#i've never been so invested in a story for a long time now

[ir-abelas-vhenan]

I've been thinking a lot today about how easily people condemn Solas for making the choices he did or for so regularly refusing the help and love his friends or a romanced Lavellan extended to him and how that's a very easy thing to do from behind a screen in a fictional game where you are able to (with very few exceptions) curate a world in which your allies are loyal and your decisions will go the way you'd like them to.

And yeah, it's a game and that's kind of the point, but if I were to look at it a little more deeply (and who am I kidding, I got back on this website exclusively to process the aftermath of Veilguard) I'd say that there's so much to be found in wondering if the protagonists in any of the other games would have fared better in similar conditions.

Apparently I can't stop making long posts, so buckle in.

What would Morrigan have become in a world where the Warden never stumbled upon her cottage with Flemeth, if she never got the chance to see more of the world and decide what she wanted out of it? With just her mother (who, coincidentally in this Solas-y discussion is also kind of Mythal) and no support, who is to say what she would have unleashed upon the Korcari Wilds one day when the confines of her cage became too much?

What about Leliana? She, too, suffered at the hands of a very controlling abuser who tried to convince her that one lifestyle was all that her future held. What do we think she would have become if not for a chance meeting in Lothering with someone who could help her face down the woman that molded her?

Fenris, a character MANY people are just fine with was incredibly ready to kill a mage on sight if need be, no questions asked. Where do we think his story goes if he doesn't have someone in his corner early on enough in the game? If he doesn't get caught by Danarius, he's almost certainly going to end up on a murder spree, and he doesn't even have Justice whispering in his head to do it.

Cullen. Just all of him. It's an absolute miracle he hasn't snapped by the time you encounter him in Inquistion, and even then you get the benefit of intervening at a critical point in his story several times over.

Almost every other character could face this analysis and I think we'd reach a result that suggests perhaps the only thing keeping them lovable is your playable character's investment in their well-being.

Enter Solas. We don't meet him when he's twenty to thirty something and on the precipice of falling down a dark path. He's been there for literal millennia already, and with the exception of one close friend he's been alone. And not even Felassan is enough because of the years Mythal had prior to that friendship to make Solas exactly who she needed him to be.

I've had shit friends before that aren't just good at isolating people, they're naturals. I barely made it through high school with my mental health in place (in fact, looking back, it almost certainly wasn't). When you think you've got a true friend and they need something of you, it's so easy to blindly follow them because you think your love is enough to mark someone's soul as trustworthy. Solas doesn't learn that lesson until it's too late, and even when he does he can't turn back: the spirit that was once Wisdom has been exposed to several of the worst ancient elves to ever exist and now he has to stand his ground rather than let it all fall, because that is what Pride would dictate. Admitting that the person you gave your love and labor and time to is a monster is hard. And he was alone.

Give me Morrigan after centuries with her mother. Show me Leliana after the years have become a blur and the only voice whispering in her ear is Marjolaine's. Show me the innocent mages that don't make it through if all Fenris has for years and years and years are the scars Danaris left him and the means to make more. Show me Cullen if he stays in a chain of command under a Knight Commander who knows exactly what he fears and holds it over his head for so long he forgets what it was like to be an excited kid begging the templars for training because he just wants to keep people safe.

We get companions in these games who are broken by the time they're twenty. Solas has spent thousands of years in servitude to a cause of a woman he believed to be his only friend. He doesn't know who he is without her influence, anymore, only exists physically in the first place because she asked it of him and then asked again and again and again. He doesn't have a witty band of merry fools to pull him out of that cycle. He has Felassan, but he has him during war after war after war in the hopes of freeing others from the very situation that torments him.

Trauma from war affects everyone touched by it, nevermind the fact that Solas is actively responsible for saving the lives of thousands and feels each life like a weight around his neck because maybe he can save them like he cannot save himself. We should always be worried about the people trying to do the most good. Who is looking out for them? Why are they so determined to help others? Could it be that it's something they wish others had done for them?

Solas certainly feels comradery with Felassan from working together to free slaves from the very people he helped put in power because Mythal told him it would be okay only to leave him with the pieces, but even the Solas that Felassan knows has been turned into an attack dog shying away from the touch of the very person it desires to be near above all others by the time their relationship forms.

The fact that Solas is able to try and show the Inquisitor who he is at all is a miracle as far as I'm concerned, a sign of a peaceful spirit of Wisdom who loves knowledge for the sake of it finally sensing that there might be a chance to embrace its nature again.

Yeah, if you give him what he has come to expect from people with power, if you let near-absolute power over the masses corrupt you, he's going to bristle and try to shut your inquisitor down.

But if you show him even the smallest bit of kindness? If you treat him like the starving wolf he talks about and feed him instead of fighting him? God, it shatters his entire existence.

It's called a cycle of abuse for a reason. Finding friendship, finding the love of your long-ass life can be the first step in realizing there's better out there. But the time it takes to learn that? When you're too weary to even reach out for help in the first place and afraid of every kind word or gesture because you've never known such tenderness (on a platonic OR romantic level, both matter so so much) before?

Part of the compelling tragedy of Solas is that it's almost Orpheus-like how he knows what he has been made into and still cannot stop himself from yearning for more, from turning around to see if just this once something has changed. You can't convince me that he hasn't spent years hoping that someone will hear the legend of the Dread Wolf and see it for what it is, a leash the Evanuris created for Mythal's whipping boy to ensure that even if he ever escapes them, the people he fought to save will hate him. And I cannot blame him for the shock and terror that consumes him when he realizes someone finally has.

You give me any of dragon age companions after the amount of time Solas spent under Mythal's thumb without your character's intervention and you tell me how that looks.

You tell me if they're able to change at the first sign of something that feels too good to be true.

And then, I want you to tell me they're any less worthy of trying to save, especially when you know how good their best can be.

Solas might be hard for some fans to love, but it's only because he serves as the perfect representation of the beast we are all capable of becoming when the love that sustains us, assuming we receive any at all, is laced with poison.

The journey out of that place, out of a literal prison of regret, is brutal, and I'm thrilled that even with the many things about Veilguard I'm still struggling with, we have the chance to let Solas try again with the help of those who love him not because he never fell down, but because they believe in the beauty of a future where he gets back up again.

[cookiesandbiscuits]

I finally finished all available episodes, manga chapter and light novel volumes of The Apothecary Diaries, and now I feel so empty....

[thechekhov]

Hello! I'm a big fan of your work. I wanted to ask for advice / thoughts about an art problem I've been struggling with that you seem to have at least some sort of solution for?

So basically I'm an animator and digital artist (hobbyist), and I'm constantly coming up with new ideas for things to make. Only problem is that most of these ideas would take up to or longer than 2 months to make because, yknow, animation isn't quick, especially if you want to take your time to make it good. But with so many ideas that all take so long to complete, I often find myself tied and frozen as I can't decide what's most worthwhile to start first. I passionately want to complete all these projects, but my inspiration for each one waxes and wanes in a way I can't control, and I've just been stuck for several months. You juggle a lot of projects- not all of them art, but it still seems applicable here. This is excluding other life responsibilities like work and stuff, I don't have problems with getting that stuff done. This is purely within my creative hobby.

If u can't say anything thats fine I'm just curious- You have a massive output with great quality. Thank you!

This is a very kind message, and one that humbles me a lot, because although I'd love to bestow upon you some sort of advice that might help, or give words of wisdom..............I feel like that would be fake of me because

I also suffer from this very same thing

That is to say, this part of your message:

my inspiration for each one waxes and wanes in a way I can't control

It rings true for me too! I think it might ring true for many others as well.

There are stories in my head all the time. There are stories, and concepts, and IDEAS and they are all so shiny and new in the beginning, and then they slowly peter out and, since I frequently don't have time to do anything about them, they fade into the background.

I have enough trouble with this in terms of COMICS (also a lengthy medium, though less so than animation, which, OOF, you have my condolences, you are stronger than I) that I have started to just come to terms with the fact that some things are not meant to be.

Which is, I think, one of the small bits of advice I can give.

1. Some things may just be ideas, and that's okay.

I think one of the best ways that I've learned to deal with Idea-Death is making it count towards something in the future. That is to say, using them as compost.

In order for this to work, you have to actively put your ideas into the compost pin instead of the trash. That means maybe investing in either a notebook, or a sketchbook, OR just a discord server for yourself where you organize ideas and dump them all into a channel to scroll back through later.

It may seem useless at first, but honestly, it can be satisfying to PUT them somewhere instead of letting them fade away.

Plus, you may one day scroll through them and rediscover an idea at just the right time. OR you may be inspired to take parts of an old idea and repurpose it for a new idea that you DO have motivation for.

However, there's also this part, right?

I've just been stuck for several months

I.......feel this. Sometimes I, too, feel stuck for several months. There are times when even if I WANT to work on something, I just don't have the time. It takes too long to finish!

.........which is why I recommend the following:

2. Don't finish. Just start.

Now, this is the toughie. I can't exactly say that it would work for everyone. But I have learned that I am WAY more likely to return to a project and work on it again sometime in the future if I actually DO something for it the first time I get inspired.

I have SO MANY things that I have not published in my folders. I have sketches of gifs that are 10 frames long. I have concept art sketches boldly labeled with project names that will likely never get off the ground. I have Googledoc files with summary and plot outlines for stories I'll probably never write. I have discord channels with random ass concepts and a few sketches for characters.

And what I have found is that if I just WORK on these ideas when I feel like it, they are more likely to survive, even if they don't thrive right away.

I'm also a huge proponent of Procrastination Rotation.

That is to say, I have so many projects I COULD be working on, that if I ever feel frustrated or stuck on one thing, I just shift myself slightly to the left and do another thing instead. I almost never force myself to work through a block (save for a few money-motivated deadlines) just to complete a thing.

Stuck on a comic? I'll go write a few lines of fic. Unsatisfied with where the fic is going?

I'll go sketch out an illustration. Incapable of finishing an illustration?

I'll go google some references for another comic project and slap them all into an image file for later, so that I have SOMETHING in place for when I want to do studies.

And so on and so forth.

I have comic ideas, and comic sketches, and 30+ pages of original comics sketched. I don't know if they'll make it. It would take a lot of work.

But it also takes very little work - just a few extra pages sketched while I'm bored for an hour. Or a bit of lineart while I listen to a podcast. Or just a doodle somewhere which I snap a pic of and add to my discord channel for that project.

Will it work for everyone? Probably not. But I think that our creative culture is sometimes too attached to a linear production style. The truth is that art, or illustrations, or animation, or comics - none of it has to be on an assembly line. It can be tinkered with and put aside. And then, maybe, picked apart for scraps.........or maybe made into something new!

I don't know if that helps you at all, but I hope it at least helps someone.

And good luck with your animating!

[yamujiburo]

Some of this might sound intentionally hostile in text and I apologize.

I'm saying this as an abuse survivor mind you - don't throw "abusive ships" under the bus so easily - at least, so long as they're not actually glamorizing the abuse. I lived that irl and I personally find someone overcoming it, slowly having enough of that bullshit and getting out over time, and the other person having to wipe their own butt for once after they've made the damn mess, very refreshing. Maybe that's not a ship in the traditional sense. It's no happily ever after bc it shouldn't be, but I find stories like mine shyed away from so often because even the portrayal gets considered a "canon ship". ... that's just how media works now, I guess? I very rarely See a fictional relationship not called a ship in literally any context now so that's the definition I'm running on.

I wish more people were willing to portray the hardships of finding acceptance outside of "whoever you can find will accept you" very much, and finding the better things after. I wish people weren't terrified out of portrayimg situations like mine.

Jessie.. is not a good person in canon. You expect me to believe she moved into to hanamusa seamlessly, without falling on her ass? I never see you talk about Jessie's abusive tendencies in canon. You never talk about the inherent meanness she needed to get over to get there. She's quite aml lot like my ex in canon, actually.

What do you mean you're going to just remove from the character that she is abusive to those around her. Jessie hits people. She takes her own junk out on others all the time. Do you even like the character then, are you actually invested in her growing, or are you just making an OC at this point?

Idk. Do you, boo. But you are posting about a character who, whether you like it or not, is canonically abusive. I just don't buy that dating Ash's mom alone fixed her. That isn't... How that works. It would be excellent if it did. Part of my love of hanamusa is that it signals Jessie's change - but she could have changed for anyone before now.

What makes Delia different? How is she specifically a turning point for Jessie? Because Jessie's flaws go well beyond just bossing people around.

I would love if my abuser had the same outcome as your Jessie. I adore your portayals of hanamusa, where she's still flawed but still strives to do better. That's all I ever wanted from my ex.

What the fuck got her there tho.

Anyways I've been watching a lot of Bojack Horseman lately -

I agree with you! I don't think abusive relationships (or any tough subject matter in general) should be shied away from in media. It can be powerful when executed well and written by folks who are equipped to tell those kinds of stories. I do think it's sad when people treat it as off limits. But the ask I got was definitely more about which ships I have where I actually like the relationship between the characters. I think the semantics of the word "ship" are kind of vague or rather, over time, got so specific to only mean "absolutely love together and want them as endgame" (for most people anyways). So that's usually what I take the word to mean when people ask me about it.

I can 100% appreciate how an abusive relationship is written and handled, but that doesn't mean I'm gonna ship an abuser with their victim (that falls into the glorifying you're talking about). Love Bojack Horseman! Big fan! I think the way they handled Bojack and Sarah Lynn was beautifully and tragically well written. But does that mean I ship Bojack and Sarah Lynn? Absolutely fucking not.

I've talked about Jessie's character plenty on this blog and the way she's handled in earlier seasons specifically. This is kind of a summary: If we look at it on surface level, yes we can say she was abusive. But I think it's important to acknowledge and take into account the medium, time period and culture. Slapstick and cartoon violence was HUGE in anime and animation in the 90s (and prior to that too). Characters were always cartoonishly slapping each other around with giant mallets, folding fans, etc. Looney Tunes style. These slapstick bits were always distinct from real abuse and hurt (for Pokémon, Jessiebelle comes to mind). Mean slapstick wasn't a character trait exclusive to Jessie either. We saw it in Misty, James, Meowth, characters of the day and pretty much any character who got mad. It was a visual shortcut to show anger.

This type of slapstick has since (thankfully) died out and it hasn't really been a part of the Pokémon franchise since the early 2000s. However, Jessie was a notably special case. One of my favorite fun facts about the Pokémon anime is that there was a point in the series where Megumi Hayashibara (Jessie/Musashi's seiyuu) told the writers that moving forward, she no longer wanted Jessie to be violent or to be shown hitting James or Meowth (source: her memoir "The Characters Taught Me Everything"). She thought it directly went against the vision Takeshi Shudo had for Jessie, James and Meowth, when he created them, which was that they are good natured villains. If you watch from DP and on, Jessie never lays a hand on either of them. I think it was a such a good move on Pokémon's part to change her character like that and I'm forever grateful that Hayashibara said something! Whenever I write Jessie now, I always keep that in mind. She's mean, shouty and stupid but would never genuinely hurt those she cares about.

From then, her character becomes much more bearable. She's still bossy, mean and vain (typical cartoon villainess attributes) but I'd hesitate to say abusive. She'll still yell at James and Meowth, they all yell at each other, but in more of a sibling way (imo) rather than a "i'm actively trying to hurt your feelings way". The show makes a point especially in later seasons to show that Jessie, James and Meowth are not beyond being redeemed. From conception the whole POINT of the Team Rocket trio was that they are redeemable but their persistence and obsession keeps getting in the way of them seeing that there's a better life for them out there.

I won't deny that Jessie was unsavory in earlier seasons, but when I write her, I choose to write the version that Takeshi Shudo and Megumi Hayashibara had envisioned from the get go. She's still incredibly flawed and makes plenty missteps but wants to be better as you stated! My favorite part about Jessie is that she's a piece of shit LOL and I enjoy writing the changes she goes through to be better (but then still showing her default so some of her evil tendencies). In this AU, Delia doesn't fix Jessie. Jessie fixes Jessie because she is with someone makes her want to be a better person. She's already in the middle of turning over a new leaf before even meeting Delia, after leaving Team Rocket. Writing Jessie as legitimately abusive I think could work, but that's not my story to tell and if someone who were more equipped to tell that story did, I'd be very interested to take a listen!

I hope this doesn't come off as trying to deny or invalidate your experience. If you see that in Jessie, I hear you! This is just how I've interpreted her character over the years, having watched every episode of Pokémon and reading Japanese interviews from the cast and crew. She's such a compelling character and I love how messy she is

[yesimwriting]

If you do, i hope you write for benefict.

Hes the superior brother

Love you 💋 (i feel bad in ending a request without saying some sort of goodbye, it feels rude)

anon i feel u, ending asks always feels so awkward lol

anyway!! happy bridgerton release weekend!!

there are no season 3 spoilers in this!

----

Once upon a time, this had been nothing more than a story your sister would whisper to you long after you were meant to be in bed. She'd tell you about everything: the members of the ton in their finest clothing, the beauty of the balls, the swell of the music, and the charm of the potential suitors.

Now that you've debuted, and the world of formal gowns and evening dances has become a part of your reality, you wonder if your sister meant to exaggerate. Maybe it had been part of some grand scheme to make you desire what she never did--a husband with a high enough rank to redeem your family name.

It wouldn't have mattered. Your sister didn't need to sell you the fantasy of finding a husband. After some poor investments injured your family's fortune and your formerly perfect sister married someone your parents considered beneath her, you decided that they had experienced as much heartache as they could bear.

The final straw was your mother passing in childbirth. The stress had aged your father, who constantly worried about what would become of you and his name when his time came. You made the decision to never add to his worries, not with your father constantly reminding you that you are your family's final hope.

And while you've made your peace with planning your future around preserving your family's name, you never expected for the process to be so overwhelming.

You thought it'd be easy to take a moment to indulge in the atmosphere. To listen to the soft swell of the music, to watch the crowds enjoy their dancing and conversation. The first suitor found you before you could fully process what you were seeing. The second came right after, and since then, the men have been multiplying.

Perhaps you'd be able to appreciate the practicality of their presence if they weren't so focused on winning your attention through their questions.

"I've always wanted to raise my children in the country, and you, Miss..." You manage to provide your full name before another young man cuts in. "How many children would you like?"

You blink. "Oh, um, children are a blessing, I suppose I'd--"

"Tell me, are you one of those women that allow novels to take up their time?"

"I like reading," you admit easily, "I don't know if I'd say it takes up my time, but I do--"

You're cut off yet again, "You seem oddly familiar. Remind me, is your family from the city?"

Never did you think you'd miss strangers asking you about your desires for your future children. You're not ashamed of your family, not by any means, but after your father's public financial issues and your sister's chosen match existing outside of society, your parents made the choice to leave this world for some time.

They presented the excuse of traveling, then they claimed that your grandmother was unwell and in need of constant familial care, and then the ton stopped asking. The world moved on, forgetting their scandal in favor of more relevant gossip. They might have never faced the potential uproar of returning if it hadn't been for your mother's friendship with Lady Danbury, who offered to make you her personal guest this debut season.

"Excuse me." The attention shifts away from you as the band of suitors fall silent. You blink, turning your head to look your savior in the eye. He's taller than you expected, with deep brown hair and soft eyes that briefly make you forget that you exist outside of your novels. "I was wondering if you'd join me for a dance?"

Your lips part, but there is no response. You blame it on the man waiting for an answer--he had not so much as asked for your name before inviting you to dance and that--and his--his smile and his eyes--they're distracting. Bright and familiar in a way that reminds you of the easiness of childhood.

"Unless, of course," he begins, "Your next dance has already been spoken for?"

The others had been too distracted by their desire to turn what they perceived as a stranger into something more digestible. They wanted to assess before allowing themselves to be seen dancing with you at the first ball of the season.

One of the other lords raises his chin slightly, a precursor to an intervention. The thought of having to let go of your ability to escape brings you back to. "No," you manage, "No, it has not." The answer feels more jumbled than it should be. You're meant to be a lady--a mature lady that does not turn bashful at the first sign of attention. "I'd be delighted to join you for a dance, Lord..."

His eyebrows briefly pull together as he responds, "Bridgerton. Benedict Bridgerton."

Bridgerton. It hits you with no warning. The summer afternoons spent--much to your mama's horror--running through the gardens, the conversations in the library, the birthdays, teas, and large family gatherings.

Benedict Bridgerton is standing in front of you, asking you to dance. If the version of you that used to hold onto the every word of her sister's stories could see you now, she'd faint of happiness. While you were always closest to Eloise, often joining her and Penelope as your parents spoke to the older Bridgertons in the foyer, the first boy you ever wanted to imagine in this situation was Benedict.

Your feelings for him might have been defined by the innocence of childhood, but they were also painfully obvious. Your only saving grace was the fact that Benedict never looked at you long enough to notice.

"Then...I'd be delighted to, Lord Bridgerton."

He offers you an arm. The other men are forced to give you the space needed for you to approach Benedict. Your movements feel hazy as you step forward. This reunion has been fun, and extremely satisfying for your childhood self, but you really should mention that you know him. He'll likely go back to viewing you as a child, which is okay. It's not like he'd marry you. After the way you disappeared on his family after the passing of his father, you'll be lucky if he doesn't hate you.

Benedict guides you forward, the music coming to an end as the pairs already on the floor begin to still. "Forgive me if the intrusion was unwelcome."

The comment surprises you as you step back. "Unwelcome?" His lips press together as he places a hand against your back. The uncertainty does not suit him. "You do not have to worry about misstepping." His eyebrows draw together, and you realize your misstep. Benedict does not remember you. A lady should not encourage any man, suitor or otherwise, to speak so freely.

"I mean--" You pause as a soft melody begins to play. "All I meant was that I value honesty. If you were to unintentionally say something that you viewed as too transparent, I'd sooner appreciate your candor than pass judgement." The words tumble out, too jumbled and heavy for a first dance. Instead of responding, he watches you. "A courtesy I've often relied on. Clearly."

Benedict shakes his head once, a smile you'd like to believe is as good humored as it seems tugging at his lips. "No, no--for the sake of transparency, I was just thinking that I didn't expect to enjoy our conversation as much as I am."

The response immediately burrows into your chest, forcing all of the air out of your lungs. In the moments it takes you to recover, you're surprised that you don't miss a step of your dance. "And what were you expecting?" The question feels too sharp and sudden. "For the sake of transparency."

You're not sure if the joke has run its course, but Benedict seems to ease at it. "I was expecting...an escape from the mamas attempting to find me for their daughters."

Benedict's admission is stiff, his eyes focusing on something just beyond your shoulder. You would have never imagined that the eligible men had their own version of feeling trapped by the confines of politeness and societal duty. Despite Benedict's lack of malice, the mental image makes something in your chest ache. The thought is oddly endearing. A hovering mama, inserting herself in her daughter's affairs, guiding her through finding a match.

"I did not mean to offend you--"

"No," you shake your head, forcing yourself to think about what you do have, "No, it's not you. In fact, I was just thinking that I was also in need of an escape."

Benedict steps forward, continuing to lead you through the dance. His expression softens at your response. "Then it appears we've helped each other."

The music swells to its climax. The song will end soon. "It appears we did."

You match another step, careful to remember the dances your sister made you go over before arriving at Lady Danbury's home. "Unless your mama was part of the pack hunting me down."

"Pack?" You repeat, forcing yourself to feel your amusement more than your grief. "I did not realize I was in the presence of a bachelor so eligible, he's quite literally hunted by a frenzy of mamas desperate for him to speak to their daughters."

Benedict laughs at that, the sound fighting to be more restrained than it actually is. Your awareness of your surroundings isn't enough to keep you from laughing with him. "That's not how I meant it."

"I know." A beat passes, and when the glowing feeling slowly but surely growing in your chest doesn't dissipate, you continue, "Actually, my mama's not here." It's as close to getting the words out as you can get. Not gone, not buried, just not here. "I am here as Lady Danbury's charge."

The music comes to an end. Some quality of his expression that you can't translate shifts. "Really?" You nod. Okay, Benedict now knows who you're staying with. It's time to confess who you are. Your lips part, but Benedict beats you to it. "I know who you're with, and I still don't know your name."

An undeniable question. You swallow, preparing to force out your own name.

"Benedict." At the sound of his name, he turns his head. A young woman you vaguely recognize from your debut approaches him. "I think I should need some air, brother." Oh--his sister. A Bridgerton who's closer to you in age--Francesca. You tense, waiting for some sense of recognition to pass over her. She barely glances at you, her body language stiff and uncomfortable.

Benedict seems to pick up on her worry. He allows her to take his arm. "Alright...I'll escort you." He looks over at you, expression apologetic, "I'm--"

"It's alright." You mean it. "Go, help your sister. You've already helped me more than I thought possible."

Benedict nods, offering you a parting glance as he escorts his sister away from the floor.

What were you thinking? Discussing an appreciation for honesty and transparency while actively keeping a secret from him? Perhaps Francesca's appearance was a sign that things are better off ended there.

Benedict's aversion of mamas implies that he is not ready to be married. He has no plans on courting you, and you may very well go the rest of the reason without speaking to him. The thought of getting to keep your secret, of not having to find out if Benedict holds the fact that after his father passed and your family moved, you didn't write to him or his family against you, is a blessing. It should make you happy, but instead, it only magnifies the hollowness of your chest.

----

i want to write a part 2 for this something BAD i love bridgerton

[arimiadev]

why does aniplex want mahoyo to fail

I love visual novels. being a long time fate/stay night fan and only having heard of mahoyo from hushed whispers about its cinematography, I was super invested when it was announced to be coming to the west and I could finally play an official version of it.

however, a lot of people interested in type-moon works had never heard of mahoyo, let alone it getting an official english translation. but how? aniplex is publishing the game and they're one of the largest anime distributors in the world.

with the console release of mahoyo being almost exactly a year ago and the steam release being just 10 days away, I want to look over some of aniplex USA's bizarre and nonexistent marketing for one of my favorite visual novels.

let's clear up a few things, first.

mahoyo is the shortened form of mahoutsukai no yoru (not to be confused with mahoutsukai no yome, i.e. the ancient magus bride), which has been localized as witch on the holy night. mahoyo was a linear non-eroge visual novel released by type-moon in 2012, being one of the first scripts kinoko nasu (co-founder of type-moon) wrote back in 1996 and adapted into a VN many, many years later.

in April of 2022, a console remaster (switch, playstation 4) was announced with HD assets and voice acting, to be published by aniplex. notably, this console release would contain an english translation and was later confirmed in June to be sold in the west via online retailers. this was huge news, as this meant mahoyo would be the first type-moon visual novel (not including gameplay-oriented titles like fate/extella or fate/grand order) to be officially released in the west, as despite numerous fan translations, their more recognizable visual novels tsukihime and fate/stay night still had not received a localization.

type-moon is the developer behind mahoyo and aniplex is the publisher, meaning that type-moon made the game and aniplex is in charge of distributing (and marketing) the game worldwide.

timeline:

April 11 2022: Mahoyo rerelease announced for consoles (Switch & PlayStation 4), including English translation

July 4 2022: Aniplex confirms Mahoyo will be available to the West, localized under the name Witch on the Holy Night

October 14 2022: 2nd trailer released, more voice actor info announced

November 3 2022: physical pre-orders launched, demo version available

November 18 2022: Aniplex attends Anime NYC with Mahoyo

December 7 2022: Mahoyo released digitally on Switch / PlayStation 4 (Dec 8th in Japan, Dec 7th in America)

December 12 2022: Mahoyo reaches 110k units sold worldwide

January 27 2023: Mahoyo physicals release

July 5 2023: Mahoyo reaches 150k units sold worldwide

September 10 2023: Mahoyo announced for Steam via a now unlisted Aniplex livestream

December 13 2023: Mahoyo will be released on Steam (Dec 14th in Japan, Dec 13th in America)

some of the dates might be a little fuzzy, especially the release dates, as some sources go by japanese time and some go by american timezones, so just be aware of that.

now, let's talk a bit about mahoyo itself.

mahoyo is a masterpiece. it's a niche game not meant for everyone. its cinematography is top notch among visual novels. its writing style can be off-putting to people who want faster-paced stories. it's one of my most beloved visual novels I've ever played, and I've been in this field for almost a decade and have played well over 100 VNs.

mahoyo is a completely linear visual novel—meaning it has no choices or gameplay—that follows aoko, a high schooler mage trying to balance her perfect school president facade with her secret life as a mage, something she has to keep secret at the risk of death. this is one of the lesser known type-moon works but it's well beloved because of the care put into it.

if you've ever heard someone talk about it, it's almost impossible for them to not mention the visuals. mahoyo is one of the most visually impressive visual novels I've ever seen, with its inspired use of artwork and in-game animations. I cannot recommend this VN enough if you like modern fantasy and don't mind linear VNs.

before we dive into aniplex USA's marketing, I want to clarify a few marketing terms for people who don't market visual novels as a job. marketing is not just advertising—it's everything related to how a product communicates with potential users, including its branding, its packaging, its everything. when marketing a game, you have several different avenues: social media, press & influencers, trailers, store pages, and more.

today I want to show you how, based off what I have researched after a long, manic day, aniplex USA has failed mahoyo on all of these accounts.

so let's go back to its western release.

mahoyo has a few official english channels:

website

twitter

facebook

aniplex also has an official english twitter with almost 500k followers where they shared mahoyo very rarely—only 9 tweets about the game ever.

well, surely their other pages are more maintained right—

both accounts stopped posting July 10th/11th, with their last post being about mahoyo going on sale on consoles. let's look at their posts prior to this, though, starting with the twitter.

we can see that the twitter account was made in december of 2022. if we scroll down far enough (it's not hard, given they only have 33 tweets), we can see that their first tweet was on december 6th 2022:

let's go back to our timeline. can you tell me when mahoyo's remaster released digitally?

yes they made both of the english mahoyo social media accounts the day before the game launched

we can very easily add up the entire social media posts for the game thus far:

mahoyo english twitter - 30 tweets and 3 retweets

mahoyo english facebook - 27 posts

aniplex english twitter - 9 tweets

aniplex english facebook - 2 posts

no other english social media accounts were tied to the website, so these are the only ones I looked at. this means in total, there were only 68 social media posts for the console release of mahoyo by the publisher for english audiences.

but what about the steam release? after the game sold over 150k+ units on consoles, surely aniplex was ready to market it a bit more for pc users—

neither account has made a post about the upcoming steam release.

if we look at the twitter, they have 3 tweets since July that do talk about the upcoming steam release- however, these are retweets from the japanese mahoyo account.

we know that this twitter and this facebook account are the official social media for mahoyo as they're linked on the website, so they're definitely meant to be followed for game updates in the west. well, maybe the english aniplex twitter has posted about it—

none of the english aniplex or mahoyo accounts have made a single post about the steam release

that's right, the social media posts I counted above are the only posts for mahoyo on their english accounts, all dating back before the steam release was announced. since then, they have not made a single original post even mentioning the steam release.

meanwhile, the japanese mahoyo twitter has been hustling hard to promote the upcoming steam release—reposting trailers, character bios, and more almost every day with pretty good numbers.

in fact, the japanese mahoyo twitter did such a good job at marketing it that the aniplex USA twitter never mentioned the english mahoyo twiter, instead only @ ing the japanese one in tweets (despite the english one being linked on the website).

why they even bothered making social media accounts and then not running them despite being one of the largest anime distributors in the world I have no clue.

well, maybe they didn't need to rely on social media presence. maybe they were going for the in-person approach and marketing it at conventions.

mahoyo had basically no anime convention presence

the only reference I can find to aniplex notably promoting mahoyo at any western convention is this tweet of them at anime NYC. from someone who was at anime NYC, I've been told that they pushed the game heavily at their booth with TV screens promoting the game.

however, anime NYC is only one anime convention. you cannot hope to sell a game by just attending one anime convention. mahoyo might have had a presence at other american conventions, but I'm unable to find any images or news about this.

maybe they don't understand type-moon

aniplex is the publisher for fate/grand order, one of the most successful mobile games ever created. they're also the distributor for a majority of type-moon related anime, ranging from fate to garden of sinners to side series. aniplex's marketing team should have lots of experience with type-moon properties.

maybe it was promoted in other aniplex titles

I was also unable to find a news post in fate/grand order related to mahoyo's release, despite news posts for other type-moon series (namely fate but also things like melty blood) getting news posts in fate/grand order. I might've missed the news posts when looking back through FGO but I don't believe there was one.

maybe it sold well in other regions but not western ones

(I'm going to be referring only to the console release for these stats, keep in mind)

mahoyo released December 7th/8th 2022 with an english, japanese, simplified chinese, and traditional chinese translations. at the end of the release week, mahoyo's japanese twitter announced the game had sold 110k copies worldwide and famitsu reported that 66,344 of these units were sold in japan. this means we have around 43k units unaccounted for.

we know the game was available in english, japanese, and chinese languages but we don't know what regions. mainland china has a very large visual novel playerbase (I say this as someone who sells visual novels), which means if it were sold there then it's easy to say that a big chunk of that 43k units could be attributed to them—this also means it would be easy to believe that aniplex saw mahoyo selling worse in western countries and took this as a sign to not promote the game any more there.

but was it ever sold in mainland china? from what I could tell—no.

looking at pricing charts for the nintendo eshop and the playstation store, china is not listed on either. furthermore, searching the game's chinese title on the chinese playstation store does not bring back any results. it looks like the only predominantly chinese-speaking regions that were able to buy it are hong kong, taiwan and possibly singapore (the playstation store page for it doesn't look like it's available for purchase anymore).

so what does this tell us?

without any other numbers it's hard to tell how many of the 43k launch week sales came from english-speaking players, but even if we conservatively say that only around 20k of the 110k launch week units were from western countries, that's still almost a million in revenue (and remember, the physical limited edition of the game was available in english for $60, which is $20 more than the digital base version).

maybe the store page is so good they don't need to market it

here's a little secret: store pages matter a lot more than you'd think. there are entire job positions dedicated to tailoring store pages (like a steam game page) to make it perfect for the game's target audience. there's a science to it that includes the artwork, descriptions, tags, screenshots, and more.

let's see what aniplex did for the steam page of mahoyo.

A tale told with vivid colors and rich sound in a classic TYPE-MOON visual novel.

I don't know how to describe this short description charitably other than to say it sounds like a person who's never heard of a visual novel has been tasked with describing a visual novel.

this tells me nothing about the game other than it's a visual novel. I hope you know what type-moon is, because if you don't then you've learned nothing else from this. alright, well, let's look at the screenshots—

there's only 1.

currently as of writing this, there's 10 images uploaded as screenshots (no trailers, they keep adding and removing the trailers for some reason). 9 of these images are just the full artworks from the game while 1 is an actual screenshot.

I really hate this, as you're not actually shown what the game looks like unless you look at the very last screenshot. this will absolutely lead to some people not understanding what they're getting into. what's worse is that some of these CGs are spoilers, especially one in particular featuring my wife touko.

why are we spoiling people instead of showing them screenshots? why not show people what mahoyo actually looks like??

there's also absolutely no use of the announcements section on steam. each game on steam can post announcements related to the game, including upcoming releases, new updates, and more. it's customary to post a steam announcement when a game has a release date announcement. mahoyo's steam page has none.

well they probably released the trailers in english for hype

I wish I had that much hope.

on mahoyo's english website, all of the videos listed are from the official type-moon youtube, which is their japanese channel. type-moon went through the effort to translate these videos. aniplex didn't upload these to their own youtube, where they already upload everything related to the fateverse and nasuverse.

searching up witch on the holy night brings up no results for the trailer—aniplex never uploaded the trailer to their channel.

maybe they got influencers to play it

according to steamdb, the max amount of viewers mahoyo streams have had on twitch was 71 viewers.

furthermore, if we check twitch and look for vods attached to mahoyo, we only find 4 videos total, all of which were posted in the past week. it looks like they didn't even reach out to streamers to play the console release, much less pay them.

over on the press side, it does look like they reached out to at least a few reviewers. for example, on the review by noisy pixel, they clarify that a review copy was provided by the publisher for review purposes. we can add that to the bare minimum of marketing—reaching out to press.

however, they did get for some other influencers to share the game! ...twitter game sale influencers, that is.

there's actually a lot more of these types of tweets for mahoyo than I was expecting when I searched it on twitter. as a friend pointed out, just because it says "#ad" doesn't necessarily mean these were paid for by aniplex—a lot of these links look to be referrals, which means they're getting a cut of any purchases.

let's recap

mahoyo released over 110k copies in the launch week for it's worldwide console release despite very, very limited marketing efforts from its publisher aniplex. now that the game has proven it can sell very well despite being a lesser known linear visual novel, aniplex has done no marketing for the steam release- no tweets, no influencer outreach, no localization of trailers, no announcements via steam, nothing.

so why?

why does aniplex want mahoyo to fail?

even after all of this, I still do not know why. to me, it's clear that the marketing team at aniplex were (most likely) given no budget for this game and just couldn't do anything with it, deciding to spend what little money they had on press outreach and an anime NYC booth.

but why? why didn't aniplex give them a budget, even a small one? why was their budget so tiny they couldn't even afford to tweet? to RT more posts from the japanese twitter? to share the already translated trailers to their own accounts?

I've heard a few excuses like "type-moon hates western fans and probably caused it" but this doesn't make any sense either. why would you authorize a translation of your game and allow your publisher to sell the game overseas but specifically make them not market the game (and what publisher would agree to that)? I've even heard excuses like "they just forgot it was coming out", to which I ask "how does an entire marketing team (a company the size of aniplex absolutely has a team(s) for marketing and not a singular person) forget a release for a game that's already sold over 150k copies?". the only excuse I've seen that I somewhat buy is that they did not have much faith in the game and relied almost entirely on fans doing word of mouth marketing for the game.

I don't think we'll ever get an answer. while I do believe the marketing team at aniplex was most likely given no budget for mahoyo, it still begs the question of why. why did someone at aniplex not want to give mahoyo a marketing budget? why are the japanese accounts for mahoyo and type-moon the only ones doing the marketing?

I hope the information I've provided here is accurate—if it's not, I'll try to update with corrections. I don't want this piece to cast hate towards the staff at aniplex or anyone involved with this projects, I'm just trying to assemble the pieces on what feels like a game being left to word of mouth. I've tried to include as many links to my sources as I could so you could come to your own judgements about what has happened regarding mahoyo's worldwide release.

mahoyo is a visual novel that's dear to me and will absolutely sell well on steam—with an estimated 50-80k wishlists, it's going to have a solid launch despite the zero marketing for its steam release. if you love other type-moon works or want to see an absolutely visually stunning visual novel, please check it out.

— arimia

[thisapplepielife]

Happy 1st Anniversary, Tuesday's Gone With the Wind.

Twenty-nine years ago in fictional history, Corroded Coffin's plane crashed into the woods of Louisiana.

Thanks and so much love to anyone and everyone that has given this fic a read over the past year. Thanks for braving beyond that opening author's note. Thanks for the love you've given it. Thanks for making me feel seen. You made me feel like this thing that I spent months solely focused on, deep in research, was worth the time invested. You made me feel that it was a story worth telling.

It's my favorite thing I've ever written, and the one that still occupies my thoughts on the regular.

One year ago today, I finished posting it. It's not my most popular fic, not by a long shot. But I don't think it needs to be. It might not be for everyone, and that's okay.

It was for me.

And if it was for you, too, please know how much I appreciate you for reading it, recommending it, or championing it in any way. The audience it found may not have been huge, but the response from those that did read it, was so beyond overwhelmingly supportive and positive.

I said in the beginning that this was a love story. I'll double down on that now, with a year of distance and the continuation of their story in Wildflowers, under my belt.

It's many love stories.

And I miss these versions of them, and the love they all shared.

I miss Eddie Munson, with his big heart that fell fast and hard and forever. I miss Sweetheart and Dragon Slayer. I miss the Eddie that loved wholeheartedly, and despite all the problems he had, that never changed. Steve Harrington arriving in his life was the best thing that ever happened to him, and he knew that, from the start. He was all in.

I miss the young and flawed Gareth Jones, and his love for Di that he sometimes squandered like a goddamn fool. I miss his ride or die friendship with Eddie, that feels as real in my heart, as anything I've ever seen on screen. Gareth has changed how I listen to music, fundamentally. The drums snap to the forefront, now. And sometimes, I'll smile and think, damn, Gareth Jones would play this like a motherfucker.

I miss Jeff and Goodie, and their lifelong friendship, from the cradle to the grave. Jeff, for his even keel and ability to be part of the solution, instead of part of the problem, and Goodie for being exact opposite. The dry-witted, fanner of flames, that often made things (and let's be real, Gareth) a little bit worse, just because he could, for fun.

I miss Road Manager Steve Harrington, with his red milk crate and his unwavering competence and love. If love could have kept that plane in the air, Steve's love for them all would have been enough to do it, without a doubt.

If you haven't read it, and might want to, amazing, thank you. You don't have to read it unspoiled, and I'll even answer spoilery questions by DM if you want me to, but I'll always stand by the option to read it unspoiled existing, for those that do want to just dive in, and see where it lands. Or crashes, as it were.

I can only hope that you get, or have gotten, something out of reading it, because I absolutely got something out of writing it.

They changed me.

Thanks, boys.

Oo-de-lally, oo-de-lally, golly what a day.

[akuma-tenshi]

finished closing night!! boy do i have some thoughts. and now that i've gathered them, i'm about to make my autism your problem. spoilers below.

the first part of the event wasn't awful imo, it felt like character building and just helping establish the dynamic. i know some people weren't fond of it but given that i was never really that invested in hullabaloo before this and didn't know every little detail of these characters, it was nice to get some character establishment and figure out how they all are as people. i am also a fan of slowburn character-focused horror, so that may just be a personal taste thing lmao

bryce papenbrook does a good job as mike, even though there are definitely points where he sounds exactly like nagito (namely the scene where he's shouting at margaretha in the foyer). he has a very particular way of speaking / voicing characters that make it immediately clear it's him. however, i do think he fits mike well and he definitely lays off the nagito-ness in the second part.

the rest of the cast was excellent as well. while there was a Choice made with murro's voice (he sounds WAY younger than he's supposed to be, which is off-putting and takes me out every time he speaks), it's very clear everyone knows their characters well and they all do a good job keeping their mannerisms and vocalisations unique and fitting to each role. aside from some awkward lines (which i attribute more to stilted writing than to the va's themselves), the voice acting is absolutely a highlight.

margaretha's trauma with sergi is portrayed very well imo. bear in mind i have not suffered the same abuse as her, so i can't say how accurate or good it is, but it feels like it displays that it was a terrible thing while also being respectful and avoiding being exploitative. the added layer that everyone else (except joker) liked sergi and was unaware of the abuse adds a lot.

in general, i think mike and margaretha are incredibly well-written here. i think ne could've absolutely gone the route of popular fan interpretations and completely demonised margaretha while making mike a perfect angel, and they would've gotten a lot of praise for it. but they stuck to their guns and made them both very flawed yet understandable people, and that just makes everything feel that much more real, at least to me. they're such different people with opposing goals, and their friction really comes through. everyone else is very well done (shoutout to me a couple of hours ago calling joker cute for some godforsaken reason i can't remember) and i love all of their characterisations, but mike and margie really are the standouts here.

i do wish there was a bigger payoff for margaretha using euphoria so frequently. i know it's implied to have been involved in violetta's death, and i appreciate the connection to game 5, but i wish there was a little bit more there. it's not a huge gripe though, so i won't harp on it for long.

the pacing at the start of the second part had me extremely worried; things felt like they were dragging along and being padded out for the sake of being padded out, and i was not having fun with it. fortunately, this issue was remedied about halfway through, and once things got going, i started really enjoying myself. the pacing of the first half of part two is my biggest gripe with this story.

i was noticing a lot of similarities between hullabaloo and fool's gold: hunter forms of popular survivors being announced and used as a major part of marketing for an update to the idv story. with the aforementioned pacing issues, i was really worried that hullabaloo's reveal would shape up to be similar to fg's: a kinda cool cutscene and a lame chase sequence at the very end of a long, boring storyline. however, despite hullabaloo having a much smaller part in this story than fg did in aom, appearing only briefly in the fire at the very end, i still think it's a better incorporation of the character than what they did with norton. better to have it be quick and intimidating than just kinda tedious.

every death in this (aside from joker's) felt very purposeful and well-done. violetta's death was heartbreaking. the change in animation towards the end, followed by the single sound of her machinery giving out after the screen went black, was beautiful, and hey, at least she died happy. margaretha's death pulled at a very specific and very major love i have in storytelling, that being a character choosing to die free rather than live in captivity, and the payoff of all the underwater scenes where she swims towards sergi finally coming through when she chooses to sink away from him had me losing my mind. i genuinely did not expect mike's death to be a straight-up suicide; like i said, i'm not completely caught up on hullabaloo lore, so maybe other people saw this coming, but the fact that he truly could not live with the truth about hullabaloo is such a heartwrenching yet satisfying end to his character. like i said, joker's is the only death that doesn't totally stand out, but i like that they let you put the pieces together yourself.

the chase sequence with joker was unintimidating and a little lame, and honestly it felt somewhat forced, just a way to get his hunter form in there bc they realised "oh shit right this guy's like. a hunter isn't he." i do like that they gave him back his chainsaw though; very nice little callback to the betas.

the animation of the hullabaloo fire was absolutely gorgeous and the ending had me in shambles. for a while afterwards i felt similar to how i felt after finishing end roll: drained and flat but in a good way, like a ton of adrenaline had just released from my body after some intense event.

all in all, i really enjoyed it. i can't say if i like it more than aom, but that may be the frederick bias coming through, so i'm going to choose not to rank them and just say hey. banger event. well worth the hype even with its hiccups and flaws. i always say this, but idv has some genuinely talented people in its writers' room, and i can't wait to see what they come out with next.

[afurtivecake]

One thing I've been wondering is how much did Riko really see Kevin as a brother and how much did he see him as a possession? (And is there really a distinction between the two in Riko's eyes?) Because, I don't think Kevin was ever meant to be Riko's brother or Riko's equal on the court. I think Tetsuji took Kevin in as an investment, nothing more:

"Tetsuji never formally adopted Kevin. Do you know why? Moriyamas don't believe in outsiders or equals. Tetsuji took Kevin in and took over his training, but he also gave Kevin to Riko—literally. Kevin isn't human to them. He's a project. He's a pet, and it's Riko's name on his leash. Sakavic, Nora. The Foxhole Court (All for the Game Book 1) (p. 88).

To the outside world, Tetsuji taking custody over both Riko and Kevin would have looked like him adopting them and making them brothers, but "Moriyamas don't believe in outsiders or equals" so what reason would he have had to lead Riko to believe that Kevin would be his brother? A brother implies a level of equality. He probably thought this will be a learning experience for Riko: give him something to be responsible for, something that he has to learn to control because he's a Moriyama and it's about time he learned how dominate lesser beings. He probably imagined Kevin to be something like Jean was: an obedient servant who can take being beaten within and inch of his life semi-regularly, no sense of autonomy, blindly submissive, and still able to be one of the top players in his position. A valuable right-hand man perhaps, but nothing worth kicking up a fuss over.

I think (and this might just be me wanting a good story) that the whole "brothers" thing came from Riko. A neglected kid with nothing and no one to call him 'family' receives a boy, who doesn't have anyone to call him family either, and is told, "This is yours now. This is yours to mind. Do whatever you want with him but make sure he knows his place and knows how to obey the right people." To a kid who's longing for something to call his own and someone to recognize him as family, that could easily have sounded like, "This is yours now, your person, to be by your side always. Yours to tend, yours to keep, yours." I think Tetsuji said "possession" and Riko heard, "brother". And if that's not what a brother actually is, well, who's going to tell him that? It's not as if there's a single example of a normal family relationship to be found among the Ravens.

I think Riko made Kevin his brother because he wanted something more than a possession. He wanted an ally, someone who always has his back and would never leave him. Riko making Kevin his brother instead of just a pet as was intended, gave Kevin a degree a freedom that Tetsuji probably wouldn't have allowed otherwise: travelling outside of the country with Riko, not always being stuck inside Evermore, studying what he wanted...he even got to have interests and to enjoy exy even when he wasn't playing (being a Trojans fan) and he managed to have friends outside of Evermore (Jeremy). Ravens don't have family or an identity outside of being a Raven, but Riko made Kevin his brother and gave him the chance to become his own person.

If Riko considers Kevin a brother, how can he turn around and hurt Kevin like he's nothing more than a possession, you ask? Well, I'm not sure he sees any conflict between the two. To Riko, beating Kevin up isn't outside of what Riko understands as "family" and doting on Kevin as a brother doesn't go against what Riko sees as ownership. To Tetsuji, ownership might only include being able to treat a person like shit without consequence. But for Riko, allowing Kevin freedom and indulging his "whims" probably feels as much like ownership as hurting Kevin without recourse does.

It seems impossible and stupid for their relationship to be anything other than toxic and deeply fucked up, but I think Riko selfishly believed that so long as he kept things in check, so long as Kevin stayed exactly where he was, he'd get to keep him. Even when Riko starts suspecting that other people are starting to see that Kevin might be better than him, even when being brothers is no longer useful to him if he wants to prove that he's really a Moriyama, Riko can't let go of their brotherhood. He doesn't give Kevin up until the very end. He can't. No matter how angry he gets at Kevin, no matter how much he comes to enjoy seeing Kevin hurt and sorry, there are lines he can't quite bring himself to cross. Because Kevin is still his brother. Because for better or for worse, he made Kevin mean something more to him than a possession when he made him his brother.

I don't think Tetsuji expected Riko to cling on to Kevin as though Kevin was actually important. He didn't think that by partnering the two, by giving them a common goal and a common enemy, that it would create a bond between them. But they did and maybe, in some ways, their dysfunctional relationship both saved them and doomed them.

[cjlouwho]

I 100% agree with you that that was lazy writing. What was the point of deliberately picking someone the audience (and the 118) were familiar with to be Buck's LI when they could have picked some random. What was the point in delving into Tommy's history and his feelings, what was the point of showing him head over heels for Buck in the last ep, of getting a gift for their 6 month anniversary only to say "oh well, I figured we wouldn't last, so I'm gonna get out now before you break my heart". Why let him get that involved if Tommy's ideology was to never allow himself to move forward in the relationship because ultimately he thought it wouldn't last? It's whiplash for the audience after you saw how INVESTED Tommy was in the last ep! And how exactly is this Buck getting off the hamster wheel? This relationship has ended pretty much exactly like all his others - he gets invested, they leave! They had so much potential as a couple - seeing what it's like for two fire-fighters to date knowing they're both in risky jobs, maybe Buck having to meet/deal with Tommy's homophobic father, getting to explore a "new" character's back story instead of rehashing the same story lines from the mains as well as seeing more of how Buck deals with being in a same sex relationship. All wasted.

And since they referenced Glee, if the plan is for it to echo the Kurt/Blaine relationship in that show where they broke up so they could "explore" before getting back together, by doing so they ruined that relationship so much that by the end it wasn't satisfying that they WERE endgame - they weren't the couple we fell in love with. (And also, way to reinforce the negative stereotype of "you can't ever be long term with your first". I should let my sister, my cousin and my aunt know even though they've all been married for years to their husbands - all their first.) Even if they do decide to bring Tommy back down the line, would it even be the same relationship we fell in love with? Would we even trust the writers to stick with it and treat it well? Or if they did a final episode reunion so Buck doesn't end the series alone, how is that satisfying for the audience?

I have been watching 911 since it started, and I have always been part of the general audience up until S7 where I joined the fandom because I thought Buck/Tommy were adorable. It's the first time in years I've become invested in a couple on a show. It's the first time in years that I've dipped my toes back into a fandom. Like you, this ship inspired me to write fic again. I have a bunch of wip's waiting to be posted on ao3 and I honestly don't know if I'll finish them now. And if they have broken them up for Buddie to get together I think I'll stop watching. And not just because I never saw them as a romantic couple (I only ever saw a deep friendship) but because logistically I don't see it working. Besides the fact that I think that while they work as friends, they probably wouldn't gel as a couple, two people on the same team in a relationship? That will screw up the 118 dynamic, especially as this show looooves relationship drama. If they get in a fight, or worse, break up, then what? How would that work within the 118, unless someone transfers out, but then it's bye bye the 118 we love. And not to mention, in the only 4 months I have been in this fandom I have seen some VILE crap from the buddies, and from what I understand it they've been like that for years. And the show runners know about it, so if they go with Buddie, congratulations, you've rewarded toxic behaviour and given them a license to be worse (look at them already, going in the bucktommy tags and gloating).

I told myself after Glee ended and they royally screwed everything up that I wouldn't watch another Ryan Murphy show because he has a history of doing that sort of thing. When 911 came along I was cautious, but it looked like it would be different - more grown up if you will, especially since Ryan Murphy hasn't really been involved since season 1. I should have just gone with my gut. I just hope that, knowing these last two eps were filmed weeks before they aired, the showrunners see how popular they were and realise crap, we've made a BIG mistake. (Everyone should flood instagram and especially Facebook, whoch is more GA than most social media platforms, with RESPECTFUL comments about how devastated they are, and who knows, it might make them consider bringing Tommy back sometime in 8b - I believe they're still writing the back half of the season.)

Side note, I feel really sorry for Lou. Yeah he's going back to SWAT, and I love him in that (even though his character can be a dick sometimes) but he's said in interviews how he's tired of always being cast as "the muscle" due to his size and he seemed genuinely happy to get this role, which was exactly what he was looking for - the sweet, caring, romantic love interest role where he could show some depth, and they screwed him over (sounds like he even thought Buck and Tommy were doing well and wasn't expecting the break up until the end).

(Apologies for the long rant. But what you've been saying really resonated with me and I needed to share your sentiments.)

.

[quirkwizard]

My Hero Academia is officially over. Ten years, four hundred and thirty chapters, forty two manga volumes. After all of that, it's done.

I find myself... empty might be the word. Not sad, angry, disappointed, elated, or anything else the rest of the fanbase seems to be going through. More in that I find myself lacking any real feelings about it. Which is odd. Maybe because I don't get as emotionally invested in media as other people. Maybe because I've had time to prepare myself and come to terms with it being over. Maybe I'm still processing what happened, and it will just hit me all at once someday. 

Because I feel like I should have more to say now that everything is said and done. I think the real reason why is because My Hero Academia isn't truly over. I'm not talking about any of the sequels or spin-offs that may come after this, but I'm sure they are going to happen. My Hero Academia made a massive mark. It captured and inspired so many people in so many ways. It's impact is going to be felt for a long time, whether it be in any published material or fan-made works. 

And for that, I have to thank Horikoshi. The life of a mangaka is never an easy one. It's long, hard, and undervalued for how much work they put in. He sacrificed a lot of time and effort. The man pushed through his terrible health and plenty of other setbacks to try and get the manga out. And regardless of what you think of the final product, I still find myself respecting and commending him for being willing to put himself through all that for his art. Because without him, we'd never have this series.

I have him to thank for this blog as well. If I hadn't found this series, I would have never made this blog. I would have never gotten to make all of these fun powers. I've never gotten to get deeper into analyzing media and have a creative outlet for myself. And most importantly, I wouldn't have gotten the chance to make something that so many people have enjoyed. To me, that's one of, if not the best, achievements with this whole blog: that what I've done has made anyone happy by reading it. 

I guess the real question is, what's going to become of this blog now? I mean, that story is over, isn't it? I'm sure that all of you are going to move on to whatever you want to do next, aren't you? Shouldn't I be doing the same? After all, I've been running this blog for over six years now. Whatever the case may be, know that I will give my thoughts on the epilogue like I said I would. I want to give myself some time to think about it and put my thoughts together. So be on the lookout for that.

So until then, Plus Ultra!

[amerricanartwork]

Hi! I just wondered if you've played Hollow Knight based off how much you like Rain World. I'd be interested in any thoughts you had on it. :)

Thanks for the ask! No, I have not yet played Hollow Knight, BUT my interest in the game has been piqued! However I still have to see if the gameplay itself seems up my alley, or get invested enough in the characters that I want to discover more than I've already found out (and I have spoiled quite a lot for myself) before I actually decide to buy the game.

Regardless, from what I do know it does seem like an interesting story, albeit one far more tragic than Rain World's in my opinion. The characters I've seen are also pretty cool, both in design and personality. In fact, it was some ship fanart I found a few weeks ago that got me interested in diving deeper into the game once I realized it was where the featured characters were from, especially since one of the characters I had remembered hearing about before.

Here's a little sketch of some characters I was thinking about and whom I've been meaning to draw for a bit! Hornet because she's very Shaped™, Quirrel because from what I've seen he's quite wholesome, and Tiso because he was the first character I heard about and I think he's kinda silly!

Also, some more comparing/contrasting thoughts about the game below:

Firstly, I like how the premise of Kollow Knight involves anthropomorphic insects! It's something I never realized until recently despite being aware of HK for at least a few years, but I usually tend to take interest in stories starring non-humanoid creatures, so it's a plus! I also enjoy the more gothic/Victorian-looking magical high fantasy aesthetic, though it's pretty different from Rain World, which I'd consider far more sci-fi and specbio-esque in its aesthetic.

Now to get into themes, so far Hollow Knight seems to share Rain World's theme of lost/dead civilizations, which is also a very interesting premise to me! However, HK seems to have a greater focus on interacting with the people of its dying civilization and as such you get far more definitive knowledge about what happened to cause it to collapse. The player character seems to take on more of a classic epic hero role, because from what I've heard about the lore and endings, they end up directly influencing the fate of Hallownest, even potentially destroying or defeating the force that caused its ruin. The visuals have this very dark, cool tint overall to sell that gloomy, mournful vibe, and the structures, while presumably old, are still mostly smooth, ornate, and not super deteriorated, with these castle or manor-like appearances more similar to real-life buildings or things in other high fantasy works. Then, the orchestral music I've heard alongside all of these elements really creates this impression in me that it's aesthetic and overall concept is more akin to a high fantasy epic tale, albeit a rather tragic one.

Meanwhile, Rain World seem to have the player take more of an anthropologist role, observing and trying to piece together the story of vast remnants of its dead civilization, which seem alien and impossibly complex because so much of the history they're from has been lost to time. One of the core themes is being very small compared to these long abandoned structures, to really sell the idea that this history is so much older and more intricate than you'll ever know. The colors of Rain World are often warmer, which can be associated with old things, and the structures are far more weathered and broken down, with the only living survivors of the people who made them being the iterators, whom we only get to hear directly from two of. Combined with the focus on simulating an ecosystem, the more directly religious ideas within, the themes of natural cycles and an entire civilization evolving, changing, and ultimately disappearing over deep time, and the overall alien, sci-fi industrial designs of the architexture and strange creature designs that look like things out of "Of Rust and Humus" or some other alien speculative biology worldbuilding project make RW fit well in with that genre of fiction in my opinion.

Sorry if I seem like I kinda took a sudden shift there, but I wanted to talk about this contrast in artistic aesthetics and story genres for a moment because the "lasting impression" an art piece creates something I've recently concluded is pretty important overall in works of art, at least for mine!

But anyway, I hope these thoughts were satisfying for now! Thanks again for the ask!

[alornights]

⟢ gossip session.

➜ in which ! kyle finds himself interested in your gossip.

💌 ﹫kyle broflovski.

✩ 🎸 warnings﹗gossip about teacher/student affair.

🍓 ⟡ notes — i love gossiping lmao. i also realized ive been spelling his last name wrong for like ages until now lmao.

he loves it, no matter how hard he tries denying it, he love it.

at first, he didn't care for it, actually, he found it annoying. he never liked people talking about others behind their backs.

especially if they are personal matters.

so when you two are just in his room casually hanging out and your face-timing your friend talking about the latest school gossip he made sure to tune it out opting to listen to music.

until he one day overheard you gossiping because he forgot his headphones. then he starts paying attention and listening more carefully getting very interested in the story.

he can't help himself now from listening to your rambles.

"No, you don't understand Heather. PC Principal has no fucking clue about this which is surprising since he knows everything that goes on in this school. But like, how does he not know that a teacher is banging the head cheerleader of the school but fucking Butters of all people knows?"

"Yeah no, I have no idea how long it's been going on."

"I heard she might even be pregnant with the teacher's kid. Yeah, uh huh, no way- HE HAS 3 SEPARATE FAMILIES?"

kyle tries so hard not to ask because he knows it's not the right thing to do but in the end, he can't help himself.

he starts listening every chance he gets. trying to put pieces together if he hadn't heard the other parts of the story.

it gets so bad that he starts listening

hell, he even listens to some of cartman's gossip.

finally he admits he is gossip addict and decides to talk to you.

As you walked back into his room after having a quick call with one of your friends about the recent gossip that just surfaced.

Kyle sighed mentally bracing himself for what he was about to say.

"What happened next? With the teacher-student thing I mean..."

You stare at him incredibly, tilting your head in confusion. "Huh? I thought you hated gossip since you know it's people not minding their own business or whatever."

The teen grumbled a bit before turning away. "Maybe I've had a change of heart."

and when he means "change of heart"

he actually means he's so invested that its like an addiction.

the guy becomes a crazed gossip girl kicking his feet giggling.

Words couldn't describe the look of happiness on your face as you raced over to his bed slamming your body on top of him in giddiness. "Okay listen closely. So right now, 2 of the 3 families have found out about this situation and are all divorcing him."

"Actually?" He questioned sitting up, shifting you in his arms so you were both comfortable. "How the hell did he find out? Didn't you say that they all lived far away or something?"

You nodded. "They do but someone from our school who shall be unnamed, leaked it to them with photos of the teacher and student, well, getting the groove on after school in his class."

"No. Fucking. Way."

"Yes, way!" You clapped your hands with a smirk. "That's all for now since this just happened like 2 hours ago."

A beat of silence passes by until he looks back at you staring you dead in the eye. "You'll keep me updated... right?"

You laugh nodding your head excitedly. "You'll be the first to know."

[lesbiansforboromir]

Been scouring your blog to see if you have a specific take and i only managed to find the post where you said you are more for people coming up with their own meaning for Tolkiens work. anyhow, after reading you boromir post on how hope is his poison I am super curious as to what meaning you personally ascribe to it all. A lot of scholars will tout hope over despair as the ultimate meaning here (and the ultimate meaning of real life...ugh) and considering your very gut wrenching but meaningful takes on boromir i was just curious. Your thought process is fascinating from a scholarly viewpoint (which is not my strong suit) but also an artistic, emotional, philosophical, and human viewpoint. Whew sorry this ask is so long and disorganized! Have i mentioned I am not a scholar? :D

First off I love this ask it made me so happy to read I had to do so like five times before I felt qualified to answer it and then I spent like months writing this response which is over 4000 words now if you want to know. And, on that note, dw about scholarliness or whatever this ask has more desire to engage with lotr in nuanced ways than most tolkien scholars achie- (gets hit by a piano) anyway~!

It's also just extremely flattering that you're curious of my personal opinion at all so thank you so very much!

(this is the post anon is talking about for context)

As with all things, my answer has many layers. At the most basic and applicable level, and when taking only my Gondorian/Stewardship investment into account, I am engaging with the story for personal catharsis.

The fact that Gondor felt hopeless, that the enemy was merciless and invincible, that even those figures who were supposed to help had only judgement and platitudes to offer until it personally benefitted them, that Boromir and Denethor were isolated and generally condemned and that many only showed them pity after their deaths, feels extremely cathartically familiar to me and my story with chronic illness. I've spoken about this before here and there, but that is the kind of simplistic, energy giving, 'he's me fr fr' comparison that brings me uncomplicated comfort and inspiration.

But that is definitely not 'what lord of the rings is about' not even just to me, it's not even just what BOROMIR is about to me, it is an element of the story and worldbuilding that I have isolated and consumed but that still exists within a far larger whole. And that whole is also fascinating and compelling but in a far more esoteric and harder to define way.

BUT before we get into it, I do also feel the need to explain the limitations I percieve within the 'lotr is about hope over despair' narrative since you've brought it up but neither your ask nor the post you mentioned properly explains it and it'll enhance my point later. SO.

As far as my experience has lead me to believe, when people say 'lotr is about hope triumphing over despair' they mean it in a moralising fable kind of way. This is definitely the narrative the films latched onto, like a leech. Good characters have hope, lose it only to reclaim it again, teach others to have hope etc, and that is good of them. Bad characters are despairing and therefore have no hope, and they do evil deeds because of the despair and lack of hope. The Aragorn vs Denethor film paradigm.

But nothing within the books is anywhere near as cut and dry. As I said in the linked post, Boromir gains hope after having none (the hope that he can save Gondor by using the ring) and that is bad, it is something he has to 'pay for' according to the narrative. Meanwhile charmed and blessed Faramir admits that he never had any hope quite a few times, yet he is not punished for it. Theoden also has no hope and is explicitely going to war to die, but his death is not considered evil or selfish by the majority. Saruman is very hopeful, he's hopeful that Sauron can be reasoned with, that if they work together they can make a better world, but he suffers 100 indignities and then is killed by a cannibal! And most of all, Frodo also rarely (if ever) shows any signs of hope, he merely doggedly marches on regardless and in the end even takes the power of the ring for himself, essentially the ultimate evil act of desperation, but that saves the world!

For the record the idea that LotR is a fable-narrative of any kind seems exceedingly erroneous to me, like the idea that we are supposed to glean any universal Good Moral from the tale due to Tolkien's 'emminent wisdom' feels bizarre in and of itself. But at the very least this aspect is more complex, I think we can all agree.

But even more than that (and this is more perspective than narrative analysis I suppose but I think it bears saying), ‘despair is evil’ is a kind of horrible thing to teach! If the villainisation of people driven to desperate actions or anhedonia because of the deep despair they are suffering is what LotR is about then that’s.. awful! That sounds like a bad book and I don't think I'd want to read it. But lets put a pin in the concept of condemning people for despair for now, look out for the pin cus it’ll be coming back later. 

FOR NOW lets get back on topic, if I don't think LotR is 'about' hope triumphing over despair, what do I think it's about?

Well. I know what I'm about to do appears highly out of character for me so please remain calm and gird yourself before I say this but; Let us start with hearing what Tolkien had to say on the subject.

I do not think that even Power or Domination is the real centre of my story. It provides the theme of a War, about something dark and threatening enough to seem at that time of supreme importance, but that is mainly 'a setting' for characters to show themselves. The real theme for me is about something much more permanent and difficult: Death and Immortality: the mystery of the love of the world in the hearts of a race 'doomed' to leave and seemingly lose it; the anguish in the hearts of a race 'doomed' not to leave it, until its whole evil-aroused story is complete.

(this quote is actually from a letter to a fan who suggested lotr was an allegory for atomic power and he was pretty mean and dismissive about it in reply, it's kind of funny)

Now I've been a bit glib about this in the past, along the lines of 'tolkien's own opinion on what his book was about changed for every year of his life and by the time all his friends started dying around him it became about death, what a surprise' mainly because, again, we've had enough people caring about Tolkien's opinions to do us for the rest of civilisation. But I've always known this glib comment to be pretty baseless and unconsidered, since death was a major aspect of his life from his earliest childhood and it makes sense for that to have been a large part of his work. And since I am being sincere I will, just this once, take Tolkien's hand instead of ignoring him.

For him, the theme of his book was not power or domination (or the evils of war or hope over despair), it was about death. It was about people trying to deal with the realities of death existing for them, not existing for others, and what love (loving the world) meant in that context.

On it's surface I find this quote kind of clinical in it's first impression. There's a prescriptiveness to it that does not inspire me, which isn't surprising since this came from a letter full of veiled snootiness on his part.

But mostly, as a concept.. it seems pretty distant from what actually happens in the story itself, right? What aspect of death and immortality was the fellowship embodying? Boromir certainly died, but he was not looking for immortality and his death is far more concerned with guilt than the fact that he is dying. Theodred is dead already, but not even his father appears all that bothered about it and it's quickly set aside to focus more on the war. Denethor kills himself but his and Gandalf's last interaction says far more about despair and faith than death.

And then no other main character 'dies' at all, unless you count Gandalf. And the only main immortal character we have (other than Gandalf) is Legolas whom, whilst he does have quotes associated with his immortality, is far more invested in his and Gimli's relationship than anything else. It's no wonder people choose 'war is hell' or 'hope over despair' narratives over 'death' as the main theme for lotr from their perspective.

It also does not satisfyingly link to one of the most compelling aspects of the books as a whole; that of how they are presented. The thread connecting death and immortality to writing a story that is from in-universe historical accounts, editted and compiled by many subsequent in-universe hands, is there but hazy. The intense catholic-ness of the story is also intuitably related to death and immortality, but not explicitly.

In essence, death does not feel like the main theme of the books when you are reading them, at least I don't think most experience them that way.

However, in spite of all that, Tolkien's opinion on what his books are 'about' is still the closest I have seen anyone come to my own. Which I assume is hard enough for you all to hear, but imagine how I feel 😩

To me, LotR is most themactically consistent when viewed through the lense of Frodo and Gandalf's ever misquoted early interaction;

"Behind that there was something else at work, beyond any design of the Ring-maker. I can put it no plainer than by saying that Bilbo was meant to find the Ring, and not by its maker. In which case you also were meant to have it. And that may be an encouraging thought.’ ‘It is not,’ said Frodo. (emphasis mine)

It is not comforting to know that the suffering in front of you was always meant to happen, no matter how comforting the idea of a divine plan might be to some. And that is what Gandalf is offering Frodo in this moment, the relief of a divine plan and its ‘high beauty for ever beyond [the Shadow’s] reach’. But this is never comforting to Frodo in the books, the comfort he finds on his martyr's journey is in Sam. Indeed, it is actually Sam who finds comfort in 'the high beauty', this reminder that beyond all his own suffering there is an imperishable and eternal light that can never be dimmed.

But not Frodo, how can he? His eventual fate is to grasp the power of a weapon so unholy it sickens his soul, to do that which he has been told is irreversible and unforgivable, so that he can never be at ease or even survive in the lands he has loved ever again. The 'High Beauty' is what is doing this to him, what made the rules, what meant for this to happen, what he is doing this in service of. And Gandalf, whose soul will be present to see the very end of this tale, cannot possibly understand what it is for your whole life to be encapsulated by just your own small painful part of what Gandalf would propose was a beautiful and universal tapestry.

And lack of agency against the divine plan is precisely the narrative thread that ties every character together. To some it is a comfort, Aragorn and Gandalf and Sam are all gladdened and encouraged by the knowledge that there is some higher power ordering their lives, some greater beauty they are all a part of beyond any earthly pain or suffering. They are not in control and to remember this is a relief. It inspires them to better fulfill their ordained duties and drive themselves through terrible trials.

To others it is no comfort at all, Boromir and Frodo have no faith in the prospect that the divine plan will include success or happy lives for them at the end of their tasks. But it is a hopelessness and uncertainly that they both accept. They simply believe their duties must be attempted anyway, hopeless or not, even if it makes no difference to the outcome in the end. Lack of control is just a reality they live with.

And to some it is a horror. Denethor and Eowyn want to fulfill their duties, but these duties are torture. They demand loved ones die, they demand relentless fear and sacrifice, they demand ceaseless and hopeless toil. And in the end both of them are given rebellious breaks from these duties by the narrative, ones that are horrifying in and of themselves (and portrayed as wrong to one degree or another) but that are still extremely cathartically presented as attempts to reclaim control of their lives away from a callous divine. Even if, ultimately, this also was out of their control.

Merry, Pippin, Legolas and Gimli appear to have never quite had to confront the realities of their powerlessness before. But through the story they become intimately aware of it in ways that force them to make choices they are not ready to make. For Merry and Pippin, this leads them to ultimately empathise with Eowyn and Denethor’s positions, wracked with guilt and equally horrified, attempting to find agency in death where (it appears) none can be found. For Legolas and Gimli, they confront the spectors of lack of agency/death for the first time in the narrative (sea-longing and the Paths of the Dead) and are irrevocably changed by them, eventually leading them both to attempt to circumvent their fates by illegally sailing to the uttermost west. Obviously fandom likes to believe they made it and live happily, but narratively it is also suggested that they died at sea in the attempt.

Now, at the risk of indulging in my ever-derided biographical criticism, I do think that all of these characterful arcs are represented in Tolkien’s own life. I feel comfortable saying that Tolkien was not a happy man by default. He was wracked with guilt from a very young age (wow a catholic with guilt, groundbreaking) but that guilt followed him and found new reasons to manifest until the very end of his life. And a lot of this guilt had to do with death, his father's death, his mother's death, his friend's deaths. And a lot of it had to do with fear of leaving unfinished or poorly finished business behind him at the time of his own death: guilt about how he had taught his students, about his scholarly work, his parenting skills, his so-oft-mentioned faith. 

And being a man of faith, he would have experienced all these things as a part of the divine plan, even as they were also his guilt to bear. So, clearly, Tolkien's experience encompassed all of these characters, right? The despair and the torment and combined love-of and frustration-with the divine. The failure. He knew them all. And within all of them, as well as within the narrative and world itself, there is a wrestling, there is an ever-shifting complexity and multitude of different opinions to how one experiences a life that hurts in a beautiful world that you love but that you eventually must leave, with the sensation that you have no control over any of it.

However, a complication to any declaration of ‘what LotR is about’ is that it is a self-admittedly unreliable narrative. If you cannot necessarily believe everything the narrative is telling you, then suddenly additional layers of complexity come into play in determining the meaning within an already complex text. In LotR you can actually track which characters are recounting which parts of the story to Frodo or Sam at the time of writing. But it is also just obscured enough to make it ambiguous and to enforce the idea that this is a version of this original story edited and compiled for many generations after it's writing.

So not only are these characters and events transient, uncertain and being (sometimes bluntly) misrepresented by the narrators, YOU are now complicit in that. You are yet another interpreter to alter this narrative through your perspective, just as all works and all lives are interpreted by those who view them, with no way to control that judgment. You are also a character now, making it even more difficult to make definitive judgments about a question like 'what LotR is about'.

The clearest example of how this narrative unreliability and reader interpretation comes into play within the text itself is when Frodo describes the fellowship's entrance into Lothlorien to Faramir. He is being blindfolded in order to be lead to Henneth Annun, and he recounts;

‘As you will,’ said Frodo. ‘Even the Elves do likewise at need, and blindfolded we crossed the borders of fair Lothlorien. Gimli the dwarf took it ill, but the hobbits endured it.’

But we, as readers of the previous book, know this is a gross mischaracterisation of Gimli. He did not take issue with being blindfolded, he took issue with being singled out as the only member of the fellowship who needed to be blindfolded.

‘As was agreed, I shall here blindfold the eyes of Gimli the Dwarf. The others may walk free for a while, until we come nearer to our dwellings, down in Egladil, in the Angle between the waters.’ This was not at all to the liking of Gimli. ‘The agreement was made without my consent,’ he said. ‘I will not walk blindfold, like a beggar or a prisoner. And I am no spy. My folk have never had dealings with any of the servants of the Enemy. Neither have we done harm to the Elves. I am no more likely to betray you than Legolas, or any other of my companions.’

In this one moment Frodo has taken what was a reaction of justified indignation against racial prejudice, and made it sound like a minor tantrum over a shared burden. He has also used it to further aggrandise his own people in Faramir's eyes. And it is up to YOU to notice this, to review it in your mind, to choose what it leads you to believe about all characters involved. The narrative certainly never helps you, or addresses it ever again. You have to wrestle with what it means in your mind.

I believe this is the reason I have observed that every person who reads LotR and loves it and keeps rereading it feels like they are excavating something. There is a narrative under the narrative for every new pair of eyes on the tale. And that narrative is you, it's who your experiences and sympathies lead you to listen too harder, it's the story of the experiences you understand. And in that excavation, you are also reclaiming a moment of control for yourself in conversation with the story and whatever you have chosen to excavate. One might say these are all aspects of every story, but LotR is unique in its investment and immersion into the concept.

Because, to me, when Tolkien says his story is about 'death and immortality', what I read is that it's about the ultimate lack of control we have (death) and trying to empathise and accept the unfairness of what will become our inherently false legacies (immortality). And then just the vast spectrum of experiences and emotions those things conjure. It's not just about those things, it is an attempted soothing of those fears and struggles, it is an offer of comfort or catharsis or applicability. It is also an acknowledgement of the love that drives you and that you will eventually grieve.

Frodo leaves the shire to save it because he loves it, but he knows the entire time he will never be able to fully return. He is frustrated, it hurts, but a piece of the Shire in Sam comes with him and whilst it cannot save him, Frodo is still comforted. 

Sam leaves the Shire because he loves Frodo, and he loves the high beauty as embodied by elves and magic and history. He also knows implicitly that this is a task he cannot refuse, but these things comfort him. He is glad to be guided and strengthened to even greater feats the more he trusts in a higher power, but he has a life and a family in the end. And if that is what the Higher Beauty decrees for him, where it has doomed Frodo to incurable soulful wounds, are we surprised at either of their choices? Can we blame anyone for their hope OR despair in the face of powerlessness? Oh! Look at that! It’s that pin I mentioned quite literally last century ago. TOLD you it’d be back.

And that brings us back to the question, what do I think LotR is about. 

We are all powerless in the face of death and in writing a book about death Tolkien’s work has an inherent universal applicability in this regard. Tolkien asks an unconscious question within lotr, how should we cope with being creatures that love the world but that are doomed to die and leave it? And then he leaves that question entirely unanswered. This is what sets lotr apart and truly creates a story in which people can read narratives therein that appear entirely separate from death or any other recognisable theme others might see, without losing the sense of universal appeal. He offers multiple perspectives, including that of the dominant religion’s prescriptive decrees of right and wrong, but there is no solution brought forth in the story that saves anyone from grief or death or regret in the end. Not even Aragorn or Arwen, who are in essence the most holy and faithful characters barring Gandalf within the story, end without heartbreak and despair!

‘‘I speak no comfort to you, for there is no comfort for such pain within the circles of the world. The uttermost choice is before you: to repent and go to the Havens and bear away into the West the memory of our days together that shall there be evergreen but never more than memory; or else to abide the Doom of Men.’’ ‘‘Nay, dear lord,’’ she said, ‘‘that choice is long over. There is now no ship that would bear me hence, and I must indeed abide the Doom of Men, whether I will or I nill: the loss and the silence. But I say to you, King of the Numenoreans, not till now have I understood the tale of your people and their fall. As wicked fools I scorned them, but I pity them at last. For if this is indeed, as the Eldar say, the gift of the One to Men, it is bitter to receive.’’ ‘‘So it seems,’’ he said.

There is no such comfort!! … Or is there?

To me, the appeal of Boromir is in the solution he offers; the comfort is in the wrestling! 

Aragorn and Arwen did absolutely everything they were supposed to do, unquestioningly, to the point that Aragorn goes to the Silent Street and just lies down to die because it’s ‘the right time’ and he mustn’t become ‘unmanned and witless’. And then he dies and he makes a beautiful holy corpse that cannot comfort Arwen or his children or his people for even a moment. 

But Boromir dies with a smile. Aragorn promises that Minas Tirith will not fall, and that does comfort him, because that was the wrestling he chose, the love he decided to hold, the meaning he decided to find and fight for beyond all his powerlessness to protect it. So that’s the answer I find and it might be different from yours, but it’s in LotR to be read because the story is about the wrestling as much as (if not more than) it is about the end. The road DOES go ever on and on, after all!

So ye das wat lotr was about I fink thanks 4 askin 👍I REALLY hope it makes sense. I also really hope Anon manages to see it after it took so goddamn long to respond 😂

[rhysdarbinizedarby]

How ‘Our Flag Means Death’ Became the Funniest Show on TV

Creator and showrunner David Jenkins breaks down the new season of TV’s most adorable star-crossed pirates.

Our Flag Means Death debuted in March 2022 to respectable viewership numbers that grew. And grew. And grew some more. With each week of its 10-episode run, viewership increased, eventually tripling its original audience. The little gay pirate workplace and romantic comedy-cum-historical fantasy that could is back for a second season on Max, and fans will be glad to know that piracy power couple Stede Bonnet (Rhys Darby) and Ed Teach, aka Blackbeard (Academy Award winner Taika Waititi) won’t be parted for long.

The first season of Our Flag Means Death introduced viewers to fictional versions of the real historical figures Stede Bonnet (aka The Gentleman Pirate) and Blackbeard, as well as their respective crews. The two captains instantly forged an unlikely connection. Stede, who decided to exorcize his midlife crisis by abandoning his family and taking to the seas, despite being at best a piracy novice, hero-worships Blackbeard and is thrilled to make his acquaintance. The fearsome Blackbeard, who among friends goes by his real first name, Ed, is taken with Stede’s commitment to enjoying the finer and frillier things in life, marveling at his new friend’s on-ship library and massive, beautiful wardrobe.

While the two captains are an odd couple, each of their crews regards the other as an entirely different species. Aboard the Revenge, Stede reads bedtime stories to his crew and encourages them to use their words when conflicts emerge, while on Blackbeard’s ship, Ed’s first mate Izzy Hands (a deliciously scowling, jealous Con O’Neill) rants that his captain is now a shell of the terrifying legend he used to be. Over time, Blackbeard’s crew begin to appreciate the healthier work-life culture on the Revenge, where there’s room for romantic and collegial dyads to form and pair off.

Of course, the path of true love never runs smooth even for a couple as invested in each other as Stede and Ed. At the end of the first season, the crews are split between ships and land, and Ed believes Stede has permanently abandoned their relationship for his original family, causing a heartbroken Ed to revert to his fearsome Kraken persona. As the second season opens, Stede is frantically trying to get back to Ed and explain that he’s all in on their relationship. Ed’s behavior has been swinging erratically from depressed to murderous, even toward Izzy, and when the two captains and crews meet again, there’s an extra twist: Stede and company have been co-opted by the far more capable and successful Chinese Pirate Queen, Zheng Yi Sao (Ruibo Qian).

On the eve of the second season’s three-episode premiere, creator and showrunner David Jenkins reflected on the series’ approach to workplace dynamics, male friendships and romance, and the character arcs he’s most excited for fans to see.

The first three episodes of the season premiere feature a bunch of breakups and reshuffling of romantic and work relationships—not just Stede and Ed. Were you chasing anything in particular, narratively, by splitting up so many dyads?

Definitely. To watch the effects of Stede and Blackbeard’s relationship reverberate through everybody's lives is so interesting. Their separation doesn’t just happen to the two of them, it’s happening to all of them, because they’re a family. Just as the breakup reverberated throughout both crews, getting back together is going to do the same thing.

That makes sense.

The goal was just being true to the character beats and finding ways to make them ring true. Oluwande (Samson Kayo) and Jim (Vico Ortiz, they/them) are friends who got romantic. It rang true to me that they’d watch each others’ lives move forward, and then come back together to find that they still care about each other, and each of them is also happy for the other person. I've seen that happen in real life a bunch of times, but I don't see that dramatized a lot. I think there should be a lot of different flavors of relationships in this show. And there's so many different pairings that you get a lot of chances to be like, “Oh, how are these two different from Stede and Ed?”

How does that relate to your interest in exploring tenderness and vulnerability in male characters? In previous interviews, you’ve referred to Our Flag Means Death as examining the burlesque of masculinity. What does it bring to your work to be exploring it over the course of many hours of storytelling?

That’s an area where Taika’s and my interests overlap a lot. There’s something so understated about his sensibility—I think some of it derives from his New Zealand accent, actually—that suits asking questions about masculinity. And it's fun to look at pirate stories, to play against that genre’s whitewashed, heteronormative conventions. Growing up as a guy, you get a lot of pressure to be just one type of a guy, the guy who refuses to feel things. Men are in terrible trouble in that way. We’re getting better about talking about feelings, but there’s so much more to cover—body dysmorphia, vulnerability, not just talking about feelings, but understanding them and having this whole range of emotions—those are always the things I want to watch.

Do you have favorites among on-screen stories that make room for a broader emotional palette?

Heat and Midnight Run are two really lovely Robert De Niro movies where characters have these very big emotional lives. It’s a similar thing with Robert Redford and Paul Newman in Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. I like extending that. We can push it further, because there's so many different ways to be a man! Not everything has to be a shoot ’em up action thing where people don’t have feelings. A lot of men feel like they need permission to just be their weird selves, to be funny, to dress differently. Try some different things! Maybe wear a color! Put some product in your hair! Don't worry about it, it's gonna be fine. You're gonna be fine.

Our Flag Means Death is not a casual show. It’s very funny and playful! But there is not one single frame of the show that plays it cool. As an artist, what’s the significance of qualities like sincerity and earnestness?

I hate coolness, it’s so ungenerous. And I like that you said that it’s not casual. I’m not a casual guy. This is a deeply uncool show. There’s something so special about seeing comedic actors like Rhys or Taika, who are so used to coming into a scene, being incredibly funny and destroying, and then leaving, having to use their earnestness, and not using their weapon of immediately diffusing it by going for a laugh. When I see that, it makes my heart leap. There’s something particularly special about seeing a comedic actor do it.

It’s really fun to watch comedic actors dispel the notion that dramatic acting is 180 degrees away from comedic acting.

Characters that call for that type of performance are a lot of what I love about Robert Altman, Christopher Guest, and Harold Ashby movies. They’re comedies, but those characters really grow and they experience pain, and the pain they feel is real. And then the funny shit that they do is even funnier because of it. Those are the things that bring me the most joy.

Tell me about Zheng Yi Sao, the Pirate Queen. She’s such a good foil for Ed and Stede—her ambition, competence, and leadership style are all so distinct from theirs.

Zheng Yi Sao is the most competent pirate captain on our show, and was the most successful pirate captain in history. She lived about 100 years apart from these fellas, and she was so successful that China had to cut her in and do a treaty with her so she would move on to some other field. She wound up making another fortune in gambling!

One thing that jumped out at me in these first three episodes of the season is how much therapy-literate dialogue is used—where did that come from?

I just think it's funny. The thing about a workplace is that they all see everything that’s going on with others, because they're all on top of each other all the time. I don't want to go l too far with it, but it’s fun that some of these characters can see that one of their friends is in a weird relationship with his boss, and then say “hey, you might want to look at that.”

Where do you think that comes from for the characters themselves?

There’s a level of care on that ship that Stede almost infected them with in the first season, and now those ideas are more alive because of how Stede built the Revenge’s culture. You can see that that spirit is still kind of alive when Jim tells the story of the wooden boy to Bang to calm him down. That’s a little bit of Stede’s kindness being alive in the world still, and of Jim needing and being able to call on it now that everything’s so dark. For them to go from an “every person for themselves” ethos to thinking “there was a time when life meant something on this ship, it doesn’t have to be this way” is interesting growth for the character, and is true to Vico as a person. There's a real kindness to how they carry themselves—they’re one of those people that just makes everybody feel safe. It’s nice to see some of those character traits bleed through to Jim.

Without getting too spoilery, what’s coming up over the rest of this season that you can’t wait for viewers to see?

I’m really excited for Izzy’s journey. Con O’Neill did such beautiful work, and getting to see where that character goes and how he grows, I think is one of the most exciting things of the season. To see where Ed and Stede’s relationship goes is gratifying—to see how they navigate each other and find, hopefully, a more mature way of being together.

Jim's relationships with Archie (Madeleine Sami) and Olu develop, too, and more broadly, the crew coming together as a new kind of family, now that Mom and Dad are getting back together. I also like that Lucius (Nathan Foad) is back, and has an angry young man thing going on that he has to process. For Lucius to go through something really harrowing and have to grow up with it is so interesting, because he had all the answers in the first season.

We can’t not talk about the mermaid sequence at the end of the second episode. How did that come about?

We really have to pick our shots on the show, so that was very storyboarded out. I knew I wanted Kate Bush’s “This Woman’s Work” for the scene, so that was incorporated in it. Unfortunately, Rhys had had a really bad near-drowning experience shooting in a tank before, but I didn’t know that until we were working on the stunts! But when Rhys saw the gorgeous tail, and it looked so cool and beautiful, he decided to go for it. He knew the scene was going to look awesome. So he navigated that costume, which is basically a big flipper that he needed to move his entire core to make it work, and Taika’s there with all this glue to keep his wig on underwater all day. When it’s humming and all the departments are working, everyone feels safe. It gives everyone a feeling of “let’s do it—let’s jump in!”

Speaking of jumping in, what degree of pressure did you all feel coming into the second season, knowing how high the expectations were from the show’s incredibly passionate fan base?

I don’t feel pressure from the fans, I just feel unconditional love and acceptance, and I think that the writers room feels that too. We all want it to be good, and we want the storylines to be cool. But it’s less pressure, and more just the level of freedom that it gave us, knowing somebody’s watching. It makes doing all the hard work a joy, because you know it’s going to be appreciated. Some people will have critiques, and that’s fine.

I just know that this—the fan reaction to this show—will be the honor of my career. The fan community is so kind and nice and talented—it's just a good vibe, and it’s been safe and affirming for everyone.

We’re all basking in the glow of the adoration of the show from our fanbase. It’s infectious—when we all get together, it saturates every element of the show, and it's a very special thing for all of us.

Source: The Daily Beast

[muiitoloko]

Is there any Sequel of The Return of investment? 🥺

Title: Confronting the Past.

Summary: Lionel faces the reality of his betrayal as he encounters Stephanie's lies and the deep pain he has caused his wife. Meanwhile, Sinclair's presence brings both hope and anguish.

Pairing: Lionel Shahbandar × Fem! Reader

Warning: Angst.

Author's Notes: Wow, you must really enjoy the pain to keep asking for more of this story! 😅

First, Second and Third part here.

Also read on Ao3

You looked at Stephanie Becker as she sat across from you in the coffee shop where you had invited her. Honestly, you thought she would have declined the meeting, but she came. You greeted her, wondering if she wanted something to drink. Motioning for a waitress, you ordered a cappuccino, waiting for Stephanie to do the same, but she declined, and the waitress walked away. Stephanie looked at you, her eyes filled with suspicion.

"What do you want from me?" Stephanie scoffed, her tone defensive. "Did you bring me here to hit me or something for stealing Lionel from you?"

You laughed, the sound surprising Stephanie. "Oh no," you said, shaking your head. "Unlike what you might think, I'm not mad at you."

Stephanie's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You're not?"

"No," you replied calmly. "You see, it was Lionel who promised to be faithful to me, who vowed to love and respect me. He betrayed me, not you."

Stephanie seemed genuinely confused. "Then why did you want to meet?"

You took a sip of your cappuccino, savoring the warmth before responding. "I just want to understand how all of this happened. How long have you and Lionel been together?"

Stephanie sat back in her chair, her eyes narrowing as she studied you. "What difference would it make?" she asked, her tone wary. "Would you forgive Lionel if I told you how it all happened?"

You sighed, glancing out the window before turning back to her. The city buzzed with life outside, a stark contrast to the turmoil you felt inside. "I just want to understand," you repeated, your voice filled with a mix of anguish and determination. "I always thought our marriage was happy. I dedicated myself to Lionel for years, did everything for him. You have no idea what I've done for him. But he threw it all away, and I need to know why."

Stephanie scoffed, not feeling sorry for you at all. In fact, she almost seemed to hate you. The intensity of her disdain was evident in her eyes, and it puzzled you. Why would she harbor such animosity when she already had Lionel to herself? Was she in love with him, or was it something more? Her hatred felt personal, almost as if she blamed you for something.

"You think you're so perfect, don't you?" Stephanie mocked, leaning back in her chair. "The devoted wife, the martyr. But let me tell you something, sweetheart. Lionel and I have been together for a while now. He told me everything about your 'perfect' marriage."

You clenched your cappuccino cup, trying to maintain your composure. "What do you mean?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Stephanie smirked, her eyes glinting with malice. "The first time we got together, it was during a trip to one of the company's affiliates. We had a few drinks at the hotel bar, and Lionel started talking. He told me how unhappy he was in his marriage, how much he regretted marrying so young to someone so dull."

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut, but you forced yourself to stay calm. "Go on," you said, your voice shaking slightly.

"He said you were boring, that you had lost your spark," Stephanie continued, her tone dripping with contempt. "He regretted giving up his freedom for you. He felt trapped, suffocated by your neediness. He told me he wished he could turn back time and make different choices."

You squeezed your cup tighter, the ceramic creaking under the pressure. "And then what?" you asked, your voice barely steady.

Stephanie leaned forward, her eyes never leaving yours. "Then he seduced me," she said, a cruel smile playing on her lips. "He told me how beautiful I was, how intelligent and lively. Everything you weren't. He praised my youth, my energy. He made me feel special, something he obviously never did for you."

You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes, but you blinked them back. "And you just went along with it?" you asked, your voice trembling.

Stephanie shrugged, a cold, indifferent expression on her face. "Why wouldn't I? Lionel was charming, persuasive. He made me feel wanted. And besides, he was right. You are dull, predictable. You were holding him back."

Her words were like knives, each one cutting deeper into your heart. You struggled to keep your composure, to not let her see how much she was hurting you. "So, you slept with him that night?" you asked, your voice barely audible.

"Yes," Stephanie replied bluntly. "He took me to his hotel room, and we spent the night together. It was passionate, exhilarating. He couldn't stop praising me, telling me how much better I was compared to you. How I made him feel alive again."

Your grip on the cup tightened further, the ceramic now dangerously close to breaking. "And you enjoyed it?" you asked, your voice laced with bitterness.

Stephanie smirked again, leaning back in her chair. "Of course, I did. It was thrilling to know that I could give Lionel what he needed, what you never could. And you know what? I don't regret a single moment of it."

You looked out the window, your mind projecting Lionel and Stephanie together in that hotel room. You could almost see them, their bodies entwined, lost in each other's embrace. The image made you sick, a physical pain twisting in your gut. How could Lionel do this to you? How could he betray you with such callousness, with such disregard for everything you had built together?

Stephanie picked up her bag, preparing to leave, but she didn't go without delivering one final blow. "Oh, and one more thing," she said, her voice dripping with venom. "Lionel always said he would love to have sex with me in your marital bed. Maybe then he could actually imagine that moment and have a real erection. You know, so he could fuck you on that mattress without having to take pills for it."

Her words hit you like a freight train, the room spinning as you tried to process the cruelty. You felt the tears overflowing, burning your eyes, but you refused to give her the satisfaction of seeing you break. You stayed silent, your face a mask of indifference, as Stephanie smirked and walked away.

As soon as she was gone, the tears spilled over, hot and uncontrollable. You quickly wiped them away, fumbling for your wallet. With trembling hands, you pulled out some money and placed it on the table. Your body felt heavy, weighed down by the crushing pain of betrayal. Grabbing your bag, you walked out of the coffee shop, each step feeling like you were moving through a thick fog.

The city buzzed around you, a stark contrast to the numbness that enveloped your heart. You held your bag tightly, as if it were the only thing anchoring you to reality. Your mind was a whirlwind of images and memories, each one more painful than the last. You imagined Lionel and Stephanie in your bed, his hands on her body, his lips whispering the same sweet nothings he used to say to you.

You walked down the sidewalk, feeling utterly broken. Each step was an effort, your legs barely able to carry the weight of your despair. The scene played over and over in your mind, a relentless loop of agony. You saw Lionel taking those pills, his face contorted with frustration, and then the image shifted to him with Stephanie, his arousal easy and effortless. The betrayal was complete, absolute. It consumed you, filling every corner of your being with an unbearable ache.

Tears blurred your vision, but you didn't stop walking. You couldn't. You needed to keep moving, to escape the images that tormented you. But no matter how far you walked, they followed you, haunting your every step. You could feel the weight of Stephanie's words, the cold, hard truth of Lionel's infidelity pressing down on you, suffocating you.

You found yourself at the edge of the park, the same park where Lionel had once carried you home after you twisted your ankle. The memory was bittersweet now, tainted by the knowledge of his betrayal. You sat down on a bench, the cool metal pressing against your skin, and let the tears flow freely.

Suddenly, you felt a tap on your shoulder. Someone was calling you Mrs. Shahbandar. You looked up, blinking through your tears to see Sinclair standing next to you. For a brief moment, it was like seeing Lionel, your Lionel, the young man with a cheeky smile and an unshakable determination who you had fallen in love with. That only made you sob harder, the memories crashing over you like a relentless wave.

Sinclair's face softened with sympathy as he took in your tear-streaked cheeks and trembling hands. He knelt beside you, his voice gentle. "Hey, it's okay," he murmured, his hand lightly resting on your shoulder. "I'm here."

The kindness in his voice broke through your defenses, and you couldn't hold back any longer. You put a hand to your lips, your body wracked with sobs. Sinclair felt sorry for you, his heart aching at the sight of your pain. He sat down next to you, wrapping his arms around you in a comforting embrace.

You clung to him desperately, burying your face in his chest as the tears flowed unchecked. "I can't... I can't take this," you choked out, your voice muffled against his shirt. "It hurts so much."

Sinclair held you tighter, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. "I know," he whispered, his own voice thick with emotion. "I know it does. But you're not alone. I'm here for you."

His words offered a small solace, a fragile lifeline in the storm of your anguish. You clung to him like a drowning person, your body trembling with the force of your sobs. The pain was overwhelming, a raw, visceral ache that seemed to have no end.

"I loved him," you cried, your voice breaking. "I gave up everything for him, and he just... he just threw it all away."

Sinclair's heart ached for you, his own pain mirroring yours. "He's a fool," he said softly, his voice filled with quiet conviction. "He doesn't deserve you. You are worth so much more than he can ever understand."

You lifted your head slightly, looking up at Sinclair through your tears. His brown eyes were filled with compassion, a stark contrast to the cold, mocking gaze of Stephanie. The sincerity in his expression gave you a small measure of comfort, a tiny flicker of hope amidst the darkness.

"But it hurts so much," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I don't know how to move on from this."

Sinclair wiped a tear from your cheek, his touch reassuring, before suddenly standing and holding out his hand to you. "Come on," he said, his voice gentle but insistent. "Let's go eat pie."

His unexpected proposal took you by surprise, leaving you momentarily confused. "Pie?" you echoed, trying to process the sudden shift.

Sinclair nodded, his eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint. "Yes, pie. It's my go-to comfort food. Whenever I'm feeling down, a slice of pie always makes things a little better. Trust me, the magic of pie works wonders."

You couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm. "Pie, huh? I don't know if it will help, but why not?" you said, your voice tinged with curiosity and a touch of amusement.

Sinclair grinned and grabbed your hand, pulling you to your feet. "That's the spirit! Trust me, you'll feel better. There's this great little bakery not far from here that serves the best pies in the city."

As you walked together, Sinclair became a bit chatty, filling the silence with stories about his childhood and his love for pie. "You know, when I was a kid, my grandma used to bake the most amazing pies," he said, his voice warm with nostalgia. "Whenever I had a bad day at school, she'd sit me down with a big slice of apple pie, and everything would seem a little brighter. It's like the magic of pie, you know? It can't solve all your problems, but it sure makes them easier to bear."

You listened, feeling a sense of camaraderie with him. His stories were a welcome distraction from your own pain, a reminder that you weren't alone in your struggles. As you walked, the city seemed to fade into the background, the noise and bustle replaced by the warmth of Sinclair's presence.

Finally, you arrived at the bakery. The cozy atmosphere and the delicious smell of freshly baked pies greeted you as you stepped inside. Sinclair led you to a table by the window and went to place your order, returning a few moments later with two steaming slices of pie.

"Here you go," he said, setting a slice of warm apple pie in front of you. "Give it a try. I promise, it’s magical."

You picked up your fork, hesitating for a moment before taking a bite. The sweet, tangy flavor of the apple pie melted in your mouth, and you couldn't help but smile. "It's really good," you admitted, feeling a small spark of joy amidst the darkness.

Sinclair's grin widened. "See? The magic of pie," he said, taking a bite of his own slice. "Sometimes, it's the little things that make the biggest difference."

As you shared the pie and continued to talk, you felt a sense of warmth and comfort that had been missing for so long. Sinclair's kindness and genuine care were like a balm to your wounded heart, a reminder that there was still goodness in the world. The pain of betrayal was still there, but for the first time, it felt manageable, as if you could see a glimmer of hope on the horizon.

As you savored the last bite of pie, you finally turned to Sinclair, curiosity getting the better of you. “How did you find me, Sinclair?” you asked, your voice tinged with genuine wonder. “You just appeared out of nowhere.”

Sinclair hesitated, his brown eyes flickering with uncertainty. He placed his fork down and took a deep breath. “I was driving by when I saw you walking down the sidewalk,” he admitted, his voice soft. “You looked so sad, and I couldn’t just leave you like that. So I followed you to the park. I’m sorry if it seems intrusive, but I was worried about you.”

You looked at him, your expression softening. “Thank you,” you said sincerely. “I appreciate your concern.”

Sinclair gave a small nod, relief washing over his face. He hesitated for a moment before asking, “What made you so sad? Did you have another fight with Lionel?”

You sighed, your gaze dropping to the table. “No, we didn’t fight,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. “I just discovered more details about his betrayal. I met with his secretary, Stephanie. She told me everything.”

Sinclair’s eyes filled with sympathy. “Why do you torture yourself like that?” he asked gently. “Why not just go through with the divorce and move on?"

You looked down at your pie, your fingers balling into a fist on the table. The pain and anger surged within you, a storm of emotions you could barely contain. “Because I can’t just leave it like that,” you said, your voice trembling with a mix of fury and sorrow. “Not before I make Lionel suffer. I want him to feel the same pain, the same betrayal. I want him to suffer like I am suffering. I want revenge, Sinclair. And today just solidified that.”

Sinclair reached out, his hand gently covering yours. “I understand,” he said softly, his voice filled with compassion. “But don’t let your need for revenge consume you. You deserve happiness, not more pain.”

You met his gaze, the sincerity in his eyes offering a small measure of comfort. “I know,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “But right now, the pain is too raw. I need to see him suffer. Maybe then, I can start to heal.”

Silence hung over the two of you, the weight of your words lingering in the air. Sinclair looked at you with a mixture of empathy and curiosity. You could see the concern etched in his features, but he remained silent, giving you space to process your emotions.

After a few moments, you broke the silence. "How old are you, Sinclair?" you asked, your voice gentle but tinged with a hint of sadness.

Sinclair pulled his hand away, looking slightly confused at the abrupt change in conversation. "I'm 27," he replied, his brown eyes searching yours for understanding.

You looked at him with sad eyes, almost speaking to yourself. "My son would be your age nowadays," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sinclair's eyes widened in surprise. "You have a son?" he asked, his tone gentle.

You picked up your fork, taking a small bite of the pie. "I had a son," you replied quietly. "He died shortly after he was born."

Silence fell between you again, the weight of your shared sorrows hanging heavily in the air. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "His name would have been Christopher," you said softly, a small, wistful smile tugging at your lips. "I always liked that name."

Sinclair nodded, his expression thoughtful as he took a bite of his pie. After a moment, he spoke, his voice low and filled with a quiet vulnerability. "I've never told anyone this," he began, his eyes focused on his plate. "But I'm adopted. My father adopted me when I was a baby."

You looked at him, your curiosity piqued. "Your father?" you prompted gently.

Sinclair nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "Yeah, he was a confirmed bachelor. He needed an heir but didn't want to settle down and have children. So, he decided to adopt me."

You listened intently, feeling a connection with Sinclair that went beyond shared pain. "It sounds like your father cared for you a lot," you said softly.

Sinclair nodded, his eyes distant as he remembered. "He did. He gave me a good life, taught me everything I know. But there's always been a part of me that wondered about my biological parents, about where I came from."

You looked at Sinclair with a mixture of curiosity and empathy. "Have you ever tried to look for your biological parents?" you asked gently, hoping to understand more about his story.

Sinclair's expression hardened slightly, a bitter edge to his voice as he replied, "No. They abandoned me, so why should I look for them? If they cared, they wouldn't have left me."

You felt a pang of sorrow for Sinclair, your heart aching at the obvious pain behind his words. He clearly suffered from the deep wound of abandonment, a wound that never fully healed. "I'm so sorry, Sinclair," you said softly. "You didn't deserve that."

He shrugged, trying to mask his pain with indifference. "It's in the past," he muttered. "But it's hard not to wonder sometimes."

Your curiosity deepened. "What orphanage did you live in?" you asked, trying to piece together his story.

Sinclair looked up, his brown eyes meeting yours. "It was St. Mary's Orphanage," he said, the name rolling off his tongue with a mix of familiarity and bitterness.

You froze in shock, the name hitting you like a freight train. St. Mary's Orphanage. The name that had never left your mind. It was the place where you had given your newborn son, Christopher, after Lionel had made you choose between him and the baby. Lionel had never wanted children, and you had loved him so much at the time that you had put him above everything and everyone.

Your heart raced as you looked at Sinclair, truly noticing his features for the first time. The hooked nose, the same eyes as Lionel. And he was the same age your son would have been today. Could fate be so cruel?

Tears welled up in your eyes as you tried to speak, your voice trembling with emotion. "Sinclair... when were you adopted?" you asked, your heart pounding in your chest.

Sinclair looked at you, puzzled by the sudden change in your demeanor. "I was adopted when I was just a few months old," he replied slowly. "Why do you ask?"

You got up in a hurry, grabbing your bag and fumbling with your wallet to get the money to pay. Sinclair watched you, his face a mix of confusion and concern. "Where are you going?" he asked, his voice tinged with worry.

You put the money on the table, your hands trembling. "I have to go," you said, your voice shaking. "I need to get away from here."

Sinclair put some money on the table as well, quickly following you out. "Let me take you home," he offered, his brown eyes filled with concern.

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face. "I'll take a taxi," you insisted, your voice breaking. "I just... I need to be alone."

But Sinclair was persistent. "Please, let me drive you," he said softly. "I can’t leave you like this."

You looked into his eyes, the same eyes as Lionel's, and felt your resolve weaken. Unable to resist, you nodded, allowing him to lead you to his car. As you got in, you couldn't help but steal glances at him, the resemblance to Lionel and the possibility that he might be your Christopher filling your mind.

As Sinclair started the car, you became emotional again, tears welling up in your eyes. "If you knew," you began, your voice trembling, "would you hate your biological parents for abandoning you?"

Sinclair was silent for a moment, his expression thoughtful. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and filled with a quiet pain. "Yes," he admitted, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. "I would. I could never understand how anyone could abandon their own child. No matter the circumstances, I would never do that."

His words hit you like a blow, and you turned away, staring out the window as the city lights blurred past. The weight of your decision all those years ago pressed down on you, the guilt and sorrow nearly overwhelming. You had done what you thought was best at the time, but hearing Sinclair's conviction made you question everything.

As you reached your home, you hesitated, not wanting to leave the car just yet. "Thank you for the ride," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sinclair nodded, his expression still filled with concern. "Are you going to be okay?" he asked gently.

You forced a smile, trying to hide the turmoil inside. "I'll be fine," you replied, though you weren’t sure if you believed it yourself.

You got out of the car, but before you closed the door, you looked back at him, your heart heavy with unspoken words. "Sinclair... thank you," you said, your voice filled with gratitude and pain. "For everything."

He gave you a small, reassuring smile. "Anytime," he replied. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to call me."

You felt the tears welling up again as you looked at Sinclair, realizing how good a man your Christopher had become. Your voice trembled as you shakily asked, "Sinclair, would you let me hug you?"

Sinclair smiled gently, a warmth in his eyes. He got out of the car and walked around to you, his arms opening in a welcoming embrace. You stepped into his arms, hugging him tightly, feeling the strength and comfort in his hold. This was your Christopher, the child you had dreamed of hugging and caring for all these years. He had become so handsome, so strong, and such a good man.

"God, did you eat right?" you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. "What food do you like? What do you hate?"

Sinclair pulled back slightly, looking at you with a puzzled expression. "What do you mean?" he asked softly, sensing the depth of your feelings.

You hugged him tighter, unable to let go. "I abandoned you," you thought, the guilt and sorrow crashing over you. He hated you, you knew that. He hated the mother who had abandoned him. And here he was, unknowingly hugging the same woman who had left him all those years ago.

The two of you were suddenly interrupted when Lionel walked out of the house, his face contorted with anger and confusion. "What the hell is going on here?" he demanded, his voice filled with fury.

Lionel's eyes widened in recognition as he saw Sinclair, the younger man he had assumed was your lover. His anger intensified at the sight of you hugging Sinclair in front of the house. "You brought your lover here?" he spat, his voice trembling with rage. "Right in front of our home?"

You quickly composed yourself, stepping back from Sinclair and putting on your mask of indifference. "What are you doing here at this hour, Lionel?" you asked bitterly, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "Hadn't you gone to work?"

Lionel's hooked nose crinkled in frustration as he glared at you. "I came home early," he replied, his baritone voice filled with bitterness. "And this is what I find? You, with your lover, in front of our house?"

You met his gaze with cold detachment. "Sinclair is not my lover, Lionel," you said sharply. "But even if he were, it's none of your business anymore."

Lionel's eyes flicked to Sinclair, his jealousy and anger palpable. "Get out of here," he growled, his voice filled with menace. "Leave my house and never come back."

Sinclair stood his ground, his brown eyes calm and steady. "I was just giving your wife a ride home," he said evenly. "There's no need for threats."

Lionel took a step forward, his body tense with anger. "You think you can come into my life and take what's mine?" he snarled. "You have no idea who you're dealing with."

You stepped between them, your voice cold and resolute. "Stop it, Lionel," you commanded. "Sinclair did nothing wrong. If you want to be angry, be angry with yourself."

Lionel ignored you, pointing a finger at Sinclair, his face twisted with rage. "Listen, boy," he spat, his voice dripping with venom. "Stay away from my wife. If I ever see you near her again, I swear I will kill you."

Sinclair held his ground, not backing down. He took a step forward, his eyes locked with Lionel's. "You can try," he said, his voice steady and filled with quiet determination.

Lionel growled like a lion, his body tensing as he prepared to lunge at Sinclair. But you didn't let him. You placed your hands firmly against Lionel's chest, pushing him back with all your strength. "Stop it, Lionel!" you shouted, your voice filled with a mix of anger and desperation. "Just stop!"

Lionel's eyes flickered with rage and confusion as he looked at you, but he didn't push past your hands. "He's not welcome here," he growled, his baritone voice low and menacing. "I don't want to see him near you ever again."

You held your ground, refusing to back down. "Sinclair did nothing wrong," you repeated, your voice trembling with emotion. "This is your fault, Lionel. Your betrayal, your lies. Don't you dare take it out on him."

Sinclair watched the scene unfold, his expression a mix of concern and determination. He stepped forward again, his voice calm but firm. "I'm not going anywhere," he said, his eyes locked with Lionel's. "I'll be here for her, whether you like it or not."

Lionel's face contorted with anger, his hooked nose crinkling in frustration. "You think you can just walk into my life and take what's mine?" he snarled, his voice rising. "You have no idea who you're dealing with."

Sinclair took another step forward, his gaze unwavering. "And you have no idea who you're dealing with," he retorted, his voice steady. "I'm not afraid of you, Mr. Shahbandar. You can't intimidate me."

The tension between the two men was palpable, the air thick with unspoken threats. You kept your hands against Lionel's chest, your heart pounding in your chest. The anger and frustration boiled over, but you refused to let either man take control of the situation.

"You both need to stop," you said, your voice firm and resolute. "This isn't solving anything. Lionel, you need to accept that things have changed. You can't control me anymore."

Lionel's eyes blazed with fury, but he didn't push past your hands. "This isn't over," he hissed, his voice filled with menace. "Not by a long shot."

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "Maybe not," you said quietly, your voice filled with a mix of sadness and determination. "But for now, you need to leave. Go inside and cool off."

Lionel glared at Sinclair one last time before turning on his heel and storming into the house. The door slammed shut behind him, the sound echoing through the quiet day.

You turned to Sinclair, your heart heavy with the weight of the confrontation. "Thank you," you said softly, your voice trembling. "I don't know what I would have done without you."

Sinclair nodded, his expression filled with empathy. "You don't have to thank me," he said gently. "I'm here for you, no matter what."

You told Sinclair to go home, his concern for you evident in his eyes. "Thank you again," you said, your voice soft but steady. "I'll be fine. Just go home and rest."

Sinclair nodded, reluctant to leave you but respecting your wish. "Call me if you need anything," he said gently, giving you one last reassuring look before getting into his car.

You stood at the door, watching until Sinclair's car disappeared down the road. Only then did you turn and enter the house, your mind a whirlwind of emotions. You barely had time to cross the threshold before Lionel grabbed you, pulling you inside and pressing you against the door. His face was a mask of fury and jealousy.

"So that's why you left early?" Lionel snarled, his baritone voice dripping with contempt. "To meet your lover? And you still had the courage to bring him here? What were you waiting for? That I wasn't already home so you could invite the idiot in? To have sex with him in our house?"

Your anger flared, remembering Stephanie and everything she had told you. "You're one to talk about having sex in our house," you spat, your voice laced with venom. "How many times did you fuck Stephanie in our bed, Lionel? How many times did you imagine it while you were taking your pills to get it up?"

Lionel's eyes widened in shock and rage, his grip on you tightening. "You don't know what you're talking about," he hissed.

"Oh, I know exactly what I'm talking about," you shot back, your voice rising. "Stephanie was all too eager to share the details. How you praised her, how you couldn't stop talking about how much better she was than me. How you wished you could fuck her in our bed to imagine it and have a real erection. Is that what it takes, Lionel? A cheap whore to get you hard?"

Lionel's face contorted in anger and shock, his eyes narrowing as he took in your words. "What the hell are you talking about?" he growled, his baritone voice trembling with rage. "Are you trying to blame me when it's clearly you who’s been parading around with your little toy?"

You pushed Lionel away with all your strength, your voice rising as you shouted, "I met Stephanie today, Lionel! She told me everything! How you seduced her on a business trip to one of the Shahbandar Corporation branches, how you fucked her that night and every night that followed. She told me how you mocked me, how you dreamed of fucking her in our marital bed so you could actually get a real erection to fuck me against the same damn mattress!"

Lionel took a step back, shock and denial flashing across his face. "That's not true," he stammered, his voice faltering. "She's lying! I would never—"

"Save it!" you yelled, not wanting to hear anything more from his mouth. "I don't care what you say anymore, Lionel. You've destroyed everything we had. Stay away from me!"

With that, you turned and stormed up to the bedroom, slamming the door behind you. Lionel stood there, his fists clenching and unclenching as he tried to process what had just happened. His mind raced, anger and confusion battling for dominance.

"What lies did Stephanie tell you?" he muttered under his breath, grabbing his car keys and heading for the door. He needed to get to the bottom of this, to confront Stephanie and demand the truth.

As he drove, his grip on the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles turning white. He grabbed his cell phone, dialing Stephanie's number with a sense of urgency. When she picked up, he didn't waste any time with pleasantries.

"Where the hell are you?" he demanded, his voice cold and furious. "I need to talk to you. Now."

Stephanie's voice on the other end of the line was tinged with surprise and apprehension. "Lionel, what's going on? Why are you so angry?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Stephanie," Lionel snapped. "You know exactly what this is about. Where are you?"

There was a pause on the other end before Stephanie reluctantly gave him her location. Lionel hung up without another word, his mind racing as he sped towards her. The streets blurred past him as he drove, his anger building with each passing second.

When he finally arrived, he stormed into the café where Stephanie was waiting, his eyes blazing with fury. She looked up, her expression wary as she saw the storm of emotions on his face.

"Lionel, what is this about?" she asked, trying to maintain a semblance of calm.

Lionel didn't bother sitting down, his voice low and dangerous as he spoke. "What the hell did you tell her, Stephanie? What lies did you feed her about us?"

Stephanie's eyes widened in surprise. "I didn't lie, Lionel," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "I just told her the truth."

"The truth?" Lionel scoffed, his anger barely contained. "You told her I seduced you, that I mocked her, that I fantasized about fucking you in our bed to get a real erection? Is that your idea of the truth?"

Stephanie's face hardened, her eyes meeting his with a defiant glint. "Yes, Lionel. That's exactly what I told her. Because it's the truth."

Lionel gritted his teeth, his mind spinning with anger and confusion. Without warning, he grabbed Stephanie's arm and pulled her out of the café, ignoring her protests that he was hurting her. He opened the car door and demanded that she get in. Stephanie, seeing the dangerous glint in his eyes, reluctantly complied. Lionel got in too, starting the car and driving away with a grim determination.

"Where are you taking me?" Stephanie questioned, her voice filled with a mix of fear and defiance.

Lionel's jaw tightened as he kept his eyes on the road. "I'm taking you to see my wife," he stated coldly. "You're going to tell her the whole truth, from the beginning."

Stephanie scoffed, a bitter smile playing on her lips. "The truth? That you seduced me that night in the hotel and then continued fucking me in your office? Is that what you want her to hear?"

Lionel's grip on the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles white with the strain. "I don't remember anything from that night at the hotel," he shouted, his voice filled with a mix of anger and desperation. "All I remember is drinking at the bar, drowning my sorrows after fighting with her over the phone. Then you came to meet me, and after that, I don't remember anything until I woke up naked in your damn hotel room."

Stephanie scoffed again, her voice dripping with contempt. "You may not have acted consciously that day, Lionel, but you were fully aware when you were fucking me on the couch in your office," she retorted. "Don't act like you're some innocent victim here."

Lionel felt a wave of disgust wash over him, knowing that she was right. He had given in to temptation, despite the guilt that had gnawed at him. "I should have fired you," he muttered, more to himself than to Stephanie. "I should have ended it before it even began."

Stephanie laughed bitterly. "But you didn't, did you? You enjoyed it. You enjoyed having someone younger, someone who made you feel alive again. You can lie to yourself all you want, but deep down, you know the truth."

Lionel's mind raced as he drove, his thoughts a chaotic mix of regret and anger. He had let his guard down, allowed himself to be seduced by Stephanie's charms. And now, he was paying the price for his weakness.

Lionel's knuckles were white on the steering wheel as he drove, his mind a tempest of anger and confusion. He couldn't believe the depths to which Stephanie had stooped, manipulating and twisting the truth to further her own agenda. With a sharp turn, he glanced at her, his eyes blazing.

"Why the hell did you tell my wife that I said I wanted to have sex with you in our marital bed?" he demanded, his voice a dangerous growl. "You knew that was a lie."

Stephanie's face twisted with frustration, her own anger boiling over. "Because, Lionel," she screamed, her voice raw with emotion, "you always moaned her name! Every damn time we had sex, it was her name you moaned! Do you have any idea how that felt? To be in love with you for so long, to finally have you, only to realize you were still thinking about her? It broke me, Lionel! It shattered me every time!"

Lionel's grip on the wheel tightened further, the weight of her words crashing over him. He pulled the car to a sudden stop at the curb, turning to face her fully. "You lied because you couldn't handle the truth?" he spat, his voice dripping with contempt. "You lied to my wife because you couldn't accept that I never stopped loving her?"

Stephanie's eyes filled with tears, her anger and pain spilling over. "I hate you," she sobbed, her voice trembling with rage. "I hate you for making me feel like this. I hate you for loving her, for always loving her, even when you were with me."

Lionel's expression softened slightly, his own guilt and regret surfacing. "Stephanie, you were never going to have me," he said quietly, his voice filled with a mix of sorrow and resignation. "You might have had my body, but my heart was always with her. You knew that."

Stephanie's face twisted with anger and heartbreak. "Fuck you, Lionel," she spat, wrenching the car door open and stepping out. "You deserve every bit of misery that's coming your way."

Lionel watched as she slammed the door shut and stormed off, her figure disappearing into the night. He let out a long, shuddering breath, the weight of his actions settling heavily on his shoulders. He knew that bringing Stephanie to you was pointless. The truth, twisted or not, was that he had betrayed you. The details didn't matter. He had broken his vows, and that was enough.

With a frustrated growl, he slammed his fists against the steering wheel, the car horn blaring in the empty street. "Goddamn it!" he cursed, his voice echoing in the confined space of the car. He felt the hot sting of tears in his eyes, but he blinked them away, refusing to succumb to his own weakness.

He had fucked up. Monumentally. And now, he had to face the consequences. The woman he loved, the woman he had vowed to cherish and protect, was slipping away from him, and he was powerless to stop it.

As he sat there, the cold reality of his situation sinking in, Lionel realized that he was alone. Truly alone. The empire he had built, the life he had crafted so meticulously, now felt empty and hollow. Without you, it meant nothing.

Taking a deep breath, Lionel started the car again, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. He didn't know how to fix the mess he had made, but he knew one thing for certain: he had to try. For you. For the love they had once shared.

But deep down, a nagging doubt gnawed at him. Would she ever be able to forgive him? Or had he already lost her forever?

As he drove back home, the weight of his betrayal hung heavily over him, a constant reminder of the man he had become. A man he barely recognized.

Meanwhile, at home, you entered the marital bedroom, taking advantage of Lionel not being there. You walked to the closet, heart pounding, and opened the hidden compartment at the back. You reached in and pulled out a small box, the box of memories you had buried away for so long. Sitting on the floor, you opened it, your hands trembling as you took out the tiny baby clothes and shoes you had bought for your Christopher years ago.

The delicate fabric of the clothes brought back a flood of memories, each one more painful than the last. You picked up a small onesie, holding it to your chest as tears welled up in your eyes. The memories of your pregnancy came rushing back, the joy you had felt when you first found out you were expecting, and the bitter reality of Lionel’s reaction.

You remembered the day you told Lionel you were pregnant. His reaction had not been what you had hoped for. Instead of joy, his face had twisted in anger and disbelief. "We can't have a child," he had said, his voice cold and resolute. "I don't want this. I never wanted this."

You had pleaded with him, hoping he would change his mind. "Lionel, please," you had said, tears streaming down your face. "This is our child, our baby. How can you not want it?"

But Lionel had remained adamant, his expression unyielding. "I made it clear from the beginning that I didn't want children," he had replied, his tone harsh. "If you want this baby, you'll have to do it alone."

The pain of his words had cut deep, but you had held onto the hope that he would come around, that he would learn to love your unborn child as much as you did. As the weeks turned into months, you had tried to involve him in the pregnancy, showing him ultrasound pictures, talking about names, but his response had always been the same: cold and dismissive.

One night, you had found a stack of pamphlets on the dining table, left there by Lionel. They were from various adoption agencies and orphanages, including St. Mary's Orphanage. The same orphanage you would eventually leave your newborn son at, heartbroken and alone. Lionel had handed you the pamphlets with a cruel finality, as if to say, "This is your only option."

You picked up the orphanage pamphlet from the box, the same one you had clutched so tightly on the day you left Christopher. Your tears fell freely now, the memories too painful to contain. You remembered the tiny nursery you had set up, filled with hopes and dreams for a future that would never be. The baby clothes, the toys, the crib—all reminders of a life that could have been.

Your mind drifted back to the day Christopher was born. You had been alone in the hospital, Lionel nowhere to be found. The nurses had been kind, but their pitying looks had only added to your pain. When you held Christopher for the first time, you had felt a love so deep it was almost unbearable. But Lionel's absence had cast a shadow over that moment, a reminder of the reality you were facing.

After the birth, Lionel had come to see you, his expression cold and detached. "Have you decided what to do?" he had asked, his voice devoid of any warmth.

You had looked up at him, holding your tiny baby in your arms, and realized then that Lionel would never change. His heart was closed off, his love for you conditional and selfish. "I can't keep him," you had whispered, your voice breaking. "He deserves better than this."

The decision to give up Christopher had been the hardest thing you had ever done. The day you left him at St. Mary's Orphanage was etched into your memory with painful clarity. You had kissed his tiny forehead, tears streaming down your face, and handed him to the orphanage worker, knowing you would never see him again. The guilt and sorrow had followed you ever since, a constant reminder of the life you had lost.

As you sat on the floor, clutching the baby clothes and the pamphlet, the weight of your choices pressed down on you. The memories of Lionel’s betrayal, his refusal to accept your child, were like a knife in your heart. You had sacrificed so much for him, given up your dreams, your happiness, and now you were left with nothing but pain and regret.

You cried, the tears flowing freely as you clung to the tiny baby clothes. You had finally found your son again, but now he hated you. Sinclair, unknowingly your Christopher, despised the parents who had abandoned him. You knew you couldn't tell him the truth, not without losing him forever. The only way to stay close to him would be as a good friend, a confidant. You held the little clothes tighter, the memories of your lost child flooding your mind.

You didn't even hear the bedroom door open when Lionel came in. He stood still, his eyes widening as he saw you there, clutching the baby clothes. His anger softened, replaced by a wave of guilt and regret. Memories of his son, memories he had tried to bury, came rushing back to him. He remembered standing outside your hospital room, listening to you give birth. He had been too much of a coward to go in, too afraid to face the reality of becoming a father.

Lionel's mind replayed the scene with painful clarity. He had heard your cries of pain, the encouragement from the nurses, and finally, the first wail of your newborn son. But he couldn't bring himself to enter the room. He had paced the hallway, wracked with fear and uncertainty. When the nurse came out and told him he could see you and the baby, he had hesitated, his feet feeling like lead.

When he finally did enter, he saw you holding Christopher, your face radiant with love despite the exhaustion. You had looked up at him, hope and desperation in your eyes, silently pleading with him to change his mind, to embrace the child you had created together. But he had remained cold, detached. He had turned his back on you, on your son, too afraid to confront his own fears and insecurities.

Lionel had watched as you handed Christopher over to the orphanage worker, your heart breaking with every step. He had seen the devastation in your eyes, the silent cry for help, but he had done nothing. He had stood there, a coward, and let you give up your child. The memory haunted him, a constant reminder of his failures.

"God, I'm such a fucking coward," Lionel muttered under his breath, his voice filled with self-loathing. He took a hesitant step towards you, his eyes fixed on the baby clothes in your hands. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice trembling. "I'm so, so sorry."

You looked up, startled by his presence. The pain in his eyes mirrored your own, the shared guilt and regret binding you together in a way that nothing else could. "It's too late for sorry," you said quietly, your voice thick with emotion. "We can't change what happened."

Lionel sank to his knees beside you, his hands reaching out to touch the baby clothes. His fingers brushed against the soft fabric, the weight of his mistakes pressing down on him. "I never stopped thinking about him," he admitted, his voice breaking. "Every day, I wonder what kind of life he has, what kind of man he's become."

"He hates us," you whispered, the words like a dagger to your heart.

Lionel closed his eyes, the anguish of his memories overwhelming him. He remembered the day you told him you were pregnant, the anger and disbelief that had filled him. He had been so afraid, so unwilling to accept the responsibility of fatherhood. He had pushed you away, forced you to choose between him and your child.

"I was a fool," Lionel said, his voice filled with self-recrimination. "I was so scared of being a father, of failing, that I pushed you away. I should have been there for you, for him. But I let my fear control me, and now we've lost him."

You dropped the clothes you were holding, picking up the tiny shoes you bought for Christopher. Lionel looked at this, his eyes filled with a mix of regret and longing. "Do you think he had a good family?" he asked, his voice trembling. "Would he be 25 now?"

You shook your head, correcting him with a heavy heart. "He would be 27 years old," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

Lionel nodded, his expression pained as he questioned himself more about his son. "What kind of man did he become?" he wondered aloud, his baritone voice filled with sorrow. "Is he like me, or like you?"

You remained silent, unwilling to tell Lionel that Sinclair was your son. What difference would it make to tell him? Sinclair didn't deserve Lionel as a father. He didn't deserve a father who betrayed his own family, who abandoned his child out of fear and selfishness.

Lionel’s mind raced with memories and questions. He thought back to the moment he first held you after giving birth, the way your body trembled with exhaustion and emotion. He had been too scared to touch the tiny, fragile life you brought into the world, too consumed by his own insecurities. The fear of failure, of not being enough, had driven him to push you away, to make you choose between him and your child.

As the years passed, the regret festered inside him. He would see families in the park, fathers playing with their sons, and he would wonder what kind of father he could have been. But instead of confronting his fears, he had buried them, drowning his sorrows in his work, his affairs, his selfish pursuits. He had become a man he barely recognized, a man driven by his own desires and ego, a man who betrayed the woman he loved.

The image of Stephanie, her words cutting deep, flashed in his mind. The lies she told, the manipulation, all stemmed from his own weakness. He had allowed her into his life, into his bed, because he was too cowardly to face the truth of his own failures. And now, that cowardice had cost him everything.

"Did he become like me?" Lionel whispered, his voice filled with anguish. "Or did he take after you, with your strength, your kindness?"

You clenched your fists, the memories of Sinclair's kind eyes, his gentle demeanor, flooding your mind. He was a good man, a man who had faced his own struggles but had emerged strong and compassionate. He was everything Lionel could never be.

"You don't deserve to know," you said quietly, your voice trembling with emotion. "You don't deserve to know the man he became. You don't deserve him as a son."

Lionel flinched at your words, the truth of them cutting deep. He looked at you, his eyes filled with tears. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I need you to know that I regret everything. Every single day, I regret what I did."

You shook your head, the pain too deep to be soothed by his apologies. "Sorry isn't enough," you said bitterly. "It will never be enough."

The room fell silent, the weight of your shared past pressing down on both of you. Lionel looked at the tiny shoes in your hands, the symbol of the life you had lost, and he felt the full measure of his failure. He had betrayed you, abandoned his son, and now, he was paying the price.

Sinclair's face flashed in your mind again, the kind eyes and gentle smile that had given you a glimpse of hope amidst the darkness. But you couldn't tell Lionel the truth. He didn't deserve to know the man his son had become. Sinclair didn't deserve the burden of a father who had betrayed his own family.

As you sat there, the tiny shoes in your hands, you felt the weight of your choices pressing down on you. You had given up your dreams, your happiness, for a man who had thrown it all away. And now, you were left with nothing but pain and regret.

"You need to leave," you said quietly, your voice filled with a mix of sorrow and determination. "You need to leave and never come back."

Lionel looked at you, his eyes filled with anguish. "Please," he whispered, his voice breaking. "Please, let me make it right."

"You can't," you said, your voice firm. "You can't make it right. It's too late."

Lionel stood there, his body trembling with the weight of his emotions. He looked at you one last time, the woman he had loved and betrayed, and knew that he had lost everything. With a heavy heart, he turned and walked out of the room, the door closing behind him with a finality that echoed through the silence.

As the room fell silent again, you clutched the tiny shoes to your chest, the memories of your lost child filling your mind. Sinclair, your Christopher, was a good man. A man who had faced his own struggles but had emerged strong and compassionate. And you would do everything in your power to protect him, to be there for him, even if he never knew the truth.

Because in the end, you knew that Lionel didn't deserve the man his son had become. He didn't deserve to be a part of the life you had lost and found again. And as you sat there, the tiny shoes in your hands, you vowed to protect the future, no matter the cost.