#still holding out a theory that i am just uniquely broken

[bomberqueen17]

how it's going

yah my second experiment with adhd meds is like. well, this time it's making it so i can't sleep and my appetite gets shitty, which is what they normally say but i didn't really have that problem last time. i do now!!!

cut for discussions of eating/weight gain/loss shit, and the Horrible Yearnings

lil PSA, because a friend said something about this-- yah SSRIs make you fat (i gained 25 permanent irrevocable pounds on Celexa in 2012 and that's that, it's never gone away no matter what I did and it never will short of some other medical crisis I think), and it's reasonable to in a kind of not-healthy but understandable way wish that the amphetamine ADHD meds would thus make you thin. Seems like it, yeah? If you have no appetite and your metabolism is higher? I'm not finding that, though, so here to nip that in the bud is my observation that if you have trouble with comfort eating, losing your appetite does not take that impulse away, it just makes it disgusting. I actually am not a big comfort eater, but I do, like many humans, tend to derive comfort from eating food I enjoy? This takes that away without removing the need to do it. I still need to eat; if I don't, I get heartburny, emotionally distraught, and more, just like always. But now instead of enjoying the food at least, I find it unappetizing, have to force myself to prepare it, and then eat it so slowly it's always cold/mushy/melted by the time I'm done, and it's not satisfying. And instead of an occasional Fun Lil Treat as a pick-me-up, I wind up roaming the house with Formless Yearning, because I know food won't make me feel better, but nothing else is making me feel better, and I'm not getting any pleasure chemicals from anything I do, any more than I ever did. Friends have reported the dreaded afternoon/evening time when their ADHD meds wear off as being always a notable time for the Yearnings, but I'm finding that I get that just Whenever, so.

It ain't fun and it ain't cute.

But I'm determined to stick this test out to the end of the week because every day has been somewhat different at least, and I'm really trying to write down what happens. Because I was given two weeks' worth of this shit, and I tried it for a week and hated it so much I stopped, but then I didn't write down what happened so I have no fucking idea what to tell the doctor. (I also collapsed into despair and stopped calling that doctor back, but like, that didn't solve anything, and being bitter that finally getting a chance to attempt to fix my ADHD didn't work on the first several tries and in fact seems to still be beyond my capabilities because it requires me to have pattern recognition skills plus medical knowledge I simply don't have... well, it isn't helping anything.)

So we shall see. I have no attention span whatsoever and a MUCH worse working memory than usual, I routinely get up and leave the room to go do something and by the time I get to the next room I have NO memory of what it was, and unlike my normal life, I don't ever get the memory back. Usually I can retrace my steps but now that entire train of thought is JUST GONE, which is way more severe than the problems I normally have. And my usual coping mechanism, where I get up the oomph to do something by daisy-chaining several tasks together, is WILDLY ineffective now because the moment I add a second task the first one falls off and vanishes and I again, cannot recollect what it was.

I normally am no great fist at to-do lists, but I was told it's the Only Way To Make Vyvanse Work, but what I'm finding is that i am also even less capable than normal of making a to-do list have any relationship to reality. Plus I forget I made them, so. They are in fact not helping me.

I have had reasonable (like... 5 hours or more) sleep two nights this week so far, all other nights have been significantly less than that, two or three hours in most cases, which is not all that unpleasant-- at least my bed is comfy-- but does mean I have even less that I am capable of doing when I am awake, since I am so fuzzy-headed from lack of sleep. Also I can't nap, which is usually what fixes me; I am a world champion napper, but this is actually an issue from about the last six months, I cannot actually fall asleep during attempted naps, so it's futile to try. Discouraging!

Last night was a reasonable night though, so I'm carefully observing my capabilities and let me tell you I am not impressed.

So, what I'm finding is that stimulant medications make me MORE ADHD than I was before, which is. I don't know what that means and neither does my doctor so far.

I was going to write about my writing process but now this seems too whiny so I will not, I'll do that separately lol.

[acorpsecalledcorva]

Definitely something that struck home for me about Sar and Ozturk s Theory of the Functional Dissociation of the Self is the idea of how a 'Sociological Self' develops in absence of it's connection to the 'Psychological Self'. In fact, my final year uni project was on this very subject (I just didn't realise it at the time) on how it relates to gender, i.e. I know what my gender identity is, but where did my definition of what that identity means come from? Why do some aspects of gender feel right to me and others feel wrong?

And this extends from a much more holistic sense of who the fuck is us? Who am I? Really? At my core, what is really there that is me? What of me is truly mine? Because I've never even felt like a real person, let alone a whole person. I'm a facsimile of a person. A simulacrum in the simulation that is the world I experience.

And discovering that I was a system didn't really help with that either, am I the sum of my parts? Am I a teenage girl and a child and a vampire and a wolf and a cat boy and a 16th century Norwegian witch and a dead girl from Belgium and a crow monster and my father and my mother and my ex fiancee and so many other unique and incompatible identities? I can't be. Because they're very much not me. In fact on a very fundamental level they must not be me, that's the whole purpose of their existence, to be not me.

The way that Sar and Ozturk phrase it is that, under the pressure of an environment filled with insurmountable stresses that can't be overcome, the 'psychological self' is buried and hidden away to protect it. The 'Sociological Self' must therefore not only develop without it, but make up for it's absence. By avoiding the internal, it must rely on the external to inform it. If the immediate external environment is too harsh, which, of course it is, then it must expand it's scope beyond to wider culture and failing that, the fictional (not that culture is anything more than the fictions we collectively tell ourselves but you know what I mean). Rejected by the host, the 'Psychological Self' attempts to reach out to the world by creating new 'Sociological Selves', using the vision of the world internalised by the host as templates on how and who to be.

And this is what "less than one personality" means to me. Not a broken plate that can be put back together, or a broken mirror where all the individual pieces are still mirrors, but the result of multiple attempts to create a cohesive sense of self without full access to the entirety of human experience. Some attempts are based on lies, others on guesses, and some may be partially correct but lack context or a place to be understood and fully realised.

I'm like those old medieval drawings of animals based on descriptions of animals but having never seen them before.

This. This is me. This is what I really am. I'm like if a person didn't know what a person was and tried to make more people.

Especially bottom right, that may as well be a fucking selfie of my subconscious.

And of course I know there's a me, somewhere inside, there's a me that is me, but I can't find it, it's hidden from me. I look and I feel where it must be, but I just cannot grasp what it is. Like I kinda understand now what my IFS therapist was talking about in reference to a "core self", I now know what is meant by that, and I also know why I feel so strongly that I don't have one. Like dark matter, I can theorise about the properties of the glue that holds my galaxy together, but I cannot for the life of me detect it, I cannot interact with it, it's completely invisible, totally outside of my reach, but it's there. But it's not a whole personality either, it's not even a part of my personality, I cannot just add it to my other parts because it's isolation has left it undeveloped. Imagine asking for a dozen cupcakes and getting 11 cupcakes and a pile of flour, sugar, and egg. It's not just a missing piece, it's not even a piece yet.

And it's this, this separation and underdevelopment of the 'Psychological Self' upheld by Dissociative barriers and absolute phobia of the internal that separates my experience as a DID system from other members of the wider plural including endogenic community. I'm not going to say that this is the defining DID experience, because it's not, but it's definitely why I fail to relate to a metric fuck ton of y'alls experiences and description of yourselves, just as so many of you may tell me that you don't relate to what I'm saying right now.

And it's of course worth mentioning that this is only one way of rationalising things. It's like the oceans, we draw lines and say "this is the Pacific and this is the Atlantic" and there's value in some contexts to divide them this way and compare the differences between them, or the different layers of the atmosphere saying "this is the stratosphere and this is the flanglesphere" but it's all water and it's all air. Which way we divide it and where we draw the lines is only as important as what we're trying to achieve by doing so and the purpose that it serves.

This framework helps me to conceptualise myself the best so far, if it helps you conceptualise yourself too then you can incorporate it, if it doesn't and you have a better one then you can use that. We're all just smudges in a left handed person's handwriting at the end of the day.

[casspurrjoybell-17]

Heart’s Choice - Chapter 20

*Warning Adult Content*

- John -

"David warned me this would happen," I begin. "That one day I'd meet someone like you."

"Someone like me?" Carlos echoes, his brown eyes still wide with thinly concealed alarm.

He might claim not to care what I am but I can smell his fear.

Good, I think.

'It will make this easier.'

"Just as each human's chemistry is different, so is each vampire's. The same scent can be both adored and reviled. Some flowers, for example, might smell like sweet perfume to one person and like urine to another. Everyone's genetic makeup is different, so each person's olfactory experience is unique. We all live in a distinct, individual world of smells."

"Okay. Um... thanks for the weird science lesson, I guess. What does it have to do with me, again?"

"Odors take a direct route to the brain... to the limbic system. Emotion and memory. You probably have some favorite scents. Some smells that always trigger a positive reaction, right?"

"Sure."

Carlos shrugs, still eying me uneasily.

"Chocolate and peppermint. Stuff like that."

I nod.

"Well, vampires have favorite smells, too. Or rather, smells that trigger certain reactions in us. Human smells."

"As in... food?"

"Sometimes."

"So you... you drink blood, then?"

"No. Like I said, I'm not fully turned. Just infected. I eat human food, and while I have some slightly enhanced abilities, I'm still more or less human. However, that could change."

Carlos swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat.

"How?"

"You know what the strongest driving force in nature is?" I ask. "Stronger than the need to eat, stronger than self-preservation, even?"

He shakes his head.

"What?"

"Sex. The urge to reproduce. It's what drives a male spider to approach a female many times his size, who will gladly eat him if she gets the chance."

"I'm not sure I like where this is going," Carlos says, with an adorable squeak in his voice that makes me want to eat him right now.

"Certain humans have a scent that appeals to certain vampires. We... 'they'... call them 'edibles.' Whatever chemistry their blood contains sustains our own virus-altered cells, like an engine that only runs on a particular fuel. That's David's theory, anyway."

"So, are you saying I'm one of these... edibles?"

Carlos makes a face that tells me he's understandably not thrilled with the idea.

"Nope. You're something else. Edibles are rare in terms of the total human population but common compared to... catalysts."

"Is there more science coming?"

Carlos winces and lifts his cast in a gesture of self-defense, as if an onslaught of terminology could be worse than broken bones.

I laugh, taken off guard by his easy charm and feel the dangerous thing within me stir again at the same time.

"I'll try to keep it simple," I say. "A catalyst is like a perfect match; like a lock and key. They're incredibly rare, one in ten million, probably. For a vampire, a catalyst can unlock their greatest potential, the peak of their power. For someone like me..."

I sigh. There's no sense beating around the bush anymore.

"Carlos, you're like a drug to me. I want you. Bad. But if I get too much, it could trigger, well... a catalyst. It might break the hold David put on my infection and make me turn."

"I'm guessing this scenario doesn't end well," Carlos whispers.

"Not particularly. I'd have to bite you... really bite you, not like that nip in the shower, to trigger it and in that case, I'd probably infect you, too. Then... Well, then it would be up to the genetic dice to decide if either or both of us turn out as sane, transmuted creatures or as mindless killing machines."

Carlos blinks rapidly several times and takes a breath.

"Right. So, how do we avoid that, again?"

"We put an end to this."

I gesture between us.

"The less close contact we have, the less chance that we'll give in to..." I clear my throat. "The less chance of an accident. To put it bluntly, there is no 'us.'"

To my surprise, rather than relief at the prospect of maintaining a safe distance from something that can only end in disaster, a look of deep hurt crosses Carlos' face like the shadow of a dark cloud.

"Right," he says. "That's, um... definitely for the best, then. We need to focus on Kyle, anyway. And on finding my aunt. Actually, to that end... I have an idea."

********

"Absolutely not," I say, after Carlos explains his crackpot idea to me. "I'm not standing by and letting you risk your life and your sanity on some long-shot crap-shoot chance of contacting Kyle in the afterlife."

Two days have passed since our last conversation and in that time I've done my best to keep my distance and Carlos has done the same.

This house is still the safest place for him, despite any threat he might face from me and I can't deny it's nice to come home to a hot meal and a pair of happy, well-cared-for dogs.

"It's just a seance," Carlos huffs, still refusing to meet my eyes. "It sounds like an invitation to get possessed and from what you've told me, that's at the top of your list of things not to do." Carlos looks away and sighs. "At least I'd be doing something useful."

I lean back in my chair and rub my hand across my mouth.

I'd explained that we hadn't been able to identify the body we'd found, drained of blood and hanging upside down from a tree in the park not far from where Kyle was killed.

It was too close an imitation of the second feast to be a coincidence, and yet the timing was off.

According to Carlos, the 'Feast of Blood' wasn't supposed to happen until tomorrow night.

In the meantime, I had no intention of letting him out of my sight.

"Listen," I say. "I get that you're worried about your aunt but whatever's happened to her is not your fault. Just like what happened to me isn't my fault."

Carlos shakes his head.

"What happened to you... what happened to your dad... that was random, yeah. Me? I was born to this shit. You believe in karma?"

"Uh... I don't know. I guess that depends if people really have souls that survive death and I'm not completely convinced of that."

To my surprise, he bursts out laughing, doubling over and nearly overturning the glass of the red wine he'd matched with the chicken mole he'd served for dinner.

I had had none, as wine disagrees with me and yet the bottle is almost empty.

"An agnostic vampire? Okay, now I can die happy. I've seen everything."

I frown as he giggles into his folded arms, one of which is still enclosed in a thick white cast from the elbow down.

"Are you drunk?" I ask, rising and coming around to his end of the long table.

He sighs, shoulders heaving.

"Maybe."

I rest my hand on his back, then nearly double over myself as I breathe in his scent.

'Fuck, that's good.'

I blink and shake my head and take another breath, convincing myself that I'm okay, that I'm a stable, well-adjusted individual who isn't about to sink my teeth into the man with whom I may or may not be falling in...

"Alright," I say. "We'll consider it. But first, let's get you to bed. You're wasted."

Carlos giggles again, the sound like champagne bubbles in my ears.

"Story of my life," he says. "Wasted."

I frown as I guide him up the stairs, wondering what he means.

He makes it clear enough when we reach the door of his room and he presses himself against me, hip to chest and wraps his arms around my back, resting his head on my shoulder.

"I don't know what's going on, John," he says. "My mom, my aunt, whatever the fuck is happening here. But if you can use me in any way, you should. Use me. I'm a... I'm a medium, like my mom was. I could talk to Kyle. Maybe to Richard. Maybe even find out whose body you found. If there's a chance, shouldn't we take it? I'm just a waste of resources, otherwise."

Feeling as if his question goes much further than he thinks, I merely tighten my arms around his back and enjoy the sensation of his strong, slender body against mine.

"Go to sleep," I say. "We'll talk about this tomorrow. But... if you think a seance is what we need, then that's what we'll do."

He pulls away from me a little and meets my eyes, his own as dark and sweet as molasses in the dim light.

Then he sways and falls against the door-frame, forcing me to catch him.

"Whoa. You okay?"

He blinks up at me.

"Not really. My world is kinda falling apart. Got any tips?"

A laugh escapes me, as unstoppable as a cough or a sneeze, and in that moment, I know I'm lost.

Still, I don't have to take this beautiful man down with me.

"A good night's rest," I say. "Undisturbed. And tomorrow, a seance, first thing."

"First thing," he slurs, and collapses in my arms.

I shut my eyes.

David warned me I would be tested but if this is what he meant, he was off base.

I scoop Carlos up in my arms, carry him into his room and lay him in his bed.

And, even as I gaze down at his lovely, unconscious face, his long dark lashes casting shadows on the high slopes of his cheeks, I tell myself I'm not tempted.

Nope. Not even a little bit.

Then, in my room, I call David.

Because, like I said, he warned me this would happen.

[demon-of-darkmoon]

Allied Races: Do We Need More?

Short answer: No, but actually yes.

Greetings again! Today I wanted to muse a little bit over the idea of having more allied races.

While we don't necessarily truly need more allied races, they would certainly bring more benefits than deficits to the game. More allied races in general will not work as an answer to fixing broken or buggy mechanics, and so in that regard we don't need them. However, having them would certainly work in Blizzard's favor.

Consider how you came about playing your main. Perhaps you thought long and hard about exactly what race you wanted and why. Did you consider their racial abilities? Did you choose that race for a particular appearance you wanted to use? Perhaps lore played a part in your decision to create that human paladin or orc shaman of yours? 

Regardless of your reasoning, there were factors which contributed to the creation of that character. From this standpoint, allied races would add more to the overall feel and enjoyment of the game.

Personally, there are many potential races I would love to see become playable as an allied addition in the future. Most notably, I am forever holding out hope of receiving an option to play either a broken or taunka. In both cases where these could have been added, we instead saw nearly-identical options to their already-playable relative races (with the broken being a relative to draenei and the taunka being related to tauren).

With the current relevancy and overall revamp on the tuskarr, it would be nice to see a neutral allied race. Although neutral races as a concept are used very sparingly (with only two existing playable examples, being the pandaren and the newly-added dracthyr of Dragonflight), the tuskarr have been neutral long before their big Dragonflight revamp. Furthermore, with their relevance within this expansion it would make sense to incorporate them into a playable race, but having them all join either just the alliance or just the horde goes against all currently existing lore and overall understanding of how they interact with the playable races.

Another interesting race I would enjoy seeing become a neutral playable option would be the brokers of Shadowlands. While most of the races in Shadowlands would, in lore, be difficult to make playable (due to the fact that they are either canonically spirits who have passed on or are native creatures to those realms who would likely be unable to pass beyond the Shadowlands), the brokers are understood to be a race not initially native to Shadowlands explicitly and who could then, in theory, leave the realms of death and potentially enter Azeroth. Do I think Blizzard will ever make them playable? It's unlikely. Their designs would not allow for a lot of unique customization options and would be difficult to allow players to use. However, they would be a neat addition that, from a lore stand-point, could work.

Overall, there are so many non-playable races in the Warcraft universe that could be fun for players to have access to. Furthermore, additional races are a great way to increase a player's options for customization. Even if a certain race isn't an interesting one for one player, it would still be beneficial overall to give the player base more options to make their character feel truly like their own.

I avoided discussing appearances that would resemble other races for this post because they could easily be added as an appearance instead. While I would love for them to be given as an allied race with their own customization options and unique racials, we do have existing examples in-game of races that were included into an existing playable race as extra customization options (the most notable examples to-date being the high elf customization options for void elves and the dark ranger options for void, blood, and night elves). That does not mean I am against these appearances being added or that I don't want them to be available as anything less than an allied race. I just feel that they are a separate topic of conversation to be saved for another discussion. Even if some of these examples could easily be an allied race, a majority of their discussion would still be focused solely on physical customization appearances.

The Demon of Darkmoon signing off x

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Of Monsters And Men

(Season 2)

Chapter 7 - Turn Your Back

Summery: With Triss in Kaer Morhen helping Ciri understand her powers better and the mystery about whatever that centipede horned beast is still in the unknown. Triss finds some information and sends you two to Cintra to meet someone you haven't seen in awhile where new information is revealed about something you hadn't been expecting.

Warning: angst, blood, reader going a little feral, some fluff sprinkled in

Word count: 8595

Masterlist - Of Monsters And Men masterlist here

"Y/N?" Questions the blue eyed mage standing across the room with tall bookshelves to either side of him, a large glass window on the right wall that sends in a darkly blue tint of light into the space.

Geralt, directly behind you, can be heard taking a seat with a soft huff as you tilt your head curiously at the mage, crimson eyes narrowing as he studies your face. Untrusting of your new and unexpected presence in this library as you rake your gaze over his defensive stance, gifting a raise of your lips that form more of a sneer then a smirk as you whisper, "Istredd."

He keeps his ward up as his eyes dart from Geralt to you before pursing his lips together in irritated puzzlement, "Who the fuck is he? And why the fuck are you of all people here?" He hotly questions, magic still kissing the air as that protection ward keeps it's strength.

You casually shrug like he said something unimportant, taking a step closer as you glance at a candle on a nearby hold to your immediate left, giving him a proper smirk as you run your fingertips over the flame, "Wouldn't you like to know?" You retort slyly. You've honestly never been too fond of this man ever, he's always been bad news in your mind when it came to him and Yennefer though you let her do and see who she pleased.

But with Yennefer gone, this man has no protection if he chooses to react poorly. And anyways, him, is not in your good graces as the only mages you fully trust are now down to two. Triss and Tissaia. And even that trust can only stretch so far. You're still not too fond of mages.

"Y/N." He warns, swallowing nervously as you take another step forward, steps nonthreatening yet unpredictible. He hasn't gotten a clue as to why you'd be here, but considering you're here with a large man who looks able enough. He's assuming you've finally broken and decided to go after all who've ever opposed you.

"I'm Geralt of Rivia." Adds Geralt as you stop, Istredd's attention falling onto the white haired man still seated who points to himself, "I, we, apologize for the abrupt interruption. Time was of the essence." He quickly stands before walking over closer to the mage, standing side by side with you now, "Triss Merigold sent us to you. We need your help."

Istredd's brows furrow as he slowly ends the protective ward once he realizes you're not here to murder him in cold blood. He eyes up Geralt while you lean against a bookshelf, "You're a Witcher." He looks to you, "And you're here."

"And I am. And you're supposedly a monolith expert." You push yourself off of the wall of books, "Do you know of the stellacite tower just outside the city?"

He nods, still bubbling with confusion, "Yes, I know it. I know it's one of the oldest in existence."

Geralt hums, "I hate to be the bearer of bad news. It fell during the Slaughter of Cintra." This appears to be new information to him as Geralt continues, "And now a new subspecies of monsters are coming out of it. My theory is that they were nesting in the subterranean structure for years, which might explain the unique mutations."

Istredd appears to nod in understanding for a short moment until he lets out a breathy laugh, smiling like he finds all this wild shit humorous. You can tell he does by the way that his eyes crinkle when he smiles, "Tell Triss, uh...I don't understand the prank, but points for imagination." He returns his sight back down at his desk crowded in notes and books on the table, "And they say Y/N is nothing but a sarcastic bastard. Funny, very funny."

Your brows furrow as he focus on his notes though giving Geralt a slight glance, "All respect, Mr...Mr. Rivia for your commitment to this lovely lady next to you. But I'm trying to help elves find refuge here. You two have any idea how completely fucking insane you sound?"

Geralt turns to you with a knowing look, giving a nod do you take a step forward, opening up your bag as Istredd watches, not truly giving a damn whatever you're doing until the bloody head of some horned mutated creature slumps to the floor right at his feet. He makes a disgusted face while jumping back in surprise, eyes wide as he stares at the ugly fucker before him.

"Will you help us or not?" You ask rather bluntly.

Istredd takes a breath, eyes still set to the bloody head staring back up at him, "uh..." ——

Walking down a long dirt road leading to the front gates of Cintra do you keep your hood up, eyes half-hidden in shadow from the countless elven refugees and other individuals you don't plan on trusting anytime soon. Geralt in between yourself and Istredd who mostly minds his business on the far left.

You glance at a man guiding a large white goat on a lead past you, the goat bleats and tries to pull him away as you all near. You know it can sense what you are, it's master is none the wiser as he continues to keep walking down the trail to a hopeful future. You do genuinely hope these elves find what they seek, all of them.

It feels strange being here to begin with, seeing Cintra again and walking upon her grounds in the aftermath of war and a kingdoms change. You can only imagine the face of Calanthe watching from wherever she is at all these elves in her kingdom. Now she may not have deserved death that day, but watching the elves take charge for once against greater odds feels right especially in the home of someone who hated them so profusely.

You know how so many scorn their kind for just being who they are, immortal and wise and different. So close to what you are, yet at an opposite of the immortal spectrum of beings on this Continent in comparison to you. You know that if vampires were not so deadly and powerful to begin with, nor under your mothers guidance and rule.

Would the vampires have been hunted and threatened into hiding centuries ago, maybe even brought to extinction. You're just lucky that most people see through your humanity and let you linger among them most times. However this has not always been true with every place you've been to, some people see your eyes of red and are ready with their pitchforks and torches.

Fortunately you've been able to get by.

Not wanting to speak a word to Istredd unless you half to do you keep your sights on the dry ground as a cart led by a horse rolls on past. You've finally made it out into the more rural parts of the Cintran landscape where the great open fields are held on your left and the thick woods is to your right. People and many many elves continuing to walk past you three unaware and onto better things.

Cintra is still visible even from here though she grows smaller and more of a greying fuzzy mountain-like silhouette in the background. You hope to get out of here soon enough and find out whatever is going on with these damn monoliths. You've already had to restrain yourself more then once when you passed by a couple Nilfgaardian soldiers out and about on duty.

Maybe paired with a little Geralt intervention with a quick hand to your arm and a cautious look that told you to think otherwise. In the heart of the beasts lair is not the ideal place to pick a fight when it's just you and Geralt. You know better, and it's a great annoyance, but you do happen to possess a relatively strong amount of self control.

An elven woman on a horse trots by, her mare snorts nervously before whinnying and trotting quickly past you as she wonders what that was all about. You simple pull your hood down lower as Istredd continues to walk down the large path.

"Are you always this talkative, or should I take it personally?" Asks Istredd to Geralt as they look to one another.

Geralt let's out a breathy laugh while you roll your eyes, "Why don't you tell us more about the monolith?" You ask.

"I can tell you it's indestructible. They all are."

"Well that's obvious." You scoff as his gaze falls past Geralt to look at you like you've just insulted his mother. You give him a tight lipped grin in return, "What? I have some knowledge about a couple things. Sort of happens when you're older then most kingdoms and your mother was more or less part of the conjunction."

He shakes his head, eyes set to the road again, "Yeah, well. One thing we both don't know is how can mysterious monsters be nesting in a solid structure? And how can we be sure it's this one?"

"This is the only one that's shattered." You mutter, "No one conjured these creatures to begin with."

"The sheer force it would require, what could possibly do that?"

"You're the expert." You retort, "Why don't you tell us?" Clearly it was Ciri but he doesn't need to know that; you and Geralt keep walking as he stops to think of something clever in return though it seems he can't come up with much for the moment.

"It's this way."

You halt and turn your head to see him, he looks almost bemused about all of this, still unsure if you two are just here to waste his time with your fancy lies about monoliths. Although he's incredibly curious about the toppled monolith anyways, Geralt, and you being here too. He waits till both your attentions are upon him before nodding towards the great field and turning to walk down a small worn down trail.

"Try to keep up." He muses as you and Geralt follow behind him. Geralt gives you a glance, catching yourself making a face at the back of Istredd's head like you're some moody teenager told to feed the cows. He snickers quietly as you gently shove him, both continuing to trek onward close to Istredd.

"You know, I've never actually seen this one." Begins Istredd as you survey the land, "Calanthe didn't allow access."

You trail your eyes past Geralt and him to glare at the Nilfgaardian Cintra across the huge field, "And Nilfgaard did."

His dark brows furrow at your comment, "What are you saying?"

"You only came here to study monoliths?"

"No, I came here to help the elves." Answers Istredd while Geralt listens to the two of you speak, falling in step a couple feet behind.

"You want to help the elves by joining a kingdom that regularly massacres whole villages?" Istredd doesn't say a word so you turn your head to face him while continuing to walk, "On the surface of it, there seems to be a bit of a conflict there."

"I suppose you only believe in helping the vulnerable if there's coin in it?" He counters, "Everyone has an agenda." Truth to that.

"Even the helpful few, like yourself." You suggest with a little smirk, "Charming."

Thudding against the earth can be heard as he opens his mouth to speak when you stop and abruptly turn around, "What is it?" Asks Istredd as Geralt studies your concentrated expression. He knows you hear something he can't.

You slowly retrieve your elven dagger from its sheath on your hip, "Soldiers." You reveal softly, not even giving him a single glance.

Geralt immediately rests a hand on your shoulder, "Y/N." He speaks in a whispered warning tone as the sounds of hooves stomping up the hill are now heard, "Careful now. Control, Y/N, control."

The Nilfgaardian men of a mighty hoard of two break out over the horizon line, spotting you three instantly does the lead man in his sly blackened golden armor shout, "You three, back on the road!"

They trot closer as Istredd holds up a hand, stepping forward, "It's all right. I'm an official researcher for Fringilla Vigo. It all checks out." The soldier stops his horse in front of Istredd as your jaw tightens in growing anger at the sight of these men and what they stand for. Flashbacks of battle and the screams of women and children haunting your mind as your gaze studies their armor with the flame on the center crest .

The first soldier looks down at Istredd, "I don't give a shit. You're trespassing Nilfgaardian land." He bellows angrily while gripping tightly to his horses reins.

"Sir, be reasonable." Calmly speaks Istredd, "We're just passing through. We don't want..."

The soldier reaches down to roughly grab his collar, "If you aren't fucking deaf, you're fucking stupid! I'll see what you really ar.." Blood spatters against Istredd's cheeks when a large beautiful dagger pierces the right eye of the Nilfgaardian man, his tight grasp goes limp before he slumps over and falls from his stead to the hard ground.

Istredd gasps and jumps back, surprised, he turns bewildered to you two. You stand there, palm open like you just threw that exact dagger, face appearing rather satisfied as you take a step forward.

"Hey, you, stay where you are!" Heatedly shouts the other soldier as he watches you saunter closer to him, he immediately unsheathes his sword when he realizes you're not stopping, "Stay where you are!" He shouts desperately while his horse becomes restless and nervous, you keep walking, "Stay there! I command you!"

Your hood slips from your head as you approach, eyes blood red and practically glowing like two rubies in the sunlight. He swings his sword down at you, missing, he swats his arm backwards to attempt to catch you again but is halted from this movement by your strong grasp to his wrist. Something he wasn't entirely expecting in the slightest.

His heart beats fast, eyes wide as he looks down at you fearfully, "Unhand me." He whispers, voice strong yet frightened all in one.

Your lips break out into a fangy grin right before yanking him to the ground in one clean motion like he weighs nothing. He quickly stumbles across the dirt trail, dust flying as he moves to turn around and face you on his hands and knees from his spot upon the bare earth, he keeps still when he sees you standing there. Lingering a couple feet away, observing the object in your grasp now, his own jagged sword in your hand.

His heart beats wildly, nerves pricking when your monsterly eyes lock with his, shimmering scarlet, "Unhand you, you ask?" He swallows hard as you glare menacingly before taking a step forward and slicing off his right arm in one clean and calculated motion. Before he can even open his mouth to cry out have your pupils constricted at the scent of fresh blood in the air.

The soldier screams in agony as blood finally gushes from out of the wound that he's attempting to hold when you kick him roughly to the earth. Blood sprays over nearby plants while your nostrils take in the scent of fresh blood being spilt. What a delectable smell.

The Nilfgaardian soldier tries to get up when your boot pins him to the ground, he's groaning in pain like a woman giving birth when you place the tip of the blade in the center of his chest. He shakes his head weakly, "No, no, no, no, no...please." He moans, "Please, please." Begs the soldier in his blackened golden armor with the crest of flame, "Please."

"Give me a reason." You snap, staring daggers down at him with a fury shinning so bright in your eyes that he almost pisses himself.

"My-my friend..." He groans in pain as the blade pierces the armor, he feels the sting of steel upon his skin yet its not enough to break flesh.

"You're friend?" You mock, "Nilfgaard does not have friends. They take them!" You shout furiously, thrusting the sword deep into the soldiers sternum, blade slicing through muscle and organs and more bone until the swords tip reaches the dirt below. He writhes and squirms and then stops all movements and breathing altogether.

The face of Yennefer flashes in your mind like a vivid dream, the sounds of screaming and laughter in the back of your head as the horse snorts on your left. You look at it and glare, it spooks and runs off as you scoff and turn around to face a bewildered Istredd and a purse lipped Geralt.

"Did you have to kill them?" Adds Istredd while you walk over to retrieve your dagger from the soldiers eye.

Kneeling down, do you pull it out before wiping the blood off on the dead soldiers clothing, you then stand and walk past them both as they watch you go down the trail, "You don't know half the shit I'd do."

Istredd gives Geralt a confused look as the white haired man simply hums and follows after you. You can still smell their blood on the wind and the fear in the air yet it gives you not a lot of relief nor satisfaction from it all. You still feel almost numb and even killing two soldiers won't do much in the scheme of things, but dammit did it feel good in the moment.

For Yennefer. For the innocent who have died because of Nilfgaard.

You walk a little ways over the hill until the green and bush covered hillside below lead down to more flat field and a huge crack in the earth stretching down a long ways. You stop and take it all in as both Geralt and Istredd halt at your sides, just as surprised as you are of this truthful discovery of the monoliths destruction.

"Oh shit." Whispers Istredd. You give a small mutual nod before beginning to walk down the hillside with the both of them following closely behind. Oh shit indeed.

A few minutes later have you all made it to the edge of the ginormous crack in the land, the dark cut of rock stretching down a decent ways into the earth. Luckily you don't fear heights nor have to be afraid of falling from far up distances. However this deeply concerns you that a damn monolith did all this shit.

"It takes generations of erosion to even make a dent in a stellacite." Begins Istredd, clearly astonished about this fantastical discovery, "This...this is a scientific revelation. It-it defies every historical precedent, Witcher. This changes everything."

Geralt's brows furrow as his golden eyes trail over the huge jut, "I was expecting tracks. Bones.......Anything." He pauses a moment, eyes looking from yours to Istredd who's not paying attention, "I have to go down there."

"We have to go down there." He looks from the deep cavern to Geralt, "This is an unbelievable fund."

You take a step to the edge where the grass and dark colored stellacite meet, "And how do you presume you're getting down there?" You raise a brow at the both of them.

"Climb down I suppose." Suggests Geralt.

"I'll portal us down." Adds Istredd.

You look from them to the shadowed cavern, "I'll find my own way. See you in the underworld." You give them a wink before turning around and falling casually backwards into the huge cut in the earth before swiftly turning into a pack of bats. Your tiny little selves flap and squeak about until you've safely reached the bottom.

Shifting back into your normal self as you wait for them to find you. The jagged rocky walls of blueish grey stretch high to either side of you like dark crystalized towers, it feels as though you're stranded in a giant maze of stellacite. The ground below is narrow and dirt covered with some random ferns here and there as well as chunks of shiny looking obsidian rocks.

Though it's just more stellacite scattered around the long pathway leading to the broken monolith farther down the trail, the exact monolith still obstructed from view. Suddenly a portal forms behind you and with that does Geralt and Istredd come forth, both completely fine. Although Geralt takes a deep breath in as Istredd walks over to the wall, wanting to observe it better.

He touches it gently, eyes scanning over the rock as Geralt takes a cautious glance around. You sniff the air and smell nothing out of the ordinary, "There's no evidence they've been here at all."

"Unbelievable." Whispers Istredd as Geralt walks past him, "How could this happen? What could do this? Monsters..." He pauses a moment, expression thoughtful as you raise a brow at him.

"Care to explain? I know a lot of things but not everything."

He watches as you then turn to follow Geralt, Istredd soon takes a step to follow as well, "Historians have always theorized that monoliths are scars from the Conjunction." He explains, "Leftover points of impact."

You glance at him from over your shoulder, "Yes. Relative knowledge."

"Well, think about it. Monsters didn't exist on this plane before the Conjunction. All species were separated on different spheres till those spheres merged into one." Explains Istredd a bit more, "Now a Conjunction like that would've required two things. A massive surge of energy and-and conduits to channel it. Now, what if the monoliths aren't points of impact?"

He pauses a moment, "What if they're the conduits?"

The fuck is he on about?

You stop mid walk just as Geralt does, he turns to look at Istredd, "I worry about you mages more and more. Perhaps humans shouldn't live for so long." He muses before turning back around and continuing to slowly trek onward.

"I've seen them communicating."

"Hmm." Geralt turns around to begin a point but realizes he's got nothing to counter that so instead does he hum again and keep walking while you both follow. Monoliths communicating? How odd, or does he mean the spheres?

"You say this monolith toppled during the Slaughter of Cintra. That makes perfect sense." Adds Istredd.

"And yet it doesn't." You affirm while stepping over a piece of shiny black stellacite, hoping no one says another word the rest of the trip to locate the monolith. And this wish is granted but only for a few blessed minutes until the mage behind you opens his mouth yet again.

"I was at a dig in Nazair a while back. I-I witnessed something. There was this monolith started emitting strange vibrations, like it was channeling a massive energy surge. It only lasted a few seconds, but look." You stop and turn to see the book he's opened, "Look, look at this date. It happened the night Cintra fell. The same night as this."

A low thunder is heard in the cavern only heeded by your heightened ears. You turn away from Istredd's notes to listen better while Geralt takes a look, "You think this is where the energy surge originated."

Istredd nods, "Which activated the conduit system. The monoliths started talking."

You take a step away from them to study the deep cavern, though still listening to Geralt speak, "What does that have to do with monsters?"

"It wasn't a Conjunction. At least, not how we've been thinking. The other spheres didn't merge, they-they collided, then separated again."

Geralt's brows furrow at this, "If the original spheres are still out there somewhere and our monoliths are calling to them.....then the monsters aren't new, they're new to here. And they're using our monoliths as gateways."

You turn around to face him, "What? You believe the monoliths are gateways?" You then give a shrug, "Guess that sort of explains it, a little."

"Tell me how you knew that monsters and monoliths were linked?" Asks Istredd, clearly wanting to know how the hell Geralt stumbled upon this riveting conclusion.

"What is it you're hoping to hear?"

"Your agenda. If you have information that could advance our civilization, I have a right to know."

"Why?" You counter before Geralt can speak on it, "So you can help the elves?"

Istredd holds his tongue for a moment, you can tell there's another truthful reason behind why he's actually in Cintra, as it only makes sense considering he's got not a single reason to want to help the elves. He's not exactly that charitable at heart, though his eyes shift from the earth to your curious face anyways.

The ghost of a smile playing at his lips, "I came to Cintra 'cause I thought someone might be here." Istredd gives a small shrug, "A woman." Thinking kindly upon the memory of this mystery woman he's apparently got his heart on.

You roll your scarlet eyes, "Of course. Here for what's between your legs and not what's in your head for the good of the elves. Figures."

Istredd let's out a breathy laugh at your humorous comment when he nonchalantly says, "Yennefer." In a soft spoken fondness that spikes your nerves the moment his voice says her name.

Your face turns into deep confusion at this, "Yennefer?" You ask in a whispered voice, there's no way he said that, but it can't be? Istredd locks eyes with you as you look at him strangely, "Of?" You know they have history, yet you have to confirm for yourself.

He looks to you with a raised brow, though that small smile is still upon his lips, "Of Vengerberg." Said like it's the most obvious thing in the entire world, like you should have already known this.

You take a threatening step forward that sets him off ease, "Why would you say that name?" You ask in a softly spoken harshness, he looks to you a bit taken aback as you try to contain yourself, you step back, lips in a small frown as your scarlet eyes study is face. The way his eyes crinkle still with her thought in his mind, your expression turns rather sad, "Of course. You...you loved her. Didn't you?" Knowing by his look this is truth, but still uncertain why he would bring her up, or why he would think she would have come to Cintra?

He gives a small nod, "Love. I never stopped."

Your heart breaks at this, he was never there for her like you were when it counted. He wasn't there in Sodden, he never let her grow into her true potential. Not until you spoke with Yen, not until she finally found it in herself to do as she wanted and be free. He was never good for her, he couldn't accept her for who she was, for who she became. He never loved her like you did, a sisters love never falters no matter what happens over the years..over the centuries.

You can't help but scoff at his continued smile, "A false reality you've built for yourself."

His brows furrow deeply at your stinging words, aurora growing frustrated, "At least I didn't willfully choose to abandon her after Sodden, and after everything they did to her in Aretuza, I figured she'd make her way here for refuge..."

"What?" You whisper in astonishment, ever defensively, "I never abandoned her."

His face shifts into puzzlement, "After she burned through Nilfgaard's army and saved the Continent, you were gone. In fact, we should all be praising her name, you more so of all people."

Her face covered in blood and shadowed by hot flames flashes quickly in your mind as your breathing increases with this news. Coming to a strong realization do you give him a hard look, "Yennefer's alive?" You have to know for certain.

Istredd appears baffled that you didn't know of this already, "You didn't know?"

"No."

A rumbling sound can be heard once again, though this time it's louder and causes the rocks to shake and the small pieces of broken stellacite to vibrate and move. Geralt! Y/N! Is yelled in a whispered shout on the wind just as the rumbling grows even louder and the rocks almost appear to shake. The voice sounded weirdly like Ciri but that's impossible, right? Right?

The ground below you trembles and the small dagger-like chunks of shiny stellacite turn upwards and immediately are summoned down the path you've all been previously walking towards. You push Geralt out of the way as you jump upwards to avoid the razors piercing your flesh as they fly past like little shards of dark glass.

When they're all gone and out of sight do you slowly levitate back down to the dirt to meet Geralt and Istredd at their level. Touching soft earth again does the sky open up and gift you three with wet droplets of rain, thunder rumbling in the far off distance as you pull up your hood to avoid the dreary weather.

"Where did those stellacite fragments go?" Asks Istredd as he looks from both you and Geralt to the pathway, "Who's voice was that?"

"Quiet." You command, trying to listen for whatever the fuck could have caused this to just happen, shoving Yennefer into the back of your mind for now. You can soon hear the crinkling and cracking of stone against stone as something growls lowly from on up ahead. You take a step towards the strange noise.

"What is it?" Questions Istredd as you unsheathe your dagger, Geralt pulling out is sword as he follows you slowly down the trail.

More sounds of chipping rocks and rumbling stones are heard, movement close by, a low angry growl vibrates on the damp air as you turn a corner. With no suitable true heartbeat to push blood through its veins does a dark shiny and sharp creature stand to the side of a jutted out rock.

Larger then a cow and dark as obsidian, shining in the dark cloudy sunlight peeking in from above though you can see it as plain as day. It's body is like that of a dragon stellacite hybrid, tall and thin it is, shards of stellacite making up its flesh if that's even what you can call it. While it growls lowly and stalks closer can you see the two dark wings adorning it's back as it moves.

It breaths out, eyes flickering from you to Geralt as it gets closer until it suddenly stops and without warning jumps to the rocks above before opening its wings and taking flight. You all turn to follow its swift journey out of the deep cavern and into the skies above where it quickly disappears over the cliffs edge.

"Fuck." Mutters Geralt as you purse your lips together.

"Yeah, fuck."

Istredd looks from Geralt to you, "Who is the girl who called to you two? And what the hell was that thing?" The both of you don't say a word as more rain continues to pelt everything underneath the clouds, "Do you think Nilfgaard knows about this?"

Ciri called to you and Geralt. But why?

Sheathing your dagger away do you turn to Istredd, "Open a portal. Now."

"What?"

"You're not deaf, now fucking do it."

He makes a rightfully perplexed expression at your sudden hostility, "Alright, alright."

While Istredd is summoning a portal do you turn to Geralt who's already looking worriedly at you, "You heard her voice same as I. Love, what does this shit all mean?"

"I don't know but we're going to find her and figure this out. I promise." He assures you, taking your hand with his just as the portal opens, you don't say a word but move your feet as Geralt leads you through the portal where your surroundings change from wet and damp to dry and dusty.

You're in the vacant evening hall of Kaer Morhen, hand still with Geralt's as you feel overwhelmed with uneasiness when he looks to you with those big golden eyes of his. "Y/N what is it?"

"I don't know." Shaking your head do you squeeze your eyes shut before opening them once again, "Let's just find Ciri." That weird feeling not relenting in the slightest.

He lets go of your hand and begins walking towards the right side of the medallion tree when you catch the scent of her in the other door, the side one directly to your right. "Geralt." He halts before whipping around to face you.

"What is it?"

"She's in the infirmary."

Geralt says not a word but nods at this before swiftly heading in that direction with you hot on his heels. It's so very strange, you don't know what's happened here since you've both been gone for the past many hours but something in the atmosphere around this place just doesn't feel quite right to you at all. Maybe it's your extra senses coming into light when they're needed most or your hunch is false?

However you're never wrong when it comes to a bad feeling in your gut about something. And ever since you heard Ciri's voice when that monolith monster came to life have you assumed some sort of foul sorcery may be at play this hour. And you don't like that shit one bit.

Geralt leads you down the hallway until he turns left into the large infirmary where you can see Vesemir sitting next to Ciri who's strapped down to the bed with her sleeve rolled up like she means to get injected with something. They quickly turn to face the two of you, both surprised at the abrupt interruption.

"What are you doing?" Snaps Geralt as he looks angrily at Vesemir, immediately aware of what was about to take place.

Ciri's wide eyes look from Geralt to you, "Geralt, Y/N." She gasps while trying to sit up in bed the best she can, clearly not expecting you two to just randomly intrude like this.

"She's meant to be. To rebuild us." Explains Vesemir, expression bridging between embarrassment and remorseful about almost turning Ciri into a Witcher...or having it all go horribly wrong.

"She is not." Declares Geralt hotly, "She's a girl. All you'll do is poison her."

Vesemir opens his mouth to speak when you set your fearsome sights to him, "You dare risk her life for the restoration of your precious Witchers? You don't know what that will do to her body."

"I made him do it, Y/N." Intervenes Ciri, "Geralt, I made him do it." You walk over to her right side and kneel down to take off the restraints holding down her ankles, "Stop. I wanted him to try. Y/N, stop!" You remove the chains despite her protests.

"Did you not think of the consequences?" You counter as the chains break and snap, "What if you were killed?" You walk over to her right arm and move to take the leather straps off of her wrist.

"Stop." She sits up to cover her wrist with her other free hand, "Stop!" You halt in your tracks, scarlet irises glancing from Geralt to Ciri, she looks up at you defiantly, "All I ever think about are consequences. No matter how hard I train, no matter what I do, it'll never be enough."

Oh, Cirilla.

You frown deeply at these words as Geralt steps by your side, he touches your hand as he looks down fondly at Ciri, "You are already enough, Cirilla. You are extraordinary."

Giving his hand a light reassuring squeeze do you let go to kneel down at her side. Her enchanted irises full with unshed tears, heartbeat thudding quickly within her chest as she grapples with her clashing emotions all at once. You rest a comforting hand upon the end of her knee, "He speaks truth. And my dear lioness, you are enough for us, you are so much more then you'll ever understand."

She swallows thickly, voice quivering, "I want to be like you, Y/N. I want to be indifferent to the past. To the lies. To the things I've done. Please." Your heart saddens as she searches your face for a positive sign, "Let me have that.

Taking a heavy breath do you blink slowly, "This is not how it works, my lioness. Neither you, nor I, nor Geralt can just forget who we are. We can't kill our feelings. Our best chance is to kill the hatred that we may hold onto...and move on."

Ciri swallows hard as a small tear trails down the side of her cheek, she doesn't say a word as you reach over to remove her wrist constraints without her objections to it this time. When the leather and steel is undone can you set it off to the side on the nearby pillow before taking her hand with yours and standing. Ciri sits up fully, you glance at both Geralt and Vesemir, eyes on Ciri again.

"Go get your things."

She nods and slowly walks towards the door as you stop, take a breath, and look back at Vesemir with disappointment, "If I ever hear you do something like this again without my say first, I will make sure you sourly regret it." His eyes lower in shame, diverting away from you as you turn from your old friend to follow the way Ciri left.

——

Standing in her doorway do you watch as she packs her things into a travel pack, feeling a swarm of emotions and feelings all swimming around in your body like a school of fish in a lake. You want to scream and thrash around like a wild cat in anger and frustration because of it all, Yennefer is somehow fucking alive even though you saw her die, you saw her become nothing after what she did in Sodden. Gone like the wind.

It doesn't make a lick of sense. And now this problem with Ciri, she somehow called to you and Geralt when you were both wandering around near that monolith looking for answers and not getting a whole lot in return. And you just saved her from being injected by that Witcher serum that would have undoubtedly either killed or heavily deformed her.

She stuffs a shirt into her pack as you lean against the door-frame, "How was it that Vesemir came to the creation of that potion?"

She stops her movement to slowly look up at you, "My blood." She mutters.

"You're blood?" You ask, puzzled.

"My blood mixed in with the materials needed to create the potion."

Your brows furrow at this, "He would have required Elder blood for that but you..." You pause a moment as she looks at you with those enchanted irises of hers, "Of course. It makes sense now...all of it does. How could I have not have realized sooner?"

"Realized what?"

"That your blood is special." Her brows furrow as you smile at her, "I have caught the potent scent of your blood more then once Cirilla, and it smells of enchantment and power whenever it finds itself into my nostrils. The kind of blood that I have smelt before, the kind I have tasted before long long ago...the blood of your ancestors. The blood that is said to bring strength to the elves."

"What?" She whispers, astonished, "How can you know this?"

"The proof is right in front of me. You are Pavetta's daughter, one with Elder blood who's power she gave to you, and though I have not bore witness firsthand to this power that I know you posses. I know it's there, you smell full of it."

She sighs, "Yes. This power, I can't even control it yet either." Adds Ciri, defeated.

"Well, well, princess of lions, and magic she doesn't understand yet. Pack your things, myself and Geralt happen to be taking you to a place that may have yet to help you." You explain, "Child with Elder blood, we're going on a little adventure."

She gives you a less deflated look this time, "Will it be cold?"

You give her a smile, "Not this place particularly. But I'd bring a knife if I were you."

——

You walk steadily behind both Geralt and Ciri who sits upon the back of Roach as your Witcher guides them through the tall pathway of rocks. You're trek away from Kaer Morhen has been more or less an uneventful one thus far into the journey.

Yet you're anticipating on the unexpected soon enough as what always tends to happen with you three nowadays. Though what could be a relatively peaceful trip across the land seems more like one filled with hidden conflict and frustration within yourself. You've barely had a moment to rest or even a second with just yourself and Geralt.

But a moment embraced together doesn't excite your heart at the current state for now. Some dragon stellacite hybrid is flying throughout the damn Continent somewhere doing who the fuck knows what. Ciri just about got herself killed with trying to become a Witcher of all things. Not to mention the girl truly does have Elder blood running through her veins.

And oh yes....Yennefer is alive.

Now that. You hadn't been expecting to hear at all, especially not from Istredd either, then again you hadn't been planning on ever meeting him again. But another thought troubles you so, did Triss already know of this and willfully choose not to tell you? If this is the case, when you're able to properly ask, she better have a viable answer.

Damn mages.

You hate being lied to, now she didn't exactly lie per say, but she never said a word about Yennefer but who knows. Not important for the time being, and anyways, you just need to get the three of you to this temple in one piece. The future and growth of Ciri depends on it.

"How much further?" Asks Ciri as Geralt leads Roach along the path, "Where are we even going?" She waits a second though he says not a word in reply which you can tell frustrates her, she scoffs, "At least at Kaer Morhen, we were safe."

"The Trial of Grasses isn't safe."

"Not listening again." She counters.

Geralt hums in thought, "You want to kill yourself trying to become a mutant so if you survive, you can kill yourself trying to get revenge. Which part did I miss?"

You can feel the irritation growing within her at Geralt's deflections to the choice she wanted to make for herself but was taken away by the both of you. He knows what it takes to become a Witcher better then anyone here, yet Ciri cannot see past this.

She pushes a branch out of the way, "You don't really give a shit about what I want, either of you. All you care about is your...damn duty. So long as I'm breathing, you've done your part." She glances at you still following behind, "And you still refuse to properly fight me, or even teach me for that matter. I need more then that."

Geralt takes a couple more steps before slowing down and stopping, "Ciri." He looks up at her, "I do understand. We both do."

"It's hard to know sometimes." She mutters as you walk around them to face her as well, "Wish it wasn't so difficult."

You open your mouth to speak when a flapping sound suddenly reaches your ears, you turn your head to the tree tops where the far off sound had come from. Geralt hears it too and looks up at the sky through the thick trees, alert as ever, listening for anything else. You twitch your head like a focused cat listening for field mice.

"What's up there?" Asks Ciri as she watches you react like this, "Do you-do you hear something?"

"Y/N."

Your concentration breaks as you lock eyes with Geralt who nods towards the pathway through the woodland, "Come on. Rivers up ahead." He turns and keeps walking, you can tell he's trying not to frighten Ciri who's already on edge from the weird whatever it was that made you look up at the sky so focused-like. You never do that unless something out of their own earshot has found you first.

You watch as they start walking again down the path of fallen leaves, trees to either side as they go by Geralt's lead. You know you heard wings in the distance and you know it must be that creature from the monolith; taking a breath do you glare at the blue sky between the branches above before following them once more. The path leads all the way to the edge of a large river that appears too large to cross for the moment. But it may as well do.

"This is the shallowest part of the river. I'll check that it's safe to cross." Says Geralt as you glance at the murky brown water to your right, and the grey cliffs across the river that would be fun to jump off of it not for the current circumstances. You never have time for fun anymore.

"What do you mean, safe?" Quickly implores Ciri.

"I'll try and draw it out first."

"Draw what out?" She questions.

"It's some kind of chernobog." You add while walking over to their side.

Ciri looks down at you, "I don't know what that is. But let me help.."

"Stay here with Y/N." Affirms Geralt, he gives you a mutual nod before handing you Roach's leather reigns and heading into the shallow river water as he observes the clear skies ahead.

You can hear it coming, closer and closer though you can't see it yet. Not until it flies out over the crest of the tree line across the river, two big black wings carrying it over the land and you know it sees him now. The chernobog growls as it descends lower, gliding across the murky water, claws at the ready as it prepares to kill Geralt.

"Geralt!" Shouts Ciri in fear as he calls a sign to action and with that does the powerful ward push the chernobog roughly across the water. However it quickly regains its bearings and stabilizes with a few hasty flaps of its jagged wingspan, causing the water below to spray and ripple as it flaps above. Legs just barely touching the river as it glides across the water.

You watch as it flies by the trees on the opposite end before circling back to head straight for Geralt once again. You prepare yourself for the worst as it gets faster and faster until it's almost right on him. It's arms spread out, claws bared when he uses another protective ward to push it back.

However this time the chernobog had anticipated this action and is able to swiftly counter Geralt's sign by spreading its wings to catch itself quickly. The water sprays again, Roach whinnies and tugs at your hand as you pat her soft snout gently.

"Easy girl, easy." She presses her nose into your touch though the mare is undoubtedly nervous.

The chernobog growls angrily as it flies across the water left then a quick right and then an unexpected left as it misses Geralt's next protective ward and crashes through some trees. Claws and fangs and big wings headed towards you, Roach, and Ciri. It lands before you and roars, rushing you instantly, so fast that you don't have time to remove your dagger from its sheath.

The chernobog's wing misses the first time, however the clawed hand hits its mark as the abrupt force knocks you across the forest floor and right into the side of a dying tree. Your head cracks against the trees rough bark, gravity thrusting you to the harsh earth instantly. You hear screams in the foreground as your world goes fuzzy and blurs with the violent couple of seconds you've just endured.

Pushing yourself off of the wet leaves does a couple droplets of blood patter to the ground from out of your nostrils. Your head hurts and so does your neck muscles though this pain subsides in a matter of seconds to a dull throbbing and then to nothing at all. "Fuck." You mutter, touching your nose and pulling your hand away to see the shiny red coating the tips of your fingers.

"Y/N!" Shouts Ciri frantically.

Your eyes snap up to meet hers as you study her body for any signs of infliction, she's untouched though her expression appears panicked as her gaze drops to something large below her. You follow her eyesight to land upon Roach, a gasp escapes your parted lips at the sight before you now.

Roach lays on her left side, breaths ragged and unsteady, there are three deep claw marks staining the lower portion of her body from where the chernobog got her. Blood pools like a red river out of her mortal wounds and into the wet earth below. She doesn't move much but breathe softly in and out all she can take.

You heart hurts for her as you pick yourself up from the ground to stagger over to Ciri and Geralt who kneel at her backside now. Petting her gently as you fall to your knees by her head, opposite of Geralt.

You frown deeply, "oh Roach. Not you my sweet girl." Your hand tenderly presses against her shoulder as you pet her cheek with your other hand, kindly as a mothers touch.

"Easy girl." Mutters Geralt as he runs his hand down her soft neck.

You can notice as blood seeps out of her nostrils like yours had, though this hurt will not heal like yours. "Is there anything we can do?" Asks Ciri in a hushed tone, eyes wandering between your saddened face to Geralt's who's still looking down at Roach. "Y/N can't you heal her with your blood?"

Closing your eyes tightly do you lower your head, "It doesn't work like that. Not with animals....I'd just make it worse."

"Well there must be something?"

He pulls out a small knife when you open your eyes again, Ciri knows what this means, she stands and walks a couple steps away, turning around to not see what's about to happen. He presses a hand to Roach's head, looking down at her fondly, "Enjoy your last walk across the meadow and through the mist." Roach wheezes lowly, "Be not afraid of her...for she is your friend." Whispers Geralt as he begins to draw the knife closer to her neck.

Your hand is quick to stop him by taking hold of his forearm, "Allow me. I'll make it faster then that knife. Less painful. Quicker then an arrow." He swallows, hand leaving her head, the other bringing the knife away as you place your opened palm to where his hand once was.

Roach takes in a ragged breath as you rub your thumb across her fur, "Thank you for all the adventures my dear, you never let us down." Your eyes trail up from Roach to lock with Geralt's golden ones, you give a small nod as he does the same and with that do you deliver a quick death binding volt of electricity into her flesh and skull that kills her instantly.

Her body twitches a second and then all goes still, breath gone from her lungs, heartbeat no more. Taking a slow breath out do you stand, stoic face looking down at the deceased mare you've taken care of for many many years. Another loss to add to all the others.

"Thank you, my love." Mutters Geralt as your gaze trails from Roach to him, you gift him the ghost of a smile in return.

"It's what she deserved." You look up to the sky overhead of the river, "Now lets deal with this fucker."

-

Taglist: @littlewhiterose​​ @galaxypox​​ @maan24​ @lilacs-lavender​ @letseatnow​​ @certainwonderlandperfection​​ @rafecameronswhore​​ @diegos-butt​​ @ashleyforeverareject​​ @seninjakitey​​ @beck07990​​ @kmuir1​​ @a-girl-who-loves-disney​​ @greengrassdiaries​​ @canpillowscry​​

[randomingoftherandomness]

Prompt! WKX is an omega who's been suppressing his heats for years with the help of Aunt Luo. When he leaves the Ghost Valley, his heat comes unexpectedly because of prolonged suppressant use. Alpha!ZZS helps. Smut or not, up to you.

A/N: I see Omega WKX and just like that it’s on like donkey kong 😝 No smut for this one though I may revisit this. I had to take a pause in writing the Smut Dialogue Prompts because I had to work for my Taobao WoH merch money. But keep sending them in!

I place this fic as taking place somewhere on the journey to the Longyue Cabinet.

This fic is longer than I had anticipated...

—

It hits him that he’s out of tea three days into the constant discomfort of aches on the base of his spine, the almost debilitating need to scent Chengling as if he was his young, and the embarrassing urge to bare his neck to the Old Toad Monster whenever they argue. But above all that, the most mortifying thing of all is the distracting awareness of where his Ah Xu was at every given moment and the insanity that rages through him to kneel and submit to him even when the man still looks at him with nothing but a suspicion that makes him want to keen and whine.

Wen Kexing is supposed to be above all this, not just as the Lord of the Ghost Valley, but as someone who is trying to prove to this Alpha that he was the right--

He perishes the thought before it can even finish.

The nondescript brocade pouch is empty save for a few remnant leaves that would barely be enough to tide him through even the first hour of what’s coming next. It’s fine, he tries to reason through the rising panic in his mind that this was missing the mark of ‘fine’ and hitting the bullseye of ‘you’re completely fucked’. This blend is unique to Aunt Luo’s stores and if Ah Xiang was still by his side, she would have a backup pouch for him. As a Beta, she would have no need for it herself.

Unbidden, the memories of the scant few times he had let his Heats run their course comes flooding through him; the pain and ache of being untouched, unfulfilled, the taste of blood and sweat as he rides through the terror of his heart burning through the fever, the fear of that lone door being broken down by some crazed Alpha and being mated against his will. He remembers the rawness of his throat for weeks after, screaming and crying for that boy who balanced a cricket on his head and promised him good food when he could come home with him.

Wen Kexing swallows tightly around the knot of emotions drumming thick in his throat. It’s an old fear and it is the nightmare that he has survived and lived through by the grace of Aunt Luo’s protection. He’d presented early; far too early by the sounds of Aunt Luo’s recollections and the theory was that the trauma of his parent’s deaths coupled with the Mengpo Soup being administered to someone so young, was the cause of things.

“Lao Wen?”

“Hm?” He quickly plasters on a smile, blinking up at his Ah Xu before darting his gaze somewhere over his shoulder instead. This is dangerous. 

He’s sweating through his inner robes and it won’t be long now before his scent draws every Alpha in the 15 mile radius from where they are in the forest. He finds himself simultaneously surprised and disappointed that Ah Xu has barely reacted to his scent when the Old Toad Monster had taken a sniff at him this morning and declared that he was taking Chengling along with that strange child-man off their hands for a few days. 

It’s ridiculous and he reminds himself that he has nothing to fear when Ah Xu has been nothing but courteous this entire time even when knowing from the beginning that he was an Omega with a bloodlust that could fill entire oceans. 

“Lao Wen, are you alright?” Ah Xu asks. Wen Kexing looks at him then; meets his gaze and decides it is all or nothing at this point. Should Ah Xu say no, he won’t press, he won’t push and he won’t beg. His heart will break but that wouldn’t be anything new. 

He has survived worse things than a broken heart.

“I’m going into Heat,” He admits, eyes fixed on Ah Xu, gaze strong and unwavering. “It’s going to be bad because I’ve been on suppressants and I need you to know this.”

Ah Xu remains impassive, quiet and still, before he asks gently, “So what are your plans?”

The words twinge something awful in his chest and he forces himself to keep smiling. “Find an Alpha. Pay for one if I must. The last Heat I went through was horrible and I nearly died. I’m not keen to repeat the experience,” He inhales and finds himself stuttering on the sour scent of... Anger? Jealousy?

Ah Xu’s tells are still things he is learning but even with this shallow pool of knowledge, Wen Kexing can tell that he is displeased. 

His immediate instinct is to go on his knees, wrap his arms around that slender waist and rub his cheek to his belly until that cold, unhappy scent sweetens into something warm again. But he restrains himself, tries to stand his ground even when he can feel the quickening of his heart demanding that he submit, he surrender, he give himself over to his Alpha; to just reach out and touch and kiss and love and be loved--

“Am I not enough?”

The slow enunciation of the syllables breaks through the cacophony in his mind. Wen Kexing thinks he must be dreaming and half convinces himself that this is some Heat wrought dream, and that there is no way that Zhou Zishu would ever--

Careful hands hold him by the cheeks, wrists placed close to the corners of his lips and he can almost taste the way he can be owned and marked and belong to this Alpha. This same Alpha who is looking at him with eyes of liquid gold and is saying, “Lao Wen, please let me share your Heat with you.”

“But you...” He trails off.

“Me?”

“You haven't even reacted to me,” Wen Kexing says a little dumbly, body swaying into the promise of an embrace.

On that, Ah Xu smiles a little wryly. His hands move, trailing fingers southwards to rest right against Wen Kexing’s nape. The heat of his palm, right over where a Bond Mark should be shouldn’t be this thrilling, but the promise that is etched in the heady weight of his gaze is enough to steal a soft whine from the cages of his ribs. 

“It’s the Nails. I’m slowly losing my senses. I can’t smell much anymore,” Ah Xu admits with a gentle press of his fingers to sweat slick skin for the briefest of a moment, before pulling away, huffing with fondness. “Was that what worried you? That I wasn’t reacting to you? I thought I’d held your hands enough times and touched you more than was appropriate. Even Senior Ye could tell.” 

The gentle whining that comes from within him builds into something needy that bellies the spreading damp on his inner clothes. 

“I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to,” Ah Xu says, leaning in to press their cheeks together. When he speaks again, his words come on heated breath that has Wen Kexing spreading his legs, letting him occupy the space between them. “But I can say this. If you spend your Heat with me, I won’t hurt you, I’ll make it so good for you. I promise you won’t remember all the Alphas you’ve shared them with before.”

Wen Kexing bites down on his lip and ducks his eyes. Ah Xu has never been so forward and yet, with just these few sentences, he has turned his entire world axis on its head. “There weren’t ever any other Alphas,” He confesses in a quiet rush. “I...”

“You’ve never...?” Ah Xu’s eyes widen.

“Never. I’ve never trusted anyone enough.”

Ah Xu seems to ponder on this. “And now?”

Wen Kexing closes his eyes, surrendering to the need to press his brow to Ah Xu’s strong shoulder. The need prickles deep in his groin and he knows Ah Xu can feel it even through the folds of his robes. There is no mistaking where this will go and Wen Kexing finds that there is no fear in this desire.

Here was his Alpha, the one who will catch him when he falls. Here is the one he had chosen as a child when the world was bright. Here he is for him to love, to hold, to cherish. 

Beyond any measure of rhyme and reason, Wen Kexing knows that even if this is the only Heat he ever gets to share with him, it will be enough. “You’re it for me,” He says softly, pouring every bit of sincerity and honesty into those words. Even if Ah Xu still suspects him, even if he never loves him the way Wen Kexing has loved him for a lifetime, he has been Zhou Zishu’s Omega from the very beginning.

Whatever Ah Xu finds on his face must be enough, because their lips meet, at first, in an inelegant kiss that was too much teeth that clacked and bump, and then again, in a kiss that was half-laughter and many parts delight.

“Then, let me take care of you,” Ah Xu says, thumb tracking the curve of his jaw, pressing his body close.

Wen Kexing shudders, hands moving to hold him by the waist. 

“Alright.”

[glorious-blackout]

When you get this, reply with your favourite five fics that you’ve written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love.

I was tagged by the lovely @elorianna, thank you! 🥰 I’m a pretty terrible judge of my own writing, especially in retrospect, but here are a few fics I’m fond of regardless:

1) You’ve Always Been Here

Mark knows he should be happy. He's the renowned owner of the most sought-after hotel in the galaxy, gets to perform onstage to adoring crowds every night, and can gaze up at Earth from the lunar surface whenever he pleases. And yet, he cannot shake the feeling that something is fundamentally wrong. All-consuming weariness takes hold as his mind is weighed down by memories which are not his own, and the mysterious stranger in the bar spouting mad theories about simulated realities isn't exactly helping matters.

Crossover between Arctic Monkeys' 'Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino' and Muse's 'Simulation Theory'.

I’m still a bit blown away by the love this story received considering it started out as a self-indulgent piece written for @rock-n-roll-fantasy, but it was enormous fun to write something original using only lyrics and music videos for inspiration as opposed to a pre-existing plot. I’m not ashamed to admit that this story dominated my mind for months 😅 It also marked the first time I dipped my toe into writing for the AM/TLSP fandom which led me to meet wonderful writers within that fandom, and for that I’ll always be grateful 🥰

2) Is This What You Wanted 

The world is in ruins. Alex has escaped Tranquility Base only to find himself trapped among the broken remains of his home, and on top of that, he's unable to determine if anything around him is even real or simply another fiction.Not that any of that matters. It's hard to care about the world ending when he gets to wake up in Miles' arms every morning.

Sequel to 'You've Always Been Here'.

Picking this may technically be cheating as it’s a sequel to my first choice, but the setting feels very different and I was faced with the unique challenge of trying to write a fix-it that didn’t negate the ending to the original. Not sure if I succeeded or not, but writing this one was just as fun (and all-consuming) as its predecessor. It also should be noted that this fic wouldn’t exist without @elorianna 💖

3) This Is Going To Hurt

Today is supposed to be a good day for Alex. He's caught up in the midst of an incredible Puppets tour, he's all set to play a mind-blowing gig in a new city and - best of all - he even finds himself waking in the comfort of Miles's arms. Unfortunately he also wakes with what feels like the most horrendous hangover of his life, and somehow his day only gets worse from there.

I’ve definitely become kinder to this one over time as it made me want to pull my hair out at several points during the writing process 😅 Pretty sure this was my first proper sick-fic though and it allowed me to finally unleash my inner medical geek, much to poor Alex’s detriment...

4) Watch Our Souls Fade Away 

Nebula and Tony struggle to come to terms with everything they've lost as they make the journey back to Earth. Takes place immediately after the events of Avengers: Infinity War.

With a lot of my older fics I definitely fell into a trap of writing what I thought the audience would want rather than something I actually wanted to write, so I’m genuinely delighted that my most popular fic is one that I both remain fond of and was something I wrote entirely for myself. I still can’t believe how well it did considering it’s centred around an (at the time) underrated female character in a very male-centric fandom, but the response was overwhelming in the best way. It was one of those rare moments where my motivation to write was matched by a wealth of ideas and this fic became my life over the course of three weeks. It was also an exercise in problem solving as I would often write myself into corners and have to think my way out of them without breaking the narrative, but thankfully I found that to be a fun challenge rather than an off-putting obstacle 😅

5) What’s Left Unspoken

Gamora's aware that Peter loves her. Though it scares her, she thinks she's starting to love him too. The hard part is admitting it.

I think my days of writing for Marvel are long behind me and I’m not sure how well some of those stories hold up, but I was always quite proud of this one. Part of me sometimes wishes I could go back and rewrite certain bits of it, but for the most part I think it accomplished exactly what I wanted it to.

Tagging: @lanatural-books​, @alexturne, @yellowloid, @alexxturner-me-on, @1llusionmachine and @rock-n-roll-fantasy​ if you guys want to join in 🥰

[where-theres-smoak-2]

JATP Analysis/Theory: Alex and Carrie

I know I need to stop but I am having way too much fun overanalysing this show. Besides I promised you all a Alex and Carrie post so here it is. So my newest theory is kind of to do with the phantoms unfinished business. All through out season 1 there has been this theme of connection, Julie’s connection to the boys, their connection to Julie’s mum, Julie’s connection to her mum, Luke’s connection to his parents etc. We also know that the phantoms have some burnt bridges, with their parents and with Bobby. Julie too also has a broken bridge between her and Carrie. I think their unfinished business is to mend all of those broken relationships and reconnect with everyone. This is where I think Alex and Carrie come in. 

I think that Alex and Carrie are going to be really important in reconnecting everyone and here is why I think that. I think you can draw alot of parallels between Alex and Carrie and I think the show producers have created these parallels because they want us to connect Alex and Carrie.

The first parallell is something I have spoken about before and I think it’s talked about alot in the fandom, but many of the characters in the show have a colour connected to them Alex and Carrie both have the same colour connected to them, pink. 

In fact its very rare to see either of these characters not wearing pink, it happens occassionally but not very often. This is interesting considering on the surface these are very different characters. 

 But the colour pink had a lot of symbolism around it and even more interesting than that, different shades of pink have different meanings. Pink is made up from two colours, Red and White. Red symbolises, passion, energy, power and sometimes agression. White symbolises purtiy, morality and innocence. Obviously these are two contradicting colours but when you put them together the passion of red is softened by the purity of the white creating a calming, romantic and gentle loving colour. The more red in the pink the more energetic the colour.  

Alex wears alot of light pink. Light pink is a much softer and calmer colour than the brighter pink that Carrie is often seen in. And that fits their individual personalities, Alex is a much calmer and softer person whereas Carrie is more engergetic and agressive. However pink is also a playful colour and I would say both characters have shown that playful side to them when Carrie performs and when Alex joined in with the dancing is one example. Pink also represents friendship, unconditional love, understanding and compassion. I think you could easily relate all of these things to Alex but you might have a harder time seeing Carrie that way. However I think from the fact that Julie used to be friends with her and that little clap at the end of Stand Tall she definitely has the capacity to be all of those things. I do think that clap at the end was the beginning of her redemption arc but that its going to take some time for her character to grow and I think Alex is going to play a big part in helping her with her journey.    

Dancing is another thing that is similar between them. The both seem to really enjoy that aspect of performing. I do think that this love of dance could be what helps them connect in season 2. Alex is always shown to enjoy Dirty Candy’s performance and has joined in with the dancing both times. But they also seem to be wound tightly and often seen as tense or stressed. I do think that they both use dance as an outlet, its their way to let loose and just be themselves without any cares. I do think this could be something they’ll bond over. 

So why is it important that Alex and Carrie make this connection? Well I personally think that out of the three boys Alex is the one that is going to be most willing to forgive Bobby. When they found out that Bobby had stolen their songs both Reggie and Luke had very specific reasons for being angry about it. Luke was angry because if he had been given credit then his parents would have known his dreams were worth chasing. Reggie was angry because if Bobby had given them credit then some of the money would have gone to their families and maybe his family wouldn’t have had their house turned into a bike shed. But Alex never gives a specific reason for being angry therefore I think he’ll be the one most likely to be willing to sit down and chat with Bobby and listen to his side of the story. I think it’ll be through Carrie that Bobby and Alex will reconnect. I spoke in another post (here if you like dot read it) about how alot of the characters have a necklace that they always wear and the symbolism behind those necklaces. Alex always wears a gold chain which as I said in that other post, chains have been a symbol of everlasting love and life since ancient times, its the circle that never ends. Gold is also a symbol of purity,  illumination, love, compassion, courage, passion, magic, and wisdom. Again all of these things are very similar to what the colour pink represents. What’s interesting to me is that even though Carrie doesn’t have a necklace that she never ever takes off she does have one that she wears more often than any others and like Alex this is a gold chain or rather two gold chains.

 Also if you look at the picture on the right where she has pink hair you can see she is wearing another necklace on top of the two gold chains. Now I’m not an expert on designer jewellery but I know there is a brand that is like known for its panther/ leopard necklaces called cartier. I’m pretty sure that’s what the other necklace is. I do think this is obviously suppose to show Carrie’s wealth, gold is also a symbol of wealth and glamour which is probably why alot of Carrie’s jewellery is gold. But it is interesting that it is a cat necklace, again in that other post I talked about cat imagery in the show and how Flynn is often seen in animal prints and has cat imagery associated with her. Cat’s in alot of cultures are guardians to the underworld and spirits. This necklace isn’t the only instance that we see Carrie with cat imagery in Edge of Great she is wearing a leopard print pale pink outfit.  

   Although there is nowhere near as much of this cat/ leopard imagery with Carrie as there is Flynn I do still think this represents that Carrie will also like Flynn will be on team phantoms at some point and like Flynn will act in a helper/ protector capacity. 

Staying on the subject of cats though there is something else I want to talk about. Like I said I think mending their relationship  with Bobby is going to be a big part of completing the phantoms unfinished business. Well I didn’t notice this until @this-is-a-name-dont-worry​ pointed it out to me but like the rest of the boys Bobby also has a necklace that he wears all the time and whch he was wearing in 1995 and 2020. 

I spent ages trying to figure out what the hell his necklace was because in most shots it just looks like a hunk of silver metal. But I finally figured it out and I’m 99% sure that its a lion. 

Sorry about the quality of the picture it’s as clear as I could get it. I’ve tried to make the features a little bit clearer by outlining them. The red dots are the eyes, the orange circle is where the nose and open mouth is and then the mane is outlined in brown. Also like Carrie and Flynn he has been seen wearing leopard print. This makes Bobby the third person to be associated with cats of some kind and what is also interesting is that all three characters are lifers. But the Lion holds a even more special symbolism. Most of the characters can be divided into being more connected to Julie/ lifers or to the Phantoms/ afterlife. For example  Willie and Caleb are very much connected to the Phantoms and the afterlife. But Flynn and Carrie are much more connected to Julie and life. However you could argue that Bobby is that one character that is very much in both worlds. He is very connected and was a big part of the phantoms lives but he was also quite a big part of Julie’s life and is very much connected to her and the living through Carrie. The interesting thing is that Lions are neither nocturnal (active at night) or diurnal (active during the day) but are sort of inbetween. Night time in many cultures is symbolic of magic and the afterlife, the haunting hour as Caleb put it. Daytime is very much the time of the living so its interesting to me that Bobby has a necklace that is the image of a animal that is part of both worlds just as he is. Also as a slight sidenote I do have a new maybe not theory but headcanon, all four boys from sunset curve each have a necklace that is unique to them and that they never take off, I like to think that they all brought the necklaces together, maybe at a stall or something and that they are a symbol of their friendship kinda like friendship bracelets but as necklaces. Still its really interesting to me that Bobby never took that necklace off. Anyway back on track I think the fact that all three of these characters have associasions with cats makes me think that each of them will be instrumental in helping the phantoms complete their unfinished business, especially as cats are often not just depicted as protectors for spirits in the afterlife but as guides. I think each of them is kind of like a roadmarker on the journey to the phantoms completing their unfinished business. 

Ok so going back to Alex and Carrie and why I think Alex will be an important part of Carrie’s character development and redemption arc. In episode 6 there is that truly iconic scene where Dirty Candy is performing and Alex ends up joining them on stage. During the dance Alex passes through Carrie twice. When Ray passed through Reggie, Reggie then formed an attatchment to Ray. The same thing happened between Julie and Luke they formed a deep connection. Obviously I do think that there were other factors than just they passed though them but I do think its significant and its for that reason that I think that Alex and Carrie will form a bond. Also from Reggie’s comment about being able to tell that Ray has a good heart and the looks on Julie and Lukes faces it seems like they can sense the other persons I don’t know personality or maybe even their soul, maybe when passing through for a moment your souls connect who knows. I think Carrie has alot of issues, clearly, but I think underneath all that she is actually more like Alex than we know, a gentle, sweet girl. I think this is something that Alex sensed and that he is going to help her get back to who she used to be and help her reconnect with Julie. I do think Carrie and Julie’s story is the same as Bobby and Luke’s/the Phantoms. I think like Bobby, Carrie has a deep rooted jealousy of Julie. I think that Carrie has a love for music and wants to be successful in the industry and she probably feels a bit like she’s in her father’s shadow and that there’s alot of pressure on her to succeed because of how successful her father is. Although she is good I do think she probably feels like she is constantly outshone by Julie and that Julie’s talent comes really easily to her. Like her father I think she was given an opportunity, I spose you could call it, by death more specifically Julie’s mum’s death. I think with Julie being unable to sing or play music Carrie was suddenly getting alot more attention but like Bobby I think she has alot of conflicted feelings about it because although she is now getting more success she is grieving for someone who has passed. It must be a very conflicting feeling and I think that is why she is so moved in Stand Tall because I do think she had a bond with Rose and just didn’t know how to deal with her dying. Also as another little detail during that scene Carrie isn’t in pink but is wearing a dress that is covered in hearts. 

I think this is suppose to symbolise how her heart is opening up. But the really interesting thing is that the hearts are coloured pink, red and blue which are the colours of the boys maybe this is an indication that the boys will be helping open her heart or that she will help open theirs to forgiveness for bobby. 

Another sign that Carrie might be getting a redemption arc is that in episode 6 again during that scene where she performs all eyes on me she is wearing a pendant of Saturn.

Saturn is symbolic of transition and transformation. I think the message here is clear that Carrie is going to go through a change. As I said I think Alex will play a big part in that. Part of the reason why I think that is because I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Carrie is wearing the Saturn pendant at the same time that Alex joins in with the dance and passes through Carrie. Also I think its significant that the song that Alex joins in with is All Eyes On Me. Again in that other post I talked about how I actually thought the song was telling the story of what happened between Bobby and the boys. Like I said Carrie and Julie’s situation I think is the same. I think just as Alex was interfering and making the dance better (because you know he made it better as fantastic as it already was) he is going to be ‘interfering’  and making Carrie and Julie’s relationship better and then as a result of that Carrie is going to help heal things with her father. 

Ok this one even I will admit is a bit of a stretch but it popped into my head so I figured I’d add in. But in episode 9 when Caleb gives the Phantoms new threads each of them have, well I’m not sure exactly what they are but lets go with brooch. I don’t know if there is any significance to Luke’s and Reggie’s because I haven’t been able to get a clear enough image of them yet but this one is Alex’s. 

 Alex has a cross and a chain that curves like a crescent. The symbol for saturn is this.   

Obviously its not the identical but I can’t help but think they look similar. The other interesting thing is that the Saturn symbol is made up of two components a cross and a scythe. Saturn is symbolic not just of change and transformation but with death, or more specifically death’s scythe. I don’t know I just thought it was interesting and if his brooch is suppose to represent the symbol for Saturn then that means that both Alex and Carrie have worn jewellery associated with Saturn. I do think that both of them will grow and change. I also think it would be really interesting to see these two getting to know each other and them bonding. I’d love to see a dance scene with them both. You know one where Carrie knows he’s there and can interact with him.  

So yeah that was my incoherrent ramblings about Alex and Carrie with a side of Bobby. Now all I need is for Netlfix to renew the show for a 2nd season already.  

[thetowerandthegrave]

     I am sure that we are not the only system to have experienced this, but I do not think I have ever seen it discussed openly -- having pre-existing alters take on the personas of outside people, real or fictional, because those people exhibit traits that would better help that alter execute their role within the system.

     As we have been working through therapy and getting to know each other better, I am finding that a lot of folks are much older than I originally thought. I thought that Alex had split off around 2018 in order to replace Mortimer as the main work part after the existential cluster-fuck that was leaving the funeral industry. Apparently, Alex has actually been around since we were in middle school, and had been the one going to classes from then up until we graduated with our degrees. Which explains why even do we did exceptionally well in school, I don’t remember most of it. I couldn’t tell you what it was like to be in class. The only things I really remember from undergrad are some of the fun things I did with my friends.

     But, back to the non-introject alters becoming introjects (I actually have an entire soap box to go off about the term introject and its applications, but that’s a talk for another day): We have an introject of T.arkin from St.ar W.ar.s. He is very much his own person, but is also very much “canon” Ta.rkin -- same appearance, same attitude, same name (though he did give himself his own unique middle name). If we were just to go off these topical traits, I had originally assumed that he split off around 2017 -- that was the starting peak of our S.tar W.ar.s obsession, and we were also under a lot of academic and career stress, on top of having to quickly figure out how to completely uproot our life in order to get out of/avoid a lot of shitty life situations. He is our argumentative and physical protector, and we were going through a lot of situations in which we really had to stand up for ourselves and push back at the bullshit that kept being thrown at us. 

     However, there is evidence of an alter of a very similar disposition going back to early elementary school, and possibly even pre-school. He has not revealed much, but he says that he has been watching over us for a very long time. I, the current host, often get misgendered by him because he had become so used to watching over the previous host(s). T.ark.in, the character, very much encapsulates the ideals qualities needed for that specific job in the system. Until official confirmation it’s still just my theory, but that is my best educated guess.

     We have a similar situation with an introject of Toby from the musical Sw.ee.ney To.dd. I think that he did come with the name Toby originally, since that was the name of a family pet who we were very bonded with an was a big comfort to us after undergoing one of our biggest Trauma with a capital T traumas. I know that when we first got into the musical, upon seeing his character there was something in us that was had this realization that this was the first time in partaking in a fictional story that there was a character that really was like us. (And don’t even get my started on the stupidly huge crush we had on the kid who played him in the Tim Burton version, which I am now realizing that that crush was just the single worst case of gender envy on the books.) He is a trauma holder, and though I don’t know all that he holds, I know that he’s been through things that far pre-date us getting into that musical.

     It’s been honestly a little scary sometimes to realize just how long a lot of these folks have been around. Excluding the not yet confirmed possible fragment that may have broken off from Alex within the past year whose literal only job is to do autopsies when that’s our work assignment, I’m the “youngest”, having split off around 2018-2019 due to a huge bunch of factors. Actually, if you want to get really nit-picky, I, in my current state, have only been around since August of this year since I underwent fusion with another part who was a true carbon-copy, cut n’ paste introject of someone we knew from where we grew up. (And boy howdy was that an incredibly illuminating, beautiful, sad, and joyful experience.)

     Sometimes a “new” alter isn’t exactly new -- they are just someone who has been around for awhile and has put on a new hat that better suits the current circumstances.

[kkeidawrites]

Adrain x Black!Reader

Notes: More chillin in a giant mansion with a vampire antics! You know I had to put in the cheesy anime trope of falling on ur crush. Also there’s actually a few moments where Adrian isn’t the super crazy smart vampire that legends make him out to be.🥴 This wasn’t supposed to be in any particular order, but I’d say the least naught ones come first so I’d see this scenario coming before the last one I wrote.🤔

“I want to dye my fur!”

You jumped up and down with excitement. Your hands supporting you on the kitchen table where Adrian ate breakfast.

He looked at you smiling, happy that you were happy but still a but confused. You’d suddenly ran into the kitchen with your exclamation.

“Dye your... what?”

You clasped your hands together in front of your chest.

“I would like to dye my fur! But I’m having trouble since I can’t really find what I’m looking for in mansion”

The Belmont library and what was formally Dracula’s Mansion came with a plethora of information on many subjects, but this particular goal came with unique challenges. Dyeing satyrs fur.

“Wait can you not find it out yourself?”

You hummed in thought. You did try researching here in the mansion for the past few days.

“Uh well I can’t find what I need. The mansion has an impressive amount of information here but not quite what I need to dye my fur. A lot of it jus includes our culture and theories. Besides, dyeing our fur isn’t a part of our culture it’s jus something I want to do. I wouldn’t expect to find it here!”

He too hummed in thought.

“Hmm well, why not go down to the Belmont library?”

You beamed with excitement.

“Yeah! That’s what I thought! You gotta go with me!”

He smiled that teasing smirk crossing his arms and leaned back in his chair. The morning light made his already golden eyes look like the most precious of jewels as they shone and glimmered. Ever since you saw him burst from the coffin with Trevor and Sypha you thought they were stunning.

“Oh? Why do I have to go?”

You smiled back and put your palm to your chest.

“Well, I am an amazing climber but I’m not a miracle worker. There is still a giant gaping hole.”

His smile turned into a thoughtful frown as he set his chair back.

“Hmm, I’d forgotten about that.”

The two of you set out to the underground library. As you leave the mansion onto the dirt road, you decided to hold his hand swinging your arms back and forth half to mess with him and half to comfort him. You always made sure to let Adrian have his time alone but you also worried about him. Maybe half vampires weren’t so affected by it but were you come from it was easy for satyrs to become touch starved. You were actually fairly independent compared to your brethren. You liked your alone time too. Perhaps, that’s why you were so in love with your current situation. It was easy for you to be overwhelmed but you also loved making friends and being around others, those two things often clashed

In the mansion, there were certain rooms that seemed like time stopped as moonlight trickled in, perfect for meditation. Then there was Adrian!

As you two were walking towards the ruins of the Belmont house, Adrian smiled down at you. Uh oh you knew that teasing look. He brought your hand up to his lips as he looked down at you with an eye and heat blossomed on your cheeks. You thought you could get away with your blushes undetected with your deep brown skin so you just tried to get a handle on your demeanor when you were embarrassed. Unfortunately, Adrian had informed you he could tell the blood was rushing to my head bright as day even if you did act through my embarrassment. Dang vampire powers have foiled you!

“Stop teasing me!! I’m not letting your hand go!!”

He giggled.

“I was simply returning your affection.”

You pouted.

“Do you do this to mess with me or push me away because you know it embarrasses me?”

His brows ticked up with his lips parted in surprise as he looked at you.

You tried your best to keep eye contact with him.

“It’s fun to bother you since I cannot push you away now. Why, you’ve chosen to stay with me rather than the dog and speaker or living with your own species. I’ve already realized that I’m stuck with you.”

You smiled before laughing.

“Is that what you call Trevor in your head?”

He smirked, and you asked.

“What do you call me in your head?

His eyes flickered to you before looking on towards the ruins.

“Fluffbutt.”

You spat before your laughter tumbled out, squeezing your stomach.

“Oh no! Adrian!”

“What? I thought it was pretty fitting.”

The rest of the walk was pleasantly quiet. Although you had to wonder if your nickname meant Adrian was looking at your butt. By how much he teased you about it and other things, that much should have been obvious but it hadn’t really sunk in till now.

You wondered if... he caught on to how you looked at him.

You hope he hadn’t, because you wouldn’t hear the end of his slick talking.

The two of you arrived at the house and hopped and dodged about the rubble. Adept nimble hoves took you far until you both reached the hole. You tried not to think about how the first time went.

When the 4 of you arrived here. Adrian easily manhandled boulders blocking the library entrance. The three of you stood back on awe. Trevor and Sypha were likely marveling at his strength but you couldn’t stop thoughts of what he would do if he got his hands on you. How rough he could....

You shake naughty thoughts away as you two found the entrance. Unfortunately without some sort of magic, your legs wouldn’t be about to handle the steep hole. Adrain hummed looking down into the crater before crouching down.

“Well then, lets go.”

You looked down at him, brow raised in confusion and your head tilted.

“Hmm? Adrian I take a lot of pride in my legs bu-...oh...oh!”

He’d ment for you to climb on his back.

“Oh Uh w-well then.”

You could tell Adrian was at least trying to hold his laughter.

You walked over before leaning down to wrap your arms around his shoulders and hooking your legs around his waist. As he stood, you got your legs situated comfortably squeezing his narrow hips.

“Now that I’m up here you’re pretty tall.”

That was code for this is a bit scary for you.

“Don’t worry you said you believed in your legs right? I do too, but just in case.”

He wrapped his arms around your thighs to hold you closer to his body.

“Hmm for being so strong, I thought your body would feel like a statue.”

You muse. His body definitely felt strong but the muscles felt flexible and soft.

“Come now, this isn’t a poorly written vampire story. But I certainly don’t mind you checking the rest of my body for Ah statue like hardness.”

You hid your burning face in the back of his shoulder.

“Ok, I uh...kinda asked for that one.”

“I would hope so, I wouldn’t want to hurt you. I’m not taking you any other way.”

“I’m gonna beat you up! Stop talking!!”

He only laughed and gripped my thighs before he started his descent.

Adrian handled you as if it was regular to him. Your weight not effecting how light his hops were on his feet. He landed on what was left sticking out of the side of the hole. Broken railings, stairs and balconies. His steps were so effortless smooth. You probably wouldn’t have any problems standing on his shoulders.

Hmm so this was what it was like to be in his shoes.

You supposed he got a tad to confident though because right before you both made it to the ground, he misjudged the strength of one of the beams. It creaked when he landed on it and couldn’t handle the force of him hopping off it. It splintered and split under you both. Adrian reflexively tried to turn your body so he wouldn’t fall on you.

He successfully made his body a cushion for you. Even as strong as he was and how short the fall was you said,

“Ah, Adrian are you-!?”

You pushed up your torso and found your looking at his crotch. His arms just grabbed what he could in the fall you could feel his arms wrapped around your upper thighs. That means, he was looking at your!!

“Oh!! Uhm! S-sorry!!

“No thats my f-!”

He untangled his arms from your legs and you both scampered your respective apologies.

You moved your legs to get off him but hoves and slippery marble don’t quite mix. You slipped and hit his face with your ass.

“Sorry!!”

He tried to ease your concerns but his muffling wasn’t quite helpful. Especially when his nose and mouth were rubbing right up against your crotch.

You were careful not to hit him again slipping off his body with the help of your hands, clothed body rubbing up against one another.

You lifted your leg to the side of him carful not to hit him with your hoof. That would be certainly less pleasant than a cushioned booty.

He had a shit eating grin on his face as he helped you up. Before it seemed an interrupting thought caused him to drop it.

“Wait have you been having trouble getting around the mansion? There rugs in some places but there’s a lot of marble floors...” His grin suddenly turned into a guilty frown, and you rushed to reassure him waving a free hand.

“Oh no! I uh...I use these rubber covers on them so I won’t slip but I uh sorta forgot em...”

You rub the back of your head sheepish.

“Oh I see...”

The guilty in his expression softened, but the frown stayed.

“Uhm th-thank you for asking though, and for carrying me.”

You giggled.

“It wasn’t a long fall you didn’t have to catch me.”

He smiled.

“Well you didn’t have to ask me for my well-being.”

We both smiled not looking at one another.

“Do you need help? Getting around here since...”

I deadpanned before exclaiming.

“Oh shit you’re right!”

There was actually not a lot of rugs in the library. Uggh that’d be really embarrassing being carried around by him because I’m a newborn fawn in skates!

You bit your lip in thought.

“W-well how about this, jus Uhm help me to the rug sections and when we need to move set me down at the next one...?”

He flushed and seemed to be...speechless? He only nodded his head with eager eyes. You put your arm around his shoulder as you stood and yelped a bit when he picked you up bridal style. He smiled almost with your same excitement of you this morning and the two of you went down the stairs.

Well, if there was any question of him looking at your ass...

You...felt a bit shy by how much you realized you liked being carried by him. It was like... even though I had these short comings, I was still cared for and valued by him. It was quiet save for a few teasing looks which you returned with a pout.

The two of you were looking for the best place to start and you were surprised by how many sections of your species there were.

“Hmm well, if you want to dye your fur, then I suppose we should look in alchemy?”

You nodded.

“And anatomy!”

“Mmm yes. I hope they aren’t too far from one another.”

We’d found an alchemy section and Adrian knelt down to place me on the carpet as he let me go, I said thank you.

His lip twitched as if trying to hold a smile.

“You don’t have to thank me for this. This should be expected.”

“But it’s polite!”

“Well, I suppose that’s true but you don’t have to be polite...”

“Plus, you look really happy when I do!”

He couldn’t hold his demeanor with that. He smiled and started to laugh.

“Can I not hide I smile from you?”

He giggled some more when I smiled shaking my head.

We began our search comparing books finding out how it was all organized. You walked about the space you could, luckily the carpet was next to a bunch of book cases you could reach. Adrain wizzed around you appearing here and there. At the moment he was searching across from you. You smiled into the book you were currently holding. A little giddy at the fact he’d go along with your strange experiment.

“So? What color do you want to dye it?”

“Oh! I haven’t even told you! Pink! Pastel pink!”

He snorted.

“You don’t need pink to be cuter than you already are, but as you wish.

Adrian usually wasn’t so blatant about what he thought of me. You heated, surprised, but it seemed he surprised himself too. Currently, you could clearly see him on the second floor when he buried his face in a book. You giggled wishing you could go up there yourself and tease him some more. You’d jump up there but before you could ready yourself to, he’d already appeared before you and swept you off your feet. You suppose that was part of the diversion to keep you from teasing him.

You smirked up at him.

“If you can’t take it don’t dish it!”

He pouted down at me.

He’d carried you upstairs when you both found something of a combination of what you needed to safely make dye for yourself.

You both sat side by side, up against a bookshelf. As you were nodding off, Adrain looked down at you being easily flustered was quite draining! He slid the book and notepad from your slack hands and lead you lie on his lap, draping his cape over you. You felt warm and soft.

A tiny.

“Adrian...?”

“Yes, my dear?”

“How...are we gonna get back up the hole...?”

A pause. Adrain sweat and simply whispered.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

You softly swatted him for the bad pun.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Once again @littlemori24 has given me more of a reason to smile and laugh at her beautiful work! I love this sooo much girl! Be sure to head over to her tumblr and show her some love and check out her other works!

Alucard’s teasing is really sending me!

[cordonian-literature]

The Aftermath - Ch. 30

The Beaumont Bash

Summary: Though everyone’s minds are occupied, the Bash ends up being eventful

Word Count: ~3.2k

Warnings: mention of character death, violence, language, implied smut

A/N: we’re nearing the end! just wanted to thank everyone that’s liked/commented/reblogged, it means the world to me <3

*All characters belong to Pixelberry, except those that are unique to my story (I’ve also used some characters and fictional instances from Donna Tartt’s book “The Goldfinch”)*

Catch up here!

Tags: @captain-kingliamsqueen​ @gkittylove99​ @lovablegranny​ @iam-the-kind-and-thoughtful​ @mom2000aggie​ @kingliam2019​ @queenrileyrose​ @shanzay44​ @cordonianroyalty​ @hopefulmoonobject​ @hopelessromanticmonie​ @cinnamonspongecake​ @kuladekiwi​ @twinkle-320​ @charlotteg234​ @amandablink​ @texaskitten30​ @queencatherynerhys​ @pens-girl-87​ @ladyangel70​ @sanchita012​ @cordonianprincess​ @liamandneca @cordonia-gothqueen​ @pink-diamond13​ @queenwalton​ @yourmajesty09​ @alj4890​

I’m not sure if the tags are working or not, but I hope I got everyone down! If you would like to be added/removed, please let me know :) 

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

- Hana - 

The dinner with Rashad went better than Hana thought it would. He had driven up to the Beaumont’s Estate in a limo, holding a bouquet of pink lilies. Rashad held the car door open for her, then sat at a respectful distance.

When they walked into the restaurant arm in arm, Hana tried to move the negative thoughts out of her head, at least just for the evening. But they were there to talk about Neville after all. She expected the night to be filled with frustrated and confusing feelings.

But Rashad didn’t even mention Neville until dessert. They spent their meal talking about the Social Season, what activities Hana had enjoyed, and how glad Rashad was to see her back at court.

Hana didn’t fail to notice his flattery and flirtations, and she couldn’t deny the fact that she enjoyed it. His light presence was refreshing compared to Neville’s gloomy one.

When the waiter had taken away their dessert plates, Rashad took out a small folder and slipped it across the table to her. Hana saw the look in his eyes: the man was reluctant to speak. She knew what he wanted to say, and she preferred he didn’t say it at all. She preferred to leave their peaceful evening as it was and not mention the hideous topic that was her husband.

They returned to the Beaumont Estate late. Rashad gave her knuckles a kiss and bid her goodnight. As she walked up to her rooms, she didn’t pay attention to the servants running around making last minute preparations. With the divorce papers and Rashad’s lilies in her hand, and Riley just a few feet away (ready to douse any doubts that Hana had), she felt freer than she had in years.

The next morning, the estate was bustling with activity with servants and members of the court getting ready for the evening. Throughout the day, Hana was nervous for her confrontation with Neville, but Riley distracted her mind from it.

She heard that Riley and Liam had an argument a few days ago, but the joy in Riley’s tone hinted no such unhappiness. Hana was genuinely excited for her friend, and wanted to ask what was next for the couple.

What Hana thought was even better was that Liam ignored his morning meetings and instead spent the day with Gabriel and Eleanor. The three of them even entered the dining hall together, the children hiding their giggles behind their hands.

Hana was thankful that the Beaumonts had put her seat as far as possible from Neville, and right next to Rashad. She saw Neville give her a side glance, and thought about the papers that were still in her room.

Again she forced herself not to think about him and made herself focus solely on Rashad, which she found not to be difficult at all. He actually listened to her when she had comments or opinions, and never failed to compliment her at any given chance. Though the compliments weren’t wanted or expected, it was satisfying to see Neville look over at the pair with such a displeased expression.

“Esteemed guests, please join us in the grand hall for the after-dinner festivities,” Bertrand stands from his seat to announce.

Anxiety pools again in Hana’s chest. She needed to build the strength to go and talk to Neville, demand that he fill out the papers. How on Earth was she going to do that? Rashad gives Hana his elbow, and she can feel eyes on them as they walk out of the dining hall. She sees Bertrand tell his son, Leo’s children, and Riley’s children to go up to their rooms. The children pout, but then say goodbye to their parents and leave.

From the top of the stairs, Maxwell helps Rowan slice open a bottle of champagne. The court cheers, and the hall erupts in party.

Hana dances with Rashad for a while, the careless movements feeling unfamiliar. But they danced and laughed together as one, and there was more peace and delight in those few hours with Rashad than there had been in the five years Hana had spent with Neville.

Once Rashad sat to take a break from the dancing, Hana walked away to find herself more champagne. When she finds two glasses and tries to make her way back to Rashad, she sees Neville talking to someone drunkenly in a corner.

Hana abandons the two glasses, leaving them on a table somewhere. Stepping over the broken glass on the stairs she rushes to her room to grab the papers and a pen.

When she rejoins the party, it takes her a moment to find Neville again. But when she finally does, he's laughing hysterically and has his arm around someone.

“If you’ll excuse us, I need to speak to the Earl for a moment,” Hana tells the small group gathered. They walk away, and Neville brushes his clothes and turns to speak to her.

“What is it, Hana?” he demands. “Am I not allowed to enjoy the party?”

“I wished to speak to you about something important.” She steps in his way to stop him from walking off.

“Can’t it wait until later?”

“I have some papers you need to sign,” Hana states politely. Before she can say more, Neville yanks the folder and pen from her hands. He goes through and marks everything without even reading it. Hana leans forward to see that he was marking everything correctly. Was it really so easy?

“There.” He shoves the papers back at her. “Now, for the love of God,” he leans in closer to her, “Let me enjoy this damned party. You’ve done nothing this Social Season except be an utter nuisance.”

A servant walks by, carrying glasses of champagne. Neville grabs one, and Hana goes for the other.

“And here I was thinking that our marriage would be advantageous, as your parents put it.” Neville scoffs, then continues. His speech is slightly slurred. Hana knows he’s drunk. “I might as well have married someone at the same station as Lady Riley. At least she would have given m—”

Hana doesn’t let him finish his sentence. She was tired of the nonsense that always came out of this man’s mouth. Hana moves the papers behind her and throws the contents of her glass at him. Some champagne flies into his mouth, and he gapes at her. Not allowing him to say anything else, Hana goes to put the divorce papers safely back into her room and spend the rest of the night with Rashad.

- Olivia - 

The party wasn’t exactly boring, it was comparatively more lively than recent Beaumont Bashes, but the investigation occupied Olivia’s mind so thoroughly that she didn't even realize when the festivities had begun around her.

Olivia grabs another glass of champagne and heads towards the doors, planning on calling Jacob and running some ideas off of him. She had too many theories to count, but there was always some piece that didn’t connect, didn’t make sense.

The breeze welcomes her outside. Olivia can hear the party pulsating inside, but she tries to tune it out. Taking slow sips of her drink, she glances at the time, wondering what the rest of her friends were doing. She considered going back inside to speak to Hana, or better yet, help keep Neville away from her, but Olivia sees something out the corner of her eye. She thinks it’s another party-goer, so she turns her gaze away. But she notices the person’s shadow edge towards her, then back away quickly.

Olivia follows the shadow, unconsciously listing all the places in her dress that she had weapons. She gets closer and sees that the shadow belonged to a tall man. He was looking in her direction, but when she came fully into view, he turns away again. There’s a black van near him.

Olivia wonders who and what the van is for. The members of the court who brought their own vehicles weren’t allowed to leave them on this part of the estate grounds. Olivia taps the knife closest to her hip, then calls out to the man.

“Is there a reason you’re standing out here?” she asks him.

The man stares back at her, but says nothing. He’s significantly taller than Olivia, even as she wears heels.

“Who are you here for?”

The man shakes his head, still silent.

“Are you going to answer me, or will I have to call security?” Olivia threatens. There was no doubt that she was definitely going to take matters into her own hands, but she was hoping that the mention of security would make the man speak to her, or at least leave.

“Waiting for my boss,” he finally responds. His accent is thick. She can’t pinpoint it, but it could be either Ukrainian, Russian, or even Polish. The information he gave wasn’t enough for Olivia, so she decides to press on.

“What’s your boss’ name?”

Again, the man remains silent. She wants to tell him to go wait for his boss somewhere else, but a thought edges at Olivia’s mind. This area was relatively close to the entrance, and there was another servants entrance only a few steps away. Perfect location for a person to quickly get into this black van and drive away.

Something clicks, but Olivia doesn't know if her thoughts are true or are false speculation. She turns quickly and heads back inside. She thinks that she might as well have a member of security keep an eye on him. Olivia needed to watch the guests.

- Liam - 

When Bertrand calls everyone into the main hall and the children have to leave and go to their rooms, Liam, Gabriel, and Eleanor are all hesitant to leave each other. Liam considered going up to their rooms with them and perhaps playing a game with them, but they walk off with their friends and Riley takes his hand. 

He remembers that he had asked Riley to give him until the end of the season to let him prove to her that they were still meant to be. He felt the fact had been proven true in his heart, and he knew by the way she looked at him that she felt it as well. He wanted to propose tonight, but didn’t know when the right moment would be. 

So when the music starts playing, he forgets his worries and dances with Riley. Amid the chaos that Maxwell had started, he focuses on her and lets everything else fade into the background.

When they get tired and move to take a seat on the steps, Riley rests her head on Liam’s shoulder and laughs. 

“I don’t think I realized how much I missed this,” she says to him.

“I’m glad you finally did.” He leans down to kiss her. When they part, she jumps up and joins Rowan on a horse that was going around the hall. Liam notices Drake on the side of the room, and almost goes to stand next to his friend. But Riley dismounts the horse, and he’s at her side again. 

“I’m tired,” she says, slightly out of breath. 

Liam looks around. People had started retreating to different parts of the estate to continue the party.

“Shall we visit the spa?” Liam asks her. She smiles, then takes his hand and begins walking up the stairs, avoiding the broken bottles.

In front of the door to the spa, she turns back to him. There’s a smirk on her lips. He leans down to brush his lips with the corner of her mouth. 

She takes his hand again and leads Liam down the hall. He notices that they’re near her room. His pulse begins to thunder at his temples. Liam steps into the room after her. He put a hand on her waist and drew her towards him. She looked up at him, then he lifted her against him and kissed her. Liam closes the door behind him, and they stumble awkwardly onto the bed. 

- Drake - 

Boris had arrived at Ramsford barely an hour after Jessica. The man rushed to hug Riley and the kids. Drake watched silently as the man greeted the rest of his friends, and gave Jessica a kind nod. Jessica was holding Drake’s hand tightly in her own, and he could feel the ring on her finger. He was shocked that she decided to wear it at all. 

Did it really not suit her, as she said it wouldn’t? He couldn’t tell. He wanted to lift her hand to the light and examine it. But he couldn’t do that in front of everyone. He didn’t even believe that examining it would even make a difference.

She got ready and met him in front of his room. She looked stunning. Like a goddess. But Drake wanted to avert his eyes. If his gaze fell on her, the only thing he could think about was Boris’ hands on her, his lips on her lips.

During dinner, Drake noticed how Boris and Jessica avoided each other’s eyes. He wanted to get up, punch the man, force him to leave. But Boris was laughing along with Liam and the kids. 

“Darling, are you alright?” Jessica asks him. Drake wonders if his annoyance was really so clear on his face, but he doesn’t really care. He carries on with his meal until it’s time to start the party. 

He remembers Jessica’s trips to Greek islands, accidentally forgetting to tell Drake where exactly she was going. Jessica frowning at her phone in the middle of dinner and shutting it off. Texts coming in the middle of the night. How had he been so oblivious?

Once the party starts, he keeps an eye on both of them, staying in the sidelines. Jessica mingles with the other ladies while Boris drinks to his heart’s content. Drake wonders how Riley’s enjoying the party, then sees her and Liam walking up the stairs.

His heart burned again. He wanted answers. He wanted to pull Jessica into a corner and demand that she tell him everything. 

How many times had she lied to him, said that she was going to run an errand but was actually spending time with this man? How long had she known him?

And there were more pressing questions, which Drake hadn’t thought about: if Boris played a part in keeping Riley away, and Jessica had been spending time with Boris for the past few years, did she know where Riley was all along? Had Jessica worked with Boris against Drake, Liam, and Maxwell?

The burning intensifies. Liam had told Drake how he felt about Theodore. Now Drake felt the same way about Boris. 

He moves without thinking. Drake grabs a bottle of abandoned champagne. He walks over to Boris, who was in a drinking contest with some Lord. 

“Boris, my man,” Drake pats his shoulder. “Come with me, I know you don’t wanna waste your time here. We’ll have a real drinking contest.”

The men around them burst out in cheers and laughter. Boris throws his head back and throws his arm around Drake’s shoulder. His steps are wobbly. Drake takes that advantage and leads Boris up the stairs into an empty room.

Boris falls back into a chair in the middle of the room. 

“Enjoying the party?” Boris asks. He looks over at Drake who still has the bottle in his grasp. 

“Yup.” And again, without really thinking, Drake draws his arm back and throws the bottle at Boris with as much force as he can muster. The glass shattering sends a jolt of energy through Drake. The blood dripping down Boris’ forehead was satisfying to look at. It’s what you deserve.

Boris tries to stand. Drake punches him. He falls onto the ground, bringing the chair down with him. 

In a flash, Boris is on his feet again. Drake feels Boris’ fist make contact with his face, and he stumbles backwards.

Looking at Boris only a few feet away from him with his fist ready to throw another punch, Jessica comes into Drake’s mind. She wouldn’t be happy with either man if she found out that they had fought. 

But what did Drake care? Clearly she had never cared for him. 

He throws another punch. His knuckles burn, but that’s the least of his problems. Boris’ arm flies back, Drake pushes him. The man is flat on his back. Drake jumps on top of him. He hits Boris repeatedly, wondering when the pain in his chest would go away. 

Boris’ bloody and bruised face underneath Drake didn’t make him feel as good as he thought it would. He can’t make himself stop. Drake forces himself to pull back. Boris was barely breathing. 

For good measure, Drake punches him three more times, ignoring his own bleeding knuckles: one for Riley, another for Gabriel, and the last one for Liam. 

Drake stands, huffing and puffing. He takes a moment to look at what he’s done to Boris. It didn’t exactly make him feel better, and he knew there would be consequences to this, but at least this man got some of what he deserved. 

“Got anything to say to me?” Drake asks again. The adrenaline was urging him to throw another punch, to get rid of this man permanently. 

Drake starts pacing, he couldn’t make himself stand still. He couldn’t deal with the fact that he had asked this man a question, and he had the audacity not to answer.

“You worked to keep Riley away, you kept Gabriel away from his Dad, you were fucking around with Jessica.” Drake didn’t know if his words were making sense, but it felt good to get them out. He had to do something to get rid of the energy that continued to build inside of him, and he knew it wouldn’t be a good idea to hit Boris again, no matter how much he wanted to. 

Boris mumbles something. Drake catches the man say “Gabriel.” He leans down to grab Boris’ collar. 

“Why’s the kid’s name in your mouth?” Drake spits. He was tired of this man.

Drake sees Boris’ bruised eyes fill with tears. “Never meant to... hurt...”

“Never meant to hurt Gabriel? What do you mean?” 

“Paint.”

“What?”

“Painting. Wasn’t supposed... to be in Gabe’s room.”

Drake lets go of Boris’ collar, letting his head fall to the floor. That wasn’t what Drake had expected.

Drake turns to leave, locking the door behind him. He didn’t know what to do with the information he had. Drake felt lightheaded, drunk, still a bit angry, but confused more than anything. For a moment he contemplates going to find Liam, but remembers that him and Riley had walked off. Bastien wouldn’t be as useful. Olivia. Olivia would help. She’d know what to do. 

He turns away from the door and goes to walk down the hall, and bumps right into Olivia. 

“Where’ve you been?” she asks. “I’ve been looking around everywhere but haven’t been able to find anyone. I saw someone outside—”

“Your answers are behind this door,” he interrupts her. 

She pauses, looking him up and down. Her eyes rest on his bloody hands. Olivia raises an eyebrow at him. “What?” 

“Just...” Drake rubs his face, wanting to get rid of the tired feeling. “Just make sure he doesn’t go anywhere. He knows more than he should.”

[hazzabeeforlou]

Fine Line Masterpost:

A breakdown, musically and lyrically 

In Fine Line, ‘raw honesty’ doesn’t really mean delving into the details of who Harry Styles is sleeping with, but rather it’s a glimpse into the world of a 25-year-old who is both deeply in love and who fucks up a lot; he’s given to sugary supplications, is plagued by jealousy, pouts at consequences, and struggles with understanding an inner self that keeps prodding him towards exploration of his identity.  

The album is constructed to be consumed by various factions of the fandom. There’s no getting away from the surface dedication of HS2 as an ode to a blonde supermodel with a delicious French accent whose new boyfriend’s father owns a gallery, a girl who has golden hair and blue eyes. I won’t be arguing that away, because it’s intentional, it’s meant to be the surface layer. 

The mantle is not the crust, though. Taken individually, each song can be seen as speaking to the queer experience in varied and complex ways, and I’ve seen some truly beautiful explorations of this angle. Especially with TPWK and FL, the anthemic solidarity with queer experience is astounding and gorgeous. I think it’s no accident that this broad take holds true as we zoom in and look at the complex details; Harry has written songs that speak both to this meaning and also hold incredibly personal and intimate significance between him and a partner (in this post we’ll call them Subject). 

I will be focusing on the album as a cohesive narrative in the context of it’s chronological, linear progression. Fine Line details an incredibly personal struggle; it’s a love letter, an at times embarrassing, self-loathing reflection on a love gone wrong, a love struggling, an emerging self, and a hope redeemed. 

Please feel free to ask questions if any of the technical stuff is confusing, but please also remember that these are my opinions, coupled with my analysis as a professional musician (meaning, hopefully I’m remembering those torturous years of theory dictation correctly!) 

Side A 

All four songs share an off-kilter-ness, a restless, unsettled, frantic feeling, as if Harry is balancing, undecided between throwing himself at the feet of the one he loves or pulling away. This is no illusion; the tonic base is missing from each song save WS (but even here the tonic is sabotaged in our ear, as we’ll discuss). We’re on a journey to side B; we start with a hope that sweet memories and lust can salvage love, and we end with Harry going his own way.

Golden: There are only two chords in this song, DM and CM7, the V and IV7 of the implied tonic, G Major. We never get to tonic though. We never touch that home base. The songs “da da da’s” give it a happier, peppier illusion than the text reveals. 

Harry is already broken, already reflecting and hopeless as the song begins. His intended listener, Subject - the sun, the golden one - waits for him in the sky, and is all he’s ever known. Subject has always browned his skin just right, but now, Harry reflects, perhaps has been too bright for him. (Is some aspect of Harry buried in the brilliance of Subject’s light?) This golden Subject is scared, though, scared Harry is so open. Harry doesn’t want to be alone, but he also needs to peel back edges of himself previously unexplored. Stepping into and away from light is a major theme for Harry, and this opening song sets that precedent. Subject is scared because “hearts get broken,” but Harry’s heart is already broken, so perhaps this refers not to interpersonal heartbreak, but situational. Harry recognizes he’s “out of his head...” BUT, he counters, “Loving you’s the antidote!” He naively gushes out poetry while Subject remains unconvinced. We establish an impasse. 

Watermelon Sugar: The Dm - Cm - Am6 - GM chord progression is an odd one; my best guess is that the song is in D minor, so the progression is: 

i, VII, v, IV

 That’s not typical in a minor key. Usually the leading tone note (in this case a C) is raised (so C#) making the five chord Major (V) not minor (v) and the seven chord diminished (viio) not Major (VII). also the Major IV ignores the B flat in the key signature of D minor and instead uses B natural. So all this to say that the tonic base STILL doesn’t feel like a tonic home, because the normalcy around the key signature is erased. Everything still feels unsettled, unresolved. 

Much has been made of the oral sex interpretation, so, ya. This is a song about remembering the best of times, a prayer to Subject, a plea for summertime and bellies and strawberries, and a feeling Harry is desperate to get back. 

Adore You: The three chords in this song, Cm - BbM - AbM, imply an E flat Major key, so vi, V, IV, respectively. The tonic, Eb (I), is (once again) never used, and instead vi, V, IV circle without ever coming to rest. 

Subject, “Honey,” creates a rainbow paradise. This is another love letter to Subject, let me adore you, I’ll walk through fire for you, you don’t have to say anything just listen to me, you don’t have to say you love me too, just please, please... you’ve been on my mind. Let me adore you like it’s the only thing I’ll ever do. By this wording, Harry admits that adoring Subject is not the only thing he ever does, yet he wishes Subject to remember, or imagine, this false reality. 

Lights Up: We’re in C Major here, with the chords Am - GM - FM, creating the same exact chord progression as Adore You, vi, V, IV. We (yet again!) never reach the tonic of C Major. It’s a constant tease of resolution, but there’s no solid home base. We’re suspended in limbo. 

Subject is “sorry, btw.” What does that mean, Harry asks? Sorry we’re here in this place, that this is happing? This song is Harry’s declaration: he’s not staying, he’s not coming back down. It would be sweet if things stayed the same, but no, I’m stepping into the light. “All the lights couldn’t put out the dark”... even all the golden sun of Subject couldn’t heal the void in Harry’s soul?  Harry asks subject, do you know who you are? implying that he’s determined to answer this for himself. I’m reminded of the crab in Moana, singing “Shiny.” There’s a certain bravado here, a reckless glittery happiness, a flaunting, an exuberance in discovery. 

Side B 

Tonics are all over the place. Harry is certainly certain about heartbreak. No ambiguity here. 

Cherry: GM - Em - CM, or  I, vi, IV. We’re in G Major and we know it. Repetitive “cou-cos’s” pepper the track like hanging fruit (let’s imagine from cherry trees). 

The song is a simple one, simple in its jealousy. Harry has let Subject go, and now Subject is at their best... and Harry hates it. He doesn't want his former pet term of endearment used on another, even though he has no claim on Subject’s actions anymore. Harry keeps finding bits of Subject in how he dresses. They’re not talking lately, and Harry perhaps is most upset that this separation isn’t going how he planned... Subject is at their best without him. 

The gallery line is inserted as a bridge, a unique line of music rather separate from the rest, an intentional narrative. But what’s most fascinating is the end of the song. The previous repetitive chord progression changes. Now we have 

GM - AM7 (an added C#) - Am7 (4/2 inversion) - GM

or I, II7, ii7, I

The “cou-cou” lands during the AM7 (the II7) and it lands EXACTLY on the note of B, extending the 7th chord to a ninth chord, before, on its second syllable, dropping to the A and holding there (a kind of suspension) while the chord progression resolves to the Am7 (ii7), making the A a chord tone. This is deliberate. Unless the whole piece was harmonically built around Camille’s random use of a B to A in a voicemail (also randomly in the perfect key for Harry’s voice) this was purposely recorded for aesthetic effect. I for one really love it, I could listen to breathy french girls mutter about beaches endlessly...

Falling: A straightforward progression. In the key of E Major,

 EM - C#m - BM - AM or I, vi, V, IV

With Falling, the only ballade on the album, we see Harry shift from jealousy to self destructive behavior. I don’t believe the ‘wandering hands’ line is about cheating (he and Subject were already apart) but rather, Harry seeking to wound Subject by turning to others. Communication is back open, because Subject says they care, they miss him too, but now Harry’s gone and fucked it all up. What have I become? What if Subject never needs me again? I can’t unpack the baggage they left. I just want Subject AROUND! Harry isn’t even begging for a romantic connection, he’s simply begging for Subject’s presence. He was so sure he could discover himself in LU, and now he keeps asking, what am I now? Who has he become on his own? He’s falling, and there’s no one to catch him. 

To Be So Lonely: This song waffles between two keys, just as Harry waffles between defending himself to Subject and finally, finally admitting (in just one small line) that he is, in fact, sorry. The song seems to start out in C Major, with CM and Am chords (I, iv) but then at the chorus the Am chord elides from a iv to a i, revealing the key is really A minor. The chorus goes on to be:

Am - GM - Em - FM 

or i, VII (lowered leading tone in minor), v (lowered leading tone in minor), VI

A fluttering mandolin mimics a fluttering heartbeat, and a folk music lilt gives the song a certain feel of heartbreak. 

Harry asks for Subject to not blame the drunk caller, likely himself. Harry was away. He missed Subject. He was just a little boy when he fell, and presumably Subject caught him that time. Subject is trying to be friends, they mean well, perhaps have taken pity on him, but Harry cannot stand to be called baby now, not when that name doesn’t mean what it used to, not when it’s a hollow word. Harry’s ‘home’ is suddenly a lonely place, but Subject has his reasons for how he’s acted, presumably good ones, and finally Harry gives his mea culpa, “this is it, so I’m sorry.” 

Interestingly, only after admitting that he’s made mistakes too, that he’s not perfect, that he shares the blame, does Harry confront and open himself to the realization contained in the next song, the heart of the album and the crux of what Harry’s been dancing around up until this point. 

She: In E minor, both verse and chorus use the same progression:

Em - DM - CM - Am - (Bm, a quick lead-in to) - Em 

 or i, II, VI, iv, v (no raised leading tone), i 

This Bowie-esc sounding song is the first to have characters. In addition to the Subject (perennially addressed as ‘You’) there is The Man and She. I would argue The Man and She are both Harry, a duality. The man drops his kids off at school, the man is thinking of You, like all of us do (everyone thinks of their SO perhaps). The Man goes through mundane daily tasks, but is he faking it? Does he really know what to do? He’s playing pretend, so pretend. 

Now Harry introduces She. (When speaking of She, Harry sings in a high falsetto.) She lives in daydreams, she is the first one he sees, and Harry doesn’t know who She is. A Woman just in his head, who sleeps in his (a jump up to the falsetto for just this one word in the verse) bed while he plays pretend. Much has been said about the gender/fluidity discovery in this song, and by better than me. It’s clear what Harry is saying, it’s clear what he’s going through and wrestling with. He’s thinking of Subject, but also haunted by She, in his head, in his mind’s eye, in his daydreams. She is a part of Harry, and Harry wants to know who She is. 

Side C

Uncomplicated tonics! All Major! A shift into happiness perhaps? 

Sunflower: F Major. BbM - FM - CM, or IV, I, V.  The bridge is fancy:

iii, IV, V, vi, I, V vi, V (vi?) V 

Some trippie hippie song from the 60s! Two lines of thought are apparent from the get go; Harry says he wants to get to know Subject, but then says “before I got to know you.” It’s as if this is a new beginning, like he and Subject are starting over. Much is made of the ‘seed’ thing, a metaphor for new life and rebirth, “plant new seeds in the melody.” Harry is trying hard not to talk to Subject, to not seem eager, not act a fool. He was just tongue tied, then he’s still tongue tied, implying he’s done this whole dance before. He implores Subject to hold their sweet memories: domestic times, kitchens, kids. In Golden, Subject was the sun. Now Subject is a sunflower, hung up high in the gallery, out of the shade, in the light a sunflower needs to thrive, into the light, step into the light. Little gasps from Harry interject throughout; is he surfacing from water (LU music video?), is he breathing between kisses, is he suddenly gifted new life like Gandalf atop Isengard? The end of the piece devolves into calls of unbridled, nonsensical joy, like birds song, like mating calls amongst brilliant plumage. 

Canyon Moon: D Major. DM - GM - AM - DM (I, IV, V, I)

 Bridge DM - (Em transit?) - AM - DM (I, (ii), V, I) 

Chorus DM - AM - DM - GM (I, V6, I6, IV) 

Perhaps the most straightforward tonic bound song of the album. Harry is missing Subject, but it’s a happy nostalgia now, a hopeful one, a “two weeks and I’ll be home.” Home is no longer a lonely place, like in TBSL. The world is happy waiting (there’s no rush? No need to have everything figured out?). “Doors yellow, broken, blue.” You can’t bribe the door on the way to the sky a sky where Harry’s Golden sun awaits him, and now the sky door is broken, busted through, that blue door to a blue sky that never looked so blue. 

We get another glimpse of She here; Subject remains You, Harry remains Harry, but there’s also a She who plays old hippies’ love songs and pretends to know the words; perhaps this is another Camille reference for narrative purposes, but I lean more towards this being another reference to She as Harry, exploring odd new music he’s never heard, trying not to be so pretentious about it but failing. (He’s such an Aquarius.) Most charmingly of all, the single whistler becomes two by the end of the song. 

Treat People With Kindness: F Major. This is the most interesting piece in terms of text painting. 

We start with CM6 - FM, then FM6/4 - BbM, then back to CM6 - FM, then we hold on the Am chord, and then repeat the whole thing. So analyzed in F Major this would be V6, I, I6/4, IV, V6, I, iii. 

But. By using the I6 to IV, Harry plays with the idea of a V of IV, where you take the IV chord of the key and pretend it has its own dominant (V) and use the V of IV not as the I chord normally is used, but as a Leading Tone chord to IV. 

ALL THAT TO SAY. He’s illustrating the lyrics. During “Maybe we can find a place” the chords are playing with dual resolutions. Where is the actual tonic? Is it F Major or B Flat Major? It’s ambiguous! We don’t know! We haven’t found our place yet! 

But then! The bridge. “And if we’re here long enough” and look where we land, on a CM chord, then BbM, then FM, a solid V, IV, I progression. And THEN (bless this boy) on the word belong we get the same A minor chord (the iii) but we get a 7th added to the chord, a G, and Harry holds this G in the melody (plant new seeds in the melody), a note that VERY MUCH DOES NOT BELONG because in no universe does a iii chord in Major have a 7th added! And Harry not only ADDS but draws attention to this note, this note that doesn’t belong!!! Then this iii7 chord resolves to C Major (V), making the G note a chord tone, making it BELONG, making it fit perfectly. 

GOD. Weep with me. 

This is Over the Rainbow. This is Hair, this is Age of Aquarius. Somewhere there’s a place we can belong and feel good and people will celebrate and rejoice in us, someday a new age will dawn. 

Harry is plunging into the deep end, dreaming, caught up in his good feelings and his euphoria in being “given second chances.” He’s tentative about admitting reckless hope to Subject; instead he says, “Maybe we can find a place to feel good?” Harry says he doesn’t need all the answers. He said in LU “do you know who you are” then in Falling “What am I now?” then in She “I don't know who she is” and now he’s at peace. He feels good in his skin, and he will keep on dancing. 

Most personally, I think the sudden somber turn of the line “If our friends all pass away” is in reference to grief. He’s speaking to Subject, but also to himself. It will be okay, okay, okay. Harry can’t control his life, he doesn’t have everything figured out, but he’s come to accept that. 

Side D

Fine Line: D Major. We come full circle, returning to the use of only three chords like at the start of the album. This time, though, Harry resolves to tonic in a repetitive pattern used for both the verses and chorus: 

Bm, GM7, DM6/4, or vi, IV7, I

FL is the summation of the album, the thesis statement, the conclusion of the journey. Harry has endured tests of patience, and accepted that there are things he’ll never know. He’s trying to shake off trepidation (of plunging in the deep end? Of hoping?). He says “My hand’s at risk, I fold.” The poker analogy is an interesting one; Subject (presumably) has gotten past Harry’s poker face, has sussed out his fronts and acts and strategies, and Harry is left bare and exposed, vulnerable before them. He’s been brought to this point, but willingly he folds. He laments that “spreading you open is the only way of knowing you.” We should open up before it’s all too much. Harry is done fighting. He’s also done sleeping in the dirt. For the first time he’s not sugar-coating his words, avoiding their problems via sex and pretense and flowery language. He’s matured enough to admit, “Man, I hate you sometimes.”

Again we have the reappearance of She. Harry says to Subject, “We’ll get the drinks in, so I’ll get to thinking of her.” This She is something between them, within them now, another facet of his and Subject’s relationship. Harry is going to spend time thinking of Her. She, I believe, is a part of him. 

A fine line is a balancing act, a tightrope, a suspension between extremes. But Harry calls out into the echo of the music, “We’ll be alright.” A declaration, a hope, a promise. Brass, strings, and a building crescendo, a cacophony of movie-credit-worthy emotion, sweeps us towards closure. Ethereal voices fade out, moving from dominant to tonic, but then a solitary piano plinks on a V chord, twice, hanging in the air, a question, an invitation, a hope. 

[aros001]

First time read through light novel vol. 6. Random thoughts.

Hey, can you guess what my favorite episode of the anime is? Here's a hint: it's one apparently a lot of other Subarem shippers hate. I say f**k that! Episode 18 and this book made me love the idea of them as a couple even more! But we'll get to that in a minute.

“By conducting these negotiations, you bear Emilia’s fate on your shoulders. Naturally, everything you say affects her, and it carries the same weight as Emilia’s words. This is not a decision you should make lightly, nor are the words you say easily taken back.”

“...Ah, uh...”

“Moreover, I ask again—should you owe me in this matter, it will mean the defeat of the Emilia camp. Are you truly fine with this?”

It really brings into the focus the problem of Subaru calling himself Emilia's knight without thinking and why the actual knights took such offence to it. At best it was a gimmick with no actual meaning to him and at worst he wanted all the rewards that came with being a knight (or at least what he perceived as the rewards) and not any of the responsibility. That's basically the reality Crusch is making Subaru face; the true burden that is on the one who claims to be Emilia's representative. Being a knight isn't just a game or a fancy title. Whatever he does will heavily impact his lady's future and he never once considered that.

“You hate the Witch Cult. That’s the reason you approached Emilia, is it not?”

Damn.

“—You have not said, ‘I want to save Emilia,’ even once.”

Daaaamn. Obviously, we know the witch cult has nothing to do with why Subaru wanted to hang around Emilia, but it's really telling of his current state that that's what it looks like from the outside. His hatred for Petelgeuse is stronger than his love for Emilia.

The fact that Roswaal has twice now been absent during events that his presence could easily have prevented tragedy is incredibly suspicious. Especially during the mansion arc, where he only left the mansion during the loop Subaru had made a lot of progress in finding the shaman and thus, unlike the previous loops, could have warned him about what was about to happen. It feels like Roswaal is intentionally removing himself as to invite disaster upon his house and Emilia, likely to manipulate her and Subaru.

Priscilla is an oddity to me, because she really feels like someone I should dislike more than I do, as I tend to have an instant dislike for very bratty, entitled, and/or spoiled characters. I'm not sure what it is specifically that's lifting her up so much for me. It's not just the looks, because I've seen attractive female characters I've hated because of their brattiness (I think she and Bitch princess from Shield Hero share the same english voice actor, in fact). I think that, one, there is just this sense of fun and amusement when Priscilla's around, like I just want to see whatever she does next, and two, despite her attitude, I'm not really getting a feeling of shallowness from her. She doesn't feel like she's putting people down just to prop herself up. There is actual strength and depth to her.

Rem followed behind both of them, and he could hear noises coming from her nose every so often. Rem had a keen sense of smell, and she’d apparently picked up some kind of unsavory scent, staring at the back of the iron helm as they walked along.

Well, Al is from another world like Subaru, so it wouldn't be surprising if he also had the witch's scent attached to him, assuming his situation is anything like Subaru's.

“Don’t be silly. You’re Ram, right?”

“I am Rem... Forgive my rudeness, but where have you met Sister, Master Al?”

Rem explained how he’d mistaken her for her nearly identical older sister as she posed the question. However, Al made no reply. He raised up his one arm and touched his helm, busily poking the metal.

“What the hell’s goin’ on here...?”

Al sounded nervous, seemingly unable to process the information. The increasingly rapid tapping offered further proof.

“So you’re Rem...and your sister is Ram?”

“Yes, that is correct.”

“This might be a weird thing to ask but...is your older sister alive?”

“...? I do not understand the meaning of your question. Sister is alive, as she should be.”

The instant Rem gave that answer, Subaru, who had been listening to the conversation in silence, felt goose bumps all over his flesh.

“—This ain’t funny.”

Well...that got a lot of theory wheels turning in my head. I was already wondering if Al had his own Return By Death ability, so it's certainly possible he'd met Ram before a restart, though why he'd mix up her and Rem, I'm not sure. Another possibility is that he's maybe experienced Subaru's own RBDs, so while he can't trigger the ability himself he retains his memories from the original timelines. We've seen timelines where Ram has died but also one back at the mansion where only Rem died. Of course, there's also the possibility this story is going to go full Futurama: Bender's Big Score and Al is going to turn out to be a future version of Subaru sent back to the past.

That damn whale is like something out of a horror movie. I don't tend to care for gory horror but I do like movies with unique monsters and killers, so I could easily see myself getting into a movie about a giant flying whale that appears in a dark fog and basically consumes the entire existence of whatever it eats, including its past presence in the world. It's not just memories being erased. The person themselves never was.

You can tell the story is doing a good job of connecting when I know full well that Subaru's going to have another RBD and that everything's going to be fine and I'm still tearing up over Rem basically sacrificing herself to hold off the whale and Subaru is realizing he's allowed her to die four times over.

Huge difference between the books and the anime, as I'm pretty sure in the anime Puck just killed Subaru in the room Emilia died in. There was no bringing her to the witch cult's hidden cave like there was here.

“Unable to even pass a single trial, not even facing a single Deadly Sin, bearing great expectations only to stumble over the first stone in her path...”

The madman looked down at the sleeping Emilia, sighing.

“—Ahh, you were lazy!”

Curious as to what he meant by all that. Now that I think about it, I don't think it's been revealed yet the specific reason the witch cult went after Emilia. Yes, she looks like the Witch of Envy but it that a bad thing or a good thing to the cult? Do these "trials" she was supposed to face have to do with the dragon and royal selection or the witch?

I don't think they said why Subaru can now see Petelgeuse's previously unseen hands. I think I saw a theory about how Subaru's connection with the witch grows stronger with each RBD, beyond just the scent, so he might simply has just accumulated enough EXP to finally level up into seeing them. Then again, I did love Subaru's mocking line to Petelgeuse that the witch has been "cheating" on him with Subaru, so it's certainly possible he just has more of Satella's affection than Petelgeuse and thus he gets more special perks from her.

And finally, we get to the talk between Subaru and Rem at the end. Funny thing, when I first started watching the anime, someone I knew who'd seen it before me told me that, one, it's very different from Isekai Quartet, which introduced me to the characters, so don't go in expecting a comedy, and two, that episode 18 has a Subaru moment that a lot of people hate. Given how the arc had been since before that episode and how Subaru kept falling further and further, I had no idea what was going to happen or what was worse than what he'd already done that'd get people to hate him so much.

And it turns out it's just because of a shipping war. I'm still not sure if I should feel relieved or annoyed. Yeah, I ship Subaru and Rem over Subaru and Emilia, but hating this part of the story just because he still loves Emilia? I feel like everything else except for that one line gets ignored (the line I'm avoiding saying because I don't want a bot to flag this post) and that the lack of all context except Subaru loving Emilia while Rem loves him destroys a lot of why the scene works.

There's just so much to talk about with why I love this part between Subaru and Rem. I'm a big fan of superhero stories and a classic trope I love is when things get dark and everything is brought to its lowest point...only for the hero to make a comeback. And Subaru... The man is broken. He's given up. Not only has he experienced death, failure, and futility multiple times, he's seen the people he cares about be completely slaughtered, with Rem dying, being mutilated, and even erased to protect him and Emilia, the woman he loves, dying directly because of him. He's powerless to change anything, or at least everything he does change seems to just make things worse. He sees himself as selfish, greedy, and arrogant; that he never actually cared about anyone other than himself. He's just spewing all this very justified self-hatred...and Rem counters it perfectly, not saying a single thing that isn't true about what she loves about him. Last volume had her imagining running away with Subaru, so the possible life with him she talks about isn't just something she's pulled out of the air. It's something she's considered and wants, which means it has actual weight when she turns him down.

I think another reason Rem connects to Subaru so much is because she's no stranger to self-hatred. She's also seen her own existence as a blight on everyone and everything around her. That she's selfish and terrible. And the person who helped pull her out of that state, at least somewhat, and get her to start liking herself was Subaru, which is what she's doing for him now. It's what I love so much about the relationship between these two. It's not just that they've saved each others' lives. They've helped each other in incredibly personal ways, despite the fact that neither fully knows what the source of the other's pain is. Subaru doesn't know what Rem felt as she watched Ram's horn get cut off. Rem doesn't know about Subaru's RBD and constant failures. They didn't need to. They simply knew the other needed help and they gave it, with no strings attached. It's why, despite me shipping them together, I'm not upset that Subaru doesn't return Rem's love (yet?) in the same way. There was a great bit of art I saw of the moment, and the words alongside it were "I didn't say I love you to hear it back. I said it so that you would know." Despite her still having some issues, being a little too subservient and obsessed with Subaru, I can believe Rem's love for him is real. When Subaru hated himself and believed everyone else did too, Rem told him that she loved him, not to get anything back out of it, but simply because she wanted him to at least have that to hold onto.

Rem was clearly at least a little upset at the end of their talk, and I can see it being some regret that she turned him down or that he does still love Emilia more, and I'm fine with that. She did the right thing and she is happy the real Subaru is back, but her being a little sad afterwards keeps her human (even if she's a demon).

Honestly, while I do ship them, I think both did make the right call. If or when they hook up, it should be when there's no lingering doubts or regrets they're carrying with them. Where they can have a future where they can smile together and with everyone in their lives they love and can't just abandon. Plus, I want to see Ram as an aunt to Subaru and Rem's kid! That sounds amazing!

And Subaru saying he loves Emilia, even after Rem poured her heart out to him...well, yeah, of course he does. He just found out Rem loves him and has had no time to process it (he was trying to run away with her out of fear and guilt, thus why she turned him down). If his feelings for Emilia were that easily swayed then it'd be hard to say that they were ever that strong or real to begin with, and thus what would have been the point of everything he's been through? It's not like he said it to hurt Rem. Hell, here and in the anime he sounds pretty apologetic as he says it, because he knows it'll hurt her to hear it and he doesn't want that. But it is the truth. So I'm not going to get mad at him for it. It's consistent with his character and everything he's been through and lead to great character moments for both him and Rem. What's there to be angry about?

But yeah, there was a little bit of it in the last chapter but I'm soooooooo looking forward to next volume. I remember just the feeling of hype and "F**k yeah!" going through my chest on my first watch of the anime. Subaru, after hitting his absolute lowest point, pulling himself together with Rem's help and gathering up everything he's got to fight back against the previously hopeless situation and save the day. It made all that heartache and misery so worth the wait.

Original Reddit post: https://www.reddit.com/r/Re_Zero/comments/gr9y77/novels_first_time_read_through_light_novel_vol_6/

[arcticdementor]

Kayfabe is a treasured part of pro wrestling culture. Kayfabe refers to the commitment of everyone involved (the wrestlers, the refs, the announcers, and to a certain degree the fans) to maintaining the shared fiction that pro wrestling matches are unscripted. (Wrestling is real, in the sense that the athletes are taking real punishment and risk really getting hurt, and there is a degree of improvisation, but the outcomes are predetermined.) Kayfabe has had a kind of mythical importance to many in the pro wrestling community: you keep kayfabe no matter what, even in the event of serious injury, out of a sense of sacred commitment. Crucial to understanding kayfabe is that it is not an attempt to deceive the audience. Modern wrestling is in some ways perfectly open about the scripted nature of the matches. Fooling people is not the point. If every fan signed an affidavit saying they knew the outcomes were predetermined the wrestlers would still keep kayfabe, out of commitment to the culture. Kayfabe is a mutually-approved illusion. It is artifice, but it is mutually agreed upon artifice, a consensual fantasy.

Our current political culture is kayfabe.

The illusion that we pretend to believe is that we are in some sort of uniquely politically fertile moment for progressivism and social justice, that we are experiencing a social revolution or “Great Awokening.” Further, we keep kayfabe by acting as if we believe that certain policies like police abolition or abolishing border enforcement (or if you prefer utterly meaningless sloganeering, “abolishing ICE”) are tangibly viable in anything like the near future. I say that these are kayfabe to emphasize my belief that most people who endorse these beliefs are well aware that they are not true, and to underline the sense in which the commitment to unreality is mutual, an expression of a strange kind of social contract. Most thinking adults comprehend the current moment and understand that the hand of establishment power and the influence of social inertia are as strong as ever. (Why would you feel otherwise?) But because people have understandably been moved by recent righteous calls for justice, they feel they must accept the fiction of a new awakening to show solidarity with the victims of injustice. This is emotionally understandable, but strategically counterproductive. And indeed one thing that has defined these new social movements is their relentless commitment to the emotional over the strategic.

…

Living in a culture of political kayfabe is a strange experience. It feels the way that, I imagine, it feels to live under a truly authoritarian government, where you’re constantly having exchanges where everyone involved knows that what they’re saying is bogus but you push right through the cognitive dissonance with a smile on your face. Only you’re not compelled by the fear of torture or imprisonment but of vague-but-intense social dictates, of the crucial priority of appearing to be the right kind of person. So often political conversations today have this dual quality where you feel forced to constantly evaluate what your interlocutor actually believes even as propriety compels you to take seriously what’s coming out of their mouth.

A major negative consequence of our commitment to kayfabe lies in our acceptance of behaviors we would ordinarily never accept, under the theory that this is such a special time, we need to shut up and go along with it. Take our broken discourse, as frequently discussed in “cancel culture” debates. My experience and my intuition tell me that almost everyone in the progressive/left/socialist world knows that our discourse norms and culture are totally fucked up. Trust me: most people in liberal spaces, Black and white, male and female, trans and cis, most certainly including people in academia and media, are well aware that we’ve entered into a bizarre never-ending production of The Crucible we can’t get out of. They’re probably just as sick of Woko Haram as I am.

But they’re either empowered and enriched by this state of affairs, and don’t want the party to end, or they’re holding on for dear life trying not to get their lives ruined for speaking out of turn. Look past self-interest and self-preservation and you’ll find that everybody knows that the way left spaces work now is horribly broken and dysfunctional. The problem is that thinking people who would ordinarily object don’t because they’ve been convinced that this is some sort of special moment pregnant with progressive potential, and that is more important than rights, compassion, or fairness. So we maintain a shared pretense that things are cool the way you go through the motions on an awful date where you’re both aware you’ll never see each other again.

If I say “cancel culture,” normies indeed don’t know what I’m talking about, because they are healthy, adjusted people with a decent set of priorities who value their own time and lives too much to get caught up in all of this horseshit. But if I say “cancel culture” in front of a bunch of politics-obsessed professional-class shitlibs they will pretend to not know what I’m talking about. They’ll put on a rich fucking show. They do an impression of Cletus from The Simpsons and go “cancel culture?!? Hyuck hyuck what’re that? I’m not knowing cancel culture, I’m just a simple country lad!” These are people who have read more about cancel culture in thinkpieces than I read about any topic in a year. But pretending you don’t know what cancel culture is happens to be a key part of the performance, a naked in-group signifier, so they pretend. The “I don’t know what cancel culture is” bullshit performance is kayfabe at its most infuriating. I know you know what cancel culture is because you’re currently using it to demonstrate your culture positioning by pretending you don’t know what it is. You fucking simpleton.

People say and do weird shit and it’s all wrong but you just pretend like it isn’t. Who wants to be the one caught making waves? When you’re in a group of people and someone engages in something patently ridiculous - when, for example, someone says “AAVE” in an ordinary social situation with no academic or political reason to use jargon, even though everyone there knows the phrase “the way Black people talk” is more elegant, useful, and true - and the moment passes and there’s this inability to look each other in the eye, when everybody starts studying their drink and clearing their throat, that’s life under kayfabe.

Getting to this is not normal. It’s not a healthy state of affairs. It can only happen when people come to believe that self-preservation requires pretending things are OK.

…

It is at this point that people say that “defund” does not mean “abolish,” which is true, and Defund the Police indeed does not mean “abolish the police.” Defund the police means nothing, now, though I’m sure that the people who started using it had noble intentions. At this point it’s a floating signifier, an empty slogan that people rallied around with zero understanding of what semantic content it could possibly contain. If it’s meant to be a radical demand, why use the vocabulary of an actuary? If it’s meant to mean a meaningful but strategic drawdown of resources, why use it interchangeably with “abolish”? I cannot imagine a more comprehensive failure of basic political messaging than Defund the Police. Amateur hour from beginning to end.

I take the political concept of alternatives to policing seriously, in the same way I take many political ideas seriously that are not likely achievable in my lifetime. I know there are deeply serious people who are profoundly committed to these principles and who have thought them through responsibly. I appreciate their work and become better informed from what they say. But their ideas did not reign last year. A faddish embrace of a thoughtless caricature of police abolition reigned, pushed with maximum aggression and minimal introspection by the shock troops of contemporary progressive ideas, overeducated white people with more sarcasm than sense.

Policing will not end tomorrow or next month or next year. And whoever you are, reading this, you are well aware of that fact. The odds of police abolition in any substantial portion of this country are nil. Indeed, I would say that the likelihood of meaningful reduction in policing in any large region of this country, whether measured by patrolling or funding or manpower, is small. Individual cities may reduce their police forces by a substantial fraction, and I suspect that they will not suddenly devolve into Mega-City One as a result. (Though I can’t say initial data in this regard is encouraging.) I hope we learn important lessons about intelligent and effective police reform and more sensible resource allocation from those places. But the vast majority of cities will not meaningfully change their policing budgets, due to both the legitimate lack of political will for such a thing - including in communities of color - and broken municipal politics with bad incentives.

…

Living under kayfabe makes you yearn for plainspoken communication, for letting the mask fall. The professed inability of progressives to understand why woke-skeptical publications like this one keep succeeding financially is itself a slice of kayfabe. They know people are paying for Substacks and podcasts and subscribing to YouTubes and Patreons because it’s exhausting to constantly spend all of your time pretending things that don’t make sense make sense, pretending that you believe things you don’t to avoid the social consequences of telling the truth.

When you’re someone who spent the past several decades arguing that the American university system is not hostile to conservative students, that it doesn’t try to force extremely contentious leftist views onto students, and then you watch this video, how do you react? I think many people, most people, even most people committed to the BLM cause, see that video and wince. That is not how we get there. Browbeating 20 year olds for not parroting your politics back at you is not how racial justice gets advanced. But if you’re caught in this moment, how do you object? Acknowledge that, yes, in fact, it is now plainly the case that many professors see it as their job to forcefully insist on the truth of deeply controversial claims to their students, berating them until they acquiesce? Well that would be an unpleasant conversation with the other parents when you pick up your kid from Montessori school. So you just choose not to see, or keep you mouth shut, or speak in a way that maintains the illusion.

I mean there is the absurdity of what she’s saying to contend with - the now fairly common view that policing was literally invented in the antebellum South purely to enforce slavery, because in ancient Rome if someone came in your house and stole your stuff you’d just be like “oh damn, that sucks.” Is there a relationship between modern policing and slavery? Of course. Does the legacy of slavery and Jim Crow infect modern policing at every point? Sure. Should we make political and policy decisions that recognize that historical influence on policing, especially given the racist reality of policing right now? Yes. But what good does it do anyone to pretend that the concept of “the police” is 250 years old? Why on earth would we get the correct shit we do believe tangled up with this bizarre shit we don’t believe? (The professor in that video does not herself honestly believe the police were invented to support African slavery in 18th and 19th century America.) Because this utterly ahistorical idea is being promulgated by people who claim to speak from a position of justice, we are forced to assign seriousness to it that it hasn’t earned, seriousness that it could never deserve. Because we live in a world of mutual delusion. Because of kayfabe.

…

And the fact that some will wrinkle their noses about this piece and its arguments, go about their days of progressive performance art, and pretend they don’t believe every word they just read? That’s kayfabe, my friend. That’s kayfabe. And we’re trapped in it, all of us, you and I. You know it’s all bullshit. Will you keep the code anyway? I’m willing to bet that the answer is yes.

[shirorozutriea]

Sing-a-long to the Hexes Song

Day 8: Free Day

 Sing-a-long to the Hexes Song

It wasn’t really uncommon for adventurers to get cursed in one way or another. You could instantaneously be Sleeping Beauty in a matter of days. You could be the beast in Beauty and the Beast if you perform the same thing he did when he was quite young. And while plenty of hexes and curses are somewhat… tolerable, but of course, there’s the type of hexes and curses that would make you feel like the world’s ultimate jester alive.

And who’s fault is that right now… Yang Fucking Xiao Long. Weiss, in all her days living and performing spells and magic, she was never this embarrassed and mad at the same time, at the same person for nearly over a decade.

Weiss was cursed.

And she doesn’t like every single moment she spends her day, mulling over her predicament, while planning a mouthful of hexes and curses for Yang, and trying to keep her mouth shut. Apparently the curse was making her say all the things she wasn’t supposed to say at all. It was like, downing a years worth of truth potion. And she doesn’t like every single word she says. And what’s more aggravating, there was no known cure for it except a some sort of riddle that written it’s way on Weiss’ vision after she got flung by the hex’s power in the catacombs.

Verity is your greatest enemy Melody shall be your guide When hearts collide It will bid their good bye

Lovely.

  “I’m so sorry, Weiss. I didn’t know that thing was hexed.” Apologized Yang, for like the umpteenth time already. Weiss gave her a look. “If you actually keep your hands off where it should really belong, then we will not be in this god fucking forsaken predicament at all!” She hissed. Apparently it also makes her curse like a sailor. Or is it just her pent up emotion talking?

“Can’t you like, uncurse yourself or something?” Yang asked.

“Are you an idiot? You’re lucky you’re beautiful—shut up. As I was saying, haven’t you read that riddle. It can only be undone by, whatever that is.” Said Weiss, biting her tongue at the slip. Yang gave her a cheeky grin.

“You think I’m beautiful?” She teased. Weiss rolled her eyes, but decided that she could take her own medicine. “You, Yang, are one of the most beautiful lady I laid my eyes on. Your bright blond hair glows just like the sun. Your warm lilac eyes, beats any shades of purple. Your voluptuous bod—”

“Ack—fine, I’m sorry. Sheesh. Stop.” Yang squirmed at the compliments, blushing. “An honest Weiss is not a good Weiss at all.” Weiss huffed. “I’m glad we’ve got something to agree on.” Then Weiss did a double take at her words, suddenly blinking at her realization.

Blake then entered the scene, panting and sweaty. She looked at the two and puffed an air before speaking. Which was immediately cut off by Weiss.

“You know even if your sweaty or wearing anything ragged you’re still beautiful as ever. Now it makes sense why people call you the ‘Mystic Beauty’. Please forget about that. Anyway, are you okay?” Weiss asked, trying to sound casual. Blake gaped at the woman, red tinge was visibly present in her cheeks. Yang whistled. “She got you too. Tell me it’s uncomfortable.”

Blake didn’t hesitate. “I’m flattered, but Yang is right.” She said, and was taken aback. “I don’t know what’s weird, me actually agreeing with you or Weiss complimenting me?”

“Hey!” Protested Yang. Weiss giggled at the shadow weaver's remark. “I know right.”

“As I was saying, before I was nicely interrupted. We’ve got some bad news.” She started.

Weiss spoke, jokingly. “And my thing is not already a bad news.” Blake shook her head smiling before turning serious. “Miss Glynda does not have any cure for your hex.”

Weiss opened and closed her mouth, raising her index finger. “Yeah. That is.. bad news indeed.”

Yang gave her a side way hug. “Cheer up, princess. Lest you can be as suave as you can be.” Weiss let out a sigh. “Only you, would love having this hex.”

Yang laughed. “Well, the hex would have probably been mine if you didn’t become a superhero at the last minute.” Weiss groaned at her.

“Because I didn’t know, that the hex is much, much worse than a potent truth potion in all of Remnant. Be glad I became your knight in shining armor, miss damsel in distress.” Weiss didn’t bother to hide the slight sarcasm at the last sentence, yet it still hold some truth on it. And Yang, again, was blushing. Weiss took notice.

“Yang, are you blushing?” Blake addressed the goliath in the room. Yang’s eyes widen and looked away. Weiss smirked mischievously.

“Who would have thought that the brute was actually a real lady behind those magnificent physique of muscles.” Weiss’ smirk stayed on place as Yang became more flushed. Blake looked at the two in amusement.

“You’re having a bit much of fun in this, Weiss.” Blake stated and Weiss puffed her chest. “But of course!”

“Whatever. Let’s get her fixed up. I don’t think I can handle any more of her compliments.” Grumbled Yang. Weiss shrugged and Blake stifle a laugh on her palm.

The three went to their shared house to rest up their already tired muscles. The three was sharing a room of four, but the fourth roommate was nowhere to be found.

“Where's Ruby?” Pondered Blake. Yang shrugged before speaking. "In the Guild. Probably going to hunt something."

"Without us?" Weiss asked. Yang nodded at her. "But why?"

"That.” She answered while pointing a finger at the latter. “I don't know of." Said Yang. Then their door burst open, revealing a panting red clad adventurer. "GUYS GUESS WHAT?!"

"That you finally asked Penny out." Spat Weiss, then she close her mouth as a hand flew on her mouth as her eyes widen. "I.. forget about that. What?"

Ruby dismissed the statement, or she just didn't heard it at all because she was busy giggling and fisting the air. She looked at Weiss and grinned. "I found the maker of the hex! He's here! Downstairs!!"

The three blinked at her and followed their fearless leader downstairs. They saw a man sipping coffee in the coffee table.

"Why isn't it Miss Schnee?" Said the man. Weiss brows met in confusion. "Professor Oobleck?"

The man chuckled and nodded. "Why yes, it is I, Doctor Oobleck." Oobleck gazed at the witch and nodded. "I see you have been hexed by my own magic."

Weiss sputtered, wondering if she should be mad by how nonchalant the doctor sounds like, or just ask the question she had wanted to hear the answer to. She chose the latter. "Do you have any potions or cures for my predicament?" Before Oobleck could answer, Yang butt in. "And why would you have a hexed mirror?"

Oobleck laughed and sipped his coffee. "Good question, Miss Xiao Long. As you may know, I am a doctor and as a doctor, it is my sole purpose to create antidotes, potions and cures for possible sickness and/or hexes and curses around. That hex was made of a failed attempt of a cure. I abandoned it, and maybe the vial that contains the hexed liquid was poured onto that mirror during the quake." Explained Oobleck. Yang was perplexed by the answer. How could someone just act so nonchalantly about all of this?

"As for your question, Miss Schnee. Unfortunately, I do not have a cure for the hex. You see, it is quite a unique type of hex, heavily influenced by the mirror." He stated. Weiss felt her left eye twitch. "The mirror is possessed by a spirit who wasn't able to confess to her true love. So, I'm guessing, and this is a theory. The hex would be under the influence of her grieve of being unable to confess, and so, the hex would be... confess and the curse will be broken. She's giving the person a chance to confess. My, what a good soul."

He fixed his glasses and smiled at Weiss who is now much more paler than her usual pale skin. Her only thought was;

There's no way in Remnant that I will confess to.. to... HER!!

Weiss inwardly panicked, although she was already sweating bullets under her robe and she felt how they turned like droplets of ice on her skin, no doubt was caused by her magic connected to her emotion of being stressed.

"Well! I shall seek my way home. I have to run tests on my potion. Would you like some?" Oobleck asked. The four shook their heads and the man shrugged before making his way out of the house. The three individuals looked at Weiss.

"I rather shut my mouth. Endure this curse, than confess." Stated Weiss, firmly crossing her arms in her chest.

"But it might take a while for a cure to be brewed." Said Ruby in concern. Weiss harrumphed at her and looked away. "I thank you for your concern, my l—goddamit." She cursed herself for almost slipping. "But I'll be fine. I don't know if Yang will be though."

Yang sputtered, blushing. "No! I don't wanna hear any more compliments!" She yelped. Ruby grew confused at her sister's action.

"Compliments?" Asked Ruby.

"The curse makes her say things she doesn't normally say, but it hold truth." Answered Blake. Ruby nodded in understanding.

Weiss cleared her throat and looked at the brunette. “I will see to it that.. this… wretched curse won’t be a bother to our future hunts.”

 Except it did.

 One time, three days after meeting the doctor, they went for a hunt. A hunt is a job adventurers do to make some money. But, rather calling it a mission or a job, it was chosen to be called a hunt for some unknown reasons. Now onto that hunt, they were tasked to fight some Fire-Breathing Runner Lizards. And this lizards are tall. Like, ten foot tall. Needless to say, it proved quite hard to defeat the fire breathing specimen.

 There were a lot of running, and so, of course, a lot of sweating. Now Weiss was a hundred percent sure that she won’t have a gay panic anytime soon. But seeing three of her attractive teammates sweating and attractively wiping a sheen of sweat, made her think twice. But when her eyes landed on the hard rock abs her leader is sporting, well… there was a flurry of red reaching to her ears and a very well-detailed describing of said voluptuous, well-made, mouth watering abs. Needless to say, Weiss was only millimeter away into digging a hole and burying herself in pure embarrassment.

 And now this time, a week after the first, is when they are tasked by Doctor Oobleck to find him some Rainbow Frogs inside dark, creepy caverns. Doctor Oobleck even insist to them to take his pouch and put some clothes in it, because according to him, “There is a possible hundred percent chance that you might need some extra clothes.” And oh yes, they do indeed need spare clothes.

 As if everything was a com-fantasy anime, ironically, the caves were home to one vicious nightmare(Weiss words after reading about them). The one and only Strip Slime. Yes, you read that right folks, I also can't believe it(did I watched or read too many of these anime cliché?).

 Yang was the first victim.

 As they were walking, Yang was complaining(second to Weiss) about feeling slimy and slippery. There was no light or fire magic on, they simply forgot that they have a mage and a fire user in their group. Then Yang soon complain of being cold.

 “Maybe that’s why we need clothes. It’s so chilly in here.” Said Yang.

 “Don’t be absurd, Yang. It's not that cold.” Weiss rebut. Yang smirked at her, although Weiss wasn’t able to see it. “Or is it because, the cold doesn’t bother you anyway?”(Yes, I sang that in my head..)

 Weiss rolled her eyes. They heard Yang sneeze and the three stood in alert and wonder. Yang’s teeth chattered as they go. Then Weiss had enough.

 With a flick of her wrist, let there be light, and there was light. A small ball of light, three of them, soon came floating. It lit the path they had been trekking on and Weiss inwardly face palmed for not thinking of using her magic sooner. Weiss felt that Yang was about to say something about her magic when she held out a palm to stop her and look at her—oh. Yang is naked. Yang is naked??!

 Weiss let out a high pitched shriek, flailing her arms around like a flappy bird before putting her hands in her eyes, but her fingers were a bit parted.

 “Sweet mother of Oum!! What a fine specimen—oh fuck!! Yang, you’re naked!” Weiss stammered. The remaining two looked at Yang wide eyed in surprise. Yang looked down.

 “Oh, I’m naked… I’m naked…” The cogs on her brain seemed to slowly move. Then her eyes widen and gaped down at her. “OH OUM I’M NAKED!!”

 Weiss flicked her wrist letting the glowing orbs float on different direction and saw eerily familiar blob of gooey slime. Weiss inwardly shiver and gulp.

 “Don’t make a sudden move.” Weiss said in a hushed tone. The three stiffen at her words. Weiss silently grabbed the pouch that the doctor had given them and flicked her wrist. Yang’s spare clothes came flying and magically fitting itself to the blonde’s body with a flick of Weiss’ wrist. Weiss continued her warning. “They're sensitive to movement.”(kudos to people who gets the reference)

 “Why are we whispering?” Questioned Ruby, as silent as she could.

 “I thought their sensitive to movements?” Seconded Yang, her eyes darting around the bouncy blobs of slimes.

 “I don’t know too.” Weiss answered truthfully. Blake glanced at her. “Do you know how to avoid them?” Weiss took a deep breathe and exhaled.

 “When I say run, run.” Exhaled Weiss. The three just looked at the mage wide eyed, realization creeping in, that even their resident smart mage knows nothing to avoid or possibly petrify the slimes.

 Weiss eyes then flickered to the rest of the cavern and gulp as her wrist twitch in anticipation. She breathes in and let's out, “Run!!”

 The four ran like they are in a marathon. Like a stampede of buffalos running through canyons with the slimes bouncing from wall to wall, catching up to them. The whole cavern was filled with panic screams and squeals as they scampered around the dirt. Weiss was cursing.

 “Fuck!! Of all the creatures to be gifted existence in this fucking whole wide world of Remnant. Motherfucking strip slimes had to be the fucking one!!” Hissed Weiss. Her wrist twisting, index and middle finger drawn as light emerges on her fingertips, scrawling out runes. “Even if people like Yang who has a nice body, as well as Blake and Ruby, will be stripped off by these miracle makers. I wouldn’t mind gawking.”

 Yang screamed back, her face red from embarrassment. “NOW’S NOT THE TIME, WEISS!!”

 Weiss screamed in return. “TELL THAT TO THIS STUPID CURSE!!!” Suddenly, glyphs appeared over Weiss that proceeds to shoot ice shards towards the slimes.

 Weiss closed her eyes and screamed to high heavens. “CAN THIS GET ANY MORE WORSE!!??”

  To answer the question, yes. Yes, it could get any more worse than getting chased by a cloth-eating slime disaster. They were stuck in the cave. Luckily for them, at the end of the cavern were piles of unused metal scraps are lying around that were made to become a wall slash shield from the crazy slimes.

 “Weiss, are you really sure there is no way we could get rid of those… whatever those things..” Asked Yang, looking warily at the magic-made wall.

 “For the umpteenth time, Yang, there is no possible way of ridding those pesky little stripping miscreants.” Hissed Weiss, running her temple angrily. “And well, what are the odds that they would eat Yang’s clothes like it’s a snack… well she is a snack—I give up..”

 Yang sighed and looked away. Ruby just stared at Yang, then to Weiss. “Are you attracted to… Yang?” Weiss visibly hear something from behind her words. A certain tone that says jealousy. But that can’t be right, right?

 Weiss closed her eyes and deeply let out a defeated breath. She looked at the brunette and weakly smiled. “You want the honest truth?” Ruby nodded. “I find all of you painstakingly attractive. By far you all, are the most gorgeously attractive women I’ve ever met, aside from the other girls I know.”

 The three blushed at the admission. But Weiss was so tired she couldn’t stop. “I’ll have to admit, there are actually many of times that I had found myself gay panicking every time one of you walk by with only a shirt and an underwear inside our little quaint home.”

 “And you know what… I may or may not have a genuine interest on one of you..” Now Weiss was proud that she didn’t actually blurt out who she really like, but nevertheless it was the truth. “Admittedly so, I had a crush on the three of you. Had.”

 The three were rendered speechless. Their mouth agape, well Yang is. They couldn’t believe what had gone out from their friends mouth. Yang was the first to talk.

 “So.. does that mean… the person you like is one of us?” Asked Yang. Oh Weiss actually didn’t thought of that part. Oh no.

 Weiss grimaced and huffed. “Maybe.”

 After a beat of silence of silence, they heard a certain familiar splash of liquid body from behind. Weiss was the first to notice the blob of gooey green slime. Weiss muttered a chant and a red glyph appeared from behind the three and shoot a large fireball to the little ‘innocent’ blob.

 It disintegrated.

 Oh.

 Weiss looked at the melted body of the slime and observed it. There’s a possibility that it may put itself back together to regenerate. She stared. Nothing. Thank Oum. Weiss grinned and grabbed her little notepad and wrote the little interesting discovery of a certain weakness of the stripping monstrosity.

 “Now that we know what their weakness is, I guess we can go out from this hell hole.” Weiss stated in triumph, as if she just didn’t admitted a rather embarrassing confession to her friends.

 “But we haven’t found what we were looking for.” Queried Blake.

 Ruby raise a tentative hand. “I may or may not have already gotten some on our way running in here. They were just sticking around on the walls when I saw them.” She showed a transparent cage, the specimen, Rainbow Frogs were in sight.

 Yang grinned triumphantly and smacked the back of the brunette making her cough as the former gave her a thumbs up, where she replied with a weak smile.

 “Now let’s go!”

   “Excellent job, ladies! Now I have enough to brew a cure for your recent predicament, Miss Schnee!” Announced the doctor.

 Weiss did a double take and grinned. “That is excellent news, Doctor!” Now she can be free from this wretched curse.

 “But I’m afraid that it would take longer than usual to brew it.” The doctor said dejectedly. Weiss blinked and looked at him. He noticed the gaze. “You see, Miss Schnee. I have recently found the formula for the cure, they were just around the shelves of my home. And I noticed that the ingredients are more or less hybrids of plants that I had made which is another matter of a problem.”

 He held up a finger and exhaled. “They could take months to prepare.” Ended Oobleck.

 Weiss stood gaping at the doctor. She felt faint. Does this mean… I’m going to be like this… FOREVER?!!

 Weiss is clearly traumatized.

 The group had to grab the silver haired woman who stood frozen stiff in front of the doctor not moving at all. That got them worried so they carried the statue of a woman back to their home. They laid her down on her bed and left her staring in the ceiling.

 The three went down, worried for their friend’s mental health. Although, Weiss was the least to be affected by any types of trouble that would definitely made one insane, this one may took a huge toll on Weiss’ self. And it probably did.

   “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHGHHHGHHHGHGG!!!!”

 They heard her shout. No doubt it would be heard from outside their very own home. Panicked, the three jumped from where they are. Ruby fell from the sofa, groaning and holding her side. Blake jumped, very high, and found herself perched on the ceiling, claws outstretched. Meanwhile, Yang tripped spilling water everywhere, and she slipped when she stepped on it, her behind hitting the floor. They heard a clambering of feet upstairs and saw Weiss running down, red faced.

 “What happened to you guys?” Weiss asked, as she noticed the three. Ruby held out a hand and signed okay, Blake fell down in a hiss and Yang groaned, letting herself fall on the floor.

 Blake was the first one to recover. “And you? Are you okay? You screamed.” She stated. Weiss ran a hand to her face and huffed heavily.

 “I’m tired. And I think the whole world is plotting against me, giving me this…” Her arms flail around, gesturing. “… thing, telling me to confess already!”

 Yang stood up, rubbing her behind. “Maybe that's not a bad idea. I mean, you’ve been single for like, what? Almost six years, Weissy. And your last relationship was with…”

 “Coco, I know.” Weiss sighed and shake her head. “But… I don’t know.. I feel like she won’t reciprocate my feelings.”

 Yang scoffed. “C’mon Weiss. As if anyone can resist you.” Weiss looked at her. “Honestly speaking. Although, I don’t like you in that way, cuz I like someone else you know and they're pretty—shutting up now. Anyways, whoever the lucky girl is, I’m sure they’ll like you back and if not, well it’s their loss.”

 Weiss smiled at her. “Thanks, Yang.” Yang grinned and have her a thumbs up. “Just a question though, it’s not me right?” Weiss chuckled and shook her head.

 “No. You're more of a colossal dolt than she is.” Hinted Weiss. Blake caught on this. “You said that you have taken an interest in one of us.. can I take a guess?” Blake asked.

 Weiss sighed in defeat and let out a weak grin. “Knowing you, there will be no second guess.” Blake smirked at this.

 “Let's see, it wouldn’t be Yang because I don't think you would want a pun master spouting jokes all around the place… all day.” Yang gaped and protested at the notion. “It could possibly me, but you know my preference and you still continue to tease and push me to her, so that's a no… and so that left is..” Blake deliberately trailed off, her gaze fixing to Ruby.

 “Ruby.”

 She dropped the bomb.

 Ruby flailed her arms around and vehemently shake her head. “That couldn't be! W-Weiss? Like likes me?!! No way!!” Ruby put her arms in front of her and from a cross.

 “What makes you say that?” Questioned Blake. Ruby stopped flailing and laughed nervously. “I mean, that can’t be right… Weiss is.. she deserves more, a-and… I don’t think I fit the bill.”

 “Weiss is the heiress, the master of magic, a goddess and many more… while I’m just—me, and nothing more. I’m a dolt.. I could be annoying, and my past relationships do say so… I can’t be worthy of her…” Ruby whimpers as she had taken an interest on her shoes, wriggling her toes.

   “What's that suppose to mean?”

 Ruby looked up to see Weiss glaring at her, cheeks dusted with red, a frown of displeasure etched on her lips. Weiss step forward to Ruby, and Ruby almost melt at the sheer intensity of her glare.

 “You? Not worthy of me? Ruby, I beg to differ.” Weiss took a deep breathe and exhaled. “You are the most wonderful person I’ve ever met. You had become the light that shed away the darkness crawling deep within me. You helped me when I fell over and when I thought that I could do everything and anything on my own. You held me when I need a shoulder to lean on. You even saved me from my bastard of a father, which you didn’t have to do, and yet you still did because you care.”

 “Your stubbornness became your charm. Your cheery personality became my light. Your determination became my strength. Everything you are and everything you do is something I always admire and now… I’ve come to love it.”

 In the middle of Weiss’ speech. Yang and Blake had already snuck out to give them privacy, while Ruby just stared at her, wide eyed and jaw ajar. She listened to her. Absorbing the weight of her confession. Does that mean, she really like her? HER? Ruby Rose? The person she really abhor disliking to—well, used to. She, Ruby ‘effin Rose?

 The circuits on her brain fried.

 “And your beautiful mouth that I really want to kiss, had the audacity to tell me that you don’t deserve me? Me?! Heck, I don’t even deserve you! What did I do on my past life to have you in my life? How did I became so lucky to have you literally stumbling into my life?”

 Ruby zoned out by the time she heard the word kiss coming from her crush’s mouth.

 “How did you became the most annoying pain in my ass to the most endearing, lovable, extraordinary, gorgeous woman that I want to live with for the rest of my life? I don’t know, it just did. You are just that.. deeply engraved, into my life.”

 Weiss was crying now. Ruby woke up from her reverie and cautiously approached the mage. When Weiss didn't show any protest, she raised her hand to brush the tears away from her cheek, resting it there as the alabaster woman leaned on the hand with her own darting to rest on the back of Ruby’s hand. She sighed.

 “You changed me, for the better, and I wouldn’t be who I am today without you. You became the light to my darkest days, you shine so bright I almost think you're not real. That you are just a pigment of my imagination, a dream—and if this is a dream…” Weiss sobbed. “… then I don’t wanna wake up..”

 Weiss’ hand gripped at the hand in her cheek and closes her eyes, exhaling a shaky breathe. She opened her eyes and stared at the silvery pools staring back at her.

 “I love you, Ruby Rose. From the bottom of my hypothalamus. And more.”

 Ruby couldn’t believe what she had heard. Or if she's even hearing it right. She had always thought that Weiss wouldn’t like her the same way she had always like her—love her. She would just, daydream about the day she and Weiss would be together. It didn’t occur to her that it would actually happen. But now, Weiss has confessed to her. Admittedly it was because of the curse, but she still confessed. And she still couldn't believe it.

 “Y-you lo-love me?” She stuttered. Her tongue darting to wet her lips. “Are you r-really serious?”

 Weiss smiled lovingly to her. And she swore her heart swoon. “I do. I always have. Ever since you stayed as my friend in the academy.”

 Ruby choke back a sob, tears pricking her eyes. “I’m not dreaming right?” Weiss shook her head ‘no’. Ruby smiled with tears freely flowing to her cheeks.

 Weiss held the hand on her cheek, while the other wiped the tears away. She closed the gap between them and kissed her forehead, longer to stress the fact that she had love her so. When she broke away, she looked at those eyes that she also fell in love with.

 “I love you, Ruby—”

 Weiss went unfinished when a sudden soft lips pressed timidly on her own. She stood there in shock. Blinking owlishly at the sudden movement. And just move goddamit!! Weiss leaned in, reciprocating the now filled with more passion, less timid kiss. While Weiss half-brain complained about the difference in height, the other half was praising the heavens that she actually had a kiss with her long time crush. Weiss felt an arm snaking to her waist, pulling her flush against the adventurer, while the other cradle her head. Likewise, she darts her arms around the brunette’s neck, twiddling the shorter ends of her hair at the back of her neck. She then felt a tongue dart to lick her lips, biting it softly, causing a moan to bubble on her throat. But the moan was effectively muffled when Ruby’s tongue entered the mouth that wasn’t hers.

 Oh my gosh! I’m kissing Weiss!!!

 Oh Oum!! I’m being French kissed by Ruby!!

 The two inevitably parted, their chest burning, both due to the lack of air and from the intense passion of their kiss. The two could only stare at each other. Admiring what they actually had done to the other.

 Weiss is flushed. Her cheeks deep red, panting, eyes clouded with love and lust, dilating. Ruby on the other hand, her once bright silver eyes are now darkened, her tongue grazing her lips again as she stared back and forth to Weiss’ lips and eyes.

 “I—so that happened..” Breathed Ruby. She looked at her—now lover in the eyes. “Wanna do it again?”

 “Please.”

   “So I'm guessing, you both are okay? No more hex?” Asked Yang, as she and Blake re-entered their home.

 “I think the hex is already gone by the time I said.. erm…” Weiss muttered awkwardly. Her hand squeezing her girlfriend’s hand. “I said that..”

 Yang nodded in understanding. “Congrats, you two.” She said. Weiss nodded a ‘thank you’, a smile etched its way to her lips. Yang saw this and visibly relaxed.

 “Now that you had already resolved your thirst…” A couple of ‘hey” was heard. “Are you two going out on a date now?”

 The two looked at each other, as if speaking in telepathy to each other. Weiss timidly nod while Ruby grinned. “We will. The both of us. Although, we haven’t decided when, but most certainly will.”

 Yang hummed and leaned on the sofa. “Well, hex problem solved! Now, what?” Weiss’ eyes darted to Blake. She then looked at Yang. Ruby noticed this and put two and two together.

 “Sis. How about I offer you something?” Proposed Ruby. Yang perked up at this. “Whatsit?” Ruby grinned, Yang didn’t noticed the hidden message behind it. “How about we give you some ‘space’? You know, to ‘think’ things through?” She cleared her throat and slyly looked at Blake. “With Blake, of course.”

 Yang’s eyes widen considerably and sputtered. Weiss glanced at her lover and gave her an appreciative look. Ruby understood. Weiss stood up and held Ruby’s hand as they march to the door, leaving two lovebirds alone. The blond blushing, and the raven confused.

 “Now, if you will excuse us. We have a date to go to.” She looked at Yang and smirked. “Ciao~”

 Yang wasn’t sure if she prefers the hexed Weiss or the Weiss now. But the former sounds easy to deal with than the latter.

  Notes:

Well, I said I was going to continue this one. So, here you go.

I wanna make Weiss gay panic around her friends soooo, hehe.

This was the Curse I was supposed to make and boom.

[sourbat]

A Discussion over Spoons

Characters: Toki Wartooth and Charles Offdensen

Words: 5470

Rating: T

Summary: After the events of Galatikon 2, the members of band are alive and in need of a place to offer them the care they need to heal. Charles is unconvinced that Magnus has what it takes to provide such a setting for Toki, and attempts to convince the latter with a discussion, using spoons.

Read it online on Ao3 (with added notes explaining spoon theory) 

This is technically a Hammertooth! Magnus just isn’t a huge, active force in this one. 

It was Salacia’s final curse that he bring down Dethklok with him, wiping each member off the face of the universe, reducing them to nothing, not even stardust. Though he failed in their literal destruction, the damage they received from saving the world assured Dethklok would never perform again, effectively “killing” the band, and dooming each member to a life of normalcy, and eventual obscurity. Before that though, there was the important question as to  whom  would be charged with looking after the injured heroes. There were ruptured vocal chords to consider, arms broken in several places, and crushed hands filled with splintered bones, and Mordhaus and its hospital had been burned to the ground. While most general hospitals were more than willing to accept a savior in their wing, the aftermath of their victory left most places understaffed and overwhelmed, and the injuries each man had received was nothing to scoff at. Bunching them together in one location was not possible.

Charles and the church immediately offered their support, and the band almost considered it, but then a call from the Explosions and Abigail had Nathan second-guessing, and Skwisgaar, despite being in far worse condition than the others, commented on wishing to go to regular hospital with a female staff.

They soon decided that all would go their separate ways for healing, taking refuge in whatever space they considered to be “home.” Nathan and Murderface would return to their respective families, and would visit the other whenever possible, to ensure the other’s sanity. Skwisgaar would go to whatever hospital was located within 15 miles of a sorority or a senior living community (he had no preference), and Charles would look after Pickles while simultaneously finding new ways to block the drummer’s mother from her insistent, passive-aggressive calls, demanding to know why her son didn’t think his family was “good enough” to look after him.

Toki didn’t have to think about where he would he go, because shortly after waking up from his coma he was told he’d always have a home if he needed one, and he’d never have to worry about paying rent or anything because he saved the world so it’s forever “on the house”–and then Toki groaned for more morphine–but even in his drugged-up haze he remembered Magnus going on and adding to a list of reasons why his place was always open to him. When Charles approached him, asking if he’d like to come along with him and Pickles, or maybe share a hospital room with Skwisgaar, Toki politely refused, instead slurring out Magnus’ address to his ex-manager, smiling at the fuzzy lights, the funny way Charles looked at him once he said it, and the even funnier way Charles pushed up his glasses, asking Toki if he was sure. Absolutely sure? Quite positive? Agreeable? And what about Nathan? Abigail? Murderface? Skwisgaar? Anyone else? Anyone in Norway he could rely on? Any friends? No, not Rockso, but someone else? Someone who can handle the stress?

Anyone, but Magnus?

---

Toki stared at the line of small, silver teaspoons laid out before him in the private office that had been set aside for this occasion. Across from him, Charles sat, hands cupped and covering a portion of his mouth as he glanced down at the same spoons, awaiting a specific command before making his move. Toki didn’t say it, but just knowing what Charles was going to do made him nervous, and he was hesitant to speak out of fear that their game would end sooner than later.

But he knew, no matter what, those eight spoons would vanish faster than he was prepared for.

“Well,” Charles sharply announced, eyes narrowing on Toki.  

“Uhm, wells,” Toki replied, instinctually raising his right hand, only to writhe and lurch forward in his seat once the metal rods holding it together stabbed at his nerves with a complimentary reminder of their presence. Charles’s hand appeared in his peripheral, gently rubbing Toki’s side, distracting him from some of the pain that shot up and wracked his strained nerves and muscles with sharp contractions.

“Left hand,” Charles gently reminded Toki. “Don’t forget, you’re a lefty until further notice.”

“Keeps forgettin,” Toki complained.

“Feeling better?” Charles asked, expression unwavering as he observed Toki’s crushed hand. Even with the cast and added coverings, it was an unbecoming sight, and it seemed like no amount of prescription painkillers offered to any of the guitarists could completely rid of the pain they suffered. “I can get you something,” Charles said, knowing deep down the implications of such an empty promise.

Toki shook his left hand. “No, ams good.”

“You sure?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, then. That’s one,” Charles said, picking up a spoon and placing it aside as he settled back into his seat.

Toki blinked, mouth turning crookedly agape as he stared at the empty space where his eighth spoon once rested. “Buts I didn’t evens do anything,” he complained, raising his head up to Charles.

Charles sighed. “You’re in pain, Toki.”

Toki jerked in his seat. He winced, but wore that look that suggested a desire to kick something was there. Charles could tell a tantrum might be in order today, and kept that thought pinned high on the list of things he’d need to account for today. Medications. Moving things aside to make his home more wheelchair accessible. Toki having a fit.

“Yeah,” Toki angrily proclaimed, “buts you saids any actions I performs that affects Magnus–”

“And would your suffering not cause him to react?” Charles calmly interrupted, stopping Toki from raising his voice, possibly getting up from his seat too fast, or risking further injury. Charles waited for Toki’s shoulder to drop, and for him to sink back into the supportive cushion. “You saw me react. You claim to know Magnus better than I do, so I’ll let you decide whether you in pain would affect him in any negative manner?”

It would. Charles’ knew Magnus reacted to violence and suffering differently than others, regarding it with a unique peculiarity that Toki couldn’t relate to. It wasn’t that Toki lacked an understanding of the trauma. He did. In fact, based upon his own observations, Charles believed that Toki and Magnus, despite their unique ways of mishandling years of abuse or abandonment, shared enough similarities that realistically meant Toki suffered from the same, if not related, illnesses that Magnus did. Charles was almost willing to bet their trauma came from the same source, but never bothered looking too deep into Magnus’ past to determine if this was true. Charles took pride in understanding the boys better than themselves, and although Magnus was never one of his, he always kept a watchful eye on him ever since the kidnapping. He was that single anomaly, but also a gear in the clock that Charles was forced to acknowledge as being part of a greater plan, but never one who warranted the same respect or care as Toki. Even after completing his role, playing the song that woke Toki and summoned the remaining members from space, to the ocean, Charles could not allot Magnus the same trust he had with the other members of the prophecy.

And he did not trust Magnus with Toki.

Meanwhile, Toki fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat. His arm still smarted, and the back of his head still throbbed whenever the pains from the rest of his body added up too much. He didn’t get how so much body pain could make his brain hurt, only that it did. It was painfully, agonizingly unfair. Like this game.

How was he supposed to know  any  little thing would mean losing a spoon? Charles said he would only take away the spoons if it mattered a lot. Toki sniffed, sucking up the last bits of the hot, searing tingle that consumed his right side as he counted the remaining seven, and tried to think of a way to earn his eighth spoon back. Surely a little pain wasn’t enough to get Magnus upset? Toki remembered being in similar, albeit more emotional, pain in front of Magnus, and in those times, Magnus he’d out strong. True, they were during a darker, grim part of their shared lives, and Magnus was the one dishing the pain, but it was–  it was …not going to work.

And as Toki came to this conclusion, he saw what would realistically happen. If Magnus was willing to argue, fight and threaten doctors for moving him too much, almost getting kicked out of the hospital and put on a “no returns'' list because he couldn’t stand the way they were treating him, and complained about long waits for test results and nurses who didn’t offer up enough codeine, morphine, water, time and empathy, then Magnus would  definitely  react once he was put in charge of his well being. 

If anything, Charles had been kind to only remove one spoon. Toki wondered if Charles knew this, but was only keeping quiet so that the game would last longer.

“Fines,” Toki said with a hushed voice, pouting in dismay at how quickly things were turning against him. “Stupids game.”

“Not a game,” Charles reminded for the umpteenth time. “Again, this isn’t a game Toki, but a reflection of how Magnus’ mind works when off medication.” He saw Toki turn, already prepared to formulate his next argument, then promptly added, albeit callously, “and when faced with high amounts of stress.”

Toki tended to forget the minor details. Charles blamed a short attention span. Everyone in the band suffered from it, but Toki was up there with Murderface when it came to handling important information. To put it simply: if Toki didn’t care about the conversation just seconds prior to the information being let out, then he simply never absorbed it. Toki seemed to understand that Magnus required extra attention and monitoring because he was such a “special case,” but always seemed to forget just how permanent this situation was.

As cruel as it was, Charles needed Toki to understand this now, and in such a way he could easily comprehend. Before, Toki visited Magnus only a few days in a given month, and that number decreased the closer they got to the final hour. As training increased, klokateers revolted, and chaos ensued, those days together went up and down, and in every other direction, but never lasted much longer than a week. Now Toki was requesting to move in, stay with Magnus as a permanent roommate. Toki viewed it as the next big step in healing and quite possibly their relationship, but Charles saw the reality.

They were two glass cannons aimed at one another, each with fuses at various lengths already lit, waiting for that one trigger to set the other off, shattering both in the process.  

“Magnus ams less stressed when we talks,” Toki responded, which threw Charles off-guard. He expected a line about medication, about long-term commitment and sobriety. He was prepared for Toki to tell him he wasn’t afraid of Magnus when he blew up, or that he could fend for himself should such an event arise.

For some reason, he didn’t account for communication.

“Very well,” Charles said, settling into a slow blink and navigating a new course through their conversation. “But consider that not all conversations will end with Magnus or you feeling any better. If anything, a conversation may result in additional loss of spoons.”

“That makes no senses?” Toki half-accused, partly questioned.

“Well, what if you insist you’re alright, but he thinks otherwise? Or, what if you tell him he’s doing a good job, but he doesn’t feel that way?” Charles asked, watching Toki squirm. Reading Toki’s mind was easy. Toki made it so easy. Once he showed a moment of weakness, or built a strong sense of trust, anyone with the right mind and wrong set of goals could get Toki to expose just about anything. It was another reason he couldn’t risk Toki leaving his care. Even if Toki claimed Magnus was currently at his best, all Charles could think of was the time Magnus was at his lowest and most desperate. He’d seen the damage Magnus laid out: the bruises, the corneal abrasion, emaciated form, atrophied muscles, and the poorly sewn and infected stab wound. It was a damn shame that Toki forgave it all away, sickening that Toki rekindled a friendship, only to then build something deeper between the two of them. It was a silent act of betrayal Charles never could have predicted, and even now, blamed himself for not being there to protect Toki. No, there wasn’t a single cell in his body that believed Pickles when he claimed Toki “started it,” Murderface when he declared “Magnus ain’t too bad these days,” or Nathan when word got out that “Toki’s definitely the lead,” and finally Skwisgaar’s sad attempt of an excuse when he said, “Toki cans just kills Magnus if he reallies wanted tos.” The boys were all under the impression this was all Toki’s doing, that Toki was in control, but Charles knew it was Magnus. Toki was simply too ignorant, out of control for his own good. Somehow, Magnus manipulated the situation, and he would continue to do so if he let Toki deeper into his life.

“Okays, but if Toki ams really, really honests with hims?” Toki suggested with a childish demeanor. “Maybes if he knows Toki ams in pain, but will be okays in a few minutes, he won’t gets so stressed outs?”

“Be prepared to lose a spoon,” Charles answered plainly, ignoring Toki’s miserable expression when he gave a stiff, hurtful nod as a response.

Charles pointed at the row of spoons. Frowning, Toki picked one up and offered it to Charles without looking in his direction. Despite the quiet act of defiance, Charles could make out the outlines of a frown, and a man who foolishly considered this all one big game that he desperately wanted to win.

“Tell me more about your day,” Charles began, watching Toki snap and return to the six remaining spoons resting on the table. He could see the stress already beginning to add up as Toki counted his dwindling spoons, slowly but surely realizing that Magnus couldn’t possibly look after him without either falling into a depressive state, breaking into a manic state of blind fury, or just completely shutting down. 

Surely.

“I wakes up,” Toki begins, eyes darting up and cautiously waiting for approval. He waited, almost wondering if Charles was thinking up a way to steal another spoon, but he didn’t. Charles raised two fingers, then gave a small wave to let Toki know he was safe. A bit relieved, Toki continued. “I leaves the bed and puts on clothes.”

“You still need help dressing, correct?” Charles asked him.

“Yeps,” Toki replied, only to then realize the error in his honest reply.

“That’s another spoon.”

“Reallies?” Toki asked, voice hiking up and turning into a high-pitched whine once Charles took the third spoon from the line. Toki threw his good hand on the edge of the table. “Ams just clothes?” he loudly exclaimed.

“Continue with your day, Toki.”

“I eats breakfasts on my owns,” Toki replied with a nasty drop in his voice. “And I don’t needs helps getting’ ups or sittin’ downs, either.”

“What about the bathroom?”

“Charles, that ims privates.” Toki remained firm in his position, allowing the silence between them to stretch for some time before it became too awkward and overwhelming for him. “Fine, Toki needs helps with showers and toilets.”

Charles pointed at a spoon. Toki groaned, throwing his head back before taking a spoon with his left hand and carelessly tossing it at Charles. Charles made a remark about it, but Toki continued staring up in anger. Something in his stomach turned as he tried to figure a day and the number of trips to the bathroom he’d have to take. It was so stupid and so stressful, and it barely made any sense because Toki could do most of it on his own; he just needed helped taking off his clothes, or undoing the button on his pants. But this stupid hand of his! It just wasn’t fair that meant a whole spoon…

“Alright,” Charles said, rubbing his chin after encountering the tossed spoon. “We’ve concluded our morning rituals. With four spoons left, too.”

“Goings to keep playing until Toki loses all spoons?” Toki asked sarcastically.

“Not if you understand why I’m making you go through this,” Charles replied fluidly.

Toki dropped his head, frowning at Charles. As if it wasn’t so obvious why this was happening to him. “Because you don’ts like Magnus,” Toki answered, watching the bottom of Charles’ eye twitch.

“Because he cannot take care of you for the long term,” Charles said, stressing the word.

Toki leered back. It wasn’t like he totally disagreed with Charles’ reply, but he knew better than to assume that was the only case. He wasn’t going to pretend everyone up and forgave Magnus. Not even after the hellfire. The escape. The song. Like everything else in Toki’s life, some things just didn’t work out that way. But he at least had everyone’s support to give this whole thing a short. Everyone except Charles. Toki’s glare weakened as he continued to stare at Charles, wishing that the man would just believe in him.

“Toki, you just survived an impossible event,” Charles said, unblinking. “You and Skwisgaar will never be the same again, physically or mentally. You need months of rest, therapy, and other things that we won’t be able to account for until they start showing up.”

Blah, blah, blah. Toki glanced at the spoons. He only had four left, and there was still so much to be had. The game seemed rigged against him, but Toki figured there had to be a way to win. Some rule that Charles left out, either by accident or on purpose. Or maybe it was a riddle, and he was too hung up on the only rule presented?

“Charles?”

“Yes, Toki?” Charles replied.

Toki bit his inner cheek, a bit nervous to ask. He had no clue if Charles would answer honestly, or continue stealing spoons every time he did or said the wrong thing. “Magnus can gets spoons, rights?” he asked hesitantly.

“Well, in theory he can recover them,” Charles admitted, withholding another twitch of the eye once Toki’s eyes lit up with some hope, “mainly through rest, though  hypothetically he can regain a spoon throughout the day if he has the right support system.”

Charles regretted the honesty, because as soon as he finished, Toki started to ponder. He didn’t have to guess the next question that he’d ask, and already papered his next line of attack.

“If I tells him I loves him even if he’s stressed, will he gets a spoon back?” Toki asked, anxiety now coupling oddly with gooey-eyed romantics. It was a strange, unsightly combination that made Charles nervous. “And sometimes I leaves him alones when he ams upsets about somethings. Does that counts as rests? Or whens Toki calls him funny names until he gets so happy his face gets all darks and lips all thins and scrambly?”

Charles watched Toki’s face continue to light up with ideas, then turn a bright shade of pink as he contemplated  other  options, ones Charles absolutely had no desire to humor.

“What if we…” Toki’s expression turned as conservative as it possibly could, “what if we rests  togethers? Then we both gains spoons, rights?”

“Pardon?”

“Y’know,” Toki covered the bottom half of his face, looking somewhat embarrassed by the question. “When we…does se–”

“I’m referring to you gaining spoons,” Charles interrupted.

“Oh, yeahs,” Toki replied, dropping his hands and recovering too quickly for Charles’ liking. He practically jumped on the question. “Wells, you said Magnus cans gains spoons if he rests, so I thoughts that means I cans also gets the spoons, rights?”

“Toki, why do you need spoons?”

“To helps Magnus when he ams out of spoons,” Toki answered, pointing at the four remaining spoons on the table.

Charles dragged his thumb and finger up the bridge of his nose. “You can’t give him your spoons, Toki.”

“Yeah, buts you said rests and supports will helps him gets new spoons,” Toki aptly replied, voice returning to its more natural state, but lacking the tinge of anger or annoyance. No, now Toki sounded calmer, almost informed. “If Magnus ams going to run out spoons before lunches, then that means Toki needs spoons to take care of Magnus when he ams out of spoons, right?”

Charles’ lips parted as his jaw threatened to drop at the question.

“Toki takes care of Magnus when his spoons are low,” Toki said, face continuing to ease and confidence building as he declared his newly hatched plan. “just like befores, when Magnus only hads two or three spoons before he yells at Toki to leave. Backs in the hospitals, after he stabs himself.”

Charles frowned. This was not happening. Did Toki really think this was some game where he could simply reset the number of attempts he had before Magnus snapped? Hurt him, or himself, or others around him? Did Toki forget he was no longer a god, but a mortal capable of dying if left under the wrong care?

Did Toki take nothing from the lesson? Did he not grasp the gravity of this situation? This wasn’t a visit. This wasn’t a weekend sleepover. A romp that ended with Toki taking a jet back to Mordhaus. This was several months of wearing a cast, having rods hold torn ligaments and broken bones together in an attempt not to lose a hand. This was potentially being told, several months down the line, that his hand and arm would never function the same again. Eventually, Toki would have to accept the cruel reality that he’d never play guitar again. What then?  This was not accounting all the mental and emotional trauma. There were night terrors, Toki ceasing all conversation and withdrawing from everyone, and him breaking out into uncontrollable sobs at random. There was Toki feeling perpetual guilt over Nathan losing his voice, and him vocally wishing he’d been a better companion to Murderface and beating himself over it. It was Toki trying and failing miserably to cheer up Pickles and Skwisgaar, who had used music as a powerful means of escape, and hating that no joke or picture or board game could really make up for the loss of ability to play and perform.

“So if Magnus needs rests, Toki will gives him rests and use my spoons,” Toki concluded, ignoring Charles’ darkening expression. He could see Charles didn’t like what he said, even with his lips forming a straight line. It was impressive Charles could do that, though it meant it was hard for Toki to tell what he was thinking. Toki guessed he thought he was crazy. Maybe Toki was, and he just wanted to be crazy with Magnus. But after learning he spent so much time in the afterlife, or somewhere in between, and in a coma and now trapped in a hospital, Toki was sure he’d rather be crazy and counting spoons with someone who  honest-to-god wanted to hang out with him. Only Magnus made that offer. Charles did too, but Magnus made it when he was sick and barely conscious, and kept making even after being told Toki would need extra care. Magnus still wanted him to stay, as beat down and exhausted as he was, possessing nothing but the few things he snuck out with him during the fire, and whatever empty awards that were handed to him after he woke up. He was broke, could barely walk from his bedroom to Nathan’s without feeling winded or needing support, and he’d never be able to make music or support himself through music, or even play the guitar…but Magnus’s invitation was still there.

Toki smiled, raising his arm midway before wincing terribly against the pain. He lowered his right arm, feeling tears starting to form, though it was hard to tell whether it was more a result of him forgetting his right arm was filled with rods, or because he knew that, between them, there was enough silverware to make it through the day. Tears fell as he recounted the spoons on the table, four plus the dozen or so Toki was sure he had, despite the agonizing pain that trumped his senses, and he knew there had to be several more he wasn’t seeing, because if Magnus could still bring himself to show up to his hospital bed and, with a smile, remind him the offer was still there, than that had to count for at least an additional spoon or two?

“Use… your spoons?” Charles murmured, bottom lids raising as Toki provided an eager nod, pushing out a pleased smile through his reddened eyes. “You will use your spoons on him…and yourself. While in a cast. Reliant on round the care supervision? “

Beaming through tears, Toki answered: “Yeps. I waits for his numbers to be high agains and asks for his helps while my spoons fixes back.” He blinked, bringing his good hand up and wiping the few tears that fell down his still gaunt cheeks. “So…does that means we wins and can stays togethers?”

Charles lowered his face into clasped fingers. His eyes closed as he wrangled control of his deepening frustration. “…is that  all you took form this conversation?” he asked, unsurprised when he caught Toki shaking his head, still appearing as controlled as he could, given his obvious discomfort.

“Nopes.”

Charles raised an unconvinced brow. “Well, then, what else did you learn from this, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“That this ams not a game,” Toki answered, bringing his hand to rub his upper, right arm. Charles reached out to help, but Toki pushed his seat back with his legs, scooting away. Charles almost took it as the official lead-in to an argument or tantrum, but Toki stood up and, bringing his good hand down, picked up the four remaining spoons. “If it ams game, then Toki loses by lunchtimes. But Toki never does. Because Magnus ams not a game; he ams a person who tries.”

“You’re correct,” Charles said, with caution. “But you need to–”

“I knows it won’ts work all the times,” Toki added, fighting to have his voice heard. “And I knows there will be days when we ams both reallies low.”

“So you’re aware then–”

“But we wills figures somethings out,” Toki pushed through, successfully stopping Charles a second time. “We ams always good at thats. Maybes Magnus cans…” Toki stopped, breaking into a short fit of mad blinks. Charles waited, watched in growing discomfort as Toki’s eyes started to rain silent tears. He bit his inner lip, blinking repeatedly, struggling to say something that had been building up in him. “If Magnus cans learns to take cares of himself, even whens he hates himself, then so cans Toki,” Toki finished, and Charles’ eyes began to widen once he registered the absolution in Toki’s voice, the brutal honesty and recognition of his own, sorry state that Charles wasn’t aware the young man truly comprehended. “And, maybe if Toki is luckies, Magnus can teaches To…c-can teaches  me  to b-be okays, with alls of  this…”

Still holding the spoons, Toki gestured at himself, using the small teaspoons to point at his ruined arm, his wasted and ruined form. Stuttering, Toki shut his eyes, upset at what was left of him, what he was stuck with for the rest of his life. Charles’ shut his own eyes, unmoving as he listened to sniffs and the sounds of spoons hitting the floor. So, Toki knew. Charles wondered just how much. He was afraid to ask. He wasn’t used to being wrong. The fact that it was Toki who pulled it off only made it harder to accept.

But, when it came to it, there was little he could do to convince the man to stay behind with him. Charles could tell Toki things would be alright, but that wasn’t the case. Charles had enough training in therapy, physical education and possessed enough background in kinesiology, but a gut sensation told him he lacked the ability to help pull Toki from the brink of despair. Mayhap in a few months, once he dealt with Pickles, planning and preparation for the onslaught of trouble to arise, but right now?  Viewing Toki now, not as an overly gullible and childish man, but someone who fully accepted that this was it….that this was his reward for saving the planet, changed something. Suddenly, Charles wondered if he did have what it takes to help Pickles, and guide the other boys back on the path of the living. 

“Okay, Toki,” Charles said, shaking his sinking head into spreading palms. Shame swept and blanketed his core as he heard Toki make another loud sniff, and he wondered just far Toki had fallen since waking up, and how deep Magnus would be willing to go to find him, offer a light, and pull him out from such a dark abyss. “You win.”

---

Toki wasn’t the first to leave (that would be Nathan and his family), but he departed at the opportune moment. Magnus arrived early, right after breakfast, and had Toki wheeled out shortly after he loudly declared his arrival to the hospital staff. The staff was effective at packing up Toki’s things, and a nurse already had a stack of files for Magnus to sign off.

The scene earned a chuckle from Skwisgaar, who, despite his pains, thought it appropriate that Magnus’ off-putting behaviors would result in an easy ticket out the door. Murderface wished Toki well, and promised to see him soon. Pickles hardly reacted, only providing a weak smile before withdrawing back into his wheelchair. The silent parting only made Charles less confident in his position, and offered some silent respect towards Toki for helping him take a step back and gain a better view of the challenges to come. 

He hurried on ahead, while Magnus ordered for a nurse to carry Toki’s things. Magnus would obviously be the one to wheel Toki out. 

From a distance, Charles waited outside of the hospital, and he witnessed the scene. Magnus pushed Toki towards his car, and the only talking Charles picked up on was the accompanying nurse’s, giving out a series of “does and don’ts” before dropping off their luggage by their small, barely adequate ride. Charles had to admit, Magnus did well to listen and never interrupt. He guessed Toki must have said something, but didn't see his lips move once during the one-sided discussion. In fact, aside from a few shared words between bandmates, Charles wasn't sure he heard Toki speak at all to himself or anyone else.

 He remained outside the hospital, well after Magnus noticed his presence, but continued to observe, noting how much livelier Magnus was in comparison to Toki, how he held that false smile so well and was so animated with his movements. It was like staring at another man. Maybe that was the point. 

He saw Magnus open the passenger door, say something to Toki with a slightly concerned look, and Toki nodded his head slowly, looking so exhausted but trusting. Charles nearly left his post when Magnus bent down, arms carefully wrapping around Toki before scooping him up and earning only a slight complaint that could barely be detected where Charles stood. Upset, he watched Toki’s good arm wrap around Magnus as he brought the two of them up, legs not shaking but head leaning to bump and rest against Toki’s, soothing whatever pain that wasn’t voiced.

What is that? One, two, three? 

For a second, Charles wondered. He thought about everything he knew, and humored the idea of him possibly being wrong about Magnus, whether it be one thing, or everything adding up to this moment. After all, the prophecy was vague, and the messages translated to him had been proven wrong once before.

Maybe this was for the best. Maybe this would work out.

Silent and ever observant, Charles watched with a swelling, pained heart, Toki being lifted and carefully placed into the car by the man who stood behind his very shadow, his kidnapper and composure of the dethsong, his savior and friend. Charles let out a long exhale as the engine started up, and left his position to go back inside and look after the remaining members as Toki was whisked away, leaving behind all of his and Magnus’ titles, and moving on with whatever the fates had in store for them next.