#ok. well. loss is inevitable and i think you have a very fucked up way of looking at it that despite all of your personal growth has maybe

[the--days]

so it's like this.

you're young and you're scared and you're trapped in the feywild (happens to the best of us) with the love of your life. You're a half-elf and she's a fullblooded elf but you don't think about it very much because you're barely surviving day to day. And you get offered a deal to get yourself home again, and you take it. And the price of your freedom is that you leave her still trapped there, alone.

And then five years pass. And you age a century in that time, and you grow, and you change, and you find her again, and you're still in love, and you meet people, and you lose people, and you love them too, and you learn, and you start wanting a future again, and caring again, taking care of yourself, taking care of other people--

and after all of that, at the end of things, you find out the man responsible for all of the misery in your short, sad life has cast a spell which gives him complete control and ownership of you- mind, body, and soul (again. this happens to the best of us). And you are given the choice to stay under his thrall, and live a thousand years-- or to age and die, like humans do, and to be free of him.

And the love of your life is there, and you're married now, and she's still a full blooded elf, and you're still a half-elf, and you think about what that means a lot more than you used to.

And still, after everything you've learned-- you choose your freedom. You choose leaving her behind.

[wazzappp]

Alright I figure since Lisa gets her little redux / refresher so does Gabe!

Just a quick refresher so you don't have to scroll all the way back down that tag: Gabe was really REALLY sick and Robbie was getting desperate. The Connections (bioweapon company. A rival to Umbrella Corporation) reached out under the guise of a group wanting to test a new experimental medical treatment. Robbie hates the idea of being away from his brother but Gabe is DYING and they aren't even asking him to pay anything. So they ship Gabe out, do their testing with exposing him to the E series mold (they want to see if Eveline can manipulate the biologies of other people so they introduce him as a friend who needs help. Eveline is so excited to have a real friend to run around with, so she makes him able to run around. His mental disabilities remain but his physical disabilities are basically gone.) and he's better than ever! They get him back on the ship (new facility for more testing. They aren't really planning on returning him to Robbie i mean Robbies just some kid what the hell is he gonna do [<- lol. lmao]). When Eveline throws her tantrum and crashes the ship. Theres about a three month period (instead of three years. i really don't know what would happen to Robbie if he went that long without Gabe) until Robbie pieces together stuff from their video calls and news of a crashed liner in Louisiana and GOES. Thats where the games plot starts.

In the actual RE7 part of this AU Gabe is having. A BAD fucking time. Essentially being Mia's replacement he gets the great privilege of being forced to slam his brother into walls, stab him and cut his arm off (for the small small price of an axe to the neck some shots to the chest and a lifetime of trauma).

(That blood loss is hitting hard buddy you don't look so good)

During the opening I think Robbie is just thinking that if he can get them out of there then things will be ok and thats what keeps him going instead of just breaking completely.

Gabe is having a much better time in RE8. He's a bit wary of his abilities (basically Rose's in reverse. He creates little bulbs and if they have enough time to grow he uses them as an anchor to develop independent mold colonies that he can manipulate). Eventually (after just. a LITTLE freakout [which I kind of want to draw]). He eventually reasons out that this isn't so bad because 1. he is very much in control of this rather than being controlled and 2. It allows him to protect his brother. You cant tell me Gabe wouldn't feel SO BAD about what happened while he was being controlled. Every time he looks at the scars from Robbies spontaneous amputation via chainsaw he feels so absolutely terrible about it.

In RE8 Gabe's big thing is that he wants to KEEP ROBBIE SAFE and BE USEFUL. He absolutely hates seeing him get hurt, inevitable as it is. He doesen't trust Lisa until he sees Lady D go down (she was telling the truth about how to kill her own MOTHER that must mean something). But he doesen't really end up liking her until he sees how well she covers Robbies back. The verdict for future judgement is still out but for now the best path is to trust her.

[yowyowyaoi]

Nagato’s Daily Texts from the Akatsuki

From Hidan

Ok but what pill do you take? Because there’s no way you do her naturally.

Fuck him and his money.

Did you even look at the chair? There was BLONDE hair all over it! It was DEIDARA.

Make two more bodies but make them chicks. Bouncy bouncy 🤤

Just eat it man it’s freaky that we can count every one of your fucking ribs through your shirt …

For the last time I don’t eat them, I just kill them. That’s it. Ask plant-dick!!

Yeah but won’t your bones snap or some shit if you move outta that thing?!

Pleeeeeeeaaase Leader just let me preach one sermon to them all I can convert those fucks I know it!

He PUSHED ME DOWN THE STAIRS!! And then the old bastard blamed ME for it!!

We ALL deserve a raise!! What he gives us barely buys food for the week!

No because Lord Jashin does not consider animals to be sinners. It has to be humans or nothing.

From Itachi

No need, Kisame and I shall bring the tea to you.

If you wish but he’s likely to try and blow me up first.

One of meditation, one on healthy eating. I believe both would benefit you.

Sasori is gruff but he *helps*. His medicine *works*. If you feel awkward asking, command him.

She’s growing very quickly. Already catching mice on her own 🥰

I used to be scared but not anymore. The only thing I worry about is how it will affect Kisame.

I know what she means to you. She will be safe with us, I promise.

Don’t tell anyone yet but we’d be honored if you’d officiate for us. And I’m baking a large cake for everyone to share after.

He gets the job done but the cursing gives me an awful headache 🫤

You weren’t there so I left the dango on your table.

I don’t know if I can do a gengetsu strong enough to make him spend his money 🤔

From Kakuzu

They’re just whining. They’re fine.

The two bounties should be enough to pay our informants with some left over for base repairs.

His entire existence is a waste of money. You’d be doing everyone a favor if you just let me kill him.

For fuck’s sake, let them learn how to hunt and fish! *I* did when I was a young nin!!

I found a cheaper place. Smaller and the three idiots might have to bunk together but we’ll save a lot on utilities.

I have sewn that child’s arms back on THREE TIMES this week. Take away his clay he isn’t responsible with it!

Nothing is immortal. I’ll find a way to end him.

Your woman hits much harder than one would expect. Lesson learned.

What USE is he?! All he does is prance around after Deidara and babble nonsense! I’d bet money that if he took off that mask he’d be the highest bounty in my Bingo Book!

From Kisame

My many thanks, Leader.

Oh, apologies, that was me. I simply ate what Zetsu couldn’t finish.

If that brat even looks at Samehada again I’ll end his entire bloodline 😡

You’re looking rather pale lately. I tell Itachi to spend more time in the sun, perhaps you need to as well.

Define “dangerous” 🤔

We could carry you there. The locals swear that the lake has regenerative healing powers.

A bit more money would be nicer. Itachi sleeps better in Inns rather than camping in the cold.

He’s actually an excellent fisherman but he has to wear gloves or his hand-mouths start eating them raw.

I understand that you worry but believe me, she is more than capable of protecting herself.

I’m glad it makes him happy but I feel like she looks at me and thinks “dinner”. 😳

It’s a book about life after loss. I’m trying my best to prepare myself for the inevitable.

If he starts in on that Jashin crap again I’m taking his head and burying it where noone will ever find him.

From Sasori

Your biological limitations are what holds you back. You would benefit THE MOST from the puppet-transfer process.

You and her can find other ways to “be romantic”. But as easily compromised as your immune system is, I’d strongly advise against that. 

Pushed? What am I, a child? He FELL. I can’t be held accountable for his own clumsiness. 🤦‍♂️

The new legs should be ready no later than three days from now.

I’m happy but falling for him was very clearly a horrible lapse of judgement on my part.

Take the two red pills when you first wake up, the blue capsule before you go to bed, and the small green one with food anytime you think your heartbeat seems irregular.

Mm, well, she is very aesthetically pleasing.

I don’t mind at all. Modifying the Pein-bodies gives me a much needed mental challenge.

I’ve tried to persuade him but he’s made it clear he’s not interested in prolonging his life. I have to respect his decision.

Ah, cake. One of the few things I miss from my eating days.

From Zetsu

We scouted out the location for them. Marked out the easiest way on the map.

He calls us a freak again and we eat his head right off the shoulders. His eternity can be spent in our stomach.

Foolhardy but very amusing. His little explosions liven up such a dreary organization.

The paper dance may have been the most beautiful thing we’ve ever seen. You’re truly a lucky man.

If it helps, our share can be divided amongst the others. No need for money.

Ah but the cloak truly irritates our delicate skin. We mostly travel underground anyway, does it matter if we wear it or not?

Can’t imagine a world in which one would *willingly* be preached to like that.

We merely wanted to pet the kitten. We weren’t going to eat it. Licking it was just what a mother cat would have done!

From Deidara

He’s literally just jealous because I look better than him!

It had nothing to do with my bombs, the guy got away because Tobi was watching the ducks instead of keeping watch on him like I told him to!

Of course! I can have your face and hair looking like new in no time!

Ffs I’m not going to explode her! I’m not crazy! Please make Uchiha just let me pet her!

Technically you’re like our father. I’m the youngest so I’m your responsibility. You CAN make him marry me, you CAN make Kakuzu throw us a reception and you CAN send us on a two week honeymoon. Sasori will come around to the idea. 🙃

Come have dinner with us. Kisame made the salmon just how you like it.

I’m not doing it on purpose! He’s not even using his own thread he’s using some cheap shit he found to save money! THAT’S why they keep coming detached!! 😡

What’s your favorite animal? I’ll make it for you.

I’m not a baby he doesn’t need to monitor me!

I would have brought it home because free milk but Kakuzu would have turned him into steaks 🙄

We stopped at the park after. I’ll send you pictures she looked so pretty on the swings

From “Tobi” / Obito

I bet he would if the puppet got put through the wood chipper 😊

He needs to be reigned in, his sacrifices attract far too much attention.

I’m surprised you want to take her there, considering how much you both hate the rain.

Doing the voice puts a horrible strain my on throat. Raw honey helps.

I’ve spent my whole life not going after what I want. I’m going after him. Period. Sasori be damned.

Itachi needs to be *forced* to take the medication. He’s too valuable to lose just yet.

The old man really picked the cheapest phones possible. The reception is horrible. We’d be better off communicating through smoke signals.

Let ME cook once in a while. “Tobi” would blow these fools’ minds.

From Konan

Of course not! You silly asshole 💙

I remember. It’s about the only good memory I have from that wretched place.

Think those new legs of yours can carry you to my room? I’ve got some exercises I think would help strengthen them 😏

Don’t stress out, I’ll deal with them. They’re more scared of me anyway.

Idc what he told you, DO NOT let him turn you into a puppet 😡 If he tries it I’m throwing him in the fireplace.

I mean yeah there’s Hidan and Deidara, but all in all I think this group turned out very well.

I made you a nice dinner. And your favorite dessert 😉

Kakuzu thinks they can live in the same room?! That fool will end up spending more on repairs than it would cost to just give them their own rooms!

All he ever wanted was for us to be happy and safe. We are. We’re very much honoring his memory.

Well you never sneezed around Chibi so the kitten should be fine for you to hold.

Not when they make me gain 100 pounds per bite 😖

I need that to be the case. Very badly.

Sounds like you and I are due for a little vacation, eh?

Working on this technique where I have bombs mixed in with the regular paper. Different colors. I’ll show you later.

Friends to lovers is the perfect story, don’t you agree?

“Mediating” is almost impossible. I just shut the people fighting into a room and pray the room is still intact when I come back later 😓

I don’t care, the Pein body isn’t YOU. I prefer it natural.

It was hilarious I yelled and they all looked terrified. Pretty sure I made Hidan pee his pants 😂

[kazumasougi]

ranting abt some problems i had with gowr in a needlessly long format below. warning for major gow2018 end-of spoilers below as well

i think like the biggest problem with gowr is like. they spent so much time trying to add new shit that they fell flat on delivering their most prominent plot point. which is deeply deeply upsetting to me honestly. like the entire plot of god of war is that atreus wants to start a war (bring on ragnarok) and he starts recruiting people to help him fight it. while kratos is like you dont know what it means to start a war (coming from the . god of war. lol). all the while atreus is unaware that the jotunheim prophecy states kratos is going to die while atreus takes odin’s side. and like this is an excellent setup because it gives you a conflict and potential consequences. and constantly the buildup is kratos and mimir talking about how he is going to die and how kratos doesnt want to have any regrets so he sets atreus on a good path forward while atreus finds out in another way that kratos will die. the entirety of that culminates in kratos and atreus agreeing that they will forge their own path forward. which is a lovely sentiment

however throughout the game it kind of feels like an empty promise. to be completely honest. like there is not a single point in the game where it feels like kratos’ life is genuinely being threatened. there is no singular event that says “This is the part where he’s supposed to die”, nor is there any follow-through on HOW exactly atreus and kratos avoid their own fate. like. the buildup is completely for nothing. granted there is a point where atreus works under odin and is so convinced that hes maybe doing the right thing and that odin isnt so bad. which is where you would expect the story to go narratively. but the other half of the prophecy is so fully ignored that it feels like all of it was honestly for nothing

not to mention like the game generally just feels… rushed??? like the parts of the story where youre attempting to recruit people to help you doesnt feel very complete. ESPECIALLY when you have to go to surtr to ask him to become ragnarok. like the myth is he and sinmara combine to become ragnarok. reasonably surtr does not want this because that is his wife and they forced themselves to be in separate realms for the sake of not creating Big Scary Monster. and it would inevitably end in both of their deaths. and if i recall correctly in the files of the game there is an unfinished sinmara model so they mustve originally intended for her to be in the game as part of atreus’ quest. but what actually happens is surtr is like “oh your blades are made of primordial fire just stab me with them and ragnarok is good to go without needing my wife” (?????????? YOU ARE IN THE. PLANE OF PRIMORDIAL FIRE. THAT IS WHAT MUSPELHEIM IS. IF THAT MADE SENSE THIS WOULDVE ALREADY TRIGGERED RAGNAROK ANYWAYwhatever who cares) and then he becomes ragnarok without his wife. alright sure. what the fuck. you do not ever visit sinmara until you go to niflheim and you hear crying from some arbitrary direction because she does not have a character model. you just hear her sobbing. its sad but like ok.

but the worst part of this is like Ragnarok shows up at the war on asgard and he is the fucking opposite of helpful. like he is destroying everything of atreus’ forces, which already are so few, and ends up killing one of the more well-developed characters in a twist that does like zero justice to him and anyone. now this isnt me saying freyr shouldnt have died bc this is what happens in the myth. its right for him to. but it was executed SO poorly it hardly left any impact at all. like why bother with the ragnarok plotline if theres no followthrough whatsoever… you dont even see freya mourn the loss of her brother, who we saw was like. incredibly important to her throughout the game

and i think ragnarok’s biggest problem is that while it was clearly made with so much love and care for both mythology and alternative storytelling, it seems like they wanted to focus on. More more more. more mechanics more menus more shitty uis that are genuinely HARDER to navigate than 2018. what the fuck is with the 20 complicated skill trees. it did not need that many moves like whatsoever. i dont even use like 70% of them because they arent practical to use in combat anyway. they changed the way armor works with the fucking. yggdrasil amulet??? what is that. it took several days to figure out what the menuing even was because they made it so much more confusing for no reason. why are there different skill trees for different companions that you have for five minutes total in the game. there was no reason for that. and like it was awesome seeing atreus have a specific skillset for when you play as him as well as his own rage meter but he doesnt use any of these skills when hes kratos’ companion so like…????? what was the point of upgrading him for like 3 short sections of the game

i also fucking hate the use of sigil arrows theyre stupidly finicky and near useless in combat. sorry. force arrows feel like a cheap rebrand of light arrows from 2018 and thats FINE, but i think they shouldve just kept light and shock arrows. the mechanics for the new ones are absolutely awful i did not like them at all. sometimes you know exactly how to solve a puzzle with atreus’ (or freya’s) arrows but you cant get the placement of them right because the way sigil arrows work is ridiculously unclear with its current visuals. i hated using them and i hated trying to play out the puzzles for the nornir chests because the mechanics are straight up bad.

additionally they introduced the spear weapon because you need it to defeat one enemy. now listen i liked the storyline behind this one a lot. some good cutscenes with that one. I HATE USING IT THOUGH… I guess they were like “we need a weapon thats specifically for the ranged combat playstyle!!” which i can understand but isnt that the entire fucking point of having the axe. like. with the recall. the draupnir spear feels unbelievably lacking as one of the main weapons you can have and if im honest IT MAKES SWITCHING WEAPONS UNBEARABLE DUDE. the response time to trying to change weapons has a delay so if you try changing to another one mid combat sometimes it straight up ignores you. which makes fights with enemies that require being hit by different certain weapons all the more annoying. additionally it takes up the same button as bare-handed/shield attacks so its fucking impossible to go barehanded mid combat when you actually need it (which, admittedly, is not as necessary if you dont care about stun or knockback. but i *do* so like…) also it doesnt really do much damage it just does stun. again a fun weapon for people who want to do stun damage long ranged but that kind of defeats the purpose of being able to go barehanded.

also i think the addition of 20 differwnt shields is deeply unnecessary and while i liked the stone wall shield (what a name 💀) the reason kratos uses the one he has at default is like. “it was a gift from my wife!!” which is sweet. and then theyre like “um no actually kratos you can use some of ours because yours broke” (it makes no fucking sense that his shield broke. what do you mean it Broke. you used it for all of 2018) like i definitely enjoyed them more than i enjoyed using the spear but. they didnt need to add so many. they just didnt.

and then they added more types of rage too. and im like jesus christ ENOUGH with the options ??? please???? i dont want this many. they also made the selections of armor deeply underwhelming and i didnt feel satisfied with using any of them other than like. sols spaulders. which didnt even matter because they nerfed the fuck out of every enemy and boss in this game that was actually supposed to be hard. the spiritual successor to sigrun, gna, was like. nothing. it was nothing im sorry that shit was leagues easier than battling sigrun on the same difficulty. and then they introduced the berserkers which is like. ok. the same shit 20 times in a row. whereas you could tell each of the valkyries had their own distinct fighting style, the berserkers are just like. fight this guy! now fight him again. now fight two of them at the same time. i never even killed king hrolf because i didnt give enough of a fuck to continue and i LOVE 100%ing a good challenge. its bad game design its like they just took one of the base berserkers and gave him a substantially longer health bar. maybe this is supposed to be a callback to the travelers from 2018 but those werent made as full bossfights. nor were they interesting enough to be such. comparatively the draugr holes (…) were ok i guess. like they were fine. theyre short challenges that you can very easily encounter way way WAY too soon in your playthrough though

whats more is for gowr it introduces realms that you knew of in 2018 but never got to visit. and they were mostly executed beautifully like i adored seeing all of svartalfheim and i really liked seeing the fimbulwintr versions of realms they let you visit originally, like how niflheim is no longer some fucked up foggy area from ivaldis workshop and how midgard is all snow and ice. but again whenever i visited these areas for optional quests it just felt like More More More…

idk i did very much enjoy playing ragnarok but some aspects of it were just. i didnt like them. and it took up time and effort that probably would have been better spent developing the story further. meeting sinmara was definitely needed to compliment the story arc about atreus acting reckless about the war and its really disappointing that you dont get to. i kind of wish they let this one cook for an extra year or two

[cinnamonest]

I feel like I’ve found my kin, I fell in love with Kakashi when I was like 8 LOL. Can I request some general yandere Zoro headcanons btw? I loved/still love him too 😶

Yes you may ahhh!!!! I love Zoro so much. I love writing for fandoms like this bc shounen anime are... Well, shounen, they're aimed at dudes, so they tend to not have as large of a female audience so there's not a lot of content out there. I love Luffy and there's like zero girl-targeted content for him. I swear I've spent so much time looking for wholesome, decent LuNa (my otp im sorry i just hhhh) doujins that aren't super male-oriented, and there's like... 2. For a 900+ episode anime. 2.

I also love the concept of a yandere in a situation where they CAN'T kidnap you, they're limited by their circumstances, so they have to kind of adjust or go insane. It's an interesting dynamic because it eliminates the norm for yanderes.

I think I mentioned this but I'm not 100% caught up with one piece (I mean, who is?), so I'm just keeping it simplistic and going with kinda basic Zoro and nothing with specific character developments or any spoilers other than his backstory

Yandere Roronoa Zoro (One Piece)

Tws: all the usuals -- yandere, noncon, kidnapping

He meets you while he's lost. I'm sorry I just. Zoro gets lost in the middle of some place they're docked, and you're just such a sweetheart, you see this guy clearly not knowing where he's going, and offer to help him. He's kind of taken aback by your softness and sweetness.

He's not easily made aware of his own feelings. He's a rough and tough sort of guy, and he has dedicated himself to swordsmanship so much that he's neglected to focus on himself and his interpersonal relationships, and he's not really self aware at all of his own feelings, very out of touch with his emotions.

Obviously, even if he tries to shove it down, Kuina weighs heavily on his mind in relation to you. He's another man that has known loss and it's dealt its damage on his psyche. He can't lose another person who's dear to him again.

This results in him becoming insanely protective, one of the most protective yans out there. He's easily one led into paranoia delusions regarding your safety. However, he's an honest and reasonable guy and can be level-headed when confronted. If someone (not yourself, as he thinks you're naive, but maybe another girl like Nami or Robin) tells him he's being overprotective and exaggerating about your safety, he may actually have a moment of self-realization and admit to it. He's capable of being reasonable enough to see it once it's pointed out to him. However... this doesn't stop him. He tries, really, he genuinely tells himself that he needs to stop. But his instincts just kind of take over. It's an impulse, to stop you from doing even the most slightly dangerous things.

Once you join the Straw Hat Crew, he just kinda... clings. It's a silent presence, but he's always there, constantly seems to show up wherever you are. Unfortunately, you can't really... get away from him per se. You're kinda limited to one ship, at least as long as you're out on the sea. Your only option for respite is going to your room or bathing, otherwise, he's gonna follow you, even if he's not saying anything and (very badly) trying to feign indifference, pretending you just happen to be going the same way all the time. He doesn't really know what to say, he's not good with these things, and often he's acting without really thinking too much about it. He won't usually strike up a conversation, he just... is there. Watches. May awkwardly ask a question or make a passing comment.

One scenario I imagine is you jokingly picking up one of his swords and wielding it around giggling and he just flips out, takes it from you and yells at you not to do that, are you an idiot? Do you want to trip and fall and have that impale you? Do you realize how easy it would be for you to slice your arm open by accident? It's startling to both you and anyone watching -- even for someone who gets yell-y as easily as him, it seems like an overreaction. He'll apologize but insist it's a safety thing, really.

And he really tries to hide his more... aggressive nature, because he thinks it will drive you away -- he's a blunt, tough guy with a short-fused temper, and he thinks that's definitely not something women like very much. He tries not to yell at you, not get mad so easy, keep his calm better around you, and might even be nicer to others so that you don't think he's mean. And for the most part, he can manage that. Except when it comes to a very specific, very problematic blonde crew member. His little conflicts with Sanji get worse, to even a point that he's snapping at him so frequently that even Sanji himself is a bit bewildered and caught off guard by it. The others notice they fight a lot more often... and Zoro always seems to instigate it, picking quarrels over the littlest things. In reality, he's afraid of the other's... sleazy nature. He can't have you falling for that bastard. He even starts to get jittery when you're in the presence of Franky, Usopp, hell even Luffy of all people. It's noticeable, and everyone kinda worries for him.

He kicks himself for it as soon as he does it, but he finds himself insulting you nonetheless. It's a terrible habit. He gets so awkward and flustered that it's second nature for him to say something snarky or even rude when you talk to him, and he immediately is just mentally screaming at himself for doing so. This will get a bit better with time, though, if you two talk more often.

Now, even if you can fight, you're never gonna really get the opportunity. In battle, he's clinging to you and protecting you at every moment, even if it costs the others some unnecessary wounds. It's highly uncharacteristic of him, and they notice. He won't leave your side, insisting that you're a weak fighter and that he has to take care of you. You just don't get it, you overestimate yourself, you underestimate your enemies, you're a girl. What, Nami and Robin? Well, they've been at this much longer than you, and they had rough upbringings. You're different. You're soft... fragile. You just can't see it. You're lucky he's here to protect your dumbass.

Due to your setup, well, he can't really kidnap you per se. He undoubtedly would if you two were somewhere else, in another life or another setting, but that's not really an option, and even as a yandere, he would never go so far as to kill or abandon his crew. So, he's stuck with just... slowly, slowly mentally deteriorating.

Now, he's not capable of kidnapping, he's not smart enough to really manipulate you into anything (although he WILL tell you that some of the other guys are out to use you), so, he's left to be the guard dog he inevitably becomes to you. If you avoid him, he'll just follow you. If you don't talk to him, that's ok. If you confront him, he'll just insist he has no idea what you're talking about, and you'll start to feel like maybe you're just paranoid. The others... don't really know what to do, to be honest. I can see Nami/Robin potentially confronting him, but in the end, they can't force him to change his behaviors, and they can't afford to lose him. This results in, gradually, everyone slowly kind of accepting your dynamic onboard. They feel bad for you, really, but... in the end, Zoro's just more valuable to the crew. Sorry. They're not gonna get rid of him, but they don't want to get rid of you either.

If you leave? It may just be one of the very very few things that could ever cause him to leave the Strawhats. It would tear him up, really, it goes against his dreams, his pride, his loyalty, but in the end... his loyalty is first and foremost to you. He'll follow you if you leave. It's a bad move on your part, because this gets rid of the only thing standing between you and kidnapping. Which, at that point, surely will happen. Like his other behaviors, he'll feel bad, he'll try and stop himself, tell himself it's wrong, but you'll end up bound in some dark basement nonetheless. He's one to take a very simple approach. Find you alone, sling you up and over his shoulder and carry you off before anyone can come.

Rejection doesn't faze him. No matter what, he'll remain by your side. Even if you never love him in return. It's just his nature, he's a guardian through and through.

In the end, he'll be right there by your side, scaring off any competitors, clinging to you like glue, ever in your presence like a shadow, forever. Whether you want him to or not. He's just an inescapable force, an unmovable object, and you're wasting your time trying to change your fate.

Now, he's very flustered with anything sexual. Highly embarrassed, lots of shame, and doesn't talk much about it. It just kind of happens. He doesn't talk much during, mostly grunts and the occasional fuck when you clamp down, occasionally asking you if you're ok, if it hurts, if it feels good. It's one of the only very soft sides of him. In the end, he really, truly loves you, and doesn't want to hurt you, he wants you to feel good and just love him. It's a very different side to him, one no one else has ever really seen, it's the most vulnerable he himself has ever been with another person.

He feels shame for it, but initially he'll definitely be one to steal your things, sit outside of your room at night, listening to you through the wall, try and get glimpses of you bathing or dressing. He really, really feels guilty, and he's one that will, once you're comfortably restrained and never going anywhere, just sit down and list out every nasty little thing he's ever done regarding you, just to get it off his chest. He understands if you react badly, and he'll apologize, which is a bit ironic considering how much worse kidnapping you is.

He'll apologize for that, too. He's actually one to do so a lot. He's normally a proud guy, but with this? He knows it's wrong, he knows it's fucked up. He knows he can't stop. And he'll be sorry to the moon and back. Just never sorry enough to stop.

He's actually a pretty vanilla guy. Hand-holding missionary type. And, despite being so embarrassed over it all, oddly romantic about it. It's one of the only things he's ever soft and gentle about, it's almost unbelievable to you that he's capable of being so gentle and slow with anything. But he'll kiss your forehead, really take his time with it all, make you cum on his fingers before ever actually fucking you. Hold your hand, look into your eyes. It would be honestly incredibly sweet if it weren't... you know, taking place in some dark sealed off room after dragging you there against your will.

If he's particularly mad, he can get rougher, but he'll apologize after. It's a lot of harsh grabbing, biting, it leaves bruises that he'll rub over softly, whispering an apology, even if a little part of him likes the way it looks on you.

[adagaium]

ok haha wow im ready to cry im going to talk about the crucifixion (with like 2 references)

hey let’s start off with just uh how did this happen. from what we get in game, ardyn was once a healer meant to be the founder king. his method of healing is basically the oracle method. he takes the scourge into his body and saves countless people. when he goes to the crystal, he’s rejected because his soul is tainted. somnus becomes the founder king and it is said that ardyn survives being killed. 

there is also canon artwork that has an eerie resemblance to uh paintings of the crucifixion of jesus christ [1], so that’s how i came to the conclusion that his death was by crucifixion. 

crucifixion is REALLY FUCKING AWFUL and here’s why:

how does a person die? here’s a thing from the guardian.

“’[s]uffocation, loss of body fluids and multiple organ failure. [...] [t]he weight of the body pulling down on the arms makes breathing extremely difficult,' says Jeremy Ward, a physiologist at King's College London. [i]n addition, the heart and lungs would stop working as blood drained through wounds”. 

“[s]omeone nailed to a crucifix with their arms stretched out on either side could expect to live for no more than 24 hours. [s]even-inch nails would be driven through the wrists so that the bones there could support the body's weight. [t]he nail would sever the median nerve, which not only caused immense pain but would have paralysed the victim's hands” [2].

so of course, ardyn is immortal due to the scourge, but he probably died for at least a short period of time, enough for his body to be dumped in angelgard. as cruel as it is, the whole issue of 2000 years could’ve been avoided if his body was left there. while there would be the eerie fact that the body never seemed to change or rot, he would’ve been in a position where the lack of oxygen would basically act as a sedative, keeping him in some sort of stasis.

of course, this would’ve been very hard to maintain, especially since no one knew at the time that he was immortal. the weight of his body would inevitably cause his body to fall, that’s 174 lbs up on a cross, gravity kicks in, that’s part of how people died. 

ok you probably think this is bad, well uh it gets worse. while the usual procedure is driving seven inch nails through the wrists or palms according to paintings, this is final fantasy and the astrals just made ardyn suffer. his body was pinned there by swords from guess what jazzhands the armiger, possibly his own turned against him or somnus’, either way it was a huge betrayal and he never forgot the agony of the betrayal. 

once the people believed him to be dead, his body was taken down and brought to angelgard where his body was laid to rest in a mausoleum. the healing process of his body took a good century, leaving the scars on his hands that he keeps covered with the gloves. on that note, while his body is capable of survival and healing, that means the injuries become scars, not that they disappear, so his whole body is just a traumatizing map of everything he’s suffered and he hates literally everything and wants vengeance on all of existence. 

thanks for coming to my tedtalk

citations

Jha, A. (2004, April 08). How did crucifixion kill? Retrieved May 4, 2018, from https://www.theguardian.com/science/2004/apr/08/thisweekssciencequestions

Langetti, G. B. (1670). Mary Magdalene at the Foot of the Cross[Painting]. Santa Teresa, Venice, Italy.

[xsarcasticwriterx]

Wonderwall

summary:Being trapped in space with tony wouldn't be the worst thing to happen to someone except when your running out of food, and water, and happen to be dating the guy who killed his parents...ok maybe it is the worst thing to happen.

Inspired by Into the blue

pairing: tony stark x reader x bucky

warning:starvation,depression,angst, hopeless feeling,cheating,implied smut

note: Don't expect the other chapters to be as long pfft Just this being the first one i wanted to get the entire plot out.

Wonderwall masterlist

Being trapped in space with tony wouldn't be the worst thing to happen to someone except when your running out of food, and water, and happen to be dating the guy who killed his parents...ok maybe it is the worst thing to happen.

This had all started almost a month ago when they were on a mission that meant going off of earth. To find the leader of the aliens that invaded new york. Who gave loki his army. It went as well as you'd expect leading to dead end after dead end. eventually you and tony decided it was time to return back to earth it was smooth sailing until something happened and the ship completely shut down and simply became a vessel floating. Tony tried to figure out what was wrong but seeing no damage and his suit running out of power left him having to go back to the ship and figure out what to do.

Suspecting that they couldn't be out there for more than 2 weeks they rationed the food and water between the two of them for that time. Slowly as time went on they realized they'd be there longer than expected. Slowly supplies ran out and tony was running out of solutions. y/n’s powers started to fall from her control as she got weaker. This made it hard for tony and y/n to be around one another.

Her powers are to control and manipulate thoughts and feelings. she could also make people see her thoughts. similar to wanda's except she couldn't create thought simply spread things she already knew.. Shes has them sense she was 5 and the older she got the more out of control they got. at 17 fury came to her and took her in. y/n and natasha got very close due to being there at such a young age. When wanda came they became close from similar powers. They showed her how to control her powers and use them for good. This felt similar to how she felt then. out of control whatever thoughts or want she had happened at a simple touch. She felt weak and powerless while also being powerful. Tony was currently in his mini lab trying to figure out how he could fix the suit.

y/n sat in the control room on the floor feeling empty. They were currently having to skip eating some days. This was hurting y/n more than tony and as such she could barely move anymore. sitting on the floor she was trying to get up but failing from tiredness. Tony came out his lab to see her eyes closed and head back. The soft breathing was the only way he knew she was still alive. They both looked like a wreck but y/n looked on the edge of death. “hey” tony said softly sitting next to her. “you shouldn't be here” she replied wearly still keeping her eyes closed and head back. “You won't hurt me. I trust you” tony replys sleepily. “mmm thank you but I can't control it anymore” she says softly. “Then I won't touch you” he says.

y/n finally cracks open her eyes. “How are you feeling?” tony ask. How was she? she wasn't sure herself. She felt sick and tired and her vision kept spinning. She couldn't even peel herself from the floor. she simply shrugged. “here” he says handing her an almost empty bottle of water. 

she shook her head “that's yours” she says pushing it back towards him. “I'm not the one about to shake hands with the grim reaper.” tony says pushing back the bottle. she sighs and grabs the bottle. as soon as the liquid touches her dry lips and chugs the rest of the water. 

“Better?” tony ask with concern. she nods “much” she replies with a satisfied sigh. “Tony... do you think we’ll ever get back home?” she ask finally turning her head and looking at tony. He gulps and looks over at her. Her eyes look broken a look once filled with happiness and hope and what felt like the sun is now a glance of tiredness not just as in needing sleep but tired of all of this mess. The look of someone broken and hopeless.

“no” is all he can say. She would know if he lied so why even try. she sighed looking down. “me either.”she says turning to look out the large window. It's all dark outside only light being the stars. For a few days it was such a beautiful view but now it's just a reminder they are floating farther and farther from home.

they sat there just staring out into the emptiness. Tony looked over at her. Her eyes were closed again and her breathing had deepened showing she had fallen asleep. He stood up grabbing a package of food leaving it for her. it was his portion and hers. She needed it more than he did. which is exactly what he wrote on the note he stuck on the package. Even on the verge of death he thought she looked beautiful. The thought threw him off. he shook it off assuming it was the tiredness and being together for so long. she looked very uncomfortable. 

Sitting back down he took off his jacket and laid her down on his lap. He placed his jacket on top of her to keep her warm. He stroked her hair starting to fall asleep himself. his brain starts to get fuzzy with what feels like a dream but not his own. He tried to pull away but felt stuck. The dream was or y/n and tony still on the ship. They were in the lab. They seemed happier. y/n walked over to tony and they kissed. not like it was the first time but like it was just any normal thing. after that tony finally pulled away. It took him a while before figuring out that was y/n’s dream. She had accidently spread her thought into his mind. He felt bad he wasn't intended to see that and she didn't intend for him to. 

Tony was left confused. Why would that be her dream? Why wouldn't she dream of being back at home happy with bucky. feeling her move he shoved his thoughts aside. her eyes opened looking up at him she softly smiled “hey” she said. “hey” he replied he wasn't sure on what exactly to say. She sat up and realized tony's jacket was on her. “This is a nice jacket” she said voice still covered in sleep. 

Y/n handed tony back his jacket. she tilts her head and reaches for the package of food. She reads the note and smirks. “Tony today isn't our day for food” she said. “you need to eat today. now. eat.”  tony said with a stern face. she sighed and opened up the container of food and got to eating it. She started to eat fast before tony grabbed her hand. “slowly or your body will shut down.”  he said. she nodded and ate slower. 

once she was done her eyes started to get droopy again. “hey um y/n?” tony said. She turned to him with a face to show she was listening. “your thoughts accidently got pushed into my head while you were asleep...” he said trailing off. she started to feel her heart speed up. She remembered her dream so she knew what he saw. “uh...” was all that came out when she tried to speak.

Tony shook his head “no no i get it we've been together for over a month ok I just uhm ok” tony said in a panic. Never before had tony been at a loss of words. “tony...” she said softly. “We aren't getting home and you and I have gotten closer than ever and I just I don't know...” she said looking down at the floor. She sighed “I just want the world to stop. The pain to stop for the inevitable of this to not seem so fucked!” she screamed feeling all the pain and anger in her rise. All the hurt she felt over all this time. “I need it to stop!” she yelled over and over. Tony grabbed her face. y/n stopped speaking. “Do you want me to stop it?” he asked looking over her face. She wasn't sure. This situation seemed so stuck and to turn it off would be amazing. She wasn't going to back in bucky's arms....ever. To just be touched and held by someone before their inevitable doom would be amazing. So that was it. “yes” she said softly.

With that tonys lips were on hers. It was soft and smooth. His touches and strokes. His lips and mouth were so soft. Everything he did was as if he would break her. This wasn't rough and wild sex this wasn't tony being a playboy. This wasnt love though it wasn't someone making love. This was the pain of two people who saw no way out. Two friends saying goodbye. 

After they laid together. y/n on top of tony as he held her close to him. his hand rubbed up and down her back as she slowly fell asleep. “Thank you” she said softly before falling into a slumber. He smiled at her. He felt his heart do cartwheels at the sight of her asleep, comfortable, and close to him. He knew this feeling and it frustrated him. He shook his head. He took this as simply being the fact that they had been up there for so long and had just slept together. Falling into a slumber he felt the weight of the world fall off her chest.

The next few days were better but y/n felt her body shut down more and more each day. It was halfway through month 2 of being stuck together. Then the ship shook and the door opened. y/n was sat at the control panel trying to stay alive with all her strength. 

The door opened to the ship and 5 people walked in. The last people that tony and y/n ever expected. Steve, natasha, clint, bruce, and the one that caused the most shock. james buchanan barnes.

[eliemo]

See Yourself Through My Eyes

Summary: Virgil severely misunderstands Roman’s intentions. They both have a lot to work on...but they’re helping each other.

Notes: Yes I’m writing prinxiety immediately after that episode. Enjoy some gays. 

Virgil was pretty sure there wasn’t a single person in the world who didn’t know about his feelings for Roman. 

Logan definitely knew, because Logan somehow knew everything, and Patton was less than subtle about his support or dreaded pity whenever Roman would inevitably brush Virgil off or call him a name during a video. 

There was no way Thomas didn’t at least suspect something. Virgil was a part of him, after all, and he was much more attuned with the aspects of his personality than he gave himself credit for. 

That meant, of course, that Roman also knew. 

Honestly, Roman probably knew before Virgil did. He was the romantic side, always looking for signs of love and affection and passion. Well, looking for it anywhere other than Virgil. Obviously.  

And that was fine. Virgil had learned to accept it a long time ago that his feelings were just...common knowledge that would never be acted upon. 

The fact that Roman knew made him anxious sometimes, and earlier on it had certainly kept him awake at night, but he had to admit there was some relief in that knowledge. 

Roman knew that Virgil was helplessly head over heels for the Prince, and had never once acted any awkward or disgusted around him. They were friends now, the two of them making an effort to get to know each other after Virgil revealed his name, and that was fine with him. Friendship was more than Virgil had ever dared to hope for. 

It hurt a little, sure. Even if it had never been brought up, it was still rejection all the same. And the eyebrow raises from Logan and sympathetic frowns from Patton didn’t help matters either. 

But he’d get over himself. He still loved what he had, the Prince’s company and smiles and squeezes to his hand after a long day. 

It was more than enough. 

Now though...now Virgil was trying to ignore the fact that something was wrong. 

He knew the others well enough by now to pick up on when they were acting differently, doubled by the fact that he was Anxiety- it was quite literally his job to look out for any little signs that he’d done something wrong or someone was upset. 

Roman was working on something new. Virgil knew that glint in his eye, the spark of an idea forming, the air of excitement he carried with him. But it was a bit different this time. He hadn’t mentioned anything outright and he seemed almost...uneasy about whatever it was. 

Logan and Patton were obviously in on it. Patton did an awful lot of giggling which earned a stern look and an eye roll from Logan, and more than once the three of them had abruptly stopped their conversation when Virgil had walked into the room. 

So needless to say, by the time things came to a head, Virgil was already a jumpy, anxious mess waiting for the shoe to drop, for someone to just hurry up and chew him out for doing something wrong. 

He’d really thought he’d been doing well. He’d been trying to at least. Thomas was ahead of schedule, and Virgil had been careful to let him unwind and relax when he needed it. 

It was three days into the strange behavior, the sun beginning to set into the paling gray sky when Virgil left his room in search of the others, hoping he was still welcome for a movie night or family meal. 

Roman was sitting on the couch, alone in the living room, fidgeting restlessly and drumming his fingers along his crossed legs. 

When he saw Virgil, the Prince’s eyes practically lit up as he leapt to his feet, and Virgil resolutely ignored the familiar swoop in his stomach. 

“There you are!” Roman exclaimed, quickly adjusting his sash and running his fingers through his hair. “I was going to come up and get you but I- well I didn’t want to bother you if you were busy.” 

Virgil really hoped his blush wasn't as obvious as he thought it was. He shrugged, hands stuffed in his pockets. “I’m, uh, I’m not busy. What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing’s wrong! I just want to talk to you about something!” 

That still very much sounded like something was wrong, and he felt his anxiety rise, squeezing shaky hands into fists, but it was hard to completely dread anything when Roman was looking at him so eagerly. 

“Yeah, ok,” he said. “Go for it.” 

Roman looked...nervous. Virgil halfheartedly thought about telling the Prince he was stealing his brand. 

But Roman was talking before Virgil could work up the courage to tease him. 

“Virgil,” he started. “I...well first of all I wanted to thank you for giving me a second chance. I know we don’t always see eye to eye but...I’ve truly enjoyed being able to call you a friend these last months.”

Virgil blinked, not quite sure what to say, struggling to think around the butterflies in his stomach. “Oh. Uh, yeah. You too.” 

God, he was so useless. 

“I’m glad!” Roman cleared his throat, wringing his hands together before continuing. “But...well, lately I’ve...I’m not even quite sure how to say this to be honest. I mean, it’s my job to be good at this but...you make me nervous, I suppose.” 

Virgil made him nervous?

“Spit it out, Princey,” he said with a small smile, hoping to convey that the longer he stalled, the more nervous they would both inevitably get. If Virgil had hurt him or done something wrong, he needed to know. “Did I...Do something?” 

“What? No! Of course not.” Roman took a breath. “It’s...well, I’ll just come out and say it. I believe I’ve caught feelings for you, Virgil. Romantic feelings, if that...if that wasn’t clear. I- er, thought about a more grand declaration but I...figured you wouldn’t like that.” 

For a second, everything froze, Virgil’s pounding heart stopping in his chest. And then the giddy feeling in his stomach was gone, butterflies replaced with cold dread as the pieces fell together. 

It made sense now. The planning when he was away, the conversations abruptly stopping, the nervous excitement, side glances, and laughter…

Everyone was in on it. Because everyone knew about his feelings, everyone knew it wasn’t mutual and that Virgil had accepted that, so everyone thought it would be ok to toy with his heart a bit. They thought it’d be funny. 

“It’s- it’s totally fine if you don’t feel the same!” Roman said quickly, eyes widening at the lack of a response, and Virgil’s heart only broke further. “Seriously I- I don’t want to make things awkward or ruin our friendship--” 

“No, I do,” Virgil said, because what the hell was the point in denying it? Everyone knew. It just wasn’t...talked about. At least, he’d thought they all had the decency not to talk about it. “You know I have feelings for you, Roman.” 

He stared at the ground, at his socked feet on the carpet, refusing to look up and see the fake excitement Roman had plastered on for the sake of a prank. 

“You do?” he heard the Prince say. “You do! Oh- that’s...that’s good! Right? So...so what are we--” 

“Why are you doing this?” 

Virgil knew he and Roman hadn’t always gotten along, and they still bickered occasionally, but he hadn’t thought...he’d never thought he would be so cruel. 

“I...huh?” 

“Why are you doing this?” Virgil repeated, finally raising his head just to try and catch Roman’s smirk, rewarded only with the other’s confusion. “Did you...what, did you all think this would be funny?” 

“What? No!” Roman sounded incredulous, confusion morphing to something a bit more angry. “Dude, I’m confessing.” 

“Yeah, sure.” Virgil hunched his shoulders, turning away to frantically scan the room. “Where is it? Where’s the camera?” 

“Camera?” the Prince echoed. “Wh- you think this is a prank?” 

“Of course it's a prank!” Virgil hadn’t meant to get worked up, but honestly could they blame him for getting angry? Did they think he was just going to stand here and take his heart getting broken? “I don’t know why you all thought this would be funny. Yeah, I get it, I’m an asshole. Doesn’t mean you guys have to--” 

“You’re not an asshole,” Roman said, and Virgil scoffed, squeezing his eyes shut because he was not going to cry. “Virgil. You’re not. Why...why do you think this is a prank? Why can’t I just...like you?” 

“Because I know you don’t feel the same, ok? I know we never talked about it but it’s pretty fucking obvious. And that’s fine. Or it- it was fine until you decided to treat my feelings like some big joke. What, is it because I’m Anxiety? Am I still just some dark brooding villain who can’t possibly experience real love so why not make a stupid video about it? Is that it?” 

He took a breath, still refusing to open his eyes, willing himself to calm down, to stop talking, and get out of the situation as quickly as he could. 

“Sorry, I’m...I didn’t mean to say all that,” he muttered. “Just...god, please don’t upload this. Please.” 

Somewhere along the way his voice had fallen into nothing more than a pathetic whisper, but right now he really didn’t care. Virgil couldn’t see himself leaving his room for the next couple days at least. 

“I’m not recording this, Virge,” Roman said, and he sounded painfully genuine. “I swear I’m not. We can go somewhere else, if you want me to prove it. I promise there’s no camera.” 

Virgil’s shoulders dropped, and he relented with a shaky sigh. “Alright. So then...is this just for fun? Did I piss you off somehow?” 

“No. God, no Virgil I would never…” he trailed off, pausing for just a few seconds. “I didn’t know you felt the same. I had no idea.” 

That got Virgil to open his eyes, snapping his head up and fully expecting to see a joking smile and bright eyes. Instead, Roman’s expression was sad and genuine, and a bit guilty.

“What?” Virgil asked. “You...Roman, everyone knows. Literally everyone.” 

“Well...I didn’t. Truly.” 

Virgil blinked, momentarily at a loss because this was...there was no way. “You’re the romantic side. How could you...how?” 

Roman shrugged, suddenly averting his gaze. “You didn’t know either. I’ve been taken with you for some time now, Stormcloud.” 

Virgil shook his head, desperately trying to block it out, to push down that rising hope and excitement fighting its way to the surface. 

Because...because no. No. It wasn’t true, it wasn’t. It didn’t make any sense. He wasn’t going to drop his defenses just to be crushed and laughed at. 

“That’s different.” 

“Why?” Roman asked, soft and sincere. “Why’s it different, Virgil?” 

“Because...because it’s you. Obviously I’m going to fall for you, you’re- you’re perfect. You’re...talented and passionate and I’m...I’m me. You’re not going to fall for Anxiety.” 

His words were met with silence, and there was a bit of relief amongst the sorrow in his chest, because if Roman didn’t have anything else to say, it meant this was over. He could just...forget about it and hopefully avoid any future teasing. 

But then Roman took a step closer, Virgil forcing himself not to back up, immediately tensing up and waiting. 

“But I did,” the Prince said. “I did fall for you, Virgil.” 

Virgil shook his head again, looking away as Roman slowly approached, waiting for him to drop the act. “Stop it.” 

“I fell for all of you,” Roman continued. “I fell for your smile, for your laugh- you have the most beautiful laugh, did you know that? I wish I could hear it more, but every time I do I feel as though everything is right in the world.” 

Roman was in front of him now, one hand cupping Virgil’s cheek, and he couldn’t help but lean into the touch despite wanting to curl up into a ball and sob. 

“You represent anxiety,” Roman said. “But you’re so much more. You’re brave, Virgil. I’ve seen it so, so many times. You fight against your fears, against anything that would put us in danger. You protect us. You’re strong, Virge, stronger than you give yourself credit for.” 

“Please stop,” Virgil whispered, and it was such a blatant lie. He wanted this, wanted it to be real so badly. “Roman, I...I can’t--” 

He couldn’t take it. If the rug was pulled out from under him now, after coming so close to what he’d always so desperately wanted...he didn’t know how he was supposed to look anyone in the eye ever again. 

“I can go on,” Roman said. “And I will. I will help you see how easy you are to fall in love with if it’s the last thing I do, because you deserve to see yourself the way I see you. But I just...I need you to tell me you believe me. This isn’t a prank or a joke. I would never play with your feelings like that.” 

Roman...Roman wasn’t cruel. He could get over excited, he could take a bit longer to pick up on someone’s uneasiness, he could be loud or brash, but he would never try to hurt someone he called a friend. He wouldn’t try to hurt anyone. 

If this was a prank...it would have stopped by now. Right? Roman wouldn’t...he wouldn’t let it go this far. 

“Virgil?” Roman’s voice was soft, hopeful, and Virgil warily met his gaze. “I love you. I really, really do.” 

There was absolutely no way to stop the few stray tears that escaped at the raw emotion and adoration in those words, no way to fight against the way his breath hitched when Roman gently wiped them away with his thumb. 

Virgil wanted so desperately to respond, to apologize, to warn Roman that at this point, if this all turned out to be a joke he was never leaving his room again. 

But no words came out, Virgil still frozen in terror and treacherous hope. But slowly, cautiously, he reached forward to lace his fingers in Roman’s free hand. 

The Prince didn’t pull away, didn’t sneer or laugh or twist his face in disgust. He just smiled, and squeezed Virgil’s hand. 

“You can say no,” Roman said after a moment, never moving the hand that cupped Virgil’s cheek. He waited for Virgil to give a tiny nod before continuing. “Would it be alright if I kissed you?” 

And Virgil had definitely stopped thinking at this point, fear and self loathing suddenly losing control to something else, something much more brave than anxiety. 

He nodded wordlessly and before he could even blink Roman leaned forward, pressing their lips together, and Virgil felt his world melt away. 

It was careful and delicate and perfect, so much better than Virgil had ever imagined, and that cold ache in his heart, the one that longed for something he could never have, melted from Roman’s warmth. 

It only lasted a few seconds before Roman pulled away, but they were easily the best few seconds of Virgil’s entire life. If his heart decided to give out now, he didn’t think he would mind all that much. 

Roman didn’t go far, pressing their foreheads together, and Virgil leaned into the touch, smiling when he felt Roman rub his thumb along his knuckles. 

“I love you too,” Virgil blurted before he could stop himself, beyond relieved when Roman didn’t immediately shove him away. “I’m...I’m so sorry I thought--”

Roman quickly cut off the apology with another kiss, this one deeper than the first, and Virgil’s free hand instinctively moved up to grip his shirt. 

“I’m not upset,” Roman assured when they pulled back. “I just...hope I can help you see how perfect you really are.” 

Virgil smiled, hiding his blush against Roman’s chest as the prince wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close. 

“I forgot you’re a sap,” he muttered against the red sash. “Seriously though, you can be pissed at me for yelling at you.” 

“Well, I’m not. Besides, it all worked out, didn’t it? You didn’t flat out reject me which is...what I was expecting.” 

Virgil extracted himself from the embrace to look up at Roman, and suddenly it was the Prince's turn to quickly look away, brows furrowed. 

“Seriously?” Virgil asked. “You thought I would reject you?” 

“I wasn’t always...kind to you,” Roman admitted. “And...well, I know how I am. I can be loud and annoying and you don’t always like that. I’m not...exactly an easy person to love.” 

For a moment, Virgil had no idea what to say to that. He thought back to all the times he’d mulled over his feelings for Roman, envisioning all the possibilities he’d once thought were impossible. 

He’d tried to talk himself out of loving the Prince in an attempt to spare himself from the heartbreak. He told himself they were too different, too incompatible. It would never work even if Roman did feel the same. 

But now, seeing the Prince stare at the ground with his shoulders tense, like he was waiting for Virgil to agree and call the whole thing off...it was almost like looking in a mirror. 

Maybe they weren’t so different after all. 

“You’re wrong,” Virgil said, grabbing for Roman’s hands again. “So...so I guess we’re both going to help each other. To...you know. See how easy we are to love. And stuff.” 

And ok, he didn’t have Roman’s elegant way with words. But that wasn’t his job, and the Prince seemed to appreciate it anyway, worried frown replaced with a timid, yet brilliant smile. 

“I guess so,” Roman said, smiling never faltering, and Virgil found himself matching it. “I don’t think that’s such a bad thing.” 

That was the last thing Virgil heard before being pulled into another kiss, Roman nothing but warm, welcoming, and safe, and for the first time Virgil allowed himself to let go and relax.

[kettlequills]

ok so this was inspired by this post made by @argisthebulwark - check her blog out! - about dovahkiin soulmates that could feel each other's pain. naturally i ran with the concept of dragonborn soulmates. feat. my ldb laataazin/miraak.

Laataazin has always felt trapped. Before they are Laat-aaz, even, when they are a nameless prisoner, hands-bound, another to be executed through a simple whim of fate. No memories then in the buzzing darkness of their mind, but a feeling of fear, confusion, brief-dawning wonderment on the heels of hot green rage in the drumming space of their chest that was theirs-and-not-theirs. Breath hurting, unused lungs and trembling hands that will not grip round the hilt of the sword Hadvar tries to press into their hands like they know it ought. Like they know scars on their bodies – body, for there is only one Dragonborn, only one.

How dare, their mind rages, how dare the gods try to discard me.

These thoughts, these hungers, these fears, are surely Laataazin’s alone, clear as Masser’s moonlight in the dark sky.

They have known imprisonment, in the cold, whispering bowels of Dragonsreach dungeons, where Mephala murmurs maliciously in every iron bar and chiselled stone, hissing breaths dampening, soft and light as cobwebs falling upon a sleeper’s eye, sanity, safety, sight. Trying to tempt, twist, torment total truth from the prisoner-that-would-be-Laataazin, named Dovahkiin and wrestling the ashes of Mirmulnir into restless ebb. Oil-and-ink in Laat’s nose, and a will that is theirs-and-not-theirs, resistant, defiant, no more daedra than dragonfire, sings firm around Mephala’s words, like the thrum of earthbones a song that refuses to be a bound-and-fooled-slave again.

Don’t complain so much, says the thoughts-that-are-Laataazin, they’ll let you out.

Their dragon-soul, for it must be theirs, is loud, angry, knows their head. It refuses to be quieted, grumbles and snaps at the rolls and reams of papery scrolls the Greybeards set down in front of them, snarling answers in a mother-tongue Laataazin has never known, with the air of distant, impatient distraction, like wings brushing across planes. Laataazin is not much of a reader, puzzles through relearning letters in dusty texts that take bored moments to recall when their body slumps softening into slow sleep. They wake with understanding and vague, boundless frustration, dragon-words in dragon-soul that mutter about Stupid fools and their vapid teachings, you will never learn with these chains on your wings.

Laataazin meditates for endless hours on frigid snowcaps with Paarthurnax’s breath steaming the snow and still thinks of smashing skulls and bloodied steel, still thinks of broken wills and shattered spirits.

It is, they tell Paarthurnax, a losing battle. There is something in them that wants out, and it will stop at nothing, nothing, to claw itself free from the trap locked shut around its howling muzzle.

Mortality is a losing battle, Paarthurnax reminds them. It is their nature to beat against the bars of inevitability, and turn their faces from the grind of time.

Hypocritical lizard, the soul-that-must-be-Laataazin’s mutters, and Laataazin chooses not to share this or the smile it provokes.

Laataazin goes about their divine-driven hunting of twin-souled dragons, who speak to them in a language they know, who challenge them to fights they win, who know them and are stranger to them in a way that only the careless and god-flung may be. They do not want to kill the dragons that are like themselves, who look at the sky and see a glorious road untravelled rather than the distant god-realm for no mortal to cross.

Your soft heart will do us harm, their soul reminds them. Do not spare what hungers to hurt.

Delphine tells them that they are not bloodthirsty enough, that they accept the surrender of too many, and create surrender still where there is not even that. That there is no point sparing monsters, and that Laataazin has a duty, a destiny, a fate.

Laataazin tells Delphine and their soul both that they have chosen a different path. But Akatosh does not make the same mistake twice, and this time, there is no give in the leash of fate wrapped tightly around the neck of the Last Dragonborn.

Ushered by inevitability, they go to face Alduin, and within them their soul rants and raves for its freedom. Fate! Fate! The gods laugh at us.

In Sovngarde, they feel empty, empty. It is a dead place for dead souls, and there is no place for living ties in bodies that breathe and fates that twine. Laataazin’s chest feels cold and dim, unwarmed by so total an omnipresence they had thought it part of themselves. It is not, they know now. There is… something, someone, else.

Gormlaith’s golden hair shines like septims when she smiles at Laataazin, all bared teeth. I knew you would come around, she says, and Laataazin wonders which of them she is talking to, Alduin-that-is-Akatosh, or Laataazin-that-is-trapped. Like standing in a boxful of mirrors, making eye-contact with a thousand versions of an image, an icon, a legend, borne through the ages to consume itself.

It is done. Alduin returns to himself, and fate twirls the key to the shackles of its Last prisoner. Tsun drags their weeping body from the gate and casts it into the realm of air and sunlight, wordless in the face of their inappropriate grief. When Laataazin returns, staggering and coughing out their lungs onto the windswept emptiness of the snow-throat beneath the watching dragon-eyes, feeling slams back into them with all the force of a tidal wave. Pure, blistering rage, fanned so hot it can only be the most animal of panic.

Where did you go? demands the thing-that-is-not-Laataazin. Why couldn’t I feel you?

Laataazin presses their hand to their chest and feels relief, relief, vast enough to swallow the sun.

I thought I had lost you, the prisoner thinks.

Come to me, longs the other.

What force on Tamriel could resist a plea like that? To Solstheim it is and kneeling in the hot ash Laataazin feels the sky all around them open up and his presence close in like breath on their neck.

You are so much louder here, Laataazin tells him, their steps still wobbly from the boat.

You walk on my land now, Miraak replies, and what a wonder to know his name, to touch with travel-sore body land his own has walked, see with dust-stung eyes what his has seen. I grow ever nearer to you.

You did not need to enslave these people, Laataazin thinks at the Tree Stone, watching empty-eyed cultists and blankened reavers work on towering edifices of stone. The mumbling figures remind them of Sovngarde, that terrible emptiness where once a gnawing pain sat. I am here.

I did not think you would come. Miraak’s admission is grudging, a little bitter. But as Laataazin walks through the stone doors of the temple, they hear the clatter of tools dropping, and the shouts of startled reavers.

Laat grins, feels it mark their face wide and feral. Put your best panties on then, for I shall see you soon.

Do not keep me waiting any longer. His pain is audible in the bones that house their heart, his impatience like whips licking the soles of their feet, his eagerness like teeth to their neck. Laataazin opens the Book, and there he is.

“You are shorter than I expected,” is what the soul-of-their-soul tells them, towering over them, crowned in blue and gold like fearless god and dripping ink like blood.

“And you are as obnoxious as I predicted,” Laataazin says, but already they are approaching him, and he does not move away but flinches when their hands meet his chest.

They bear together his pain from centuries of untouched isolation, the nerves awakened by another that burn like needles and dragon-fire, and they bear together the pleasure too, found in smoothing gauntleted hands over thick robes, found in solidity, presence.

I would touch you like this everywhere you could bear it, then more, Laataazin thinks, and their hands come away inkstained when they lift them to cup the golden mask, which tilts, as if its wearer has flinched again at the thought whispered into the ear of his mind like a promise.

The prince that Laataazin favours most is not cunning Mephala who whispers to them in Whiterun, nor Hermeaus Mora, who believes himself masterful gardener of all, but ruby-red Sanguine, who with a gift of a loving if unconventional wife found in a night of revelry wins anew with each feathered kiss their loyalty. It is therefore Miraak who tears himself from this indulgence of touch first, and takes a few steps back. The words of fate are a well-settled cloak employing the ruthless machine of purpose.

“And so the First meets the Last at the summit of Apocrypha,” Miraak says, ringing, proud. “Tell me, did you enjoy the dregs of my destiny?”

“If you had not turned from your fate to kill Alduin, I would not have awoken,” Laataazin replies, dryly, “so to some extent, yes. To other extents, fuck you.”

“That same fate decrees you must die for me to win my freedom.” Miraak’s mask is expressionless, but Laataazin does not need it – they can feel through the glass of body-barriers the surge and roil of the infection of wounds thousands of years untreated, the bitterness, the fear. It has beat within their heart from the very first moment of their waking in Helgen, as their grief, their loss, burns like wildfires in his.

“Freedom?” says one prisoner to another. “What freedom is this? Aren’t you tired of being what they ask of you? Haven’t you paid the price?”

“Do you not feel how the world has warped around you since you awoke?” Miraak’s hand is tightening on his sword hilt, but he does not draw. “You cannot die, you do not sleep, you are not real, or you alone exist – there can only be one Dragonborn.”

“We will both be free,” Laataazin asserts.

“Time, and reality, would not survive us both,” Miraak says, but Laataazin knows their dragon-soul, and knows he is hungry, hungry, and tired of cages.

Boldly, Laataazin reaches out. Miraak takes their hand, masked eyes searching, like he is a man on open water clinging to the uncertain shelter of driftwood.

“That is Akatosh’s problem,” says Laataazin, “I choose to have you.”

[kjack89]

Impasse (Pt. 3/3)

Part 1 here, part 2 here.

E/R, Modern AU, former relationship. Being stuck together leads to the more or less inevitable conclusion.

Given the sheer quantity of alcohol the man had managed to drink, Enjolras wasn’t at all surprised that Grantaire slept through dinner and all the way until the next morning. He was also, frankly, a little relieved by it. He wasn’t entirely sure that he was ready to have the conversation with Grantaire about what he had said.

Or, worse, ready to pretend to ignore it because Grantaire couldn’t remember it.

Enjolras honestly wasn’t sure which would be worse.

But all too soon, the early morning quiet was interrupted by a prolonged groan from the futon, and Enjolras sipped his glass of water with only a small amount of sympathy as Grantaire rasped, “Holy fuck, why?”

“Bourbon,” Enjolras told him dryly. “That’s the answer also to who, what, when, where and how, in case you were planning to ask those next.”

Grantaire cracked one eye open to glare at him. “Why did you let me drink that much?” he managed.

Enjolras just gave him a look. “Have I ever once successfully stopped you before?”

Grantaire groaned again and flopped over onto his back. “No,” he said. “But you still could’ve tried.”

“Maybe I did, and you just don’t remember it.”

At that, Grantaire sat upright, and Enjolras had to bite back a laugh at the man’s hair sticking up in a million different directions. “Oh God,” Grantaire said, eyes wide. “Whatever I said, just remember, in vino veritas is more a guideline than a hard and fast rule.”

“So I’ll take that to mean there are some parts of yesterday afternoon that you don’t fully remember?” Enjolras asked carefully.

Grantaire waved a dismissive hand. “Some parts, the entire thing, something like that.” His expression tightened as he glanced at Enjolras. “I’m sorry for absolutely everything I said or did, by the way, especially if it was, uh…” He trailed off. “Untoward.”

Enjolras arched an eyebrow. “Untoward?” he repeated. “You’ve been hanging out with Courfeyrac too much lately.” He paused. “Besides, you’re fine. It was nothing I haven’t seen before.”

He meant for the latter to come off as a joke, but Grantaire’s expression didn’t change. “If you say so,” he said instead, not sounding remotely convinced, but luckily, he changed the subject instead of making Enjolras convince him. “But you should still let me make it up to you.”

“How?” Enjolras asked, curious.

Grantaire looked pointedly at Enjolras’s midsection. “Well, for starters, you can let me take a look at your ribs to make sure they aren’t actually broken.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “I think I’d know by now if they were broken,” he huffed.

“Says the man who walked around for over a week with a broken wrist that you kept claiming was just a bad sprain.”

Enjolras considered it for a moment. “Fine,” he finally allowed. “If it’ll get you to drop the topic, at least. Not that there’s anything that either you or I can do if my ribs are broken, but…” 

Grantaire patted the futon next to him and Enjolras rolled his eyes but reluctantly perched on the edge of the futon, hesitating for only a moment before lifting his shirt up so that Grantaire could examine his side. He avoided looking at Grantaire, well aware that the bruises certainly looked bad, and he flinched only slightly as Grantaire lightly pressed against the bruises. “Sorry,” Grantaire said softly. “I know my fingers are rough.”

“That wasn’t—” Enjolras exhaled sharply as Grantaire increased the pressure. “Ok, that doesn’t feel great.”

Grantaire hummed in agreement before looking up at him. “Well, the good news is, based on my own fairly extensive experience with a variety of rib-related injuries, I’m fairly certain they’re just bruised and not actually broken.”

“Pretty sure I said that, but…” Enjolras trailed off, suddenly very aware that Grantaire’s fingers were still lightly pressed against his skin, and he flushed, tearing his eyes away. Grantaire dropped his hand as if he had been scalded, and Enjolras tried not to flinch again at the sudden loss of heat. “Anyway, uh, thanks,” he said gruffly.

Grantaire cleared his throat. “No problem,” he murmured, and for a moment, they sat there, side-by-side, in silence, every fiber of Enjolras’s being acutely aware of Grantaire’s thigh pressed against his, of how he could reach out and tangle their fingers together or rest his head against Grantaire’s shoulder, or— “You’re lucky that it wasn’t worse,” Grantaire continued, as if he was entirely unaware or unaffected by their proximity, and it took Enjolras a minute to even realize what he was talking about.

“I know,” he said after too long a pause for such an innocuous comment. “The police were even more violent than usual, and everyone in the crowd was getting bruised and bloody, and…”

He trailed off, sudden realization hitting. “Hang on,” he said slowly, and as if knowing what Enjolras was about to say, Grantaire quickly got off the futon, making his way over to pour himself a glass of water while conspicuously avoiding Enjolras’s eyes.

As if he knew he would see the accusation there.

“Everyone was getting hit,” Enjolras said slowly, watching the shoulders in Grantaire’s back tighten as he drained the glass of water. “Everyone was getting injured. But there’s not a scratch or bruise on you.”

“You don’t know that,” Grantaire muttered, still not turning around to look at him. “You haven’t seen me naked. At least not recently.”

Enjolras ignored the obvious attempt at what could have been either a joke or a come on (or, knowing Grantaire, both). “Why weren’t you injured?” he asked instead, struggling to keep his voice steady.

Grantaire jerked a shrug. “Luck, I guess,” he said, his voice sounding equally strained.

“Grantaire.”

Grantaire sighed. “Look—” he started, but Enjolras cut him off.

“Don’t you dare lie to me. Not now, not after—”

He broke off, but Grantaire’s eyes flashed to his for a brief moment before he looked away again. “I wasn’t injured because I wasn’t there,” he said flatly. 

Even though Enjolras had put it together, it somehow still shocked him to hear Grantaire admit it. “What do you mean, you weren’t there?” he asked, almost mechanically.

Grantaire shrugged again. “I mean, I didn’t go to the protest.”

Enjolras stared at him. “I thought you were calling it a riot,” he said, the words popping out of his mouth almost without thought, but it was enough to get Grantaire to finally look at him again, his own face flushed a dull, mottled red. 

“Whatever you want to call it,” he muttered. “I didn’t go. I came here instead.”

“But – why?”

“I figured you’d show up here eventually,” Grantaire said, as if that even began to answer Enjolras’s question. “And before you ask me how I knew which safe house you’d go to out of the, what, five we’ve got sprinkled throughout the city, give me some credit.” Enjolras had not even thought of asking that, and wisely kept his mouth shut. “This one was furthest from the action, which means it would take longest to get here, making whoever came here most vulnerable. There’s no way you would ask anyone else to take that risk.”

That had been Enjolras’s exact thought process, but he wasn’t going to give Grantaire the satisfaction by admitting that, and besides, he had a far more pressing question. “That’s not what I meant,” he said quietly. “I mean, why did you come here?”

Grantaire just looked at him. “You know why,” he said. “I came here for you.”

“But I thought—” The words stuck in Enjolras’s throat, because he knew what he had thought, knew that he had done what he thought at the time was a kindness, but now… “We broke up.”

“I know.”

“So then—”

“Just because we broke up doesn’t mean I want you to bleed out in some safe house,” Grantaire snapped, uncharacteristically sharp.

Enjolras wet his lips, trying to figure out what he wanted to say next. “I didn’t realize you still felt that way,” he said, which wasn’t even remotely true, and probably justified the look Grantaire gave him.

“You and I broke up for a lot of reasons, some valid, some bullshit,” Grantaire said impatiently. “But none of them were because I stopped loving you.” He met Enjolras’s eyes, something defiant in his expression. “And I don’t think it was because you stopped loving me either.”

“Grantaire—” Enjolras sighed, but Grantaire didn’t let him finish.

“I don’t remember everything from last night, but I remember enough.”

Enjolras swallowed. “What do you remember?”

“I remember this.” 

Grantaire closed the space between them, kissing Enjolras fiercely, hungrily, but this time, Enjolras didn’t hesitate before pulling away, just a little bit. “And do you remember me telling you this was a bad idea?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Grantaire said, his nose brushing slightly against Enjolras’s as he shifted. “But I don’t remember you telling me you didn’t want to.” He hesitated, his eyes searching Enjolras’s. “Just like I don’t remember you telling me that you don’t love me anymore.”

This time, it was Enjolras who surged forward, unable to stop himself, unable to remember just why this was such a bad idea in the first place. He cradled Grantaire’s face in both his hands, Grantaire’s hands falling automatically to his hips, the two of them slotting together perfectly like they always had.

Like they had never stopped.

They stumbled backward until the back of Enjolras’s knees hit the futon, but before he could even attempt to sit down, Grantaire had picked him up, and Enjolras automatically wrapped his legs around Grantaire’s waist. Grantaire laughed lightly against his lips. “Fucking Christ, did you gain weight?” he asked breathily.

“Shut up.”

For once, Grantaire seemed only too happy to do so, depositing Enjolras onto the futon before following after him so they could finish what they had started the night before.

----------

“Well,” Grantaire said, his voice a low rumble against Enjolras’s ear as his head was pillowed on Grantaire’s chest. “That’s a helluva way to cure a hangover.”

Enjolras huffed a laugh, tripping his fingers up the coarse hair of Grantaire’s happy trail. “That explains why you seemed to have less hangovers when we were dating.”

Grantaire carded his fingers through Enjolras’s curls. “It’s one reason, anyway,” he said quietly, before bending to press a kiss to the top of Enjolras’s head. “So now what?”

Enjolras twisted his head to look up at him. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“I mean…” Grantaire sighed, and Enjolras felt his contentment slipping rapidly away. “Fuck, Enj, please don’t make me spell it out for you. What does this mean for us? Where do we go from here?”

Enjolras sat up slowly, avoiding looking at Grantaire as he felt around, trying to find his boxers. “We don’t go anywhere.”

“Oh.”

The single syllable somehow cut Enjolras more than any of the screaming fights he and Grantaire had had, and he closed his eyes for a brief moment, steeling himself. “I love you,” he said finally, not really seeing the point in continuing to deny it. “If I’m being honest with myself in a way that I’ve been avoiding, I probably always will.” He forced himself to look at Grantaire, to meet his eyes. “But we broke up for a reason, the biggest of which being that we don’t have a future together.”

“We could,” Grantaire blurted, his eyes wide, pleading.

“Grantaire—”

“No, listen to me,” Grantaire said, his tone turning urgent. “I know that I will never be everything you want me to be. But I'm not completely useless, and at the very least, I'd like a chance to try.”

Enjolras shook his head. “It’s not about that,” he said. “It’s not about you.”

Grantaire’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Enjolras took a deep, steadying breath. “My die has been cast, so to speak. And where I'm going when we finally get out of this godforsaken apartment...you can't come with me.”

Grantaire went very still. “What are you talking about?” he asked, but before Enjolras could answer, he recoiled, the blood draining from his face as he finally understood. “You're not waiting for the heat to die down, are you?” Again, he didn’t wait for Enjolras’s answer. “You've been waiting for Combeferre and Marius and whomever else to make all the necessary legal arrangements.”

Even though that part wasn’t a question, Enjolras still nodded. “Yes.”

“You're planning on letting yourself get arrested.” Grantaire’s voice sounded strangely hollow, his expression impossible to read. “And not just on a minor charge that keeps you in county lockup overnight.”

“Yes.”

“So, what, you attacked that cop on purpose?” Grantaire asked harshly.

Enjolras shook his head. “No, that actually wasn't part of the plan,” he said, because he owed Grantaire the truth. “But when I saw what the cop was doing...well, let's just say it accelerated our timeline a little.”

“Do I even want to ask why you're letting yourself get arrested?” Grantaire asked.

Enjolras lifted his chin defiantly. “Because once I'm arrested, my defense team gets access to body cam footage, arrest statistics, everything they've been stonewalling us trying to get via FOIA requests. Marius will have a hundred plus subpoenas ready to go the minute I'm arrested on the grounds that my arrest was retaliatory. And if all that happens to get leaked to the public, well…”

He shrugged, and Grantaire just stared at him. “And if, God fucking forbid, you’re actually found guilty?”

“Then I'm prepared to do my time in service of all the people who are unjustly doing time for crimes they didn't commit.”

Enjolras had prepared for this moment so many times before he decided to just end things with Grantaire, prepared for Grantaire to yell and rage and tell him what an idiot he was. The breakup had seemed the easier route to take, but he should’ve known it would come out anyway, that he’d have to sit through it anyway, and he squared his shoulders, ready for anything.

Anything except Grantaire swallowing, nodding, and telling him simply, “Ok.”

Enjolras’s automatic defense of the Cause died on his lips, and he stared at Grantaire. “What?” he asked, his voice cracking.

Grantaire arched an eyebrow. “Do you need me to repeat myself?”

“No, I just—” Enjolras shook his head. “I sort of expected you to try to stop me.”

Grantaire snorted. “I learned a long time ago that I can’t stop you from doing anything.”

“Maybe not, but…” It was Enjolras’s turn to have a sudden realization, this time seeing the stubborn set of Grantaire’s jaw, the resigned lines that braced his body. He knew what Grantaire was planning, because he’d threatened it before, during one of their fights, when Enjolras had said he was leaving and Grantaire had pinned him down and told him that if he did, Grantaire would follow him. 

(“You’d follow me?” Enjolras had repeated, his anger seeping out of him. “Even if I went all the way to Timbuktu?”

“Firstly, I have no idea what you think you’d do in Mali, but yeah, even all the way to Timbuktu.” Grantaire had leaned in and kissed him. “Face it,” he had whispered, “you’re stuck with me.”)

And Enjolras could see it on Grantaire’s face – he intended to make good on that threat.

“No.”

“No, what?” Grantaire asked.

“No,” Enjolras repeated. “I know that look, and Grantaire, you cannot—”

Grantaire shrugged, nonchalant. “Well, unfortunately for you, you are going to be in police custody, so you won't be able to stop me.” He leveled a look at Enjolras. “Will you.”

Enjolras shook his head. “Don’t be an idiot,” he snapped. “I’ve made my choice, and I know it’s not one you agree with, but it is what it is. But you—”

“If you think there is any world in which I would not follow you, you're out of your damn mind.”

Grantaire said it easily, pleasantly even, but his words were edged with steel. Enjolras shook his head and stood, grabbing his clothes to give himself something to do besides sit there and stare at him. “So, what, you’re just going to commit some crime so you get arrested, too?” he scoffed. “You don’t exactly have the kind of arrest record I do. Drunk and disorderlies don’t exactly hold the same weight as inciting domestic terrorism, so it’s not like you can guarantee you’ll get sent to jail.”

“Sure I will,” Grantaire said cheerfully. “Mandatory minimums are a bitch, haven’t you heard?”

Enjolras knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Grantaire would figure out a way to pull it off. Even if it took him multiple arrest attempts, or doing something unbelievably, irredeemably stupid. 

Just like he knew that he had to do everything in his power to stop him. 

“I can’t let you do that,” he said sharply. “Not for me.”

Grantaire just cocked his head slightly. “Don’t you understand?” he asked, something almost gentle in his voice. “If you were in there and I was out here…” He trailed off and shook his head. “I couldn’t live like that.” His expression tightened. “I won’t live like that.”

“That’s insane.”

Grantaire shrugged. “Maybe,” he said. “But like you, my choice was made a long time ago. Whether we’re together or not.” He looked up at Enjolras. “You jump, I jump. Simple as that.”

Enjolras’s throat felt tight. “You can’t—” he repeated, but Grantaire just smiled at him, and the words of protest died on Enjolras’s lips.

“I would love to see you try to stop me,” Grantaire said softly, and he stood, crossing to Enjolras to kiss him once more. 

Enjolras caught Grantaire’s hand. “You’re asking me to choose you over everything I have worked for,” he said, his voice tight.

Grantaire shook his head. “I’m really not,” he told him evenly. “I learned a long time ago that the outcome of that choice would not be one that favored me.”

“But I can’t let you do this.”

“No more than I can let you go to prison without me,” Grantaire said, leaning in to kiss the corner of Enjolras’s mouth. “6 to 30 years is a long time. And I…” He shrugged, something catching in his voice. “I mean, I’d probably survive that long without you. But I sure as shit don’t want to.”

Enjolras couldn’t stop himself from kissing Grantaire again, a searing kiss that he could only hope captured everything he couldn’t bring himself to say. “What if I broke up with you again?” he asked when they resurfaced for air, his lips so close to Grantaire’s still that they were practically sharing the same breath.

Grantaire laughed breathily. “You tried that once already,” he whispered. “And yet here we are.”

“Here we are,” Enjolras repeated, the reality of it hitting him, the magnitude of what they faced hitting him. “So where does that leave us?”

“Pretty sure that was my question originally,” Grantaire told him with a smirk, though his smile faded slightly when he saw the look on Enjolras’s face. “Same place we’ve always been,” he said with a sigh. “At an impasse.”

“An impasse.”

Grantaire shrugged. “Your choice has been made, and so has mine. You jump, I jump.” He hesitated. “And even though I know I don’t need it, I’d still like your permission.”

Enjolras took a deep breath. “I don’t know if I can give you that,” he said.

Grantaire just smiled again, a little crookedly. “Maybe not,” he agreed. “But thankfully, we’ve still got a few days of being stuck in here for me to try to convince you.”

“I love you,” Enjolras said, a little desperately, even though he knew repeating it wasn’t going to change Grantaire’s mind, any more than the opposite would.

“I love you, too,” Grantaire said, taking Enjolras hand and lacing their fingers together. “After everything. Despite everything. Because of everything. And as much as I wish it were enough – as much as I wish I were enough – I get why you’re making the choice you’re making.” He squeezed Enjolras’s hand. “I just hope you understand the same.”

Enjolras wasn’t sure that he did, or that he ever would, but he knew that it didn’t matter. Not anymore. “So we’re at an impasse.”

“Yup.”

Enjolras nodded slowly. “Well. At least there’s no one else I’d rather be at an impasse with.”

Grantaire half-smiled. “Yeah,” he said. “Me too.”

[broadstbroskis]

ivy- morgan rielly

a/n: i wrote a thing, don’t hate me. very much inspired by ivy from the absolutely incredible new tswift evermore album (you should listen to the whole thing if you havent already and def this song)

warnings: infidelity (it’s a central theme), angst (lots)

-----

The arm draped over her waist tightens just as Ophelia begins to move away. She bites her lip and closes her eyes and she feels Morgan bury his face in her hair, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Don’t go.” He whispers.

“I have to.” She wouldn’t. She’d stay here all night if she could. She’d stay until morning, she’d stay forever...but she can’t. “You know that.” It’s just as quiet, as if they’re both afraid of breaking the spell over them, but by now, they both know that prolonging the inevitable leads only to more pain, more difficulty leaving.

Morgan presses another kiss to the top of her head before rolling away; she feels the cold of his absence immediately, a loss that’s going to stay with her until she manages to find an escape to be with him again. 

Her clothes are scattered everywhere tonight, it seems, which merely means she feels Morgan’s eyes following her around his room as she gathers them. “Stop that.”

There’s the smallest of smiles of his face when she looks up at him, after pulling her sweater back on. “Stop looking at you? Never.” And she’s really supposed to be leaving, but how’s Ophelia not supposed to kiss him after that?

Morgan’s thumb strokes over her cheek after they break apart,  a gentle caress that expresses so much of all the things she knows he can’t-or won’t-say. “Text me when you get home, yeah?”

“I will.” Ophelia squeezes his hand gently, understanding the true message behind his words, the I love you, that’s just too much to say outright. And then, because it’s too much for her to actually say goodbye, she squeezes his hand once more, and then slips out of his room.

It’s dark still when she opens the door to her apartment a few floors down and the silence is deafening. By all accounts, it should be warmer and homier than the bachelor pad she just left. She’d put a lot of work and effort into making it a home, a place for a relationship to grow, to start a family. 

Right now, it just felt cold and unwelcoming, and Ophelia drops her keys on the table by the door in their usual spot, making a beeline for the master bathroom, not turning any lights on in the apartment until she makes it there. The sound of the shower finally drowns out the silence that’s ringing around her, stops her thoughts from running wild, and only when she steps inside does she let the tears fall.

-----

Ophelia blinks once, and then again, adjusting her eyes to the bright sun shining in through the windows. The other side of the bed is empty, but warm still, like it’s only been recently vacated, and she musters up the energy to climb out of bed and find her slippers before she wanders out into the kitchen.

“‘Morning.” Jon’s scrolling through his phone at the table, likely checking emails, or possibly moved onto his morning social media read thru, his coffee still steaming in front of him. “There’s more in the pot.”

“Thanks.” She returns the small smile he’d sent her and pours a mug for herself, settling in at the table next to him and taking a moment to get used to the usual silence. “When’d you get in last night?”

Jon hums for a second, like he’s thinking about it. “3, I think?”

“Jesus.” She shakes her head; she doesn’t need to look at the clock to know that it’s too early for him to be up and dressed to go back to the office already then. “You need to sleep more.”

Jon stands up with his mug and kisses the top of her head. “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”

The thing is, she’s not sure he’s kidding. It’s an attitude that he shares with the rest of his firm, a top financial group filled with people just like Jon, always pushing themselves to do the absolute most. It’s not-she’d never begrudge him his success, but really, how well can he be taking care of himself when all he does is go to work, go to the gym, and travel for days at a time?

“That’ll be sooner than you think if you keep going on four hours of sleep.” Ophelia chides gently, standing to send him off.

Jon laughs. “I’ll be home early tonight; how’s that? We’ll go out somewhere for dinner and then come back to bed,” He waggles his eyebrows. “And then go to bed.”

“Hmm, I’ll believe it when I see it.” Ophelia says, and accepts the kiss he presses to her cheek on his way out the door.

(He doesn’t make it to dinner, but Ophelia's not shocked; she hadn’t bothered to change out of her gym clothes and orders takeout for herself instead.)

-----

Probably a long shot, but are you free at 3 to go see a house? Ophelia sends Jon the second their realtor confirms the showing, unsurprised when he sends back a thumbs down emoji. She sighs, and confirms with the realtor that she’ll be attending alone-again-and then scrolls around the neighborhood, looking at other houses for sale. If she’s going all the way out to Etobicoke, she may as well check out a few others while she’s there.

Showings confirmed, she dresses for the spin class she’s hitting first and makes her way downstairs, catching Morgan in the parking garage. “Hey.”

“Hey.” He smiles. He’s got a couple teammates with him, the only thing stopping her from burying her face in his neck and slipping her hands into his hoodie pocket. “How’s it going?”

“Good.” She answers truthfully. It’s been a couple days since they’ve talked, longer since she’s seen him, even just in passing like this; he’s been out of town a lot this month for games. “You happy to be home for a bit?”

“Yeah,” Morgan nods, meeting her eyes, and she hadn’t intended the question to be anything more than what it is, but she catches the double meaning in his answer right away. “I am.”

“Yeah.” She catches herself mindlessly agreeing with him, forgetting about the teammates standing with him watching their every move and smiling gently at Morgan, instead. “It’ll be nice.”

Someone coughs, lightly, but it’s enough to break the moment. She suspects, from the look on Morgan’s face, that whichever one of his friend’s had interrupted had done so on purpose, is putting some kind of story together, and she’s taking that as her cue to go. “I’ll talk to you soon, I’m sure. Catch you in the halls.” She tries to joke, but it falls flat, so she makes her goodbyes instead, and even though they’re not alone, it’s impossible not to reach out and brush her fingers against his arm for just the quickest of touches as she passes.

-----

“What do you think?” Ophelia can feel Pam studying her, but she bites her lip before she answers, knowing that she’s being an absolute pest.

“I just-I don’t really love it.” She says finally, and to her absolute credit, her realtor doesn’t even blink, even though this is the fifth house this afternoon she’s said that exact same thing about.

“What didn’t you love?”

What didn’t she love? Jesus, fucking everything. The bedrooms were too small, the kitchen was laid out terribly, the whole floor plan was a mess. Even petty little things, like the shape of the breakfast nook bothered her about this house. She explains her issues with the house, promising to make a list of what she’s absolutely looking for, and to send over any places she wants to take a look at, before slipping into her car and taking a deep breath.

There’s a text waiting for her from Jon. Going to be late at the office tonight, working on a pitch. Don’t wait up.

Another deep breath. She shoots off a response, a quick ok, and then swipes to another thread. Are you home?

Morgan’s response comes almost immediately. Yeah, just about to order dinner. You want in?

She does, absolutely. Be there in an hour.

Morgan has dinner waiting in takeout containers and plates ready, but Ophelia’s perfectly happy to ignore both of those in favor of pressing herself as close to him as she can and pushing up for a kiss. “Hi.” She says, a little breathlessly.

“I’m certainly not complaining, but what’d I do to deserve that?” He pulls her back in, entangling her fingers with his one hand and using the other to pull her closer. She loves when he holds her like this, keeps her so close that it feels like nothing can come between them, that nothing matters besides the two of them. 

She traces a pattern along his hand and feels him pull her in even more tightly. “Just for being you.” It’s a little sappy, too sappy maybe, but she cherishes every moment she’s gotten to spend knowing him and growing with him. 

The kiss Morgan pulls her in for at that is soft and promising, but he pulls back, looking as if it almost pains him. “Dinner first?” And because she can hear his stomach rumbling, she nods in agreement, with a smile and the smallest of laughs. 

“Dinner first.”

-----

It’s snowing.

It’s snowing and the pond is frozen, but it’s empty, surrounded by evergreens and mountains, already coated in white. The air is crisp, that winter crispness that can only truly be felt in the middle of nowhere, and Ophelia breathes deeply, taking in the distinct scent of winter that she never really gets in Toronto, before it’s overpowered by a familiar one.

When Morgan skates up behind her, he doesn’t stop; instead, he only slows down enough to catch her arm and pull her along with him. 

“Morgan!” Ophelia scolds, but she’s laughing when she does, so he can’t possibly take her seriously.

“Ophelia!” He mimics, picking up speed, ignoring her sudden shriek and skating around in front of her to take both of her hands.

“Showoff.” She nods at him, still leading the two of them around the pond, only moving backwards now, so as to still be looking at her.

“Nah, just want to look at that pretty face more.”

When she stops, it doesn’t even catch him off guard; Morgan just glides the half step closer to her, still grinning as she teases him. “You get to look at my face all the time now.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m ever tired of it.” She loves him so much. How open and honest he is, that he always says what he’s thinking, from the sweetest things like that to anything he’s unclear about. His gentle touches, the warm caresses. His stupid dad jokes. She’d spend forever laughing at them just to see the smile on his face when she does.

“Not yet, at least.” She teases. “‘Ever’ is a lot of time.”

“Still not enough.” Morgan says, and then slips one of his hands into his pocket, coming back out with a velvet jewelry box. “Maybe forever?”

“Hey.” It doesn’t sound right, too distant and too unenthusiastic; it doesn’t match the pure joy in Morgan’s eyes looking at her.

“Yes.” She says, smiling and nodding at him.

“Phel,” there’s a gentle nudge against her neck and she blinks awake. There’s Morgan...but…she blinks the fuzziness of the dream away. He looks unhappy, reluctant, and she gets it, suddenly, when he continues. “It’s late.”

“Oh.” She says quietly, swallowing the lump in her throat. He presses a kiss to the back of her neck, another one on the soft skin where it meets her shoulder. “Mo-“ Morgan lifts his head to look at her, but there’s nothing she could say right now that would bring happiness to his face, nothing that would come even close to the unbridled excitement in her dream, so she keeps the memory close to her heart and gives him a soft kiss instead, before she has to go.

-----

“Glass of red, as requested.” Ophelia smiles in thanks as Jon passes her a glass, but her attention is directed at the monstrosity of a tie that his coworker and best friend has shown up to a corporate event wearing.

“Kevin.” She says, and from the grin on his face, her disbelief is clear. “What is that?”

“It’s fashion, Ophelia.” Kevin says, putting an act of superiority on, but then going right back to his usual, kind of goofy, self. “Naw, I found it when we were in Dallas last week. It’s lit, isn’t it?”

“Lit.” She repeats dryly, taking a sip of her wine to hide a smile as he and Jon laugh. 

The laughs don’t last long, as the three of them are approached by Jon’s boss, and the small talk begins. There’s a client there they want to land tonight, or at least make dinner plans with for a later date, and that’s top priority, but don’t forget to make time for this person too because their contract is up in March, and of course, you can’t ignore the Leafs, especially not so-and-so from the such-and-such’s office because they’re looking to renew the sponsorship agreement after the season, and...

She blanks on all the names. All she needs to do is smile pretty anyway.

She excuses herself after Keith Williams (the client, who agrees to dinner later in the week, another night she’ll be alone) to refill her wine glass, and is waiting by the bar when she feels someone slide in next to her just a step too close. Instead of feeling tense though, it relaxes her immediately, and she leans against Morgan. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He smiles back at her. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you.” Ophelia’d noticed him the minute he’d walked the door, noticed the way his suit was perfectly cut, that the navy brought out his eyes, had had a hard time looking away. “You look okay, I guess.”

Morgan laughs. “Okay, I guess?” He repeats, nudging her side.

“Very handsome.” She accepts her glass of wine from the bartender and smiles in thanks before he leaves them. “It’s a good suit on you.”

She’s sure he’s going to make a comment about how it’s an even better suit off him, but they’re interrupted. “Mo!” Someone says behind them, and Ophelia hadn’t even realized how close they were standing, that she’s curling into him and he’s leaning back, until they have to separate to turn around.

“Mitchy.” Morgan greets, sounding as calm as usual, while Ophelia feels like her heart’s going to beat out of her chest. “Finally made it, huh?”

“Matts couldn’t decide on what shoes he wanted to wear.” Mitch grumbles as the blonde next to him snickers into her palm.

“Worth the wait.” Ophelia looks over at the voice and realizes it’s one of the teammates Morgan had over the other week. She quickly realizes from the look on his face that he’s putting together the same pieces.

“Was it though?’ Mitch is asking him. “That’s the last time we agree to carpool.”

He’s ignored though. “We’ve met before, yeah?”

Ophelia nods. “Uh yeah, I live in the same building as Morgan.” She transfers her wine glass to her left hand to offer her right hand out to shake, catches the blonde’s eyes immediately go to her ring, and ignores the feeling in her stomach as she introduces herself to them.

They’re all friendly enough-Auston, Mitch, Mitch’s girlfriend-but she can’t help but feel like they’re just trying to feel her out for something; she makes polite chit-chat for a few minutes and then excuses herself away from them to go back to Jon.

“Hey.” She says quietly, slipping back into his side.

“All good?” He asks quietly. “You were gone for a while.”

She nods. “ Just ran into someone I know.” He hums noncommittally and she feels a moment of fear for Morgan, but then they’re moving toward that guy from the Leafs office he’s supposed to be talking with and he’s back to all business.

-----

“Can we talk about this later?” Jon zips his suitcase and then looks over at her. “I’ve got to go.”

“When do you want to talk about it?” Ophelia cries frustratedly. “You’re always fucking going.”

Jon glares at her.” Jesus Christ, Ophelia.” He starts rolling his suitcase down the hall and she follows, unable to resist.

“Should I even bother looking at houses still? Or should we just stay stagnant?”

“Do whatever the fuck you want, Ophelia. I don’t care right now.” The door slams behind him, but for once, she can’t bring herself to be mad about it, too furious about the fight they just had, shouting in circles about things they’ve already fought about. 

Stewing in her anger isn’t going to do her any good, so she changes and heads to the gym, each pounding step on the treadmill relieving the thrumming under her skin. She’s feeling better, by the time she slows it down to her cool down- not quite calm, by any means, but enough that she feels she can run the errands she needs to for the day without snapping at anyone who doesn’t deserve her ire.

She’s in the grocery store when her phone starts ringing. “Hey.” She smiles when she sees it’s Morgan.

“Hey.” She can practically hear him smiling, even through the phone, her airpods still in her ears. “I’m home.”

She’s in the snack aisle at the food store, absolutely beaming at the simplest words, just because he’s been gone for a week. “You are?”

“For a few days now.” He confirms.

“You want to come for dinner tonight?” She studies the cart in front of her. “I’ll cook.”

“You’re cooking? Tell me when to be there.” Morgan already sounds excited. It’s not often she gets a chance to cook for him, but every time she does, he raves about it. 

She laughs. “I’m at the store now; I’ll text you when I get home.”

He’s actually waiting for her in the parking garage when she pulls in and she laughs at him fondly as she parks her car. “Welcome back.”

“Hmm, good to be back.” The kiss he gives her in greeting is quick, too quick, but he makes up for it when he pushes her back against the counter as soon as they’re in her kitchen and the groceries are on the counter.

“Do you want risotto tonight or not?” Ophelia laughs against his lips, laughs again as she watches how torn Morgan looks. “We have time.”

He squeezes her hand. “Never enough.” And she kisses him again, because it’s true. These stolen moments, this borrowed time, none of it felt like enough. It wouldn’t ever be enough to show him all the love she has for him, to show him everything he does for her, all the pain he takes away and the joy he brings to her life. 

“Could you go pick out a bottle of wine?” She says quietly, nodding toward the wine fridge, instead of saying the things they both know are true, but will only lead to her saying something stupid, like asking him to run away with her.

-----

The house comes in Pam’s daily email and Ophelia loves it from the first picture. She requests a showing for as early as possible and goes through her morning routine, trying not to get overly excited each time her phone buzzes with a new notification, until finally, Pam responds that she’ll meet her there at noon.

It’s only two hours, but it’s two hours that she can’t seem to fill, no matter what she does. Time feels like it’s stopped, until finally she gets in her car and drives over.

The stone exterior is even more beautiful in person than in the pictures. The kitchen is straight out of her dreams. The bedrooms are spacious, the family room is open, the basement is huge. She walks the entire house once, goes through again and again, smile growing wider each time.

Ophelia can picture it perfectly. The laughter filling all these nooks and crannies. A small blue-eyed boy always bouncing around, begging for anyone to play hockey with him. A girl, the shine of her dark hair catching all the natural light, eagerly trying to keep up with him. Morgan throwing his bag down the second he walks in the door and scooping them both into his arms to say hello, before coming to her and a baby, greeting them both just as tenderly.

It’s abrupt, the crash back to reality. This house, this beautiful, gorgeous, house can’t be hers. That life isn’t hers. It can’t be hers. It won’t be theirs. 

Ophelia doesn’t feel her legs crumble out from under her, but she finds herself on the floor, hand brushing over the carpet. She doesn’t feel the tears start either, but it’s not long before the sobs are wracking her entire body and she’s unable to stop.

[fieryfantasybooklover]

Into The Light - An Analogical fic

Credit For The Idea goes to @obsessedalli :D

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

The lights flickered, going in and out. Logan shuddered, putting down his pencil and shaking in his chair. As the lights continued to flicker and the periods between the dark became fewer and fewer, Logan struggled to fight down the fear rising like bile in him. As long as he could remember, he’d had an unnatural fear of the dark. And not just the dark - the depths of the ocean, the terrible, looming knowledge of his ignorance of the things that lurked in the dark and other hidden, unseen, unfound places. He’d tried everything to get the fear to go away, or at least decrease it. But nothing seemed to work. The older he got, the more he learned, the worse his fear of dark and the unknown got. So, when the lights finally sputtered out, all he could do was curl up on his bed and attempt to not slip into an eternal panic.

Virgil whipped around, annoyed. The lights had all simultaneously died, plunging his room into deep darkness. Groping his way along the wall to his desk, softly cursing the entire way, Virgil looked for his flashlight. “Where is it? It was literally just here yesterday. I know for a fact that it can’t have just vanished so unless Roman stole it- Oh thank god here it is.” Clicking the flashlight on, Virgil smiled grimly in the dim illuminated light. “I guess I just have to wait here now, until the lights go back on. I think everyone else should be ok but- oh fuck it. I might as well check on them. There’s not much else I can do anyway.” Using the flashlight to find his way to the door, Virgil quietly exited his room and darted down the hall, surrounded by the eerie quiet and the chokingly dark shadows.

Finding himself in front of Patton’s door, Virgil knocked softly and opened it. “Pat? The lights went out everywhere and I just wanted to check and make sure you’re all good.” Patton raised his head, and smiled at Virgil. Patton was surrounded by soft stuffed animals and all wrapped up in a blanket. There was a bowl of popcorn beside him, and upon closer inspection, Virgil could see an iPad in front of him, streaming some happy show, full of jokes and laughter. “I’m fine Virgil! Don’t worry about me. It’s all good in here.” Virgil, smiling, gave a nod and quietly shut the door.

Virgil arrived in front of Roman’s door next, gave the door a knock, and then let himself in. “Hey Ro? Since the lights have gone out, I thought I’d check in.” Roman, who was seated at his desk, spun around with a wild grin on his face. “Oh Virgil! I am better than ok! While the lights may be out, the lights of my creativity have done nothing but double! I haven’t gotten this much done in a very long while, let me tell you.” Roman spun back around, hit the play button on his phone, and grinned at the emerging upbeat music. “Well, since it seems like you’re all good, I’ll go. Good luck Princey!” Virgil grinned, turned and made his way out of the door as Roman once bent back over his work.

Virgil, sighing, took off down the hall and soon arrived at Janus’s door. Knowing that knocking would just prolong the inevitable, Virgil opened the door and let himself in. Janus’s room was shadowed ordinarily, even with the lights on, so it didn’t look much different now. Virgil made a move to speak, but Janus beat him to it. “I can guess that you’ve come to make sure I’m doing well, with the blackout and all. Well, I shall spare you the trouble. I am doing perfectly fine.” Janus, lounging in his armchair, smirked at Virgil, who smirked right back. “Well, thanks for sparing me the trouble. I’ll go now, so you can go back to doing whatever the hell it is you’re doing.” Virgil turned at that, and left Janus’s room.

Virgil arrived at Remus’s room then, and this was the door he hesitated at. There were blinding, multicolored lights peeking out from under the door, and some unidentifiable loud, crashing sounds. Before Virgil could make a move to open the door, Remus’s shout echoed from behind the closed door. “Virgil I know you’re there. I’ll spare you both the issue and the sanity loss and tell you I’m fine thank you! Now if you could go away right now that’d be great!” Virgil didn’t hesitate and bolted away, headed for the last stop. Logan’s room.

When Virgil arrived at Logan’s room, he knew immediately that something was wrong. With everyone else, there had been some sort of noise or sign of life emanating from the other side. But there was absolutely nothing coming from Logan’s room. No music, no ambient sounds associated with a tv show or series, not even the whirring of a fan. Virgil hesitantly knocked, and when there was still no answer or any sound, he carefully and quietly opened the door. The room was pitch black, somehow darker than the rest of the house. It was silent as the grave, the room void of any comforting things. Virgil, shining the flashlight around the room, spotted Logan. He was curled up on the bed, shivering but clearly trying to hold it together. “He’s terrified.” Virgil realized with a sudden shock.

It took less than 5 seconds for Virgil to step forward, shut the door firmly but quietly, and drop down on the bed next to Logan. Setting the flashlight on the nightstand in a position to provide light, Virgil bent over Logan and felt his heart stop. The logical side was shaking, shuddering, and emitting muffled choking sounds. Virgil wasted no time stretching out beside Logan and enveloping him in his arms. At this, the floodgates broke. Logan openly sobbed, clinging to Virgil, who in response brought him closer and made gentle circles on his back and arms, all the while murmuring comforting words. “Don’t worry Lo. It’s gonna be ok, I’m right here. It’s all going to be alright. Just keep on breathing. It’s all gonna be ok.” Logan couldn’t seem to be able to manage full sentences, but a few words slipped out. Virgil could detect “Stupid”, “Dumb”, “Shouldn’t be afraid”, and “Pathetic”.

“Lo, listen to me. You are not pathetic. You are brave and smart and kind. And you’re human. It’s human to be afraid. It’s human to want to appear strong. But listen to me. You are so much more than what you fear. There is so much more than that that makes you you. There’s the smile you have when you tease Roman. The glow in your face when you complete a project and are proud of the result. The kindness you show to all your friends. The way you shake with excitement when you discuss something you love. All of these and more make you you. And who you are is breathtaking and strong. Always remember that.” Virgil hugged Logan closer, silently promising to ride the storm out until they reached calmer waters. Logan didn’t say anything in answer. But that’s ok. Because he didn’t need to say anything to communicate the overwhelming feelings of joy and warmth spreading through him, from the top of his head to the tip of his toes.

That’s how they stayed. Virgil, with his arms around Logan. Logan, who’s gasps for breath were slowly fading. And when they finally stopped, they layed there together in the comfortable quiet, waiting with happy anticipation for the reappearance of the sun, so they could emerge anew into the light.

[korezlee]

Ayo, TW// I talk about weight, body image, body dysmorphia, EATING DISORDERS

Im not gonna tag the SuperMega tag cause it’s a lot and it’s a “downer” lmao

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WOOOO BOY I’ve been wanting to discuss or talk about this for awhile and I saw a mutual make a post about it so now I feel kind of safe and validated to talk about it too:

Ok so kinda off topic but this goes into what I have been thinking for a long time but IKKKkk ik comments under SuperMega videos when it’s live action mean well and don’t mean anything by it, but it’s always bothered me when people comment about Ryan losing weight.

Like at first it seems very light hearted and nothing too deep. It’s just a nice little “hey look Ryan lost weight! (Because he always brings up how he is self counscious about his body/weight etc.)

I relate to Ryan a lot and obviously many other people do to, I relate in the sense of not always being comfortable in one’s body and having some kind of body dysmorphia.

The thing is though, his weight fluctuations make me kind of concerned and I wonder if others follow behind that as well. Like ik it’s none of my business, I’m just a viewer and I only know as much as they (Matt and ryan) want their audience to see.

But putting two and two together makes me feel kinda icky.

Ik they’re human, and they’re not perfect, but the way they talk about food and eating sometimes makes me like... not want to listen to it them anymore lmao.

Like Ryan talking about not eating all day, (and Matt,) or trying something to lose weight is kind of triggering to me personally, and of course, it’s their YouTube channel, blah blah blah, I can choose to not watch them, but I think I just wanted to shed some light on it either way?? Idek I think it’s good to critique people you follow/look up to whether they want to be or not because their job is being on social media essentially, so I feel I can have a say and have an opinion on the matter.

I tend and have gone through weight flucations over the past... my whole life I guess, haha. Not just a few or several pounds, but I’ve been pretty plentiful in weight range. I wouldn’t say (nor have I been diagnosed with and eating disorder,) but I have relaizes recently that I have/had the tendencies of one.

I think sometimes they don’t realize that while yes talking about and venting about their struggles with food and body image and what not is valid, BUT it’s interesting because it seems like they don’t realize that how they’re talking about it is toxic? I don’t wanna say that because I have an obvious bias towards them, but it’s weird realization when you hear people talk about something and you’re like “do they not realize that’s like not good and they probably shouldn’t be talking about it that way?” But idk if that just my ego talking?

In essence, it just feels like they forget sometimes that while most of their audience are college students, a lot are teenagers too. (Not that college students can’t be affected as well, but they’re not are kids.)

Like... I’ve been watching them since I was 15, and my stupid little 15 year old brain hearing that stuff probably didn’t help with my issues as well too.

I’m not sure how I feel about this. On one hand I wanna be like “I’m being ridiculous and if I don’t like it then I should just stop watching it OR ignore it,” but on the other, I feel as if this goes deeper and is a fundamental flaw in them I suppose that unintentionally inflitrates into their young audience due to the normalization of diet culture and eating habits especially in America.

I don’t know if I have to go into examples of what I’m exactly talking about but I guess I mean this... *here’s a made up and simplified example of what I can recall just from memory*

Ryan: I hate my body

Matt: why you look great you’re not fat Ryan

Ryan: but I feel like I am and need to lose weight

Matt: but you’re not fat

Ryan: yeah but I still feel gross

Matt: but you’re not fat

*talks about not eating all day and then inevitably talks about losing weight in the same breathe, making the connection whether they had wanted to or not that not eating much obviously = weight lost. And then praising it.*

It just feels kinda not fucking good when it’s implied that being fat is gross or not good.

Like I feel bad listening to that shit cause I’ve gained weight back from losing it, and sometimes I think would they think I’m gross for gaining weight ya know?? And I think if a teenager who already probably has low self esteem hears that (or adult, using teenager because more impressionable,) it’s subtly telling their viewer that yes being fat is gross and not eating all day is admirable.

My rebuttable for this is my head are people saying “but Matt and Ryan usually say that they feel like shit and it ISN’T healthy.” Yes, they usually do joke and comment about their habits not being the best. I’m not saying they’re the end all be all role models for young people either, but I just think it’s something to note when they don’t explicitly say it’s bad, but it’s implied that it’s ok and normal.

I don’t necessarily blame SuperMega for not recognizing this or even really seeing a problem with these conversations, I do think it just shows how human and flawed they are and in a way trying to relate to those that have similar problems.

Again, I do know this problem goes wayyyy beyond them, and they are also part of out society where diet culture has been placed onto them and normalized.

Idk if anybody is reading this, but take it with some salt I suppose? Has anyone ever had this problem while watching and browsing their content? It’s something that I always think about but never talk avout because I feel bad for pointing out that Ryan’s weight loss is “bad,” because it’s none of my business. (The connection between that and how they discuss their eating habits and insecurities makes me think they are connected. I don’t want to say that it the CORRECT assumption to make, because I could and probably am wrong hopefully. I don’t want to come off as purely bashing to dude for wanting to look and feel better about himself.)

And if I do recall, I think I remember (I can’t remember if it was them,) saying that commenting on someone’s weight loss isn’t good because you don’t know how it was lost.

(I think I’m thinking of someone else I have no idea.)

Anyways, just trying to always looks at them in different lights instead of just praising them?? Yea lol.

Maybe I’m projecting my insecurities onto fucking YouTubers way too much but I do think that there are other people that would agree with me, but if not please let me know because I would interested to see those that think differently than me.

[ficsandcatsandficsandcats]

*tosses coin to my writer, o valley of plenty* if I may get a little Jask fic where the reader is cursed to be extremely ugly, and is ashamed and hides in a cloak/helmet/whatever to hide her face. Obviously shes in love with him, but theres no way he would ever love someone so hideous. Inevitably, one day someone sees her without the mask, (I dont care who, it can be anyone, even Jask) and they end up talking feelings and shame and all that good stuff.

Fandom: The WitcherPairing: Jaskier x ReaderWord Count: 2,236 Rating: Ga/n: I love the concept of a reader being cursed and bonding with Jaskier over emotions instead of the usual “you’re hot, I’m hot, let’s fuck” (though my catalogue supports that I am not against this particular trope at all). I had a bit of a dilemma when trying to figure out how to approach because I am very cognizant of the way ugliness is socially constructed and I didn’t want to put a bunch of features on blast that someone may recognize in themselves and feel shitty about. Fanfic should either make you happy or sob or sigh but it should never make you feel bad about yourself. So I put a bit of a spin on it and I hopethat’s ok. I think I’ve still got the core of what you’re asking for here and I hope I handled it well. Thank you for coming to my TEDtalk.

There were those who spurned fairytales. They dismissed the stories of fairy godmothers and curses as children’s tales, moralistic tools for discipline. You knew better. You knew all too well how real fairy godmothers were, and how vicious they were when their charges were mistreated. You’d never been able to glean from your father what act he committed to enrage the fairy so but you knew the fallout. Your mother died in childbirth and you, against all odds, stubbornly clung to life and survived. Another punishment had to be handed down and the curse was placed. When you looked in the mirror you saw someone plain. Features indistinct and uninteresting, a canvas of a person. 

You were the lucky one. When others looked at you, they saw the face of the ugliest creature their imaginations could conjure. The fairy had been clever, knowing all too well that beauty was in the eye of beholder and that the only way to ensure your misery and loneliness was to make sure that every eye that beheld you saw something so uniquely gruesome to their own taste that they could not look past it. Your father was included in this and though he denied it you knew between that and losing your mother he was not able to feel or express love for you as he would have been if you weren’t so repugnant in his eyes.

You took to traveling and healing, still clinging to life like you had in your infancy, still determined to fight for your space in the world. Travelling meant you never had to get to know anyone too well or get too close. You’d tried using paints as other ladies did if they wanted to change their appearance but this only seemed to intensify the revulsion you inspired. You ended up wearing a heavy, hooded cloak and a kerchief about your mouth for extra measure. You were an intimidating figure but you tried to balance this with a soft voice and greater skill in healing. If you could offer something to people, you could briefly get the interaction you craved. But you always kept travelling and you rarely ran into the same person twice.

Until Jaskier.

You met him the way you met most people; providing a service. He’d come by your wagon in a rough state, explaining as you cleaned up his wounds that he’d gotten into a disagreement during his performance the night before. He was charming and kind, only asking about your odd attire once and then leaving it be when you made it clear you didn’t want to discuss it. He paid you more coin than you would have asked and you felt grateful that you’d had the chance to meet him and knew it would remain an encounter you kept close to your heart the rest of your days.

And then you saw him again. This time he caught you unawares, out on a very rare excursion away from your wagon to get some supplies. You’d never had someone see you a second time and look so happy about it. He joined you on your shopping, haggling with the shop owners and asking you for advice on the songs he was writing. He tried to get to know you a bit more, asking about how long you’d been traveling and why you’d chosen healing as a profession. It was easy to talk to him and you almost forgot he couldn’t see the burden you hid beneath your wrappings. He walked you back to your wagon, even going so far as to help you up into it, his hand grasping yours lightly to support you. Your touch starved skin tingled for hours in the spot his hand had been.

The third time you saw him was the worst day of your life. You’d known you were taking a risk by leaving the wagon without the hood and mask but you tried to convince yourself that you were only going down to the river for a moment to bathe. It was early winter and you knew no one would be around, smartly tucked up in their houses with their loved ones and fending off the frost. The water stung your skin but you enjoyed the sensation, happy to be free of the heavy clothes for these moments.

And then you saw him.

You clamored out of the river but you’d only pulled on your dress, still scrambling for the cloak when he stopped in his tracks. Confusion followed by recognition followed by even more confusion washed over his face and you felt your heart break as he cautiously approached.

“Y/N?” he asked. There was no point in pretending, the cloak and kerchief were in hand.

“Jaskier,” you said. You stood across from each other in silence for what felt like ages. You weren’t sure what you were expecting him to do. Not everyone who saw you was cruel, some were just afraid which was almost worse. Jaskier just looked confused and intrigued. His eyes kept traveling over your face like he was trying to commit it to memory.

“Say something,” you said finally, your voice choked with repressed tears. He walked towards you slowly as though he were trying not to spook a horse. By the time he reached you the tears fell from your unblinking eyes. You kept looking for the moment he would turn. The revulsion that would shatter the lovingly preserved memories of him forever. He reached out and brushed away the tears and then reached down and took the cloak from your hands. You stood unmoving as he gently wrapped the cloak back around you, lifting the hood to cover your half-frozen hair. He held the kerchief in his hand but didn’t cover your face, just fidgeted with it as he worked to form words.

“So this is your deep secret,” he said. You nod, unable to form words.

“I’m disappointed.”

The words broke your heart.

“I thought it would be that you were a murderer or a dangerous fugitive,” he continued.

“What?”

“Well, I mean, unless, are you?” he asked.

“No,” you answered.

“Ok so you wear the cloak and the kerchief and the layers and things because…” his voice trailed off, leaving the question open for your answer.

“Because I’m hideous,” the words are like ashes in your mouth but you’re accustomed to the taste.

“According to whom?” he asked. You scoffed incredulously.

“Everyone. Literally everyone. That’s how it works.”

“That’s how what works?”

“The curse.”

“You’re cursed? How fascinating.”

His words anger you and you fear that he’s mocking you, that maybe the kindness he’s shown is just an act and that this a fresh way to experience cruelty. You thought you’d seen them all.

But you tell him the story. You tell him about the curse and your mirrorless childhood and the moment you saw your face and the worse moment when you began asking people to describe you and learned the true nature of the curse, far beyond the loss of a mother or a plain face. You don’t know when you both sit on the ground but at some point you’re there next to each other, leaning against the wheels of the wagon as the words continue to tumble out of you like a dam that’s finally broken. No one has ever heard this much of you, seen this much of you, or sat this long with you in your life and you stop caring how he’s going to react at the end. This isn’t about him anymore, this is about you releasing all that you’d carried and all that you’ll carry with you for the rest of your life. When you’re done you notice he’s taken your hand at some point and his thumb is softly rubbing soothing circles around your knuckles.

“So now this is my life. I stay hidden for my sake as much as everyone else’s. I heal because it’s better than sitting locked up in a house all my life and because it helps me feel… well, just that I suppose. It helps me feel. I would rather feel those brief moments of connection than stay numb my whole life,” you say. You’re startled to see there are tears in his eyes and he pulls you into a hug, not sure if he’s comforting you or himself but you hug him back though you’re long out of practice.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs into the hood of your cloak, “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Everyone has their curses I suppose,” you mumble, a little embarrassedand uncertain how to respond.

“Yes but the worst part is it’s all so stupid. So people find you ugly, so what? What could that possibly have to do with your worth as a person?” he asks.

“It’s easy to say that when you’re beautiful,” you say bitterly.

“Beauty doesn’t secure your place in people’s lives. It sure as hell doesn’t make them want you around either,” he says. “But tell me you realize this can’t keep on forever.”

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“Well this… lonely existence, it’s miserable. No offense. Even you said as much. Are you really going to just hide yourself away forever?”

“I didn’t… I don’t see any other option.”

His hand is warm as it gently cups your face and your heart nearly leaps out of your chest.

“Take me with you,” he says.

“What?”

“Take me with you. I make a better travelling companion than most think. And I can help! Not with the healing and such but… listen, I had a friend who was treated much the same as you describe and I was able to help… bridge the gap between him and the people around him,” he says.

“How did you do that?”

“I wrote a song. Now, I’m not suggesting I write a song unless…” his voice trails off and he waggles his eyebrows winningly but your stony face is answer enough.

“Yes that’s what I thought. In any case with me by your side your loneliness is eased and if being there doesn’t communicate a more welcoming message I can at the very least defend your honor.”

You laugh, the sound foreign to your ears.

“And how will you do that?” you ask.

“I… will figure that out!” he vows.

“Can I ask you something,” you ask, growing serious again and avoiding his eyes.

“Anything.”

“What do you see? When you look at me? What do I look like?”

He considers the question and then pulls out a journal and quill from his travelling bag. You try to lean over and see what he’s doing but he pulls the journal away from your sight, tsking at you and telling you to be patient. Your stomach twists in knots as he glances between the journal and you and just when you’re about to lunge for it, he makes a final flourish and hands you the book.

A sob wracks through your body the moment your eyes meet the page and a trembling hand covers your mouth.

“I’m not an excellent artist but I don’t think it’s so bad,” Jaskier says, concern furrowing his brow. You can’t form words for a while, the jagged sobs seemingly endless as Jaskier rubs your back, confused but trying to be supportive until your sobs break into something that sounds a little less heartwrenching and then breaks into laughter. You look at him, eyes shining with tears and something else, something a bit more hopeful and new.

“It’s me,” you whisper, pointing to the drawing. The drawing of the face you saw in your reflection as a child, just older. The face no one has ever seen until this man who’s looking at you like you’re insane but also very relieved that you’d stopped crying. Well, not entirely, but they seem to be happy tears now.

“Yes I know,” he says.

“No, Jaskier, Jaskier, it’s me,” you can’t explain what this means just yet. There aren’t words and you aren’t sure you understand yet yourself.

“I see you,” he says, wiping away some of the tears again, leaning in closed to rest his forehead against yours, “I see you.”

There are those who spurn fairytales. They dismiss the stories of destiny and of a love that cannot be repelled by curses or the weight of a life heavy with trauma. You know better.

[waynedunlaptheorgandonor]

alpha/beta are carol/daryl foils: an analysis no one asked for; twd s10 spoilers, obviously

hoo boy. okay, so i’ve been intending to write this for days, but i had to let it marinate, and also i haven’t been sleeping and couldn’t concentrate long enough to write it down, but whatever, i digress. “we are the end of the world” was something, wasn’t it?? it is so weird to have a plotline in twd that’s like...good? and SO refreshing to have a villain who isn’t a macho, rapey, white dude. i personally believe that all showrunners should be women from now on. oh, i’m digressing again, my apologies.

here’s the actual content, under the cut bc it’s a fucking novel:

so, from alpha’s very first episode, when i saw her shaving her head, i literally thought, “oh, so she’s carol’s foil and they’re going to have an inevitable showdown, huh?” guess who was right? this bitch. but what i didn’t catch right away was how beta is also daryl’s foil, and how the main focus of this season is alpha/beta vs carol/daryl.

let’s take it apart individually first, yeah?

carol vs. alpha:

like i said, the scene that made me instantly aware of what they were setting up was when alpha shaved her head. carol’s hair was a big thing in season 9, and the fact that we had just had henry talking about carol growing her hair out long, juxtaposed with alpha shaving hers off, is what set the alarm bells off for me. i have said over and over that i don’t believe kang does anything unintentionally, and girl loves her symbolism, so those two opposing scenes was a taste of what she was setting up.

carol and alpha are both near-indestructible forces who also happen to be mother’s suffering the loss of their children at the hand of the other. (carol isn’t directly responsible for lydia, but she’s included with “the others” that took lydia from alpha, so i think alpha still sees her as part of it.)

carol and alpha both have transformed themselves to fit within the confines of the world they currently live in, while recognizing that their children weren’t meant for it, even within their own grief. let us refer to figures a and b (lol) below.

figure a:

here in “the grove” we have creepy girl who i hate and am terrified of asking carol if sophia died because she was weak, and carol straight up is like, “yes.” she doesn’t even sugarcoat it. she accepted that her daughter wasn’t going to survive from the jump, because “there wasn’t a mean bone in her body.”

figure b:

here we see alpha losing her goddamn shit, because she’s having a come-to-jesus moment with beta about losing lydia, because she can’t have lydia and be the alpha at the same time, because lydia “is not like” her. 

conclusion: carol and alpha both mourn for their daughters, but have accepted that to be the people they need to be in the apocalypse, their children needed to die (or in lydia’s case, be dead metaphorically). in short, carol and alpha are two sides of the same coin. they’ve both found ways to survive, except one is for the good guys, and the other is for the bad guys, and now they’re head-to-head, and it is d e l i c i o u s.

moving on.

daryl vs beta:

idk why the parallels didn’t occur to me when they had daryl fighting beta. i blame henry, he was distracting me by being a delightful idiot (rip my dumb bitch), but that seed was planted in season 9, too. go kang for continuity. who knew twd could do that? anyway.

the big thing that compares daryl and beta is who they were before they found carol and alpha respectively. we obviously don’t know a whole lot of details about beta’s life, but we have enough to extrapolate and compare, and extrapolate and compare we shall.

alright, so we got our favorite lovable, filthy redneck, who grew up abused and isolated, and then here comes the apocalypse, and the only person he has left is his brother, and that’s what defines him until he loses him, both when rick chained him to a roof, and then again, after a brief relapse, when merle sacrificed himself. 

next we have beta, who again, our info is limited, but he does not become “beta” until after whoever that walker alpha puts down is gone. judging by the size, approximate age, and the closeness beta had to him, i’m betting on, you guessed it, his brother. 

observe:

figure a:

figure b:

these are both turning points for these men, where they Fully Become the dudes that we know. daryl couldn’t be the daryl we know and love until merle was gone for good, and whatever his actual name is couldn’t become beta until smiley face shirt guy was smooshed. 

(side note: how fucking rank does that t-shirt have to be by now? at least the mask dries out, but do you think that t-shirt is just like, melded into beta’s skin at this point? gross.)

so time for the fun part.

alpha/beta and caryl in season 10:

season 10 finds both duos in similar circumstances, by which i mean, alpha and carol are losing their minds, and beta and daryl are like, “uhhhh, you ok?” the men are these women’s confidants, their person, the one they trust and love above all others. carol saved daryl and brought him into a community, and alpha did the same thing with beta. you want more visual aides? well, sure thing, scout!

figure a:

we’re carylers, we already know carol’s the reason daryl has the confidence and self-esteem to become part of the group, but juxtapose this with the following pic, which i will label

figure b (again):

and you will see that alpha sees something in beta that no one else does. she sees this lonely, talented man, who’s adrift and in solitude, and she essentially calls dibs. sound familiar? inorite?

so daryl and beta are now loyal to a fault to their women, and this season already has them being wary of how they’re acting. yes, i have more pictures. i like taking screenshots, okay?

figure a:

one of the first scenes we get with caryl is daryl asking carol if she’s still thinking about alpha, and if she is Dwelling, which is interesting, because...

figure b:

...that’s exactly the same thing we get with alpha and beta. the first scene in “we are the end of the world” with the two of them in present day is him questioning her motives, and then later on he’s like, “fuck, are you Dwelling?” 

and both women immediately are like:

and neither dude knows wtf to do about this, because they’re used to the women being the strong ones. carol’s whole, “you’ve got to feel it, but not me, i’m good repressing, conceal don’t feel” thing, mixed with alpha’s, “we’re living like the dead and the dead don’t feel emotions so obviously I Am Fine” motto is what their boys are used to, but suddenly carol is hallucinating dead children, and alpha is making shrines, and our poor dudes are like, “plz stop???” esp bc they know these women are FUCKING TERRIFYING, and should never be left to their own devices if they’re being crazy crackers.

ergo, both men are clinging to the hope that they can bring the women back from the brink. my last visual aides, yes i know, how sad:

figure a:

figure b:

both scenes have these dudes reaching out to their women and essentially expressing, in their own way, “i’m worried about you, can you plz stay within eyesight at all times, ilu,” bc neither daryl nor beta is equipped to have a nice long sit down conversation about feelings, and obviously carol and alpha wouldn’t bother to entertain it in the first place, so like  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. they tried. 

will it work? unlikely! because after that showdown at the end of both eps 1 and 2, these bitches ain’t about to stop for nothing. they just straight up made enemies for life, and they’re going straight harry potter with this shit, neither can live while the other survives, someone has to die, and while beta and daryl are not super on board with this whole “being bonkers and bent on revenge” thing, you better bet your ass that they’re going to make sure their woman is the winner, which means they automatically are paired up against one another as well.

so in a nutshell: we could have just stuck goatees on mmb and norman reedus, cast them as alpha and beta, and called them mirror!verse caryl (star trek reference, yay/nay?), because they’re mother fucking foils setting up for the mother fucking fight of the century, and oh my god, can you feel it in your bones how exciting it is that it’s not going to be a rick + negan dick measuring contest again? i am So Hype.

and ofc, as a hardcore caryl shipper, i obviously have to throw in that alpha and beta are totally in love (which is esp fun, bc whisperers aren’t supposed to feel love, uh oh, vulcan violation, yes i made another star trek reference, bite me), and if they are paralleling caryl, well...extrapolate from the evidence.

i love kang, you guys. i love how she tells a story. i love that she knows how to tell a story. this show is good again, and idk how she did it, but damnit, she did.

thus endeth my pointless critical analysis. forgive me. i was an english major and have absolutely no other use for my degree.

i’m ashamed too. 

that’s all. tomorrow is the early release of the caryl episode, i mean the new episode. looking forward to dying a valiant death with the lot of you. until then, friends.

deuces,

-diz

addendum: i was editing this, and was trying to think if there’s a parallel to the bracelet scene, and the only thing i could think of that alpha gives beta is his mask. she encourages him to take the face of his brother(?), and that keeps him grounded, which is interesting, bc my prediction for the bracelet is that it’s going to end up being a grounding device for carol when she’s dissociating. i don’t have a solid conclusion drawn there, but i thought i’d mention it before posting, just to plant the seed. 

k, done 4 real, bye

[tslasvegas]

Episode 2: “I am typically regarded as a joke” - Livingston

Anyways... rip Colin, no idea who that was.. obviously Okay well I think we are out of the first impressions stage of this game and I think I've done an okay job of not making a strong impression one way or another, except to DeNara who I've been talking to most consistently since the start of this game. Except for today lmfao I was NOT active on purpose but I'll try to get to that in this confessional. I saw that the tribe went on a call so I decided to join and chit-chat with the girlies of this tribe and I've gotta say.. I'm lowkey disappointed to learn that despite being a returning player, everybody else on the tribe is friends with each other. Aside from Mo it sounds like they all know each other one way or another and I'm kinda left out of that connection. Even though they might not all be friends, it is a bit uncomfortable to be in a call with people where you know NOTHING they're talking about and you're not catching any of the jokes or references to other games. Also, I noticed that the personalities kinda blended together and these aren't people that I'd get along with in other orgs I play, so.. oops. One highlight of the call was that Nik was talking about Rachael and they were saying that Rachael got rid of them, I believe. Basically just talking about how they view Rachael differently because of that I guess? I was kind of in and out during that. But then DeNara posted IN THE TRIBE CHAT when it was just us three plus Kailyn on the call that Nik was spilling tea... and it was just. so. cringe. Idk if Nik or Kailyn noticed and the fact that everyone else was acting so nonchalant makes me think I missed something but either way I was on mute howling bc of second-hand embarrassment. As far as my current position, I do feel a bit comfortable with where I'm at because although I AM uncomfortable being left out of the friend group, normally I thrive early game when I get underestimated. I'm trying to just not make waves and stick to whatever plans come my way and hopefully people don't view me as a threat. Every time I'd leave and rejoin the call everybody was talking about totally normal IRL stuff so it doesn't seem like people are playing the game yet, but last round I did make a bit of an alliance with DeNara for the time being. Despite feeling like an outsider, I'm going to just continue to look at the positives of every situation because as a pessimistic person by nature, I'm inclined to feel doomed in any scenario. But this is my redemption season. I'm not here to get tenth place, I'm here to win and this season will prove itself to be an uphill battle and I'm just getting started. Tumblr Survivor has always felt like the story of Sisyphus and the Boulder to me. Look into the deeper meaning of the story and I promise a lot of the details do kind of relate to me and my character throughout my run in this community, but the general idea is that I've been tasked with a chore of having to push this heavy boulder up a neverending mountain in Hell. As a returning player, I've faced a lot of hardship when I could've just gotten the outcome I want the first time, and each return to Tumblr Survivor, I've pretty much done worse and worse since then. I'm ready to finally push that fucking boulder out of the underworld and bring myself back to the playing field I deserve to be on. For now, I'm just going to keep pushing.

So glad we won that first immunity. Why am I not surprise to see a unanimous vote for the first tribal. Even a self vote.... hopefully we win again today 

I’m already over this tribe. Keegan and Liv are the only fun ones to talk to, Joey I think tries but also doesn’t. Also low key hoping people don’t know too much about Svalbard cause if people know about Rachael and I being close that could be a problem. I’m not letting my work schedule get in the way of my activity, but it’s a bad sign to me when I’m of the most active people on the tribe. I should be the baseline, not the gold standard

I think our Tribe is a bit laid back. Not much interaction, not really that engaging. I hope Jake and Kevin did a good job at the challenge, I don't want to go to Tribal again. The typhoon here passed, I hope Tribal passes too!

Woo we got out the main inactive person. Although really my entire tribe is quiet and lowkey inactive, but Jake and I talk a lot in PMs which is good. Also Stephen is doing his best with timezones so I know he wants to play bc he's always on when he is able to be on. The next biggest inactive person on the tribe is Kevin, but he instantly volunteered to do the challenge so yay I guess. If we lose though, he is still an option to go in my mind. I'm not trying to make too much of a plan because we could win this challenge and then I'm going to try to open the vault because if we come in first I will have 10 chips. But I still need to figure out if it costs 10 chips to open the vault or if you're just not allowed to look at it until you have 10 chips.

You want a confessional, well here it is. Nothing has happened. To be honest, I’ve barely even spoken to anyone today. Or yesterday for that matter. It’s also been quiet in tribe chat.

I finally got my tribe on a call. Most of them joined in, at least for a little bit so that was nice. The only person that wasn't on call was Ben, which kind of paints him as the outsider of the tribe right now. 

...five seconds later

I want to get to know Mo better and maybe set up some sort of alliance with them, but they are so spotty with when they are on, it is difficult to keep a conversation going. I am not chill enough for this game yet lol.

ok. so like that's annoying. that challenge was supposed to be fun but jake is making a big stink. and like yeah i'm mad too but like it's over and it's just a game it's not like actual money lol. also, i don't really care if we go to tribal. makes you stronger. whatever. i'm sure he's a nice person but like i think he's just mad he lost. whatevs. 

Nik and Rachael did our challenge and won. Thank goodness it wasn't me! What my tribe will soon come to realize is I am basically useless at challenges. Rip me.

...five seconds later

Yay! Mo finally asked if I wanted to work together! Took them long enough ;-) jkjk I am excited to finally start playing this game

So after a heated and undeserved loss - sorry Dan I know we talked about it but I'm sticking to my guns - I start packing my bags. All of a sudden Stephen wants to target John, John wants to target Timmy; and nobody is throwing my name out there... Like... Hello? I just got into a public fight with production, shouldn't I be target number one? And now, Xavier and I are the swing votes... How the hell did the worst Tumblr Survivor Player and a 45 Year old man end up stuck in the middle? What the hell even is this season?

WE LOST AGAIN. So now which alliance to choose?! 

I can't believe this round. I should be the target, why - why am I not the target? I lost the challenge. I yelled at production. I am the easiest vote, but nobody is voting me! What is happening?? Timmy and Stephen made an alliance chat with Xavier and I to vote John. John and Kevin are working together to vote Timmy. Xavier says - "Jake tell me what to do!" Timmy and John are both telling me everything the other one is saying to each other, and it's amazing. I have no idea how Xavier and I are voting tonight. On one hand, you have Stephen and Timmy who seem like a really strong duo. But Stephen trusts me a lot, and if I vote out his closest ally than I'll go down that list - which could be trouble in case of the inevitable swap. John is MY closest ally, but if we vote him out the team is much more united. Do I play for ME or do I play for WE? I'm 95% sure the vote is going to be 4-2, and people are going to be blindsided.

“Theres three tribes! Means we’re less likely to have back to back tribals” -_- sure jan. So we lost again, blergh, looked like an annoying challenge. The tribe is still pretty muted, who knows whether they’re voting for me or not. I made a 4-man alliance with Timmy Jake and Xavier, which i do want, but we’ll have to see if everyone is legit. The two bad possibilities are if everyone is actually voting me for various reasons (timezone, round one oopsie, etc.) or if the real vote is jake for arguing with dan. idk, time will tell. From my POV the vote is John, pretty randomly just based on the fact of who competed in the challenge.

Hiiiiiii So I am very excited to be back in the game again. I very much enjoy my original tribe especially Andrew. We already have a Pennsylvania alliance with Stephanie and I think that that is good groundwork to have moving forward should we ever lose a challenge we already have three that are tight in at seven so if we hear anything about any of them targeting us we can do something about it. I like Livingston a lot and Joey but I can’t tell if Joey is 14 years old or not and that kind of bothers me. I am v excited to get with Kevin and see where me him and Andrew can go 

Winning is great, but we need to lose the next one or it’s gonna be a weird spot if the first swap is at 18, although it is very possible that it’s at 16. I don’t want to go into a swap with all the agency being with Luxor, or us having the most players because in both cases we get painted as the targets. Bad news all around

I have yet to confess but here goes! I feel very good on my tribe. We seem to be doing fairly well at comps so far and I would love to continue to miss Tribal as much as humanly possible. I have talked to everyone on my tribe in some capacity but I am not trying to be the one to initiate like alliances and shit before we even have to attend tribal. I just wanna be chill and lay low while also being a good member of the tribe whom people like. Keegan and I have a mutual agreement to make sure each other gets far. I got first boot in my last game and he has never made single digits here in Tumblr Survivor so let's change that. One fear with working with Keegan is that he knows how I play. I played his game, Forest of Horrors, and got rocked out at the Final 7. Keegan has since told me that I was runner up for Player of the Season. I am typically regarded as a joke in this community but Keegan is someone who knows how I play and respects how I play. This game is an entirely different scenario so I am going to likely try to keep my connection up with him.

So the vote seems like it's going to be John Coffey. I'm quite sad about it for a few reasons. He is really nice and I know we work well together in games and he is a very loyal player. Also, Jake had an entire temper tantrum last night after results and that was just extremely annoying. But, Jake is more active and talks to me more while John is a rare sighting. Tbh I would rather it be Kevin but I think they're getting a pass since they participated in the challenge...always next tribal because knowing this tribe it's a strong possibility. I swear if the next challenge is a music video though I will punch a wall since that will be my death sentence since I do not participate in those. I never feel comfortable so I just don't. If we go to tribal as a tribe of 5, that might not be that good, so just really hoping that that is not the next challenge.

ok here's the tea guys. i am pretty solid in my tribe right now. after this vote tonight there 5 of us, and 4 of us are in an alliance, which is good. HOWEVER, i'm solid with the 3 people separately. that's put me in a good spot for a tribe swap/merge. obviously we're like years away from a merge. but we could tribe swap soon. we shall see!