#rem rebukes

[remtheenlightenedone]

No I will not look up Nick burkhardt shirtless! I shall not give in to temptation ✝️😠

I rebuke lust, in the name of Jesus!

I rebuke the devil! 😈😠✝️

[ellavatorz]

Fear Me || c.b. x reader

prompt: Colby is there for you when the Stanley hotel becomes too much.

tw/cw: violence, angst-y(?), mainly cute protective colby.

photo is not mine, found on Pinterest

a/n: this is for @tealeyewonder, ty for requesting this! it was fun to write & I hope you enjoy <3

*

It wasn’t long after you all had arrived that shit began to happen. In fact, it took exactly five minutes into filming for Amanda, Mackie and yourself to begin hesitating in proceeding with the investigation.

The guys—per usual—begged for you all to stick around just “a little longer!” And so here you five were; vibrating with adrenaline and high off of the aura that the hotel room reeked in.

“Colbs, I’m serious. Are you sure we should continue?” you and colby are isolated from the others, pressed against the entrance, just outside of the shared—and one of the infamously haunted—room 428.

He reaches a hand into your hair and tugs a lock behind your ear, breaking the silence with a gentle and monosyllabic “it’s fine.”

With an eye roll, you shovel your hands into the depths of your jacket’s pockets and drill your gaze into him. Seemingly prepared for your rebuke, Colby proceeds with a cautionary voice.

“I promise I won’t let anything happen to you, okay? It’ll just be for a few more hours and then if you really want to, we can find another hotel nearby and book it. Free of ghosts, alright?”

Sighing in defeat, you settle for his reassurance and choose to remain as calm as you can for the rest of the night in the hotel—albeit still littered with deafening ghost trails and paranormal activity.

*

Colby’s voice resonates around the room as he recites an excerpt from some sort of yelp review left by previous guests of the hotel. The girls and yourself huddle together in front of where he sits on the mattress, watching and listening intently.

“It’s said for a male entity to lean over female guests and..” he quirks a brow and chuckles before continuing, “tries to kiss them.”

“What?” You blurt, eyes enlarging in size before the other two girls are laughing. “Naughty ghosts!” You say jokingly.

“Maybe we should dress up as girls tonight?” Colby jokes, and you all begin to feel the air purify it’s way into peace as you continue.

Suddenly, you all decide to move toward the lone, dark and eerie corners of the Hotel, the staircase which is known for its Vortex.

There, Amanda retells a memory of having imagined an entity following Colby around. Shocked, you latch onto his arm and give him a shake.

“Shit, you’re gonna attract all the ghosts tonight!”

His face replicates mortification as the rest of you laugh cheerfully, silently wishing for the idea of your boyfriend having an attachment to fall through.

“There’s definitely someone here already but I can’t make out who it is exactly. They keep hiding behind the handrails.” Amanda states, pointing at the solid fixture just behind you and Colby. Mackey agrees with a hum and drags her gaze elsewhere.

“It feels.. strange.” You murmur, looking at yourself in the reflection of the mirrors. Colby appears behind you, circling your waist with his arms and smiling contently.

“Oh definitely, but look at how cute we look!”

“Colby.” You smack at his shoulder. “Really?”

“What? It’s true.”

“Alright I say we move back to the room and get some footage of the rem pod.” Sam appears from behind you two and the group agrees.

*

“Great,” colby says after he’s finished setting up the equipment. “Again, if anything comes and touches this device it’ll light up and make a bunch of noise.”

You all nod in understanding, deciding to stand a good distance away from the footing of the bed where the device lies. Instantly, the REM Pod goes off, the red light shining along with it.

“Hello?” Sam greets, mouth wide open in shock. “Do you recognize us? We’ve been here before..”

“Nah, he only cares about girls, man!” Colby jokes, though the device begins sounding off. The girls and yourself move back, stunned at the reaction.

“Holy shit, did it just agree with what you said?” You look over to Colby in surprise. He nods, just as startled as you.

“Do you like girls? Kissing them?” You ask, biting your lip in anxiousness.

The device goes off.

“Do you like us being here?” Amanda asks.

It’s silent.

The five of you share a look before Sam continues. “Can you do something to show us who you are? Are you Flora?”

You room stills, air suddenly thickening with something akin to a suffocating material being held against your face. You blanch are the feeling, trying your best to shake it off until there’s a bang just inches behind you.

The five of you turn in fear and you immediately dart to Colby’s side, feeling an intense amount of pressure in your head. “Okay guys, my head is seriously killing me.”

Mackie gasps, pointing a finger in your direction while moving closer to you. Colby wraps an arm around your middle, turning you to face him as he analyzes your features.

“Your nose is bleeding,” he notes aloud and you frown. “Are you okay?”

“No I just—I don’t know? I felt weird and then the noise happened.” You explain, holding a napkin to your nose that Mackie had gotten for you. Sam brings the camera close to your face, to which you scowl at.

“Dude, give me space will you?” You mutter and Sam apologizes, moving away and pointing the camera towards the other girls instead.

Colby worries his lip, chewing at the skin with a drive to settle his concern. You pat his shoulder, reassuring him that you’re fine.

The series of questions continue but still, your headache worsens and the air doesn’t feel any lighter.

“Did you follow us from somewhere else?” Sam questions. There’s a pregnant pause before the device begins going off. You make eye contact with Amanda as she steps forward to shut off the device.

“That’s enough,” she states firmly, eyeing the duo before requesting the cameras to be turned off. Sam agrees begrudgingly, moving to sit on the edge of the mattress along with Colby and Mackie. You and Amanda stand close, her hand wrapping around your wrist protectively.

“I don’t feel safe here anymore. I think we should take a break.” She says and Colby tilts his head, brows furrowed.

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“There’s something here and I don’t want to talk about it.” Amanda huffs, looking towards the door. You distribute your weight from one foot to another anxiously.

“Maybe we could come back later? Let’s just take a breather outside—“

“Y/N, what’s on your arm?” Sam ponders and reaches to bring you closer to the flashlight.

You look down and notice a slew of thinly sourced abrasions on your forearm. “What the hell?”

“This isn’t right, we have to go.” Amanda urges, to which you all hurriedly concur, rushing for escape.

It’s when you’re one foot out of the door that you’re suddenly shoved and sent crashing into Colby’s back. Being the last one out, you physically startle and feel your hands beginning to tremble.

“I just—it just pushed me,” you stammer, eyes darting behind you to where the door to the room is shut. Amanda pulls you in close and recites a quick prayer before pulling you into her embrace.

After everything that had happened to you, Colby had had enough. His body began to boil with a protective instinct as he rushed back into the room, heart slamming against his chest.

“I dont care who you are or what you are, but you have no right to touch us. I didn’t give you permission and you sure as fucking hell don’t deserve it. You can’t follow us home and you better not follow us to any other location either.” He sneered, voicing his thoughts aloud to a visibly empty room.

“Colby,” Sam tries, placing a hand on his shoulder in attempt to pull him out, only to be shaken off and ignored when Colby continues.

“You could’ve touched me, hurt me, or whatever the fuck— but you touched Y/N and that’s where I draw the line. Get your disgusting ghoul fucking hands off of them and don’t ever touch them again.”

Staggering back with a winded breath, Colby returns to your side and holds you tightly between his arms. You reciprocate the action and try to smile, though it comes out as more of a lopsided grin.

“Thank you, colby.” You manage to utter from where he holds you against his chest. He sighs, clearly affected by your experience. You nudge him off gently before pulling him along with the rest of the group; moving to the entrance of the hotel without hesitation and making a beeline to the car.

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you,” Colby murmurs once you’ve all packed into Sam’s rented vehicle. You and Colby sit thigh to thigh in the farthest pair of seats. “I promised I would.”

“Colby, it isn’t your fault. Amanda didn’t even know what it was, so seriously.. you couldn’t have known that was going to happen.” You ease his worry with a hand to his leg, rubbing miscellaneous shapes into the fabric of his jeans.

“I just wish it didn’t happen that way. I wanted this to be fun for you. And.. and I was hoping we could’ve had a small investigation together at some point in the night.”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d guess this was Colby’s attempt at convincing you that he’s fine. However, you know him all too well to know that his facade is weakening with every thought that washes through him. The pout in his voice is nearly visible before you’re leaning in to place a kiss to his cheek. Pulling his gaze to you by gripping his chin gently, you smile at him.

The soft look he shares with you is enough for you to see just how much love he holds for you in the blue ocean of his eyes. Inviting yourself to dive into him, you lean your head against his shoulder and pull his arm closer.

“You don’t always have to be the hero, Colby. I know you love and care about me, but there’s always going to be things that you just can’t protect me from.” You say, and feel his weight drop to comfort. Smiling to yourself, you squeeze his hand.

“I love you, and thank you for bringing me along today. Despite it all, I enjoyed my time spent hunting ghosts.. just.. maybe next time we won’t visit a spirit who seems to have it out for girls who are taken, hm?”

At that, Colby chuckles. His fingers intertwine with yours impossibly tighter and he leans down to kiss the crown of your head.

“I love you too. And I promise I won’t put you in any more danger. No more mean grumpy ghosts. Maybe just the creepy kid ones.”

“Sick, no.” Sam calls from the front of the car, and you all laugh.

[lalunanymph]

shaped like home. kakucho

. . . his safe space will always be you.

tw. suggestive content, talks of death, food mention, an injury mention, scars, big scary men who are soft n nurturing bfs

Nirvana was in the shape of a man with incongruous eyes, a scar running down his face and his full lips twisted into a smile as you laid in his arms, cosy from the fresh rays of a Saturday morning.

Home was the familiar mould of his chest underneath your cheek, his skin smelling of pine and musk, the scent seeping into your thin nightgown. He looked down at you, smiled, and you swore your heart could’ve burst out of its ribcage, singing a sweet tune.

You once told him that his eyes reminded you of rubies and diamonds; how they glinted with warmth even when his face was unsmiling. How you were drawn to his kindness and goodness, especially considering his height and forbearing aura. 

Scary guard dog privileges, you had once joked when you both walked through a busy night market street, hand in hand; his fingers twitching slightly from the shock of your sudden observation. He did not retort, nor did he rebuke you. Rather, he gently squeezed your palm, holding you closer to his side, exactly like a loyal canine. 

That was the thing about Kakucho—his loyalty could move mountains.

When he believed in a cause—believed in you—Kakucho would move heaven and earth to be next to you as you fulfilled your dreams. Even if it was borderline silly like wanting to bake focaccia bread at 3AM or going rollerblading when you didn’t have much stamina and physical strength to begin with. 

He would get flour up to his elbows; catch you before you fall and tend to your scrap knee with barely a grimace. A sturdy presence you could always rely on, that sometimes you wondered—feared—when would it be his turn to do the relying upon? 

Behind the man was the boy who had everything taken away from him.

You sensed the wounded inner child in his touch—the way he would not let you go after waking from a nightmare, the twitch in his brow when you tell him you’d be out late drinking with friends; the slight tremble of his breath after every soul stealing kiss you both shared.

Every minute gesture, every quirk of his downturned lips and lingering touches spoke one harrowing insecurity loudly and clearly—don’t let me go. 

You wouldn’t. You couldn’t. 

Not when his large palms are clasped around your waist, holding you up while his slick cock languidly thrusted in and out of you. His touch was neither firm nor gentle; it didn't bruise, and yet, it was steady enough to leave light indents in your plush flesh. His pretty face was contorted into pleasure, those unique, incongruous eyes growing hazy from the enticing grip of your walls around his length. 

So good for me, he praised against your throat, his words lost in a hazy murmur. So beautiful for me. 

You believe him. It’s hard not to. 

When he woke up with you curled against his chest, Kakucho was not one for believing in the goodness that fate has bestowed on him until he feels you smiling into his scarred skin. Amongst many other things you loved about him, those old lacerations were your favourite. They told a story, one you loved to map out because sometimes, there are some things no one can talk about even after years have passed.

A story of his bravery, his strength, his lasting endurance.

The wholeness of him and the lives he led before meeting you. 

They seem to ripple like a churning sea when he dreamt; his unconscious murmurings born from a world you did not have access to; the still waters you wished sometimes you could dip into just for a split second to discover what made Kakucho Kakucho. 

You’re staring at me again, he sleepily blinked his beautiful eyes opened when the sun rose. Morning, angel. 

Morning, you replied, finding his lips, the sweetest start to any day. 

One night, he pulled you into his arms, the Bluetooth speaker in the kitchen playing a song you both recognised from your early dating days. Reminding you of those moments suspended in time when he used to bring you out to restaurants which would take you months to save up for just one meal, midnight car rides which ended up with you on his lap, lips pressed sweetly together and hours spent in parks talking and musing about life in its totality. 

He kissed your temple, asking: “Do you believe that we have somewhere to go to after death?” 

You paused in your movement, head tilted to the side. “Hmm?”

“We’ve always been told that life ends at death. But, what if it begins?”

His voice was soft, compelling. 

You tried to match the sudden poignant atmosphere.

“Did something happen at work?” 

The Bonten executive does not reply. He exhaled against your forehead. “Just tell me if you believe in something beyond us.”

“I do,” you replied quietly after a beat. “I believe that there are many, many worlds out there which we do not know about and sometimes, if we’re lucky, we’ll go there.”

“What about if that person has done many atrocious things in their life?”

You squeezed him tighter. “Then, the person deserves even more grace.”

“Why?” His tone is fringed with subtle disbelief. “How can you say that when they chose a life full of violence?” 

Shaking your head, you hummed. “There’s always circumstances and choices. I believe they both influence each other closely. Everyone has a choice, but sometimes, circumstances can be cruel.”

He doesn’t reply. 

Neither did he come to bed that night, and you made that discovery when you turned to his side and found his sheets cold. You slowly slipped into your cardigan, pushed your feet into a pair of fluffy slippers. He was in the living room, slowly sipping on a glass of Scotch, gaze unfocused, high planes of his perfect face illuminated by the gentle moon rays. He did not startle when you entered and sat down next to him, laying your head on his shoulder.

 You don’t speak, and he doesn’t, either. 

Slowly, you felt him defrosting at your proximity. It started with a quick exhale, and the glass met the coffee table with a crisp click. His arm came to wrap around you, holding you close while the smell of alcohol washed over you like a comfortable wave. The ends of his midnight blue hair tickled your forehead, like how his mild stubble rasped against your cheek. 

“You should be asleep.”

“So should you.”

He exhaled a laugh. “Stubborn.”

“Kaku?” 

He tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Yes, love?” 

“You deserve gentleness, too.” He never expected you to say something this jarring yet tender; his resounding silence is proof. “Everyone does. In a world where nothing is certain, all we have to do is be kind.”

“Kind?” he echoes your words hollowly. “I don’t believe I have ever been like that.”

“When you play with my nephew, you’re kind.” You crept your hand up his defined arm, grasping his forearm in your gentle hold. “You smile at stray kittens. You always leave me an extra serving of whatever you bought or cooked. You’re there when people need you. You remind Ran to get enough sleep and Rindou to lay off too much sugar. You tell Mochi how much you appreciate his friendship when you’re drunk and Koko knows he can trust you with housesitting whenever he’s in Italy. You’re kind. I wish you could see yourself like how I see you.”

You finished your quiet soliloquy with a squeeze to his wrist. 

Kakucho doesn't say anything—he’s like that when he’s thinking, it took you years to understand him inside and out—but, he held onto you tighter and forgot about the Scotch he was nursing. Or, the regret that curled a little too close in the conflicted shambles of his consciousness. 

Discarding his moody fugue, he took you to bed, letting you melt against his side and drew patterns on your back until you dozed off. 

But, before you did, he kissed your forehead, and murmured:

“Sleep tight, Y/N. I’m glad you’re here with me—always... I'm glad to call you my home."

i miss him :(

© all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost or claim as your own.

[annaofaza]

First Sentence Tag Game

Rules: Post the first sentence of your last ten fics. If you haven't written ten fics, share as many first sentences as you have.

Thank you to @ursae-minoris-world​ and @cruelisblue​ for tagging me!! <3

1. rebuke | T | vld: sheith

  There once was a King, the White King.

2. sprouts | T | trigun: vashwood

“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.”

3. offering intentions | T | trigun: vashwood

“Rem?”

4. reflect, recollect | T | trigun: vashwood

Sometimes Vash dreams.

5. thirty pieces of silver | T | trigun: gen

Wolfwood sucks in more smoke, tilting his head up at the sky.

6. revival | T | trigun: vashwood

Wolfwood’s beginning to drift off when he hears the first droplets hit the roof.

7. locked mouths full of dust and salt | E | trigun: vashwood

It was supposed to be an easy job.

8. seeds | T | trigun: vashwood

After everything, Wolfwood finds himself defaulted to child-minder.

9. love crime | T | trigun: vashwood

Wolfwood is dead.

10.  going up | T | trigun: vashwood

The elevator doors open, and Wolfwood slips inside.

Tagging @iammistressofmyfate​, @naarna, @bavariansugarcookie, @doctor-queenie, @revenantpoet, @fatalwhims, @nrem511, @kittywritesfic, and who wants to play! (still figuring out who’s on tumblr these days lol)

[bad-rper]

🤐 fred dal

"I'm a monster."

The moment the shaky confession blurted out, his hand found a strong grip on one of those nether-bound shackles.

"These things might be the only thing holding it back. I can't control the void like the rest of them. But if they were ever to come off, or break, if they go away with Rem-Lazaar--pretty sure I'd turn back into that..."

Memories of tearing existence and indigo claws, all rebuked in a grimace, hidden in a squeeze of his fist.

"... I promise, I'm trying to find any way out of this. I don't want to hurt you. Not in any way.

But I can't promise I won't.

And I'd cut off my own hands before I let that happen."

[ongolecharles]

DAILY SCRIPTURE READINGS (DSR) 📚 Group, Tue Oct 01st, 2024 ... Tuesday of The Twenty-Sixth Week in Ordinary Time, Year B/Memorial of Saint Thérèse of the Child Jesus, virgin and doctor of the Church

Reading 1

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

Jb 3:1-3, 11-17, 20-23

Job opened his mouth and cursed his day.

Job spoke out and said:

Perish the day on which I was born,

the night when they said, “The child is a boy!”

Why did I not perish at birth,

come forth from the womb and expire?

Or why was I not buried away like an untimely birth,

like babes that have never seen the light?

Wherefore did the knees receive me?

or why did I suck at the breasts?

For then I should have lain down and been tranquil;

had I slept, I should then have been at rest

With kings and counselors of the earth

who built where now there are ruins

Or with princes who had gold

and filled their houses with silver.

There the wicked cease from troubling,

there the weary are at rest.

Why is light given to the toilers,

and life to the bitter in spirit?

They wait for death and it comes not;

they search for it rather than for hidden treasures,

Rejoice in it exultingly,

and are glad when they reach the grave:

Those whose path is hidden from them,

and whom God has hemmed in!

Responsorial Psalm

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

Ps 88:2-3, 4-5, 6, 7-8

R. (3) Let my prayer come before you, Lord.

O LORD, my God, by day I cry out;

at night I clamor in your presence.

Let my prayer come before you;

incline your ear to my call for help.

R. Let my prayer come before you, Lord.

For my soul is surfeited with troubles

and my life draws near to the nether world.

I am numbered with those who go down into the pit;

I am a man without strength.

R. Let my prayer come before you, Lord.

My couch is among the dead,

like the slain who lie in the grave,

Whom you remember no longer

and who are cut off from your care.

R. Let my prayer come before you, Lord.

You have plunged me into the bottom of the pit,

into the dark abyss.

Upon me your wrath lies heavy,

and with all your billows you overwhelm me.

R. Let my prayer come before you, Lord.

Alleluia

--------

Mk 10:45

R. Alleluia, alleluia.

The Son of Man came to serve

and to give his life as a ransom for many.

R. Alleluia, alleluia.

Gospel

--------

Lk 9:51-56

When the days for Jesus to be taken up were fulfilled,

he resolutely determined to journey to Jerusalem,

and he sent messengers ahead of him.

On the way they entered a Samaritan village

to prepare for his reception there,

but they would not welcome him

because the destination of his journey was Jerusalem.

When the disciples James and John saw this they asked,

“Lord, do you want us to call down fire from heaven

to consume them?”

Jesus turned and rebuked them,

and they journeyed to another village.

***

FOCUS AND LITURGY OF THE WORD

Job has it bad, and he knows it. He has lost everything. His lands, his livestock, his children, his health, his riches are all gone. Everything he loved, everything he depended on is all gone. And he doesn’t know what to do here. He has no recourse, and nowhere to go. He curses his life, but he does not curse God.  He questions why God would let someone be born and live only to suffer so much. He wonders why God gave him so much only to take it away, but he still acknowledges that “the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away.” He understands that nothing is inherently his, and whatever he had was at the will of God. He wishes for death because he knows that in death his suffering will be over. But throughout his suffering, and we only see one chapter of it in today’s readings, even as he acknowledges his suffering, he does not turn against God, and in Chapter 19 he says, “I know that my redeemer lives.” He looks forward to whatever time when his suffering will be done and he says, “I will see God… How my heart yearns within me.” Despite his hardships, he is still yearning to be with God after all.

As REM says, “Everybody hurts, sometimes.” And everybody does hurt sometimes, and everybody suffers at some point. It’s natural to want someone to blame. And it’s easy to want to give up. REM says, “well hang on, don’t let yourself go.” Job, who really has a very bad time, wishes he was never even born to live through such suffering, but he doesn’t blame, and he doesn’t give up, and he knows if it doesn’t get better here on earth, it will get better after. Job’s life does actually get better here on earth (although I don’t think he is made whole – his children die and even though he ends up with more children, they are not the ones who died. You can’t get that back) and he lives a long life seeing those children and their children grow up. But he knows throughout that this world is not his, these things are not his, and his real home is where he will see God.

***

SAINT OF THE DAY

On October 1, Catholics around the world honor the life of St. Thérèse of the Child Jesus, or St. Thérèse of Lisieux on her feast day. St. Thérèse was born January 2, 1873 in Alençon, France to pious parents, both of whom were canonized saints in October 2016. Her mother died when she was four, leaving her father and elder sisters to raise her.

On Christmas Day 1886 St. Thérèse had a profound experience of intimate union with God, which she described as a “complete conversion.” Almost a year later, in a papal audience during a pilgrimage to Rome, in 1887, she asked for and obtained permission from Pope Leo XIII to enter the Carmelite Monastery at the young age of 15.

On entering, she devoted herself to living a life of holiness, doing all things with love and childlike trust in God. She struggled with life in the convent, but decided to make an effort to be charitable to all, especially those she didn’t like. She performed little acts of charity always, and little sacrifices not caring how unimportant they seemed. These acts helped her come to a deeper understanding of her vocation.

She wrote in her autobiography that she had always dreamed of being a missionary, an Apostle, a martyr – yet she was a nun in a quiet cloister in France. How could she fulfill these longings?

“Charity gave me the key to my vocation. I understood that the Church had a Heart and that this Heart was burning with love. I knew that one love drove the members of the Church to action, that if this love were extinguished, the apostles would have proclaimed the Gospel no longer, the martyrs would have shed their blood no more. I understood that Love comprised all vocations, that Love was everything, that it embraced all times and places…in a word, that it was eternal! Then in the excess of my delirious joy, I cried out: O Jesus, my Love…my vocation, at last I have found it…My vocation is Love!”

Thérèse offered herself as a sacrificial victim to the merciful Love of God on June 9, 1895, the feast of the Most Holy Trinity and the following year, on the night between Holy Thursday and Good Friday, she noticed the first symptoms of Tuberculosis, the illness which would lead to her death.

Thérèse recognized in her illness the mysterious visitation of the divine Spouse and welcomed the suffering as an answer to her offering the previous year. She also began to undergo a terrible trial of faith which lasted until her death a year and a half later. “Her last words, ‘My God, I love you,’ are the seal of her life,” said Pope John Paul II.

Since her death, millions have been inspired by her ‘little way’ of loving God and neighbor. Many miracles have been attributed to her intercession. She had predicted during her earthly life that “My Heaven will be spent doing good on Earth.”

Saint Thérèse was proclaimed a Doctor of the Church by Pope John Paul II in 1997 – 100 years after her death at the age of 24. She is only the third woman to be so proclaimed, after Saint Catherine of Siena and Saint Teresa of Avila.

St. Thérèse wrote once, ‘You know well enough that Our Lord does not look so much at the greatness of our actions, nor even at their difficulty, but at the love with which we do them.”

***

【Build your Faith in Christ Jesus on #dailyscripturereadingsgroup 📚: +256 751 540 524 .. Whatsapp】

[ultraericthered]

Anime Update V2 52

Tokyo Magnitude 8.0 - Man, if I didn’t know that this anime was mercifully short, I’d probably have dropped it at around this point, and that’s NOT because it’s quality is bad in any way. It’s because it just so grim, bleak, and uncompromising it is in how it depicts realistic tragedy, tragedy born of unfortunate but natural circumstances beyond any person’s ability to foresee or control. It’s a touchy subject for any work of fiction to address, so this anime doing so in such a raw and real-feeling way does have to be commended. Also, now “M/ELDOY” is beginning to sound more and more like a cruel joke.

Hunter x Hunter - Aaaaand of course it wasn’t Ging who Gon and Killua got sent to meet, but instead Kite, who I very vividly remember from the first episode of the 1999 anime but can’t recall much from him in this version before now. He saves the boys from something called a Chimera Ant, which is basically if an ant was not so small, and tells Gon more about his past and how he came to meet Ging, who is still The Worst. What they don’t realize is that elsewhere, the Chimera Ant Queen has been nesting, and is trying to give birth...

Fruits Bakset - Two episodes that continue where we left off in terms of focus on Yuki’s character arc and preparations being made for the school’s Cinderella production. Almost every piece of Yuki Sohma lore that’s been presented to us in a fragmented way throughout the series now all comes together here, and along with it the truth behind Yuki’s feelings for Tohru that seemed to awaken in him back at the end of Season 1: Yuki looks to Tohru for a warm, loving, nurturing mother-like figure to be a presence in his life, despite them being peers. He explicitly states he loves her strongly in a way that is not romantic, but more akin to how a child loves their mother. Given the genre and the whole illusion of a “love triangle” between Tohru, Yuki, and Kyo, this is something hardly anyone could’ve seen coming but in retrospect it makes perfect sense.

A nitpick I have here is that two pretty obvious details got left out of Yuki’s reminiscing: his meeting with Haru, and the entire existence of the Prince Yuki Fan Club. Touching upon the latter would’ve been especially interesting since in theory, their very existence is a rebuttal to everything Akito ever said about Yuki, but in practice they not only reinforce the view of Yuki as something more or less than just a normal human with normal human feelings, but it’s all built around a fangirl’s image of Yuki, a Yuki Sohma who does not really exist. Yuki had to have felt that if they got to know the real him and his Zodiac secret, that club would’ve been over in an instant. The poor guy. :(

Re:ZERO - I sat and watched three episodes straight this time, since they were all following one continous thread. Well, last time I’d said I wished this arc had kept its focus on the different campaign camps of the Royal Selection. The very next episode, we get to see more out of Krusch, Priscilla, and Anastasia! Yes! The scene with Anastasia and how Subaru got totally played by her was particularly amazing. What an absolute girlboss! The action from there continued to be solid, with us meeting Otto, getting to see the mysterious and deadly white whale, and Rem sacrificing not just her life but her existence in the memories of everyone who’s not Subaru. And then Subaru returns to Roswaal’s mansion where he sort of inadvertedly kills Emilia with his shadow magic, which was horrifying. Then Beako shoves him out into the cold somewhere, which was sad. And then Betelgeuse and his cultist buddies show up again, which was great  ‘cause that guy is just impossible not to enjoy watching. Finally, Puck shows his true self again, killing both Betelgeuse and Subaru, who is laughing mad as he freezes to death while hearing Puck’s rebukes.

And then, of course, came the moment - the famed “from zero” part with Subaru and Rem. Which I feel two ways about because on Subaru’s end, it is absolutely gutwrenching and breathtaking to see. The guy is at his lowest and makes his most pathetic bargain (”I’m giving up on Lagunica! Run away with me, Rem! We’ll live out our lives together elsewhere! Please!”) and when denied yet again, he breaks and lets out the tirade of self-loathing that had been building up inside him for who knows how long. When this tirade is met with unconditional, selfless love from Rem and her telling him all the good points to him that she’s come to like about him, that have made him a person whose life is worth something, who has made a positive difference in places and can yet still do so in a grander capacity if he were to pick himself back up and “start from zero”, Subaru slowly but surely has a change of heart and mental state, and it’s so beautiful. But on Rem’s end? This is a definitely a case where I feel the payoff to something is theoretically so good that the faults in the build-up to it actively hinder it. It’s not that it’s even written or executed poorly, but that earlier weaker writing just hangs in the air over it like a bad fart. Cute as Rem’s whole planned-to-the-last-detail image of what a life of her and Subaru together as a couple might be like was, everything she went on to say would’ve had that much more weight and power to it if her love for Subaru was not as heavily and explicitly romantic in nature. What also would’ve improved the scene would be if it wasn’t just Rem, as it only is just Rem because earlier writing in this arc had conspired to make it just Rem even when it made no organic narrative sense. Ram should’ve been here too, as unlike Rem she wasn’t just blunt and indifferent with Subaru before, she’s been downright mean. So to hear her of all people join in with her sister in telling Subaru the things about him that they find worth loving would’ve made for an even stronger, more compelling case to Subaru that his character and efforts aren’t all rotten, worthless, and scorn-worthy. That even at his lowest, he’s not hopeless, not beyond redemption, not undeserving of any love and kindness. ‘Cause as it is, just Rem did not entirely do it for me, so it feels off for me to just have to assume and accept that it did do it enough for Subaru. (The one thing I’m most glad about, though, is that Emilia was kept out of this moment. Her being there, or worse still her being the one to talk Subaru out of his funk and “save him with her love” would’ve spat in the face of Episode 13′s ending scene and sent entirely the wrong message. So I’m glad “I love Emilia” is all her role in this part was.)

Subaru ending this on an Endeavor-esque “watch me!” claim/boast suggests he’s definitely not changed yet, but he has gained more clarity and an extra dose of perspective that could shape the sorts of changes within him yet to come, so I do look forward to seeing that.

Fate/Stay Night: Unlimited Blade Works - Just continuing to see and hear more detail than the Studio Deen anime ever gave us.

Symphogear GX - More has been clarified about the new enemy. Carol is an alchemist who wants to use her power to annihilate the world as vengeance for a mysterious something that befell her late father. Not only does she have three strange doll people serving as her minions and using alchemy as well, but they’ve now been shown to create “Alcanoise”, beings that resemble Noise but aren’t quite. Was also really interested to see more what Kirika, Shirabe, and Maria’s deal is these days - the former two are on probation and get to attend school even while serving to make amends for their terrorist crimes in the F.I.S, but poor Maria, she’s basically lost her entire life to the American douchebags who manage her career as the only means of keeping a clean image and not being locked up. Hope Tsubasa ends up helping her with this, as they seem to be bonding.

Eureka Seven - Captain Juergans and his troops seem to have been utterly defeated for the time being. Eureka continues to just be so weirdly adorable just by being the sheltered, brutally unfiltered alien girl she is, Renton continues to be a personification of cringe, and still not much is known about the Gekko State other than Holland being a crass, apathetic manchild and Talho being a tease. What I was most impressed by was how much I ended up feeling for Renton’s grandfather, who is a very flawed, not particularly pleasant to get along with old man but you can tell he does have love for his family in his heart and cares more than he’d admit. The worst part came at the very end - the debut of three children who Eureka “parents.” Uh oh!

Gintama - This was a pure “stays-in-one-place and is nothing but comedy, other anime references and fourth wall jokes” episode that also just happened to be a milestone episode and a hilarious one at that, so it was also much better to watch in its original language than in that Hulu dub, which was just so atrociously handled that it couldn’t be bothered to provide a fitting voice to the Ryuk cameo at the end!

Oh and boooooooo! Bring the first OP and “MR. RAINDROP” back!

[high-and-away]

FFXIVWrite 2022, Prompt #2: Bolt

"--fucking nerve of you, hunting me down like this, absolutely unbelievable--" Gregorio rem Castellus lets the indignation crash around him like a frothing wave. Trying to lock horns and argue Titus into compliance would be an exercise in futility. It's easiest to let him thrash his way through being wound up and tire himself out. Yes, he's on a tear now. No, he can't keep it up forever. The trick is to catch him after he runs out of steam and not let him skitter off under a rock to sulk. For that, all Gregorio has to do is wait, and Gregorio prides himself on being patient. Unless Titus slams the door in his face. That would be something of an obstacle to what he's attempting to do.

"--had an onze of respect for--" Rising to the bait increases the risk of that happening. Not that that's ever been in his nature; where Titus works himself into a state and splutters furiously a bit before fleeing, Gregorio digs in his heels and starts nailing things down. Let Titus keep angrily whisper-berating him. He can resume his efforts to rescue his charming, impulsive, pathologically flighty little brother from total estrangement when he stops to inhale. "--just refuse to even contemplate listening when I ask to be left alone--" Okay. That's something Gregorio can't not respond to; it would sit there and throb, inflamed, if he didn't. He lifts a hand: stop. "The last thing I knew," he says, "things were a bit strained with Cornelia. And now I'm back from the Far East, and she told me to go fuck myself when I rang, and you've moved and are refusing to speak to anyone. Why wouldn't I check on you?" "Because it's none of your bloody business," hisses Titus, and Gregorio finds himself stamping down on the urge to point out how fucking ridiculous that sounds coming from a man approaching thirty. "We're all worried about you, Ty. It's been three years of us trying to break radio silence." You've pushed everyone away and I don't like it. "Wouldn't you be concerned if one of us did that?" Do you have any idea how much Mum's cried over you? "Don't you dare fucking start," Titus spits, but there's less venom in it than there might be, less heat in the anger he's stoked. "Don't you dare." The longer he stands there behind the cracked front door, fuming, the worse he looks; his shirt is catastrophically wrinkled, there's stubble blurring the outlines of his thin moustache, and even his third eye looks sunken and bruise-shadowed. Bad nights bleeding into bad days, over and over, for who knows how long. "Ty," asks Gregorio, as calmly and evenly as he can, "What happened? I'm not going to judge you or--" And that's a mistake, because Titus flushes, and Gregorio realizes too late that he has a pretty good idea of what happened, and that the only thing that's ever made his brother go blotchy like that is shame. He's misstepped, badly, and all the good intentions in the world aren't going to save him from being told to get in his little boat and fuck off back to Doma. Maybe he deserves it. Good going, Greg, great job fixing things-- "Daddy?" a small voice asks from the depths of the apartment, and Titus freezes on the brink of a blistering rebuke like he's been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Despite his best efforts, Gregorio's eyebrows make a bid for his hairline. It's interesting, watching someone he's known for most of his life simply deflate in a way he's not used to seeing. If he were more imaginative, he might fancy that he's watching Titus's feet go flying out from under him. Fascinating, really. Like a funeral for his dignity compressed into a few seconds. The silence lingers for a moment, tight enough to strangle, before Titus exhales quietly and it ebbs away. "I think you'd better come in," he says, subdued, and pulls the door open.

[vaalthus]

Remthalas Theory/Sort of Analysis: The All-Seeing Idiot God, The Dreaming Chaos, The Path of Omniscience. Oh and like potential Lore Spoilers maybe.

With the conclusion of the Reckoning War, and having bared witnessed to Remthalas’ actions, I believe we have a better idea of what our aquatic Dreamfarer desires and intends not only for themselves but for the inhabitants of Lore as well.

We already know that Remthalas believes that the only way to achieve freedom, to dream, is to not be shackled. To not live out the dreams or whims of others. Unfortunately, this boils down to the lesson Remthalas got out of the idea is that people should not tie themselves down by basic laws or morals people tend to follow. Otherwise, the endless possibilities provided by true freedom are not possible.

This a concept that he has clearly taken to his very core given how angrily or impulsively he’ll react should he feel someone is ordering him around or someone else shirking their freedom in his point of view as demonstrated when he rebuked Notha twice for commanding him and when he killed Mr. Nameless/Twinkles.

So that’s it then, right? Remthalas is just an anarchist drunk on freedom? Wanting all of Lore to break their shackles and live out their own dreams never minding once of those around them, right? Well yes, but there is I think a bit more going on here.

I found a few things concerning about Remthalas in our fight with either Notha or Uaanta. One, is that he found the Avatars more interesting in their reduced orb state. Secondly, he didn’t appear to want to destroy them. Thirdly, is that regardless of who we chose to side with, Rem finds us interesting either way. Fourth, and most concerning is that he only found Uaanta truly fascinating if she merged with the Avatars. Lastly, and most revealing was his desire to see all the events unfold regardless of what the outcome was and then simply bounce when a conclusion was reached.

The reason why I find him being able to see Uaanta as a truly fascinating player in this conflict is to be some cause for concern is that being ‘interesting’ to Remthalas seems to, at first, amount to being someone that can bring about his idea of freedom, freedom from the balance the Avatars imposed. Characters like the Hero and I imagine Notha when he first met her and was introduced to her ideology. However, if this is the case, why find Uaanta interesting? She after all plans to shepherd away the very entities responsible for the very concept that resulted in his abandonment and have shackled so many others and their dreams. Why find someone who still intends to be devoted to the Avatars to be a person of interest then? Are they not still choosing to wear their shackles? To ignore their own dreams in the favor of the dreams of others.

 The answer I think is simple. In the end, it was just less about Remthalas serving his ultimate plan and Remthalas wanting a show. Remthalas has always long been aware of our capacity to come out on top over our opponents, including his own fellow members. Why would he suspect there was any possibility we would lose to our dear friend or even Notha? He didn’t because he knew we would win, but how can he enjoy the play if all the actors aren’t putting in effort for their roles. After all, are you satisfied by the just the ending of a movie or the passionate performances that it took to get there?

You see I believe Remthalas revealed what he plans for us and Lore all the way back when we first met in the Ex Somniis Fabula or The Story of Dreams quest. In his introduction, Remthalas posits the question of whether he’d be able to alter reality if the entities only referred to as “They” dreamed instead of just slumbering. With quite the determined, if not a bit demented, expression on his face I might add. There’s also one other feature to this and it’s the fact that Remthalas points out that we’re in his dream, or perhaps more accurately his dream space, and that it’s basically just a blank white box. (There are also the blue glowing circles on his robes that could symbolize having multiple eyes to see which are only visible when he’s in his dream form, but it could also just represent Kathool’s eyes so who knows) This is ultimately his domain and by the looks of it he can bring anyone into it and determine what is experienced within this tiny space. What the viewer sees could amount to anything but what they ultimately stand is just the box, the blank canvas. Here, Remthalas controls reality, what goes on in the ‘bigger picture’ so to speak. Here, Remthalas is as close to a god as anyone else that can control their own dreams.

 What I’m getting at here is that Remthalas doesn’t just want freedom he wants to see possibilities and the process it takes to getting to an outcome. What he wants is to dream and for everyone else to be the actors in his never-ending play of entertainment. To see the big picture change from one point to the other. These are details that I think were touched on when he mentioned that he enjoyed the dreams of children because of their ability to imagine possibilities to fill in gaps left behind by a world they are still very new to. Or when he appeared genuinely disheartened at the idea that he was not at rest. Or when he finds dreams to be not interesting enough when pointing out that Voyna can only ever dream of dragons due to her trauma with them. Or even when we fought him in the dream to save Sally and he noted that our dream was “Fierce, but one dimensional” Or the rather basic nature, in comparison to whatever else he wanted to show us, of Notha’s backstory and memories.

 What he wants is for Lore to be his dream. To fit all of existence in that little box of his and to watch things go wild. Which is why I called him ‘Idiot God’ because if true then Remthalas is basically trying to become Azathoth, the Blind-Idiot God from the Lovecraftian Mythos who created the entire universe in that series by simply dreaming, and who will kill it if he ever wakes up. A character/concept I still believe was being referenced when Remthalas asked what would happen if “they” woke up and questioned if the world would stop existing if “they” did. However, unlike Azathoth, Remthalas intends to be aware of all that happens when he finally dreams.

Azathoth is not the only eldritch god that Rem appears to share similarities with and to be honest it the one that makes him perhaps the most untrustworthy. The god I’m referring to of course is Nyarlathotep: The Crawling Chaos, The Dweller in Darkness, The Haunter of the Dark. These are just a few titles of Nyarlathotep, but I believe they would fit Remthalas for the similarities they share with the Outer God. For one thing is how both Remthalas and Nyarlathotep communicate through dreams to any of their unaware victims and pass on information that might shatter their world view. Furthermore, much like Nyarlathotep, Remthalas seems take more enjoyment in the dreams of others being messed with in a way that is typically nightmarish in nature. The most important similarity here of course is that both entities are more driven by spreading chaos and madness through people as opposed to their utter annihilation like other eldritch gods such as Cthulu. The reason for this is because in the case of both characters, I believe in Rem’s case anyway, their enemies isn’t so much other people but rather boredom, in addition to their own stagnation.

An interesting contrast I just thought about between them however is how Nyarlathotep and Remthalas spread chaos. As mentioned, Nyarlathotep does so through dreams by revealing, in typical Lovecraftian cosmic horror fashion, how utterly pointless the lives of his victims are in the face of the sheer overwhelming forces at play in the infinite and unknown universe and how they should just succumb to madness and/or become one of his followers, to amuse himself. Remthalas kind of does something similar when he suggests that morals and the lives people are currently living don’t hold much weight in the face of the grander schemes and roles of the Avatars. 

However, unlike Nyarla, Remthalas would do this so that others cast off their rules, still to amuse himself with the chaos that would thrive from that but in his view, they’d be getting something out of it. A sort of “You and everything you’ve known don’t matter so succumb to despair and madness and entertain me” vs “You and everything you’ve known don’t really matter so do what you want and entertain me” Chaos vs Chaos but different philosophies on how to get it.

The connections that can be drawn to other well known eldritch entities does make me wonder if when we see Remthalas next he might be trying to elevate his power on the material plane to that of the Primordials (Kathool, Uthuluc (probably not Uthuluc out of all of them to be honest), The Witness, Sciuridaehotep, the latter of which is just a Nyarlathotep reference) or is somehow going to get them involved in some way when his plans really start to get under way. If he does somehow involve Kathool in what he intends to pull off I imagine we might see Aquella again given that she’s supposed to overwatch his bedtime and I think it would fit to have a water take on another that was devoted to Kathool. I’d suspect she, or potentially another water elf, could reveal more of in-depth info on Remthalas’ servitude to the Avatars and later Kathool.

This brings us to the question of course of how exactly Rem plans to pull this all off. Obviously, we fit into those plans. However, with what just happened with the Avatars now being out of the picture and Myalos also being out of commission, what’s the next step? Where does he take us from there? The answer goes back to those “They” entities being referenced. Remthalas has brought them up, but he wasn’t the only one I believe. Celeritas mentioned them once when Sinnoncence made his move. I believe, I’m certain, that our dear Big Daddy named dropped them for us a long time ago. 

The one and only Aequilibria, the true gods of existence who are said to be slumbering even now. How Remthalas intends on exerting power over these beings is unknowable, but it would appear the best time to do so before they awake once more.

Which brings us to the Hero and the interest Rem has taken in them. It is clear the main reason that Remthalas has taken an interest in us is because of how capable we were in comparison to Uaanta at the time he was scouting us both out. We are an invested tool…and yet. I cannot help but wonder if Remthalas continued engrossment of us isn’t just because he knows we’ll be useful to his plans but also because Remthalas is straight up looking for a plus one when his plan would be theoretically completed. He did offer us to see where the currents of existence could take us.

  After all, why look at and enjoy multiple paintings in a vacuum or go to the movies by yourself when you can have someone watch it all with you. Then again, as I mentioned earlier, he could simply be viewing us as just another tool to pull off his plans and that is join the others later once everything falls in place

All of what I stated is more speculation than anything but if any of it’s true then we are in for a ride.

[spiltscribbles]

The One With The Soulmate

~Notes: Hiya loves! This is a one shot from my The One With The Marauders series and I’m just moving it here to Tumblr<3 

.-

Send ME A Friends Episode/Storyline  |  A Reblog Means The World!!

.-

“You are seriously insatiable tonight,” Remus rebukes, swatting Sirius’s hand away from where he was eagerly grabbing at his arse for another round of fun, positively delicious, bloody remarkable, mind-blowing fun. God Sirius thanks every deity above that he fell in love with such a secretive, little wildcat.

“Oi, wasn’t the whole purpose of this getting married shtick so we could do that whenever we please?” Sirius harrumphs, flopping back on their bed, starfished out as he watches his ridiculously beautiful husband dropping his towel to the floor and digging through their shared drawer for a new pair of pants. He really tries his damndest to not focus on how the dying evening light filters through their room’s open window, bathing Remus in this resplendent, almost heavenly glow, turning the tips of his eyelashes as golden as his hair and caressing the dips and valleys of his lithe muscles, accentuating the smattering of freckles on his thighs and the dimples he’s got on the small of his back. God Sirius can’t take his eyes off of him for even a moment. “Because if not I reckon I can sue for false advertising.”

Remus only sniffs at him, affecting a lofty air as he pulls on the green, turtle net sweater that Sirius especially likes on him for how it brings out the amber flecks in Remus’s emerald eyes and how it hugs his physique in the exact right breath to show off how bloody good looking he is. “We did that right when you came home from the firm, and then again in the shower less than five minutes ago. Don’t tell me it was that forgettable?” He asks with a pointed hiking of the brow.

“Never my lovely little croissant,” Sirius contends hurriedly, popping up from his lounging position to snatch for Remus’s boney wrists, and dragging the shorter man down to sit in his still very naked lap. “You are the best shag and handsomest fellow and—“ Remus claps his hand over Sirius’s mouth, probably trying to come off stern, but Sirius could totally catch the way the corner of his lips begin to flinch upwards— he’s endeared and Sirius knows it.

“Enough of that bollocks, else I’ll get a cavity.”

“But my beautiful crumpet, I want to sing your praises,” Sirius pouts mockingly, kisses the tip of his nose, while one of his well built arms slings around Remus’s slender waste, with his free hand slowly crawling up his inner thigh, thwarted nearly immediately by Remus standing up in a huff. 

“Like a bloody mutt.” He scolds.

“Only for you my delightfully delectable cabbage,” Sirius leers, finally standing up and taking the proffered slacks so to get ready for this little soiree Lily’s law firm is holding for their fiftieth anniversary.

“When do you reckon these awful nicknames will drop off?”

“You’re the one who said you like it when I speak French at you,” Sirius goads, smacking Remus’s pert arse as he struts into their master-bath.

“Oi, when it’s spoken in the ruddy language, and not some awful accent you’ve conjured up.” Remus counters moodily before he grabs for one of the colognes on their vanity, and Sirius only smiles privately to himself, so beyond besotted with him that it’s getting detrimental for his health, exhibit A being how he very nearly squirts his aftershave right into his eyes.

But God Remus is so worth it.

 .-

 The ballroom of the swanky, Mayfair hotel is dressed up in all the opulence that should be expected for a soiree made up of the throng of stuffy, stuck up solicitors that are present. Sirius is not impressed in the slightest, even if he can work the room for one of these parties as effortlessly as breathing thanks to his upbringing as the son of a Lorde and Countess; though he still hates the ambiance of it all, so much so that it makes his skin crawl to this day, but he promised to be here and at least Remus is right besides him, with Sirius’s hand in his back pocket and hazel eyes flickering to him every few minutes or so, as if attuned to Sirius and all his mercurial moods.

God he loves him.

“Alice and I have been shagging non stop,” Frank says, which works well enough to bring Sirius’s attention away from wanting to drag Remus behind the champaign fountain so to have his wicked way with him, and back to the conversation they’re all having; even if that means that instead of looking passive, Sirius is sneering over at Frank.

“Dacorum man.”

Frank apologizes, beyond glum. “We just don’t know what to do. The doctors say that we shouldn’t have this much difficulty with it, but we just checked before coming and still, nothing.”

“I’m sorry mate, that’s awful.” Remus tells him, and Dorcas nods along, but Sirius just rolls his eyes.

“We’re not even thirty yet for fuck’s sake,” he tells him. “Maybe ’s a sign for you both to stop trying to ruin your lives with a baby.”

“Shut it Sirius,” Dorcas hisses, kicking at his ankle hard enough to make him wince.

“Ouch, hey! I’m just saying, a kid’s a lot of responsibility, and commitment.”

“I’ve been with Alice since we were seventeen Black,” Frank tells him hotly . “I think I’m already properly committed.”

“Then what’s the point of the kid!”

Frank raises his brows, floundering with no words as if he just could not comprehend Sirius and all his Sirius-ness, which is fair, the only two people who’s been able to do as much turned out being his brother, (James), and his lover, (Remus)… Speaking of which…

“I’m sorry he’s acting like such an arse Frank, he doesn’t mean it.” the sandy blonde says cooly, giving Sirius one of his looks that he usually keeps designated for his more rowdy students. “Do you.”

Sirius glares at him before looking back at Frank and nodding stiffly. “Sorry mate, you and Flores would be marvelous parents, I’m just being prickish.”

“Nothing knew then,” Frank says, but it’s coupled with an amiable grin so Sirius knows he’s off the hook.

“Right, well why don’t I make it up to you by grabbing you a drink? Yeah?”

“See if they’ve got an iced white?”

“Me too Black,” Dorcas scoffs, doesn’t even bother to look at him to make the command.

“Righto,” Sirius claps Frank’s shoulder with a friendly squeeze, winking at Dorcas and glancing over at Remus before he goes. “Vodka tonic?”

“With lemon please.”

Sirius nods, still pecks him on the lips even if they’re sorta in a fight, as if Sirius could ever stay away for too long.

.-

By the grace of God, the open bar is mostly vacant, except for a familiar head of messy hair he’s considered family for over half his life.

“All right Prongs?”

James pivots around, drinks already in hand and grinning at the sight of him. “Wow, didn’t even recognize you for a tick there Pads, you don’t even have your hand plastered to Moony’s bum!.”

Sirius smirks, tossing him a covert two finger salute as he saddles up besides him and orders the round of drinks. “What can I say Prongsy, the cheeky bugger made me vow to have it there constantly, can’t just jilt my bloke like that, can I?”

James grimaces with a roll of the eyes, and Sirius’s far accustomed to that look of exasperation from him by now. “You’re a mutt.”

“Would you believe you aren’t the first person to say that to me within the last hour?”

“God save our poor Moony.”

“Oh God doesn’t have to worry, I’m taking care of him just fine.”

“Are you being gross about my best friend,” Lily asks as she struts up towards them, looking like an absolute diamond, even if her nose is wrinkled indelicately.

“Aren’t I always in your opinion?” Sirius asks cheekily, trying to balance the four drinks in his grasp before she just rolls her eyes and grabs the flutes of wine for Frank and Dorcas.

“Your impossible prat-ness aside, I actually think you being all grossly territorial over Remus tonight is actually a good thing.”

“THat’s a first,” James says, but Sirius can only glare, suspicious.

“Why’s that? Oi! Don’t tell me that absolute plonker Dearborn is here!”

“Oh God no,” Lily startles, shaking her head as if the thought was too insane to even fathom. “’S just the firm’s just hired this new bloke and I’m really quite positive that he’s Rem’s soulmate.”

“Lily! Don’t say that!” James balks, glancing over at Sirius worriedly, but he in turn only laughs at the magnitude of the statement.

“Jesus, Evans, didn’t think you believed in that ridiculous shite?”

“’S not ridiculous Sirius! And yeah, ‘course I do, like James and I are definitely soulmates.” She twists slightly so to kiss the curve of James’s jaw, making him go a bit blotchy. Poor git’s wrapped around her littlest finger.

“And what? You reckon Remus and I are just here to kill some time?”

“No, don’t be a pillock,” Lily reproves. “’s just he’s his soulmate is all.”

Okay, Sirius’s amusement has officially given way to irritation, and he twists his head so to scowl down at her as they make their way to the others. “Alright Evans, explain yourself then, yeah? Tell me how he’s Moony’s supposed soulmate.

“Well he’s French.”

“I speak French.”

“He’s got amazing, blonde hair.”

“I’ve got amazing, black hair.”

“He majored in literature just like Remus.” Lily says airily, knowing that Sirius can’t match that being an architect himself.

“Well— I read all that snotty shite Remus asks me too.” He huffs, and Lily answers with a shrug to her delicate shoulders.

“Fine then, I’m wrong. You’ve got nothing to worry bout.”

She struts off to their little lump of friends as if to cut the conversation off completely, and Sirius is perfectly find with that. She’s acting off her bloody rocker. But, if Sirius stands closer to Remus than usual for the rest of the night, or if he ends up kissing his temple whenever he feels like someone is watching them, or if he glares at one of the blokes working catering after deigning to offer Remus an empanada— Well that’s Sirius’s business and his alone. He’s not intimidated by this soulmate shite, for fuck’s sake. It’s not like he’s trying to stave off the bastard or something. He does all of that simply because Remus is his husband now, and he loves getting to show that off to all onlookers, even the ones who may or may not be Remus’s soulmate.

 .-

 “We’ve got dinner with Reggie and his latest girlfriend tonight,” Remus tells Sirius the following Tuesday, tossing the scarf his mother had gifted him last Christmas— with a matching one for Sirius— over his shoulder as they stroll around to the front of the Three Broomsticks for their morning coffees, hands linked and the early winter snow catching in both sets of their lashes. 

And God does Sirius love the sound of that, of their schedules overlapping, becoming one almost. Loves the idea that where ever one goes the other follows. Sirius knows that they’ve both have their demons, from Sirius’s neglect and emotional abuse as a child— occasionally sprinkled with a good smack or two if his mother was particularly fuming. To Remus’s complex of never feeling like he can ever be enough, and the way Lyall had acted for years after Remus had come out to his parents as gay, coupled with his multiple hospital visits as a lad until they finally figured out his lupus diagnosis. But they’re better, so much fucking better now. Plenty of the credit going to the remarkable group of friends whom they’ve picked up along the way, but another huge chunk was finding one another, and Sirius knows it in his bones. Knows that there couldn’t be anyone else for him, and sure he knows Remus sometimes deserves more, deserves better— But he’s chosen him, he’s chosen Sirius. He loves Sirius. And it’s remarkable and unbelievable and amazing, and Sirius holds onto the sensation of it with hungry piety.

“Love? Did you hear that?”

Sirius jolts back to the moment, and smiles softly down at him, kissing the corner of Remus’s mouth in penance. “Yes, of course gorgeous. I didn’t forget, I’ll be home early and maybe we can have a lie down before leaving if you’ve finished grading those papers?”

Remus’s laugh right then is like the most splendid instrument Sirius has ever heard, light and magical and warm as a bonfire. “Try to be good and maybe.” He tells him with a cold fingered tapping of his nose before he flounces off to the main counter to order for them.

Sirius doesn’t know how long he stares after him instead of grabbing the gang’s typical seats up front, but is startled when he hear’s a choked out noise coming from behind him and sees Lily, panic faced and eyes wandering frantically.

“Oi, what’s squirming up your arse Evans.” He asks her suspiciously, thick brows furrowed.

“I didn’t know you guys would be here,” she explains so quickly that her words begin to crash into one another. “Oh bloody hell, the one time I have a late start!”

She stomps her foot and Sirius shoots her a fully fledged glower. “What is making you so damn barmy for Christ’s sake.”

Lily parts her lips, but no noise comes out, because right then someone follows her indoors, a very familiar someone if only based off of descriptions. A very tall, very blonde, very smiley looking someone.

Sirius hates him right on sight.

“I’m sorry I took so long at that shop Lily, my mother loves these, how do you say, snow globes?” The stranger says, shaking one for emphasis with Big Ben set in the center.

“Ridiculous tourist trinkets is more like it,” Sirius practically snarls, which earns him a confused look by the blonde and a tired one by Lily.

“Right then, well Sirius this’s Thomas Martin, Thomas this is Sirius Black.”

“Lupin-Black now, ta Lils.”

“Oh,” Thomas says, blue eyes blinking wearily. “Nice to meet you, ah, Sirius.” He extends his hand, and when Sirius shakes it he makes sure to feel the bloke’s bones crushing together, just so he understands who exactly he’s speaking with.

The French arse eventually pulls away, pinning Sirius with a one eyed squint as he curls and stretches his fingers.

“Oh God,” Lily groans, leading them to their spot and depositing herself onto the sofa with absolute exasperation, and Sirius only continues to glare at Thomas as he sits besides her, growing stiffer once Remus returns.

“Oh, hiya Lils,” he smiles, handing Sirius his drink before flickering his gaze to the fucking Frenchman.

“‘lo love, this’s the newest hire at the firm, Thomas. Thomas, this’s my best mate, Remus.” She introduces quickly, the fucking trader.

“Remus?” Thomas asks, dimpling down at Sirius’s fucking husband with bright eyes. And Sirius has to curl his fists so not to punch him right in the sodding face, only growing angrier when Remus chuckles and ducks his head, like he was nervous by him! Like he thought he was in fact very good looking and very charming and his damn soulmate.

“Yeah, blame that on my mum, she was big into the classics.”

Thomas’s grin widens even more and Sirius feels the pulse on his neck beginning to throb. “No, it’s very charming. My Grandfather was very, erm, focussed on those studies as well? Begged my parents to name me Enkidu. They thankfully refused.”

Remus laughs fully now, and Sirius wants to a punch a wall. It took him literal months to make Remus laugh like that— genuine and glimmering and gorgeous. “Lucky bloke. Though I do have to admit that Gilgamesh is a favorite of mine, I think I’ve read the epic twenty times over.”

“Oh mine too,” the fucking Frenchman says, stepping closer to Remus and now in front of Sirius fully, gambling bravely that Sirius wouldn’t try to cap him right here. “If you ask me however, I do believe that he and Enkidu are more than just, friends.” His eyes flicker down to Remus’s lips for a split second and when he looks back up his face is positively leering.

Sirius sees red.

“God, so nice to finally talk to someone who gets it, the professors I work under are usually so painfully heteronormative that it’s crippling.” Remus tells him, smiling kindly.

“Oh, I’m the furthest away from that, I assure you.”

He winks! He fucking winks! Sirius swears to God! He sees the bastard winking at his husband! His fucking husband! What the bloody hell does he think that platinum band on Remus’s finger matching Sirius’s own is suppose to represent! Holy shit!

“I’d love to read anything you have on the subject, most things translated to French are a bit clunky.”

He’s trying to ask him out! Right here! Right in front of Sirius! Sirius is going to strangle his snail swallowing neck! Thankfully, Lily must sense his inner turmoil because she interjects their conversation right then, asking Thomas to grab her a jasmine tea.

“Oh yes of course,” he nods congenially, rounding back on Remus before he leaves. “Would you like a pastry? On me.”

Is he trying to ask Remus to eat it off of him? What the hell! It took nearly a year of them fucking for Sirius to get Remus to bring food in the bedroom, to get to watch Remus lick the chocolate syrup off his cock. And what? Does he think he’s even got a chance so quickly!

“Oh, that’s sweet,” Remus grins and a part of Sirius dies on the inside. “But I’ll come tag along, yeah? I love talking about this stuff and Sirius absolutely hates this ancient rubbish.”

“I do not! I think these dead blokes are very interesting,” he harrumphs, heated, with pouting lips and crossed arms. But Remus only tosses back his head with uninhibited laughter in response, which makes the fucking Frenchman beam that bit brighter.

“After you,” he says with a swish of the hand.

Sirius is going to be tried for murder, and he’s not even sorry about it.

“’s okay love,” Lily reassures him, patting his head dotingly. “We’ll find you someone new.”

“I hate you Evans!”

“Don’t blame the messenger!”

Sirius is about to tell her just how much he does exactly that, but then he catches on the fucking Frenchman putting his hand over Remus’s to prevent him from sliding over his card and all the fight leaves him in an instant.

 .-

 Sirius ended up not even going to the on sight location for the latest project he’s heading at the firm. He instead spent the bulk of the morning and part of the afternoon grinding his teeth as Remus spoke and barbed and giggled with the fucking Frenchman, like he was enjoying himself. And it was torture, watching the way they naturally clicked and got on— Literal fucking torture.

Sirius is still fuming as they sit in front of his younger brother and his newest bird, a pretty girl named Amal, who’s just graduated from a posh, fashion institute in the north of France. And Christ it’s like he’s being bombarded with the idea of that country all day.

“God that must’ve been such a wonderful experience,” Remus says, smiling as she leans forwards with a grin, speaking louder over the chatter of the busy sushi joint they had all agreed upon.

“Oh yes, the cuisine was simply unmatched, even if I did end up missing London, being home and all. Though I’m afraid my French is seriously dwindling compared to my English and Arabic now.”

“You should ask Reggie to practice with you, I know I love it when Sirius speaks the language.” He winks right then, making Amal crow with laughter and Regulus roll his eyes fondly. But Sirius stays peeved off with his hinged jaw, absolutely seething.

“Bet my hopeless brother recites poetry to you and everything, rose in his mouth and all.”

Remus laughs and Sirius suddenly has the horrid image of the fucking Frenchman doing as much outside the window to their bedroom, and is furious all over again.

“Well Reggie, Remus here does fancy all things French, foods and wines and blokes and just the whole lot.”

“Well good, we have something in common,” Amal snickers, lacing her hand through Regulus’s own over the tabletop. Sirius and Remus haven’t held hands since the waitress brought out their drinks, and remembering as much makes Sirius take a swig of his ail, hating everything.

“Yes well, you can say it’s Remus’s soulmate, France I mean.” He says, words beginning to slur. “He’s meant for French food and wines and blokes, innit true love? You’d prefer a French bloke?”

Amal frowns and Regulus pins him with a one eyed squint, befuddled. But Sirius only gathers his wits about him when Remus clammers noisily out his chair and tugs on his arm to follow suit.

“Reg order us the specials yeah? And a round of spring rolls,” he instructs, words clipped, and a small dent peeking out between his brows, like it does when he’s especially annoyed. “C’mon Sirius we need to talk.”

“But that’d be awfully rude,” Sirius retorts, already hates the flat, fuming tone Remus is speaking with, and feels good and properly nervous for the impending argument.

“They have one another, ’s fine. Now let’s go.”

Sirius concedes and pretends it doesn’t feel like he’s being lead to the gallows.

.-

“All right prick,” Remus huffs, rounding on Sirius right after he locks the door to the single user loo. “What has gotten you in such a bloody awful mood.”

Sirius sniffs, arms crossed against his chest and his head tilted imperiously. “I’m peachy.”

“You’ve been acting like an arse ever since we had coffee with Lily,” Remus counters, reproving.

“Actually love, if you didn’t notice, Lily left about halfway through you and the blonde’s little clucking session.”

Remus furrows his brows now, pillowy lips pinched and looking lost as hell. “You’re angry because Lily left for work?”

“Oh for bloody hell Remus!” Sirius erupts, tossing his arms in the air. “I’m angry because you met your ruddy soulmate and now you’re going to ride off into the sunset with’m and read French poetry together while eating cheese and bread and talking about highbrow shit like Aeneid!”

Remus startles backwards, long lashes flapping and mouth gaped open. “Oh Christ, you’ve gone absolutely barmy. You’re mad.”

“You’re not helping.”

“I feel like I should call someone about my husband going bloody mental.”

“I repeat. Not. Helping.”

“What in hell has convinced you that this random bloke is my soulmate?” Remus asks, back to being patient as ever.

“Lily!” Sirius shouts. “She told me that you and the fucking Frenchman are soulmates! And she’s right okay! She’s bloody spot on.”

Remus rolls back his entire head now, groaning out, “You are such an idiot.”

“Real nice Moons,” Sirius frowns, doesn’t even know how to feel now, the anger seeping out of him the longer he’s standing besides Remus, leaving an awful, clawing abandonment in its wake.

“Did you ever once think to ask me what I think of the damn concept of soulmates? Hmm?” He asks, single brow hiked with pure condescension.

And oh.

Sirius is stuck for a minute there, doesn’t see an out to the question. “Well…. Erm—“

“Well if you had asked, like a normal sodding bloke! I wold’ve told you that I married you because I know your my soulmate you arse! And it isn’t because of some ridiculous notion of stardust or providence or whatever else. It’s because we grew together, and we fight for one another, and even when you’re being a complete prick or we’re arguing like mad you’re the only one I want. Only person I can ever see myself with, the only person I want to try this hard for. The only fucking person I ever want to call my husband! My partner! lover!”

“Oh.” Sirius breathes out, all his fears being strangled by the conviction embedded into Remus’s words. 

And it’s like all of Sirius’s insides melt, like all the adoration and love and reverence he holds for Remus is pooling in his stomach and threatening to pour out his every orifice. And God he can’t even inhale, only scrambles to lock his hands around Remus’s cheeks and press his head against Remus’s own.

“Yeah? You really think that.”

“Hell, I thought the wedding and all would’ve made that clear.”

Sirius chuckles, only lightly, his thumb dragging beneath Remus’s eye tenderly. “God I love you, so endlessly. Please forgive me for being an idiot?”

“Yeah, I suppose I’ll keep you around,” Remus teases, bouncing on the balls of his feet to kiss Sirius’s nose and lock his arms around his neck, and the sensation of it— them knotted into one another— could never be replicated in a thousand years, not like this, not like them. 

.-

Other Wolfstar One Shots  |  Send Me A Prompt

[kiranatrix]

I feel like the nature of Light’s ideology and his methods get caricatured a great deal in the fandom (especially by those who only viewed the anime). I keep seeing popular memes about Light killing petty shoplifters who are only attempting to feed their family and I always get the sense that they’re largely inaccurate (for the most part). Light notices in the Yotsuba arc that Kira’s sentencing spares those: who’ve served their sentences and improved their ways, who committed justifiable crimes, and who have shown remorse. So it feels off to seeing portrayed that way, especially when Light’s elimination of innocents (such as the FBI agents, Naomi, etc...) are usually for strategic purposes, intended to help him progress ahead. Not to mention this pervasive belief that Light apparently didn’t know that he would be bound to sentence some innocents to death (with his large kill count per day). Wouldn’t it be more likely that Light knew that it was inevitable and was willing to sacrifice those lives for “the greater good,” in his view?

This is a doozy of an ask, anon. But it is GLORY bc these are all excellent things for me to ramble about Light (thank you!). I’ll take them point by point, strap in cause this is a bit long. *cracks knuckles*

You’re absolutely right that fandom often boils Light’s character and ideology down to a few basic elements that are distorted, mostly to drag him. Let’s be honest-- it’s fun to drag characters, even our favs-- and pretty much everyone in Death Note deserves it. But it does become annoying when its inaccurate, like with your example about who Kira focused on killing and some others I see. To be clear, this isn’t any kind of apology for the bastardly things Light DID do, but clarifying what he was and wasn’t about.

Did Light kill petty criminals?

The only time it is mentioned that Light kills criminals for non-serious crimes is when he was under surveillance by L (the infamous potato chip scene) and had to kill someone on the news right then, as well as the immediate coverup. In that circumstance, he couldn’t afford to be picky-- he needed L to see a signature Kira death (heart attack) when Light supposedly couldn’t be doing it. The crimes that appeared on the news that night (in his chip bag TV lol) ended up being non-serious criminals, and Light wasn’t so thrilled about this. 

Mainly because it meant he had to cover his tracks and kill a few more minor criminals so it really did look like Kira’s work. 

But his focus was putting himself in the clear with L; those minor criminals were incidental, and when he had choice/freedom again, he did not focus on them. The ruse didn’t completely work because L thought minor criminals dying was suspicious since it deviated from Kira’s usual MO. So, L knew the real focus.

This was a strategic move in service of, versus reflecting, Light’s ideology. This is something we see pop up again and again for Light. He is willing to do ‘wrong’ for the greater ‘good.’ We also see his distaste for killing petty criminals later when Light rebukes Mikami’s off-script killings in his thoughts. If Kira had been acting this way all along, then the Task Force wouldn’t have been surprised and Light wouldn’t have been pissed off that Mikami was doing it. 

Kira was looking for violent criminals who had escaped justice, that’s his main goal. He’s also disagreeing with Mikami’s methods of punishing wrong-doers who paid their debt to society (as opposed to the Death Row criminals I discuss below who haven’t ‘paid their debt’ yet). He doesn’t want people to fear Kira and thinks shooting fish in a barrel, so to speak, would do that. His ideology is not punitive; to him, its about prevention. Petty crime wasn’t on his radar until he had to make that a temporary focus for his safety.

Did Light focus on criminals already in prison? 

I’ve seen plenty of posts in the Death Note tag grousing about how Light was ‘dumb’ because he only focused on criminals in prison, but that’s not wholly accurate. The first two names he wrote were criminals he witnessed in the process of a crime with actual victims that needed help (a hostage scenario where the perp had already murdered people, and a man about to rape). Then he went for the Big Bads in the news- the most vicious criminals world-wide.

Other than criminals at large, he DID kill some criminals in prison. The times he did so were:

1) Killing criminals on Death Row who, in the eyes of law enforcement, “deserved the death penalty several times over.” These are criminals who had already been sentenced to die and Kira enacted the ‘justice.’

2) During Light’s ‘testing phase’ of the Death Note when he was trying to understand the rules in a population he could control 

3) When he was trying to be conspicuous about deaths for L’s benefit, like throwing off the assumption that Kira was a student. Light knew that those deaths would be found immediately and attributed to Kira. 

For 2 and 3, these criminals were likely to be on Death Row given what was said by INTERPOL about who Kira was killing behind bars. Ironically, even L thought Death Row criminals needed to die-- he chose Lind L Tailor from Death Row for his stunt, and said on TV he’d seek the death penalty for Kira. Hmm.

Why did Light kill innocent people?

The innocent people that Light killed include Raye Penber, the rest of the FBI agents in Japan investigating Kira, and Naomi Misora. L and Watari might be considered innocent per Kira’s ideology (Watari had probably murdered people but L had probably not, directly). Rem technically killed L and Watari, but Light certainly wanted them to die and orchestrated it that way. The innocent people that Light WOULD have killed include the Task Force (Mogi, Aizawa, Matsuda, Ide) and the SPK (Halle, Gevanni, Rester, Near,) if he’d won in the warehouse.

The main thread tying all these people together? They were all imminent threats to Light and were actively trying to stop and/or kill him. Killing them would never have crossed his mind if that hadn’t been the case. THAT DOESN’T MEAN HE DIDN’T ENJOY IT. Taking out his enemies was something Light did savor, he really loved that win. But it wasn’t like he wiped out the entire FBI or Japanese police force. Those were not his targets; these were individuals who threatened his goal and life, and he saw their killing as self-defense. 

Did Light kill any criminals who were innocent or wrongly convicted?

It’s certainly possible that he did but the manga never touches on it. Given that his MO for killing incarcerated criminals was limited to Death Row, he probably felt like those were safe bets (we know that’s not always the case in the real world, of course). But let’s say that Light, in canon, found out he’d killed someone wrongfully convicted. In the beginning of his journey as Kira (at 17-18), I honestly don’t think he’d given this a lot of thought. What’s funny is that Light was naively, and paradoxically, putting a lot of faith in the human justice system while simultaneously enacting his own justice that relied on having zero faith in the traditional channels. Makes my head spin, but Light is a fascinating character because of that kind of thinking. He championed sweeping ideals of right and wrong, but couldn’t be bothered with getting in the murky details. 

But by the time he’d grown up and matured some, especially after becoming part of the police force himself, he would have know it was a possibility. At that point, I agree that he’d view it as an inevitable sacrifice in service of, but not directly reflecting, his ‘greater good,’ like the previous choices he’d made. 

So why is Kira’s ideology so often distorted? For one thing, his thinking is kind of convoluted. The anime has less nuance about what Light’s about, and many people just watch that. Another common reason I see for this is that someone really, really hates Light for defeating L, and once we dislike someone it becomes easier to roll in more and more unlikeable qualities into a nasty villain pie. Any trait that is ‘bad’ can be overlaid onto Light because he is ‘bad,’ so it fits right?? Ha....no. He has plenty of bad traits and actions of his own to drag him for without inventing new ones. At the same time, I see L’s flaws and negative traits/actions being hand-waved away or justified because he is their fav. It happened with Minoru, too. 

[remtheenlightenedone]

Hashtags imma use from now on....

So idk if this is a thing, but I made a few hashtags for my post to specify it's my post. Just bored and wanted something to list too. Alright:

#just thoughts / #rem's thoughts = my two cents, comments, opinions, on a specific topic

#mental wellness / #rem's mental wellness = mental health related stuff in general. Sometimes I might not tag as such.

#no offense = in regards to jokes that are sarcastic, crude, or just a tidbit out of pocket. Usually just an autistic thing.

#bruh = "I can't believe you posted this" / "did they really say or do that?" (Not op, the person they mentioned) / funny and/or random post. Not a bad thing.

#no sleep / #2 am thoughts = comments passed bed curfew or midnight

#quotes = shared or reblogged quotes

#inspirational / #motivational = quotes, stories, poems, etc that are meant to inspire and encourage positive outlook on life

#rem's vegeta f/o = regarding "my" Vegeta. Not anyone else that shares him.

#positivity = general positive post

#f/o positivity / #fictosexual / #proselfship positivity / #proself-ship community / #f/o community = I am neither on any side but the proship community in general has always been chill so I made these tags in case. But it's in regards to f/o or fictosexuality in general. I don't pick sides. I refuse to.

#rem's philosophy / #philosopy = covers theism, agnosticism, and philosophies I share that consist of stoicism, minimalism, Buddhism, and daoism. Some might be christian based but dw I'm not a Christianity zealot. I follow God for how I believe God to be.

#rem's (insert mental disability/illness here) = anything related to Autism/Asperger's/Autism Spectrum Disorder, ADHD or with both just AuADHD. Generalized Anxiety Disorder, Atypical Depression, or any other thing I haven't listed.

#rem's manic panic! = If im self aware enough, I will tag this. Usually I tend to make longer post or can't articulate myself in less word counts so I go on long tangents. It's usually caused by hyperactivity or mania.

#err of caution on rem = rem's not themselves, possibly paranoid, and needs help. Give them a hug and some treats and comment positive things. They will thank you. Also a tag to indicate that I'm not myself. May not be mentioned during times of distress or illness.

#rem the poet = poems made by rem. They're not the best but they're fun to write.

# rem the burned out artist = artwork that is either finished, wip, detailed, simple, etc and consist of watercolor, acrylic, graphite, or digital drawings on ibis paint. Hardly post though

#rem loves it = when a like on a post isn't enough to show appreciation for it and op

#🙏🏽❤️ = your post has been praised / appraisal

#❤️ = shorthand for rem loves it

#rem rebukes = for negative post that has negative speech, words, phrases, etc. Or tells someone to unalive (ex. kys)

If rem thinks it speaks from a dark place, rem rebukes it. Also to rebuke on their own post that speaks of toxic or negative people.

#rem thinks this is positive 👍🏽 = self explanatory

#rem's positivity bookmark / #positivity vibes #positive thoughts / #positive = for positive post, quotes, etc.

#rem likes pokemon / #rem's pokemon= pokemon related stuff

#this is why rem likes atla/tlok = for topics relating to atla/tlok or any zutara content

If I think of any more id definitely post them in an update ✌🏽

[starshard17]

Dukeceit Week | Day 4 | A Free Day Out

Pairing : Romantic Dukeceit (Married/Human AU), Romantic Prinxiety in the background

Summary : Janus gets a free day from work and decides to spend that day with Remus, doing whatever he wants. (And I guess Free Day meant "Write whatever you want!" but I got inspired by the words 'Free Day' :] )

--------

"Janus Janus Janus Janus Janus! Wake up! Wake up!"

Janus groaned and opened his eyes, rubbing the sleepiness away and sitting up. He grabbed his glasses from the bedside table and adjusted them on his face, running a hand through his hair to flatten it out.

"Remus what time is it?" He asked, moving his hands from his eyes to see his husband sat on the floor beside his bed.

"It's like six in the morning." Remus responded. He looked up at Janus with eager eyes, almost like an excitable puppy. Janus sighed and carded his hands through Remus' hair.

"And you woke me up on my free day at six in the morning becauseee?"Janus drawled, waiting for Remus to finish his thought.

"Becausee, you said you'd spend time with me on your next free day!" Remus cheered, standing up and lifting Janus to his feet.

"And that's today!" He said with a smile, jumping up and down on his feet. Janus smiled and pressed a kiss to Remus' cheek. "I swear to you, I'll make every hour of the day about you! We'll have so much fun!" He claimed, jittering with exhilaration.

"Okay okay. I'll get ready to spend time with you. I'll go shower then eat breakfast and-" Janus started just for Remus for to cut him off.

"NO!" He screeched out suddenly.

"No?" Janus asked, confused.

"Go ahead and get showered but don't eat anything! Get ready to leave and meet me by the front door okay?" Remus told him, jittering with excitement.

"Alright alright." Janus agreed, kissing Remus' cheek and moving to his closet. Remus smiled widely and moved out of the room and to his own to finish getting ready as well.

--------

Janus sat down across the table from Remus, the two of them resting their hands in the center of the table. They locked fingers, staring into each other's eyes lovingly.

"I love you. I've missed having you around." Remus murmured softly to him. Janus smiled fondly at his husband.

"I missed you more." Janus purred, moving a hand up to caress Remus' cheek.

"I love you so much." Remus said with a small laugh. "I've got so much planned for today." Remus told him. The two leaned in closer to each other, their noses bumping together, causing them both to chuckle. They murmured sweet nothings to each other until someone came to take their orders.

Janus got chocolate chip pancakes and Remus got blueberry French toast and they both ordered an alcoholic beverage to start off the day.

"Wow Jannie. Booze first thing in the morning? That sounds healthy." Remus said, half jokingly.

"You're one to talk." Janus said with a laugh. "You ordered drinks stronger than mine and you think you can reprimand me?" He retorted, leaning against the table.

Remus blew a raspberry with his mouth, waving his hand to dismiss Janus' accusation.

"No biggie. I'll call Roman to come pick us up after breakfast. We can spend the rest of the day with him and Virgin!" Remus exclaimed, clapping his hands.

"I thought the plan was to spend time with me hun." Janus said, quirking up an eyebrow. Remus rested his elbow on the table, leaning his head against his hand.

"Well yeah, but with Roman and Virgil there we have designated drivers so we don't have to worry about the consequences of getting totally wasted!" Remus explained with a grin. "And it'll be like going on a double date!" He cheered, clapping his hands again. Janus shook his head.

"Whatever makes you happy I guess." Janus sighed before chuckling quietly.

--------

"Oh look who finally got out here. How wasted are you two?" Roman asked as Janus and Remus approached their car.

"Remus had like three drinks whereas I only had one. Remus knows where we're going next though, so having me being the less drunk one probably isn't the greatest." Janus explained. Roman shook his head.

"Whatever. Remus? Can you tell me where we're going next? Preferably home?" Roman asked, watching his brother as he slowly lifted his head, blinking his eyes.

"Hmmm. I think the next place is the movie theater." Remus chirped, resting his head on Janus' shoulder. Roman let out a groan of affirmation and got back into the driver's seat. He looked to his fiancé, Virgil, who was reapplying his eyeshadow.

"We going home hun?" Virgil asked, clicking his mirror closed and glancing at Roman.

"No cause Remus still has places to go and we get to drive him everywhere to avoid a wreck." Roman told him with an eyeroll. Virgil stuffed his makeup palate into the glovebox and flicked open a pair of shades, adjusting them on his face.

"Whatever." He mumbled, leaning back against his seat. Roman looked into the mirror to get a view of the backseat, watching as Remus and Janus clambered inside. The two shoved and giggled, sharing little kisses as they buckled in to get ready to move out.

"You two are like insane children." Roman grumbled, pulling out of the parking lot.

"Nuh uh. We're lovable and sexy adults." Remus chirped, pressing kisses to Janus' neck and cheek. Virgil let out a quiet laugh, moving his shades to sit up on his head. Roman let out annoyed grumbles the whole way to the movie theater.

--------

"Cheers!" Remus spoke in celebration, his glass clinking against Janus, Virgil and his brother's.

"Cheers my dear." Janus hummed, drinking down about half of his red wine. Virgil joined in, taking small cautious sips of his champagne. Roman set his glass on the marble table after taking one sip, pushing it towards Remus. Watching this, Remus quickly downed his first glass and picked up Roman's, downing his as well.

"Whoa, take it easy baby." Janus scolded, setting his glass down and glaring at his husband. Remus clinked his two empty drink glasses together, a soft noise of acknowledgement to Janus words escaping him.

"I understand you're not going to be busy tomorrow but you're not gonna like the hangover you'll get. You just chugged one whole glass of rum and a cocktail." Janus chided his husband and felt an angry scowl cross his face when Remus just waved him off dismissively.

"Don't wave your hand at me." Janus gritted out, crossing his arms. Remus frowned and turned to Janus.

"I'll do what I want. Which includes waving you off and drinking what I want to." Remus rebuked, glaring back at his husband. Virgil shrunk in on himself, scooting closer to Roman to avoid the outrage between the two.

"Really? I'm just trying to look out for you and you decide to be ignorant and rude? What the hell is your problem?" Janus snarled, his hands balling into fists and coming to rest on the table, avoiding the urge to slam the surface.

"M' just doing what I want. You didn't have to get so snippy." Remus retorted, leaning back against the booth seat and looking away.

"Ugh! Today was fun but you've lost it hun." Janus said with a sigh. "I'm going to go cool off." He punctuated his sentence by standing from the table and moving across the bar to get to the bathroom.

"Okay jeez. Didn't have to get your panties in a twist." Remus groaned, leaning onto the table. Virgil and Roman exchanged worried glances.

"I'll go check on Janus." Virgil mumbled, standing up from the table. Virgil gently pecked Roman's cheek and started moving towards the bathroom. He watched his fiancé walk away and turned to his brother who looked to be aside himself with dizziness and looked pale and a bit sickly.

"Too much to drink?" Roman asked, daring to lean onto the table and getting closer to his brother. Remus shook his head.

"Just too fast." Remus muttered, tilting his head up to look at Roman.

"Where'd Jannie go?" He asked, sitting up suddenly, seemingly worried. Roman quirked up an eyebrow, sitting back a bit.

"He went to the bathroom to cool off after you accused him of getting sassy with you." Roman told him. "Don't you remember that?" He asked. Remus brought a hand up to his head, smacking his forehead and leaning back against the booth.

"I'm so stupid." He mumbled, holding his head in his hands.

"The one day a week your husband has a free day and within the last few hours you get mad and snap at him. He's in the bathroom with Virgil, so you could. Y'know. Maybe go apologize?" Roman suggested, his shoulders tensing up as he prepared himself for the possible onslaught of Remus' anger.

To Roman's surprise, his brother stood up and tried to make his way to the bathroom without another word, stumbling a bit every few steps.

Remus quickly shoved open the bathroom door to see Virgil comforting Janus next to the sinks. He couldn't quite see Janus' face but he could tell he was in despair. He really fucked up.

"Hubbie?" Remus muttered, his voice cracking. At the sound of Remus' voice Janus pushed his head into Virgil's chest, to hide presumably. Remus fiddling with the collar of his shirt before stepping closer to the two of them, leaning against the counter to keep himself upright.

"What do you want Remus." Janus hissed, refusing to face him. Remus let out a sigh of defeat, scratching the back of his neck and looking at the ground.

"I told you this free day was all about you and I'd make sure you'd have fun every hour of it. But that's kinda down the drain now, isn't it. And it's my fault." He confessed.

"I wanna make it up to you again but I'm acting kinda wonky and I can't step correctly and my head is spinning and I just want to make you feel special but I fucked up. I'm sor- aCK!" Mid apology Janus had tackled him, burying his face in Remus' chest, tears soaking into his husband's shirt.

"You make me feel special every day Rem and you know it. I'm sorry for snapping at you." Janus told him, remorse attacking his words.

"You're sorry? No I'm sorry! I started the whole fighting thing it's my fault this happened." Remus said in complaint, a sad hint to accompany his drunken tone.

"Remus please. Nothing's your fault, it's mine. I got upset with you for going heavy on the drinks." He admitted, pulling away from his husband to look at his goofy face. He hoped it'd bring him joy to see a happy look spread across it but to no avail. He looked just as sad as he would've expected and this sent Janus into a spiral of tears. Remus hoisted Janus up into his arms, leaning against the counter and gently shushing him, trying to calm him down.

"I got mad at you for reprimanding me, and that's my bad. It's both our faults. But we can make it better and make it both our faults that we start feeling better? Maybe head home and get into some fun filled activities?" Remus suggested, a hint of flirtation peppering in at the end of his sentence. Janus sniffed and wiped his eyes.

"Yeah I think that'd help me feel a lot better." Janus said with a soft smile. "Good thing work is tomorrow night, right?" He said with a laugh. Remus giggled and set Janus on the counter, pressing his lips to his husband's. Janus leaned into the familiar territory of Remus' lips against his own, his hands moving to hold his husband's head.

Virgil let out a fake gag of disgust and moved out of the bathroom.

"Glad you made up by making out near the end there." He said with a shake of his head. "When you're ready to get into shit like that at home rather than in the bathroom at some janky bar, Roman and I will be out at the car." Virgil told them, walking out. The two gave a small thumbs up of affirmation, not breaking away from each other.

Remus carefully lifted his husband into his arms, backing up out of the bathroom and moving towards the exit of the bar, assuming he'd have to pay Roman back for the drinks later.

For now, he could really only focus on what turned out to be an apology kiss. His lips pressed to Janus'. The heat radiating from the man in his arms.

He was glad that he had the chance to redeem this free day. But maybe the next one should take a little more planning, just to be on the safe side.

[justanotherpersonsuniverse]

I will rebuke that statement, you're the amazing one -Rem

Can we both just be amazing? Please? You’re amazing

[1nsomniacwriter]

The Cursed Light (Chapter 4)

@datfearlessfangirl

The trio rose up in Virgil’s room and set their bags down before flopping onto Virgil’s bed. Janus bit down at his lip and reached into his pocket, rubbing his thumb over the velvet fabric of the ring box. He needed something physical as a reminder that, no, the Patton he had just talked to wasn’t his, it wasn’t the way things were meant to be. He jolted out of his thoughts when Virgil lay a hand on his shoulder. It was only then that he realized he’d been crying. It had been years, and yet he still couldn’t handle the biting remarks.

He flashed the tiniest of smiles at Virgil before wiping away his tears. Janus didn’t have time for that. He was going to break the curse one way or another, just so he could have the old Patton back. He reached into his shopping bag, pulling out a small frog stuffed animal. His heart seized at the sight of it. Patton used to have a bigger one that Janus gave to him for his birthday one time, before the curse. After that morning, Janus found the charred bits and pieces of the plushie at the divide between the dark and light sides. If I give it to him, maybe he’ll remember again, he thought, setting it to the side before he could start crying again.

He watched the other two pull out their own sentimental items. Virgil pulled out an eyeshadow palette and foundation. 

Janus’ confusion must have been visible, because Virgil immediately mumbled, “We used to do each other's make-up. It was kind of like a truce if we ever had an argument or something to cheer us up if either of us weren’t in the right headspace.”

So that was why Roman wore a full face of make-up in the past. Janus always chalked it up to insecurity, although he probably should have connected the dots earlier when Roman’s make-up habits stopped abruptly after their banishment.

He glanced over at Remus, who had pulled out a box of some kind and was studying it, his eyes somewhere far, far away. Upon closer inspection, Janus realized it was one of those children’s dissection kits. Janus’ brow furrowed in sympathy. Remus and Logan had a shared sense of curiosity in taking apart animal appendages and studying them. Janus recalled one time when Remus had gone to the painstaking effort to make an anatomically correct heart just for Logan to study.

“Virgil?” Remus asked, staring at his hands.

“Yeah, Rem?” Virgil was busy swatching the various shades of eyeshadow with practiced skill.

“How are we gonna get close enough to them to give them the stuff?” Remus inquired, still staring intently at the dissection kit.

Janus nodded. “They don’t have the best opinion of us currently if you haven’t already noticed.”

Based on the way Patton treated Janus in the past, the conversation they only moments prior no exception to that rule, it wasn’t like Janus expected the fatherly side to welcome him with open arms. Still, he hoped Virgil had some sort of plan for this whole endeavor.

“Well, my initial plan was to just go into the light sides’ commons and try to get our respective partners alone, but then I remembered that they’re already pretty distrustful of our intentions already. Since some of them hate us less than they hate others, we could try there?”

Remus shook his head, pulling his gaze away from the box. His eyes were glittering, almost as if he were about to cry.

“They know we’re up to something. They just don’t know what. And knowing my brother, he’s likely going to jump to some stupid conclusions,” he reasoned.

“There is one other option, but it’s definitely pushing the limit of what would and wouldn’t have us meeting the business end of Roman’s sword,” Janus interjected, which led to the other two snapping to face him.

“Which is?” Virgil prompted.

“We could always just… break into their rooms when they aren’t looking,” he suggested, fiddling with his cape.

Virgil opened his mouth, no doubt ready to rebuke the idea completely, but Remus jumped and said, “I think that’s great.”

“Remus why-”

“Because! They can’t summon any of the others in there, and we can just leave if things don’t work out as planned,” Remus reasoned, sounding just a bit like a certain logical side.

“Ok? But if it doesn’t go as planned, it’s going to be even harder to get them to trust us or get near them. We need something more rational.” Something flashed behind Remus’ eye, and for a brief moment, Janus was actually afraid of him.

“Rational? Rational?” Remus asked, his voice dangerously quiet for him.

Virgil paled just a bit and grabbed at the bedsheets underneath him, and Janus had half a mind to tell Remus to stop. But before he could interject, Remus kept going.

“Nothing about any of what we’re doing is rational. We have been holding out hope that they would remember for years, and none of it was rational. Hell, if Logan didn’t hate my guts, he’d agree with me! So sorry Virgey, but I don’t care what you think is rational.”

Remus and Virgil were both crying, although Remus significantly more. Janus wondered how the dragon witch could sleep at night, knowing that her “revenge” just left three broken people in her wake.

“Fine. But we have to wait a little bit. Ease their suspicions. Or we might never break the curse,” Virgil mumbled, wiping away his tears with a little more force than was entirely necessary.

“And then what?” Remus asked.

“And then,” Janus piped up, “we save them.”

[chrysalispen]

Prompt #14 - Part

a story about family, and grief.

cw for minor character death, lore consistent racism (unfortunately garleans are Like That), depression, and references to alcoholism.

==================

  Don't cry. Oh, don't cry.

He did not hear her. He continued to weep, tears leaking beneath the seal of his crimson mask of office and into her robes, soaking into the fabric. 

I'll save you, Hades. I'll find another path. I'll save you.

It was her last thought: carried in the drift of her soul as it split into four and ten, like the currents of the spring wind in her feathers. Taking her way home upon the wing to her friends and to the man she loved. 

To the world she loved.

   (To-)

   ~*~

"I'll save you, Vittora," Julian rem Laskaris whispered. "I will."

He sat as he had for days, clutching desperately at the hands enfolded in his own, so pale and wasted they were nearly translucent. She lay still and pliant, her brow cool and clammy and - strangely, he thought - it was damp. He did not realize at first that it was with his tears. He had duties, but he cared nothing for them at this moment. Neither Rabanastre nor the castrum would cease to exist while he tended to his family. The tribunus had not left his wife's bedside in a near sennight.

His brilliant composer, his nightingale, was dying. She had drifted into deeper and longer periods of sleep as she weakened, as time had worn on, and the warmer climes of the Estersands had done little to improve her condition. And now that she was near the end, she had lapsed into this dreamless coma. The final sleep, the chirurgeons had told him, and Julian thought it quite apt.

For there would never be the like of Vittora cen Remianus upon this star, ever again. Not for him. Not in this lifetime, not while he drew breath.

If you have goodbyes to say, they had told him, 'twould be best to see them said now. 

He only distantly heard the sounds of his young daughter's wails for her mother, muffled as they were against her governess' apron. Once again he found himself grateful for L'haiya dus Eyahri's steady presence and the rock it had been in their household, for being able to care for the girl where he knew he could not, even though she was the only child they had borne together.

He could feel her gaze boring into his back. He had looked into that small face only once, and was met with a silent plea for strength and comfort. She had reached for him, and he had turned his back, and he had refused to look again. Aurelia had Vittora's eyes: those deep dark fathomless pools of indigo blue.

Already, he couldn't bear the sight of them.

"I'll save you," he repeated. With the greatest care he lifted her hand to his lips and pressed them to her knuckles, then held one of her palms against his unshaven cheek: rough with gold and brown stubble. "I'll find a way. I'll find someone who can heal you. I swear it."

His attention remained fixed upon the figure in the bed, counting silent beats to the tortured sound of his wife's breaths, living upon the stuttering rise and fall of her chest.

He could see nothing of her face in repose through his tears. 

~*~

He had left Rabanastre for Ala Mhigo. It had been a demotion to do so, but Julian had cared only to leave his grief behind.

It had followed him all the same. His daughter might have the look of a Laskaris but she was every ilm her mother's child, from her dark blue eyes to her iron will, and as she grew the ghost that haunted his halls only became more and more corporeal: a child with his honeyed tresses and his wife's luminous eyes, rebuking him in silence like a vengeful shade as she grew into her majority.

She had befriended her governess' young kinsman, and that he had allowed- he understood the value of allowing her friends and privately felt that a sense of noblesse oblige might not go awry- but even that had to come to an end, as the shadow of Solus zos Galvus' war machine fell upon them as readily as anyone else within the Empire's reach.

But instead of accepting matters as they were the girl had tried to go after them, had made a very public scene of it, and it was not until he had engaged in a furious lecture that he realized how worried he had been. Supper that night was an acutely uncomfortable affair, place settings slammed onto the table with angry emphasis and food all but untouched by both father and daughter as they sat across from each other in a tense and stony silence - neither willing to bend to the other's will. 

At length, the former could stand it no longer. The chair scraped against varnished beechwood flooring as Julian rem Laskaris gained his feet.

"I am retiring. I find my present company exhausting and I have a great deal of paperwork I must finish before cockcrow," he said, his voice flat with restrained ire. "Elle, pray send Cook my regards. The meal was quite fine, merely do I have no appetite. She can put my portion in the cold-pantry and have it brought to me before she retires for the evening."

"Yes, my lord, of course. Mistress Aurelia-"

"-will finish her meal and spend the rest of the evening in her bedchamber." Aurelia's chin snapped upwards, her expression incredulous. Julian continued on, undaunted: "And shall remain ensconced within the grounds for the next sennight. Perhaps more attention paid to her studies will impart the wisdom that her association with your young kinsman clearly has not."

Those dark blue eyes came alight with her fury and he did not miss her governess' wince. The girl might have become less outspoken and more circumspect over the years as her lessons began to shape her deportment, but it was clear she was not about to accept her punishment as meekly as he had expected or hoped- 

-and how very much like her mother she looked, he thought bitterly, at that moment. She stood to face him, hands balled into fists at her sides, lower lip quivering but too angry to cry.

"I am not one of your cohorts," she began, "to wait with bated breath upon your every command-"

"Sit down," Julian barked, suddenly every inch the commanding officer, fists slamming upon the table. She jumped, the spoon in her hand barely missing the rim of her soup bowl to clatter upon the muslin-covered surface. "I am still your father, girl, and you will respect that authority while you remain under my roof."

"That is a laughable assertion," she spat, every inch of her willowy frame screaming defiance, "given the only time I ever speak to you at any length is when you see fit to hand down some manner of discipline-"

His expression was akin to a thundercloud on the horizon. "Young lady-"

"-upon a matter in which you are barely versed!"

"You are on extremely dangerous-"

"Mother might not have agreed with me either, but she would have at least understood why I tried to go find him," she cried. "Would that I had been left with her, and not you!"

Something very like pain flashed through his chest. They were the words of a child, reckless and spoken in her anger- but it hardly mattered. Whether she realized it or not, her words had struck true. 

Slowly, as if physically wounded, Julian turned away. He held his hands clasped behind his back as if at parade rest, but he could feel how they trembled.

"I am going to wash my hands," he said, his words cold and clipped and soft, "and L'haiya will have the rest of your meal brought to you. You are not to leave your quarters until further notice."

"Father, I-"

Without another word, he quit the room, back stiff and straight. He did not heed her anguished sob nor the clatter of running footsteps.

=

It was nearly two hours later that he heard the measured rap upon his study door. 

He sagged forward in his chair, face buried in his hands, an open decanter and snifter at his side, and a gilt-edged picture frame on the desk in front of him. L'haiya shook her head as if to dispel the vision.

"Julian," she said in a low voice.

Without lifting his head from the cradle of his hands he murmured, "I assume she is sleeping."

"Yes. She'll not be leaving the house even with a chaperone until further notice, per your orders." 

She didn't bother to hide the disapproval she felt, and after a long moment, the Garlean's chin lifted ever so slightly, just enough to fix her with a cool and challenging glower. His pale grey irises were bloodshot, and strands of platinum blond hair hung low over his third eye and the edge of his brow, brushing at drink-flushed cheeks.

"You don't approve of my actions."

"I have not approved of your actions where she is concerned for a very long time, my lord."

Julian uttered a short, cold laugh. 

" 'Tis bold of you, to censure me while addressing me as a superior in the same breath. Boldness was ever your curse, Elle." He reached for the gem-cut bottle and tilted it against the lip of his snifter. Golden liquid splashed against the sides of the glass. "You know full well what I could do to you simply for speaking to me in such a fashion."

"With all due respect, my lord, you did not retain my services so that I might bow and scrape to your whims. You have underlings aplenty." Her hands bunched into fistfuls of her skirts. "Vittora was my friend long before you were my employer and I promised her I would look after both of you."

"I do not require a lecture from a savage," he slurred, in tones both petulant and caustic. Her lips thinned with anger.

"You are deep in your cups and thus I will overlook the insult this once."

"That I am 'in my cups' is the only reason I have to countenance your insolence." 

"Then I'm afraid you shall have to countenance it further, because I've come to do what Vittora asked of me," L'haiya retorted, "and speak to you as if we were peers- if only for this moment. I do so in full acceptance of the consequences should you feel they are warranted."

The words hung between them like an omen. 

For a moment the tension from the dining room returned- but this time, Julian did not rise to it. He lifted his glass and drank, grimacing at the numbness and heat from the alcohol, and L'haiya saw for the first time how much silver there was at his temples, how deeply sunken his eyes had become. He looked more like his older brother now than ever.

At last the tribunus exhaled and set the glass back on the desk. It left a wet ring against the varnish, one he didn't seem to notice.

"Very well," he said. "Speak your piece. I shall decide the merit of it."

"I don't think you should need me to tell you this but it seems someone must. You are neglecting your duty to your daughter, Julian, and you are failing her."

That got his attention. His hand froze halfway to the neck of the decanter and his eyes snapped upwards, dark with incredulous anger. L'haiya crossed her arms over her chest, meeting his scowl with an unbending stare of her own. 

"She isn't always the perfect picture of good behavior - no child is - but surely you have not failed to notice how very hard she tries to earn your approval. It will not be so very long before she no longer wishes to seek it. If you would have her speak to you with respect, she must be shown respect in turn."

"She is a child!"

"Aurelia is sixteen summers, Julian. She could well be considered an adult, and for many purposes as far as the Empire is concerned, she would be."

"That you would even suggest-" 

"The viceroy, in recent memory, has spoken to her with more warmth and familiarity. The viceroy, Julian! And it was by form letter, to commend her for her qualification to sit entrance exams! As a representative of the province! What do you even know about your own daughter these days? When was the last time you asked her about her hobbies?" L'haiya snapped. "Or discussed anything with her besides the food at table, or what arrived for you in the morning post?"

He sputtered, jaw slack: astounded at the woman's incredible gall as much as her words.

"I realize that you kept me on explicitly to be her governess and prepare her for her station in life as a citizen of the Empire, and I have filled that duty as best as I am able. But I am not her mother, Julian. And you cannot continue to shirk your responsibility to your own child and expect her to do aught save resent you." 

"This will not-"

"She needs you to be her father, not her commanding officer."

"I shall think on it," he muttered.

"You should act, not think-"

"Now you are overstepping your place. L'haiya." 

Julian's warning growl froze her words on her lips and he saw the veils drop back over her eyes again, now that she had been reminded of the social chasm between them. Anger overwhelmed him for a brief moment before it conceded defeat to despair: that old lurking and most toxic of friends. 

He slumped forward in his chair and reached once more for his decanter.

"My apologies," the Miqo'te said, each of her words edged with ice. "I had thought you might like to know where matters stand. Before you lose your daughter as well as your wife."

She quit the room, and he found solace once more in the burn against his throat.

~*~

He did not speak to the girl then or any time in the weeks afterward. 

He didn't know how. 

Unwilling to offer forgiveness to his child for her harsh words, or to beg her forgiveness for his own inability to be a father to her in return, he could but watch as they drifted ever farther apart. They became as silent ships passing in the night with sails ghostly and unfurled. She continued to bring his post and his evening coffee, and he took it with a cursory word of thanks. Beyond that small interaction, they did not speak. 

You are failing your daughter, Julian, L'haiya said in the halls of his mind, and beyond his affronted anger at a servant addressing him in such an unacceptably familiar way - to his own sensibilities, at least - he knew that she was right.

He was failing her. It was easier to keep the girl at arm's length, to treat her as he would have treated one of his administrative staff. To issue discipline in the way he might have issued an order. Far easier to do that than to look upon her and think of her as she had been, only to fancy that he saw Vittora staring back. 

He had thought that time might dull the loss, but he felt it as keenly now as he had then. If only she hadn't left him behind, but she had, and a part of him had died with her. It had gone into the grave, laid alongside her in her coffin like an offering to a god, and left only the pathetic, spiritless creature that he was now. His routine was unbearably dull but bearably tedious: waking and working and eating and sleeping, day to day to day. 

The truth of the matter - one Julian rem Laskaris bitterly accepted as his lot - was simple.

He was weak. 

He had always been weak. He had been weak-willed as a boy, and as a son, and as a soldier, and he had proven no better as a father. He knew that he was weak.

But he could not feel the drive nor desire to change what he was. And in this moment, facing down the Resistance skirmishers, calling orders to protect the supply line -- losing himself in his work as he had done since the day he had put his wife in the ground, Julian rem Laskaris failed to see the sniper from atop the high and windswept crag.

Nor did he see the arrow that pierced his throat.

His last memory as his body went cold, Garlean blood spilling onto foreign sand, was of the color of his daughter's eyes.