#the rest of the story is about coming back from the fallout

[ghirahimbo]

evil time loop escape conditions where you can't get out until you've fuucked up your life in the most spectacular way possible, confident that the next night will reset the slate as usual.

instead, the next day comes.

[starlazergazer]

Separated

Pairing: Anakin x Reader

Request: You could do a story where the reader and Anakin had something, but the order tried everything to separate them, and so Anakin wasn't there when she ended up dying. That will be the trigger for him to start doubting the order, and hating them, but it turns out that a reader from another universe, who is exactly the same as his, just shows up.

Warning: Angst! Almost character death, lots of swearing tbh my bad

Word Count: 7k

A/N: Changed the request just a bit hope that’s okay but obsessed with the overall premise! I’m thinking she needs a part 2 but let me know what y’all think!

There was something uniquely terrifying about a silent Anakin Skywalker.

Everyone knew the jedi had a temper, it wasn’t something he was necessarily subtle about, there were few who had been at one time or another on the other end of it, you included.

But Anakin’s temper always exposed itself in the same way. Yelling, pacing, ranting. There were a number of times you had sat down before him waiting for him to get his lecture out of the way, letting him explode like a volcano before being able to actually have a constructive conversation with him.

You honestly couldn’t think of the last time you had seen him as he was now. Quiet, still, contemplative.

Admittedly there was a part of you that wanted to poke the bear, to say something that you knew would make him explode, force him back into charted territory so you knew how to deal with the fallout.

“I just don’t see the big deal”

Still nothing, a harsh glare boring down on you, arms crossed tightly over his chest, jaw clenched so harshly you could see the muscle through his skin, not a word.

“You do stuff like that all the time”

Just the steady rise and fall of his chest as he took measured, deep breaths.

You were returning home a hero, the entire hanger had cheered for you the moment you touched down, a hoard of people circling you with congratulatory hugs the second your foot touched solid ground, and still somehow Anakin had the power to make you feel like you’d failed.

This was supposed to be your moment and still somehow Anakin controlled the temperature in the room.

“I told you to turn back”

You’d stopped expecting him to speak, so thrown off by the sudden change you physically jumped at the sound of his voice, at how unexpectedly quiet it was.

“That was the wrong call and you know it”

Anakin took a deep breath at your response, his gaze cutting suddenly to the left, a moment passing as he collected himself before responding, that act alone almost making you faulter.

“If it was the wrong call I wouldn’t have made it. I told you to turn back”

“And you aren’t my reporting officer”

“This isn’t a game Y/N!”

The sudden explosion from the man would have surprised you if you hadn’t been unconsciously waiting for it, coiled like a spring waiting for Anakin to snap, waiting for him to yell, a weird weight lifting off your chest as you returned to normalcy.

“I know this isn’t a game do you?” You shot back quickly, just as loudly “He had coordinates, locations of nearly every battalion in the galaxy, information like that isn’t simply a pawn you can choose to trade away”

“Neither are you”

The response came too quickly, too quietly, too seriously for you to fully comprehend the words as he said them, your body physically recoiling at the sudden drop in temperature.

“I was fine”

“You were within firing range” he argued back, his hands coming down to rest on his hips as he glared at you “an entire separatist fleet was on the other side of that moon waiting for him to drag whatever republic ships he could towards them so they could shoot it down and you fell right into that trap”

“I didn’t have a choice”

“You had multiple” he shut you down without ever raising his voice, a single glare enough to silence you “listening to me for one of them”

“And if you had been in my shoes” you prompted “if you had been close enough to chase him would you have simply let him get away?”

“I would have-“ you scoffed before he could get the words out, seeing exactly where he was going before he got there.

“don’t lie to me Anakin Skywalker you treat risking your life as if it were a paying job”

You watched his jaw tick at your response, his words dying on his lips before he changed routs “I told you to turn back”

You let a humorless laugh bubble out of you, a frustrated hand raking across your face as you shook your head “I can’t believe you’re being so blatantly hypocritical right now”

“It’s different” his words came out so quick he seemed almost surprised to hear them himself.

“How?” you demanded more than asked, silently daring him to give you a legitimate answer you weren’t sure he could supply.

“I can’t-“ he cut himself off before he could finish, a huff escaping before he took a deep breath and continued “I need you to listen to me. When I tell you what to do I need you to listen to me”

“Even if-“

“yes” he cut you off before you could get your question off “whatever context, whatever quantifiers I don’t care. Out there I need you to listen to me”

Again his tone was throwing you for a loop. Gone was the anger, the frustration, the ire. Now he seemed to be almost begging, pleading with you to listen to him, to agree, to promise something like today wouldn’t happen again.

But you had made the right call. That was what was sticking with you. You know what you did was risky, hell you could get behind even calling it a little reckless, but objectively it was the right call. You were talking about locations of every troop of clones in the republic in the hands of the separatist’s how could he not see that this was worth anything, that taking down this spy was worth everything.

“Ani what-“

“There you two are” a new voice interrupted you, the sudden appearance of Obi-wan pulling you back to the present moment, reminding you that you and Anakin were in the jedi temple, that you had just come back from a mission, that you still had duties to uphold.

“Master Kenobi” you quickly greeted the man with a small bow, watching the man you had practically grown up under break out into a proud grin as he clapped you on the shoulder.

“That was a great shot Y/N” he praised you shaking you softly “you saved the Republic today I hope you know that”

And though you could feel your chest warm with the praise you couldn’t help but feel a small twinge because of it, not missing Anakin’s small scoff at Obi-wan’s words.

Anakin was your best friend, a man you grew up beside as a padawan, a man you had been practice dueling since you could hold a saber, and you had just pulled off a major victory for the Republic. Was it really too much to ask that your friend take just a second to be proud of you.

“Thank you master” you responded warmly nonetheless nodding at him “believe me when I say it wasn’t easy”

The older man laughed warmly at your words, dropping his hand from your shoulder as he did “that I don’t doubt but believe me when I say we are all glad your maneuver paid off, what you pulled was risky”

You shot a guilty glance at Anakin only to see the man casting his gaze at the floor, arms snaked back around his chest physically distancing himself from the two of you in this moment.

“Anyways what I came here to say is that the council is looking for the two of you” Obi-wan continued on, either choosing to ignore or missing the tension hanging in the air between you and Anakin “you need to debrief before you’re free for the evening.”

“Of course master” you answered for the two of you “we will be right there”

Obi-wan gave you an appreciative nod before taking his leave, casting a questioning glance at his former padawan before exiting the room, casting you and Anakin in a thick silence you were tentative to break.

“Ani-“ you tried but he cut you off.

“Look we’ll talk later” he muttered over his shoulder, already making his way out of the room “we shouldn’t keep them waiting”

-

You could never feel comfortable in the jedi council room, something you were sure was done by design as you and Anakin were forced into the middle of the room, made the literal center of attention.

Even as you knew you were here to receive praise for your actions you couldn’t help but shrink beneath Mace Windu’s gaze.

“-you exemplified what it means to be a jedi knight perfectly today jedi Y/L/N” Master Windu droned on, his voice thankfully lacking the usual edge it had when addressing you with Anakin in the room “we thank you for your actions today”

“I was just doing my job” you responded humbly as you were expected to with a respectful nod “but I am glad to have been of help”

“Of great help you were” Master Kloon chimed in pulling your attention to him as he spoke “the republic owes you a great debt today”

You smiled politely at Mater Kloon, gaze again being drawn across the room as Master Fisto picked up where Kloon left off, a part of you wondering if they did this on purpose to disorient you “we do however have one question regarding this situation. Jedi Skywalker you tried to order Jedi Y/L/N back”

“I did” Anakin’s response was quick with an edge to his voice that had you mentally sighing, you weren’t eager to witness Anakin go up against the council today. “The spy’s ship had reached firing range of the rest of the battalion anyone who followed him was likely to be shot before they could reach”

“Called her back before she reached firing range you did” Master Yoda spoke this time, eyes planted solely on Anakin as he spoke

“She was far back from the spy’s ship, by the time she reached him they would both be within firing range” Anakin countered through gritted teeth, you watched him ball his fists at his sides from the corner of your eye.

“That ultimately however proved not to be the case as she was able to take down the spy without any harm coming to her own fighter” Mace Windu spoke carefully, clearly organizing a path down which he planned to steer this conversation.

A tense silence passed for a moment, a staring contest passing between the Jedi master and the general before Anakin spoke “a miscalculation on my part then”

“It’s a good thing she ignored your miscalculation then” Master Windu offered dryly “we do however have access to the flight com logs. Would you like to explain jedi Skywalker why you ordered jedi Y/L/N not once but five times to turn back”

“Her pursuing as she did was a risk I wasn’t willing to make at the time master”

“Even when aware of the information that ship contained” Master Windu prompted with a raised brow “every troop location of the Republics army. Are you saying you weren’t wiling to risk the life of one jedi for the fate of this war Jedi Skywalker?”

“I don’t trade in lives Master” Anakin challenged back quickly.

“One life versus the lives of billions across the galaxy the math should be easy Jedi”

“we’re here to be Jedi knights not martyrs”

“And it is your duty as jedi knights to do whatever it takes to protect the republic as Jedi Y/L/N did”

“And if she had failed? If the inevitable had happened and she was fired upon the second she came within distance? What good would a dead Jedi knight have done anyone” Anakin was seething at this point, the familiar white hot anger you had expected to be directed at you earlier finally making its appearance.

“We can stop pretending this is about just any Jedi Knight” Mace Windu’s words had Anakin physically recoiling, effectively throwing him off course having the two of you furrowing your brows “there is a reason the jedi code forbids attachments”

“Master we haven’t formed an attachment” you took this as your chance to chime in, keeping your voice light trying to dispel any lingering tension in the air.

Master Windu’s eyes took a second too long to break from Anakin’s to meet yours, a knowing silence permeating the air as if he meant to let your comment hang in it “what happened today, any possibility of letting that spy go, cannot happen again”

You furrowed your brow at his vague response, eyes snapping back to master Yoda as he spoke up.

“not a punishment this is” he chimed in softly, looking directly at you as he did so “remember that you must”

Your eyes snapped back to Master Windu “master what are you saying?”

Mace Windu’s eyes bounced back and forth between you and Anakin for a moment before landing on the latter, another small silence stretching before he spoke “Jedi Skywalker and Y/L/N going forward are forbidden from going on missions together”

A stunned silence fell over you and Anakin, your eyes casting immediately to him only to see his disbelieving gaze locked on Mace Windu “Master you can’t-“ gone was all edge in Anakin’s tone, an almost pleading one taking its place as he tried to talk.

“The council’s decision on this is final” Master Windu cut Anakin off with a single raised hand.

“but-“

“You are dismissed jedi” The doors to the council room opened behind you before Anakin could get out any more than a word. Master Windu leaving no room for either of you to plead your case.

Numbly you left the room with Anakin in tow, your brain still struggling to wrap itself around what had just occurred as you entered the hallway and stopped against the wall, Anakin not missing a beat as he started to pace back and forth in front of you.

“You have to tell me where you’re going next I’ll see if I can at least be close” he was already talking a mile a minute, almost mumbling as if talking to himself rather than you.

“I can’t even remember the last mission I did without you” you mused quietly.

“Under no circumstances can you go alone either take Obi-wan or I’ll give you Rex”

“I can’t believe the council thinks we need to be separated”

“And call me every day even if it’s just to check in”

“Ani you know I can handle myself right” Your sudden direct address of him brought Anakin’s attention back to you, his pacing halting as his gaze snapped up to meet yours.

“After today?” He laughed bitterly in response.

“I came back today” you countered defensively, at this point beyond tired of this same argument “not a scratch on my ship I am alive and well”

“And you almost weren’t” finally Anakin exploded on you, vein popping in his neck as he yelled, a frustrated hand tangling itself in his hair as his pacing picked up once again “you got lucky. That’s it. What you did was dangerous, it was stupid, it was risky, and it only paid off because you got lucky and I feel like I’m going insane because how can no one see that? You are only here right now because you got lucky and there is no guarantee on that a second time”

“Or I’m a good pilot” you shot back angrily “I’m a good pilot and a good jedi who trusted her instincts and accomplished the goal. Is it really that hard for you to trust in my ability?”

Anakin physically deflated at your words, the full meaning of his own hitting him for the first time as he crumpled slightly “Y/N I didn’t mean-”

“No that’s just what you said” you cut him off “I get it you think I can’t handle myself and shouldn’t be trusted. I’m not sure why you’d want to be sent out on missions with me anyways”

“Y/N please” Anakin begged softly but you had had enough, cutting him off with a shake of your head and a sigh.

“No Ani I’m done with whatever is happening right now. It’s been a long day and I’m just-“ You cut yourself off with a deep sigh, taking a second to take a deep breath before turning on your heel leaving Anakin behind as you made your way back to your room, calling softly over your shoulder “I’m done”

-

You knew who was behind your door before he had even knocked. Could feel him lurking behind it. Afterall who else would be at your room this late at night.

This wasn’t the first time this had happened, Anakin just showing up at your room. Sometimes it was to apologize, sometimes it was because he had a nightmare, sometimes it was because he could sense yours. It didn’t matter really because he knew no matter what he was always welcome here, you made sure of that.

It was why he wasn’t surprised when you opened the door before he could officially make himself known. The two of you looking silently at one another before Anakin wordlessly engulfed you in a hug.

You went willingly, melting into him as he wrapped his arms around you, not even bothering to exit the doorway as the two of you stood there and took a second to appreciate the feeling of being supported by the other person.

“You scared me today” the words were mumbled into your hair.

“It was a risk I had to take” you responded softly into his chest, his arms tightening around you at your words.

“I can’t-“ he cut himself off, readjusting slightly to tuck your head under his chin before he spoke again “I don’t like it when you do that”

“And you think I like it when you do” you responded with a laugh, pulling back slightly to look up at him, Anakin reluctantly letting his grasp of you go as you did so.

“I know I just-“ he sighed “I’m sorry Y/N”

“I know Ani”

Finally a comfortable silence fell over the two of you, a moment passing where neither of you said a thing simply enjoying the moment in each others presence before Anakin broke it “I mean it when I say I trust you just please, promise me you’ll be careful”

You smiled softly up at your friend, extending a pinky out to him “I promise Ani”

He smiled and hooked his pinky with yours, neither of you able in this moment to recognizing your lie for what it was.

-

He almost hadn’t answered.

That was the thought that ruminated in his head for weeks after.

You had called, it wasn’t your normal time to talk, and Anakin had almost ignored it, almost told himself he would call you back later.

Thank the maker he was never good at ignoring you.

Your face came up immediately on his hollow display, picture posed strategically to only show your shoulders and above. And even though a smile graced your lips the second he picked up Anakin could still feel it the moment he saw you. Like a punch to the gut, it suddenly hit him that something was wrong. Something was catastrophically wrong. How had he not sensed it earlier?

“Where are you?”

You had just chuckled weakly in response and any other time Anakin lived for that sound but not now, right now he needed you to answer “there’s nothing getting past you is there Ani”

“You were sent to the outer rim right” Anakin steam rolled ahead, grabbing his cloak already intending to hijack the next available ship. He didn’t care if Mace Windu himself was scheduled to be on it.

“That was two missions ago”

Your words halted him in place, Anakin freezing on the spot as he glared back at you, “Y/N”

“Anakin” Maker how could you tease him like this now? You were always stubborn and he loved that about you but right now was not the time to play with his emotions, not with all this at stake.

“I’ll go ask Obi-wan” he was talking more to himself than you at this point, mind whirling with every possible path forward.

He heard you sigh from the communicator but didn’t pay it too much mind, you could yell at him for it later, he would give anything to hear you yell at him later.

“It’s a direct shot to my abdomen” You sucked in a deep breath, gaze dropping to your torso with a grimace, looking at something Anakin couldn’t see “losing blood like this there’s no way you make it in time”

“You don’t know that” he was arguing back before he could properly process your words, his brain refusing to even allow for that possibility.

“I do Ani” you shot him a sad smile, bleeding out, in who knows where and still you were comforting him.

“No there’s got to be someone nearby, another jedi, a local, someone who can help” He was shaking his head, brain desperately clinging to any solution it could.

“I didn’t call you so you could try and solve my problems”

“So why did you call me then?” He knew he wasn’t mad at you, he knew you would know that to, but still he cringed at the way it slipped out, at the way you shoulders slumped slightly at his words.

“Do I ever need a reason to talk to you?”

And he realized then this was you asking for the only help he could give. He was planets away with no ability to reach you and you were asking not to be alone at the end. And even though it killed him he could never say no to you.

“Of course you don’t Y/N”

You smiled at that. A real smile, no undercurrent of pain or pity. Anakin found himself trying desperately to commit to the sight to memory.

“Remember when the council separated us because they thought we had formed an attachment?” You asked softly, head resting back against the wall behind you, your entire body rising and falling with each labored breath.

“Right now it’s hard to forget” he bit down the resentment, it wasn’t what you deserved.

Still you chuckled at him, wincing slightly as you did so “I think right now I have to admit they were onto something”

“I thought that was obvious when I tried to put the entire republic army at risk so that you would be safe”

A teasing roll of your eyes, a fond chuckle “shut up stupid I’m trying to have a moment here”

“I’m sorry please go ahead with your moment” a part of him resented how easy the banter came now, how easy it always came with you, it wasn’t fair.

“You’re my person Anakin” you practically whispered the words, Anakin’s heart swelling painfully in his chest at them “At the end of the day I will always choose you and for the first time I’m not going to condemn myself for thinking it”

“You picked a hell of a time for that revelation sweetheart” the pet name came naturally, he nearly choked on it as it fell from his lips.

You laughed in response, shifting positions with a grunt “Master Kloon did always tell me I needed to work on my timing”

Anakin chimed in before a silence could fully settle over the two of you, “Though I’m sure it’s obvious I will always choose you too Y/N” he took a small amount of pride in the soft smile that grew on your lips at his words.

“So what do you say after the war we leave the order?” You propositioned with a cheesy grin “You and me Skywalker”

It hurt how easily the answer came to him “where would we go?”

“I’ve always liked Naboo” How quickly your answer came made him wonder if like him this wasn’t the first time you had considered this exact scenario.

“I could get a job working on speeders” He proposed with a sad smile.

“I think I’d work at a cantina” you mused back “always thought it would be fun to get to meet people from all over the galaxy”

“It would be a good life” he could feel the truth of those words in his very bones.

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you, both lost in thoughts of what if, before you broke it “Thank you Ani”

“Don’t thank me” he protested weakly “not for this”

“Then for everything else”

Another short silence, a quiet plea slipping unbidden from Anakin “please don’t” he knew where you were going next.

“I have to” you answered softly, solemnly “I think it’s time to say goodbye”

“You don’t have to hang up” he protested “not yet”

“I don’t want you to see me like that” And again he was never one to refuse you anything, a final request he couldn’t say no to. “I love you Ani”

Maker how could hearing those words somehow hurt worse than not hearing them ever did.

“I love you Y/N”

A single tear slipped down your cheek and then you were gone. The newfound silence of the room suffocating him as the emptiness in his chest leached out to fill the space in the room around him.

-

The republic has fallen.

The jedi are no more.

The empire reigns in its place.

Anakin Skywalker is dead.

There was a lot you were told upon waking up from your medically induced coma that was hard to believe. A lot of news that was broken to you that was difficult to swallow. The fact that your entire life fell apart in the mere two weeks you were in a bacta tank was something you weren’t sure you were ever going to be able to come to terms with.

Being with the rebellion helped, to know that despite everything there was still a group of people out there who were willing to put everything on the line for what was right. To a certain extent it felt like being home. It helped you learn to come to terms with those four impossible facts.

So now how were you supposed to deal with learning that one of those facts was actually a lie.

You had seen the trepidation on their faces when you walked into the room, the way the entire groups focus was on you the second you stepped in, it almost felt like being back before the council, you would’ve laughed if they hadn’t seemed so somber.

Now you understand why.

As soon as the words left Mon Mothma’s mouth you felt the ground buckle beneath your feet, felt the world around you start to drown out, felt your legs threaten to give out from beneath you.

You would’ve given anything to hear those words just weeks ago, would’ve wept at the thought of being where you were now, but to hear them so shortly after you had tried to heal the wound was nothing but another devastating blow.

“You told me he was dead”

The group shared nervous looks and your every doubt about the rebellion came rushing to the surface. They were no different than the council at it’s worst, wiling to do anything to separate the two of you, willing to lie to make sure you stayed under their thumb, willing to keep things from you because they believed they knew better. Why did it always feel like you were working for the wrong side?

“We believed he was”

“Bullshit” the word slipped from your lips before your gaze could even meet the speaker’s, anger flaring from your chest at the words “a fact like that, as large of that, there had to be rumors, you had to have guessed”

“We didn’t want to get your hopes up”

A bitter laugh rose to the surface, hands coming to your hair in exasperation “I was told the very republic I gave my life for had fallen, that the very group I was fighting against are now in control, and everyone I had ever known dead at the very hands of the people I had sworn to lead and you didn’t think I could’ve used a little hope?”

“We thought-“

“That wasn’t your decision to make” you countered before they could finish, eyes daring the group to say something “maker how can you not see that it was this very hubris that led to the fall of the jedi? Of the republic? Just because you think you know better-“

“He goes by Darth Vader” a new voice jumped in, your eyes snapping to the holo-projection of Bail Organa, the senator’s eyes giving nothing away but pity.

“no-“ the protest fizzled on your lips, barely enough breath behind it to properly get it out.

“The source is solid” it was Mon Mothma again, eyes practically begging you to listen. “Anakin Skywalker is Darth Vader”

And for a second your brain couldn’t comprehend it, wouldn’t comprehend it. How were you supposed to reconcile these two opposite people as one? “No that doesn’t make any sense”

“I’m sorry Y/N”

“No” you protested loudly, as if yelling could get it to not be true, could get them to admit they were lying, this this was all some sick joke “Someone is wrong, someone is lying to you-“

“The information is good” another voice interrupted but you were too caught up in your spiraling thoughts to even identify who it was.

“No the Anakin Skywalker I knew wouldn’t-“

“The Anakin Skywalker you knew died the day that you did” Senator Organa cut through all the noise in your head, his voice loud but not unkind as he drew your attention, the entire world seeming to fall deathly silent after those words.

“What does that mean” your voice was quiet, broken, you didn’t have it in you to care.

“It was an open secret” he explained softly, the senator façade breaking just slightly “the day you were reported to have died Anakin fought with the Jedi council, fought with Obi-wan, no one could get him to calm down, to think rationally. Eventually he made his way to Palpatine’s office, he hasn’t been seen since”

“We all knew of his distaste for the council before this” Mon Mothma chimed in “he blamed them for your death, drove him right into the arms of the current emperor”

Your mind had slowed, had calmed noticeably but still you found yourself dancing around the issue rather than actually dealing with it, your thoughts instead deciding suddenly to stick to something else.

“Why are you telling me this now?” You watched them all carefully, noticing the nervous glances they sent towards one another rather than answer “I wasn’t lying when I said you were just like the former council, preferring to sit on information until it could properly serve your purpose so what’s the purpose this time?”

Again Mon Mothma took the lead, hesitantly speaking up “he’s formed a group with the sole purpose of hunting down and killing any remaining jedi. It’s quite frankly only a matter of time before he finds you”

You furrowed your brow at this “so you’re warning me? Telling me I need to leave the base?” you shook your head slightly, not liking how either of those answers fit before it finally clicked “you want me to stop him”

“We want you to talk to him” Senator Organa corrected you “if there’s anyone who can get through to that man it’s you”

You eyed each of them skeptically, knowing as you were sure they did as well, that this question only truly had one answer “I’ve been told twice in this conversation alone that Anakin Skwalker is dead.” You took a deep breath, bracing yourself on the back of a chair “for all of our sakes I hope that’s not true”

-

Realistically you knew it was true the minute your ship touched down. Even if you weren’t conscious of it at the time you could feel that all too familiar force signature coming from the planet, seeping into your very bones.

To know it logically was an entirely different story.

You stayed hidden, following from alleyways and rooftops, you couldn’t make out the man beneath the costume but everything about him was just wrong. His gait was wrong, the way he held himself was wrong, the red saber at his hip was wrong, there was no possible way the man beneath the mask was that familiar jedi. And yet…

You couldn’t face him. You knew that. Even if it was Anakin under there you weren’t ready to find out, weren’t sure which answer would be more devastating to you.

So even though it meant failure you put your hood on and slunk away, leaving behind Darth Vader whoever he was, ready to tell the rebellion they would have to come up with another way.

You got little more than a flutter of a cape in warning before he descended upon you.

The black figure whipped around the corner faster than your brain could comprehend, having time to do little more than simply freeze in place before you were lifted off the ground by a force you were all too familiar with, invisible fingers tightening around your neck as you were lifted.

“You’ve been following-“ you got little of the figures voice through the mask before he suddenly cut himself off, the pressure on your neck easing just enough to allow you to gasp for breath, the world stilling around you as you looked out from under your hood at what was supposedly Anakin Skywalker.

The world stood at a standstill for a moment, you hovering inches above the ground, toes desperately seeking purchase, Darth Vader silently staring at you, hand held before him almost trembling. You were working yourself up to croaking out a question when his other hand raised suddenly and with a flick of his wrist your hood went flying back.

The second the light hit your eyes the force on your neck disappeared and you crumbled to the ground below in a heap.

Precious few seconds were given for you to gulp down breath before you were hauled back up by your neck again, this time an actual hand secured firmly around it as you were all but thrown against the wall, your head smacking against the brick painfully.

“who are you” even through the voice modulation you could hear the way he seethed beneath the helmet, ire barely contained by the black material.

“Y/N” you croaked weakly, clawing half-heartedly at the hand around your neck that held you in place.

His fingers tightened in response before he pulled you back and slammed your head once again against the wall, a soft groan escaping you at the impact “now is not the time for games now who are you”

“I’m telling the truth” you practically begged, unable to feel any shame in it as the edges of your vision started to black from lack of air.

“That’s impossible-“ you couldn’t really bring yourself to listen to the rest of the sentence, the only thing running through your mind was a grim acceptance that this was how you would die. Supposedly at the hands of the man you had once loved.

“Ani please”

And you hadn’t meant for the plea to escape you, barely even registered that the nickname passed through your lips. All you could focus on was the fact that after they came out into the open you had finally been released.

Again you crashed to the ground, hands splayed out to catch yourself before you could faceplant, lungs burning as you greedily gulped down air.

“Why would you-“ The words died in his throat and a strange, bitter part of you wanted to laugh.

Once you finally had better control of your breathing you sat back on your heels and looked up at the man clad in black before you, squinting slightly at the sun over his shoulder. “It’s true then”

He didn’t respond, simply looked down at you.

“take off your helmet”

“who do you think you are-“ again the urge to laugh surfaced, the way he reached for anger so readily was so similar to the man you once knew, how could you not have seen it earlier.

“Take off the helmet” He physically recoiled at the command. You softened your voice in response, practically pleading with him "I need to see your face"

Again the man before you went rigid, a tense few seconds passing in silence before he hesitantly reached up and pulled off the helmet.

The man standing before you looked somehow older than you remembered but unmistakably him, and every thought about your mission flew out the window the second his eyes made contact with your own. Your brain rejected the similarities outright, because despite being told Darth Vader and Anakin Skywalker were one in the same you still couldn’t handle this physical evidence linking the two.

You reacted without thinking, taking a single step forward and planting your hands on his chest, roughly shoving him backwards, Anakin allowing himself to be moved without a second thought “Maker Ani what the fuck were you thinking”

His helmet slipped from his grasp absentmindedly, his hand coming up to clutch at his chest where your hands had just been as he just stared at you, eyes swirling with too many emotions for you to pin down at the moment.

“Palpetine are you serious?” You demanded more than asked, hurling the implication at him with reckless abandon “I always told you I didn’t trust him and still you-“

“You weren’t there” he cut you off and his voice was so soft, so broken it startled you into silence, your body physically recoiling back a step as he spoke “You weren’t there, and he was all I had”

“You had Obi-wan, you had Rex, you had people who cared about you Ani”

“They weren’t you” his answer back came steadfast and resolutely, leaving no room for argument, followed by a much quieter, more broken statement “they took you from me”

“No one but that weapons dealer took me from you.”

“They did” neither of you felt the need to define the ‘they’ to which you both referred “If they hadn’t kept me from going with you I could’ve-“

“You don’t know that” you cut him off, this argument feeling much to familiar “Even if you had been there we don’t know-“

“If I had been there then you wouldn’t have-“ and he didn’t need to finish his sentence, the natural end to it evidence that this was an argument he has already had with himself too many times before.

“I didn’t” you begged him to listen to you, “I’m okay. Ani I’m right here”

Your words seemed to shock him out of his own personal bubble, his eyes darting frantically around him before he seized you by the wrist suddenly, surprising you, as he started to pull you further down the alley “you need to go Y/N”

“What” the question left you on an exhale, his sudden change in attitude giving you whiplash as he tried to pull you behind him.

“You can’t be here you need to-“ he whispered quickly, frantically, almost as if the words weren’t for you.

You pulled back on your arm forcing him to stop “Ani I’m not leaving you”

He furrowed his brow at your declaration, a hand on your shoulder trying to nudge you forward still “Y/N do you know what the empire will do to you if-“

“I don’t care” you declared back, halting his movements once again, using his grip on your arm to pull his attention back down to you “I already lost you once, don’t make me do it again”

His eyes bounced desperately back and forth between yours as he set his jaw, you could practically see a million different arguments running through his head.

“Halt” a new voice broke through the tense silence, Anakin’s gaze flickering to its source above your head. You barely had time to gaze over your shoulder at the trio of clone troopers that had approached, guns drawn, before Anakin had sent the lead one flying rapidly into the wall with a flick of his wrist.

You tried desperately to hide your flinch at the noise of his armer hitting the building.

The other two froze on the spot, blasters still pointed at you, but Anakin ignored them both, hand still held aloft as he stared down at you debating his next steps for a precious few moments before he spoke.

You could see him physically morph as he addressed the clone troopers, could see him become that other man, that Darth, in the way he squared his shoulders and straightened his back, the way his voice dropped an octave, the way his grip on your wrist grew almost painful as his gaze bore down into yours

“this one is force sensitive, she comes with me”

[bullet-prooflove]

Doing Something: Carmen Berzatto x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 '@wabi-sabi1090 @lostinwonderland314 @turtle-cant-communicate @fallout-girl219

Companion Piece to:

The Farm - Carmy recalls the day you met.

Pears - It starts when Carmy makes an order he doesn't remember.

Mornings - Carmy sleeps better with you around.

Bubble - You have no idea that you saved Carmy's life.

Crazy, Stupid, Fucked Up World (NSFW) - Carmy tells you he lvoes you for the first time.

It’s the little things you do that Carmy falls in love with. The humorous texts throughout a long day, those light reassuring touches, the way you look at him with those beautiful eyes of yours when you think he’s not watching.

He doesn’t deserve you but that doesn’t stop him wanting to and he knows there’s only one way to do that. He needs to get healthy, to address the demons that scratch at his mind.

That’s how he ends up in therapy talking about the shit he never talks about because he knows if he keeps it all locked up inside then one day it’ll kill him, the same way it killed Mikey.

“I’ve been doing something.” He tells you one night when he’s cooking for you.

You’re sitting at the kitchen table, updating the farm’s finances on your laptop before the words filter through to your brain and you incline your head towards him.

“Something illegal?” You question because you know about the coke Richie had to sling that time to get them a new compressor. “If you need money…”

“No.” He says, with a tinge of humour in his voice. “The days of cousin doing  little wheeling and dealing in the back alley are far behind us.”

He’s touched that you’d put up the money though, he would never take it from you but he finds it endearing that you offered. You’ve already done enough with the discounts you give him on the produce, he knows you charge him a fraction of what you do the other restaurants in the area.

“OK.” You say as you raise to your feet. Your hands come to rest on his hips as you stand on tiptoes to peek over his shoulder, your body pressing against his back.  “So what have you been doing?”

“Talking to someone.” He tells you, tilting his head so he can read your expression. “Getting help.”

It’s both exhilarating and terrifying being vulnerable with someone else. He knows that you will never judge him for his failings but there’s always this apprehension sitting in his chest.

“And how is that going?” You ask, your arms slipping around his waist, hugging him close.

“Good, I think.” He says as his forehead comes to rest upon yours. “I don’t really know yet.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” You ask him and the edges of his mouth tip up into a smile as he whispers.

“You already are.”

Love Carmy? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[blackmoonowl]

can you do a sfw alphabet for the synth detective please? 😼🙏

SFW Alphabet - Nick Valentine

Fallout 4 x reader

𝐀 = 𝐀𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧  (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

‪‪❤︎‬ Nick Valentine prefers to keep things classy when it comes to affection. He's not all over you, but he enjoys having at least some form of contact with you. The synth likes showing you off, his beautiful partner.

‪‪❤︎‬ Usually it's a hand on your lower back, holding your hand or linking arms together. Sometimes he'll press his cold synthetic lips against your temple for good measure, if you'll allow it.

𝐁 = 𝐁𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

‪‪❤︎‬ You're not just his best friend, you're a fellow detective now. He loves having you with him whilst he investigates. The two of you have each others back. It makes the miserable wasteland and circumstances a little better.

‪‪❤︎‬ It likely starts shortly after you saved him from vault 114. He's interested as to why someone would come to save a old robot detective. Nick quickly becomes invested in your story, in who you are. After that it happens quick, you become someone to rely on, someone to help him bring justice to the Commonwealth.

𝐂 = 𝐂𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐬 (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

‪‪❤︎‬ Not an absolute need for him, if you don't want to cuddle then that's okay for him too. He doesn't really feel anything, but he'd still enjoy cuddling you, purely due to the knowledge you're comfortable and close with him.

‪‪❤︎‬ Valentine prefers laying on his back with you beside hm, your arm across his torso. He can hold you close whilst reading or doing something else whilst you rest.

𝐃 = 𝐃𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

‪‪❤︎‬ Nick Valentine would love to settle down with you in Diamond city, as close as a pre war life as he can get. You both have a job and a cozy little home to return to. It's perfect in a way rarely found in the wasteland.

‪‪❤︎‬ He can cook okay. He doesn't eat, so he usually doesn't bother, but you wouldn't die eating his cooking. Decent at cleaning as well, he keeps his space tidy and always organizes his things so he knows where to find them.

𝐄 = 𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠  (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

❤︎ Nick would put it bluntly, but wouldn't be rude. He's disappointed things didn't work out, but he'd like to avoid drama as much as possible. Maybe the two of you could still be friends, but this clearly doesn't work.

❤︎ Handles the break up okay. He doesn't like it, he's not happy, but he can live with it. Nick doesn't have any ill will towards you, but he does feel let down. He also prefers some distance for the time being.

𝐅 = 𝐅𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞(𝐞) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

❤︎ Nick would like to have a committed relationship. He's old fashioned like that, marriage is definitely his end goal. After all, the two of you can just have a small ceremony in Diamond city and go home married.

❤︎ Doesn't rush into it, takes his time. It also depends on how quickly you want to get married. He'd like to at least wait a couple months before he pops the question, but he takes your wishes into consideration as well. If it were up to him, he'll get on one knee during your one year anniversary,

𝐆 = 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞 (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

❤︎ Physically gentle. Nick really doesn't want to cause you any pain or discomfort, and the last thing he needs is more damage done to his body. He prefers always being gentle when it comes to touch.

❤︎ Emotionally he sometimes likes to mess around a bit with sarcastic comments. He knows your boundaries and won't cross them, but that won't stop a smartass comment slipping out every now and then.

𝐇 = 𝐇𝐮𝐠𝐬 (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

❤︎ Nick Valentine likes hug a decent amount, he's not the worlds biggest fan of them, but in moderation he appreciates them. Once again he doesn't feel anything, but he still enjoys holding you close to him.

❤︎ One of his arms goes around your back, planting the hand on your lower back, the other hand cradles the back of your head as he holds you close to him.

𝐈 = 𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 (How fast do they say the L-word?)

❤︎ Not immediately. Nick really wants to mean it when he says it. The first time it comes out of him is during a love filled confession, your hand in his. When the time is right and he's certain on how he feels towards you.

❤︎ After that he says it in passing moments. When he kisses your temple before he leaves on a case, when he comes back after solving one. The moment doesn't really matter to him as much as assuring you that you're the one for him.

𝐉 = 𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲 (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

❤︎ Nick isn't that jealous. He gets annoyed when people hit on you, but it's not really because he feels threatened. If you love him, you'll shut it down. If you don't, he knows he's not your priority. Last thing he wants is to come off as overbearing.

❤︎ When he does get jealous, he'll step in with a cynical remark to whoever irritated him, linking his arm with yours. Or he'll make sure to subtly emphasize the fact he's your partner.

𝐊 = 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

❤︎ Nick Valentine has a preference to kiss you on the temple or cheek. It's something he does whilst he walks past you, busy with one thing or another.

❤︎ As for where he likes to be kissed, he likes you kissing him on the lips. Soft, quick pecks are a quick way to put a smile on the old synths face,

𝐋 = 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 (How are they around children?)

❤︎ He's fond of children. He can't bring himself to dislike the little rascals. You can easily leave him alone with any kids and he'll take on a responsible role. As long as they're not scared of the way he looks, he can easily keep them in line.

❤︎ The detective is a robot and can't have any kids of his own, but he would be a pretty good stepdad, if not slightly strict. He's someone your kid can rely on no matter what.

𝐌 = 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 (How are mornings spent with them?)

❤︎ Valentine is usually the one waking you up in the morning. Since he doesn't sleep, he's usually the one getting things ready while you sleep in. It's not uncommon for him to have breakfast ready for you when you get up.

❤︎ He usually gives you some time to wake up before he starts talking about any possible work the two of you need to get done today. The synth understands you need more time to be fully there.

𝐍 = 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 (How are nights spent with them?)

❤︎ Nick joins you in your nightly routine despite not needing to. He'll sit with you during dinner, lean on the wall talking to you as you wash yourself and brush your teeth. He likes seeing you do mundane things, it never gets old for him.

❤︎ Usually the two of you spend some time alone, either in your bed or sitting on an old couch. Sometimes it's you playing on your pipboy while he works on his cases, or you simply talk to each other until you drift off.

𝐎 = 𝐎𝐩𝐞𝐧  (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

❤︎ Nick doesn't open up to you immediately. He doesn't see why he should drop his entire life story on some random vault dweller he's helping. Your plate is full, he doesn't need to add to it with his own problems.

❤︎ But when he sees how willing you are to help him out, he'll ask for your help. He needs peace of mind, he needs Eddie Winters gone before he can move on. The moment you agree to help,

𝐏 = 𝐏𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 (How easily angered are they?)

❤︎ Nick is decently patient. He doesn't just flip out and let his anger get the best of him. Although he'll let you know when he's upset, he tries to put it calmly the first time around.

❤︎ If he's really pissed, expect far more cynical and sarcastic comments from him. Best to let him cool off and then talk about what happened like adults.

𝐐 = 𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐳𝐳𝐞𝐬 (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

❤︎ Nick is a bit forgetful, but he is pretty perceptive to what you say. I mean he's a detective, so he naturally picks up on the small things. He'll make sure to remember every important thing you tell him.

❤︎ Sometimes he writes it down, his desk has a small stack of notes with your favorite foods, drinks, your favorite spot to go in the Commonwealth and things you said you still needed.

𝐑 = 𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

❤︎ Nick could honestly call all your outings his favorites and not be lying. He loves spending time with you no matter the circumstance.

❤︎ But if he really had to pick one, he'll pick a date the two of you went on in Diamond city. It wasn't anything big, you just headed to the Dugout inn so you could get a few drinks and enjoy the atmosphere. Seeing you so relaxed and having fun is his all time favorite.

𝐒 = 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐲 (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

❤︎ Nick knows you can hold your own, and he's not overbearing by any means. He'd still keep an eye out for your own safety. He'll use his connections to keep an ear out to make sure no one has it out for you, and he's joined you to save your hide a few times.

❤︎ You have pulled some risky stunts to help Nick out. If the synth had the ability to, he would have had a heart attack a long time ago given your antics. He prefers you just verbally protect him from anti synth crap.

𝐓 = 𝐓𝐫𝐲 (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

❤︎ He loves taking you out on dates, it's the perfect way to unwind for him. there aren't much date spots to take you out to, but he'll find fun wherever he can find. He'll also do his best with every day tasks, keeping everything clean whilst you're asleep.

❤︎ This man has a special place in his non existent heart for anniversaries. Every year he makes sure to plan something nice for the two of you to do. At least one time an evening got derailed to a surprise murder mystery case.

𝐔 = 𝐔𝐠𝐥𝐲(What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

❤︎ Really forgetful, like I said before. His memory is limited and it's not uncommon for him to forget things you told him, or events the two of you went through together. He feels bad about it, but it's not something he can help.

❤︎ Gets a bit too invested in his cases sometimes. He'll sometimes spend days mulling over a case, completely frustrated over something he seems to be missing that he doesn't have much time for you.

𝐕 = 𝐕𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲 (How concerned are they with their looks?)

❤︎ The guy is practically falling apart, and it's the end of the world outside. Good looks and appearing fancy aren't exactly his main concerns. His suit has been patched up a few times and his synthetic skin is somewhat filthy.

❤︎ That being said it's not like he's a total slob. He still tries to make himself look presentable to you. Just don't expect prince charming, he's still just an old synth.

𝐖 = 𝐖𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞 (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

❤︎ Valentine can hold his own pretty well. That being sad, he would be a lot less content without you in his presence. You made his mundane life so much brighter, you made him realize he was his own person, after all.

❤︎ Sometimes he does things from his old routine, finding himself by your bedside, only to remember that you're no longer occupying it. Or he buys an extra bowl of noodles, forgetting that you're no longer there to join Ellie in eating them.

𝐗 = 𝐗𝐭𝐫𝐚 (A random headcanon for them.)

❤︎ Sometimes talks to you about the pre war world. He didn't experience it himself, but he still holds the memories. Sometimes he'll ask about certain things from the original Nick's memory, it bring him a sense of comfort.

❤︎ For a second one, if you have technological skills, he'd trust you to help with maintenance of his body. Sometimes it's just an excuse to have you close to him, though.

𝐘 = 𝐘𝐮𝐜𝐤 (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

❤︎ He wouldn't tolerate a nasty attitude or cruelty towards others. The wasteland is a miserable enough place as is, and you really aren't helping. He'll give you a few warnings before he becomes completely fed up with you.

❤︎ Predjudice, especially if you're in the Brotherhood. If you have a hatred towards synths and ghouls, then what is he to you? It leaves a hypothetical bad taste in his mouth.

𝐙 = 𝐙𝐳𝐳 (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

❤︎ Nick doesn't sleep, instead he tries to get work done whilst you're off snoozing. He likes working on cases and searching files whilst he's in the room with you. Having you close to him feels comforting and he can keep an eye out for any danger.

❤︎ Sometimes he sits in bed with you, letting you wrap your arms around his synthetic body whilst he reads or simply watches you. He'll brush the hair out of your face, rub your shoulder or place his arm around you.

[itsabouttimex2]

Hi, I wanted to say that I really liked reading your analyses when it comes to flaws in lmk's writing, along with the ranking of the villains that you did. I hope it's alright to ask for advice, since I'd like to make a romantic self insert story with Macaque, but the thing is that I'm worried on how to portray the platonic relationship between Sun Wukong and Macaque. While we still don't know entirety of how Macaque died in his fight with Wukong, I've already made decision to address both of their faults that caused their relationship's downfall. What I'm worried about is how to portray it clearly that it's both of their faults, without making them too OOC. Some fans have tendency to chose sides with their whole situation, which is something I'd like to avoid. But I'm not sure how to avoid that, which is why I'd like to ask for your advice on it.

Sun Wukong and Macaque

A Rundown on the Fallout

This is an interesting question, and thank you for asking! Given how much of their personal backstory is left to viewer interpretation, I’ve included a little bit of mine.

I think the big, big thing that people miss with the Sundial/Shadowpeach fallout is how severely uneven it is. But give me a minute to get there…

Probably the biggest of Past!Sun Wukong’s biggest issues is what I’m going to call “externalizing”. (This isn’t the appropriate way to use that word, but I’m at a loss here) Wukong is bright and loud and happy- and very, very desperate for attention.

Sun Wukong’s literal first action in the world was to excitedly barrel towards a group of monkeys. His first words end with him asking plainly “Don’t ya like it?!” like a child begging for praise from a parent. He shows off to Subodhi’s other students. He eagerly tells a chaotic story to his sworn brothers and is implied to play it up to some degree for attention.

This is direct opposition to Macaque.

Past!Macaque is quiet, withdrawn. He has no ties to other people. He doesn’t pipe up. He’s not bold or confident. So what does Macaque do?

Well, just about jackshit. There’s only TWO members of the six-strong brotherhood that he actually shares interactions with- Sun Wukong and Peng.

Azure Lion? Yellowtusk? Demon Bull King? Macaque literally doesn’t interact with any of them even once. Nobody calls him brother. Flash to the modern day, and he’s the last person Azure bothers looking for.

He doesn’t joke, or tell stories, or try to bond with the rest of the crew. This is literally how he responds to being called a coward and a rodent by a “brother”.

By mildly frowning.

(Side note: WUKONG IS NOT IN THE WRONG FOR NOT DEFENDING MACAQUE FROM PENG. Macaque never went above a mild frown and never acted hurt or upset beyond this little facial expression. If he was sad ((WHICH HE WASN’T)) or seethingly angry ((WHICH HE WASN’T)) then it’s on Macaque and Macaque alone for not defending himself. Wukong is not his brother’s keeper, etc.)

(Macaque, even in the past, was a lot stronger than he’s often given credit for. Did this remark make him unhappy? Yes. Did it break or ruin him? No.)

He has no friends or ties to the past. No mentor and no fellows and no troop. No one likes him. No one wants him. No once cares about him… except for the Monkey King.

All he has is Sun Wukong.

So already they’re on this MASSIVELY unbalance scale where Wukong has a title and a troop and a heaping handful of immortalities and a band of brothers and a sacred weapon and a mountain and and and!!!

And… Macaque has… his shadow powers?

Yeah, they’re not on level footing. Wukong could pull out of the brotherhood and away from Macaque and throw down his staff and still have so, so much!

And Macaque, if he left Wukong, would have next to nothing.

Sun Wukong is his one good thing. His one star in a dark sky. Sun Wukong is all that Macaque has.

Already is this an EXTREMELY unhealthy dynamic, where you’re basically living for a second person without them putting that devotion back towards you-

Which is exactly what causes the downfall of this relationship.

Macaque doesn’t speak up for or against anything. He’s just willing to sit pretty and play along… because it’s for his one good thing.

Because it’s for Wukong.

Even if his brothers don’t like him, or he gets mocked, or he doesn’t want to play along, Macaque grits his teeth and stays- because it’s for Wukong.

Because he can’t lose his one good thing.

So he’ll do anything.

And that’s the problem.

The Monkey King isn’t asking him to shut up and play nice. Nor does he ask for blind loyalty. And he doesn’t ask his friend not to voice his concerns and fears.

Macaque is choosing to do these things.

Because he can’t lose his one good thing.

Macaque is choosing to “internalize” (again, this isn’t the appropriate way to use that word, but I’ve set a precedent here) his thoughts and feelings.

Macaque pulls everything inside, and Sun Wukong pushes it all out.

The First Crack: Uneven Expectations

Macaque is not honest with his thoughts and feelings. He never actually expresses the way he feels to Wukong, which leads to the Monkey King never understanding his feelings. But you know what Macaque DOES do?

He gently and softly nudges the idea of maybe kinda I dunno potentially not taking over the entire Celestial Realm???

But he doesn’t say no.

Macaque never expresses himself or genuinely tries to talk Wukong out of overthrowing the Jade Emperor. He just hints at the idea and EXPECTS Wukong to pick up on his thoughts and wants without any real effort on his own part. He puts ALL of the onus onto Wukong to understand and reach out to him, without putting that amount of time and effort in himself.

Macaque wants to be understood without putting on the effort to be understandable, which isn’t fair to Wukong at all.

The Second Crack: Unfairly Divided Consequences

Wukong is solely punished for the crimes of six men, and left to rot while his sworn brothers run free.

(Quotes pulled from prior analysis)

Sun Wukong is trapped. For attempting to overthrow the Jade Emperor, he is sentenced to FIVE HUNDRED YEARS trapped under a mountain.

Let me elaborate for anyone who doesn't sympathize.

For the next five hundred years, Sun Wukong will be 75% immobile and alone under a nearly lightless mountain. There will be no noise, no stimulation, and no company. He will suffer in silence, and he will suffer alone.

But you know who ISN'T being punished for an attempt to overthrow the Jade Emperor?

Macaque.

Now, this is funny. Wukong leads a six strong band of brothers against the forces of the Celestial Realm, but only ONE of them faces consequences for the rebellion- himself.

Even five hundred years later when Wukong is set free and traveling with his fellow pilgrims...

No one else has faced consequences for the rebellion. All five of Wukong's "brothers" (Azure Lion, Peng, Demon Bull King, Yellowtusk, and yes, Macaque) get away scot-free to continue their plans and schemes.

I would be pissed. You would be pissed. There is not ONE SINGLE PERSON in this world that would NOT be pissed about how blatantly unfair this is.

(End Quote)

This is especially important if you read Azure Lion’s about Wukong “surrendering” as the truth (he is an unreliable narrator), then it’s likely his brothers were spared as a result of his surrender. And still, he’s all alone in this cavern, bored and uncomfortable and angry.

And probably very sad and lonely, too.

The Third Crack: Peach Symbolism

When Wukong wants to cheer Macaque up, what does he do?

Engage in snacking and physical affection that leaves the two snuggled up side by side on a sunny beach.

Seems like the Monkey King has a pretty good read on his best bud!

Now, how does Macaque repay the favor?

After an unknown period of time spent in the extensively explained condition above leaves Wukong angry and frustrated, Macaque comes by to-

Jam a peach into Wukong’s face and act like nothing is wrong at all.

Sun Wukong doesn’t want to pretend that nothing is wrong. He doesn’t want to act like everything is okay. He wants to be free.

But Macaque has put on an act this entire time. He’s played along and kept quiet and complacent and been “good”, and even now is he acting.

So he presents, of all fucking thing, a peach.

Sun Wukong likes peaches, yes. They’re likely a comfort food from a time long past, a constant in his long, long life.

(I bet that on Flower Fruit Mountain there’s a special strain untainted by the push of genetically-modified fruit that’s grown to be chock-full of sugar. I bet it’s his absolute favorite thing in the world to eat. I bet he shared it with the Pilgrims. I bet he wishes he could share it with them again. I bet.)

They’re a symbol of massive freedom- freedom from strife and pain and death.

And having that symbol presented to him so plainly and pretend-happily?

It’s just the final nail in his diminishing coffin of self-control.

The Fourth Crack: Wukong Lashes Out

So, as was unavoidable from the start of his imprisonment- Wukong snaps and rejects the peach, mocking Macaque for trying to cheer him up from a five-hundred year sentence with fruit and a false smile.

But he doesn’t stop there-

The Monkey King continues to castigate his best friend, blaming him for things that are the shoulderweights of six men.

Except he’s not really lashing out at Macaque directly- he’s just lashing out, and Macaque happens to be the nearest target.

There was bound to be a breakdown eventually. No matter how you look at this scenario, anyone would snap. There’s literally not even one person who wouldn’t break down eventually.

And then, Macaque lashes right back, and says something very interesting-

The Fifth Crack: Macaque Lies and Run Away

(Censored quotes taken from same analysis)

No, he didn't.

Macaque nudges the idea. He implies the idea. He hints it, quietly and softly.

"You're really going through with this?" Is not him shutting down the idea of fighting the Celestial Realm.

It's him being a coward and trying to dance around the issue without a direct confrontation.

Not even once does Macaque say: “We shouldn't fight the Jade Emperor."

He directly LIES to present himself as being the better person during this fight.

Macaque is lying to his best friend’s face to make himself look better in this utterly pointless argument, then prepares to run away and never comes back- but not before placing literally all of the blame for EVERYTHING onto Wukong’s shoulders.

(End quote)

Final Crack: YOU are responsible for MY behavior!

Finally, Macaque makes a few last “Nothing is ever MY fault!” statements to Wukong, consisting of:

“You dragged everyone else into this!”

“You put yourself here, not me!”

Which are BOTH blatantly untrue, given that

1. The Azure Lion is actually the one who started the Brotherhood in the first place

2. Macaque is a grown man who makes his own decisions

3. The rest of the Brotherhood are grown men who make their own decisions

4. Macaque went along with the plan willingly

5. The rest of the Brotherhood went along with the plan willingly

6. Everyone took part in the attempted rebellion of their own will and volition

Everyone is responsible for the end result, including Macaque who was there literally every step of the way, but he doesn’t want to accept that!

Macaque wants to be a perfect little victim who can wipe his hands of the matter, and who better to blame…

Then his “one good thing”, who is now utterly helpless and incapable of doing anything about it?

Macaque only finally lashes out and speaks up when there is literally no way to face recourse for it- which is proof of the cowardice lurking inside him.

There’s a big reason that Wukong calling him out for “running away” hits so hard and is what finally prompts Macaque into speaking up and tries to absolve himself of all blame.

Because Macaque knows that Wukong is right.

The first thing that Macaque does when things go wrong is to prioritize himself and run away. (Just remember how he responded to unleashing the Samadhi Fire.) Then, when all is said and past and it’s time to tell the tale, Macaque will whitewash himself- which he does blatantly in “Shadowplay”.

So when his gilded “one good thing” finally cracks the image Macaque built up by being a fallible person who stumbles and slips up and makes very human mistakes?

He abandons ship, and allows his flaws to start sliding out- now Macaque is “externalizing”, which he’ll continue to do to the present day- taking everything inside and putting it out- by projecting and slandering and lying and trying to hurt innocent people.

Essentially, Macaque puts his best friend on a pedestal and of his own will and volition plays the role of “lackey” for nothing in return without being asked, then ditches him over a fight and returns to a much unhealthier group of “friends”, while Sun Wukong is left to serve a lonely sentence as punishment. But because the Monkey King receives punishment and does his time, Wukong is allowed a chance at redemption under the loving and caring eye of his Master, Tang Sanzang, and manages to redeem himself, where his guilty brothers going free leads them to continually rack up crimes that leaves them on the receiving end of the pilgrims wrath.

Okay I’m tired now love you guys ❤️❤️

[literary-illuminati]

Book Review 68 - Babel by R. F. Kuang

Overview

I came to Babel with extremely little knowledge about the actual contents of the book but a deep sense of all the vibes swirling around its reception – that it was robbed of a Hugo nomination (if the author didn’t outright refuse it), that it’s probably the single buzziest and most Important sf/f release of 2022, that it was stridently political, and plenty more besides. I also went in having mostly enjoyed The Poppy War series and being absolutely enamoured by the elevator pitch of an alternate history Industrial Revolution where translation is literally magic. And, well-

It is wrong to say I hated this book, but only because keeping track of my complaints and starting organize this review in my head was entertaining enough to keep me invested in the reading experience.

The story is set in an alternate 1830s, where the rise of the British Empire relies upon the dominance of its translators, as it is the mixture of translation and silverworking, the inscription of match-pairs in different languages on bars of worked silver and the leveraging of the ambiguity and loss of meaning between them that fuels the world’s magic. The protagonist is pluckted from his childhood home in Canton after his family dies in a cholera outbreak and whisked away to the estate of Professor Lowell, an Oxford translator he quickly realized is his unacknowledged father. He’s made to choose an English name (Robin Swift) and raised and tutored as a future translator in service to the Empire.

The meat of the story is focused on Robin’s education in Oxford, his relationship with the rest of his cohort, and his growing radicalization and entanglement with the revolutionary Hermes Society. Things come to a head when in his fourth year the cohort is sent back to Canton to, well, help provoke the first Opium War, though none of them aware of that. The final act follows the fallout of that, by which I mean it lives up to the full title of “Or the Necessity of Violence: An Arcane History of the Oxford Translators' Revolution”.

To be clear, this was technically a very accomplished book. The writing never dragged and the prose was, if not exactly lyrical, always clear and often evocative. Despite the breadth of space and time the story covers, I never had any complaints about the pacing – and honestly, the ending was, dramatically speaking, one of the more natural and well-executed ones I’ve read recently. It’s very well-constructed.

All that being said – allow me to apologize for how the rest of this is mostly just going to be a litany of complaints. But the book clearly believes itself to be an important and meaningful work of political art, which means I don’t feel particularly bad about holding it to high standards.

Narrative Voice

To start with, just, dear god the tone. This is a book with absolutely zero faith in its audience’s ability to reach their own conclusions, or even follow the symbolism and implication it lays down. Every important point is stated outright, repeated, and all but bolded and underlined. In this book set in 1830s England there are footnotes fact-checking the imperialists talking heads to, I guess, make sure we don’t accidentally become convinced by their apologia for the slave trade? Everything is just relentlessly didactic, in a way that ended up feeling rather insulting even when I agreed with the points Kuang was making.

More than that, and this is perhaps a more subjective complaint but – for an ostensible period piece, the narrative voice and perspective just felt intensely modern? This was theoretically an omniscient third person book, with the narrative voice being pretty distinct from any of the actual characters – with the result that the implicit narrator was instead the sort of person of spends six hours a day getting into arguments on twitter and for this effort calls themselves a progressive activist. The identities of all the characters – as delivered by the objective narration – were all very neat and legible from the perspective of someone at a 2022 HR department listing how diverse their team was, which was somewhere between a tragic lost opportunity to show how messy and historical racial/ethnic/national identities are and outright anachronistic, depending. (This was honestly one of the bigger disappointments, coming from Kuang’s earlier work. Say what you will of The Poppy War series, the narration is with Rin all the way down, and it trusts the reader enough not to blink.) More than that it was just distracting – the narration ended up feeling like an annoying obstacle between me and the story, and not in any fun postmodern way either.

Characters

Speaking of the cast – they simply do not sound or feel like they actually grew up in the 19th century. Now, some modernization of speech patterns and vocabulary and moral commensense is just the price of doing business with mass market period pieces, granted, but still – no 19th century Anglo-Indian revolutionary is going use the phrase ‘Narco-military state’ (if for no other reason than we’re something like a century early for ‘narco-state’ to be coined as a term at all). An even beyond feeling out of time most of the characters feel kind of thinly sketched?

Or no, it’s not that the characters are thinly sketched so much as their relationships are. We’re repeatedly, insistently told that these four students are fast friends and closer than family and would happily die for each other, but we’re very rarely actually shown it. This is partly just a causality of trying to skim over a four-year university education in the middle third of one book, I think, but still – the good times and happy moments are almost always sort of skimmed over, summarized in the course of a paragraph or two that usually talk in terms of memories and consequences more than the relationships themselves. The points of friction and the arguments, meanwhile, are usually played out entirely on the page, or at least described in much more detail. In the end you kind of have to just take it as read that any of these people actually love each other, given that at least two of them seem to be feuding at any given point for the entire time they know each other.

Letty deserves some special attention. She’s the only white member of Robin’s cohort at Babel and she honestly feels like less of acharacter and more a collection of tropes about white women in progressive spaces? Even more than the rest, it’s hard to believe the rest of the class views her as beloved ride-or-die found family when essentially every time she’s on screen it’s so she can do a microagression or a white fragility or something. Also, just – you know how relatively common it is to see just, blatantly misogynistic memes repackaged as anti-racist because it specifies ‘white women’? There’s a line in this that almost literally says ‘Letty wasn’t doing anything to disprove the stereotype of woman as uselessly emotional and hysteric’.

Also, she’s the one who ends up betraying the other three and trying to turn them in when they turn revolutionary. Which is probably inevitable given the book’s politics, but as it happened felt like less of the shocking betrayal that it was supposed to be and more just, checking off a box for a dramatic reverse. Of course she turned on them, none of them ever really seemed to even like each other.

As a Period Piece

So, the book is set in the 1830s, in the midst of the industrial revolution and its social fallout, and the leadup to the First Opium War (which is, through the magic of, well, magic ,but also mercantilist economics, make into a synecdoche for British global dominion more broadly). On the one hand, the setting is impeccably researched, recent and relevant historical events are referenced whenever they would come up, and the footnotes are full to bursting with quotes and explanations of texts or cultural ephemera that’s brought up in the narration.

On the other, the setting doesn’t feel authentic in the slightest, the portrayal of the British Empire is bizarrely inconsistent, and all that richly researched historical grounding ends up feeling less like a living world and more like a particularly well-down set for a Doctor Who episode.

The story is incredibly focused around Oxford as a city and a university. There’s a whole author’s note about the research and slight changes made into its geography and I absolutely believe its portrayal as a physical location and the laws about how women were treated and how the different colleges were organized and all that is exactly as accurate as Kuang wanted them to be. The issue is really the people. With the exception of a few cartoonish villains who barely get more than a couple pages apiece, no one feels, sounds like, or acts like they actually belong in the 19th century. The racism the protagonists struggle with all feels much more 21st century than Victorian, and the frame of mind everyone inhabits still comes across more as ‘unusually blatantly racist Englishman’ than 19th century scholars and polymaths.

This is especially blatant as far as religion goes. It’s occasionally mentioned, sure enough, but to the extent anyone actually believes in Christianity it’s of a very modern and disenchanted sort – this is a society that sends out missionaries as a conscious tool of colonial expansion, not because of anything as silly or absurd as actually wanting to spread their gospel. Also like, it’s Oxford, in the nineteenth century. For all the racism the protagonists have to deal with, they should be getting so much more shit from ‘well-meaning’ locals and students trying to save their (one Muslim, one atheist, one probably Christian but black and protective of Haitian Vodou on a cultural level which would be more than enough) souls.

Or, and this is more minor, it is a central conceit of the whole finale that if a few (like, two) determined revolutionaries can infiltrate Babel they’ll be able to take the entire place hostage with barely any trouble. This is because the students and professors there are, basically, whimpy bookworms who’ll faint at the sight of blood and have no stomach for the sort of violence their work actually supports and drives. Which – look, I really don’t want to defend the ruling class of Victorian Britain here, but I’m not sure physical cowardice is really one of their failings, as a group? I mean, there’s an entire system of institutionalized child abuse in the boarding schools they went to to get them used to taking and dealing out violence and abuse. Basically every upper-class sport is thinly disguised military drill or ritual combat (okay, or rowing). Half of them would graduate to immediately running off and invading places for the glory of the queen. I’m not sure two sleep-deprived nerds with knives would actually have been able to cow the crowd here, is what I’m saying. (This would stick out less if the text wasn’t so dripping with contempt for them on precisely these grounds.)

Much less minor are our heroic revolutionaries themselves. And okay, this is more a matter of taste than anything but like – the Hermes Society is an illegal conspiracy of renegade current and former Babel scholars dedicated to using their knowledge of magic and access to university resources to oppose and undermine the British Empire in general and the work of the school in particular. Think Metternich’s worse nightmare, but in Oxford instead of Paris and focused on colonial liberation (continental Europe barely exists for the purposes of the book, Britain is Empire.) So! A secret society of professional revolutionaries in the heydey of just that, with a name that just has to be Hermetic symbolism, who concern themselves with both high politics and metaphysics.

They are just so very, very boring. This is the age of the Conspiracy of the Equals, the Carbonari, the Seasons! The literal Illumanti are still within living memory! Where’s the pageantry, the ritual, the grandiosity? The elaborate initiation rituals and oaths of undying loyalty? They’re so pragmatic, so humble, so (and I know I keep coming back to this) modern. It’s just such an utter wasted opportunity. Even beyond the level of aesthetics, these are revolutionaries with remarkably little positive ideology – the oppose colonialism and racism for reasons they take as self-evident and so don’t feel the need to theorize about it (and talk about them with the vocabulary of a modern activist, because of course they do), but they’re pretty much consciously agnostic as to what world should look like instead. They vaguely end up supporting a sort of petty-bourgeois socialism (in the Marxist sense), but the alliance with Luddites is essentially political convenience – they really don’t seem to have any vision of the future at all, either in England or the various places they claim as homelands.

On Empire and Industrialization

The story is set during the early nineteenth century, so of course the Industrial Revolution is a pretty core part of the background. The Silver Industrial Revolution, technically, since the Babellers translation magic is in this world a key and load-bearing part of it. Despite the addition of miracle-working enhancers and supports to its fundamental technology, the industrial revolution plays out pretty identically to history – right down to the same cities becoming hubs of industry, despite steam engines using enchanted silver instead of coal and thus, presumably, the entire economic and logistical system that brought this particular cities to prominence being totally unrecognizable. This is not a book that’s in any way actually about tracing how something would change history – which isn’t a complaint, to be clear, that’s a perfectly valid creative choice.

It does, however, make it rather galling that the single actually significant difference to history is that the introduction of magic turns the industrial revolution into a Legend of Zelda boss with a giant glowing weak point you can hit to destroy the whole enterprise.

On a narrative level, I get it – it simplifies things and allows for a far happier and more dramatic ending if destroying Babel is not just a symbolic act but also literally sends London Bridge falling down and scuttles the entire royal navy and every mill and factory in Britain. It’s just that I think that by doing so it trades away any chance for actually making interesting commentary on anti-colonial and -capitalist resistance. A world where a single act of spectacular terrorism really can destroy a modern empire is frankly so detached from our world that it ceases to be able to really materially comment upon it.

Like, the principle reason to not take the Luddites as your role models is not that they were morally vicious but that they were doomed – capitalism’s ability to repair damage to infrastructure and fixed goods is legitimately very impressive! Trying to force an entire ruling class not to adopt a technology that makes whoever commits to it tremendous amounts of money (thus, power) is a herculean task even when you have a state apparatus and standing army – adding an ‘off’ button to the lot of it just trades all sense of relevance for a satisfyingly cathartic ending.

(This is leaving untouched how the book just takes it as a given that the industrial revolution was a strictly immiserating force that did nothing but redistribute money from artisans to capitalists. Which certainly tracks as something people at the time would have thought but given how resolutely modern all the other politics in the work are rings really weirdly.)

All of which is only my second biggest issue with how the book presents its successful resistance movement. It all pales in comparison to making the Empire a squeamish paper tiger.

Like, the book hates colonialism in general and the British Empire in particular, the narrative and footnotes are filled with little asides about various atrocities and injustices and just ways it was racist or complicit in some particular atrocity. But more than that it is contemptuous of it, it views the empire as (as the cliche goes) a perpetually rotting edifice that just needs one good kick; that it persists only through the myth of its own invincibility, and has no stomach for violent resistance from within. Which is absolutely absurd, and the book does seem to know it on occasion when it off-handedly mentions e.g. the Peterloo Massacre – but a character whose supposed to be the grizzled cynical pragmatic revolutionary still spouts off about how slave rebellions succeed because their masters aren’t willing to massacre their own property. Which is just so spectacularly wrong on every axis its actually almost offensive.

More importantly, the entire final act of the story relies upon the fact that the British Empire would allow a handful of foreign students seize control of a vital piece of infrastructure for weeks on end and do nothing but try to wait them out as the national physically falls apart around them. Like, c’mon, there would be siege artillery set up and taking shots by the end of week two. As with the Oxford students, the Victorian elite had all manner of flaws – take your pick, really – but squeamishness wasn’t really one of them.

On Magic

So the magical system underlying the whole story is – you know how Machinaries of Empire makes imperial ideology and metaphysics literally magical, giving expert technicians the ability to create superweapons and destroy worlds provided that the Hexarchate’s subjects observe the imperial calendar of rites and celebrate its triumphs/participate in rituals glorying in the torture of its ‘heretics’? It’s not exactly a subtle metaphor, but it works.

Babel does something similar, except the foundational atrocity fueling the engine of empire on a metaphysical level is, like, cultural appropriation. As an organizing metaphor, I find this less compelling.

Leaving that aside, the story makes translation literally capable of miracle-working – which of necessity requires making ‘languages’ distinct natural categories with observable metaphysical boundaries. It then sets the story in the 19th century – the era of newborn nation states and education systems and national literatures, where the concept of the national-linguistic community was the obsession of the entire European intelligentsia. Now this is not a book concerned with how the presence of magic would actually have changed history, in the slightest, but like – given how fascinated it is by translation and linguistics you’d think the whole ‘a language is a dialect with a navy’ cliché would at least get a light mention (but then the book doesn’t really treat language as any more inherent or natural than it does any other modern identity category, I suppose.)

As an Allegory

Okay, so having now spent an embarrassing number of words establishing to my own satisfaction that the book really doesn’t work at all as a period piece, let us consider; what if it wasn’t trying to be?

A great many things about the book just fit much better if you take it as a commentary on the modern university with Victorian window-dressing. Certainly the driving resentment of Oxford as an institution that sustains itself and grows rich off the exploitation of international students it considers second-class seems far more apt applied to contemporary elite western schools than 19th century ones. Likewise the racism the heroes face all seems like the kind you’d expect in a modern English town rather than a Victorian one. I’m not well-versed enough on the economics of the city to know for sure, but I would wager that the gleeful characterization of Oxford as a city that literally starts falling to ruin without the university to support it was also less accurate in the 1830s than it is today.

Read like this, everything coheres much better – but the most striking thing becomes the incredible vanity of the book. This is a morality tale where the natural revolutionary vanguard with the power to bring global hegemony to its knees through nothing but witholding their labour are..students at elite western universities (not, I must say, a class I’d consider in dire need of having their egos boosted). The emotions underlying everything make much more sense, but the plot itself becomes positively myopic.

Beyond that – if this is a story about international students at elite universities, it does a terrible job of actually portraying them. Or, properly, it only shows a certain type; just about every foreign-born student or professor we meet is some level of revolutionary, deeply opposed in principle to the empire they work within. No one is actually convinced by the carrot of a life as an exploited but exceedingly comfortable and well-compensated technician in the imperial core, and there’s not really acknowledgement at all of just how much of the apparatus of international institutions and governments in the global south – including positions with quite a bit of real power – end up being staffed by exactly that demographic who just sincerely agree with the various ideological projects employing them. Kuang makes it far too easy on herself by making just about every person of colour in the books one of the good guys, and totally undersells how convincing hegemonic ideology can be, basically.

The Necessity of Violence

This is a pet peeve and it’s a very minor thing that I really wouldn’t bring it up if that wasn’t literally part of the title. But it is, so – it’s a plot point that’s given a decent amount of attention that Griffin (Robin’s secret older brother, grizzled professional revolutionary, his introduction to anti-colonialism) is blamed for murdering one of his classmates who had the bad luck to be studying while he was sneaking in to steal some silver – a student that was quite well-loved by the faculty and her very successful classmates, who have never forgiven him. Later on, it’s revealed that this is an utter rewriting of history, and she’d been a double agent pretending to let herself be recruited into the Hermes Society who’d been luring Griffin into an ambush when he killed her and escaped.

This is – well, the most predictable not-even-a-twist imaginable, for one, but also – just rank cowardice. You titled the book ‘the necessity of violence’, the least you can do is actually own it and show that violent resistance means people (with faces, and names, not just abstractions only ever talked about in general terms) who are essentially personally innocent are going to end up collateral damage, and people are going to hold grudges about it. Have some courage in your convictions!

Translation

Okay, all of that said, this isn’t a book that’s wholly bad, or anything. In particular, you can really tell how much of a passion Kuang has for the art and science of translation. The depth of knowledge and eagerness to share just about overflows from the page whenever the book finds an excuse to talk about it at length, and it’s really very endearing. The philosophizing about translation was also as a rule much more interesting and nuanced then whenever the book tried to opine about high politics or revolutionary tactics.

Anyways, I really can’t recommend the book in any real way, but it did stick in my head for long enough that I’ve now written 4,000 words about it. So at the very least it’s the interesting sort of bad book, y’know?

[sl8yter]

Apparently - Mühl Pt2. to Get It Together

Nika realizes her mistake at the last minute and opens up only to realize she was wrong.

Nika Muhl x Fem Reader

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Wow twin you’re an asshole” Paiges vocalizes in a brash tone

Nika had come to her friend’s dorm seeking advice on how to proceed after the fallout of her and her girlfriend’s fallout. She had found Paige, KK, and some other teammates hanging out after hours building legos and stuffing their faces with food.

“I dont know what to do. I really do love her I just dont know how to tell her. Nahiem is just a friend she doesnt understand that. She never does.” Nika nervously states as she paces around the table in the middle of the main area as her teammates brain storm solutions for her as they lounge on the couch.

“Okay well first of all stop doing that” KK speaks up

“Doing what?”

“The way you say that she doesn’t understand seems so bashing. Like girl, of course shes gonna kick you out after you talk to her like that. So don’t act surprised” KK’s lack of goofiness acts as a reality check to Nika. Her pacing ends abruptly as she stops to look up and cover her face as an attempt to stop her tears from flowing.

“I could text her to meet up and then Nika could like surprise her with flowers and stuff” Paige says zoning back into the conversation with her faulty solution

“Flowers isnt gonna fix the fact that (yn)s been feeling ignored and how she most likely thinks you’ve been cheating on her. But we can use the first part of Paiges plan. Did you atleast try and text her before you left?” Inês states promptly looking at Nika whos cheeks were wet as she sat down on the couch in between KK and Paige.

“No I came straight here.”

“Oof not good.” Aaliyah butts in

“Why. Please dont make me cry anymore” The Croatian girl says her voice breaking softly towards the end.

“Well if I was her and I already was thinking it. I would personally think that you went to Nahiems. Thats just me though. Maybe (yn) doesn’t jump to conclusions as fast so don’t sweat it.”

“Girl boo, shes already crying about it what do you mean dont sweat it.” KK frankly puts her thoughts out as she wraps an arm around Nikas shoulder, a flimsy attempt to try and comfort the crying girl who’s heart broke a little more with KKs retort.

“I can post to my story and Nika can be in the backround looking all sad.” Paige tries to help

The group looks to Nika who had a contemplating look on her face which contrasted with the pink hue around her eyes and water marks down her cheeks. Her silence deafens the room before she shakes her head up and down.

As Paige takes and post the photo to her instagram story, Nika and the rest of her teamates come up with a plan to try and get (yn) to meet up with Nika in order for them to talk it out. It only takes 20 minutes before (yn) viewed the blondes story and it only took a second for the same blonde to text (yn) to meet up with her at the park 10 minutes away saying it was an emergency.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Paige" I whisper yelled as I walked through out the empty park. Paige had only texted me a cryptic message telling me it was an emergency and to meet her at the park near the dorms.

"Paige come out it's to cold for this." I yelled only slightly louder before a hand had grasped my shoulder causing me to release a yelp and break my neck to look behind me. Only to find the last face I wanted to lay my eyes upon.

"Nika what the fuck are you doing? I thought you were gonna kidnap me. Where's Paige?" I asked, scolding Nika for the scare.

"I couldn't wait until tommorrow to see you. She only texted you so I could meet up with you. Listen to me I-"

"I'm gonna stop you right there before you try to say things I've heard from you a thousand times. I'm tired of us having the same conversations over and over again. It never goes anywhere Nika. Now like I said before go and get some sleep so we can both talk about this with a clear head." I state, exasperated at her mood of just now wanting to talk about things when she had so long to do so.

"Listen to me please bebo you can break up with me, yell at me, or call me every dirty word you know just please let me talk to you. You don't even have to face me. Just hear me." Her voice breaks between most words causing her accent to slip. The begging insanely out of character from the confident girl you usually knew.

"Okay. Just tell me what it is. Tell me why you've been such a dickhead to me." I tell her as I walk to a nearby swing to sit. She quietly trails behind me until I hear the clanking of the metal on the swing adjacent to mine. I refrain from looking over to her as I can feel the intensity of her gaze on my features. If I look, I know I'll cry but I have to let her know in someway that I'm going to stand my ground this time. No matter how much it hurts the both of us.

“Im so so sorry bebo. I never meant to hurt you. I never meant for any of this to happen. When we first started dating I seen how amazing you are and how you were so happy all the time and how you always light up a room. Graduating and the draft has been driving me crazy since the start of the year. I felt so pressured to perform my best that I started doubting myself and I started to think that you were too good for me and-“ Her voice breaking as she stops for a moment to catch her breath. She stops looking at me to look at the sights in front of us, her shame showing in her body language

“That I thought I was gonna be a burden to you. Nahiem would help me. We would just go drive around and drink and do all this dumb stuff. It took the edge off and now I see how bad it was. How it lead me to start acting like you weren’t there. I use to think that my biggest fear was not achieving my dreams after I worked so hard for it, for everything. But in truth my biggest fear is achieving all my dreams and you not being there beside me. You’re so selfless that you constantly put up with me no matter how I treated you. I need to treat you better. I want to treat you better. I know I dont show it a lot but i love you more than anything, more than anyone. You believe in me bebo and I love you for it.” She finishes her voice shaky and her eyes somehow pinker than they were before.

“Of course I believe in you. Youre Nika Mühl. My girlfriend and future WNBA star. Youre so much more than you see Nika. Youre the reason I love to love.” I answer, not realizing I was crying as well until a tear drop fell from off my face.

Nika is silent as she wipes her face and quietly clears her throat before looking at me once again.

“You don’t hate me?” Her tender voice somehow making me forgive her within four words.

“I could never hate you. I love you.”

“I love you more” She says before suddenly standing from her seat and lunging at me causing us both to fall into the mulch below us. Her hands hold my waist as my arms wrap around her neck.

“Im so sorry.” Her soft voice fills my ears as the smell of her shampoo invades my brain.

“I forgive you.” Whispering back to the girl on top of me.

“Can I take you to the dorms?” She asks louder this time as she retracts to put her hands on either side of my head to hover above me.

“Only if you stay the night.”

To my response she quickly leans down to capture my lips. I can feel her slightly whimper at the contact. My hands quickly get lost in her hair as she lowers herself to lay between my legs as she continues to assault my lips slightly opening her mouth to encourage me to go farther. I can feel her heart pounding as her chest is flush against mine.

I gently push her off me as I go to sit up, suddenly remembering that it was 2 AM and we were in a public park.

“Take me home and then I’ll see if I want you to go further.” I tell Nika as shes on her knees infront of me, rubbing the sides of my thighs with her large hands.

To my statement Nika swiftly picks me up wedding style and starts jogging to my dorm building. Her antics make me laugh with mirth as I see her small smile, her eyes glancing at me as we lock eye contact for a second that I wish could have lasted forever. Her strength and her athleticism made me thank her coach as it was only helping me in forgiving her completely.

I kiss her cheek softly as she continues her jog.

“I love you so much Nika. I want you to come to me first whenever you have doubts or whenever you start thinking things like that ever again. I love you, I care for you, and I want you to be happy. You mean everything to me.”

She stops jogging for a second to put me down as she grips my waist with speed to pull me into a kiss. Far more passionate than any weve had before. My hands wrapped around her face holding her as if she were glass. Her hands explore my waist, rubbing and squeezing slightly. I caress her jaw moving one hand farther back to play with her hair at the base of her neck.

We both pull back to rest our foreheads against another, our mouths agape catching oxygen as our exhales mix. The lack of space between us was tantalizing as it was obvious both of us wanted more. The only thing stopping us,being our lung capacity and the open space.

“I dont think I can wait much longer for you” Nika admits her eyes dark with a familiar cloud of lust. The breathiness in her voice causing a feeling that Nika was all too well associated with inside my body.

“Then lets hurry up.” I say tauntingly as I knew she was gonna be the one running us both back to bed. I knew she could do it, she knew I could match her pace and run along side her, but we both knew how much hotter it would be if she did all the work and how much better it would be in bed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Changed my mind, tried writing a smut for this but then I was like rereading it and ts was so toxic. Oh em gee. Like on a deep level if yall like ts great for you I just cant post something like it n be okay with myself after 😭😭🙏

REQUEST SOME THINGS YALL. DONT BE SCARY!!

[kamaluhkhan]

ours are the moments i play in the dark

pairing: conrad fisher x fem!reader

summary: you come back to cousins beach after a few years away. conrad is not particularly happy that you're back - and you aren't particularly thrilled, either. too bad there's a history (chemistry?) neither of you can deny.

warnings: ANGST (im so sorry in advance...); flashback is from conrad's POV and the rest is from reader's perspective; mentions of sex + losing virginities (nothing too detailed/graphic); reader has an ex who's referred to with gender neutral pronouns; reader and other characters drink alcohol (pomegranate margaritas ;) ); hints of alcoholism (reader's mother); jealous reader who's trying her best; pining conrad who's a bit of a jerk; reader and conrad fight A Lot (they will make up eventually i promise!!)

tags: @stargirlsirius-recs, @ifilwtmfc, @qwertyb2577, @allnrsnz, @baconeggndcheez, @peanutbelley, @imogen-skye, @geekinthefuschiahair, @tvije, @drikawinchester, @maybankslover, @junnniiieee07, @elcpsstuff, @fangirl-kimora, @redbierd, @starkeylover

a/n: thank you so much for all the love on my conrad series so far! i love these characters and writing their stories, and it means so much that others are enjoying reading my work. there is one more part left and i promise it will be happier so stay tuned :)) i haven't watched the last two episodes of season 2, but i'm planning on writing a bit for that, too!! thank you x infinity ♡

part one | part two

i lost a friend / like keys in a sofa / like a wallet in the backseat / like ice in the summer heat (finneas, "i lost a friend")

now — summer, age 18

“you know, you guys aren’t fooling anyone.”

“and what exactly do you mean by that, steven?” you challenge, taking another sip of your soda. 

it’s the fourth of july and susannah invited you over for her annual celebration. susannah always hosted fun parties, so you were more than happy to accept because it meant eating some good food, listening to an upbeat playlist, watching some fireworks, and just relaxing. essentially, susannah always delivered the best of summer, rolled into a carefully planned event. 

the sun was shining, and everyone was having a good time, including you — at least, until you saw conrad and nicole in the pool, engaging in some serious PDA. you immediately got out of the pool and went to sulk near the drink table, where you were happily alone until steven came over to join you.

“i’m just saying, man. you and con are definitely going out of your way to prove that you’re mad at each other,” steven explains. “but we all know how much you care about each other.”

steven is right about the first part: you and conrad had done your best to avoid each other since the incident at nicole’s party and its fallout. if you and jeremiah had planned to go surfing and he invited conrad, you would always back out at the last minute. if you were over at the fishers helping belly pick out an outfit for a date with cam, conrad would conveniently stay in his room. not to mention, any time the two of you did cross paths — which was rare, but jeremiah and belly were persistent in requesting that all five of you spend time together, like the old days, they would say — it resulted in meaningless, petty arguments. the two of you had always been competitive and very comfortable teasing each other, but the difference was that now, your interactions were no longer good-natured.

you thought steven, belly, and jeremiah hadn’t noticed, but you should have given them more credit. to anyone who knew you, it was pretty obvious that something was up between you and conrad, even if they didn’t know what exactly it was.

“there’s a thin line between love and hate. and right now you guys are that line.”

“thank you for your insight,” you say sarcastically. “be sure to include that in your college essay — i’m sure princeton would love to have you.”

steven rolls his eyes at you, just as nicole arrives at the drink table.

“hey guys,” she greets. she reaches over to grab two cans of peach iced tea before you stop her. 

“conrad’s allergic to peaches,” you say. “so you might wanna get him something else.”

nicole looks at you for a second before nodding and reaching for a can of sprite instead. 

“thanks,” she says as she walks away. 

once she’s gone, steven gives you a pointed look.

“what?” you scoff. 

steven just shakes his head. “love and hate,” he muses, leaving you to join his parents and shayla near the pool. 

you then decide to go inside briefly, where you find belly and jeremiah, pouring vodka into a blender.

“we’re making pomegranate margaritas!” belly exclaims, practically giddy. 

“well, you gotta use the good blender for that.” conrad seems to appear out of nowhere from behind you, instantly reaching for the aforementioned good blender and placing it on the counter.

you were already in a sour mood from seeing him with nicole earlier, but belly looks at you with hopeful eyes, and you remember what steven said earlier, so you mentally promise that you would play nice with conrad. you owe belly and the others that much after being absent for so long: a carefree summer, just like the ones you used to know. 

you imagine that jeremiah sent conrad a similar pleading look because, miraculously, you and conrad don’t argue with each other as you help mix pomegranate margaritas for everyone. you actually engage in playful banter and laugh at the other’s jokes. you even feel sorry for him when his father, who wasn’t supposed to be here, walks in. you can feel the good mood slipping, so you suggest heading to the beach for a change of scenery.

belly had invited cam and a few more girls who are doing the debutante thing with her, and with steven bringing shayla and conrad bringing nicole (which, you are totally fine with, of course, especially after a pomegranate margarita), you had a pretty solid party forming on the beach, away from the adults. 

of all people, belly suggests some drinking games. it’s all a blur of sand, laughter, and vodka spiked fruit juice. once you were all the perfect amount of tired and tipsy, the group settles down, and gigi suggests a different game.

“we should play truth or dare.”

“oh my gosh we should!” belly smiles, tapping your leg enthusiastically. “remember? we used to play it all the time!”

you smile back. “of course i do.” 

when you were kids, you, belly, steven, jeremiah, and conrad would play truth or dare any chance you got. it was never very serious, mostly goofy pranks and harmless questions. you had all grown up since then, and somewhere along the way, truth or dare had become less innocent than it used to be.

“y/n,” one of the debs — dara, if you remembered correctly — turns to you. it was the first time your name had been called, and in all honesty, you were perfectly happy just sitting back in the sun and sipping the rest of your drink. “truth or dare?” 

you choose truth, mostly to avoid having to get up from your very comfortable seat on the sand.

“are you a virgin?”

your mouth suddenly feels dry. you’re not ashamed of your answer, but it doesn’t help that you can see conrad glaring at you from the corner of your eye. you take another sip of your drink before answering. 

“um, not really.” 

“it’s yes or no question,” nicole says. 

“then my answer’s no,” you declare.

“what?” belly screeches. she sits up straighter to turn towards you, and in the process spills some pomegranate margarita on her dress. “i can’t believe you had sex and didn’t tell me? when? with who? what was it like?” her cheeks are slightly flushed. a sober belly would have likely asked you in private, or at the very least, not in front of people you barely knew. in that moment, you almost regret the pomegranate margaritas.

almost. because maybe it’s the silence and everyone’s expectant stares, or the adrenaline you feel from winning most of the drinking games, or the effects of the drinks themselves, but you convince yourself that it’s as good a time as any to tell the story. a sober you would have known to tread more carefully given the context; that would have been about three pomegranate margaritas ago, though. 

“it’s kind of a cliche story, honestly,” you start. “it happened last summer. it was raining that night, so we were hanging out in the back of my teammate’s van, just talking, and one thing led to another….we didn’t plan to do anything, but we got caught in the heat of the moment.” you choose your words carefully, deliberately avoiding eye contact with conrad.

“how was it though?” belly asks, leaning in closer.

you shrug. “a little awkward, i guess? neither of us had sex before then, and we were both figuring stuff out. like, he couldn’t open the condom wrapper because he was so flustered, so i had to help him. it was nice, though,” you admit. “when the rain cleared, we went out to stargaze and fell asleep on the beach.”

belly sighs. “so romantic.”

“you’re right about it being cliche,” steven laughs. he has an arm thrown around shayla, and uses the other to gesture towards conrad. “conrad, man, that sounds almost exactly like your first time.”

you feel your entire body heat up, and it's not because of the sun shining down on you. conrad’s gaze finally meets yours — for a split second only, but it’s enough for steven to notice. 

“holy shit! it all makes sense now!” steven exclaims, suddenly standing up.

jeremiah frowns, looking between you, conrad, and steven. “what makes sense?”

“i’ve been trying to figure out why y/n and conrad have been so weird around each other this summer, but it’s obvious now: they lost their virginities to each other. they had sex!”

nicole stiffens and narrows her eyes at conrad. “you told me you never hooked up with y/n.”

“well, that’s definitely not true.”

“belly,” you warn, looking over to conrad once more. his cheeks are turning red, and you imagine a storm brewing beneath his dark blue eyes. 

“i don’t know about last summer,” belly continues, completely oblivious to the tension building. “but i do know that they kissed at your party.”

“i knew it,” nicole scoffs, pushing away from conrad. “i knew it.” with one last poisonous glare towards conrad, she storms off.

conrad sends you an equally poisonous look before chasing after her. the party dissolves shortly after.

feeling defeated, you lie back in the sand, close your eyes, and let the sun shine down on you once more, taking deep breaths to slow down your heart rate.

call it karma or a cruel twist of fate or just a really shitty coincidence, but you’re finally the one left alone on the beach.

then — summer, age 17

conrad was more than a little surprised to see your name appear on his phone. it wasn't like you were completely off the grid — you texted, though infrequently, and followed each other on socials. he scrolled through his instagram feed and saw the occasional picture of you wearing a costume at a halloween party or sipping hot chocolate on a snowy day. photos that never quite fit the image he had of you in his mind: in cutoff denim shorts and a swimsuit and layers of sunscreen, with sand in your hair and popsicle stains on your lips.

“hey,” he answered after only three rings. 

"hey fisher, any friday night plans?"

he told you he was working on his college essay.

“homework on a friday night in the middle of summer,” you tsked. “i never realized how much of a nerd you are.”

conrad laughed. “i mean, that’s on you for just realizing that.”

 “fair enough,” you hummed, and conrad could practically hear your smile through the phone. “if you’re in the mood for something more fun, look out your window.”

conrad wasn’t quite sure what to expect, but you standing in the driveway of his summer house was pretty low on the list. you waved at him frantically, telling him to hurry up and open his window.

he was still in awe as you climbed through. conrad tried to memorize the image of you then and there, standing in front of him in his bedroom: wearing dolphin shorts and a light jacket, with chipped turquoise nail polish and a bright smile.

"you drove all the way here?" 

"well, they haven't cracked the science behind teleportation yet," you say playfully. "so i didn't have many options."

"i can't believe you're here," conrad smiled, and that’s when you finally hugged him. he held on tightly, afraid you would leave at any moment if he let go. you smelled the same, like chlorine and vanilla sugar.

once you broke away from the hug, you pointed towards something behind him, pinned to his bulletin board. conrad followed your gaze and felt his cheeks heat up.

“i missed you, too, connie,” you teased, eyes lingering on the newspaper clipping of your swim team making it to nationals thanks to your record time. 

“mom showed it to me,” he explained, the smile on your face making his heart beat out of his chest. “she’s so proud of her little mermaid.”

your smile fell, just a bit, but enough for conrad to notice a shift in your mood. you always did a good job at hiding the weight of the world on your shoulders, at least around the others. not so much around him.

you sighed and sat down on his bed. “you know, after that swim meet, my dad lectured me about not being fast enough,” you explained. “winning by only a millisecond apparently wasn’t enough to impress college scouts, at least according to him.”

“your dad’s a jerk,” conrad said instantly. he sat down next to you. “and an idiot, if he can’t see how amazing you are.”

“thanks, connie,” you whispered. it looked like you were going to say more; instead, you picked up his laptop. “wow, you weren’t kidding when you said you were working on your college essay. you really are a nerd.”

“shut up,” conrad laughed, nudging you with his shoulder and trying to grab the laptop from you.

you nudged him back. “it’s a compliment! schools go crazy for trust fund nerds.”

“yeah, yeah.” conrad waved you off. “so, you’re in cousins for the summer?”

all you did was smile softly and close the laptop, finally handing it back to him.

conrad’s heart burst with joy. because not only were you there — finally there, after all that time away — but you were staying. his mom would always muse about summers in cousins being magical, but conrad didn’t quite believe her until you were gone and he felt that magic fade away. 

“do you wanna go downstairs? belly’s watching it happened one night with my mom and laurel.”

“as much as i love susannah’s favourite movie,” you started, and conrad’s heart soared again at you remembering his mom’s favourite movie. “i thought maybe it could just be the two of us tonight? maybe we could go for a drive.”

that’s how the two of you ended up at mermaid grove — a secluded stretch of beach about an hour away from your houses. it was near the mall your mothers sometimes went to, and during one of those excursions when you were young, all the kids wandered off and found it. the only time you’d been there was during the day and with jeremiah, belly, steven, and your siblings, so it felt different then, at night with just the two of you.

it started raining on the drive over — which only took 45 minutes without traffic — so you were hanging out in the back of your van. the van actually belonged to one of your teammate’s cousin who was somewhat of a hippie, you said, which explained the smell of weed and bohemian decor — battery powered rainbow fairy lights, colourful pillows, an elaborately patterned tapestry. the space was definitely intimate, or maybe it felt that way because you and conrad were sitting as close as possible to each other, shoulders touching and one of your legs tangled with his. he was scrolling through the pictures on your phone of your last swim meet in california, where you'd gotten the chance to visit stanford, while you were peeling an orange. 

"you would love it there, connie,” you gushed. you dug your fingers into the orange peel, and the smell of citrus started to fill the air. “the beaches are beautiful and the waves are amazing. it’s like, always summer.” 

conrad sometimes felt like summer was the only season of the year that he was truly awake, truly living. everything else felt like a dream, one that he would always describe to you in mundane detail; conrad even kept a small journal throughout the year, writing things down that he needed to tell you once you reunited every june. but one journal had turned to two, almost three, and conrad was trying really hard to not resent you for that.

“anyways, i think i’m going to apply in the fall.”

conrad stopped scrolling through your phone, pausing at a picture you had taken of a lemon tree. “doesn’t your dad have princeton lined up?”

“you make it sound like he bought my way in, when it was actually hours and hours and hours of training to get that scholarship. on the national best swim team.” you mimicked your father’s patronising tone for that last part; conrad hadn’t seen him in years, and he could still recognize it. 

“you’re right, though. my dad would flip his shit. even if i got in with a scholarship, it’s so far away and i have the twins to look after, but a girl can dream, right?”

“i feel that,” conrad assured. you gave him a sad smile, knowing that his dad was as intense about football as yours was about swimming. the worst part was that you both loved your respective sports, until they became a burden. you both had other burdens to deal with, too, when it came to your families. 

“in an ideal world, the two of us wouldn’t have to worry about anything else. we’d live in a place by the beach, surf every day, and hang out in the sun while sipping ice-cold, fresh lemonade.” just like we used to, conrad added in his head.

“in an ideal world,” you agreed. “we’d also adopt four dogs, each named after one of the beatles. you can teach them how to play the guitar.”

conrad laughed. “if i couldn’t teach you, there is no way i can teach one dog, let alone four.”

“well, they wouldn’t get distracted by your dreamy blue eyes like i did.” you winked at conrad, and handed him the freshly peeled orange before he even had time to blush.

“take it,” he protested. “you drove all this way — you should eat something.”

you shook your head and placed the orange in his hand before you pulled out another fruit from your bag. “i picked some of these up on the way here — best peaches on the east coast.” you took a big bite. “remember the summer we found out that you had a mild peach allergy?” you asked, juice dripping down your chin. you wiped it with the sleeve of the varsity jacket you wore.

conrad laughed at the memory. belly and steven had brought back candy from their trip to toronto. conrad practically inhaled an entire bag of fuzzy peaches, and didn’t realize that they weren’t supposed to make your mouth itchy — the “fuzzy” part wasn’t literal. that felt like so long ago, but there you and conrad were, settling back into each other like no time had passed.

as the night grew darker, you and conrad shifted closer to each other. conrad ate orange slice after orange slice as you devoured your peach, all while looking through the photos on your phone. you’d occasionally interject with a short story or comment, and there were still raindrops falling on the roof, but for the most part, there was nothing but a comfortable silence between you. 

you moved to wrap the orange peel and peach pit in a napkin, just as conrad swiped onto a photo of someone kissing your cheek.

“who’s that?”

you leaned over to check. “oh. that’s sam.”

“are you dating?” conrad asked, trying to seem casual about it. just a friend asking another friend about their romantic situation. as a friend. 

“we were,” you explained, sitting back next to him. “they broke up with me a few months ago.”

conrad sighed in relief, which he hoped you didn’t notice. “sorry.”

you shrugged. “it’s fine. apparently i’m emotionally distant.”

that wasn’t much of a surprise to conrad. sam might have been an idiot for breaking up with you, but they were spot on with the emotionally distant part. out of all the time you’d known each other, conrad had only seen you cry once, maybe twice. you were usually the one wiping away tears and putting on a brave face, inadvertently, or maybe purposefully, hiding your own vulnerability. 

still, that wasn’t something conrad was about to stir up.

“what? you?” he joked instead.

“shut up,” you said, rolling your eyes, but the wry smile on your face gave you away. “how about you? broke any hearts this past year?”

conrad thought for a moment. there was aubrey, who his football teammate said had a major crush on him. they had been texting for a while now, and were on the edge of maybe becoming something. but then, there you were, stirring up feelings conrad had long buried — or, at least, tried to. if part of his head was always in summer, then part of his heart always belonged to you. 

“no.”

“got your heart broken?”

he thought back to a few weeks ago, when he ran into your mom at the grocery store, and she said you wouldn’t be coming to cousins again that summer. you hadn’t spoken at all to each other for a month or two before that.

“no,” he lied.

you hummed, and took your phone away from him. 

“wanna hear something trippy?” you asked suddenly. you always had a knack for changing the course of a conversation to where you wanted it to go.

“what?”

“well, since it takes a while for light from space to reach us, when we stargaze, we’re actually looking back in time. like, the star that’s closest to earth — other than the sun — is four light years away. or is it five?” you paused. “anyways, if the sky was clear and we could see that star, it would mean we’d actually be looking at that star from summer, five years ago.”

“very trippy,” conrad agreed. “it’s like a cosmic time machine.”

you hummed. “do you ever wonder what our past selves back then, at like 12 or 13, would think of us now? i think about those summers and how magical they felt.” 

magical. you turned to smile at him softly, and conrad couldn't help but agree.

“i always thought you’d be my first kiss,” you whispered. 

that threw conrad off guard, and it took him a few seconds to regain balance. the van suddenly felt too small and the lingering scent of fruit shared between you two, mixed with the familiar smell of chlorine and vanilla from how close you were sitting to him, became overwhelming. his heart was beating out of his chest — not because he didn’t feel the same way, but because he did.

conrad knew what his 13 year old self would think of him now: he’d be up in arms over his awkward pause, screaming to finally tell you how he felt then, and how those feelings hadn’t really left. how you made him feel safe, excited, confused and angry. how there was a space in his heart just for you, and it was painfully empty when you left, but now that you’re there again —

“sorry,” you said, cutting through the silence. you subtly shifted away from conrad. “i didn’t mean to make things weird.”

“you didn’t,” conrad answered instantly. he registered how you were now slightly hunched over and brought your knees to your chest, how you bit your lip and avoided eye contact — a few hints that you felt uncomfortable, deflated even at his lack of response. 

so, he moved closer to you and gently placed a hand on your knee. 

“you didn’t make things weird,” conrad assured once more. you were brave, he decided: for a lot of things you did, but right then for being so honest, so vulnerable. it inspired him to do the same. “i mean, this might make things weird, but i always thought you’d be my first…you know. at least, ever since i knew what sex even was.”

you finally turned towards him, your lips slightly parted. 

“yeah,” you breathed. “me too.”

conrad’s eyes flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes. 

“do you still want to —”

“yes. i - i mean, no pressure, but if you still want to —”

“i do.”

you smiled then and conrad felt himself do the same. 

when you kissed for the first time, it was like rainclouds parted and the stars came out, shining bright in infinite darkness. the two of you became tangled up in each other: you sat in his lap, legs on either side of his waist, your chests pressed together and your fingers tangled in his hair, which drove him crazy. conrad let his hands explore your body, gently grazing the skin under your shirt. his lips tingled from the remnants of peach juice on yours, but he kept kissing you. 

it was awkward and exhilarating at the same time. you asked each other if what you were doing felt good and right and were slightly embarrassed if the answer was no, but still adjusted if needed. at one point, conrad was fumbling with the condom wrapper and you had to open it with your teeth; he jokingly pointed out how you used to do the same with packs of sour patch kids and you giggled before kissing him again.

the two of you lay down on the floor once you were done. your head rested on conrad’s chest and he had his arm around you, idly tracing shapes on your skin with his fingertips. he craned his neck down to look at you.

even in the dim lighting and after years apart, you looked the same. even if you’d never been that close before, at least not in the same way you had just been, you felt familiar. 

you tilted you head towards him and smiled. 

“what?” 

there was something about the way you looked at him that still made him blush, and conrad hoped that with the lack of bright light, you wouldn’t notice. 

“sounds like the rain stopped,” he said. “wanna go stargazing?”

it was slightly chilly, so you let conrad borrow your varsity jacket, even if it didn’t fit perfectly. the sky was clear and full of stars. you spent the rest of the night there together, on the beach. 

in the morning, conrad woke up before you. he watched as you took slow, deep breaths with your eyes still closed. you looked so peaceful — until the sound of your alarm prompted you to wake up.

“shit,” you exhaled, your eyes wide once you noticed the sun had risen. “what time is it?” 

you searched frantically for your phone, only to find it right next to you.

“shit,” you repeated once you checked the time. you stood up right away, sand kicking from underneath your feet. “this is bad.”

“what —”

conrad didn’t have time to even ask you what was wrong because you bolted to the van. he followed you.

“what’s wrong?”

you looked at conrad, brows furrowed. “i have to go. i don’t want to leave you, but i have to go.”

“it’s okay,” conrad reassured. he stepped closer to you and placed a hand on your cheek. “i’ll be here when you get back.”

“i’m…” you step away from him. “i’m not coming back.”

“what do you mean?” he tried to steady his voice, but a dangerous mix of hurt and anger threatened to wash over him. conrad’s heart dropped, knowing all too well what was likely coming next, but he hoped, wished, that it wouldn’t be like before.

“i’ve got a swim meet in boston,” you exhaled. “but i can drive you home on my way there.”

“you’ll come back to cousins after,” conrad declared, as if saying it out could change what would happen next. “you said you’d be here for the summer.” 

you shrugged, stumbling over your words. “technically, i didn’t say that. you just assumed and — ”

“and you wanted me to believe it, right?”

you closed your eyes and took a deep breath. “just — let me drive you home, connie.”

the use of his childhood nickname — the one he secretly despised, except when it came from you — was what made him snap.

“i should have known,” he snarled. “god, i should have known. you don’t care about me, about us. swimming over everything, right?”

“that’s not true.” your eyes opened, but you still wouldn’t meet his gaze. “i do care, but you know the pressure i’m under —”

“fine. you want to talk about pressure?” conrad laughed, bitterly, all his frustration bleeding out and pooling at your feet. “my mom had cancer, and you couldn’t even be there for me. texts and phone calls only do so much when you’re watching the woman who raised you wither away to nothing.”

your eyes softened slightly, finally looking at him. you took a step forward, but conrad took another two back. 

“conrad —”

 “no. don’t,” he snapped, making you stop. “why did you even come here?”

“i was close by and…” you paused. “i guess i just needed to come back, even just for a bit.” 

"figures," conrad scoffed. “you only care when it’s convenient.” 

“that’s not true,” you repeated. 

conrad waited a second for you say something more, but you didn’t. 

“well, i’m really glad you got what you needed,” he mocked. “tell me, does nostalgia and sex help you swim faster? impress college scouts? make daddy proud of you?” 

you stiffened slightly. “don’t be an asshole.”

“no, no. congratulations!” he clapped to emphasize his point. “i’m so glad i could help you! guess you just needed a quick fuck before your big competition for some good luck. hope it works out in your favour.”

there was so much venom laced in his words, and he could tell you noticed. you looked at him like he was a stranger. 

“fuck you,” you finally said. your voice was shaking slightly and it looked like tears were forming in your eyes. “you can walk home, for all i care.” 

without another word, you got into the car and drove away. conrad watched your car become smaller in the distance as he stood alone at the beach, wearing your jacket and replaying every word he said.

now 

it’s hours after susannah’s fourth of july celebration. the adrenaline and alcohol from early wore off, and you’re sitting on your front porch, sipping tea from your favourite mug. you were hoping to relax, but the sight of conrad fisher storming up to you threatens that.

“where do you get off, saying what you did earlier?” 

even under the low light of the porch, you can see that his face is red with anger. he came here to argue, but you’re too tired to really care.

“well, shit, conrad,” you sigh. “don’t blame me. blame — blame truth or dare and pomegranate margaritas and steven for being so goddamn perceptive.” 

“you lied,” he accuses, crossing his arms. “you said you didn’t tell belly about us kissing at nicole’s party.”

“at least i didn’t lie to my girlfriend,” you point out, your voice dull from exhaustion. conrad is momentarily at a loss for words, furrowing his brow even further, so you decide to steer the conversation in another direction — away. “look, i just had to pick up my drunk mother from the bar, so i’m really not in the mood for this conversation.”

you move to leave, but conrad grabs your left wrist before you reach the door. the sudden action startles you, and you release the mug you were holding in your right hand. it falls to the ground, the break clean, and the rest of your tea spills onto the porch. you exhale sharply, turning back to face conrad.

“i don’t care,” he snaps. “you fucked up earlier today. you never should have mentioned that night. talking about it like it actually meant something to you.”

“you know what, conrad? maybe it’s hard for you to believe, but that night actually meant something to me.” you laugh bitterly, feeling more awake than before. “and, yeah, now i’ve spent so much time regretting it. because maybe i hoped that we’d start dating, but even if that didn’t happen, i never expected to lose my best friend.”

conrad rolls his eyes. “i don’t know how you can stand there and call me your best friend. best friends don’t leave each other —”

“fine, i did leave,” you interrupt. your voice is slightly raised, and you can’t help but feel a new rush of adrenaline flowing through your veins. the fact that conrad is standing in front of you, suggesting that you were the one to blame for the hostility between you — that made you frustrated, angry, even. 

“i had other shit going on,” you continue. “and maybe i didn’t handle the situation well at first — that’s on me, sure. but i wasn’t the one who ignored texts and sent calls straight to voicemails. i’m not the one who’s spending the summer avoiding everyone who knows them because they’re too scared of others finding out the truth. i don’t know who you are this summer, but i know the real you, conrad.”

“no, you don’t.”

by now, you’ve walked closer, standing only a few inches in front of him. if you reached out, you’d be able to brush the bangs away from his forehead, but you don’t. 

“i do know you,” you assert. “in fact, i hate how much i know you. i know that “yesterday” by the beatles is your favourite song, and the first one you learned on the guitar. i know that you’re crazy good at chess, but let jeremiah win sometimes when your dad is watching. i know that you love playing football, but hate that you’re expected to play it. i know that i hurt you last year, so you had to ignore me because that was easier than admitting how you really feel because — because you’re scared.” 

“you’re wrong.” conrad stares at you, his gaze heavy on yours. 

you shake your head. “i know that you didn’t tell anyone about what happened between us because it meant something to you. and that really scares you, too.” 

“you’re…you’re wrong.” conrad’s voice wavers a bit, his eyes soften ever so slightly, and you know you’ve struck a chord. 

“i’m not,” you say. “and, honestly? i’m so fucking tired of waiting for you to realize that. i don’t care anymore. whatever was between us during all those summers, it's obviously not here anymore."

“you’re wrong,” he’s like a broken record, stuck on the same lyric. 

"stop blaming me for fucking this up," you continue. "it's your mess, too, conrad. and i’m so fucking tired."

it’s late, and it’s dark, and you can’t bring yourself to stay here anymore. without saying anything else, you step over the broken porcelain of your favourite mug and into your house, leaving conrad alone on your poorly lit porch.

when the sun rises and you go outside in the morning, the pieces are gone. 

[fushiglow]

Gojō Satoru's rude awakening

I'm refusing to let myself seriously entertain the possibility that Gojō can come back after chapter 236. However, that's because I'm trying to protect my future self from disappointment, not because I think it's implausible — and I really want to talk about this image!

A couple of days ago, @runabout-river shared an interesting theory about what might happen next for Gojō. The post itself is well worth a read, but it was the choice of the above image that really set my mind alight. This scene is fresh in our minds after the anime adaptation of Hidden Inventory, and timing is clearly never an accident with Gege Akutami. So, why is it relevant now?

We see Gojō giving himself over to his past, lost in his happy dreams of his youth, only for Megumi — Gojō's first student and a symbol of the future that he envisions — to bring him back to the present by telling Gojō, "You're the one who called us here, please don't go dozing off."

In other words, "You're the one who dragged us into all of this, don't go pretending this isn't reality just because it's nicer in the past."

In my immediate reaction to 236, I said:

Gojō's dying bloody smile shows he's at least happy in his final moments. [...] Although, if Gojō actually is at peace in death, maybe that's the reason Gege will bring him back. He'll *never* let that man be happy, I swear.

It was just a joke, but seeing @runabout-river's post made me realise that Akutami has already set a precedent for 'punishing' Gojō for looking backwards. When he's dreaming about his past, Megumi scolds him and brings him back to the present. When he 'lets his mind wander' to his blue spring in Shibuya, he literally gets locked in a box where time doesn't pass, only to immediately find himself at the bottom of Japan's deepest ocean trench when his students bust him out to fix the problem he created.

As a side note, in both of these moments, the anime adaptation played a melancholy version of Gojō's Limitless theme — the audio representation of Gojō's youth. I'll eat my hat if it doesn't play again when chapter 236 is eventually adapted (I shared some more insights into some of the easter eggs hidden in the season 2 score in my mini review of the Hidden Inventory soundtrack if you wanna read).

If Gojō dies here, looking backwards to his youth, then he's taking the easy way out and that's what I find hardest to swallow about 236. Gojō leaves what is potentially the most difficult conversation he'll ever have — telling Megumi the truth about his father — to Shōko. He leaves his students to deal with the fallout of his failure to cremate Getō's body. He's saddling the people he loves with the responsibilities he leaves behind, and that's not fair.

However, we won't know if that's what's happened for sure until the whole story is told. Gojō doesn't mention his students in this chapter, and lots of people were bewildered that he seems unconcerned about their safety in a world without him. While that could simply be explained by his faith that they've "got it from here", there's a chance that he genuinely didn't think about it and he's about to get a rude awakening as his punishment — hence, "I pray that this isn't just a delusion".

I would *adore* it if Shōko dragged him back to life kicking and screaming, hauling him away from his pleasant fantasy of youth to tell him, 'No, you and Getō don't get to leave me behind to pick up the pieces again'. Because isn't that Shōko as a character? The one who's left to pick up the pieces in their wake? The one to heal the wounds and lay the bodies to rest while everyone forgets she's even there?

It would be the most character development she ever receives, and I'd love to see how Gojō and Shōko's dynamic changes when he's not the 'Strongest' anymore. So, in Shōko's own words:

[vidavalor]

Hello!

Do you have any theory on how S3 could start ?

Hi there. 💕 Thanks for the ask. Please help yourself to anything in the kitchen. I made this watermelon pasta salad with basil, burrata & blueberries, if you're interested. 😊 Yeah, I've got some ideas for the start of S3...

Wait until I tell you that I don't think looking at The Final 15 is the only place to see how S2 ended and how S3 might start but that the spot is actually... the beginning of the S1 finale?! Specifically, the positioning in the episode of this scene here:

To see where I'm going with this, we have to look at the timeline around Armageddon in the first two seasons.

In S1, our main characters know in their storyline in the present that Armageddon is imminent and, in that main storyline, the action is based around them trying to prevent it from happening, right? As we follow them on this journey, we are given little cue cards in the present-- just as we are in the past-- to identify when the scenes we are watching are taking place in time. In doing this, it's made very, very clear that we are watching the last days and hours until Armageddon was supposed to take place. During the story in S1, we know what day we're on the whole time.

S1 takes us smoothly from Monday through Sunday of the last week of the world, with the end of the world averted on Saturday, yes?

In the mirrored S2, though?

The most noticeable absence in the entire season is the time-marking cue cards. We still are told time when it comes to the flashbacks but the cue cards in the present are gone and the present time is only shown to us in terms of characters mentioning what day it is or the audience noting when a day changes.

At first, none of this seems to matter that much because we mistakenly think the stakes are not the same. In the S2 finale, though, we learn that we've actually been watching Round Two of the last week of the world.

Worse, Armageddon is different this time around as it's The Second Coming. It doesn't need eleven years to percolate. It's happening now. Suddenly, what day of the week it is in 2.06 in a show with this much mirrored storytelling seems a lot more relevant.

If we then go back and look at S2 with the idea of a timeline for its story in the present in mind, we might notice a whole bunch of scenes that mention that The Meeting Ball takes place on Thursday night. Two scenes even mention that it takes place beginning at 6:30pm. Just with this one point on a timeline alone, we can go back and look at the rest of the week that happened before it and realize that Gabriel arrived at the bookshop on Monday morning. S2 begins on the same day of the last week of the world that S1 began with. The timeline for the events between Gabriel's arrival on Monday morning and The Meeting Ball on Thursday night hold up perfectly. The last parts of 2.06 are taking place the morning after The Meeting Ball-- around the 7am hour on Friday morning.

So, if we're now in another round of Monday through Sunday storytelling of the last week of the world like we were in S1? Then, we haven't gotten all the way through that story with S2 because 2.06 ends very early on Friday morning. We're missing the pivotal day-- Saturday-- and the fallout/resolution day of Sunday.

S2 stops the story just shy of the last day of the world.

Like its paralleling (if also very different) bandstand breakup scene, The Final 15 takes place on Friday and we've yet to get into any Saturday Morning Funtime and the whole plot about the last day of the world in S2. To me? That makes it seem likely that S3 involves the weekend of the week we were watching in S2.

But, wait, I can hear you saying... don't we need a big time jump?

Don't we need months or years to go by with Aziraphale trying to hold back Armageddon while he works as the Supreme Archangel of Heaven? Isn't Crowley going to require at least a decade of drinking before the plot can resume?

In my opinion? Not really...

If you think that Aziraphale is The Supreme Archangel, you're probably more inclined to think that a decent chunk of time is going to elapse between the seasons. I've never actually thought that's the plot which is why I'm looking at this differently.

I don't see where The Metatron would ever, in a million years, let a demon be seen as an angel again because that would collapse his regime and take all his power. If Heaven were to say they fucked up and made a mistake with Crowley and make him an angel again, every single demon would challenge their own cases with Heaven and Heaven's ability to be seen as perfect and holy and infallible amongst the angels-- let alone the demons-- would be destroyed. It would be inviting a revolution. Something like this will happen in S3 in that they're going to overthrow The Metatron but it won't be because The Metatron let it happen in S2.

However, a perfect temptation for Aziraphale from Satan's perspective is Crowley's safety in a way that Aziraphale himself feels like he cannot fully provide. Since you're asking me for a theory, you might have seen other posts I wrote about how I believe that, in The Final 15, Derek Jacobi is playing Satan who is appearing to Aziraphale as The Metatron. The reason why Satan would need to appear as The Metatron is because The Metatron is the only person that Aziraphale believes could give him the power to restore Crowley's status as an angel in Heaven, which is what Aziraphale thinks needs to happen for Crowley to be safe. It's not the right path to take with this but it's easy to see why Aziraphale would want to stop pain for Crowley and why that would be the only thing that Satan could ever use to tempt him, right?

Not to mention that The Metatron is not about to put the angel that rebelled against Armageddon: Round One in charge of Armageddon: Round Two. He doesn't want free-thinkers or change. He wants someone to do his bidding and help him maintain power. Aziraphale stands in the way of him and Satan getting their Armageddon on.

Meanwhile, the most pivotal flashback in S2-- and maybe the series as a whole so far-- is the Job minisode and what happens in it? Hell did Heaven's punishing for them. And what are we told to remember by writer-stand-in character Furfur in his only real line of dialogue in the group scenes in 2.06?

The suggestion is then pretty heavily that all of the Hell references and plots in S2's flashbacks are leading towards the end of S2 being Aziraphale's fall. He's not actually being offered a job by The Metatron. He's being tempted by Satan and the job offer that comes with an apparent guarantee of Crowley's safety is the temptation.

Alright, so, let's say that's the story then and that Aziraphale getting into the elevator with Satan sets up Aziraphale's fall. It's here that we have to go further back to the start of 1.06 and see what I mean about how that can affect the start of S3.

Just like the end of S2, 1.06 begins with a scene that we think we understand the first time we see it... but will later learn we wrong about because we didn't question our perception over who it is that we were looking at.

*pause* Sounds relevant to this idea that who we think is The Metatron is really Satan, right? 😉

It's an unusual scene for Good Omens and its existence to me suggests that we might be about to get something similar to it somewhere very early on in 3.01. The difference is that everyone basically is fooled by the opening shot of 1.06 because we haven't yet had a single clue about the body swap plot and nothing like it had happened at that point in the story yet whereas the 2.06 paralleling twist is a bit more noticeable if you're looking for it-- mainly because we now know to look in the first place, when we didn't so much in 1.06.

If you recall, 1.06 opens with a flashforward-- the show's first-- in which what we think is happening is that Crowley is being escorted in handcuffs into Hell. He's brought to Beez in the bathtub room, who explains that he's about to stand trial. The scene begins with a shot of who we believe to be Crowley coming down the hallway into the room, having just gotten off the elevator.

While a lot of scenes stripe alternating light and darkness over the characters faces, the fact that the most significant elevator moment related to Crowley and Aziraphale prior to the end of 2.06 is this scene at the start of 1.06 that also holds on who we think is Crowley but is really Aziraphale for a long time as the light/dark stripes over him... and that this scene in 1.06 is intentionally deceptive about what's happening and how that is being presented to the audience... just like, imo, the end of 2.06... all of that makes them paralleling, mirrored scenes to one another.

So, the parallel scene to the elevator in 2.06 is that time that Aziraphale went to Hell back in 1.06, further suggesting the idea that that's really what is going to end up happening as a result of the end of 2.06.

But the real kicker is how the 1.06 scene ends.

The first time you watch it, you think that you are watching Crowley the entire time because you don't yet know about the body swap plot that is coming later in the episode for which this is a flash forward. Crowley might seem slightly off if you're looking closely but you chalk it up to nervousness and it is not, on first watch, enough to really garner the audience's attention. Nothing prior to this in the story has existed where one character is appearing to be another, really, so we aren't predisposed to think about that as an option.

As the episode continues and we approach the body swap plot, we have a series of scenes that result in clues that allow some of the audience to figure it out before it's revealed in full what's happened. Even if you don't notice these things, once Crowley and Aziraphale both survive hellfire and holy water, you've begun to put together that they've swapped and, if you still haven't after it's over, there's the scene where the show just tells you that's what happened and shows them swapping back:

Because this plot existed in S1, the audience is more inclined to look for something like it in S2 and, because the show is doing a lot of mirrored storytelling, the idea that Crowley and Aziraphale fooled the antagonists by appearing to be one another in S1 makes the idea that the antagonists who were fooled-- Satan and The Metatron-- teaming up against them and winning a battle (not the war but a battle) by one of them (Satan) taking on the appearance of the other (The Metatron) is... kinda delicious, actually 😂... and one of the reasons why I think this is what is happening in S2 that leads into S3.

Back in the scene that starts 1.06, though, wherein "Crowley" arrives in Hell? We can easily be forgiven for thinking that we are looking at Crowley and that we understand what's happening, even if we haven't seen what led up to it yet. What's genius about the scene is really two things: the fact that, upon rewatch, it is so evident to us that this is really Aziraphale and not Crowley, even if he's doing a very great imitation of Crowley... which is such a magic trick, really, and a fantastic bit of acting... but also the very last line of dialogue in the scene.

"Crowley" looks at Beez, Hastur and Dagon and says:

"Guys. What appears to be the problem?"

This line is almost not even heard by the audience. We think this is Crowley on first watch so it sounds like more of his smartass humor to a point that we don't really hear it. Immediately after this, we get the VHS rewind effect that runs through the rest of the episode and takes us back to the moment that Crowley arrives in the burning Bentley at Tadfield Air Force Base. We "press play" on that and the episode starts in earnest. Within seconds, we've forgotten about this line and the question it asked us.

When you rewatch, this line and its impish delivery-- Aziraphale in there, having a ball trolling the demons who don't know who really stands in front of them-- is one of the highlights of the episode. It's asking a question, though, that we might want to ask about its parallel scene in 2.06 as well:

"What appears to be the problem?"

We think we know that Aziraphale is going to Heaven to be the Supreme Archangel and that the being in the elevator with him is The Metatron. We think we know what the problem is. As the paralleling 1.06 scene showed us, if we take what we're seeing only as it might appear on the surface, we likely have it backwards.

There's a body swap, of sorts, happening-- it's not The Metatron, it's Satan. In 1.06's start, we thought we were watching Crowley arrive in his home territory of Hell in trouble but we were really watching Aziraphale in Hell. In 2.06's end, we think we're watching Aziraphale about to go to his home territory of Heaven as the new boss but we're really about to watch the bit of this mirror that will hold: Aziraphale winding up in Hell as a result.

I think we might see a scene early in 3.01 that is like the 1.06 opening but which picks up with Aziraphale arriving in Heaven and being brought to... The Metatron. The actual, floating head Metatron and likely some of the other angels in a parallel to Hastur & Dagon in the 1.06 scene. Instead of the holy water situation, though, it's Aziraphale's fall. The audience will be confused at first as to why Aziraphale is considered a traitor and not the new Supreme Archangel, which is when the show might rewind-- literally, as it did visually in 1.06-- but this time back through stuff we've already seen: The Final 15 back through until the bookshop attack-- and drop us back somewhere around "I think I might have just started a war" after Aziraphale blew up his halo. Why there?

Because of this extremely important bit of Aziraphale dialogue in 2.06 right here:

Aziraphale tells whom he's been told is The Metatron that he doesn't think they need to have a chinwag because there isn't anything left to be said and he's made his position "quite clear." In other words?

Aziraphale told off The Metatron.

Excellent news! When the fuck did that happen? lol Clearly in a scene we haven't seen yet. It's one that is so important, though, that we will need to see it in S3.

Notice how everything was left lining up perfectly for Aziraphale to have spoken with The Metatron very soon after he blew up his halo. When Aziraphale opened up the circle, he literally asked if anyone was there. All of this is calling back to how he summoned The Metatron in S1. He then discorporated a bunch of demons with the circle. The circle was still open when Aziraphale blew up his halo. There is no way that all of that didn't get the attention of The Metatron.

So, The Metatron got on the little Heavenly Zoom feature of the circle and started losing it on Aziraphale, who had had enough. Aziraphale lost it right back on The Metatron and told him that he was done being an angel and dealing with all of this ridiculousness. He more or less told The Metatron that if he wanted to use the circle to discorporate some demons or blow up his halo if he felt like it, he was damn well going to do so because it's his mind the halo is crushing and his bookshop and he and this shop are independent from Heaven.

So, The Metatron didn't take all of that well and told Satan that Aziraphale was fair game and that's how near the start of S3 we are going to see Aziraphale be tossed to Hell by The Metatron upon his arrival in Heaven. Heaven will likely take his memories but Aziraphale won't spent the whole of S3 without them. Just until not long after he reunites with Crowley, which will likely happen faster than some people think it might.

I'm pretty sure that The Bentley was made into an unintentional fly while Aziraphale was driving it in S2 so, basically, I think Crowley and Aziraphale will fall ass-backwards into discovering that if Aziraphale gets into the car, he's probably going to get his memories back... which, I'm realizing as I'm typing this, is a pretty funny mirror of the immediate aftermath of The Final 15-paralleling bandstand breakup, isn't it? 😂

I'm basically saying that I think that S3's storyline in the present is the missing weekend of the last week of the end of the world that S2 began showing us. I could be wrong but I'm pretty sure that the time jump between the seasons is virtually non-existent.

I also wouldn't be surprised if The Ancient Times Vavoom isn't pretty early on in the story... possibly the very first scene of 3.01. Dropping that as the start of S3 would be wild after 2.06 and that is kind of why I think they just might.

One thing I noticed is that the very beginning scenes-- Eden and Before the Beginning-- are both beginning each season's story with an aspect of a first in Crowley & Aziraphale's story that also ends with a canopy element, in the sense that they're protecting each other from rain or celestial rain with a wing to end both scenes. If S3 holds that pattern and opens 3.01 with a flashback that parallels Eden and Before the Beginning, I think the thing that would fit that the most is their first kiss-- with the canopy this time being not one of them sheltering the other from a form of rain with a wing but both of them sheltering together from rain under a tree canopy.

S3 has to have a happy ending which I think means that they need to more or less eliminate the threat of Armageddon. The only way to do that is to free the angels and demons from The Metatron and Satan and give them the opportunities to start living their own lives and learning what it is to live in the first place. I think Aziraphale's fall is what sets that into motion because Crowley and Gabriel and everyone else will never accept it. It will begin a real challenge of The Metatron's power because Aziraphale is the bridge too far.

If The Metatron says that Aziraphale is a demon then The Metatron is suddenly going to have a lot of people who are just not going to believe that. A lot of people who have been having their own identities defined by The Metatron and allowing him power over how they see themselves and who now are going to realize as a result just how wrong Heaven can be about this. A lot of people who are going to start pushing back on Heaven and challenging Aziraphale's status.

What happens when Crowley and Gabriel and the angels and demons on their side go to The Metatron and demand to speak directly to God?

What happens when they realize that The Metatron can't meet that demand because God doesn't have dominion over The Universe-- Her creations do?

Aziraphale falling is ultimately what can expose The Metatron as a fraud, cause the angels and demons to realize that the demons weren't judged by God-- they were targeted and harmed by an evil angel who used the idea that he could speak on behalf of God to manipulate them.

Aziraphale falling is what can lead to a democratization of Heaven and destroy Hell because the idea of a demon is something The Metatron made up to control the angels. The demons are all just tortured angels and the angels are just like the humans-- most of them neither perfectly good or perfectly evil. Just people.

The only way to get to the South Downs Cottage ending is through Aziraphale's fall because the, well, fallout lol, of that is that it will break the system of Heaven and Hell, which is necessary for peace. So, yeah, that's why I think the jumping off point of S3 is showing the audience that Aziraphale has fallen, having the other characters learn that, and that being the beginning of the end for Satan and The Metatron.

After all, we're still waiting for the pay off of the end of the later body swap scene in S1...

[ennn]

I expect Billy is going to be an antagonist for a while and that's OK

Anti's for either Agatha or Billy are probably going to get more intense as I predict our boy Billy's gonna be antagonistic for a bit. And let's be clear, I'm not hating, or saying either are evil, or in the wrong.

That's way too simple a take for this show. In the words of showrunner Jac Schaeffer:

...we populated the show with similarly flawed individuals who are also selfish and self-serving, who are self-sabotaging, who are constantly standing in their own way. And then they were just in conflict.  Everybody is kind of an anti-hero in the show. That was really fun and felt very truthful there. 

No one here is meant to be a pure "good guy", which is I think kind of Billy's arc -- but more on that later.

And when I mean antagonist I'm talking about the characters roles in the story. An antagonist isn't necessarily a villain. Agatha is the show's protagonist as well as its main antagonist: as much as she claims she wants only power, deep down she wants a coven, a community, a family. But she is as Schaeffer puts it, "in the way of her own thing."

Billy being an antagonist simply means that his goals – or some of them at least – conflict with Agatha's. Rio has been described as a "romantic antagonist" as well because some of her goals are also in conflict.

Long text speculation post and mild promo spoilers under the cut:

Let's first get this out of the way: Why do I think Billy's going to take on an antagonist role? Aside from well, all the things that happened at the end of Episode 5, there's some clues Billy's not all who he's been saying he is:

There's a promotional video with audio lines, and you can hear Billy saying things like "Agatha Harkness can never be anything but a covenless witch" and "I do not trust you".

Billy claiming to be "obsessed" about Agatha and her biggest fan and going on the road for power should know that she is the world's most notorious witch-killer – why is he appalled about her killing and so against it? And if episode 5 is any indication, power is not what he's lacking.

Joe and Schaeffer have mentioned that Billy will be different in the back half of episodes.

A quick clip from a trailer has Agatha (covered in mud) telling Billy "Last one there is a nice person", implying that Billy at this point doesn't want to be nice. I assume, at this point, he wants Agatha to pay for her misdeeds. The yellow tint of the clip also matches with the current Road area they're on.

Now at this point I do not know if Billy was involved in what I believe is a fake trial in episode 5. I'm inclined to think it's the Salem Seven, and we get this truth of Billy as fallout. I believe he definitely didn't want Alice dead.

Now for reasons why I think it'll be okay–even interesting–to have these two in conflict and everyone should put away their pitchfolks:

They are going to come to an understanding

You know how in Hawkeye series Yelena wants to kill Barton because she blames him for Natasha's death? I think we'll get a broadly similar arc or vibe for Agatha and Billy here. And they will design it in a similarly emotionally satisfying manner.

Right now Billy's basically like everyone–including the rest of the coven–who believes that Agatha is truly what her reputation says. And that's not surprising! Agatha is masks and layers and theatrics and she's not opening up unless she absolutely has to.

It may take a few episodes but I expect we'll get that before the series end, with this sobering exchange we have from a trailer:

Why do you let them believe those things about you? Because the truth is too awful.

I don't think Billy will be the Big Bad simply because I expect at the end Agatha's going to have to choose between wanting her coven, her community of witches, and something else—power perhaps, or her son, and go back to her old ways.

And for that to happen Agatha will need to have formed enough bonds with her coven, including Billy, to make it a difficult choice.

Power, darkness, and anti-heroes

Look, Agatha is my babe and she definitely needs a win after all that awful that happened in episode 5, but if you think about it Billy being a lot like his mom is really interesting? More interesting than him just being a cute innocent fanboy.

Because if he is an anti-hero, with some darkness in him, it's an opportunity to explore some of the themes or ideas we touched on in Wandavision with Wanda and her power, and her sense of self.

Heroes don't torture people.

Agatha recognises the darkness in people, delights in it even: as touched on in interviews, it's one of the reasons why she saw herself as Detective Agnes in that spell, as an investigator exploring the darkest aspects of humanity. She's seen the worst in people, and knows how to play the villain.

For Billy to avoid making the same mistakes as his mom, he needs to understand not just his power, but his potential for darkness.

Power corrupts, and when you're born with that reality-warping level of power, it's dangerous. It's so tempting to make people do what you need them to. And it's a slippery slope once you start killing, even if it's for good reasons.

Agatha never wanted to kill her first coven, in that moment she only wanted to live. But she did, with a power she never asked for, that made it so easy to keep taking and taking.

It is kind of tragic given the circumstances that Agatha couldn't have been a mentor to Wanda at the end of Wandavision, given the events of Multiverse of Madness, because she made some valid points and they could have been a coven, given Agatha's deep-deep-buried desire for one.

And looking at all the mentor-kid pairings we've seen in the MCU so far (Parker and Stark, Clint and Bishop, Strange and Chavez, etc.), I don't think we've ever had this kind of dynamic.

Interesting power dynamics

I think Agatha is at her most interesting when she's on the back foot. As we've seen in episode one, she's not one to give up when physically outmatched, quite the opposite. She's a survivor, she's stubborn, and she's a performer.

Billy has been revealed to have the magical equivalent of a gun, and is capable of taking this entire coven hostage.

They're going to have to interact in new ways now. But now it's going to be more of a dance.

It's new danger, new complications, but also new ways to connect, and also the opportunity for a more honest relationship.

Knowledge, history, community

This point isn't specific only to Agatha and Billy but I'm reminded of Billy taking it out not just on Agatha but Lilia and Jen as well.

It's not surprising that Alice and Billy, the two youngest coven members are also the most idealistic and noble. The world has not been kind to witches over the centuries—Lilia's been chased out of villages for her visions, Jen has been attacked—and the older members of the group have done what they can to survive: How much can you blame them for being selfish in a cruel world?

Power isn't your problem, it's knowledge.

In this case I mean not just the knowledge of witchcraft, but lived experience as well.

Younger witches have to learn their community's history, and the older ones have to be challenged in their set ways of thinking, in how they've adapted, because they're not always good.

I wouldn't be surprised if there was an allegory to be made here to the queer community as well. Schaeffer has mentioned there is a large overlap between the history and persecution of witches and that of the LGBTQ community.

--

Good lord this post ran away from me. If you actually read all of that you do deserve a cookie.

[irregularincidents]

A lot went wrong when it came to the filming of the 1967 "official" James Bond spoof Casino Royale (the producer who owned the rights to the story originally intended for a straight adaptation but decided to make it a comedy when Sean Connery wasn't avaliable), with a good chunk of the blame for the film's infamous failure landing at the feet of the actor Peter Sellers.

At the time at the height of his career, Sellers was under the impression that he was going to be in a serious adaptation of the story (much like his co-star David Niven) and demanded a $1 million fee (roughly a twelfth of the movie's budget), 3% of the box office, and a white Bentley on the first day of filming... all of which he got, which makes what happened AFTER filming started even more bizarre.

In one scene, for example, the action called for him to mistakenly shoot at another character when they startled him, only for Sellers to instead intentionally shoot co-star Jacqueline Bisset (credited as Jacky Bisset) in the face for a "joke".

As Bisset later recounted of the incident,

"Peter Sellers was horrible to work with," she said. "My first big role was Casino Royale, and I was supposed to enter the bathroom in a nightgown with a big bottle of champagne suggestively cradled in my arms, trying to seduce James Bond. As a sick joke, Sellers turned and fired a gun directly into my face. There was a blank in the gun and the burning gunpowder and shreds of the blank hit me directly in the face. First I thought I had actually been shot, and when I realised it had been a blank I thought I had been blinded. My face looked like a shower spout of pin pricks leaking blood. Everyone on the set could see that I had dozens of tiny wounds. Of course I dropped the bottle of champagne on my foot as well."

This incident wasn't what caused Sellers to eventually quit/get fired from the movie, however. This occurred due to the fallout of Sellers childishly deciding to start a one-sided feud with his co-star, le Chiffre actor Orson Welles.

Yes, that one.

After pressuring the filmmakers into hiring Welles in the first place, the deeply insecure Sellers immediately took offensive to how the rest of the cast and crew liked the legendary actor/director, as Joe McGrath, one of Casino Royale's FIVE directors put it: "[Sellers] was very insecure. Orson was quite a presence, but he was great fun and the crew loved him. Peter took exception to that."

Things came to a head when Sellers managed to convince Princess Margaret, sister of then Queen Elizabeth II, to come and visit the set. As McGrath explained,

"Princess Margaret came in and she did a curtsy to us all, and then we all bowed to her," McGrath said. "Then she passed Peter by and said: 'Hello, Orson, I haven’t seen you for days.' She sat between Peter and Orson and spent the whole time talking to Orson. That infuriated Peter."

Sellers responded to this perceived insult by attempting to bully Welles, making various comments about his weight, and once refusing to ride in an elevator with the man, claiming that doing so was a "safety hazard". Welles for his part, scathingly called Sellers an amateur for his childish antics on set.

Regardless, this eventually led to Sellers refusing to be in any scenes that also featured Welles, which considering how they were meant to be facing each other across table playing cards (the entire premise of the original story), McGrath rightly said that the situation was becoming ridiculous.

As he later recounted in an interview,

“He told me he would refuse to appear in the same shot as Orson. ‘You’re Peter Sellers; you’re a star,’ I said. He replied: ‘Yes but he is Orson Welles.’ I reminded him that he had asked for Orson and then told him, ‘this is ridiculous. You can’t get paid this enormous amount of money; ask for Orson Welles and then refuse to appear with him. Peter you are behaving like a spoilt child.’ He then punched me in the face and I hit him back in the face. “Afterwards, I met Peter Cook who said to me. ‘I hear you and Sellers had a punch up. I think this is the first instance ever of the fan hitting the shit.’ Isn’t that wonderful?”

Shortly after this, Sellers walked off the set and never came back, resulting in additional scenes having to be filmed with other actors due to there only being 30 minutes of footage that actually had usual footage with Sellers in it. The result was a mess, not helped by the script undergoing multiple rewrites by Sellers, David Niven and Woody Allen (yes, he's in the movie too), with entire new subplots involving additional agents all named James Bond to try and paper over the cracks in an already shaky story.

A year after the Sellers stormed off the set, he did send a written apology to McGrath for his behaviour... Which Sellers said was the only time that he ever apologised to anyone, not even the Bisset, the aforementioned actor he shot in the face for a joke.

[maximumqueer]

I want to talk about Luffy and his recklessness/impulsiveness as a character, and how the way that that trait is portrayed adds both depth to him as a character, as well has help to create the dynamic nature of One Piece's narrative.

It is fairly common for a trait like recklessness or impulsiveness (and in this case both) to be depicted as either wholly negative or (oftentimes with shonen) wholly positive. There is nothing wrong with that type of portrayal, but it can tend to make a character feel more flat, as well as make that aspect of their character feel more like (especially with more negative portrayals) a gag, more divorced from the rest of their character. Luffy isn't like that.

With Luffy, we regularly see mixed results after he makes a reckless or impulsive decision. For an example, way back in Arlong Park, the pinwheel move he uses to take take out the majority of Arlong's men, leaving just him and his top three officers, is also the move that gets his feet stuck in concrete and subsequently chucked into the ocean.

We also have Luffy's fights with Crocodile, Magellan, Moriah, and Kaido all of which involve aspects of Luffy's recklessness, some that ultimately lead to Luffy's victory (Crocodile, Moriah and his second fight with Kaido), as well as those that led to his defeat (his first fight with Kaido and Magellan).

We also have story elements that were spurred on by Luffy's recklessness, and while these more often than not end in our Strawhats favor, the road getting there is bumpy due to Luffy's impulsiveness. Drum Island is a good example of this, while Luffy's snap decision to take Nami up the mountain himself ultimately saved her life, it also led to him getting injured and nearly dying in the process as well.

There is also Luffy's declaration to starve himself during Whole Cake, his involvement with Dressrosa, and his pursuit of reaching Skypeia, to name a few others.

This complex mix of outcomes in regards to Luffy's recklessness adds depth to his character, by slowly revealing Luffy's internal logic (through actions) when it comes to these decisions. At first, (and on a surface level reading) these actions could be viewed as strictly random and comedic, and there often IS comedy involved in the impulsive nature of Luffy. But it is far more than that. His fight with Magellan is a good example of this.

It is (to me) fairly clear that Luffy is aware of how dangerous Magellan is, but Luffy has an ever approaching end to a timer looming over him (in the form of Ace being removed from the prison and taken to the execution platform). So, Luffy starts punching him with his bare fists, despite knowing that it will be painful/life threatening to do so. And following Luffy's logic, we can see how he came to his decision. He needs to get to Ace, but Magellan is in his way. Running is a no go, as he can just catch up to Luffy and capture him, and can't just keep dodging, because that will just end up wasting time. So Luffy makes the decision to fight him head on, even though the likelihood of him winning is incredibly low, it is better than simply giving up. Giving characters internal logic for decisions that they make (especially when those decisions are not optimal/reckless ones) adds depth to the character. It adds structure to otherwise purely chaotic actions, and makes the character more sympathetic and overall more interesting to follow.

In One Piece's case, it also makes the story itself more dynamic, as Luffy is the driving force of it. There is no one set outcome for when Luffy makes an impulsive decision, and watching it play out as such is always fresh and exciting. Wano's trajectory fundamentally changed when Luffy decided to fight Kaido earlier than planned, adding new stakes that - while the decision itself could be seen coming thanks to the internal logic of Luffy as a character - the entirety of the fallout of it could not.

Luffy's recklessness not being solely a flaw or a virtue, but instead a complex mix of both is great character writing, and in my humble opinion is what makes both Luffy as a protagonist, and One piece as a story so good and engaging, even 25+ years after its inception.

[vultures-and-scavengers]

okay i have SO many thoughts on the blorbo cullen but my biggest ones are that i wish inquisition showed him In Withdrawal more. like this is terrible but pls make him shaky and unable to eat and like,,, coping with being the leader of the military but physically unable to fight. does this make sense?? 😭

it ENTIRELY makes sense. have you seen his concept art? the bags under his eyes are so big, if he tried to fly on an airline, they'd charge him for each one. he's super gaunt looking. he looks awful. its fantastic.

and then in game he's just pretty boy.

(this got way long, putting the rest under a cut)

and honestly, inquisition did not do a very good job of making the military an actual military? it's very hand-waved, running off the vague pop culture ideas of fantasy militaries, but like. irl, you do not have the #1 boss out on the field. that's not a thing that happens.

and cullen is the equivalent of like. the american joint chiefs of staff. he is in charge of everything. his decisions are going to be bigger than punishing individual soldiers, handling any one units requisitions, etc. he should also definitely have an actual staff. like a small herd of people who can advise and inform and gatekeep anyone who comes to him with questions.

and running the inquisition military alone SHOULD be overwhelming and awful and the sort of stress that ages you by 10 years each week. but nah, he just. is fine. signs some papers. swings a sword around. like, i want to know what your rations look like. what about your supply lines. how are you feeding/outfitting/housing/paying an entire army?

AND THEN they just hand-wave lyrium symptoms, so YEAH, i want to know more. chronic pain, temper, joint issues-- i feel like we can sort of somewhat see those in-game in. you know. the single cutscene we get where he gets into why he's doing this and how its affecting him.

and then he's fine in every other cutscene. and he acts like he's fit to fight and he'll go out into the field, in arbor wilds and shrine of dumat. so whats up, baby girl? whats going on?

so its like this mess of them not reading even a single wikipedia page on militaries (or trebuchets. they have a max effective range of around 350 meters. haven cutscene, i just want to talk.), and then giving us no clear answer on what lyrium does to those trying to get off it, but then since the player might tell him to get back on, permanently or temporarily, the player might not even talk to him, or the player will tell him to stay off it, like, you might have to write four different sets of dialogue afterwards, thinking about how the battles are going?

AUGH.

he's so inconsistent. and some of that is just DAI being a video game, which inherently limits what you can do. but some of it is just like. can we get one or two other people on this story?

and i think his writer was given an impossible task, which ive spoken some with @fenrisisms about: how the hell do you handle emotional fallout from torture, participation in an oppressive system that is encouraged and glorified by the main dominant cultural force in thedas AND was the system that oppressed those that also tortured him, drug addiction and withdrawals, and leading a military that he's 100% not qualified to lead (which i have so many thoughts on) in half a dozen cutscenes? and then add a romance? someone say a prayer for his writer.

and so we get this dude who we're told is suffering from withdrawal because he's trying to quit a substance that has killed or driven mad everyone else that's tried to get off, and he's... fine? outside the one cutscene? while also taking on a monstrously difficult task he's not qualified for (and then succeeds at)?

UGH.

DAI my beloved, you could have been even more.

[its-in-the-woods]

Coyote Head - Part 9 - An Old Bible

master list

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8,

Pairing: Cooper Howard x Lucy Maclean 

Includes many other characters from Fallout

Synopsis: More hidden secrets are about to be spilled, as our couple moves closer together.

MINOR GET OUT. Rating/Warning:  Animal/people death, dead animal mutilation, Alternative Universe, Slow Burn, Death, Aging, Family Feuding, Older Man/Younger Woman

Note: that I will not be spoiling any of the reading. So you have been warned. I will keep my tags relevant without spoiling what is happening in the story.

*thank you for waiting patiently, we finally have this mostly written out including how this ends. besides editing and fluffing it out a bit. 😀

Mark, Cooper's brother, was driving them back to the farm. Mark was slenderly built, with spiky black hair, his clothes neatly fitted. He looked shockingly like his brother but moved in more cat-like ways. The man was more than gracious, having brought his wife's, Ashley, SUV for a gentler ride home. He chatters with Cooper about the cattle and seed prices. Lucy was still feeling dazed, her hearing kept ringing, the nurse had assured them both that it should return soon. Lucy was not as sure it would actually come back, it was pulsing almost like a siren. Even the extra pain meds had done little to nothing to help. She rubs at her temples, hoping that sleep and a hot shower will alleviate some of the pressure. 

Despite having been unconscious for the last two days Lucy still felt exhausted. Her body aches and protests at every bump and turn. She desperately wants to sleep, but the thought of closing her eyes in the car made her skin crawl. Memories were trying to crawl back, her Grandpa’s voice, Cooper screaming for her. She pushes those away, instead, she got an extra large coffee and drank it while trying to keep track of the two brother's conversation. 

Mark talked fast and animated, while Cooper listened and added bits and pieces. Cooper was a decade older than Mark, Mark had bought a quarter section with his wife five years ago. The man was passionate and more than eager to get input from his older brother. Cooper, as always, was reassuring and willing to explain what he could to Mark. By the sounds of things, the fields would be dry enough to plant this week. Mark had tried unsuccessfully to convince Cooper that he would be fine tackling seeding alone. The eldest brother had stated that within the week he'd be out there helping. Family always came first, whether that was being picked up at the hospital or seeding fields.

Lucy making sure to offer help as well, she didn’t want to step on toes, but it felt like the right thing to do. Even if the idea of sitting behind the wheel of a tractor with nothing but her thoughts wasn't appealing. She mentally noted that she needed to find some podcasts to listen to. Preferably something not of the paranormal variety. 

“Lucy, have you driven a seeder before?” Mark asks, brown eyes looking in the rearview mirror at her.

“Uh, I drove Tim's old International. But it's been a bit.” Lucy replies, trying to keep the shakiness out of her voice. Cooper's hand reaching behind the seat to pat her knee. “Sure with a little practice, I could learn.” 

“Well if you're up for it we could sure use yah.” Mark continues, unswayed by Cooper’s sigh. “Usually-” The man was quiet for a moment, his eyes getting glassy, “Usually Dad -um- would be out with us. But -ah- I don't think he'll make it.” 

“I would be happy to help,” Lucy replies, hoping to move the conversation away from the sore spot.  “Pretty sure Harris and his kids are covered this year.” 

The rest of the ride home is dotted with talks about different machinery, equipment maintenance, and how expensive everything was. Lucy adding that Dane was excellent on any equipment, Cooper agreed and mentioning that it would be good to have them on board. She felt a little selfish trying to keep Dane nearby, but really if they could have their hands full with work they enjoyed why not offer it? Even if it would only be for this harvest season.

It was getting close to five when they pulled into the Howard home, Lucy spotting Harris’ vehicles sitting in the drive. Her stomach knotted tight, she had briefly texted the man about being free of the hospital's confines. He had only replied that he would see her when she got there. Harris had never been one for texting, but with spotty reception on the highway, phone calls were not ideal. She tries to ease her racing mind, family was a good thing, though she was positive that dinner would be filled with many questions. That Lucy didn’t have answers to, she wasn’t even really sure she wanted to remember what had happened. The thought had her ears ringing again, trying to relax her jaw so she didn't break a tooth.

Cooper helps Lucy out, he isn’t completely on his feet either but between the two of them they manage to hobble towards the house. Whatever had happened was enough for both of them to be sore. Lucy happily leaning into the warmth of Cooper’s body, she wonders briefly if she’d get to share a bed with him tonight. Even if it was just to curl up against him, they were both adults after all.

A ruckus of cries came from the door, nearly sending Lucy toppling to the ground. As Mathias and Janey came running out towards them. The two small children nearly knocking them off their feet as they wrap themselves around Cooper. Lucy held on to make sure that he didn’t topple down. 

“Daddy! Daddy!” Matthias sobs his head buried in the man’s stomach. “I just wanted you home.” 

Cooper lets go of Lucy with a small smile before he drops himself onto the gravel. Mark comes up quickly to help keep Lucy on her feet, she gratefully leans on him. Her legs are threatening to give out with too much pressure. Mark may have been trim, but he was still strong enough to hold Lucy up with ease. 

The kids piled on top of their Dad with happy tears, Cooper hugging both of his children close to his chest. Janey couldn’t even find words, just wrapping herself around one side of Cooper and crying. Lucy beams at the small family, her heart aching knowing that she could have been the one to lose him. Because of her, their Dad had been gone for two days, because of her his life had been turned upside down. Lucy couldn’t help gritting her teeth, vowing to do her best to keep him out of danger. Not that she could ever stop him from doing something he wanted to do.  

Harris’ big voice echoes across the place as he comes over to give Lucy a near spine-breaking hug. Margie, not too far behind, tears in her eyes as she hugs her niece with her husband. Mark lets go to make his way towards the front entrance. 

“You sure gave us a scare,” Margie cries, her hands cupping Lucy’s face. “Didn’t know what was gonna happen.”

Lucy let her own tears flow, as she held onto her family. Unable to find the words to properly convey how much it meant that she had them, that they were all still here. The reality that she could have lost her life became all that much clearer as she held onto both of them. 

***

The dinner table was empty, Mark having gone home to his family not long ago. The kids have been tucked into bed for the night. Not without a lot of protests and promises that both Cooper and Lucy would still be there in the morning. Lucy had even stayed in the room long enough for Janey to fall asleep. She’d only known the kids for a short period of time, but the impact she had on both was clear. Now once again Lucy sat surrounded by the other adults of the family, some apple moonshine had been poured. A rare, but delicious treat. The alcohol's effects starting to relax Lucy enough to feel like she was not going to combust in her seat. She really didn’t want to answer questions, but there weren’t many options. 

“Lucy, Cooper, know you’ve both had a wild few days,” Harris starts, happily taking another shallow glass of liquor. “But, I was hopin' maybe you guys might be able to fill in some details, did either of ya rmember much?” 

Lucy shook her head, “I remember the dance, then drivin' home. I remember going inside and seeing the coyote and then hearing Tim.” She swallows, her throat going dry at the memory, “I heard his voice.”

She watches as everyone at the table’s face goes pale, Cooper’s hand covering hers. “T’was the same for me, but I didn’t hear Tim. I heard Barb. But it sounded wrong like it was comin’ outta radio. Then it got loud, so loud.”

A heavy silence falls around them as the others take in what they just heard. Harris looks at Marge, Richard, and Dorthy doing the same. As if they were silently deciding amongst themselves if they should believe them. Lucy looking at Cooper, squeezing his hand. He was doing his best to keep himself stone-faced, but Lucy could see the cracks.  She desperately wanted to comfort him, tell him she was sorry, but knowing here was not the time or place. 

“How did you know to come get us?” Lucy finally asks, not able to sit in the silence any longer. It was one of the few things she’d thought about asking since she woke up. 

Harris swallows as all eyes turn to them, shifting in his seat as he looks at everyone. Margie glaring at him, her lips pursed, arms crossing her chest as she waits for her husband to reply. If looks could wound, she’d have cut him to ribbons. 

“I didn’t know,” Harris states, Margie gets up and walks to the kitchen counter where her bag is. “I went to look for your Granddad’s bible,”

Lucy felt like she might throw up, Cooper’s whole body tensing. Harris continuing to keep secrets from her was a blow, even if it had saved them. She wishes Harris would be more honest about what he was doing. 

“Now before punches are thrown, downright needed ones,” Harris replies putting his hands up, as Margie sits down with a small book in front of her. “I was going to tell you after the dance. At Sunday dinner. But I got this itchin’ feelin’ I needed to go and look for it now.” Cooper’s hand squeezes Lucy’s as his hazel eyes are set on Harris’. “I am glad I did, and I know I should have phoned.”

“Yes, he should have. Stubborn asshole.” Margie grumbles, her fingers tapping on the top of the book. “I gave him hell for ya Lucy. Man can be stupider than a steer some days. He found this, a few days after you had gathered the journals.” 

Margie carefully passes the book, more of a ledge now that Lucy can see it clearly. It’s black, non-descript with worn pages poking out the side, and a silver script says 00-05 on the top right corner. Flipping it open the title page has her Grandfather’s name and phone number in the top left. Underneath it has: gains/losses for 2000-2005 

“Now, it might not seem like much, Lucy,” Harris said quietly, everyone shuffling closer to take a look at the now coveted item. Lucy pushes it forward so more can see it.  “But if you follow the dates, you’ll notice a few thin's. “

Lucy flipped open the page, counts of cows, calves, bulls, and steers listed. Then below the count of who went to slaughter, who stayed, which bulls were kept, and so on. As her eyes sweep lower, the pen color changes. It could almost be overlooked, going from black to a navy blue pen, but Lucy picks it up right away. Her Grandpa, like many of his generation, was a stickler for details. He won’t have switched pens without reason. 

July, sixteenth, two thousand, beside it was a note fox killed four chickens

“The blue,” Lucy said looking up at Harris, her finger resting beside that. Dorothy puts on her reading glasses to take a closer look. “We never lost chickens to foxes.”

Harris nods, Richard's eyebrows scrunching, “I’ve seen Tim’s coops, could barely get in'em as human. Highly doubt a fox got through quarter-inch hardware cloth.”

“Flip to the next month,” Harris states, leaning back against the chair a bit. Lucy not liking that he seemed to have the book memorized by now. Why hadn’t he given her the book to begin with? 

She worries at her lip but does what she asked, finger once again running down to the next off-colored line. Again black and then navy blue.  

August fifteenth two thousand, two rabbits, wild

She flips over to the next page, now easily finding the different color. 

September thirteen two thousands, coyote, attacked calf

Every month there are at least one, sometimes two, lines written in navy blue ink. The writing seemed slightly different, almost shaky. 

“So,” Lucy looks around, unsure exactly what Harris was leaning towards. “What is it?”

“It’s the full moon and solstices,” Dorthoy spoke, her voice wavering slightly. Folding her glasses under her shaky hands. “They are all close to twenty-eight days apart.”

Lucy is flipping open her phone and searching for a full moon calendar. She looks at the website, and then at the ledger. Each date is almost exact. Some off by a day or two, but on or around the full moon.

“I am still lost,” Cooper adds, Lucy, letting him take a look at the book as she watches her Uncle and Aunt closely.

“I think he was bringin the animals to the forest,” Harris says, Margie’s looking like she might be sick. “I can’t be certain, but why else would he have it in a different color on or around the full moon?”

Lucy snorts, maybe it’s the alcohol or the lack of sleep, but the words out of Harris’ mouth seem ridiculous. “Like as a sacrifice? To the forest? Is that really what we are thinking here?”

More silence, Dorothy taking a deep drink from her glass, Lucy trying to see if anyone else agrees. How was this even possible? Yes, weird stuff was happening, but that didn’t mean her Grandfather should have been in a ward. 

“This can’t be what we are thinking?” Lucy pushes, looking at all the people sitting at the table. Cooper doing the thing, his face lined with worry. 

“Lucy,” Richard speaks up, “You and my son aren't the only ones that have heard voices. I also helped search for your Dad and Uncle. I and many others heard, not just their voices, but the voices of other dead loved ones. Most shrugged it off as the wind or exhaustion. But I saw the look in your Grandfather’s eyes, it was like he knew what it was. He was distraught, spendin more hours out there than anyone. Shirley had to drag him out of there almost every night. He wasn’t right for a long time after that.”

“He’d just lost his sons. Anyone would be unwell.” Lucy throws her hands up. “Doesn’t mean he was killing animals f-for what?” 

“We don’t know,” Margie replies, voice quieting the room. “Why Harris went lookin for the bible. We want answers just as much as you do.”

“Your Grandad had an old bible, really old,” Harris adds, fiddling with his empty glass. “I am wonderin if there is more info in that. Maybe between the ledger, the journals, and the bible, we can figure out what is going on.”

Lucy finishes her drink, still in disbelief, how could any of this be possible? Her ears rung, the image of the dead and desiccated coyote on her bed standing out clear, her body aching. It was real, as real as any of this could be. Whether Lucy believed it or not, it was happening. Cooper’s hand grips hers as she tries to pull herself back into reality. Realizing her eyes have closed, swallowing as she forces herself to look around the table.

“Okay. We'll get it all together. Try to piece out it is, even if this does sound otherworldly.” Lucy sighs, rubbing at her tired eyes, she desperately needed sleep and some time to digest this all. 

“Can we maybe pick this up tomorrow?” Cooper asks, his eyes still fixed on Lucy, his hand holding hers. Lucy wanted to lean against him and let the world drift away. 

“I think that would be wise, it’s been a hard few days for everyone. “ Margie says, patting Harris’ hand. “Why don’t we'll come by tomorrow evening? Will gather our things and see what we can compile.”

“Sounds like a good plan. I know I could use the rest,” Richard gives a forced smile, as everyone begins to move around the room.

***

Lucy makes it upstairs, just barely, her whole body aches, the last month of terror catching up with her. She leans against the wall once upstairs, Cooper coming over to scoop her up. The way he easily carried her made her heart stutter, she wrapped her arms around his neck. Letting him carry her down to his room, she’d taken to sleeping in the spare room. Cooper wanted to keep things separate until they got to know each other better. 

Tonight was different, something had changed between the two of them. Lucy wasn’t sure what it was, but they were interconnected like they were meant to find the other. It had taken them both being attacked by, well there wasn’t a name for it, to understand that connection. So when Cooper plops her down onto his bed, Lucy doesn’t make a fuss. 

Cooper set about rolling down her socks, his hands are calloused but gentle. He was always so gentle with her, Lucy couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like for him to not be so gentle. Though, that would have to wait for another night when she was more conscious.  Moonshine tended to have that effect on her.

“Do you want me t'sleep in the spare?” Cooper asks, having taken off his socks as well, sitting down beside her. Lucy wraps her arms around his waist, causing Cooper to chuckle. “Would ya mind if I divested some of my clothes, or would ya rather me stay clothed.”

“I don’t mind, it’s your bed, you should be comfortable. I am personally going to remove this constraining bra. As well as my pants,” Lucy chuckles, as she does her best to sit up. The world spinning, Cooper steadies her, his hands working under her shirt. She feels him pause and nods her head, as he carefully unclasps her bra. Lucy sighs as she flings the offending item out from under her shirt. Both giggling at the ridiculous act, as Cooper stands up.

“I am sorry Cooper,” Lucy says, still swaying a bit, the sadness in her stomach still hoovering at the surface. “About Barb. I didn’t know you’d heard her voice.”

Cooper freezes where he is stood, turning to look at her, “It wasn’t her, I wish it was. But I know it in my heart it wasn’t her.” He tapped his fingers over his heart.

Lucy tries to stand, wanting to comfort him, and fails, falling back onto the bed. Maybe it would be best if she just stayed clothed. Cooper comes over crouching between her legs, his hands resting gently on her thighs. 

“I feel like I’ve turned your world upside down.” Lucy sighs, eyes closing, her words feeling meaningless against the tide of pain. “I don’t wish to cause you more pain, Cooper.”

Cooper chuckles, “You do anything but that, Lucy.”  He rests his head against her thigh, Lucy’s fingers naturally running up into his hair.”  

“I seem to be, either too drunk or too tired to remove my pants.” Lucy sighs, covering her face at the ridiculousness of the situation she has found herself in. 

“Do you want’em off?” Cooper asks, Lucy, peeking through her fingers. Cooper kisses the top of her thigh, and the room is very warm all of a sudden. 

“If ya don’t mind helpin'me? No funny business.” Lucy teases, Cooper giving her a soft smile before his hand skillfully had her pants unbuttoned and unzipped. He moves back down so he can take the bottoms and carefully pull them off her legs. Lucy lifted her butt a bit so that they slid off. Slumping into the cool blankets now that she was free of most of her clothes. 

Lucy lays on her side, watching Cooper pull his shirt over his head in one fluid motion. The way his back is shadowed in the late evening light makes her body ache. His pants go next, and Lucy is really regretting drinking as much as she did. The man was like something made out of stone. 

She wiggles herself up and flips the blankets up, crawling in and patting the bed beside her. Cooper crawls in without a fuss, before pulling the blanket up and around them. He wraps his arm around her so that she is snuggled against him. 

“No funny business?” Cooper smirked, his eyes glancing sideways at her, leaning down and kissing her gently. 

Lucy giggles, wiggling herself so she is right next to him, her body pressing up against his. Kissing his collarbone gently as her leg hooked over his thigh. 

“You’re too good to me, Cooper Howard,” Lucy replies, settling herself comfortably as her fingertips trace unknown symbols over his chest. 

Cooper wrapped her up close to him, kissing her forehead, “I could say the same to you, Ms. MacLean.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

TEN IS HERE

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[silverskye13]

talks to u

You will regret talking to me I'm very very sorry

So recently my sister has been reading out loud to me [it is very fun I wish I had someone to read out loud to] and the book she picked was Haunting on the Hill. This book was an absolute minefield of a read because it was advertised as a spiritual sequel to Haunting of Hill House and HOHH is probably one of the books I've been the most emotionally invested in ever. Mostly because I see people take the book and Try To Do It Better constantly, and they do it wrong over and over and over again. I don't know how this became My Hill To Die On, but no one can do a remix of the genre right, especially those that pretend like they're trying to.

Hell House, for example, a book that I hate with my entire being, was a very intentional stab at HOHH. It took the trope of four people -- one a slightly older gentleman who is doing research on the property -- two women -- who is a lonely homebody, and one who is a (implied) bisexual psychic -- and one younger man about their age who has some Obvious Substance Abuse Problems, and sets them in a haunted house to try and figure out why its haunted. The author then spends the rest of the book punishing those characters for obvious perceived societal slights. The old man's sin is being old, and dies because he isn't virile and strong enough to withstand the house [unlike the young male protagonist]. The psychic is punished for believing she is psychic, being a confident woman who lives alone, and being implied bisexual [this is evident in the nature of her death, which I won't share here. It's fucking bad]. Then after these characters die, the white male savior comes back, something to do with the old owner of the house haunting it with his willpower, in a closet with a glass of water? It made no sense. But the metaphor the book was obviously leaning towards was, the Good Guy can win and get the girl if he has strength of mind, is vaguely psychic [but better than the psychic lady obviously] and fucking stands around long enough while his friends are killed.

House on the Hill, which should have been marketed as a reference to Hill House and not as a spiritual successor, is a passable haunted house book that attempts to remix the story by making all of the main characters theater kids. There is an older lady who has been ousted from her community for being too old, the young woman main protagonist who is the Ellie parallel, the Theadora parallel is her girlfriend, a bisexual actress who is maybe a little too full of herself, and their single male character has a substance abuse problem involving cocaine instead of alcohol, like Luke from the original book. The author even seems to have grasped some of the original intention of HoHH as a conversation about isolation and loneliness. However about halfway through the book, it takes a turn and seems to punish Theadora for being the character she was written as, in the same way Hell House punished its Theadora allegory character. The rest of the book proceeds with a lot of standard haunted house tropes -- not a bug exactly, but they don't reinforce any extended metaphor. They're mostly there to be spooky. Which would be fine for a standard haunted house book, but not for a haunted house book that claims its the sequel to HoHH.

You see, Haunting of Hill House, and by extension, Shirley Jackson, the author, have a very subtle but also deeply impactful metaphor about loneliness going on in the background, and everything from the haunted house to the fallout of the characters reemphasizes this theme.

Ellie, Eleanor, is an exhausted housewife-style woman in the 1960s, whose never gone anywhere or done anything with her life, because instead of marrying and moving across the country somewhere, she stayed home to take care of her ailing mother. Now that her mother is dead, she lives with her sister and brother-in-law, and believes herself to be a general tax on the family. She fills stuck, alone, unloved and unwanted. The story is in her point of view, and you quickly realize her way of coping with her trapped feelings involves fantasticizing the world around her. She dreams of who she would be if she just lived over there in that little cottage, how differently her life would turn out if she had a cute little life in that one room house. Etc. When she accepts the summons to Hill House, she steals her brother in law's car and drives there on her own, her first trip alone anywhere in her entire life.

Theadora is a psychic who, if I'm remembering right, lives alone and owns a flower shop. She lives a much more interesting lifestyle than most women in the 60s, in a big city with many different friends and lovers coming and going, completely independent. There is an implication that she has trouble keeping interpersonal relationships -- she's a little too flighty -- and really a woman who can't settle down with a man is a red flag.

Doctor Montague seems fine on the surface, if a little jaded. He's a professor at university who is being slowly pushed out of his scientific field because he believes in the supernatural, and wants to prove it using empirical evidence. You find out his wife is very supportive in this venture -- too supportive. He thinks all of her contributions are nonsense, and so is she. His loneliness is self inflicted. He has a fan club right there with his wife, if he gave two shits about her opinions.

Last is Luke, an alcoholic, and the person in line to inherit Hill House. His loneliness is that he, doesn't want the fuckin' house. But because of his alcoholism and gambling problems, the family has decided he, as the cursed child, gets to take care of the cursed mansion no one else wants to touch. So Luke, ostracized from the family and a little shitty about it, decides he might as well rent out the place for some extra cash to fuel his various addictions. The family is going to be cutting him off soon anyway...

These four characters, over the course of Hill House, become haunted by the house, not because of tragic deaths there, or because the house is alive in any literal sense of the word. But because the House has the quality of an overbearing mother, smothering its children with its expectations. Any piece of furniture moved in the place is replaced as soon as they leave the room. Any door opened to allow air or light inside is shut the minute they walk into the next. The house rights itself back to a self-inflicted perfection that is unlivable, and it wants to isolate you too, to be like it. Hill House tells you exactly what it is and what it wants to do in the first paragraph: And all who walk there, walk alone.

Shirley Jackson wrote this very intentionally. As a woman in the 60s trying to have a successful writing career, none of her books were taken seriously. She was pigeonholed into mother and housewife first. Articles that wrote about her works at the time held the patronizing tone of someone congratulating a child who found a new hobby -- not a serious writer wanting to make poignant stories. Her books are lovely now, the few that were published. But Shirley Jackson lived a life that was full of anxiety and agoraphobia, in a world where she felt belittled and token. Her books are written the way they are for a reason. There is great loneliness in being shoved in a box.

I really love that exploration. I love how the people in the book descend into the box of Hill House, the expectations they place on each other, and the way all the women feel tonally dissonant in their token roles. And that's why I hate so many modern adaptations, or inspired-bys, or spiritual sequels. Hill House is a metaphor before it's a ghost story -- and that is why it succeeds as a ghost story! It is scary because you get invested in the characters' wellbeings, their doomed qualities, their individual, very subtle, madnesses. Watching new writers read the book and punish those characters over and over again for not acting right [especially Theadora, Jesus Christ.]

In fact, since I'm already ranting, I'm going to give you a quick rant in defense of Theadora.

Theadora breaks into the book as a very bright star in Ellie's world. She is, literally, everything Ellie wishes she could be. She lives an interesting life, alone, without being too cripplingly lonely. Theadora, used to a little bit of flirting and over friendliness, falls in with Ellie and Luke immediately. She is charming, and bright and beautiful, and Ellie, who's character flaw is romanticizing everything, falls head over heels for her. They get scared together. They comfort each other when the ghosts start acting up. They get haunted together. And Ellie decides, in the way of someone romanticizing something, when all this is over, she would like to live with Theo. But when she tells Theo this, Theo laughs it off. "This is just a holiday, Ellie dear. We will have to get back to our lives eventually." It's unfair to say this is a game for Theadora. I feel like her feelings in the book, all her charm and her flirting, are genuine. But they're genuine in the way of someone going on vacation and flirting around with the people they meet -- she has a normal life she enjoys that she plans on getting back to. Ellie, who is incredibly alone, and who feels like she has only just tasted happiness now that she's come to Hill House, doesn't want to go back home after this. This is the happiest she's ever been.

Ellie informs Theo she is going to follow Theo home, and Theo turns very, very mean. She starts hitting much harder on Luke [something that makes Luke uncomfortable, but something he never really stops, because Luke also likes the attention he's getting] and belittling Ellie and her wild fantasies. She pushes Ellie away. It isn't kind, but what else can she do? She told Ellie she doesn't want to be followed home and Ellie, trapped in her daydreams, doesn't listen.

The rest of the book unfolds. Hill House isolates Ellie, and makes her feel like she can have no happiness outside its smothering walls. She gets taken by it.

In every book that takes on the mantle of trying to tackle the themes that made Hill House great, I would like to ask you all this: Why do they always punish Theo?

Hell House straight up kills its Theo allegory in a very brutal, overt way, implying she deserves that brutality for her promiscuity. The House on the Hill kills its Theo for being too full of herself, for believing she was entitled to greatness.

Why?

You can make a case for the queer aspects of her probably. Or for misogyny. Or for infidelity. Or for the fact that she appears to choose Luke over her relationship with Ellie. But I notice none of these books punish their Ellie allegory for also falling for Theo. For also aspiring to be something other than a stuffy housewife somewhere. For also falling for Luke, and wanting him to be a part of her happiness fantasy.

In honesty, I really think these authors read Theo and think she's the antagonist. So they write their stories to punish the angry woman who was mean to poor, lonely Ellie. But, here's the kicker, Theadora isn't the antagonist. The house is. Loneliness is. The house leads Ellie to a perfect world, and Ellie, who is the way that she is, cannot fathom a world where that perfection is broken, so she ignores it. So she scares people with her over-attachment. So they try to send her away, because whatever is going on with her, it's not safe and it needs to stop. So she decides she would rather die than leave.

Theadora is only "the bad guy" because she's the one that reminds everyone that the fantasy of this perfect house must break eventually. The Doctor will have to go back to his university that doesn't take him seriously and his wife who takes him too seriously. Theadora will have to go back to her shop with her rotating friends who aren't as close as she'd like, but whom she can't force to stay. Luke will have to go back to his place as the unwanted, failing heir and Eleanor --

Well. Eleanor doesn't leave Hill House.

Everyone gets so mad at Theodora because of Ellie's investment in her. Because Ellie is lonely, and sad, and relatable. The first time I read Hill House, some of Ellie's lines made me want to cry they hit so close to home. All her assertions that when she spoke to people she said too much and was too stupid, she would be better tomorrow. All her quiet chastisements that she needs to be more interesting. All her attachments and how scared she is of being spurned. All her wonder when she looks around at the world and tries to imagine a better life. But it's not Theodora's fault that Ellie doesn't get that. It's Ellie's fault for becoming too attached to something that isn't there, and it sucks, and if this were a story with a happy ending, she would realize that and grow past that, but she doesn't. That's not how the story is written.

On one of the nights when the haunting happens, Ellie and Theo are sharing a room. They are laying in bed and holding hands while the house comes alive around them. Knocking on the walls. Slamming doors. Claws, and whispering, and scraping and screaming. Ellie and Theo hold each other's hands tightly. She hears the torturous sounds of a baby in the other room, a child in pain, screaming for its mother, and she's terrified and she's holding tight to Theadora's hand.

And finds, when the haunting stops, that Theo was out of reach the whole time.

Ellie asks, who's hand was I holding?

[The Haunting of Hill House is a metaphor.]

One of these days I'm going to sit down and write the Haunting of Hill House remake in my head, that I am just egotistical enough to believe I could do well. I would find a more modern metaphor first. Something to do with the loneliness of an infinitely interconnected world. Something to do with how boxed in we all feel, how trapped, and how so many people blame it on computers, even though they should be able to connect us more.

I would build a Hill House where the four characters meet on a forum, the first time they've found someone with similar interests. They would meet in person for this haunting expedition. They too would take in the oddness of a house that rights itself on its own, pretends they were never there. They two would fall in love with each other, and bond, and find community in a group of people who are constantly isolated and are glad to finally find someone they relate to.

They too would have to dear with the objective, lonely horror of realizing this doesn't magically fix their problems. That they were alone in the rest of their lives not just because the world isolated them, but because they're bad at forming connections. They would get catty, and disagree, and worry about the lives they need to go back to, and complain about spouses and partners. And one of them, as is Hill House's tithe, wouldn't be able to cope.

One of them, as is Hill House's tithe, wouldn't be able to leave.

Anyway, not sure where exactly this rant was going. Uh. Nice Sunday we're having anon. Got any niche special interests you've been meaning to unload recently?