#like i could make for myself a place in the world

[froggiewrites]

Sickly Sweet

Pairing: Sanji x Reader

SFW

Summary: You've got a horrible cold, and Sanji is determined to take care of you. He may be going a bit overboard. Warnings: Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Illness Word Count: 1.1k Notes: I'm sick as a dog right now, so I wrote a little something to comfort myself. Not proofread or edited, just words on the page. Hope everyone's having a good Christmas Eve (or Christmas, if it's already day of for you), and I hope none of you are sick like I am!

The doting had been so nice at the start. Your head was pounding, you could barely breathe through your nose, and your throat was so sore you felt like you had swallowed glass. So when your dear sweet Sanji had insisted on taking care of you, you had absolutely no problem with it.

Until now.

“Darling, angel, light of my life, please, just one more sip.” He was holding the cup of soup directly in front of your face, begging you to open your mouth. This was sweet the first time, but now you were halfway through your fourth cup of broth and you felt like you were going to explode.

You manage to mumble through pursed lips, “Sanji, I’m full.”

“Just one more, love, please.”

“Sanji, if I drink any more, I’ll throw up.”

“You won’t throw up, dear.”

“I definitely will. I’m about 80% soup right now. Maybe even 90.”

A slight wrinkle settles on his brow as he pouts. “Darling, you need fluids. It’ll help you recover.”

“I understand that. But there’s only so much room in my body, and we’re full up right now.” Your voice is getting croakier with every word you speak, and you can see Sanji’s eyes filling with even more concern. “Sweetheart, I’ll have more later, I promise. Please just…let me digest for a little bit.”

For a moment you simply stare into each other’s eyes, and you try to emphasize your pout and watery eyes. He folds like a house of cards. “Alright, dear.”

His hands are gentle as he cradles your face, his eyes adoring. You let your eyes close, basking in the love he has for you, before you feel him pull you closer.

You just barely get your hands between your lips, his brushing lightly against your palm.

“Mmm?” He mumbles against your hand in confusion.

“You can’t kiss me! You’ll get sick!”

You’ve never seen him look more devastated in your life. You honestly think he’d be less hurt if you shot him. “I can’t–I–What? No! I can’t kiss you?”

“No! You’ll catch whatever I have!”

“And it will be worth it!”

“I don’t want to get you sick! I don’t want you to feel like this!”

“Darling, not kissing you for however many days this lasts will be far more tortuous than the cold, I assure you.” He leans in again, his expression just begging you to let him press his lips to yours. Are those tears in his eyes?

“Well I’d feel awful getting you sick. And you went twenty-one years without kissing me, I think you can last a few days.” You pull your blanket tighter around you as though to shield yourself from his desperate begging.

“Darling, I didn’t know what I was missing then. Now I can’t live without you for a moment. Please, just one kiss. I probably won’t even get sick.” He falls to his knees, his chin resting on your thigh as he gazes up at you adoringly. “Please, dear. Just one.”

It would be so easy to deny him if you didn’t also desperately want to kiss him. You imagine the comfort of his warm, his arms wrapped around you protectively, his lips against yours. You could really forget how awful you felt, just for a moment. Sanji has a way of making you forget about the rest of the world. But you have to remain strong, for his sake. “Sanji, my love, it’s for your own good.”

He presses his face into your leg, making a pathetic whimpering noise. “My love denies me at my weakest. How cruel.” Despite his words, he nuzzles into your leg when you place a hand on the back of his head. “Would you kiss me if I were sick?”

“You wouldn’t let me.”

His silence speaks volumes.

But then he changes gears.

“But if I get sick from this would you kiss me? Since you’ve already had it?”

“I would.”

He lifts his head a moment, staring at you, before diving for your forgotten cup of soup. Before you can even process what he’s doing, he chugs it, pressing his lips against where yours had rested and purposefully consuming all of the germs you probably put into the cup.

“Sanji, what the hell?”

“Now I’m already infected! I’ll either get sick or I won’t. Kissing you won’t change anything.”

You sigh. That’s not really how this works, but he’s staring at you with such boyish pride for his genius little trick, and you were always going to give in anyway. “Come here, love.”

He actually cries out, “Yay!” like an excited child, before rushing forward to crash your lips together. The kiss is sweet as always, his lips soft and his hands gently caressing your cheeks. When you pull back to breathe, he falls forward, wrapping you in his arms and pressing comically loud smooches all over your face. “I adore you,” he says, with an amount of reverence normally reserved for gods.

“I love you too,” you say with the exasperation that one can only hold for the people they love most. “I’m not taking care of you when you get sick.”

“Yes, you will.” He has the slightest hint of a smug grin on his face before he nuzzles into your neck, pressing his lips against your pulse point. You wonder if he truly understands that beat is only for him.

You can’t hide your smile as it cracks through your faux annoyance. “Yeah, I will. But I’m going to be very smug about it.”

“You can be as smug as you’d like, my dear, as long as you’re with me. You can treat me however you’d like.”

“Don’t say that. What if I wanted to be mean to you?”

“Do you?”

“No, never!” There’s real horror in your tone beneath your cracking voice.

You can feel his lips turn into a fond smile against your skin. “I know, dear. That’s why I can say that to you.”

“I could be evil. People change.”

“Not you, my love.”

“I could be evil! I contain multitudes!”

He laughs quietly, pulling you so you’re pressed against the bed under his comforting weight. “Sure, sure. You could be as evil as you wanted.”

“Right,” you murmur, before a yawn breaks through. Sanji had managed to distract you, but you truly were exhausted fighting off this bug.

“Go to sleep, my love. You need your rest.”

“Will you be here when I wake up?”

“I’ll try. If I’m not, I won’t be long, I promise.”

“...Are you going to bring more soup? I don’t think I can handle any more.”

He doesn’t answer, kissing your forehead before slipping his eyes closed, encouraging you to do the same.

He’s definitely going to bring more soup.

Tag List: @pandora-writes-one-piece @shy-writer-999 @dreamcastgirl99 @tochillwithamockingjay

[omgcatboi]

When I was a kid I was kind of chubby, and in my teenage years I adopted the mentality of ' if I get fit then I guess I'm better than I was ' ( which was internalized fatphobia , an extremely weird kind that was only intended to be directed at myself. Very strange considering I've always loved fat people and been obsessed with how much I love fat people and even have had fat characters even when I was thin. But even if the intention was only directed at myself, inherently, fatphobia affects everyone. But mostly fat people. )

This post puts it into words perfectly. Getting fit didn't make me happy at all, it just gave me a very inflated and untruthful ego. And that ego was used as a safeguard for fat phobia. Even if it isn't intended to affect others again it still affects others. There is just simply no way around It.

It wasn't until I was able to start testosterone and transition medically that I felt comfortable enough in my body to gain weight. And after that, all those thoughts of how amazing it should feel to be fit melted away. Because it was always a should and never a matter of fact. I never actually felt better, I just felt lighter and tougher. I was tough because I felt like I wasn't allowed to be vulnerable in this world.

And that's lame. That's a very lame way of thinking. It's super lame to think that you can't be allowed vulnerability in this world. It is a Injustice to yourself to deny yourself comfort and softness. I used to feel so weird about perceiving myself as fat for the longest time as a teenager. And my adult life it was nothing but longing to be fat. And then I was able to transition.

So if you feel very uncomfortable about being fat, you should really get down to the root of that. Because it could just be that you aren't happy living the life that you are currently living. And if you delve deep into it and take the dive and find out that you actually don't want to be fat in the end that's okay too. But in this world you need to question everything about yourself in order to solidify it, without over questioning.

Challenging your beliefs builds character, and it builds morale. It gives you perspectives you would have never had without challenging your own views even when your views end up being something you still believe in and still agree with after challenging them which is kind of the point sometimes. Sometimes you need to come from a different angle in order to give yourself more context in order to actually explain something.

And the more understanding you have about yourself the better. No matter what.

So why not take the dive? I'm not saying go to the fridge and start stuffing your face, I'm saying question why you feel so uncomfortable with being fat. Question it and allow yourself to feel the emotion so that you can follow it and trace it to its source. Were you bullied? Did you have an abuser that was fat in your childhood that warped your view? Is your parent fat and you just don't want to be like your parent so it translates into fatphobia?

I think if people were more honest with themselves the world would be a much better place.

not to bat at a hornets nest but. people who were super insecure or were bullied about being pudgy and "got better" by becoming thinner or super muscular never actually got rid of that insecurity, they simply became the image they felt they had to live up to

[vengefultakeover]

In Need of a Master

The rock hit my head with thunk and it sent me to the ground, cluthing the side of my skull while everyone rushed around me. I was in the parking lot when the round pebble nearly creacked my skull open. I could see it under my car, a circular opject, smooth, grey and speckled. I shook it off, thinking it was just some accidental debris.

"Are you alright?" I was asked by an elderly woman. There was someone behind them on the phone, calling the cops or maybe an ambulance?

"I'm fine!" I laughed it off, dusting my pants off from the asphalt sticking to the fibers. I scurried over to my car after picking up my groceries and tossed them into the back. The onlookers were shaking their head and their worried faces started to disappear as they went back to their normal lives thining nothing of it. I unlocked my car and then reached under, feeling around for the pebble until I felt it against my finger tips.

"Gotcha!" I said, pulling it out and turning it over in my hand. I felt it prick my finger, a spot of blood appearing on the outside. It disappeared as it quickly absorbed into the stone.

I am in need of a master. Are you the one? I heard behind. I spun around thinking it was right behind me and finding nothing but more rows of cars. I looked down at the pebble and shook my head thinking it may have just been the result of the thing hitting my head. I slid it into my pocket and forgot all about it on the drive home.

My roommate was chugging a glass of water in front of the sink when I dropped all my groceries on the counter. He was shirtless, as usual, and I watched him acknowledge me before going into his room. I was putting things away, the assigned spots around the kitchen, in the cupboard, and the refridgerator. Devin was playing video games in his room and I took this moment of solitude to read a book on the balcony. I looked across the way at the building and remembered the stone in my pocket just as it slid out and bounced along the ground. I picked it up, and slid my fingers over it. I set it down on the table, returning to my book when it vibrated.

"You are my new master." It had a voice and it sounded like my own.

"What the fuck?" I backed away from it, standing there in shock before getting closer again.

"You are my master. I am here to do what you will." It said, vibrating again.

"What are you?" I asked.

"I am a species from another world, subservient to one. My previous master is dead." It vibrated. I picked it up. Turning it over to see if I could find where a speaker may have been hidden.

"What do I do?" I asked.

"I am in need of a host. In order to serve you better I must take on your species' form. I do not normally look like this. This pebble is a camoflauge tactic. I was picked up by someone and thrown in your direction. I apologize, master, for any pain I may have inflicted before making myself known." It vibrated in my hands. I thought of my roommate when it finally clicked he needed a host. He was kind of an asshole, worked out a lot, and barely paid rent on time.

"Maybe Devin?" I said.

"Yes, Master." It said and then remained quiet. I thought it might do something, tell me what to do, but I returned to my book. I would occasionally peer over the top of my book. I took it inside with me when it finally got dark, and placed it on my beside table before doing my nightly routine. I thought maybe it would do something, especially since I could hear Devin's snore through the walls, but it was just there. I even said goodnight to it before clicking off the light and going to sleep.

The following morning it was gone. I thought maybe I had dreamt it. A concussion dream I was experiencing throughout the evening, but I noticed a slimy substance on the floor. I followed it out of my room, careful not to step on it just in case it was something dangerous. The trail led out into the hal and then into Devin's room. The door was wide open and I could hear something happening inside. Devin was asleep when I peered around the corner, but I could see something much larger next to the bed. It was curled up, looking over Devin.

The creature suddenly grew arms, long tentacles that curled and wiggled until they latched on to Devin's body. He was still asleepm his arm above his head and the blanket barely covering him. The thing slithered on top of him, leaving a slimy trail in its wake before the tentacles became taught. The head of the creature pushed against his stomach, now startling Devin awake as he tried to push the thing off in panic. His stomach seemed to open up for the creature, slurping its ways inside of his belly button and with every amount of bulbous form slipped inside the less Devin was struggling. His hands started to slip, suddenly losing control and then slamming against it. Devin's eyes rolled into the back of his head as the creature was almost in, the last of it wriggling and shaking as it forced itself into him. his abs tightened and his belly button slurped as the creature popped inside. Devin's body bounced on the bed and then his back arched before collapsing back into his sleeping pose.

"Devin?" I asked, making myself known and standing at the foot of his bed.

"If that's what you wish to call me, Master." He opened his eyes and looked down at himself.

"Are you okay?" I tilted my head.

"I am perfect. This form will hold me as you wished." He looked over at me, lifting his arm above his head with a smile as I walked around.

"That's awesome." I said.

"I am glad you think so master." He responded. I wanted to touch him so bad. Reach out and worship that body I had been jerking off to night after night.

"What now?" I asked.

"I am yours to control, Master." He said. I won't lie, I loved that he called me Master. I loved it so much that when it came out of Devin's mouth it made my cock bounce. I reached out, touching his chest as he looked at me with those obedient eyes.

"I see you like this body." He flexed it, his pecs tensing under my palms. When I rand my hand down his chest to his abs he tesned them and I jumped on top of him. His cock was pulsing under the blanket.

"I do. You will do anything I say?" I pushed my hands into the blanket and felt his cock. My fingers squeezed it which made his eyes flutter.

"Yes, Master. That feels good." He groaned as I pulled on his balls.

"Okay. As much as I like you calling me Master, don't do it in public." I squeezed his cock and it made him moan.

"Yes, Master." He said as he writhed underneath me.

I leaned in close and whispered, "I want you to beg me to fuck you. Pretend to be Devin." I leaned back, but he didn't let. He gripped my arms and pulled me in close, kissing me.

"Please fuck, bro. I have wanted you inside me since we moved in together." He said, sliding his hand down his body. He pulled himself out from underneath me and perked his ass up.

"Since we moved in, huh?" I said, throbbing.

"Yes. I need that cock inside me." He reached back, pulling his cheeks apart. His hole puckered as I leaned in and gave it a lick. He moaned out, his whole body tensing as I teased him with my tongue. I made him turn around, his mouth drooling as my cock bobbed in front of his face.

"Suck it." I said. His mouth enveloped it and I leaned my head back as I let out a moan and as he sucked I could already feel my balls churning from the pleasure. I pushed him away from me, my cock wet from his saliva.

"Beg." I said. He turned around, his ass up in the air and he pulled his cheeks part for me one last time.

"Please. I need it. This fucking hole needs it, bro. I'm all yours." He was almost whining and it was enough to entice me. I pushed my cock inside, feeling his tight ass against me as it slid into him. He gasped and gripped onto the edged of the bed, the springs creaking as I fucked him hard. His hole felt amazing on my cock, especially when he clenched it and my cock throbbed against it while sliding in and out of him.

"Tell me you want me." I pulled him up, my cock pulsing as I slid my hands around him and along his body. I squeezed his muscles, enjoying them in my hands.

"I want you to fill me up with your fucking load, bro. This ass is yours. This body is yours." He flexed for me as I felt him up, pushing him back down and holding onto his waist as I felt my cock nearing the explosive end. I was fucking him hard when I felt my whole body trembling and I blew my load inside his hole. The image of the creature squeezing into his body flashed in my mind. I was shaking from the adrenaline, from having this power over his body and we collapsed onto the bed. I was on top of him, kissing his back as he smiled.

"I'm happy to please you, Master." He said, my cock still lodged inside his hole. He playfully tightened himself around it and I whimpered, enjoying him. I pushed myself over and looked over at him as he laid there, eyes staring at me.

"Okay, so, I think you're going to be my boyfriend. At least pretend or I don't know." I said, my hand resting on his back as he rest his head on his crossed arms.

"Of course, Master. That will be easy. You're much nicer than any other Master I have had." He said.

"I'm sorry to hear that. Well, from here on out I want you to have a little freedom. Enjoy this body and also blend in as him. He still has to pay rent." I chuckled. The creature didn't understand the joke and laughed too.

Years later and he's still inside. Enjoying the pleasured of his human form and every chance we get, no matter where we are, he reminds me he's inside. Plus, I love having him around even if I am his Master.

[snowysosturn]

Allies or Affiliates? - Chris Sturniolo Finale

64.media.tumblr.com

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Finale

Pairing : Y/n x dealer!Chris Sturniolo

Summary : Law student Y/n’s life takes a turn when she reconnects with Chris, her brief teenage flame who is now a dealer for a dangerous Boston drug gang. As their bond reignites, Y/n is drawn into Chris’s tumultuous world, where rival gangs clash and loyalty is everything. Balancing her love for Chris with her own ambitions, can their connection survive the chaos that threatens to pull them apart?

Warnings : paragraphs that are in italics are a flashback

It was a crisp morning, the kind that filled the air with promise, the kind that felt like the start of something new. I stood in front of the full length mirror in our bedroom, looking at myself in the white dress, the intricate lacework of cuban descent making me feel like a different version of myself, someone who was more than the person I had been a year ago.

Someone who had finally found peace.

The house was quiet, safe for the sound of my own breath. The past year had been a whirlwind of change, but today, I could finally take a moment to breathe it all in.

I was about to marry Chris.

It felt like so much had happened in such a short time, from the chaos surrounding Vince’s trial to the slow but steady path we carved out for ourselves after everything had settled. Vince had been sentenced, life in prison, and his influence on Boston’s drug trade had crumbled, leaving a wake of relief behind it. People who had been trapped in that world, Chris included, finally had a chance to breathe, to live their lives without fear. And we had done that, together.

The door creaked open behind me, and I turned to see Willow step inside, her eyes already glistening with tears. She had been my best friend for years, and now, she was about to be my maid of honor. She had been there for me through every moment, every tear, every laugh. And she had known about the engagement before anyone else.

The night of Vince’s trial had been an emotional rollercoaster, and as the verdict was read, it felt like a weight was lifted off my chest. Vince’s conviction meant the end of a chapter that had hung over us for so long. But as Chris and I made our way out of the Boston, I had no idea what was waiting for me in Cape Cod.

Nate and Willow had invited us down, suggesting it would be the perfect way to unwind after the end of everything that had happened. We followed the GPS’s directions as we made our way toward the quiet town. The drive was serene, the evening sky open and clear. Chris was quieter than usual, but I could tell he was just as relieved as I was to be moving forward, finally free from all the darkness that had shadowed us for so long.

When we reached the house, I gasped. It was a large, beautiful white house, sitting at the edge of a huge lake that shimmered under the orange and pink sky. The entire property felt like something out of a dream, with trees lining the perimeter. It was peaceful, pristine and everything I could have imagined for a place to escape to after the chaos.

Chris parked the car, glancing over at me with a reassuring smile. “Go ahead inside. I’ll grab the bags from the trunk.”

I nodded and stepped out of the car, the cool air embracing me as I made my way to the front door. As soon as I walked in, Willow was there, her arms opening wide for a hug.

“I’m so glad you made it!” she said, wrapping me in a tight embrace. Her voice was thick with emotion, relief, and warmth. “It’s all over, Y/n. Vince is gone, and now we can finally breathe.”

I smiled, pulling away and looking around the cozy, rustic living room. The house was warm, inviting, with large windows. Everything about it was perfect for the peaceful retreat we’d all been craving.

Willow’s eyes sparkled as she spoke again, “If you want to see the view from the lake, I think you’ll find it very peaceful. It’s just through the house and out the back.”

I agreed immediately. We had been through so much lately, and a moment of calm was just what I needed. Willow led the way through the house, chatting about how nice it was to get away from the city, and how Nate had been looking forward to this weekend for weeks. We passed through the kitchen and into a hallway that opened up to the back of the house.

When I stepped outside, I felt my breath catch in my throat.

There, standing in front of a massive wall of wildflowers, flowers in every color, their soft petals swaying in the breeze, with fairylights running through them, was Chris. The wildflowers, I realized, were the same type he had bought me the first time he decorated the treehouse. I hadn’t forgotten that day, the way he had surprised me with something so simple, yet so meaningful.

He was standing there, looking at me with a mixture of love, excitement, and nervousness. He smiled softly as I approached, and the air between us felt charged with something unspoken.

“Y/n” he began, his voice low and steady, “I’ve wanted to do this for a long time. I can’t imagine my life without you. You’re everything to me.”

I stopped just in front of him, my heart racing in my chest. I could feel the weight of his words, the sincerity in his eyes. This was the man I had fought for, the one who had been there through every storm. And here, in front of the wildflowers, just like the first time we had shared something so special, he was about to make the moment even more unforgettable.

Chris dropped to one knee, pulling out a small box from his pocket. The evening sky reflected off the diamond inside, making it glisten as he held it up to me. “Y/n, will you marry me?”

Tears welled up in my eyes as I looked at him, at the man who had stood by my side through everything. The man who had loved me despite all the chaos, despite all the danger. This was the moment I had dreamed of, the moment that I knew, deep down, was meant to happen.

“Yes” I whispered, my voice breaking. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Willow, who had been standing quietly off to the side, couldn’t help but let out a joyful squeal. Nate, too, appeared from the corner of the yard, a proud grin on his face.

Chris stood up and wrapped me in his arms, the weight of the world finally lifting from our shoulders. We had made it through the storm, and now we were here, together, ready to start the next chapter of our lives.

As the ceremony came to a close, I stood beside Chris, our hands intertwined, both of us grinning ear to ear. The day had been perfect in every way, a testament to how far we’d come from the chaos and uncertainty of our past. The small chapel we’d chosen for our wedding had been filled with love, and everyone we cared about was there, standing by our sides.

Willow and Nate were the first to greet us after the vows had been exchanged. Willow had been nothing short of radiant, her pregnancy glow adding to the warmth of the day. She’d stepped into the role of maid of honor effortlessly, her laughter and energy lighting up the room. But today, something about her seemed even more special. I couldn’t help but notice the small bump that had begun to show on her stomach. She was just as beautiful as ever, and I knew she and Nate were going to be wonderful parents.

Chris’s parents, who had once been a source of tension and distance, had rekindled their relationship over the past few months. It was so heartwarming to see them here, standing together in the front row, sharing in our joy. They’d been hesitant at first, unsure of how to mend the broken ties with their son, but seeing them embrace each other again, now fully part of our lives, was a gift I never expected.

When Chris's mom pulled me into a tight hug, I could feel the sincerity in her embrace, her warmth reaching out to me as if welcoming me into the family for the first time. She whispered, “I’m so glad you’re the one he chose. You’ve made him happier than I could ever imagine.”

It meant everything to me to hear that from her, especially considering all the struggles Chris and I had faced along the way.

Nate, standing beside Willow as the best man, flashed us his usual mischievous grin as he clinked his glass for a toast. “I can’t believe you guys finally tied the knot” he joked, his voice carrying the genuine affection he held for both of us. He winked at Willow before adding, “Now that’s two weddings for the price of one.”

Willow rolled her eyes playfully but smiled as she gently rubbed her stomach. “Not quite yet” she replied with a laugh, her voice filled with joy.

The reception was small, intimate, just the way we wanted it. The celebration felt like an extension of the love we’d built over the years, and as the night grew older, I realized how far we’d come since everything had seemed so uncertain. There was no more looking over our shoulders, no more fears about what might happen next. This was it, the beginning of our forever.

I glanced over at Chris, who was talking animatedly with his parents. His face was lit with genuine happiness, his laughter echoing in the air. My heart swelled as I thought back to everything that had led us to this moment, all the struggles, the pain, the victories.

Chris pulled me into his arms for our first dance as husband and wife. The world seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of us. “I’m so glad you’re mine” he whispered in my ear, his voice thick with emotion.

“Forever” I whispered back, feeling the weight of the promise we had made to each other.

As the first notes of Strangers in the Night by Frank Sinatra filled the air, I felt Chris's arms tighten around me, pulling me close as we swayed to the music. The song, a classic, had always held a special place for us.

We were no longer the same two people who had slow danced in Cape Cod. We had grown, healed, and found something real, something that was ours, built from trust and love.

Chris’s hand gently rested on the small of my back, his eyes locked on mine with a tenderness that made my heart skip a beat. His lips quirked up into that smile I loved so much, the one that made everything feel right in the world. I smiled back, knowing that, even in the midst of everything that had happened, we had found this peaceful moment to just be.

He laughed quietly, the sound of his voice blending seamlessly with the music. “I still can’t believe we’ve made it here. After everything.”

“I think we were always meant to get here, somehow” I said, my fingers tracing the back of his neck.

As the song carried on, I could see out of the corner of my eye that Willow and Nate were watching us, both of them smiling, their love for us as evident as the love we shared. It felt like the world had finally settled into the place it was supposed to be. I was no longer just Y/n, the law student or the girl from the bridal shop. And Chris was no longer a dealer or a runner. I was Chris’s wife and he was my husband, standing in this beautiful moment, surrounded by the people we loved most.

The music slowly faded as we danced, but the way Chris held me, the way we fit together, didn’t need any words. The world may have been a complicated place, but in this dance, in his arms, everything felt as it should.

As the song ended, Chris pulled me in for a slow, tender kiss. I knew it wasn’t just the end of a dance, it was the beginning of something even more beautiful.

Forever.

a/n: and just like that, my first chris series is finished :( i genuinely had so much fun writing this and i appreicate all of the love and interactions along the way! my next series is an enemies to lovers matt fic, the summary can be found here! also Merry Christmas to all that celebrate!

thank you to anyone who read this series!

Snowy <3 x

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[chocoloom]

Adding onto my last post, Imma make an Eden’s Garden prediction on who I think may survive or die, or at least seems to be more likely to die to ME.

Spoilers Ahead for Project Eden’s Garden btw! If you haven’t played it, please do, it’s FREE RN

If you’re still here, here we go!

Damon Maitsu - Survives (Protagonist clause, he’s gonna be hella traumatized though). Dude still has a whole character arc to go through, he still has trust issues to get rid of.

Ingrid Grimwall - Probably Dead. Look I love this lady with my whole chest. Her passion and charm hit me like a train and as a southern woman myself, I love her accent. But. Her death would hit like a truck and that is exactly what Danganronpa thrives in doing. Especially considering her death would cause the group to lose a pillar of emotional support, and would devastate a certain little matchmaker. Speaking of which.

Toshiko Kayura - Survives. She’s gonna get some character development related to Diana or Ingrid, especially if one of them dies (looking at Ingrid specifically). Ingrid dying would fuck this girl UP, which is why I think it’s going to happen. They have been setting up these two having a mother daughter relationship early on. I don’t see this girl as a murderer, but I can see her filling a similar role to Aoi’s. Specifically how Aoi was acting during the Sakura trial, hiding evidence cause she blames other people and herself for the death of someone she cares about. I can’t see her dying though, she’s too young. That’s a baby. Then again, this isn’t the main Danganronpa world, so I could be wrong. Absolutely off topic, but I think there’s a reason she’s hiding her face. Not a bad one mind you, she strikes me as someone who would try to hide things she doesn’t like about herself in an attempt to seem more mature or lady like. Maybe she still has braces and is embarrassed about it.

Jean DeLamer - Solid fifty fifty. I straight up don’t know, I could see this going one of two ways. One, he survives to the end (in which case, awesome, he’s honestly one of my favorites in this game). Two he dies in a sacrificial manner to save the rest of the group, as they have become his new crew in a sense. In which case, I’m sad and my heart is in tatters. He gives off big Nekomaru or Gundham vibes in his role in the group. Regardless, I see him as a big source of reliability and moral support for the group going forward. I can also see him taking up more of a leadership role going forward. Maybe he helps out Diana in her attempts to unite the students.

Ulysses Wilhelm - Dead. That bit about him not being able to smell strikes me as a Chekhov’s gun that has yet to be fired. I can practically taste the metal. I could see him being either a murder victim or a murderer. Regardless of which, it will likely involve Wenona in some way, as those two have been maintaining a positive relationship. I can see them conspiring with each other, or betraying each other. Either way, dramaaaa~

Jett Dawson - Dead. 100%. I do not see his ass surviving. Sorry Jett enjoyers. The fact that we don’t know what his face looks like also feels like a Chekhov’s gun. Maybe it’s connected to Tozu and Mara, or maybe it’s connected to another student (looking at Mark). Maybe someone impersonates him, or the other way around.

Mark “Mayhem” Berskii - Dead. I could see him being a murder victim or murderer tbh. I think it may depend on what happens with Jett, as those two have been linked together, much to Mark’s initial chagrin (The shippers are gonna sob I just know it). There’s a darkness in that boy’s soul, and it specifically mentioned that Mark specializes in remixing songs and voices. I could see a scenario where he takes the recorded voices of his fellow students and uses them to create confusion, maybe make people think that a person is in a specific place when they are not, or cause confusion as to whether or not a person is alive or dead at a specific time. Maybe he kills Jett, would that be fucked up or what :D?

Desmond Hall - Fifty fifty, but I think he Survives. He’s more likely to in my head, but if he does die, he’s the murder victim. From what we know about his personality, I think he’s less likely to try and kill anybody in comparison to some of the other characters. He’s got a very low key personality, and even though his talent is the most connected to killing out of the whole cast, I actually think he is probably one of the people who is least likely to do so. Dude is a killer shot, but he’s no killer.

Wenona - Fifty fifty, leaning more towards 25-75 in favor of death. She COULD survive, but I think it’s more likely for her to die tbh. She’s been one of the people who has been the most vocal about waiting for rescue, but she’s also a billionaire. And you don’t get that much money without being willing to take advantage of, manipulate, and hurt people. She’s definitely going to be an antagonist in a future chapter, aided by Ulysses. She’s also going to have some sort of conflict with Cassidy, as they have been setting up this bad blood between the two since Cassidy’s intro. She strikes me as someone who could play a similar role to Byakuya or Celestia, especially if she finds out that help might not be coming. Or if her company is on the line. Cuz we still don’t know what the situation is like outside of the Academy. Also, murder is just as much of a girlboss move as it is an immoral one.

Eloise Taulner - Dead. I don’t know enough about her to say for sure, but I think she could be the murder victim or murderer. If it’s the latter, good for her ig. Girl slays, or I guess stabs would be more applicable.

Cassidy Amber - Survives. I think she’s more likely to survive than die. Girl is feisty, and the survivor groups usually have some upbeat and optimistic. If she dies however, she dies mid game. I could see her plotting to murder Wenona, or getting into a confrontation with her due to her status as a morally bankrupt billionaire. I don’t want her to die, I like her dynamics with a lot of the other characters, but I could see it happening.

Grace Madison - Dead. I would wager she might die within the next chapter or two. Her primary connection as a character was to Wolfgang, and he’s gone, soooo, yeah. Something is definitely up with her that’s going to get addressed next chapter regardless. For one, we still don’t know why she was so adamant about nobody going into Wolfgang’s room at the time of his death. It could be because she was just embarrassed about people discovering and questioning her about her relationship with Wolfgang, but I think there could be more to the story. There’s secrets in each students room, but we don’t know what secrets could be contained in Wolfgang’s room. But Grace might. What’s more, her behavior after Eva’s execution peaked my interest. She’s uncharacteristically silent, not saying anything, even when someone says something that would typically elicit a violent reaction from her. I think she’s conflicted about Eva now, cause Grace definitely despised Eva, but after watching her death, in all its horror? I think even she feels like it was too cruel. She might act a bit more toned down and less angry going forward. Additionally, during Diana’s speech, she doesn’t insult Diana or say anything. Wenona is the only one to really insult Diana, while the rest of the group just kinda try not to acknowledge it. Either Grace is still in shock, or maybe she was actually kinda moved by Diana’s gesture to try to honor Wolfgang’s memory? Maybe she’ll help her, who knows. Would be interesting to say the least.

Okay, these last two are really hard. Figures, they have the most interesting relationships and dynamics with Damon, our protagonist. I can see this going in a lot of different ways, and they are all interesting.

Kai Monteago - Okay, hear me out. Kai strikes me as someone with confidence issues in spite of being an influencer. He underestimates himself, and that lack of confidence combined with his cowardice leads to him wanting to leave stuff like the investigations and the trials to other people. But I also think he wants people around him. The guy craves genuine connection, and he seems to have found the beginnings of that in Damon. He latched onto him like a butterfly to a flower, and I can’t see him letting go anytime soon.

Because of that, I see Kai filling the role that people initially thought Eva was going to fill. Kai will be Damon’s Assistant character, his support. The role of an influencer is one that involves the manipulation of people, be it to follow them on instagram, to buy their products, or simply to listen to them. Damon can argue and debate all day, and he’s good at it, but Kai I think will aid in getting people to listen to his points, and could even manipulate people to uncover lies or get them to confess. This will increase his confidence in his own abilities as a result. Kai is not as dumb as he seems to think he is, and I think he’ll learn that in the arcs going forward. He may also kiss Damon on the mouth, but only time will tell. I hope they do tbh.

Because of this, Kai is mostly safe. If he dies, he dies late game and it mentally destroys Damon, or helps further his character development. Otherwise he survives until the end. And honestly, I think there’s a pretty good chance that the latter option will occur. Regardless, Kai is going to play a crucial role in Damon’s arc. I could see him being one of the catalysts for Damon actually trusting people in this game, after his trust was so broken up by Eva’s murder plot.

Diana Venicia - First of all, she is not gonna be a murderer. Girly was framed last trial, they aren’t gonna pull that shit twice. Plus it was established that she couldn’t bring herself to pull the trigger on Wolfgang, even though her life was actively in danger and he ATTACKED her. If, IF, she becomes a blackened, it is purely by accident or she didn’t intend to kill (maybe smth similar to Chiaki where her actions led to the murder unintentionally, but she never intended to kill). Even then, I think the chances of that situation happening are veryyy low.

I think she is going to serve as a foil to Damon in the trials to come, kinda like an antagonist. As an antagonist isn’t someone who is necessarily evil. They either serve as foils to the protagonist or prevent them from reaching their goals. She won’t obstruct or prevent Damon from reaching his goals, as they both want to go home and get out of the killing game. Rather, she’ll be an antagonist in the moral or metaphorical sense, and I think she’ll be more vocal and try to take a leader position in an attempt to emulate Wolfgang. Her trusting and open nature clashes with Damon’s closed off and suspicious demeanor, and that’s going to play a role in the trials going forward. I can also see her finding allies in her attempting to unite the students in Toshiko, Jean, and possibly Jett, Cassidy, and maybe Grace.

I’ve seen some people saying she will die come Chapter 2. While I see the reasoning behind that. I don’t think that will be the case. If she dies, it’ll be late into the game, maybe come Trial 4 or 5. I could also see her surviving, but it’s too soon to tell. She either dies late game or survives the whole thing, like Kai. That’s my take anyway. Still, the poor bubblegum girl. The horrors are just beginning for her I think.

Wolfgang and Eva: lol they dead as hell. Rigor mortis is already setting in. They’re extra crispy.

In Summary:

Potential Survivors (most to least likely in my head) - Damon, Kai, Diana, Toshiko, Desmond, Cassidy, Jean

As for who may be next to die in chapter two, my money’s on Grace, Ulysses, or Eloise.

[nodutra19]

I dunno if I should even say this given I don't speak Japanese, but the change of "revolutionize the world" here really bothers me.

One of the things I like about Ikuhara is how he creates complex parallelisms, and I think the Black Rose Council is meant to parallel the Student Council, which is why they both speak of revolutionizing the world.

Another thing I like is his "boiling frog" approach. He lures you in with something seemingly nice, and then slowly but surely introduces odder and odder elements, occasionally jarring you until eventually you land yourself somewhere really bizarre. The Black Rose Saga does that very well and marks a shift in tone.

I get the impetus behind the change, but I've always interpreted the use of "revolutionize the world" as ambiguous, and in this case it's really meant to make you question what their revolution even brings. If this underhanded stranger can speak of the same thing as the "heroes," then what is it those heroes actually speak of? This disconcerting man also has a Rose Bride and seeks to usurp the powers that be...

But to what end? If his desire is the same, what does that say of the Student Council, and especially of Utena herself? They both don pink hair and off-puttingly similar Rose Brides, after all, and even similar uniforms. What do they actually want to replace these power structures with? Cuz Mikage just wants his Rose Bride to take Anthy's place and to unlock eternity for himself.

My only translation experience has been through a few songs, but changing a specific phrase like that doesn't seem right to me.

Not only that, but Mikage, and, for the viewer on a rewatch, the Student Council, give cult vibes. Mikage reduces people to their most basic and awful urges and ideas in order to turn them into weapons, and when he finally has them on the precipice, he ushers himself in and says:

You have no choice but to revolutionize the world.

Which reminds me of an actual cult.

I take this from Haruki Murakami's Underground, as translated by Alfred Birnbaum and Philip Gabriel:

Around that time I went to the Aum dojo at Setagaya. They explained my situation to me and told me right then and there how to treat it. I tried the breathing exercises they taught me, and I couldn't believe how quickly I got better. For two months after that I didn't go to the dojo very much, but then I started going regularly, doing volunteer work, folding leaflets and stuff. Soon after there was a "Secret Yoga" session where you could talk directly to the Leader [Shoko Asahara], and I asked him what I should do about my poor health. "You need to become a renunciate," he told me. It was like he saw the real me at a glance. People were amazed because he'd never said that to anyone before—so I felt I had no choice but to leave school and become a renunciate. I was 22.

(Bold emphasis mine)

Ikuhara also mentions Aum sometime in 1998, I can't remember if it was an interview or DVD commentary. Given one of his later works, the parallels are very clear.

I guess to make a more normal comparison, think of how many men complain about how "women don't allow men to express their feelings" or the "male loneliness epidemic." But you also know that most of them go back to old and harmful ways. They squirm at terms like "patriarchy" and "toxic masculinity," and when you ask them what causes these things and what they desire to replace it with, you begin to understand that these men fundamentally misunderstand the issues at hand. That doesn't invalidate their complaints, but you can't let that justifiable complaint blind you from what they truly want: to be the ones on top.

This is gonna be a really out of pocket comparison, but even P. Diddy complained about how white dominated companies are. But what did he actually do? Hearing him say that made my own skin crawl as a person of color, even though I agree with it. I just don't let that agreement blind myself from what people like him actually do and offer to the world. I've had that example on mind because of the recent F.D Signifier video on Diddy.

I think that's what the Black Rose Saga introduces to the series, and why I think changing this line doesn't make sense. I personally think it's meant to be flaccid coming from him, it's meant to be jarring just judging by Ikuhara's style (although I've only gone through RGU and MPD). If there absolutely must be a change, maybe "You have no choice but to overthrow the world around you" would work as a neater and more direct parallelism, although given "revolutionize the world" doesn't seem to be an idiom or some play on words in Japanese (other than "revolution" also meaning a cycle, as in the revolution of the moon around the Earth), I really don't see much reason for the change.

Of course, I don't speak Japanese nor do I know much about translation. And this is just my interpretation of Ikuhara.

I know this seems like a lot, but it's really bugged me. Other than that, I like this translation and adore the various corrections/creativities like "almglocken" for "cowbell."

Fansub Release + Analysis of Utena Ep 14

This is a big one!!

My fansub release posts aren't usually like this, but this episode is so jam packed with stuff I want to talk about that I had to write my translation notes as a series of essays. It's longer than usual so strap in!

First, a word on “The Mikage Seminar”

I’ve always found the translation “the Mikage Seminar” very strange. In English, a seminar is an event — a lecture. Yet “the Mikage Seminar” is discussed as though it’s not a recurring lecture, but a society or a school of therapy, or a cult (like scientology). In fact I did a bit of reading about scientology to try and find an alternative translation, and discovered that the origins of scientology, namely a set of ideas and practices called Dianetics, bears a lot of similarities to “the Mikage Seminar”. Both involve a type of therapy where one person looks into their mind and talks to an “auditor”.

The auditor coaxes the preclear to recall as much as possible. — Wikipedia

This in particular stood out to me! Mikage often says 「深く。もっと深く」 during his interviews (”Deeper. Dig deeper.”).

The Japanese word ゼミナール doesn’t actually come from the English “seminar” but the German “Seminar” (capitalised). According to Wikipedia, in Germany, and often in Japan, Seminar/ゼミナール is used to refer to a university course that includes a thesis project. So ゼミナール refers to a course of learning, rather than a talk or lecture. And it would make a lot of sense to call a system like Dianetics a “course”. Almost like a “course” of medicine — a “course” of psychological practices that you can join but never complete.

So it would make sense to translate it as “the Mikage Course”. But “course” has more meanings in English than just this, and in the context of a university this makes it sound more like a mundane teaching course. So I tried some other words: the Mikage Sessions, the Mikage Method, Mikage Psychotherapy, Mikage Therapy, the Mikage Movement. None seemed quite right. Until I remembered this post. ゼミナール is a foreign word in Japanese, why not find a foreign word for the translation? And so I settled on this:

The Mikage Seminarium, AKA The Society of the Black Rose…

Seminarium is Latin, and is where both the German and English derive seminar from. Its original meaning is “seed plot”, but it’s also just the Polish word for seminar. I really like how the Latin makes its meaning ambiguous — it kind of sounds like a location, kind of sounds like a society, and kind of sounds like a learning course. Because it is all of these things.

Anthy: では、香苗さん。失礼します。 Kanae: ね、あたしの事、お姉さんって呼んでいいのよ。もうすぐわたしはあなたの本当のお姉さんになるんだから。

A more literal translation:

Anthy: Thank you for having us, Kanae-san. Kanae: Please… you can just call me “sister”. I’m going to be your real sister soon enough anyway.

The translation I ended up going with:

Anthy: Thank you for having us, Miss Ohtori. Kanae: Please... you can just call me Kanae. We're going to be family soon. There's no need for the formalities.

Japanese honorifics strike again!

In English, sisters-in-law don’t ask to be called “sister”. That would be super weird in most scenarios, and this scene is trying to evoke a particular familiar feeling of closing a distance gap in a relationship. The audience is meant to relate. Changing how Anthy addresses Kanae was pivotal to this scene working properly.

わかりました。あなたは世界を革命するしかないでしょ。

I understand. Your only choice is to force the world to change around you.

This line is translated as “Your only choice is to revolutionise the world” by basically every other translation. The reason is clear — the Japanese is the same as when Utena pulls the sword out of Anthy, or when any of the other characters talk about “revolutionising the world���. However, in this context, I don’t like it. The nuance of the English phrase is quite different to the Japanese phrase. In English, it’s often used to describe new commercial products: “This new device will revolutionise the world!” It comes with an implied “for the better”, but has used to describe technological developments so unexciting that it can also feel hollow. When the student council talk of revolutionising the world, they sound like revolutionaries — the context makes it work. But in this context, it comes out of nowhere and doesn’t have any of that fervour, which makes it sound hollow and flaccid when it should sound sinister and manipulative.

I think a pervading throughline for all the Black Rose duelists is that they see their problems as caused by other people, with themselves being blameless. Rather than change how they approach their situation, Mikage tells them they’re in the right.

Your behaviour will set you down a path. If that path leads to your goals, well done! However, if your path does not lead to your goals, there’s only two ways you can achieve them.

The first is to change your behaviour so that it does align with your goals. The second, impossible way, is for the rest of the world to change such that your current path DOES end up leading to your goals. This second way is not possible in the real world. But it is possible in Utena.

Also I’ll just leave this here: “around you” → “revolve” → “revolution” 👀

Kanae tried to build a relationship with Anthy in a passive, non-confrontational, extremely Japanese way — the way she has been taught to behave, the “proper” way, a mechanical following of the social scripts. We don’t see a lot of their relationship, but the way she behaved and spoke of behaving towards Anthy is very very similar to the way my Japanese grandmother has behaved towards my and my brother’s partners.

It was unthinkable to her to change this pattern of behaviour. Her only choice was to change Anthy, change the rest of the world, so that her behaviour would lead to the outcomes she wants. You could describe this forceful bending of reality to be “revolutionising the world”.

この黒薔薇のある限り、私はこれから嘘の私を演じなくて住む。

As long as I have this Black Rose, I'm free from the lie I was living before.

Besides gender, growing up, and resisting change (which exist as separate themes but also all intertwine as one), another major theme present in Utena is the self and subjective reality. The self is explored within those first major three themes, but also in terms of how the self dictates reality with the Black Rose duellists.

Black Rose Kanae says that her past self was a lie.

It reminds me of all the times when I’ve been going through a personal trial and I’ve looked back on my past self and thought “How naive I was. I understand things better now.” And then after a while I realise I was wrong, and my first self was more right. And then later still, maybe I re-realise that the second self was more right! And so on! The reality of truth (or to use Kanae’s language, “lies”) is so subjective.

Who dictates knowledge production? Who decides what is true; what is valid knowledge? This is a question of sociology - and at the moment that answer is "science does, kinda". But science and academic systems are supported by capitalist structures and tainted by capitalistic incentives — needing to be published in a journal, issues of replicability, the barrier to entry into academia in the first place, etc, etc. In the future we may find our current way of organising knowledge to be archaic and primitive in the same way we look back at medieval scholars.

But what about organising self-knowledge? Knowledge where the only one who can really decide what is true is yourself. And the only one that can decide what yourself even IS is yourself. I feel like I have looked back on my old ways of conceptualising myself many times (not even counting the gender-based revelations) and thought it primitive and archaic, and NOW I truly understand who I am and how to think of myself and how my thoughts interact with my other thoughts. But I have no doubt that I’ll look back on this current self of mine and reject their way of thinking too.

After their heart is replaced by the Black Rose, the duellists themselves frame this change as a moment of self realisation, of clarity. Once the rose is inside them, they wake up from themselves, like I have countless times. Kanae says herself, “This is the true me.” Honestly, I don’t doubt it. I think that version of Kanae was her true self at that moment, given the things influencing her. Being brainwashed doesn’t make you less of a person, or less yourself. It just makes you organise your reality differently.

心を凍結させて作っただけの間に合わせのデュエリストでは、彼女は破れないな。

We won't be able to defeat her by simply freezing someone's heart and forcing them to duel.

Anya and I discussed this in depth. I originally translated 心 as “mind”, because that was the first thing that popped into my head and I thought that was the simple part of the translation. However, Anya pointed out that it didn’t make sense with the themes of self and subjective reality, and I strongly agreed, so I changed it to “heart” instead.

Anya suggested “conscious mind” instead of “heart” but I think heart is more accurate. 心 (kokoro) can mean heart or mind in Japanese (I find it interesting that those two things are portrayed as opposites in English), and that kanji is found in the word for biological heart, 心臓 (shinzou). When they say of the Black Rose "This is your new heart" they use 心臓. They also say "Your new 命 (life/lifeforce)" which I translated as soul since it sounded more hardcore and because "your new life" is a set phrase in English meaning a new chapter in your life rather than your life force. I think the idea is that they're freezing the duellists' ability to love and feel empathy, which in my opinion is necessary for them to commit to the unbelievably selfish act of revolutionising/reconstructing/bending the entire structure of the world for their own convenience.

A very special thanks to @dontbe-lasanya for being there to talk through all these themes and ideas. I'm incredibly proud of this episode's translation and I wouldn't have been able to do it without them.

If you want to see more analysis like this, let me know! And also follow this blog to see episodes of the fansub as they're released. You can find all episodes released so far here:

Rose divider taken from this post

[maudie-duan]

Summary: What happens when the man you've loved since childhood decides he's ready to settle down, but it turns out you are no longer his forever. How would you cope with the sudden engagement? For Blair, it's a hard pill to swallow, knowing that the beautiful girl smiling in all his pictures will get her forever. I guess it's a blue Christmas this year.

A/N: I have to make a confession: I hate Christmas music, but the first time I heard Sabrina Carpenter's 'Cindy Lou Who' I knew this was my kind of Christmas song. I love a sad song, and this song feeds my "angsty soul," So please give it a listen before you read. This whole story is my interpretation of the song. Hope you like it. Happy Holidays enjoy!!!!

Requests: Here

Word Count: 6K

Warning: Mentions of Sex, Strong Angst and Laungue, Family Dynamics, Mentions of Pregnancy, Heartbreak.

I don’t think sneaking my ex-boyfriend out of my parent’s house is the best look for anyone on Christmas morning, but technically, it’s still Christmas Eve if you haven’t gone to sleep yet, right?—To be fair, he was the one knocking on my window, stumbling his way to my bed. Casually, bringing up the past, circling back to things I thought I had already unpacked with my best friend after I scrolled his girlfriend’s social media, backtracking five years, to be honest, she had me broader line obsessed.

He made his way to my bed and in between my legs, touching place and sharing space in the best way we knew how, and that’s the funny thing about having history with someone—sometimes it makes it harder to say no when it’s knowingly what you want the second they step foot into a place that once served as a sanctuary to you both—a garden where words weaved trust, that turned into secrets, carving out a space of our very own; a world that we created and while he wasn’t my first kiss he was everything else.

I’ve lost track of how many times our words of forever were passed between our mouths, tangled in shared breaths of “I swear until the day I die, I’m yours.” When you’re young, you believe it because it’s all you have—and we took that with us when we thought we were ready for the world—two foolish kids on an endeavor to forge these grown-up dreams of a grand gesture without a second thought, only relying on the word “love,” like love could weather any storm.

The hardest lesson we learned was that love isn’t always enough. Sometimes, you can love someone with all your being and forget that they’re not a possession—but a person. Was that our mistake? I don’t know, but we wanted to be our own people at some point and find ourselves outside of only identifying as “we.” 

Let me tell you, that’s a hard pill to swallow, and from time to time, I still find myself choking on it, especially when it is obvious we still click—we didn’t need sex to know that we still worked, fit together like a puzzle that had been forgotten, and dusted off, only to find that you still had every single piece. Still, when Harry tried to kiss me goodbye, I pulled away.

“Hey—what is it…tell me?” he asks

“Nothing…it’s just late. You know how my mom is about Christmas morning.” I lie because the reality of his leaving is starting to sink in. I’m not ready for him to leave, but we both knew that there would be an ending to this.

He laughs, attempting to shrug his jacket on, and I glimpse the joy of the familiar memory dance across his features, “Yeah, she can be kind of crazy, right?”

“Yeah—but not any crazier than your mom,” I laugh. 

“Hey now—actually…you know they kind of feed off each others crazy…” He says, fighting to find the sleeve of his jacket, and when I reach to help, something falls from his pocket, a loud thud clashing against the hardwood floor. I look down, thinking he knocked something off my shelf, but then I see it.

We both stare at the ground, a small box lying in the space between us, “You shouldn’t have…” I declare, bending down—Looking back now, I don’t know what I was thinking—You know this tends to happen when you rely on your wit to get you out of awkward situations. I thought it would be cute and clever. I would open the box, and it wouldn’t be exactly what I knew it was—a ring, but not just any ring—the ring.

“Hey—hey—hey…give me that,” He jokes, trying to turn it into a game, but I’m in too deep to give it up. I can only focus on getting a peek at the ring, which is now a broken promise, and right this second, I’m desperate enough to open this box—basque in the feeling of the “what if” this was mine.

I turn away, shoving his hand out of the way, compulsively straining to get a look at this ring, immediately getting aggressive when he tries to reach over my shoulder. “Stop Harry—” I urge.

“Come on, Blair—this isn’t funny…” He says, unamused, but he’s too late, and as I shove my elbow into his ribs, the box is flipping open, the glint of the diamond catching the light of the moon shining through the window. He stops then because what’s the use, right? Here it is—the ring—perfect, everything I would have wanted. It’s almost like a slap in the face, like he looked back on one of the many pictures I sent over the years, thinking one day this would be me. 

The ring is stunningly beautiful. There is so little light yet it’s drawn to every facet; immaculate, precise cuts creating the perfect sparkle. There is nothing humble about it, but nothing seems to be humble about him anymore, including his life choices—and here I am, holding my breath, afraid to move, listening to his flustered exhale when I slam the box closed, a loud clap shut. 

Without a word, I nudge him away from me, “Blair, listen—I was going to tell you…”

“When—? Before or after we had sex, Harry…Is that what this was?” I yell.

He panics and cups a hand over my mouth. It’s not hard, but it annoys the hell out of me, and I wrench his arm away, forcing him toward the window, “Don’t you fucking do that—you don’t get to do that—”

“I’m sorry—but seriously, Blair, let’s not wake your family,”

I let out a dry laugh, “Oh—trust me, they would understand—” I seeth.

“Oh, for fucks sake, Blair, that’s not fair—I don’t know what this was…I just really wanted to see you—” he says, raking a hand through his hair, a deep crease forming between his brows, and he licks his lips, running a hand down his face as he turns away.

“What do you want me to do? This is the way it’s supposed to work out. You know my family …I don’t really have a say. You know that—”

“Please—Harry—you’re almost 30 years old. You don’t think you have any say in your life?”

He turns around, a condescending laugh filling the space, “You of all people should understand…”

“Well—I thought I did…but I don’t think I do anymore. It just doesn’t make sense…none of this seems to make sense anymore. I don’t understand how we could be perfectly fine one day, and as soon as your dad put you on the path to be a partner at his firm—which we both knew would happen—” I start.

He shakes his head, pinching his lower lip between his thumb and index finger, contemplating my words, “Help me make it; make sense. When we knew all along what the path was going to be. Were did “WE” get lost because I did nothing but support you, and then you went away on that trip with your family—”

“And you’re on about this again…” he interrupts, words cutting like knives because this was the theme of some of our biggest arguments.

I’m shaking my head this time, confusion inching through my brain, straining to grasp for details I thought I packed away. “Now that’s not fair…” I force, my throat burning with the effort of biting back tears. 

“Listen—this is my fault—” he says, reaching for the box, “I shouldn’t have come. I knew this would be a bad idea, but I just—”

I grasp onto the box, wanting to catch his eyes. I want to see the regret, “Tell me, does it hurt you, hurting me…I could have waited for your mom’s Facebook post…I know she’s over the moon with her…just fucking smitten that’s she’s everything and more—”

“I should go,” he says, his eyes darting to the window before he slides the box into his pocket. He opens the window, and the cold breeze flits into the dark room, reminding me of how little I have on. My eyes float to the bed, already mourning us like a fading memory—disappointment crawling up my spine, the sick twist of regret already tearing at my emotions as tears fill my eyes.

“Yeah, this was a bad idea…” I tell him, choking on the words, and I can feel my body starting to tremble. I want him gone, forever, to leave and be with his girlfriend, who will get him in the daylight. Who will kiss the mouth of the man I love for the rest of her life—and I’m sick—sick with the thought of them—and damn—This was easier when there was distance when I could pretend he didn’t exist.

“I’m sorry, bee—” He whispers, a slight trimmer in his voice as he reaches out to me, and let him because if this is all that is left. I want that last kiss. I want a kiss from the lips that were once mine, but when he pulls me in, I reach for his face, and he interjects, grasping my hands in his, denying me my one last wish.

“Harry…” I whisper, hot tears burning my eyes, “It’s just you and me right now…” I plead because he has that look of goodbye in his eyes; the reality setting in, like me standing here in his old tee-shirt, is too real for him—The cold draft of the air brings the world in with it. Yes, I feel it too, but his hands are so warm, his face is so sweet and kind, and I know what he’s about to do.

“Bee—” He tries, swallowing hard, like the words are stuck in his throat, tears drawing in his eyes, and he rubs his lips together, shaking his head as his eyes dart to our hands, and I grip his hands harder because he’s going to leave—he’s going to leave, and I’m never going to get his back; This man—the love of my life. There’s never a time he hasn’t had me, and he’s going to leave, he’s going to move on, and he will still have me because I could never let him go.

And when the tears spill over and fall down his cheeks, my body aches with a longing that’s so deep in my bone it hurts—my love for him hurts so fucking bad that I don’t think I’ll ever not love him or not want to be with him. He’s standing here breaking my heart all over again, and I still love him. I still want him always and forever like he fucking promised me because he did promise, and now she gets him; she gets to have my always and forever.

Now he’s pulling away, and I won’t let him go; I can’t let him go. “Bee…please…” he begs softly.

“I love you,” I cry out, “I love you so much, H—” and he pulls me into his body, letting me sob into his chest, my hot breath seeping into his body, and I breathe him in, trying to memorize our scent, but it there like muscle memory something I could never forget.

“You know I love you, Bee…” he breathes, pressing a warm kiss to the top of my head, “You know I will always love you, but you know that we can never do this again…”

His words slice through my pain, filling me with rage, and he’s right. We can’t do this ever again; he doesn’t get to have me like this and go back to her—and I’m so fucking mad at myself for falling into his trap because I’ve been so good. I can’t even remember the last time I talked to him. He knew what would happen when he knocked on my window, and I was so stupid to let him—yet here he is still wielding his power. 

“You have to go,” I tell him, trying to force myself from his arms, and Harry’s grip tightens.

“I’m sorry, Bee—”

“No—this was wrong—this was all wrong, and you shouldn’t have done this…we shouldn’t have done this—”

I push him toward the window, angry adrenaline a trimmer in my fingertips when I bring a shaky hand up to tuck my hair behind my ear, “You did this to us…” I tell him.

“I’m—” he starts, and I know he’s just going to try and apologize, but that will never be enough, not when I know what happens next—and what? Did he use me? Did he feel sad and come looking for my sympathy?

“Leave—” I spit.

“Bee…come on—”

“Leave!” I say louder, loud enough to send an echo through the room. He stiffens, his panic reaching his face, and I cross my arms over my chest.

“Fine—” he hisses, his hair falling into his face as he bends his body halfway through the window. Harry doesn’t even look back; he doesn’t even give me a tiny morsel of hope, and I don’t know what I was expecting. Then Harry is out the window, and I slam it shut, swiping the curtains closed.

“Merry fucking Christmas, you Asshole…” I breathe, falling onto the bed to cry. 

…

Here’s the thing about Christmas in my house: we wake up and celebrate, and nothing else is allowed. It’s the one time of the year when my mom is allowed to live in the delusion that everything is merry and bright. There’s no space to be sad. She’s up with the rising sun, her hair perfectly manicured, her make-up set for pictures, wrapped in a festive robe she just “rolled out of bed” in, and then she’s on to two more outfit changes. 

So this morning, when I woke, ready to welcome her joyful cheer, I was surprised to see none. I found her standing at the sink, my dad leaning against the counter like I had just interrupted a fight, maybe some disagreement they didn’t want me part of. My first thought was that they knew. They saw Harry leaving, or maybe my voice had carried, and they heard me arguing with him.

It was like being a teenager all over again as I walked toward the coffee maker to pour myself a cup. Without fail, the clink of the dish against the stone countertop ricochets through the thick silence in the room, making me jumpy; the slurp of the pour is interrupted when my mom speaks. “All I’m going to say is let’s get through this day. I don’t want to talk about it. We can call all touch base once everyone is gone—Bee, will you stay longer this time or not?” 

I’m in the midst of taking a sip, and the hot liquid hits my top lip, burning me as my eyes move from my dad to my mom in question, confused by whatever this is that I walked in on, “I wasn’t sure if I wanted to stay longer…I have a project—”

“Can you—?” she asks flatly like you better say “yes.” 

I look to my dad, who raises his brows, eyes widening, and he blows out a breath, his lip puffing as he brings his coffee to his mouth, “Fine.” I answer because it doesn’t seem like there’s any other option.

And that was it—She switched up her mood as quickly as the conversation ended. I stood there sipping my coffee, mentally preparing, and that’s how we carried on, pushing it under the rug.

It started with presents, each gift given its proper praise, mom all smiles, dad snapping pictures, my sister nudging my shoulder as a constant reminder to keep up the show, and it was perfect—it was— but every time the camera flashed. I could feel myself drifting to the thought of all the pictures that would greet me when I opened my phone—How her red lips and long dark hair would steal my breath, her beauty outshining us all. 

She became the jealous quake in my bones at the thought of Harry down on one knee, entrancing my thoughts, repeatedly threatening to pull me out of the moment—and now my mom is shouting from across the room, bidding for my attention, as I try and swallow the persistent lump burning a hole in my throat, making every word a battle of will to say the most straight-forward sentence—and it wasn’t fair; It wasn’t fair that I got to sit with it all day—a reel of memories cascading through my mind, always the slightest reminder to remind me of the past.

The smallest gestures, a deep-seeded pain strangling my insides; all my dad had to do was glance down at his watch. The watch Harry gave him when he turned forty or every time my mom tucked her behind her ear, I caught sight of the diamond earrings he got her and his mom, making them both laugh the last Christmas we all shared because that was our thing—it almost doesn’t seem real that our moms used to be best friends, nowadays it feels like a lifetime since they even shared one word, my mom growing bitter the day Harry broke my heart.

A sudden breakup can wreck anyone, and inherently, our families became the collateral damage, causing a complicated ripple through our families, a rigid divide that none of us knew how to address, let alone manage any semblance of a relationship; maybe that was our fault. I couldn’t be his friend. It hurt too much to try and mask my feelings, to manipulate them into something they weren’t, like right now—how I’m torturing myself, scrolling through social media, almost hoping I’ll see the pictures I know his mom will post. Perhaps it will be what I need; to rip the bandaid off, the right push I need to fucking move on because I don’t know how much longer I can live in the misery of what was and wasn’t.

Dissasoiating—the word of the day—a single word that could describe my whole day because somehow it’s dinner, and I’m sitting around the table trying to piece together the lapse in time I’ve lost. All it takes is one look at my mom to straighten up and be present. I don’t even know what they’re talking about, nor do I care, but when my cousin Jenny asks me to pass the potatoes, and the light captures the glint of her new engagement ring, my stomach drops, the hideous ache of jealousy climbing up my spine, and I’m sick again, my stomach turning at the thought, that maybe he’s already done it, maybe he’s asked her and she’s wearing his ring on her finger, and they’re sitting around the table; and every time she takes a bite it reflects the light from the chandler, everyone smiling because what a happy time, what a perfect day; what a bright fucking future they have.

This time, I can’t control it; it’s all too much, and I’m scraping the chair back, politely excusing myself, then bounding to the upstairs bathroom, yanking my phone from my pocket—and without a passing thought, I’m doing it—I’m calling Harry—by the first ring, I’m in panic mode, pacing back and forth, willing myself to end the call, trying to keep the phone from sliding down my sweaty palm.

I’m all adrenaline as I force the phone against my ear, the ring getting louder, and each time it rings, a gnarled knot of guilt builds in the depth of my belly. I keep looking to the toilet on the verge of falling to my knees and heaving anything that made its way to my stomach—then Harry forwards the fucking call to voicemail, and tears are spilling over my lids, my whole body hot, like maybe I’ll combust right here, explode with the fury of heat rising in my body.

I’m surprising myself when I press his name again, bringing the phone back to my ear, and I hold my breath, waiting for the first ring. It rings and then rings again, and by the third ring, I think I might get through—and it’s all a joke because yeah fucking right—By the fifth ring, I’m second-guessing myself again, shame eating away at my flesh, and then he’s forwarding the call again—my shame flying out the window.

Okay, yes, maybe this is the part where I tell you I should be embarrassed—but fuck it, I’m calling again, losing myself a little more each time he forwards my call. By the 8th call, I’m tormenting myself, a pitiful excuse of a human on the ground so caught up in my own grief that I don’t even hear my sister knocking on the door. The knock sounds, making my heart leap in my chest, the fear of being caught ripping through like an earth quack, and I’m up, catching sight of my reflection in the mirror, not even recognizing the person looking back at me. 

I haven’t felt this desperate since we broke up, like an anxious tick buzzing under my skin. The humiliation of it all is a time bomb, counting down the seconds until it ignites inside me—and I’m there. I ignore the steady stream of knocks and crouch down like the monster I’ve become because I can’t look at myself and do what I know I’m about to do—it’s my one last stance, and I shoot Harry a text:

“Your a fucking coward!” I send and then realize I used the wrong fucking “your,” and my pride won’t let me go out like this. I send a quick “you’re” to fix my mistake and watch the screen, knowing he is now more aware of his than before. When the line changes from “delivered” to “read,” I watch the tiny dots collect in the corner of the screen, awaiting his reply—they appear and disappear several times until it finally stops altogether, and he leaves me on read.

Just as I’m about to send “fuck you!” my sister opens the door, pushing the bobby pin she used to pick the lock back into her hair, and closes the door behind her. “Dude, whatever is going on right now—you need to get it together—it’s one fucking day, okay…that’s all mom asks for, and she’s down there growing impatient. So seriously…if you’re up here freaking out about another dude you met on a dating app—like this isn’t the time—”

“I had sex with Harry—” I confess right then and there because I know this will be the only thing that will make her understand.

“No—” she says, pulling a handful of toilet paper from the roll, “We’re not doing this right now…” She wipes the tears from my face and forces me out of the bathroom and into my room.

“You have two minutes to get your shit together. I need Mom to be in a good mood today…listen, I have big shit going on too, but you don’t see me up here crying—” and she’s right. I saw her pregnancy test in our shared bathroom trash. She must have been panicked when she half-assed her wrapping job on her test. I know I taught her better than that, but this was what I needed to pull myself back up.

I came down the stairs with a smile. Everyone in the sitting room was having coffee and dessert; this was the last stretch. This is all we had left, and then I can check my phone that my sister made me leave upstairs—and so I would drone on keeping up with conversations, tossing out witty remakes, bringing laughter and joy to everyone around, and when my mom sent me a genuine smile, I felt myself smiling back, enjoying the company of my family; and when dad slipped me the “good” eggnog I realized that there’s nothing better at taking the edge off then alcohol.

Four eggnogs in on an empty stomach, and I was working the room, exaggerating about my life and all the projects I’ve taken on at work, dodging questions about my dating life, and when my grandma brought up Harry four times, dammit, I didn’t even flinch, I just kept the conversation moving, filter out the emotions coursing through me like a breeze on a sunny day, right before a summer storm sets in. I even kept it cute and classy when cousin Jen took her engagement ring on a tour around the room, gutting me like a fish when she said, “I never thought I would get married before you…you know…like you and Harry were like “it” you know—” and I’m smiling again, getting a nod of approval from mom when she hears me congratulate Jen again, admiring her beautiful ring.

By eggnog five, I’m switching to “what he’s having,” I shout to my dad as I watched him pour, maybe whisky over the rocks, a shallow pour, but it packed a punch. I knew it was time to dial it back when I found myself leaning over Jenny, who was flipping between her social platforms, landing on Facebook, where I know for a fact Harry’s mom would be posting, taking care to tag everyone in each photo—which brings me back to the time when dear ole’ cousin Jenny started following Harry. It was Christmas break, we had just turned fifteen, and I could tell she had a crush on him. She spent all Christmas break following us around, cornering him anytime she could get him alone; I had to share my bed with her that Christmas, and I remember how miserable I was without the gift of Harry crawling through my window on Christmas Eve.

It’s wild to think of how feeble my grasp on time was when we were young, how a couple of weeks could feel like an eternity; it’s been less than a day since I saw him last. How am I supposed to go a lifetime of never hearing his voice again, to look into those green eyes that have seen me through so many changes, not to feel those hands that have cradled me like a child, held me like a lover, squeezing and pulling me into shapes that fit him; arms that carried and lifted me to heights that I could never have reached on my own—and maybe I speaking figuratively because no one has carried me at my worst or lifted me at my best until I was the best version of myself, but isn’t funny how the people that bring out our best know exactly how to rally the worst parts of us.

Mom taps her dessert spoon to her glass, grabbing everyone’s attention. It’s time for her big send-off speech. My eyes dart to my sister leaning against the fireplace, rolling her eyes, “I just want to start by saying I’m so thrilled that you’ve all chosen to spend this joyous holiday with us…you all know this is my absolute favorite holiday and every year I look forward to spending it with each and every one of you—” she tells us raising her glass, and everyone knows what’s coming next and as she starts her final lines— the same lines she uses every year—my sister sends me a wink mouthing the lines in unison with our mother.

“There’s no time like Christmas to let you know how appreciated you are. I feel honored to call you family…” and her hook, line, and sinker is, “May the light of Christmas warm your hearts this holiday season and remember love is the true spirit of Christmas—” 

My throat burns as she finishes, “And always know how much I love you and always will…so before I start getting too emotional, I better cut myself off—” she laughs, wiping a tear from her eye, and as much as I hate how crazy she gets about Christmas, she really is amazing at being so selfless; to give everyone such a beautiful day, and I’m so grateful for her and my family, and then the doorbell rings taken everyone by surprise. We all freeze, eyes moving around the room because we’re all here, and no one is expecting anyone.

“Fred—” my mom calls to my dad. “Are we expecting anyone else?” 

My dad’s reaction is slow, but he launches himself from the chair and excuses himself. When he comes back, he looks bewildered, half-tipsy as he shrugs his shoulder to tell us no one was there—and that was that. No one blinked an eye—yet my first thought was Harry, and I felt myself slipping because the whole day had passed; certainly, theirs was over by now, and the thought had me breaking my own heart, picturing her in his old bed, the whole family tucked away in their rooms, still riding out the high of such a magically joyful day.

And she’ll kiss his lip and say, “I love you.” He’ll lay her down in the bed I gave myself to him in, and he’ll make love to her like he loved me last night, and there is no end; there’s no end to the torture of it all because how can one person fuse themselves to every fiber of my being—and more importantly how could I still allow it?

As the last guest passed our threshold, Mom, being the gracious host she was, sent them off with candies and cookies, and I stood there wishing I was more like her, like my sister, who could always pretend, who knew how to wear “the smile” like a badge of honor. I wondered why this all had to be so hard. Why is love all or nothing? Why can’t we flip a switch and “poof,” it’s gone?

I watched my mom close the door, my siblings dispersing, and my dad already making his way back to his chair, but my mom just stood there. She let out a heavy sigh, her once perfect posture decompressing as she held on to the doorknob, “Oh Bee—” she said, eventually turning around to face me, and suddenly it looked like the weight of the day had finally caught up to her beautiful features, now tired—a mournful pinch between her brows, pursuing her lip while her eyes roamed my face. I’m trying my hardest to keep it together because there is something about that look a mom can give, that “I can fix everything with a hug” look.

“Do you need anything…I didn’t sleep very well last night. I was thinking of calling it early. if that’s okay?” I ask

“Oh honey, don’t worry about it…it’s been a long day for everyone,” she states, unbuttoning the first two buttons of her silk blouse, that mourful look still lacing her features.

“Let’s just deal with the clean up tomorrow…sound good, baby?” she tells me, slinging an arm around my shoulder, “I know today was hard for you…Thank you for being such a good sport. I’m so proud of the way you handled yourself. You did a beautiful job, sweetie.”  Her words catch me off guard, and I turn to face her, my throat burning at the thought that she knows everything.

I swallow hard, opening my mouth to let out the words building up, but I can only manage a small whimper. “Listen, honey,” Mom starts, and I’m already a puddle in her arms, wanting my mommy to make it all better.

“I’m not going to lie and say it gets better, but one day, it’s not going to hurt as bad as it hurts right now, and eventually, when you find someone new—” 

I gasped out a sob then, her words hitting every sore spot on my body, “Shhh—Shh—I know baby, I know—but listen,” She said, cradling my face in her hands, “I know that this isn’t what you want to hear—”

“But one day you will find someone new, and they’ll be just enough to get you over that last slump of pain, and maybe if you’re lucky enough…which I know you are…Harry will become a pleasant memory of the past, baby, because both of you were so lucky to have what you had. Not everyone will get to say they had a love like the two of you shared, and that is so so special, honey, so special—”

The tears are rolling down my cheeks faster than my mom can swipe them away, and it’s taking every ounce of strength I have to keep myself upright, “I love him so much—” I push past the sob, shuttering through me.

“I know, honey, I know—one of the hardest lessons we can learn is to let the people we love go, let them go so they can be free, and if it’s meant to be, they’ll come back—”

“I can’t, Mom, I can’t do it,” I cry, trying to bury my face into her shoulder, but she has a firm grip on it. Blair Marie, you are so strong, honey, and we are all here for you. You can do this, okay?” she says, nodding her head up and down.

“Okay?” She asks again, and I nod in agreement, “Listen—between you and me, we’re going to have our hands full anyway, right? Don’t think I don’t know about your sister—she’s next.”

I’m stunned into silence. “Yeah, I know. That’s how I felt at first. Honey, I love you. I am here for you. Now go get some rest…” she says, pushing me toward the stairs.

“Oh—and hopefully, we aren’t expecting any unexpected guests this evening….”

I shake my head, “I—” 

“Yeah, slamming your window at the crack of dawn is a dead give away—”

Somehow, she manages to get a smile out of me, and I roll my eyes, ready to make my way up the stairs, “Hey, Mom, thank you for making today so beautiful…it really was beautiful.” I tell her.

“Oh—! And Mom, thank you for those kind words. I love you.” she smiles, placing a hand over her heart, and we share a look of knowing—and without a doubt, that woman managed to lift my spirits—again. She’s too good at that; she is father fucking Christmas.

And while my heart still felt heavy, I felt like I could get through this night. I would march into my room, head straight for my phone, and turn it off; there would be no doomsday scrolling. I would take a shower, hell maybe even take a hot bath to rid myself of this day—Maybe I would even start packing away everything in my childhood room that reminded me of him, set myself up for the next year, and seriously, it was amazing how quickly the motivation surged up my chest; almost bursting at the seams with the very thought of it.

So by the time I turned my knob, I was ready, so fucking ready—But as the door clicked open, a cold chill grazed over my wrist. All I saw was my curtains billowing back and forth with the breeze flowing in and out of my window, and I rushed over to shut the damn window because I didn’t remember opening it, but maybe my sister opened it while I was fixing my make up earlier and that’s when I hear it:

“Bee—” 

I slam the window shut, panic rushing through me, every limb of my body shaking with it as I turn toward the sound. And there he is, the love of my life, sitting on the edge of my bed, hunched over with his face buried in his hands, and when he looks up. I can tell he’s been crying, and he pulls a small box from his pocket and places it on the nightstand, right next to the very same box that held his future, and all he says is, “I couldn’t do it—”

[joudama]

And that’s that for Veilguard. Got all the achievements and got the four main possible endings (didn’t bother with the bad ending where you do none of the side quests, everyone dies, and you end up trapped in the Fade forever with Solas).

My four Rooks:

Female Shadow Dragon elf mage - saved Minrathous - romanced Harding - punched Solas in the face

Female Antivan Crow human rogue - saved Treviso - romanced Lucanis - tricked Solas into using the fake dagger

Male Grey Warden dwarf warrior (this was originally going be a Qunari, but I couldn’t get over the yassified look of all the qunari I tried to make and I gave up) - saved Treviso - romanced Davrin (meant to romance Bellara and lol welp, that didn’t happen) - big softie who sent Solas into the Fade with the Inquisitor

Male Mourn Watch elf mage - saved Minrathous - romanced Emmrich (meant to romance Bellara or Neve and lol welp, that didn’t happen) - told the Inquisitor she could do better and made Solas go off into the Fade alone.

My Mourn Watch one is probably going to be my “canon” run, since I liked it the best (that’s not saying much) of my runs. I went with a life leeching run for him, including using the unique items that made health potions/companion heals not work, and beefed up leeching. Literally the only time I died was when my controller ran out of juice in the middle of a dragon fight. The Elgar’nan fight was over so fast I was like, “Wait, is that it?” It was like the curb stomp fight in Inquisition with Corypheus before they let you have enemies scale up with you.

And now for my thoughts. And oh boy, do I have a lot of them. Hoo.

I have…so many issues with this game. It is a very good…whatever the gaming equivalent of a popcorn flick is. It’s great if you go in with your brain turned off and enjoy all the shiny. But that’s not what I want in a Dragon Age game. I’ve been replaying DA2 - the game that DATV is basically trying to channel - while playing these, and the difference in writing quality and intricacy of plot and world building could not be more sharp. The first time I played DATV, I thought it was fine. Almost aggressively fine. I had fun with streaming the game and seeing where it went. I loved the reveals with the wolf statues. I had some major issues with the writing being as subtle as a brick to the face at times (more on my thoughts about the dialogue LATER, because oh boy), but it was serviceable. And I genuinely thought Veilguard had been robbed by not being nominated for Art Direction at the Game Awards, because say what you will, the areas are fucking gorgeous. But, even then, I was like, “Yeah, this would not have deserved a GOTY nomination had it gotten one,” and placed it at a 7 or 8 out of 10. A good enough, enjoyable game that ran well, but was not by any means GOTY material.

Then I made the mistake of playing it again, and the cracks began to show. By the time I hit the middle of Act 2 of my third run, I was just so done. I hated every time certain companions had anything to say at all. I hated that you couldn’t call people out for being a jerk but had to be the supportive nursery school teacher at all times to them. And for the first time playing any BioWare game at all, I found myself wishing I could either not recruit certain people or kick them out of camp. The cracks were beyond showing at that point, and I no longer thought the writing was even “serviceable.” Things that hadn’t seemed so bad on that first popcorn flick run suddenly became a problem - not being able to actually talk to your companions to get to know them went from “it feels more natural to have them saying this stuff while out in the field” to “what is even the point of going around the Lighthouse if all it gets me is a line spoken at me or overhearing bits of them having ACTUAL conversations?” It legitimately hurt replayability. I missed being able to actually talk to my companions, and I realized I cared more about Manfred and Assan than most of my companions because Manfred and Assan actually seemed to like interacting with me. I will take Manfred’s rock-paper-scissors game over a “hey Rook” and dead-eyed stare.

By the time I hit late act 2, I couldn’t wait for it to be over so I could delete the damn game off my hard drive…only for the last achievement I had yet to get to NOT pop when I finished the game. I looked it up and discovered it wasn’t set by triggering a certain end state, but was tied to picking some flowers in Act 2, and wanted to cry. I don’t usually 100% games, especially if I feel like some of the achievements are bullshit I don’t want to do (‘sup, MELE needing you to do some Armax Arena Spectre-level fight - I would sooner chew off my own arm than do that, as anyone who watched me stream Veilguard would have guessed watching me kvetching the whole time I was doing that Hall of Valor shit), but that was just frustrating. I decided to try to get it on a fresh run as a Mourn Watcher, since I’d heard that was one of the surprisingly good faction backgrounds, and that was a good choice. Mourn Watch became my favorite faction, when it had been Shadow Dragons until then. It added so much to a lot more conversations than I would have thought, and made it so I actually enjoyed the sadly few times you get to actually have conversations instead of eavesdropping/being talked at. I’m glad I decided to slog through one more time for that achievement, because if I’d ended it on that third run, I know I would have never played it again. It turned back into a popcorn movie again, aided by me knowing when to put on a YouTube video and watch or scroll through Bluesky instead of listening to a certain character be the fucking worst. If I ever play again, it’ll be a Mourn Watcher (I already know the Veil Jumpers and Lords of Fortune are considered, shall we say, lackluster background factions.)

Which brings me to some of the big, fundamental problems this game had.

This is not a CRPG. It’s just not. It’s an action RPG now, with the focus on “action” not “RPG.” It’s part of the whole Mass Effect-ification of Dragon Age. And I say this as a huge Mass Effect fan:

Dragon Age should not be like Mass Effect. And vice versa.

When Andromeda came out, they decided to ditch the Paragon/Renegade system, and instead went for DAI-style emotion-based options. Which seems great! More speech choices to make a more nuanced Ryder instead of picking up or down! Great! Only no! A lot of people hated it because it didn’t feel like Mass Effect. They had taken away something that had seemed like a major part of how you roll played in the series, and replaced it something very different. It was the first time they took a mechanic from one game and ported it into another, and it didn’t really go over well with a lot of ME fans because it didn’t feel like a Mass Effect mechanic.

And now with Veilguard, they basically made a Mass Effect game with a Dragon Age skin on it. And it just doesn’t work.

Combat: They copied the combat wheel from Mass Effect, but did it kind of badly. I honestly hated it because I tried to play like I do in Mass Effect - pull it up, use it to look around and get a handle on my environment, then pick an enemy or a safe space to bolt to - and the camera snapping the enemies meant I couldn’t. It drove me crazy because it was like the Mass Effect wheel but fundamentally not, and the camera drove me mad because I’d pull it up trying to find where the nearest blight boil was, and it would snap on enemies instead of just letting me look. It’s like they wanted to get rid of every little bit of tactical game play and replace with smashy smashy bang bang instead. Don’t think, don’t plan, just attack…which fits in with the popcorn flick-ness of DATV. Don’t think, just do. Turn your brain off and look at the particle effects.

Another Mass Effect-ification with regards to combat is dropping from taking 3 companions to 2. Which you need to do to have that Mass Effect style combat wheel, and the Mass Effect 3/Andromeda style primer/detonation style interaction of companion powers. It was very satisfying, but not very Dragon Age-y, and requires throwing out some of that DA lore to make it work, because now everyone uses magic-based abilities even if they aren’t mages. Assan attacks deal fire damage. You can spec a warrior who calls up a giant lightning hammer to twirl around, and…how? That’s not enchantment, that’s plain ol’ magic, and how?! Warriors didn’t deal magic-based attacks uncles their weapons where enchanted before, but now, everyone is just tossing magic attacks at everything. That’s not how the world of Thedas has worked until now, but you can’t have those flashy explosions or particle effects otherwise, so shhh, turn off your brain and don’t think, shhh. Look at the screen light up and the pretty lights. It worked in Mass Effect because they had already set up tech and biotic attacks, but there’s no way to make hitting something hard with a sword cause it to blow up and damage all the other baddies around them, so now everyone has magic. OK.

As an aside, it was also a really bad idea of get rid of how aggro worked. Dragon Age had always worked by warriors drawing aggro because they had the heavier armor (or could use taunt on enemies targeting squishy mages or rogues). Rogues had lower aggro because they had lighter armor, and could sneak. Mages had even lower aggro because they had the lightest armor and were distance fighters. DATV threw that out the window, and Rook draws all aggro because they are the only ones with a health bar. Your squad is immortal in fights, which means there’s no reason for enemies to ever target them. Which means god help you early game when mages and rogues have no real skills yet. Enjoy dodging while your companions hit the enemies with what seems like attacks as powerful as spitballs. It also means that there are times what the game tells you and the fight you just seem are completely at odds. Remember that fight with the Wrath of the Stone in Harding’s companion quest? That thing is on your ass the entire time, but then at the end of it, Rook says something along the lines of “It really hates Harding,” and…are you gaslighting me, game? That thing ignored Harding the whole damn time in favor of trying to stomp me like a cockroach. Harding did not exist to it during my fight. It had a hate boner for Rook and Rook alone, no matter what the game tried to insist on after.

Now, imagine how that would have felt if Harding actually could have been killed/knocked out during the fight, and it was only going after her? What if you couldn’t damage it if it took her down, so you had to make sure she stayed alive? Imagine how different that fight would have hit then? But no, that would mean the devs have to think about how to rez characters and how healing would work, and would mean players have to be tactical, and shh, no, no more of that, no thinking, just dodge and hit things and look at the particle effects. Shh. Have some more popcorn.

Story: DATV wants so badly to be ME2. It wants to recall the big suicide mission where you have to have everyone ready or you’ll all die. But you can’t copy what you did before and get the same flowers and results. You just can’t. You can try, and all you’ll get is diminishing returns. They tried to do the big cosmic horror of ME1, complete with a Virmire choice, then have the big final stakes of ME2, and no. You can’t follow a template and get the same greatness. That’s not how it works.

And speaking of following templates…

Romances: The romances in Veilguard are just dismal. And I think it’s because they decided to follow the Mass Effect pacing formula instead of the Dragon Age one.

Dragon Age: You start flirting in Act 1. You usually flirt with everyone because hey, why not? Some time in Act 2, things start getting serious, and you have to settle on who you want to go for. Things start to get serious, you get together, and then you get happy fun adult time with your new LI. You get the option to break it off or commit to them fully. By Act 3, you’re in a committed relationship. People comment about it. You can go to them and spend time with them - nothing major, maybe just a kiss. There might also be a special scene that’s just with them and unique to the romance. And by the end, after the lengthy amount of time that’s passed, you are Together.

Mass Effect: You start flirting in Act 1. You usually flirt with everyone because hey, why not? In Act 2, you keep on flirting with everyone. By the end, you might have to make a choice if you’re flirting too hard with everyone and the two LI options tell you to pick someone already, but you’re just picking who you’re interested in. Early in Act 3, there might be an almost kiss, but it’s mostly just the occasional anticipation of eventually boning and nothing really happens until right before the final big fight, when your LI shows up to your cabin for “oh shit, we might die in a few hours, so let’s go out with a high note” happy fun adult time. The only time you get that “committed relationship” vibes is in ME3 if you’re romanced the same character for at least one other game, and you choose to continue the relationship.

The Mass Effect pacing works in the Mass Effect trilogy because each game is only 20-40 hours long. Veilguard is a good 80 hours long. That means using that same amount of romance you use in ME is going to mean you’ve got too little butter to spread over too much bread. It’s why you have a good start for the romances in Act 1, then act 2 is a such a desert of nothing after you commit that I genuinely wondered if I’d hit the wrong option at said no at several points during the very long third act. There’s not just enough content for that long of an Act 2. Near the end everyone starts commenting on you being with them, but it’s not actually happening in the game. There’s no flirting, there are no extra scenes, and even the scene when you commit to them is based on a scene that happens with everyone, just with a romance option tacked on. The only person (of the ones I romanced, so I can’t speak to the others) who really get unique scenes was Emmerich. He actually takes you out on a unique date. It helped a lot to make Emmerich’s romance feel more fleshed out than the others. And Davrin had so many little jaunts out in the woods that those turned into romantic trips out, which added a lot to his. But Lucanis’ and Hardings? With both of them, like I said before, I genuinely wondered if I had accidentally opted out. Their romances most used the Mass Effect format, and it just doesn’t work for a game this long. BioWare knew that once, long ago, because Andromeda did not use the ME trilogy format for romances and was closer to one they used in DA. But DATV is trying to be ME2, so they used ME2’s very thin romances as a guide.

And we can all see how well that turned out.

The Executors: Fuck me, they feel like Cerberus reskinned, and I absolutely hated when Mass Effect shifted from sci-fi/Lovecraftian horror to space opera with Cerberus as the main bad guys you have to fight with the Reapers functionally falling to the background. The Executors are a secret, shadowy organization pulling strings from behind the scenes like the Shadow Broker codexes in ME2 retconned Cerberus into having been doing in ME. Ugh.

The Andromeda-ification of dialogue: Remember Peebee? Remember how she talked? Give her long hair and pointy ears, and she’s Bellara. Down even to the techno-babble. It’s like they’re trying to change magic to just “sufficiently advanced technology.” Everyone speaks in that modern, quippy style that was annoying in a game set hundreds of years in the future because it felt dated by the time the game came out (Ryder makes a Frozen joke, y’all). And it feels completely out of place in a game set in an early modern setting (I don’t think DA is medieval, honestly - it’s more a pre-industrialization/early scientific revoltution setting, so more 1500-1700s, and I’m gonna stop now). It was jarring. You can only let one quirky character break the rules about how people talk (Alistair in DAO, Varric in DA2, Cole in DAI) but when everyone does, it’s jarring. You can be anachronistic, but you have to know what you’re doing and how to do it when you do, and I’m sorry, but the current crop of BioWare writers don’t. They wrote the dialogue like it was a modern day YA novel, not a Dragon Age game. It would have been fine for a modern day urban fantasy game. It was not fine for a DA game set in the same time period as people using the four humours for “modern” medicine (remember the surgeon in DAI? Talked about the four humours? Yeah.)

OK, I did not intend to go on for this long, and I haven’t even gotten to what the game did to how religion is handled or the sociopolitical aspects of Thedas, and how they threw out so much that made Dragon Age unique in their urge to do a soft reboot, so I’m just going to end it here. I wanted to love this game, and I can only do that if I turn my brain off, and that’s not what Dragon Age should be.

[frost-eyed-autumn]

Its been a long and winding year returning to tumblr in a more dedicated fashion for the first in a long while (not since 2019, yeesh! Time flies), but I can't really say I regret it at all!

With all its ups and a couple of downs, I've regained some of that old spark I used to have being in the RPC again and I really just wanted to do something paying it forward even if just in a small way -- so I'm doing a little something that used to be a common end-of-the-year tradition back during the golden years of the old RPC I used to romp in!

There's nothing anyone else has to do in return, this is just me giving a little bit of appreciation to all the people who have given me a reason to be here and really let me enjoy myself here again!

So one way or another, this is just a thank you to ALL of my mutuals who've made my time here a little bit brighter! Here's to a hopefully even better 2025!

@starsburned / @stormslullaby / @eiinn-ulfr

Cor, my bruhloved. Every list has to have you on it, naturally. I wouldn't even be here writing right now if you hadn't been the one to convince me to pick up Chuuya. Its hard to believe how close we're getting to the 8 year mark since we've officially become friends. I genuinely don't know where I'd be without you. You helped pick me up when I was at my lowest in the old fandom where we met, and that first time you let me vent to you, I really just thought you would be another person who was here today, gone tomorrow. But now you've woven yourself so deeply into my daily routine that I can't imagine anything less than having you part of my life. You're such an amazing person despite all of the absolute bullshit you've gone through daily that no one should have to suffer through, and I'm proud of you for still chugging along no matter how hard everything gets and how much you've grown and continue to grow. And more than just that, you're such an amazing writer to boot. You dedicate so much to every muse you pick up, whether it be a canon or an OC, and craft every one of them masterfully. From Rune to Dazai to Verlaine to Mori and all your other billions of muses (you fucking muse gremlin(affectionate)), none of them ever disappoint and I love seeing how passionate you are about all of them, whether it be in your writings or just your daily ramblings. Nothing would be the same without you here.

@memoryextrction

Things are still a bit new between us but I can say with full, genuine honesty you are one of the most pleasant people I've had the pleasure of getting to know! And I've had a lot of people come in and out of my life, most of them people that quickly showed they weren't good for me, so that's a compliment that doesn't come lightly from me, distant and critical person that I am about new faces. Even if I'm old and tired and can't always keep up with your energy, I always love seeing your messages and interacting with you, and just your overall maturity and decency as a person despite how young you still are and all of the shit you go through and struggle with on a daily basis. I only wish there were more people who could bring your kind of wholesome vibes to the world because the world seriously needs more people like you. And of course, your writing! The thing that got us interacting in the first place. I love our interactions so much and how much passion you put behind your muses, especially the characters who basically had nothing in their original series and really made them your own. I love the nuance and complexity and love you breathe into your 2-minute-screen-time muses and really give them the attention they deserve, and by god do they make for some of my favorite interactions of all time.

@nohumaen / @crimcpnish

We've only really begun to start talking in earnest, but I'm glad we have! Its rare that I'm pleasantly surprised by people, especially in dealing with tough situations, but you are one of those few people, and its a real breath of fresh air, let me tell you. I'm genuinely happy to have started writing with and getting to know you, and not just because your Kouyou (and Higuchi, and Fyodor) is fucking amazing, although that certainly helps! Your humor always gives me a good laugh, and overall I just really enjoy your company and don't regret at all bringing you into our little circle of friends. I'm wishing the best for you and those you keep closest!

@vulpesly

We don't write nearly as much as I'd like to these days, but just having you still around and part of my experience at all means more than I can rightly express. I always love our small exchanges and seeing Jono and Tachihara on the dash, and just how much care you put into your portrayals! Even just seeing your little rambles about other things like video games lightens my day a little. Thank you for allowing me to be part of your experience as well.

@inciteafflatus / @skilledsenses

Tenka! The bonafied cryptid of my circle of people. Its always a pleasure to see you around and your Ranpo is always so *chef's kiss* (even if Chuuya wants to yeet him through a ceiling every time). You're always so funny and pleasant to talk to, in the rare instances you make your cryptid appearances, and I'm glad to know you and always share in a good few laughs!

@ripheart / @beastlit

I know this year has been pretty rough on you, and I'm holding out hope that things get a lot better moving into the new year! I've really enjoyed what few exchanges we've had when we both have the energy to carry a conversation, and your amazing writings always leave me biting at the bit waiting for your next carefully crafted reply! Your Yosano is so beautifully portrayed and on-point I could swear she was written by Asagiri himself, and I really look forward to seeing more of her when life finally cuts you a break enough to return!

@eternalstarlights

Going to be honest, at one point I wasn't sure if we were ever going to meaningfully interact, but now that we have a couple things started I'm really glad we do! I'm really enjoying the little things we have going on between Kunikida and Ember and I especially really look forward to seeing how things develop with Ember because she and Chuuya honestly just seem like such a natural-born team to have working together and bonding over blowing things up!

@flamesignite / @hughesxmaes

We don't do a whole ton of direct interactions but seeing the constant shenanigans and total crack energy on my dash (at poor Roy's expense) is always a fun time even from the sidelines and is just about always guaranteed to get a laugh or two out of me. Keep doing what you're doing cuz its honestly such a joy to see!

@kitxkatrp

I'm really enjoying the little interactions we have going so far between Chuuya and Dazai and Mori! Its always fun having Double Black stirring up shit with each other and I definitely never have any complaints getting to throw Chuuya at a well written Mori!

@gyofukuki

Its a bit of a shame we don't get to interact more cuz you honestly just give me lots of good vibes whenever you're around! Though I totally get it with not being able to be around as much as you'd like to. I haven't forgotten the couple of things we managed to get started and I'm really looking forward to continuing them when you do manage to find the time to be back here properly!

@galaxy-0f-muses

It took us a while to really kick things off but I couldn't be happier that we finally have! I'm super enjoying the little thread we have going with Atsushi and Chuuya right now and I'm definitely interested to see how things will play out with Yosano once that thread finds its stride too! Here's to some hopefully fun, ongoing interactions because I'm really digging them so far!

@frozcnlight

We've only just started to really get things rolling, but I'm already enjoying the dynamic going on between Chuuya and Miran quite a bit! She's such an interesting contrast to Chuuya in a way that's bound to spark some interesting interactions between them. What those interactions will be, I'm not really sure yet, but exploring that and seeing where it goes has definitely caught my interest!

@spezialistin / @kokyuchusei

I always love seeing people giving some of the less recognized / appreciated characters of a series some love and attention, especially some of the strong female characters, and so far you really do immense justice to writing Higuchi! We may only have one little thread going at the moment but already it has me rolling around a ton of possibilities and ideas that I'm really looking forward to playing around with and hopefully I can inspire the same!

@ofdraiocht

Its good to finally get the ball rolling on something after being distant mutuals for so long and I'm definitely enjoying and looking forward to the interaction we have going between Chuuya and Odasaku! I always love playing around different timelines like Dark Era and what Chuuya's relationship might be to some of the characters we don't really get to see him interact with much in canon.

@voracitys

Its always nice to have a new face to write with and explore new possibilities and I definitely haven't been disappointed! I know Gin is still a bit of a new muse for you trying her out but what little we've written so far I'm really enjoying and love how you write her and look forward to seeing how these two develop! Especially being both Chuuya and Gin coming from somewhat similar backgrounds, even if she doesn't realize it yet, so there's a whole lot of potential there for the both of them that I'm eager to see play out!

@koriningyou

We're still kind of finding our stride in actually writing something together and kind of talked about that already, but trust me, I notice all the little Likes you leave on my posts and I really appreciate those small, daily affirmations that you're reading and wanting to interact! And I seriously appreciate it every time and look forward to once we get some momentum going on IC interactions as well!

@muses-of-kira / @alchemic-elric

We haven't really gotten to write much yet for obvious reasons but that doesn't mean I don't look forward to it! I'm wishing you a speedy recovery for your hand and I look forward to being able to write something once its better!

And just for following back this silly blog of mine at all, even if we haven't really interacted much (yet!)

@cursedlane || @seraphynm || @fullmxtal-elrich / @zodixcsorangekxtten / @cryptxd-laboratxry || @bookmcde || @doppogin || @cherrygardn || @pocketfulofgalaxies || @diverse-hearts-ocs || @rowanberryhub / @goeticedda || @ficryfingcrs || @paramythas || @avarlclouss || @mused-like-roses || @devouund / @vieaccorde / @straypaged / @yashabana || @teruoku || @hellshovnd

[athenalynx]

princess and the not frog

synopsis:during a fight nanami gets transported to 1920's new orleans and happens to stubble into tiana while trying to find his way home

Tags:nanamixtiana,fluff,no spice(yet🤭)

authors note: if yall like chap one then ill drop chap 2 🔥 promise this isnt just a shi post nanamixtiana is the best ship in jjk 🫡

read time:8-10 mins

------------------------------------------

Where am I?” Nanami asked, looking around for clues to his whereabouts. He tried to recall how he got there. He was in a fight, and suddenly a portal had sucked him into the world he was now in. As he looked around, a sign caught his eye. It read, in big bright letters, “Tiana’s Palace.” Something told him that if he wanted any chance of finding a way home, that was the place he needed to go. He took a deep breath, mustering his courage before going in. He opened the door to the sound of jazz music filling the restaurant. Men in suits and women in fancy dresses were everywhere, which made Nanami feel a bit better about his situation because at least these people knew how to dress. He looked around before approaching the host stand.

“Excuse me, what is this place?” Nanami asked. The hostess gave him a funny look.

“A restaurant,” she replied. Nanami glanced at the food on the tables; he should have known. Embarrassed, he was about to leave when he heard, “Now welcoming to the stage the owner of this restaurant, Tiana herself.”

Nanami turned to see the most beautiful woman he's ever seen . She was wearing a tight, shimmery white dress that complemented her dark skin perfectly, and her curly hair fell gracefully on her shoulders.

“Hello, everyone!” Tiana greeted, scanning the crowd until her eyes met Nanami’s. She paused, almost believing in love at first sight. He was the most handsome man she had ever seen. He was tall, wearing a tight dark blue button-up shirt complemented by a leopard print tie, and had short blond hair. Tiana almost got lost in his light brown eyes before snapping back to reality.

“Thank you, everyone, for coming tonight, and--” Before she could finish, a man yelled, “Nice ass, sweetheart!” All the men erupted into wicked laughter as Tiana stood there, flustered, trying to collect herself. Before she could say anything, Nanami interjected, “Who said that?”

The men stopped laughing, pointing to a middle-aged man giving Nanami a sheepish grin. “That would be me, what about it?”

Nanami looked the man up and down before walking closer. Without saying a word, he punched the man across the face, causing him to fall back in his chair. Quickly getting up, the man tried to punch Nanami back, but Nanami dodged the punch and kicked the man in the stomach, followed by an uppercut to the jaw. The man fell to the floor, and Nanami was getting ready to punch him again when he felt someone hold him back. He looked behind him to see Tiana.

“Beating this guy won’t make things any better,” Tiana said.

“Sorry,” Nanami mumbled, keeping his eyes to the floor. He felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time: shame.

“It’s okay. Come to the back so I can fix you up,”Tiana said Nanami was confused on why she would say that before he looked down at his bloody knuckles he nodded and Tiana grabbed his arm leading him to a room that looked like her office. She sat him down and grabbed a first aid kit from one of her many bookshelves.

“You didn’t need to do that,” Tiana paused before adding, “But thank you. But next time, I can take care of myself.” Nanami smiled at her and said, “I don’t plan on doing it again.” Tiana giggled before asking.

“What brought you here? You don’t look like you’re from here,” .

“I honestly don’t know. I just got sucked up here by some sort of portal,” Nanami replied, he didn’t know why he told her for some reasson he trusted her with his life something about her smile made and her dark brown eye that were so easy to get lost in made it easy for him to talk to her making it sound like what happened to him was just a normal everyday thing. Tiana looked at him like he was crazy while wiping the blood off his knuckles.

“Where am I?” Nanami asked.

“You’re in the best restaurant in New Orleans,” Tiana said proudly. Nanami’s stomach rumbled.

“Maybe before I leave, I could try some of the food here?” Nanami asked.

“I could cook you something,” Tiana said with a smile before leading him to the kitchen.

“What are you craving?” Tiana asked as she tied her hair back.

“Something sweet,” Nanami said. Tiana nodded and said, “I know something I could make for you.”

“What?” Nanami asked.

“It’s a surprise,” Tiana replied with a wink.

“How long have you owned the restaurant?” Nanami asked.

“About a year,” she answered.

“I’m sorry, but I never got your name?” Tiana said.

“It’s Kento Nanami, but everyone calls me Nanami.”

“I’ve never met anyone with that last name. Where are you from?” Tiana asked.

“I was born and raised in Tokyo, Japan,” Nanami said.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you,” Tiana said with a smile.

While Tiana cooked, Nanami talked about almost everything they could think of: family, friends, work, etc.

“Your food is ready,” Tiana said, placing a plate in front of Nanami before coating it in powdered sugar.

“What is it?” Nanami asked.

“Beignets. It’s my mama’s recipe,” Tiana said. As Nanami took a bite, his eyes lit up.

“I think this is the best thing I’ve ever had,” he said before taking another bite.

“I told you you’re in the best restaurant in New Orleans,” Tiana said with a proud smile as Nanami quickly finished his plate.

“Can I have more?” Nanami asked.

“Maybe if you come in tomorrow, I could make you more, but you would need to pay,” Tiana replied.

“I know this is a lot to ask, but can I maybe stay here? I don’t really have a home. I could pay you to stay here if you want,” Nanami asked Tiana with pleading eyes.

“You don’t need to pay me. I don’t really know how you got here, but I want to help you,” Tiana said.

“Thank you so much, Tiana!” Nanami said before pulling Tiana into a hug. They hugged for a minute before snapping back to reality.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Tiana said before walking out. But before she could leave, she turned around and said, “You know you could stay at my house. I want you to be able to sleep in a bed if you want to.”

“Of course, I would,” Nanami said.

------------location change-----------

“Okay i'll get you some blankets for the couch.” Tiana says

Nanami nods looking around admiring the room's homie aesthetic; it makes him feel like he’s home even though he's in an entirely different universe. Tiana comes back with blankets and a pillow which she plops on the couch

“Okay that's all you’ll need for the night i'm in my room if you need me.” Tiana says before turning to leave but before she could Nanami grabs her hand and spin her to face him

“Can you not leave yet? Maybe we could watch Netflix or whatever you want.”

“What's Netflix?” Tiana asks

Nanami cocks an eyebrow and asks ‘how don’t you not know what Netflix is?”

“I don't watch that many movies. Im always busy and movies just feel like a waste of time.” Tiana says

“Netflix isn't a movie” Nanami says

“What is it?” Tiana asks Nanami thinks for a little before he says

“It's like a streaming service. It has a bunch of movies and tv shows from all over the world and you only need to pay 6 dollars a month.”

“What's a streaming service?” Tiana asks

“I'll just show you where's your tv?” Nanami asks when he turns around he's greeted by old box tv

“I've not seen a box tv since I was a kid,how old is it?” Nanami says

“It's not that old, only a year or two.” Tiana says confused

“What do you mean this tv got to be from the 1920’s or older.” Nanami says while examining the tv

“That was only 2 years ago.” Tiana says with a chuckle suddenly it hits Nanami

“What year is it ?” Nanami asks panicky

“Baby it the 1922.” Tiana says but that just makes Nanami feel light headed as he falls back on the couch keeping his head in his hands

“What's wrong Nanami?” Tiana asks concerned

“In the universe I'm in, it's 2024, I don’t even think I'm in a different universe I think somehow I traveled back In time” Nanami says

“So you're a time traveler.”

“Technically yes but that only gonna make it harder to get back home.” Nanami says with a heavy sigh sinking deeper in the couch Tiana sits next to him putting her hands in his and says

“Don’t worry we’ll find a way to get you home.” Nanami lazily looks at Tiana trying giving a half ass smile

“Thank you Tiana for everything.” he says before giving Tiana a hug tightly wrapping his hands around her waist

“I know this is a bad time to ask but how is the future?” Tiana asks Nanami lets Tiana out of his tight grasp

“Well for one we have bigger Televisions.” he says looking a the tiny box tv sitting on the mantel in front of the couch

“Well the future Is sounds pretty boring.” Tiana says playfully

“I don't think tv’s are boring.” Nanami says

“Well that because everyone on tv looks like you” Tiana says matter of factly

“What do you mean?” Nanami asks confused

“Have you ever seen a black woman on tv as anything but the side character who is the but of all the jokes?” ask’s Tiana

“I have.” Nanami says Tiana looks at Nanami with wide eyes

“Really?” Tiana asks

“Yeah, there’s a lot of movies and shows with black main characters.”

“Are there any black princesses?” Tiana asks hopefully

“Yes.” Nanami says

“Tell me everything.” Tiana says eagerly

“Well it’s called princess and the frog….”

Nanami tell Tiana the story of princess and the frog as she lays her head on his shoulder constantly asking him to keep going with a wide smile on her face by the time he’s done Tiana had fallen asleep he gently picks Tiana up and brings her to bedroom the house was small so it wasn’t hard to find Nanami gently lays Tiana on the bed giving her a light kiss on her forehead before he leaves he hears Tiana quietly say “wait”

Nanami turns around to see Tiana with her head slightly raised to be able to look at Nanami

“It's really cold, could you maybe…sleep with me?” Tiana asks Nanami nods and lays on his side to be able to see Tiana’s face

“You know your eyes are really beautiful.” Nanami says

“You don’t need to try and flatter me, my eyes are just brown.” Tiana says

“I'm not trying to” Nanami says kindly Tiana smiles

“It's not just your eyes that are beautiful, everything about you is beautiful. This may be sappy but you're probably the most beautiful woman I've seen.” Nanami says before he gets to sappy he says

“Sorry I know that really corny and-” before he could finish Tiana quickly gives him a kiss

“I'm sorry I shouldn't have done that, please forgive me.” Nanami gently grabs Tiana faces and leans in for another kiss before Nanami pulls away and says

“There is nothing to be sorry for.” Tiana smiles at him but Nanami can tell somethings wrong

"we should get to bed." Tiana says she gently wraps her hands around Nanami waist while resting her head on his chest

"good night" Tiana says before closing her eyes Nanami gives her a light kiss on her forehead

"good night." he says before he slowly closes his eyes to fall asleep

[bokutosbabe]

actually I was just passing by and scrolling on tumblr (using the school computer cuz I dont wanna go to class yet and because it has wifi) and I wanted to try and take my chance in your recnt post which I just saw and it made me pretty interested in who you would pair me up with

I have "take a chance with me" by Niki as my top song (of course) and Seventeen as my top artist for this years spotify wrapped, very interested to find out who you would pair me with, thank you again!!

if take a chance with me by niki was your top song and seventeen was your top artist, i'd pair you with...

isagi yoichi

જ⁀♡⊹｡° say what we we want, say what we feel

♡ a/n — for my spotify wrapped event - masterlist -

♡ content — isagi yoichi x gn! reader, gn! reader, childhood friends, friends to lovers, awkward isagi, unrequited love for a second, mention of picking soccer and reader

♡ synopsis — you've always loved isagi yoichi, but when he finally tells you how he feels, your friendship could crumble.

You and Isagi always shared a quiet understanding. While the world saw him as a rising star, someone who was destined for greatness, you were the person who saw his true self—the quiet boy who feared failure and the overwhelming pressure to be the best.

It had always been like that, even when you were younger. He’d train, head down and focused, always trying to get better, and you’d be the one who kept him grounded, reminding him of the simpler things in life—the fun of just playing without the weight of expectations.

But those days felt so far away now. You’d grown up, he’d grown into a national hero, and the distance between you both seemed unbridgeable. Still, you couldn’t help the way your heart beat faster every time you saw him. Even now, after all this time, that same rush of emotions stirred inside you.

It was a rare thing, this moment—a simple, quiet day. Isagi had invited you over to his apartment after a long day, the kind where he'd just played a big match with his team, and you, as always, attended from the sidelines, cheering him on. Now, you sat on the couch, the warm glow of string lights and Christmas decorations creating a peaceful atmosphere as you both relaxed. You didn’t know why he insisted on movie nights like this. Maybe it was the closest thing to normal he had.

You hadn’t seen him in a while. With the constant traveling and the endless responsibilities that came with his career, you knew it wasn’t easy for him to keep in touch with everyone, but somehow, he always made time for you. There was something so familiar about him, but also, he felt like a stranger at times.

"Hey," Isagi's voice breaks through the silence. He's looking at you, his gaze soft but intense, like he’s deciding something, something important.

"Yeah?" You glance over at him, heart skipping a beat.

He shifts uncomfortably, one leg crossed over the other, eyes tracing the floor before meeting yours again. "I don’t know when things changed. When... you became more than just a friend. But I realized I’ve been putting this off for too long."

You blink, your heart hammering. "What are you talking about?" Your voice is barely above a whisper, betraying the sudden nervousness settling in your chest.

"I’ve never been good at expressing myself," he chuckles softly, the sound both familiar and a little sad. "I thought maybe I could just ignore it, or maybe it would go away, but... I don’t think it will." He looks at you, eyes full of something you can’t quite place, but it’s vulnerable. Raw.

You swallow, trying to make sense of what he's saying. It feels like he's been talking around this moment for years, and now, it’s finally come to the surface. "Isagi..."

His gaze softens, and for the first time, you see that faint trace of doubt in him—the same doubt you used to reassure him about back in the day. "I don’t want to regret this. I don’t want to look back and think that maybe I could have... I don’t know... tried something with you. I’ve been holding back because I didn’t want to mess things up, but now..." He exhales shakily. "I can’t pretend like I don’t want you in my life, in my future. I want to try, but I... I’m scared. I don’t know what to do with all these feelings."

His words hang in the air, and your heart feels like it’s been pulled in two directions. Part of you wants to reach out to him, to tell him that you’ve felt the same way for so long, that all of this time spent apart hasn’t dulled your feelings for him. But the other part—the part that’s always been afraid of taking that leap—wants to stay safe in the distance, to preserve what you have, even if it means holding back.

"You’re scared?" you finally manage to say, laughing softly. "You’re the one who’s been scoring goals in front of thousands of people, and you’re scared of this?"

Isagi chuckles nervously, his eyes bright with a mixture of relief and frustration. "Yeah, well... this is different. You’ve always been someone who just... made sense to me, you know? But now it feels like everything’s spinning so fast, and I’m not sure how to make it stop."

You let out a slow breath, your heart racing as you finally let yourself speak the words that have been trapped in your chest for so long. "I feel the same way, Yoichi."

His eyes widen, as if hearing it out loud for the first time is what makes it real. "So... does that mean you’d...?"

"I don’t want to pick," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t want you to choose between soccer and the future we could have, or... whatever we are now."

Isagi’s expression softens as he inches closer, the tension between you both now palpable. His hand brushes against yours, fingers lightly grazing your skin. "I don’t want to pick either, but I have to try. So, let's just... try."

You can see it now, the sincerity in his eyes, the way he’s finally letting himself be vulnerable with you. And in that moment, you realize that even though the future may be uncertain, you’re both standing at the edge together, finally ready to leap.

With a shaky breath, you reach for him, your fingers curling into his hand, offering him the chance you both deserve.

soft isagi they will never make me change you

i hope you liked it!

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[lionofchaeronea]

Current reading is The World of Odysseus by Sir Moses Finley, originally published in 1954. It's Sir Moses's attempt to reconstruct the society of "Dark Age" Greece (=the tenth and ninth centuries BCE) by close reading of the Iliad and Odyssey. As great a historian as he was, I'm finding the book a little disappointing. Sir Moses seems to have had little interest in, or appreciation for, the history of ideologies (ironic in a Marxist), nor for the complexity of gender roles in the Homeric poems: all he wants to do is strip the epics down to a supposed "kernel of truth," as if everything else were so much rust that needed to be sanded away. At times, I've found myself genuinely wondering whether he'd really paid attention to what he was reading. Some of his dogmatic statements are breathtaking in their wrongheadedness: there's "no trace of the polis in the Homeric poems" (what about Troy in the Iliad or Ithaca in the Odyssey, both of which show many hallmarks of polis-organization?); the poems have nothing to say about Greek colonization, and so must predate it (what about Odysseus in Odyssey IX making plans to colonize and develop the island of Polyphemus?); Penelope is "little more than a convenient 'mythologically available character'" with no real personality (seriously?) Granted, criticizing a book that's seventy years old, in a field where so many methodological advances have since taken place, is a bit like shooting fish in a barrel, but still -- I can't help but feel that the whole exercise could have been improved by a shift in perspective on his part.

[hmhas-00]

Ch. 8

Hit Me Hard & Soft

A/N- Hi lovelies! Plz don’t forget to like & rb. It means the world to me! :)

Remy’s POV

“Look at you. You don’t even respect your fucking self, man.” Billie mumbled, barely making any sense. Her eyes looked angry, bothered, annoyed. It wasn’t her.

“Let’s go home, you’re drunk as fuck. You don’t mean that.”

She swayed to the bass in place, slightly nodding her head to the beat. I didn’t even notice how much time had passed, standing there awkwardly to the side of the dance floor. Finneas came up to us. He had probably seen her yank her arm away and wondered what was going on.

“Let’s head out. She’s had too much.” I pointed towards the exit.

He took one look at her and nodded, calling the car out to the front.

“No! Fuck it, I do mean it. You’re too fucking scared to take a risk, so you keep sitting in your fucking office hoping one day you’ll do more than shred paper.”

That stung. I ignored her as Finneas and Claudia began to walk her outside. I wasn’t much of a help since I was struggling on my feet too.

“When I get back, you’ll be right where I left you. You’re not gonna go anywhere working for a fucking pig like him.”

“Is that what you think, Billie? What else?” I knew it wasn’t a good idea to argue back, but I didn’t care what state of mind she was in. I couldn’t believe she was saying any of this to me.

“Let’s just get in the car, Rem. She’s too fucked up, she doesn’t know what-“ Claudia shook her head.

“No! I’m not! And I’d like to- I want you to know I’m so serious. You let everyone treat you like shit! Your fucking ex, your boss, your parents!” She pointed.

“Shut up, Billie! Stop talking!” I put her seatbelt on her, struggling to put the buckle in the hole the first few times as Finneas drove off.

“Who took care of you when that motherfucker left you for another bitch?! Who lived with you and held you all day and night, and fed you, and made you whole again?” She shouted, scrambling her words, closing her eyes for emphasis.

“You want to throw that in my face now?” I was pissed. How dare she bring that up. There was no need to be that petty. I didn’t understand what brought this on her. She had never said anything so mean before. I knew it was the alcohol talking, but this hurt deep.

“And now! You’re just gonna leave me!” She pointed her finger.

“Leave you? Like you said, I’m not going anywhere! You’re the one leaving me!”

“She doesn’t mean any of this Rem, just ignore her.” Finneas reassured me, trying to deescalate the situation.

“No, say how you really feel, Billie!” I looked at her, squinting.

“You don’t believe in your fucking self! You beg me to believe in you, when you won’t even give yourself a fucking chance!” Her eyes closed as she tried to be louder.

“Oh, is that why you boss me around and tell me what to do with my life? Because you think I could do so much better being your fucking groupie?” I snapped back.

“You might as well be my fucking groupie! Better than being assistant TO the groupie!”

“You wish! So I could clap for you and gas you up every night? Like everyone else does?” I shouted back.

“Well, it’d be nice to have you be there for me once in a while, instead of putting work first like you always do!” Billie crossed her arms.

“You KNOW I can’t just do that!”

“Yeah, okay, whatever. You just wanna stay there and be a martyr so you can have something to complain about!”

“OH! So now I bitch about everything! I thought I kept things to myself and didn’t accept people’s help? Which one is it, Billie?”

“Whatever dude, you wanna be a sexy little office receptionist, and bend over for some bald fuck, and write some bullshit on a magazine, when you know you want to do more with your life.” She waved her hand around, her eyeliner running a little on the corner of her eyes.

“No, that’s your girlfriend Rachel! Weren’t you the one trying to suck her dick so she’d let me hop on a damn column?”

“I was trying to help you, dumbass!”

“I was trying to hang out with my best fucking friend before she travels the world for, like, a year!”

“Right! That’s why you wanted to get fucking wasted tonight! So you wouldn’t even remember our last night together.” Billie got teary eyed, blinking away her anger. “I didn’t even want to drink tonight!”

“No one forced you! You got all weird when that guy talked to me, and you shoved 2 shots consecutively up your ass!”

Claudia looked at Finneas. They shared a look and I wondered what that was about. He turned the corner toward my apartment and turned on his hazard lights.

“No one is concerned with who you wanna make out with, Remy!” She mumbled.

“Except you, because you act like my damn mother anytime anyone even looks at me!” I pointed at her. She stared at my finger, looking nauseous.

“Maybe if you had better judgment I wouldn’t have to fucking-“

“Whatever bro! You don’t get to tell me what to do with my life! And when you get back, you’ll see how fucking wrong you are! And how shitty of a fucking friend-“

“Shitty friend?? Because I want better for you?!” She leaned forward.

“You wouldn’t even know what being wrong feels like! Everyone always tells Billie Eilish yes!” I said, immediately feeling terrible. Immediately feeling like I crossed a line. But she had crossed multiple already.

Her face turned a shade of hurt I hadn’t seen before.

“No, fuck that! Fuck you, Remy!” She yelled.

“Fuck you, too!” I open the door and slam it, walking out before the car was even in park. Finneas fully stopped the car and ran out. He walked me to the door as I keyed in the code.

“I wanna make sure you get inside safely.” He held the door open for me when it unlocked. “God, I’m sorry, that was a lot.”

I held back tears and rubbed my arms, feeling the midnight breeze give me goosebumps before quickly walking in.

“She’s definitely not in the right mindset and I really don’t think she meant to be that-“

“Honest?” I asked, tears starting to stream down my face. “I think she did.” I called the elevator, pressing the button 18 times.

“Remy, she loves you. More than you think. You’re everything to- She just-“

“It doesn’t matter, Finneas. That fucking hurt. Drunk or not.“ I stepped into the elevator as the door slid open.

“Please, Rem. Listen, I know she was pushing it. I’m not gonna make excuses-“ He was visibly frustrated, pushing his hair back as he spoke. “And trust me, she’s going to feel like such a dick tomorrow-“

“I don’t care. I don’t want to hear it anymore from-“

The elevator door began to slide, when he stuck his hand in the way to stop it from closing. “Promise me you’ll see her tomorrow before she leaves for tour.” He looked serious, as if it would change anything. As if seeing her tomorrow would make it hurt any less.

I didn’t say anything. I just leaned back on the elevator wall, crossing my arms.

“Please. Think about it… I’m sorry, Remy. Have a good night.” He nodded, removing his hand and letting the door shut. My heart dropped as the elevator rose to the 5th floor.

In my apartment, I got ready for bed and threw myself into the pillows. My head spun and throbbed as the effects of alcohol slowly left my body. I knew everything would hurt tomorrow morning. I stared at my ceiling, hoping to fall asleep. I thought about Billie’s face when she said those things. When she told me I’d stay exactly where she left me. How can I give up all the hard work I’ve put in. I wonder if she was ever proud of me. I wonder if she knows how much I care about what she thinks of me. I thought about her face when I practically told her she doesn’t know what no means. I thought about her face when she told me “fuck you”. I wonder if tomorrow she’ll be hurting about all this as much as I am right now. We’d never spoken to each other like this before. It felt like she wanted to say more than she actually did…

Eventually my eyelids became heavy, and I drifted into a deep, deep sleep.

******

My eyelids slowly blinked open, staring at my wall. I groaned, stretching and turning on my other side. The light from my window was so uncalled for, causing me to squint and curl up into a ball. My head pounded, reminding me of the events last night.

“Oh shit.” I gasped, grabbing my phone faster than my brain could register. It was 1:02pm and a missed call from Billie displayed on my screen. I put my passcode in, messing up twice before finally being able to call back. The phone rang for a while. I sat up in bed, impatiently. No answer. I had overslept and didn’t have a chance to say good bye before she left on the tour bus. She was probably so angry at me. I remembered how much she hurt me last night, the words all freshly dancing around in my mind. I didn’t know what to make of it, but clearly she didn’t want to talk about it anymore. I figured if she did, she’d call back.

I threw my phone at the foot of the bed and pulled the covers over my head, wishing away the awful headache. I closed my eyes and tried my best to fall back asleep so I didn’t have to think. Obviously, that didn’t work out. My brain wanted to walk me through the least blurry bits of our fight instead.

I threw the covers off and got up, going straight for the medicine cabinet and taking some Advil, dry. I rotted into the couch for the rest of the day, watching the tv show I wasn’t allowed to watch without her. I don’t know if I did it out of spite or to feel close to her. I’m sure she’ll be watching it without me anyway.

Each time I checked my phone for any calls or texts, my stomach did this weird flip thing. I waited all day to receive anything from her to no avail.

Around 8pm, I realize I haven’t had a bite to eat. As I put some almond butter toast on a plate, my phone dinged. I pulled it out of my pocket to see Billie had posted on instagram. An update to her fans letting them know she was on the road, and excited to see them in Quebec, Canada.

I made it a point to like the insta story post, so she knows that I know she’s ignoring me. This is bullshit, I thought. How petty, I thought, the irony going straight over my head.

[boredpotate]

Happier Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own Arcane or any links. I only own the concept for this story.

Concept: Isekai Fem Reader turns back time to fix her timeline, but has unforseen consequences.

Reader Pov

"Come on. I'm sure you look great. I wouldn't pick something that would make you look ridiculous." Powder says outside of the changing room I am in as I wear another set of clothing she chose for me.

After dragging me back to Zaun to give me a "tour", she immediately brought me straight to a clothing store since I didn't have any for myself currently and Isha needed more clothes after a paint bomb incident. Maybe back in my original world this wouldn't be a big deal, but it's been so long since I've actually went clothing shopping that I have no idea what to look for.

I tried to get out of it by saying I had no money, but she insisted on paying. I tried saying I could get some of my extra clothes back at my old place, but she wasn't having any of that. I tried voicing my concerns on not knowing what to even get, so she started picking out clothes for me. To be fair I did like some of them, but some just felt wrong on me. Especially the one I'm in now.

Meanwhile Ekko had the balls to just stand there and smirk with a knowing look; watching me suffer. At least Isha was having a good time and she even picked out some clothes for herself.

"I'm going to come in there myself if you don't come out." Powder says, not sounding like she's joking at all.

"Trust me. She's not joking." Ekko warns me and I can hear the smirk on her face.

"Okay! Okay! I'm coming out." I say before reluctantly stepping out of the dressing room and facing a smiling Powder and Ekko.

"There, you see? Look," she says as she grabs my shoulders and brings me to a full body mirror to look at myself with a smiling Powder now standing next to me. She picked out a blue and white striped shirt dress that ties around just above my waist, folded sleeves and the top three buttons undone, "You look good."

"I feel exposed." I say as I look at my reflection with hesitance.

'The last time I remember wearing a dress was in my original life. This is kinda weird.'

"Oh c'mon! It's good, plus you'll match with Isha." she says as she wraps an arm around my shoulder, making me confused before the child in question bursts out of her changing room.

I look over to see her in an unbuttoned long sleeved collared shirt with the same stripes and colors as mine with a white shirt underneath and dark blue shorts with white high socks to match. She runs over to Powder and I and stands in front of us to look at herself in the mirror.

"That isn't fair, why does she get pants and I get a dress?" I ask making Ekko and Powder laugh before Isha turns around and comes up to me and raises her arms to me.

"Because it wouldn't look as good if you two were wearing the exact same thing, soooo Isha get's the pants." Powder says which makes me roll my eyes as I pick up Isha, hold her in my arms and smile at how happy she looks.

"You didn't force this on her did you? Do you actually like it, Isha? Or are you two just conspiring against me?"

"Nope."

"MmMm" Isha denies with a shake of her head, but Powder gives her an obvious wink, making me roll my eyes again and Isha giggle.

"See! It looks good. Ekko come look," Powder asks Ekko who comes over and joins us, standing on the other side of Isha and I in the reflection of the mirror, "Oh yeah. This..... this looks great."

"I think it looks good on you." Ekko says while I take a moment to look at Isha and I's matching outfits in the reflection.

'I look like a mom from the suburbs."

"Isha seems to like it too." he adds on, and Isha nods her head rapidly; looking at the reflection.

*sigh* "......Okay, I guess it isn't that bad. I'll get it, if Isha likes it." I say, making Isha's smile brighter and hug me a tight hug.

"Nice." Powder says as she hold up a hand to Isha and they high five each other.

"Alright. I think that's enough clothes, right?" I ask Powder as I glance at the pile of clothes Isha and I have found to our liking.

"Fine, I guess that's enough for now." Powder says sounding dramatically reluctant, making Ekko huff.

"You're just upset you don't get to dress them up like dolls." Ekko says, getting a light slap on his shoulder form Powder as I set Isha down.

"I'm gonna get changed."

"Don't wanna wear it out?" Powder asks suggestively.

"I still have my gear to wear, maybe on another day Isha and I can match." I say as I head towards the changing room; Isha doing the same towards her.

"Don't think I can't see what you're doing."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

I catch their conversation but ignore it and focus on getting out of this dress and into more comfortable attire and putting my gear back on. I step out and notice Powder and Ekko seemed to have stepped aside to have a private conversation; whispering to each other, so I wait for Isha to be finished to give them room. It only takes a minute or two before Isha is done and steps out.

"Do you like the clothes you and Powder picked out?" I ask while taking the clothes from her to put into the pile. She nods her head before going to put on her helmet, adjusting it so it sits right.

"Sorry about that, I'm going to go pay for these. You guys wait outside." Powder says as she grabs the pile of clothes and hauls it to the cashier.

"I'm guessing she likes to play dress up with you too?" I ask Ekko with a teasing smirk as the three of us go wait outside the store for Powder.

"Oh yeah, you got off easy. The first time she took me out to buy clothes I thought I'd be stuck for eternity," he says, but has this fond smile on his face that says he still enjoyed it, "Anyways, you have any idea what you wanna see next?"

"I have no idea," I say as I look around at the different stores and take just how.... normal it all feels, "Still getting used to it."

I feel a hand pat my shoulder I turn to Ekko.

"Hey, I get it. Well I kinda get it. We were here as Zaun was changing, so it was easier to adapt with it; still weird though. Trust me, you'll love it up here after a few days." Ekko says, reassuring me. I relax at the comforting gesture.

"Thank you."

"I'm back!," I suddenly hear Powder say and Ekko yelps as he is immediately dumped with two bags of clothes, making me hold in a laugh at the surprised look on his face, "So where to next?" she asks more to herself than us as she thinks to herself; looking up and down the streets.

"I was thinking," Ekko says as he steadies himself and holds the bags in one hand, "Maybe we can take them to our usual spots? Where you and I hang out together?" he asks her making her perk up at the suggestion before looking at Isha and I for confirmation.

"Hey, you're the tour guide. I'm the tourist." I say with a shrug.

"What about you kid? Wanna see our favorite places?" she asks Isha, who grunts and nods excitedly before grabbing my hand in one and holding Powder's hand in the other, "Alright, let's go. C'mon babe." Powder says as she grabs Ekko's free hand and we make our way through Zaun. Occasionally giving Isha a swing from between Powder and I.

It was moments like these that made life feel normal. Peaceful.

We went browsing through a couple stores and market places. I got to see the depths of this new Zaun and just how much better things were here. Powder and Ekko showed me the usual places they go to spend time together from places filled with the community and places where they can have some privacy like the library I saw earlier; Isha actually got a book for herself. We even ran into Vi, Cait and Sevika while on their patrol and got to hang out with them for awhile before moving on to our next stop. Eventually what felt like noon came around so Powder and Ekko wanted to take Isha and I to a nice cafe that they like to go to and sit down for lunch.

"Trust me. They make some great coffee. Ekko got addicted to it for awhile, so I had to monitor him."

"By monitor me, she means follow me to the cafe and also order herself some coffee and pastries," Ekko clarifies, getting a nudge from Powder, "I ended up being the one to cut us off from having it on the regular."

"I mean, technically, it still worked." Powder says as I laugh and hold Isha. I noticed her getting tired and only purely running on kid energy, making her legs wobble a little so I decided to carry her to the cafe.

"Well I can't.... wait..." I say as I slowly stop, now noticing where we were heading.

The bridge.

Now filled with little market stands and people, but memories come back. Enforcers guarding the bridge. The segregation of two classes of people. Finding Pow- No. Jinx. Finding Jinx on the bridge after not making it in time again. Silco taking her away.

"Y/n?" Powder calls out ahead of me. I snap out of the memories, but my hesitance is still here. Only ever crossing this bridge once before, when we rallied together to fight against Viktor, Ambessa and their army.

"U-Um, so-so the cafe is in Piltover?" I ask already know the answer to that, "We can go there?" I hold Isha closer and guarded to myself and she looks at me worried. My eyes locked and unwavering; looking down the bridge to the other side.

My thoughts too chaotic to notice Powder and Ekko give me looks of concern before approaching me until I feel a hand grab my free one. I look to see Powder and Ekko standing close to me.

"Hey, it's okay. It's not like before; we're allowed to go to Piltover now." Ekko says, and his comforting tone, Powder's hand and Isha holding me close grounds me enough to not panic, but still filled with nervousness.

"Y/n, it's okay. No one is gonna hurt you." Powder says, keeping my hand held in hers and tracing over my knuckles with her thumb as comfort.

"Promise?," I ask, though after a moment I realize how childish I sound now that I think about it so I go to correct myself, "Sor-"

"We promise. It's okay. No one is going to hurt you Y/n," Powder says now interlocking her fingers with my own, "Right, Ekko?"

"She's right. We won't let anything happen." Ekko says before Powder starts leading me onto the bridge.

We walk a slow pace on the bridge as I look back and forth between the small market stalls on either side of the bridge. Seeing both people from Zaun and Piltover just going about their day, talking, bartering and just....... living. To my surprise I even see Jericho about halfway through the bridge serving enforcers that looked to be on their lunch break; he gives us a wave as we walk by and Isha returns the gesture. My nerves start to lower as we slowly make our way across bridge and I just take it all in. It doesn't take too long before we reach the other side into Piltover.

"See it wasn't tha-..... Oh. Are you okay?" Ekko asks as I look back at the bridge and feel some tears slip down my cheek.

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean t-"

"Hey, hey! It's okay. It's fine. We got you," Ekko says as he reaches towards me to wipe the tears away, "Better?"

"Yeah, thanks. Sorry about that." I say which makes Powder roll her eyes and groan.

"Stop apologizing. It's fine; you're still getting used to all of this." Powder says before taking second to brush some hair out of my face and behind my ear, "There. Now c'mon, we need to make you an addict like Ekko and I. Not you Isha, you get juice." Powder says as she pulls me along and I see Isha put on a little pout at not being able to try the coffee.

"I'll let you sip from mine." I whisper to her, making her immediately perk back up.

Powder Pov

"Not bad right?" I ask Y/n as she sips from her mug of coffee and looking to be enjoying her drink. A satisfied moan as she drinks the beverage and it sends a tingle down my spine.

"Greeeaaat. Now we gotta prevent another addict." Ekko says as he enjoys a pastry, and Isha having stars in her eyes as she enjoys one of the many pastries on her plate that we got for her.

"I'll be back. I need to use the ladies room." Y/n says as she stands up from her seat and walks away, now giving me time to address something.

"Hey, now that she's gone. What do you think that was about back at the bridge?" I ask, making him think on it for a few seconds before sighing.

"I don't know. Her hesitating to cross the bridge made sense since she's not used to it. But her crying? I have no idea. Maybe something personal? She might have some bad memories on that bridge," Ekko suggests, but I can hear in his tone that he's not sure about his own theory as much as I am, "Whatever it is, we can help her get used to it. She's still adjusting to everything."

'True, but she looked ready to run away from the damn thing.'

"You're probably right. Anyway I was thinking, maybe I can help you with your project for the Innovator's Competition?" I ask and Ekko chokes on his coffee which makes me immediately start patting him on the back.

"Re-*cough* Really!? Why?"

"What, don't want my help now?"

"No, that's not it! I'm happy you want to help. It's just, you seemed pretty hesitant before. Why do you want to help now?" he asks and I shrug my shoulders.

"I don't know. I'm just...." I trail off as I look at Isha enjoying herself and gaze at Y/n's empty seat, "I'm just in a good mood." I say before feeling Ekko wrap an arm around my waist and pull me closer; I lean my head on his shoulder as he does.

"I know what you mean. You think she might want to help too? I know Isha will, she seems to love messing with your old gadgets." he asks, and I can hear the hope in his voice. To be honest that brought an odd feeling of hope to me too; now imagining Y/n joining Ekko and I with our work, or just watching us work from the the side.

"I hope so. She's going be living with dad and I for awhile, so it will be a good way to spend her time than just sitting in bed or something," I admit with hope in my voice, "I don't know about you, but I meant what I said back at the bridge. Even if this whole thing is a little weird. We need to keep her safe, okay?" I ask and he holds my hand in his own.

"I know. Don't worry, we'll protect her. She needs help adjusting and feeling safe here in Zaun, and we will do that for her," he says and Isha grunts and raises her hand while nodding her head, making me laugh as Ekko reaches over to ruffle her hair, "Of course you will too, Isha. We all will." he says, making me smile before glancing back at Y/n's seat.

"I like her." I admit after a few seconds; not knowing what the full meaning behind those words are.

"Me too." Ekko says as well and I can tell there's a deeper meaning behind his words too.

'Whatever it is. I don't want this feeling to go away.'

Hope you enjoyed.

[buglass]

Lonely Man - A Christmas Oneshot

Summary: A passive and respectful fan encounters a lone Elvis Presley on a beach in the Bahamas while both are on Christmas vacation in 1969. Jackie debates whether or not to bother Elvis, but feels drawn to keep him company.

Pairing: Elvis Presley x Jackie!Black!OC

Chapters: 1/1

WC: 907

Warnings: Insinuation of depression, general fluff and kindness, lack of holiday cheer

A/N: Not a big fan of the holidays myself since I’m always away from family since I was in the military. Still feeling it a little bit this year so this is how I’m coping lol thanks for reading!

Inspired by this and a few other photos from E’s time in the Bahamas October 1969.

December 25th, 1969

❆   ❆   ❆

When she spotted him, she didn’t think it was actually Elvis Presley. The black dress shirt he wore was a stark contrast to his skin and white trousers. Keeping up with the whereabouts of celebrities wasn’t her forte and this man, only seeing him from his side profile, looked slightly less like the spruced up version the world had come to know. Don’t get her wrong--she still thought the man seated in the sand was handsome but a lot paler than she would have expected for a Bahamian vacation in the sun. 

Elvis hunched forward with his feet buried in the sand, his sleeved arms wrapped around his pant-covered legs as he looked out to the water. Jackie was between a rock and a hard place on the mostly empty beach. When a woman and her family came from the opposite direction, they didn’t waste time to make their approach to Elvis. It wasn’t their fault they stumbled upon him either. Because they too were on vacation, they actually had a camera on hand to commemorate the once in a lifetime event. 

Jackie slowed down, busying herself with the wispy skirt blowing in the wind and the straps of the shoes she held. She faced the water as she took the hair tie from her wrist and tied her hair back into a ponytail. There were a total of three snaps she could hear from the camera, Elvis standing there for each picture both posed and candid. Elvis hunched over, waving to the blonde little girl who was probably only about four years-old. As the fans left, he stood up straight and looked around as if he were expecting a floodgate of fans to follow. 

They were alone again.

Jackie started down the beach again, veering toward where the water could wash over her feet. When she glanced up again, Elvis was looking at her. His hands were at his back, sliding lower into what she assumed was his back pockets. She became highly aware that he was overly dressed for the beach while she wore a bikini, her lower half shrouded by the long, breathable skirt that in the right light showed some leg. Elvis moved in her path and her heart rate picked up knowing that her only option was to walk around the singer. 

Her eyes dipped toward his chest and the hair there, coming back up the closer she got to him. When the two of them were face to face, Elvis’s mouth curled into a smirk. 

“What do I owe the pleasure of your attention, Mr. Presley?” Jackie spoke casually as if they were old friends. 

“I was gettin’ ready to ask you the same. I saw you down the beach before all of that.” Elvis admitted, dropping his arms to his sides.

“I think you’re the one stopping me for my attention now,” she laughed, stepping around the man for the sake of making him follow. “I will leave you to it.”

“Hey, wait-wait a minute,” Elvis said, turning after her to walk at her side. “Can’t you stay for a while?”

“I was just making sure you didn’t feel obligated to have company, Mr. Presley--”

“Elvis, just Elvis.” He put up his hands.

“Alright, Elvis. But, as I was saying, I don’t want you to feel…bombarded.” Jackie said. She slowed up to face him, admiring how he towered over her and his general warmth. Fuck, he was good looking, she thought.

“It’s never any bother, but I could use the company. If you don’t mind?” Elvis gestured toward the sand. 

Jackie squinted up at him, skeptical of what someone of his caliber would want with her. She swept her skirt as she lowered into the sand, dropping her sandals at her side. Elvis followed suit only after she was seated and he sighed as he looked out toward the water again. 

“What’s your name?” Elvis asked.

“Jacqueline, but I prefer Jackie.” She explained softly.

“Well, Jackie, what’s more fittin’ of the Christmas Spirit than spendin’ time with a stranger?” Elvis chuckled.

“I… I think some would say the opposite, but ‘tis the season.” Jackie laughed. She was pleased by his easiness, the way he was turning a moment that clearly bothered him into a positive. She looked at him square in his face and furrowed her brows after a second. “So…why are you alone out here on Christmas?”

“Sometimes it’s good to learn to live with yourself, honey,” was all he said at first. “... But I s’pose I’m not very good at it after all.”

Jackie gave him a sidelong look for a second longer before slowly reaching for the exposed part of his arm. She understood the dreariness of the holidays tended to outweigh the excitement of gift-giving and cheeriness. When she looked at him, she saw a man that was far, far away. Elvis finally looked at her and she caught the sadness in his eyes. She would have thought someone as successful as him was immune to feeling down. But when she squeezed his wrist and his arm moved so they were holding hands, Jackie was reminded of just how human the superstar was.

“You’ll be okay, sweetheart. This is just a bad day, not a bad life.” She promised gently.

“Thank you, Jackie. Merry Christmas.” He gave her a small smile.

“Merry Christmas, Elvis,” she said, leaning over to press a reassuring kiss to his cheek.

[kittiesjournal]

Autism and Feeling Perpetually Younger

Perpetually; forever, and never changing.

I have shared before the experience of many autistic people, in being perceived as childish and being infantilised. This occurs for many reasons; our mannerisms, our special interests and the stigmas around autism and disability. There are traits I have that may strike me as more childish to other people, and I have tried, in the past, to mask this. However, I just ended up feeling nothing like myself. It wasn’t just others who could possibly see me as childish; I saw myself that way.

Growing up and becoming an adult has expectations. You look around and see your peers meet these expectations, appearing flawless in their transformation to adulthood. The internal pressure I placed upon myself to be just as flawless as others didn’t seem to matter. I was stuck feeling constantly younger than those around me. I think about what other people around my age are able to do, the way they act and how they exist in this world. And I can never imagine myself doing the same because it feels like imagining a 12 year old in an environment where they don’t belong, standing among 20 year olds who don’t have to try as hard. It causes a heavy shame under my skin. I should be able to see myself as an adult but here I am never having had a job, needing comfort plushies to leave the house, having special interests in children's shows and books. When I look in the mirror I feel as though I still see the 15 year old me staring back, like I haven't changed for 5 years.

In accepting this is how I feel, I must also hold myself accountable, for the fact that my experiences and my existence makes me no less of an adult, along with other people who feel the same as me. Even if I still feel perpetually younger than my peers, I have grown in many ways. In finding out im autistic and coming to accept that, in finishing highschool and transitioning into university, and even moving out to live with my partner. I can find joy in expressing my “childishness” and it's important to be authentic in who I am which includes not putting pressure on myself to be like my peers. And, this doesn’t mean others are allowed to infantilize me or others like me. We each have different accomplishments, that won't look the same between neurotypicals and neurodivergent people, that won’t even look the same between two autistic people and so on. 

No matter if I don't feel like an adult; I am one,

and we are all doing our best as we grow up.

Thank you for reading !! Bye!!