swooood-dooooood

[rocaillefox]

how do some people write something with really chilling implications on a heavily serious topic and try to play it for kaughs. no i dont find this experience funny. i think its a departure into stunningly bad writing that relies on a suspension of disbelief about how people, morality, and families work. i think it also requires a stunningly bad reading of the original work its based on and intentional disregard of familial ties that were formed as a result of the events of the story. in fact, i think if you had read the original story with anything but a lens for who you can ship with who, you would have recognized the deep issues with this particular reading of the story because of the all but explicit implied familial bonds between these characters in which one of them is a signed document away from adopting the other.

[adripakoffee]

I don't post on here often and by that I mean I'm on here once a month to look at writing prompts but right now I'm thinking of Anya from Mouthwashing, and Tumblr is better for long form posts. Apologies if this rant isn't super clear, I'm on pain meds right now.

CW: S/A, SUICIDE, OVERDOSE, MOUTHWASHING SPOILERS

Anyway, Anya very well may be one of the most doomed characters to ever doom. Firstly she's trapped in a relatively small space ship with 4 men, who she has to keep alive and healthy along with giving them periodic mental wellness checks (which she, herself never gets). Two of these men don't take her seriously at all because she probably doesn't actually have a medical degree and is just someone the company hired to cut corners. If that wasn't all ready awful, the co-captain, Jimmy, has been assaulting her since at least the start of this voyage that's been going on for 100+ days. She falls pregnant because of this and while this isn't where her spiral started, this is where it gets worse. She originally plans to kill herself with the Captain's gun, but decides against it since she can't get to the gun without Curly's help anyway.

Speaking of Curly, he knows what's been going on, she told him about Jimmy a while before the crash. Every time, Curly says "I'll do something about it," or "I'll fix this," but the most he does is keep Jimmy away from Anya when they're working. Anya seems fine with that for the most part because I think she assumes Curly will report Jimmy and have him arrested when they land (he won't, at this point in the game he'd defend Jimmy for anything because "he sees the best in people. He loves to say "our worst moments don't define us" and apparently that extends to r@pe). So at this point, she's biding her time until they land.

Back to the gun, when Curly finds her holed up in the cockpit, she tells him she's pregnant. He's a little taken aback but he tries to reassure her that it's fine and he'll fix the "situation" with Jimmy. He says he can't let her kill herself because he does actually care about her. One of his flaws is he cares about everyone so much he can't imagine compromising one of them for any reason. Anya tells him she wasn't going to hurt herself, though she thought about it, she just hid the gun case so Jimmy couldn't kill her instead. She's so convinced Jimmy just wants to kill and torment her when the sad truth is, he couldn’t care less.

In all of Jimmy's "take responsibility" hallucinations, Anya barely shows up. Swansea, Curly, and Daisuke do, but he can't bring himself to even recognize what's happened to Anya is also solely his fault. He doesn't care at all.

Speaking of which, what seems the straw that breaks the camel's back for Jimmy is Anya telling him that she's pregnant because he crashes the ship pretty sure after. And this really seems like a spur of the moment action because if he'd planned this he could've done it much earlier after the news of the company closing reached them.

Curly says Anya should've waited for him to help her tell Jimmy about the pregnancy, but that doesn't matter because he is put out of commission like (I forgot if it's a day later or the same day) later because he's in the cockpit when the ship crashes.

Now Anya has no hope, Jimmy knows she's pregnant, the seemingly one line of defense she has against him can't leave his bed, and they're stuck in space. She's terrified because not only because of that, but because Jimmy is captain now and because of the way the ship is set up, you need the captain for a lot of things. Jimmy being captain also means if he finds the gun case, he now has the code to open it.

Anya, being the ships medic, is tasked with keeping Curly alive and giving him his meds. It's really difficult for her, A. because Curly is hard to look at, B. because unless he's full of pain meds, he's making noise, and C. because that was her friend and one of the only people she felt safe around and he's been reduced to this. And from her perspective, this is his fault, Curly crashed the ship.

This situation is stressful for everyone, Swansea has reverted back to alcoholism and never drops the ax he has, Daisuke is slowly losing hope and also starts drinking, and Jimmy won't stop yelling at her. He's so pissed at her the entire game, more so than everyone else. She was already scared of him but before there was at least a light at the end of the tunnel. Now there's nothing to look forward to because she doesn't think there's any way out.

She, at some point when he's sober enough, confides in Swansea who then tells her that she's gonna be the one to get out of here. He has the one last working cryo pod set aside for her specifically and refuses to let anyone into the room where it is. Unfortunately, at this point, her anxiety concerning Jimmy is so bad, she's convinced he'd do something to the pod too.

So then Anya locks herself in the med bay with Curly and all the rest of the ships medicine (- minus the Isopropyl which she probably left for Daisuke and Swansea) and overdoses by Curly's bed. Curly was awake the whole time she went through a probably painful death. She also, as maybe a final revenge, took the last of the pain meds that were meant for Curly. And she dies right next to him.

That's where her story ends. She felt so trapped and scared by her r@pist that got her pregnant that she killed herself next to the one person who could've done something, but instead, from her perspective, trapped her with said r@pist.

She died probably hoping that Daisuke or Swansea would make it out, not knowing they died soon after.

TLDR;

So from her perspective: A guy she's been friends with for years starts repeatedly assaulting her and she's stuck with him, then he gets her pregnant. Her other friend who she tells says he'll do something about it (he won't) and she has no choice but to trust him. Then the guy she told crashes the ship they're all on and fails in taking himself out. Now she's trapped with her r@pist and she tells someone else who does actually try to do something but she kills herself instead.

Anyways guys, I'm just missing my wife, the end.

[theostrophywife]

CHAPTER TWO

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🤍 pairing: theodore nott x reader.

🤍 song inspiration: somewhere only we know by rhianne.

🤍 author’s note: losing my mind because i'm in dire need of a theo nott italian summer.

Step 2 of Pansy Parkinson’s Perfect Plan of Plotting

Forced Proximity — : A circumstance or situation that forces the two main characters to spend time together (whether they want to or not).

After watching a horrendous amount of muggle romantic comedies — thanks Granger — I have come to the conclusion that the best way to squeeze a confession out of two lovestruck idiots is by forcing them to share the same space for an extended period of time, like say, the honeymoon suite in a romantic villa by the Italian coast. Never mind that I had to bribe stupid Malfoy with fancy imported French cologne to achieve it. It was worth every galleon to shove Theo and Y/N into a space designed for newlywed couples, complete with a heart shaped tub, champagne on ice, and a balcony that overlooks the stars at night. There’s a reason why forced proximity is such a popular trope. It’s effective as all hell, plain and simple. 

Second Year, The Black Lake

A misty fog cloaked the Scottish Highlands, bringing a dark and dreary atmosphere to Hogwarts and its surroundings. Back at the castle, your friends huddled around the hearth in the common room, drinking Zabini’s fancy imported hot chocolate and catapulting marshmallows at each other across the velveteen couch. On any other day, you would have welcomed the warmth and comfort on a rainy Sunday, but today you were needed elsewhere. 

As you trudged through the black sand, the coins in your raincoat pocket clinked together. You brushed your thumb over the raised surface and willed your heart to stop beating so erratically. There was no reason to be nervous. Yet here you were, dragging your feet as a familiar figure came to view.

On the shore of the Black Lake, Theo hugged his knees and stared out into the water. The raindrops gathered on his lashes and drenched his hair, bringing out the waves he stubbornly gelled back every morning. 

“I like your hair better this way,” you said softly, smiling down at your best friend. 

Theo smiled shyly as he brushed his hair back. “I look like a drowned rat.”

“Just a little,” you teased, pinching his cheek. “In any case, you make a cuter rodent than Malfoy.” 

“It’s about time someone knocked him off his high horse,” Theo retorted before tugging you down next to him. 

The sand shifted beneath you as you settled in. Theo pulled the hood of your jacket up, frowning when he noticed that the rain had still soaked your hair. “What are you doing out in the rain, anyways? You’re going to catch a cold, fragolina.” 

“Says the boy who’s soaked through the bone,” you replied with an eye roll. “You really shouldn’t be out in this weather, you know. Godric forbid you come down with something. Nonna would be furious.” 

“Good thing she’ll never find out,” Theo said, nudging your shoulder. “Because I have a best friend who’s great at keeping secrets.” 

“For now. Though I’m not opposed to selling you out for the right price.” 

“Fair enough.” 

A comfortable silence settled as the two of you gazed at the murky waters. As Theo contemplated the cloudy horizon, you rubbed the coins in your pocket. For good luck or comfort, you weren’t sure. 

“You didn’t have to come out here,” Theo whispered. His hands shook as he reached out for yours. “But I’m glad you did.” 

A heavy weight settled in your chest, but you forced yourself to smile softly as you squeezed his hand in reassurance. “I didn’t want you to be alone.” 

The look that Theo gave you was heartbreaking. His gaze was full of pain, those familiar watercolour eyes lined with unshed tears. “I never am when I’m with you, Y/N.” 

Tears pricked behind your eyes, but you tampered it down and allowed Theo to lean against your shoulder. 

“Do the others know?” 

You shook your head. “No, I didn’t think you wanted them to. Not yet, at least.” 

“I’ll tell them one day,” Theo said. “When it doesn’t hurt as much. But for now, it’s enough that you know. I think she would have liked it that way.”

“Just me and you against the world,” you chuckled. “The way it’s always been.”

“The way it’ll always be.” 

“I miss her,” you confessed. Speaking the words felt like bringing heartache to life, but you knew that it was important to keep her memory alive. The anniversary of Evangeline’s death was full of sorrow, but there was also joy if you looked past the pain. Your mum always reminded you of that. “The other day, I saw a patch of daffodils out by the forest. They were bright and sunny, impossible to miss in all this dreariness. It felt like an act of rebellion. It reminded me of her.” 

Theo released a choked laugh. “She would’ve loved that.” 

“Mum thought so too,” you said in agreement. “I wrote to her the other day. She knitted you another pair of socks, by the way. Before you ask, yes, I have matching ones as well.” 

Your best friend snickered. While you adored your mother, knitting was definitely not her strong suit. You didn’t have the heart to tell her that though. 

“It’s a bit ironic that the head of the Department of Mysteries can’t solve the mystery of knitting, isn’t it?” 

You stifled a laugh. “I’ll be sure to mention that to mum in my next letter.” Theo chuckled as you crossed your legs underneath you. “She told me something interesting though.” 

“Yeah?” 

The coin seared into your skin as you gripped it tightly. You could hardly get the words out because you were so choked with emotion. “The last time she went to Fiera with Auntie Eva, they visited this temple. The Temple of Cupid.” 

Theo nodded, enraptured. “Mum told me about that too. There’s a legend about a fountain in that temple. La Fontana Dell’amore.”

“The fountain of love,” you continued. “It’s said that if you toss a coin into it, Cupid will grant you a wish. The two of them both threw their coins in there when they visited.” 

“I think I remember this story. Mum said that they both wished for true love. Your parents met on that same trip, right?” You nodded in confirmation. “I’m happy for your mum. Especially since Zio Alistair is my only ally against all you crazy women.” 

In response, you smacked him on the arm. Theo protested, biting back a smile. Your best friend blinked at the horizon, deep in thought. “Mum’s wish didn't come true, though. I don’t think anyone would ever call my father her true love.” 

“That’s the thing, Teddy,” you said softly. “Auntie Eva was already married to your dad when she made that wish.”

Theo turned towards you. His nose crinkled in confusion. The trait was so uniquely Theo that it softened something within you. “Then why did she toss the coin?” 

You brushed a wet strand of hair out of his eyes and smiled. “Because she was wishing for you.” Theo took a sharp breath as he gazed up at you. You felt your heart shatter into a million pieces as the first tear fell down his cheek. “Mum said Auntie Eva’s wish came true the day you were born. You are, and always will be, her true love.” 

All the sarcasm and smirks — the armor that Theo had built around himself cracked. Suddenly he was sobbing, launching into your arms and clinging onto you for support. You bore the weight of his grief, so dense and tangible that you could feel it permeating the air. It wasn’t fair that your best friend was already acquainted with this earth-shattering pain at such a young age. If you could, you would bottle up his sadness and pour it into yourself just so Theo would be spared from ever feeling it again. 

“I miss her so much,” Theo whispered. 

“I know, Teddy,” you replied, rubbing soothing circles onto his back while you rocked him. “Just let it out. I’m here for you.” 

Theo pulled back, sniffling. “I’m here for you too,” he rasped. “I know you’re being strong for me like a good best friend, but you lost her too.”

The words unlocked a fresh wave of grief within you. All this time, you tried your best to keep it together. You wanted to be there for Theo. You couldn’t afford to fall apart. It wasn’t something that he’d ever asked of you, but you thought it was the right thing to do. 

“You’re allowed to mourn just as much as I am.” 

A deep, wracking sob rattled through your chest. You missed your Auntie Eva. You missed the way she braided flowers into your hair. You missed the way she snuck you gelato before dinner, knowing that your mum would have a fit if she found the two of you scarfing straciatella down in the kitchen pantry like criminals. You missed the way she told you and Theo about the stars, pointing out the different constellations as you lay on the roof of Nott Manor. 

You slumped into Theo’s arms, burying your face in the crook of his neck as the two of you clung to each other like a lifeline. It was you and Teddy against the world. The way it always was and the way it’ll always be. 

Day Two, The Temple of Cupid

The sunshine was blinding as you blinked yourself awake. Across the terrace, Enzo and Mattheo were cuddled up underneath a blanket while Draco and Blaise curled up on opposite sides of the sofa, clutching the ends of their shared knit throw in a power struggle. Thanks to the sangria, the lot of you had fallen asleep drinking and gossiping the night away. 

Beside you, Theo stirred and snuggled closer, his arm draped around your waist possessively. Sometime in the middle of the night, you had seemingly pulled the bottom half of the blanket over to your side, leaving his long legs exposed. Theo always complained that you were a notorious blanket hog, which you vehemently denied. Given the proof, you doubted that you could refuse it now. 

As you adjusted to the light, the double doors flew open, revealing a fresh-faced and well-rested Pansy. You had no idea how she managed to look so pulled together when you could barely see through your sangria induced headache. Her lips curled into a satisfied smirk when she spotted you and Theo tangled together. Out of instinct, you flipped off the smug looking witch. 

“Is that any way to treat your savior?” Pansy asked as she set down a tray full of sparkling vials. She clapped her hands, the loud smack echoing through the terrace. The boys startled, groaning about their hangovers. “Good morning, heathens. As always, I brewed a special batch of anti-hangover potions mixed with a little hint of pepperup to get you lot going. Drink up, we’ve got a long day ahead of us.” 

In true Pansy Parkinson fashion, the witch managed to wrangle everyone out of the villa and into a private yacht with minimum complaints. The potion was certainly doing a lot of heavy lifting, but even without the aid, it was hard to be annoyed when you were too busy marveling at the charming coastline. 

Vallara was a wonder. The hills rolled over the horizon, kissed by the bright sunshine. The colorful tiled villas dotted the sky with cotton candy hues, which grew smaller and smaller the further you ventured out into the water. The sea was calm this morning and the cerulean blue waters sparkled as the yacht cut through the waves like butter. 

At the bow, Enzo and Mattheo peered over the railing, giving you a pang of anxiety. You already warned them to stick close to the deck, but it fell on deaf ears. You yelped as Mattheo dangled Enzo backwards off the rails. Blaise and Draco shook their heads as they each claimed a spot by the sun deck. Just as you scolded the boys again, Pansy and Theo came back up from the bottom deck carrying trays of food. 

“Enz! Matt! Food is ready,” you shouted, heaving a sigh when the two of them finally stepped back from the rail. 

“Were they doing Titanic again?” Pansy asked with an eye roll. 

“Worse, they were trying to dangle each other over the water,” you responded as you handed each boy their breakfast trays. 

“We were trying to look for sharks,” Mattheo countered with a pout. “Until you started yelling at us.”

“Yes, so sorry for stopping your extremely idiotic behavior. I suppose I should’ve just let you throw yourselves overboard.” 

Enzo grinned like a little kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He took the breakfast plate from your hands and kissed your cheek. “Sorry, Y/N. We just got too excited.” 

You sighed and ruffled his hair. “One of these days those puppy dog eyes will stop working on me, Berkshire.” 

The brunette beamed brightly. “Not today, though.” 

“You spoil him, you know,” Theo said as he handed you a glass of orange juice. 

“I can’t help it. He’s like the little brother I never had.” 

“More like a pet you never wanted.” 

“Hey!” Enzo protested as he waved a piece of bacon in the air. “I heard that, you twat.” 

“See?” Theo said with a sigh. “Your beloved Lorenzo is not as innocent as he pretends to be.” 

You chuckled, watching Mattheo and Enzo wrestle over the last waffle before Pansy stepped in to straighten them out.  

Scooting into the seat next to Theo, you took a sip of the orange juice and balked at the taste. The bubbles were enough to make you want to spit it back out. The drink was more champagne than juice. After the sangria, you weren’t prepared for alcohol so early in the morning. Theo snickered as you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. 

“Keep up, bella. Where’s the Y/N that used to double fist firewhiskeys at the common room parties?” 

“She’s still asleep, Theodore. For Merlin’s sake, it’s not even noon.” 

“Fun waits for no one,” Theo said before snatching the glass out of your hand and downing the entire thing in one gulp. 

“Oh, you’re going to regret that. I don’t want to hear about your tummy ache ten minutes from now.” 

Theo stuck his tongue out and continued scarfing down his breakfast. You finished yours slowly before joining Blaise and Draco out on the sun deck. According to Pansy, it would be an hour or so before you reached your destination, which gave you plenty of time to tan. Stepping out of your cotton dress, you adjusted your bikini and laid out on the beach chair. 

“Pans, will you put suncream on me?” Mattheo whined from the next seat over. 

Pansy twisted her nose up in disgust before sighing in defeat. It was easier to get it over with than argue. The two of you learned that the hard way over the years. She lathered the suncream on Mattheo’s back, half-heartedly patting it on. When she saw Theo step out into the deck, you saw the gears turning in her head. 

“Theo, will you put suncream on Y/N?” Pansy asked with feigned innocence as she handed the bottle over to him. 

You flushed as Theo looked over at you, his gaze sweeping over your tiny scarlet polka dot bikini. The tips of his ears turned just as red as he swallowed. 

“Um, I don’t know if that’s — “ 

“Pans, it’s really not necessary. I’m fine.” 

“Nonsense.” The witch shook her head, dismissing your statement. She leveled Theo a calculated gaze. “You wouldn’t want her to burn, would you?” 

“Of course not. I just —” Theo tripped over his words as he turned to you. “Is that okay with you?” 

“I’d be more than willing to rub you all over if Theo isn’t up for the challenge,” Mattheo said slyly. 

“Don’t even think about it,” Theo snapped. 

Mattheo and Pansy smirked at each other, watching as Theo carefully approached you. Clearly, they were both rather pleased at baiting Theo into reacting. Your best friend perched on the edge of your lounge chair, looking bashful. 

“May I?” 

Without a word, you nodded shyly. You didn’t trust yourself to speak. Not when he was this close. His hands hovered over your back, the warmth of his skin seeping into yours. Theo gently applied the suncream on your shoulders, massaging the product in with care. He averted his gaze while he worked, the tips of his ears burning the longer he touched you. 

You felt just as flushed as you forced yourself to sit perfectly still. This was ridiculous. It wasn’t like you and Theo rarely touched. In fact, you were quite affectionate, as every single one of your friends loved to point out, but it was different when you were practically half-naked. Squirming in your seat, you waited until Theo finished massaging the cream all over your back. 

“I think that’s good,” Theo said softly. 

You nodded, placing your hands in your lap. Mattheo cocked his head, a smirk forming on his face. “Do you want Y/N to do you next?” 

Theo looked panicked. “What?”

“The suncream, mate,” Riddle replied with a shit-eating grin. 

Fortunately, the captain announced your arrival before Mattheo could insinuate any more innuendos. As the ship docked, you peered at your gorgeous destination. The island was straight out of a storybook. The lush green jungle surrounded the base of a volcano, which spilled out to the white sands and turquoise shore. Instantly, Pansy called the group to order and announced the itinerary. The plan for the day involved dolphin watching, cave exploring, and a picnic by the beach. She ordered the boys to set up in the private cabana she rented, which they did so begrudgingly. 

Theo began to follow them, but Pansy stopped him short. “Not so fast. I booked something else for you and Y/N. You can join us afterwards.” 

Without further explanation, Pansy handed Theo a map, a blanket, and a picnic basket. You began to protest, but your friend merely waved off your argument. “Trust me, it’s worth the trek. You’ll thank me later.” 

As Pansy walked off, you and Theo were left to stare after her. You grabbed the map from his hands and squinted, gauging how far this little side quest was going to take you. 

“It doesn’t seem too bad,” you mused. “Just a little bit over the hill and we should find whatever it is Pansy has in store for us.” 

Theo nodded. “You know I never back down from an adventure.” 

“Not true,” you corrected. “You refused to go to the Forbidden Forest with me in third year.” 

“That’s not fair, bella. First of all, Sirius had just escaped Azkaban and sure, we found out that he wasn’t a psychopathic murderer later on, but how was I supposed to know that at the time? Second of all, he was hardly the biggest threat out there. Need I remind you of the spiders? They’re horrid little beasts.” 

“All I’m hearing is that Theodore Perseus Nott is a chicken.” 

“You take that back, Y/N.” 

You stuck your tongue out before breaking off into a sprint. Slowed down by the blanket and basket, it took Theo a few seconds to catch up with you. Alongside the hill, you followed the winding staircase that you assumed led to the peak. Theo shouted after you, promising to tickle you to death as punishment. 

“You’ll have to actually catch me first.” 

The taunt was short-lived as you reached the final step, turning around to gloat only to lose balance. Out of instinct, Theo dropped everything and reached out to break your fall. His strong arms wound around your waist, holding onto you for dear life. You clutched onto his shirt, the very breath leaving your lungs as you looked up. Theo stared down at you, his expression full of worry as he scanned over you. He released a sigh of relief when he determined that you weren’t hurt or injured. 

“Dio mio,” Theo exclaimed. “Don’t scare me like that, bella.” 

“Sorry Teddy,” you murmured, shakily regaining your balance. Theo brushed your lower back as he helped steady you, sending shivers down your spine. “I got a bit distracted.” 

His short-cropped waves tickled your cheek as he held you a beat longer than necessary, his blue eyes imploring. There was something alluring about them, like hearing a siren’s song after years and years of being lost at sea. Up close, you could map the constellations of freckles on his nose, brought forth by the Italian sun. Growing up, Theo detested them, often deeming them girly, but you always thought that they were cute. 

Your gaze fell to his lips, which you now realized were moving. Presumably asking you a question. “Hm?” you responded absentmindedly.

“Stick close to me, yeah?” 

You nodded as Theo guided you by the small of your back, leading you up the halfway point. From your vantage point, you could see the yacht docked on the shore. The boys were running around and playing in the water while Pansy lounged under the cabana. 

Up ahead, the path grew more narrow, forcing you and Theo to press up against each other. The summer heat beamed down on you, its warmth heightened by the boy leaning over your shoulder. Theo squinted at the map, his breath cool on your neck while you shifted your weight from one leg to the other. 

“This place looks familiar.” 

“I was just about to say that.” 

As you examined the map, Theo stalled to a halt. “I think I know why,” he said as he gestured to the entrance up ahead. “We’re here.” 

Atop the hill sat a beautiful garden, flanked on four sides by trimmed hedges that led into a labyrinth. The front gates shimmered golden in the sunlight, the curlicue letters spelling out a familiar name — Tempio de Cupido. You scanned the map in your hands, astonished that you hadn’t realized where you were until this moment. 

This was Fiera island. The same exact place that your mum and aunt Evangeline visited all those years ago. No wonder Pansy wanted the two of you to go alone. Theo picked the blanket and basket back up, staring at the entrance in awe. You reached for his hand and squeezed. 

“Shall we?” 

Theo swallowed thickly, his gaze heavy with emotion as he followed your lead. Together, the two of you made your way through the labyrinth, marveling at the sweet smelling flowers weaved into the lush walls. The path underneath you was white marble, surprisingly untouched by the dirt and grime. Vines crawled on either side, the green ivy moving on its own accord as if to guide you to the center. 

The temple stood proud and tall, its pillars looming overhead like a marble sentry. Inside was a statue of Cupid, his wings draped behind him as he held his bow taut. Heart shaped arrows littered his feet, flowing right into the fountain that took up the middle of the temple. 

Theo’s eyes widened as he turned to you. “Is that what I think it is?” 

You nodded in confirmation. “La fontana dell’amore,” you murmured softly, tracing the plaque beside it. “We have to make an offering.” 

“But we didn’t bring any coins.” 

The map in your hands glowed, revealing a secret message. Shake me. You followed the instructions and shook the paper, finding two golden coins sitting ready in the palm of your hands. 

“Leave it to Pansy to think of everything.” 

With a grin, you handed Theo a coin. He held your hand tightly and watched as you brought the coin up to your lips, kissing the edge of it like your mum told you she did during her last visit. Theo did the same, his eyes glassy and far away as though he were thinking of his mum too. 

“Make a wish, bella.” 

You closed your eyes and spoke your wish into the silence before tossing the coin into the fountain. The coins clinked together before hitting the water, shimmering iridescent as it sank down to the bottom. Theo gripped your hand tighter, a reminder of what this moment meant to the two of you. You squeezed back in reassurance, not needing any words to communicate the charged emotions surging through you. 

After a moment, you looked up at him and smiled. “What did you wish for, Teddy?” 

He grinned slyly. “If I tell you, then it won’t come true.” 

“Fair enough.” 

Beyond the fountain, depictions of the lore of Cupid were carved into the marble walls. The great love stories of mythology filled the labyrinth. Orpheus and Eurydice. Tristan and Isolde. Achilles and Patroclus. Finally, Cupid’s own story with Psyche. Each couple was in their own way, a tragedy. 

“Isn’t it strange that the god of love fell in love with the woman he was meant to curse?” 

“Ordered by none other than his mother, no less. Mythology does love its convoluted tragedies.” 

The irony of Cupid’s mother Venus commanding her son to strike Psyche with one of his infamous arrows so that she’d fall in love with a hideous beast only for the god to then fall for the young princess himself wasn’t entirely lost on you. Despite the trials and tribulations they faced, the dreamer in you admired their story.

“Still, Psyche persevered through the trials Venus put her through and became a goddess. In the end, her and Cupid reunited and solidified their union. It’s the story of immortal love.” 

As you spoke, you traced over the ancient script craved underneath the depictions of the couple. 

“Love wounds and inflames the heart.”

“I disagree,” Theo said. “Love isn’t supposed to hurt. It heals, it stitches your wounds back together, it mends the pieces of your broken heart until it’s whole again.”  

In that, you found no argument. You could feel Theo’s gaze landing on you. Those watercolor eyes that you knew better than your own. Those freckles that you traced over and over again until you committed them to memory. Those lips that spoke soothing words in your ear after a nightmare. 

The gods and goddesses may have their ballads and tragedies, but you had something far greater. 

With a smile, you nodded. “Love feels like home.” 

After exploring the temple grounds a bit more, you found the perfect spot for a picnic. One of the acolytes pointed you to a massive lemon tree, encouraging you to use the shade for an afternoon snack. 

You thanked the young woman for all her help. “Grazie mille.” 

She clasped your hands and smiled. “Mi scalda il cuore vedere l'amore giovane abbellire questo tempio. Possa Cupido benedire la vostra unione.”

As she walked away, you asked Theo for a translation. You understood a bit of Italian, but it required close concentration and the acolyte had spoken far too quickly for comprehension. 

“She said you’re welcome.” 

“Seems like she said a bit more than that.” 

Theo shrugged nonchalantly as you narrowed your eyes in suspicion. He rounded the lemon tree and spread the blanket underneath its shade. In turn, you began unpacking the food that Pansy had so graciously prepared for you. Theo sat cross-legged beside you while you prepared him a plate of bruschetta. Thanks to magic, everything stayed perfectly fresh. 

The two of you ate under the shade of the lemon tree, the citrus breeze ruffling the flowers before you. You wondered if your mum and aunt sat here in this very spot, admiring this very same view. 

“It’s strange, isn’t it? Being here, I mean. I almost feel like we’re seeing a glimpse of the past.”

Theo nodded, taking a sip of his limoncello before handing it over to you. “Maybe they saw a glimpse of our future. You think they knew that we’d make our way down here someday?” 

You took a generous gulp, indulging the tanginess of the drink. The view was picturesque with the temple standing tall above the peak of the hill while the sun rose high and bright over the labyrinth. Beside you, your best friend leaned back on his elbows and drank in the sight. 

“I think so,” you murmured softly. “Though I wasn’t quite prepared for how beautiful it all is.” 

Theo glanced over at you, his voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah. It really is beautiful, isn’t it?” His voice was thick with emotion as he intertwined his fingers with yours. “I’m glad that I’m here with you. I think mum would’ve been, too.” 

“Me too, Teddy. I feel her here. Watching over us.” 

You could’ve sworn that the sun shimmered a little brighter and the flowers bloomed beautifully, confirming Evangeline’s presence. This seemed exactly like the kind of place that she’d love. Out of the two of them, your mum always said Eva was the more adventurous one. You always thought that it was because she was a little bit like magic herself. 

“I feel her everywhere, but especially in this place. It’s like fate brought us here.” 

The words brought a smile to your face. In your friendship, Theo tended to lean on logic. His pragmatism was the balance to your constant daydreaming, but in this place, it was impossible not to believe in things like fate. 

“Don’t tell Pansy that, she already has enough of a god complex as it is.” 

Theo chuckled. “I don’t think she was alone in orchestrating this. I’d bet a billion galleons that nonna helped plan this.” 

“Wow, a whole month’s worth of your inheritance? How generous of you.” You giggled as Theo dug his fingers into your side, viciously tickling you. Gasping for air, you swatted his hands away. “Plot or not, I’m glad they schemed to make this happen.” 

A comfortable silence fell as the two of you passed the limoncello back and forth. Down in the gardens, the acolytes tended to the flowers, pruning each one to perfection. Their sheer pink gowns shimmered in the sunlight and on each of their chest was an embroidered scarlet heart, surrounded by golden arrows that signified their patron. 

“Teddy,” you whispered softly. “Do you truly believe in fate?” 

A soft breeze ruffled the lemon tree as Theo shifted beside you, sending his waves to flop right over his eyes. “Yes, but I haven’t always.” 

“What changed your mind?” 

“Second year,” he replied matter-of-factly. “That day at the Black Lake. Do you remember?” 

You nodded. It was the first anniversary of Evangeline’s passing. One of the toughest days in your young life. “Of course, Theo. How could I forget?” 

“Before you came, I asked my mum for a sign. Something to tell me that she was watching over me somehow.” Your eyes welled up with tears as he smiled to himself. “Then you came and found me. You told me that story and I knew.” 

“You knew what?” 

“I don’t know if it was fate or my mum or the universe, but someone sent you to me.” Theo’s eyes shone with emotion as he tucked you close. “I think they knew how much I needed someone like you in my life. Whoever or whatever it is, I’m thankful. You held me together that day. If it weren’t for you, I don’t think I would’ve made it this far. Thank you, bella.”

You sniffled, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye. “Me and you against the world, right?” 

“The way it’s always been and the way it’ll always be.” 

After soaking up the sun a little while longer, it was finally time to head back. You offered to help Theo carry the supplies, but he wasn’t having any of it. Instead, he tucked the blanket into the handle of the picnic basket and held out his hand. 

“I don’t want you to fall again, bella.” 

With a shy grin, you intertwined your fingers together. Theo led the way, making sure to carefully guide you through the winding path. He toyed with the emerald ring on your finger as the two of you walked, his own rings clicking against yours. 

When you joined the others, your friends were back aboard the yacht. Pansy explained that you would be going to the other side of the island to sightsee the dolphins. After helping her herd the boys, the two of you finally had some peace and quiet as you settled on the lower deck. Pansy pushed her sunglasses down and raised a brow at you. 

“So, how was it?” 

“It was beautiful,” you said, already missing the temple. “Thank you for setting it up. It really meant a lot to Theo. To both of us.” 

“Anything interesting happen while you two were at the temple of love?” 

“I know what you’re getting at, Pans,” you said as you shook your head. “But Theo and I just talked about our mums. How great it was to do something that they did together all those years ago. It was special, you know? I’ve never felt closer to Aunt Eva.” 

“Good, it was meant to be a bonding experience. Nonna said it would bring you closer together.” 

“It has.” You side-eyed your friend. “So you did plot with nonna to make this happen?”

Pansy didn’t even try to deny it. “Mhm, she says she doesn’t have long on this earth and that you two needed a push. She’d like to meet her great-grandchildren while she still has her strength.” 

You flushed deeply. “Pans! You can’t just meddle in our business like this.” 

“Of course I can.”

“How many times do we have to tell you? Theo and I are just —”

“Friends?” Pansy finished with a scoff. She nodded towards Theo, who was looking up at you with a huge smile. He flushed when you met his gaze, shielding his eyes from the sun but refusing to look away. “Yes, because friends sneak pining glances at each other all the time.” 

“We’ve known each other since we were children.” 

“And?” 

“What if it messes up our friendship?” 

“You never know if you never try.” 

“Yes, but —”

“What did you wish for in that fountain, Y/N?” 

At that, you fell silent. Pansy crossed her arms, a satisfied grin tugging at the corner of her lips. Fortunately, you were saved from further interrogation when the boys squealed at something up ahead. 

“Fragolina,” Theo called from below. He waved excitedly, nearly tossing his binoculars over the railing. “I found one for you, come look!” 

Pansy shot you a knowing look, which you pointedly ignored. She followed after you as you joined the rest of your friends. On the lower deck, Theo beckoned you over to him. You allowed him to position you behind the railing, holding the binoculars for you as he pointed out into the horizon. 

To your delight, you saw a dolphin breaching the water. It flipped gracefully into the air before diving down into the depths again. Theo talked your ear off and you listened to every word, mesmerized by the random facts that he was spouting. 

From the corner of your eye, you saw Pansy shaking her head at you before she mouthed exactly what she thought about the sight of the two of you getting lost in your own little world once again. 

Just friends my arse.

The waves crashed against the craggy rocks as the boys headed for the caves. The stalagmites jutted up from the earth like daggers, dotting their path with its sharp edges. Inside, a magical ball of light guided their way. Mattheo led the pack while Draco grumbled at the thought of getting his brand new boat shoes dirty. 

Theo rolled his eyes. “Who buys three hundred galleon shoes just to go cave exploring?” 

Mattheo snickered. “You know how Malfoy is. He’s a fussy little git through and through.” 

His friend climbed the slippery rock, dangling overhead. Theo followed suit, never one to be outdone by his best mate. Like clockwork, his idiotic stunt hadn’t gone unnoticed. Somewhere behind them, Theo heard your voice echo through the cave. 

“Teddy, don’t climb on there. You’re gonna slip and get hurt.” 

“I’m a grown man, fragolina. I’m fine!” 

Beside him, Mattheo dangled towards another rock and swayed towards Theo. “Soooo,” he said in a sing-songy voice. “You two were gone for a while. Have you finally manned up and made a move?” 

“No, you prick. We visited this temple that both our mums went to years ago. It was actually really nice.” 

“Oh yeah,” Mattheo drawled. “Pansy told me all about that. The Temple of Cupid, right? You’re telling me that you and Y/N went to the temple of the literal god of love and nothing happened?” 

“It’s not like that between us.” 

“But you want it to be.” 

Theo remained silent as he climbed higher to catch up with Mattheo. In the distance, he heard the sound of rushing water. He followed it, catching a glimpse of the blue lagoon that twisted all along the cave network.

“For fuck’s sake, mate. We’re in Italy. This shit is romantic as fuck. What the hell is holding you back?” 

“I don’t know. We just graduated and there’s a lot of things going on.” 

“That’s the same excuse you’ve given since I’ve known you,” Mattheo said with a frown of disapproval. “You know she’s not going to wait forever. Even when we were back at school, there were already plenty of blokes interested in her.” 

“Like who?” Theo asked in a dead serious tone. 

Mattheo shrugged, purposely staying silent to annoy Theo. He hauled himself over to the next rock over and crouched. “Weasley, Diggory, Pucey. Hell, I had a crush on her at one point.” 

“What?!” Theo exclaimed. 

At his outrage, he missed his step and slipped. Theo hissed when his back scraped against the rock. Even through his shirt, the rough, jagged edges stung against his skin. 

Mattheo chuckled. “You’re too easy, Nott. I was just fucking with you. Of course I never had a crush on Y/N. She’s like my sister. The others, though. Them you need to worry about.” 

Theo fought the urge to smack his friend as Mattheo hoisted him up. He debated tripping him over to see how he liked it, but the others had already caught up with them. Too many witnesses. 

You bounded up to him, concern marring your expression. “What did I say?” 

Despite the scolding that Theo knew you were dying to give him, you gently lifted his shirt up and examined the scrape carefully. “You’ll be fine,” you murmured. “I’ve got some healing cream we can apply when we get back and you’ll be good as new, okay?” 

Theo pouted. “Okay.” 

Finally, you sighed and relented. Theo grinned as you leaned up and kissed his cheek. “Just be more careful next time, okay, Teddy?” 

He nodded and smiled. “Okay.” 

Behind you, Mattheo smirked and made kissy faces. What an immature twat. 

Theo responded by giving him the middle finger. 

Later that night, Theo returned to the villa feeling weary yet glad. While he certainly had fun dolphin watching and cave exploring, nothing topped visiting the temple. Theo wished you could’ve stayed underneath that lemon tree forever. It was a memory he’d cherish for the rest of his life. 

As he washed away the remnants of the day, Theo found himself thinking of you. The way you looked at him underneath that lemon tree. Today was special for the both of you. A turning point in your friendship that was impossible to ignore. Even the acolyte commented on the obvious connection between you, cooing over young love. She wished Cupid’s blessing over the two of you, but Theo knew that you didn’t need it. He had known it for some time now. 

With a smile, he dried off and slipped into his pajamas. “Y/N? I’m ready for your expert healing now.” 

As he walked out into the suite, he found you curled up on the love seat with an open book in your lap and the healing cream curled around your fingers. You must’ve fallen asleep while waiting for him to finish showering. His heart softened at the sight. The day had been long and eventful, no doubt tiring you out. 

Wordlessly, Theo put away the book and carefully carried you to the bed. Earlier, you insisted on sleeping there instead of the bed, which Theo vehemently opposed. There was no way he was letting you sleep on the bloody sofa. You stirred in his arms, burying your face in his neck. Theo smiled softly to himself before he set you down. Instantly, you curled up against the pillow. Theo tucked you in and pulled the covers over you as gently as possible. 

Leaning down, he kissed your forehead and smiled. “I wished for you, bella.”

[42bakery]

I hope you all will allow me this post on Pedrenzo day. It won't be as well sourced as the previous ones, but I think we deserve a chronology.

Pre-World championship. They meet for the first time at the CEV (2000), but they have know about each other before that. They are both close to age (19 months) and both were pretty small. At this point, they use the other rider as a reference more than as a rival as they both are fighting against people older and more experience than them with the handicap of their age and height.

In 125cc (2002 and 2003) During this period of time, their rivalry started, but it was pretty tame. It's also important to note that it was mostly external factors that started it rather than the riders itself. Dani was racing for Telefonica/Movistar and Jorge for Caja Madrid/Fortuna), which made them two very young rider, with lots of talent and pretty promising, in Spanish teams. Their teams weren't friendly against each other, and their manager also used to be rivals. All of it, made the riders feel like they had to beat the other in the track at all cost. it got to the point on wanting to know the other's position to see if they have placed higher.

We also had their characters component, that is something that will follow them their whole life. Dani is quite and calm. He does things behind close doors and the talking on the track. Where Jorge is loud, very loud, and he uses the media and does the talking in the open. They also had 0 contact outside track between them, not even a 'hi' when meeting at the paddock.

In 250cc (2005) In here their 125cc rivalry is intensify. Dani was already 2 times World Champion and Jorge had still to prove himself. Dani was the dominant force to beat and Jorge wanted to be the one to do that. There was also the talking everyone did on the media, that fueled their rivalry. Everyone was accusing everyone of doing things. (mostly Puig, Amatriaín and Jorge).

In this year, the thing between them got much worse as they made contact on track several times. Germany is mentioned as the time that set everything into flames, but Catalunya was the turning point. Due to his excess of aggressiveness (and probably unconsciousness and stupidity), Jorge got a race ban (Malaysia 2005) after he made contact at the Japanese GP with De Angelis and Dani. Jorge used to blame Dani for that because instead of helping him, Dani took out all the receipts of the contact they made on track, which was the nail in Jorge's coffin according to Lorenzo. Older Jorge will admit he deserved it and that it was a turning point for him.

It's during this time when Dani refused to say Jorge's name or mention him (Germany 2005 forward), which pissed Jorge. And I think it still pisses him to some extend.

So by the time Dani moved to MotoGP, they were at each other's throats, specially with the media, and with Dani as a 3 times Word Champion and Jorge still needing to prove himself.

MotoGP When Jorge made it to MotoGP, media expected them pick their rivalry where they left it, and it kind of did with the Qatar incident. In that Grand Prix Dani didn't congratulate Jorge after a good result, and it pissed Jorge. Years later we learn it was due to an injury. However, it put them in the 'not speaking' terms and labelled as bitter rivals. The following Grand Prix, the ex-King of Spain (Juan Carlos I), who is a fan of racing, tried to show they get along and it was just a misunderstanding made them shake hands at the pre-podium.

Instead of cleaning the air in between them or cleaining their image it made it all worse. It looked like they couldn't be in the same room if they weren't forced to share the space.

On track they keep fighting hard against each other, more cleanly this time, and still with the same mentality as in 125cc and 250cc. If I can't win because there are other riders doing/having a better day than me, at least I have to beat Dani/Jorge.

Allegedly, 2008 was the worse point in their rivalry, but when asked them directly, they was the period of time between 2008-2010. Their rivalry got to that point it split the whole country. People were genuinely asking if you were Team Dani or Team Jorge. There are still videos of young Spanish riders having to choose (the Márquez used to be die hard Dani fans and Rins was team Jorge all the way).

Little by little, after fighting so much and for so long against each other, and sharing so many space and podiums together, their relationship moved from bitter rivals, to just rivals, to the rival I respect. Dani said that for him the big change was 2012, when their championship fight was the closes. Dani realized that he had been fighting his whole life with Jorge, therefore, they are as good as the other. Their rivalry had made them grown as riders because they had to outsmart and be better on track than the other, so it was a hats off moment.

In 2012 we also had the first physical approach between them. It was also in Qatar when they hugged for the first time, and it was a symbol of them finally burying the hatchet.

2012 also gave us the iconic marriage proposal (please watch the whole video, it explains Pedrenzo rivalry up to 2012).

From then on, their relationship improved a lot. It could also be that they both had change their managers by 2013, so part of what it set their rivalry wasn't in the equation anymore. They also had grown from kids to adults!

In 2015 Dani invited Jorge to Sete Gibernau's (ex-ride, and Dani's friend and coach) 'ranch'/track for a training weekend among other riders. Jorge ended up getting injured, and Dani went out of his way to check on him because Jorge was fighting for the championship. He got injured in the collarbone and Jorge himself admitted it was dumb because he just wanted to win against Dani when racing with smaller bikes. Apparently Pedrosa was miles faster than any other riders (Rins was there and I think the Espargarós too are mentiones

In 2018, when it was announced that Jorge was moving from Ducati to Honda and was going to replace Dani, Jorge tried to convince Pedrosa to stay in the championship by switching to the Petrona's team. It was pretty public with Jorge saying how a much smoother bike will suit Dani's riding style. Ultimately, Dani decided he didn't want to break anymore bones or suffer, so he retired.

Jorge and Dani exchanging helmets at the end of the 2018 season

After MotoGP Now they have a pretty good relationship. They can be in the same room and laugh and talk for hours about racing, including their 250cc races. Jorge will be the one pulling all the monts and remembering the weirdest stuff and Dani will look bamboozled because he doesn't remember that. In fact, among all DAZN's pundits, Jorge is the one that makes Dani smile and talk the most.

They're pretty quick to mention the other rider when possible (specially Jorge), and they are pretty open when asked about their battles in and out of the track. In fact Jorge will jump at any opportunity to mention and praise Dani. Dani will need a bit more of coaxing, but he will also talk and praise Jorge.

Now that the know parts are about, I want to share some thought I have about them.

I think this imatge basically summarizes their relationship. And creditto Jorge Lorenzo himself for putting it together.

First photo is pretty early in their relationship. You can see that they aren't interested in each other. It's basically a photo for the media. The middle one is Jerez 2008 and you can see how forced their handshake is. The king gets the wrong hand, and all of them are confused and wants to be done with it. And the last one, it's more than a handshake. They are truly happy and comfortable around the other. They want it.

Waru's thoughts I think young Jorge was really mad at Dani and wanted to win Dani no matter what due to the different way they got into the championship. All red tapes were broken for Dani. His ages was overlooked when he entered the Movistar Cup, when Jorge had to wait until he was 15 to make his debut. Dani had Puig who saw him and decided to bring him to the top, despite not meeting the criteria that was set, while Jorge had to fight and crawl all his way up. Yes Jorge got a manager and his dad, but he also had to prove himself over and over while Dani could flop and Puig would have still been at his side. It's also the relationship between Dani and his dad. Antonio was there to guide and support Dani, but at the end of the day it was Dani who took the decision, while Jorge didn't have a great relationship with his dad. Chicho acted more as a coach than a dad.

And then when Dani got the 125cc tittle, he got the ColaCao add, that made him look as the good boy that hasn't broken anything, while Jorge had the bad boy label. Dani had everything he wanted, DORNA's approval as he has come thought a DORNA's approved championship, a good relationship with his dad, a great mentor and a team behind. Basically it could be seen as DORNA had picked Dani to be the next Spanish winner at the big category (see why I translated Elegido para ganar as handpicked to win?) and instead, Jorge was the one who did it.

So yes, I think Jorge saw Dani having everything he had fighter for, and not having had to fight as hard as hi. So apart of all the things mentioned above, I think there was a bit of jealousy involved too. But well this is what I think, I might be wrong, but the way Jorge reacts when the ColaCao add is mentioned is prove that there was more there.

And here is all the chronology. If you think I forgot anything let me know! Also feel free to add things if you want.

[alasse-earfalas]

Some ideas I have about some of the Links and their brains.

This will not include all of the boys, as most of them (Time, Wind, Twilight, Four, and Hyrule) I see as being in the same basic camp when it comes to smarts and stuff, so there's nothing really for me to address there. I'm just going to point out some interesting quirks I've noticed / hc with the other four.

Warriors

It's easy to jump to the conclusion that Wars is the stupidest Link, since his game has no puzzles. I disagree. While yes, he is laughably terrible with puzzles, he is a strategic and tactical genius with a powerhouse, rapid-fire brain that can parse out an entire battle's worth of information in an instant and come to a decision in a flash. Traditional puzzles may not be his thing, sure, but that is not where his genius lies. His brain thrives on cutting through chaos with decisive action, and that is where he shines.

Sky

Has ADHD (inattentive type). Like, really, really bad inattention. Constantly spaces out and forgets things. There's a reason Fi pops up like, every half-second to remind him what he's supposed to be doing. Hylia knew what she was dealing with and planned accordingly. He is the most space-cadety of space-cadets. He'll be going along like a normal person with a normal train of thought and then he'll see a leaf floating by and completely forget what he's doing because the leaf is pretty and isn't it interesting how it moves with the wind like that and I wonder where it's going hey wait get back here—

But. Sky's mental superpower is that he is the fastest dang learner in the entire Chain. Not just with weapons or items or music like the rest of 'em, but everything. Wild's unable to cook but has all the ingredients for something he's made before? Sky watched how he did it once while helping him dice the veggies, so he'll just throw that meal together real quick. Wild let him flip through the "Ingredients" section of the compendium once, and now Sky can identify all the edible plants it listed by sight. He learned how to carve by watching Jakamar repair a couple of wooden structures one day. Sky may be a space cadet, but he's also the most potently absorbent practical-knowledge and information sponge you ever did meet.

Wild

Also has ADHD (combined type). There are literal "ooo shiny" mechanics in the freaking game. Koroks? ooo shiny. Shrine quests? ooo shiny. Every single item that Wild can pick up in the game literally sparkles. Everything about the Sheikah Slate is designed to account for this: scope pins, map stamps, inventory organization, Hyrule Compendium, Sheikah Sensor, photo album, a journal which he uses to take fastidious detailed notes of all the crap he needs to remember because he knows he'll forget all of it otherwise. He struggles to sit still for extended periods unless he is asleep or gazing into a pretty fire.

Wild is also the creative genius out of the bunch. He has the most robust understanding of fundamental physics out of the entire Chain. His visual thinking and creative problem-solving skills are off the charts. The rest of the Chain may be able to navigate with maps and compasses, but Wild can navigate foreign terrain using nothing but the environment itself. Present him with a problem and he'll think of fifty different ways to address it and all of them will usually work. He is an all-around genius problem solver and astoundingly creative thinker.

Legend

Mind like a freaking. Steel. Trap. Nothing slips past his awareness or gets forgotten. Ever. Journals are pointless because his brain is an information vault. Oh, and any puzzle he's handed better say goodby to its loved ones and make sure its will is in order because this lad will solve it before it has a chance to defend itself.

Let me just, give you an example. Just one. You see this here?

How long do you think you could remember this random character vomit without writing it down? A few minutes, maybe? Maybe a couple hours, or a day or two if you took the time to memorize it?

Try an entire journey to another country after hearing it only once.

Oh, but that's not even the most impressive part! You see, Legend didn't just hang onto one of these memorization nightmares for an entire extended trip to another land, oh no—he remembered several of them. Perfectly. As if that wasn't enough, y'all remember the item swap quests? Yeah, without notes of any kind, this Link remembered who needed what in every single one of those convoluted trading chains. All while he was busy saving the world.

The downside is that Legend's thinking is not very flexible. He operates best when there is a single correct solution to a given problem. He much prefers having concrete information to work with, rather than a vague scenario with a shrug and a, "idk, figure something out". Being dropped into a massive open world with no information other than, "alright here ya go, here's some basic abilities and a light dusting of backstory, now get out there and save the Princess!" would be an overwhelming, anxiety-riddled nightmare for this dude.

[frangipanilove]

Bluebird Symbolism in TOWL 1X4 And Its Relation To The Numbers "10" and "2"

I’ve written a bunch of posts on bluebird symbolism before, particularly during TWDDD, that show was full of these bluebird references. Go read those posts (for exemple here, here, here or here) for more in-depth analysis of the symbolism, but long story short, the bluebird symbolism was the reason we really could tell for sure that Rick and Beth are two sides to the same coin as far as resurrection symbolism goes. We all remember the Blue Heron painting behind Beth in Still, as she and Daryl emerged out from the labyrinth of death that was the golf club. “We made it!” she exclaimed, effectively foreshadowing her future fate.

Then, through foreshadowing provided by Noah’s t-shirt, (with a stylized blue heron) we see, in TWD 8x2 The Damned, another Blue Heron painting, this time behind Rick!

We didn’t know it at the time, but we later learned that Andrew Lincoln would be taking a break from the franchise, and his character Rick would be “just gone” for the unforeseeable future. But, we also knew he would eventually return, as the OG Sirius character he is. And that’s interesting for TD, because Beth and Rick are paralleled so closely when it comes to the resurrection symbolism they’re surrounded with.

In TOWL 1x4 What We, we see this tapestry fairly early in the episode.

The birds are peacocks, and peacocks are definitely blue birds.

@angelthefirst1 posted an excellent post on elevators and the 10 - 2 symbolism this morning, and I wanted to piggyback off of that because of how it ties neatly into the bluebird symbolism and the numbers 10 and 2.

Elevators, much like bridges, ladders, stairs etc, are metaphorical passages through which the characters can move between the "realms". These liminal spaces are what allows characters like Beth and Rick to return to the realm of the living, after having stayed in the "death realm", the "underworld" for an extended period of time. And we saw that in Still, when Beth and Daryl moved through what a Gimple described as “the nine circles of hell” at the golf club, before they returned to the "realm of the living".

We also saw this theme of "passages", liminal spaces between the realms, around the second blue heron painting, the one from TWD 8x2 The Damned. We specifically saw Rick and Daryl move up through the elevator shaft in order to reach the floor where the Blue Heron painting was.

We first see Daryl opening the elevator shaft from the inside, he then gets up and subsequently helps Rick up into the corridor.

The elevator shaft is the metaphorical passage that foreshadows Rick's journey to the "death realm", but it is also, as seen in TOWL 1x4, what allows him to return to the realm of the living. And as @angelthefirst1 pointed out, him doing so was accompanied by a voice repeating the numbers “10” and “2”.

And this is where it gets really interesting.

Because yes, it is a reference to the Slabtown clock, the “Get Well Soon” clock. We all have our different takes on that. It can be interpreted in several interesting ways. I believe one of the main purposes of the clock was to call back to the red fire engine we first saw in 5x5 Self Help. That fire engine, Engine 82, was present at the heartbreaking last shot of Coda, when Daryl carried Beth’s seemingly lifeless body out of Grady. I'll explain why below.

Remember, ladders, like elevators, stairwells and bridges, are metaphorical passages through which characters can move between the realms. Take Rick for instance, his death was foreshadowed by the elevator shaft and the blue heron painting from 8x2 The Damned. Then he “died” on a bridge.

We were specifically shown a ladder in 5x7 Crossed, Maggie used it to provide shade for Eugene after Abraham had knocked him unconscious. The ladder literally helped him “wake up” from an unconscious state.

It’s no coincidence that the fire engine from season 5 specifically was a number “82”, pointing towards episode 8x2. Episode 8x2 The Damned specifically foreshadows Rick's "death" and "resurrection".

It’s no coincidence that it was Noah’s t-shirt, with the stylized heron, that foreshadowed Rick’s “death” and “resurrection”, and that the t-shirt specifically pointed us to episode 8x2.

It's no coincidence that we see Engine 82, complete with a ladder, front and center as Daryl carries Beth out of Grady. Engine 82, with the ladder, foreshadows her resurrection.

And it’s no coincidence that in TOWL 1x4, we see another representation of a blue bird, this time a peacock, right before Rick metaphorically “returns” to the realm of the living, to Michonne, to the life he knew. Because those blue birds herald resurrection.

(Obviously Rick hasn't physically returned to his previous life and his family yet, but he experienced a psychological breakthrough, where he chose Michonne, he cose his family and he chose "the realm of the living". He chose to reject the CRM, where he had learned "to be dead" as he explained to Michonne in the episode)

So finally, let me return to the voice repeating the numbers “10” and “2” from TOWL 1x4. We know the Slabtown clock can be interpreted in a multitude of ways, and like I said above, I believe it's a callback to Engine 82 from 5x5 Self Help. I'm getting to that in a minute, first let's briefly explore some of the other potential interpretations, because of course, they're interconnected.

I’ve described a few ways of interpreting it in previous posts, one way to interpret it is to break down for example the “2” into “one one” which is a reference to the “one one” on Noah’s t-shirt.

You can also read it as a reference to episode 10x11 (read 10 - one one), which was called “Morningstar”, an obvious reference to the Venus/Sirius symbolism (read more here).

Interestingly, 10x11 Morningstar is the episode where Daryl got his upgraded vest, and in this article on how Daryl got new wings, I found this part particularly interesting:

Cailey Fleming, who plays Judith, explains how she restored the tattered wings so that Daryl now finally has TWO wings again, dotted with TEN stars.

See how that’s another representation of the numbers “10” and “2”? In an episode foreshadowed by the Slabtown clock, if you read it as 10 - one one? An episode literally named Morningstar, which is a Sirius/Venus reference?

And see how one of the wings are now blue? That’s another representation of bluebird symbolism!

In TOWL 1x4 we see Michonnes scar, and she tells the story on how she and Daryl got branded. Daryl's scars interestingly form a constellation along with other scars that reasonably be interpreted as the Roman numerals X II, which translates into 10 and 2. Or if you read it as 10 - one one, you could say it points to episode 10x11 Morningstar.

To recap, in TOWL, we see michonnes scar, an X, in an episode where we also see two peacocks, two blue birds. See how that conceptually shares similarities with the scars on Daryl's back, that forms a X II, pointing to an episode where he gets a revamped vest with TEN stars and TWO wings, one of them blue? See how the 10 2 symbolism and the bluebird symbolism keep popping up together?

In TOWL, the voice repeating the numbers 10 and 2 is tied to the elevator, and remember, elevators = passages between the realms. And the same goes for ladders. Now let me remind you of Engine 82, last seen as Daryl carried Beth's lifeless body out from Grady, and why I believe the Slabtown clock is a callback to it.

I mentioned above that one of my favorite ways to interpret the 10 and the 2 and the Slabtown clock is that it serves as a callback to episode 5x5 Self Help, where Abraham, Eugene and the rest of Team Washington found Engine 82. And when they did, it was backed up to a building marked with this particular number:

That's right, Engine 82 was first seen backed up to a building marked 102! A direct reference to the Slabtown clock, and directly foreshadowing Beth's "death" and "resurrection".

Imo, the voice repeating the numbers “10” and “2” in TOWL 1x4 were referring to the building where we first saw the fire engine, back in 5x5, well before Beth “died”. The “102” on the building foreshadowed the Slabtown clock, the Slabtown clock was a callback to the 102 on the building where we first saw the fire engine.

Engine 82 represents the presence of metaphorical “passages" between the realms, such as elevators, stairs, ladders and bridges, through which the characters can travel unhindered between the realms. They are what foreshadows "death", but also what allows for "resurrection".

Depending on how you choose to read the numbers on the Slabtown clock, you could also argue that they point to episode 2x2, which is when we first meet Beth, or 2x10, which is 18 Miles Out, the episode where she initially attempts suicide, but eventually decides she wants to live (again, foreshadowing her surviving).

Like I mentioned, it could also refer to the “one one” on Noah’s t-shirt with the stylized heron, and it could refer to episode 10x11 (read 10 - one one) which is called Morningstar (straight up Venus/Sirius symbolism).

Or, like I’ve described above, it could be a reference to the building where we first saw the fire engine, Ladder 82, in which “ladder” is one of the metaphorical passages which allows characters like Rick and Beth to undergo a “death and resurrection” arc.

No matter how you chose to interpret the numbers “10” and “2”, it’s safe to say they indicate “resurrection” for anyone associated with them. Particularly when they’re accompanied with the presence of blue birds!

(Side note, Ladder 82 is noticably very red, and it was backed up against a red door on the building marked with the number 102. I call it “red controls the gates” symbolism, illustrated by the red fire engine backed up against a red door. I've been tracking this symbolism for a long time, and have several posts on it. If you want to explore the symbolism surrounding the color red, read this and this)

[solomons-poison]

Hi Tarren :D! I would like to request Geto Suguru + 7. 'sharing a kiss after not seeing them for an extended period of time' from the soft kissing prompts because I feel like it has been a long time since I've seen him voiced and animated :') But we'll be seeing more of him next month so this would also be a nice build-up to it >w< Please and thank you in advance <3

Oooh you're giving me a hard one haha. I'm not very good at writing Geto, I don't have as much of a handle on his personality compared to the others but I hope this is good! This also got really angsty, and not very soft, I'm so sorry... 😅

(Requests now closed upon posting this, but feel free to check out the prompt list linked below!)

Geto Suguru x GN!reader

♡ sharing a kiss after not seeing them for an extended period of time

Geto liked to disappear often. Where to, you didn't know, and you knew better than to ask, given your line of work and his history. He did it even before you started dating, and honestly, it probably should have been enough of a red flag for you to reject him when he tried to court you. But his levels of charisma were just too powerful, it was always impossible to say no to him. So what could you do but accept?

It shouldn't have surprised you, but even after you two started dating, the disappearances continued. It was usually just for a few days at a time, but when it happened, he was completely unreachable, practically gone off the face of the earth. He never volunteered information when he returned, and you didn't ask, just settling into a kind of routine. It made it a bit easier to pretend everything was okay, that he wasn't doing something questionable or perhaps even dangerous. And when he came back to your arms, the way he poured his passion into you made you forget to be worried, at least for a little while.

This time, however, was the longest your boyfriend had been gone yet. You weren't sure if you should go to the police, or risk going to your colleagues, or what they could even do about it. As days passed and he didn't show, didn't send you any kind of message, a feeling of dread formed a ball in your stomach, hard and heavy. You weren't even sure, at one point, when you'd last seen him, if it'd been weeks, maybe even months. All you could do was keep moving, keep your mind occupied on anything but your missing lover, before you got overwhelmed with a thousand what-ifs.

You got used to the silence, occasionally putting on the TV or music to fill up the space, make it feel a little less lonely. That's why, when you heard the lock to your apartment begin to turn, something heavy and metal fumbling against the door, your head instantly snapped up at the unexpected sound. Your body moved before you were even aware, creeping towards your front door in anticipation of who would show on the other side. It shouldn't have surprised you, seeing the tall figure on the other side, long dark hair pulled back into his signature bun. But your mind was still reeling as Geto looked back, the same surprise missing on his face, like he knew you'd be waiting for him.

No words could form, your mouth failing to voice all the questions that popped up in your mind, but it didn't matter. Not when Geto was letting the door fall shut as he wrapped you in his embrace, his lips cold from what you hoped was just the outside, slotting against yours urgently. He was holding you tight, almost painful, like you were his last tether to this world, and you had a feeling it was true. You couldn't be sure how long this would last, the next time that he'd disappear, or if he'd even come back. So you just held on tighter, giving in to his kisses, pouring your warmth and your love into him in the hopes that something would take root, anchor him here with you.

—

Send me a type of kiss and a character!

[tobiasdrake]

I realized I was getting older when I first heard about super Saiyan blue in Super, and instead of being stoked I thought, "Well that seems a little excessive."

And because of that I've hesitated to catch up on Super, or even rewatch DBZ because I don't want to spoil my memories by being underwhelmed by the constant power escalation. Do you think the later arcs hold up for a rewatch? Obviously it's subjective, but I'd love to hear your thoughts on the franchise's infamous descent from fun adventures to episode long beam wars and new transformations

I might not be the right person to answer that because I don't think a lot of the episodes hold up in general. <.< I tend to favor the manga over the anime.

My main grievance with the anime is that it has too much extra fighting. I know that sounds weird but let me explain. The anime suffers not just from having to find space to fill out material or pad events but also from having to scrawl it into the margins between individual panels.

Dragon Ball is so tightly written and so heavily serialized that it doesn't leave a lot of room to inject filler episodes and go on wacky side adventures. The anime does do those things - which can be hit or miss, and I honestly don't think Toei has a good grasp on the characters or concepts at play here - but it just as often has to find twenty minutes of screentime to insert into a chapter that began with two characters fighting and ended with those same characters fighting harder.

So, in addition to the "Screaming and powering up for twenty minutes" kind of thing that turned Dragon Ball into such a popular joke in the anime community, we get extra fighting. But here's the problem with extra fighting.

The characters will suddenly deviate from the manga for 5-40 minutes of punch-throwing. But once it's done? They have to return to the fight from the manga. They have to still be in the same physical condition they'll be in for the next panel to be adapted. That means that, until the extra fighting ends and the manga adaptation picks back up, both characters are effectively locked in an invulnerable stasis.

This is where a lot of the bullshit came from. Characters throw their ultimate attack and the other wades out of the smoke unharmed because this is filler; He cannot take damage in filler. Or a character gets beaten within an inch of his life and then his HP bar miraculously refills and he gets right up and he's fine, because this is filler; He cannot take damage in filler. Nobody can take damage in filler.

And there is so much of it, so much of the characters suddenly turning on their Invincibility Shields for extended periods of time, that it completely destroys the pacing of a lot of the fights.

Also a lot of Playing the Hits because Toei tends to be overly referential to popular things from the manga when they take their turn in the driver's seat. Their fighting often foregoes innovating new cool things in favor of a lot of "Remember the Makankosappo?" and "Hey we haven't done Afterimages in a long time (because they don't make sense when everyone can sense ki but we'll just pretend no one can anymore)" and "Piccolo jumps in front of the blast to shield Gohan. DO YOU REMEMBER THAT TIME!? DO YOU REMEMBER!?"

All of this stuff adds up and bothers me tremendously, which is why I really don't like the anime in general. But that's just me. Other people love it. I've heard Kai is pretty good for trimming a lot of the fat from the Z anime, but I can't say for myself.

[p5x-theories]

When Atlus releases a global version of the game….Do you think the global server will be further behind the Chinese and Korean servers? Or do you think they will update the current content faster in some way so that the global server can quickly reach the latest updates? What's your theory?

As I've said before, this is something I don't really have a lot of knowledge on, given I don't play any other gacha games, so I don't know how other gacha games handle this.

That said, I feel like they'd have to keep more or less the same update schedule (an update every two weeks) just to give players time to play the content and complete the events? Especially for things like the collab, the rewards from the chapters are only available while the event is "live", even if you can replay the parts again for no reward after it ends. The Museum Chapter was available for like six weeks, because it stayed up through Version 1.3.2 and then Version 1.3.3 (at the same time as the Bank Chapter was running), but the Castle Chapter and Bank Chapter themselves were only live for a two-week period of time, during which there was a variety of goals to complete in order to get everything.

This is true for the more minor events too, though I usually don't report on those much; things like daily rewards and little goals, or the Chess Chase puzzles and battles with Besa (which they actually ended up extending the availability of because players needed more time, haha). Banners follow this pattern, too, and I've just barely managed to get each new character so far because of it (though no Phoebe yet, so we'll see, heh).

So I feel like they'd have to space out updates more or less the same way, in order to give players the chance to actually complete everything? Either that, or change how events work to some extent so that multiple are running at once, which... doesn't sound much better, in my opinion. The two week periods seems the most ideal to me, but again, I'm not super familiar with this genre, so maybe there's an even better way out there, haha?

[toujokaname]

Raindrop-covered Show Window / Episode 4

Author: Nishioka Maiko

Characters: HiMERU, Souma

"Mm? Uhmm... Strange."

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Season: Winter

Location: Saison Avenue

A few days later.

HiMERU: —For the time being, it's complete. Well, that should do.

(For a first attempt, it turned out quite well. It will likely meet the program producer's expectations.)

...Hm?

Souma: Hmmumumumu...

The katana is essential in shaping who I am. The katana is a samurai's life. It is the proof of my existence. If that's the case... It might be good to complement the katana with matching armor.

Now that it's settled, let us get started straight away!

So, arrange the armor here in the center... And then, place several swords around the armor...

—Hm?

Oh no! I've messed up...! It looks more like a spider than a samurai! I am not a youkai, after all...

Shall I remove all of them at once...? Nay, without a katana, I am the same as miso soup without miso!

In that case, to honor the samurai spirit, I'll display only two swords—a katana and a wakizashi[1] . A large piece of armor would have an overwhelming presence, so I will only place the kabuto...[2]

Like this... And then...

Souma: Next, fill the vacant spaces around here with kabuto and katana that have a familiar feel—

Mm? Uhmm... Strange.

Certainly, it has a calming atmosphere, but isn't this just like any ordinary tokonoma...?[3] What should I... What on earth should I do? Ummmm...!

HiMERU: (Sure enough, you seem to be struggling considerably.)

(Good grief... That's why HiMERU said it in the beginning. If only you had listened obediently back then...)

(If things continue like this, the program will lose its momentum, so HiMERU wants you to listen to him today.)

Kanzaki-san.

Souma: Hmmgh— Hm? Is something the matter, "Himeru"-dono? Do you need something from me?

HiMERU: —HiMERU has been watching you for the past few days, and it appears that you're still having difficulty with the display design. If you'd like, he's willing to provide some advice.

Souma: Uu... It's true, but... But, however... The point of this program is to have a showdown...

HiMERU: Kanzaki-san. It's precisely because it's a showdown.

Souma: Because it's a showdown? What on earth does that mean?

HiMERU: Let's see... HiMERU would say that just because someone is an opponent, it doesn't mean that you should needlessly avoid them...

For example, there's a famous anecdote from the past where Uesugi Kenshin, who was seen as the strongest during the Warring States period, sent salt to his longtime enemy Takeda Shingen of Kai Province. [4]

HiMERU believes that extending a helping hand to the enemy is not a hindrance to a good competition.

Souma: Indeed... Even renowned warlords who raced through the turbulent period of warring factions had moments when they needed someone's assistance in times of trouble.

HiMERU: Yes, that's right. HiMERU thinks it's beneficial to have a space where people can cooperate with each other, so that they can bring out their best.

Souma: Understood. In order to make this a better showdown, I would like to ask for your advice.

HiMERU: HiMERU is glad you understand. May he inquire about your progress?

Souma: In fact, it's as "Himeru"-dono said. I haven't made much progress.

In my own way, I had done prior research on the meaning of "dispurei dezain", and decided to make the subject "my individuality". I thought it was a good approach, but...

Initially, I haphazardly tried placing various things that seemed to symbolize me, but it only resulted in a mess, and that's the current state of things.

To be honest, I am at a loss as to where to go from here... I feel completely lost.

HiMERU: Hm... So that's it. HiMERU understands your situation.

Though, as he listened to you, he began to wonder. Is what you currently have in place truly "your individuality"?

Souma: Huh? What does that mean? The katana is a samurai's life. It is the proof of my existence...

HiMERU: Certainly. HiMERU understands that you perceive the sword you always carry as if it were an extension of yourself.[5]

But from his perspective, it seems that the items placed here—including the swords—were chosen because they're what others desire from you. You may call it clerical, business-like.

The image people have when they see you may indeed be that of a samurai, a sword, and Japanese aesthetics...

But wouldn't it be better to think more flexibly and not get too fixated on those elements?

Souma: Hmm... I'm not familiar with "shou windous". Is that the reason why it didn't feel right, even after I incorporated something I am familiar with?

HiMERU: Well. Even if you understand it, there's nothing to be done if you can't come up with an idea to dispel it.

Souma: ......

—If that's the case, there is something I want to try.

HiMERU: Something you want to try... you say?

A wakizashi is a short sword. When worn together with a katana, it was the official sign that the wearer was a samurai in feudal Japan.

A kabuto is a helmet worn by samurai.

A tokonoma is a recessed space in which items for artistic appreciation are displayed.

For better context, an excerpt from Uesugi Kenshin's Wikipedia page: "There was an incident when the Hōjō boycotted salt supplies to Kai Province. When Kenshin heard of Shingen's problem, he sent salt to Shingen from his own province. Kenshin commented that the Hōjō had "performed a very mean act". Kenshin added, "I do not fight with salt, but with the sword"."

The word HiMERU uses here, 分身, has some other meanings, such as "alter ego" and "other self", as well as being related to doppelgängers and cloning. It can also relate to the Buddha, something I found interesting given the other allusions to Buddhism earlier in the story.

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[youngster-monster]

everytime i look back at my own anon asks they get longer and i feel like im writing an essay except the essay is hyperfixation fueled rambling . does that mean anything i WILL get my wow lore from you i HAVE been getting my wow lore from you and there is nothing that any gamer alive can do to stop me because i have more free time than i should be allowed to have and an obsession for two dead gay elves. i think about them every single day and i think that this can be accredited to you, ELVES???? IN MY MULTI-MASSIVELY ONLINE ROLEPLAYING GAME???????? MANY OF THEM??? AND THEYRE COMPETENT TOO?????? oh man oh god i (i am shoveling everything on my desk into a suitcase) i dunno if i (i am hauling my computer and monitors into a comically enormous suitcase that is far larger than the contents would require) dunno if i can (searching "FINAL FANTASY XIV DOWNLOAD") i dont know if i can play that g- okay for real though i May In Fact Download FFXIV . i am scared of games i know nothing about because Uh brain sucks but youve convinced me by setting up one of those stick and box animal traps with promise of elves as the bait. i now get to message my sister who has also been hitting me with ffxiv copypasta and tell her i am interested PLEASE please please i would literally do anything to see subs tank so that they have no choice but to kick illidan out of space hell and by extension kael and vashj too so they can be mean to eachother and have the banter i so crave. to me their banter is what mana addiction is to the high elves. i miss them every single day my brother actually found out about the gay elves when i left wow open on my computer ("what relevance does that have?" you know how you can name your wow character almost anything? yeah so i have this thing where i physically cannot stop myself from testing if ship names are available for use on any game i play and uhm. youll never guess what i was testing on wow right then and there) which is tragically positioned in such a way that it is visible to the entire room and when he saw it he looked so disappointed but in no way surprised whatsoever

the time that i have to message you approaches very quickly because the ask length is getting Worse. it is getting So Bad. my deepest condolences that you have to sift through this whole thing i just have so many things to say at any given time

frankly this reminds me of my old forums days. did y'all ever do that thing where you made a friend on a forum and instead of exchanging numbers (no mobile phone) or skype contacts you'd just exchange novel-length private messages? emails with extra steps.

i am so sorry for the dead elves brainrot. it will get worse.

me 🤝 your sister Come Play FFXIV. They Are Extending The Free Trial In October. You Cannot Escape The Elves

it's actually a good game too especially once you make it past base game! as a wow player i found it pretty easy to get into after a quick period of adaptation ( < forged in the crucible of wotlk-era wow)

i just KNOW the outland trio has some incredibly comedic AND tragic potential with their banter and blizzard is KEEPING IT FROM US.

everyday hapless brothers are subjected to their sibling's dead gay elves obsession.... and it will happen again. when we're in the same room i often ask my brother random wow lore questions and he answers me immediately before going (extremely suspicious) "why. is this for a fanfic." yes it is now tell me more about coastal cities in the eastern kingdom for this throwaway line im trying to write

i also cannot shut the fuck up and i love attention and friendship so i'm having a blast personally 😌 everyday i log on and go "ah :) got a new message from my Secret Connection" like we're two spies in the 17th century corresponding through letters folded under a rock

[badnikbreaker]

i see folks are talking about war stuff! i'm too sleepy for anything heavy, but it did remind me that i keep meaning to put this someplace — by default, i treat the war as lasting longer than it did in canon! the six months during sonic's time imprisoned remains more - or - less the same, but once he was broken out, it took another 3-4 months to finish the war entirely. the whole thing lasted just under a year.

this is mostly because some of my ava writing benefits from additional time with the cast — i write her as developing a very close friendship with sonic as in canon, but also having time to get fairly close to knuckles and amy, which simply can't happen in the span of a week or two. in terms of my sonic, it also helps to offset one of the issues i have with forces, which is that sonic's pals can't make any headway, but the moment he's back it takes him no time at all to take the world back — sonic's friends as useless and sonic as perfect. sonic returning is still a major turning point, but he does still struggle in real, major ways once he's back, and needs the support of his pals. at the very least, it's not as easy as flipping a switch.

generally speaking, i won't force this on others — i'll keep timeline stuff vague, especially when writing ava with sonics, but as a general rule it's safe to assume i'm giving them both more time to breathe in my head. obviously if the alternative timeline is important to you ( or you just prefer it! ) let me know and i can keep that more Real.

some character specifics for both of em ( and how the extended timeline effects their personal timelines ) down below :

ava is with the resistance for a little under two months before meeting sonic; it doesn't happen immediately. the resistance needs time to learn to trust them before sending em on such a major mission! it also drives home ava's sense of isolation, since it isn't until sonic's back that they become able to connect with the others.

after big wave / the battle in metropolis, ava's bedbound for close to a week and on extremely reduced mission activity due to the extensive injuries they sustained against infinite.

ava and sonic are both trapped in null space for a longer time; to them, it feels at once like hours and weeks, due to how fucked time is there — out in the real world, though, it takes about a day for them to get back.

in the game proper, the final battle occurs almost directly after the null space encounter; by default in my writing, the next battle takes place a week and some change after, and ava takes most of that period off of battles entirely due to being too Fucked Up by nullspace to be of any use on the field. sonic stays out doing missions, but he's pretty Weird about that period, too.

[thearchivistsjournal]

Day 247,

One more day and we’ll be home.  We’re back on that first island where we spent the night.  If we make the same progress returning as we did leaving then we should get back to the Village a few hours before sundown tomorrow.

None of us slept particularly well last night, but at least the anchors held.  Don’t think I personally got any true sleep at all.  A few extended periods of drifting restfulness with my eyes closed, but never actually unconscious.

I tried to play it down and cover it up as we briefly returned to the beach at dawn to take a break from the boats for a bit before heading out in earnest, but when I had one of those waking flashes to the Catacombs a couple hours later while rowing and nearly dropped the oars in the water it was pretty obvious to everyone.  Fortunately, between expecting it and not being thrown into a broken, pain-wracked body, it wasn’t as bad this time around.  Still an understatement to call the experience highly unpleasant and disorienting, but I’ll take what excuses to tell others not to worry silver linings of comfort I can get.

We stopped at that little cliff-surrounded cove of an island again for our midday rest.  Took as much of a nap as I could while there.  There’s been some discussion of whether to take another break tomorrow or just push on to the Village in one go in a reverse of our first day.  Ultimately we decided to just play it by ear and see how we’re feeling when the time comes, but for now I suspect we’ll go for the one long push.

That said, everyone’s retired early tonight.  No extended laughing and singing around a campfire.  Combination of the past few days of travel wearing us down compounded by last night’s discomforts.

As for myself, I had another episode shortly before I started writing so I’m still trying to calm myself back down and take my mind off it before I can sleep.

It occurs to me that this whole time I’ve never given much detail to what Lin and I talk about while in a boat together all day.  Stories mostly.  She spent enough time in the archive as a kid that she’s probably about as qualified to do tellings as Cass and I are.  There are few joys like discussing a mutually loved story with another.  Or even not-so-loved.  More than just sharing what we liked or didn’t like about a given narrative, but what it meant to us.  Analyzing it.  Studying it.  Dissecting it.  Stories are shared experiences that bridge time and space.  Characters are mutual acquaintances and friends.  The similarities and differences in how two people experience a story and what they take away from it can be as much an insight into who they are as putting them through the same real world events.

That’s what I like to believe anyway.

And then there’s the comparing of notes regarding what she remembers reading in the archive versus what I remember of versions of those stories from my past life.  Always an interesting exercise.  Also, I got some briefly summarized versions of a few more local stories that the villagers tell like the one about The Girl From The Forest.  I’ll need to get the full versions of those from her some day and put them to paper.

Of course, that wasn’t all we talked about.  There was a fair bit of sharing bits of our lives that the other doesn’t normally see much of.  It’s easy to forget that Lin spends a pretty large portion of her own time outside of the Village proper traveling around the island gathering medicinal ingredients so there’s always a fresh stock of whatever might happen to be needed on the rare occasions that some sickness or injury does happen to arise.  True, some of it she gets from hunters, shepherds, and fishers rather than gathering herself, but still, it’s enough to have made her well suited for all the scouting she’s been doing alongside Maiko this trip.

Meanwhile, I shared some of my encounters with the nature sprite that were on the “playfully mischievous” rather than “terrifying” side of things.  Told her about my occasional habit of dancing in the rain.  Parties where I was asked to do tellings (it seems she doesn’t get invited to as many of those as she used to).  Teaching during the rainy season.  That sort of thing.

Oh, and I learned some of those songs she’s humming all the time.  She’s got quite the repertoire.  And some are a bit more… bawdy than I would have guessed.  Come to think of it, it’s a bit strange how little of that sort of thing there is here.  Perhaps it has to do with the whole deal about fertility apparently being tied to the Blossom Field?

Speaking of singing, imagine Cass and my surprise a few days ago, shortly after setting out from Iole’s island when Lin started singing while rowing.  That in and off itself wasn’t much of a surprise, she’d done it a few times before, but then Maiko joined in.  Not a well-practiced singing voice, but wonderfully earnest.  Guess that song was another thing the two of them shared while alone together.

Alright, feeling better now.  Time to sleep.  Long day tomorrow.  If our return is anything like our last extended expedition, there’s going to be a bunch of people crowding around wanting to hear about it once word gets out that we’re back.

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[lutnut215-creative]

Anomaly Earth Lore - Part 1: Introduction and Quick Summary

When you flip a coin, it creates a completely different universe, as strange as that may sound. For every action that may have different outcomes, every single outcome is written into being in a different universe. But some changes are… different. They don't have anything to do with a conscious choice, but with the general way the world works. Some might have different physics, others might have evolution take a different path. Anomaly Earth is one of these worlds.

Anomaly Earth’s geography and climate are quite similar to our normal planet’s - a giant ball of rock and water careening through space at Mach 87 around a giant glowing mass of hydrogen and helium. However, Anomaly Earth does have a single geographical difference to our own - a web of lines that circle the globe, unseen by the human eye. This web is called the ley line network, and near spots where these ley lines intersect (“hotspots”), there’s a stronger connection to the powers that bind the universe together. As these powers can be used to bypass the normal laws of physics, the scientific field focusing on them is called “metaphysics,” though the common term is “magic.”

In the time period when humans began to develop full sapience, so did many animal species, some being "elementals" that formed of pure magical energy, or mana. At the same time, near ley line hotspots in Europe and Asia, a lizard species known as dragons was fundamentally altered by the magical energies being radiated - they would end up growing horns, more mammalian traits such as naturally growing hair, and more. Over time, more dragon species would pop up - the most unique being the Dragonkin, who could take on a human form in order to live in human colonies without suspicion, and the Mentali, who had been formed from dragon-cheetah hybrids interbreeding, the two species’ traits blending together and drawing in traits from other feline and dragon species to create an entirely new one. Outside of this, though, history largely continued the same - the only difference being that in the Middle Ages a kingdom of dragons had been formed somewhere in what is now Austria, and was sieged in the middle of the Crusades out of fear that the dragons were demonic in nature.

Fast-forward to the year 2022, and society has progressed the same as on our own Earth in most respects. However, the various species on Earth have led to more diverse ways people go about life, and unfortunately, more levels of discrimination towards both race and species. Magic is also a key player in the differences that Anomaly Earth shows - metaphysics is a valid branch of science, as mentioned before, and magic is a common ability many can use, though some lack the requirements one must have to learn. Despite the common use of magic, technology has progressed just as quickly, and the people of Anomaly Earth still commonly use devices from companies such as Apple, Google, Microsoft, Samsung, Nintendo, etc.

However, a company named Aspentech has been making the rounds recently. Aspentech is an oddity among most companies - pricing their devices far cheaper than others of a similar sort, focusing less on excess bells and whistles and more on actual utility, for those who are less fortunate than others. Aspentech's humanitarian approach naturally extends from its origin - a subsidiary of a research lab being run as a way to pay the researchers, inventors, and interns there. And it's all headed by a man driven less by profit and more by a passion for science, the world around him, and the people living in it. A lot of Anomaly Earth writing focuses on this lab, the Aspen Institute.



I will be releasing the Anomaly Earth lore in bits and pieces, so as not to create a single, massive post. Part 2 will focus on the basics of magic and metaphysics, Part 3 will focus on the various species of Anomaly Earth, Part 4 will dive deeper into the Aspen Institute, and Part 5 will focus on the various characters in the Anomaly Earth lore.

Part 6 will be exclusive to this blog, focusing on how NSFW content manifests itself. The first five parts have no NSFW content, so they won't be given the labels.

[domandragon-creative]

Anomaly Earth Lore - Part 1: Introduction and Quick Summary

When you flip a coin, it creates a completely different universe, as strange as that may sound. For every action that may have different outcomes, every single outcome is written into being in a different universe. But some changes are… different. They don't have anything to do with a conscious choice, but with the general way the world works. Some might have different physics, others might have evolution take a different path. Anomaly Earth is one of these worlds.

Anomaly Earth’s geography and climate are quite similar to our normal planet’s - a giant ball of rock and water careening through space at Mach 87 around a giant glowing mass of hydrogen and helium. However, Anomaly Earth does have a single geographical difference to our own - a web of lines that circle the globe, unseen by the human eye. This web is called the ley line network, and near spots where these ley lines intersect (“hotspots”), there’s a stronger connection to the powers that bind the universe together. As these powers can be used to bypass the normal laws of physics, the scientific field focusing on them is called “metaphysics,” though the common term is “magic.”

In the time period when humans began to develop full sapience, so did many animal species, some being "elementals" that formed of pure magical energy, or mana. At the same time, near ley line hotspots in Europe and Asia, a lizard species known as dragons was fundamentally altered by the magical energies being radiated - they would end up growing horns, more mammalian traits such as naturally growing hair, and more. Over time, more dragon species would pop up - the most unique being the Dragonkin, who could take on a human form in order to live in human colonies without suspicion, and the Mentali, who had been formed from dragon-cheetah hybrids interbreeding, the two species’ traits blending together and drawing in traits from other feline and dragon species to create an entirely new one. Outside of this, though, history largely continued the same - the only difference being that in the Middle Ages a kingdom of dragons had been formed somewhere in what is now Austria, and was sieged in the middle of the Crusades out of fear that the dragons were demonic in nature.

Fast-forward to the year 2022, and society has progressed the same as on our own Earth in most respects. However, the various species on Earth have led to more diverse ways people go about life, and unfortunately, more levels of discrimination towards both race and species. Magic is also a key player in the differences that Anomaly Earth shows - metaphysics is a valid branch of science, as mentioned before, and magic is a common ability many can use, though some lack the requirements one must have to learn. Despite the common use of magic, technology has progressed just as quickly, and the people of Anomaly Earth still commonly use devices from companies such as Apple, Google, Microsoft, Samsung, Nintendo, etc.

However, a company named Aspentech has been making the rounds recently. Aspentech is an oddity among most companies - pricing their devices far cheaper than others of a similar sort, focusing less on excess bells and whistles and more on actual utility, for those who are less fortunate than others. Aspentech's humanitarian approach naturally extends from its origin - a subsidiary of a research lab being run as a way to pay the researchers, inventors, and interns there. And it's all headed by a man driven less by profit and more by a passion for science, the world around him, and the people living in it. A lot of Anomaly Earth writing focuses on this lab, the Aspen Institute.

I will be releasing the Anomaly Earth lore in bits and pieces, so as not to create a single, massive post. Part 2 will focus on the basics of magic and metaphysics, Part 3 will focus on the various species of Anomaly Earth, Part 4 will dive deeper into the Aspen Institute, and Part 5 will focus on the various characters in the Anomaly Earth lore.

[oonajaeadira]

Share it With Me (Thief and Locksmith 6)

Fandom: Casillero del Diablo Wine Commercials. You heard me.

Pairing: The Thief x f!reader (the locksmith)

Rating: T

Warnings: Hard truths. Angst. A monster of flame and rage. Fire and burning, suffocation. Like my usual bullshit, there’s some jumping back and forth in time. Sorry if it’s confusing. 

A/N: This is it, kids, the final chapter. Almost a year to the day I couldn’t help myself and wrote a fic based on...not even a commercial. A teaser for a commercial. And then I wrote something more for these two and then...it became a thing. But a thing where I got to write free-form and make up the story as I went, jumping off details in the tiny source material, letting the characters surprise me. Sorry it took so long to end it. But I’m personally happy I waited. I enjoy this result. 

The number one question I get asked about this series is about their history. And while it’s been ramping up to solving the mystery, it’s that history that takes center stage here.

Note: Pedro Urdemales is a trickster character from South American--predominantly Chilean--folk tales. He’s very much like Coyote or Anansi. The story in this chapter is original and not part of his pantheon.

And, finally, please let me gush over my cover image!!!!! The Thief, among the saints, commissioned from @mjpens​ a million years ago with the promise that I would release it as a teaser for the final chapter. Well eff that. I love it so much that it needed to be a part of the fic, plain and simple. I love him, I love Maia, and I love their work. Please go tell Maia how precious they are in this fandom. I need them to know.

The unintended Thief x Locksmith series is here:

What Do You Want

I Know You Can Do It

Come With Me

Let Me Show You Around

Have Any Interesting Dreams?

The extended commercial is here.

Summary: How they met, how they loved, how they hurt, and how they defeated a demon.

A cough echoed from far off, down a story or two through the main atrium of the library, the archival stacks around you mostly muffling it before it reached you, filtering the sound and light from the vaulted space as if through time itself.

The library had been your home for weeks, the closest you’d been to obtaining your goal, so close you could almost close your greedy little fingers around it. The preceding year had been a ramp up in your research–tracking down a rare book connected to your family–and it brought you here, to the archives of the central library, where you were obtaining knowledge legitimately for once.

Since you took up the quest ten years prior, you’d become adept at distraction, going unnoticed, and found you had something of a talent with puzzles and locks. Not totally surprising with your lineage, but many thought all the magic might have bred out of your bloodline long ago. It showed up in you now and then as an intuition or awareness, a receptiveness that you couldn’t quite always receive clearly, but which you also couldn’t ignore.

Which is why you found yourself annoyed to have his eyes on you once again.

It didn’t matter where you set your workstation for the day, you’d look up and find the same man reading or pulling article boxes off the shelves in the same section that you were occupying. Every time you turned toward him, his face was turning away or dipping below the rim of a book. And every time you looked away, you felt his attention back upon you, awareness circling your mind in waves, like the buzzing and bumping of a lazy fly.

A week of that incessant hovering.

All you knew was that he had brown curly hair. Broad shoulders. Thick hands.

And an obvious interest in you. Or, rather, your work.

It had gone on long enough.

Closing the cover on your sensitive notes, you took a stretch, got up, and sauntered over to the sitting area, plopping down in the leather chair opposite his matching one, and waited.

The periodical lowered slowly to reveal deep, mischievous brown eyes. A prominent nose. A patchy, graying beard and mustache that framed just the shadow of a smirk. 

“You’re looking for the book.” He had the audacity to show no shame at being caught.

“And you’re watching me do it.”

“The pleasure’s all mine.”

This lips curled around a smile without your permission and you took the opportunity to reveal your family name, trusting that he probably already knew it, but the offered confidence would prompt him to do the same. Correct. A two-word exchange across a zipline of locked eyes.

“So are you here to offer to help me, or were you planning on letting me do all the work and then running off with the answers?”

“Who said I was after the book?”

Your eyebrows were the next to defy you. “So you’re here for me?”

“I think I might be.”

From that first day onward he spoke in diversions, making you feel special in order to get what he wanted out of you. And you let him. Because from that first day you understood the magic between you, knew what ran in both ov your family lines, you with your intuition, and he with his cunning.

He was never a difficult puzzle to solve. He’s a thief. Well. He couldn’t steal your heart if you give it to him willingly, now could he?

“Fine. Watch if you want, but the book is mine. When I’m done with it, it’s yours if you want it so badly.” You got up to go back to your research, but there was something that stopped you when he said–

“Let me help you.”

–something that told you that a time would come when this stranger would not be a stranger and a time when he would need you to say the same thing.

“You should have started with that. But with all due respect, sir, I don’t know you.”

“Would you like to?”

A bold question. Surprising. Maybe not as surprising as the fact that you knew the answer in an instant as you turned back to catch a distinctly attractive twinkle in his eye.

Of course you’d like to. But just because he asked didn’t exactly mean that he was offering.

Damn your gut instincts.

You ignored this knowledge.

You smiled. “I’ve been managing just fine on my own so far. But thanks.”

________________

Opening your eyes in the huge four-poster is disorienting. Something has brought you back from sleep.  The light from the fireplace throws long shadows over the faces of the saints and statues and holy artifacts gathered around your bed in the west wing ballroom, shadows that flicker and move, curling Mary’s lip or causing Bartholomew to look askance at you. The further into wakefulness you come, the more you get the feeling you’re not alone here and you scan the collection, waiting to find eyes that are not made of wood or stone, the blue eyes of a demon, or the blackened ones of–

He’s here. That’s why you were dreaming of him. He has to be.

But this one was a pleasant dream. A memory of your first meeting, not the nightmares you usually have when he’s near…

Oh.

Now you remember.

You turn over and lay a hand lightly upon his bare chest, rising and falling in sleep beside you.

His heart beats, but oddly, shallowly, slowly, like an echo from down a never ending corridor. The firelight favors him, glints off the silver in his beard, settles on him like a cat seeking warmth now that he is still and not trying to evade it. His nose and chin cuts into the glow, his lips slightly parted, relaxed, breathing, kiss-swollen. 

Your heart pulls.

As much as you want to curl yourself up into him, waking him would be a tragedy. You assume that he doesn’t have much need for sleep altered as he is now, but the act of rest can still be a pleasure.

And you’ve spent quite a lot of time in his arms already tonight.

Looking past him to the fireplace, you know you should sleep too. You’ll need it for what’s coming.

She would have felt the key in the lock. She would be on her way now.

She is made of fire.

She’s wearing his soul on her finger.

He’s been doing just fine by himself so far, but he’s in need now. It has to be someone else. Someone who cares enough.

Someone he loves.

It has to be you.

Let me help you.

The locket lays heavy between your breasts.

You have to make a plan.

________________

The first time you ever woke up next to him, he was almost smiling, but the happiness that should have been waiting at the threshold of his eyes was somewhere else, tucked away. You wouldn’t know it until later, but he was afraid of hurting you, of having something good and having to give it up. Such is the life of a thief–take what’s valuable and either hide it or liquidate it so you don’t get caught with it. Or so you don’t have to bear the pain of having it stolen from you..

Later you would understand that he couldn’t hide or trade you…he didn’t know what to do with you. Didn’t understand you were a treasure he could keep.

“Have you ever heard of Pedro Urdemales?” He asked, rousing his voice from its sleep.

“No.”

Inhaling deep, he pulled you tighter against himself, fitting your chin into the curve of his shoulder. “He is a trickster character in Chilean folklore. A man who travels alone and can fool anyone to get what he desires. There are tales of him stealing from the devil himself.”

“Mmmm. What could someone possibly want from the devil?”

That curve tightened around your face as he shrugged, allowed you to press your lips into it and he folded his cheek to yours. “Lots of things. Riches. Endless wine. Or unlimited power. Eternal life. Wishes to have anything you wanted. Wouldn’t you take that if you could? What would be worth the risk?”

“The only reason I’d tangle with that guy would be to take back anything the bastard stole from me first.”

He laughed then, softly, adoringly, teasing you. “And what do you have that is worth so much he’d want to steal from you?”

You only had one answer to that. And you didn’t even know if he was really yours. So you picked the closest equivalent. “My heart.”

His laugh was more playful then as he tumbled you over onto your back. “Fragile thing. Is it really so precious?”

“Jeez, fine, you letch!” You squealed as he buried you beneath himself and you struggled to escape the tickle of his nips and kisses. “Forget I said anything!”

But he always remembers what you say. That exchange was no exception.

________________

He had his own home, but he preferred to spend nights at your place, dropping by when it was convenient for him or when he was hiding from a potential client or inquiry. “Your bed is more comfortable, Angel,” was his only answer.

He also preferred to work alone, but once you’d begged to help him with a heist and he found out how your skills complimented his own, he was the one who would come begging. You were an amazing lookout, picked up on minute details, quick thinking and good at causing a distraction. Not a great actor, but able to follow directions. 

And you were amazing with locks, which particularly excited him. Any heist that required you to disable or foil a locking mechanism would guarantee he would be in your bed that evening begging again...albeit for other things.

He may have done well to learn from you, but he was too busy salivating over his prizes. You, on the other hand, took the opportunity to observe and glean from his set of skills.

So once you knew the location of the book, you took off on your own.

You convinced yourself it wasn’t because you didn’t trust him not to take the book and run. You wanted to do the job alone because you had an irrational need to impress him. To see pride in his eyes. To show him you were a worthy partner in all things.

Going off the grid. Tracking patterns. Noticing the details. Points of entry. Cameras and sensors. Signs of dogs that might bark or bite. Everything you’d learned.

In the end, it was easy. The book was being kept at a grand estate that was mostly unoccupied for the season. Getting past the groundskeeper was nothing. Evading the cameras and disabling the security systems was simple. Eyes on the prize, get in, only take the one thing, get out, cover your tracks.

It was a little disappointing in the end, to be honest. Hardly a grand adventure. The most difficult thing had been the years of research and tracking the damn thing down.

But that was before. There were two timelines now. Before the book, and after.

One was more bitter than the other.

________

You’d returned to your place after your solo heist only to find him cozy in an armchair, glass of wine in one hand, a familiar notebook in another. He’d looked up when you came in, but smiled back at the pages. “How long did it take you to create a completely second set of research notes?”

Ah. So you were right not to trust him.

You knew he’d come to your place now and then when you weren’t there. You could just tell by the air in the room, a prickle in the light, could practically feel the fringe of the carpet pushed down just a little further where he’d stepped, a book just a millimeter pushed in from where it usually rested on the bookshelf, things picked up and set down just outside their rightful footprint. 

And he knew that you knew.

It became this quiet game between you–his breaking and entering, you pretending not to notice. At first you thought it was sweet, a test of your intuition, a calling card to tell you he felt at home where you lived…until you started to notice a pattern.

He would pick up one thing and put it down again. Always in a different room. He knew you’d be able to tell and it would draw your focus. Was designed to draw your focus. But you could swear when he’d done this that he’d always also been in other rooms, and his purpose there wouldn’t be so clear. He’d put a hand behind a bookshelf. He’d lifted the bedcover up. He’d pulled the clothes in your closet aside. Just the disturbance of dust or a stray wrinkle or too-neat hanger placement left a trail.

He was looking for something.

Your notes.

Well. He wanted your notes? He would get your notes.

After the first day you’d met him lurking at the library, you’d gone back and coded them. Swapping out place names and dates here and there, randomly putting in whole pages of completely made up facts and figures. Only you knew what it all meant and which parts were authentic.

So you took them out from your usual hiding spot under the packs of frozen veggies in the freezer and tucked them behind the books on your shelves and let him find them.

“What’s the matter?” you smirked. “Didn’t find anything at the Castor estate?”

His smile deepened, seasoned only slightly with the mildest touch of annoyance as he took a sip of his wine and set the glass down. “I thought we might do this together. Clearly you thought otherwise.”

“And yet, you still went looking for the book on your own, didn’t you.” 

You made a quick grab for the notebook, snatching it out of his grasp, only to have him trap your arm in the process, springing like a snake. But instead of fangs, this snake had lips that landed gently on your inner wrist and sly eyes that chastised up at you. “I went looking for you, Angel.”

It was a clumsy maneuver, the way he pulled you down onto his lap. The more delicate dance lay in the footfalls of your trust, how you would follow his lead, but then take it back, your intuition reminding you that love could be blinding. That every time he promised you could both have everything, you could end up with nothing and a broken heart to boot.

“Well, my brave girl,” he breathed into your hair. “Did you find your heart’s desire?”

You sank yourself into him. “I did.”

________________

When your eyes open again, it’s not far from morning. You don’t need to turn to him to know he’s awake too.

“You never trusted me, Angelita.”

“You stole my book.”

“Even before that.”

Clamping your stinging eyes shut, you roll your face into the pillow. You can feel what’s coming, dawning on you as slowly as the literal encroaching sunrise outside the great gray windows, your last dream bringing out in stark hindsight your grandest mistake, all this time later. He’s about to peel your denial from you like a layer of dying skin, slowly, lovingly, painfully.

“If I had asked to see your notes, you would have accused me of trying to steal the book,” he whispers at your back, his breath pulsing against your spine. “I knew you wouldn’t share what you’d learned, so I had to go looking for it. I knew you wouldn’t trust me to come with you, so I thought I would follow you in case anything went wrong.”

“It was easy. Nothing went wrong–”

“And I am more grateful for that than you will ever know.” Warm arms slip around you from behind as bitter tears find their way across your cheek and soak into the pillow. It’s the closest he’s ever come to expressing his love in words, but the joy of it is soured by the pinch that comes with knowing that he’d always loved you, that he never betrayed you as much as circumnavigated your mistrust of him. “Nothing was more important to you than that book. Not even me.”

“That’s not true! The book held the spell, summoning the demon….before you, I was going to make a bargain to regain my family’s abilities. But then after meeting you, I planned to restore the whole tree. We could have had everything together. Everything–” without your consent, denial wraps itself around your heart, squeezing until you can only grind out “--and you took it for yourself!”

“Angel–”

“No!” Sitting up and moving away from him on the bed, you continue to avoid looking over your shoulder at what you assume is a wounded face. Though you should. Should look into those eyes swirling with dark figures and find acidic glee in the fact that his betrayal won him an infestation of the soul. “Years! I gave years of my life to find it and then I was going to share it with you and you? Just? Took it. Like the thief you are!” The hurt is taking hold, coursing through you like hot neon, gripping your throat in a sorrowful ache. “And then you left with her, the book was gone, my chance was gone!”

“Angel–!”

“And then more years! But this time just the opposite, years just trying desperately to let go! Trying to understand that my time had been wasted and I was always going to be the one who let the magic just seep out of my line forever. That I would never be anything but this–” you lose the battle, the frontlines breaking to let the sobs through “--a girl going back and forth from a tiny apartment to a tiny store every day of her life, fixing locks and getting yelled at by bitchy uptown women with more in life than I’d ever have–”

“If it’s riches you wanted, I would have–”

“I don’t fucking want your jewels and paintings, god dammit!” The blasphemy should have all eyes on you, but the statues remain stone in the lightening room, no chastisement, no empathy, no presence whatsoever. An empty room with a heartless man and a woman crying her very wounded heart out into the hands covering her face.

He says nothing for a long while. Perhaps because he still can’t say everything he wants to while the stone containing his soul sits on the finger of a demon. Or perhaps he has nothing to say other than to acknowledge his part in all of this, understanding the hurt you’ve been carrying, letting you grieve. But when he finds his words, they are not what you would expect.

“I’m thankful that I don’t have to sleep often. Because every time I do, I dream of that night when she took me. Every time. For years. But I wouldn’t change it for anything.”

It’s like a swallow of hard spirits, knocking you silent, catching your tears in your throat, mid-whine. The cocktail of resolve and regret in his tone is intoxicating enough to finally face him. “Why not?”

“Because I was able to keep you safe.”

It doesn’t matter now what you say, what you ask him. You know he can’t tell you. 

But you see your own reflection in his swirling, black eyes, and you already know every answer, the flaying of your denial complete. 

He wasn’t the snake. You were.

He had been honest from the very first day.

So you’re here for me?

I might be.

Your obsession with the book–with your plan to use the demon–it was flawed, but there was no way to derail you, you were too driven to prove yourself. He’d taken on the curse himself not only to shield you from it, but to enhance the powers of his family line, to become the world’s greatest thief, to give you everything you could ever want without the danger of dealing with the evil entity. But dark magic has its price and that price is never so straightforward.

Had he spent these last few years in as much torment as you? Wanting to tell you but unable to? Just as unable to stay away, annoying the hell out of you when he shows up here and there, yet leaving you alone for much longer than you can stand. You should hate him more than you do, but you’ve never been able to. Impossible.

Has he been watching over you all this time?

As you hold his gaze and play with the locket on your chest, you know for certain now that there are three enchantments on it.

The slowing of time. The sharing of dreams.

And protection for the wearer.

“Tell me a story,” you whisper.

His fingers reach to find yours, hold them, draw a thumb across your knuckles. “If I can, I will. What do you want to know?”

“Tell me how Pedro Udemales stole from the devil.”

________

After a fight, there was always a moment of quiet. Either you would step away from each other or you would curl farther in. There were never apologies, never words needed said. One of you would always ask for something, and if the other gave it, then it meant all was on the way to being forgiven. Or at least accepted.

The requests were always granted.

Some things never change.

“There are some who say the Devil keeps an elixir of immortality,” he begins as you curl up against his side, “a drink as rich and filling as wine.

“One day Pedro Urdemales was boasting to a friend about his great escapades, his cunning plans and all the treasure he’d stolen. 

“His friend was unimpressed. ‘You’re poor as a bone and skill-less to boot,’ his friend laughed, ‘you couldn’t steal an egg from a blind hen.’ 

“Pedro had an ego on him and tasked his friend with giving him an assignment. ‘Anything you want stolen, I will bring it to you.’ And so his friend said, ‘Bring me the elixir of immortality.’

“So Pedro Urdemales went to the Devil and asked him for the elixir. The Devil laughed. ‘Why would I give that to you?’ ‘I can trade for it,’ said Pedro, ‘I will rid the world of whatever you hate the most.’ The Devil laughed. ‘You could not get rid of all the holy water in the world. It would mean you must rid the world of all its water and all its prayers, for holy water only takes water and words.’

“‘Then I will give you what you want most in this world,’ said Pedro and the Devil said. ‘I want your soul.” Pedro answered, ‘I will give you my soul, but I wish to have it for a few days more. Come find me at the island where the turtles roost in three days time and bring the elixir. I want a fair trade.’ And the Devil agreed.

“It took Pedro two days and two nights to dig a pit on the island where the turtles roost. When the Devil came on the third day, Pedro asked if he might make a prayer to ask for forgiveness before the exchange took place while he still had his soul and God would still listen. The Devil, amused, allowed it. 

“And when he sat down to pray, Pedro Urdemales blessed the waters surrounding the island so that it was surrounded by the blessing, encasing the Devil there. Then he splashed some at the Devil, causing him to drop the elixir and fall blindly into the pit. By the time the Devil crawled out of the hole, Pedro was in his little boat and rowing back to shore, and the Devil was trapped there for some time.

“Pedro took the elixir back to his friend and allowed him to take a drink. They say that man lives still. Pedro himself was too clever to do so, knowing that the reward of a hard life is a long sleep. So after a week and a day, he returned to the island where the turtles roost and the Devil sat pouting and Pedro returned the elixir. Because he hadn’t taken any for himself, the deal was broken.”

“Why didn’t the Devil just kill him then?”

Your thief smiles, gives an illuminated shrug, a halo of firelight around his head and shoulders. “He needed a ride back to land.”

Time is running out, but somehow the urgency has yet to shake you. This is the time when you can feel yourself coming into your own, trust our own ability has taken full root. Your thoughts swirl, working on the puzzle, picking the lock of your circumstances. It’s here, the answer is here, you just need to home in on it. You look around at the statues and relics he’s collected here to keep you safe--to protect you--and finger the locket at your throat that does much the same. “So maybe we need holy water.”

His smile fades. “Doesn’t work on her unless you’ve got a pool full of it to push her into. She may look human, but she’s made of fire. A splash would merely evaporate with a flick of her hand. Seen it happen myself.”

“Really,” you cock an eyebrow, reaching out to lay a fingertip on a disappearing dimple. “Get bold and try to escape?”

“A mistake I didn’t repeat. There’s no worse hangover than having the air sucked out of you.”

There. There it is. This is part of the power that runs through your bloodline…by some supernatural means of attraction, that answer has come flying at you..

“My beautiful thief,” you whisper. “Do you by any chance have an air-tight safe?”

_______

The demon’s abilities are limited while it’s on earth in human form. While she can wield some supernatural powers, she blessedly does not have the ability to travel in an instant, weighted down as she is by the souls she carries, souls that are more bound by this material plane.

All the same, she is on her way.

And you are on yours, nearly running to keep up with your Thief, shoes clicking on the marbled floors and jacket fluttering behind him as he takes long strides on his way back to the main hall. “It’s a strange place for a wine cellar, but she wanted it close by her fireplace so I wouldn’t have the excuse to go far if she wanted me around.”

Back in the demon’s sitting room he moves away from the fireplace toward a gaudy painting and tips a golden statuette on its pedestal revealing a hidden door that swings inward to a hiss of a hermetic seal and the one-two-three illumination of a series of overhead lighting.

Rows of wine racks line the small room, but it is otherwise pristine. Austere.

“It’s air-tight?” you ask.

“As a tomb,” he answers.

“It’ll do.”

It should have been you that night. It should have been you taking on the curse. You deserved this fate, not him, that much is finally obvious. Watching him now, his broad shoulders filling out the floral jacket, much more colorful than he used to wear, though something you might have chosen for him. The pout of his lips when he speaks, teasing even when he’s serious, a spark of sass, just enough to cover any doubt or concern, of which he has in perpetuity. The way he always gives you his focus, watches you, you can see his eyes following the curve of your ear, the corner of your eye, the cannon of your lips–

And you’re watching me do it.

The pleasure’s all mine.

You should have trusted him. Protected him. Shared your dreams with him. Taken your time. 

“...it’s a safety system–it won’t shut on its own, someone has to manually throw the lever.”

You stare past him at the golden statuette, still tipped to a 45 degree angle, a cherub caught mid-fall from heaven. It’s okay, little one, no need to fall any further, I’ll take over and make the hard landing. “Then you’re going to have to be the one to do it.”

“Angel, no. You’re forgetting something–”

“That the air gets pumped out of the room when the door closes? That’s the point. No air, no fire–”

“And no breath for a human girl.”

“I just have to hold out longer than her.”

For the first time since the night of fire that took him from you, the blackness of his eyes recedes just a little, the swirling there recoiling in fear. His fear.

“Angel.” It’s been so long since his voice has been this gentle, you almost forgot what it sounded like without the subtle sub-roar of the demons that infected him. Before tonight you would have said with certainty that his voice has always purred with mischief. But you know that’s only because you let your bitter disappointment color the past. 

But now, now you remember. He used to be like this, just like this. Your charming, gentle thief. 

“Angel, there has to be another way.”

“You brought me here to fight a demon. It was always going to be dangerous. What did you expect?”

“I brought you here to outsmart, to use your skills–” He stops when you reach up to unclasp the necklace.

“If you don’t like my methods, then perhaps you should do this heist on your own.” You both look down sadly at the little locket in your hands, its tiny golden gears sparkling through its crystal housing. “But you can’t…can you. Even if you found a way for her to drop the ring or leave it behind…you’re not allowed to take it yourself.” The tiny golden key attached to the clasp winks in the light from the sitting room fire. It fits so beautifully in the locket, as if it was made for it and not the other way around. “It needs to be freed from her by someone other than you, someone who cares for you, and given to you, handed to you, like you did with Blackwell.” His eyes snap to yours, a chaos of fear, hope, love. “And you put three spells on this locket, didn’t you. Time and dreams…but also protection. What happens if I call on them all at once?”

His hand shoots out to grab your wrist before you dare turn the key. “Don’t.”

You smirk. “All you have to do is tell me the truth and this all ends.”

You can see it in his sad but sly grin. He understands your game, knows he can’t win it. But at least he can play. “My wish was to be the greatest thief so I could just easily take what I wanted. Including your heart.”

“Liar,” you wink and twist out of his grip as you turn the key. “Don’t you dare open that door too early.”

The flames in the fireplace slow from a flicker to a wave before settling into a lava-like crawl. Knowing he doesn’t have the power to stop you with words, he hasn’t even tried, his sad eyes on you, the swirling in them slowed almost to stopping as time bends out of frame.

The slowing of time. That’s one.

The banks of lights in the wine cellar flicker slowly as you make your way down the aisle in front of you, running your fingers over the glossy bottles and linen paper labels as you find your spot at the back of the cellar that’s not in a cellar but behind a painting in the house of a thief.

Here, standing straight and sure, you close your eyes and breathe.

Let’s draw her in a little faster, shall we? Make sure she knows exactly where to go.

Two. The confluence of dreams.

When you open your eyes, what you see is not from this time and place. Once again, you’re looking through his eyes, somewhere in the past. No. Sometime in the past. The where is clear: your apartment. Specifically your living room, where a working altar is set up on your coffee table.

His hands are writing, an ordinary pen on ordinary paper, surrounded by candles, a few other trinkets, a teacup with a thimblefull of blood–his own–and the book. This is the moment before the fire, the preparation of the summoning, the creation of the wish to be granted.

It is in my bloodline–this same blood I offer–to want, to want more, to never see my want slaked. My heart has been under a lock since birth, a greediness that I can’t shake, part of the curse of my family name. I wish to have the skill to take whatever is needed to protect and provide for the one I love, to enhance my powers of thievery only and to keep her pure. 

And to covet nothing in the world but her.

He finishes by writing your name in sigil script, finishing it off with a scribbled circle of warding, then something that must be his own name, although you can’t see what it is, he is signing it unseen, his eyes closed as if he is swallowing down the thought of what he’s about to do.

Once the wish is folded and sealed, his fingers hold the paper to the candle flame, confirming that the fire will indeed consume it before placing the burning contract into the teacup to mingle with his blood offering.

After that comes the scene that you remember. You, coming into the room, accusing him. Him, running to protect you as the fountain of fire shoots out of the book, a pillar of flame among your bookshelves–

–which are strangely shifting, twisting, becoming wine shelves–

–in a cellar full of dark, gleaming bottles–

And now--! Your eyes are truly open and seeing only what you yourself see.

And she is here, before you. A monstrous beauty with sable hair and blood red lips.

Even if you had time to twist the little key again, it may not slow her down as she rushes at you, bright white teeth and scarlet-tipped nails bared, blue eyes glowing dark in fury and the fire churning beneath her skin.

It’s over so fast there’s no time to process the fear that electrifies your veins. There’s only a moment, a split second to shield yourself with your arms, pressed against the wall at the back of the aisle. As you go down, you can see past the demon to your thief in the sitting room, dragging himself off the floor where she had knocked him down, gasping for breath and flailing for hold on the little statuette as the flames reach you and burn burn burn–

It takes a hundred years. A thousand. You can feel the singing of each pore, the burning down of each hair on your body like tiny wicks. The skin bubbles and breaks and bleeds and fuses and the scream that razors through your throat is ragged and raw.

But then, you see the words, written on the backs of eyelids that are no longer there.

to keep her pure nothing in the world but her.

The pain doesn’t matter anymore.

In her rage, the demon has burst into a violent flame, hell-bent on devouring you and everything around you in order to regain the key to her box of souls. It is an enormous output of elemental energy. 

But soon enough her shrieks of rage begin to wither, to sputter out at the end and she whips around in fear, pulling at the shelves, but they only twist and melt, providing her with no fuel–

The air is leaving the room and she shrieks as she shrinks to nothing. She’s burned all the way through the small reserves. 

Good. Good. The job is done and you can sleep. It’s surprising how fast it pulls you under, a dizziness, and then, gone.

________

It’s nighttime in the west ballroom when you awake in the fourposter. The stars are twinkling through the high windows and the fire has gently warmed the room. The sheets are silk and feel cool and smooth against your bare skin–

Your skin. Intact. Unmarred. Pristine. 

A protection, a warding of evil. That makes three.

Reaching up to the locket that kept you safe you find it…gone.

Did it burn in the fire? Did he take it back? Was it only yours until it served his purpose? A piece of you wonders if it ever existed in the first place. And if it wasn’t for the fact that you were in this theological museum of a ballroom you might question if any of it happened. But then. You feel his eyes on you. You scan the faces.

Saint Christoper. Saint Anne. Francis. And, among them, your thief, the firelight making an exhausted saint of him too, throwing his curls into carved relief and highlighting every crease of care and concern.

Of course he’s here.

“She’s gone?”

He nods. Somber. “She is.”

“But the villa’s still here.”

Another nod. “It is. She may be gone, but the contract is still intact.”

“I see.” You’re not sure what this means. Of course you know he needs you to hand the ring back to him, but then? He can be free of this curse and free of you, go find someone who can trust him like he deserves, can love him like he….Perhaps that was a question for another time. “Then you still need me? One last task for my thief.”

A third nod. This one comes with a bittersweet smile. “I need a ride back to land.”

__________

The wine cellar is void black. Not only are the lights gone, but every surface has been charred. All but one.

As your thief follows you into the room with a candelabra, three shadows of you fall upon a fourth; an untouched portion of the wall holds the silhouette of your cowered frame.

The wine racks are all melted horrors of scaffolding, grotesque skeletons of long-lost creatures in the darkness. Candlelight catches on bits of broken glass here and there, melted into little cruel shapes. The smell of burned wine hangs in the air.

On the ground though, are ten perfect rings. Unmarred, each with a huge sparkling stone. Ten souls, baptized in flame. A thought occurs to you as you pick up the one with the deep crimson stone–

“Did you feel it? The fire?”

“Yes.” It’s quiet, almost an apology, as if he knows that it couldn’t have hurt as much as being bodily bathed in it. 

But still. You lift the ring to your lips and kiss it, bestowing all your love into it. Taking his hand, you place the jewel in his palm, curling his fingers over it along with your own. “There now. Back home.” 

He only looks down at your combined hands. A moment that seems to stretch into portraiture for all its stillness.

You’re not sure if you should be the one to break the silence. But it seems he cannot do it himself.

“Are you…okay? Do we need to do something else? Another step?”

Shaking his head, he’s quiet for only a moment longer. “If I put it on my finger, the ring just disappears. I get my soul back. I belong to myself again.” Then he raises his swirling black eyes to yours. “But right now it’s still mine to do what I want with it.”

He sets the candelabra on the ground, freeing up his hand to gently take yours.

And slips the ring on your finger.

“Share it with me.”

The shock takes your voice, leaving nothing but air as you whisper, “What?” But then all that air comes rushing back in a gasp as you look into his eyes.

His brown, chestnut eyes.

“Share it with me. Let’s have some fun for a little while longer.”

Without ownership of the demon, its little minions have left him. His eyes are now filled with…you.

“Share what? The villa? The book? Your soul?”

“Sure. All of it.”

He anticipates your protest, but you do not get to make any of it but a “mmmf” before he silences you with a kiss.

And when he breaks away, one corner of his lips pull into a smirk, and one finger comes out to playfully flick the little crystal heart that has not-so-mysteriously reappeared around your neck. Key included.

The ring sparkles on your finger. On a significant finger of your left hand. “So…you’re just fine with me having dominion over you then.” Holding it up for emphasis, you match his game. “You’re basically mine to command. That’s what you want?”

He nods evenly, but his eyes give away something like contentment. “That’s what I want.”

“Hmmmm.” Unsurprisingly, the mischief rises in you. “So…when the demon had this, did she ever ask you to…you know.”

He gives you an even, truthful stare. “Not once.”

“I see. Aaaaand…what if I did?”

“Give a human ultimate power and they’ll abuse it for the basest gratifications,” he sighs, cupping your jaw in his hands. “You don’t need the ring for that.”

A good many minutes and a good many kisses later, you finally let a realization tear your mouth from his. Keeping your arms locked around his neck, refusing to let him go, you admit, “I still don’t remember your name.”

He shrugs, just as unwilling to unwind from you. “You can call me anything your heart desires. I’ll answer to it.”

“Mmmm.” Your eyes fall on the other rings glittering in the darkness of the ruined cellar. The pull of the key on your neck tells you there are many more in a little porcelain box nearby, a few dozen souls now under your maintenance. “What about these other ones?”

“Should we hunt them down? Return them to their owners?”

You smile. “Is that a scheme Pedro Urdemales might get behind?”

The crinkles at the edges of his eyes deepen, and his beautiful, rich brown eyes gleam with trouble. “Perhaps.”

“Well then, Pedro. Let’s go and steal from the Devil.”

________________

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