any mind. Season two, his his fighting scenes though 🫣🫣🫣 Let’s say I finally understood the appeal.

This morning (it is 3 AM), I’d like to discuss Gojo’s perceived loneliness. Maybe another time, when I take a deeper dive into how Gojo’s powers actually work, we could talk about calculus? But these are just fragmented thoughts floating around my head. I just have random questions on when Gojo had to learn calculus for his technique (he seems like the type to sleep through the lessons… did Yaga force him to study??) and what happens if you duplicate a Gojo and divide his infinity by another infinity. You get indeterminate and what happens then?

Uhh, anyways 🙂‍↕️

——————————//——————————

Context: For me, I found it really hard to see Gojo as an individual person. Until recently, I only really payed attention to Gojo and Geto as a pair. That’s why I want to take some time to look at things through Gojo’s perspective of the transition to independence… because I’ve been actively procrastinating thinking about it despite drawing thirst traps of him—

Question: Is Gojo lonely? At first I said yes, but my only reason was because I solely focused on what he doesn’t have: Geto. And that’s quite simplistic of me. I didn’t acknowledge the type of relationships he had with his colleagues and his students because I only viewed Gojo as half of a pair to Geto. That is why I would like to revisit the reasons why I (and perhaps other members of the JJK community) think that Gojo is lonely, specifically through a comparative, discourse, thematic analysis the lenses of his different relationships.

Discussion: I think about how in our previous discussion, we talked about how Gojo did not need Geto anymore as a moral compass after the Riko incident. In this way, Gojo outgrew his friendship with Geto not only because of their different values (remember how their ideologies were always opposite of each others), but rather because of the extent to which they commit themselves to their ideals. This means that Gojo would not change who he is and his beliefs for Geto. It shows the beginning of Gojo’s independence as he becomes more rooted in the cause he fights for.

Is this independence— through motives and strength— a big factor into this perceived loneliness? Yes, I think so. He lost Geto because of the magnitude of their commitment to different beliefs, and his strength mitigates any room for reliance/codependence of his colleagues. But it also brings up the following question: to what extent does Gojo create meaningful connections with others besides Geto, and how does this change the initial hypothesis of perceived loneliness?

It is 4:00 AM and I am a slow and exhausted… so I’ll leave the conversation pretty much open and on this note:

I think it’s easy for an outside observer to compare Gojo’s connection with Geto with the one he had to his peers and his students. It initially seems so small compared to the enormity of what Gojo and Geto were. But that isn’t necessarily true. Here, the value of the different types of relationships we have are subjective. If I were to make a guess, Gojo does not undervalue his other relationships even if he’s not as close to them. He does not consciously put the value of relationships on a scale trying to determine which is more meaningful and which is less. Especially with his students. This is why I think that perhaps I had previously overestimated perceived loneliness. It was because of a narrow-minded outlook focusing only on loss rather than what he gained.

That’s it for now, but perhaps when I wake up I’ll be adding a couple more ideas that I missed in the comments. In general, I don’t think I added much that was insightful… it was more sort of a detailed prompt. But I think that’s cool too since I love hearing about what you have to say! Happy Friday, Rahu, and enjoy the weekend ahead!

Courtney 🧡💜

Hi Courtttttt!! @courtneedsleep *rubs hands* It's time to chat about Gojo! But seriously, thank you for this. I've been actively looking for a proper outlet to explore my own thoughts on this man, and you have PROVIDED. And I would LOVE a deep dive into the calculus, but I'm going to leave that for another juicy analysis, since this is one is already pretty long.

I definitely saw the appeal of his character from the beginning, but like you, didn't really feel particularly attached to him. He was charming. He was funny. Obviously very powerful and exceptionally confident in his own abilities.

In the beginning, I didn't perceive him as particularly lonely, considering the flippancy with which he seemed to process deeper emotions. It was during the exchange event arc that I began to see the layers to his character.

The concern he showed for his students seemed overshadowed by his own devil-may-care attitude, but later highlighted the faith he had in their abilities. Outwardly, he seemed flippant, as always. But when I re-watched, in the context of what I learned about his character later, his actions took on a new significance.

It starts with his training of Yuuji and Yuuta. Gojo specifically selects these boys who are marked as pariahs, even in the jujutsu world, for the power and potential for great destruction they represent. He devotes himself to their training and shows delight at their development. I realised, as I continued watching, that this delight wasn't so much directed at the evolution of their power, but the evolution of their souls and characters, things he knew would be singularly defining in their development as the powerful sorcerers they became.

Yuuji and Yuuta were later able to overcome fear, uncertainty, their own weaknesses and more importantly, embrace their own weaknesses in order to become not just very strong, but utterly exceptional sorcerers in their own right. A lot of this was not just due to Gojo's mentorship, but his unwavering belief in them.

On my first watch of season 1, I thought that he showed disappointingly little reaction when Yuuji 'died' after having his heart ripped out. Now knowing just what kind of losses Gojo suffered over time, and the brutal nature of the world of sorcery, I understand better just how much gravity he expressed when he thought that Yuuji was dead.

This brings me to the subject of his loneliness. You're absolutely right about the tendency to view him and Geto as a 'pair', and thus weave their character development inextricably together in our minds. I also had this tendency, when I started watching season 2, but I suppose my awareness of the potential depth of Gojo's character left me looking for more. I wanted to see this formative stage in his evolution as a sorcerer, how what happened with Geto might have transformed his thought processes on many things in the jujutsu world.

The significance of Geto to Gojo, and vice versa, cannot be understated. It is obvious, from their interaction, how much they valued and respected each other, and were also kindred spirits looking to right wrongs in jujutsu society. As we touched on in a previous discussion, the rift came after Riko's death, and the manner in which they both processed that.

Gojo's independence, as much as it is flaunted, also has its limits. Throughout the time I noted the rift with Geto forming, I also wondered how much of Gojo's change also occurred because of the subtle brainwashing that came with being openly acknowledged (and self aware) as the 'strongest sorcerer' of modern times. In the end, he truly did become a weapon, as tragic a fate as the one suffered by Geto. His fierce belief that he HAD to enact some form of change in the jujutsu world was also a form of conditioning, based on his abilities. It was much easier for everyone to identify the flaws in Geto's thinking because he was on the wrong side. The curse user side.

Gojo's loneliness is apparent, but not because he doesn't have real connections, or people who care for him (and people he cares for). His interaction with Nanami, for me, is one that highlights this. Gojo's power is terrifying to those not on the same side, as seen in the Shibuya arc, where an entire plan (and many sacrifices) were foreseen by the enemy, simply to seal him away. And yet, he places so much value on leaving Yuuji in the care of a sorcerer like Nanami, someone strong, intelligent and competent, but not in the same league as Gojo, power-wise.

Why? Because, as we learn, Gojo does value compassion, heart, dedication to a cause, and the lives of the younger generation, all qualities and beliefs enshrined in the core of what makes Nanami the type of sorcerer he is. Gojo cares for Nanami and values him as a friend, not just because he is one of the old guard, but because he genuinely cherishes everything that Nanami represents as a sorcerer and a human being. He may have irritated the living daylights out of Nanami, but at the end of it all, they had each other to fall back on, when all else in the world of sorcery failed the very tenets of what they believed was right.

So, in what way was Gojo truly lonely? In the way that reaching the rarefied heights of true power can make you. He was alone in ability, in the precocious genius of sorcery he was, in the role he was subconsciously forced to take on as a natural result of what he represented in jujutsu society. Returning to the idea of his conditioning, he could have taken no responsilbility at all, maybe even followed the same path as Geto. But he didn't. Not even the bone-deep kinship he felt for Geto could turn him away from his core beliefs and the role he knew he needed to play, not just for others, but for his own peace of mind.

One could say that Gojo's loneliness was self-imposed, in a sense. One could also take some comfort in the fact that this self-imposed isolation was precisely because of how much he cared for and valued those around him.

Gojo knew how much his students, colleagues and friends valued him. He knew the sacrifices they'd have to make, in order to survive the brutal world they existed in. He knew that like him, they'd experience loss, death (in some cases, their own), fear, moments of hopelessness, defeat and overwhelming odds. He also knew, with some unerring certainty, that they would rise above those challenges and face their fates with courage, dignity and the fierce hope that is born from experiencing true despair.

How did he know this? One can only speculate. I do think, however, that it stemmed from a torch he had passed on, an unquenchable fire, a tenacity that showcases itself clearly in his students and successors. Gojo had such faith that his will would be passed on, that they would win. In this, he was never truly alone.

Thank you for yet another beautiful analysis and ask (I rambled so much with this one, because I have so many THOUGHTS) and I appreciate all the analytical meals you feed me!

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo analysis #gojo headcanons #nanami kento #itadori yuuji #jjk character analysis #jjk characters #rahu answers #rahu writes

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