#sorry. saw that post again about her & cole & this one line makes me want to rip my hair out

[thedragonagelesbian]

'Smiling at the templars to show them im me' is such an upsetting line. The only other frame of reference we have for a harrowing is amell/surana and they, after the 'quickest cleanest harrowing' in recent memory, passed the fuck out immediately. That vivienne had enough presence of mind to smile after her harrowing is both a testament to her strength as a mage and also just so horrendously awful, to have gone through such a strenuous and disorienting ordeal and still not be safe!!!! Still unable to stop performing, to lower her guard, still needing to keep her wits about her. True tests never end!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[rivalsforlife]

Phoenix Wright: The Truth Reborn: Oh No We’re Doing This Again

hi.

Nearly two months ago, I wrote an essay summarizing and making very wild conclusions about the second Takarazuka Musical. I did this about two and a half years after watching the first Takarazuka musical. As such I did not have the full context for many things from the musical and was relying mostly on my memory, which blocked many things from this musical for my own safety. However, just this week, I decided to rewatch it, because I enjoy tormenting myself. I said I wouldn’t write anything on it. Here I am writing something on it.

Here’s the youtube thumbnail so that you know what you’re getting yourself into. And here, of course, is the link. This is the HD version which may be slightly more pleasant to watch. Maybe.

It was not quite as cringe in a funny way as the second musical to me, and therefore this essay may be less funny, but I feel like I’m doing a disservice to people by providing a summary of the second musical while completely neglecting the first. Quite possibly doing this is even more of a disservice. I just eagerly await the day that the third musical is translated because *that* will be the day that I finally shuffle off this mortal coil. Either way, I want to write this stuff down so that I never have to watch the musical again out of curiosity.

The following essay will contain major spoilers for both the first and second Phoenix Wright Takarazuka musicals, as I will be using many points from this musical to argue my thesis of the second musical. ... like you were going to watch them anyways. 

This one broke 8k. I’m dead inside.

Introducing The Director

Again another disclaimer that I don’t have anything against the actresses or the theatre troupe. I DO have something against Suzuki Kei, who I recently learned is the writer and director of all three of the Ace Attorney Takarazuka musicals, and is quite possibly my mortal nemesis.

This man is the one who brought this monstrosity into the world.

This man, allegedly, cleared the first four ace attorney games *seven times* before sitting down to write these musicals. He played these goddamn games seven times and did not take in a single word. The man clicked through them mindlessly while watching a badly written legal romance drama in the background and got them completely confused. I genuinely have no idea how this man could have played these games more times than even me and yet managed to get so many characters (MAYA!!!!) completely and utterly wrong. This haunts me every day, truly.

This man played Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney, Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney - Justice for All, Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney - Trials and Tribulations, and Apollo Justice: Ace Attorney seven times. SEVEN TIMES EACH!! and was told to create a musical based on the series. He played these games seven times each and you know what he said?? You know what he said?? “This sucks, I’m getting rid of all of Phoenix’s backstory, butchering half the characters, and writing Phoenix/Lana fanfiction, but also rewriting all of Lana’s backstory so that she was Phoenix’s childhood friend, and you know what, I’m changing her name for good measure.”

I think this man played the games seven times each and then hated it so much and was so sick of it he tried to write something that destroyed as much of the series as possible while still being vaguely recognizable. And then somehow it became a massive hit because people like me see this and go “what the actual hell” and watch it, or people who haven’t played the games see this and go “wow what a great musical!” and then he wrote TWO MORE, destroying EVEN MORE every time in his wake, until finally, finally, he stopped after making Edgeworth straight and time traveling into the past to face off against a corrupt Gregory. I guess that was the last straw.

I have to issue a disclaimer here that for legal reasons this is a joke. I don’t actually hate this man and would not punch him in the face if I met him because that would be rude, and he is entitled to his wrong interpretation of the games. I don’t know what his thought process was. But allegedly he did play the games seven times according to the wiki. This whole essay here is satire and not slander and I don’t want to offend this guy if he somehow stumbles across my nonsense tumblr post. At the same time: Suzuki Kei blink twice if you need help.

Anyways half the reason that I’m making this essay is because I want to share my fake ao3 page for this musical. The other half will become apparent later.

Sorry if that’s illegible because of tumblr quality it’s not really important. All you really need to know is that it’s a fake ao3 screenshot for the musical. Also in the author’s note I said he played the games four times but it was actually seven I just remembered wrong because I didn’t want to believe it.

at this point you may be like “Grace shut up and get to the actual musical” and okay, fine, let’s start this nonsense. Also note that I may be referencing things from my essay on the second musical very frequently; I’m not going to force you to go read that though because the fact that you’re reading this is enough of a torment already.

The Musical Begins

Unlike the second musical, this one opens with some narration from Phoenix.

Transcript:

Phoenix: I’m reviewing a particular case at the moment. To me, this case... is one I’ll never forget.

Immediately I think this is important because it establishes that this whole musical takes place in a flashback that Phoenix is reflecting on. Why is this important? Because we know, by the time of the second musical which takes place three years later, Leona is dead.

Knowing that Leona is inherently doomed to die of her Sad Woman Disease paints this whole musical in a different light. It’s not Phoenix reflecting on how he got back together with his lover; it’s Phoenix dwelling on their past together, and the opportunities they had, before her life was so cruelly and inexplicably taken away. We don’t know if Phoenix’s reminiscing takes place before or after Leona’s death... but I wouldn’t be surprised if it was after.

Phoenix, still in the present, starts to sing. “A wave appears on the horizon like a mirage, it trembles, then vanishes. Your voice, carried upon the waves, fades upon the shore, erasing the splendor of the past.”

This line actually shows up in the second musical, sung by Lucia about her imprisoned fiance quite possibly. It’s kind of hard to tell what the meaning of these songs even are. They’re too abstract for me I think. But this line appears very frequently in the first musical when Phoenix is thinking about Leona.

Then we enter the flashback time.

Phoenix inexplicably yells at a newspaper saleswoman. This is not relevant to anything whatsoever. Then Larry barges in to the office, looking for Maya. Phoenix describes him as “A real trouble maker, but you just can’t hate the guy”, the latter part of which I think many people would disagree with. 

Well, afterwards, Maya comes in. Phoenix describes her like this while making exaggerated “can you believe this shit” gestures.

Transcript:

Phoenix: She’s as ditzy as they come. Oh, and about the outfit... Apparently she comes from a family of spirit mediums. Try not to make fun of her, okay?

Suzuki Kei personally has it out for Maya and I can never forgive him for it. Maya in these musicals is here for pure comedic relief but it’s not even comedic because I just get so angry. How can you play the trilogy seven times and think this about her?? The girl who figured out DL-6?? The girl who told Phoenix to sacrifice her life in order to find the truth?? The girl who put on a brave smile in order to try and cheer up her younger cousin even after she saw her own mother murdered right in front of her eyes?? That Maya Fey?? Ditzy as they come??????

Ugh. Moving on.

Maya and Larry run off, leaving Phoenix to watch the American Broadcast.

Important things to note here are the Godot mug, the little line up of what I think are the messed up little ace attorney figurines beneath the screen, and the fact that while this broadcast is supposedly from and to America the screen is actually not at all showing America. Like literally almost everywhere in the world except North and South America.

The broadcast says that Leona Clyde, age 24, was arrested for murdering the senator Robert Cole! Leona Clyde -- that’s Phoenix’s ex-girlfriend! He runs off to the detention center.

She is not happy to see him.

Leona: Mr. Wright... I’m not the woman you once knew.

Let’s Play A Matching Game

Sorry for the abundance of screenshots that are going to be throughout this section. Phoenix convinces Leona to let him defend her. Some of the conversation seems... familiar.

Leona: No one would defend someone who admits to killing a senator. I’m waiting for a court-appointed attorney.

Edgeworth: Every defense attorney I’ve talked to has turned me down.

Phoenix: In that case, let me defend you.

Game Phoenix: Let me defend you.

Leona: Don’t be ridiculous!

Edgeworth: Don’t be ridiculous.

Phoenix: I’ll never accept that you’re a murderer. Let me prove your innocence!

Game Phoenix: Huh? Isn’t it obvious? I’m going to prove that Miles Edgeworth is innocent.

Leona: I’ve already confessed my guilt.

Gumshoe: He confessed that he did it! In court!

Leona: It’s foolish to think you can win this case.

Edgeworth: My case is near hopeless, Wright.

Leona: (in response to phoenix offering to defend her) No you won’t! Don’t ever come here again.

Edgeworth: Look, just go away, and leave me alone!

Phoenix: You of all people should know. Once I decide to do something, I see it through to the end.

Edgeworth: Once you start on something, you always see it through, don’t you?

Leona: I never thought that you’d be representing me.

Phoenix: Ah, who could have guessed this day would come?

Edgeworth: Not me.

Phoenix: You believed in me. You saved me. And this time, I swear... I swear I’ll save you!

Game Phoenix: Edgeworth believed in me, and I believe in him. I’m the only one who knows the real Edgeworth. I’m the only one who can help him.

I could’ve done a few more, but tumblr is already threatening to murder my laptop.

So long story short, Phoenix manages to convince his lover to let him be the defense on the case. Then immediately after swearing to save Leona, he starts singing a song, which I’m not screencapping because this is enough:

“As long as there are people in this world, there’s only one path I will follow! As long as there is love in this world, there’s only one path I will believe in!”

Edgeworth sings this in the second musical after saying that he returned to California because of Phoenix. Phoenix sings it now after swearing to defend Leona. You draw your own conclusions.

And then we finally get the opening credits. Eleven minutes in.

Just Pretend This Is Narumitsu Fanfiction

Following the credits, we see a beautiful beach. Couples (exclusively heterosexual, of course,) dance and embrace in the background for some time, before revealing Phoenix and Leona, in the Even Further Past, before the LSATs or whatever the ace attorney universe’s excuse for law school exams are.

Phoenix establishes his absolute hatred of change, an important characterization moment.

Phoenix: The view here never changes, huh?

Phoenix reminisces on when they were kids. Leona’s parents were both lawyers (they’re both lawyers) and sometimes they would be like lawyers with her when she was a kid. This inspired her to also become a lawyer after their tragic death of Sickness. They never specify what the sickness is that caused two people who must be relatively young to die while Leona was in her early twenties at the latest. It may be whatever sickness claimed Leona’s life later. Sad Woman Disease. (Sad Man Disease for her father, I guess?)

Phoenix also talks about why he’s becoming a lawyer.

Phoenix: Watching you chase your dream inspired me to become a lawyer too.

So, it’s not “my childhood friend looked sad in a newspaper” because I guess that makes no sense or is too gay or something. But this is another important piece of Phoenix characterization. His entire life so far has been focused around Leona. They’ve been friends since they were kids, and then Phoenix decided to become a lawyer solely because Leona was becoming a lawyer. Not even to try and get back into contact with her after she moved away or anything; just because he’s so obsessed with her that he wants to have the same career as her, then they can run a Mom & Pop Law Firm or something, years in the future, after years of happy marriage and a few children or like whatever the hell.

Well, there’s a few steps they’ll need to get to that. At this point Phoenix still hasn’t confessed his feelings for Leona. He does so here, on this beach.

Leona tries to protest.

Leona: But I’m pushy, selfish, and only care about my goals... You’d get fed up with me.

Phoenix: That’s what I’ve always admired about you. That’s who I’ve been chasing all these years. That’s the only person... I love.

Sooo, Phoenix, your type is pushy selfish people who only care about their goals...? In the first, older lower-quality video translation it was “only care about my work”, too. Hm. Things to think about.

They sing a little duet together. Then we go back to present-day of what’s technically still a flashback. Whatever. Murder is happening.

Back To The Murder

So some plot things to establish: Leona is the legal counsel of Governor Miller, who is running for president in the AMERICAN PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION. After the flashback so that Phoenix has some time to change clothes, they show an interview of him talking about the murder.

Governor Miller: I vow to forge a peaceful country with my own two hands, and to prepare myself for whatever may lie ahead.

Reporters: Through thick and thin, he’s a friend of the people!

The Takarazuka musicals are not very good at hiding their killers.

Phoenix: Oh yeah... It’s almost time for the presidential election, isn’t it?

NEVER FORGET, WRIGHT. THIS IS AMERICA. LAND OF THE FREE! god what even was that line.

Anyways, we meet Gumshoe, who is incompetent once again. Maya runs around the crime scene, picks up the murder weapon, puts her fingerprints all over everything, moves things around, all while Phoenix is like “lol get a load of the world’s stupidest girl” or whatever. But who cares about that.

It’s time to get to the only valid part of this musical.

Edgeworth’s Gay Little Villain Solo

You may have seen this one before.

Edgeworth arrives, but not really. It’s like Phoenix heard Edgeworth was prosecuting and immediately entered a dream-like state, where Edgeworth is heralded by the sound of trumpets in Great Revival. He’s played by a different actress than in the other two musicals, since I think she retired in between the six or so months from this musical to the second. She still plays the role well, though, or as well as can be when you’re written in an ace attorney Takarazuka musical.

Shrouded in scarlet solitude... it’s Edgeworth.

Yes, those are six Edgeworths. Yes, they pick Phoenix up and carry him around and dance with him. Yes, it was probably not meant to be at all homoerotic.

He sings a song that’s called “My rule”. I only figured this out later, but it’s loosely based on a “catchphrase” of his in the Japanese version - in game 1 he says something along the lines of “All I can do is get every defendant declared guilty! So I make that my policy.” In DD in his dramatic anime introduction before the trial, he says “I intend to question the defendant with all I have. For that is a part of my creed.” “So I make that my policy” and “For that is a part of my creed”, to my understanding, are both translated from the same line, which I think is like, “sore ga watashi no ruru”, “That is my rule.” (If I’m wrong, please correct me.) In this song he sings about how he’ll reduce all criminals to ash and such, basically talks about his game 1 prosecuting strategy as “my rule”. 

It’s very fun and probably if you want to only watch one number of this musical, it can be this one. It starts about 26:10 in the video I linked.

Once the musical number is done, Phoenix and Edgeworth stare at each other, and the background fades into the courtroom, so court begins. I feel like I should note that Phoenix has not picked up any evidence or talked to any witnesses in this investigation except for Gumshoe, since Maya just moved some things around and then Phoenix had some weird fever dream about Edgeworth which presumably took up the rest of the day.

The Trial, Day 1

Edgeworth: Consider it a prelude to the poignant Greek tragedy that’s about to unfold.

Maya: The real tragedy’s your pompous attitude!

Those are the only screenshots I took of this trial day. Here’s a summary, though:

The trial starts off with Leona confessing, Phoenix says “no I think she’s innocent”, and since ace attorney doesn’t care about the defendant’s wishes he’s allowed to proceed. For some reason Leona lets him do this without complaint. 

Gumshoe is the first witness, he claims to have caught Leona red-handed at the scene of the crime, standing over the corpse. Phoenix tries to claim that since Gumshoe didn’t see Leona committing the crime, he didn’t actually catch her red-handed, to which Edgeworth responds “What do you think being caught red-handed means?” 

Once Gumshoe is dismissed, Lotta takes the stand. She has a photo of the actual moment of the crime, where Leona is holding a knife in the air in front of the victim. 

The Takarazuka musicals like to do this thing where the image is blurry and zoomed out, but then Phoenix will go “I’VE NOTICED A CONTRADICTION” and it zooms in really far as the resolution increases drastically in order to show you the contradiction that is impossible to spot for yourself, because they don’t want people figuring out the mystery in this musical based off of a video game where you have to solve the mystery yourself. Anyways Phoenix zooms in on this photo and sees that there’s blood on Leona’s hand, presumably before she stabbed the victim. How did it get there?

Edgeworth suggests the victim was stabbed multiple times. Phoenix says the autopsy report contradicts that. Edgeworth, uncharacteristically, does not update it to suit his argument. 

Phoenix concludes that this photo is not showing the moment Leona stabbed the victim, but the moment Leona removed the knife! ... Which somehow casts doubt on her having been the one to stab the victim. Because as everyone knows, anyone wanting to kill someone would never remove a knife, it’s not like they’d bleed out faster that way, or anything.

And this whole contradiction is confusing because presumably if the victim was stabbed and then the knife was removed, they’d know that happened, because then the knife would not be found stuck in the victim’s body, since the victim was only stabbed once. So this shouldn’t be news to the prosecution that someone removed the knife after stabbing. But the investigation was headed by the most incompetent version of Gumshoe ever, so. sure. I guess no one knew.

That at least manages to extend the trial another day.

This Totally Has To Be Illegal

After the trial, Phoenix goes to talk to Governor Miller, aka Mr. Totally The Real Killer. Phoenix asks him why he decided to hire Leona as his legal advisor.

Basically, it’s because her parents were both renowned lawyers. Her father was a Chief Prosecutor, and her mother was a defense attorney. ... a prosecutor and a defense attorney couple... who does that remind us of...

Phoenix points out that just because her parents were good lawyers, it doesn’t mean she’d necessarily be one. Miller says that, sure, but she is actually really talented, and her law school marks were spectacular. Phoenix says “WHY WERE YOU LOOKING AT HER LAW SCHOOL MARKS”, like it’s somehow? suspicious? for a government official hiring legal counsel to look at their law school marks?

Apparently it IS suspicious because Governor Miller freaks out and asks if this is an interrogation. Before Phoenix can press much further, he gets a phone call, and leaves Phoenix alone in a big room.

So naturally Phoenix behaves like a fully grown adult running a law firm.

If all he did was sit in the chair, lift up a desk lamp, and poke his finger on a pen, that’s one thing. But then he leans over, OPENS THE GOVERNOR’S DESK DRAWER, and finds a knife that’s just sitting there casually. It looks like a butter knife. It’s not anything major. Maybe the dude just wanted to butter his toast?

I mean I know Phoenix will dig around in stuff whenever in the games, but he has no reason to suspect Governor Miller at all, much less dig through his drawer probably full of confidential government documents to lift up a knife that he thinks is suspicious. It’s not even covered in blood or anything?

Naturally Governor Miller’s assistant comes in just then, and Phoenix puts the knife. in his breast pocket. 

bud. It may look like a butter knife, but putting knives up against your chest is not a great idea. Much less stealing a knife from a governor? 

Well, in his panic, he accidentally knocks over a bunch of books on the desk. The governor’s assistant helps him pick them up, and they find a photo. Look a little familiar?

The photo has the assistant, the victim Robert Cole, Governor Miller, and the victim’s brother who died in an incident two years ago. He’s the “Neil Marshall” of this musical, and he died in what was essentially the SL-9 incident. Same general premise, except it occurred in the courthouse, and the names are different.

AND FINALLY WE REACH THE END OF ACT 1. They do a musical number here which is a weird sort of mashup of the main opening credits song, Edgeworth’s Villain Solo, and the love duet between Phoenix and Leona. They are all such different songs that it sounds a little weird.

ACT 2, FINALLY

The act begins on a sour note with Maya playing with the knife and showing off her characterization, which is one of the most infuriating Maya characterizations you’ll sometimes see around the fandom by people who don’t like Maya.

Maya: Let me whip up my special spirit channeler hamburgers!

sigh.

But then we’re saved (?) by the arrival of EDGEWORTH, who is presumably just here to chat. He asks Phoenix if he’s defending Leona in hopes of winning her back, then says to keep out of it, since it’s a very important case and he can’t understand the gravity of it.

Then Phoenix says this.

Phoenix: Would you be saying that if you were the one on trial? The defendant is in a dark prison, reaching out for hope... Can you imagine the loneliness and sorrow of being ostracized?

CAN YOU IMAGINE IT, EDGEWORTH? CAN YOU IMAGINE IF YOU WERE ON TRIAL AND I WAS THE ONLY ONE WHO WOULD DEFEND YOU AND BELIEVED IN YOUR INNOCENCE??

Edgeworth responds to this by essentially rehashing his speech in Turnabout Sisters about how he needs to find all defendants guilty because he can’t guarantee their innocence and all that. Maya gets upset and leaves so that Phoenix and Edgeworth can talk about their childhood in private.

Phoenix once again complains about how people change since nine years old.

Phoenix then says that he has something Edgeworth doesn’t: the POWER TO BELIEVE! Then Maya comes in and tries to spike Edgeworth’s coffee, so he leaves.

The Class Trial

Phoenix explains a bit about Edgeworth and his backstory to Maya. Namely, the class trial. Phoenix was accused of stealing lunch money, Edgeworth stood up for him, but instead of Larry, Leona stood up for him. I guess Suzuki Kei thought “oh the class trial, if Leona stood up for him, it would be so romantic, because she’s a woman, and he’s a man”, or something like that. 

Edgeworth wanted to become a Great Lawyer Like His Father! But then he turned cold as ice.

Phoenix: His father got too deeply involved in a case... and paid for it with his life. Edgeworth saw him murdered. He was never the same again. I bet he couldn’t forgive the criminal.

Yeah I bet he couldn’t ever forgive the person he thought killed his father all these years, Phoenix. I bet he really hates that person, Phoenix. I bet he has nightmares about that person killing his father or something, Phoenix.

Phoenix: He vanished, then returned without his mercy or compassion. He had become a monster. When he lost his father, he also lost the ability to believe in others.

So like... one of the most chilling things about this musical is that they never actually solve DL-6. This probably roughly takes place 15 years after DL-6, since they were about the same age when the class trial started, and at least Leona is 24 now. The next musical takes place three years from now, and in it, Edgeworth refers to von Karma as his mentor, implying he’s still around and doing things.

So, in addition to everything else going wrong with this musical, DL-6 still happens, but von Karma never frames Edgeworth for it fifteen years later. The statute of limitations runs out, and von Karma forever gets away with his crime. And Edgeworth has no idea.

What changes did they make to DL-6, though, you may ask? I’m desperate to know as well. In the third musical, which I’ve watched because I hate myself but am unable to fully understand because I don’t know much Japanese, there is a scene where Miles flashbacks to DL-6. It’s abstract, but he makes gun-throwing motions at Gregory, followed by a gunshot sound.

Therefore, in this musical’s internal canon, either Miles Edgeworth shot his father, or he believes he did for the rest of his life.

... moving on.

Phoenix: But he still has his humanity. It’s still there, deep down inside!

At least, if nothing else, Phoenix still believes in him. Even this Takarazuka Musical couldn’t touch that.

The Feenie Sweater

Right after this, Larry barges in, and Phoenix leaves him alone with Maya. The musical tries teasing Larry/Maya, but fortunately, Maya’s having none of it.

Maya: You’re barking up the wrong tree.

Props to this musical for not being as bad as it could have been.

After this, the two sit down on the couch, and Maya asks for more gossip on Phoenix and Leona. Larry launches into a story, which turns into a flashback that ends up being narrated by Phoenix halfway through. This one’s about Phoenix and Leona’s relationship.

This is an interesting line in here, “I’ll guide you to the future”, for it loosely referencing the sort of love ballad Phoenix sings with Lucia in the second musical which is about “I’ll take you to that radiant future”, and he later sings to the memory of Leona right around the time of his big spiral into despair.

I’m sorry if you haven’t read my other essay and just said “wait what” to what I just typed.

Leona was getting ready to move to New York to defend the weak “in the big city”. This is rather strange wording because it implies that California does not in fact have a big city. She says some things in her conversation with Phoenix that probably plant some of his later issues.

Leona: This is the first time we’ll be apart since we were kids.

Leona: We promised we’d always be together.

Leona: I’ll be waiting. Waiting for you to come to me.

Haha. Sure would be a shame... if something were to happen... and they wouldn’t be able to be together anymore...

So some dancers wearing black come in and take off their outer jackets, to symbolize the passage of time. They circle around Phoenix and Leona. In this, you can just barely see, Phoenix is wearing a pink sweater beneath his jacket.

“Oh,” I think to myself, “Is that the Feenie sweater? Are they including it here as a reference to the games?”

Then the dancers keep moving.

THAT IS NOT THE FEENIE SWEATER. That is a pink sweater with a sexily drawn woman on it.

This is the other half of the reason why I decided to go through with making this essay. 

This is so incredibly funny to me. Suzuki Kei Who Has Played The Games Seven Times has seen the hand-knit bright pink sweater with a giant red heart on it seven times. The sweater Iris, Phoenix’s girlfriend, lovingly knit for him that he wears all the time even though it is one of the tackiest, cheesiest items of clothing to ever exist. And so, when the costume designers were designing the clothes for College Phoenix Wright, they asked themselves: “Should we include the Feenie sweater?”

and “NO,” someone must have shouted, “NO, we can NOT include the Feenie sweater, it is PINK and it has a HEART on it and it’s TOO GIRLY. Phoenix Wright is a MANLY MAN. He would not EVER wear something PINK with a HEART on it.”

“BUT,” someone else said, “it’s a REFERENCE to the original games, where he DID wear a pink sweater with a heart on it! We MUST include it to pander to the fans!”

“WAIT,” a third person interjected. “I have a BRILLIANT IDEA. We can keep the pink... But to make it VERY CLEAR he is a heterosexual, masculine male... we put a sexy woman on it.”

And Person Three Got A Raise.

Thank god we’re finally halfway done this musical.

We Just Have To Go On With Our Lives Now

There’s plot or something happening. Leona breaks up with Phoenix inexplicably over the phone. Probably because of that freaking sweater. Imagine wearing that. God.

Eventually we go back to Phoenix talking to Leona, and he asks about the Jack Lyon case, which is the rip-off version of the Joe Darke case. Leona is pretty cagey about it, but Phoenix proves that she was there in the gallery that day. Leona refuses to answer, claims again that she killed the victim in her case, and leaves.

This makes Phoenix sad, so he starts singing.

Phoenix: I want to bring you back! I believe in you.

If this sounds familiar, it’s the part where I started absolutely losing my mind in the second musical because this line had never shown up before then, I’d forgotten it was in this musical, and Phoenix was screaming it alone in a red room, so I thought he was like desperately resorting to a necromancy ritual in hopes of bringing Leona back to life.

Instead, this line actually has CONTEXT, though it does just end up enforcing my theory. This is Phoenix mourning what he used to have with Leona, wanting to bring the “old her” back, because he’s devastated that people sometimes change. There are several flashbacks of their college days where he’s wearing his Sexy Woman Sweater. He does succeed in winning her back at the end of this musical. Before she dies, of course.

Phoenix in musical 2 still believes that he can bring back what he used to have with Leona... even beyond death. That’s something affirmed by this musical. I’m very grateful to it for somehow managing to enforce my nonsensical theory.

Doctor Ema

After this, Phoenix returns to his office, and meets with someone new.

That’s right! Only now, halfway through the musical, do we actually get to meet the Ema-equivalent to Leona’s Lana-equivalent. Her name is Monica Clyde. She has little rainbow heart stickers on her briefcase, which is the closest thing this musical has to acknowledging that gay people exist.

But what does this little briefcase contain, you may ask? Scientific investigation tools? No.

A full surgical toolset. Because you never know when someone’ll get sick, or when someone will need an entire operation in front of you. I guess.

So yes, Monica Clyde is not a forensic scientist in training, but a doctor! She decided to become a doctor because of her parents, who passed away of The Sickness, and so became a doctor in order to save lives like theirs.

Once more this has much darker and deeper implications than the musical is even aware of, because Monica is so anxious about treating sick people that she carries a full surgical toolset around with her at all times, scared to lose someone like she lost her parents... and then sometime in the next three years, Leona, her big sister, is going to die.

Of what? The strange Sickness that claimed her parents? A car accident? A botched spur-of-the-moment surgery? Whatever it is, Monica was unable to save her, even when she’d been training her entire life for it.

Monica is not mentioned at all throughout the second musical. It’s as if she does not exist.

Because unlike Ema of Rise From The Ashes, Monica is not at the heart of this story. She is, primarily, a plot device here to make Leona not trust Phoenix so that he can angst about their relationship. 

What a mess this world is.

The Trial, Part 2

Rather than try to prove Leona’s innocence, Phoenix wants to link the current case to not-SL-9, the Jack Lyon case. He does this by showing this picture.

Senator Cole, the victim, is in this picture. His younger brother whose name I’ve forgotten, the victim of not-SL-9, is also in this picture. They are brothers. It is apparently novel that they are in the same picture, and somehow makes their cases linked.

As well, Governor Miller is in the picture. I guess you could say like... Governor Miller’s legal counsel is the defendant, so that’s another link? Even though the Governor would presumably know a Senator, so this isn’t an unusual group. Right now Phoenix has absolutely nothing to prove that these two cases are linked other than “hey, these two victims are brothers”, but apparently it works. So they spend a lot of time talking about not-SL-9, since Leona has confessed to the murder on day 1 and there is absolutely nothing indicating that she can’t be immediately declared guilty.

They hid the fact that Monica was a hostage in this not-SL-9, meaning that some of the case records were forged. Here’s Edgeworth’s reaction when this comes out.

Edgeworth: This is an outrage! I’m the most influential prosecutor in America! There’s nothing I don’t know!

In RFTA, when Edgeworth learns he’d been using forged evidence to give a man the death penalty, he is devastated, his entire worldview is shaken, he sees himself as a monster who could end up becoming horribly corrupt if he isn’t stopped.

Musical Edgeworth goes “I DIDN’T KNOW SOMETHING???”

It’s certainly strange characterization, but I guess Edgeworth is further behind in his character arc than in RFTA, so... ugh. Fine. 

Phoenix calls Monica out as a witness to prove she was involved in the case. This causes Leona to panic, and try to dismiss Phoenix as her attorney, like Lana in RFTA, but Edgeworth interjects to call Monica in anyways. He and Phoenix have a little moment.

Edgeworth: You said to believe in others. I suppose I’ll try believing in you. Try to keep up.

Phoenix: Edgeworth!

So Monica comes to the stand to testify. We get to see this picture of Monica being held hostage, and not-Joe-Darke’s incredible eyeliner.

Lots of it is very similar to the actual RFTA, except instead of the victim being stabbed on the knight with the giant knife, he’s instead stabbed with a regular old knife. Leona still refuses to admit to what really happened, until Edgeworth convinces her to believe in Phoenix.

Edgeworth: Your attorney is a runaway train with a one-track mind. Yet he placed all of his faith in you. Believe in him. You owe him that much.

Leona testifies, and says that when she found the victim, he was stabbed with a scalpel.

Here is where things get weird.

Scalpels Can’t Kill People

So basically earlier in this trial, they talk about how Leona knew that the knife that stabbed the victim was double-edged despite being buried in his chest. The judge questions if this means Leona killed him, but Phoenix is quick to say no, she was searched when she entered the courthouse and couldn’t have concealed a knife.

Yet, Monica was able to bring in her surgical toolkit which contains several sharp knives, scalpels, scissors, etc.

This is the first major contradiction.

Leona continues to say that when she found Monica, and the scalpel stabbed in the victim, she also ran into Governor Miller, who if you haven’t been able to tell yet is the Gant-equivalent of this musical. He offered to help her with the cover-up, etc.

The next bit goes a lot like RFTA. Phoenix accuses Governor Miller, who barges in, says Phoenix has the decisive evidence in his pocket. This is the “butter knife” that Phoenix took from his office when he dug around in confidential documents and stole it for no particular reason. It has Monica’s fingerprints on it! ... And Phoenix’s and Maya’s too probably because they were handling it without gloves, but they don’t mention that part.

Leona cries about how she shouldn’t have trusted Phoenix because he was apparently now blaming Monica, Monica looks terrified, she and Leona have some good sister moments but it’s not as good as it could be if the story was actually about Leona and Monica like how RFTA was about Lana and Ema. But Phoenix has the decisive piece of evidence that can turn this around.

It is this:

Phoenix: Scalpels are made for medical incisions, not stabbings. So how did it stab the victim?

...

...

...

... What?

So like. Yes, scalpels are made for medical incisions. Medical incisions often involve cutting through flesh, very easily. As a result, they are sharp. Extremely sharp. As in: their purpose is literally to stab people, very specifically.

Yes, they’re easier to control, so that surgeons don’t regularly stab people how they’re not supposed to be stabbed, but it’s not like, impossible to stab someone in a killing way with a scalpel? Admittedly, I have never tried to kill someone using a scalpel. And I do not have experience using a scalpel for surgeries because I am not a surgeon. But I’m pretty sure, if you take a sharp scalpel, and you stab someone in the chest with it with a reasonable amount of force... they die.

Like, is this a particular kind of scalpel that is not very sharp? Is the problem that the blade doesn’t match up with the initial wound? But even then, we don’t have the original unforged autopsy report or even a picture, so how would Phoenix know what the original wound looked like to say it didn’t match up? And even then why wouldn’t Phoenix say that instead of SCALPELS CAN’T STAB PEOPLE???

This is his decisive contradiction and it makes ABSOLUTELY NO SENSE TO ME!!!

Well Darn I Guess Scalpels Can’t Kill People

This is such a decisive piece of evidence, that scalpels can’t kill people, coming from the man who thought “caught red-handed” does not involve being caught standing over a corpse with blood on your hands, that it causes Governor Miller to confess.

Unlike Gant, who created the murder with Neil Marshall both to ensure that there was decisive evidence to convict Joe Darke, a serial killer who had not left any decisive evidence behind, and gain control over the prosecutor’s office in order to pull similar stunts to get criminals convicted using false evidence, Governor Miller does not have that as his motive. After all, he’s not a police officer. Instead, he ended up accidentally killing not-Joe-Darke, and then set up the incident in order to get Leona on his side. As her parents were both influential lawyers and very respectable, having her and her parents’ reputation on his side could help him become President of America Where This Takes Place.

So, let’s just take a moment to run over some of the things that made the original Rise From The Ashes great, in my opinion. Just for fun.

1 - The heart of the story between the Skye sisters. Lana closing off to protect Ema, Ema wanting to get through to her sister and get back to the way things used to be. Phoenix, in this story, is more of a bystander to this plotline rather than in the heart of it himself.

2 - Edgeworth’s Character Development. Basically RFTA creates an interesting transition between Turnabout Goodbyes and JFA. It causes Edgeworth to re-evaluate everything he knows about being a prosecutor. So quickly on the heels of Turnabout Goodbyes, it crushes the last bit of hope in him. It compares him to Gant, who also hates criminals, and forces him to wonder if his hatred of crime will one day lead to him being a criminal himself. He’s already convicted one person on forged evidence; how many others could there be?

3 - The Ends Justify The Means. ... wait come back, don’t leave. What I found neat about this case was also Gant’s motive. At one point he was presumably an honest person who hated crime and wanted to stop criminals. But over time in the police force, he became corrupted. He wanted to have all criminals convicted. So what do you do when you don’t have the evidence to convict them? Joe Darke was a serial killer who has killed several people and may have killed more if he’d gone free. The only way to stop and convict him was by using forged evidence. Other criminals could hide evidence to get away with their crimes, so people like Gant would make it up to catch them; but then when do you stop? What happens if there’s no evidence because someone is truly innocent? When does the line between “this person is a criminal and I want to stop them” and “I just want to convict everyone I’m dealing with” become blurred? This is also something he shares with Edgeworth and helps to advance his character.

All three of these things are either lessened or outright ignored in this musical. Leona and Monica’s story takes a backseat to Phoenix and Leona’s Love Story, with Monica only showing up halfway through, and mainly as an excuse as to why Leona is withdrawn. Edgeworth doesn’t seem to blame himself for the forged evidence he used, and doesn’t have a crisis questioning his morality over it. And Governor Miller’s motive is purely power. Unlike Gant, who would have become Chief of Police whether he solved SL-9 or not, Miller needed Leona to win the presidency. And instead of asking her to help him with his campaign like a normal person, he just blackmailed her instead.

... How do you play the games seven times and miss this much?

The Case Finally Ends

god. we’re almost there.

The case ends, Leona is declared not guilty but will still face trial for covering up murders and such. Probably less of a sentence than Lana because she was not involved in ongoing police corruption? Either way she’s dead in three years, so she’s got something a bit more concerning coming up.

She’s led away. Phoenix sings a bit about Leona before being interrupted by Edgeworth... who has something important to tell him.

Edgeworth: You awakened within me those once-cherished emotions I had discarded. I see visions of a distant, nostalgic past.

So basically this is the unnecessary feelings of the musical. Something along the lines of “seeing you again and fighting for my former ideals is making me question many things about myself.”

How does Phoenix respond?

Phoenix: Edgeworth... Try talking normally for a chance.

Sure, we were all thinking it, but that’s a little cold, Phoenix.

Edgeworth tries a smooth recovery.

Edgeworth: I don’t do... idle chit-chat.

This doesn’t accomplish much. So he leaves to allow Leona to visit with Phoenix alone. He’s got to go change for something more important coming up.

Leona and Phoenix decide that they’re going to get back together once Leona is done her sentence! They make a promise that is very funny if you know she’ll be dead in three years.

Phoenix: I’ll be waiting. For you.

There are a lot of hugs here, I’m not screencapping them all. There are also several moments where their faces get very close together and like, their nose brushes the other’s cheek or something, but they never actually kiss. Is it because the actresses weren’t comfortable with it (valid), or they thought kissing would be too much for the musical (sure, whatever), or since both characters are played by women the show staff did not want two women kissing on stage (probably the real answer)? I don’t like watching kisses, but I kept bracing myself for one and then it never happened, so.

Phoenix ends the main part of the musical with one last musical number starring my personal favourite piece:

Phoenix: I want to bring you back! I believe in you.

I like to think that at this point, this is present-day Phoenix, after finishing his reminiscing, still desperately wishing he could bring Leona back from death.

But alas, he cannot. And so, after one last daydream of them dancing together on the beaches of California, singing about their love, the musical ends.

Dance Time!

This starts at exactly the two hour mark, if you’re interested in watching what is, once again, one of the only fun parts of this musical.

Seriously, Edgeworth’s actress kills it here, when I first saw this I went “oh, this is why I saw so many people being gay for her on twitter.”

Edgeworth’s song is an encore of “My Rule”, so it’s lots of fun. Afterwards Phoenix gets another fun piece.

Then we get to the love ballad part, which I can probably overanalyze, I feel like I haven’t done enough ridiculous over-analyzing in this essay in comparison to the other.

Uhhh so the fog represents how Phoenix feels lost in this world without Leona. You can see it in the second screenshot separating the two of them, representing the barrier of death between the two of them. Idk it’s midnight I’m getting worn out from having to think about this musical for so long.

But his mourning over Leona’s death becomes even more apparent in the credits, where Phoenix sings that one line again:

Phoenix: I want to bring you back! I believe in you.

I’m not fixing that screenshot, I think it’s oddly fitting, in a way. That’s me right now.

Then at the very end, he sings this song.

Phoenix: I’ll spend... this eternal life... soaring through... the heavens!

Technically, this refers to his name Phoenix, but let’s dig a little deeper. He spends the rest of his life soaring through the heavens... the heavens that Leona went to after her untimely death, perhaps?

Overall, the musical becomes much more interesting when you just see it as a prequel to the second musical. This musical establishes many core concepts of Phoenix’s character: his refusal to believe in the concept of things changing, for one, and also his extreme dependency on Leona who he was never separated from since they were kids and where he based his entire life around her dreams and ideals. All he can think about is her. And in the end, he promises to wait for her in California.

Yet, to paraphrase Miles Edgeworth, all that is waiting for him is her death. Their dream of opening up a Mom & Pop Law Firm will never come true.

Thanks again for bearing with me even though this wasn’t as funny!

[olivinesea]

A Mixed Blessing

Chapter List

chapter five: swallow the sun

a/n: Sorry about this one, just know I feel fairly guilty and also there will be some happiness somewhere down the line. Just not here. Warnings: substance use, abuse & violence, vomit, suicidal thoughts…no, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Too deep in it to turn back now. ~5.5k

The first thing Aaron noticed was how very dry his mouth was. He tried to swallow but his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth. With significant determination, he lifted his hand, heavy and prickling as if the blood had pooled, to scratch the tip of his nose. He sighed at the immediate relief it brought. On their own accord, his fingers moved to address another itch, this one on the side of his neck. He hummed at the sensation brought on by the feeling of his fingernails dragging against his skin. Never before had scratching an itch felt so good, he was sure of it. He heard a voice mutter beside him. Turning his head, he saw Cole stretched out on the bed next to him.

“Hmm?” He hadn’t understood the muffled syllables.

“I said stop that,” he said, waving his hand in Aaron’s direction, like he wanted to grab him but couldn’t quite reach.

Only half listening, his attention caught up elsewhere, Aaron wasn’t sure what he meant and didn’t much care either. He moved his hand down to scratch at his shoulder, drawn by the bit of skin exposed by his shirt collar. Cole finally managed to make contact, shoving Aaron’s shoulder, knocking his hand away.

“You’re just going to make it worse,” he explained, words slow and thick.

Grudgingly Aaron dropped his hand to his side, but his fingers continued to twitch. His mind felt cloudy and he tried to remember what he had been doing. How long had he been laying here? He pushed himself up into a sitting position. His head swam and a wave of nausea washed over him. He closed his eyes, leaning with palms pressed against his knees, trying to gather his thoughts. Inhaling slowly through his nose, all he could think about was the damp mildew smell of the garage, of how much he disliked it and the way it felt like mold was trying to colonize his airways.

“What time is it?”

“Fuck if I know,” Cole replied with a laugh.

Aaron rubbed his face, he needed to get home. Home seemed so far away but he needed to make it back before his father got up for work. He gritted his teeth and tried to push himself up off the mattress. Cole’s hand shot out, wrapping tightly around his wrist, holding him in place. He looked down at it, the edges of his skin whitening beneath the pressure. His heart beat faster.

“I have to go,” he tried to say, but his voice wasn’t cooperating. The words came out wispy and thin.

Cole smiled, eyes still closed. “Happy birthday, Aaron.”

Aaron blushed, opening his mouth, but failing to make any sound. Cole let go, stretching both arms above his head, humming with contentment. Aaron’s arm tingled where Cole had gripped it, his skin resuming its normal color as the blood rushed back into place.

“Now get out of here.”

Aaron nodded, still unable to speak. There was far too much happening around him, between the lights and the smell and the touch lingering on his arm, still confused about what had happened but clinging to the peace he had felt. He didn’t have time to process what he was feeling, his only focus was the need to get home. He managed to stand up, his legs unsteady as he stumbled to the door, pulling it up only enough to fit under. Before ducking down, he looked back at Cole, still sprawled out on the bed. Thank you, he wanted to say, but he wasn’t sure if the words actually came out.

The walk home was difficult, stumbling into lamp posts and tripping over uneven sidewalk in the freezing midnight air. Eventually he made it, up the stairs and into his room without incident. He undressed, shedding his clothes directly onto the floor. A problem for tomorrow. With his last reserve of energy he climbed into bed, pulling the blankets up to his chin, teeth chattering as he shivered, sweat beading at his temples. He curled onto his side and wrapped his hand around his wrist, holding it where Cole had grabbed him, pulling it against his chest as he closed his eyes and tried to remember every detail of how it had felt. He rubbed his face against his pillow, squeezing his wrist tighter. He fell asleep like that, holding his own hand, pretending it was someone else.

~

The sun filtering in through his window forced Aaron awake. His head was throbbing and he felt a hollowness in the pit of his stomach. Groaning, he rolled over to block out the light. He could hear Sean’s little footsteps running down the hallway, nearing his door. He closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep, hoping it would be enough to get Sean to leave him alone. The door creaked as it opened slightly.

“Aaron?” his brother stage whispered.

Aaron didn’t move though anxiety spiked through his chest.

“Mom says it’s time for you to get up.”

Aaron felt bile rising in the back of his throat.

“Aaron?” A little louder this time, his shrill child’s voice piercing through Aaron’s skull. “Mom says—” He was startled when Aaron suddenly jumped up, pushing past him as he raced for the bathroom.

He barely fumbled the lock into place behind him before falling on his knees and throwing up into the toilet. He felt a strange surge of contentment as it happened, relief as the limited contents of his stomach left his body. He leaned back against the cool porcelain of the tub, forehead flushed with sweat. It felt like he had a fever but also like his skin was buzzing pleasantly. Outside, Sean was banging on the bathroom door.

“Aaron?” he sounded on the verge of tears.

“I’m fine, Sean.” His ragged voice contradicted the assurance, throat raw from dehydration and sickness. He heard a sniffle and sighed. “I’m just going to take a shower, I’ll be down soon.” He felt out of breath, so many words taking a toll. He leaned his head between his knees, another wave of nausea threatening to overtake him. There were some unintelligible sounds from the other side of the door and then, further away, Sean calling for their mother as he ran downstairs.

Aaron reached behind himself, fumbling for the taps, knowing that he needed to get moving. There was no way his mother would let him stay home, he’d learned that well enough. Plus he didn’t want to answer any questions, didn’t feel up to enduring her accusatory looks. She knew enough about what her son was getting into to be suspicious of any sudden illness. She would never say anything to him directly, but she knew how to make him uncomfortable, how to let him know his behavior was unwelcome. Besides, if he went to school he could see Cole, the only person he really wanted to see anyway. He had questions, very important questions.

When the water was hot, he climbed in, his whole body shivering its confusion at the conflicting temperatures. His skin felt chilled while his insides burned, the headache had worked its way from the back to the front of his skull. He braced his hand against the tiled wall and turned his face into the spray. Eyes closed, he could almost feel the bliss of the night before, when everything around him faded away and he was left with a rush of warmth and the softness of oblivion holding him. He’d give anything to have that feeling again.

Aaron didn’t even make it through second period, by nine a.m. his anxiety had built to an intolerable degree. He needed to talk to Cole. His heart, its rhythm fluctuating wildly from racing to non-existence, felt like it was going to burst any moment. He lurched out of his seat and towards the door, a half formed excuse about needing the restroom barely leaving his lips. The teacher snorted, watching him leave, then returned to her lesson, not giving a second thought to it. He wasn’t her problem, let the truancy officers deal with that one.

He found Cole smoking behind the portables, just as he had the first time months ago. Cole didn’t look any worse for wear, certainly not sick in the way Aaron was. When he gave him that same infuriating smile, as if he knew something, some secret that he wasn’t sharing, Aaron felt a surge of resentment. It overwhelmed his usual hesitation, his deference to the older boy. He was always waiting on a signal from him, waiting for an invitation. This time he grabbed Cole’s arm and dragged him away from the group. Cole laughed, shaking him off but reaching a hand out to steady him at the same time. Aaron’s balance hadn’t quite returned.

“What’s up kid?” he asked, letting go once it seemed like he wouldn’t fall over.

Aaron gave him a dark look. “What did you give me last night? Was that…what was that?”

“What do you think?” Cole raised an eyebrow, daring him to say it.

Aaron grimaced. “Heroin?”

“Bingo.”

“Isn’t that—should we be doing that?”

Cole shrugged. “Well, did you like it?”

Hesitantly, Aaron nodded.

“Want to do it again?”

Aaron’s breath caught at the intense rush of desire, the absolute certainty that he wanted to do it again. Would do anything to make that to happen.

“Yes, please,” his voice cracked, hating the way it felt like he was begging.

~

They fell into an uneasy routine. Cole insisted he could only get high like that once a week, though he complained about being treated like a child. After seeing how sick it made him, he agreed it made the most sense to keep it to the weekends, when Aaron could disappear for a couple days without anyone calling to say he was missing school and his father was generally too inebriated to note whether he came home or not. He spent the whole week anxiously thinking about it, blowing through packs of cigarettes and joint after joint, trying to manage the rising anticipation of the high that was coming. The gnawing expectation of returning to that place, where no one and nothing mattered, where he didn’t exist.

He refused to admit to himself that the high was always a little bit disappointing. The rush was there, the relief after days of waiting, of unconsciously picking at scabs until they bled, of being too anxious to eat. He was losing weight but no one noticed, he was never that solid to begin with. But beyond that, he was always left craving more. Maybe if he just did a little more he could find what he was looking for. He started to bug Cole about adding another day, dipping into the supply twice a week. He didn’t know where Cole was buying the drugs so he couldn’t get them on his own, otherwise he would have. He might have been nervous about it at first but he was invested now. Nothing he’d tried before had given him that same sense of relief.

Cole snapped at him after he’d asked one time too many. He threatened to take it away entirely, telling Aaron he was too attached, that he needed to calm down. Aaron felt like he’d been stung, retreating into himself, refusing speak to Cole for several days. Not until Friday rolled around again at least, then he was back, as eager as ever, ready to say whatever he needed to convince Cole to share that way out with him again.

Alongside his increasingly frequent clashes with Cole, things were getting tenser at home. School had been calling relentlessly, asking why he was missing so much class. Every time he came home he was met with yelled accusations, with blows that did nothing to change his behavior. He started coming home later and later, hoping to avoid his father entirely. It worked for awhile, sneaking into the house well after dark, sleeping in his closet so it wasn’t obvious he’d come home. It worked so well in fact that he thought he’d solved the problem and he got careless with his precautions.

It was a night when he came back earlier than usual, having argued with Cole again about something trivial that was really an argument about drugs. He wasn’t thinking straight, still caught up in his irritation that Cole wouldn’t take him seriously, wouldn’t trust that he knew his own limits. He was climbing the stairs, too stoned and angry to be cautious. A large hand wrapped around his neck just as he reached the top of the stairs. He looked up startled, red eyes blearily taking in the form of his father. His nerves were too dulled to panic. In fact, this moment made a lot of sense to him. It was the obvious outcome if he had cared to look ahead at all. He coughed as the hand tightened, cutting into his airway.

“What do you think you’re doing?” his father asked.

Aaron tried to shake his head, grabbing at the fingers holding him in place, trying to pry them off.

“Did you know the cops came looking for you today?” He sounded almost conversational, the faint scent of bourbon the only detail giving away his insobriety.

Aaron had a hard time understanding what he was talking about, too focused on getting air into his lungs.

“And do you know what they said to me, when I told them I didn’t know where my delinquent son was?” His grip tightened, rendering Aaron’s struggles useless as he tried and failed to twist away. “They said without a properly excused reason for absence, they would hold me, me, responsible if you didn’t start attending school regularly.”

He laughed and the sound was cold and terrifying. He leaned in close to Aaron’s face. “Let’s give you a reason to miss school, shall we?”

He released his grip, tossing Aaron backwards as he did so. His eyes were emotionless as he watched his son crash down the wooden staircase. Only a slight hint of disgust was visible as he brushed his hand off on his pant leg. The sound brought his mother flying out of her bedroom, looking over the railing, horrified at the unnatural shape Aaron’s body was now making.

He was dazed but not unconscious, staring at the ceiling once again. How many times had he been in this position? He couldn’t even feel his body, didn’t register any pain. When his mother came down the stairs, anxiously tapping his cheek to try to get him to focus on her, his eyes slid away from her face, looking at the ring on her finger, the thing that tied her to this monster pretending to be human. He felt his own fingers, no ring there, no reason to stay. Distantly he heard crying and wondered why anyone would cry over him.

Sean had also been woken up by the noise. The little boy tried to come to Aaron’s side, but his mother waved him back, still looking at Aaron with concern. He hadn’t moved but that was mostly because he didn’t want to, not because he couldn’t. She didn’t know that. He realized it was Sean crying. This stirred an emotion somewhere deep inside his chest. Perhaps that was why he kept coming home—he loved Sean. Or he had. He didn’t feel much anymore except a desire to get high and an annoyance when he wasn’t. It was better that way. Other emotions were painful, only reminded him what a failure he was, how much he lacked. Sean was far better off without him, it was best to let him realize these things now. Still, he could hear fear in Sean’s sobs and he didn’t need to be that cause of that. There were enough other reason for him to be afraid within these walls.

Feeling guilty he tried to move, tried to rearrange himself into a less horrifying position. His ribs screamed at him as he unfolded his legs, untwisted his body. He swore, the sudden pain almost whiting out his vision. Sean whimpered.

“‘m okay,” he tried to reassure the little boy but he looked far from it. His mother, still hovering nearby, tried to help him up but only made him cry out as her hand put pressure against his side. She nervously looked up at her husband, still watching this scene from the top of the stairs, dispassionate and unimpressed.

“We have to take him to the hospital,” she pleaded.

Aaron felt like he was going to be sick, the pain, once he became aware of it, was building. A pressure in his head made him certain he would throw up if the lights got any brighter so he squeezed his eyes closed.

“Do whatever you want, he’s not my problem.” His father turned away, slamming the door to the bedroom. The sound made everyone flinch.

“Can you get up?” his mother asked. Aaron inhaled deeply and instantly regretted it, the expansion of his lungs making his ribs creak. Instead of wasting air on an answer, he pushed off the bottom stair slowly, using the banister to pull himself upright. He was hunched over, unable to completely straighten out, panting in much shallower breaths.

“Okay, okay, let me just get my keys,” she brushed her fingers through his hair lightly. He only turned his face away from her, focusing all his energy on not falling down. He didn’t think he’d be able to get up a second time.

“Sean, go back to bed,” she directed. Sean whined, wanting to come along, to make sure his brother was going to be okay. But she wasn’t listening, she was already moving around the house, getting a coat and shoes, finding her purse. He came down the remaining steps to where Aaron was standing and leaned against his thigh.

Aaron gritted his teeth. “Don’t—just listen to mom, buddy. We’ll be back soon. Just go back to bed.”

Sean grabbed the fabric of his pants, shaking his head and rubbing his runny nose into Aaron’s leg in the process.

“Please, Sean,” Aaron whispered, trying to hold his temper but every movement was painful, was asking too much of ability to remain balanced on two feet. “I promise I’m ok, it was just an accident.”

Sean looked up at him, suspicious but also young enough to want to believe. He’d been told repeatedly since he could understand: always tell the truth. There was no reason to think adults played by different rules. Aaron tried to smile, unsure how successful he was.

“I’m okay,” he repeated, mostly for his own benefit.

“Can I sleep in your bed?” Sean asked.

Aaron rolled his eyes, wanting to say no but not wanting to extend the discussion further. “Sure, get it warm for me okay?”

Sean nodded reluctantly and turned, cautiously making his way up the stairs, never letting go of the railing, as if he too might find himself crumpled in a heap at the bottom of the stairs. As if it had really been an accident that they were all equally in danger of experiencing.

~

Once his mother had explained to the nurses how he had crashed his bike riding home in the dark, and he had numbly nodded along with the story, there was a flurry of activity around him. The doctor shined a sickeningly bright light into his pupils, palpated the sore places on his side, had him demonstrate that all his major joints were operational. They wrapped his broken ribs tightly and gave him an ice pack to hold against his throbbing temple. If anyone noticed the lack of abrasions consistent with road rash no one mentioned it. He was wearing long sleeves after all. The doctor talked to him sternly about the importance of wearing a helmet and told him how lucky he was to have only sustained such relatively minor injuries.

Aaron wasn’t listening, was just doing his best not to stare at the bottle in the doctor’s hand. He couldn’t keep his eyes off the label so he stared down at his hands instead, fingers twisting together nervously. He could only read half the words printed there, the other half obscured by the doctors age-spotted hand, but he was fairly certain he knew what it was. He tried to listen enough to nod when it was appropriate, mumbling an apology and promising to make better choices in the future.

“Now, you’re going to be in a bit of pain for the next couple weeks so I’m giving you a prescription for oxycodone. Have you ever taken that before?”

Aaron bit his lip and shook his head slightly, wincing as he felt his brain slosh from side to side. “No, sir, I haven’t.”

“Well, it’s pretty strong stuff so make sure you follow the instructions. Don’t take more than it says or you’ll find yourself feeling pretty sick; okay, son?”

Aaron fought the urge to say something rude, annoyed by the way the doctor was addressing him. He needed that bottle of pills though, this was no time to start picking fights. “Yessir,” he mumbled.

“Good boy,” the doctor patted his knee and looked over at his mother who was anxiously watching from a chair by the door. “You’ve got a very polite kid here Mrs. Hotchner, you must be raising him right.”

Aaron’s eyes were fixed on the bottle still in the doctor’s hand. He thought it would probably be a mistake to reach out and grab it but he was growing impatient. He could only sustain the model son act for so long, especially after the last few hours. He dropped his eyes when the doctor turned back to him.

“Here why don’t you take one of these now, it’ll help with the trip home no doubt.” He popped the cap off and grabbed Aaron’s hand, shaking one out into his palm while calling to a nurse to bring a cup of water.

Aaron stared at the pill, feeling excitement racing through his veins, finally he’d have control over his high. His hand shook a little and the doctor misread what he was seeing.

“Don’t worry, it will probably just make you a little sleepy. Nothing to be concerned about.” He held out a cup of water. Aaron popped the pill into his mouth before accepting, washing it down and feeling smug satisfaction wash through him as well. The doctor traded the cup for the bottle of pills and patted his knee again before leaving, wishing his mother a pleasant evening. When he was gone, Aaron and his mother’s eyes met. He could see she was hesitant about the pills and he wrapped his hand around the bottle tighter. No one was going to take this from him, he’d earned it as far as he was concerned.

She sighed, unwilling to argue about it right then. “Let’s go home, Aaron.”

He slid off the table to follow her, his steps only slightly faltering, buoyed by the key he now held.  

~

It didn’t take long for Cole to find out about the pills. After Aaron didn’t show up at school for several days and, more alarmingly, didn’t turn up on Friday, he went to the Hotchner house looking for him. Though he knew where Aaron lived, he had never been there. No one was out front and he knew better than to ring the doorbell. Instead, he walked around the side and found him behind the house, stretched out on a bench, one arm dangling in the grass, the other covering his eyes.

“What the fuck?”

Aaron looked at him sleepily. “Huh?”

“Where have you been Hotchner?”

Aaron shrugged, sitting up warily. “I fell down.” He didn’t elaborate.

Cole snorted. “What are you even talking about?”

Aaron rubbed his nose, alleviating the ever-present itch on the tip of it.

“Do you know what day it is?”

All he got in response was a blank stare.

“Are you fucking high?” Cole sounded shocked, like he couldn’t believe Aaron would be capable of such a thing on his own. This needled Aaron’s pride, deeply annoyed by this persistent belief that he’d had no experience on his own, like he hadn’t figured things out for years without any help from Cole or anyone else. It was like Cole believed he was some innocent and, worse, he preferred Aaron in that role. Never questioning, always being led into things, as if he couldn’t make his own decisions. As if it wasn’t, in reality, Aaron seeking him out.

“What if I am?” he spat back. Cole had moved right in front of him so he stood up, disappointed that he was still several inches shorter.

“Are you stealing from me?” Cole’s voice was icy and sent an unwelcome flash of fear through Aaron. He tried to pretend it didn’t affect him, putting on a show of disinterest.

“Why would I? I don’t need your shit.”

“Liar,” Cole countered. “Where did you get it then?”

Aaron sank down on the bench again, he was too high to fight. He had been having a pleasant afternoon, everyone gone, just him and his pills and the sky. “The doctor,” he muttered, pulling the bottle from his pocket without thinking, “I cracked a couple ribs.”

Cole stared at him for a second, understanding passing between them, before snatching the bottle from Aaron.

“Hey!” He jumped up, furious. “Give that back.”

“What? I share with you all the time and you were just going to keep this to yourself? How’s that fair?”

Aaron faltered, caught by the logic of the argument, maybe he should have thought to share but the idea had never even crossed his mind. Still, they were his, he could do what he wanted, he was the one in pain after all. He tried a different tactic. “Please, I need them. It’s…it really does hurt.” He didn’t like to admit it, it made the high less enjoyable, tied it too closely to the nightmare in his home.

Cole’s eyes sparkled, he could tell he had the upper hand again, was back in the position he preferred. Irritated, Aaron tried to grab the bottle back but Cole was too fast, lifting his arm out of Aaron’s reach.

“Uh-uh, I think you need to learn a lesson about sharing.”

“Cole,” Aaron warned. This wasn’t a game to him. He could feel rage beginning to boil inside him.

Unaware, Cole laughed at him. “And what are you going to do about it?”

Furious and unthinking, Aaron shoved him hard with both hands, knocking him backwards. He tripped and landed on his back, the bottle slipping out of his hand as he tried to catch himself. Aaron breathed hard, the muscles in his side had pulled painfully at his broken ribs and the pain was making him see stars. Before he could recover, Cole was back on his feet and approaching him.

“They’re mine,” he said, as if that explained everything, as if that would fix the anger that had clouded Cole’s face. He took a couple steps back but he didn’t move fast enough. Cole swung his fist and it connected with Aaron’s jaw with a loud crack. He stumbled to the side, barely catching himself before he took another hit. His cheekbone burned with the impact, his ears were full of the brittle sound of his struggling lungs. His knees folded under him and he found himself on all fours in the dirt. He wheezed, trying to breathe around the pain in his ribs. Just out of reach he saw the prescription bottle and moved just enough to grab it. As soon as it was in his hand he scrambled to his feet, half bent over, free hand wrapped around his ribs. Cole watched him, anger fading but still not pleased with what he was seeing. Aaron probed his face, exploring the way his lip was swelling, the trace of blood running down his chin. He looked at Cole, betrayed.

“Fuck you,” he whispered, before turning and walking away, praying he wouldn’t be followed.  

He didn’t know where he was going at first but found himself back at an old hiding place by the river. The tree with the tall roots that had cradled him so often when he would sneak away to make himself sick off his father’s alcohol. He sank down and, against his own wishes, cried. He hated himself more with every tear. He should never have trusted Cole in the first place. This situation was his own fault. How could he have believed someone cared about him? That someone wanted to spend time with him because they liked him as a person, not just a thing to get something from, a thing to be pushed around when he wouldn’t give them what they wanted. Now that thin illusion was broken and he had nothing left. He’d let this friendship, this experiment overtake everything else in his life. He’d pushed away what little he’d had to focus his energy on holding on to this, wrapping himself up in the high. The drug high, sure, but more than that, the high of attention and believing someone else understood him. But it had never been real and he should have known that.

He considered the bottle of painkillers, an idea floating up, whispering sweetly, promising a solution to the mistakes he’d let himself make. A way to erase the sting of realizing he was not and would never be anyone worth caring for. That would be the ultimate trick, one that no one would anticipate before it was too late. Carefully he poured out a handful. Took one. Took another. And another. He put a fourth one in his mouth but found he couldn’t make it go down. He held it there, tasting the bitterness as it began to dissolve. A wave of regret forced him to spit the pill out into his hand. Maybe today wasn’t the day, maybe he would just enjoy the high for now. He could always make that decision later, he had the means available. He leaned back and let the effect of the pills he’d swallowed pull him away from himself. Within moments he fell asleep, bottle clutched in one hand, the sticky pill, coated in dirt, in the other.

He was shaken awake roughly, someone calling his name. Trying to ignore it, he squeezed his eyes tightly, not wanting to wake up, to come up from the dark waters he’d been pleasantly floating in. Fingers snapped close to his ear and he flinched. Reluctantly he slit his eyes open. Cole was there.

“Leave me alone.” He tried to roll over, away from him. Cole pulled him back roughly.

“How many did you take Aaron?”

“What do you care?” His words were slurred, tongue lazy.

“Of course I fucking care,” Cole sounded exasperated and, though Aaron wasn’t sure he was interpreting the emotion correctly, worried. Finally he opened his eyes all the way to glare at the other boy, sullen. He licked his lips where he could still taste blood. Cole reached to touch his face and Aaron recoiled hard, hitting his head on the tree trunk. He yelped, the pain ricocheting through his skull. Cole’s hand still hung in the air between them. He looked disappointed.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice low.

Surprised, Aaron looked at him again. This time he remained still, let Cole touch his face, touch the bruises, run his finger over the dried blood in the corner of his mouth.

“I didn’t mean to.”

They were very close now, so close Aaron could feel Cole’s exhale as he spoke travel across his cheeks. He held his breath and clenched his fists, crushing the partially dissolved pill still in his palm. Vaguely he noticed his other hand was empty. Just as he was about to look for the bottle, eyes darting to the ground, he felt Cole’s lips, pressed against his mouth. Shocked, he tried to make sense of everything, of how close he was, of the warmth, of the way the pressure caused the edges of his teeth to cut into his skin.

Cole pulled back, seeming to be as surprised as Aaron felt. They were frozen, tension holding them in place. Before he could form a complete thought about it, Aaron grabbed his shirt collar and pulled him back, crashing against each other. The tension shattered into an angry, clumsy struggle, all teeth and crushed noses. Cole was pulled off balance and knelt, one hand braced on the tree above Aaron’s head, one hand around the back of his neck. Aaron’s hands, gritty with dirt, wrapped in his shirt, holding on desperately, afraid Cole would leave the moment he let go. The kissing was rough and it made the bruise on his jaw ache, his broken ribs burn, but he needed this. Far more than he wanted to admit, he needed someone else’s touch to prove he was wanted, that he belonged. And for that kind of reassurance, he’d accept any touch at all.

chapter six

[pluviophile-bookworm]

AWAE 3x1 rewatch: thoughts and reactions

So we’re finally here, up to the (unfortunately) final season of AWAE. I will be rewatching and reacting to the first half of the season only, since I’ve already posted my reactions to episodes 5-10 when they were coming out. Just thought I’d say that here. 

For this rewatch, I will be adding onto the notes to myself I made when first watching the episode. Also, this is dedicated to Amybeth McNulty for her birthday today.

So, without further ado, I suggest we dive right in.

Can we talk about how Anne’s beautiful green ribbon gets untied and flies into the air while she is riding through the snow and she doesn’t even seem to care? I mean, she looks back and smiles at it, but doesn’t even think of trying to retrieve it… If I were her, I would have turned the horse around. Although it did seem like the ribbon was too high up in the air for her to reach. Also, her hair is beautiful flying loose in the wind… like we’ve never seen it before. [Present-day note: of course we’ll see it like that again, and from Gilbert’s point of view. That scene was magical. Truly magical]

So… Ruby still has it for Gilbert… and she has it going on strong… she’s supposed to be covering the hockey game for the school newspaper, but she’s dropped her notebook in the snow [Present-day note: again, my dislike of ruining material objects speaks here, but - I felt really bad for that notebook. It’s done nothing to deserve being ruined by the snow] because she only has eyes for one of the players… and so does Anne. I really hope the budding love between her and Gil doesn’t shatter poor little peach Ruby’s heart. [Present-day note: I’m so beyond happy she got over him before Anne realised that she was, as they would say on Friends, ‘under’ him.] She’s a dearie and deserves the best.

The hockey field (probably nothing more than a frozen lake, but this is the 19th century, so, you know) has apparently turned into a place of courtship, as Billy is giving his attentions to Josie and Moody to Diana… but her parents won’t allow it. “Too rich to be a minister’s wife?”, Josie teases. But then the attention shifts to Gilbert who stares at something undefined between Anne and Ruby, leaving it ambiguous which girl his affections are directed to. The whole thing is very awkward to watch, and with no Cole around to reassure Anne that Gilbert has a crush on her, and her only, she may as well think he’s finally returning Ruby’s sympathies. That scene is intense.

The natives appear – a man and a little girl, presumably his daughter, the girl that was mentioned in the articles promoting this season. It turns out the man is the one who makes the hockey sticks for the boys, and the difference in nature between Gilbert and Billy is once again emphasised by how they each treat him. Billy is superficially polite, saying “Thank you” when receiving his new stick, but he says it in a sort of patronising way, like the subtext here is “We whites are better than you”. Gilbert, on the other hand, is just as polite and respectful as he would be to any white man – or woman, for that matter. I mean, he lives with a black couple, so he can’t be racist at all. I mean, he’s an absolute cinnamon roll.

Anne is even better with the natives, as in, she doesn’t even notice anything about them that would make them superficially different than her and her peers. She asks if she could write an article about the man, but not about his lifestyle or different standards, but about the sticks he makes. She sees the quality work, not that the man doing it is non-white. And I bet she’ll be learning a lot about their life and culture later on, in a perfectly respectful and inclusive way. This is beautiful.

Billy comes back and is all kinds of disrespectful, so the girl, Ka’kwet, shows her dislike of him very clearly, and her father warns her against “stir[ring] trouble with the white man”… the tension can’t be ignored anymore. It can practically  be cut with a knife.

The man offers a great judgement of Billy – “The little man with the big ego” – in his own native language, so only Ka’kwet understands. But he couldn’t be more right.

Billy walks away, muttering “Savages” under his breath. Anne, however, isn’t shaken for a millisecond in her wish to visit and interview them later.

So, Billy won’t even be coming back to school, as he’s stepping into the family business. I’m hoping we won’t see much of him anymore. [Present-day note: Unfortunately, we will. And when I say unfortunately, I mean devastatingly. Before this season, I didn’t think this excuse of a guy could get any worse, but in the latter half he’s proven to be an absolute entitled monster. I loathe him, and I’m not even sorry for allowing myself to feel such negative emotions.]

Jane is “chaperoning” Josie and Billy as they walk back from the game? I mean, yes, she is his sister, but she’s younger than him, I think. But well, I’m not sure how chaperoning works in such a situation.

Anne arrives at the natives’… village? What is it, exactly? Anyway, her new budding friendship with Ka’kwet (which, the poor thing says, just means “starfish”; now she and Anne can bond over wishing they had a different name – although Anne isn’t as resentful of hers anymore, now that she’s signed the family bible as “Anne Cordelia Shirley- Cuthbert) is just so beautiful… this show is pure aesthetic. [Both visually and in terms of content.]

Marilla disapproves of Anne’s having fraternised with the natives… the tension builds up. I guess Anne won’t be stopped from seeing her new friends so easily, though.

At the Pye household, Josie’s mother is pressuring her to “get a hold” of Billy before someone else does. I mean, she’s a Pye – an unpleasant person as per the book, so she deserves him. Let her have him, as long as Gilbert is reserved for Anne and Anne alone. [Yeah, in retrospect, not even Josie deserves this imbecile. But I didn’t know back then just how bad he could be.]

So Anne’s words “seems to me I was destined to be the bride of adventure” from the teaser are part of her evening prayer – a change from the (apparently) usual plea to make her good-looking, which she now, on the brink of age 16, sees as a childish wish and not a real prayer. Anne has grown!

“Many suitors or even just one…” Come on, Anne, are you blind? You have one – The One at that. Take Notice of him… I mean, the Take Notice board will be returning as per a gif set I saw here on Tumblr, so I really hope Shirbert moves on a bit quicker than it has so far.

Bash and Mary have a baby! Since when? I don’t know, but I love it. Is Gilbert the godfather? Seeing as he is Bash’s best friend and honorary brother, he must be… oh dreams…. [Either way, he’s her Uncle Gilby]

Her name is Delphine? That’s beautiful. Also, Gilbert just kissed her forehead before going out to school… the dream has come true.

The unlikely duo of Rachel Lynde and Miss Stacy takes centre stage in the next scene where Miss Stacy says she doesn’t need a man as she has discovered self-sufficiency after her husband’s death. Mrs. Lynde, of course, wants to play matchmaker for her. As I said, this is an unlikely duo and I would very much like to know how this relationship turns out further.

Anne and Diana are dreading the nearing day of their separation as Di goes to finishing school in Paris and Anne goes to college in Queens. I really want to know how this separation will turn out. [Fortunately, I won’t have to find out, and neither will they.]

 Another line of tension builds up with the resurrection of the Take Notice board, as the girls discuss the pressure to get married soon and Josie teases Anne about becoming an old maid, as seen in the trailer.

Poor Ruby takes the blow instead of Anne as she, who will apparently be going to Queens with Anne and Gilbert – only in order to remain close to him (poor unfortunate soul), is desperate to receive any advance from him. I really don’t want her to suffer, but here she is now, crying about him not noticing her. I almost want her to not end up going to Queens, as that will most probably be the place where Shirbert’s relationship will finally bloom, and I don’t want her to witness that. [AWAE Ruby would have loved to be Book!Ruby, as she gets much more attention from him there - but she doesn’t care as much. However, seeing as how Book!Ruby ends up, AWAE Ruby should be glad she’s not quite her.]

Anne “bet[s she] can help” Ruby’s Gilbert issue – but if she is the root of the problem and she doesn’t know it, how can she possibly be of any use to poor Ruby?

I’ve never seen Anne ignore someone so hard as she just did Moody – he greeted her and she barely turned her head in his direction, muttering a quick “Hi” before returning to her conversation with the girls… good thing he is not one of her suitors. Although she doesn’t pay much more attention to Gilbert, you know. 

I see Moody has grown up a lot since last time he was seen, and he’s now a close second to Gilbert, at least the way I see it. That’s quite a glow up he’s had. But I kinda wanted Diana and Jerry to be a thing – and now I’m low-key shipping her with Moody “your dress is very… blue” Spurgeon. The poor guy has always been awkward around her; it’s obvious he likes her. [See, I told you I only ship couples that have explicit signs of potential to happen. Even though Diana and Moody didn’t happen even for a second, I’ve apparently seen something in her and Jerry stemming from that one single conversation they had. I mean, he did call her ‘the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen’, so that must have been what made me ship them - even before I had the slightest idea they were going to be a thing this season. I still can’t get over the fact that they were not endgame. In my mind, at least, they are - somewhere in that future we didn’t get to see.]

 And now the super famous “take notice” scene between Anne and Gilbert is happening… oh the tension. [You know, this scene reminds me of Vanessa Hudgens’ Rather Be with You. If you haven’t heard that song, go listen to it and then try to tell me I’m wrong here.]

Anne was apparently talking about Ruby in this scene, and Gilbert was blabbing on about “the right person” and stuff… Shirbert is on!!

Well, that was a turn of events! The second Anne mentions Ruby you can actually see Gilbert’s emotions change. Kudos to Lucas for portraying that only with his eyes. How to those kids do that? 

And poor Ruby has been observing him during the conversation, of course… she is so deluded, the unfortunate thing – she thinks his reluctance to post means he’s looking for a much more romantic advance to make… Poor thing. Shirbert will break her heart and might just ruin her friendship with Anne forever… and she dies young in canon. I just hope Moira finds a way to give her the happy ending she deserves… [And, as we know, Moira didn’t disappoint there. I’m so glad things turned out for Ruby the way they did]

Jerry can read long complicated texts now… he’s reading Frankenstein [Little did I know how important this book would be for his story arc this season], for goodness’ sake! I stan one (1) beautiful [inside and out] French farm boy!! And I ship him with Diana even more now. Although if her parents won’t allow her a future minister, how will they allow a farm boy?

Diana has actual royal ancestry… but that ancestry is “keeping [her] from Queens; from [Anne]”. Isn’t this a tragical Bro-mance right there? It is indeed.

Marilla is helping Mary with the baby… makes me wonder if she has been dreaming of one for so long but never got to have it and this is why she’s so attached to this one… this series is beautiful but dramatic… it really tugs on my heartstrings.

Diana stands up for herself and her own wishes in front of her parents… but she doesn’t achieve more than angering them that way… poor little rich girl, indeed.

Also, I just love how the Barrys express their anger. Diana sits at the piano and starts playing angrily, while her mother embroiders angrily and her father reads his newspaper angrily. [I had no idea two out of those three things could be done angrily. I’ll leave it to you to figure out which two.]

The Take Notice board has a note on it saying “Susan has her sight on Moody Spurgeon”. Who is this Susan and why is she eyeing Moody if he’s courting Diana?

Anne is super excited about turning 16… “Once upon a time this was the happiest day of my parents’ life”. I really want her to find out about her ancestry eventually. But I want her and Gilbert to finally get together more. [Of course, both of these will happen in this season. I sort of knew that even back then.]

Let’s sum up: Anne has beautiful hair, but, more importantly, dreams of finding out her family history; Ruby has it bad for Gilbert - but we already knew that; Ka’kwet and her father make their first appearance and create tension in the process; Billy is racist on top of everything - but we all expected that; courting is in full swing; Rachel Lynde plays matchmaker; lots of tension caused by the Take Notice board; eye (and eyebrow) acting; Jerry reads Frankenstein; Marilla is a really good mother, and not only to Anne; who’d have known embroidery and reading could be done angrily; who is Susan; Anne is nearing 16 and things are about to change forever.

[actuallylorelaigilmore]

a primary walks into a bar...

jennifer x deacon, 12 monkeys. also on ao3.

the first fic i drafted for these two, just a bit of fun set immediately post-canon. jennifer POV. 

(i’ve decided to embrace imperfections instead of holding onto my stories for these two until i feel better acquainted with them. if my later fics are more in character, then at least i’ll have written more fics, which is a net positive.)

“I don’t want to forget the past.” She tried to press meaning into every syllable, tried to gift him their history in code, if only it were possible. “I want to keep the past.”

He nodded, still leaned in close, like he actually cared about what she had to say. Excellent customer service. Five stars, above and beyond.

“But I’m not here to remember it, either. I don’t need a bar, or a drink, for that.” Jennifer grinned at him, the unbalanced scales of her smile a contrast to the sharp edges of his. “I just wish I could do it over again.”

“Don’t we all.” He glanced at the door when the bell above it rang. A new customer, somebody else to focus on, to cater to. He was good at this, Jennifer thought, the way she had every night she visited. It suited him, this destiny, the one he was always meant to have.

Just sucked that hers was meant to be so separate from his.

“But I guess until somebody invents time travel, we’re all stuck with the lives we’ve got, huh?” Deacon asked, and Jennifer’s eyes snapped to his, searching.

What was a Primary, once Time wasn’t broken anymore?

Jennifer could still see it, see it all: how things fit together, how they should run. But now things ran as they should. Parallel tracks, a train she didn’t have to fall in front of. Time didn’t need her, to hold itself together or to make sense.

Nobody needed her, now that the world was saved.

When Time rewound and she waited on that beach for Cole, salt in the air and her lungs, sun making it stick to her skin...most of her was just grateful she could finally rest. Take a breath on the beach. Close her eyes against the sun. Feel what Time was like when it didn’t need her so much.

She was free.

Freedom was lonely. 

People who couldn’t see Time’s motions, those people were leading singular ordinary lives. Though she could visit Cassie and Cole in their happy after, it wasn’t her life to share.

And the small part of Jennifer that missed Deacon, a man who was now a boy who didn’t know her, again--she could live with that part. She could console that part the way she consoled her lonely Daughters when they needed it. This mood will pass, you are better off as you are, everything is as it should be.

So she waited. 

She lived her life.

Jennifer Goines--genius CEO girlboss--had better things to do than spend decades wishing for a reunion with one guy.

She monitored his budding business because she had time to spare, Jennifer told herself. Not because she wanted to see him. Certainly not because she needed to. That cat dying of curiosity was an awfully convenient explanation anyway.

But the need was there. Ignoring it didn’t lessen it--made it worse, in fact. A new voice in her head, one that didn’t sound like her at all, but also not like a Primary calling out across time. 

Just a voice inside, saying, go to him. Saying, it doesn’t matter if he can’t see it, if he doesn’t know you now. 

Go, and there you’ll find home.

************************************

“Forget or remember?”

Jennifer blinked. Time kept on ticking. 

“What?”

It was Deacon asking, and she’d heard him, but her mind had been elsewhere before he spoke. Other than taking her order when she sat down at the bar, he hadn’t spoken to her all night.

Not like she expected him to; not like she was there at Brothers Deacon waiting for long heart-to-hearts with a guy who didn’t know her.

We saved the world together, she thought whenever he looked her way. Sometimes she yelled it internally, raising a voice only she could hear. We saved them all, together, you were there! And now you don’t even know my name.

“Are you drinking to forget, or to remember?” Deacon tried again, more slowly. “I like to ask. I always wonder.”

It was a slow Tuesday evening, which might explain his stab at conversation. Maybe he was curious because she’d come in every night that week--staking her claim as a new regular. An irregular regular, she thought with a snort. 

The other days, he’d left her alone, letting her people-watch and laugh at her own jokes. But now, he noticed her, turning her world around just like he did the first time. 

He was the only one who ever had, who saw her as a person-not-Primary and deemed her worthy of notice. In another life, Jennifer reminded herself, tugging her focus back to this one. 

“Do people drink to remember?” She considered that concept. Not one she’d thought about before, but it sounded plausible. Like the first time she saw a unicorn and thought, I believe it. If that’s not real it should be. Then, of course, it was. Good times.

Deacon offered her an easy grin, relaxed against the bar like they had all the time in the world for a philosophical discussion. There was an intimacy to it that Jennifer wanted to believe came from experience--that some piece of Deacon was linked to some piece of her, no matter what Time had to say about it. 

“Sure they do. Haven’t you ever missed somebody?” 

“Yes.” You, she told him with her eyes. His were mirrors reflecting back; she couldn’t tell if the reflection was one-way. Wrong room for an interrogation. Even worse for ballet. 

She had taken ballet classes as a little girl--Mother’s idea, of course. The funhouse mirrors never blinked, always staring, staring with their watchful eyes. Jennifer switched to tap.

“Well, I can tell you, as a proprietor of this fine establishment, lots of people find it a little bit easier...a little less painful...to lubricate the process. You want to forget the past, you get blind drunk until you can barely stumble home from here. You want to remember it, you nurse rounds slowly; you savor.”

Deacon grinned at her again, that slice of a smile she could feel down to her toes. “I keep myself entertained when it’s not busy, trying to guess which customers are which. Most people are easy, but you--I’m still trying to figure it out.”

She laughed. “Easy is definitely not a word that’s often applied to me.”

All the words that had been still lived inside her like brands, burning hot and painful even then. Murderer. Crazy. Fool. Once upon a time he gave her better ones, ones that sparkled. Sorry. Purpose. Take it.

Deacon didn’t know that, though. She could keep his words in her pockets like gifts but he was not the giver. Jennifer shook her head, cleared it of the past-future. Never was, in this reality.

“Wanna give me a hint?” Theodore of the Brothers Deacon asked, shifting closer so his elbows were resting on the clean bar.

Call it wishful thinking--wouldn’t be the first time, she remembered a pair of otter eyes and a head full of lies--but it almost felt flirtatious, the way he was looking at her and waiting to see what she said.

The tragedy of time was that when they were walking parallel lines, he just kept dying--and now that the world was saved, her line was thirty years too late. Didn’t mean she couldn’t have a little fun, Jennifer decided. If Deacon had a thing for older women, who was she to argue?

So she curled her fingers into her palms, roots into the earth grounding her where she sat, and told the truth. Wrapped her lips around the words like Jennifer would wrap herself around Deacon again, if she could go back. Time is a snake that only moves forward; no going back, not anymore.

“I don’t want to forget the past.” She tried to press meaning into every syllable, tried to gift him their history in code, if only it were possible. “I want to keep the past.”

He nodded, still leaned in close, like he actually cared about what she had to say. Excellent customer service. Five stars, above and beyond.

“But I’m not here to remember it, either. I don’t need a bar, or a drink, for that.” Jennifer grinned at him, the unbalanced scales of her smile a contrast to the sharp edges of his. “I just wish I could do it over again.”

“Don’t we all.” He glanced at the door when the bell above it rang. A new customer, somebody else to focus on, to cater to. He was good at this, Jennifer thought, the way she had every night she visited. It suited him, this destiny, the one he was always meant to have.

Just sucked that hers was meant to be so separate from his.

“But I guess until somebody invents time travel, we’re all stuck with the lives we’ve got, huh?” Deacon asked, and Jennifer’s eyes snapped to his, searching.

Too good to be true, too easy to hope. Somewhere in there, she wanted to see the man she used to believe in, the one she believed loved her a little.

A little was everything, compared to what she’d had before.

So Jennifer knew better than to believe her lying hopeful heart, coming here to drink and pass the hours and cross her fingers in case today was the day time unfurled again and they’d have to team back up to fix it.

Cole and Cassie were out of the pool, they got their happy future and it was where Time needed them to stay...so if anybody was gonna be called to new adventures, it might as well be her. And if anything else was going to be asked of her, there was no one she would trust by her side more than Deacon.

Excuses, really. It’d been thirty years, and Time was still ticking along, no hiccups. 

And while those two had landed a little bit outside of Time, just enough to remember what happened, most people only seemed to have room for one reality in their heads. Nothing felt more lonely than being Primary in a world where Jones and Hannah didn’t know her...except maybe being Primary in this bar, missing Deacon while he was three feet away.

“Yep,” she told him with a hollow laugh. It was just a coincidence, his comment. She could find needles anywhere with a big enough magnet. What did that prove to the haystack? “I guess we’re all stuck.”

He was already shifting his weight in the direction of the guy who came through the door, ready to move on to other business, but Deacon paused long enough to aim that smile at her a final time.

“How about the next round’s on me.” Well, now. He’d certainly never done that before, offered to pay for her beer.

First time for everything, she thought, wondering what had gotten into him that made the day different from other days. Frequent drinker program nobody told her about? Whatever it was, she wasn’t going to complain. 

Deacon passed the drink to her before crossing to the other side of the bar, tossing his last words over his shoulder--she could barely hear them above the music that filled the space. In every reality, he was still stuck in the 80s.

“Let me know if you need me for anything else, ma’am.”

A part of her bristled at the end of that sentence, annoyed by the way strangers treated her these days with extra years sketched on her face. Everybody likes a good chicken, until it clucks for itself. 

She couldn’t take it personally coming from him, though, Jennifer decided. After all, Deacon called her ma’am when she was his own age, when he barely knew her yet.

Wait.

Something about his use of the word, the glint in his eyes, the ease of his handing her a pint. It tripped that fucking hope again, and she couldn’t help it, her eyes followed him as he worked down the other end of the bar.

Taking folded bills from the new guy, pouring him a shot, then another. Polishing a glass while New Guy knocked them back, nodding when he held up a finger.

Deacon served the only other person sitting in front of him, and Jennifer wondered how long it would take for him to head back in her direction. Would she be able to see it, if there was something in his eyes? Was there any difference in the way he carried himself, now that he wasn’t carrying a lifetime of scars? 

Her head was a magic eight ball brimming with questions, like always. Shake it, you get answers. Or ask again later, seventeen times in a row ‘til you want to smash it against the wall and make the truth come out.

From her vantage point on the stool she couldn’t make guesses about his eyes, and he moved like always--coiled energy, potential for danger. Indoors in winter, nobody but Deacon could list his own scars.

New Guy was talking to him about a football game, and Deacon was making engaged listening noises, though it was obvious he didn’t really care.

She should have known better, of course, Jennifer scolded herself later. Time wasted looking for hints, subtle traces. Of all the things Theodore Deacon is-was-will-forever-be, subtle never made it onto the list.

His customer was a quick drunk--looking to forget, she thought with a twitch of her lips--and he required the barest show of interest. Deacon’s volume grew alongside his, their discussion more spirited, and her eyes were starting to glaze over. 

But Jennifer was still facing their way, and in the end it didn’t matter that she wasn’t actively listening. When it came to Deacon, she was pretty sure she could hear him in a hurricane. 

She could hear him even when he was silent. He was the hurricane.

After he slid New Guy another shot, Deacon glanced Jennifer’s way. His carelessly friendly expression faded, replaced by an unblinking intensity.

The bar wasn’t packed, but it held noise and people enough to entertain her on a slow night. She shouldn’t have been able to sense the room closing in, a narrowing tunnel and a ringing in her ears. 

Among the noise and the oblivious customers, Deacon was staring at her like they were the only two people left on Earth, and Jennifer felt the kind of shiver she hadn’t in thirty years, because nobody looked at her that way anymore. 

Nobody else ever had, swallowing hard across a table like his words were bees that would sting them both if they escaped. Jennifer wasn’t allergic to bees; she still wondered what they might have spelled out in the sky if he’d let them fly.

Sometimes after Time took what it was owed, it gave a little something back. She’d assumed that gift was reserved for Cole alone, but maybe Time had generosity left for its favorite cog in the wheel. Maybe it took pity on her fall from Primary grace to ordinary human living on a barstool. 

The reason didn’t really matter, did it? Not when the horse was there, to keep its mouth closed and unexamined?

Sometimes, Jennifer remembered as Deacon’s eyes stayed on hers, Time understood that it owed you, too. 

She’d already set her drink down, knew her mouth was gaping a little, didn’t care if she looked like a moron. Deacon tipped back his own beer before he smiled at her again, and she let the shiver repeat, run through her. 

Maybe hope wasn’t dead, a man on his knees in a crowd filled with blades. Maybe hope had been hibernating.

Deacon pointed at her beer, raised his eyebrows like he was asking if she wanted another, and she nodded, answering whatever question might’ve been buried beneath that one.

He took his time getting to her with it, dusting off a shelf and straightening a handful of vodka bottles along the way.

“Here you go,” he said when he arrived, the click of his tongue a punctuation mark and a memory.

Deacon set the fresh beer down in front of her, leaned against the back wall of his bar, and winked.

[scribeofmorpheus]

Chasing Tornadoes {3/6}

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Reader

Series Warnings: poorly written medical procedural, mild delving into spirituality, language, overbearing egos, graphic descriptions of medical procedures. more warnings to be added. 18+ Generally, like my blog.

A/N: suprisingly, very little to warn about. blood splatter?

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | AO3

Taglist is open -comment or send an ask!

<< Previously ○ Next >>

~

“God, you’re insufferable!” You slammed your clipboard into Stephen’s chest, it was surprisingly firm in a subtle way. You swallowed.

Stephen grabbed your wrist, not tightly, but firm enough to lock you in his grasp. He tugged, you moved forward against your wishes.

“And you’re so goddamn stubborn,” he whispered.

You shook your head, “I can’t believe you went around my back and interfered with my patient! That wasn’t your call. If I wanted your help, I’d ask for it!”

Stephen inched you towards the wall, back pressed to the familiar hospital walls. “You and I both know, I was the more qualified to handle this one.”

Why is he being so blasé about all this? Your breath hitched when he moved in a little closer. Why is he so close?

“Steph—”

He cut you off, lips prompting a rise in euphoria as soon as they met yours. They were soft, supple. But there was a boldness beneath it. You whimpered, finding it strikingly good. Deliciously good. And then while your head spun and Stephen stole your breaths, your surroundings changed to the familiar navy blue of the OR.

You gasped and pushed Stephen softly, “How did we…?”

Stephen followed your gaze.

A group of surgeons, masked up and gloved up, were performing surgery on a banana. You stuttered, at a loss for words. Stephen shrugged, unphased and then moved his attention back to you. Lips a mere millimetre away.

You recoiled, “Stephen.”

“What?” He asked, somewhat disappointed.

You pointed your ring finger at the operating table, “The banana.”

“Oh, right,” He turned. “How’s our patient?”

A beeping noise sounded out. A fellow spoke: “He’s going into cardiac arrest.” The beeping stopped. “He’s gone.”

“I’m calling it, time of death—”

You were shaken from your sleep by the sudden reorientation. With a loud thud, you landed hard on your ass, the sheets tangling one foot.

You rubbed your eyes, vision coming back blurry and spotted, “What the hell kind of dream was that?” Your fingers trailed over your lips. Dry and chapped and sorely missing the softness of the dream. You groaned, in no mood to deal with some romance drama in the workplace.

You were roused from the floor by the sound of something breaking. With heavy eye-lids and noodle arms, you hoisted yourself up and walked towards the kitchen, the source of the sound.

Rich loam soil and four fragmented pieces of a flower pot lay scattered on the floor. A small root system was peeking out from under the stove; it belonged to a cactus. The last cactus you owned.

You groaned as your eyes trailed up to the former resting place of the now destroyed flower pot and saw Spike’s fat reptilian body trying to slink away.

“Oh no you don’t, you leathery cat,” you hopped over the mess on the floor and grabbed Spike. You held him close to your face so you could stare into his eyes. “What is it with you and cactuses?”

Spikes tongue slithered out then in again before he let out a whiny growl.

You rolled your eyes and scolded him, “If you keep this up I’ll put you up for adoption.” You clicked your tongue in annoyance as you opened up the balcony door and let Spike down next to the arbour. “You stay out here and think about what you’ve done while I make breakfast.”

Spike made another lazy growl before moving away from the door at a snail’s pace. You hastily swept up the soil from your wooden floors and set aside the broken ceramic pieces in case you wanted to use them for another DIY home decor project.

While you put together a fruit bowl for breakfast, you noticed you hadn’t checked your voicemail. As you squeezed out the last two drops of honey onto your breakfast, you listened absentmindedly to the voice messages while making a mental checklist.

“Hey, Y/N…” Teddy’s soft voice reminded you of a lounge singer who smoked too many cigarettes in between sets. The kind of swaggerful baritone that belonged to men like Frank Sinatra or Nat King Cole. Ironically, Teddy’s face matched the softness of his name more than it did his pitch in voice. “I sent a few messages but I suppose you were on shift. That tornado…messy stuff. My cousin is local fire department, she told me—”

Remember to pay Mr Eliopoulos for the takeout. Teddy’s voice dissolved into white noise as you chewed your food. Get some bills out the ATM to keep on hand.

The next message played after a beep and you weren’t the slightest bit sorry you didn’t fully catch the rest of Teddy’s message.

“Y/N, it’s Irene.” –You froze. For a second– “I don’t know if you deleted my number after the last time we talked or not so…Yeah. It’s Irene,” your sister’s voice was a startling surprise to hear. She sounded as lively as a doornail, probably all the hours spent banging her head instead of her gavel in the courtroom. Irene thrived in the city, even if she never looked fully awake in any of her social media posts. You didn’t care much for city life and its exhausting churn.

Remember to save Irene’s number. Again.

“Mum called me, frantic that you didn’t call or text to say you were okay. She watched the news. The tornado rattled her. Your phone was off the whole day. I had to clear a whole day’s worth of meetings because her angina was acting up.” Irene was rambling in her monotone.

Angina isn’t a disease.

Irene paused as if she’d heard what you’d thought. Then she took a breath. You could practically picture her working her jaw muscles as she fought the urge to get emotional. “Call mum.”

Call mum.

The distance between you and Irene wasn’t consolidated to the miles between your cities. Irene was prickly, like a cactus. Maybe that’s why you had so much trouble growing them. But she was also the only person on the I-95 highway who stopped to pick up a wounded iguana on her cross-country trip that winter you moved into your apartment. That iguana was Spike. That was also the first and last time Irene ever stepped foot in your apartment. And the second time you’d deleted her phone number.

“Or at the very least, post one of those disturbing pictures of Spike dressed in baby clothes,” Irene’s tone turned condescending. There was some chatted on her end of the line. “I’m needed in the chamber.”

No rush saving her number. You swallowed the last spoonful of food before dumping your bowl in the sink. Then you opened the balcony door to let Spike back in.

A third beep. Another message.

“Dr Y/N?” the voice on the other end of the line was now very familiar to you. For a second, you wondered if you were still dreaming. “Dr Stephen Strange. The relief. I got your number from the on-call sheet. Just letting you know I got the go ahead first thing this morning to prep for the transplant. I’ll be the chief surgeon on staff. Marcy is in the best hands. Literally. I’ll see you at work.”

Ask about the transplant. You head shot up so fast you were convinced it’d crack like an Indiana Jones style bullwhip. Transplant?

“Marcy…” you mumbled before rushing to get to the shower. Just then another message played. The last. On it, Mike told you he was on his way to pick you up and that you should do something, but you weren’t paying much attention at that point. You had less than five minutes before he arrived.

Your shower was cold and quick. About half-way through, you realised the conditioner was practically empty. No time to fully detangle your bed-head knots, you raked your fingers through and washed all the shampoo away, making sure to add a little styling crème so your hair wouldn’t look like frizzy from the summer humidity.

You made sure to grab your go-bag, keys and lock the balcony door before rushing out the door just as Mike pulled into the driveway.

Mike had dark circles under his eyes, wind tousled hair that was still damp in places and an outstretched hand dangling out the car window with a coffee flask waiting expectantly.

You grabbed it and hastily made your way to the passenger side.

“Thanks,” you said out of breath as you unscrewed the cap and took a swig. Mike looked at you with a perplexed expression. When no coffee touched your tongue it was your turn to look back at Mike with a similar expression. “It’s empty.”

Mike nodded, “I know it’s empty.”

“Why’d you give me an empty flask?”

“Because you were supposed to make the coffee.

“Then you should have told me to.”

“I did.”

“You didn’t.”

Mike stared at you with a knowing look for a second too long. He sighed, rubbing his red eyes, “You didn’t listen to the whole voice message did you?”

You opened your mouth to retort but then you realised Mike was right. You clicked your tongue, “We can stop by the café near the intersection.”

“You’re buying,” Mike put the car in drive while you tried your best to distract yourself from thinking about Marcy.

“Tell me something new.”

 You got dressed into the maroon scrubs in the locker room. Your lanyard feeling particularly heavy that day. Maybe you weren’t as ready for today as you thought you were.

You had hoped and prayed to whatever constituted as a god on any particular day that Marcy would get a new lung. A healthy lung. And that she’d finally get to experience her youth, but now your hands wouldn’t stop shaking and your heart was so loud you wanted to scream just to shut it up.

But today was here and you only had the one heart, so you made a fist, took a long, deep breath and ran towards the OR.

Bach in C minor was playing over the sound of the heart-lung machine. There had been a slight pause when you walked into the OR mid-surgery, but everything continued without fail.

You knew, logically, that observing from the theatre was the right thing to do. The impartial thing to do. But this wasn’t any patient. This was Marcy. The girl you helped with her science homework that one weekend she came in for a check-up and stayed for a minor surgical procedure. The girl you watched rerun’s on cable TV with when you had the night shift. The girl you watched grow up.

Doctor Weisz was among the medical staff in the room. Strange didn’t bother looking away from Marcy’s open chest cavity.

“I don’t remember calling for a second pair of hands,” Strange said as if he was talking to himself. “Did you Doctor?”

Doctor Weisz’s words came out muffled behind her mask, “No.” She kept an impressive straight face. Come to think of it, you had never seen her smile. Or get angry. She was always professional. Even her haircut was a choice of convenience; short and slicked back.

You stepped out from behind Strange’s frame and moved in closer to Marcy. It was a little unsettling how normal she looked in a hospital gown with the elastic of her breathing mask drawing two red lines across her cheeks. The open chest cavity was different though. Unsightly.

Your fingers trembled, reaching out to hold her open palm lying flat on the table when the sudden loud beeping of the heart rate monitor shook you to action.

A squirt of blood sprayed out, turning the sterile blue operating gowns dark with plasma.

 “She’s bleeding,” Strange noted as if reading a catalogue. “There’s too much scar tissue.”

“BP is dropping. Fast,” Mike said. You hadn’t even noticed him in the room.

“Clamps,” Doctor Weisz’s hand was stretched expectantly to the fellow behind her.

Your feet were glued in place, like a statue with open eyes that couldn’t look away, just watching. Your brain yelled at you to snap out of it, let your training take over, set your emotions to backburner. But none of it worked.

“Someone get her out of my OR!” Strange’s composure shifted for the first time. It was then that you noticed your hand was holding tightly onto Marcy’s.

Just as Strange instructed, someone grabbed your hand and pulled towards the doors. Once you were out in the bright hallway you realised it was Mike.

 In the last couple of hours, you had treated a kid with tonsillitis, a man with a hangnail and one skateboarder with a concussion.

Why’d today have to be a slow day?

You sighed as you flipped through a medical chart Arlene had handed over for a second pair of eyes to go over.

“You said she came in with a fever?”

Arlene stammered before straightening her spine, “Y-yes.”

You kept quiet for a few seconds, waiting for Arlene to jump on cue and finish telling you the symptoms. She didn’t.

“Arlene?”

“Yes?” She looked up, big eyes fully attentive. Her innocence was endearing, but if not grown out of, it’d be a hindrance in this profession.

“This is usually when you fill me in.”

“Oh, right,” she fumbled with her chart. “Uh…loss of appetite, abdominal cramps and joint paint.”

“What’s your diagnosis?” You looked up at the wall clock, watching the hands tick.

Arlene fidgeted, “M-my diagnosis? I um…” She wiped her forehead as if there was sweat on it. “Cramps, fever and joint pain could be…stomach flu?”

“Viral gastroenteritis, yes,” you agreed with her diagnosis. “Treatment?”

Arlene was getting more confident, “Rehydration Solution, anti-viral—”

“Good, do it,” You excused yourself when you spotted Mike walking down the hall. The surgery was done.

“Mike!” You caught his attention. “So…how’d it go?”

Mike tried to miss eye contact, “She’s stable. Transplant wrapped up okay.”

“Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” Mike rushed to place his hands on your elbows. “Marcy’s fine, taking well to the lung. She’s on assisted breathing until the rupture heals and the pressure is relieved on her muscles. She will have to stay in Recovery for longer but she’ll pull through.”

You laughed, a bright smile beaming over your face, “Then what’s the issue?”

Mike bit his lip, “Strange recommended to Weisz that you be put on probation for the time being.

Anger rushed unexpectedly, “What?”

Stephen suddenly appeared down the hallway. You marched over to him. He looked at you, expecting your oncoming aggression.

“You recommended I be put on probation?” You folded your arms to seem imposing.

Stephen glanced knowingly at Mike. Mike shrugged before disappearing into the lounge.

“God, you’re insufferable!” You flashed back to your dream and now you were confused as to what exactly you should be feeling.

“And if today is any indication, you’re too emotional,” he said softly.

You baulked, feeling insulted, “Too emotional?”

He rubbed his neck, “I told you about the operation out of professional courtesy. You had no right to barge into my OR and distract from the procedure. You put a bad foot forward, unprofessional. Weisz agreed. I suggested temporary probation to prevent Weisz from dealing a worse blow.”

You scoffed, “So you were helping me, is that it?”

“Yes,” he sounded on edge. “You’re too raw to be working right now. If I was your superior, I wouldn’t be assured that you could competently manage the rigorous expectations of the workplace.”

“Unbelievable, you really do walk around thinking you know everything, that your word is final. Mike was right, you have no reason to overstep your boundaries. You’re the relief, not my boss,” You threw your arms up in the air, ignoring the other residents listening in.

Stephen sighed, pushing passed you, ending the argument prematurely.¨

“Where are you going?” You demanded, following in stride.

“To get a drink,” he pressed his eyelids. “If you insist on still handing me my ass, you are welcome to join.”

You stalled for a second then decided to continue your squabble.

To be continued...

[macybeckham7]

Fake Love? - James Maddison

{this is for @footballffbarbiex writing challenge, Hope you enjoy}

Fake dating. It’ll be fun, they said. It’ll help your career, they said. Just a simple 12 month deal to help your profile, they said. What was the worst that could happen?

For England newbie James Maddison and IG model baddie YN, they were both known for the bad press which was giving them a bad representation. Both agents wanting to help their clients and have some better reviews and take from the stupid stories that they aren’t proud of.

When the two met they instantly didn’t like eachother, YN didn’t want a football who she had to fake date. Her agent could of picked anything else but she HAD to choose a air head footballer. James muttering a small ‘how is me dating someone who get paid to do nothing but get her kit off going to help my reputation?’ He sassed to his agent.

They had a plan, that they would follow eachother and start liking eachothers posts and then start comment very subtle flirty comments. Then they would start hanging out and sharing it with their followers for the eagle eyed fans that the guys were together. YN started to go watch the foxes in her #10 Maddison jersey. A few fan accounts getting videos and photos of her kitted out as she sat in the box with some friends and cheering for her new man. For the public you were very loved you and fans even had a ship name for you even though you had gone IG official.

As soon as they were alone they were so cold to eachother, in hotels James would take the sofa while YN would take the bed. Neither of them speaking a word to eachother. Or one getting annoyed by the other one and caused an argument which the two just aimed insults at eachother.

The agents were very much the middle guys to get all the cute things out for the press to think that this was going to be the new IT couple. First Posh and Becks, then Cheryl and Cole, then Perrie and Ox and now YN and Madders. James agent ordered some roses which he just simply signed ‘JM❤️’ and delivered them while YN was on set. Because she were on set with other models she had to play up the cute in love girl.

And when James got made to turn up on set he wasn’t too thrilled, he watched as YN did her thing in some lacy thong and worked for the camera while James was too busy eating from the fruit bowl. YN walked over to him still in the lingerie set, her eyes looked around before she launched herself into him which took him by surprise but he hugged back. They both counting in their hands before pulling away. She mutters she won’t be long and then making a quick exit, James finding himself staring at her, admiring her body, but quickly looking away.

James decided to take her to his favourite restaurant, where you would often find him, even so that the waiters had a booth ready for him and his friends and knew the three kinds of orders he’d make. He just having to put up a certain amount of fingers up and they’d know what he wanted. The two sat in the booth together and they instantly started to talk, James having an urge to get to know more about the stunning girl.

They were both surprised just how much they were alike, they even thinking that they’d be good friends if they met out of different circumstances. YN was practically the boy verison of James.

‘What if they hate me...’ she says softly.

James reaches out and takes her hand. ‘Then they’ll have to answer to me’ he smiles, seeing the vulnerable side of her.

Them both feeling completely comfortable around eachother, the two in their own little bubble they didn’t even notice anyone else around them.

The two of them started hanging out more and even started to enjoy spending time with eachother. They both put out a photo to go ‘IG official’ with fans instantly gushing about how good the two looked. YN was seen more at the King Power stadium and even getting a few cheeky kisses from the model and the fox. Her little hug as she wished him good luck, felt real as he feel butterflies appear in his stomach as he feels the little squeeze.

They started hanging out more, with the line of fake dating and being friends getting more and more blurry. They found snuggled up on the sofa as they watched Friends, her fingers tracing over his chest while he found himself watching her and can’t help but take in her beauty. And often kissing her forehead, they often show little signs of affection even though their wasn’t anyone to fake it too, as if they were in the West End show. Whenever the two went out they would act all goofy with YN skipping with her bubble tea in her hand wearing one of James’ hats, many a fan stopping them and taking a photo of the two and everyone gushing that you are made for eachother.

A few months had went by and YN arrived at James’ house to have their normal Monday Mexican night where they eat tacos and watch Narcos. She did her knock, which was like a code to him knowing it was her. She heard a voice with James trying to hush her. He opens the door and finds him in his boxers as he quickly gets himself dress. YN looks over his shoulder and sees the small petite girl.

‘Sorry I have I interrupted’ she mutters, hurt very much in her eyes, she hands him the food. ‘Enjoy your evening’ she says before walking off.

The next day James got a bollocking with his actions could or ruined everything, he even telling him to not fuck it up as he could see how much his colleague liked her. James tried to call her to apologise but she seemed to avoiding him like the plague, which he didn’t blame her for.

...

A few months went by and they were very much back at square one, only communication for public and luckily YN was out of the country so she didn’t have to see him much. Just a few soppy posts with him sending you flowers.

It wasn’t until he saw her again at Wembley for his debut when he realised his feelings. Seeing her in his jersey with his name and number, he realised that she was exactly the type of girl he wants in his girlfriend.

She stays away from him, he catches up with her and they both just stare in eachothers eyes as if they were having a conversation in their mind. He gently caresses her cheek and kisses her softly making it feel 1000x better than all the others they have shared together.

‘I love you’ he whispers againsts her lips.

Fake love, very much turning into real love.

[narisjournal-blog]

The Time We Wasted

I found this in my drafts having never actually posted it like last year. 

Rob x Reader

1,165 words

Flangst

Notes: Forgot I finished this! It survived being deleted by the baby lol. I actually got this idea from one of @natasha-cole ‘s prompts. The line was ‘Oh my God can you please shut the fuck up?’

***

‘And you’re saying everyone knows this?’ You asked Billy.

He looked a little uncomfortable now and shrugged.

‘I mean ... it’s kind of obvious.’

Your mind was racing.

‘Do people... I mean do you guys like... talk about it? With Rob?’ You shifted uncomfortably.

Billy ran his hand through his hair and sighed.

‘He has no idea.’

You relaxed a little.

‘But... I’m pretty sure Rich is gonna talk to him.’

‘What?’ You felt the colour drain from you. ‘I have to find him.’

You hurried out of the room to find Rich.

‘Y/N!’ Billy called after you weakly.

It didn’t take long to find them. They were in the hotel bar, beers in hand.

You slowed and stopped when you got near, heart pounding in your chest. What if you were too late? What would you even say?

It seemed your timing was impeccable.

‘Robbie, she’s crazy about you. How can you not see it?’

Rob rested his beer on the table and bit his lip. He was frowning, processing, you thought.

He ran his hand over the side of his face and exhaled heavily.

Anger flashed in his eyes.

‘Why would she...’ he stuttered. ‘Why would...’

You went to steady yourself on the table next to you but in your haste you knocked several empty bottles clattering into each other. The noise caused both Rob and Rich to turn.

As their eyes settled on you, you turned to hurry away, heart pounding and head racing.

What was the end of that sentence? ‘Why would she be delusional enough to think I would be interested in her?’

‘Why would anyone be interested in her?’

You heard your name being called behind you but didn’t stop or turn. You crashed into the door, pushing it open with the weight of your panic and felt the cool fresh air of outdoors against your face. Tears burned in your eyes.

You heard the door clatter once more and upped your pace, although there was really nowhere else you could go. You realised you had come to an enclosed beer garden, brick surrounding on all sides.

Rob grabbed your arm and pulled you so you were forced to turn to him.

‘Y/N,’ he said, the irritation clear in his voice. ‘Would you look at me?’

Reluctantly you shifted your eyes to his. You thought you maybe saw sadness in them, but shook it off.

You had been so painfully obsessed with the man for so long now, you saw whatever you wanted to see. Maybe you were delusional.

You looked down at his hand on your arm, his grip probably tighter than he realised.

He let go.

‘I...I’m sorry,’ you scrambled, stepping backwards. ‘Please just forget about it - I don’t expect ... I mean I know you could never... I’m just useless and pathetic and I’m so sorry please don’t think I’m a creep or ... ‘ you spoke so fast even you couldn’t quite make out what you were saying.

‘Y/N,’ Rob said, jaw taut with frustration.

‘or... I’ll stop hanging out with you guys. I’ll just disappear and then...’

‘Y/N! Oh my God can you please shut the fuck up?’

Silence. You stared at him in bewilderment, breath ragged and heavy. Instinctively you took another step back, but realised again all that was behind you was a wall.

Rob drew breath to speak, but it seemed like now he had the floor, words escaped him.

He shook his head, exhaling heavily then stepped forward.

He pushed your shoulders so you were now up against the wall, then he pinned your wrists either side of your head.

His lips crashed into yours and before you realised what was happening, you were kissing him back. His lips were eager and harsh, beard scratching against your tender skin, his tongue finding yours.

He let go of your wrists and threaded his fingers through your hair, pinning you now with his warm body against yours.

you realised this is what it would feel like pressed beneath him.

Your now free hands instinctively went to his waist and gripped him tight.

Rob’s lips moved from yours and an involuntary whimper stirred in your throat.

He opened his eyes at that and began kissing your neck instead, watching you.

Your whimper turned into a groan and your hands slipped to his ass to pull him closer.

But then he inhaled deeply, pulling his lips away from you. Your grip on him remained tight and he was still pressed against you, which made everything he said more intense.

He brushed your messy hair from your face.

‘Why would you not tell me?’ He asked, his voice now much softer - somewhere just above a purr.

‘I didn’t think... you would be interested,’ you basically whispered. You were unable to meet his eyes.

Rob scoffed and shook his head. ‘You turned me down! Several times!’

‘I... really? That was...?’ You dug deep into your memory of when you had first been getting to know him. ‘I thought I imagined... really?’

‘You imagined nothing. I was really disappointed and so confused about how you acted around me.’

‘I... I...’ You were speechless. How could you have misinterpreted everything so embarrassingly wrong?

You looked back up into his eyes and saw now the intensity and the eagerness with which he regarded you.

It’s like his eyes were drinking you in.

‘I thought you were mad at me,’ you said to the floor.

‘I am mad at you. For wasting so much time thinking you weren’t good enough.’ He took your face in his hand. ‘Why the fuck would you think that?’

He kissed you firmly again and moved quickly down to your neck. He learned fast.

You grabbed onto the fabric at his bicep, needing to steady yourself.

As much as you wanted to just melt into him and the the way he was making you feel, you still had a lot to say to each other.

‘Why... why wouldn’t you say something?’ You said, eyes still closed as his teeth grazed the skin of your neck.

He sighed against you then looked into your eyes again.

‘Look, when a lady says no, she means no.’

You nodded, so angry at yourself. Tears burned in your eyes. ‘Whatever your reasons I wanted to respect that.’

He ran his fingers through your hair again.

‘Let’s start from here,’ he said.

You heard whispering and looked over Rob’s shoulder to see a few people who had come out with their drinks watching you.

‘Rob,’ you said, alarmed.

He turned, then took your hand and guided you through the people and back through the door. He didn’t say where he was taking you and you didn’t care. In fact neither of you spoke until you reached his hotel door. He unlocked it silently and led you inside to make up for all the time you had lost.

***

Tags:

No Idea if you guys are even still on here lol but I’m using my old taglist. Let me know if you want to be removed or added. I may be writing more but who knows.

Everything list:

@afanofmanystuffs

@trashforwinchesters

@yourewelcomeforbeingmyfriend

@natasha-cole

@greenappleeyes

@bisexualdolphinthings

@i-dont-understand-that-url

@misszombicorn

@lucerospn1detc

@robjackface

Rob/chuck list:

@tas898

@destielschild

@girl-next-door-writes

@winchestergirl-13

@a-banana-for-your-thoughts

@jelly-beans-and-gstrings

@kocswain

@gettingbywithalittlehelp96

@itsfunnierin-enochian

@rblstrash

[gwenbrightly]

Nya Wins an All Expense Paid Trip to the Hospital (and gives everyone else a heart attack) - Of Milk and Cookies Chapter 16

Crossposted from ffnet. Someone once requested I write about post tomorrow’s tea Lloyd comforting a hurt Nya, and this was the result of that suggestion. Please enjoy what is probably the most relatable thing I’ve written so far:

Nya glared at the stack of worksheets in front of her as though it would magically grade them for her. After the day she’d had, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know if any of her students had bothered to learn anything. Sneaking off to her room to curl up into a ball with her heat pad and sleep sounded much more appealing.  

“C’mon Aaron,” she muttered as she examined the paper at the top of the stack, only to discover that the student in question had dotted his eyes with hearts in a very uncharacteristic way, “if you’re gonna copy off of Sally, at least be subtle about it.”

They’d have to have another discussion about the evils of cheating. Not that it would do any good. Before meeting the students that currently roamed the halls of Master Wu’s Academy, Nya and the others had occasionally referred to Lloyd as demon spawn. But now? He was more like an angel compared to the hooligans she was expected to put up with each and every day. She sighed and set the worksheet aside to deal with later. The next one was no better; it was covered with doodles of wine glasses.

“Really, Megan? Again?”

These children almost made her wish she were old enough to drink actual wine. Maybe it would help with the headache grading these worksheets was giving her. And the stabbing pain that had been plaguing her side since early that morning. She was going to have to find some midol, soon, if it didn’t let up. It had been difficult to survive a full day of teaching like this. And the worst part was that none of her usual strategies for dealing with cramps seemed to be helping.

“Nya?” someone called as they knocked on the door to her classroom. She got up from her desk, grimacing as pain shot through her side once again.

“I’m coming!” she called back. Nya opened the door to find her brother waiting outside.

“Heya, sis. Just wanted to check in on you. Jay said you skipped out on your lunch date earlier…” Kai explained with a quizzical expression.

“Of course he did.” she said in annoyance. He frowned.

“Everything okay between you?” he asked after a moment.

“Just peachy.” she replied through gritted teeth. Why couldn’t Jay keep his mouth shut?

“Nya… are you sure you’re okay?” Kai pressed, “It’s not like you to skip meals…”

“I’m just… tired. I didn’t get much sleep last night and it’s been a long day. That’s all.” she told him, doing her best to shoot him a weak smile. There was no need to worry him by mentioning her abnormally bad stomach pain. Everyone would make a huge fuss and all she really wanted was some peace and quiet.  

“It’s almost dinner time. Why don’t you take a break from grading and come grab a bite to eat? You’re looking a little pale.” suggested Kai. He looked at her searchingly, still not completely convinced she was alright.

“Okay. I guess that would probably be a good idea.” Nya agreed. Maybe some food would help her feel better. She hadn’t had anything to eat other than the granola bar she’d choked down at breakfast; lunch had been forgone in favor of a nap that had ultimately done absolutely nothing to improve her state. She followed Kai down the hall that lead to the cafeteria, doing her best to distract herself by telling him about Aaron’s latest attempt at cheating.

“Don’t take it too personally, sis,” Kai told her supportively, “these kids are really rough around the edges. It’s hard to teach someone who flat out doesn’t wanna learn anything.”

“I know. I just wish they’d listen to me better.” Nya commented, pushing the door to the cafeteria open. A wave of nausea hit her as she stepped inside. The smell was too much for her. She swayed uncertainly for a moment before shaking it off and heading over to the counter where the food was served. Kai, who was waving to a few of their more tolerable students, didn’t seem to notice. They each grabbed a plate and piled it with macaroni and cheese along with freshly steamed broccoli before slipping off to the teacher’s lounge so they could eat in peace.

“I’m telling you, the kid’s a psychopath in the making. Something about him is not normal.” Jay was insisting when they arrived.  

“I can’t argue with you, there, but at least he doesn’t think you’re boring,” Cole countered, “if he decides to kill all of us in our sleep, he’ll probably come after me first.”

“Well, this is a great conversation to walk into.” Kai commented with a wry grin.

“Hello!” Zane greeted brightly.

“We’re commiserating over Finn again, I see.” Nya observed, delicately seating herself on an unoccupied couch. It was a relief to sit down again.  

“Yup.” Cole confirmed.

“What did he do this time?” she asked. She took a small bite of her food as Jay launched into his overzealous storytelling, but regretted it almost instantly. Her stomach rebelled and she felt another wave of pain wrack her body. What was wrong with her? Was this what dying felt like? She set her plate aside and curled into herself. The room was suddenly too hot, the sound of the others talking too loud. She felt like she was on the verge of throwing up.  

“Nya? You’re not looking so good…” Jay’s voice floated through her pain filled haze.  

“It’s j-just girl issues…” she gasped out, “please just let me die in peace…”

The others exchanged worried looks. Zane came over and put a hand to her forehead.  

“A fever would not be consistent with ‘girl problems’ as you put it.” he told her.

“Fever?” she repeated. This was news to her. He nodded, saying,  

“Your temperature is currently 101.4 degrees Fahrenheit.”

“Oh.”

“Nya, are you able to hop on one foot?” the nindroid asked. Nya glared at him in confusion.  

“What? Why would you ask that? It’s stupid! You’re stupid.”  

She paused when she realized what she’d just said.  

“Oh, Zane, I’m sorry… that wasn’t-”

“Please try. I promise there’s a good reason for this.” Zane insisted. She stared at him without responding for a moment. Trying to do as he suggested was only going to make things worse. He stared back, unrelenting, as if he knew something she didn’t. Finally, Nya gave in and pushed herself up with great effort. Still not fully buying into whatever Zane was pulling, she gave a half-hearted attempt at hopping on her right foot.  

“I can’t,” she cried agonizedly, collapsing back onto the couch, “fsm it hurts…”  

Zane didn’t seem surprised by this revelation.  

“I believe it would be wise to get you to the hospital. Your appendix appears to be on the verge of rupturing.” he announced. For the first time in a long time, Nya heard her brother swear loudly.  

*-*-*-*-*

Epic Ninja Family Group Chat

Jay: Hey, Greenie! Just wanted to let you know that we’re taking Nya to the HOSPITAL!!!!  

Jay: She’s in SURGERY now.  

Jay: Pick up your hecking phone, man.  

Jay: This is getting ridiculous… where ARE you???????  

Jay: L l o y d

Jay:??????  

*-*-*-*-*-*

Lloyd reread the series of text messages Jay had sent him for what must have been at least the 15th time. It was clear the master of lightning had panicked when he didn’t immediately respond. Or, more likely, had panicked more. Not that Lloyd could blame him. The fact that he was the only one who had been invited to go on this victory tour already hurt enough without the added guilt of not being there for his family when they needed him. He’d been attending a ceremony in a town he had never heard of before when Jay had first started texting him. He hadn’t even heard his phone go off, hadn’t seen the messages until much later. Of course, he had immediately summoned his golden dragon and headed for Ninjago City when he did see them, but that didn’t change the fact that he should’ve been there all along. So he did what any reasonable person would do and stopped for something with which to bribe-and-or cheer up his siblings with before heading to the hospital itself.  

The cashier of the little gas station Lloyd had stopped at finished ringing up his purchase with a yawn. The green ninja pocketed his phone and paid for the assortment of candy and frosted sugar cookies, along with the little stuffed narwhal he couldn’t bear to leave behind, wondering if Kai was ever going to get back to him with more details. The radio silence was a bit concerning; he wanted to know what to expect before he arrived at the hospital. If things were bad as bad as Jay made them out to be, if Nya was dying or something… but surely he was just being overdramatic… right? His pocket buzzed as he stepped out onto the empty sidewalk. A lone car drove by. A cat meowed in the distance. Lloyd glanced at his phone once more, unable to handle the suspense.  

Kai: She’s out of surgery and recovering now. Visiting hours are over, but I’m sure she’d love to see you. Rm 246. Eastern wing.  

He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the message. Nya wasn’t dead after all. That was promising. Now he just had to find his way to the hospital. According to the GPS app on his phone, it shouldn’t be more than a few minutes away. Lloyd summoned his golden dragon and shot into the sky once more. It was much easier to navigate when one could simply fly over the houses and buildings that lined the streets of the city. He flew towards the hospital, his phone blaring warnings at him as it tried to keep up with his unusual route. Make a U-turn when possible, it beeped every so often. But he ignored it. Soon, his destination loomed in the distance.

Lloyd circled the building until he was on the correct side. Kai hadn’t given him any suggestions on how exactly he was supposed to get inside without the nursing staff kicking him out. Even the Green Ninja would be expected to adhere to hospital regulations. Had he assumed that Lloyd would just sneak in somehow? He absent-mindedly scanned the windows of the hospital while he tried to decide what to do next. And then he saw it; someone had taped what appeared to be a green piece of paper onto one of the panes. Kai did want him to sneak in, apparently. He flew closer so that he could examine the window more carefully. It was cracked open slightly. Shaking his head at his brother’s questionable plan, Lloyd opened the window the rest of the way. Being that it was some time after 11:00, the hospital room was pitch black. He stumbled as he climbed inside, unable to see clearly.

“Well, now… which of my idiot siblings decided to add breaking and entering to their list of crimes against humanity?” Lloyd heard Nya murmur sleepily. He froze.

“It’s um, Lloyd.” he replied. There was a small click and a dim light turned on.

“Lloyd? What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be off on your victory tour…” she began to protest, now that she could see that the intruder was in fact who he said he was. “Did Kai put you up to this?”

“In his defense, there’s no way to prove that window was left open intentionally.” Lloyd pointed out, with a small smile. He made his way over to her bed and sat in the empty chair next to it. She rolled her eyes, but returned his smile with a tired one of her own.  

“It is good to see you.” Nya admitted, raising an eyebrow as she glanced at the grocery bags he was sporting.  

“It’s good to see you, too. Oh, here. Got something for you!” he pulled out the stuffed narwhal and set it on the bed next to her.  

“You know, you might just be my favorite person ever.” Nya decided, examining it. She hugged it close, looking years younger than she actually was.  

“You mean I wasn’t already?” Lloyd pretended to be offended. She stuck her tongue out at him.  

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” she retorted with a laugh. Although she was clearly trying to hide it, he couldn’t help but notice her wincing as she did so.  

“So, what happened?” he asked eventually, “I had my phone on silent for a few hours and when I finally had a chance to check it, Jay was acting like you were dying…”

“Ehhh turns out that it wasn’t super bad cramps that had been bugging me all day; it was appendicitis,” stated Nya, sounding as though she were tired of having to explain this, “Everyone overreacted. I’m fine, I swear. It’s not a big deal-”

“Not a big deal, huh? You scare me sometimes, Nya.” Lloyd muttered. He shook his head in bemusement.

“Hm?”  

“I don’t think anyone else could be in that much pain and think ‘yeah, this is fine’.” he explained, wondering how on earth she had lasted more than a few hours before finally succumbing to the pain.  

“Says the boy who walked off a broken leg.” she said pointedly.

“That’s different. I only did that because I was more worried about how I was going to fight my father.” he reminded her. There really hadn’t been another option. Well, aside from giving up and dying, he supposed. Nya didn’t seem to think this was a very convincing argument.  

“And I was more worried about getting today’s worksheets graded so I could figure out how to put the kibosh on all the cheating that’s been happening lately.” she told him without missing a beat. Lloyd raised an eyebrow and asked,

“That bad?”

Nya nodded and made a face.

“Honestly. And if it’s not cheating, it’s weird drawings. Oh, if I was gonna be the first member of the group to be hospitalized, why count it have been for something exciting?” she complained. He chose not to point out that her definition of exciting probably differed from most other people’s. Or that there had been plenty of times that Kai, Jay, and even Cole should have ended up in the hospital, but didn’t.  

“For the record, when we agreed to having lots of adventures, this isn’t what I pictured.” Lloyd offered wryly. He thought back to his first night on the Destiny’s Bounty. Things had been so different, then. Neither of them had known what the future held.

“Well, it’s good to know you haven’t been plotting against me this whole time.” teased Nya, biting back a yawn. He could tell her energy was beginning to wane.  

“Maybe I should let you sleep… sounds like it’s been a really long day for you.” he suggested. Now that he knew she was okay, he wanted her to stay that way. And that meant cutting their reunion short so she could get some rest.  

“Unfortunately, you’re right… It definitely has,” she agreed, “But Lloyd? Thank you. For coming. I’ve missed you.”

“Of course, Nya. It turns out traveling around Ninjago like this gets pretty lonely after awhile...” said Lloyd, wishing he’d been able to visit sooner. He missed being able to see his family whenever he wanted. Missed being a part of the action. Nya nodded sagely.  

“I’m sure it does. You got a place to stay, or should we call Kai to come pick you up?”  

“Let’s call Kai. I… didn’t exactly plan out what was gonna happen after I got here.” he admitted. He pulled out his phone.  

“I guess you don’t know how long you’re staying, then?” she asked, seeming a little disappointed. Lloyd shrugged. Oh, how he wanted to give up his victory tour and stay as long as he liked. But somehow, he doubted his uncle or the people of Ninjago would think very highly of him evading his commitments like that.  

“I dunno. I guess it couldn’t hurt to stay a few days. Just to make sure you’re okay?” he answered after a moments consideration. It would take a bunch of phone calls and rearranging of his schedule tomorrow morning, but it was doable. After all, now that he was here, there was no point in leaving too quickly. Staying the weekend would give him plenty of time catch up with Kai and the others. The more he thought about his decision, the more certain Lloyd became that it was the right call. The feeling of homesickness he’d been fighting since leaving his family was already beginning to fade away as he realized just how badly he’d needed to be home again.

[fratboyvivimatthews]

all over again - jack hughes

summary: you and jack had been dating for a year. it came with its fair share of ups and downs, but when you see a picture of jack with another girl again, all hell breaks loose

warnings: angst, tears, swearing, reggie i’m sorry but it had to be done

word count: [3,917]

“Y/n what’s up? You didn’t die, did you?” One of your friends asked from the phone call. Only you couldn’t answer her, you were lost for words. “Girl seriously are you good?” Only your eyes scanned the photo of Jack and the pretty blond again. Of course it was another blond. “Hello Earth to Y/n/n, you still awake or did you fall asleep on me?” 

Scoffing you rubbed your eyes trying to get rid of the tears from forming. “Nope I’m wide awake, but I have to - I uh gotta go. I’ll see you at school tomorrow.” With that you hung up and went back to analyzing the pictures all over again. The feeling in the pit of your stomach only getting worse and worse.

It all made sense now, that’s why he hadn’t called you like he did every other night. But of course you settled for the ‘Goodnight Y/n/n I love you, text you in the morning’ text instead of questioning why he suddenly decided not to call you. And now you had to go to sleep knowing he’d rather be at a party with that girl than talk to you on the phone.

Of fucking course this just had to happen, and now would come the countless people asking if he was cheating, or if you had broken up after a year of dating. Tears blurred your vision so you could no longer see their faces, but you could still picture how happy he looked in the picture. He never looked that happy in the pictures you have taken together, he just looked so carefree.

He never seemed like that in the pictures you guys had taken. Then the sobs fell and you couldn’t help but think the worst. And there was no way you could call and talk to him now, it’s one twenty-six in the morning and Jack was asleep keeping his schedule on track.

So that’s how you ended up crying yourself to sleep on a Monday night without doing any of your homework. Wondering if you should even bother texting him in the morning, or if you even had a relationship to worry about anymore.  

Your feet dragged across the white tiled floors of your school, praying people didn’t notice how your e/c eyes were red and puffy. Hopefully they didn’t notice that your normally cheery self was barely talking, and you were praying they didn’t see the picture so they wouldn’t ask you. Like countless amounts of people had already flooded your Instagram with question on pictures of you and Jack, and your DM’s.

And most of all you were begging god they wouldn’t see your heart that you wear on your sleeve was cracking faster than anyone could fix it. But they did, of course they did. People you didn’t even know were giving you looks of pity, and it was like even the teachers knew about the picture.

But your friends were the first ones to come out and ask you. “So, did he cheat on you?” Monica asked before getting slapped in the shoulder by Rachel. “What everyone’s wondering, I’m the only one who had the guts to ask.”

“It’s okay guys,” you stated with a hoarse voice. Frowns crossed your friends faces as they listened to you take a shaky breath. “I don’t even know anymore,” you admitted slowly. “I’ve been ignoring his messages and calls since this morning, I don’t have it in me to talk to him he and hear what he did.”

“But what if he didn’t?” Rachel asked trying to smile, “Y/n you don’t know unless you talk to him.”

“The thing is even if he didn’t there’s always going to be another picture making me think that he did, and there’s going to be some party that I get put aside for again. You know he ditched me when I was actually in Plymouth to visit him last month?” It was true he had, but you didn’t tell anyone scared to say it aloud making it true.

Your friends looked at each frowning once more before looking back at you. Scoffing you faked a laugh, “Yeah well he did. We were supposed to go out for dinner but something came up, so he left me and told Luke to take me to dinner.” Their mouths dropped open when you said this. In their minds Jack Hughes was perfect, and he was in your mind too. Expect for the little fights that happened every so often.

“Oh sweetie,” Monica coed before wrapping you up in her arms. “I’m so so sorry.” Shaking your head you tried to stop the tears that were forming, not wanting the whole hallway to see you break down over the hockey super star.

“Please I don’t want to cry again,” you whispered as you phone buzzed from another call. “I just can’t not here, not when he keeps calling me.” Rachel had joined in the hug hope to help shield your teary figure from the rest of your grade.

Only then one of them pulled away from you and you didn’t know why. “Y/n/n you need to see this,” Rachel’s phone was handed over to you and through the tears you saw it. It was another picture of Jack and the blond only this time they were pictured with others, people who you figured would tell Jack he shouldn’t have been taking that picture, but here he was arms wrapped tightly around her waist only focused in on her. “Cole posted it an hour ago, I’m so sorry Y/n.”

Then you saw the worst part of the picture, she was kissing his cheek and he was grinning like a madman. “Take me home,” you breathed trying your hardest not to break down in the middle of the hall with everyone focused in on you. “Please, please just take me home,” you hiccupped glancing around the to the people standing at their lockers.

You handed Rachel her phone back before wiping away a few tears, “Please I wanna go home.” They both nodded before leading you out of the school to the car. “I just - just, what am I supposed to do?” You asked thinking maybe they hand an answer.

“Get some sleep, and try talking to him later,” Monica replied looking at you through the mirror. “We know he’s been calling you all day, he snapped us too, wanting to talk to you. You gotta get some sleep and try to talk to him, it’s the only way you’re gonna know.”

“I don’t wanna know,” you mumbled into your hands. “I just want it to go back to normal I just want my Jack back.”

His ringtone filled your bedroom, it had been a constant for the last hour and half seeing they were finally done with hockey for the day. Your hands ran down you face as you stared down at the contact picture that popped up with his name. Of course it just had to be the candid picture you sitting in his lap while watching a movie in the Hughes’ basement.

The only thing you could focus on was the fact that he didn’t have that big smile on his face, but his eyes were on you and he was holding you close to him. It made you feel sick that he had yet another girl sitting on his lap again, and this time her lips were on his cheek.

You were so close to hitting the green answer button but you stopped yourself. How could you open yourself up to that hurt feeling? But you knew you had to, you had to hear his voice and listen to why he said this happened, so in the blink of an eye you hit the button. Jack let out a breath of relief before his voice filled your ears.

“Oh my god Y/n, I’ve been calling you all day. Are you okay babe?” He rushed out having too much energy inside of him from you finally answering his calls. “Thank god you answered I was starting to think I needed to fly out to see you for you to talk to me.” He fell silent again waiting for your response, “Y/n/n come on what’s wrong?”

You fell back on to your bed not knowing if you could handle this. A million thoughts ran around your head as he kept speaking trying to get you to answer him. How could he talk to you like nothing was wrong, like those pictures didn’t get posted?

As he kept rambling on you thought of how to approach this, work your way up to it, or come straight out and say it. Which was personally your favorite option.

“Jack I can’t keep seeing these pictures, this is what the second time that I know about?” you asked trying your hardest to hold back your sobs. “God knows how many other pictures there are like this.” Jack’s side of the line was silent and you couldn’t help but let out a sob.

“You need to get your priorities in check Jack Hughes, you’re seventeen years old - almost eighteen,” you huffed wishing you didn’t have to say this to him. “I shouldn’t have to see this picture of some random account at one in the morning, you need to figure it out, because-” sobs fell from your lips as you thought of what to say next.  “Because I just can’t do this anymore,” you whispered exhaustion taking over your body.

You could hardly believe that you had said it, and Jack couldn’t either. For the first time in this conversation he was struggling to find the words to say. “I uh- what - what do you mean you can’t do this anymore Y/n? I was a at a party, I was with friends-”

“But you’re always with friends Jack,” you cut him off praying you didn’t sound like some overprotective girlfriend that you didn’t want to be. “And then from these parties always surfaces the pictures of you and the guys looking drunk. And how could I forget, the pictures of another girl sitting on your lap, or leaning in too close to you on your basement couch.”

A groan left Jack’s mouth as he ran his hands through his hair. “So what are you saying Y/n, that I can’t go to parties with the guys? That I can’t hang out with other girls because what you’re jealous?”

Your tears of sadness turned to those anger. Hot tears rolled down your cheeks as you let out a forced laugh. “You really think I’m going to tell you to stop going to parties and being friends with other girls? Wow obviously you haven’t been paying attention much to this relationship because newsflash Jack, I’m the one who says go and have fun, but then you go and do this so I look like an idiot. Then you call me jealous? This isn’t jealous Jack, this is frustrated.”

“Sure seems a hell of a lot like jealous to me,” he hissed his worried demeanor changing in the blink of an eye. “Y/n nothing even happened I swear.”

“Yep so she didn’t kiss you on the cheek, and you totally were wearing a shirt. Or the fact that you don’t look happier in those pictures with her than in the ones of us,” you snapped your mind racing back to think of the pictures and how close she was to your boyfriend. “That she’s there with you, that you clearly have put in more effort to see her and talk to her than me. So yes Jack I’m done I can’t do this,” you screamed tears falling again. “Not when I’ve been left behind for some blonds you barely know more than once.”

He fell quiet once more not able to speak. He wasn’t sure what he could say anymore, but that was the answer you were looking for. You knew if he cared about you he would speak right away, but he hesitated and you were over it. “Thanks a lot Jack you just proved to me everything I ever over thought about was right. I hope you have a nice life.”

“No Y/n wa-” you hit the red circle ending the call before you could hear the rest of his pleas. Throwing your phone to your bed you stood there looking around your room and felt suffocated. The happy pictures of your relationship were too much for you to take and you lost it. Pulling at your hair you started to rip them down from the walls not caring if they ripped, or if they were one of your favorites.

They all had to go because Jack had to go, and that meant ripping apart your life piece by piece. 

It had been almost a week since you had talked to Jack and you had no idea were your relationship had stood. You thought it was over seeing as your room was still turned upside down from your efforts to get rid of him. He on the other hand must of have thought there was still something he could do to fix it, seeing as he called every day and wouldn’t stop trying to text you.

All of which you continued to ignore. And to help your efforts of never seeing him again you deleted all forms of social media expect for Twitter. There was really no point in trying to hide when everybody had already seen or heard about pictures, the one on Cole’s page being deleted almost right after you got off the phone with Jack that night.

So here you were, finally getting back into the groove of things. Finding peace with not having Jack in your life, and not having social media to drag you down was amazing even if it was hard at first. Somethings take time, and now it was so much easier to get your homework done when you didn’t have any notifications getting in your way. That and it meant you had more time for Netflix.

“Y/n someone’s here for you,” your mother called pulling you away from your episode of Supernatural. Your eyebrows raised confused wondering who would be coming by your house on a school night since none of your friends had told you they were stopping by. But before you got the chance to question your mom she called again, “Y/n it’s someone important.”

Sighing you pushed yourself up off the bed and walked downstairs groaning in frustration. You couldn’t even see who was standing at the front door because your mother blocked the view, so when she stepped aside and you saw Jack standing there you couldn’t breath.

It was like it all hit you all over again making you stumble over your feet as you walked over to the pair of them. “What are you doing here?” you asked him as you hugged yourself scared to let your guard down again. “And why’d you let him in?” It was directed at your mom but she only shrugged.

“You can’t avoid this for the rest of your life sweetheart, like it or not I know what heartbreak feels like,” she turned to look at Jack who backed away at her words. “He flew all this way to talk to you Y/n, at least try to listen to him. If not for me, but for yourself.” With a kind smile she walked away from you praying you’d do the right thing and not kick him out of your house.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you huffed glaring at him hoping to just scare him off and save yourself from anymore hurt. “There’s girls in Michigan waiting for you.” It was a low blow but god did it feel good to say, but the way his flushed face cringed hurt your heart.

Jack just stood there staring at you with his puffy blue eyes sporting big bags under them. “Can we - can we talk, please?” His voice was raspy from crying and late nights trying to get a hold of you, but somehow it still sounded as sweet as honey. “Y/n/n please I just needa talk to you, please,” he begged hoping to get a response from you.

Shaking your head you prayed that this was all a dream and that he wasn’t standing in front of you, even better you wish this whole thing was just a nightmare you were waiting to wake up from. But it wasn’t, this was real and the pain was hard to handle. “Fine,” you mumbled, “we can go up to my room.” You didn’t care that it was a mess, or the fact that he would have to handle seeing the pictures scattered around the floor. You wanted him to hurt like he had hurt you.

Silently he followed you up to your room and waited for you to close the door before he started speaking. His eyes scanned the room focused in on exactly what you had thought they would. “You never told me why you’re here Jack,” it hurt to say his name. It hurt to be in the same room, and it hurt that you still love the seventeen year old in front of you.

“To talk to you,” he breathed slowly as be bent over to pick up his favorite picture, it was of you kissing in the rain at a fire, “about what really happened. Because it’s not what you think.” His eyes were glued to it, he wouldn’t even look up at you as he spoke. “Yes it was a party, and yes there was a girl sitting in my lap who happened to kiss my cheek but she’s not you Y/n, you know that.”

“I thought I knew that Jack,” you answered sitting down on your bed, “then this happened the first time, and then it happened again. So I went through the pain all over again.” He finally looked up from the picture to meet your e/c eyes. “Do you know how hard it was for me to be with you? How many people would message me, or ask me about you?”

His gaze dropped to his feet ashamed he put you through that when he loved you. “No, but I thought you would talk to me if that hurt you, you always said you would.”

Laughing a little you shook your head, “You don’t get it. That’s not what hurt, I could deal with the people, but what I can’t put myself through anymore is you.” His eyes went wide when he heard the word. “You ditched me for whatever last month and stuck me with Luke, and then I get pushed aside for a party and this happens? Jack it’s a circle you fall into, and I can’t do that to myself, I can’t let you tear me apart.”

Licking his lips he tried to find the way to properly breath. It was like the oxygen had disappeared from the room. “But what - what? A circle, I fall into a circle?” He didn’t understand how he teared you apart, he never would because he thought he built you up. “I didn’t tear you apart, I was always there. Always, and that dinner with Luke - Y/n I had to go you know that.”

“No J, I don’t know that,” you shot back. “You never told me why you left, and when I asked you got mad at me. So I let it go, just like the last time this happened. I told you it hurt me, that I don’t want to see this again happen again because, and you know what you said?” Your arms crossed over your chest as you waited for his answer.

“I said, ‘don’t worry babygirl it won’t, because I love you’,” he whispered before sitting on the bed next to you. “But I fucked it up,” he added causing you to nod your head.

So you just sat there in silence not knowing what to say to each other, and it was awful. You used to be comfortable in the silence with Jack, but now it was stuffy. It allowed you to think back to all of what you shared between each other. “A long time ago you promised me you’d be at the draft no matter what,” Jack stated making you think back to that late night you promised him the world. “That you’d be the first person to hug me and say I had finally made it. You’re still going to come right?”

His big blue eyes were so full of hope that you almost missed the tears that were forming at his waterline. Your mouth opened, but you closed it again before you said something you’d regret. When you opened it once more nothing came out, no words just breaths.

“No Jack, I’m not going to come to the draft,” it had fell from your lips so easily.

The hope that had once filled his eyes was gone and the tears fell down his cheeks. “No please - Y/n please you promised me you’d be there. I need you there, please,” he wept using the backs of his hands to try and stop the tears from falling. “You promised me!” He screamed not afraid of anyone hearing him.

“And you promised me Jack!” You exclaimed standing from the bed throwing your hands in the air. “Promised that it wouldn’t happen again, that everything was going to be okay. That it was you and me against the world. But you broke it,” you seethed glaring down at him. “And you broke me when you did that, tore me apart so I have every right to break mine. Take the girl you picked over me last week, I’m sure she’ll jump at the opportunity to sit in your lap at the draft.”

He clenched his jaw, and grabbed a handful of your sheets to try and calm himself down but it didn’t work. “Why the fuck would I do that when the girl I love and want there is you Y/n,” he yelled standing from the bed. “Why can’t you see that I didn’t do anything wrong, that it was a stupid party and you're overreacting.”

Tears now fell from your eyes. “You don’t mean that,” you muttered, “if you loved me you would’ve thought of what you were doing, but you didn’t. So I’m not overreacting. You did do something wrong Jack, you ruined us! Just leave, I didn’t want you here in the first place.” You sat back down too tired to stand and fight this battle anymore.

With your head in your hands you heard the door open and close. When you heard the car start and drive off you lost it. Sobs racked your body as you thought of rushing after him to tell him you’d be there, that you couldn’t break the promise you had kept. But you didn’t, and it was the biggest regret of your life.

Because when you watched the draft with you dad you saw an open seat to the left of Jack, in between him and his mother. The seat that had been intended for you, and just when you thought you were finally over him the tears came back and it hurt all over again.

[juleskelleybooks]

Star Still Fall: Worldbuilding Pt 2

I found a snippet in my Stars Still Fall worldbuilding file and built it out a little bit last night. Again, this probably won’t go anywhere in the final draft; it’s just for me to have when I’m writing the main story, which takes place a few years later. Anyway, the first part is here: [Link] (Content advisory on the post).

This follows very closely afterward. Content advisory for: PTSD, remembered death of family, coming to terms with new disability, severe depression in first-person POV. 

***

“…was really very nice of her to offer you this job. She didn’t have to, you know. Make sure you tell her thank you.”

Aunt Pauline’s voice barely broke through the distance that was always in my mind now, like I was observing my life from very far away. It was only when she said, “Lilly, tell her thank you, do you hear?” that I managed to mumble, “Yes ma’am.”

One of Aunt P’s church friends, Caroline, was the customer service manager at Piggly Wiggly and had offered to give me a job as a cashier there since I’d dropped out of high school for now. There had been some discussion and self-satisfied agreement between them that it would help give me a feeling of normalcy if I had some structure in my daily life.

“Something more than just moping around the house,” Aunt P had said. I don’t think she knew I could hear her.

And despite everything, I hoped they were right. I was as tired of being trapped in the house with Aunt P as she was of being trapped in the house with me, and it would be nice if this worked out. Maybe I could get to know some people. Maybe it would take my mind off things. Maybe I could save up enough money to move out of Aunt Pauline’s house. Maybe – and it was a wild, breathless dream of a thing, but I couldn’t help it – maybe I could save up enough that I could move out of Gideon. Maybe not as far as I wanted, but somewhere new. Somewhere people didn’t know me, didn’t pity me, didn’t whisper about me. A knot of guilt started up in my stomach at the thought that I was trying to forget about everyone, but I shoved it down. Cole would understand. He’d know that just because I wanted to live without people thinking of my family’s tragic accident every time they looked at me, it didn’t mean I wanted to leave my own memories behind. Right?

I could never forget you, Cole, or Mom and Dad. Don’t be mad at me.

When Aunt P put the car into park, I realized that we were at the door. She was dropping me off.

“I’ll be back to get you in a few hours,” she said, and the bright note in her voice surprised me for a moment. It was the first time I’d heard her sounding anything except cautious – at first – and then more and more dour and disappointed as time went by and I still had to be reminded to do basic things like take a shower or eat food. I didn’t even try telling myself that she was just happy for me that I was finally “moving on.” No; she was thrilled at the prospect of several hours when I was someone else’s problem.

The feeling was as close to mutual as it could get for someone who couldn’t feel anything.

And for a while, it was all right. I felt awkward and self conscious, having to figure out how to grip the items to scan until I mostly relied on my left hand, using my right hand to punch in numbers on the computer screen. I ignored everyone’s cautious glances at my missing fingers the few times I fumbled their cash and focused on their voices, which were mostly warm and welcoming and supportive.

“It’s so good to see you, Lilly Ann.”

“We’ve missed you. It’s good to see you’re all right.”

“We’ve been praying for you, sweetheart.”

No one minded that I was slower than all the other cashiers, slowed down even more by everyone stopping by my line to say hello in their own way. It was a little overwhelming, and I kind of wished they would just let me learn the ropes, but they meant well.

After only an hour, though, my body ached and my patience was beginning to fray. Was I really that frail? I could hear Aunt Pauline in my head. It’s been a year, Lilly. Are you ever planning to even try?

I couldn’t ask for a break after just an hour. I wasn’t that special. Getting this job was already a favor; I couldn’t abuse Caroline’s good will like that. And besides, if I couldn’t work, then I couldn’t save up any money, and I’d never get out of Aunt P’s house, much less out of Gideon. I didn’t realize my hands were shaking until the pickle jar slipped. It bounced off the scanner pane and rolled onto the floor, shattering into a mess of glass and vinegar, and through the ringing in my ears, I heard someone asking if I was okay and the song warbling over the speakers in the ceiling.

—So hard to find my way, now that I’m on my own

I saw you just the other day, my you had grown—

The tinkle and crunch of glass made it hard to breathe, and I pawed at the warm slickness on my face, confused when my hands just came away wet instead of bloody.

“Lilly Ann!”

“Somebody help her—get her to the office.”

Sometimes I’m overcome thinkin’ bout

By the time I could process anything, I was in a metal folding chair inside the manager’s office, someone’s sweater wrapped around my shoulders like a blanket, and someone was coaxing a styrofoam cup into my left hand.

“Here, sweetie. Drink some water, okay?”

You’re my brown-eyed girl

“Are you all right? Did it cut you?”

My brown-eyed girl.

“I’m sorry I made a mess,” I managed to whisper, the styrofoam creaking under my grip. I reached for it with my right hand, forgot for a moment that I couldn’t grab it the same way I used to, and fumbled it, splashing water into my lap before I caught it.

“No, no, don’t worry about that,” the woman said. I finally focused on her face. Barbara. She’d been bagging the groceries that I was scanning. “It happens all the time. Last week, the bottom fell out of a bag and four two-liters sprayed Dr. Pepper across the whole front end. What matters is that you’re okay.”

I nodded, but then I felt my lower lip trembling and desperately tried to stop it, pressing my tongue hard against the roof of my mouth. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t you dare cry—

“Do you want to go home?” Barbara asked softly, and I nodded again. This time I couldn’t have stopped the tears even if I had tried. But I was out of energy for trying.

I wished more than anything that I could have gone home—but the only home I had anymore was Aunt P’s guest room. That’s what Barbara meant when she said it. That’s what everyone would mean. Not the brick three-bedroom on Hough Street that I’d grown up in, that had been emptied out and sold, with only a few boxes of things packed up for me, but the floral print guest room with the porcelain angels lined up on top of the antique cherry wood wardrobe where Aunt P had her winter clothes stashed.

I wished someone would put me in a box and stash me in a wardrobe too, and see how long it took the moths to eat me.

[waterylanejane]

Hi! So, I was wondering if you could do a Finn Cole x reader where the reader is most notable for her role as Daenerys (ik no one could beat Emilia Clarke for this role but still, lol) on Game of Thrones and when asked a fan question about what it would be like to see her beloved Finn Cole on the show, she answers really cutely and it's just adorable. (P.S. Finn would obviously be there with her) Please? :)

I’m pretty sure this isn’t exactly what you had in mind… but hey its written!

Just a few years ago you were a young actress relatively newto the screen and now you are internationally famous for your role as Daeneryson HBO’s Game of Thrones. When you first started the project you knew it wasspecial, but no one could have guessed how much it caught on and you for onewere not ready! 

The longer the show was on the more pressure you felt trying tolive up to Daenerys’ strong character. Even when you took other roles andshowed how versatile you are as an actress, people just never took the time to letyou be you. For interviews your manager told you to try and appear more confident since you were still so young and carrying such a large role. It only got worse as Game of Thrones got bigger. You could always talk to the rest of the cast, but they were often under the same pressure and you all needed other outlets. Luckily, you havethe love and support of your boyfriend, fellow actor and all-around sweetheart,Finn Cole.

You met Finn in 2016 after the premier of his show AnimalKingdom and, as if his face wasn’t enough, the guy was an amazingconversationalist. He just made you feel like yourself again and not like youwere still acting. He was so real! You had plenty of friends, actors and not,but everyone always made you feel like you had to be someone else, someonemore. Finn was just himself and you realized you could be too! After that, youtwo texted and tweeted, meeting whenever you could, you never wanted to beapart. That was of course difficult with your vastly different schedules, buthere you are at a panel promoting and  halfway through filming the final season of Game of Thrones and the best part: every few moments you get the chance to sneak a glance to the wings of thestage and catch Finn smiling proudly at you. Hopefully you weren’t being tooobvious…

“Hey, I know you’re busy looking at your lover over there,but someone is totally gonna think your bored or scared if you keep lookingtoward the exit,” Kit whispers and you snap your head forward again.

“This question is for Sophie, now that the Jonas Brothersare back, are they going to get to sing in the final season? Maybe even just apost credit teaser or something?” one fan asks making you smile. Honestly thatwas a good idea, the crew should have thought of that! Maybe there is stilltime.

Sophie smiles, “I wouldn’t let them ride off our show,” she isnow holding back her giggles, “If they want the attention, they’ll just have toearn it.” You just love Sophie and Joe so much. They are both so nice and theyare so playful together. The crowd laughs at her teasing and she mentions that it really is all up to the producers.

The next fan stands to ask their question, “So, Y/N when arewe finally gonna see Finn in an episode?” You immediately blush at the mentionof your relationship knowing that Finn is actually right there. Wait…

“Well, I really can’t say, we tend to have pretty different schedules and all. I think he should take a quick vacation to film with us before the show ends but maybe you could ask him? Babe?” Yoursmile has gone a bit smug knowing you have finally found a way to get him outhere with you. There is a light cheer as people realize what you mean. Finnsmiles and shakes his head at you, but you are perfectly willing to drag him onto stage if it means holding his hand for the rest of this panel. Finally, he gives in and, with a cute roll of his eyes, starts walking out onto the stage and you can’t help the huge smile on yourface.

Walking up behind you and taking your microphone Finnsmiles, “I can’t say that I will be featured in any episode though the animators diduse my eyes as inspiration for Drogon’s.”

“I wish that was true,” you wink up at him.

“Maybe I can be featured as a loyal solider that falls forthe stunning Queen of Dragons?” he wiggles his eyebrows at you.

He just walked into that one, “Well, that’s not even actingfor you is it? And didn’t we already do that story line?”

“Sorry Finn, but if you saw last season it looks like theQueen of Dragons is currently occupied with the King of the North…” comes Kit’sreply. 

“Former King ofthe North.” you are quick to correct. That got the crowd going. “I would love to see you all dressed up in our costumes though…maybe we could give you some long hair…” you mused with his arm around yourshoulders he gave you a light squeeze. You just loved these little moments between you, the ones where one of you tells the other “I’m so glad I found you” without ever needing words.

“I should be one of the thousands of extras and just nottell any of you guys and you can just look around in the background for me inevery episode,” Finn laughs pulling you close, “I could get on and off set without any of you knowing.”

“Don’t do that! An entire website will be dedicated tofinding you in the background!” Maisie replies.

“You’re right! Arya should wear my face.”

“This is why he hasn’t been on the show by the way, he is too disruptive,”you laugh to the audience. Finn kisses your cheek and you lean your head on him. For the rest of the panel Finn sits with you and you find mind drifting away thinking of just how lucky you are for everything in your life.

[purplerose244]

MY THOUGHTS ON EPISODE 97!!!

SPOILER ALERT!!!

... wow. Just wow, I'm processing everything that happened and I gotta say, this episode was incredible 🤩

Let's see if I can put everything

First of all, thankfully, the oni talked in a way I managed to understand 😅 Also somehow Garmy saying "It's complicate" makes me think of how much it really is... "You know, I was meant to be an evil lord, but I met this woman who is now weirdly into my brother, had a son that defeated me, saved me, banished me, kinda killed me and defeated me again..."

I remember when "Lloyd" Garmadon was just a pun of Lord, look at us now 😂 Sometimes I need a reminder of how unusual is the Garmadon family

OKAY BUT THE THROWBACKS?? AWESOME?

WE HAVEN'T SEEN THAT ARMOR SINCE THE BEGINNING SEASON 4!!! And the Sword of Santuary, I love that thing, in my group of RP I have something similar, very useful 👌

Can I say that Lloyd being so clumsy kinda weirded me out? But I guess in complete darkness with beings made to kill and your evil dad as the only companion... yeah, now I kinda understand better 💚

... yeah, I'm getting there 😓

The NTV tower, does anyone remember it? Like, I rewatched "The Day Ninjago Stood Still" just the other day, so glad we see buildings that comes from other seasons!!

Gale is being a good journalist I guess 😅 Still can't see why Dareth is so into her...

... I really have to, huh

... THE FEELS

First of all, Ninjago crew, Jay and Michael, you are cruel. You can't use a tone so similar to the soundtrack Cole whistled before, it's like with Zane death's one... I still feel my heart aching every time I hear it and that moment broke me 😭😭

Jay's scream is 😢 The way he holds onto the ladder, that face, that is the expression of someone that just lost his best friend I have so many bruise vibes right now not sorry

To be honest it kinda pissed me off at first that Cole's fall happened because of a simple mistake, but then I got to think that Nya is "perfect". Or at least she tries to be. And it is well shown how much it hurt her, and how she blames herself. They didn't lose Cole because of an epic battle, they did because of something she could've avoided. That thought might torture forever

And finally... THIS

If you know me, you know I love Kai. In all of this flaws and qualities. And this scene, man, it's so amazing for him. Of course he immediately tries to go back, showing his temper and determination. Then comes the realization, hard and painful. And then he just let go, heartbroken, because we all know how much Kai suffers every time his family is hurt... or worse.

Also Zane being the one that console him makes me remember of Skybound, when Nya died and Frosty put a hand on Kai's back (THAT SCENE OMG)

I really, REALLY loved that moment. And choosing not to have voice gave it a nice vibe, like something extremely personal

Well, back in track 😅 It hit me here that we weren't even at half of the episode

I like the darkness thing, but it feels like the battle scenes are clearer in other situations. Also Garmy protecting his son, I'm not hoping, you're hoping 😟

MY QUEEN BEING STRONG NO MATTER WHAT 💙

WHAT DID WE DO TO DESERVE HER??? 💙

Okay the guys rushing to see if Lloyd and Pix were okay, MY HEART

Happy to see Kai helping Lloyd directly, they are still my BrOTP ❤💚❤💚 Also Pixane being the purest thing as always 😍😍😍

And wow. WOW. Besides Mark Oliver that is a blessing in every single line, Sam Vincent is KILLING his role!! The emotions are so well delivered, and he is able to show how much Lloyd cares, like he is actually the one that went through all those seasons with his friends

Bless our voice actors. Really 👏👏👏

THAT LINE

"There is more to life than survival!!"

During this season I often thought about what exactly prevent Lloyd to become evil, to be like his dad and follow his ways of letting go his emotions and affections. This is the reason.

Garmadon survives. Lloyd lives.

... I LOVE THIS SHOW SO MUCH 😍😍😍

Also Garmy going for Zane as the rational one, I felt how heavy it was, especially after reading @thewingedguardianalanshee 's post it. Coming to realize how much the others suffered when he was gone, and also seeing the golden armor... MAN. Needed a reminder that Zane had a crazy ride as well back in the days. You go Mr. Roboto 👍

Okay, Garmy looking at the photos, trying to smile, hearing voices, I felt my heart aching for real 😭 I love that they actually use pieces from episodes of the old design, it gives so much more continuity

That moment with Vinnie though 😂 I'd say it felt a little clumsy, but at the same time they did good, choosing someone outside the situation to give Garmy a new point of view

Okay unless something incredible happens on episode 98, I stan that this is officially my favorite episode of the season 👊👊

Like, I'll be honest, I half expected a moment between Jay and Nya, him conforting her and getting her to know how much he loves her. Which I would've liked it, don't get me wrong, but it would've been predictable

What we got instead?

SMITH SIBLINGS MOMENT!!! MAN I MISSED THIS SO MUCH!!! ❤💙❤💙❤💙

I'm a huge fan of Nya's silver suits, I love the fact that she has her own color, so I was a little upset when it got back to blue and maroon (just a little, she looks gorgeaus no matter what). But seeing this I'm happy, it's similar to Kai's and for this scene it's a nice choice

So, Kai is a disaster 😂 Like we don't know that

But he always does his best, especially when it involves his lil sis. I loved how supportive he was, telling her how much she's important for this team (100% true) and how Cole would want them to go on

And just when I thought "They gave me so much of my two passions, references of past seasons and KAI. I'm satisfied." They said it. Finally they did.

... THE GOLDEN WEAPONS THE GOLDEN WEAPONS THE GOLDEN WEAPONS THE GOLDEN WEA-

Finally blacksmith Kai is back 😎 It's something I really wanted to see for a long time, always silently wondering "Did Kai make that? Does Kai know how to make that?". And now, NOW IT'S A REALITY!!!!!! 😍😍😍

YOU GO MY FLAME BABE, I BELIEVE IN YOU!!! JUST TRY NOT TO MAKE A SPRING OUT OF A SWORD LIKE IN THE PILOTS AND YOU SHOULD BE FINE!!! 🔥🔥🔥

Me: "Wow, what a ride! I gotta say I'm really intrigued, I wonder how they're gonna end all of this and how the Golden Weapons will..."

The episode:

Me: "NOTHING MATTERS BUT BABY BOY ALONE IN THE COLD DARKNESS, HE'S FREAKING ALIVE!!! AAAAAAHHHHHH!!!"

So, I definitely saw this coming, no way they were gonna kill a main character like that 😆 But him being okay like that... Lloyd struggled to breath there, and survived because of his oni side. Well Pix did to but because she's a droid... I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO THINK

What scares me the most is the fact that Cole does the intro this season, just like Wu, Lloyd and Garmy... all of them had such a hard time 😓

Phew, I made it! I did not expect to come out alive from this episode 😁 Really well done, I can see that they are still connected with the seasons before, which is great for me. Us fans recognize everything!!!

Can't wait to see mah flame being all blacksmithy! ❤ Is it too much to ask having Ray and Maya around, since they are professional blacksmiths? Let me dream Lego, sooner or later I'll need to know what happened to them 😚

Wow, feels like I wrote a lot! But I feel a lot better know! Thanks for reading me freaking out, and thanks a lot for all the notes in the previous one! 😁😁

I think this is it, my only question is: since Cole is still alive but far away, and the Golden weapons are coming back, who will yield the Scythe of Earthquake? Are there gonna be new Golden Weapons? Something for Nya and Lloyd too? Considering Kai's blacksmith skills, maybe they won't be that similar to the original ones 😅

Oh boy, I'm done for real!! Let's calm down until the new episode destroys us once and for all 😎

See ya!! Byee!! 😊

[moquall]

Dissidia Final Fantasy : SECRETUM～秘密～ (Part 2 / 2)

Please read Part 1 first before you read this.

P.S : This part will cover Act 4 till Epilogue also my thoughts for this live reading so it will be longer. For those who have read Part 1 i accidentally delete, please read my new Part 1 because i add Act 3 there. just click “dissidia secretum” tag in my blog. (inserting an url here sometimes will hide this post from search result ==“) and sorry it took so long to post this.

Summary from part 1 :

Under Materia’s order, Cloud, Squall and Tidus went to investigate a mysterious light that fell into dissidia world but what they found is a man with no memories. Together with this man, they continue their journey but it turned out to be something unexpected. 

——————————————————-

ACT 4

Cloud and Sephiroth are in the Floating Continent, surrounded by a thick fog. He keep attacking Sephiroth to buy him some time because Sephiroth will chase Squall and John if he isn’t willing to fight

Cloud : He is not our enemy ! Sephiroth : You were deceived. (Sephiroth keep attacking Cloud) I won’t let you escape. Cloud : That’s my line ! Don’t think you can catch me easily ! Sephiroth : Alright. Nothing change if we move place.

Cloud escaped into Cornelia Plains and hide on the tree like John did before. He is surprised Sephiroth didn’t realize at all but just when Cloud attack him, Sephiroth dodge it.

Cloud : What’s your purpose ? Why are you after John ? Sephiroth : Didn’t you heard it from the goddess ? That man is hiding a powerful resources. Cloud : John is hiding it ? Sephiroth : You sure don’t know anything, huh ? That train crashed here because it’s after the man’s power. Just like me. Cloud : Then it’s obvious. Whoever John is, I will not hand him over to you Sephiroth : Oh.. Cloud : We are a team ! It’s time ! finish him !

"The wind suddenly blew and it was a coincidence. But Sephiroth responded to my instruction as i was determined because i have a friend."

Sephiroth : You insolent ! Cloud : I am not alone afterall. You’re the one who proved it ! Sephiroth : Foolish ! Cloud : Let’s go ! Sephiroth !!

——————————————————-

ACT 5

Meanwhile, Tidus is inside Phantom Train. He is surprised it’s different then the one he knew (The Sending) and it makes him trembling. He tried to call “the old man he know” and something that looked like a pyreflies transform into the man with sunglasses and appear in front of him. Tidus asked Auron if he board this train but answered he heard that the phantom train derailed and he saw Tidus when he tried to send his thoughts. (Okay i don't know the right translation for this one. I'll explain later)

seriously, didn’t expect to see Auron as ‘cameo’ in this live reading and Ishikawa-san wear sunglasses  *badass*

Tidus think Phantom Train carries the dead like The Sending in Spira. Auron asked him to persuade the souls for not leaving the train because the souls boarded this train is in unstable state. If they held a grudge and leave the train , they will turns into a monster. Why the souls wanted to leave the train so badly because normally, the dead boarded the phantom train must accept their death but this time, one of the souls escaped carrying a the treasure that will revive the dead and the souls think if they have it, they will be revived.

Tidus realized John is probably the one Auron mentioned since he lost his memories and is looking for summon but doesn’t know if John really has the treasure. Auron added no one knows if the treasure is really exist and even if they have it, doesn’t mean it will grant their wish to be revived. The commotion is getting worse so Auron told him they can’t ignored this.

Tidus : If they wait here, The Phantom Train will depart, right ? Auron : Right. but it’ll take some time. Tidus : Okay. I’ll do it. Auron : Speak as you like. They hear your voice. I’ll stop them if someone trying to talk with you. Tidus : O...Okay.

“Listen to me ! Please don’t be panic ! We don’t know if the treasure is really exist or not but if you force yourself searching for it, turn into a monster and start rampaging, It means the end for you. Maybe it’s fine if you turn into monster only in this world but what will happen to you if you return to your own world as it is ? It sounds selfish if you said it’s better if you leave yourself here but you want your living family and friends to do whatever they want and keep smiling but because of your fault, it’ll hurt them more. Leave the one who escaped this train to me . Everyone.. Let’s finish your story for once ! I don’t know anything about the Phantom Train but there was a similar ritual like this in the world I knew. I am a little scared but I think it’s important. If they end it, I don’t know when but I’m sure someday you’ll meet them again in the real world . I’ll prove it to you soon so just wait and see !"

After his speech, Auron gave an applause and praise him for his wonderful speech. Tidus decided to go back to his friend and bring John here before he turn into monster while Auron stayed at the train to make sure nothing bad happened. Tidus ran and leave the train while seeing him off, Auron laughed “I got a great story to share.“

——————————————————-

ACT 6

It started with John’s monologue

“All of sudden, the voices of lament resounded in my head. it was painful and feels like my head is going to explode. But that voices were a part of my memories. A long time ago, I couldn’t protect the woman I love. She lost her memories due to an accident and I was rejected because I made her parents sad. But a year after I left, the village was attacked by enemy country and killed her. It seems she regain her memories and call my name before she died. I don’t care what people say but I shouldn’t leave her that time. I want to meet and talk with her once again. With that determination, I keep continue searching for a legendary treasure that will bring the dead back to life. The treasure was hidden in a cave which is under enemy country’s control. I keep walking through trackless path, avoid myself from the monster, I don’t know how many times I was about to die. I clunged into the rock that seemed to collapse and climb it. At last.. I finally found a glowing stone. That’s right, It’s not over ! I found what I’m looking for. And now, It’s time to wake up from this weird dream !”

Meanwhile, after running away from Sephiroth, Squall is walking while carrying unconscious John on his back. It reminds him with “that time”

“I’m tired. He is heavy.. It’s just like that time. I carried her and walking, keep walking, worried.

Rinoa, Wait for me..”

Squall didn’t realize John is awake until he heard his laugh.

John : hehehe.. Squall : HAH ?! John : Hehe.. Sorry for letting you carry an unpretty guy, Squall. Squall : When did you wake up ? John : Who knows～. Joking aside, Sorry for troubling you. I’m Okay. (John get off from Squall) Squall : ...Let’s go back. John : Yeah..

——————————————————-

ACT 7

Cloud : Ukh.. It’s not over Sephiroth : It’s enough.. Cloud : What ? Sephiroth : The treasure has arrived.. (John and Squall return to aid Cloud) John : Sorry to kept you waiting ! Cloud : John ! Squall ! Squall : I’ll back you up ! John : Me too ! Cloud : No, you can’t, John !! John : Eh ? Woahh !! (Sephiroth attack John) Sephiroth : Useless effort... Squall : Do not underestimate us !! Cloud : John, step back ! John : So you wanted the legendary treasure, huh ? Sephiroth : Oh.. John : I see.. Sephiroth : Give it to me.  (Squall and Cloud keep attacking Sephiroth) That’s too bad. Tidus : TAKE THIS ! (Tidus attacked Sephiroth but he dodge it) I made it !! John, you have the treasure, right ? John : Maybe yes ? Tidus : Are you sure ? You sure you have it ?  Woaahh !! (Sephiroth suddenly attack Tidus)   Squall : Stay focus !!! John : Okay. Leave the rest to me. Cloud : What’s happened with you ? John : All i must do is give this man the treasure, right ? Tidus : John.. John : Come on, niisan. Sephiroth : It’s over.. Tidus : Watch out ! John : FLAME OF REBIRTH, PHOENIX !!

John summoned the immortal bird, Phoenix. The summonstone on John’s chest shined brightly and Sephiroth saw the summonstone was damaged, and left the scene, completely gave up the summon. And Tidus's monologue start.

"The Summon, Phoenix's summonstone. It was the treasure's true form. The fire bird flying while scattering its warm light. It's the first time i saw this but i feel relieved. Phoenix flew toward the Phantom Train and the train, now bathed in flames and sparkling, flew to the sky while carrying a lot of souls. for them to be reincarnate someday”

Cloud asked when did John found the summonstone and John answered he had the stone but completely forgot about it which prove he regained his memories. Tidus realize John should board the train before he turn into monster but since the phoenix save him, he was revived. They see the summonstone filled with cracks. Squall assumed they can’t use it and Tidus thought Materia will complain. Cloud suggest to report and tell Materia the truth and the four returned to Materia’s tower.

——————————————————-

ACT 8 (EPILOGUE)

John : Thank you, I owe you a lot. Squall : Yeah, you caused a lot of trouble. John : (chuckle) What a cocky. Cloud : Thanks for your help. It will be tough if you didn’t summon Phoenix. John : No problem. But I will be dead for sure, if you didn’t help me that time. Tidus : Well.. It’s fun going on a journey with you, John. John : Yup ! Well, see y- Squall : Wait ! At least tell us your name. John : Haha.. Sorry. I got used with the name “John” so I think it’s okay if you keep call me with that name. Tidus : Right ? Since you got your memories back, we haven’t heard your real name. By the way, you are a thief, aren’t you ? John : T-H-I-E-F ? call me Treasure Hunter” . My name is Locke. LOCKE COLE !

-----------------------END----------------------- 

there are something I haven’t mentioned yet and I think it’s important.

In case, you missed. The gods didn’t summon Locke. He escaped the Phantom Train while the train was in the rift and he fell to World B. Since he is in this train, I think he died after he got the magicite in Phoenix Cave and before reunite with others in FFVI. Phoenix revived him but i dont know why he lost his memories. Squall, Tidus and Cloud found him. That’s where Locke’s journey in dissidia NT started.

Kujiraoka said on June 2018’s livestream that Secretum happened after the last battle.

It was mentioned on the script which is included in premium edition also famitsu interview with Kujiraoka, that the man in black cloak is actually SEPHIROTH’S CLONE. Kinda makes sense since I wondered how did Sephiroth ended up in Phantom Train. Also the tone Morikawa-san use when he act as Sephiroth's copy is different than the usual Sephiroth.

There is a small chance Phoenix appear as summon in NT since the summonstone filled with cracks. This is also Kujiraoka’s answer from the interview.

IMO I don’t think Auron will come to NT which is SaaaaaaD because first, he was in the phantom train and the train leave World B after that. Second, Auron has same Japanese VA with Squall (also Cait Sith from VII and Qator from Type-0) so even if he comes to NT, maybe not in next season pass. (if the datamine "leak" is true). Not sure about that though.

And some things I don’t really understand :

How Sephiroth know about Phoenix, and what Sephiroth is going to do with it.(At first i thought just like Materia with the weather trio, he knew it from Spiritus but i doubt it since most of Spiritus's warriors are like "i don't care with this war. I have my own ambition.")

It’s about Sephiroth’s copy. Why his copy is in the Phantom Train ? Did Sephiroth control it ? or what ?

Okay actually I don’t really understand how Auron ended  up in Phantom Train. Here is the dialogue.

Tidus : アンタも、この列車に乗ってたのか？(You board this train too ?) Auron : いや、魔列車が脱線したと聞いてな、厄介事かと思念を飛ばしたら、お前の姿が見えたということだ。(No, I heard the Phantom Train derailed. I thought something bad happened and I saw you when i tried to send my thoughts. Tidus : 魔列車ね…(Phantom Train, huh…)

According to my Japanese friend, 思念を飛ばす is something like telepathy. Like, communicating with someone but we only hear their voice and we can't see their real form. The sfx when Auron greet Tidus sounds like he is transforming from pyreflies to his physical form. I understand this idiom but doesn't know how to translate this one to English. anyone here have an idea for the right translation ?

Also for Squall’s “Whatever” , He is actually said 「別に/Betsu ni」. It’s one of his catchphrase along with 「悪かったな../Warukatta na」in the Japanese version of FFVIII. Even though the translation of “Betsu ni” doesn’t always mean “Whatever” in English, I decided to translated it all to “Whatever”.

-------------------THOUGHTS-------------------

In this live reading, I got to see a different side from the characters. I was surprised to see Squall yelled “Johhhhnnnnnnnn!!!” when Locke asked him for nickname also being such a “jerk” to protect his friend. Cloud stopped the quarrel between Squall and Tidus also Squall and Locke is something I never see before. Even though we all know Cloud and Squall are both the 'silent' type, Squall interact a lot with Tidus and Locke but Cloud is the calm, helpful also “the neutral one” in this live reading and he care and trust his friend. Maybe people will think it’s kind of OOC and tbh that's what I thought at first but I think it as “different or new side” we didn’t get to see after the ending of their game.

I personally love seeing how they interact with each other, especially the four and it kinda remind me a little with Braska (Cloud), Auron (Squall) and Jecht (Tidus and Locke). I don’t say they have same personality, It’s just their interaction and role here reminds me with ossan trio from FFX.

But I'm dissapointed because Cloud, doesn't interact much like Squall and Tidus. His spotlight is during his battle with Sephiroth even though I have had enough seeing this two fight ==" . (sorry to FFVII fans especially Cloud or Sephiroth’s fans :p ). And even though secretum story is about Locke, Auron came as 'guest' was a big surprise. Kudos for Ishikawa-san to play as two character at the same time.

Didn't expect it's too long. Good story with favorite casts, favorite seiyuu, some things that will bring your memories back to series related and what i love is they used the original tracks for the BGM in most of the scene like Vivi's theme during Tidus and Locke's scene in Alexandria, Blue Fields during Squall's monologue, Forever Rachel during Locke's monologue in Act 6, etc. The aftertalk is full of laugh. The casts teased Producer Hazama (who was the host for this event) a lot. Nomura also came and as usual, as the voice from heaven (XD). They even talk a bit about Kingdom Hearts.

I’m glad to see Locke, Rinoa and Yuna scene in Dissidia NT have some reference to secretum, at least in the Japanese version. 

It’s the first Final Fantasy live reading and I hope they hold another in the future. Even Ishikawa-san wished Square Enix will hold another dissidia live reading but with all casts and PLEASE COUNT ME IN FOR FULL CASTS OF DISSIDIA LIVE READING.

Let me know your thoughts about this live reading.

[bhaalble]

An Invitation- A Post-Trespasser Fic

So people have been showing interest in Sythia and I typed up this drabble forever ago about her being approached by my Inquisitor, Astyth Cadash. I’m always a slut for “returning heroes” and until da4 comes out, post-Trespasser is my playground

However, due to it being Fanfic Author Appreciation Day, I’d like to turn this into an invitation. Write up a drabble about what your warden, your Hawke, your Inquisitor, whoever you feel, is up to in a post-Trespasser world. How they’re dealing with the impending apocalypse (again). Tag me in it! I’ll try and reblog what I can.

So, without any more rambling...

It feels strange to be traveling on her own. The woods feel lonesome somehow without Sera and Dorian’s constant bickering, or Cole’s strange musings, or even Cassandra’s long-suffering sighs. Bull had offered to come with her, and she’d nearly accepted: it had been a long time since the two of them had taken a truly private trip.

But ultimately this was one she needed to take alone.

Almost all of her advisors had been against this, Cullen in particular. “Hero or no, she travels with one of the most well known and dangerous apostates in Thedas, not to mention one to whom you granted the magical knowledge of hundreds of elven mages!”

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with your personal encounter with the Warden, would it Commander?” Leliana had said coolly, though her expression had betrayed nothing as she peered over the missive from Harding.

Cullen had said nothing, but lapsed into silence. There was a story there, one Astyth was dying to find out, but she had a feeling nothing good could come of prodding her commander further. “Apostate or no apostate, I’m sure the Hero of Ferelden can’t have much motivation to see me dead. They have as much stake in the threat of Solas as anyone. Not to mention Morrigan is the only expert on eluvians we have any kind of contact with.”

“While I don’t quite share his...fervor” Josephine said, cutting across Cullen’s retort. “I agree with the principle of what the Commander is saying. Warden Tabris is a chess piece too important and too....volatile, to play in private. If we are going to bring her into the fold at this stage, it would be better to extend an invitation for her to come to Val Royeaux. She would be playing in our court, and additionally, she would be publicly lending some credence to our cause that we lost as the Exalted Council. We should-”

“She wouldn’t come, Josie.” Leliana said, putting the map down and straightening up. “Even if I asked personally, she doesn’t like to play politics.” She looked down at Astyth. “I think the plan is a sound one, Inquisitor, and furthermore, I think you should leave as soon as possible. Get away from Orlais for a bit while the talking heads wear themselves out. When you come back, with any luck, Josephine and I will have smoothed a few ruffled feathers, or plucked them. Meantime, Cullen can focus on marshalling the forces we have left.” She looked sidelong at the ex-templar. “Does that sound amenable, Commander?”

Cullen grumbled something seditious under his breath, but since becoming Leliana had become the Divine he had been reluctant to engage in their usual arguing. He heaved a heavy sigh and looked Astyth in the eye. “Its up to you, of course. But I can’t help but feel this will be a waste of resources at best, and an open invitation to something very dangerous, at the worst.”

“Its a risk I’ll have to take.” Astyth said, rolling up the map. “I’ll set out soon. Tell Dennett to have my horse ready.”

And now here she was, trodding through dense woods in the southern end of the Emerald Graves. Despite the Inquisition’s presence in this region, it was clear that this location had been intended to not be found. She had to abandon her horse to even have a hope of navigating these steep paths, and more than one bear skull mounted on a couple of broken pikes didn’t make for the most welcoming of images.

She didn’t know what to feel as she kept climbing. The Hero of Ferelden....she had just joined the Carta when the Blight began, and at the time had been too mired in trying to find her footing in the underworld of Orlais to care for much outside that. After her ill-fated stint with the Legion of the Dead, though, she knew better than anyone what a feat it was that she had accomplished. The versions of the stories that got to the bards of Orlais had no doubt been twisted and embellished, but they had inspired no small curiosity and admiration of her.

And then there were Leliana’s stories. Astyth flattered herself at this point that she had shaped Thedas’ future more than once, but she had nearly always had the full might of the Inquisition at her back. To do all these things with a ragtag force and next to no official recognition....half of them would’ve seemed unlikely. All of them, impossible.

She didn’t know what to expect. Leliana was fond of her, but had more than once described her as difficult to know. Morrigan had pointedly refused to discuss her while she stayed with the Inquistion, and Alistair had done the same (though, likely for very different reasons). 

Bull had always said she overthought things like this. She always countered that it was her job. She had to care about first impressions, about making a connection with people. Whether or not she actually was Andraste’s herald, her truest power came from her ability to inspire others to follow her. She was good at it too. But if it failed now...

There was a sudden thunk of a blade on wood, and she stopped. 

The path wound ahead for a little ways, but she could hear distant voice, and her instincts ultimately led her towards the sound.

“-depends what you’re looking for.” A woman’s voice. A bit out of breath, and punctuated occasionally by further thunks. “Personally, I prefer a little more-” thunk. “Power behind my strikes.”

“Papae says speed is more important.” A boy’s voice. Well, a teenager, likely, based on the cracks. And strangely familiar.

A snort, and another thunk. “Papae can talk about speed when he manages to take down a darkspawn horde on his own.”

She can see them now. A small clearing. A dark-haired boy she realizes with a thrill is Kieran, a bit taller and a little older now. He is playing with a dagger, watching an elven woman with hair so red it seems to glow chop wood. A bit aways she can see a decent sized cabin, smoke coming out of the chimney.

“Mamae, when are you going to say hello to our visitor?” Kieran says, without so much as looking away from the woman. “She’s come awfully far.”

“Visi-” The woman’s head turns, and she catches sight of Astyth.

For a moment, neither of them move. Sizing each other up, perhaps, or maybe the warden is just trying to figure out who she is. She hoists the axe onto her shoulder, casually, but perhaps also an unconscious warning.

Astyth examines her. Her face is etched with crimson vallaslin, an unusual color, so far as she knows. Even more unusual for a non-Dalish elf. Behind the markings, she can see lines starting to appear. She must be in her mid forties, but looks strong and healthy as can be. Her brow furrows a bit as she seems to give up the puzzle in front of her.

“....I’m sorry, can I-”

“Hello Inquisitor.” Kieran says cheerfully, slipping off the tree stump he’d been perched on. 

“Hullo, Kieran” Astyth says, managing a friendly smile towards him before returning her gaze to Sythia. “How is your mother?”

“She is well, but I don’t think she’ll like that you’re here.”

No, I don’t expect she will, she thought to herself.

“Inquisitor?” Sythia Tabris cocks an eyebrow. “Ah. So you’re her then.”

“I am. Astyth Cadash. Its an honor to meet you.” Astyth says, clasping her hands behind her back.

The elf snorts, lowering the axe to the ground. “Don’t know about honor.” She nods to Kieran, who hands her a basket. Tabris crouches to the ground and begins gathering the split wood. “What can I do for you?”

“I was hoping for some guidance, if you had some time.”

“Guidance?” She lifts the now full basket and gets to her feet, and Astyth realizes with a start that one of her legs is a prosthetic. It’s well made, but clearly a little worn. “What guidance could the Inquisition need from me? I’m assuming you know which end of the sword to stick in darkspawn, and as for not pissing off nearly every Ferelden noble, well, I was never much good at that.”

“Have you come about the Wolf?” It shouldn’t startle Astyth as much as it does. She should be used to it from Cole. But the child tilts his head, eyes bright with curiosity. “He’s not here, you know. Sometimes I see him at night, but he flits back and forth so fast I can’t ask him where he intends to be. I don’t think he knows.”

“Kieran,” Sythia says, tone not changing from one of quiet politeness. “Why don’t you go tell your mother we have a guest. I’m sure she has some choice comments she’ll want to prepare in advance.”

The boy doesn’t seem to mind, carefully placing the dagger on the tree trunk and running back to the cabin, leaving just Sythia and Astyth alone in the clearing. The warden nods her head towards the cabin and starts walking, leaving Astyth to catch up.

“I have to say, I was expecting you sooner.” Tabris says. Her gait, Astyth notes, only slightly favors the false leg. Clearly she’s used to it. Much more than she is to her own prosthetic, at least. “When I saw Leliana’s agents doing their best impression of field mice I was expecting a house call from your soldiers the next week at least.”

“Things have...been a bit hectic, of late.” Astyth said, running a hand through her white crop of hair. “As I’m sure you’ve heard.”

The warden nods, placing the wood by a small heap of firewood near the door. “I’ve heard rumors. Something about the apocalypse. The usual.”

“Leliana will be disappointed when I tell her you found her agents that quickly.” She says, handing her wood. Sythia gives her a long look before accepting it and carefully stacking it.

“To be fair, I live with one of the best assassins in Thedas, a child with the soul of an old god, and a pretty good guard dog.” She straightens up. “And Divine Victoria should learn to accept the fact that she has a full plate, and not make more work for herself sending people after me.”

She turns and starts mounting the steps to cabin porch. Astyth notes four chairs, gathered in a circle around a small pit holding the ashes of some long dead fire, and a side table holding books, a whetstone, and a pack of cards. Four chairs....Tabris, Morrigan, Kieran, and the fourth....

“My dear, have you seen my-...ah, company then?” 

A blond elf emerges from the cabin, examining Astyth with an amused glint. He’s handsome, to be sure. The lines around the eyes indicating a wealth of smiles, and his hair falls luxuriantly to his shoulders. Sythia’s shoulders seem to lose a bit of tension just at the sight of him, and she points back to the stump. “If you’re looking for your knife, your son has taken a sudden interest in fighting with speed.”

“We can’t all heft battleaxes, mi amor,” He leans in and pecks her cheek, pulling a smile as bright as it is involuntary from the Hero of Ferelden. “We leave that in your capable hands. Now, this is the Inquisitor, I take it?”

“Master Arainai.” She bows her head in acknowledgment. “Its an honor.”

“‘Master’? Now that I could get used to.” A mischievous grin creeps across his face, which somehow only makes him more dashing. “However, Zevran will do. I assume you have business with my wife? I warn you now, however much need Thedas has of her, it will take some convincing to get us to relinquish her.”

“I have no plans to take Warden Tabris from her home, I can assure you.”

“Mother wouldn’t let her anyways.” Kieran says, poking his head around Zevran’s side.

“Very true.” Zevran says, reaching down to ruffle the boy’s hair. “Now, Kieran, I think its time we give your mothers some privacy while we find something for supper.”

“Can I keep the dagger?”

“Mmm, for now, I think, if only to annoy Mamae.”

The boy giggles, for the moment wholly child, and runs to fetch it. Sythia rolls her eyes and kisses Zevran. “Don’t go too far. As it turns out, these woods are no longer private.”

“Please, when have you known me to be reckless?” He tucks a strand of her hair back, fingers tracing down to linger on a gold earring, a simple gold circle studded with one ruby that Astyth realizes matches one on his own ear. 

“Mm, you’re right, I don’t know what I was thinking.” Sythia says, a faint laugh in her voice.

“I’ll see you soon.” He presses a kiss to her forehead. Then he leans in to whisper something Astyth can’t quite catch. The warden’s face goes red, but suddenly the former Crow is off, guiding Kieran into the woods.

Astyth finds herself missing Bull, for a number of reasons. 

“I-...” Sythia clears her throat and gestures for her to come in, opening the door.

The inside is clean, but hardly spacious. Trinkets and books seem to fill every surface. Some oddities she recognizes (a stuffed nug, an Orlesian mask, a few books she remembers from Dorian’s collection) and others are a mystery (why a rainbow sword?). Every member of this household seems to be some variety of packrat, but regardless, its cozy, with an overstuffed sofa and a fire crackling in a hearth. 

The peace, however, is marred by a clattering of dishes coming from what appears to be the kitchen. The noise is too loud to be accidental, and there are some sharp huffs that Astyth recognizes as Morrigan. 

Sythia looks warily towards the kitchen and gestures to the sofa, holding up a finger to indicate one moment. Astyth decides to take her advice, and her seat as well.

Sythia disappears into the kitchen. The clattering stopped, but is replaced by furious whispers that threaten to become shouting soon enough.

“-taken enough, and if they-”

Sythia’s voice cuts across, gentle and murmuring, until eventually there is silence. Finally, a long heave of a sigh, and Morrigan emerges out of the kitchen like a stormy wind. Sythia is only just behind her but there seems to be some subconscious attempt on Morrigan’s part to shield her from view, as if Astyth might forget she’s there if she can’t see her. “Inquisitor. What an unexpected pleasure.” The sarcasm lingers heavily on the last word, and the apostate’s yellow eyes are crackling with warning.

“Its nice to see you too, Morrigan.” Astyth says, forcing herself to keep her tone light. At other times she had gotten on quite well with the witch, but then, at other times she hadn’t posed a threat to her wife. 

“Before you read off whatever long-winded summons your Chantry has sent you with, let me make it clear from the very start: we are not in the least bit-”

“Morrigan.” Sythia says quietly, slipping a hand through hers and coming along beside her. It’s hard to tell but Astyth thinks she might be a bit amused. “Let’s hear her out before you tear her to pieces at least.”

“I don’t see why.” Morrigan mutters, though her fingers lace instinctively through the elf’s. “It’s more efficient this way.”

“I really am only here to talk” Astyth says. “I do have an offer, but its secondary, if anything. I came here on my own, not as the Inquisitor.” She tries for a wry smile, tilting her head. “At least listen to what I have to say, so I don’t have to admit to Cullen this was the waste of time he thinks it is.”

It’s a cheap attempt, but it does almost seem to give Morrigan pause. That almost pause is enough time for Sythia to guide her into a seat, taking the one next to her. “Well. Can’t have Cullen thinking he’s right about something.” She turns to lock eyes with Astyth, and nods for her to speak.

“So....I’m assuming you’ve heard about my friend Solas then?”

“Bits and pieces. And Morrigan’s been noticing something’s off with the eluvian.”

“And when exactly did you find the time to pry into my notes?” Morrigan grumbles as she sits back. Clearly intending to endure this conversation with as little grace as possible, if she must endure it at all. Sythia only smirks and doesn’t respond to it.

“In any case, I’d like to hear your version of events.” 

“.....well, in order to understand it....I’d think you’d have to understand Solas.” Astyth says. Fingers tracing out patterns in the couch.

-----

She tells the story, beginning with Haven. She plunders her memory for anything, any small detail that might be useful, as she has done time and time again since her best friend disappeared into an eluvian with the promise to bring an end to everything she cared about. 

She tells of an elven apostate, mysterious and distant and a bit condescending, but kind in a way that’s hard to place and infinitely knowledgeable. She tells a story of alliance, friendship....and ultimately, betrayal.

Morrigan spends a good portion of the story making derisive noises and rolling her eyes. But when she comes to the elven orb, and the Exalted Council, the witch falls silent. She bites the corner of her lip in thought and at times her eyes widen in some kind of private realization, though she’s doing her best to mask it.

Sythia, for her part, says nothing. Slowly leaning forward, propping her elbows on her knees, she only watches the Inquisitor intently. Expression neutral, betraying no sympathy, but also no hostility.

Finally, she comes to the final confrontation. With perhaps a touch of dramatic flair, she pulls off the glove on her left hand, revealing a hand of copper metal. Morrigan flinches, just a bit, though Sythia does nothing more than tilt her head a bit.

“As it stands,” Astyth says, rotating her wrist a bit. “I’ve lost whatever control I had over the Fade, at probably the worst possible moment. Which is why I require your help.” She looks them both earnestly in the eye. “Both of you are more experienced than most with the Fade realm. And given that Merrill hasn’t been seen for months, Morrigan is the foremost living expert on eluvians we know of. I wouldn’t even require a physical presence. For the moment, at least, this isn’t your fight. But any notes, any piece of information you find....it may be exactly what we need to save us all from destruction.”

For a moment there is silence in the room. Morrigan has a stormy expression, looking at war between several desires at once. A mortal desire to not have the world destroyed, an apostate’s desire for new and possibly dangerous knowledge.....and a wife’s desire to protect her loved ones from harm. Her eyes keep travelling to the copper shine of Astyth’s arm, as though it is a physical reminder of everything she fears to lose Tabris to.  Just as Astyth opens her mouth to try and provide further assurances, Sythia abruptly gets to her feet.

“I’d like to talk to you alone for a moment.”She says, slipping her hands in her pockets and nodding towards the porch. Astyth hesitates for a moment, but ultimately follows the Warden outside. Morrigan decides not to follow, evidently reading something in her tone.

The story has taken time, and the woods are growing darker and darker. Sythia leans back against the railing and gestures towards a seat, which Astyth takes. “So, first question: where did you get your arm?”

“Oh-...” It takes Astyth by surprise, and self consciously she runs the hand through her hair. “Bianca Davri’s innovation. We commissioned her.”

Sythia nods slowly. “She does good work. Not that I have many complaints with mine.” She swings her leg a bit as if to demonstrate.

“Who did it?”

“Best blacksmith I ever met. Wade, of Denerim. He was eager for the challenge, and possibly owed me a favor.”

“....can I ask....”

“How it happened?” A wry smile spreads on her face as she looks out over the clearing. “Its a long tale, Inquisitor, and I was never much for stories. Suffice to say, curing the taint is no simple task.”

“And have you?  Cured it, I mean.” She had heard nothing of it.

“......It remains to be seen. Regardless, its quieted the damned singing for a few minutes, which to me is worth a couple of limbs.”

“Lucky” The word slips out, and even she isn’t quite sure what she means by it. Lucky to be cured, or lucky that at least there’s a good cause that’s taken your body? Sythia seems to understand, at least.

“I am. In many ways.....” Her voice is soft as she fiddles with something on her hand. A ring, simple silver, but well worn. “Still, when Morrigan found me in the aftermath I thought she might just finish the job. She was furious.”

“She was angry? With you?”

A rush of air through her nose that might be a snort and might be a sigh. “Morrigan’s had....an unusual raising. There’s nothing she’s more afraid of than weakness. Than loss. To her, the leg represents both, try as she might to hide that fear from me.”

“What does it represent to you?”

The elf says nothing for a long moment. “....you know, that warden motto never sat right with me. Perpetual war, perpetual vigilance....comes across as an excuse for anything we might do in the interim between the Blights. But they got something right with the idea of sacrifice.”  Through the woods comes a peal of laughter Astyth recognizes as Kieran. The hunters returning, and Sythia’s head turns instinctively towards them. 

“...I’ve sacrificed a lot to get here. And I’ll sacrifice a lot more to keep it. So to me....its a promise. In the same way your arm is a promise.” She turns to face her. “That there’s hard journeys behind and beyond where you stand now. But where you stand? Well....that’s worth keeping.”

They finally come into view, Kieran on some long-winded musing speech as he circles Zevran again and again. The former Crow has a brace of rabbits in either hand and is listening with amusement to the child’s story. His eyes meet Sythia’s and there’s a glint there Astyth knows. It’s how Sera looks at Dagna. How Krem looks at Maryden.

How Bull looks at her.

“Tell your council: I’ll come to Val Royeaux, if they can provide accommodations for my family.” Sythia says, a slow smile spreading as she waves to Kieran.

“I-” Astyth feels a surge of excitement. This was better than they had ever hoped. “Are-...are you sure? The notes would certainly be more than enough-”

“Knowing how these matters usually go, the notes won’t be enough. You’ll need Morrigan’s expertise, my experience, and a bit of Kieran’s insight. And....well, Zevran’s coming for morale.” She grins, before looking back at Astyth. “You were wrong, Inquisitor. This is my fight. I like this world, and I’d prefer if it went on spinning a little longer.”

“And what dark plans are you two making, hm?” Zevran says, coming to the base of the steps. He hands Kieran the brace and he rushes inside, chattering excitedly to Morrigan. 

“Now, it’s hardly fun if I just come out and tell you, is it?” she says, winking towards Astyth. The Inquisitor returns it: this is Sythia’s request to make of them, and she’ll leave her to the details.

“Aaahh, so its to be secrets then?” He moves to stand next to her, a wicked grin on his face as he leans on the railing. “You know that only makes me more determined to find out what it is”

“If it’s left to your spying ability, it’ll stay a safe secret forever.” 

“Such cruel words from a woman so beautiful.” He tugs lightly on a loose strand of her hair, which makes her cover a laugh as she bats him away. “It can’t be borne.”

“I’m sorry, would you two prefer to be left alone, or...” Astyth trails off suggestively, smirking a bit.

“Not at all, I enjoy it more with an audience.”

It makes Astyth laugh and Tabris blush like a schoolgirl, and Morrigan comes out to see about the commotion, trying very very hard to look annoyed, though she’s biting back a smile. “I suppose it would be too much to ask that you behave yourself in front of a perfect stranger.”

“My dear enchantress, you should know by now I never behave myself without incentive.” He looks down at his clothes with a sigh. “Though the rabbit offal on my shirt is a bit of a mood killer, I’ll admit.” Pushing off the railing, he turns to look at Astyth. “Inquisitor, you’ll be staying for dinner, I hope?”

“Oh, I...” She looks at Morrigan in a silent question. She doesn’t want to intrude. But the apostate only sighs. 

“Perhaps you should. You’ve a long journey back to camp. And at the moment your presence may be the only thing that restrains this one from doing something indecent within earshot of my son.” She pointedly clips Zevran’s ear, who only chuckles and grabs her hand, pressing a kiss to the palm before breezing past her to the door. 

“Excellent. I’ll cook.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I’ll cook-” Morrigan says, following him as their bickering continues further into the house.

“Then again,” Sythia says, looking over at Astyth on her way inside. “Perhaps Val Royeaux isn’t ready for us yet.”

[in-arlathan]

The Scar

Time period: Elvhenan Characters: Solas, Mythal, Elvhen OC Chapters: 1/1, Length: 2,620 words Rating: Mature Warning: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Summary: Driven by the desire the become one of the Evanuris, an elvhen mage summons a spirit of wisdom and tricks it into taking on a physical body to impress the all-mighty Mythal. Disgusted by what the mage had done, the All-Mother sides with the former spirit and helps him to free himself from his mistress's bindings, owning the name the mage has given to him: Solas.

A/N: This is an updated version of the fanfic I posted over @old-arlathan. Now with 50% less typos and more accurate terminology for the Elvhenan timeline. ;)

You can read this on AO3, too.

______

“He did not want a body. But she asked him to come.   He left a scar when he burned her off his face.”

– Cole

Her blood pooled around his feet, thick and dark as the night. He shuddered and stepped back, away from the dead woman who’s blood he’d spilled across the ancient marble floor. Her arms and legs lay twisted as if they belonged to a puppet rather than a living being. He dropped his hands and the spell faded away, leaving nothing behind but a gaping hole in his heart.

His mistress was dead and he had killed her.

“Well, that is that, I presume,” Mythal mused.

Sitting on her golden throne, the All-Mother had watched the fight in absolute silence. If she felt disgust or horror upon the murder, he could not tell. Her face was still, her breaths long and steady.

She is justice incarnate, he thought.

Is that why she had allowed him to kill his mistress? Because she thought it was just? He wanted to believe it so very badly. Maybe it would keep the darkness at bay that grew within him with every passing moment.

“Are you proud of yourself?” Mythal asked. Her voice was soft and candid. It was a gift he did not deserve.

“I… I don’t know,” he said, wiping away droplets of sweat that had gathered on his forehead. The fight had been much more exhausting than he had expected.

Slowly, the All-Mother rose from her throne and came towards him. Her rich green robes rustled softly as she descended from the dais, her steps echoing from the high stone walls of her Throne chamber.

“I remember the day she presented you before my court,” she said with her eyes fixed on the dead body on the floor in front of her. “She all but burst with pride while she told the tale of your summoning. A spirit of wisdom, eager to share his knowledge with The People, yet too kind to recognize an enemy on sight.”

He swallowed, hard. He, too, remember this tale. Remembered it all too well. It had become a part of his being, just like the body he inhabited.

“She learned everything she could from you,” Mythal continued, “and when you had finally shared all of your knowledge of the Beyond, she lured you into a body, binding you to the Waking World.”

Mythal lifted her hand ever so slightly. Still, he could feel the wave of energy flaring up around her as she drew power from the Beyond to cast her spell. Blazing fire erupted from the corpse, cloaking the body of his former mistress in flames. The air wavered and filled with the smell of burnt flesh.

Another wave of Mythal’s hand and the blood began flowing towards the tiny fissures in the marble floor and sank into the stone. He breathed a sigh a of relief as the dark fluid vanished.

They watched in silence as the flames consumed the dead woman’s body and when the fire finally died down, it was as if his mistress had never even existent. For a moment, they heard nothing but the song of birds and the sound of whispering leaves from the forest outside Mythal’s palace.

The All-Mother let out a sigh of regret. “I told her that her pride would be her undoing.” Her gaze turned to him. “Or should I say her Pride?”

A shiver worked its way down his spine. Until this day, his mistress had called him Pride, her Solas, for he was the embodiment of her strength, the manifestation of her will. For a while, he had liked that name, until he came to realize that he was but a means to an end. Now he wished the name belonged to someone else.

He raised a hand to touch the skin on his cheeks. Though he could not feel it, he knew the lines of his vallaslin by heart. His fingers traced the curved markings while he thought about the day when his mistress had presented him to Mythal and her courtiers. Back then, he was still trying to get used to his body and was too confused by the powerplay unfolding before his eyes to understand it. It was an irony, really, how little he had known about elvhen politics, even after spending years and years in friendly conversation with one of Elvhenan's most powerful mages.

“This spirit of wisdom possesses more knowledge than any other I have ever encountered,” his mistress had said to Mythal. “I devote him to you, All-Mother, as a sign of my loyalty to you, and grace him with your vallaslin.”

At that moment, Mythal had had no other choice but to accept her gift. She would have been seen as cruel or unkind by her courtiers if she hadn’t. So the All-Mother watched as his mistress ingrained the vallaslin in his skin with magic. The pain had been almost unbearable but he had been too proud to show his agony in front of the assembled elvhen. Instead, he had bitten his lips until they were bloody and kept silent.

Maybe some of his mistress’ pride had rubbed off on him when she’d help him take on a physical form.

So I truly am Solas, he thought bitterly.

“There is something you must tell me,” Mythal said. “How did she convince you to enter this realm?”

He blinked, taken by surprise. “How do you know she did not bind me like she claimed?”

A soft chuckle escaped Mythal’s lips.

“All elvhen were like you once, Solas, exisiting freely within the Beyond,” she explained. “Only those with the will to change their form were able to enter this world and manifest themselves in a physical body. Many ages ago, I, myself, was what you might call a spirit of justice, and when I saw the many wrongs that happened in the Waking World, I could not resist to enter it to set things right. That is why I know that no spirit can be bound into a body without its consent. Otherwise, it could never hold on to a physical form long enough to survive the journey to the Waking world.“

She looked him over. “But you are a person. You have a purpose. This means you came to this world by will, not by force. So tell me, what made you come here?”

He sighed. “I was curious. She had told me so much about this world and its wonders and I was … excited by her enthusiasm. I wanted to walk among The People and learn everything they had to offer so I could pass their wisdom on to other spirits. But when I’d taken my body, I …”

His voice trailed off.

“When you had taken your body, you found that you could not return to your spirit form,” Mythal said, finishing the sentence for him.

“Yes.”

The word tasted bitter in his mouth. He had never admitted his failure so openly before. The pain was simply too much to bear.

His desire to learn had made him foolish. He had been so eager to gain wisdom that he did not see the woman who had summoned him for what she really was. He’d simply assumed that she was a kindred spirit, a seeker of truth and knowledge, just like him. Learning from her had excited him and he had trusted her to guide him into his body. But then his friend used his trust to turn him into her pet to parade him around the rest of The People. Only then he realized the terrible mistake he’d made and he had regretted it ever since.

“You are not the first spirit to make this mistake and you won’t be the last,” Mythal said. “When taking on our physical form, we gain a stronger sense of self and a power that is beyond any spirit. It allows us to shape the world around us. But we also lose our ability to become one with the Fade. We can only dream of the world we have lost and try to make a difference in this one.”

Another moment of silence passed. “She should have told you about the consequences,” Mythal said. “But I wonder why you haven’t turned your back on her after her betrayal. She may have lured you into this world, but she never truly commanded you. Still, you called her mistress.”

“It was spiritual affinity that kept me by her side, though I never forgave her for luring me into taking a body,” he admitted. “I was perfectly happy as I was, back in the Beyond. But she was my friend and I thought I owed her for what she had given me.”

“I see,” Mythal said, her voice heavy with sadness. “I’m sorry.”

“I do not deserve your sympathy,” he replied.

“And why is that?”

“Because I wish to burn the vallaslin off my face. Your vallaslin.” The words came out in a rush, like a tide that had been held back for far too long. He closed his eyes and pressed his hands against his face. He imagined the lines of the blood writing burning brightly on his skin, just like the fire Mythal had cast to get rid of his mistress’s body. “I want to take it away and leave all memory of what was behind.”

“Well, take it off then,” Mythal said with a soft smile. “No one is stopping you.”

It took him a moment to understand what she truly meant. And when the realization finally hit him, he blinked in surprise yet again. He lowered his hands to look at Mythal. “But it would be an insult to you!”, he insisted. “The People would see it as a great offense if I rejected your patronage.”

The All-Mother laughed. “It was your mistress who offended me by thinking it would impress me that she tricked a trusting spirit into taking a body. It was her who offended me in wanting my patronage, not for the good of The People, but to rise in rank and to become one of the Evanuris. That is why I tempted you to kill her, you know. To right her wrongs.”

She reached out to him and touched his cheek gently. “Others might think you denied yourself to me, but I know that is not true. I wish you to act on your own accords and honor me with your deeds. Thus, you could never offend me, Solas, even if you tried.”

The way she said his name made him shiver. It sounded so different from the way his mistress had said it. As if Mythal was proud of him, not for being a particularly powerful spirit, but for freeing himself at last.

“Go on, now”, she said and gifted him with an encouraging smile. “Take off the vallaslin and leave your past behind.”

“But I don’t know how,” he admitted. “Will you help me?”

“Oh, no.” Mythal shook her head slightly. “You are perfectly capable of removing the blood writing on your own. It is one of the few benefits of possessing a physical body: You may shape it to your will. But beware that you will be the first of your kind, for no other elvhen had felt the desire to take the vallaslin away. It will be a wonder to behold.”

He looked at her for a moment, baffled by her confidence in him. How could she be so sure about his power when he himself doubted it so much?

Before he knew it, she took his hand into her own and squeezed them. “Do it,” she urged. “I know you can.”

Encouraged by her words, he slowly, very slowly, allowed himself to believe in his own strengths.

She let go and he stretched out his hands before him. With every fiber of his body, he opened up to the energy of the Fade, allowing it to fill him up like wine poured into a golden goblet. Sparks of light spread from his fingertips across his palm, a flash of blue and green and white, mingled together.

He brought his hands up to his face and closed his eyes. In his mind, he pictured the fine lines of the vallaslin once more. He saw it burn, bright as day. Then he traced his fingers across his face, imagining the light from his hands spreading across his skin. He felt a soft tingle and then a sting on his forehead.

When he was done, he breathed a sigh of relief.

“Did I work?” he asked Mythal, and she beamed at him, proud like a mother.

“You left a scar,” she said softly, touching a small spot above his right eyebrow. “But yes, it worked.”

She was so close to him he could feel the warmth of her body, but he did not mind.

“I’d rather wear a scar on my face then any vallaslin,” he told her, “for I created it myself.”

“You will bring glory to The People,” she said. “I’m proud to call you kin.”

And then, the tears finally came.

He closed his arms around Mythal’s slender figure and buried his face against her shoulder. And while he wept, his body shaking, she remained silent and held him like a mother would.

After a while, he ran out of tears and became very still in her arms. A part of him waited for her to push him away, now that he had freed himself of his mistress’s influence completely. But instead, Mythal waited until he himself was ready to let go.

“What happens now?” he asked in a raspy voice.

“That is up to you. With your mistress gone, you are free to go wherever you please in the Waking world. Vir Dirthara might be a good place to start. I’m sure Ghil Dirthalen will be happy to offer you guidance.”

“I will consider it,” he said. “Thank you, All-Mother.”

“You may call me Mythal.”

He smiled for what felt like the first time in ages. “I could never do that.”

They looked at each other for a moment. A bond had built between them and they both knew it. Their spirits were joined for as long as they might live and they were united in thankfulness for this rare gift.

“I should leave,” he said at last. “I have taken enough of your time.”

Mythal sighed. “I’m afraid you have,” she said. “There are other matters to attend to. But I hope you will return soon, my friend, and tell me what you have learned while we were apart.”

“I will. I promise.”

And with that, he made his way to the door. When he had entered the throne room, he had been a spirit, bound by the will of another. Now he had become something different. He was scared of what awaited him outside these halls, afraid of the world and the future and his own powers, but he would find a way for himself.

“Oh, one more thing.”

Mythal spoke in a low voice but her words carried all the way to the throne room’s door without fading.

He turned around to face her once more, his hands clasped behind his back. “Yes, All-Mother?”

Mythal’s face lit up as their eyes met. She reminded him of the moon rising over a mountain ridge in a dark and stormy night. It was in that moment that she earned his undying devotion, his eternal love, and gratitude.

“Despite any regret or pain or guilt you might feel,” she said with a glimmer in her golden eyes, “you should be proud of yourself. Always.”

....