#this reminds me how i’m terribly like bones and the fact we simply go mad in every color for spock

[trashtrekker]

I can feel you, I’m same

stuck on a plane so have some sillies i doodled in my notes app

[theowhy]

[thiam] following footsteps

2.4k / g / oneshot

note: hello friends :’) long time no post, i just never have any free time these days. my writing brain cells are rusty but here’s a short thing that was meant to be a, uh, christmas fic but that i couldn’t wrangle into shape until now. it’s not terribly contingent on the christmas season and i hope it’s enjoyable even two months late lmao

The cold is the worst thing when Liam finally comes to. Everything bombards him at once: the bruising ache in his back, the smell of dirt and pine and damp clothes. But the cold—that chills him straight to his bones.

“Shit,” Liam says.

“‘Shit’ is right,” says Theo, a disembodied voice somewhere off to Liam’s left because Liam can’t even bear to open his eyes yet. He’d recognize Theo’s presence even if blind or dead.

How annoying. Though in this moment, it gives Liam a weary sense of comfort, knowing he’s not alone.

“What happened?” he groans, bringing a hand up to gingerly touch his temple where a headache currently pounds.

“You got your ass handed to you,” Theo says. He shifts, clothes rustling, a crunching sound beneath his feet.

Ice? Liam opens his eyes.

They were in the forest, he finally remembers. And sure enough, they’re surrounded by dark trees and a white landscape, grey clouds beyond them, a hard ground beneath. There are rocks, too: Theo must have found some kind of outcropping in the hills to shelter from the snow flurrying through the air. Had he dragged Liam under here after… whatever happened before he was out?

“Yes, I dragged you here,” Theo says, then rolls his eyes. “Don’t look at me like that, your face was obvious.”

Liam grimaces. “Did I get hit?”

“Thrown through a tree, actually.” There’s way too much pep in Theo’s voice when he says it. He points out away from them, towards a splintered tree stump in the distance. Its other half lies not far past it, slowly being buried beneath the snow. “That one.”

“Ouch.” Explains why Liam’s back is killing him. “What was it?”

“You don’t remember?”

“I got thrown through a tree, cut me some slack.” Liam gingerly moves to sit up and rub some warmth back into his arms.

“It was… I don’t even know how to describe it.” Theo frowns as he remembers. “I’ve never seen anything like it before. This big white ball of… energy. Ice. It got mad when it saw us and blew you into that tree. There’s been a snowstorm ever since.”

“Did you… kill it?” Liam asks apprehensively.

“Hell no, I grabbed you and hauled ass. You’re lucky it didn’t follow.”

“So it’s still out there? We have to tell the others.”

Theo wordlessly digs into his pocket and pulls out his phone. He taps the home button. The screen doesn’t light up.

Liam gapes. “Did you seriously bring an uncharged phone out into the middle of nowhere?”

“It’s not my fault you were out for an hour, okay?” Theo snarls. “We were supposed to take a quick look around and go back, I didn’t know some mythical snow spirit whatever the fuck was going to attack us. At least my phone is still in one piece.”

“What?” Dread sinks into Liam’s stomach. He digs into his back pocket, pulls out a mess of circuits and glass and dented metal. He squeaks, “Oh no.”

“Yeah, nice.” Theo sighs. “What is that, your second phone this year?”

“Third.” Liam buries his head in his hands. “My parents are going to kill me.”

It was hard enough convincing them to let him go on this trip to the mountains, where Scott and the rest of the pack had rented a cabin for the weekend. Ostensibly it was to investigate reports of sudden blizzards and extreme snowfall, something Deaton had thought concerning enough for them to check out. But in actuality, none of them expected it to be anything more than some random meteorological weirdness. Scott brought his Nintendo Switch and Mario Kart. Lydia brought wine.

But they’d hardly settled into the cabin before Scott suggested they take a look around before dark, just to get some work in before Mario Kart and chill. Figures Liam didn’t even get the chance to kick Theo’s butt at Mario Kart before the universe decided to screw him over and make his parents ground him forever. It’s not his fault his life suddenly became full of a whole lot more fighting than Liam ever expected, even into his senior year of high school.

“There’s no way I’m gonna try and find my way back in this blizzard,” Theo says, with the finality of a nail into a coffin. “So I suggest you get comfortable.”

Liam sighs, watches the white puff of his breath fade into the air. The wind howls in long, drawn out tones. His whole backside is wet from lying on the ground. His head still hurts.

“Yeah, real easy,” he mutters, pulling his knees up and wrapping his arms around them. First things first, try to get his body to stop shivering.

There’s quiet for a moment. Liam’s so preoccupied finding any vestiges of warmth in his body that he startles when something soft is pushed onto his head. He turns his gaze towards Theo.

Theo, whose beanie has now been placed on Liam’s head.

“It ain’t much, but take it,” Theo says, hardly more than a murmur, nearly lost to the sound of the wind. But Liam hears him.

“I’m fine,” he says.

Theo rolls his eyes. “Liam, just take it.”

“But what about you?”

“I can handle a little cold.” Theo crosses his arms tighter, breathes a big exhale that sends a shroud of white around him, thick as smoke. It hides him for a moment but fades away soon enough. His hair is mussed from tugging his beanie off. His nose and cheeks are red, and there are stray snowflakes on Theo’s shoulders, caught in strands of his hair.

It’s more than just a little cold. The beanie helps, in a small way; Theo had given what little he could. That matters, Liam thinks.

It must be that—along with instinctual, human need—that compels Liam to scoot closer until he’s pressed up against Theo’s side.

Theo goes rigid.

He doesn’t say anything. Neither does Liam.

Finally, Theo says, “What are you doing?”

“It’s cold,” Liam says simply. “You said get comfortable.”

“Comfortable does not mean sitting on top of me.”

“I’m not on top of you,” Liam scoffs. “We gotta huddle for warmth.”

“Sure, huddle. Not cuddle.” Theo pointedly scoots away. Liam follows. “Liam.”

“Theo, come on. I’m not dying out here.”

“I’m not dying out here, either,” Theo says, then shuts his mouth.

Liam laughs.

“Glad you find this funny,” Theo grumbles, but this close together, Liam can feel the way he relaxes, the way he presses in by one reluctantly given inch. But it’s something.

Liam tugs the beanie more snugly onto his head, trying not to smile. Yeah. It’s something.

It doesn’t change the fact that they’re stuck out here until whichever happens first: the blizzard goes away (not looking likely), the pack finds them (even less likely, given that Liam hopes they have the wisdom to stay out of the blizzard, too), or God intervenes. Liam’s never had much luck with the last one.

So he takes in his surroundings instead. There isn’t much to see, really, besides trees, trees, and more trees. The occasional bush. Plenty of snow. And—

“Oh!” Liam says, sitting up straighter and pointing. “Mistletoe!”

Theo doesn’t even look and says, “Nice try, Liam. If you wanted to kiss, you could just ask.”

Liam sputters and shoves Theo hard on the shoulder, which hardly budges him. Theo smirks. “No, dude, ugh. Christmas was like a month ago, anyway. I mean there’s literally mistletoe growing on the trees.”

“Riveting,” Theo drawls, but humors Liam anyway. He looks out to where Liam’s pointing at a bushy mass growing in the branches of one of the trees ahead of them. “That it?”

“Yeah.” Liam squints. He can see its leaves rustling with the wind, how different they are from the leaves of the oak tree it rests in. “Phoradendron villosum. Pacific mistletoe. Don’t eat it.”

“I know that.”

“Did you know mistletoe is a parasite?”

“It’s poisonous, that doesn’t surprise me.” Theo looks mildly interested anyway, and Liam feels a small thrill of victory over it. It’s not often that he gets to share some biology knowledge that Theo doesn’t already know. “So why are people obsessed with hanging it in doorways and stuff?”

“Why do people do anything? Superstition. Folklore.” A particularly strong gust of wind sends a branch of the mistletoe flying. It lands in the snow a few feet ahead of them. “Some cultures saw it as a symbol of fertility. I guess the white berries remind them of��er.”

An awkward beat of silence.

Theo says, “I hope the snow kills us soon.”

Liam’s face burns. At least he feels a little less cold now.

He clears his throat. “Anyway… It’s also associated with protection from witches and demons and stuff.”

“I never took you for a mistletoe nerd.”

“I wrote a report about them in freshman bio. It was kind of interesting. Makes it a little less romantic to know they actually kill the trees they grow on.”

“How beautiful,” Theo says flatly. “You’re still a nerd, though.”

“Shut up.” Liam nudges his shoulder against Theo’s. The corner of Theo’s mouth tugs up just slightly.

Liam’s never done it before, kissed someone under the mistletoe. Hayden came and went too quickly for them to ever reach Christmas, and there hasn’t really been anyone since. There was never any time. And, more honestly, no one else has ever made him feel quite the same.

Well. Almost no one else.

But that’s only ever been a passing daydream, one that’s plagued him in random moments. On an elevator ride back down to the first floor of Beacon Hills Memorial. In the passenger seat of a truck. In sparse texts, shared late at night long after pack meetings have ended.

In a snowy forest, surrounded by no one else.

“Hey, Theo,” Liam says.

Theo grunts and turns towards him.

“What?” he says.

Liam presses their lips together. Theo stops breathing.

A kiss would describe it generously. Liam breathes when it becomes evidently clear that Theo won’t. That’s fine. Taking him by surprise is pretty nice. In any case, the kiss ends almost as soon as it began, and Liam pulls away from the corner of Theo’s mouth. The warmth lingers afterwards.

“W-What the hell was that for?” Theo stammers—Theo, stammering—and brings his hand up over his mouth.

“Mistletoe,” Liam says.

“You—idiot.” Theo brings his other hand up to cover his face, but it’s not enough to hide the red lingering at the tips of his ears. It’s a nice color. “You are so… You…”

“Yeah, you too,” Liam says, not bothering to suppress a grin.

Theo gives him a look through the gaps between his fingers, and Liam expects him to grind out another poorly executed insult when Theo drops his hands, his eyes widening, mouth falling slack.

“What?” Liam says.

Theo just grabs him by the shoulders and tugs him back, further into their little shelter.

“What?” Liam says again, more irately. He turns to look where Theo keeps gaping over Liam’s shoulder.

He finds a great, big ball of blue. Liam’s voice dies in his throat.

His first thought is of ball lightning, something he and Mason had spent one sleepover watching way too many videos of on YouTube. In truth, they didn’t care for the science of it rather than the fact that it looked super fucking cool. Just a sphere of pure energy and light, sweeping through open plains or swathes of sky. This doesn’t feel quite like that, but on the surface it seems the same: crackling, blue-white energy, swirling in a sphere that must be a meter wide, at least. Its core is opaque, like hard ice, and there’s a strange hum about it as it drifts closer to them.

It is frighteningly close. Theo draws an arm out across Liam, pushing him against the rocks at their back. But the sphere doesn’t attack them, doesn’t whip them with a sharp slice of wind like Liam was hit with earlier.

It only drifts over their hiding spot, passing by like an elk through the woods. Calm and constellated with flecks of ice and snow. Something about it feels as old as time itself.

Both of them hold their breaths as it passes. It disappears over them, drifting over the hill. The winds calm. The snowfall begins to diminish until it ceases completely.

It’s quiet.

They stay still for one, two, three heartbeats. Then Theo drops his arm. They both exhale.

“Holy shit,” Liam says, panting like he ran a marathon. “Was that it?”

“No, it was a different big blue ice ball,” Theo says. “Of course that was it.”

“That… was awesome.” Liam crawls out of their shelter to look around for any sign of it. It’s long gone, not even a trail left in its wake.

“I see you’ve already forgiven it for trying to kill you.”

“I don’t want to get thrown through a tree again, but it didn’t attack us this time. We probably spooked it earlier. And look, it stopped the blizzard.”

“You’re way too chipper for seeing something that unreal,” Theo says, following Liam out.

The newly returned sunlight falls over Theo’s shoulders, making him that much easier to see. Theo turns his face up to the sun. His damp hair curls at his temples.

Despite Theo’s griping, Liam can see the wonder in his eyes, the way they glow. He looks alive. Liam thinks about how the blood inside him and the blood inside Theo must be the same, despite everything.

Liam says, “Hey. Thanks.”

Theo frowns. “Why?”

“For saving me earlier.” And the time before that. And the time before that.

Theo scoffs, and where Liam usually sees shutters falling over his face, a mask piecing back together, now he sees a hint of a smile. Something brighter, underneath.

“Whatever,” Theo says, and snatches his beanie off Liam’s head so he can ruffle his hair aggressively.

“Dude!” Liam yelps. 

Theo laughs and whirls away, tearing through the snow in a direction Liam will have to trust is home.

There’s no hesitation at all before Liam chases after him.

--

note: big ice ball inspired by the leschach entite of ffxii. because..... im a nerd :p 

[therenlover]

heyy jac I first wanted to say you are amazing, thank you for going out of your way to give us tfatws content. it brightens up my day whenever I see you post. I was just listening to your zemo playlist and I’m one of those people who when I listen to a song I love to make scenarios in my head. I was wondering if you could walk us through some of your favourite songs on the playlist and tell us how you associate them with zemo. I’d love to hear your thoughts on some of the songs. (if that isn’t too much hassle sorry if I’m being annoying lol).

 Anon, you are currently my favorite person in the whole wide world. I absolutely want to give you my favorite songs on the playlist and tell you exactly what I see when I hear them, and you have given me an excuse to do so. This post will probably be long as hell, so I’m putting it under the cut. 

Foolish To Think from A Gentleman’s Guide To Love and Murder

We all know Zemo is a baron, but like... we don’t know how powerful baron’s are in Sokovia. We also don’t know pretty much anything about his childhood or rise to power. I am a firm believer that he’s been ever so slightly unhinged even when he was still just a normal dude, so this is him deciding “you know what, I’m about to climb my way up the Zemo family ladder however I need to,” This, in my mind, is the epitome of fresh faced, 18 year old, canon Zemo ready to go fuck some people up for power. 

If Music Be The Food Of Love arranged by David Dickau

During his rise to power, still just a normal dude, Zemo falls in love with his wife. I’m a big believer in the fact that, because Zemo was raised as royalty, he knows a whole lot of pretentious shit like Shakespeare and recites it to his partner to be romantic. The line “Though yet, the treat is only sound, sure I must perish by your charms unless you save me in your arms,” is what he used to woo her early in the relationship. So cute, it would be terrible if something bad happened to her...

Bogoroditse Djevo arranged by Arvo Pärt

This one is more of a scene I get in my head. It’s a Christmas tune, and I can see him, his wife, and their infant going to their first Christmas market as a family in Novi Grad. Just... walking from stall to stall, giggling at the performers, eating the food, buying little gifts for the baby to remember the occasion. It’s a calm before the storm.

The Swan by Camille Saint-Saëns

This song, in the playlist, marks the death of Zemo’s family. In the past, dancers have interpretted the melody as a badly injured swan, slowly struggling as they die but still being graceful and elegant as they do. As he searches through the rubble, his hope slowly dies, and in the end his hope dies where his family did. Thus begins his descent into madness in...

Daemon Irrepit Callidus arranged by György Orbán

Daemon Irrepit Callidus is Zemo’s descent into madness. From this point on, he slowly loses his softness. The tone of the songs is often much more modern, pulling away from his roots as a baron and man of high status and leaning into something more gritty for much of the Civil War era in the playlist. He has descended into hell and he believes there is no turning back from here. 

Songe d’Automne performed by The White Star Orchestra

Reportedly (by Harold Bride, surviving Jr Telegrapher who was washed off the deck as the ship sank) this was the last song the orchestra played as the Titanic sank. Zemo is going nuts. ‘Nough said.

If I Believed from Twisted

This song, along with a few more, is an outlier in the Civil War era. It represents his reasoning for what he’s doing. I imagine this song is the feeling he has after he listens to his wife’s last voicemail. He’s doing everything for her, burning a whole superhero organization to the ground so that he can assure nobody else has to live through what he did, but he can’t deny that a part of him wishes he could just bring her back no matter how illogical that is.

How Does A Moment Last Forever (Music Box) from Beauty and the Beast

This is, again, a softer moment. He looks back on the time he spent with his family and tries to keep it safe in his mind. It anchors him to reality and keeps him focused on his goals. The end is coming soon in his mind, so he clings as hard as he can to those remaining memories of peace.

Dies Irae arranged by Giuseppe Verdi

He sets the Winter Soldier loose murders all the remaining soldiers in the Hydra base on his day of reckoning. Yeah, that’s basically it, it’s just hype music as he has his big moment.

As The World Caves In by Matt Maltese

His plan has been carried out and now Zemo is simply watching as the world caves in around him. He’s succeeded in all of his plans, the avengers are crumbling, he’s listened to his wife’s voicemail one last time and now he’s ready to be dead. He thinks this is it. Well, until he’s taken into custody and locked up forever. 

Leonardo Dreams Of His Flying Machine arranged by Eric Whitacre

My man Eric is coming in clutch once again. This is Zemo, brilliant mind and all, stuck rotting in jail. He has nothing but his dreams of grandeur to tide him over So, he dreams. He dreams of escape, of his family, of what waits for him once he dies. 8 years of dreaming pass before Bucky finally approaches as Lacrimosa plays.

Lacrimosa by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

Fuck you, Mozart. You’re only here because you played in the show. Moving on. 

The Sweet Escape by Gwen Stefani 

You cannot tell me that this isn’t what was playing in Zemo’s head as he escaped from maximum security prison and rolled up to that warehouse looking all hot and mysterious. 

Sibella from A Gentleman’s Guide to Love and Murder

Look who’s back! This time, though, I included this because I am adamant that Zemo fucks someone he used to know while he’s escaped and they have a big dramatic love affair. Like, he just does. I don’t make the rules. 

WAP by Cardi B featuring Megan Thee Stallion 

Zemo would just love WAP. He says all that woke shit, so like, he vibes with female empowerment and the idea of them taking back their sexuality. He also loves the annoyed look on Bucky’s face when he plays it, so it stays on the playlist. 

The Man I Used To Be from The Count of Monte Cristo

Now, this one is more speculative, but I feel like Zemo will have a minor change of heart. he won't suddenly be a morally straight good guy to the bone, but I think he’s seriously rethinking his ideology and at some point, he might find a way to let go of a lot of the pain and remorse he’s been carrying around. 

No More from Into The Woods

This song, in my mind, takes place at the Sokovian memorial. Zemo is there and he’s so tired of running and fighting and grieving. He just wants to be okay again but he doesn’t know how to. He has this mental moment where he’s asking his deceased father for help and yet the memory (ghost?) of his father, who he resented for most of his life, isn’t helping him straightforwardly. He has to figure it out for himself in the end. This line speaks to me most. “No more giants waging wars. Can’t we just pursue our lives, with our children and our wives? Till that happy day arrives, how do you ignore...” 

and finally...

Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep arranged by Laura Farnell

Of all the songs on this list, this one was the only one I was absolutely certain of including and I knew it had to be the last song no matter what else I included. Its contents, a famous poem by Mary Elizabeth Frye, could refer to either Zemo or his family. In the case that he visits the monument, it could be the feeling he gets there. Finally, he knows that his family is somewhere better, not buried under the rubble of his home. He’s finally free. 

If he dies at the end of the series though, it takes on a whole new meaning. It’s about him, how he isn’t trapped by his mortal body anymore. He’s now everywhere, both a constant reminder to the world of the atrocities committed in Sokovia and a testament to how powerful a father’s love for his family can be. Once again, he’s finally free to reunite with those he loves, but this time it’s he who isn’t truly dead so long as people heed his life as a warning. 

Wow, this was longer than I thought it would be even when I cut a few songs... I hope you enjoyed!

[7-wonders]

I Can Love You Like That

Summary: How do you tell someone you love them without looking like you’re a traumatized victim of a kidnapping (even if you are exactly that)?

Word Count: 3255

A/N: After the slowest of slow burns...well, I’ll just let you guys read and enjoy (or maybe you won’t, maybe you’ll hate it. Either way, you’ll have read it, so ha!).

But for real, let me know what you think? I put a lot of work into this chapter and I would hate for y’all to be unsatisfied or displeased.

(Adding in the list of previous Mad Love chapters bc I’m stupid and forgot to)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18

The first thing that you do when you finally make it home is surprising to Michael. He had expected you to fall into your bed and nap, or seek out your cat, or even go into the kitchen and start baking to distract yourself from the trauma you’ve endured. What he didn’t expect you to do was to lay on the grass outside and stare up at the clouds. 

“Uh, (Y/N)? Are you okay?”

You nod, refusing to look away from the beautiful, endless sky. “Just...enjoying the sky.”

“Do you need anything?”

This time, you shake your head. Michael shifts back and forth awkwardly, unsure of what he should do. It’s not like you’re willing to tell him why you’ve decided to lay on the grass. He’d look at you with more pity than he already shows when he hears that you’re enjoying the feeling of the sun on your skin again after two weeks of thinking that you would never experience this again. 

“Okay,” he says cautiously. “I’m going to go inside and make a couple of calls I’ve been ignoring, then.”

You wave a hand nonchalantly in his direction. “Go call off Seal Team 6, Langdon. I’ll still be here when you’re done.” The door closes behind him after a moment of silence, and you let out a content sigh at the warmth your body is soaking up as you spread your arms to your sides.

As promised, you’re still in the same position that Michael left you in when he comes outside after a half an hour. He resumes his nervous shifting, and you can’t help but roll your eyes at his hesitance. While you can understand why he would be treating you with such fragility, it’s still annoying to be on the receiving end of this.

“You can lay down with me instead of standing up, if you want.”

Michael doesn’t say anything, but you smirk triumphantly when you glance him laying down out of your peripheral vision. You can tell he’s never done anything so whimsical and carefree as laying down on the grass and finding shapes in the clouds, the stiffness of his limbs enough of a giveaway. Cautiously, Michael lays his hand palm-up on the ground as an open invitation to you. Stubbornness and knowledge wage a battle within your mind; although you would like to refuse his hand, you and he both know that your relationship has forever changed. Interlocking your fingers with his, he squeezes your hand as if to reassure himself that you’re actually here.

“I don’t have to have magic powers to know that you have a lot of questions.”

Michael laughs softly beside you. “You would be correct. I just...don’t know what’s okay to ask, or what I want to say.”

“Ask, I guess. If I want to answer it, I will. If it’s something I’m uncomfortable with, I’ll let you know.”

“I’m so sorry. For everything.” You look over at Michael to find that he’s already staring back at you. “Going to my father and complaining to him about your free will, which I love about you. Keeping things from you after the first time that he tried to poison you. That stupid fight we had. Getting you caught up in this in the first place.”

“Me being involved with you was not your fault, okay? I know that, and I need to make sure that you do too. You did not handpick me, or something like that. Your stupid dad told you what was going to happen, and you followed him because that’s what you’ve done your entire life.” You squeeze his hand to get him to look at you, shame averting his eyes up. “Okay?”

He nods. “Okay.”

A smile plays on your lips as you stifle a laugh. “God, I wish you knew pop culture, this could have been a perfect moment.”

“Why?”

“Nothing in particular.” It would take too long to explain to him.

“Was Madison the only one that physically harmed you?”

“Yeah. You know, for this tiny little actress who constantly wears designer clothes, she can throw a mean punch.” Michael doesn’t appreciate your joke, which is understandable.

“You won’t be pleased, but her death was extra painful.”

“I don’t want to say she deserved it, but…” But what? Are you really now condoning the deaths who have wronged you simply because your Antichrist husband has the ability to kill them? Said Antichrist husband can tell that you’re having a minor internal crisis about your forgotten sentence, and clears his throat to bring your attention back to the present.

“It’s okay to be conflicted about your feelings. She did terrible things to you, they all did. You don’t have to be happy about her being dead, but you certainly have no reason to mourn.”

“I thought I was supposed to be the one reassuring you.”

“I’m not the one who was kidnapped and beaten for two weeks,” he retorts. His eyes widen when he realizes what he’s said, but instead of getting angry, you giggle in amusement.

“Well alright then, is there anything else you want to ask me?”

“You’ve been through enough lately, you don’t need me pestering you with endless questions right now.”

If you’re being honest with yourself, you’re more than a little relieved. Fatigue has started to settle in your bones, and the thought of a hot shower to wash off all of the grime that a daily five minute shower under ice cold water can’t remove is extremely tempting. Whether you’re just that transparent or Michael’s tapping into his supernatural abilities, it’s obvious to him that you’ve just about reached your limit in this Q&A session.

“If you want, I can see if the kitchen staff will make your favorite food?” Michael asks helpfully. 

“Honestly, I just kinda wanna go to bed early. I’ll eat something more substantial tomorrow, but I can survive on snacks tonight.”

“Whatever you want, (Y/N). You’ve been through enough lately, nobody’s going to force you to do something if you don’t want to do so.” Michael stands up, gently pulling you up with him.

“Thank you, Michael. For...being so kind and coming to rescue me when I was a damsel in distress.”

He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “While I would do it a million times over, let’s hope that I don’t have to do that again.”

Once outside of your bedroom, Michael pauses before hugging you. “For somebody who never experienced hugs before meeting me, you’ve become very good at them.”

“Just...wanted to remind you that I love you.”

You want to say it back, but your throat tightens at the reminder of Madison’s words. “I know. Trust me, I do.”

With one last smile directed towards you, Michael lets go of your hand and watches you walk into your bedroom. Even after you’ve closed the door, he remains outside in the hall, waiting until the water starts running to reassure himself that you’re safe.

You’ve never experienced a more heavenly shower in your life. While you could have stayed under the warm flow of water for hours, the idea of coming out looking like a raisin is enough to convince you that 45 minutes is enough. As you lotion your skin and comb your hair, you take great care to study and feel each action. If there’s one good thing to come out of this experience, it’s that you’ll never take a convenience like brushing your teeth for granted ever again. Falling back onto your mattress, you revel in just how soft a bed can be. Before you can even think of getting something to eat, your eyes slip shut almost against your will. 

It’s been maybe an hour since you’ve fallen asleep when you suddenly wake, hands clutching at your chest as your heart feels like it’s going to burst. While you had assured Michael numerous times that you were feeling fine about everything that had happened to you in the past two weeks, it seems as though you were attempting to convince yourself more than him. The nightmare that woke you, of Cordelia plunging a knife into Michael’s chest while the witches made you watch before turning on you, is burned into your eyes like you were looking straight at a projector. The more that you try to calm yourself down, the more that you get worked up. Gathering your blanket around your shoulders and picking the cat up from her position at the end of your bed, you shuffle out of your room and down the hall.

You hesitate outside of Michael’s door, not sure if you’re making the right decision. Regardless of your self-doubt, the sliver of light peeking from under the door is beckoning you in from a dark hallway where your nightmares lurk in just the other room. Quickly knocking on the door, you let yourself in when Michael says your name.

He looks utterly domestic, propped up in bed with his long hair spilling carelessly over his shoulders. Ignoring the fact that he’s shirtless (why does he have to show off his flawless physique while he’s sleeping?), you smile at the book in his hands.

“You’re finishing the Harry Potter series?”

Michael glances at the cover, as if unaware of what he was reading until just now. “I couldn’t just finish the sixth book and not finish the series. I’m far too invested for that.”

“You’ll have to let me know your thoughts once you finish.” 

“I wasn’t aware that a book could surprise me, but Snape killing Dumbledore was something I had not anticipated.”

You laugh lightly in acknowledgement, but remain silent otherwise. Even though you’re Michael’s wife, you’re not sure of your place in his bedroom, which leaves you snuggling the cat as you wait for Michael to make the next move.

“Is there something wrong? I went to say goodnight to you about half an hour ago, but you were asleep.”

“I--do you think I could sleep in here tonight?” Michael does a terrible job at hiding his surprise, so you elaborate. “I had a nightmare, and I’d prefer to not be alone.”

“You know you don’t have to ask.”

Setting the book aside, Michael pulls back the covers and moves over to allow you an ample amount of space. The cat jumps out of your arms and settles at the end of the bed, happy to be with her favorite person...and you. Sliding in next to Michael, he allows you to determine just how close you want to be. You choose to lay right next to him, curling up with your head on his chest. Slowly, he wraps an arm around you, stroking his fingers through your hair when you don’t flinch away. While this is new territory for both of you, it’s comfortable.

“Do you want to talk about your nightmare?” 

You shake your head. “It was nothing. Just…”

“Ah,” Michael says in understanding. “If it’s any consolation to your subconscious, I want you to know that I never stopped searching for you. It may have felt as though I had abandoned you, but I would never just leave you there.”

“I was worried,” you admit. “Especially after the way that our last conversation ended. There was so much left unsaid, and I thought I would never get to say anything to you again.”

“I worried too. I never got to tell you how sorry I was for my part in my father’s plan.”

“You already apologized this afternoon.”

“And I’ll continue to apologize for as long as I live.”

“I get it. I don’t want to say that you’re forgiven, because that was a really shitty thing to do.”

“Believe me, I know,” Michael laughs.

“But I understand just how powerful his influence is. Back when he pulled my subconscious into Hell, or the In-Between, or whatever you want to call it, I saw how persuasive he could be.” Michael knows that something more happened during that experience, something that you’re not telling him, but he lets it go for now.

“You don’t know how much this means to me, (Y/N).” He glances down at you, hesitant. “What...what did they do to you? During your captivity, I mean.”

“Besides Madison Montgomery using me as her personal punching bag? Not much in the way of torture. They made me brutally aware of the fact that I was bait so they could kill you and stop the world from ending. Kept me locked up in a windowless room for two weeks, forced me to listen to Myrtle droning on and on for hours on end.” Michael laughs at that, and you smile at the fact that your dumb joke is something that was able to take away from the sting of hearing you talk about your experience being kidnapped.

“I’m sorry about threatening Mallory.”

“She kind of deserved it.”

“Do you think you’ll ever talk to her again?”

“Wow, we’re really just knocking out all the tough questions tonight,” you sigh. “It’s only been a day since this happened, but I’ve thought about that numerous times. I used to think that, once someone betrayed your trust, they never got it back. However, in the course of our marriage, I’ve learned that there’s so many different factors that lead someone to make that decision, especially when it comes to the supernatural. If you would have asked me last year what I would do in this situation, I already know that I would have never talked to her again. I also would have thought I would never talk to you again, but I made up my mind as I was driving away that I was going to come back the next day.”

“While I’m not pleased that I messed up enough to be one of your examples, I am happy to know that you didn’t plan on leaving me for good.”

“I could never,” you say, “who else would I have to tease?”

Michael smirks. “You would have found somebody.”

“Nobody like you, though.” The way that your heart involuntarily flutters when Michael smiles at you, no matter how you try to convince yourself that you’ve developed a heart murmur, makes you think of your conversation with Madison. “You know, when Madison wasn’t physically assaulting me, we actually had a very interesting conversation.”

“You did?”

“She basically said that I’m stupid and naive, but she also had some very interesting points.”

“What were those?”

Your hands grow clammy at the thought of being mere seconds away from Michael knowing what had been said, anxiety trying to convince you that this is a conversation best saved for another time. “You know, I’m actually pretty tired. Can we talk about this tomorrow?”

Rolling onto your side and pulling the blankets up to your chin, you try to sell the act that you really are tired. Unfortunately, Michael isn’t buying. “(Y/N),” he says patiently, placing a hand on your shoulder and moving you to face him. “What did Madison say to you?”

“You’re gonna think I’m stupid and suffering from Stockholm Syndrome or something like that.”

“I would never think that you’re stupid!” Michael strokes your cheek, making you look up at him. “Please tell me. I can tell that this is weighing heavily on you, when that’s the last thing you need.”

“She…” you sigh in frustration and rub your hands over your face. “Basically, she told me that I’m in love with you but I’m too stupid to see it.”

“And?”

“And I think she might have been right,” you blurt out in a rush, averting your eyes to the ceiling so you don’t have to look at him. 

Michael’s silent for a moment. “You...think she might have been right?”

You nod.

“Right in the fact that you’re in love with me but too stupid to see it?”

“I really hope you’re just quoting her words and not calling me stupid, but yes.”

“Oh.”

You sigh. “Yeah, that was about my reaction, too.”

“I still don’t think you’re stupid, but I do think you’re suffering from Stockholm Syndrome.”

“If I was suffering from Stockholm Syndrome, don’t you think I would have fallen in love with you a long time ago?” Michael nods in contemplation, acknowledging your point. “I’m tired, Michael.”

“Okay, we can talk about this in the morning.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Rubbing at your face, you look up at him. “I’m tired of playing this game, and being stubborn just for the sake of keeping up appearances. I feel like I’m keeping up this facade simply as a ‘fuck you’ to your dad. It was originally for you as well, but now...”

“Are you saying that you actually do love me?”

“I first realized that I might love you after Dinah Stevens reversed what Satan had done to me. You were just...so sweet and caring. You didn’t leave my side once during that time.”

“How do you know that? You were unconscious.”

“I could feel your hand holding mine the whole time. Your remorse towards what Satan had done to me and your determination to nurse me back to health...nobody else would have done that for me. Not only did you push aside your own feelings, which I’m sure were extremely conflicted, but you dropped everything for me. I’ve never had another person forgo all their other duties just so they could take care of me.”

“You love me,” Michael whispers in reverence, eyes shining in the dim light. 

Madison Montgomery had told you that there wouldn’t be some “aha” moment when it came to knowing whether or not you were in love with a person. Laying in Michael’s arms, in the peacefulness of a shared bed, you realize that this is your “aha” moment. At least, it’s one of a few that you’ve had. Nevertheless, you know that this is a position you would happily stay in for the rest of your life. You’ve never felt this with a person before, and you doubt you’ll ever feel it with someone else again. In your heart, you know that Michael is it for you.

“Yeah, I love you,” you say just as quietly. “You’re the Augustus Waters to my Hazel Grace, only with no cancer.”

Michael laughs. “What does that even mean?”

“It relates back to the pop culture conversation we had earlier today, don’t worry about it.”

He shakes his head at your quirkiness, but grins at you anyways. “I love you. So much.”

“I love you,” you repeat. It’s a new phrase, at least in the way that you’re saying it to Michael. Although new, it feels natural and good.

“So what now? We’re already married.”

“I guess we’re just working backwards. Marriage, declarations of love, followed by dating? I would like to be courted by you.” You wink at Michael, a soft blush dusting his cheekbones.

“I suppose I could do that.”

“For now, though, I would be content with just falling asleep here, with you.”

He kisses the top of your head, making you smile. “I can do that, as well.”

Michael strokes your hair and cheeks, laying featherlight kisses on your skin until you fall asleep. And when you do finally sleep, there are no more nightmares. Your world, which has been shattered and hastily taped back together numerous times in the span of a few months, finally feels right once more.

//

Tag List: @ccodyfern @trelaney @sammythankyou @girlycakepops @ultragibbycentralworld​ @xavierplympton​ @ajokeformur-ray​ @nana15774​ @queencocoakimmie​ @lichellaw​ @grim-adventures58​ @dandycandy75​ @trimbooohgodplsnoooo​ @everything-is-awesomesauce​ @jimmlangdon​ @omgsuperstarg​ @queenie435​ @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26​ @hplotrfan​ @1-800-bitchcraft​ @coloursunlimited​ @kahhlo​ @storminmytwistedmind​ @langdonslove​ @cuddletothecake​ @nsainmoonchild​ @born-on-stgeorges-day​ @tcc-gizmachine​ @90sroger​ @gold-dragon-slayer​ @atombombastic​ @lvngdvns​ @blakewaterxx​ @yoheyyosup​ @forever1313​ @ladyrindt​ @kaetastic​ @loilko​ @riotsouls666 @lustminaj​ @accio-rogers​ @holylangdon​ @sojournmichael​ @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night​ @diaryofalandlockedmermaid​ @dark-mei-rose​ @brattylovee​ 

[etjwrites]

OC Backstory - Emotion Edition | Week 5: Free/Courage

Week 0: Introduction || Week 1: Fear || Week 2: Joy || Week 3: Disgust || Week 4: Sadness || Week 5: Anger ||

Is it over already? This was so much fun! I really enjoyed participating and reading everyone's pieces. Thanks to our wonderful hosts @cirianne and @kosmosian-quills  for putting this on! These prompts filled my mind with layers upon LAYERS of backstory, and really helped me flesh out Brom as a character. Afallon is so much better because of it! 

You probably stumbled upon something between the last prompts, that moved you. An idea that didn’t really match the prompt. A backstory character that deserved exploring. A question that stayed unanswered. For this week, I encourage you to look for these questions and explore them, write on them, and tell me about it!

In keeping with the theme of this event, I chose yet another emotion, the story behind which I'm excited to share with y'all! Brom is about 14 here. (I started writing this and it wouldn't stop. Help.) @yourocsbackstory​

“These paths look treacherous,” Brom said, glancing nervously back at the way they'd come. He and Prentice had been traversing the numerous twists and turns of Hyphantria's revered caverns for quite a while, looking for all the secret entrances. Each time they explored the maze-like tunnels, they went a little farther, a little deeper.

Prentice waved a hand dismissively. “I've a sure foot.” He tapped the top of his boots with his walking staff. “Furthermore, how often have we quested here? These caves are as familiar as mine own hands.”

“We left familiar behind two chambers ago,” Brom reminded his friend. “I'm actively adding to our map as we progress.”

“If on the map, 'tis familiar,” Prentice rejoined. “No matter how new the path may be.” He patted the crystal-studded wall to his left. “In fact, I almost feel at home.”

“The whispering,” Brom said, unease, twisting in his chest. “It's stopped.”

Prentice quirked his head, listening. “Why so it has,” he said, brows knitting together before sheer panic stamped itself onto his features. “Brom, run!” He turned and dashed back through the tunnel, Brom following, the both of them slipping and sliding and cutting themselves against the sharp-edged walls.

Beneath their feet, the earth started to rumble, and dread seized Brom's heart. Would they die down here in the bowels of Hyphantria, ground into dust by the ceiling collapsing upon them? He pushed faster, past Prentice, towards the sparkling glimmer that marked one of the other large chambers whose tunnels would lead them back to the surface.

A sharp cry made him whip around and jerk to a stop. Prentice had fallen, struggling to regain his feet amidst the wobbling, unstable ground. A stalactite shook loose and crashed to the ground just where his head would have been, had he not managed to roll away in time.

Brom staggered towards him, hand outstretched, when the earth shook mightily.

Prentice flung himself at Brom.

Too late.

With a great, groaning sigh, the floor gave way, and Prentice tumbled deep into the newly formed crevasse.

“Prentice!” Brom screamed, dropping to his hands and knees, swaying with the sudden shuddering of cavern. He called his name again, peering desperately into the dark. But while the softly glowing crystal shards that lined the Shalott caves could well enough light the paths and tunnels they'd been exploring, their gentle luminescence was unable to penetrate the deep, yawning blackness that fell away in front of him.

He called again and again, but there was no answer. Either his friend had fallen so far he could not hear him, or he been knocked insensible upon landing. Neither scenario was desirable, and Brom squeezed his abruptly burning eyes shut, refusing to consider the possibility that Prentice might be gone.

No. He had to be alive. Had to be alright.

Ominous rumbles filled the sharp-toothed cavern, more stalactites falling during a particularly vicious quake.

The wisest thing to do would be to run, to flee to the next chamber and worm his way through one of the escape tunnels until he could see the sky once more.

But Brom couldn't leave Prentice here to die. He would be the worst kind of coward if he did that. His first and only friend in all of Hyphantria, who risked all manner of danger to sneak him across the boarder on occasions such as these, and showed him many of the wonders his mother's country had to offer. Brom would save him. Or die trying.

“Give me strength,” he prayed. He thrust trembling hands into his pack, withdrawing his climbing rope.  He kept up the silent prayers. He felt so utterly alone, the jarring earthquake shaking and horribly distorting the natural light of the caves so he could barely walk. “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,” he breathed, reciting the verses over and over even as his hands shook so much he could barely fasten the clips in place.

Brom tugged hard on the rope once he had tied it off, looping it around for added strength. He looped his climbing pick around his hands, aware he could lose a limb if it snagged in the wrong place, at the wrong time, yet horribly afraid to lose his means of retreat. With one of the picks he struck the vibrating wall, breaking off some crystals, which he tied about his arms.

“Prentice!” he called once more, and again received no answer. “Please be alive,” Brom prayed. “I need a miracle right now.”

Then he turned around, and—clinging to the ropes—lowered himself into the black abyss.

Brom descended for long minutes, the crystals lashed about him providing the faintest light. He steadily climbed deeper, the glow from the ceiling above diminishing until it felt like a distant memory.

This far down it was cold. The quake continued to rage, and Brom grew ever aware of a powerful thirst that made dizzy. But he dared not let go of the rope, not even to slake his needs.

His feet touched ground. He'd reached a small ledge.

Brom relaxed for half a moment, and then a terrible jolt flung him off its crumbling edge. He hit the other side of the crevasse hard, the breath knocking out of him and leaving him gasping as the rope tied around his middle yanked him to a stop. He hung there, dangling in the air, fingers barely able to brush either side.

Thankfully his picks had stayed attached, so he struck out with them, painfully aware that he'd run out of rope, and yet hadn't found Prentice. Brom gulped. He would have to climb up again and unloop the rope.

Ascending seemed to take twice as long, and Brom's arms were shaking when he reached the top. Everything was cast in an eerie blue and white glow, and Brom could feel that time was running out. If he didn't find Prentice soon, the falling stalactites might well block their path home.

Once he had the rope unfurled to its full length, Brom ventured once more into the place that had swallowed his friend. He passed the spot where he'd had to stop before and kept going, deeper, and deeper, the chill of the abyss freezing him to his bones.

And there!

Prentice's walking stick was wedged into a narrow part of the crevasse, two bloodied hands clinging to it.

Brom started crying.

One of Prentice's hands slipped, and he swore at Brom. “I didn't hold on this long for you to lose heart at the finish!” His voice was horse, likely from screaming. The shock had hit each of them in different ways it seemed.  

Ignoring his friend's harsh words, words that were driven by the terror in Prentice's eyes, Brom rappelled down closer. He gathered up the slack in the rope and looped it around Prentice's waist, securing it using a knot his father had once taught him.

“You can let go,” he said, testing the rope to make sure it still held fast.

“I confess, I cannot,” Prentice said, shaking his head minutely. His clothes were torn to shreds, like he'd scraped against the walls the whole way down until his stick had caught, and he had cuts and freshly-formed bruises adorning his entire body. One of his eyes was swollen shut, a jagged cut bisecting it that stretched from his cheek to his temple.

“One hand at a time,” Brom said, getting his hand under Prentice's and shifting it from the stick to his shoulder. He did the same with the other, and the next instant Prentice was clinging to him, limpet-tight.

A massive shudder rocked the cave at that moment, and the gap widened, Prentice's stick dislodging and spinning away into the darkness.

If I had been but a moment later, Brom thought, unable to repress the full-body shiver that twitched through him. He slid one of his picks into Prentice's hand, slipping the loop over his wrist twice.

“You must help me climb, I have not the the strength to lift us both.”

“Aye, 'tis time that I cease clutching you like a babe,” Prentice said, the words meant to be joking. The fine tremour in his voice spoiled the effect.

They struck out together, Prentice and Brom, inching their way up until they reached the cavern floor. Mercifully, the distressing bucking had stopped, and they lay on the rubble-strewn ground until they caught their breath.

“Thank Heaven,” Brom uttered aloud, and Prentice nodded solemnly along.

“You saved my life, Brom,” he said.

They rose to their feet and began the arduous, limping walk back to the escape tunnels.

“I owe you a great debt. I should never have placed you in this position. I . . . I almost killed you. I would not have begrudged you had you fled and left me behind.”

“I wanted to,” Brom admitted, shame flushing his skin. “At first. I was so afraid.”

“But you did not.” Prentice paused for a moment and clapped Brom on the shoulder before they resumed their trek. “I really thought I would die. I screamed and screamed, but you didn't answer. Or I couldn't hear a response amidst the earth's pain. The longer I held on, the more I began to wonder if I were mad for simply not accepting my fate. I had myself near about convinced that I should just let go.”

“Then I saw you, descending into the pit like the Archangel Michael himself. You could have died rescuing me. You looked as terrified as I felt. But still you threw yourself into the unknown. For me. In the greater world, we are yet seen as boys, but Brom—I tell you truly—you are the bravest man I've ever known.”

They turned a corner, and the bright sun greeted them.

Additional thanks to everybody who has read and commented on my work for this event. Y'all rock!

Tag Crew: @adie-dee @writtendevastation @catharticallysarcastic @francestroublr @crystallized-ink

[transsexualhamlet]

tg anime vs manga *sighs*

i have the power of hyperfixation and anime on my side! AAAAAAAA

Ok now that we’ve gotten the sins of re post out of the way we need to discuss this. And I just feel that this needs to be covered because I can’t ever get away from constant discourse on this, mostly fueled by manga readers who feel entitled to always think they’re superior for reading the manga, that the manga is the only real canon, that it’s more complex or better, I’m so fucking tired of it. I am also a manga reader, and I tend to get like that sometimes too with many series (for example no. 6 and the promised neverland.) I get it. It can be really annoying to see something butchered on screen to what the original is, changed or represented differently or given a different message or simplified. But just. Some people like the anime and it’s not a goddamn holy war for y’all to fight. It only makes anime fans not want to read the thing even more yknow cause manga readers are pretentious assholes, and I am aware of this as one of them.

(again ok i’d like to mention i know this fandom is basically dead but a certain p*nterest is always like 4 years behind on fandoms so i keep fucking running into Discourse that’s like, still current, whenever i want old random ass content) (and youtube, why do i look at youtube comments, because I personally enjoy being offended? yeah probably)

And that brings me to the point of this anime vs manga. 

This is a lot harder to compare than a lot of other series, because there are just... so many more differences not just in the style and vibe but the story itself.

Disclaimer, I’ve never watched the anime for :re and i don’t intend to, because I honestly have no earthly clue how tf you can get from the highly diverged tokyo ghoul root A to re and make it make sense, and I don’t really want A ruined for me. So you can call me biased towards the manga in the case of re, i guess (which makes my eventual conclusion even more strong I’d say) Honestly I just see them as two completely different stories, the manga’s version connecting with re and A just like... ending there. So how we’re drawing the lines is basically tokyo ghoul A versus the manga and :re. God, I know this isn’t a fair fight because I already hate re so much, but I feel like the manga’s story is much more intertwined with :re than the anime’s is, so that’s what we’re going with.

oh god also another disclaimer this opinion is coming from the biggest fucking kanehide whore, you can disregard anything i say if you ship The Straights and/or do not care for my boi hide

To be honest, if I can take my own conclusions and liberties to the story, I like both versions, each have their pros and cons and kind of a conflicting message. They can’t really coexist. Usually I’d consume all versions and then create one consistent canon in my head for what I accept as the true events (for example my main owari no seraph, first season of the anime is canon but after that we only follow the manga since those can come together and make sense.) but it’s very hard to do that in tokyo ghoul, since I must confess... I really like root A. Like of course, it’s a lot different from the manga, but tbh I think it’s super valid. (unlike most Fans TM like this Fan TM who i’m sending this post to just to spite their singular Youtube Comment Section Discourse, yes I did write this post for you and many others like you) But the ideas that make up root A conflict a lot with the ones of the manga, so I just have to accept that they’re separate things and treat them as such.

Now to break it down so people can understand where I’m coming from I guess? God this is already so long here’s a read more

The Case for The Manga (including :re manga)

More Lore + Plot Shit: One of the main reasons that manga readers are pretentious little bitches is a valid reason, namely that, as is the case with most manga, there’s simply more to it than people can fit into an anime. (Although people need to understand that’s because,,, it’s simply a different medium, so it will have different pluses and minuses, such as for example a soundtrack, color, moving pictures,,, you know, all that. Anime onlys don’t say that the anime is better by stating these things that a manga won’t have... because they’re fucking obvious. So manga readers should stop acting like an anime is inherently sub-par for being less in depth, but we digress.) I can understand that reading the manga is kind of important for wanting to understand the lore (though there are like so many other reasons ppl might want to watch it other than to get the lore) and without the explanation of how all this came to be and how it works, everything tends to be really mysterious, confusing, and seemingly random. It’s really nice to know what’s all going on, of course, and stuff like the washuus, rize’s backstory, the explanation for like, kaneki in general, all that- if you’re looking for like, plot shit, manga is definitely your go to. But like, sometimes, you like, don’t actually care about those things.

Haise: Of course one of the most important things about well, including re is that I fucking love Haise. Like he is my favorite Kaneki. He’s just so wonderful, look at him in he glasses and he floofy hair and he striped pants and he energy boxers and he s p i c e and he MOM. And I really like how they took Kaneki’s character and developed it more with Haise, you can see his turnaround from innocent--> Emo--> Trying To Be Innocent Again But Failing and I think that’s really sweet tbh. I rejected that at first because I didn’t understand it but once I actually read re I thought it made a lot of sense and was a logical thing to do with his character. (though, uh, moving forward, after his hair changes again i disagree with it, haise 1.0 is a good take and i love him and i want the best for him) I could go on I’ve already written a post of what I think is wrong with :re so if you want to hear my take on kaneki’s 37 pokemon evolutions that’s in there

Good New Characters: And of course there are my favorite bitches such as quinx squad, oh my god, there was a terminal lack of dumbass squad vibes in the original and ishida fucking gave it to us, I love them, I love them with all my heart and I think that if I wasn’t attached to them I’d probably just cancel all of :re but like this is just my personal problem. God I love them. Ishida always pulls through with characters I’m now too attached to.

Vore Lmao:Ok like hear me out. I just get a laugh out of it every time the manga has to remind me of this little fucking fact. Like ok I just. Cannot get over it. It’s so serious about it too and like I realize it’s a serious deal but o h  m y  g o d

Ok and now that we’ve got that little rant over I do want to say that it is like actually really important past the “lmao that’s pretty gay” bit, like??? In some ways it’s more fitting than the anime because well, ishida’s point always seems to be “what would mentally and physically hurt kaneki the most right now” and does it because that’s who this bitch is. But it just?? Kind of makes a bit more sense for the storyline if we’re being picky here, it’s so,,, painfully on point? Like the entire reason he gave in to Being A Ghoul and all was so he could save his friends and shit (i actually do not remember if this was a thing in the manga but like? when he was being tortured and he like imagined hide being really mad at him and getting killed by jason and shit?) LIKE AND THEN HE GOES AND HAS TO BASICALLY BE THE PERPETRATOR OF THAT HIMSELF, FUCK, it’s a lose/lose situation of “don’t do the bad thing and watch your friends suffer” or “do the bad thing and watch your friends suffer but like, later” ishida please

The meaning of Hide being alive: Ok this is just me crying over chapter 75 still but like. Instead of in the anime, where hide’s point seems to be that instead of letting kaneki sacrifice anything more he’d be the one to give his life up and such, and save kaneki, in the anime tbh he just really wanted to be with kaneki right then?? and like ouch but understanding that in the manga he wasn’t just planning on dying and leaving kaneki to deal with it afterward he wanted to go on and continue to try to help the guy no matter the shit he had to go through, no matter if the dude just like forgot that he existed for two years and all- LIKE UH CAN WE TALK ABOUT HOW HIDE DOESN’T EVEN EXPECT ANY APOLOGY? like kaneki’s like “OH MY GOD I’M SUCH A TERRIBLE PERSON” and hide’s like lmao nah it’s cool i’m thriving- that his big motto was “live” rather than “peace out motherfuckers it’s been fun”. Cause. Fucking. Ishida. Can’t kill off characters well but like at least he made keeping this one alive justified. 

The D e t a i l s: Ok well I feel like this is something everyone knows but the anime is missing a lot of really,,, crunchy details that the manga throws in there, like, well, kaneki’s fucking,,, bones thing, and other assorted details, g o d like those are missable if you want to never understand half the memes but also like,,, sometimes you just gotta read that shit. It also like, makes more sense when you do but sometimes it’s just stupid things that aren’t important but are fucking hilarious.

The Flavor: In general I’d say the greatest difference between the anime and the manga is the general flavor of the thing, the vibe in the manga is a lot, to be frank, darker and grosser and bloodier than the anime, which is a lot more focused on being pretty and Tragic than “HOLY SHIT WTF” but like. That’s valid. With that comes it being a lot more, real, and although the art may not be as polished as the anime’s, sometimes that’s exactly what you need, and the really gritty sketchy shit that’s in the manga sometimes is exactly what it’s supposed to be for the manga. (in the anime, i’d say that the colored and polished style fits it better, so we’re good there.) It’s a lot more real, in the manga, when the anime hesitates to “go there” a lot (and well, sometimes that’s welcome, but sometimes it’s like y o u  g u y s  c o m e  o n�� r e a l l y maybe i DID want to see that did you ever think of that)

So like, to sum it up i’d just like to say it’s more detailed, sharper and darker and is simply So Much. There is just More Content

The Case for Root A

ON THE OTHER HAND, (buckle up fuckers)

Depth of Emotion (that Ishida was too much of a pissbaby for): God like you know what I mean if you read the last post, we spent a whole episode on these gay fucks in root A, with backstory and dreams and drawn out suspense and emotion and GUYS LOOK AT THEM NO REALLY OH MY GOD YOU HAVE TO UNDERSTAND HOW IMPORTANT THIS IS whereas hide’s limelight in the manga is a whole... two pages, oh whoopee, and that’s mostly due to the fact of ishida putting himself in a spot of “oh fuck goddamn if i drew that in i’d get flagged for gay porn” but that’s his own fault, so he downplays the whole scene and really keeps it in the dark, whereas in this anime it’s understandably a lot less,,, like that, but how it plays out here is simply... really nice and makes you cry and shit, whereas in the manga I’d go “oh god oh damn oh fuck” *laughs my ass off because i really can’t take this seriously*. You get just... more here.

To elaborate on this, in the anime, as a gay fucking bastard, I can get practically an endless amount of content from episode twelve, and endlessly stew over all Those Things about it, every hard hitting line, the expressions, the music making it even sadder, the ways the VAs say the words, the cinematic beauty of the blood dripping on the floor and like how it’s supposed to make you think it’s kaneki’s, GOD I COULD FUCKING GO ON, but if we want to get that in the manga... 

we get three incredibly basic lines, a blackout, and then a “QUICK LET’S MOVE ON TO SOMETHING ELSE BEFORE ANYONE NOTICES THE IMPLICATIONS OF THAT HAHA”

So if we want to have more, we need to write it. (sadly) None of it is ever played out canonically so like,,, all we can do is infer and make shit up. It’s like, I am a writer so like that’s my whole job but I really would rather have more content, and have the content that’s there get to be emotional instead of *blank face* “this is plot that is happening, sadly” but like maybe it’s just bc i’m gay

Really Fucking Beautiful (aesthetically as well as story-wise): This kind of just goes hand in hand with the depth of emotion bit, and I think it can’t really compared to the manga here because I’m gay so I see pretty colors and cry so the anime is understandably appealing for me, but I’m also talking emotionally, yeah. There’s a lot of plotlines and implications of the story that are really well played out, I always love to watch the original because it does a very good job handling a lot of the harder topics and stuff that makes the whole thing worthwhile- like the whole point you’re supposed to see that the ghouls and humans are both just as monstrous when you break it down, that there are good and bad people on both sides, everyone just wants to live and feel good in their own life and perspective, everyone has reasons that justify their behaviour in their mind, sometimes you just can’t win no matter what, all that... they’re all really important messages and make the whole story, and they were handled much more delicately and with more expertise in the anime. 

It’s hard to pin down, but I feel like the manga was just based more on Fight Scenes Characters OoH Fake Science and kind of just gave kaneki infinite power ups after Trying Harder no offense, obviously those things were there and they were still very good in the manga it’s just sometimes they were cheapened a lot by ishida really not keeping track of what he’s trying to say with his story and sacrificing it a lot for “BUT WHAT IF KANEKI’S HAIR AND IDEALS CHANGED AGAIN” instead of making it a whole cohesive work. (and yes, I am VERY aware of your “well aCtuAlLy the hair represents his sanity” thing i know i know and i’m about to rip it to fucking shreds so)

Understandable Character Development And Staying True To It: Which brings me to this point, character development. This was another thing that was just... handled with more expertise in the anime, whoever was in charge of it. Mostly this has to do with Kaneki, since like, no offense but he’s the only one who ever gets much character development other than like, juuzou (asmr you only get character development if your hair color changes) oh and i guess there’s tsukiyama but he’s someone who shouldn’t have gotten character development. Touka gets character development only before re for some reason, and like tbh that’s kind of it. I do think Juuzou’s character development was valid, because well... it made sense? I complained about it before because I was like “well he just turns into spicy L” but i’ve since changed my opinion, he’s best boy. But Kaneki? They went way overboard with him in the manga, and generally? Calm tf down ishida.

Breaking it down, one of the main things that most of the tried and true manga stans seem to hate about the anime the most is Kaneki going over to Aogiri in root A. Since they’re much more acclimated to the manga, they don’t understand why he would do that (quoting a particular ‘probably made sense in the manga!’ yes i know that whole thing was poking fun at the show and i felt it lmao) and they just pin it to “ahaha he has now become Edgy for the fans ehehe time to make fun of him” and TO BE FAIR YOU’D BE COMPLETELY RIGHT. I love to make fun of Kaneki when he does his edgy bitch thing because that’s what he is. A basic edgy bitch who is just,,, such a main character. But like. He does actually have his reasons despite popular opinion and to be honest I think they’re a bit more valid than in the manga, where he’s just like “well I’ve been tortured, that was not pleasant and i kinda did a bad thing, let’s go back to anteiku but i’m just gonna Try Harder To Fight this time”. I can understand that, but like, it seems like in the manga every Character Development of kaneki is some form of “i will now be stronger” except for the singular “I will now be a different person” which, well, we’ll get to that. 

In the anime though, even if it seems like more of a basic edgy bitch move, it’s like?? It makes perfect sense to me, and to be honest more than the manga does? Obviously he doesn’t wanna be best bros with Aogiri, he realizes they’re all bad people who have done really terrible things, but the fact is he now sees himself as the same thing, he now understands their motives because in his mind he is also now Bad TM. His whole character development of being tortured was that peace wasn’t an option no matter how much he wanted it, he couldn’t live being a pacifist and the world was forcing him to give the “i am the only one that understands! we need to stop fighting!” bullshit up because there was no way to achieve it. He realized if he kept himself the way he was more people he loved would be hurt like they already had because he couldn’t, so he doesn’t just Decide To Become Stronger, he gives up his humanity. And that includes basically letting himself defend his own actions and try to do “the right thing”. 

Him then joining aogiri makes sense because well. They’re the people who are the strongest, who have the power, who are the same as he sees himself. He still wants to protect the people he loves, he just also realizes he can’t do it by working with them since he now understands that their more peaceful ways will by definition get them fucking killed. His understanding is flawed, of course. He’s not really right. But this is his understanding and from that it makes perfect sense for him to join up with aogiri and try to still do as much as possible from that standpoint, realizing that most likely the people he’s trying to protect will hate him for it. I think that makes sense to me, what do you not understand about it? (I also understand that may make some people mad because he’d Doing Bad Things but I point to you he’s so soft, remember when he was really nice to naki when he was literally the one who killed the guy naki was crying about? remember when he was doing a raid and he saw that guy hiding and he never mentioned it? remember like the seventy times he Cried TM, yeah he’s problematic obviously but if you want problematic I’ll point you to a certain fucking black reaper. Shironeki has nothing on that asshole.)

I think what Kaneki did in the manga was fine, but in general the anime (again) had more depth of understanding and emotion versus a steady Try Harder Get Stronger shonen deal, which, well, fair, but like, nah. Continuing why I think the anime dealt it better is the ending of A, which was a lot more well rounded then *kaneki gets stabbed and then there’s a lot of random plot shit going on in the background*. Here Kaneki then got to round out the end of his character development by realizing slowly through the second half of this season, him becoming a kakuja and then basically deciding like, not to

((kakuja kaneki was dealt with again different in the anime and manga because he basically stopped trying to use it in the anime bc he realized it was a bad fucking idea but this goes along with the ‘his character development of “i’m gonna do bad things for good reasons” --> “actually no wait that was a bad idea” was actually done in root A instead of being dragged out into :re and it’s appropriate for its own medium and the messages it’s trying to get across so manga loyalists hate it’ but we digress))

So in root A we got to see him actually develop and realize himself through the second half of the season starting with cochlea, his interactions with Amon, and ultimately through Hide, that he’d been doing the wrong thing by becoming more monstrous/fighting harder because what he did was ended up forgetting the most important thing, *smiles in gay* HIDE.(well, his humanity. yeah. i cite the terrible opening for root A with the fun ‘the hands taking off kaneki’s mask are hide’s’ bit.) He then remembered again why he wanted so bad to stop the war between humans and ghouls, he wanted to be able to live in peace and not have to be a monster- something that was not dealt with in the manga (though for understandable reasons of We Need To Fuck With Him In Re More, they then didn’t deliver on creating something like that later so I take this.)

That’s most of the difference between the original manga and anime, but I’d also like to discuss (briefly, I’ve already yelled about them) the ridiculous amount of hurdles ishida went through to fuck with kaneki in the manga, Of course there is the fact that well, the slower transition of his character does make some more sense for the manga because if you take :re into consideration, his eight billion character changes are more tolerable when they haven’t like, already happened before in the manga (just the anime). It makes more sense there for Haise to be tormented by past kaneki telling him He’s Too Weak because in the manga he hasn’t already had that development prior to “dying”, and he lost his memories still believing he had to be strong even if he did bad things, whereas in the anime it doesn’t track because at the end like i just said he kind of gives up his ghoulhood on purpose because he realizes that joining aogiri and fighting and shit was really wrong because, hide. So I can see why those character decisions were not made in the original when planning for :re, but... the fact remains that those previous decisions do not make up for how absolutely weak :re’s game ended up being with kaneki. 

So tldr this entire section, All the manga’s defense of how they handled Kaneki’s development is basically void because all those choices were buildup for development in :re which ishida then COMPLETELY fell down on. So the alternative is better.

And now comes my yelling about how exactly Ishida fucked it up: hair colors and kaneki’s 80 kanekis. If black is supposed to represent sane and white is supposed to represent insane or, whatever, i dunno, who tf thought black reaper kaneki was sane? Who tf would think kaneki in the end isn’t? I haven’t looked into this really, and I’d really love it if someone explained it to me the way ishida was going for bc I do not understand it. Like that tracks with Juuzou, and with Kaneki up to Haise Original, but they don’t really make a cohesive sense seeing as after Haise’s hair color changed again that whole deal kind of goes to shit. Not to mention... I just... they completely failed to make those character changes actually part of the story, I’m mostly complaining about black reaper haise, none of him makes any sense. What’s his deal? He wants to protect who he loves? Tracks with the ghouls but fun fact he abandoned his kids? He actually cared for them? What then, he wants to be the strongest as possible? Sure but then?? Why?? I don’t understand his motives at all.

We also didn’t get to see him get his memories back either, which I was actually very much looking forward to, it just,,, like all of a sudden he’s talking with eto about yoshimura and i’m like bruh when tf did that happen? It’s bad, and although chapter 74-76 is super valid, and his change back into white hair kaneki makes sense, I also have the complaint about how haise basically disappeared just like he was worried he would. I think that was bad and I’ve said that already, it doesn’t make sense, he just literally throws those entire two years away to go back to the way he was before he was with the CCG and just forgets everything he’s wanted for the last few years? Fiction logic test fucking failed, and you’ve also broken my heart. Love Haise. You got rid of him. I love kaneki too but like. Why don’t they just. Like. Merge. He is one whole complex person, not one and an imposter, god. 

This is a big negative for re and the manga, so automatically a positive for root A where I simply Do Not Have To Deal With That Bullshit and the character development actually makes sense. I can understand the decisions in the original manga could have set up for good development in :re, but they completely failed to deliver.

root a didn’t fast forward to re at the end god damn let us process this shit first before you try to connect it to something else: The thing with this point is that it’s really difficult to separate the original manga from the continuing story in :re because the thing intertwines so much and immediately moves us forward with a ton of plot points for the next part of the story before we’re done with this climax and the end of this story. Sometimes that’s ok and I can see doing that from an author’s perspective because you want people to continue reading your story instead of taking that as the end but it’s really annoying on a reader’s end, because I’m picky and I want to be able to just be able to enjoy my original canon without it like, metaphorically touching :re on a plate. It’s something that I don’t even do with my own longer stories, like for example I have like a trilogy of >100k fics that like, well i’m technically not done with them but like. 

People really like the first one because it’s more focused on a more popular ship and basic elements people like about the thing, and then by the second book it moves on to talk more about the plot and lore and brings in more secondary characters. And so I knew that a lot of the readers of the first one wouldn’t want to have to deal with a lot of the “oh well stuff is happening elsewhere that will effect stuff later!!!” random plot shit that none of my readers actually cared about. So I kept it to wrapping up the points of the first book and then leaving the introduction of new characters and plot for the people who actually wanted to read it. Ishida didn’t do that, and of course it’s within his right to like?? Want to promote the next series but I’d have enjoyed it more if we ended it at kaneki’s “death” and wrapping up the deals with the rest of the characters instead of quickly shoving in the beginning of seventy more plotlines before the book ends. Like honey I simply do not have the reading comprehension for that. In the anime we get something that... makes sense.

In the anime, however, it’s quite the opposite, for example the reveals like Eto=owl=takatsuki sen were pushed before that and they saved episode twelve for, well, the end bit. Like what was actually the ending. There were detriments to this I had to say (LIKE GUYS I GET IT HE’S CARRYING HIDE HE’S CARRYING HIM I GET IT YOU’VE BEEN DOING IT FOR HALF THE EPISODE NOW OK I UNDERSTAND CAN WE MOVE ON) But like, I prefer the concept of a simple idea with as much emotion squeezed out of it as possible to a ton of confusing and contradicting ideas that are touched on for a second before moving on. So the *cries for half an hour* ending was much more appealing to me, and I can keep that separate in my head from any of the ideas that :re creates, letting me pretend it doesnt exist and imagine that’s the end and there’s nothing else to worry about. If we want to move forward and hear more, then we can, but it isn’t necessary like it is with the manga.

No Bad Takes that are hard to pry apart from good plot and characters:This is basically the downsides of the new characters, which is well, if I had to make a whole ~keep reading~ post about how problematic everything in re was that does have to count as a downside. I love the new characters, but they also come intertwined with a thousand really bad takes on like, everything, and of course I can ignore it and just act as though they were written in like, to be perfectly honest, a non transphobic way, it’s a real downside when the original anime was pretty pain-free in the way of their takes on their characters. They fucked everyone up in re and I will not elaborate, we’ve talked about this, it’s just the anime, and which i mean season 1 and root A, don’t really have any bad takes I need to try to get rid of, it’s surprisingly something I have little complaint about at all and I ALWAYS have complaints.

Hide!!!!: Obviously, you can tell that a lot of my opinions are going to be hide based because he’s the only thing I ever think about. But we have to take into account just how... hide???? This goes a lot into the depth of emotion bit but it also offers the other side of the argument for Hide’s part in the :re manga, which well. Was mostly chapter 75 if we’re going to be perfectly honest here. He doesn’t get any other limelight. Even in the chapter where Kaneki meets him again he gets a whole what, three pages? In the manga, he has an extremely valid deal about basically, living, keeping going no matter what, and that is a fitting part for the manga, considering the rest of the points there ride more on Keep Fighting instead of Think About Your Emotions And Morals, but honestly chapter 75 was really valid. So why do I still think the anime’s version where he like (ok I don’t know about the re anime we’ve discussed this, i don’t even know how they choose to explain that) he like, dies in kaneki’s arms is better overall? Again, I would have totally accepted that deal if it was made a part of the story because it made me cry, it was super valid, and if they’d continued in that way I would have agreed with it completely over that. But the fact is again that they failed to deliver, and Hide got largely ignored, suffered so much with so little outcome. There was so much buildup and it was incredibly valid, but when the time came for them to meet again and basically show... why it was important that Hide lived in the end? 

They didn’t. They straight up didn’t. Kaneki’s like “oh sorry bro... glad you’re alive and all...” *goes off and fights* and like? Honestly? @everlastingspiral is right, if that’s all they’re gonna do with him what’s the point of keeping him alive? I love every single panel of him and I wouldn’t have read re if he didn’t, but hide gets absolutely NO payoff. For letting kaneki literally vore his entire mouth off, leaving him disfigured and unable to talk, then kind of disappearing for two years and doing seemingly nothing but trying to help kaneki even though he’d forgotten the guy existed, risks his life like a thousand fucking times, eventually gets back to him and the dude’s running a fucking anti-human organization, helps him like Not Be A Volitile Pile Of Flesh Anymore and then what should have been a very important moment of them meeting again gets completely overshadowed by touka and random plot shit and more fights and they barely interact, they don’t even hug or anything, they barely talk, and at the end hide is still there but to be honest he’s gotten absolutely no thanks for all he did and ishida acts at the end as though he’s done very well with hide and gives him a tiny bit at the end throwing in a tragic backstory for fun (which hot take he really didn’t fucking need on top of it all) and... there’s no real hint that Kaneki is better off with Hide there, even though there should be. In 75, in his dream, kaneki is sobbing and crying and all like i’m so lonely without you but when they actually meet each other again? “yo” “hey” “uh sorry about,,, the thing,,, you know” “nah man it’s ok” “let me talk about myself for a bit” “yes you always do do you want to hear what I’ve been up to” “not really” “that’s fine i’m only here to support you”

...So you can understand why I’ve gone a bit sour on that. If that’s all you’re going to give him? Hot take? Let him die. Hide deserves better. (and i will deliver that in writing, but for the purposes of canon.)

In the anime, however (not counting re again... although he still gets the short end of the stick just in the original manga too compared to the anime) he’s properly dealt with! he gets his proper limelight and he gets acknowledged for what he’s done thusfar in the story, which is already so much. Kaneki then realizes that, but it’s already too late (or it isn’t, and they like negotiate with the ccg and then they get to live happily ever after) either way he gets appreciated and he gets hurt, but it’s properly acknowledged. And after all that, after saving kaneki and getting him to the cafe and doing it all while bleeding the fuck out, he gets to spend that time with kaneki and die in kaneki’s arms. And frankly? That’s all I think he’s ever needed. It’s really poetic and pretty and brings kaneki’s character around full circle, and even if it’s overly sappy, cliche, drawn out... he gets the attention he’s due and he gets a fucking break. He wanted to show Kaneki he wanted to do something for him and save him instead of the other way around, but then HE GOT ACKNOWLEDGED FOR THAT, instead of just well, tirelessly working towards it forever and having to be content to be a background character with practically no value to Kaneki anymore.

Keeps The Same Vibe: The big thing about this is that with the manga and with re, shit just goes all over the place, and I feel like I’ve amply showed that already through this essay or whatever this is. Again about the consistency and the professionalism, It’s a concise story that makes more sense than the manga while also being simply neater and more deep, making sure all the points, themes and messages work together and make sense to create a cohesive deal even if it’s not as long. (the manga is like ishida had a TON of good ideas for an essay but then fleshed out the thing ten minutes before deadline and managed to completely lose what his original thesis was even if the thing was 10 pages long.) Basically. yeah. That kind of sums it up, my last point concerns the ending.

Not Cheap Ending: If you want to hear my take about how absolutely terrible re’s ending was, check out my The Many Sins Of Tokyo Ghoul :Re post, and we’ve discussed how the original’s manga ending was bad and well not really an ending, it just leaves you unfulfilled and takes you into “well I guess I have to start a whole nother sequel series ig...” but root A like? Actually ends it? If a reader didn’t know that there was any content after that, they could pretty much infer that hide’s death or almost death whatever you inferred out of that ending (again we’re ignoring re) allowed Kaneki to finish his character development and realize they needed to stop the war, which basically tracks with what’s going on in everyone else’s perspective- eto’s problem with the world because of what happened with everything, is basically like, all of aogiri, juuzou and shinohara, amon and akira and kaneki and they can realize all they have to do is just sit down and fucking stop it because none of them want to be fighting, hide is the catalyst for that because the CCG can see how Kaneki cares for him? And it’s so open ended that you could just like literally believe that and there’d be no way for that canon to tell you otherwise, or you could go onto re and whatever if you wanted to. I think that’s the best thing. 

In conclusion, both have valid points, and in general I’d say that the manga goes better with :re and the anime is better as a stand alone but if I had to choose overall, this particular anime is better (taking into account only seasons 1 and 2), for mostly the reasons of favoring a simpler story taken with much more care and depth versus a more complex story with many, MANY imperfect elements, and I am aware I will get shot on sight for this opinion. So sue me.

[nonstoplover]

For The Better (two) ~ Michael Corleone

masterlist

Summary:  (y/n) is back to living life alone, and it’s not long until she finds company to divert her thoughts from the fight whilst Michael keeps on trying to find a way to win his wife back. 

Words: 4.2K

Approximate reading time: about 20 mins

A/N: since i received so many likes and reblogs on the first part (which i'm incredibly grateful for), i decided to continue it. i hope it didn't turn out too cheesy and bad. if there'll be the same amount of interest in this part too, i'll maybe write a prologue even! something about how they met maybe. i hope you enjoy ♡

previous chapter

The days seem to end faster than before since I always find something important to do, not like when I was still living in the house.

There I had to keep myself busy with cleaning, rearranging the photo frames on the shelves and walls in our shared room with Michael, reading or just (slightly impatiently) waiting for him to finally finish work and be able to spend some time with me.

Now I have all the freedom I wanted, I spend every minute with something to help make this world a better place.

It feels good to help people in need, and it's never enough to make me fully satisfied, but I have to admit that even though it's the most important thing in my life and I love doing it with every fibre of my being, I almost only do this with such motivation and force to keep Michael Corleone out of my mind.

It's pretty effective, I have to say. Diving into my work even when it's the middle of the night is enough for me to stop thinking about my husband and the life I've been living until only two weeks ago.

Usually I work until I'm so dead exhausted that I faint from tiredness and only wake up in the morning when I have to leave for another meeting or something else that's work-related.

Habits from my previous lifestyle stay with me, for instance, I always keep the small revolver I got a few years back (a unique one specifically designed for me) in my handbag, ready for using.

I still keep an eye on the news of that world, the one I left behind, only hoping that I won't find anything terrible about the Corleone family, my family.

Every day I notice someone who's watching over me, probably because Michael ordered it, and about every three days Connie, Fredo or even Tom appears at my door to ask about me.

These conversations always go the same. They ask me how I'm feeling, I politely answer. They ask me if I had changed my mind about leaving them, I say no, not yet. They ask me if I need anything, money or protection, I say no, I'm fine. They incidentally tell me about how miserable Michael's feeling, and I close off all my real emotions, pretending that it doesn't affect me, when in reality, it feels like another sliver is breaking off from my heart every time I hear his name.

Usually as soon as they leave, I break down crying right there on the floor, and stay there for at least another hour or so until I can calm down and convince myself yet again that what I did was the right choice.

Weeks go by like this slowly turning into months, and the only difference is that the number of occasions of a Corleone visiting me is slowly starting to get rarer and rarer with time until it all comes to an end. None of them knock on my door anymore, trying to convince me to come back.

I think they accepted the fact that I've chosen. And that my decision simply can't include their lifestyle. Not for now, anyway. I told Michael I need a break, and I'm keeping myself to it.

I'm slowly getting better, mentally and physically as well, I can feel it in my blood and my bones. I feel much calmer all the time, anxiety and fear completely disappearing from inside of me, only that little emptiness stays. The part of me that loves him, misses him and needs him. The part I closed off when I walked out of his office that night.

I manage to make a couple friends even in this short amount of time, all through work or living in the same neighbourhood, and I even start to live a more proper social life, occasionally going out to pubs, even a couple parties as well, or simply just the pictures once in a while.

No one seems to know who I am, or more precisely who I was, no one connects me to the Corleone family anymore. And for this little while it feels nice to be just (y/n). Not (y/n) Corleone, not Mrs Corleone, just plain old (y/n).

One Friday my friend Marjorie convinces me to accompany her to a party held by one of her friends, and then only a couple hours later I'm standing on the staircase leading to the front door of a huge house, my arm linked with my friend's.

Music slightly sweeps out through the door as we wait for it to open, then the usual greetings and introductions take place as soon as Marjorie's friend opens the door.

Only an hour later I find myself sitting on the stairs inside the house, half-heartedly listening to the chaotic noise the music and people's chatter causes, but mostly I'm just deep in thought.

"How come a beautiful lady like you not being out there on the dancefloor?" A male voice suddenly speaks above me out of nowhere.

I spin my head around in curiosity, seeing a young man slowly walking down the stairs behind me. I scoot to the side to give him more space to walk by me, a shy smile on my face from the given compliment.

"I guess I'm not in the mood for it at the moment," I admit with a shrug.

"Glad I'm not alone then," the man chuckles as he passes me, stopping at the end of the stairs, his arm held out towards me. "I'm John, by the way."

"I'm (y/n), nice to meet you."

"Mind if I join you?" John signals towards my seat and with a polite motion of my arm I let him sit next to me.

We spend the following one or two hours talking before I decide to eventually go home. John immediately offers to walk me home, and I gladly take his offer. Who would want to walk alone at this late hour anyway?

Throughout our walk I try to make myself confess to him that I'm married, I don't want him having false hope, I don't want to give him mixed signals. But I just can't. There's never a moment I could say something like this.

And a part of me feels so good that after such a long time, a man shows interest again in me.

In the end, we part ways and I close the door behind me, leaning against the wooden surface, the weight of the truth still pulling me down.

It's not like you did anything wrong, I have to remind myself. You had a conversation with an interesting person, then walked home with him so it'd be less dangerous out in the streets. There's nothing wrong in it.

But somehow it still feels bad. The fact that I've spent time with a man without Michael's knowledge makes it feel like I'm doing something bad.

It's not like I'll ever meet John again.

Oh how wrong I was.

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

Third Person's Perspective:

Michael's unstoppably pacing up and down in front of the desk in his office, impatiently waiting to hear the latest news about his wife.

He doesn't even notice how late it is in the evening, all he cares about is to finally hear a knock on his door.

Half an hour later he's raging. The poor young boy he sent out tonight to watch over (y/n) stands in the corner, fear clear in his eyes. He's never seen his boss act so mad before.

Michael already forgot about the boy, all he can think about is the image of his wife and another man inside his head.

Could (y/n) really get over him this fast? Did he mess this up so bad that it truly is over?

Suddenly he feels like crying, again, and this makes him even more angry. He can't believe he acts so childish. A grown man should never cry. At least that's what he learnt in this world.

He storms out of the room without taking further notice of the now obviously shaking boy, determined to talk with Tom as soon as possible.

- - - - - - - - - - - 1 week later - - - - - - - - - -

Michael slowly gets out of the car, his eyes never leaving the outline of his wife inside the café on the other side of the street.

He decides to stay in the shadows, and luckily he finds a free table at the café opposite to the one (y/n) is sitting in.

He sits down, and whilst pretending to read the newspaper in his hands, he keeps an eye on her.

Ever since he found out about that other man, he himself goes every time to watch them interact instead of sending someone else.

There have been already a couple meetings he have stormed out from because of this, nothing seemed as important as his wife.

His wife. His. Is she even still that? He ponders, chewing on his bottom lip until he feels the familiar taste of blood on his tongue.

His glance travels back towards the other side of the street, trying to figure out with examining eyes what she feels from the way she moves and behaves.

He can almost swear there's nothing flirty or romantic in her behaviour, nothing but a simple friendliness, and that wouldn't be surprising. (y/n) has always been the kindest person he ever met in this world.

But still, that little voice in his mind keeps repeating that on that Saturday night, he walked her home, arms linked, looking cozy from what that poor kid he sent out to watch her reported.

His heart aches every time he sees her smile, or when her shoulders lightly shake as she's laughing away at something the man said because it's not him that made her happy.

Still, he can almost even hear the sound of her giggle in his ears, the most beautiful sound ever existed. Oh, how much he misses to hear it.

He feels his fingers curl, nails digging into the skin of his palm as anger sparks up in chest again.

He would do anything just to be able to talk with her, hear her voice and feel her presence around him again.

He needs her to survive, to stay alive, more than anything or anyone, now he knows it, and he can only hope that he'll be able to tell it to her soon.

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

(y/n)'s Perspective:

John takes the truth like a true gentleman. He says he's not even that much surprised. He says, I always thought that there's no chance for such a lovely woman like you to be without a husband.

But he still insists on us keeping in touch, he says I became one of his greatest friends since that party, and I have to admit, it feels lovely to be able to speak with someone who understands me in such a level.

I tell him all my thoughts and feelings about Michael and our marriage, even the reason why I decided to take a break, with successfully not giving away who he is and what his job is.

I tell him how much I miss my husband, our conversations, how even after all that negativity and pain I experienced in the past year I still yearn to be by his side, to be a member of that family. How wonderful it felt to belong somewhere after growing up in such a corrupt, non-loving family that only cared about social ranks and money.

I tell him how when I can't sleep, it's Michael's face I see in the dark, and when I'm feeling down or when I'm anxious, I try and repeat his words and his voice, as if he's right by my side, calming me.

I tell him how I still love him with every beat of my heart. Every breath I take is for him. Every thought I have is about him. Every waking moment his image fills up my mind.

John offers amazing, useful advice that help clear my mind enough so I can think the whole situation through from another point of view.

One day we decide to take a walk in the nearest park, trying to enjoy the warm weather as much as we can after finishing our drinks in the café we always go to.

On the way there, I feel so free and happy that I take a few steps ahead of John only to twirl around, my arms spread wide in the air and a giggle escaping my lips.

Just as I'm turning back, my eyes follow my moves and suddenly see something I have not at all expected to see. I take a double take, squinting a bit so I can see in the shadows on the other side of the street more easily.

When I find what I was searching for, my heart skips a beat. It truly is him. Michael.

I immediately start marching towards him, not even glancing around before stepping on the road, John's worried exclaims following me in the air as he tries to keep up with my sudden, fast pace.

Michael stays in one place, watching me motionlessly. He knows there's nothing he can do after being noticed. He knows now that I know he has been watching me.

His eyes are cold, his face emotionless as I reach him. My heart feels so happy that the oh-so-waited sight is finally in front of me that it takes me a few moments to register that he's not so happy to see me.

To see us at least. Because the next moment his eyes shift towards the just arriving man accompanying me, and his whole body just goes even stiffer.

Then his eyes move back to me, and we stare at each other for a couple silent minutes, waiting for the other to say something.

Me, for a reason as to why he's always following me or for a sign that he realised what we have is something that's not worth throwing away.

Him, probably for a reason as to why I'm spending my time with another man.

"(y/n), is everything alright?" John speaks quite lowly next to me. "You know who this is, maybe we should just leave."

For a moment I think he knows. That somehow he managed to figure it out that my husband, the man I complained so much about is actually the head of the Corleone family.

But then I realise he's only talking about the man in front of us being Michael Corleone. Not my husband, just the mafia boss.

Michael glances back at John and if looks could kill, I'm sure he'd be dead by now. I never thought those chocolate brown eyes could look so cold.

"It's alright, John. We're fine," I answer, eyes never leaving my husband.

"What do you-" he starts to ask, but suddenly Michael snaps, shutting him up in a millisecond.

"She said it's alright, didn't you hear?"

And even though his voice is harsh, cold, angry and full of some kind of hatred, it still sends a shiver down my spine and butterflies fly around in my stomach.

After so many nights of trying to remember his voice in my ears it's a true miracle to actually hear it.

"You can leave me here, John, I have a few things I need to do." I turn towards him, fingers lightly touching his arm to make him place his full attention on me.

"I'm not leaving you alone with this man," he shakes his head swiftly, the tone of his voice giving proof how negatively he's thinking of the man in front of us.

Michael's already taking a step towards him, arms moving to his side but since I know him so well, I'm right in front of him in under a millisecond, palm against his chest to calm him down like I did so many times before.

"It's okay, Michael," I speak lowly. "We don't want to make a scene, now do we?"

Shooting a quick glance at John above my shoulder I can see that his mouth is wide open, jaw dropped down to the ground as the thoughts clearly chase around in his mind fast. He's trying so hard to process what he has just seen, and when he does, his eyes widen, matching the other parts of his facial expression.

"You... he... your husband is Michael Corleone?" His voice shows nothing but pure shock as he manages to understand the situation.

"He knows you're married?" Michael's voice rings in my ear, making me look back at him immediately, my arms falling back to my side as I take a half step back.

He looks almost the same surprised as John, he obviously didn't think this to be the case.

"Yes, he is, and yes, he knows." I answer to the both of them before looking deep in Michael's eyes. "I think we should go somewhere more private now. We have quite a lot of things to talk about."

Michael nods, so I turn back towards John.

"I'm honestly sorry that we can't make it to the park today, but we'll catch up another day, alright? I think you know how important it is now for me and my husband to have a conversation..."

"Absolutely, yes, I know. I hope everything goes right," John nods, his voice still a little raspy from the shock he just went through.

"I'll talk to you later then, if that's okay with you."

He nods once more before slowly turning around and making his way away from us.

"So what do you think, can we use your office?" I look back at my husband, and he nods right away, motioning to the side where the car for us is already ready to take us back to the Corleone household, not to my surprise, to be honest and fair.

My heart stammers so loud I'm sure Michael can hear it as we get closer and closer to the house, but I can't help it. The variations of how this conversation could turn out make my stomach churn in nervousness and anxiety.

But at least this time I'm entering it knowing clearly what I want. And I won't settle for anything less.

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

By the time we reach the office, we've met Connie and Tom, both of them surprised to see us walk so casually through the house, as if nothing had happened.

I wave at them with a shy smile on my face, only hoping that they're not mad at me for my earlier behaviour.

They both wave back and they seem glad that I'm back, which makes me a little more relieved already.

Then the door of Michael's office closes behind my back, the sound waking me from my thoughts as I slump down on the same arm chair I was sitting in the last time I spoke with my husband, months ago.

He follows soon after, pulling his own chair around the desk so he'd be closer to me. He knows how much I hate it when he's sitting on the other side of the desk when we have a comversation, like I'm just another client.

"I've been thinking. A lot." Michael speaks up a few silent minutes later.

"Me too," I admit.

"Do you want to start or should I?"

"Maybe I'll start, if that's okay with you."

He nods immediately, looking a bit relieved he has some more time left.

"I had quite enough time to think this whole thing through, to truly find out what I want and what I need in my life. Last time you promised you'd change. I honestly hope you're still determined to do that, because that's the most important thing for me. For us." I pause, giving him a chance to answer.

"Of course, I'm actually already getting there. Been trying for the past month or so, you can ask Connie, she'll prove it."

"Lovely," I nod. "Well then, it makes this easier for me to say the following things. You know, I truly missed you and the whole family, and being with you. I really think that this break was very much needed, because now I can see crystal clear that I do love my life the way it has been, and I'm able to pinpoint all the positive things about living here."

Michael's eyes slightly widen as he silently listens to me talk, he probably didn't think to hear these things from me so easily.

"I didn't stop loving you, Michael, not for a single moment, and if you still want this, and if you do promise to change, then I think I can give another chance for me to live here and be a part of this family."

He sucks in a breath, a small smile appearing in the corners of his lips already.

"Who was this guy then?" He speaks up a few seconds later.

"A friend, who would it be?" I ask back in surprise.

Is this really the most important thing he wants to say now?

"I don't know, I just heard a couple things," he shrugs, and as he looks away, clearly not being able to keep the eye contact between us going, I suddenly understand it.

The reason behind why he had other people watch me. Why he himself watched me.

"Oh, so when you hear something, you believe it straight away, don't you? Do you really think I'd ever cheat on you?" I scoff, even the assumption making a slight anger bubble up in my chest.

"No, I don't." Michael answers, his voice quiet and unsure. He knows how pathetic he sounds for asking such a question from me. He knows me and that I'd never do such thing.

"You don't have to go and be jealous of the first man I speak to outside this family."

"I know," he nods, eyes still searching some non-existent thing on the floor, avoiding mine.

I wait for him to gather his thoughts, waiting for something else he might say. As we sit in silence, my eyes searching his appearance, I notice the slight differences I haven't had the time to see before.

He lost a little weight, that one's obvious. A couple light creases appeared on his face, making it look like he's done a good amount of stressful thinking. His whole posture radiates some kind of different wiseness, something that wasn't there when I last saw him.

But even with all these small differences, his face is still the same beautiful, it's still the same marble statue. Or maybe he's even more gorgeous now, looking kind of more mature.

"So you want to come back?"

I can tell he's trying to keep his voice emotionless, he doesn't want to affect the answer I'll be giving.

"If you still want that too," I say.

A beat passes as his eyes finally look back into mine, the connection making my heart beat already faster.

"Of course I want that, (y/n)." Michael starts smiling even wider now. "Why do you think I spent so many hours out in cafés or just thinking through half the nights on how to win you back?"

A similarly wide smile appears on my face as he watches me with a raised eyebrow.

"I love you, (y/n). You're still the one and only for me, the love of my life. My feelings will never change, no matter how cliché it sounds." Michael shrugs, a chuckle leaving his lips.

We stand up in the exact same moment, stepping towards the other, and it feels just like the first time we ever declared our feelings towards the other.

Just like we're the same giddy teenagers we were at the start of our relationship.

I feel the exact same butterflies flutter inside my body when his fingers ever so lightly touch the backs of my hands, then as his right hand moves up and cups my cheek, bringing me closer, I feel myself growing impatient, and the next thing I know is me leaning in, crashing our lips together.

We kiss like it's the first time we have ever kissed, like the past so many years have never happened and we're back on square one.

When we run out of oxygen, we lean back only until our foreheads are still touching, giggling as if we're kids.

"I love you, Michael, but please don't ever be jealous." I whisper.

"I love you, (y/n), but please don't ever leave me again." Michael whispers back.

And in this exact moment I know that I'll never leave again, because there won't be a reason for me to do that. I can feel it in the way he speaks, the way he looks at me that he will try his best to change, and it'll be more than enough for me.

That break we had just strengthened our relationship, our marriage. It truly was for the better.

.::the end::.

my masterlist

[if you wanna be added to my taglist, dm me or send me an ask]

[mst3kproject]

I Was a Teenage Frankenstein

Have I somehow not already reviewed this? Shit, I better get on that.  If the title alone weren’t enough, I Was a Teenage Frankenstein has Gary Conway from The Viking Women and the Sea Serpent, Phyllis Coates from Invasion USA, and sure enough, Whit Bissell from I Was a Teenage Werewolf playing more or less the same mad scientist character. Though sadly, there was no part for Pepe the Latino-Transylvanian janitor.

Professor Frankenstein, yet another modern descendant of the fabled Baron, is looking for medical applications of his ancestor’s work.  He thinks he can bring dead tissue back to life, and allow it to be used in organ transplants.  Naturally Those Fools at the Academy tell him it’s impossible, so he’s determined to Show Them All.  Conveniently, shortly after this declaration a car full of drunk teenagers crashes just outside Frankenstein’s home.  He and his buddy Dr. Carlton sneak off with one of the corpses, and over the next few weeks they assemble bits and pieces into a boy.  Problems arise when Frankenstein, true to form, refuses to acknowledge the humanity of his creation.  The boy wants to see the world outside the lab, the Professor’s fiancée Margaret is getting curious about what goes on down there, and Carlton is having more and more qualms… there are many ways this can end, but none of them are happy.

We’ve got some awesome mad science going on here, with a lab full of blinky light machines and a secret stock-footage alligator pit that, yes, the mad doctor does get chucked into at the end.  Lots of severed body parts are thrown around, all of them enormously fake but pretty gruesome nevertheless.  The horrible, horrible monster mask falls into this same category.  My favourite moment in the film is when Frankenstein takes his creature out to pick out a new face, and comes back with a severed head in a birdcage! My second-favourite is the traumatized witness to the car accident wailing “what a crash!”  I’d be hard-put to choose between the two for a stinger. And at the end, the movie does the same thing as War of the Colossal Beast, suddenly switching from crisp black and white to shitty desaturated colour, and it has the same effect.

But none of that is what the movie is actually about.  If there’s one thing I want to say about this film, it is the truly astonishing fact that I Was a Teenage Frankenstein appears to have been written by somebody who actually read Mary Shelley’s book.  This is not a claim that can be made of many Frankenstein movies, and certainly not of any that previously appeared on this blog.  I’m not sure the writer of Frankenstein Island had even seen any of the movies.  Although I Was a Teenage Frankenstein borrows only the barest of bones from the book’s plot, the emotional center of both is the doctor’s relationship with his creation.

The reason it’s a teenage Frankenstein, by the way, is because the professor believes one of the reasons his ancestor failed at creature-creation is because he used old, worn-out parts.  By choosing bits from young men cut down in their prime, he feels the result will be healthier and more resilient both physically and mentally.  He seems to be right, too.  His creature is not a shuffling abomination, but an intelligent and articulate young man who longs to ‘go out among people’ and is absolutely crushed to find that the ones he meets are terrified of him.

The Professor is proud of the progress he makes in teaching his creation to do things like walk and speak, but he seems entirely uninterested in the boy’s happiness or personality.  When he sees his creature crying, he is pleased that the tear ducts work.  When Margaret expresses fear of the ‘monster’, Professor Frankenstein tells her to think of him as something ‘like a machine’, a creation of science. ��Finding he needs to get his creature out of the country in a hurry, he has no qualms about taking the boy apart to ship and reanimate later.  He never even bothers to give his creation a name, addressing him simply as ‘my boy’ – never just ‘boy’, but always ‘my boy’.  The possessive is important here.

Indeed, as his creature gains humanity, Professor Frankenstein seems to lose his.  At the beginning of the movie, the Professor (who never has a first name, either – he is a scientist, not a human being) seems very much in love with Margaret. As events progress, he becomes colder and colder towards her, and eventually manipulates his creation into murdering her.  Shortly thereafter is a tense moment in which we worry that the same thing will happen to Dr. Carlton.

Don’t think Frankenstein started off as a good person, though.  Though he claims to love her, he slaps Margaret when she asks what he’s working on in the basement.  When he first describes the experiment he’s about to perform to Dr. Carlton, he says he’s using the ‘principle of selective breeding’, choosing the best parts to put together into a human body.  This will be a step towards ‘perfection in the human race’. That’s the sort of language that should worry just about anybody, especially when it’s coming from somebody with a German name.  Unfortunately, the movie shies away from actually exploring the issues of eugenics or racial purity that it seems to bring up here.  You can see why they might not want to go into that, but it’s a shame they left it hanging there.

With this for his upbringing, the creature is not a model of morality either.  He eventually escapes from the lab and goes outside to interact with human beings. The first person he sees is a girl sitting and brushing her hair – when she notices him, she screams, and he accidentally kills her as he tries to make her stop.  The incident clearly has a terrible effect on him, but this has far more to do with the way people reacted to his face than with the fate of the dead woman… the creature never seems to feel a moment’s guilt about the latter.  Perhaps this is because of the way Frankenstein raised him, or maybe it’s because, being a reanimated corpse himself, the boy does not think of death as a permanent fate.  Again, the question is not explored.

That’s the main problem with I Was a Teenage Frankenstein – it keeps suggesting things it doesn’t want to follow up on.  This becomes a particular problem at the ending, which is very unsatisfying.  Frankenstein sets about taking his creation apart for transport, the boy objects and kills him, and then commits suicide by electrocuting himself.  Throughout the movie, the only thing the creature has expressed a desire for is to interact with people who aren’t afraid of him.  Having just removed that stupid monster mask had his plastic surgery, he is on the cusp of being able to do so… but he never gets the chance.

Not only is this disappointing in itself, it also leaves another plot point unsettled.  In order to get a normal-looking face, Frankenstein and the creature killed and beheaded a young man named Bob, traumatizing Bob’s girlfriend Arlene in the process.  We see Arlene’s mother describe the incident to police officers, and offer them a photograph of Bob so they can identify him if they find him.  All these characters then simply vanish.  The next scene is Frankenstein telling Carlton that they’re going to take the creature apart for shipping, and then the movie ends.

What I wanted to see at this point was the creature going out and talking to people like he always wanted.  It would seem to be going awkwardly but not bad, but then he would run into Arlene, who identifies him as Bob and tries to spread the word that he’s still alive. This would make the creature feel that he has to kill her to keep her quiet, and ultimately bring the police to Frankenstein’s door.  Instead, the movie goes with an ending that feels like kind of a cop-out, like they ran out of time and just had to finish the story as quickly as possible.  We don’t even get a decent explanation of how he knew the two scientists were going to take him apart.

This is doubly disappointing because they could have had time.  There are early, talky scenes that could have been cut down a little in order to show us things we’d rather have seen.  The movie doesn’t drag much, but there are bits where it lingers on stuff we don’t need to see, like Margaret getting the key to the lab copied, or establishing that Frankenstein knows where the Lover’s Lane is.  Alternatively, since it wasn’t going to make a plot point out of Arlene, they could have cut that scene with her mother talking to the cops entirely… that would have made the ending feel less irrelevant.

In the end, I Was a Teenage Frankenstein reminds me a lot of another favourite bad Frankenstein movie of mine, Lady Frankenstein.  The two films share a lack of ambition.  Both have everything they need to be a much more interesting and thought-provoking take on the original material, but Lady Frankenstein chose to be about Rosalba Neri’s tits and I Was a Teenage Frankenstein tosses ideas around willy-nilly without ever giving any of them a chance to stick.

The weirdest thing about the movie is that it doesn’t even make any effort to appeal to teenagers!  You’d think a movie called I Was a Teenage Frankenstein would feature the title character interacting with teenagers, or trying to do ‘teenager’ things from the 50’s, like go to sock hops or race cars.  But no, besides the creature, all the major characters are adults.  The closest they come is by encouraging teenagers to identify with the boy as he chafes against parental restrictions.  I Was a Teenage Werewolf was about actual teenagers.  Why didn’t this film, obviously a partner to it, do the same?

[gguktarts]

decathect | jjk (2)

1. to withdraw one’s feelings of attachment from (a person, idea, or object), as in anticipation of a future loss

summary: if one thing was clear to you when you first met Jeon Jungkook, it was that he would never love you. at least, not the way you wanted him to.

pairing: jjk x reader genre: unrequited love au || angst || little fluff if u Squint || drabble series word count: 2.2k parts:  « previous | 2 / ? | next » cw: kinda unhealthy depictions of a crush, & jk is a fuckboy w lots of tatts and long hair. note: well,, i don’t like this one bUT here yall go!!! breaky breaky eggs and heart bakey ey :’)

Being late to class was the first of the signs, you should have known. It didn’t impact your grade in any way, but the reason behind it certainly stirred about some changes.

While Jungkook still remains a part of some of your days, lately it’s a less common occurrence. You figure maybe it’s his doing, that your face must have given you away that day, that he must have figured something out and that whatever he knows doesn’t sit well with him, but deep down you know it’s your fault.

It’s not that he’s avoiding you, but that you’re avoiding him–as well as the images that still haunt your memory. So, whenever you see him in the halls you turn and walk away just a tiny bit faster, and when you guys speak, you only voice out what’s necessary. It’s gotten to the point where you worry over him thinking you’re mad at him, when in fact you are not. You’re not upset that he kissed someone, how could you be? Jungkook is more of a stranger than he is a friend to you, and he owes you nothing. And it doesn’t matter that the constant reminder makes your heart drop all the way to your feet, nor that despite everything your stomach still battles the fluttering butterflies his smile cultivates and nurses. It’s actually that last part that annoys you out of all, the one that triggered your flight response.

Even now, sharing your favorite takeout at Tae’s, it’s clear you’re more closed off with him than usual – even when the subject is as ridiculous as VHS porn. Actual, physical VHS porn, all property of Taehyung. He apparently went on a shopping spree early in the morning, which explains the two thick tapes inches from his plate. They’re keeping the lot of you some extra company.

“I just can’t believe you bought more, honestly. And with real money,” you mutter in disbelief, amusement painting your tone. The fact that Tae not only owns (and buys) them but also keeps them in pristine condition is not something you understand. He doesn’t even have a VHS player. "You know the internet exists, right, babe? And with better quality.”

A look at the colorful cases makes you visibly cringe. There’s far too many freed titties and schoolgirl skirts for your liking. “They’re probably as bad as the old ones aren’t they…”

Tae’s eyes widen with a hint of betrayal; his chopsticks pointing at you in accusation. “They’re HISTORIC, ok? Like beanie babies... And they only cost 3 dollars each—”

"How would you know if hyung’s tapes are bad or not?” Jungkook’s voice interrupts, doing nothing but throwing you under the bus with the teasing question.

You blink, for a hot second forgetting you haven’t told Taehyung about that specific day a few months back. He was gone all day doing who knows what, while Namjoon and yourself, under the tight reign of curiosity and the profound liberty of a free evening, went over the most ridiculous titles he owns. It’s the sudden look of suspicion he gives you what brings back the fact to surface. Right. You’re the one with the VHS player. He knows that. 

From your peripheral Jungkook’s inquisitive gaze pierces your skin, distracting you from the way Namjoon’s posture straightens with the reminder. He hasn’t said a single word to stop you, though, so you take that as a sign.

“Joon and I watched them,” you confess quickly, slurping on some stir-fry noodles with a small, apologetic smile playing on your lips. “And I’m sorry for not telling you earlier, but Tae, they’re terrible. Except maybe… Eaten by the Big Bad Wolf, I guess.”

The name makes Jungkook break out in giggles, a sound so cute you have to press your lips together just to not grin along with him. Whining, Taehyung swats the younger’s arm before whipping his head to look between Joon and you, more pouty than angry.

“First of,” he begins, “Eaten by 2BW IS good. You guys are just uncultured about the rest. But more importantly, you two? Both?” 

None of you deny it. Joon simply grins apologetically and shrugs, far too busy gulping down his meat to do more than that— he knows Tae won’t do anything to him, he’s too valuable a roommate. Instead, you hear Jungkook voice out a tiny surprised “huh” before any words leave him. 

“I didn’t take you for the type to watch porn, Y/N.”

You still mid bite, eyebrow raised as you’re forced to glance his way. “Because I’m a girl?”

“No, it’s just… you don’t strike me as a sexual one, I guess?”

“Oh.”

He doesn’t say it to hurt you, you know that. It’s not like his phrasing should hurt you either, but somehow, it still does. It’s easy for you to skip past all you should be thankful for—that he doesn’t sexualize you, that he doesn’t consider you an option for the fuck-and-go experiences he tends to have, and that maybe, just maybe, therefore you’re not seen as disposable. All of those, while in ways reassuring, are drowned out by a single underlying fact: in a world where Jungkook knows not love but lust, where his touch is reserved for only the bright who catch his eye, you’re but a white dwarf to his starry gaze, all but faded and extinguished. Nearly a dead star, you’re empty of whatever he searches for, of whatever he wants, and so what little he gives you are never meant to get.

The thought rings around your eardrums enough seconds for your smile to drop and your teeth to clench, but you’re quick to put on a mask of vague confusion and annoyance. Even your tone comes out dry.

“Jee, thanks? I’m flattered I can contain my hormones in check.”

“It’s because you’re never here when she’s ovulating–she gets hornly as hell,” Tae counters just when the youngest opens his mouth, eyes on him before they settle on you. His gaze goes soft, as if asking if you’re okay in between the jabs, speaking the words he isn’t. But you’re too busy almost choking, heat spreading from your ears and along your cheeks, to notice it. The thought that he spoke to shut Jungkook up not crossing your mind. “I don’t really understand why you never do anything about it, love. Could literally be getting love-fucked right about now.”

“Taehyung, what the fuck?” you squeak, embarrassment threatening to consume you, but thankful nonetheless it’s a type of distraction. You don’t see Jungkook blink in confusion, nor his repeated whisper of Tae’s new word. You focus on the way Namjoon pinches Tae’s arm. It earns him a glare and a yelp.

“Leave her alone, man,” Joon chides, making you smile again without entirely understanding the look they briefly share. 

“What? She knows I love her,” Tae says, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. He’s always quick to butter you up with it. “You do know that, don’t you?”

“Yes. But if we could just shift the topic to something besides my non-existent love life I’d love that even more." 

"What?” Joon opens his mouth after a blink, suddenly intrigued because as far as he’s concerned, you were practically dating last you spoke to him about that. Only, you weren’t–aren’t, and even if he is on your side in this conversation, he’s too big of an information hoarder (read: gossip) to let it go from the get go. “But I thought the date with Jaebum went okay?”

You give him a look. “Date? We were studying for our midterms, like I told you.”

“Oh, I thought– but he looks so interested in you…”

Taehyung nods along, “Yea, whenever he sees me he asks about you.”

“Wait, are we talking about Jackson-hyung’s friend?” Jungkook asks, tone mildly curious. You drown the words out, but his voice still makes your throat close up for a few seconds longer.

“Yup,” Namjoon confirms, “You know him?" 

"Never actually talked to him, but Yugyeom hangs with him from time to time. Seems nice enough,” Jungkook shrugs, turning to you with a soft, encouraging smile. “I don’t know if he likes you but if you’re interested I could ask–”

“I’m not,” you snap, jaw clenching. Your fingers stiffly hold onto the chopsticks, a flimsy attempt at ignoring the way your bones hold your heart before it slips and falls. And it does fall, because you can already feel the sickening feeling pooling and spreading from your stomach and along your limbs. You notice it so quickly that you remind yourself, like a mantra, that this is ridiculous, that you shouldn’t even be feeling this way. Yes, he doesn’t like you. You knew that already, Y/N. Going from point A to point B, it’s logical he doesn’t care if you date anyone, that he encourages it as long as you’re into it. But you don’t want his kindness.

Hurt flashes over Jungkook’s gaze as you stare him down, but it’s gone so quickly you’re unsure if it was there in the first place. Still, the thought you might have caused it doesn’t sit well with you. It quickly forms a lump in your throat, making you swallow before softening your features.

“I’m– I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like an ass,” your voice comes out a whisper, and you turn back to your plate. Jungkook’s own “it’s okay,” is too soft your ears. You know you have to behave normally, quickly. So you press your lips together and offer them a dramatic sigh to at least begin to sound believable. 

“I’d just rather none of you did anything. I already know he likes me, he’s asked me out before,” you confess, voice somehow unwavering. It gives the push you need to put on a mask of indifference as you look head on, not at Jungkook but at Joon. He looks surprised, but remains quiet. “And no, I didn’t accept. He is nice, but I–I don’t like anyone like that at the moment.”

It takes effort to finish the lie, to hide the sting in front of them–in front of him– but you have more than one tell. And Taehyung knows each and every one very well. The soft rebuke, the intensified interest in your noodles as the lie flowed through your lips. Tae knows you, sometimes better than you know yourself, and he knows he has to do what he does best: he shifts the tone. 

“That’s okay. You’re too good for him anyways. But none of that matters because I just remembered something I find absurdly unforgivable,” Taehyung says, face going completely serious. His eyes are fixed on you with such intensity you wonder if he’s about to tell you the secrets of the universe, or his mom’s secret strawberry cheesecake recipe, which seems less likely. Instead he lets out the shrillest whine, “you did not tell me you love me back. Now explain to me, how am I supposed to continue on? What will inspire me now, huh?”

And just like that, the tense air begins to clear out.

“Eh, you’ll live,” you joke, physically unable to push back the tiny smile lighting up your face at his antics.

“Not like you’ve painted anything in ages, anyway,” Namjoon adds, teasing. 

“Well, if I had any of my own paint,” Tae mutters, giving Jungkook a pointed look, “maybe I’d find some inspiration.”

Jungkook scoffed, “I have two tubes total, not your entirely collection, hyung.”

“Yes, but you have my favorite ones! Amethyst Shards and Indigo Fields are so hard to find, too…”

“I’m almost done with them anyways, just pass by tomorrow and pick them up,” Jungkook snickers, eyes crinkling at the other’s pout.

“Fine, but show me what you’re working on.”

Taking the moment to drift away, you grab the already empty plates and take them to the kitchen. It’s Namjoon’s turn to wash the dishes so you leave them be, and return to both of your boys huddled around Jungkook’s extended hand, phone on display. 

You don’t know what you expected to see, but it’s definitely not the portrait of the girl he was kissing the other day. She’s laying on her side, naked on a bed of violets, and you can’t deny she’s beautiful. Your heart sinks further than before as you take in the level of detail he poured into his work, into her. The way her hair falls over her arms and tangles with the leafs underneath, the way a form of innocence is reflected on her eyes. They’re elements you see only because he sees them. Did she change his mind about relationships? Does he like her, just the way you like him? You don’t know– you don’t know anything at all. 

You feel like puking your insides out. And you’re aware you’re at the end of the rope for the day, that the thin line is about to break, and that you can’t hold back the water pooling behind your eyes for much longer. So like usual, you try to flee.

At the very least you compliment his work, genuinely amazed by his ability, but that’s the last you can do before the masks starts to crack. You don’t register his grateful smile, nor anything after that, really. You just give Tae an offhand excuse you don’t really process, and without waiting for any sort of response you scurry out of the room, vision blurry.

By the time you’re inside safer walls, tears have already stained your cheeks.

[pro-bee]

"If you had the chance for one more minute with your daughter, wouldn't you do anything in your power to get back to her?"

The Gibbs-Ziva stuff in 17x01 and 17x02 was tough to watch, but to me it was validating in a way, precisely because it kind of solidified how Ziva had written off Eli and embraced Gibbs and the team as her family.

Just hear me out.

I know that line and the Kelly one were problematic, just like Gibbs' excuse that he didn't go looking for her because he would have died if he'd been wrong. I know that there are arguments to be made that Gibbs never fought as hard for her as she did him, or that writing him as her "saviour" was wrong because the person who had her back was Tony.

That may all be true, but that's not my point right now.

What I mean is that it shows how Ziva thought of Gibbs, for good or ill, especially in comparison with her own father. In that her father was decidedly not a good person, and Gibbs’ support of her was in stark contrast from her father’s manipulation. 

Or, “Why Eli is a son of a bitch and why pro-bee is glad that he is both dead and dead to Ziva.”

(ETA: finally got back to my computer so I could put a Read More cut on this behemoth of a post.)

I thought that Ziva freezing her father out after Somalia was justified, and at that point in her life was probably the healthiest thing she could do. She was loyal to him to a fault -- not just as a daughter but as a subordinate officer -- but his love came with strings attached. He did not love her unconditionally as a parent should, but rather loved what she reflected of him, how he could use her to prop himself up. He jeopardized her life over and over again in the name of their national security, for missions he knew were unwinnable and arguably exactly because of that.

That's why it always bugged me when people tried to make Ziva feel guilty for cutting ties with him in season 7. It's like they didn't fully understand the scope of his selfishness (dare I say sociopathy), of what he put her through and would continue to put her through if she allowed him back into her life. Gibbs, for all his faults, was probably the only person (other than Tony) who understood that. It's why he validated Ziva's feelings when Malachi tried to manipulate her into returning to Israel by flat out telling her that what Eli did was wrong and that he was not a good person, and she deserved to feel hurt and traumatized, because she was.

But then time marches on and eventually she does mend fences a little, which is her right, but always at an arm's length, guarding her heart (and also her safety). And when she decides to make her home in the US permanently, she sides with her NCIS family, and that's when she finally voices what they've become to her, especially Gibbs ("now the closest thing I have to a father is accusing me...). For whatever Gibbs does or does not do for Ziva, what matters is how she perceives it, and for her, having Gibbs as a father figure is an antidote to the manipulation she feels at Eli's hands.

But I'm veering off my point here.

Anyway, by season 10, Ziva and Eli have patched things up enough that they talk regularly, and she can almost believe him when he tells her he wants to start a new chapter in their lives, wants to be a part of her life and have the relationship with her he never had when she was growing up or a young adult because of their professions. And you can see how much she longs for that and lets herself believe it. Which is why it is do doubly devastating when she finds out that he's lied to her once again, not only because he committed outright murder of an innocent man, which is horrible enough on its own, but because he lied to her about it and manipulated her into essentially accidentally giving him a cover without realizing it. It just confirms to her that he hasn't changed, that he will never be able to love her like she deserves because he simply isn't capable of it. He will always ultimately only be after what is in it for him.

Plus, he's a terrible person capable of commiting heinous acts without remorse.

(Really, Eli is a monster. He and Ari are cut from the same cloth.)

But Ziva was only ever allowed one scene to feel that way, to let out the anger and pain at his betrayal, because as we all know, as soon as he confesses to her -- and manipulates her one last time into doing something for him -- he is killed, and that sets off a whole shit show in motion.

Is it natural that Ziva grieves for her father? Absolutely. Maybe especially because their relationship was so fraught: she grieves his death and grieves the relationship they never had, because he was never honest with her.

But then the whole revenge mission is where they lose me in this. Ziva makes it a point to move as far away as possible from Eli to start her life over outside of his influence, to find a career in which she helps people and stops murderers instead of being one. To borrow a term from "Bones," she wants to right her cosmic balance sheet, do good in the world instead of evil.

Should Ziva want to catch the men responsible for killing her father? Sure. Should she go on a bloodlust mission sacrificing herself in the process just to avenge him? I don't think so, and I don't think the Ziva of season 7-10a would want to, either, but then 10b just did a 180 and forgot all the work Ziva did to move away from exactly what her father wanted.

(I have many feelings on this plot, but that is for another post.)

GETTING BACK TO MY POINT.

My point is that the back half of season 10 kind of forgot about the preceding 7 seasons, or at least the prior 3 seasons since "Aaliyah" about the nature of their relationship, all in service to this Dark!Ziva revenge story. It made it seem like they were much closer (and healthier) than they were. And at times, it almost felt like they were sweeping Eli's sins under the carpet, forgetting that not only was he a terrible person and an awful (borderline abusive?) father and husband, but a bloodthirsty war monger who was probably responsible for war crimes under a loose definition of the word. And Ziva knew it.

So Ziva's hurt and anger at Gibbs in season 17 makes so much sense to me, and reminds me of s7-s10a Ziva. The fact that she is so upset at him because he abandoned her checks out, because he wasn't just a boss to her. In her mind, she had elevated him to a father figure precisely because her own father was so terrible. Gibbs showed her what a paternal instinct really was, what loving your family was really like, what a real man feels for his wife and children, and surrogate family as well. Arguably Tony is the most important person in her life prior to her leaving, but I'd argue that the beginning of her finding herself was due to Gibbs giving her the space to do that and be herself in the earlier years, and his guidance is what allowed her to form all these relationships and see another life for herself.

But I digress.

Ziva outright telling Gibbs that she felt like his daughter, that she was mad at him precisely because she felt like his daughter but that he didn't seem to feel the same about her, that tracks for me, because it's more like the pre-s11 Ziva.

But it also means that Ziva has essentially written Eli off again, and that's important to me. Being in Israel all those years, returning to her roots, they could have had Ziva decide to let bygones be bygones. But no, Ziva telling Gibbs again that for all intents and purposes, he was her father, that's important. She's drawing her line in the sand. Gibbs may have dissapointed her, and that's a bitter pill to swallow, but it's as important as her tearfully telling him that "the closest thing I have to a father is accusing me..." Back in season 7. She values that and understands the difference between what Eli showed her and what Gibbs did.

TL;DR: I like that season 17 hasn't erased Eli's sins and made Ziva forgiven him for them because he's been dead for so long. She may have moved on, but she hasn't forgotten that he was the root of a lot of pain in her life and that of many others. Her calling Gibbs her "dad" not in so many words is important because it shows why she is so hurt, especially in comparison to what her father did to her (and Gibbs knows he did to her).

[tessatechaitea]

The Ray #1

In 1994, I had no idea who Christopher Priest and Howard Porter were so I have no idea why I purchased this comic book.

Although (continuing the thought from the caption which is just me saying, "Fuck the format! I can do what I want!") I was in my early 20s in 1994 so I was probably into that edgy fascination with freaks and body deformity. I hadn't seen Tod Browning's Freaks yet but I'm sure I would have jumped at the chance if I'd known about it. It's the only reason I can figure why I bought a comic book about a character I knew nothing about. Because it looks like he's a hero with a deformed baby leg. I probably picked it up off the shelf and yelled, "Fuckin' A, dude! Look at this ganky bastich!" It was 1994 so obviously I was emulating Lobo in my every day life. Some of you might be thinking, "Ugh! You're so gross and problematic!" But I'm just being honest! I was a young man, masking like crazy in order to hide my vulnerabilities so I wouldn't be crushed by social interactions and existential threats to my psyche. I had to act tough to survive the crazy streets of Santa Clara, California! Back then, Silicon Valley wasn't like it is now! In 1994, hulking techno-nerds were roaming the streets with razor sharp circuit boards looking to cut the genitals off of anybody who criticized the Neo-Geo CD home gaming console. If you looked at them funny, they'd challenge you to a game of Cyberball and you'd better hope you won because they were also obsessed with Mortal Combat and if you lost, the last thing you'd hear would be a bunch of techno-nerds screaming "Finish him!" before you found yourself upside down gagging on the filthy water of an unflushed public toilet. The early nineties were some rough years! Especially when you were into heavy metal! People think grunge and rap killed metal but think about what people thought was "rock and roll" during the early 90s: Warrant's "Cherry Pie" and Extreme's "More Than Words." I mean, Feetal's Gizz! Metal was dead long before grunge and rap came by to fill its grave. Anyway, you could totally be into freaks in the early 90s because the Internet didn't exist so your opinions weren't reaching anybody outside your small circle of friends. All the other people of the world who didn't know you at all didn't have a way to tell you you were a piece of shit because of one single thing that comprised the myriad facts of who you were. Fuck you, Internet! No, no! I'm sorry! Don't be mad at me, Internet! I can't live without you! Also, maybe I just bought this comic book because the cover was shiny and embossed and growing up in Santa Clara was so boring that it made this comic book looked exciting. The issue begins with The Ray battling Brimstone. Remember him from Legends?

Brimstone is as big as Godzilla and he's already killed hundreds of people, judging by the apartment buildings he's smashed.

I don't know who The Ray is or where he's from. What part of the United States of America uses slang like "gaffle," "put my serve on," "zoom this buster," "bone out," "feebs," and "rot." Is this just Christopher Priest trying to mimic youth speak? I would expect this kind of thing from an aging comic book writer like current Neal Adams but Priest was in his early thirties when he wrote this. Maybe The Ray is from another Earth and Priest's theory was that slang words would obviously differ between Earths. But not so much that you couldn't get the gist of what he's saying. Except for "gaffle." I don't know what the fuck he wants to do to Brimstone when he says he's going to gaffle him. I know what I would mean by it but that doesn't seem appropriate in this situation.

Oh wait. The Ray was just writing fan-fiction about himself.

So the Brimstone fight didn't really happen. Or it did happen but The Ray is using it as fodder to write comic books about himself. So he's like Clark Kent writing articles about Superman? At least writing comic book stories about your own adventures isn't unethical. Fucking Clark Kent. What kind of a journalist uses his soap box to simply promote himself? No wait. Journalists fucking suck. I despise journalists for the same reason I despise police officers. If you're just letting your profession go to shit because a bunch of people are abusing their positions of power and not actually doing the public service they're supposed to be doing, you're just as bad as the worst apple in the barrel. There's a reason that whole apple/barrel thing is still a saying even though nobody really associates apples with barrels anymore. Maybe The Ray isn't writing comic books although it seems like the super edgy postmodern take a writer in the 90s would think was fucking mind blowing. We got Kyle Rayner, comic book artist, as the new Green Lantern. Why shouldn't we also get a comic book writer in there as well? Or The Ray might just be writing stories for his college paper which would mean he's just as unethical and terrible as Clark Kent, I suppose. But in an amateurish way. The Ray (whose name is Ray Terrill so it was lucky he got light-based powers) stops trying to write and decides to tell the readers about the last few days. He's a young guy who works at a fast food chicken joint and has just leased his first apartment. It's a piece of shit with some garbage and/or artistic sculpture in the middle of the room but he doesn't have any credit or money so he's stuck with it. I bet there are corpses under the floor boards as well as other things too boring to mention (but which I'll mention anyway) like rats and cockroaches and dried semen stains.

This is Ray's narration of the place which I read after I wrote the previous paragraph. Was I writing comics and named Christopher Priest in 1994?

The Ray spends all day handing out flyers to Clucky Chicken while standing right outside Clucky Chicken. Is that what flyers are for? To remind people about the thing they can totally see right in front of them? I guess they could be coupons. While he's handing out flyers, his super cool cousin Hank stops by to gaffle some swang all up in through him.

This must be Earth-15 where they say things like "Yo trip dat frum, golderboots!" and "Swank on into my PQs, Flub Daddy!"

The Ray is disappointed that he's a man now because responsibility sucks. Kids can't stand curfews and rules but man is it sweet to be able to come and go as you please (within curfew, of course!) while doing whatever the fuck you want and not worrying about money for food or rent. The Ray can't even fuck his girlfriend because she saw him in the chicken suit and is all, "Oh, um, I just came by to say I can't come by! Bye!" The Ray can travel at the speed of light anywhere he wants while carrying other people. That makes sense because comic books. He takes his cousin Hank Fonzerelli to see a volcano shaped like a hand in Hawaii only to discover that it's another Brimstone. It's activated by a henchman of Darkseid while The Ray and Hank are checking out a surf competition or a luau. It's at this point when The Ray gets back to the beginning of the story where he was failing to stop Brimstone from destroying a city. As he picks the story back up, Superboy arrives to save the day. Not the boring Superboy who used to be Superman and learned a terrible secret about himself on his sixteenth birthday about an extra candle. The new Superboy who arrived on the scene after Superman died. He might also be boring but I wouldn't know having never read any comic books about him. The new Superboy is an arrogant dick and The Ray hates him. That's probably why The Ray winds up killing him. Or he thinks he killed him. Everybody reading the comic book probably thought The Ray killed him too (because we were all dumb-dumbs who actually believed DC Comics had killed Superman off for good. Why wouldn't they?! He was a big boring boy scout whose powers kept fluctuating because editors and writers thought the problem with writing Superman stories was that he was too powerful. But the real problem with writing Superman stories was that those same writers and editors were unimaginative assholes who didn't actually understand Superman. Why else would Superman have died from a fist fight?! Seriously, Dan Jurgens. What were you thinking?! Superman should never have been killed because he encountered something more powerful that could just beat the shit out of him. Superman should have been killed because of a philosophical or ethical dilemma where he realized the only way to save the world was to allow himself to die. He should have been Jesus but instead he was just Apollo Creed. Who I think was a metaphor for John the Baptist? The issue ends with the narrator letting the readers know that Superboy isn't actually dead and why would the idiots think he'd be killed in The Ray when he was currently starring in his own popular monthly comic book? Stupid dumb comic book readers! But the narrator also mentions that The Ray is out of power (I didn't know he had to recharge) and Brimstone is kind of mad. Then he's all, "If we were you," (I don't think a proper editor in 1994 would have allowed a writer to use the plural pronoun "we" as a non-specific gender singular pronoun so now I'm picturing the narrator as a small group of old people), "We'd be back here in 30 days!" And I guess 22 year old me agreed with them because I purchased Issue #2. The Ray #1 Rating: C. C is average, right? I didn't find anything I particularly loved about this issue but I also didn't find anything I absolutely hated. Except for Superboy but I think I was supposed to hate him so that's a positive critique. I probably purchased the next issue because I wanted to find out what happens to Hank Fonzerelli. What a cool dude! The letters pages don't have any letters but it does have a story by Brian Augustyn about how Christopher Priest changed his name from Jim Owsley. It also explains that Priest's idea for The Ray was to have a teenager suddenly have to deal with god-like powers while still being a teenager. I think before this that was called "Spider-man". Except for the god-like powers! Those were more spider-like powers.

[tiny-smallest]

nonfluent

Rating: T Characters: Gaster, Sans, Papyrus (barely, as he’s a wee infant) Warnings: mentions of child abuse (and nope not who you’re expecting either) Description: Good people don't always make good parents, even when they love their children. W. D. Gaster is no exception, though he does try. Oh, does he try.

Also on AO3!

I could have SWORN I uploaded this here but I suppose not? I can’t find it in my tags? So... enjoy this thing from roughly 2015-2016! Featuring scientist Dadster.

One more day.

He has to give it one more day.

Of endless numbers, of problems with solutions seemingly at his grasp, only to slip away at the last moment.

One more day of the endless hum of machines, of the blue paper of blueprints, and their white pencils, and terrible coffee.

He’s so tired, but he must give it one more day, at least, bare minimum, for he owes that much, especially to his own.

“daddy look i-”

“Not now, Sans.”

“but i can help, i can-” There’s a crash and he whirls around in his chair. The boy is on the floor, in a lab coat far too big for him (how did he even get it off the hook...?) surrounded by stacks of paper. Thank goodness he didn’t fall far or knock over anything important.

“Stop while you’re ahead. I brought you plenty of toys; please utilize them instead of destroying my workspace.”

Science is far too serious to allow for little bones running around willy-nilly trying to "help." A glance over his shoulder shows the child glaring at his “invention” of popsicle sticks and glue. Despite the fact that he is right, that such a devise is utterly useless to him, that he cannot allow Sans to simply run around the lab doing whatever he pleases...

There is a pang. He cannot keep doing this; the boy will be hurt. Surely there is something else he can do?

All problems (except the barrier) have a solution. Think. What is it that he can do here?

Wait. The lab coat. The invention. Sans wants to imitate him. Maybe there is something less dangerous he can imitate.

His eyes light on the tiny toy violin, a knickknack really, that a colleague had given him for his desk. A congratulations for a job well done at a piano recital long, long ago...

... Hm.

Music isn't going to save the world. Music isn’t going to get them past the barrier, if such a thing is possible. Music isn’t going to win the ensuing war. He should not be spending time on music, not when he has work to do, or sleep to catch a bit of.

But it's safe for little bones, so when he comes home that night, he finds their dusty old piano and spends a night fixing it.

Music is safe for little bones, and the act of cleaning it reminded him of the beauty of the instrument, and so every night, he can put aside hands shaking with fatigue and a mind berating him for slacking in order to pick his son up, and set him on his lap, and teach him a simple song.

The first song he teaches him is You Are My Sunshine. Sans listens, enthralled.

"Music is the language of emotion," he tells his small son as his long fingers guide his hands to the keys. Such tiny, delicate hands.

"And as with all emotion, sometimes it is the truth, and sometimes it's a lie. But this song, from me, will never be a lie."

He nods as if he understands, but he is so tiny. He cannot possibly understand.

That is fine. He will in time, and they’ve nothing but that.

Music cannot save the world, but that is okay too, he supposes. They can sing as tiny hands find their way to the proper keys, and he can smile at the small voice rising in harmony with his own.

Sans does not seem to have any interest in learning anything but that one song. But as long as his son is happy, and they can enjoy replaying this one every evening, everything is fine.

Someday little bones won’t be so little anymore, and he will teach him the proper way around a lab, but for now, this is how they’ll connect, and...

He is finding that chasing that endless answer is easier, that one more day is easier, if there is this to look forward to. Who knew such preciousness existed in this world? It was as if he had known on some level, protecting it, but was seeing it through a fogged window, never engaging with it.

Now that window is clear. And, as the days pass, he realizes that so is his conscious, too.

He is so bad at emotion when it comes to the language of normal speech.

"Wear your coat."

He never planned on having a child.

"Your vegetables are good for you."

He never planned on surviving to adulthood, truthfully.

"No, growing boys need sleep."

His parents had sucked the life from him, a drop a day, until the idea of spending decades in his own bones felt unbearable.

"Fine, one more story."

Open affection frightens him. He cannot stand touch.

"All right. One more song."

Even the words ‘I love you’ feel too much.

"You're grounded. No, I don't want to hear it; what you did was wrong."

As if the words themselves would peel away too much of his Soul, and reveal the shriveled underside.

"Here, I made you tuna fish today. And I included a ring pop. Please don't propose to the teacher again as a joke; I'll die of shame."

He cannot bear to do that.

"Your report card is wonderful. You did well. I see you excel in science."

But he finds other ways to tell him those three little words.

“That was beautifully played.”

He hopes it is enough.

It happened again it happened AGAIN.

One child was hard enough; now he has two!?

How could this experiment go so wrong!? As desperately as he runs the calculations, he can’t find an answer. Does the universe enjoy seeing him suffer? It’s the only reason it would give a man like him not one, but two gifts he does not deserve and can’t properly care for!

He struggles to breathe as the walls feel they close in on him. Smuggling the infant home proved to be an ungodly difficult challenge, not because the baby made noise, but because the trembling of his limbs would not cease. At least he managed it by some miracle, but his knees protest moving so much as another step once his front door closes behind him.

He looks so much like him.

That face shape must be so similar to what his own parents saw when-

No, no, he needs- he needs control again he needs to calm down he-

“daddy?”

He raises his head, staring, as Sans pads down the stairs in bunny slippers and a t-shirt with a pun on it. He hands the child to him quickly, struggling for breath.

“Take him to your room. He can share the bed with you.”

Sans doesn’t argue. Frightened eyes stare up at his father, then to the baby, and then he disappears upstairs and leaves Gaster to his shuddering breaths in front of the door.

Over the next few weeks, he prepares a room for the infant. A cradle, toys, infant safety measures. But the rest, and indeed, as much as possible, he leaves to Sans.

When the infant cries, Sans is there. When the infant is hungry, Sans, clever child, easily figures out how to feed him. Gaster supplies everything that’s needed, including a babysitter on school days, and Sans does the rest. He avoids both children... easy enough, with his workload.

The window isn’t foggy, but now, it is closed. Panic walls him in.

And, selfishly, he does nothing to stop it.

“why don’t you ever tell me you love me?”

Why are you in an unauthorized area in the middle of the school day asking such a deeply personal question?

But the words, thankfully, don’t leave his mouth. He is too busy staring at his son in a dumb stupor.

“where did i come from?”

“Why does any of that matter?” Oh, no; the wrong response. He knows as it falls from his mouth, but there’s no taking it back.

“because the kids at school say you’re a mad scientist and you made us. but if you made us you’d love us, right?”

Within seconds he tries to figure how schoolchildren could know his sons are the results of illegal experimentation, but for once, logic decides to remind the rest of him that paranoia has the wheel at the moment.

“but you never say you love us and you won’t stay with us.”

“I have a lot of work. And you, young man, have school.”

“it’s recess.”

“That doesn’t mean you can waltz off school grounds!”

“why not? you get to mix up kids in your stupid lab!”

This is not at all where he wants this going. He rubs his temples.

“Sans-”

“you don’t even listen to me play anymore! you missed my science fair! and i spend all my time with papyrus but you don’t take more than five minutes every day to check with us!”

“I said, I’m very busy.” The excuse is hollow. Sans is turning blue with fury and his eye is

glowing?

“that never mattered before! why does it matter now!?”

“I-”

“you didn’t want us, did you!? either of us! you don’t love us, so why did you make us!?”

“I didn’t mean to-”

“you didn’t mean to.” He had not meant it in the context Sans was taking it as. He had meant ‘I did not mean to be so awful, to make you wonder these things.’

But Sans... clever child... is beginning to realize another possibility to explain their existence.

“... we were an accident. that’s all we are to you. accidents.” He eyes his father with a look that chills him to his core, and as Sans turns and begins to stomp away, he finds his feet moving, an arm reaching for his son’s shoulder, no, wait, don’t go; he’s sor-

“get OFF OF ME!” Sans’s low voice rises to a shriek, and he whips around, eye surging with magic—why oh why had he given his son those abilities-

He grabs his Soul, he feels the PING more than he hears it, and the feeling of the metal floor beneath his feet being stolen away is frightening enough until he realizes his son still doesn’t know how to properly use that blue magic of his, does not know how easily the grip slips or the right amount of force to apply or-

And then suddenly, air whistles around him, and his son grows smaller and smaller as he falls, until the child is only a dot, and before the blinding agony overtakes him, he realizes that there will never be one more day; he will never get to give Papyrus those piano lessons or even teach Sans a new song, if he’d ever wanted to learn one, and now the window will close.

Forever.

[fortunatelylori]

Rage-kitten Jon time

*this meta includes graphic depictions of violence. Redear discretion is advised

A while back, during a conversation with @kitten1618x, she asked me to talk about the rage-kitten Jon scenes. I’ve been pretty busy the past few weeks so I didn’t manage to get to it earlier but … a tumblr always pays her debts.

Here is the original message:

I would love to hear your take on the rage-kitten jon scenes: especially the one in the crypts, as it really did nothing to further the narrative if Jon is just a “protective big bro” (the audience already knows this) and the beach scene with Theon.

I’ve already discussed the Theon scene in my “Why the romance between Jon/D*ny doesn’t work” series so this time around we will be talking about the crypt scene between Jon and Littlefinger.

However, in addition to that, we will also be taking a trip down memory lane to that most satisfying and heartwarming of moments in season 6 when Jon beat the living crap out of Ramsay Beelzebub Bolton.

That is because these two scenes are inextricably linked in my mind and together set up and support the romantic undertone that permeates all of the Jon/Sansa scenes.

Bear with me … I have receipts.

After the season finale, when I re-watched both season 6 and 7, I came back to these two scenes time and time again. The way Jon walks over to Ramsay, stone faced, murderous anger bubbling beneath the surface, the way his face twitches when LF says he loves Sansa as he loved Catelyn ... I was struck every time by just how certain I was that I had seen this before somewhere and how romantic motivation popped into my head every single time I watched them.

And then, one fine day, it finally dawned on me. I HAD seen this before, hundreds of times. Twice a year, in fact, from the time I was about 12.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give to you the one … the only … possibly my favorite film of all times …

Now, if you have not seen Goodfellas, what the hell have you been doing with your life? I mean it! Got watch it right now!

For those of you who have seen it … it’s brilliant, right? Now that I’ve mentioned it, don’t you want to go back and watch it again? I know I do. I just looooove watching Joe Pesci violently murder people. What can I say? I’m a romantic, like that …

That being said, I see you all scratching your heads thinking what the hell Goodfellas has to do with rage-kitten Jon. So please indulge me in an experiment and look at the scene where Henry finds out that his girlfriend, Karen, was sexually assaulted by one of her neighbors:

I think you can see the basic gist of what I am talking about but let’s analyze the similarities more in detail. I’ll probably only ever going to get one chance to talk about Goodfellas and Game of thrones in the same meta. You can bet your last dollar I’m going to milk it for what it’s worth!  

The “Jon makes all of our dreams come true” scene:

The first beat that is eerily similar is the slow walk both Henry and Jon do towards their opponent. Even their expression is about the same which is … they have no expression. Their entire focus is on what’s in front of them:

The stone face in cinema is always a telltale of someone going in for the kill. Both Bruce and Ramsay are goners. They just don’t know it yet.

Then there’s the actual fight … I mean, it’s not really a fight … it’s quite frankly a down and dirty whooping that both Jon and Henry dish out, complete with the both of them throwing their opponent to the ground:

This has nothing to do with the meta, but every time I watch this beat I laugh thinking of people saying how shockingly revolutionary violence in GOT is. Scorsese was doing long before them and, quite frankly, doing it better. There’s not one cut in that whole beat. You’re essentially a prisoner of the camera.

The other thing these two scenes have in common is a bit more subtle and requires a larger view of both these characters. Because leaving aside the different time periods, dragons and wardrobes, what both these scenes show us is the violence that these men are capable of.

In Goodfellas, up until this point, the audience has seen Henry as the hero, the good guy. We’ve been lulled into liking him because of his charm, good looks and intelligence and also because he’s always surrounded by psychopaths that kill and hurt people on a whim while he’s stuck being the voice of reason.

So just when we’ve become comfortable with this interpretation of the character, Scorsese gives us 10 veeery loooong and veeery painful seconds of Henry’s unhinged brutality. We can’t hide away from the truth anymore: he’s a thug just like the rest of his “associates”.

The GOT scene is less elegant in its message and perhaps a bit less effective but it essentially tells us the same thing. Jon has been dabbling with violence ever since he left home but we have never seen him be so brutal or so out of control with anyone. Now we know that if you push him hard enough, you’ll find the monster hidden beneath. The fact that it’s Sansa that sparks this revelation, just as Karen does for Henry, is just icing on the cake, really.

The other intriguing thing is that both these scenes end with a relationship set-up between Henry and Karen, as well as Jon and Sansa.

In Goodfellas, this is a patently negative and foreboding event. Henry and Karen have been established as the young, attractive and in love couple, strolling around town and going to the Copacabana for drinks, wearing the latest fashions. But in this scene Henry hands her the gun he’s just used to bash a man’s face in and asks her to hide it. When she accepts, she becomes his accomplice. And that dynamic pays off throughout the rest of the film, as we see Karen smuggle illegal drugs for Henry in prison, accompany him to meet Colombian cartels and flush drugs down toilets as the police descends on their house.

In GOT, the implications of this scene are far more positive. Because Jon does the exact opposite to what Henry does. Far from making Sansa an accomplice to his violent tendencies, he stops himself when she shows up because he doesn’t want her to see him as a monster.

As other Jonsa fans have already mentioned, the creators here employ the “calm to his storm” trope and that’s a very potent storytelling device. Because love is a powerful emotion that can make us behave in extreme ways, both good and bad. But at its best, love compels us to be better, not worse. And that’s what Sansa does for Jon in this scene. She reminds him of his inherent humanity. And that’s pretty damn beautiful.

However, I don’t think we’ve really gotten a proper pay off of this trope and the dynamic that it establishes between these two characters. I suppose you could argue that the battlement scene does that by having Sansa apologize for keeping Jon in the dark about the Knights of the Vale and they end up resolving their trust issues.

Except that season 7 shows us a Jon and Sansa that are still struggling with their relationship, the two of them still sending each other mixed signals and we never get a proper explanation as to what makes them clash as they do.

Add to that the Theon scene where once again the “calm to his storm” trope is brought to the fore and this whole confusing dynamic between them feels like a dangling plot thread that needs to be addressed in season 8.

The “Non-platonic thoughts about Sansa are not allowed in Jon’s presence” scene:

The obvious thing that this scene and the Goodfellas scene have in common is the dialogue. So let’s talk about that. You all know how attached I am to my dialogue:

Henry: I swear on my fucking mother, if you touch her again, you’re dead!

Jon: Touch my sister and I’ll kill you myself.

Now, Henry is a little more verbose and he does take his own mother’s name in vain but you know … he’s half Irish and half Italian. It sort of comes with the territory. But the message is clear: Touch Karen/Sansa and Henry/Jon will kill you.

This phrase of: touch … and I’ll kill you is used a great deal in dialogue for both visual and written storytelling but the important common thread here is the sexual context in which they are both used.

Bruce, Karen’s neighbor, is beaten up by Henry because he tried to rape Karen. So “touch” in that context is unquestioningly sexual in nature.

The Jon/LF is even more loaded because Littlefinger hasn’t actually done anything as terrible to Sansa. Sure, his longing stares, double-entendres and creepy kisses are more than a little problematic, but they’re not in the same league as what Bruce did to Karen. And yet, just the thought that Littlefinger might approach Sansa in that way and that he might touch her in a sexual manner, drives Jon mad.

Also, as others have mentioned, Littlefinger prods and twists Jon for quite some time until he snaps. He talks about his father’s bones, his love for his father’s wife and even brings up Catelyn’s dislike for him, something that probably bothers Jon even more than being called a bastard. And yet, even though it’s clear that Jon doesn’t like LF, he still manages to keep his emotions in check.

The moment he starts losing it this:

Littlefinger: If it weren’t for me, you would have been slaughtered on that battlefield.

Now, people simply take it for granted that Jon dislikes Littlefinger because of what LF has done to his family. But Jon doesn’t know most of what LF has done. He actually doesn’t know much of anything about him. Except this:

Jon: You told me he sold you to the Boltons.

Sansa: He did.

Jon: Do you trust him?

Sansa: Only a fool would trust Littlefinger.

So his sole reason for disliking this man is because of what he did to Sansa. I would suggest that LF bringing up the Battle of the Bastards is yet another reminder for Jon that she had to bring this man there in order to save him.

But then LF, in his desire to find what moves his enemy, ups the ante and boy, does he find out what moves Jon Snow:

And this where that feeling of familiarity strikes me again. I don’t know if Kit Harrington went to the Liotta school of seething rage, but these two facial expressions look very similar to me:

Kit should totally take, at least, the expression class at the Liotta school by the way. No one does crazy, out of my mind psychopathy quite like good ol’ Ray.

The last thing we need to address is the reason why this scene is even included. Unlike the mirror scene in season 1 where Ned chocked LF, where the resolution was LF’s betrayal, there is no direct pay-off to this scene and there never will be. LF is dead and his downfall has nothing to do with Jon.

As @kitten1618x pointed out in her message, it can’t be to show us that Jon is protective of Sansa. That was already established in season 6. We’ve seen him beat Ramsay to a pulp and we’ve also been given this gem:

Jon: I will never let him touch you again. I’ll protect you. I promise!

We’re also going to be given a fresh dose of that in his scene with Tyrion.

There’s just so much of the “Jon is an overprotective older brother who protects his totally platonic but in need of protection sister” shtick we can watch before we start questioning exactly why Jon is so invested in who “touches” Sansa.

I would argue that, considering basic scriptwriting structure as well as the pattern that is established between Jon and the men in Sansa’s life, the pay-off to the Jon/LF scene will come in season 8 and it will have nothing to do with LF and everything to do with the Jon/Sansa dynamic.

PS: I call dibs on red for the wedding. It’s my favorite color, you guys! You have to give me that!

 * none of the GOT gifs belong to me.

[louthegreatfurrry]

The Same Eyes pt.4

Ariel takes her time to return home. Usually she rushes the trip both to-and-fro Ursula’s place - she certainly had this morning - but now… she feels weighed down by this new information. She isn’t sure what to do. She isn’t sure if she should do something at all.

Ursula hadn’t lied to her. Ariel had felt it - the magic, the bond, the truth - when she’d spoken. Athena was my Heart. She’s heard dad say that so many times before - Athena, your mother, the love of my life, she was my Heart. And he hadn’t lied, either, has never done - but mom only had one Heart, and it hadn’t been dad.

Her mother. Her mom. Her mom and Ursula.

And the worst part is that she believes it. Had someone told her a mere month ago she would have called them mad. But now… Now the flashes of hurt and pain makes sense.

Flounder greets her when she swims in through her window. “Ariel!” he exclaims, worried, turning in circles around himself. “Were you with - ” He glances around and lowers his voice. Despite the fact that they’re alone in Ariel’s bedroom. “ - Ursula?”

“Find Sebastian,” Ariel says, absently running a hand down Flounder’s side. “We need to talk.”

Flounder hesitates. Then he nods, disappearing out of the door as quickly as he possibly can.

Three minutes later a frantic Sebastian rushes in. “Ariel!” he cries, claws flailing. “What is it, my child, what is wrong?”

Ariel catches him before he can start clawing through every item of clothing she owns. “Sebastian!” she laughs. “Calm down, you’re going to hurt yourself. Nothing is wrong. There’s just… something I need to tell you.” She looks over at Flounder, who’s hovering by the door. “You both.”

“Is this about Ursula?” Flounder asks.

A beat.

“Ursula!” Sebastian cries. “Why for are we mentioning her?”

“Hush! Both of you!” Ariel says, rushing over to slam her door shut. “Yes, Flounder, it is. Sebastian…” She gives him a long, nervous look. “I’ve been… visiting Ursula. For some days.”

“Wha -”

“She’s been letting be see Eric!” she interrupts. “And she’s going to make me into a human so I can be with him, but that’s not important right now.”

Sebastian splutters. “Not imp - not important? How is that not important? Oh, what will your father say? What am I going to do?” He cradles his face in his claws, looking absolutely, utterly miserable.

Ariel grabs his claws and bats them away from his face. “Nothing! Nothing at all - I won’t hear a word of this, okay?” She stares hard at him. “I’m serious.”

“Then what is it?” Sebastian asks, gently tugging away from her hold. “If not that you are visiting her, what is it?” He narrows his eyes. “Is this why you asked about Queen Athena, the other day?”

“They were Hearts,” Ariel blurts.

Silence.

“They were Hearts,” Ariel repeats, lowering her hands to her sides as she sinks onto her bed. “Did you know? Did you know mom loved Ursula? Or that Ursula loved her, for that matter?”

Sebastian wails. “Oh, she has been filling your head with lies!”

“How do you know?” Flounder asks, swimming in a quick, worried little circle around her. “Did she tell you? Are you sure she didn’t lie?”

Ariel rolls her eyes. “Of course I’m sure - she said the words! The bonding words! I felt them in my bones.” She shakes her head. “You didn’t know, then? You had no clue?” The question is directed at Sebastian. Flounder hadn’t been alive at the time.

“That Ursula was in love with the Queen?” says Sebastian. He scoffs. “I thought she was in love with the King - she was always so suspicious and pricky to be around.”

“Aren’t you listening?” Ariel exclaims. “Ursula was mom’s Heart, as well! They were in love! A rival witch cast a spell on mom, and her death was an accident - ” She cuts off with a sigh, rubbing her hands across her face. She sees it, now, it’s so obvious. “It was an accident…”

Sebastian and Flounder exchange a look. “I think you are under a spell,” Sebastian says drily. “This is not like you, Ariel. How can you not see that she lies?”

Ariel digs the heels of her hands into her eyes with a groan. “I know what I’ve seen!” she cries. “You don’t get it, you haven’t seen her like I have - you haven’t seen how she hurts.” She sighs, dragging her hands down her face before leveling both Flounder and Sebastian with a serious look. “She is helping me get to my Heart because she lost hers. Don’t you see it? They were in love. It was an accident.”

“Now, Ariel, Queen Athena loved King Triton very much,” Sebastian tries, in the same slow tones he’d used when she didn’t understand his lessons as a child.

“Oh, I’m sure she did,” Ariel says, “just as I love you, as I love dad, as I love my siblings. You can love someone without them being your Heart, you know.”

They exchange a look again. “Look, Ariel, we are sorry, but…” Sebastian gestures vaguely with his claws. “It is just not easy to believe! Have you ever met Ursula? She and the queen…” He shrugs. “It is simply not likely, is all.”

“Of course I have met Ursula,” Ariel says, crossing her arms with a scowl. “I’ve been seeing more of her than anyone else lately. And of course it’s likely, it happened. But Sebastian – didn’t you know her? Don’t you remember those times? Before everything went wrong? Wasn’t it so, that the title Sea Witch was honored and, and…” She scrunches her nose, trying to remember Ursula’s wording. “And went hand-in-hand with the royals?”

Sebastian blinks. “Those days are long passed, Ariel,” he says. “Where did you hear that?”

“Ursula told me, obviously,” says Ariel. “Look, you’re not going to change my mind about this. She’s genuinely trying to help me. I’ve seen true pain in her. She sung mom’s song to me.” In mom’s voice, she doesn’t add, because that would have been a lie.

To think – the soft, gentle voice from all her memories is actually Ursula’s.

“There’s nothing we can do to change your mind?” Flounder asks. There’s an edge of desperation to his tone.

Ariel shakes her head. “I’m going back,” she says. “And soon… soon I’ll be made human. With legs!”

Sebastian grimaces. “Thank you, Ariel, we know what a human looks like.”

Ariel laughs.

*

Ariel has never really been interested in reading – or, well, learning, for that matter. She can’t remember the last time she visited the royal libraries. And now, swimming inside for the first time in years, she’s struck dumb by the vastness of it.

And then she realizes that there are no books.

Engraved stone slabs fill up the shelves, slab upon slab upon slab, different colors and shades and types, and Ariel gapes.

It seems obvious, now that she’s thinking about it. Of course there are no books in the royal libraries. Books can’t survive properly under water – the pages dissolve and tear and the ink bleeds into the water. Ursula has them, though –

and so does she, doesn’t she? The notebook –

she stops, a hand trailing over the nearest stone. The notebook. ‘This belonged to your mother,’ Ursula had said, and it seemed to pain her to hand it over. She wants to hear that story, as well –

Ariel shakes her head and keeps moving. If she wants to know more about the title Sea Witch, she needs to find the sections about them.

Turns out there’s not so much about Sea Witches in the royal library. Ariel pulls down the few slabs she finds and drags them over to a deserted table. Once there she shuffles through her purse and finds the notebook Ursula had gifted her. It really is pretty. And knowing what she does now – it belonged to your mother…

The red leather and faded emeralds really do remind her of something.

“Funny how it fits me, too,” she mutters, tilting the book the other way. She really hopes it’s magic keeping the pages and ink together, and not close proximity to Ursula, or it’s going to fall apart soon.

Sighing, she opens the book to a new page, scratching out a quick Sea Witch – title. And with no further ado she grabs the nearest stone slab and begins to read.

*

It’s actually somewhat interesting. There’s a list of previous Sea Witches – including age, species, and gender – and what they were most known for doing. The list dates back centuries! Some of the Witches assisted royals through wars, some lived in peace, others married into the royal line itself.

The name Aio is written above Ursula, tied together by a direct line. Ariel wonders if it means they’re related, for a brief second, but Aio was a longnose gar – not even close to an octopus. Perhaps Aio was Ursula’s tutor? Nothing worthy of notice, stands behind his name.

Ariel catches the short flash of Ursula wouldn’t agree, allows the thought to live, and moves on.

And then there’s Ursula’s name. Murdered Queen Athena and brought disgrace to all witches.

Ariel has to put away the list for a moment, lest she breaks it in two.

*

She asks about the books later that day. One eye is on Eric in the cauldron, the other on Ursula moving around the room – sometimes murmuring to one of her eels, sometimes saying something to herself, reading the labels on the jars and bottles around the rooms, scribbling things in her books as she goes.

“How come you have books underwater?”

Ursula stills, one hand hovering over a tiny blue bottle. She turns to Ariel, and there it is again, that terribly vulnerable expression, the one she probably thinks she can hide, the one that bleeds pain and cries sorrow. “Spells,” she says, and her voice doesn’t shake. “I obtain books by trade, and some I find, and others I make. I need the ingredients, of course, but once I have them there’s no problem to spell a book into existence.”

Well, that answers that. “The one mom owned,” Ariel continues, tracing a line along the edge of the cauldron. “Did you make that?”

Something painful and raw flickers across Ursula’s face. She turns. “I… did, yes.” She plucks the bottle from the shelf. Ariel winces, expecting it to break from the way Ursula had clenched her hands mere moments before – but she handles the glass with delicacy and gentleness. “It was… a wedding gift.”

“She never wrote in it,” Ariel recalls.

“…Triton didn’t let her,” Ursula says. “He said – they both thought – ”

She sees the way Ursula struggles, the way her shoulders twitch, and Ariel understands. “That it was unnatural,” she finishes for her.

Ursula slumps over. “…yes.”

“It wasn’t,” Ariel says. “Isn’t. Mom would have loved it, if she hadn’t been…”

Spelled. Bewitched. Forced into a marriage she didn’t want.

Ursula gives her a short, sharp glance.

And then she smiles a smile so small and pure and wonderous that Ariel can’t believe she ever thought this woman was evil.

“She would,” Ursula agrees. And then she goes back to work, and Ariel goes back to watching Eric, and their past is a little bit more mended.

*

And things continue like that – Ariel visiting Ursula once a day, Flounder and Sebastian fretting over her when she returns home, noting down discoveries about both Eric and Ursula herself. And every single time – every time! – Ursula lets more and more of herself go, and Ariel realizes more and more how wildly wrong she was to judge based on appearances.

And then, maybe three weeks or so after she first started showing up, the routine changes. Where Ariel at the beginning had come purely to check on Eric, she now comes to – well, to check on Ursula, as well. And maybe it’s to gather more ‘proof’ for Flounder and Sebastian (and she says ‘proof’ because it isn’t proof, it’s just how Ursula is – it’s not her fault her friends are thick in the head!), and maybe it’s to cover a smile as Ursula croons to her eels, and maybe it’s to lure another song out of her, and maybe it’s to discover a bit more about her mom, about her mom’s Heart, and okay, so maybe it’s just to spend some time with Ursula as well, because she happens to like her sarcasm, okay, Sebastian?

Besides – there’s such an easiness in Ursula’s cave. There aren’t any expectations – not from Flounder, who expects her to be the brave friend who can take a beating, nor from Sebastian, who expects her to behave and be nice and sing songs that don’t come from her soul. Or from dad, who sees more of mom than her in her sometimes, or from the kingdom, who wants a princess –

there’s just Ursula, who sometimes is too busy with herself to care much for what Ariel does, who lets her stay and treats her like any other sea creature. There’s just Ursula, who expects Ariel to be Ariel. She’s seen the reflection of mom in Ursula’s eyes before, knows that sometimes Ariel reminds her of mom, but it’s nothing like the way dad sometimes looks at her, with longing and sorrow and heartbreak.

Sometimes Ursula looks at her with hope. And often it’s drowned in guilt, and pain, and shadows, but it’s there. And it keeps Ariel going.

She spends a lot of time gazing into the cauldron, and a lot of time writing, and some time talking to Ursula. And a few times she hovers over by her shoulder, asking what she’s working on, what she’s writing, what’s the most recent problem?

And Ursula twists the books so Ariel can see better and explains in soft tones, tapping on sketches and directing Ariel’s hands gently when she points to the wrong things. And when Ariel spent the previous night pouring over stone slabs about magic and Sea Witches and spells and is too tired to keep up, she falls asleep on Ursula’s shoulder, and Ursula lets her.

And when the pain is too fresh on Ursula’s face to talk about, when her eels hover close by at all times, when she barely even talks… well, Ariel can fill the silence with her own words, and she can pretend she doesn’t see the grateful and amused looks Ursula casts her way.

And when Ariel complains about dad, who doesn’t understand, or Flounder, who worries, or Sebastian, who frets, or her sisters, who blame everything wrong on her – Ursula offers sarcasm as comfort and joking promises of turning them into tadpoles, and Ariel laughs and laughs until her stomach aches.

But nothing lasts forever, whether it be good or bad.

And Ariel grows careless.

[themyskira]

The 18th Letter: A Love Story - Part 3

Previously: Alcmaeon is a super tortured and attractive and deep and complex immortal war criminal who wants to rape Wonder Woman. He has used the threat of mass slaughter and suffering to blackmail Diana into going on a date with him. Her friends variously think she is irresponsible, a dirty whore or the luckiest girl alive for being coerced into this against her will.

Alcmaeon spent the entire "date” trying to drug and mind-control Diana, but it’s okay because he’s fallen in love with her now. At the “date”’s conclusion, he kissed Diana while an enraged Superman used his powers to spy on them, because did I mention Superman secretly wants to bone Diana?

Also, Helena Kosmatos, the Golden Age Fury and avatar of the Erinyes, is a deluded violent angry jealous harpy who thinks Hippolyta is her mother and Diana is the devil incarnate, because Bitches Be Crazy.

In this final garbage fire of an issue, literally everyone is a horrible person and nothing makes sense. Vital plot points are contradicted, introduced out of nowhere and then contradicted again. And editing, haha, what’s that?

As before, trigger warnings for abusive and coercive behaviour, attempted date rape, victim blaming, slut shaming, normalising of abuse and general shitty treatment of women, and suicide.

Close in a pained, furious Superman, as Alcmaeon picks up his wanky monologue again. You know the drill by now: He was too late, much too late, blah blah written by the prophets, blah blah the pure and majestic and haunting beauty of Wonder Woman, blah blah reprieve from the abject torture and torment of Alcmaeon’s Deep and Complex and Interesting existence.

Actually, no, I need to address some of this monologue, because:

The war was already over. That was the price of a single night’s respite from my hellish, eternal existence. Millions of my sons and daughters — heirs of the Epigoni and of the ancient Pelasgian state of Gattica, all sworn to live and die by my command — after all, I only started the war for the express purpose of ending it. For her. To give her a dragon to slay. To bring her to me. These are the things men do. The extremities we are pushed to, all for that intangible splendour— the warmth of her favour. The sound of… her voice…

Have I mentioned how much I hate that Alcmaeon is the one who gets to narrate this story? As if it’s not bad enough that this whole sorry excuse for a comic is predicated on a villain attempting to rape Wonder Woman, he also gets to spend the whole time monologuing about his fucking manpain and how in love he is with her and, oh, he knows he’s a terrible human being but did he mention he’s also complex? And tortured? Because he’s so tortured, guys. Surely you all can understand how a tortured and complex man might be pushed to extremities by the love of a beautiful woman?!

And yes, Alcmaeon is an unreliable narrator and I’m not suggesting that any of the views he’s espousing are those of Christopher Priest. But by telling the story in his voice — and consciously choosing to frame it not as a hero-versus-villain clash, but as a Greek tragedy — Priest positions the reader to sympathise with Alcmaeon, to view him as a tragic figure condemned by Fate and Furies to this tortured existence, and he minimises Alcmaeon’s personal agency and culpability for his actions.

Yes, Alcmaeon’s story is tragic. He was damned by the Erinyes for the matricide he was duty-bound to commit. He was tormented for it across a hundred human lifetimes. We get it; his life sucks.

He still chose to use his limitless immortality and wealth and power to commit mass slaughter and attempt to blackmail, coerce and rape a woman.

In other words?

So fuck your “hellish eternal existence” sob story, and fuck your “these are the extremities we are pushed to”. Because this shit isn’t fate and it isn’t human nature. It’s a man using his power to abuse a woman, simple as that, and I’m not interested in listening to him justify it with some wanky self-narrative.

Oh, by the way, the whole time Alcmaeon is busy “poor me”-ing at us, Superman is having a tantrum throwing around tanks because he thinks Diana slept with Alcmaeon.

Well, okay, he’s mostly doing it because the ceasefire has been declared and the UN has officially asked the JLA to lead peacekeeping efforts. But he’s being extra scary and petulant about it because he’s mad about Diana having sex with somebody who’s not him. Since, as we established last issue, despite being ostensibly happily married to the love of his life, Lois Lane, Superman secretly fantasises about fucking Wonder Woman and is furious that she has a sex life.

“I’m a little distracted, J’onn… my objectivity isn’t quite what it needs to be.”

J’onn takes the lead, reminding the League that their one role is to enforce the peace, and that “should Wonder Woman’s initiative fail” they must withdraw from the conflict zone immediately.

Superdick hangs behind to continue brooding:

He stood there, dusting off his wounded pride. Marvelling at the surgical precision of the Martian’s turn of phrase— Wonder Woman’s “initiative”. That “initiative” was the only thing on his mind. That and the damning realisation that—

—he was too late. Much too late.

fuuuuuuuck yooooooou.

Fourth Episode

ugh.

(This is a misdirect. She just slept in his bed while he stood there staring at her creepily for the whole night.)

Her name was Diana. And I adored her.

Shithead contemplates himself in the bathroom mirror. He pulls out a gun. Positions it under his chin, prepares to pull the trigger— then Fury pops up out of nowhere to gloat at him. Alcmaeon admits that he can’t her Diana’s singing out of his head, blah blah haunting Greek lullaby driving him to distraction, blah blah metaphor for conscience and innocence.

Fury vanishes as Diana wanders into the bathroom. Diana knows she was there, bizarrely not because she heard their voices or caught a glimpse of Fury’s departure, but because she can smell her??

Alcmaeon explains that Fury came to taunt him about his failure. “To accomplish what?” Diana asks. “Seducing me?”

And this is where we find out exactly how Alcmaeon planned to rape Diana.

“On Themyscira there is a mystic named Magala who helped prepare me to meet you— by giving me special bathing oils to protect me from the genetically engineered hallucinogenic anodyne you use on women. Phillipus, captain of my mother’s guard, provided eye drops that filter out subliminal commands the micro-laser imagers in your contact lenses project several times per second. While I slept — with you watching from the next room all the while — a dear friend disarmed and destroyed your defences here at the castle, including your force fields.”

This is why I call bullshit on Priest’s assertion that Alcmaeon is “one of history’s great seducers”, “the most arrestingly, unexpectedly charming and disarming person to ever appear in a DC comic … a guy most any woman on the planet would fall immediately in love with”. That may well have been Priest’s intention, but the Alcmaeon we see in this story is only ever shown “seducing” women through blackmail, coercion, deception, drugging and mind control.

His plan to win Diana over was to rob her of her ability to consent with the equivalent of a high-tech roofie in her drink. And though he might claim to have genuinely fallen in love with her during their date-slash-hostage-situation, at no point during that evening did he stop trying to drug her. At no point did he remove the mind-control contact lenses. At no point did he call the forced ‘date’ off. At no point did he own up to what he had done or acknowledge its wrongness. At no point did he — nor will he ever in this story — apologise to Diana.

Alcmaeon is not a great seducer. Alcmaeon is a vile, unapologetic rapist.

This is an important distinction, and it’s upsetting that this story isn’t able to recognise it.

Because Diana’s not finished.

“But, you know, even in spite of those precautions— I’m still drawn to you.”

“Perhaps more out of pity than any ‘letter’ or parlour trick, but it’s true. You haven’t failed, Alcmaeon. I have— in my mission to teach our ways. For, in spite of the years I’ve invested in Man’s World, and your having spent nearly two full days in my presence— here you are, standing in the bathroom with a pistol. I have failed. Utterly and completely.”

Diana said something like this before during her conversation with Bruce — that despite having spent so much time in her presence, Bruce’s attitudes and worldview remained unchanged — and I find it deeply weird. It makes her come across as both naive and arrogant, as though simply the effect of being in her presence and listening to her espouse her philosophies will be enough to coax anybody to let go of deeply-held beliefs and prejudices. As though the length of time she spends in somebody’s presence ought to be have an equivalent impact on that person’s worldview. So much so that the fact that Alcmaeon hasn’t sworn off violence and committed himself to a life of poverty and charity after 48 hours basking in Diana’s holy presence can only mean some terrible failure on her part.

And given that this is a story that purports to have something to say about the potential for conflict between Wonder Woman’s mission and that of the JLA, given that Priest has himself said he sought to make some commentary about Diana’s mission, I think this failure to consider how Diana actually pursues her mission in the real world is pretty egregious.

Either that, or his Diana really is just too naive to live.

So Alcmaeon mopes his way over to the couch, reflecting on how tortured he felt as he watched Diana sleep.

It was the singing. Definitely. The entire time she slept, I waited at the doorway. Watching the air enter and leave…

Told you. Just stood there watching her the entire time.

So what do they do now, he asks? Are they having breakfast or are they fighting? Diana suggests a third option: Alcmaeon should kill himself! Like, right now! She’ll help, even!

Diana: What if you just stopped? Your obscene war of attrition with the Erinyes… the eternal struggle— what if you just ended it? Alcmaeon: …that’s… what you want me to do…? Diana: I want only to teach you our ways, Alcmaeon. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. Those letters of prophecy carry the enchantment that keeps you eternally young— and eternally hunted. There remains some small part of you that despises the turns your life has taken. Some part of you that wants this all to end. Have the courage to listen to it…

Confused?

That might be because this is the first time we’re even told of the scrolls’ existence, let alone that they’re responsible for Alcmaeon’s eternal youth and the Furies’ hounding of him. Prior to this, we’ve had only two vague, single-sentence statements that all of Diana’s actions were preordained in a prophecy called ‘the 18th Letter’. We have not been told anything else about this prophecy, its significance or what it actually entails. There’s been no mention of enchantments.

Again, this stuff-up may be a consequence of Priest having to cut the story down from 96 pages to 66 — but again, that’s no excuse for shitty writing/editing. If the scrolls of prophecy are so integral to the plot and the resolution of the story (and, spoilers, they are), then don’t half-arse them in there in the final act.

Also, the way Diana describes them, these “scrolls of prophecy” don’t seem to be prophecies at all. If the enchantments in the scrolls are what seals Alcmaeon’s fate — and if burning the words is all it takes to reverse their predictions or prevent them from coming to pass — well, those aren’t prophecies, they’re spells.

Fate, particularly in Greek mythology, is intractable. It can’t be altered, no matter how hard you try to fight it or burn it with fire — and those who try only serve through their actions to hasten their own doom. This is a staple of Greek tragedy — and given that Priest has deliberately structured this story as a Greek tragedy, it’s bizarre that he’s suddenly treating Fate (and the vengeance of the Furies) as so disposable.

I’m also uncomfortable with the fact that Diana’s idea of a peaceful alternative is to advise Alcmaeon to commit suicide. Telling anybody to kill themself is a deeply shitty, harmful, despicable thing to do, and in this case it doesn’t even make narrative sense.

In different circumstances, I could imagine her giving similar counsel. If, say Alcmaeon was framed as a character trying to outrun death, who’d hurt and killed countless others in his effort to extend his life indefinitely, perhaps in fear of either the oblivion of the judgement that awaits him in the Underworld. In such an instance, I could see Diana encouraging him to confront this fear and end the losing war he’s fighting. I could see her trying to help him to finally let go.

But that’s not this story. Alcmaeon isn’t trying to outrun death, he’s trying to outrun punishment. Generations ago, he killed his mother to avenge his father, and ever since he’s been fleeing from the consequences of his actions, not caring how many people get hurt along the way. So “stop running” in this context doesn’t mean facing up to death, it means facing judgement. Standing trial like Orestes, or placing himself at the mercy of the gods, or simply planting himself in front of the Erinyes and vowing to run from his due no longer.

From a narrative standpoint — and a characterisation one; and, for that matter, a moral one — what Diana should be doing is encouraging Alcmaeon to finally, finally face up to his actions. Instead, she tells him to fucking kill himself.

(Sidenote: if the only way Alcmaeon can die is by burning the scrolls, then why was he preparing to blow his brains out three pages ago? What would that have accomplished?)

Anyway. Diana tells Alcmaeon to kill himself by burning the scrolls, even puts the cigarette lighter in his hand, but then this happens:

Because, as Priest has also failed to mention, the enchantments in the scrolls are the source of Helena’s youth and immortality as well.

The rest of the JLA hear the castle explode and turn as one.

J’onn is immediately focussed on containing the debris, but Supes’ only thought is for protecting Diana. I can’t help but be reminded of Superman/Wonder Woman, where the moment Clark started dating Diana he became inflamed by a Primal Man Instinct to Protect His Woman, forgetting entirely that his girlfriend is a friggin’ top-tier superhero who, in most cases, neither asks for nor needs his help.

He argues with J’onn, who points out that (a) Diana is capable of dealing with the situation, (b) she hasn’t made a distress call and (c) the castle is off-limits under their agreed rules of engagement, before Clark finally realises he’s being a dick and agrees that he should trust Diana.

Episode Fini

In the ruins of the castle, Fury holds a limp Diana by the hair and expositions about how she’s been hiding explosives in Alcmaeon’s castle for years. Just because, I guess. Then starts raving about all the things Diana has taken from her, including:

Her mother — by which she means Hippolyta, who is still alive and would probably welcome a visit from her protege

Her daughter — by which she means Lyta, who is still alive at this point in time, and whose woes (in Neil Gaiman’s Sandman) Diana had no part in

Her enchanted youth — which implies that the scrolls containing the enchantments have been destroyed, and, spoiler alert: they haven’t

BUT WORSE THAN ALL THESE INDIGNITIES!!! Diana has committed the terrible insult of—

…uh. Being attractive to the guy who spurned Helena? And then not actively trying to break his heart? Or something?

She quickly she gets back to beating the old “HIPPOLYTA WAS MY MUMMY FIRST!! MINE!!” horse. There is lots of aggressive punching and throwing marble columns at each other. Helena accuses Diana of being a hypocrite because Diana preaches love and peace while systematically destroying Helena and taking away everything that she is.

Diana grandiosely declares that she has taken nothing from Helena “except the lies you’ve lived with for decades!” Then she picks up Helena bodily, flies at top speed to the Aegean Islands and (from high in the air) flings her down roughly in front of her family’s graves. All the while, Diana is monologuing about how she is being merciful and true to herself by forcibly confronting Helena with the truth.

Which. We’ll get to how unnecessarily cruel and violent this is in a moment, but. Priest. Dude. Mate. Did you forget that the character you’re writing wields a lasso that is truth incarnate?? What is she doing hauling Helena hundreds of miles south to a very specific location that she should not feasibly know off the top of her head when could at least have taken a shot at using the lasso’s power to compel Helena to confront the truth?

And even allowing for dramatic licence, this is such a fucking dick move.

Diana has known since not long after their first meeting that Helena was Hippolyta’s protege during the forties and grew close to her during that time, and that this seems to be feeding into a delusion that she is Hippolyta’s daughter. During their subsequent interactions, Diana has learned that Helena is carrying a lot of rage and trauma and grief. And yet she consistently treats Helena with frustration, disgust, sanctimony and pity, rather than as somebody deserving of compassion.

There is no point where she attempts to resolve the conflict peacefully and offer the help Helena clearly needs. And it’s not as though it’s even a tough one to defuse! Diana learns almost immediately that Helena is lashing out violently because she feels Diana has stolen away her one remaining familial figure, i.e. Hippolyta — and yet it never clicks with her that, hey, maybe Hippolyta could help with this situation.

Instead of any of that, she repeatedly antagonises Helena by belittling her grief and anger, and scoffingly demanding she snap out of her delusions. When she eventually confronts Helena with the truth and pledges to ‘help’ her, she appears to be motivated not so much by compassion for a traumatised and hurting individual, or concern for the potential collateral damage of Helena’s rampage — but rather by the irritating inconvenience of Helena’s delusions and some holier-than-thou crap about being true to herself.

Anyway, Diana implores Helena to let her help, Helena screams in denial a lot and finally collapses in her arms. When Diana returns to the ruins of the palace, Alcmaeon is preparing to commit suicide by burning his enchanted scrolls. Before he does so, he hands one scroll to Diana, explaining that its enchantment ensures Helena’s eternal youth.

Diana: “You don’t have to burn them all, Alcmaeon— just don’t be a slave to the letters, anymore.”

…buhhhh

Look, while I’m thrilled that Diana is no longer actively encouraging a person to commit suicide, you can’t just change your tune in the final bloody act. Not nine pages ago, Diana said that Alcmaeon’s longevity and the Furies’ hounding of him were inextricably linked, and that the best thing he could do was “have the courage” to end both. She literally put the cigarette lighter in his hand and encouraged him to burn the scrolls. And now that he’s taking her advice, she’s suddenly all, ‘oh nah, let’s not be hasty, I didn’t mean you should top yourself; I just meant you shouldn’t let the words of the prophecies rule your life’— something he has never been portrayed as doing. The closest Alcmaeon gets to being “a slave to the letters” is using a conveniently unspecified prophecy as an excuse to attempt to rape Wonder Woman.

Alcmaeon just chuckles bitterly, though: “Change. You’re asking a 5,000-year-old gigolo to change. Think about what you’re saying.”

AGAIN. YOU ARE NOT A GIGOLO. YOU ARE A RAPIST. THERE IS A LARGE AND DISTINCT DIFFERENCE.

Then he goes even further and tells Diana that she has already killed him by making him ~feel love~ god I hate him so much. Diana kisses him as the scrolls burn, which means we get this gross scene and all I can think about is his tongue turning to ash in her mouth and somehow it’s one of the less revolting things in this shithouse comic

Exodus

More sloppy editing: if you’re going to commit to the Greek tragedy structure (prologue, parode, episodes and stasimons, and exode), then choose one set of terms and stick to them. Use consistent terminology and consistent transliteration. These headers have been all over the place.

Diana brings Helena to Themyscira, where Helena is immediately all “OMG MOTHER I HAVE FOUND U!!! because I guess that scene where she was cruelly forced to confront her parents’ graves had no effect whatsoever. Hippolyta kind of fixes her with a frozen smile and does a “………..hi……….person I absolutely remember and give a crap about……..”

To Hippolyta’s credit, she then goes on to affirm that she is Helena’s mother “in every way that matters”, a phrase that Diana repeats dubiously as a jubilant Helena is led off. Because, remember, would rather unhelpfully crow traumatic truths at people to win an argument as opposed to actually helping them find healing and acceptance. Hippolyta points this out: “Do you want to win or do you want to help her? Really, Diana, you should have a better sense of things…”

Then Diana hands Hippolyta the scroll Alcmaeon gave her — the titular 18th letter — and says it makes for some interesting reading: “It speaks of Alcmaeon’s many conquests, and his singular failure— a certain raven-haired queen… perhaps the basis of the so-called ‘prophecy’ that brought me to his door.”

Hippolyta narrows her eyes, then abruptly turns away. “Much better. You are learning, Diana. Luckily, so am I.”

And… I don’t know what to make of this?

I can see two possible interpretations for this scene, neither of which actually work in the context of the preceding story.

Number one: Hippolyta is the raven-haired queen described by the scroll, and as a result of her rebuff Alcmaeon devoted years of his life and a literal army to “seducing” her daughter, and then… I guess made up the prophecy as an excuse?

If this is the case, Priest has been blatantly lying to us all along. The very title of the story is a lie. The prophecy was a fake-out, and all this talk of Diana’s actions being predestined is blatantly false.

Number two: Diana is the raven-haired queen described by the scroll, which is indeed a prophecy foretelling Alcmaeon’s failure to “seduce” her. The reason Alcmaeon went to such reprehensible extents to try and blackmail, drug and mind control Diana into sleeping with him is because he intended to defy fate.

If this is the case, it’s come out of fucking nowhere, because this is the first we’re hearing of it.

Next, Diana visits Superman for the shittest not-apology ever.

‘Obviously you have disappointed me and degraded yourself with your terrible decision — and I still think it was a terrible decision — but it wasn’t for me to tell you not to do that terrible thing you did, so for that reason and that reason only, I apologise.’

You’ll notice Superman is standing with his back to Diana. Even after she lands behind him, he conspicuously fails to turn around and look her in the face. You wanna guess why? Go on, guess.

It’s because last issue he used his super-vision to perv on Diana and Alcmaeon’s kiss, which has led him to the conclusion that she’s a slutty mcslutface who soiled herself by doing the nasty with a warlord.

This unbelievable Superdick is so angry and disappointed with Diana that he can’t even look at her, because he believes either (a) that she had the nerve, the fucking nerve, to have consensual sex with someone without his explicit approval; or (b) that she was blackmailed into having what cannot be described as consensual sex with a man who was threatening to commit mass murder if she said no.

Diana’s eyes fill with angry tears and she tells him that her job is super fucking hard, okay, spreading a philosophy of peace and love in a world of “broken, dysfunctional, needy people”. And now “suddenly, the one man on Earth I felt I could depend on suddenly forgets who I am.”

And, honestly, I was so distracted by the incongruousness of Diana suddenly declaring that Superman is the only man she thought she could rely on, it took me all of a moment to notice that Christopher Priest had used “suddenly” twice in the one sentence.

Again: EDITING. EDITING IS YOUR FRIEND.

“I wish you had trusted me more,” Diana concludes. Superman makes this face in response:

Epilog

Batman berates Diana from the shadows again. You should have stuck to the plan, he tells her.

“He’s dead. Had I done things your way, would he be any deader?” She’s asking this of Batman, the guy who’s so rigidly against killing any person under any circumstances, he practically has the rule tattooed across his chest. Batman was apparently in on a plan to kill Alcmaeon.

In fact, the reason he’s mad at Diana is that she gave Alcmaeon a chance to not die, by giving him the scrolls and allowing him to make his own choice instead of (it’s implied) just destroying the scrolls outright.

Two things:

If they knew all along it was that easy to kill Alcmaeon, what the fuck did we have to sit through that revolting attempt at date rape for?

FUCKING BATMAN ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME. BATMAN CAME UP WITH A PLAN TO KILL A GUY. BATMAN IS ANNOYED THAT DIANA CONSIDERED NOT KILLING THE GUY. BATMAN.

Bruce gives Diana a Deeply Symbolic Rose, saying, “You asked for some of what I have. Well, I have this. And now, we have the smallest piece of each other… we’ll just have to learn to live with what we’ve become.”

And so ends one of the most depressingly awful Wonder Woman stories I have ever had the misfortune of reading.

[i4z-0892-il]

Eggshells 6

Author: Jena @i4z-0892-il

Summary: AU Serial Killers Sam and Dean Winchester find themselves in a bind when the Reader gets caught in the cross-hairs of their plans.

Pairing: Sam x Reader, Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2,001

Warnings: dark!fic, NSFW, 18+, Very graphic descriptions of violence, mature themes, death, mentions of death, torture abuse, language, assault

A/N: This has been one of my favorite fics to work on and I’m pretty proud to share it with you guys, so if you felt something please let me know. I literally survive off of your feedback.

Inspired by my girl @alphvjensen’s incredible story Sex and Violence

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12

If you like my work consider buying me a Coffee, or leave me some Feedback!

Tag List

Masterlist

Red droplets splattered across your hands had your eyes transfixed, relinquishing you to a state of catatonia,your mind shutting off in the horror of the sensory overload you'd just endured. You just killed a man. The circumstances didn't matter, none of it made sense. You just killed a man. He was just alive, screaming for help and you killed him. The wet thud as the ax buried itself deep in his clavicle echoed in your head. The warm spray of red on your face was a sensation straight out of a nightmare, but you weren't dreaming, no... If you had been dreaming you'd wake up safe and sound in your bed. Instead you were trapped,Dean's words barreled through your head, you were one of them. He was right, you couldn't leave now, what would you say to the police if you did manage to get free now? You murdered a man, to save your own life. If you hadn't you'd be a dust red stain on the floor too.

“He didn't deserve to die...” You muttered meekly. You didn't deserve to live, not after that. “I....I killed him.”

“Yeah sweetheart, you did.” Dean said, as he crouched at your side admiring your handiwork. “You know, I wasn't sure if you'd do it or not.” He stated, unlatching the magazine from the hilt of his pistol.,“but a killer will always recognize another one.” He finished as he dropped the clip into your dirty hands.

Empty.

You met his eyes mortified by what you'd done, and by what was left unspoken between the lines. The stench of copper and death hung heavy in the stagnant air leaving you little room to breathe. “Oh my god.” You whispered the world spinning around you threatening to pull you under. He took your face in rough, large hands, and pressed his forehead to yours.

“God doesn't exist Y/n. And if he does, he doesn't care. Not about you, not about me, not even about devout Jimmy over there. There is only one power in this world, and now it lives in your hands.” Dean said almost lovingly. You shook your head in defense not willing to even entertain the ideas he was trying to sow in your head.

“No.”

“Yes, Y/n.”

“No!” You shouted, everything around you, the world as you knew it scattering like ash in the wind. Any chance at living a normal life after this forever dashed with once fell swoop.

“Yes! Tell me you didn't feel powerful. Tell me that you didn't feel more alive than you'd ever felt!” He demanded, searching for the truth in your eyes, when you couldn't respond he got his answer. “You're a killer Y/n. Just like me.”

“No!” You snapped. “I'm not like you! You made me!”

“I didn't make you do anything, you have proof in your hands-you were never in any danger.” He said softly, his thumb running over a dot of blood and smearing it across your cheek.”You look beautiful in red.” He said before standing and leaving you alone in the cellar with your corpse.

“You what?!” Shouted Sam angrily. He'd never felt such heat course through his veins in his life.

“I said I took care of it.” Den said nonchalantly as he pulled a swig from her beer; number 8. Who gave a shit how the problem was solved as long as it was solved. You hadn't left the cellar, hadn't even tried, he knew he'd won. There was no need for restraints anymore, you were stuck there now.

“No, Dean, you didn't take care of it. You forced her into this, she had no other choice.” Sam spat venomously.

“She had a choice, and personally I think she chose right.”

“You made her believe you were going to shoot her in the head if she didn't!” Sam shot back. “Dean you've done countless stupid things in the past but this one takes the fucking cake. I told you to wait until I figured out our next move! Not to fill her head with your gas lighting bullshit!” He couldn't even believe he was having to explain just how wrong the entire situation was. “You know, maybe we should have let her go, maybe it's time you were caught.” Sam said, knowing that even if he could go back in time he would have still followed Dean's lead. There were times though, that he wished he was just a little stronger, strong enough to say enough was enough, to just fess up and tell the police everything. But it was Dean, the only flesh and blood he had left in the world, and without him... He couldn't even imagine what life would be like without his brother. This was different though, this was too far, and he couldn't even stand to look at him.

“What would you have done if she'd refused? What then? We'd have two people to deal with because you can't fucking think things through!”

“She wouldn't have refused.” Dean said too nonchalantly. “And it wouldn't have mattered if she did anyways, the guy  would still be dead, and not my problem.” Without another word Sam turned away from Dean and walked out of the house. “Oh Sam don't go away mad, just go away.” Dean called after him. The door slammed behind Sam leaving Dean alone again in the home that haunted him. He sat in silence for what felt like an eternity, his eyes trained hard on the floor. His stomach twisted into tight knots,a sickening fog creeping in around the edges of his sanity. There was little light left there, and after what he'd done today  he wasn't sure if there was much hope for any of the light returning. Sam was right, he'd gone way too far this time, he couldn't allow himself to admit it, he was not only too stubborn and prideful to admit he was wrong but if he did, how could he ever look at himself again.? The smell of vanilla settled around him easing the tension in his mind. He turned his eyes to the side, not wanting to move too quickly, knowing just how elusive she was, but he needed her there with him more now than ever before.

“Dean what are you doing?” He could almost hear her whisper a cool breath against his cheek.

“I don't know Lis...” He muttered his voice straining, desperate to feel her touch, to have her sweep away his troubles. “I miss you so fucking much Lisa, I don't know what Im doing without you” He should have never put you in that situation, it was too late for regrets now though. Nothing could undo the things that had been set in motion, and no amount of mourning could have brought her back.“She reminds me so much of you. I don't know what to do without you, and she- she's changing everything.”

“Is that so bad?” He heard her this time clear as day, but when he turned to face her she was gone, leaving nothing more than the faint smell of perfume, and the room somehow colder, and emptier than it had ever been. Beer was no longer a strong enough solution for his problems, he stumbled to the kitchen breaking out the whiskey. He paused for a moment deciding whether or not to drink himself to death or not.

Long legs carried him to your side swiftly, Sam knelt at your side. You hadn't moved all day, your eyes firmly on Jimmy's lifeless body. “This wasn't your fault.” He said softly, you turned to him and held the barren gun clip to him.

“I did this.” You choked.

“No Y/n, don't let him get in your head, he did this.”

“I could have done something, I could have fought back. I could have freed him, I could have chosen to let him live. I- I killed him.” You admitted, the flood of everything coming out by saying it out loud. “Sam I killed him!” You sobbed, your body going limp as you caved. He pulled you tightly to his chest as your hysterics reached critical mass. No matter how much you didn't want to believe Dean he was right. Something in you had surged with a terrible excitement, even if it was only a fleeting moment, it was there, and you had no idea how hungry it could be.

He simply held you as you rode out the emotional train wreck that wreaked havoc on your entire self. In the moment Sam became a solid grounding rock, one you hadn't needed in the past, but in the whirlwind 72 hours you weren't able to even comprehend how far off the reservation you'd flown. He held you tightly an with just enough pressure to force some sanity back to a mind past the brink. It'd never occurred to you what you might actually do to survive. Everyone likes to think they'd do the right thing, after all isn't self-sacrifice the most noble thing a person can do? You'd always thought of yourself as a humanitarian, willing to help and learn, if someone was injured you figured you'd try your best to help. But thinking of yourself as a good Samaritan was easy, the doing in the face of your own demise on the other hand- an entirely different matter.

For a moment time hung still in the air as the razor-edged blade of the ax sliced through the air carving through flesh and bone like butter on a warm day. The spray of warm red sizzled electric across any exposed skin; a shock of thunder had quaked your very core as soulful blue eyes locked unreadable on yours. The life drained from him and into you through your fingers, the dangerous might of power coursed through your veins triumphantly. It was the single greatest, and most shameful high you'd ever experienced in your life. It churned your stomach, but not for the reasons it should have, you were disgusted not by the fact that you'd murdered that man, but because you'd enjoyed it. Dean's words crashed through your head like a freight train uprooting your foundations, forcing you to question everything you'd ever known, everything you'd ever thought about yourself.

“You're one of us now.”

Sam watched you lose yourself, the thousand yard stare on your face driving him beyond reason. He couldn't justify Dean's actions anymore, and he couldn't continue to stand idly by and allow the disease of death that followed his family infected and suffocated yet another innocent life. His mind was set and he ran through his plan quickly. He shook you gently, rousing you from your thoughts.

“We're leaving.” He said taking you by the arms to help you stand. A cold chill shot through your body as you started to pull away involuntarily shaking your head.

“No Sam, he said he'd kill me if I tried to leave again.” You pleaded.

“No, no I won't let that happen. I promise Y/n. He won't lay a hand on you again, ever. We're leaving.” He coaxed easing you out of the cellar with as much patience as one could possibly have while in a hurry. He tucked you into the passenger seat of his sleek black charger. He slipped in and backed away carefully, silently. Your heart thumped erratically in your chest as you waited with nervous gaze to the house expecting Dean to crash through the door and shoot you both before you even leave the drive way. Through all of your frazzled nerves Sam remained calm and unmoved, he gripped your hand almost immediately quelling your anxiety. That was just Sam, collected in everything he ever did- careful, methodical. The second he felt he was far enough from the house he hit the gas and tore down the road.

Tags: @roseangel013bf, @sanityoverrated27, @nibeca, @deanlenaotp, @deanandsamsbitch, @classyjellyfishpoetry, @sarahbearccxc, @smiling-meerkat, @goldenangelbloodcastiel, @pearlparty, @aquabrie, @lindsaylove1226, @notnaturalanahi, @mogaruke, @deansbitch1967, @ladylustitia, @supernatastic101art