#it also reminds me for fleabag

[mermaidsirennikita]

Please people are now speculating Rose Hanbury's twins are actually William's and how he wants to divorce Kate so he can marry Rose but that would cause a succession crisis because the eldest son would have a better claim to the throne than George 💀

Lmao I've seen the main user speculating about that. They in fact, does not know shit about how this works. And I wanna get into how hard they don’t know how this works.

a) He ain't doing that. Like, I don't know him, but I'd be really surprised if that happened. I think that is a horrible dude, but those are still three kids who've known him as their father and have known their role in this family their entire lives. I think we'd have to go from "an abusive husband and bad father" level to "a psychopath" level for that lmao.

And I mean... listen. William is clearly all about the firm. Those kids? Are in the same place he was in. I think he prioritizes legal, legitimate children born in wedlock over some by-blows~ (their words, not mine!) lmao.

b) It would not in fact cause a succession crisis.

-Regardless of DNA, unless they wanted to go through the rigmarole of getting the marquess to have his name taken off the birth certificate and William's name added to it, which seems... so unlikely! I mean, it's one thing to claim another man's kids, another to literally say "take my name off the birth certificate, I am a clown". This is a 60-something aristo, and if he doesn't have any legal sons, he has no legal heir. If he's the legal father, that's what matters in terms of succession. The kids don't become legally William's because he marries their mom, says he's the dad, and is the biological father.

-You actually can't change the succession just because you want to! I see people citing the change in the primogeniture-based succession made "for Charlotte" "by Elizabeth". First off, that wasn't actually for Charlotte, it was changed (or set into place, can't remember if they got it done before the birth) before George was born. The idea was that if the firstborn was a girl, a younger brother wouldn't supplant her as heir. George's birth made it irrelevant for William and Kate's kids. The only way that it matters is if something horrible happens to George; Louis can't leapfrog over Charlotte.

Anyway, that didn't happen just because Elizabeth wanted it. There were actual legislative processes involved. It's... a legal process.

If William did ACKNOWLEDGE his children by Rose, if they do exist, this would not suddenly supplant George, or Charlotte, or Louis for that matter. Acknowledgment does not equal legitimizing, and frankly, legitimizing does not mean leapfrogging over the line of succession. Do people honestly think Kate, or for that matter her family, or for that matter WILLIAM'S family who have a vested interest would just... go with that? It would probably cause a legal crisis within the monarchy, and it would also make William look VERY BAD!!! The public that does support the monarchy loves those kids; they're the cute mascots. George's birth was celebrated globally. Money is made off those children.

-Legitimate children of the Prince of Wales/the King of England have access to taxpayer dollars. Just adding 2-3 kids onto that payroll? Haha. Have fun with that.

-Past English kings have acknowledged their illegitimate children. William would not in fact have anywhere near absolute power. Kings who have had close to absolute power? Still haven't been able to get this done lmao. Henry VIII actually had (or was rumored to have) discussions about his acknowledged illegitimate son Henry Fitzroy being legitimized, which would place him in the line of succession over Henry's legal wife's daughter. He didn't even try to get it done... for many reasons. It's not easy, and Henry VIII was actually a lot closer to being able to do whatever he wanted to any king today.

So, the idea of him legitimizing kids born prior to his marriage is very far-fetched if not borderline impossible, and if he did, the kids would not automatically leapfrog over Kate's children, potentially not only supplanting them of their inheritance of the crown, but their inheritance of different monetary/land-related inheritances that they would typically be entitled to or expected to be given by their father.

Like. People need to be REAL FR.

[wasco]

To love something is to be afraid

The Last of Us (s01e03) // A Little Life (Hanya Yanigahara) // The Hunger Games (dir. Gary Ross) // War of the Foxes (Richard Siken) // Edmund gets Stabbed - Narnia (dir. Andrew Addamson) // Emily Dickinson // Death in the Sickroom (Edvard Munch) // Fleabag (Created by Phoebe Waller Bridge) // SKAM (Created by Julie Andem)

[velmashaircut]

When I first began reading/ watching OPM I use to really, really hate Tatsumaki. She was probably my least favourite character from the main cast for over a year. I tried to hide it in my posts but I despised her.

Even back then I knew why, Tatsumaki reminded me of my older sister who at the time I did not have a great relationship with. Not only would I say Tatsumaki has my sisters personality and motivations amplified to the extreme, but my sister was seen as ‘better’ by everyone around me, or at least it felt like that to me. My sister obviously isn’t an esper prodigy but she is seen as smarter, prettier, more likeable you know the drill. The Psychic sisters arc was probably one of my least favourite arcs unsurprisingly, I can understand Fubuki’s feelings towards her sister completely. You would think this would make me like Fubuki …but back then I didn’t like her that much either lmao.

The manga, especially the chapters for the monster association arc, did a great job of changing my perspective of Tatsumaki. I can see why she’s the way she is and even if I disagree with her methods I do like her character now, I prefer her to Fubuki. I used to hate webcomic counterpart as well but ever since the mangas MA and psychic sisters arc I like her webcomic self also.

The relationship improvement with my sister played a part in this as well. My sister wanted to make sure I could stand in my own two feet but she went about it the wrong way, which was what Tatsumaki also did. So understanding my sisters motivations and the manga chapters made me understand and like Tatsumaki more.

[ronanlynchbf]

lynch brothers enjoyers u would LOOOOOOVE fleabag and her sister .👍

[ink-and-dagger]

do you have any silco x reader fic recs? both on ao3 and tumblr?

Oh boy do I.

I have zero time for reading these days (sob sob) so I'm sadly not at all familiar with any new fics post S2 being aired. But let me lay before you a sumptuous feast; lovingly prepared by the old guard of the Silco fucker society.

Reader's responsibility applies - please check tags etc etc..

Flawless - @a-gal-with-taste

An apt title, for Gal's writing is, indeed, flawless. Silco x Sex Worker!Reader. Absolutely brutal and beautiful - to me, Gal is the Angela Carter of the Silco fandom.

Here be Dragons // Hic Sunt Dracones - @sherwood-forests

This will always be one of my top recommends for a Silco x Reader fic. It's unlike anything else that I've seen in the fandom, and it reminds me of one of my favourite books Uprooted by Naomi Novik. Gives me the cosy feels.

Penance - @astudyincontrasts

Hands down the hottest, sexiest Silco fic in my opinion. If you enjoyed Fleabag or want to bang that priest from Midnight Mass then you need to get on this fic ASAP. To this day I cannot set foot in a church without getting horny. Thanks Study.

Secret Ingredient - @sweatandwoe

This is the Silco fic that made me want to write my own. DWM exists because of Sweaty. Domestic romance and drama of the absolute best kind.

Come Morning - @chickenparm

Parm has so many Silco fics and they are all incredible and required reading for the fandom. But I've chosen this one because it's so incredibly real and human, and will rip your heart to shreds.

Swapped - @silcoitus

I love seeing my blorbos in Situations™ and this is one hell of a Situation™ to find oneself in. Fun, funny, and full of tension. I get the pleasure of beta-reading this one, and I always have the best time squawking at Coi in the comments bar on google docs.

Go, Team! - @vasiktomis

This is actually Marcus x Reader x Silco and it's fucking genius. Vas is a genius and a pervert and I love them and they're my role model. Everyone absolutely has the right not to engage with content that they're not interested in but also if you don't read this fic then you're a coward.

Bend But Not Break - @constantfragmentation

This is a Jane Eyre retelling in the form of a Silco x Reader fic. Yeah that's right. Regency Silco. Emotional constipation cranked up to the max and coats with tails? Yes please. Ensure that you're near a fainting couch whilst reading because you will swoon.

Art in the Heart - @juniper-sunny

Juni was out here giving Young Revolutionary Silco his time in the spotlight long before he was ever animated. If you're a new to the fandom and have come here specifically because of young Silco then AITH is required reading. Head over to Juni's you'll be fed good.

To The Depths - @cognacandlilac

Full disclosure, I haven't actually had the chance to read this fic yet. But it has been on my TBR for an embarrassingly long time and every time I see a snippet I'm like "hot damn I need to get on this pronto" because I just know I'm going to be totally obsessed and consumed by it.

I've only picked one fic for each of the above but I would honestly recommend just tearing through the entirety of their fic lists because there are some absolute masterpieces in there. This is also far from an extensive list - there are so many incredible writers in the fandom and I'm so sorry for anyone I've missed off. I say this with my whole heart - the Silco fandom is easily one of the most talented and skilled corners of the internet. We may be fairly small in numbers compared to other characters/fandoms, but by God the art and stories we have are platinum quality.

[newtkelly]

there's something about the bucktommy breakup which reminds me of fleabag s2. where the hot priest is like 'i don't know if this is love or god' and then an episode later fleabag asks the priest 'so is it love or god?' and it's clearly god and so the priest leaves her. and i can imagine something similar going through tommy's head when buck asks him to move in, being afraid that what buck is feeling for tommy isn't love of tommy's person but some glorious and abstract feeling of liberation and self-discovery. it's different bc in fleabag the priest realizes himself that it's "god" not love for her, and here tommy is concluding for buck that buck is feeling ""god"" (an abstracted feeling) not love.

anyway, i think tommy's problem is that his idea of romance is too informed by love actually and is insufficiently literary. he needs to come to the practical conclusion that a) buck will never be able to disconnect tommy from his liberating self-discovery and b) that doesn't make how buck feels about tommy not true love. tommy has love actually disease but what he needs, more than he needs someone to run through an airport for him, is a pragmatic austen-esque epilogue, about circumstances and personalities lining up and the natural and rational prevarication about the fact that falling in love is very like god and that's genuinely not a bad foundation for a committed relationship.

buck likewise needs to stop running through airports or proposing in a language he barely knows to people he barely knows. a walk in a park where he just talks to his boyfriend is enough.

ok sharing this because it’s very profound and i need to read it more closely to be able to properly respond but i am also VERY much thinking about the rom-com of it all — what does tommy think love is, what does he expect from a relationship if he’s never actually had a meaningful one? what is the bar?

[berzahoes]

sing a song for you | tom blyth

summary: reader is on tour with hozier as his opening act and debuts a new song that tom helped write

an: yes this was because i am listening to hozier right now.

tom had taken some time off from doing interviews to finally attend one of your shows, well your opening act since you were on tour with one of your favorite artists, hozier. thankfully the show was near his brooklyn apartment so he didn’t have to drive far. he messaged you a couple of times but he knew you wouldn’t respond since you were busy preparing for the show.

when it was finally time to leave, tom made sure his apartment was locked and drove to the venue. as he parked his car, he quickly texted the cast group chat that he had arrived since rachel, josh and hunter were also attending. rachel texted back saying they were getting merch and that she had bought him one of your shirts.

before he could put his phone away, you called. “hey, i just arrived. rachel, josh and hunter are getting shirts.” he spoke into the phone.

“i could’ve given them free shirts. remind me to send them stuff later. sorry i didn’t text back. i just had the best conversation with beth about fleabag.” beth was your best friend and also your guitarist.

“you will take any opportunity to talk about fleabag and i love it.” tom smiled as he walked to the venue. he saw multiple people wearing homemade and official merchandise with your lyrics or logo and it made him happy.

“so i actually have a really important question.” you said.

“yes, love?”

“remember the song we made when you were filming billy the kid? i talked with the record label and it’s going on the next album,” you continue. “but i want to sing it tonight and the band said it was okay. and i want to ask you permission if it’s okay for me to sing it.”

“love, it’s your song. you don’t have to ask.” tom chuckled.

“yeah, but this song is half you half me. you’re getting writing credits on album, not just the song, tom. you helped a lot.” you reply.

“so does this mean if you win a grammy for the album, i will too?” he teased. “sing our song, i would be honored to hear you sing our song for the first time.”

“i love you.” you said then hung up.

“hello all of you lovely people!” you spoke into the microphone. the crowd cheered, tom being one of the many people that yelled the loudest. “you’ve been such a great crowd that i thought it would be a good time to sing a song that has never been heard by anyone other than me and the love of my life. he’s here tonight by the way along with our friends.”

you could feel yourself blush as tom yelled “i love you!”

“i love you more,” you replied. “he and i wrote this song in a day on the set of his show. thank you for being such a great crowd and i hope you all love this song as much as i loved writing it with my husband.” you smiled. you and tom would often call each other husband and wife even though you weren’t legally married. it was just a habit.

“that’s my wife!” tom yelled. rachel had gotten her phone out to record the performance and, of course, tom’s reaction.

watching the video that you sent me. the one where you’re showering with wet hair dripping

tom was amazed at your talent. he looked around the venue and saw how everyone was so focused on you. he then started to mumble the lyrics. he liked how you two were the only ones who knew the lyrics. it was your special moment. rachel had turned the camera from you to tom and noticed how in love tom looked. it was clear that you and tom were soulmates.

[moonsanoverthinker]

Some more TMA headcanons because I’ve thought of some more. Also apologies if this list is a little more chaotic than the other one x (Here’s the first list I make incase anyone’s interested)

Also if people have their own that they’d want to add feel free to because I love reading other people’s x

There’s probably going to be some spoilers for but I’ve tried to keep it as broad as possible :) x

Tim used to steal Jon’s pens - Not because he needed them he did it to annoy Jon

Tim once hid a plastic spider in Jon’s desk then pinned it on Martin

Gerry liked to make puns, Gertrude didn’t like Gerry’s puns - Or at least she pretended not too

Peters changed the locks multiple times but Elias just keeps finding his was back in

Georgie has that really nice kind of swoopy writing - I kind of feel Sasha did as well

Distortion Micheal likes the animated Alice in Wonderland film - Can’t think why… (If I had any artistic talent I’d draw him as the Cheshire Cat but I sadly I don’t have any)

Melanie used to make loom band bracelets - She never gave them to anyone but she’d use specific colours with specific people in mind

Elias likes to shout peoples names then not answer them when they shouted back asking what he wanted

Jon owns a few packs of some nice playing cards (Like the ones with cool pictures and stuff) but no one’s allowed to use them - He let Tim use them once but after he slightly bent the corner of one they became off limits to them all

Jon drinks black coffee because it seems like the mature thing to do

Tim drinks the super sweet coffees because they taste nicer and look pretty

Elias has one of them big spinning office chairs - He’s definitely done the James Bond villain spin

Daisy once told Martin she knew a great place to hide his body - She then proceeded to leave notes around the archives to remind him - Jon would also take the notes down

Not necessarily a headcanon but I just imagine series 5 Jared Hopworth in the garden with a necklace of various body parts and bones

Occasionally Basira would just look out to the fourth wall - I’m imagining it like fleabag style

During their travelling Gerry brought Gertrude a mug from a tourist shop - She kept saying she didn’t like it but once she was back in the archives she would use it all the time

Just Jon wearing some sparkly green nail polish

On the topic of Jon’s nails imagine him with those pointy acrylics - He’d either be in his element or he’d have the same vibe as a dog trying to walk in shoes

Both Micheal and Helen just pinging rubber bands at the backs of peoples head (I’ve got no real explanation for why they do it but then again neither have they)

Jon appreciates badgers - He got a little desk calendar with different pictures of them every month

When Martin was staying in the institute Jon gave him a blanket. He took the blanket with him when he started living at home again and started using it

Tim kept every card Sasha ever gave him

Sasha has a little pot of fake flowers on her desk

Jon pretends to he surprised every time Martin gives him a present - Especially if it’s an out of the blue ‘I saw this and thought of you’ present

Sasha and Tim went ice skating together one Christmas - They claimed it was as friends but Tim did give her flowers

Also some random side notes - Slight spoilers for series 4/5

Listened to 170 and immediately started crying at the end / The descriptions in 172 made me feel physically ill as someone who really doesn’t like spiders / Also I saw a thing on TikTok where someone took Gerry asking to be called Gerry and paired it with I Bet On Losing Dogs by Mitski and it was more upsetting than I was expecting xx

[nace-maisel]

People keep comparing Nobody Wants This and Fleabag and like, on the surface, I get it. Priest, Rabbi, and chaotic girls that we love, okay.

However, as much as Noah and Joanne gave me the buzz and their angsty moment in the last episode hit, it can never ever hit as hard as fleabag.

Mainly because, in fleabag we get to see that the Hot Priest™️ loves his faith and his role in the church. It saved him from his family, it gave him direction, that life has meaning and makes sense for him. And at the same time, he falters. He’s a little bit of an alcoholic, he has doubts, a fox follows him around. That tension is what makes him deciding to have sex with fleabag logical, but also him ultimately choosing god a choice that makes all the sense in the world. That is his whole worldview, and as much as he loves fleabag, he can’t give that up so easily.

Noah in Nobody Wants This has none of that. Most of the show we focus on what an amazing guy he is and how much he loves being a Rabbi and how deeply connected he is to Judaism. The show is more about Joanne struggling with finding a “good guy” and trying her hardest to be perfect for him, and ultimately deciding that it is too much pressure. That bit makes sense. But Noah choosing her over Head Rabbi? That makes no narrative sense. We never see him struggling with his faith, not even with the role of a Rabbi. Every time we see that he enjoys it so much and that it goes deeeeeep and is basically who he is as a person.

Him choosing Joanne makes no sense. What is he going to do next, become an amateur basketball player? Hang out with her all day?

Them getting together in the end without discussing any of this took so much away from the moment for me. Idk, I guess we will see it play out in S2 but oh god I just got reminded of the narrative masterpiece that fleabag s2 is, especially the struggle with faith.

[badaziraphaletakes]

I'm not sure if this counts, but I just saw an instagram reel that had a drawing of Bishop!Aziraphale with the villain's song from The Hunchback Of Notre Dame and it just completely rubbed me the wrong way for so many reasons.

Aziraphale, one, being depicted as any sort of Christian Religious figure just because he's an angel upsets me. One, THE GOD IN GOOD OMENS IS NOT CHRISTIAN OR RELIGION. Two, Aziraphale's personality doesn't revolve around him being an angel anymore than Crowley's personality revolves around them being a demon. It might be because of my personal views/experienced with religious leaders, but Aziraphale is not a repressed, helpless being. If he's going to be portrayed as a religious leader, i think he'd be much more like The Hot Priest in Fleabag, but as I said thid might be a bit biased.

Two, WHY THE SONG CHOICE. That song is about a man saying he will burn a woman at the stake if she refuses to have sex with him.

Idk, I might be overreacting here, but what are your thoughts, mods?

Thanks ♡

10/10!

That is a super gross song and the thought of it being put in Aziraphale's mouth is just... ugh.

There are some superficial resemblances, but the deeper spirit of the song is SO different from Aziraphale. Frollo wants to KILL Esmeralda. All Aziraphale wants is for him and Crowley to NOT be killed.

And the implication that Aziraphale blames Crowley for his being attracted to him is just… why would anyone who thought that ship them?? That’s so disturbing.

Also, need I remind people again that there is zero evidence that Aziraphale is ashamed of his love for Crowley. All we know for sure is that he’s terrified of what could happen to either of them if their love were discovered.

Given that, I think it’s appropriate to give him the benefit of the doubt.

[cupcakes-and-pain]

Charles & Ollie: Past

Hey guys. Um. It’s been a while since I’ve written. Sorry. Anyway! I really love this piece. It’s also much longer than most chapters I write, I’m pretty sure. Almost 2.8k words. So that’s fun.

Enjoy!

CW: pet whump, slave whump, refusing to use someone’s name, insults, perceived abandonment (technically not real), fear of punishment, self hatred, unreliable narrator, drug trafficking, drugging mention, police, starvation, escape/running away, homelessness, fear of death

Masterlist

— — —

It had been a normal day.

Wake up, make breakfast for Master, kneel quietly, and hope that he did well. Hope that he wouldn't have to spend the next few days tied up, bleeding, and starving in the basement. It was always his fault for being so stupid and deserving to be punished, but he could hope. Not want, of course, that'd never be allowed. But he could secretly wish and dream for a time when Master was forgiving.

Luckily, Master didn't find anything wrong with his pet's behavior that morning, so he set out. But not before giving his slave a strong kick to the ribs to keep him in his place. Pet preferred the kicks, the other choice for a daily reminder was a slap. Pet hated the hand marks. They made his already hideous face look even more ugly.

Pet set about his chores, washing the dishes and wiping the counter. He caught his blurred reflection in the polished granite. His collar was tight around his neck, the little tag hanging from it jingling.

He touched it gently, longing to hear his Master say the name written on it, just once. He knew that he needed the reminders because he was so stupid and useless. He'd forget his place if he wasn't called names all day. "Slave. Pet. Stupid. Ugly. Mutt. Useless. Fleabag. Bitch. Dog." On and on, all the cruelest things Master and his friends could think of, perfectly suiting for the crushed and bleeding thing that so often laid at their feet.

But Pet longed to hear his name, his real name, so badly. It had been so long, he knew it was bad, he knew he was selfish and worthless and dumb. But... no one would know, right? If he said it, just this once? Such a tiny word, only two syllables.

"Ol-"

The door flung open, and Pet jumped back, arms above his head. It was like the ground crumbled beneath his feet, and his stomach dropped. He fell to the floor, curled up, trying desperately to protect his most vital organs from attack. Had Master been waiting for this? He knew that his slave would mess up, didn't he? And he was just waiting to beat the living daylights out of the useless, worthless, disgusting piece of flesh that he owned.

"Hey, no, stupid dog. Come here." Master hauled him up off his feet and dragged him towards the basement. Pet whimpered but was in awe that Master was able to hold his fury in until they got to the basement. Usually, he'd just beat Pet wherever he was and make him clean up the blood from the floor and carpeting later.

"M-master, please, I-"

"Shush. You know what, hide! I'll be back in a few days. Some guys might come through, maybe a cop or two. Listen to me, you pathetic excuse for a dog." Master grabbed Pet's face roughly, fingernails digging into his cheeks. He was forcing Pet to look into his eyes, something that was rarely allowed. But it must be okay this time if Master was the one causing it.

"You have to understand.” Master said, “Do. Not. Come. Out. For. Anyone. However you need to do it, just get it through your thick skull. Don't stop hiding until I come back and say it's okay to leave, okay?" Master half-heartedly threw him to the floor, his slave more confused than he had ever been or probably ever would be. With one last disapproving glare, Master left.

Pet never saw him again.

- - -

It was true, he soon learned, that many people would be coming through the house. Pet feared he would feel lonely and bored while waiting, but there was a lot to keep his thoughts occupied and off of... other things.

First, cops searched the entire building. Pet heard them and dashed to a tiny closet in the basement, wedging a piece of wood in the handle on his side of the door. The police tried and failed to get in and even discussed cutting it open with an ax. Pet trembled, sweat dripping off his forehead while he tried to stop himself from hyperventilating.

Eventually, though, one of them protested, not wanting to do more work when they already had evidence. And so they left, making the house silent and (somewhat) stress-free once more.

Other people came and went too, talking and cursing. Most of them Pet recognized as the voices of Master's friends. He knew better than to listen to people's conversations, but they all kept mentioning drugs and pills, the type that had once been used on Pet. He remembered the experience, although things were still a little fuzzy.

It made his head hurt for days afterward, but at the moment, everything had felt so nice and peaceful for a few minutes before the blackout. When he woke up, he was covered in bruises and cuts, but it had still taken a few minutes for the relaxation to wear off and the pain to settle in.

Master had gotten very upset that his friends wasted the pills on a pet, after "everything he went through to get them." Despite already being beaten just an hour ago, Pet was punished severely for taking the pills. He had wanted to protest that the men had made him, but he knew better. The men were superior to him. They couldn't be faulted for it. So the blame must lie with Pet. It must. Master was never wrong.

In the present day, after many days of hunger and freezing nights down in the basement, Pet felt like he couldn't go on like this. No one had visited in a while. He knew what he was thinking about was bad. He knew that if Master found out what he was about to do, he'd be furious. He made it absolutely clear that his pet was not to leave the basement.

And yet, Pet finds himself sneaking up to the kitchen. He filled two bags with dog food and then, with some careful consideration, took three apples. Master never liked fruit but would still buy it; Pet was never quite sure of the reasoning behind that. And Pet had already been so bad, a few apples that would've rotted away even if Master had been there was nothing.

Pet then made his way to the living room and took several blankets and pillows. Then, noticing the mail had been delivered, he also took the newest copy of Pet Paper. Most of the articles either were boring or scared him, but they usually had fun pictures and a few games.

Carrying all of his loot and feeling surprisingly okay for a disobedient mutt who may have been abandoned, Pet made a little camp for himself in the basement. He decided to put the pillows and blankets in the closet where he had previously hidden from cops. The tiny space felt almost like his cage upstairs and he knew now that it was suitable for hiding.

Then he sat on the floor, grabbed a handful of dog food to munch on, and started reading.

Several more days passed before Pet started to get incredibly worried. He had heard the garbage truck pass by this morning. That was the second time since he had last seen Master. More than two weeks had gone by and still, no sign of where he had gone. What was previously just another anxious thought had transformed itself into a legitimate concern. Had Pet been abandoned?

Of course, it didn't make any sense. Why would Master leave everything just to get away from his pet?

But he couldn't deny that something was wrong. Even Master's friends had stopped visiting too. He didn't get it. Of course, he was so stupid, he could never understand why humans do the things they do. But he just couldn't think of any other explanation. So Master must've abandoned him.

Pet waited another week before finally deciding to leave. The dog food was running out, even after he had made several more disobedient trips upstairs. And if Pet had been thrown away, shouldn't he get out of his Master's house? Maybe Master was waiting until he left to come back to the house. Pet was probably being bad for staying there for so long. He was so selfish, not wanting to leave the comfort of the building for the scary outside world.

But he had to now. At least there would be food outside. And also cruel people, the cold, sickness, and probably death. But a bad pet like him deserved all of that, surely. He was such a rotten animal.

Pet's first steps outside were cautious and weak. He nearly stumbled from the sheer shock of it all.

He had done it. Ollie had done it. He couldn't believe this... this... this whole new world.

but it wasn't new, not really. It wasn't new at all. He just hadn't been here in a very long time, if ever.

He felt like he had stepped into a fantasy world after only hearing of it in fairytales. The outside world, the land beyond the kitchen window, was never allowed to him before. It might as well be something that only existed in legend.

- - -

Ollie sat huddled under the bridge, violently shivering. He hadn't eaten in two, maybe three days? He didn't know.

He was cold, wet, tired, and starving. He deserved all of it for leaving his Master's house. He should've accepted his fate and died there.

He was horrible.

- - -

Earlier in the day, Ollie had run away from some police. It was only because he was so small and capable of hiding that he got away. His muscles were very weak as of late, so he could've been easily caught. He'll have to be more careful next time.

But now, because of all the distance he had worked hard to put between him and the officers, Ollie had found himself in an entirely new area.

It was late at night, so restaurants had probably thrown out their leftovers already. If only he could find a place and dumpster dive for spare food.

As he wandered, he spied yet another cop. He was so frightened that he ran into the first available hiding place he saw: a bright, bustling building. He hadn't been thinking. He was so stupid. He dashed in and joined the crowds, trying to hide himself in the large group.

When someone first noticed him, in his dirty, smelly, roughed-up state with no shoes, she shrieked and backed up so fast she bumped into a man, who fell on a waiter, who spilled two glasses of wine they had been carrying.

Soon enough, everyone was in a great commotion, trying to get away from Ollie and call security.

The pet began to cry, overwhelmed and tired and hungry and not at all wanting to deal with this. He was sorry, he was, and he would do whatever they wanted to make up for it. Just please don't hand him over to the police. Please. He didn't know what they'd do to him, and he wasn't eager to find out.

The guards approached Ollie and he fled, going deeper into the crowd, until he tripped over his own feet and fell. He curled up and lay trembling on the floor, sobbing and so terrified.

He heard a bunch of people shuffle and he looked up to see the crowd part as a man walked through, headed straight for Ollie. This man didn't look like a security guard but rather was dressed in an expensive suit and had a stern, irritated expression.

When the man saw Ollie, however, his expression changed a bit. Ollie didn't know how to describe it, having never been looked at with such a visage. But it seemed less upset than the previous one, so that might be a plus? Maybe? Maybe this man won't kick Ollie as hard as he could, or won't insult him while throwing him out.

The man looked around.

"Whose pet is this?"

Of course, no one stepped forward. The man looked back at Ollie and asked if his owner was here. He shook his head.

"Are you lost?'

"Um, yeah... I-... I was abandoned, sir."

"Oh. I am very sorry to hear that. So you need a place to stay, then?"

Another nod. The man bent slightly and extended a hand. Ollie flinched away, bracing for a slap, but none came. He looked back and the hand was still there, just resting in the air. Ollie hesitated, but the man nodded encouragingly, and so Ollie took his hand and got helped up.

He whimpered as pressure was put on his ankle, then froze. He was bad.

His ankle must've been injured when he tripped, which was his fault, he shouldn't have run. And now he had the audacity to whimper?? He was so, so bad. This man would realize what a pathetic mutt he was and hurt him for it.

Glancing up fearfully, he saw that the man was indeed frowning. Ollie shrank back, hand slipping out of the man's grasp. He started shaking even harder.

"Oh dear, easy, it's alright," the man soothed. "I didn't mean to further injure your ankle by forcing you to stand. I will call a doctor for you immediately."

Did he think Ollie was upset because his ankle hurt? But.. why? Sure, the pain was intense now that he was trying to stand, but it was nothing compared to what he's been through.

"There's no need to be so concerned, sir. I'm alright. I can take it and more. I can take whatever you want me to."

The man frowned again and Ollie nearly cried.

"No, no, don't be ridiculous. I have no reason to harm you. You've done nothing wrong, dear. I don't want you to be unnecessarily hurt."

The man hesitated, then spoke again.

"That's not how I want one of my workers to be treated."

...

...what?

"What do you mean, sir?"

"I do not wish for you to be harmed, regardless of your status, but especially if you agree to work for me. You don't have a home or... employer, do you?"

"No, sir, I don't have either of those. But really, you don't have to, I'll only be a bother and a burden-"

"Nonsense. I have heard of how they train you guys. I'm sure you are wonderful. And besides, I am forgiving, I promise."

Ollie couldn't help but notice some of the crowd looked doubtful at that, which was very concerning. But at the same time, the man did not possess the same cruel glint in his eyes, the expression of deceit, the glee in waiting until the perfect moment to strike.

Of course, the man could just be better at hiding those things, or Ollie was dumber than he thought.

But what other choice did he have?

This person was offering him a lifeline, a chance at a new home and a new life. Ollie would die if he continued to be homeless. Maybe not right away, but he'd eventually catch an illness or upset someone or get caught, and then it'd be all over.

He didn't want to die.

"Okay. Of course, sir, I'd be happy to be your slave."

The man just nodded tight, and the pet was certain that he had already messed up.

But still, the man didn't do anything to him. Instead, he addressed the crowd.

"Apologies for the interruption," He announced, not sounding apologetic in the slightest. "I have urgent business to attend to with my worker, so I must leave. Enjoy the showing, it will continue until 10:30 PM as planned. My accountant will be handling any further purchases. Good night."

Then, looking back at his new slave again, Master spoke much softer.

"What is your name, dear?"

Oh god. Oh no. He knew what he was supposed to say, he knew he had to be good. He should tell the man that he can call him anything, even horrible insults, and the slave would readily accept it. He had to show his new owner that he could be good. But the man had asked. Please. The pet wanted to be allowed his name, his real name.

"Ollie, sir. My name is Ollie."

The man nodded, not seeming angry at the slave's terrible presumption that he could demand a free person use a particular name for him.

"I am Charles Durand, please to meet you, Ollie. Come with me. I'll help you to a couch to rest until the doctor arrives."

Given no other option, Ollie followed him, allowed to dangerously lean on his arm as he hobbled along.

Hopefully, this man wouldn't be too cruel to him.

— — —

Tag list: @whumpzone @whump-me-all-night-long @whumpsweetwhump @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @apples-and-whump @professional-idiocy @nicolepascaline @cowboy-anon @wolfeyedwitch @kim-poce @guachipongo @badluck990 @secretwhumplair @batfacedliar-yetagain @whumpsday @extrabitterbrain @morelikepainsley @catawhumpus @starfields08000 @mylovelyme

[pseudowho]

good afternoon from myself as a good evening to you, lovely haitch 🖤

i began watching the show Fleabag last night, and i don’t know if it’s because of the content of the show or because its ‘english’ (i throw this guess out, as an only mildly-multicultural american) but she reminded me a lot of you, especially down to the cadence and syntax of the way you write. i wanted to know if you knew about this show at all, and what you’re thoughts might be on it? (crossing my fingers you haven’t talked about it already)

i also wanted to ask about your works, and just vague questions about your own opinion on them - are there any you are particularly proud of and cheeky for? do you know the favorites of your friends/husband, or if they have one? do you reread some, or think about rewriting any in particular? what about content you might ache to write at some point?

you’re very introspective (to me, at least, mustn’t assume) and i take a lot of interest in hearing your opinions and thoughts on things. you’re a big inspiration and motivator for me to continue writing my book! feel free to skip over any questions you wish, im aware it was a lot. much love! <3

I do know of this show! I'm so sorry behind on TV, I'm ashamed to say I haven't seen Fleabag, even when I should have. I think it's Phoebe Waller-Bridge, off the top of my head, unless I'm very much mistaken. I promise you I'll have a watch, and see what I think.

R.e. my favourite cheeky fics...I adore Deliverance, Fire and Iron, Calamus et Gladius and The Stacks. My husband's favourite is Bedlocked, though he hasn't read many. None of my irl friends know that I do this, so that's a pass. Of my lovely Tumblr friends, perhaps @delirious-donna, @musubi-sama, @starsinmylatte and @self-aware-ape can answer which, if any, are their favourites if they wish.

I'm probably a bit too introspective. I try to take a multifaceted approach that strips away any ego I may have. It's hard, but it's cathartic.

Thank you so much for thinking I'm an inspiration. I just try to present myself as I am in person. I wish you the absolute best for your book; amazing job, keep writing, and I'm sure you're doing fucking brilliantly.

All my love,

-- Haitch xxx

[mononijikayu]

to build a home ━ geto suguru ft nanami kento.

That was the end of it. They can't take much more of this pain. Suffering for a goodbye that would never be repeated. This cannot be true. They reflected to themselves. You also have a life. A different way of living. It's unjust to Kento, to blame him for their loneliness, their suffering. It's unjust to them, it's unjust to Suguru. They must make the first step. To make it final. To let him go for good. This is what saves them, this is what graces them in front of god.

note: i found an old draft of something i did and i thought it would be perfect for an angsty suguru writing, especially after rewatching fleabag. i started to joke yesterday that i'll do a suguru partner to 'time after time' and here we are now, me crying over what i made.

the final scene is inspired by the ending of fleabag. i cried through it but it really was something that triggered my heart strings. every good love story deserves a good closure when it ends. happy christmas again!!! let's hope this is my last idea in a while!!! its starting to make me cry too <333

Genre: No Curses AU, Priest Suguru AU, Fleabag AU;

Warning/s: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, First Love, Grief, First Heartbreak, Break Up, Emotional Scars, Forbidden Love, Star Crossed Lovers, Closure to Healing;

masterlist

play: to build a home by cinematic orchestra.

THEY DOESN’T KNOW WHY THEY WERE HERE IN THE FIRST PLACE. The mass of such a dull cup was ultimately the most significant in that moment, reminding her of the heaviness that pounded through her shoulders. While they drank, their bright eyes shot into the already icy black pools. They could feel it, the way their pulse thumping with the power only felt when a hammer slams on an anvil.

A drop of black coffee shouldn't be pouring on the surface of that gleaming white envelope, their familiar seal on the edge. Like it used to when they were younger. Their pupils constricted as the cup clicked on the surface of the little chilly plate. The question resurfaced in their mind as if it had not already been blatantly obvious to themselves.

‘Why am I so scared?’ The words echoed in their head, silently. ‘What does it matter if it spills or not? It’s just an envelope.’

Though that wasn't just any ordinary envelope. They pursued their lips as the truth revealed everything without care for a wait. They felt another flurry of child-like recklessness within them once again. For a brief moment, their warm gaze was visible. The lost purity of their youth, which they had thought to have lost long ago, had reappeared. They sighed, unsure of what to do.

The icy loneliness of the envelope's borders, as it sat calmly discarded not far away from them, made it impossible to convey to them. The soft whisper of darkened skies made it impossible to tell if it was morning. Yet within their memories, the brightness of the morning dawn has always resonated with a pleasant unattainable radiance. They couldn't sleep again today. That day kept returning to the young soul. They felt as though it was akin to another grievous reminder of those warm-hearted charcoal eyes they had once loved.

They lowered their head, almost ashamed. All they could feel inside of them was that searing anguish filling their heart with nothing but agony. There was no peace in the confines of their heart. There is no peace on those nights, even if the moon sings pleasant things to soothe her to sleep. They knew that there was nothing but horrors. He visited their dreams almost every night.

He smiled so beautifully against the shine of the moon. Like that summer night where they first kissed. They were letting all the memories they had buried haunt them. These nightmares always comprised the sweetest smiles and bitter goodbyes. The cozy bed had somehow become an opponent. It seemed as though they were wallowing in a terrible abyss of quicksand in the luxuries of their cold feather bed, with no way out. It didn't help to stay unmoving, alone in this unmade bed, staring up at the plain white ceiling.

They had loved Kento enough; They truly did. But he wasn't home, he wasn't there to fill that space. To replace that emptiness, to make a home out of the numb loneliness. he was a merchant by trade. The nomad who ceaselessly took the opportunity that life had to offer. Yet he too was a serious man who took his responsibilities to the people he loved seriously as long as he could. Yet Kento was someone who had no permanence in the warmth of home. 

When he was home, it was something that still showed the gaps, the distance that had come with their degree of separation. Their little arrangement, their little life together, had once been beautiful at one point. But now all it does is make them lonely, now it makes them infuriated. Yet there was no one left to blame.

What was there to be angry about? He needed to keep what life being lived going, much of that relied on him. There was little to complain about, when they agreed about it before they had decided to become one. After all, these years had been lived in a garden of thorns. Nothing was easy.

They should be thankful he had worked at all. Others have had a harder time than them, losing  homes and the meal on the dinner table. Yet in Kento’s absence, their gaping heart was filled with those bright beaming memories of their first love. Everything about those memories were painted in vibrant pastels. Everything was so bright and new.

He smiled at them, rushing toward them direction as his dark locks spun across the pillows like a constellation weaving through the wide open sky. On those lonely nights, they did not want to think of him as much as they did. But one never forgets that long lost love. In those nights, they could not admit to anything but anguish and pointing fingers, blaming Kento for not being by their side. They wanted to blame him. It was easier that way, blaming the man they had committed to life with. 

Because they cannot stop thinking of his eyes that narrowed down at them tenderly. They couldn't get those memories out of their head, their mind craved everything about that charming man who had captured this wanting heart all those years ago. They had created quite a world, nay a universe, just for him.

Everything within that universe was devoted to cherishing, worshiping memories of that man already dried in the inked pages. But they could not help it. Geto Suguru was too hard to forget, too hard to bury in the past. When you fall in love the first time, nothing ever comes close. Nothing ever comes to be beyond the world that had embraced them for years and years.

How much they had remembered all those years of being in his strong, warm arms. The repeatedly lonesome bed trapped and bound their body and soul to the seclusion of the darkness. Their feet were firmly planted on the floor, their body towering over the diner. Arms resting upon their chest, the echoes of their heart beat unlike any other. They knew that they had no feeling of coherence. Nothing felt real, nothing felt true. Everything had been a blur—a never-ending darkness that had cleared them completely, leaving nothing but a void.

They recalled the way they had carelessly bruised themselves when they had awoken from another nightmare. Mindlessly, They walked in the dark narrow halls as quietly as they could. They did not wish to wake Kento’s father from his slumber, not when he was ill.  Their hands had been weak as they stumbled into the kitchen to get the warm water pitcher. There were no tears streaming from their weary eyes.

There was no sound from their lips, and no effort had been taken to prevent the spreading of shattered glass. They simply stared. They had no sense of sanity. There is no reality meter to gauge their consciousness. Simply as motionless as the fruit resting on the marble counter. They watched as the overflowing water pooled through the broken whole like a deluge had challenged the pieces of glass across the floor.

"Why am I doing this?" Their thin crimson lips let out a quiet whimper as they bowed their fatigued head in the heavenly air. Their brilliantly bright bonnet trailed behind them, shielding their eyes. "There's nothing else to say. I said that last time.....He was the one that said goodbye. I've been doing so great. And now….."

Yet somehow, They couldn't tear their attention away from the envelope, that begged bare fingertips for their warmth to give life to the inanimate pages of living, haunting love. To whisper those same words of affection that they had abandoned years ago, to match the fondness of the words within its frames. Their index finger marched forward, unafraid. The brightness of the platinum band on their ring finger reprimanded them in a scolding glow at that time.

They hesitated once more, their heart beating harshly against the flesh of their body. The reign of fears killed the resolute strength within them. They bite tenderly at their lower lip in anxious softness. They had made their peace with everything a long time ago, at least that is what they said. So there was no reason to be misled, to be misled by feelings settled in the corner of the mind’s palace. The shadows of their face reverberate like a ghost that begs to be finally laid to rest as the light weakly glows.

Yet, just like a wandering phantom wishing for relief, They realize that this was heaven’s bestowed fate. To be bound to the barren earth with the haunting memories of the life that had been lived like a gramaphone on repeat. To travel through the life they may have had, to torment her like her into a never-ending misery-like haunting bestiality. A never-ending hell that never ends.

Moving steadily, They held her hands into a chain, They felt the unending chill that only winter could provide. Is this how it has been for all this time since they split up? Have they truly been this miserable? Have they truly abandoned themselves to the abyss of grief, of longing? Of yearning for something that will never return? 

The spring they had loved has yielded to winter, its vivacity has long since faded. They knew that too well. But they could not help but return to spring in long locked away memories. That spring was where they can admit they had been the happiest. The truest to themselves. Because he was there.

It was because Geto Suguru had been the melody of that song through the truth of the heart.  Suguru's youth belonged to them. As much as they knew that their own youth belonged to him. That spring was for the two of them to own, only theirs and no one else’s. Greedily, that’s what they believed.

Those blooming flowers formed their gentle smile and made their heart pulse with the thrill that came with young love. It was the way he laughed so boyishly as he raced the length of the flower fields. Their eager gaze followed him, the wind eager to dance across those flower fields. The crinkle of mischief  drifts through the sky to mingle with the beam of rainbow lights.

The lark eyed young man looked at them as though it was like sunflower beams. The loving words seemingly flowed out like lovely echoes of hummingbird melodies. There had been the sweet touch of hands wrapped around them with such happiness, the delight of being together as the sound of the river's quiet whistles. 

It all came flooding home, that mellow breeze that led their love, in each and every moment they traveled the paths they had taken, arms locked together. Nobody had an inkling. Not even their parents. The spring dalliance, that became so much bigger of a world than anything else, was all their own. 

It had been the perfect love, belonging to the two of them. The only one they had told had been their uncle Yaga. He took pity on a broken soul, they knew. Those eyes filled with such wrestling grief. That conflict, that wanting, that yearning. He knew it too well. It was his kindness that allowed her to escape Tokyo after Suguru parted from them, to save her from growing mad.

Away from those dark eyes that continued to watch over them in the distance. Those lark bright that only mourned him just as much as they did. There was an echo in their soul which reached out to him, spoke in such a terrible voice; a voice they didn't even remember having. It had been so loud and angry. Yet Suguru merely smiled at them, ever so mournful as theirs was.

'I mourn the person we once were,” He whispered to them in the tender gaze of the altar, looking at them as their voice echoed in the basilica's bright glass windows. “Such brilliant splendor that’s long past us now, my love.”

They could not help but feel melancholy about remembering the spring.  They had come to hate it, even Kento just knew. Barely leaving their studio, abandoning the sight of warm blossoms of roses across the neighbor's front lawn. They decided to have to care for it any longer. It was too fleeting. Too young, too eager. Things that they were no longer. Spring provides us with a small sliver of careless youth.

The flowers in that spring bloomed, as did the love they both thought was impossible. However, spring must always give way to the beginning of fall. It was now October, and the hardest rain was anxiously awaiting freezing into the hammering winter cold. One in which They had come to be caged in. Like dragons of old who lived in caves in the abandon of endless silence. Alone to dwell on what was and what could have been in the present, which only deepens their agony.

It was the most heartbreaking moment of their existence. To watch the etches of their fair face contort to grief, to fear and to tears. The tears they had wished they had never come to shed. Suguru had been the one to tell them, to relay those words that ripped them apart like a harsh ocean wave rushing through.

The words of their father, the words of a man who used the woman he said he loved like a chess piece. To further his rise to the top of politics. They had been young then, when their father had bragged of doing such a thing. Of hurting their mother like it was a holy act in the eyes of god. 

When Suguru informed them that he cannot be with them any longer, they were taken back to that memory of their father. That heartache that shattered the dreams of a child. Nothing was absolute in the world, not even love. Not the way they had wanted. Not the way Suguru desired. It was to be a sin, a sin that would go against the word of the holy book he considered ever so sacred. 

It was Suguru’s path, he told them so clearly, hammered with familiar hurt—one that reminded them of their own grief. The two of them sat on the bed they used to sleep in together, the sunshine dulled by the venomous dark clouds which had gathered to see such a scene. But they remembered the distance that had formed in the sky. They remembered how warmly the tears of parting fell, one after another like the pouring rain. The warmth of the pillows grew cold with the solemn shadow of their own body. 

As they sat there immobilized, their eyes began to echo bloodshot red. Their habitually loud voice was hushed into soundless sobs for a short time — they had no words to say. All that passed through their mind couldn't seem to understand, to register this new reality that was now happening. It hadn't occurred to them how everything had morphed towards something they didn't wish to be a part of. A life they did not want to change forever. It was worse to wait, to watch for him to turn to them and be reminded that they could not be together any longer. 

It felt like they were walking towards their shallow grave. They could not do it, couldn’t deal with it any longer. He did not want to be miserable, as much as they didn’t. Being together until that moment felt like a dream, and now it is a nightmare. Yet remembering, repeating those phrases, those words, felt like they burned in flames. They felt like they burned every inch of their flesh into ash. It was the feeling of being poured into a wild sea to be swallowed by an agitated wave , to drown in everything. Suguru whispered those words in the past tense, tears pouring from his eyes.

Those words they hated, over and over. The value of those whispers of ‘i love you’ in repeated order, followed by buts and excuses, by deviation, by cancellation, by subtraction. They etched in these fragile veins and poisoned them to death. It was a curse, to love. And yet it continued, as easily as breathing. Those words had made a fool of them, laughing at them. And They would never be the same again. There was nothing left for fools. Nothing. 

“But you love god.” They whispered back, brows furrowing into sorrow. “More than you love me.”

“I’m sorry.” He kissed the top of their hair, smiling ever so apologetically. “I’m sorry. I love you.”

Suguru had left that flat the next day, a letter left on the counter along with the keys. The nooks and corners empty, from where he hid his variety of morning tea to the little books he would read as the sun would rise to greet them. They stood frozen, staring at what had remained. The flat was cold, so dreadfully cold. They just stared, with their eyes burning in pain and crimson shine from the tears that would not stop pouring. They did not take it well.

They'd flung aside the blankets that had filled with muted tones of their disheveled look, scrambling across their face like a hurricane. They didn't want to think about it. They didn’t want to be reminded of it. Yet all there was left was reminders. Nothing but ruins in the once great space that was their own. That life no longer materialized into being, not here. As lonely as the dead trees, stripped of the foliage that once decorated their twigs. Life cannot exist where there is no sun, life cannot exist without the warmth of water, nor can it exist without the oxygen in their lungs. There was none here. Nothing was here, other than barren life.

Moving into a modest shack of an apartment in the far out districts of Tokyo, nearer to the other prefectures than anything else. Uncle Yaga was the one that had suggested it to them, as it had been far enough from the capital. It was a new perspective, a new sign of life — one that could perhaps heal them. He told them that he had once sought refuge in the far flung district’s vibrant feel, having departed himself once more in his nomadic pleasures. They had been blessed by his suggestion.

The bright street lamps comforted them at night. The sight of morning air that came through had been a gentle kiss on their welcoming of that first lonely sunrise. There was a buzz of excitement that filled them as they watched different people stroll the streets every day, suitcases in hand and speaking different tongues. They all were hoping,  gathering  their strength to start a new life, just as they had. In a manner, they were maintained by this encounter every day. In a sense, it made them feel like they weren't the only one going towards a new chapter in life. They were not alone for the first time in a long time. 

Though uncle Yaga sent money regularly, they too were able to find some work. It had helped them somewhat, the world still reeling from the financial disaster that had recently plagued the nation. They have been able to save enough money recently. And in those times, they had come to be interested in pottery. They seem to notice the solace of it, having watched some locals make clay pots for their meals and as gifts. Soon enough, they wanted to try it all out. They had been eager to find the materials.

But they did not know where to start, unable to find the ones that they liked enough to suit the ideas They had in their head to come to life. A small sigh passes their lips. They had the confidence to think that learning would be easy, but it had not been. But They had been glad to have this moment to start something new. A new hobby meant a new life. And a new life meant moving forward. Life finally goes on.

On that cold winter morning in January, they met an old man who had come from central Tokyo only a few months before. He had moved to the city a while ago, he said. To be closer to his son who had become his carer. Having suffered burns across his body after an accident had happened in his home, his only child had been wanting to take care of his father so that he would not be alone.

They had been surprised about him. He was an intelligent man, but he was stern and rarely smiled, often in heavy bouts of pain. But they do not blame him. His burns had not completely healed. Often, it was only morphine that could put him to rest. 

They met the old man’s son soon enough. Their neighbor, Nanami Kento, had been kind to them when they first met. It had all begun when they had struggled with their  purchases from the market and he had been willing to lend a hand. He had always smiled at them with his thin lips, blossoming craters upon his cheeks.

He was a beautiful man, with his light blond hair and his soft brown eyes. They were nearly the same height, but it did not perturb him. Still, there were corners they could not reach, even with their height. Kento had been the one to help them, reaching forward so devotedly. 

It was obvious that he had been a bigger man in a frame than them, though. Kento’s father had bragged about it, certainly. They could see Kento’s cheeks redden ever so brightly. They could only find themselves laughing along with Kento’s father as he reacted even more expressively. For a while, Kento had kept them company as time went by. That had soothed them and kindly given them something to look forward to. From the friendship that blossomed, they had found something they had longed to have in a long time — a true laugh.

There had not been any interaction with the two of them, for a time after that. Kento admitted to them that for a while, he pondered if he should continue developing affinity with them. When they allowed him to continue to explore the depth of that warmth between them, Kento had been certain to be nothing but good to them. 

He respected them too much, giving them much more than any one, even Suguru, had afforded them. When they talked, there was not a semblance of awkwardness. Not once did they feel any dull moments hit the tune they danced to. It had been easy to just be with him. The burdens did not exist in his every touch, not even in his gazes. The warmth of his embraces had enraptured their cold body, eager for the warmth of someone’s care.

That made them feel relieved, to not be alone any longer. There was comfort in someone’s kindness and truthfulness. From then on, they had always been aided by him. That’s why they had felt as though they too would like to return the favor, taking the responsibility of taking care of his father when they had the time to do so.

They had conversed with him when the older man had no company in the apartment’s commune. Kento had sent them a telegram saying that he would be home later tonight, but the trains had a mishap.They had switched his reserved seat for another day and it took a while to fix with the officers of the train.

As such, Kento asked them to take care of his father till he returned. They had no qualms with doing so, having a day off that day. Besides, Kento had told them that his father had been melancholic after his mother had passed. His father needed someone and they were willing to step forward to be that someone.

They had not known the language he was now speaking, the deep thick accent of his words befuddled from the hale of medication he was taking. It did not seem he understood what they were saying in reply either. Yet during the times that he did, it had made them warm inside. Today seemed like a good day, where they responded back to them. 

Today, he seemed to know what they had been saying though, smiling when they told him good things that happened at the market this morning. But for the most part, they created a language through actions. At least when the older man had been capable. But most days, the two of them sat to enjoy the day. Just by sitting together to enjoy the warmth of the small fireplace in their apartment. It was enough to have someone.

Kento’s father had been someone who had been interested in pottery, as far as teaching it for years when he had been a younger man in the capital’s finest schools. Kento had told themthat it had been part of their family’s history, as his grandfather had been a historian who studied the history of their family’s hometown. His father had become intrigued by the pots and vases they would find, eventually deciding to focus on such studies and practice.

It piqued their interest, for the most part, watching Kento’s father tell them ceramics he had taken with him from all the places he had come to work when he was able. Most clearly on days when the morphine had not overtaken him. Some he had made by hand, practicing methods that had long been gone and reviving them one motion at a time. But now they were only stories, his body no longer able to do as he wished, in particular, took her interest. Bright golden streaks echoed through the plate like golden rain, wonderfully varnished with nothing but the finest finish. When they turned a moment later to ask, they had gotten the reply.

“That had been from the days of old.” Kento’s father whispered to them, gazing at them with a small smile. “They called it kintsugi, young one.” 

Their eyes gazed at him questioningly. “What is that?”

The old man gazed at them with warm almond eyes and smiled at her, speaking. “Something that is broken being fixed with gold, child. To be whole again. It is a kindness, an echo of beauty. A new life.”

For a moment they blinked, stunned that he had gathered himself in his chair with a painful groan.

 “A new life?”

The old man smiled at her once more, faintly this time. “All that is broken — is not truly broken. It is just waiting to find a way to be alive again. That is why they used to fix it with gold. Life for the broken can be golden too. There is always a new path to walk on again, young child.”

That moment made their heart flutter, almost as if they had been waiting their whole entire existence for those words to be said to them. Warm words of simple solace were sometimes more than the warmth of the fire crackling in the room. It was the most genuine warmth against the winter. Tears streamed down their cheeks. They could only whisper, "Thank you." 

Ever since then, they had come to be fond of the artistry of kintsugi—pooling as much as they could to the devotion of new passions. It was a new life they had been living, excitement pumped through veins. In these two years, they had ended up getting lessons from Kento’s father on pottery when he was able to instruct. It had been a pleasant time, having to spend carelessly after work in the wonderful pool of stories, of myths, and of time gone by that had suddenly made them forget about the mournful heartbreak.

When he was in too much pain, they nursed him to rest and afterwards, continued to do as they pleased with learning the art of the pottery. The wind that cooled their body from the open window had been refreshing, the exhaustion of work pondering their body. It had been for a new exhibition, one that had come after the other. It had been something that had surprised them, that such skillful artistry would become the wholeness of their current life. But it fulfilled them, it had filled the gaps they had with gold—to live again as they had always had. Forward.

In a moment as they dipped their hands in the cold pools in the bowl, they did not remember how lost they had been when the already gone had seeped through. It had been pouring lately, but it had been expected, especially as their quarter was always affected by the autumn rains. Pursing their lips, the young soul could only sigh as they saw the roof still dripping from last night’s wistful rain.

It had always slipped their mind, to tell Kento about the leaking roof. But it could not be helped as they gazed at the open window. They would tell him when he gets home from work, he would fix it. Leaning forward, they watched what remained of the rain pour through. 

For a moment, their mind explored the corner it always returns to. The smile on her lips as they chased them, playing those childish games. The cold rains were heavily drenching their Sunday dresses, readying for church. But those lark eyes did not care.

No, they were paved with mischief. They were a wildfire, burning through with his loud laughter. Those were happy moments, their memories whispered, Memories that yearned for him, that adored him. Urging them to open her heart once again, to love the ghost haunting them. That moving forward should mean loving what was already passed.

No, now at this moment — they shook their head. They will not go back to those memories. They will not. They felt happy. This was their life now, their new life. And they are doing well. They are happy, even. Happier than ever before. They felt content in the already small space crowding in the wonder of sketches across the battered walls.

The round table is full of drying plaster vases, letting the hot sun beckon it frozen in the summer heat. The smell of charcoal gathered across their blackened fingers, as they rubbed them against the planned design. At that moment, the new path had become dipped in gold. And for that, they were grateful. There was no need. No need to return .

But when the night came, they nearly dropped the envelope.

Kento had returned, placing a kiss upon the temple of their head.

Their left hand over their lips, the ring echoing a tender promise.

‘Had Yaga give me up to him?’ They panicked, their heart beating wildly. ‘No, he wouldn’t do that to me…..But still, how did he?…’

“Are you alright?” Kento lowered his gaze at his lover, questioning them. For a moment he was worried. They had been tearing up, still staring at the letter. Putting his soft hands against their shoulder, the shine of the ring finger beckoned against the early dawn. “‘Hey, what’s going on?”

“It’s nothing.” They whispered to him, wiping away their tears, and tore the envelope and threw it in the bin. “It was nothing.”

His gaze beckoned towards the bin and then to them. “Are you sure? It’s nothing bad, is it?”

“No, it was just an advert. Nothing important.” They gave him a small smile to reassure him. But his eyes could see that the light in his lover’s eyes was dim. “Selling me those ridiculously expensive silver pots again.”

“I see.” He did not want to overwhelm his lover by asking. He pursed his lips and turned to them, putting his hands on their face. Rubbing their cheeks, he tried to comfort them with his touch.

But they turned their face slightly away from him. “It’s just that. It’s not that important.”

The fondness across his lips deepened. “You don’t have to buy them, you know. I know you hate them. But I suppose the ad may be telling us something. I’ll take you, we’ll buy you something. Even if it's not the silver pots. You need to treat yourself, love. Tell me. I’ll buy it for you.”

“I just….” They could not find the words to say. Their heart beating fast, They clutched their hands onto it as though to beg for it to stop. “I’ll decide later….it could just be another waste of money, you know?”

He shook his head laughing. “Spoiling you, making you smile. It will never be a waste of money, you got it?”

They pierced their lips in a tender line and then smiled, nodding.

He sighed softly, satisfied. Kento put his hands on their shoulders and then their arms. Moving close to them, he allowed his body to caress them. They had rested their head onto his shoulders, quietly accepting his comfort. They had stayed that way for a while, Kento knowing he would have to leave in a couple of minutes. 

He indulged himself to comfort them at this time when he would not see them for a couple of days at most. He needed to be with them. In all times he can be there, he will be. It was the least he could do, after being so far away from them all this time. He loved them with all his heart, after all. When they had parted, he grabbed his coat and put his hat on. He turned to them, smiling widely at them. Her fingers played at the texture of his trench coat. 

“I’ll be back as soon as possible. I would not want to miss dinner with your uncle.” He tells them, caressing his lover’s long spread of hair tenderly. “I’ll hurriedly finish work and come straight home, hm? I’ll bring some flowers too.”

They let out a small laugh. “I’ll look forward to it.”

He kissed the edge of their temple and then their cheek before they separated once again. Finally, he gathered his lips around theirs and softly hugged them. They peered into one other's eyes, before they laughed. Kento whispered his goodbyes and heard them say farewell. When they had closed the door, reality shook her to its core. It had his name on the mail, written as sender. It had been Suguru's name. They hurried to the bin, opening it and taking the torn letter. 

Tears streamed down in their eyes as they realized that the wound had reopened. The shadows of the past had come and rushed like a flood, like a sudden thunder from the skies. They had been found once more, they had been yearned for. Suguru had written to them. After all this time, he wanted them.

They stared at the torn letter and burst into a sob, guttural almost like an animal’s wild cries. In a soundless fall of their body on the floor, heavy tears surged like an infinite wave of ripping currents. Their arms shook as they clutched themselves, gathering over their shoulder blades.

All the emotions they had felt at the time, and yet still felt, hurried back to them like lightning striking the soil over and over.  Everything had returned. All that they had buried within the back of their mind. All that they had fought to bury six feet under, they had all but risen from the dead.  They couldn’t stop themselves from embracing the cuts of the envelope as though they were cradling the most precious thing in the world.

Suguru’s name echoed in the bits and pieces of shredded paper. After all this time, he still remembered them. After all this time, there was still that wanting, that forbidden desire. But it would never happen now. After putting Kento’s father into bed and aided him to sleep that night,their restless abandon in the pool of recalling tears called them awake. 

And here in this lonesome space, with this torn letter — this torn letter that shouldn’t even exist. Suguru was now living his dream, his destiny, his duty. There were children laughing every day in the choir of the church. Satoru still visits, sometimes with Shoko. Suguru had taken in twin girls in the church, adopting them after their parents had left them at the steps of the large gates. He was living his dream, he had his life now. His life was now fulfilled. Full of the newfound hope and laughter. 

Geto Suguru should be doing well. He was happy. He said as much in his appointment at the church. They were there, a witness as his dreams tore apart years of a home built in each other. Suguru smiled at them from all the way in the back. They choked a sob and stood, leaving. It was enough, seeing him then. Dazzling in the bright golden crucifix on his chest and the most beautiful black robes and that mantle of yellow–gold. That had been enough of a scene, that should have been the ending of those pictures in the theater. That should have been the end.

 ‘But his dark lark-like eyes. His eyes were grieving you.’

Reeling in a moment of rewind, the words in the card makes them feel like they were going to burst into tears once again. Suguru had become one with god, become one with the divine, with the duty of the sacred. That world is treating him well. They prayed every day, in the silence of their repeating days, that he would always be well. That he’ll always be healthy.

That he would always be happy. That god would always favor him. They knew that god would always be kind, god will always be merciful, god would grant their prayers. They knew that. After all, god has taught love. And in their heart, there was only love for the man that had made her feel what love truly looks like.  

There was that day, that day in central Tokyo, when Kento had brought them for a day out with his father. They were going to visit his mother’s grave. In the markets, they walked and talked. Deciding what to give in offering to the temple and then to his mother. Yet it caught their eye immediately. The same long tresses of hair, as charcoal as the night.

The same sound of laughter echoing from the distance. Dark priestly robes beckoned his body, kind words poured through the sanctity of his lips. Behind him were two young girls, dressed in long dresses, trailing behind him so tenderly. Silver crosses were on their necks, a gift no doubt from the priestly man, the godly man, that had taken them in.

The two girls shared the same shine, same passion in their eyes as Suguru does. Jolly in the tenderness, they were so beautiful in the morning sun. They felt their heart break at the sight, as they lowered their parasol and let the sight be gone. For the past to just be the past. For life to move forward. It was better that way. For the two of them. It was better to forget than remember. Yet, that’s what they did.

They had wept ever so silently all night when they returned home, trying their hardest to not be seen by their lover. They did not want Kento to worry. They did not want to trouble him in his sleep. They did not want to cause more suffering. Not for them, not for the memory of the long lost love they knew Kento could never replace. There must not be anymore reminiscing, there must not be anymore yearning. There must not be any more curiosity. 

‘I don’t miss you.’ They whispered to their restless heart as they wept. ‘I do not miss you.’

That was the end of it. They can't take much more of this pain. Suffering for a goodbye that would never be repeated. This cannot be true. They reflected to themselves. You also have a life. A different way of living. It's unjust to Kento, to blame him for their loneliness, their suffering. It's unjust to them, it's unjust to Suguru. They must make the first step. To make it final. To let him go for good. This is what saves them, this is what graces them in front of god. 

Their hands grasped the envelope with a trembling breath. They chewed at their thin lips even more as they trembled and felt the tears flood. They looked at the envelope with eyes shaking, too unwilling to say goodbye. A harsh cry came from them as the shaking hands clasped together, cutting through the coherence to incomprehensible fragments that would never be whole again.

They gathered them in their hands and stood, allowing the tears to pour. They shut their eyes once They reached the bin, as if they were mourning a death. Even after these many years, perhaps they will always mourn. This was a tragic death that will never be forgotten. A death that would haunt them for the rest of their life. They apologized as they stared at the bits, whispering those words of devoted love that had long been banished from her lips. 

They cried Suguru’s name repeatedly, at each repetition, it was almost like a prayer more than anything else. Those words of love died as much as their beloved Suguru’s name did in each round of breath. They said tearful goodbyes, each and every time. They murmured the parting words of her love. They watched as their body moved on its own and flung them aside moments later.

They put their gloves back on their hands and their bonnet back on their small head as they paid for their drink in eerie silence. The staff had not been there, but they left the payment anyway. The tears dried sooner than later, and their heart had no more space to become even more numb at each pang of the ache. But it was all for the best. 

Kento’s father will be walking soon, and they needed to arrange breakfast for him. They felt the frigid wind surge through their shrouded bodies as they strolled through the dimly lit streets, and They pondered if it was god above comforting them, just as Suguru used to say. They wondered if all would ever be okay. That they were pleased with what they had done.

Their lips let out a forlorn sigh as they slid their hands into the sleeves of their coat. They took a deep breath and started to walk home, the echoes of their footsteps merging with the silent cries of their heart. Memories of love, now tinged with the bittersweet hues of what once was.

“It was nothing.” They whispered to the calm air, convincing themselves. “It was just what it was in the end.”

They smiled and paused as they saw a falling star.

“I’m living well, Suguru.”

“I’m glad to know that.”

They turned their head up as they halted, under the light.

Their mouth opened as the dark eyed priest smiled at them.

He still looked so beautiful, especially now, under the moonlight.

They halted, facing each other, and the dim light revealed the lines etched by time on Suguru's face. It must have been a moment of peace for Suguru, his steps measured and deliberate, a silent echo of the morning rituals he once shared with them. He always loved walking, embracing the fresh air as the world awoke. The memory of those quiet mornings lingered, a haunting reminder of a love that once flourished like the flowers touched by the first light of dawn.

As Suguru drew closer, the streetlamp cast a glow upon the contours of his face, revealing the weariness that came with the weight of his choices. His eyes, reflective pools of regret and nostalgia, met theirs, and for a moment, time stood still. The priestly robes draped around him seemed to carry the burden of unspoken confessions and silent prayers.

He had seemed all grown up, his hair longer than it had been all those years ago. Yet, he was still whom they knew. The person they had loved the most in the world. Their very heart, right in front of them, as though they had never parted. 

“Hello.”

“Hi.”

Suguru smiled at the sound of their voice, his steps slowing as if time itself had granted them a brief moment of suspended reality. The street lamp flickered, casting dancing shadows that played across his somber features. His eyes, once filled with the warmth of shared memories, now held a distant recognition.

"Long time no see," they whispered, the words escaping their lips in a hushed tone, laden with a mixture of nostalgia and restraint. The blink that followed seemed to bridge the gap between the past and the present, a futile attempt to clear away the emotional fog that hung between them.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you too.”

"Sugu—No, uh, Father. Father Geto," they stammered, the words catching in their throat as they struggled to reconcile the familiarity of the old name with the newfound title of reverence. The transition from the intimate to the formal underscored the undeniable transformation Suguru had undergone.

A fleeting sadness crossed Suguru's eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the divide that now existed between them. The weight of the priestly robes seemed to intensify, as if the fabric itself bore witness to the complexities of their shared history.

Whispers of the impossibilities that had consistently echoed in his mind for years when it came to them, to the life they could have had. The life they could have deserved. He was certain that their words shattered him, his mind full of chances and roads not taken. 

"Indeed, it has been a long time," Suguru replied, his voice carrying the weight of unspoken truths. The use of the formal title added a layer of formality to their exchange, a thin veil attempting to conceal the depth of the emotions lingering beneath the surface.

A heavy silence settled between them, and the flickering street lamp seemed to cast a spotlight on the unresolved tension in the air. Their gaze lingered on Suguru's face, searching for traces of the person they once knew within the contours of the priest before them.

Father Geto, his expression a mask of duty and restraint, nodded in acknowledgment.

"Yes, it has," he replied, his voice a measured cadence that echoed through the quiet night.

They bit their lower lip, a nervous habit that betrayed the turbulence within. The words unsaid, the questions unasked, hung in the air like a delicate thread waiting to unravel. The night embraced the weight of their emotions, and the street lamp continued to flicker, casting its dim glow further upon the scene—a reunion tainted by the passage of time and the choices that led them down divergent paths.

Their eyes shimmered with unshed tears as Geto Suguru let the passage of time settle in the air. The chasm between them widened, and in that moment of silence, it seemed to stretch into eternity—a vast expanse of unspoken emotions and missed opportunities.

"Suguru," They whispered, unable to mask the vulnerability in their voice. The name hung between them, a bridge attempting to span the gap created by titles and time.

Suguru's gaze flickered with a mixture of pain and understanding. Yet in between, so much love. So much devotion – sealed away for what remained of all his life. Reserved for a lifetime where his yearning to duty, to god, did not win.

"Please," he began, the weight of his own emotions evident in the quiver of his voice, "Call me Father Geto. It's the only way we can navigate this... this impossibility."

The words hung heavy in the air, a poignant acknowledgment of the constraints that bound them. They merely nodded, a small, pained acceptance of the reality that lay before them. 

"Father Geto," They uttered, the words tasting foreign on their tongue.

A sigh escaped Suguru's lips, a fragile exhale carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken apologies.

"I never wanted it to be like this," he confessed, his eyes betraying a sadness that transcended the boundaries of their shared history.

"I know," they replied, aching with the burden of understanding. The streetl amp's flickering light cast a dance of shadows on Suguru's face, emphasizing the lines etched by time and choices.

The heavy silence persisted, a tangible force that hung in the air like a shroud. Their gaze fought to be tender as they remained fixed on Suguru's face, as though trying to find solace in the familiar features that had once provided comfort and warmth.

Father Geto, a master of self-discipline, struggled to maintain the mask of duty and restraint.

"We are bound by different paths now," he said, each word resonating with the finality of their choices.

They took a hesitant step forward, as if attempting to breach the invisible barrier between them.

"Do you ever regret it?" they asked, their voice a mere whisper in the quiet night.

Suguru's eyes, haunted by the ghosts of what could have been, met theirs.

"I would be lying if I said I didn’t," he admitted, the confession heavy with the weight of his own longing.

Tears welled up in their eyes, and they fought to keep their composure.

"I thought time would make it easier," they confessed, a raw vulnerability laid bare beneath the dim glow of the streetlamp.

Suguru offered them a weary smile, a flicker of shared pain passing between them.

"Time has a way of revealing wounds we thought were healed," he said, the truth echoing through the hallowed space between them.

The night embraced them, a silent witness to the intricate dance of emotions beneath the flickering street lamp. Time seemed to stand still, allowing the echoes of a love both tender and tormented to reverberate through the quiet air, wrapping around them like a shroud of nostalgia.

"I miss you," they whispered, the words hanging in the cool night air, laden with the weight of untold stories and the lingering ache of unresolved emotions.

Suguru, with a melancholic smile that held the depth of a thousand shared sunsets, replied, "I know."

His words, a testament to the silent understanding that had weathered the storms of time, painted a canvas of their shared history.

A brief yet profound moment passed between them, a communion of souls familiar with the artistry of sorrow. They exchanged sad smiles, acknowledging the pain that dwelled beneath the surface—a tapestry woven with the threads of what was and what could never be again.

"But you'll never leave God, won't you?" they asked, the words hanging in the air like a sacred hymn, a melody of unspoken truths that resonated through the silence.

Suguru, his gaze drifting to the ground like a fallen prayer, nodded with a heaviness that only a man torn between earthly desires and divine duty could understand. 

"Yeah," he confessed, his voice a fragile melody that cracked with the weight of the choices he bore.

A bitter laugh escaped them, a bitter acknowledgment of the cosmic joke that played with the strings of their fate. "Damn."

"I'm sorry," Suguru whispered, the words carrying the weight of unspoken regrets, a plea for forgiveness in a universe that seemed indifferent to the intricacies of human hearts.

Suguru listened in the gentle embrace of the night, the words hanging in the air like a delicate confession of the heart. The flickering street lamp cast a soft glow on their faces, revealing the vulnerability etched in the lines of their expressions.

“I’ve never felt so homeless,” they admitted, their voice a poignant melody that resonated with the ache of a displaced soul. A somber laugh escaped them, a fragile release of emotion that danced on the precipice of tears. "To be without the person that made me feel like life can be a home. It’s as if I’ve been taught how to build a home, and then it's just, in ruins.”

Suguru, his eyes reflecting the constellations of shared pain, nodded in solemn understanding. The weight of their words echoed through the silent night, the gravity of loss settling like a heavy fog.

“It's a peculiar kind of emptiness,” he mused, his voice a low murmur, as if joining the nocturnal conversation with the whispers of the wind. "To have known the warmth of a home, only to find it reduced to ruins. The echoes of what was linger in the cracks, haunting the spaces that once held promises."

The person's gaze, a reflection of a universe in turmoil, met Suguru's.

"You were my home," they confessed, the words carrying the weight of unspoken dreams and the fragments of a life that now lay in ruins.

Suguru, his heart heavy with the acknowledgment of what had been lost, replied, "And you were mine." His voice, a gentle breeze that carried the scent of nostalgia, painted the canvas of their shared memories. "You'll always be."

"I know." They replied back, pointing to the middle of their chest. "You'll always find your way into a house here too."

The night wrapped around them, a silent witness to the unraveling of a love that had once been the cornerstone of their existence. The street lamp flickered, casting a dance of shadows on the remnants of their shared dreams, now scattered like stardust in the cosmic expanse.

As they stood beneath the dim glow, Suguru reached out, a silent offering of solace in the face of their shared homelessness. The person, their eyes brimming with unshed tears, accepted the gesture, a fragile connection in the midst of ruins.

"It's okay not to have all the answers," Suguru whispered, his words a gentle reassurance, a beacon of understanding in the night. "Sometimes, the process of rebuilding begins with acknowledging the ruins."

"Did you do the same?"

He laughs somberly.

"I'll still have to learn to. Just like you." He whispers back to them, tilting his head at them. "It's often hard, when you love someone so much. There's too much to want, too much to remember. But also too much to forget."

They pursed their lips at him.

"Do you want to forget me?"

He shakes his head.

"No. Never."

They dug deeper into their pockets.

"You know, the worst thing is, after all this time, I don't think I've stopped loving you," they confessed, the admission tearing at the seams of their heart like a love letter written on the pages of time. "I still love you. Even if I have someone to love now, I still love you."

There was panic in his eyes for a moment. As though those three words being said paralyzed him. As though they compelled him. The mere three words echoing in his ears made him feel as though he would break covenant to god the moment he heard them. He would sin and he would sin knowing his heart would not be guided by reason. Love after all, does not have reason. Love is just love.

Suguru, looking at them with eyes that mirrored the reflection of constellations, pleaded, "No, no, don't."

"Let's just leave that out there just for a second on its own," they said, a brief huff following as they gathered the shattered remnants of their composure. "It needs to be said, one last time."

Suguru, resigned to the bitter reality that hung between them like a faded photograph, nodded with a quiet acceptance. He offered a smile, fragile as porcelain. "Alright."

"I love you," they declared, the words a sacred offering hung in the air, a requiem for a love that refused to be extinguished, a melody that echoed through the chambers of their shared history.

Suguru, offering a tender smile, whispered, "It'll pass."

"I know," they replied, their voice carrying the wisdom of a soul that had danced with the fleeting nature of love, accepting the transient beauty of their shared pain.

As if prompted by an unseen force, they both turned, their hearts guiding them toward separate destinies. They who is still tethered to the past, lingered in the shadows of what could have been, as if waiting for a final resolution that might never come. Suguru, facing the far reach of the church's dome like a silent sentinel, took a moment to compose himself, tears betraying the stoic facade he wore as a priest.

"I love you too," Suguru confessed, the words a whispered goodbye, a final benediction offered to a love that had been both a sanctuary and a storm.

And then, with a heavy silence enveloping them like a shroud, they finally parted ways. Each step echoed the closing of a chapter, a poignant farewell etched into the fabric of their souls—a bittersweet symphony played beneath the dim glow of a street lamp, where love and destiny converged and diverged in the grand tapestry of life.

There is still a home, built the soul of those you love.

They walked away, they couldn’t help smiling through the tears.

There’s always going to be that home, made just for each other.

They live on together, small crevices of the soul just for each other.

They'll be fine.

Suguru would be fine.

They'll always build a home.

Together.

[tarotbubbletea]

🍂 PAC Reading: Catharsis 🍂

Hey everyone!

October 2023 was a SHIT month for me. That eclipse season took a major toll on my mental and physical health. I hope you all had an easier time, and if you didn't, trust that you're not alone and I send you all the love you may need at this time 💛

Here's a spread I attempted from Lightwands tarot's Tiktok page on helping with catharsis, ie., helping you pin down and let go of some negative thoughts that may have been living in your head rent-free.

I intend this to be a timeless reading. Take a deep breath and clear your mind. Then pick the picture that you feel most drawn to. If you feel drawn to more than one, feel free to read those piles. If you feel drawn to none, perhaps I don't have a message for you at this time, but hope to have something for you in the future!

Going from left to right, we have piles 1, 2, and 3.

I'd love to hear some feedback! I'm also open for paid personal readings ($3 flat-rate).

Pictures used are not mine.

My kofi ☕

Pile 1

A pressing thought on your mind: King of Cups

Okay this is definitely about a boy. You may be overthinking/obsessing over a connection right now. Perhaps you have this person up on a pedestal and you think they're the best romantic match you could possibly ever have and that being chosen by them would be the best thing to ever happen to you. And maybe that's true. But you have to remind yourself that if you're begging to be chosen, that takes away significantly from your power, and most stable, secure men will want someone that matches them in their power. Some of you may be thinking that this guy has 2 options they're struggling between. For some of you, this may be an ex that you're seeing move on and, frankly, it hurts. If that's the case, I feel you.

Allow the tarot deck to describe the thought back to you in a softer voice: The Emperor

I think you need to remember that there is a bit of logic to relationships as well. Love isn't enough; you do have to think about the kind of life that's possible with your potential partner. You also need to remember that people feel and use their emotions differently than you. Your person may be at a stage where they're approaching partnership more logically. They may be thinking of compatibility in a more mature way at this point. This is a shift that started quite prominently during the pandemic, with casual dating taking a dip in our society. This person may also just be quite exhausted and have decided to just settle down. Love, at some stage, becomes more of a decision than a feeling, and that's where this person is right now. Remember that this is a window into their thought processes, not a judgement on you.

How you're approaching the thought: Justice

You may be self-flagellating a bit, thinking that the reason you're having such a hard time in love and life is because of some of your past mistakes or some karmic debt. And maybe this is true, because we all have karmic debt from this life and from the ones before. Every single person you know has made errors, and more people than you think have skeletons in their closets. We're all a little toxic. It's just the reality of life. And that's okay. That's life (tangent: watch Fleabag!) Maybe it's a little less serious for you and you feel like you're just not enough, or that you just messed up your chance with this person. But ask yourself as objectively as possible, did you? Did you, really? Doesn't this guy have flaws too? Is it possible that neither you nor him are the issue here, but it's really just the relationship/situationship that may not have been a good fit? Maybe you both just weren't mature enough for each other at the time? Maybe it was meant to be temporary? Maybe there were external factors at play? But more importantly, maybe it's not your problem to solve?

How can you release the thought without needing to resolve it right now: Queen of Swords

Step into your power. Get some fresh air. Literally. You've closed yourself in a box. You need to step out and realize how vast the sky really is. How big the world really is. How big your world really is. There needs to be perspective change for you. And you don't need to do this alone. We need community more than ever now. Find a therapist, a trusted friend, maybe even a sibling that keeps it real with you and is genuine. You don't need to find the love of your life, or figure out what this person means for you, if they're a karmic/twin flame/soulmate/what have you right this minute. You don't. Trust me, you don't. Do you want to get asked out/married this very minute? Of course not. It really isn't woo-woo nonsense when people say that what's meant to be, will be. Think of all the times you wanted a situation to play out a certain way and it didn't. It probably worked out better, if you're being honest with yourself. Let go. Let the Universe do what it needs to do. Maybe this will help: The Universe put you in this situation, so let it sort it out. This is the Universe's problem now. You're just the actor. It's the show writers that need to sort this out now. Just vibe in the meantime lol.

Let the thought say one last goodbye: 9 of Swords

Your pain is not for nothing. This will be different for different people, but maybe the pain is to ground you. Maybe it's to prevent you from self-sabotaging in the future. Maybe it's to get you to see the reality of this person. Maybe it's to get you to see the reality of yourself. Maybe this is how you repay some karmic debt (in which case, yay! Lighter times ahead!) Maybe this is a sign you may have some unresolved trauma that needs to be removed from your mind and body, and is to show you that you're closing in on a breaking down point and need to love yourself enough to tend to it. Maybe it's bits and pieces of everything mentioned above. Maybe it's just none of these, and you're letting seasonal depression get the best of you. Believe it or not, sadness is vital in life. It's a necessary emotion. If you feel the need to wallow, by all means go ahead. And when it's time, let yourself stop. It's okay. You're okay. And it'll all be okay. You are worthy of love.

Oracles: Patience; Bring love into the situation (New Moon in Aquarius)

Work on detaching yourself from this situation. Your specific/personal situation will come from thinking outside the box. Be more pragmatic. Improve your karma by doing charitable work.

Pile 2

A pressing thought on your mind: The Lovers (and The Hermit for clarification)

Alright, so this pile is also thinking about love. But you guys have a lighter energy than Pile 1. Or maybe you're a Pile 1 coming back to this reading after some time. You've probably been single for a while, and have done some extensive soul-searching and inner work, and now perhaps an inner voice is telling you that you're ready to put yourself out there again. And the energy coming through is yes! Yes, you are ready! But since it's been a while, and given the state of the streets, you're apprehensive about how to put yourself out there, and if you even should yet. Some of you may even be thinking of those Tiktoks that tell you how awful partners (particularly men) can be, and you're (rightfully) a bit scared.

Allow the tarot deck to describe the thought back to you in a softer voice: 8 of Pentacles

You've been hard at work with your personal growth and self-concept, and it radiates in your aura now. You've been diligent and have paid attention to the details. There's no such thing as a perfect person, of course, but you've done commendable work to get to as perfect as you can be in this stage of your life. Look at you go, you little rock-star! You need to watch out for black-and-white thinking, both directed at your own self and at others. Just because there may be a few things you're still working on, doesn't mean you're not ready. And the same goes for people you may meet soon, or for those that you're already considering. In fact, it shows self-awareness that you/the other person is cognizant of their flaws and still putting themselves out there because not all healing occurs inside. We all need people, and that's not a flaw. It's okay to be apprehensive. Be aware of the risks but don't let them consume you.

How you're approaching the thought: The High Priestess

You may be scouring Tumblr or Tiktok or wherever for readings and signs to foresee who you need to engage with next, what signs to look for, how it's all going to play out. It's like you want a blueprint of the entire love story beforehand because you're determined to find the one next. No more games for you. No more delays. You're ready and you want your future now. Love that for you, queen! But don't let it overconsume you! Micromanaging your love life isn't the best way to go about it. You know this, c'mon!

How you can release the thought without needing to resolve it right now: The Magician

Manifestation is real. But it's real for everyone, not just you. Imagine you're driving and you're manifesting going right, but so is another person, and fate may look at this and decide, okay, one of these needs to detour to avoid a collision, and maybe it picks you? Shit example, but I hope you get what I'm saying. It's good to be specific in your manifestations but not too specific, you know? Think of the burnt toast theory. Most of them there's a reason behind why things happen the way they do. Sometimes it's an important reason, and sometimes it's just random and meaningless. You seem to be approaching dating in a very Virgo-like way at this time, and essentially the message here is to not be too calculating and strategic. Keep your wits and lessons with you, of course, but don't forget that the Universe is also a player here.

Let the thought say one last goodbye: Ace of Pentacles

Your future partner is going to come to you like a gift or an offering. For some of you, that's where the delay is - the Universe is packaging them up perfectly for you and you just need to wait until it's time lol. The Universe and your spirit guides have been hard at work helping you heal and polish and be ready for love, and they're not going to just give you out to a random, okay? Have faith. Express gratitude constantly. And just affirm that love is here and your steps are guided. Dating apps may be the way for some of you. One or two of you may have luck bumping into someone at work or at the gym. Also hearing a beloved bar for someone. But for the majority, it's a highly personalized way that you'll meet the one. Ultimately, though, don't think too hard about it.

Oracles: Purification; Confidence is your key to success (New Moon in Leo)

There you have it. You've been purified enough to put yourself out there again. You're ready. Whether this be through apps, networking, or just living your life, do it with confidence and carry the intention with you to find your best match without chasing.

Pile 3

A pressing thought on your mind: Queen of Pentacles

This pile's conundrum seems to be family dynamics. Maybe you're in a sticky situation at home, where you can't afford to move out and you've either outgrown your home environment, or it's getting toxic. But you may not have the funds/resources to leave. And you feel like you're being smothered but you also would feel guilty if you were to leave. For some, you may not need to leave but you feel like there's undue pressure coming from your family whenever you go to make decisions, be it financial, education-related, relationship-related, or what have you. Getting heavy 'eldest child of immigrant parents' energy here. Maybe you don't feel your age because you feel like you don't have the freedom and independence you'd assumed you would have at this point. Some of you were even parentified as kids and it's starting to come to the fore-front. For some, this extends to friends and you feel like you've outgrown them, or just need more friends, but again, you're in a box.

Allow the tarot deck to describe the thought back to you in a softer voice: Knight of Cups

Some of you may daydream of a Prince Charming coming and saving you from this environment. This is especially true if the 'eldest daughter' thing applies to you and one of the only acceptable ways in your family for you moving out and starting your own life is to get married. And maybe that is what will happen for some of you. But don't depend on it as the only way. It will happen if it's meant to happen, but when we attached too much stake to one specific outcome, we pour too much of our power into it, and the Universe doesn't like that. It's okay to pray and manifest a particular outcome but detachment is a key factor in manifestation, remember that. One of the easiest ways out of this energy is just getting your license and a car, you know? You don't have to wait for a ride, you can be the driver. Even getting a pet is a good way to get out of the house more (plus, that would divert your family's attention and ease the tensions around the house).

How you're approaching the thought: 3 of Pentacles

You probably vent to your friends or siblings a lot. You prioritize working (maybe even working overtime) and saving up money. You might also be pursuing higher ed to better your career. It's definitely a good step! Just be aware of your social and personal needs and realize that there's multiple gardens within you that need watering. If the immigrant thing resonates with you, this is especially important. Do not let work and money consume you because hard work, as sad as it is to say, does not always lead you to where you need to go. You need to be a whole person, not just a worker. Think about it, how logical is it to water your 'money' garden and expect your 'personal' garden to bloom if you don't tend to it as much? Don't let burnout ruin your senses.

How you can release the thought without needing to resolve it right now: The Fool

It's your first time being you. And it's also your parents' first time being them. Be as empathetic and compassionate as you can be with yourself and your family without self-sacrificing. There's internal knowledge you came here with that you can access through meditation. Reconnect with your inner voice and let it help you. Don't hold on to resentments, whether internal or external. Don't be so hard on yourself, and when faced with arguments at home, try to separate the actions from the doer. Everyone has their own traumas and vices that they unintentionally hand over control to. Don't rush things. Make an inner sanctuary for yourself and believe that things will work out. The dog/pet message is coming through again lol so if that's a possibility, please go for it! And whenever you feel helpless, remind yourself that you're not supposed to have all the answers just yet. Most successful people, when asked, say the same. They had the vision and they had the grit, but they didn't always have all the steps laid out and blind confidence.

Let the thought say one last goodbye: 4 of Wands

Everything will work out. Trust. Please, just trust. For those of you that resonated with the Prince Charming message, this is confirmation that that will happen. You'll meet the man of your dreams, and leave your current surroundings for the home and life for your dreams. This isn't meant to push you to place all your faith into a savior coming, thus disempowering you, but this message should push you to instead hold on to your power, and keep tending to all your gardens equally in the meantime. You've been through a lot, and it wouldn't be fair to the old versions of you that lead you here to give up now. It gets steeper the higher you go on a mountain. But at this point, you're also stronger. Believe that. It's a marathon, not a sprint.

Oracles: Courage; Your hard work is paying off (New Moon in Capricorn)

Don't be too controlling, and limit your exposure to anyone who is too controlling. Stay ambitious and courageous. Recognize and reward yourself for all the hard work you've done. See yourself as a person and not a project. Your life may not have been a fairy tale, but your fairy tale moment is coming.

I hope you found a message here today! And if not, I hope to have a message for you next time. Wishing you all love, light, and success! ❤️

Don't forget to leave feedback if your reading resonated in any capacity.

My kofi ☕ (for tips and $3 flat-rate readings)

[fan-a-tink]

Young Royals Finale reaction

EP6

Can’t believe the episode is 57 minutes long!!! That is such a blessing!!!! 57 MINUTES!!!

Chucking us right back in there… Simon just left that night? Like…? 

„And Simon is right. I have to take responsibility for my own problems. I can’t drag him down with me.“ Pfffuuuuuuhhhhhh that hurts… Like I know he is right.. They are both right… 

Love that jumper that Simon is wearing

Seeing Sara and Simon be friends again is so so soooooo healing for my soul. 

I love that pep talk that Sara gives Simon about their dad. And maybe the second chance will also apply to Simon’s relationship with Wille?

That poem is by Karin Boye - that’s the one Lisa posted with the trailer....!

Is this the first time Wille and Sara actually spoke to one another? Season 3, episode 6? 😅

So Hillerska is closing down. Even though it shouldn’t be, that is still a shock! But a good one! I love that as a resolution for everything

August having a breakdown in front of everyone after calling them to reason. He is like the only one who can’t stand the discord. And I love him for it

„But everything around here still reminds me of him.“ AAASDIH OIFHAIEFH ASDFV SDF

I’m sorry, but everyone calls their parents or talks to their best friends. Only Wille’s fucking parents don’t bother calling their son. He speaks to fucking Farima again! (Sorry, I love farima, I’m just sooooo over Wille’s parents being shit parents)

Wille looking at Simon through the bookshelves before going up to him… 💜💜💜💜

It breaks my heart that they can’t even say how they feel, they are so broken by this breakup.. But also weirdly, this also feels like one of the first really honest conversations they have

Henry interrupting them is soo funny…. He just has noooo radar :)))

„We could stay here and feel like crap together“ 😂 

HE CALLED SIMON THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE!!!!!!!!! I mean, we all knew that, but still - THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE!!!!!!!

Love that Felice called him ‚Party Prince‘ :))) also, it feels like Felice has her personality back :)) Nice to see the real Felice again :)))

Simon lying on the football field and playing with the fake sand…. My heeeaaaaarrrtttt!!!!!

Lol Simon did you really think you got closure? From what?

REVOLUTION IS PLAYING!!!!! 

„Erik would’ve loved you no matter what��� - this is the moment where I start crying. 

This is such a good apology, August.. And Malte is giving it everything… I love this scene. This is so so so important… Also, I’m crying now, and I probably won’t stop now that I’ve started.. 

„Yes, I have feelings for August. But I have stronger and more important feelings for you. And for Simon, and for myself.“ As an aroace person, this made my heart sing. FRIENDSHIP!!!!! PREACH!!!

„That was the best day of my life.“ Oh Saraaa….. I love you… I know you and Felice will be fine.. You will be fine, I can feel it!!

Nils officially coming out to Vincent and August 🏳️‍🌈 love it :) even Vincent has a good side, hidden somewhere very deep deep down, but it is there :)

„I see you, but I don’t think you see me. You’re in love with the person you become with me.“ She is soooo right. So right. And it breaks my heart that they won’t be together, but…. She is so right about this

Malte, you are such an incredible actor - how have we all not seen this before?!?!?!?!?!

„It’ll pass“ - that is such an iconic line that I will forgive you for stealing it from fleabag :))

It’s so brave of Simon to go up to Wille. 

I cannot even begin to write down my feelings about the next few scenes. I was crying the whole time, shaking, sobbing, all over the place. They are sooo beautiful. The way they look at each other. Cherishing the moment. AND WHEN WILLE STARTED SINGING ‚IT TAKES A FOOL TO REMAIN SANE‘ ökdfn oäwiAFGBNÖOUERBGTÖAOIRBSYDÖFGOXVABN I can’t watch this be the end of them. I can’t. 

Also, the song Alice is beautiful for all of this. Poetic cinema.

Frederika & stella :) 

WHEN IS THAT SONG GOING TO BE ON SPOTIFY? I WANT TO LISTEN TO THIS FOREVER AND EVER AND EVER. 

I love the slight change of the lyrics too.. „Cause we were a revolution“  from „I can be your revolution.“

Wille is looking at August like he has a plan. I SMELL AN ABDICATION :)))

And they sing Simon’s Song? This is toooo much!!!!! I love it!!!! But also why did no one tell Simon about that? 

The way they fade that song over the next few scenes… Have I already mentioned that I am crying my eyes out? 

So, the queen had a serious health concern. And now she is just fine? She has sought out therapy for like one day and apologizes to her son? Like, how does that work so quickly? 

But also, I love it. Wille deserves parents who are there for him. 

Wille, what are you thinking? What are you going to doooooo???? Abdication is coming, I can feel it…!!!

Why are they having a conversation about how it was in vain, or not? This is not going in the right direction. 

„I never gave up on you. I gave up on the royal family.“ - Wille, your path is clear!!!!! You HAVE to take it!!!

Goodbye? Nooo? Why???? „I hope you have a nice summer.“ What the fuck? That is not the throwback I needed? Hello? Why are you walking away? Noooo, come back!!!! Simooooooon!!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAHHHH!!

„They were friends who threw money at the problem instead of listening.“ THANK YOU!! 

Just ride off into the sunset together, you two 💜

The Queen saying she’s proud of Wille is such an empty thing. 

He is fumbling his collar. He is getting out of that car. 

„One day you will be a fantastic king.“ - Say it! Say it, Wille!! SAY IT!!!!!!!!!!!! 

„What happens if I don’t want to?“ YEEEEEEESSSSS, REVOLUTION BABY!!!!!!

This is the growth that Edvin talked about. Talking about his issues calmly, productively. Putting it simply. Being heard. Understood. He is fucking abdicating here and it is working. I LOVE IT!

„The thing with Simon“ - the disrespect!!!! I am done with this woman. He is the love of his life, ok?

„I don’t want this.“ - The smile when he says this.. 🥰 The first signs of the actual Wille coming out from all that pressure

The harmony theme starting to play as he leaves the car and the monarchy behind This is so freaking good!!!!! I freaking love this show

Haha, Simon waiting a minute before having Sara stop the car… Let him run :))

The music. The sunshine. The full trees. The fucking smiles on both of their faces. Fucking finally. 

„For my own sake. … I want to be with you, Simon.“

The cheeky smile on Simon’s face just before he says, „what the hell do you think?“ nsyöljdnföojansAKENF KASJDNF LKJANSD

THEY ARE SMILING!!!! THEY ARE HUGGING!!! THEY ARE BOYFRIENDS!!!! THEY ARE ENDGAME!!!!!

I WILL NEVER EVER RECOVER FROM THIS HAPPINESS - THESE TWOOOOOOOOOO 💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

THE MONTAGE…. 💜💜💜💜💜

THE WAY THE CUDDLE IN THE CAR - I AM FALLING IN LOVE WITH THEM ALL OVER AGAIN 💜💜💜💜💜

Also, I am in tears. Sobbing, shaking, laughing, crying. Truly, I have felt all the emotions this episode. I freaking love this show. 

[soulmvtes]

oh also it reminds me of the scene in fleabag that's like i want to take clean cups out of the dishwasher and put them in the cupboard at home and the next morning i want to watch my wife drink from them... like the casual domesticity of it all makes me tear up