#which metaphorically meant that he believed A will have to remain as a hurtful person for their relationship to last

[lobpoints]

some boring lc thoughts in dm with friend ig

Click ALT if you can't read the text

[syruppina]

BALDUR’S GATE - SECRET SANTA 2023

[GIFT #8]

Gifter: @confessionsofasexydilf

Giftee: @ghospar

Fanfic Title: On the Subject of Change

Amongst all the terrifying things stood one above all the rest--change.

Change, that fickle idea--promising riches and ruin, joy and despair, comfort and torture, all in one.

A godsdamned gamble that you're rigged to lose.

To Astarion, change was a familiar tormentor. He'd spent the first few decades of his life in relative stagnation--by all means, he grew, but he grew within the comfortable walls of the Upper City, in his cozy bedroom, surrounded by friends and family. He grew the way that a young elf is meant to grow, leisurely exploring the world and honing his skills. Starting off close to home with a role he played quite well (Astarion was notorious for arguing topics into the ground as a child--it felt only natural that he pursue something in law) was the logical choice, a chance to find his footing and make the city better before running off to spend his remaining centuries exploring Faerun.

But, even by age thirty, even after becoming a respected magistrate, even as a man who felt he had everything--Astarion had never truly experienced change.

His first brush with it more than made up for its earlier absence. There really was no stronger metaphor for change than death.

Overnight, everything Astarion knew was different. He was no longer a magistrate, rather a slave. He was no longer an elf, simply a reanimated corpse. He was no longer 'Astarion,' not really, because the ravenous hunger and consuming bloodlust and unimaginable terror were not things Astarion would have felt. The monster that wore his skin, gnawed with his sharpened teeth at the arteries of sewer rats, used his body to lure innocents to their deaths--that was something else entirely. And as time went on, what was left of Astarion shrunk further and further away into the recesses of his mind, allowing the cynical monster to endure the hellish torment.

For another two centuries, change made itself a stranger. The sparse moments that could be considered change were inconsequential in the end. A new 'sibling' once in a while. Hundreds of faceless servants coming and going. The implementation of some innovative torture.

Over two-hundred and thirty years of Astarion's life passed with only one true instance of change.

Now, within a month, everything he had grown accustomed to had been upended and thrown to the dogs. Here he was, sat playing the hero like he could ever deserve that, burdened with the lives of every godsdamned person in Faerun when all he ever wanted was to exist for himself. And he wasn't even getting something out of it! Even now, with their bloodthirsty drow companion, any little inkling of an idea to actually get power from this entire mess was shot down promptly and soothed with the image of a million adoring people whose lives they'll be saving.

With all that in mind, Astarion really didn't think his response to learning of a ritual that could make him the most powerful vampire to ever exist and get revenge on the bastard who look his life from him was something anybody could judge.

And yet, judge they did. As if any of these ignorant fools could even begin to comprehend the torment he had endured for fucking centuries--longer than most of them have even been alive--or understand how beautiful power is. The power to never fear another man again. Gods, he could have everything. And since his suggestions of controlling the cult weren't even humored, this was his only chance to finally get the life he wanted.

Following Raphael's grand entrance and subsequent exit, Astarion was pelted with queries and concerns and all these helpful little comments by everyone in the group, few of which were even leaning towards supportive.

It hurt, godsdamn it. The people who he was actually starting to believe cared for him crying out for 'the innocent souls'--as if, Astarion had lived with those so-called innocent souls for centuries and knew damn well they deserved what was coming for them--and how 'power corrupts,' and 'blah, blah, blah, Astarion, you villain'! Just more people trying to control every single thing he did, afraid of him having some power for once. Minthara had been supportive, at least. She understood more about what power really meant: safety. And by the Gods, she knew that power required sacrifice, ideally not of your own. But her approval did little to ease the sting of his other companions' words.

Gale's left the worst taste in his mouth. He displayed none of the outward objection the others did, but that little sad look in his eyes pierced him with an unexpected jab. Disappointment, as if the power-hungry wizard was in any position to be disappointed in him. Just because they had some nameless, confusing 'thing' going on didn't mean he had the right to police Astarion.

Just the same as his response to the ritual couldn't be judged, neither could his response to the pushback.

Call it a tantrum, outburst, whatever. Astarion knew damn well that he could've made a much bigger scene than the one he did, seethingly dismissing himself from the little gathering of saints and walking off into the safely lit but distant area beyond the camp proper. A small stream divided the haunting cluster of trees nearly in half, forming somewhat of a clearing in its wake. Astarion had come here to wash his linens early in their exploration of the Shadow-Cursed Lands, and it consequently became his refuge when he just needed to be alone. A large rock rested on the edge of the stream, the perfect height to sit upon and kick through the water.

Astarion removed his shoes with what was perhaps an excessive amount of precision, some subconscious attempt to give himself a bit more control over this daunting situation, and dipped his feet into the stream.

The flowing waters rushing over him still felt quite novel after so long spent barred from it, and while a night sky was far from new, the blanket of stars and the glow of the moon cradled Astarion in a comforting familiarity. How could the others ever understand how much this ritual meant to him when they never lived without the sun, moving water, control of their own bodies? How could they act as if they had any idea what they were asking him to give up?

A stinging feeling prodded at his eyes. He wasn't quite sure who he was holding back the tears for, sat alone here on the riverbank. Nobody was there to indulge in his weakness, exploit his distress, give him something to really cry about. Cazador couldn't find him here. His companions knew better than to try and talk to him after their earlier transgressions. It wasn't impossible for some brainwashed goblin to stumble upon him here, but the chances of that were infinitesimally small.

Astarion was well and truly alone, yet he still maintained a practiced neutrality on his face and bit nails into his palm to get out some of the pent-up emotions. All of this, every moment of his disastrous life, was spent performing for some audience, sometimes real and sometimes imagined. That's what his naive companions just didn't understand--power would mean that Astarion never had to put on a show for anybody ever again. He would be above that, exist so high up in the aether that nobody could hurt him. Gods, he didn't want power to be the second coming of Cazador, he didn't need a congregation of lunatic devotees and unwilling spawn, he just wanted to be free.

The sound of footsteps cut off all Astarion's internal musings, replaced with wonderment of whoever the hells had the audacity to talk to him now.

It wasn't necessarily surprising that Gale was the one to clear his throat.

"I wanted to talk."

"Oh, lovely," Astarion replied, words dripping with bitterness. "What about, the weather? The night is ever so clear, after all."

A tired sigh.

Gale approached, gesturing to the empty space beside Astarion with a tilted head. "May I?"

"You will regardless of what I say, so-" his hand waved flippantly "-be my guest."

The self-righteous wizard sat heavily on the rock, leaving a small but pointed gap between the two of them. Astarion was tempted to tell him to fuck right off and leave him to sulk, but frankly? He was too interested in finding out what this man thought he could say to make anything better.

"When everything is said and done, this is your decision, Astarion."

"Really?! Gods, thank you so much for the reminder," he interjected while Gale took a breath, frustration saturating his sarcastic tone, and fixed his eyes on a leaf beating against a stone below him. "For a moment there, everyone's helpful little insights made me forget."

A silence fell over them, perhaps granting Gale a moment to figure out if he could speak without being cut off again. When he did, his words were proceeded by another sigh.

"It takes a lot of strength to face a decision like this, what with the stakes being so high," Gale continued, adopting that tone of voice he always used when telling his little stories. The thought of having to sit through some fable sourced from Gale's youth made Astarion dig his nails even deeper into his palm. "It isn't easy. I've been in this position before, and I understand-"

Astarion saw red. He shot up from the rock, turning to Gale with an incredulous look in his eyes. "You understand?!" He yelled, hopefully not loud enough for anyone at camp to hear, but that was the least of his concerns. "Perfect, o great 'Gale of Waterdeep,' then that makes everything so much damn easier! Gods- you don't understand fucking anything. You've never felt the hunger, you've never been forced to flay yourself for some sick bastard's amusement, you've never had to seduce innocent godsdamned people so you could lead them to their deaths, you've never had to live without the sun! You can't even begin to comprehend the horrors I've endured, and, fuck!

"You're lecturing me? You had a goddess in the palm of your hand and still wanted more! I know you were preparing some eloquent little speech about how you sought for power and now you have some world-destroying bomb in your chest and need to die for fucking whatever, as if that's even close to what I'm facing here."

Astarion stopped talking for a moment to take a dearly needed breath, but the pause allowed all those pent up feelings to break through.

"I have spent centuries suffering beyond belief and all freedom would cost me is seven measly lives," he spoke softer then, fighting through emerging tears. His voice broke as he continued. "Do I not deserve that?"

Gale sat before him with an unreadable look in those brown eyes. He felt awkward then, standing in front of the composed man with a heaving chest and red streaks running down his even redder face, and shifted his weight.

"You do," he replied after a few moments of reverent consideration, a solemn look overtaking his features and seeping into his voice. "And you're right--I don't understand. Honestly, I… Well, I doubt I ever will."

He trailed off at the end of his statement, a silent invitation for Astarion to speak that was met only by attempts to steady his breathing.

"What I do know is that power oft comes with pain in tandem. That isn't to say you should drop the matter entirely and never spare it a second glance, but just be cautious. These pacts are rarely without their share of strings, and who knows how much Raphael divulged to you."

Gale looked at Astarion with furrowed brows, face awash with unsettlingly sincere concern. "I don't want to see you get your hopes up only to have them swept out from under you, nor to see you set aside all other alternatives in favor of this one."

"What 'other alternatives' even are there?" Astarion posited, caught off guard by his own raspy voice. "Go back to slinking around the dark, feeding on rats?"

"That will not be your life again," he stated plainly with all the conviction of a man who had already seen it all play out. Astarion was prepared to meet such naive hope with cynicism, but something about the way Gale was holding himself, the look in his determined eyes as they met waterlogged red eyes in turn… it wasn't hope nor speculation, not for the wizard. And, Gods, should Astarion have expected anything but?

He well and truly hadn't, and that was when it hit him.

The cogs turning in Gale's brilliant mind were nearly audible, and Astarion recognized what all those little mannerisms represented: a plan. And far be it from Gale to concoct a plan without delicate care, but this was different. Gale's eyes seemed to rush across the pages of every book he'd studied, his ears flooding with every lecture he'd attended, his brain processing every moment of his life prior to now with the sole intent of gathering any sliver of information that would help him on his new mission.

Tears prodded at Astarion's eyes once more, but for a markedly different reason. Gale shook off a bit of that distant, analytical gaze and continued speaking as Astarion sat beside the man. Phrases about illusion magic and protective spells and amulets and this and that, but none of it truly registered.

He cared. Gods, Gale actually fucking cared about what kind of life Astarion would have to lead when all of this was said and done. And, sure! This could be a marvelous deception to be revealed once Gale abandons Astarion the moment their little parasites are taken care of and he is no longer of use. Or, of course, Gale still may be reduced to only a memory at Mystra's behest and thus incapable of doing anything whether he wanted to or not. To the hells with it all, he could deal with those hiccups if they came.

Hesitantly, undead heart nearly beating out of his chest, Astarion rested his head on Gale's shoulder, an act that felt leagues more intimate than any of the times they'd had sex. The arm that wrapped around his waist with hesitation to match pacified the roaring fear of rejection housed within his mind, Gale's speech adopting a new kind of tenderness as he kept describing the possibilities. Astarion still struggled to tune in and tried anchoring himself on the sound of Gale's voice and the steady beat of his heart, and those words gradually took form.

"-ther scholars have astronomically vast collections that make up for the gaps in mine, so it will be a non-issue to obtain the necessary literature, and then we-"

"Thank you," Astarion cut him off once more with a hushed comment.

"-can easily start getting into- oh!" Gale stumbled over his words as he processed that Astarion had spoken, his mouth and mind alike clearly in a realm of their own and simply visiting the same plane as the rest of them. "I- no thanks needed. Really."

Endless possibilities flitted across Astarion's mind like embers from a gluttonous inferno. Amongst the possibilities were all the little things he wanted to whisper and yell at the same time, yet his lips stayed shut despite it all. Truly, what was there to say when every word carried so much meaning?

'You're an idiot for committing yourself to this.'

'Why weren't you there when I godsdamned needed you?'

 'Please don't waste your time on me when you can have so much.'

'I'm not some pet-project, and I certainly don't need your help.'

'Fuck, I love you.*'

But they remained unvoiced, making homes in the recesses of Astarion's psyche to hibernate until they could escape into the world. Silence had fallen over the both of them, but he couldn't tell if Gale's was the fault of the wizard's own contemplation or Astarion's interruption. Frankly, enough new information had been shoveled onto Astarion to last him a lifetime in this day alone, and he doubted more explanation from Gale would be any good with his tired mind. But this? Sitting next to Gale, the gap between them now a distant memory; the warmth of life and new beginnings and foolish, beautiful hope--the feeling that gods, maybe things won't always be so miserable--wrapped like a soft blanket around him; the quiet trickle of water and fluttering of leaves--it felt like a salve on the open wound that was his heart.

Nothing was guaranteed. It was a miracle whenever they survived an encounter, and things were only growing more and more dangerous as they trekked on. Gale was a painfully ambitious man who very well may just forget about Astarion as soon as they part. Gods, the ritual wasn't even off the table!

But in spite of all that, nearly in defiance of it, Astarion relaxed against Gale and shut his tired eyes. His eyes were kept shut even through a bit of wiggling on Gale's part that concluded in a gentle kiss amongst his snowy hair, and for the first time in a long while, he didn't flinch.

Perhaps not all change was so bad.

[charalysis]

Interesting take!

And I can definitely see how he is like Odin in the, "I'm gonna do what I want" category, and in using magic to remain at a safe distance.

I think, however, Modi is a bit of a personality mirror. I believe he's looked at what's praised about those he's meant to look up to and tried to emulate them. Yes, Odin insults Modi and Magni when at Kratos's home, but he's so... Blasé and casual about it. It's done in a way that's meant to be viewed as an irrefutable fact.

Modi, on the other hand, insults and taunts more like his Uncle Baldur and Uncle Heimdall.

Baldur was actually another of Odin's favorites due to his hatred of Freya and willingness to do anything to be freed from his curse. Baldur was another person Modi would have to look to for how to be to please Odin most.

Heimdall was exceptionally loyal to the point of blindness to Odin. Modi doesn't seem to share this loyalty to Odin necessarily, but it's not unfair to assume he tried to at least once to be like Heimdall.

Heimdall and Baldur both insult and taunt to hurt, to get a reaction, to goad. They're cocky and itching to either fight (Baldur) or make someone look stupid (Heimdall). It's not unreasonable to suggest Modi learned his taunting and insults from them, though probably mostly Baldur.

I don't know if I could see Modi using a spear, at least not if Odin had been alive, as spears are Tyr's motif and we all know what Odin thought of Tyr. That said, I don't think it's unreasonable to see him using a spear and shield, as it's a reasonably good offensive and defensive combo. Which would be helpful if Modi had more discipline and structure to his fighting style, rather than the erratic throw shit everywhere style he does have.

The weapons we see him with in game are short range and defensive weapons. It's also very likely meant to show the kind of person he is, which it very much does in my opinion. He won't face his problems head on and he tends to hide behind a literal shield, and behind a barrage of lightning. The metaphorical shield here being his false bravado and stabbing insults and taunts.

Unfortunately, as stated by Kratos in the new DLC for Ragnarok, Modi and Magni were almost destined to fail, whether they died or not. Beaten and abused by their parents, Modi presumably being abused worse as he was the least favored child. They were both pawns to Odin, presumably abused verbally by the likes of Heimdall and others on Asgard, and they were sent alone and unprepared against a foe they did not understand by Baldur.

Had Thor himself and his son's survived, I believe it possible that, with some guidance from Kratos and possibly Tyr, Modi could have grown as a person and developed his own style and fully his own personality. Likely even becoming a better person overall and, dare I say it, friendly to others.

One thing that will always irk me, however, is the way Modi spoke of Atreus. Asking Magni if he could "keep him", and trying to kidnap Atreus from Kratos and force him to be his little brother. I think Magni had severe control issues due to so much of his life being wrangled by his father and Odin and uncles. And Thrúd, while he was apparently close to her, was off limits to control and mess with, from what we can tell. So, like Magni likely controlled or even abused him, he wanted a smaller person to control. Someone he could feel empowered over, as he likely felt like he had no control himself.

And circling back to your point of him becoming like Odin, at least in the control context, that could be something he admires about Odin greatly. The power and authority Odin so easily holds is genuinely awe inspiring. Having no control in his life, Modi could easily want the sort of authority his grandfather has.

If Modi had more control in any factor of his life, I could absolutely see him losing fear of Thor. I could see him being able to stand up to him and perhaps even challenge his father physically.

Now... Back to Odin. The idea Modi could become Odin's right hand in essence is assuming Odin has one to begin with. Odin doesn't have one, and he frankly has a very low opinion of everyone, not just Thor and his boys. Even Heimdall and Baldur were objects and tools to him, not sons. Odin uses everyone around him for his own ends. He doesn't trust anyone, not even Atreus. And Atreus was the closest to gaining a position like right hand man. I think even if Modi gained confidence in himself and grew his own power, even if Odin respected him more, he could still very well end up tossed aside as easily as all his other family.

But it's still interesting to think on, certainly!

Final note: I wonder more so if Modi's true nature is actually nothing like Odin or Thor. It's possible he's actually not really cut out to fight or rule or anything like that. What if his own giant nature was much stronger than anyone thought and he's actually like Atreus? Soft and gentle, compassionate and protective. What if his real personality shined as a child, but Thor worried such softness would get the boy killed, especially by Odin? What if Modi just... Isn't like anyone around him, but he has to suck up every ounce of what Odin approves of just to have a chance of being noticed or surviving?

Anyway lol, I thoroughly enjoy reading your thoughts on Modi! I can tell you're very passionate about his character and it's super fun to see! ✨🩵

Modi's potential

Hey @charalysis. I wanna read your thoughts on a perspective for Modi I had while writing my fic.

I previously said that Modi was trying to be like his father and yet failed, right?

Well, who is he actually like?

Think about it. Modi tried to be like his father in battle. Rushing into battle without thinking, not wearing armor and dressing like his father, and having a mace that mimicks Mjolnir. But he couldn't mimic his father's lack of caution or concern for his safety. He got a mace that can shoot lightning from a distance. He got a shield. He has a blinding technique with his brother. Modi is a man of caution like his grandfather. He likes using magic more than physical attacks. He likes to defend himself and hinder his enemy before finishing them off.

When Thor comes to Kratos's house, he is polite. He asks permission. He brings a gift. He sets his weapon down. He doesn't talk lowly to Kratos or insult him. Modi is not like that. Odin is not like that.

Odin barges into the house, struts around like he owns the place, insults Thor and his children drinks from both cups and just flaunts his power. Modi threatens Mimir, makes fun of Atreus and angers him, and insults Faye and Kratos. Modi is a talker. A flaunter like his grandfather.

Modi is like Odin in many ways. He is Half-giant and probably exhibited signs of giant magic before Thor beat it out of him. He is stuck between trying to be like Thor and being his nature which is similar to Odin. I think if Modi turned out to be alive and started embracing his nature. He would use a Spear/Shield combo. The spear is a dangerous, long distance melee weapon and it can double as a magical staff, and the shield to protect him. I think he would start embracing his giant magic as well and learn many spells like Odin.

If Modi was alive, and stopped trying to be like Thor, he might have become like Odin. Even became his right hand when he was alive. I say he would no longer be afraid of his father and seek revenge against him. You might say he'd be traumatised, but he has spent his entire life in fear of his father that the near-death beating he gave him was basically a breaking point.

What do you think?

*Writes new ideas and notes for my fic*

[prongsandhisfoot]

haha no need for an apology. it’s always interesting to see differing peter opinions (esp since i’m not attached to him so discourse can actually be fun) so in that vein, i hope it’s okay i pitch in?

ur definitely right that his betrayal still means something for all those reasons—the potters dying, harry becoming an orphan, sirius going to azkaban—but i’d argue that it became as personal as it did because he was a friend. after all, it was war time, people they knew were dying left, right, centre. violence was everywhere. they knew it could come for them anytime. that it came from one of their own, it had to have hit deeper no?

i guess the reason i feel like peter was One Of Them (beyond personal hcs) is 1. the potters trusting him with their safety in the middle of a war 2. peter being an animagus, knowing & protecting remus’ secret 3. the ‘died for us, as we would have done for you’ line from sirius.

i know there’s parts there that indicate exactly the opposite, the potshots sirius takes at peter’s intelligence + skill + general disposition in the shack but i’d always seen it as more hurting him where it hurts (with the benefit of hindsight) rather than always believing it. the way you’re aware of your friends’ faults but you don’t bring it up unless you wanna hurt them, if that makes sense? (i guess also the ambiguity around peter’s actions make this whole thing more tricky—why did he turn? when did he turn? what was the pipeline like?)

all of that being said, i definitely do agree with you that in that moment it was about james & lily & harry for sirius. when i said ‘the betrayal meant something’ i was talking more of in a larger sense of peter’s actions, not specifically sirius’ pov. some random guy betraying the potters is yeah, fine, whatever, wartime. but their own friend stabbing them in the back is what makes it a true tragedy (kind of like how sirius’ perceived betrayal hit harry particularly hard after the three broomsticks scene because he was his dad’s best friend & best man) but that’s just my opinion!! i’d love to hear ur thoughts :”)

first thank you so much for being ok with my post and second thank you so so much for answering! i love having conversations about this stuff more than anything and it's so rare for the conversation to be two people disagreeing but being considerate since usually this type of stuff ends up for me either just an argument or very one-sided so this is really fresh!

i love love love your last paragraph and i think that's what resonates with me best and kind of makes me see this in a different way. i always viewed the "the betrayal matters since peter was their friend" comment as a very in-plotline/character thing and didn't stop to consider it in the more metaphorical sense, which is always an important interpretation too.

and i'm not saying that to vaguely agree--i love talking about the marauders/their storyline in a metaphorical way. like i may have said before how i see james and lily as the golden age in a metaphorical sense--married, had a kid, the epitome of happiness, head boy and head girl and head of the world; but then they die and whoops there's a war and hey their parents were dead and their son is an orphan. they represent what never was; what harry longed to have but couldn't have (partly why the epilogue is so important). they're the idyllic until they aren't, and their story is riddled with flaws and holes since most importantly it fell apart.

that was off topic but your words got me thinking about the betrayal in the metaphorical/big picture sense rather than the "what were the exact feelings of the remaining marauders" sense and also like...of harry, too. firstly i very much agree--the idea of the tragedy, the betrayal as a whole of the friend who then wasn't. imo it's still about how he wasn't their friend in the first place--on the large interps, poa is when the books start to deviate from black and white and begin the theme of what-you-think-isn't-always-what-it-is (bad wording but you get the idea!) which is huge with the marauders (bully james, werewolf remus, not-murderer sirius, death eater peter) since the first impression ends up being the wrong one but they all stay consistently complex. (james goes from 100% good to bully to complicated but good. remus goes from perfect professor to werewolf to an occasional asshole that's a bit edgy--aka complicated but good. sirius goes from murderer to godfather to responsible to irresponsible to elf hater to dead...definitely complicated but good. peter goes from good and dead to alive and pathetic to evil to pathetic to evil to complicated but dead and bad. snape goes from evil to evil to evil to complicated to what the fuck.) and i believe the peter plotline follows that things-aren't-what-they-seem theme through that his goodness wasn't actually good and that his friendship wasn't actually friendship. big-picture wise.

but--in terms of harry. definitely definitely definitely. actually in terms of all of this -- the wording of "some random guy betraying the potters is yeah, fine, whatever, wartime" is what i'm thinking of right now--how the word friend is important in all of this; no matter what, it's extremely important that peter had a connection with james and with harry, and that it was his friend is definitely what hit hard. especially since sirius and remus and peter all use their connection/friendship with james to get at harry, so that they're important is important. but imo there's the parallel between harry believing peter was his dad's friend -> harry learning peter betrayed his dad (aka was definitely not a very good friend at the very least 💀) to james believing peter was his friend --> james learning peter wasn't his friend...well, not that he learned peter wasn't his friend, but that he died, sadly.

and to clarify, i 100% agree with the sentiment of peter shouldn't be "left out of the marauders" in fics (well you can do that if you want, no need to follow canon, just that it isn't canon) and that they 1) all believed he was a part of the marauders and their friend (including peter, up until the whole joining-the-death-eaters thing) and 2) included him as much as remus was included. and 10000% agree that peter being left out would make the betrayal hurt less--fully agree that a lot of it was about their closeness; i simply believe it to be a perceived closeness.

the way you’re aware of your friends’ faults but you don’t bring it up unless you wanna hurt them, if that makes sense?

irrelevant but slay lily 😍

i guess the reason i feel like peter was One Of Them (beyond personal hcs) is 1. the potters trusting him with their safety in the middle of a war 2. peter being an animagus, knowing & protecting remus’ secret 3. the ‘died for us, as we would have done for you’ line from sirius.

ok i'm gonna be a bit annoying (as if this isn't already help) and just kinda...answer those points? but first i want to clarify i'm part of the marauders-weren't-real squad (i really need to make that post don't i) so that probably results in a large disjunction here since my stance of peter not being "one of them" includes that there is no "them" in the first place but that's a somewhat separate thing

i think that's a super important point of the sort of trust given since trust is a major thing here. again with the parallels (whoops) james trusted peter just as harry trusted peter (ish) and remus (the more prominent poa parallel) and didn't trust sirius. same with harry trusting dumbledore until he didn't, and not trusting snape until he did, and the list goes on and on. and i don't want to invalidate anything and 100% agree the potters trusted peter and that's super important! but imo that shows the "fake" side rather than the truth ig? like the other potter-parallels in poa are of james and lily not trusting dumbledore (and then dying) and sirius not trusting sirius (and then them dying) and there's a lot of. Here's One Side. hahahaha that's wrong you're dead. so i do very much believe the potters believed in that sort of idyllic marauder concept, including with peter as a friend, just that it was wrong and peter was already disillusioned by then.

the animagus stuff is interesting because even then peter is portrayed as behind sirius and james, not on their level, needing help, etc. he's still separated even then, and regulated to level of opening-the-tree-trunk compared to the actual task of holding remus back. and looking at it symbolically, him being a rat even as a 15 yr old is consistent with his portrayal in swm--that he always kinda sucked (not in the terrorism way in the gross-teenager way), and always wasn't a real one of the gang in a sense. but also, yes, there is a definite bond between them and there was a secret kept between the four so you're entirely right there!

this is way too long so i won't go off here but imo all the marauders are very often hypocritical (a parallel to the things-aren't-as-they-seem theme!) and sirius is no exception and well...this line has nothing really to back it on sirius's end given he and none of the rest of them show any willingness of the sort at any time period so imo the sort of symbolism of that line is more 1) the contrast between the other marauders and peter and 2) the fumbling of what's right and what's wrong

i am so so sorry for this long af post but genuinely thank you!!

[lightcreators]

Alright, now, he was uncomfortable for good. If this conversation would have happened meanwhile he was walking innocently inside the wizarding world minding his own business, of course, he would have been immedietly surprised, nevertheless, would have been more inclined to call it an strange coincidence. How weird it's was to been remember he was meant to be fearful. How strange it would have been to suddently feeling that sense of discomfort over himself --- though answers had been told already. He was Fear himself. Something who wasn't enough inside current circumstances. Something who wasn't yet acknowledged by the rest of the chessboard, neither truly his Game Master position. Something in which he didn't acted on enough --- for remaining that gentle sweetheart. Nevertheless, he wanted becoming something else. Nevertheless, he wanted embrace that concept of Terror --- in which he was personally emotionally experencing inside every degree of emotions his body and his mind could react, though staying controlled --- and finally being able to ressurecting an metaphoric twin along the physical world … However, how that last sentence was told, no, it wasn't an coincidence. Besides circumstances making it hardly believable. He just finished talk with PHILIP BUTLER. He just finished couple of seconds priror to being remember about how much he had been sacrificing for achieve that right moment, that instant,that sudden checkpoint --- How he was supposed to believe an leprechaun was just innocent inside Butler's game ? He might not been directly aware of it --- or partially --- but he let their current conversation happening … even the name of that man was even known by him … considering his cousin knew about the guy and hence had been the way to reconnecting with him ! He should have been flattered, but how he expressed his fear wasn't yet enough, he was embarrassed. No wonder if one day he would question himself why his beloved supporters were dangerous ! Strange question at the moment when he met the actual fucking physical UNDERGROUND. ❝ Aren't I scary enough already ? ❞ Appareances game became very delicate, as honestly became more and more to been expressed and confessed inside his lips. Philip Butler knew he had been an complete incompetent on the domain before. No, never, he wanted to hurt someone inside his previous life --- though he almost killed Phantomhive for fun but everyone imperfect ! --- No, never, inside his previous life, he hadn't been feeling ready to handle the underground in the shadows for what he remembered, though regardless Butler's gentle means to show his annoyance, he might improved enough … but not to the point to impress him as Alois Trancy did. Sorry sir, being understanding and not acting as a complete dick was part of his behavior, no, he wasn't going to act with indifference ! On his life, he did expressed warnings, right ? On his life, he exposed his silent dangerouness ? Wasn't all that enough ? Wasn't all that scary in first place ?

Last question created an complete betrayal inside his features though he appreciated the teasing. In some manner, he already understood --- but truly, mentally, didn't wanted to remember every the slight of implication it was currently meant. Did he had been searching during all that life and the previous to actually find again his actual TWIN ? Not some kind of accidental painful joke pulled on his face to being an imposter having to pulling an truth out of circumstances for feeling good with himself ? Did actual higher beings ACTUALLY fucked up in an high level his life path had been dramatically changed ? Does that mean he was searching to high level with another concept as he was ONE already ? Does that mean, someone like him, since he cannot find a good word for describe him anymore, was forced to becoming a literal WITCH for being allowed to exist ? Besides, why circumstances were how they were ? Why he can't remember more than an previous life ? How long he had been trapped inside such circumstances ? How many lifes he had living ? How many times he had been attached to an disatrous human life before 'high' himself ? Did Hades already knew during his previous life ? Did the God of the Underground had really had been honest over his protective possessiness over Alois Trancy for that reason ? Did he was connected to the God of the Underground more than he thought he actually was ? ❝ Your implication … as much I'm curious …. would bring various questions about myself … ❞ He opened expressed. Butler had played with the emotionality card because he known him. He knew his only manner to get him to embrace that miracle was to motivated him, triggering all these hidden emotions, forcing him to never give up … If that leprechaun was right … Alois Trancy was an recognized England's terror. Whatever the Dark Lord was doing was attempting to share an position he couldn't have and would never have, and, as a higher being, considered he had the fucking right to destroy him … Ah, also, he would to make sure the Dark Lord didn't know he had Fear/Terror along his side, in which he would bring good use to corrupt for release whatever in the world … Of course, internally, Alois Trancy being England's terror was his position on the chessboard. He had been deprived of his physical presence --- since living around inside higher spheres … since his ressurection as a witch … --- BECAUSE OF THAT ACTUAL POINT. Alois Trancy would destroy England. Alois Trancy would be the perfect example of destructive little brat so much he was hateful. Hence, he was the sole person that could resurrecting him from another perspective …

❝ Are you speaking about Philip Butler ? He bet on something about my possibility I agree to give you that coin for being interested by an offer I can't hardly refuse ? ❞ He mused playfully. Over the reminder, it was all Philip Butler all over again. It was an test concerning his will. It was an test concerning his actual determination to get what he desired done. How he was supposed to refuse ? How he was supposed to turn down something about himself, where he didn't wanted staying an piece left in darkness ? Philip Butler wanted such result coming from him. Philip Butler didn't wanted to being disappointed. He was committed. Compared to an demon's deal in which he would remain suspicious of, he would accept, even coming straightaway of the u(U)nderground an agreement with witches spheres. He would accept to believe miracle of ressurection was actually possible. He would believe he would gain finally results of everything he left down inside the Muggle world for touching that higher spheres in which he could find once more his metaphoric twin. Knowing there was another person ready to see such results … His smile becoming hesitating. Destroying the wizarding world from outside will came if that world left him down. Otherwise, as as symbol he didn't need Lelouch vi Britannia anymore, he would made revolution himself. He wouldn't need outside help for managing to pull change inside his own chessboard … ❝ It's funny, Philip Butler asked me the same question … and of course, with everything I had been sacrificing for reaching my actual place, check all checkpoints with patience, do you really think I will refuse ? Though --- I am wondering, how many actually know ? How many people actually know apparently I'm Fear itself and seemed polite to hide that from me ? ❞ Hatred's immediate consequence would came at soon he accepted to remove the magic inside that coin … where honestly, how he will react was beyond what he could anticipate. He needed first to gain information casually. Weight how consequential it will be for himself and the rest of the wizarding world …. He was feeling horribly annoyed with the Dark Lord presence and was searching his best for hide it, what to do if he lose it ? What to do if his level of hatred was worse from his current one ?

"Trust me lad, you'll be right scary with the right push." Murtogg retorted, crossing his arm and arching a brow. He probably looked like a mess, luckily it wasn't dark yet. He was still very much a leprechaun and hadn't been changed by the setting sun ( or liquor for that matter ). He knew all about changes and fear. Though his was more mischievous in nature. He recalled something that connected his species to fear itself, but he couldn't confirm nor deny it. He just had a feeling he worked in some capacity with fear and the young Malfoy was fear itself. Maybe he felt he was responsible for bringing fear back?

Then there was the Death Eaters, that had little interest to him ( however he did what he could to protect those he cared about from them ). Not many dared cross a leprechaun anyways, the outcome could be disastrous if so. Would someone be stupid enough to test luck itself? An agent of luck and mischief? They'd have to be draft fools to do so. Malfoy's cousin on the other hand was -- different. She wasn't of the wizard kind and Murtogg knew it. Hell only a handful knew it ( even if Professor Burke was unaware ).

"Aye, but y'got t'admit. Aren't you a wee bit curious about yerself?" he warned in a teasing tone. A glint of mischief nature shinning throug in his emerald hues, he was about say something about the Dark Lord and stopped. Yes he was blessed with all the luck magic in the known wizarding world, but he wasn't stupid. Everything he did, he planned it. He planned it all out with the help of Malfoy's cousin and a few other ( Butler to name one ). "Not going t'say you'd give a certain someone a run for his money if y'only let me have that coin yer cousin gave ya. Though, I'm doubtin' yer willing to accept yer own fate." he snorted.

There was another long pause as the young Malfoy questioned if the leprechaun was actually ready to pay the consequences of releasing fear and terror. What consequences could Murtogg possibly face? He could think of none. "Am I ready? Lad, I was born ready. I was made t'release havoc on the world. Question is .. are you ready t'fill that role?"

[mingying]

[spoilers] hospital playlist s2 ep 11; ikjun/songhwa

I can’t believe this finally happened. And it happened in arguably the best ways possible for us IkSong shippers. As usual, this post is just basically my own thoughts and opinion of the episode and my interpretation of things - feel free to disagree, and I hope you enjoy reading this musing of mine!

22 years later, finally they found each other again <3

TL;DR: Everything happens for a reason and we have finally reached the rainbow end <3

Let’s begin by addressing the ER scene, but before that, I would like to point out that since Ep 10, Songhwa has been shown to be somewhat forgetful and a klutz - in Ep 10, she was searching for her socks and insisted that she wore them for her rounds. She also seemed to have forgotten to take off her surgical cap until Seonbin pointed it out to her.

In Ep 11, the episode starts off with Songhwa leaving her handbag in Ikjun’s office, and subsequently her handphone, followed by her handbag in the car again. This is not a dementia arc, guys (haha) but I genuinely think that this is her mind being occupied by her newly realised feelings for Ikjun that her normally composed self had started to crumble (and that’s entirely ok!). Another interpretation of this scene could be that unintentionally and subconsciously, she just wanted to remain in the hospital knowing Ikjun may return to collect his gift later.

Can I also point out her sixth sense in this scene? When she peered out of her window and heard the sound of ambulance, followed immediately by Dr Bong calling, she looked disturbed. Normally, she would have answered her calls immediately without hesitation but this time you could tell that she frowned and waited for maybe 2 seconds before answering Dr Bong. Well, never messed with a woman’s intuition I guess!

The ER Scene. Gosh. I actually have a lot of things to say about this. I know some people do not like this trope and that it is a typical trigger for characters to realise their feelings. But, I’d have to say that ShinLee did not intend for this scene to be a trigger of Songhwa realising that she likes Ikjun.

Because she already knows and had realised, somewhere around Ep 8-9 but more obviously 9, that she does like him as a man (all over again). If anything, this ER scene was meant to give Songhwa that one last push to confess, otherwise she may end up regretting not to. Another reason why I felt this scene was necessary was that Songhwa has been too comfortable in Ikjun’s constant presence by her side -- perhaps she has been wanting to confess but still lack the courage to and she didn’t think she needed to act on it rightaway because Ikjun would always be there by her side.

Gosh, the way she rushed to Ikjun and didn’t even hear Dr Bong trying to report to her that he actually wasn’t in such a terrible state. The way she slipped her hand in his and was so gentle in her questions - you can really just tell that she was trying her best not to crumble.

(side note: Jeon Mido, your acting was truly stellar during this scene. That suppressed professionalism vs personal feelings. I really felt her worry and regret in this entire scene. I loved it so much)

Now, why do I firmly believe that Songhwa already intends to confess to Ikjun eventually? Other than the fact that Songhwa herself confirmed during her confession that “I should have told you that I liked you”, it’s because of the Gift that she has given him for his birthday. It’s a cap, and initially we don’t think much of it until the flashback sequence showed and we realised that, a cap was what 99z Songhwa wanted to give to Ikjun but never did because he had turned her down for dinner and lied that he has a blind date.

Present day Songhwa gifting Ikjun a cap can be interpreted as her having let go of the hurt he had caused her in the past and that she was willing to try, again.

Interestingly, I’d like to also point out that the 99z flashback in this episode was truly necessary for us to understand Songhwa’s aversion to ‘Sad Sea’ and why she has rejected Ikjun in the first episode. 99z Songhwa didn’t give up when Ikjun stood her up for her birthday but mustered the courage to confess to him - she tried twice too, asking if he really has to go on that blind date that evening and couldn’t he go another time? Ikjun, in that scene, was playing Sad Sea. 

I would like to apologise to Ep 7 Songhwa because I had been frustrated with her then, but now that everything has been rolled out beautifully, I do not blame her at all for her hesitancy and year long passiveness. Ikjun kinda deserved it after breaking her heart twice (HA!) and remember this shot of Ikjun in Ep 7? 

I now interpret this scene as him realising that he knew Songhwa’s reasons of rejecting him. Because there was no way he didn’t know that Songhwa had liked him in the 99z, and he was perhaps regretting turning her down for dinner that day during his birthday. He knew he had a chance with her then but blew it, and that is perhaps why he never faltered in making Songhwa happy now. Not that he expects anything in return, but perhaps he wanted to make up for the indirect hurt he had caused her.

Bab Meokja had been something initiated by Songhwa back then. And now, it is a treat he gives himself -- I really do think that is the reason why he keeps asking Songhwa out for meals in the present time, because Ikjun probably wanted to indrectly make up for what happened in 99z.

Let’s move on to another great scene! The card game scene!

For some, it may seem to be a random scene but for me, I saw it in a different way and I’m glad Kfans and some users on Twitter pointed out this theory as well. 

As you all know, the card game IkSong was playing was “Bluff/Cheat”. Here, you could see that Ikjun could read Songhwa so well that he knows when she would lie. But Songhwa on the other hand, could not read Ikjun as well -- and this is further affirmed by Songhwa’s confession when she said “If your feelings for me haven’t changed,”. This is beautiful because it makes Ikjun’s expression during the confession scene even more sense -- a user on reddit pointed out that his expression at that time wasn’t more of a “omg she likes me after all”, it was more of a “she has realised her feelings for me,” and I think that’s absolutely beautiful. He even nodded subtlely a few times as Songhwa struggled to get her confession out, as if encouraging her and saying “you can do it, just a bit more”. 

Back to the card game - Ikjun even threw down a 9 Hearts - which I believe is a metaphor of his feelings for her, steady and still unwavering. 

(Bonus note: I absolutely love how Iksun caught on to them being lovey dovey at once and Junwan’s expression catching them was HILARIOUS)

On to my next scene which was absolute favourite.

Songhwa had finished a difficult/challenging surgery, and out of excitement (she even skipped omg whipped girlie), she called Ikjun first to convey the good news to him. Her tone here really depicts a difference in how she talks to Ikjun before. This scene alone tells you that Songhwa has pretty much fallen for Ikjun again and I love love love that finally she has someone she would want to immediately call to share her good news with! 

And the best part? Our best boy Lee Ikjun never went to Changwon. Instead, he waited for her for probably hours (it was bright day when they said goodbye, but night when Songhwa returned to her office) and even told her straight that he has to see her before he leaves because of how worried she had been before. Good lord find me a man like Ikjun please? 

image cr: iksongarchives @ twitter

This entire shot, with I Knew I Love playing in the background pretty much hits. It is in this exact moment that Songhwa has probably made up her mind to confess for real, that she wasn’t going to waste another second because I am sooo sure she would have ran to hug him if not because of their status at that moment. I love this scene so much. It is the personification of the lyrics of I Knew I Love, which goes “I called you out of habit today and you answered warmly, you make me the happiest in the whole wide world, I love you so much”.

And finally. 

Finally.

*takes a deep breath*

SONGHWA CONFESSED!!!!!!!!

AND THEY KISSED!!!! UNDER THE RAIN!!! 

The whole directing of this scene, with the slow camera panning into them - Ikjun was restless, probably breaking into cold sweats (he commented it was cold) while Songhwa was nervous and trying to muster enough courage to confess (she commented it was really hot). I held my breath for so long I felt like I was about to faint I swear to god.

Songhwa looked legit terrified that Ikjun was going to reject her man, and it all makes sense why after we got the 99z flashback this episode. 

And Ikjun, he really waited for her cues. Even after she was done confessing, he looked at her and waited for her to look at him back before he went “I’ll give you my answer”. And it was only after Songhwa nodded in fear and anticipation, that he swooped in to kiss her!!!!!

Songhwa definitely also leaned in first before Ikjun pulled her closer. She wanted this just as much as he did and it showed through their first kiss. Gosh I’m still shaking just thinking about how perfect that entire sequence and kiss was. They really went all out for it (yes I believe there was tongue involved) rather than soft and gentle. 22 years of suppressed yearning and feelings really popped out in that kiss alone and I am so blessed to have been a part of their beautiful journey.

And now, with only one episode left, we are finally able to see IkSong as a couple and on dates. I have a feeling Songhwa would be the clingy gf man, judging from the Preview keke. I cannot wait to see the rest of the boys finding out, and for sure, I cannot wait to see how their dynamics would change now as lovers rather than just best friends. I do think their transition would be seamless, only that now, they get to do what other lovers could.

This post is so long but I felt the need to address another matter that I have seen roaming around the internet. Apparently, some people are annoyed that Songhwa was ‘forced to change her mind’ and that we cannot accept her ‘No’ in ep 1. I would humbly and respectfully disagree on this point. Songhwa’s ‘No’ in ep 1 was not a “I don’t like you therefore I am rejecting you”. It was more of a “I do not know how to sort out my feelings yet, and am not ready to revisit the past, so it is best not to tamper with it”. 

Songhwa did not change her mind overnight or weeks. It took her one year and a few months. She has had all that time to weighs her decisions again and properly thought out how she wanted to bring forward her relationship with Ikjun. She was not forced.

She may have said that she liked being single in S1, but she has never been averse to love. In fact, she is always encouraging other people to go for it. I for one, am single and absolutely enjoying it. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to ever change my mind if I find someone worthy enough to share my space and happiness with. I like being single now because guys around me are idiots and I’d rather save myself that headache LOL.

Her conscious decision to accept Ikjun now does not and will never invalidate her decision to reject him back then - in fact, it goes to show that as human beings, we constantly undergo character growth and our minds are often changed to suit the present circumstances. 

ShinLee did not portray Songhwa in that light where ‘women needs to say yes if a guy treats her right’. Ikjun did all of those things for her without expecting anything in return. He never once crossed the line and never once forced Songhwa into accepting his love for her. Songhwa said yes because she likes Ikjun and is now ready to move their relationship to that of romantic. It is as simple as that.

And one last point to make is that Songhwa being in a relationship does not in any way invalidate that she is a strong and independent woman. Please do not associate the relationship status of a woman to her being ‘strong/independent’. A woman in a relationship and a woman not being a relationship are still BOTH strong AND independent. Love is a universal element in life, why deprive a person of it simply because she’s portrayed to be a “strong” female character? If that love brings her greater joy and ardent happiness, why stop her from enriching her life further?

Anyway. I digress. 

If you made it until the end of this ridiculously long post, thank you. I hope it was an enjoyable read! Till Ep 12!

[captcas]

Too Many Minutes

Rolling onto her side, she grabs her phone out of habit. There’s a spark of hope settled deep in her chest before she opens it to a screen empty of notifications beyond a few spam emails. Why would he greet her with his usual good morning? It’s not going to be a good morning… she hasn’t had a good morning in three weeks.

Three weeks, four days, and twelve hours. read on ao3

If it weren’t for the pounding in her head and uncomfortably dry tears on her cheeks, Emma would’ve thought this was all just a bad dream.

“It’s not the fact that you’re scared, Emma… I– you know I understand being scared. It��s that– it’s just so easy for you to– you’d rather give into that fear than fight it together. I thought we were stronger than that.”

She hates when he calls her Emma.

Rolling onto her side, she grabs her phone out of habit. There’s a spark of hope settled deep in her chest before she opens it to a screen empty of notifications beyond a few spam emails. Why would he greet her with his usual good morning? It’s not going to be a good morning… she hasn’t had a good morning in three weeks.

Three weeks, four days, and twelve hours.

Her body shifts into the autopilot she’s relied on since he walked out the door. She starts crying again, this time the tears collecting at her feet with the hot water from her shower. Logically, she knows she can’t see the individual tears, but as they go down the drain with the rest of the water she can’t help but feel it’s a metaphor.

A really shitty metaphor.

This is her new routine, wake up, check her phone, cry in the shower, head to work, and spend every waking moment reliving that night until she falls back asleep from utter exhaustion. Her friends don’t even know they broke up– if they did Emma surely would have more than spam emails to delete each morning. Killian must be leaving that up to her; she broke it, it’s only fair she has to pick up the pieces.

Sometimes the anger sets in. He promised he wouldn’t walk out, he said he’d be there, he promised it was them against the world— maybe doubting a promise is the easiest way to break it.

Emma walks into the kitchen to grab some coffee before heading into the center– their center. When she started at the Boston Youth Community Center, she didn’t intend to fall in love with the cheeky, handsome outdoor rec coordinator. She also didn’t intend on them working together so well that, when Marco retired, they were an obvious fit for co-directors.

That seemed like a good idea at the time.

He took the first week off, but then moved offices without so much as a word to her. He’s now on the main floor with the kids instead of the office level next to her. Killian swore to the board it was to be more involved but Emma knows it was the furthest away he could get from her without quitting.

Killian isn’t a quitter.

Emma apparently is.

Unlocking her office door, his absence is felt just as much as the empty space in her bed. The office is littered with their memories, work and otherwise. She hasn't been able to bring herself to take down the picture frames– the action feeling too finite. It’d be the next step in making all of this real. At best, she’s been able to put one face down for a few hours before she misses his artificial presence and sets it upright again.

The picture next to her computer is of the day he proposed. Just them on the couch watching The Office when (in his words) the need to propose just came over him– he’d had the ring for months. Emma’s never agreed to something so quick– any and all hesitation completely trumped by overwhelming joy at being chosen by someone forever.

Now, it’s four months later and the stress of wedding planning and the reality of what forever actually means all bombarded her one day and she snapped.

Three weeks, four days, and fourteen hours ago.

She wonders to herself if Killian already packed all these memories away. He moved offices, and she supposes it’d be weird for him to put their photos back up…

Emma jumps at a knock on her door and quickly composes herself before rushing to answer it, “Sorry, yes, coming!” She wipes a stray tear from her cheek and turns the handle. She didn’t expect to find him standing there, “Killian?”

He looks just as awful as she does– and that’s saying something because handsome is an understatement when it comes to Killian. While Emma expected that to be comforting, it only makes her feel worse. They’ve always fed off one another, their codependency one of the few that even Mary Margaret, a trained psychiatrist, called healthy. Neither of them grew up with anyone they could depend on, not long enough to form any sort of healthy connection– not until each other.

“May I come in, please?” His voice startles her. After being alone with only the memory of it, she realizes it’s much more beautiful in person. She knew she missed it, but she didn’t realize how much.

Killian raises an eyebrow, something playful she didn’t expect, before walking into the office without the permission he asked for. He beelines for the photo on her desk, the one that caused her tears only moments before. He pauses for a moment before turning towards her, “You still have them up.”

The shocked tone of his voice feels like a dagger to her chest, the fact he thought she’d be able to move past them so quickly. “Uh, yeah. I–”

She’s not good with words so she leaves it at that. There are so many things she wants to say, apologies and explanations and confessions of love. For three weeks, four days, fourteen hours, and nine minutes she’s been rehearsing everything she should have said but the minute she’s presented with the opportunity she freezes.

Emma watches as he traces his thumb over the picture of them before she glances towards his eyes. He’s been crying, maybe not this minute but she knows that hint of red at the corner of his eye– the anniversary of Liam’s death hitting him harder each year that passes. At 34 this year, he officially turned a year older than his brother and there’s something about that fact which made everything monumentally harder and caused that flash of red to remain there for weeks. She swore to herself she’d never cause him that kind of pain.

More empty promises.

He glances over at her and Emma realizes she has no concept for how long they’ve been standing there or at what point she started to cry. A soft gasp escapes him when she bats a tear away with her left hand, “You’re still wearing your ring.”

He doesn’t question it, just states it like a fact he can’t believe.

“Because, more than anything, I’m still yours.” Emma isn’t sure where it came from, eloquent confessions of feelings and emotions typically reserved for Killian. She stumbles on the follow up, “If you— could you still want me… I mean–”

He stands there taking her in for what feels like an eternity. The regret and guilt Emma’s built up in her chest for three weeks threatening to escape through her tear ducts if she has to wait for his answer much longer.

She doesn’t.

Before she can turn away, he’s wrapping her in a deep kiss. A weight lifts and it feels like every light in the world turns on the moment they connect once more. Emma knows this isn’t a fix all, that after the initial high of being together again, there’s going to be long talks, and tearful battles, but if the last three weeks, four days, fourteen hours, and who the hell knows how many minutes have taught her anything, it’s that any life with Killian is better than even a day without him. They break from the kiss and Killian leaves another on her forehead. His hand absentmindedly finds hers and begins to play with the intricate diamond band on her finger.

“Killian, I–” He kisses her again, stopping her apology. She closes her eyes, willing the tears of relief to stay put as she leans into his prosthetic when he brushes some fallen hair from her face. As she feels his body shift in front of her, she opens her eyes to find him looking straight back at her.

“I know, Swan. Me too. But not here, alright? We’ll have plenty of time to talk, so for now I’d like to enjoy holding my fiance for the first time in three weeks.”

She loves when he calls her Swan.

Killian pulls her in for a tight hug and Emma’s auto-calculator seems to speak for her, “Three weeks, ten days, fourteen hours and–”

“And too many minutes, love.” He laughs as he finishes her sentence and Emma chokes out a giggle through her tears. She feels foolish for ever doubting that when Killian promised forever that he hadn’t thought of the implications– that he was anything like the people who left scars on her through her entire life.

They end up getting married the next day, a private celebration meant solely for them. It was Emma’s idea, her way of proving to Killian that she wasn’t going to run again. At first he was wary, big rash decisions not typically in his wheelhouse, but when she put on the wedding dress she’d picked out with Mary Margaret months before he’d even proposed, she saw a sort of understanding shift into his gaze. This is something they’ve both wanted for longer than they’ve been letting on— both too scared to make the move, to risk getting hurt again. Killian makes an appointment at the courthouse and they pay the extra $12 for a random witness from the courthouse staff. Afterwards, they met their friends at the bar like they do every Friday evening.

It only took one hour and thirty-three minutes for Mary Margaret to notice the ring on Killian’s right hand and another twelve minutes for her to convince them they needed to throw a big celebration.

Emma breathes a sigh of relief that night when she hears Killian’s soft breathing beside her for the second time in– well, too long. There’s such a fine line between want and need. For both of them, it just took a harsh reminder that when you realize want and need are one in the same, you better fight for it.

[papers4me]

Fruits Basket Manga Review (ch 90-91)

Since I discussed the first few pages of ch-90 that contains kyo & tohru in my previous preview, this one will only be kyoko’s story.

Kyoko’s story brilliantly explores the effects of unhealthy domestic environment on children without the use of the zodiac curse as a metaphor for abuse. My first-reaction of kyoko’s story is the following:

I really enjoyed how kyoko’s descend into darkness was explored & how the psychologically-informed writing of her behavior was depicted.

I was troubled by how Katsuya was presented as the magical solution to all her problems. Kyoko was saved by romantic love in a more basic writing than machi. Both girls just needed a guy to listen to them vent abt their family issues once & tada~ they’re in love.

Kyoko’s story made me realize that Arisa is just a more modern & healthier kyoko.. The only difference is that Kureno didn’t save Arisa. She herself changed gradually due to kyoko & tohru’s influence.

1) Kyoko’s descend into Darkness:

Kyokyo told kyo that she was already “out of control delinquent before she got to middle school”, “ fell into the wrong crowd”, “ enjoyed beating innocent ppl”. subtly citing the influence of “delinquent peers” & the innate desire be noticed at home. I’m bad, notice me! love me, listen to me!

There are some elements in her story that faintly reminds me of yuki & strongly reminds me of kyo:

Kyoko’s parents gave her a treatment similar to “ yuki’s parents”: cold, neglect & devoid of love. Her dad, similar to kyo’s dad, felt ashamed & disgraced by her.

Kyoko similarly to kyo was angry, full of self-loath & self-destruction. However, kyo was never violent like she was. I believe kyo’d have turned like her if he didn’t have Kazuma to discipline him with love, care & attention. Hence, we saw kyo carry on a code of “ not beating girls, or ppl who aren’t hurting them, or don’t know martial arts”, like Arisa or the student council guy whop loves yuki.

Kyoko’s mom similarly of kyo’s mom talked abt the dad venting his anger on her after being pissed off with kyoko. So, a hint of domestic violence between husband & wife.

Kyoko described herself as “ made of shattered glass”. Tohru once said both kyo & yuki are very sensitive. yuki blocks the world behind the prince mask & kyo puts on the annoyed attitude to push ppl away from hurting him.

Society thinks that “delinquent/bad ppl” are always happy with what they’ve become. Satisfied with their destructive choices. When in most of the times... they’re as bewildered & confused as the community around them..

I really don’t blame the teachers for being defensive. Teachers aren’t supposed to be “life-coaches” or “saviors of students”. That’s sth the educators with their research gush abt & what society demands & what families wish for. The fixer-teacher!!!! Teachers are ppl teaching a subject, doing a specific job, underpaid & overworked most of the times, also, they come from various backgrounds, beliefs, & sometimes even if they meant good & wanted to “ save” a student, they aren’t equipped with the suitable psychological training. Yeah, there are ppl for that in schools, but so many students with lots of issues. Also, let’s be real, we love kyoko cuz she’s the “epic mother of tohru, we grew on her teachings thro out 3 seasons” but if you meet a loud, delinquent, gangster head, violent chair throwing student who rarely comes anyway, would you wanna deal with them?

2- Katsuya “ the magical savior”:

so, why did teacher katsuya helped a screaming delinquent? cuz he IS interested in kyoko. He said so. He approached her, talked & tried to help cuz he intended to “never let her go since he saw her honesty” ~ romantic? maybe to some.. I find it weird & creepy. him eyeing her & getting interested & approaching her & earning her trust. It is true that he has no intention of hurting her or forcing her & he DID save her in more ways than one. But why is this all wrapped in romance. He DID flirt with her intentionally many times from the moment he saw her until then.

If Im being honest, had he not be her teacher (trainee or not), & had she not be very veeeeery young! I’d be enjoying his flirting so much. He’s so smooth, playful & cool (not looking head over heels in love) which is normally such a fun dynamics. She was so head over heels, tho. Finally found someone who noticed her tiny efforts “ drawing eyebrows”, someone who listened & someone who didn’t forced her to do her “duties”. She tells him (her teacher) that she is ditching classes & he’s okay with that~ not lecturing, not urging. why? cuz He only wants HER. she comes to see him in the lunch break everyday. school? classes? that’s her choice~ not his business~ In a way, Katsuya is intentionally made not morally correct. Why? cuz a good moral adult wouldn’t be in love with a middle schooler & would care for her future as an independent person from him. He must be written with intentional desire to NOT care for morals or right or the likes. Yes, he later helps her to study & graduate but ONLY when that is HER choice & she made it ONLY to catch up with him. To cleanse herself & be “ like the other girls” . Kyoko deemed katsuya “ good person” &  herself “ bad person”. That’s why she was motivated to be good to catch up with him since she can NO LONGER see him everyday in lunch break. He fixed that. How? teach her in the weekends & provide better chances to flirt since he’s no longer a teacher & she’s his student. The issue is not teacher-student love... it is adult-kid love!! but hey~ they’re cute (they’re written to be, so they are) so it’s cool ( it isn’t at all..eww).. oh the dilemma that is Takaya-san’s love for weird big age gaps where one is an underage teenager...

Furuba’s has this big theme of “ love doesn’t heal or save”. yuki took tohru’s love & grew up by himself. Kyo’s love for tohru didn’t save tohru, she was scared to be in love & forget her mom. Tohru made the decision to be free from her past, herself.  Tohru’s love to kyo made his trauma 10 times more complicated & he acted based on his love for her & decided to leave her. It wasnt until he decided to face his trauma, past & bio dad by himself, that he accepted tohru’s love. Only two characters were totally saved by love:

Machi: has the excuse of being solely created to be yuki’s reward for acknowledging platonic love for tohru & everything abt her is rushed & made as a lighter copy of all yuki’s issues to quickly create shared grounds for them to connect. Machi needed to vent her issues to yuki once & all her issues were never brought back to the service again. She was happier, calmer & healed.

I expected more for kyoko. She IS a bigger character than half of the zodiacs! but she just needed katsuya to listen to her & she was in love & her issues solved.

I don’t deny that it IS true that sometimes all we need is someone to listen to us. Tohru herself said so & even yuki said it to kyo. But Even if someone listen to us & we love them, the issues that troubled us dont magically disappear until we face them or do sth abt them aided by those who love us. Kyo’s issues remained even with his love until he faced them, tohru’s too!

Katsuya:

had off-screen issues with expressing himself. He said that he loved kyoko cuz she was “honest abt her ugly feelings” while he pretended to “humor & please his dad”. He gave a wonderful speech to her parents abt the expectations of parents on their kids & the refusal of their “human weakness” again furuba’s main vision. Unfortunately, this was followed with confessing, marriage proposal & kissing her on the lips all while the whole issue is abt kids/ parents exceptions of middle schooler/ neglect & his own acknowledgement that she’s minor while he was “in love”.

Like the author wants to tie kyoko’s issues & katsuya’s issues so bad & present him as her ONLY chance for normal life. Kyoko was just repenting & understanding that her actions got consequences which is an epic moment! but romance triumphant & saved the day~ yay~! marriage!

The story would’ve been better romantically if it was given time for kyoko to “ grow up” just like katsuya himself said when they were at the beach. He said “ grow up, middle school is not the world”. He continued meeting her but never confessed & never crossed the line despite the flirting. But he KNEW what he was doing “ i never planned to let you go since I saw you”. He was cementing his place as the ONLY one in her world.

Had kyoko grew up, saw the real world, kept taps with katsuya, he helped her broaden her world, then they’ll marry without needing her dad to sign papers, then that would be a better love story than this.

Side Notes:

The writer didn’t shy away from confessing that pairing Katsuya & kyoko is problematic & stated it in canon (kyoko called katsuya “pedo”). She did the same with Arisa & kureno (Arisa thought the age gap is big & hana questioned if kureno is a married man). However, making the story acknowledge that as an issues doesn’t make it less uncomfortable, but at least, I respect when writers do what they plan to do regardless of fans. even if I dont agree with the writer. It’s way better than when writer becoming fans toy/ fans pleaser.

Still, couldn’t the author state that kyoko was held back few years in jmiddle school & failed & repeated school years? like make her i duno 17 or sth... this would at least lessen the big age gap... but no~~~ kyoko is what? 14? ... -_-’.

You bet this won’t change a bit in the upcoming anime spinoff abt kyoko. Just this year an anime abt an adult man & his high school love interest that he pursued stubbornly was highly popular & my real life friends were gushing abt “ him finally winning her/ being respectful & only kissing her lips once or sth/waiting for her to “catch up” with him”/ consent age differ in X & Y countries..I’m not dictating my beliefs on anybody or any country or saying my way of thinking is the just way. I’m saying, Personally, I think, there are better romantic stories than adults & kids couples.. The fact that this trope of (adults & kids romance) is still popular even today is sad~~

I dont mind HUGE age gaps as long as BOTH characters are adults. If any of them makes a crime, they’ll be held responsible by the law. & sometimes the younger adult is the one dominating the relationship. but “kids or teenagers” can’t. They’re easily groomed & manipulated, so it bothers me when a love story between an adult & a kid is portrayed as  “equal”. it isn’t.

I’m not judging whoever loves such trope in “ fiction”. it IS fiction, & as long as you don't pursue a real kid/teenager in real life, you can like whatever in fiction. moving on~

kyoko’s delinquent life is well-written & if done right, would send a powerful message of being able to start over. But the romantic love aspect will steal the spotlight by (a) directing uncomfortable hate/disgust towards the story & hence all the discussions will abt the “pedo” aspect. (which is fair). (b) Perceived as so lovable romance since katsuya is the prince who to saved the neglected princess which is a trope that has stood thro time garnering lots of support & attention always, so all the discussion would be abt their “cute romance”. (which is fair since the author weaved elements that endeared their romance, such as: cute nicknames “miss no-eyebrows”, him giving her space, home & respect, saving her from the streets & poverty & having the most endearing tohru”. So, yeah, the romance will be the center of attention regardless.

I like katsuya’s character type in fiction generally: the flirty, mischievous & a bit cool guy who is so aware he’s wrong most times & plays his cards smart to not get caught red-handed. He’s a cooler version of shigure. It’s just the blatant fact that he’s been planning to “get” a middle schooler from the first glance & that she is wayyyy young for this, that is bothering me so so much~~ T_T.

I wont expect the anime to change their age gap cuz it is the essence of their story that she’s a lost kid with no protection against the world & he’s the savior providing everything at once!~ Remember kyoko went on to be the savior of an entire clan tho tohru~ So in a way, katsuya saved the sohmas by saving kyoko....

“ i’m like a stray cat that he looked after instead of chasing away”. kyoko with katsuya is like kyo with kazuma! >_<!. When kyo met tohru, he wasn’t a stray cat, most of how he dealt with her was cuz he already knew her & was tormented by remembering kyoko’s death & feeling guilty towards tohru’s constant pain. That’s why when kyo started falling in love with tohru, he unconsciously stopped pushing her away little by little & just wanted to be with her until akito said “ i’ll hurt her” that’s when he totally gave up.

the way katsiya appeared in the right moment to save kyoko from her dad~ oh the drama. XD

Hospital Discharge & chase. like mom like daughter~ but thank God the kids got a more balanced love story.

Comparing kyoko/katsuya to Arisa/kureno in the broad writing of their romance without diving into details: (a) I hate the age gap in both but at least Arisa is older & nothing happened until she graduates & become an official adult. (b) Kyoko/katsuya are more fleshed out & if you forget the age gap,m their dynamic is so cute & endearing. (c) the love at first glance, never meeting afterwards yet still sickly in love to the extinct of screaming made Arisa/kureno shallower. (d) now that I saw teenage kyoko, Arisa is really just her clone! I hate that this steals from Arisa’s uniqueness. (e) both couples ate ramen in their first meeting/first unofficial date signalling their blooming love.

I’ve said this more than once, but I was the high-schooler that fancied adult independent men growing up, I never pursued anyone tho cuz I understood it was a crush even tho I’m pretty sure my “ *_*” face was clear to one or two, but I’m definitely lucky none of them tried to woo me or influence me. Now that I’m a grown woman, I think back & laugh at my self. I fancied them cuz they were independent & mature compared to the silly high school boys, which is what those men are supposed to be (adults) & what those boys are supposed to be (living their young age). lol. Still, I wish I found someone somehow to be my life’s partner since then, it would’ve made my life less lonely~ T_T.

[lettrespromises]

#LettresPromises informs you : You have one notification. ──➤ 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐕𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐋!

─➤ Ushijima Wakatoshi sent you a letter, would you like to read it? #CC of the letter directed to : @babythotshq​.

──➤ #𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : angst, song letter. ─➤ #𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 : “When I Was Your Man” by Bruno Mars. ➤ #𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : slight injury.

❝𝐒𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐰, 𝐎𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐨 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞.❞

His orbs never left once the wilted color of the ceiling, nor did he dare to blink, surely because his subconscious had already made him prisoner jailed in his own thoughts. What did he fear by blinking? Did he fear to wake up in trance from this nightmare? Did he fear being left breathless by the umpteenth realization that you were, indeed, not laying next to him? Ushijima Wakatoshi was laying on his bed. His orbs never left once the wilted color of the ceiling. His arms were spread open (but oddly respected the limit of where your body would usually occupy), like a martyr begging for forgiveness and mercy to the higher beings. But his salute never came, his prayers fell in the deaf ears of vacuity. Ushijima Wakatoshi was laying on his bed. And found himself unable to move. And upon lacing his shoe laces to head out and commit to his morning run, despite being three hours late, he threw a last glance at your shared bedroom, which had become singular with time. He felt his own legs attract him to the edge of the bed, like an old habit poisoning his rational thinking and arbitrary, but was rendered weak and let himself be invaded by the toxins secreted by his own body. It was only when his shinbones hit the wooden surface of the bed that he snapped out of his reverie, and realized that the bed was empty. And realized that there was no forehead left to be kissed this morning, again.  He stepped back from the bed, his steps were cautious and testified of the fear slowly embedding his actions, now the toxins were spreading onto his bones and muscles, it was no longer a burden on his mind, it had metamorphosed into a metaphorical chain wrapped around his muscles which forbid him from enjoying the liberty of his movements. A shaken step caused his to stumble backwards, knocking the radio throning on the shelf behind him. And when Ushijima’s eardrums were expecting a loud bang, to which he did not even shut his lids in anticipation, he was met with a song. Your song. The shock of the radio against the floor had caused the sudden musical eruption of a song which often throned amongst Ushijima’s happiest memories. Now, upon hearing it, he could barely discern what the words meant. It all sounded like a blur, or rather, as if the musical keys had changed. He even wonder if the singer hadn’t released a new version of the song with new lyrics. Ushijima Wakatoshi didn’t go on his usual morning run on this day, he gave in to the assault of emotions and the whimpers of nostalgia hidden between two words sung by the singer, the pain found comfort in the melody of the song.  ❝𝐌𝐦, 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠, 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐝𝐮𝐦𝐛 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝.❞ Each volleyball season ended with a gala organized by the Volleyball Club Association, it was the perfect occasion to give back to charities and at the same time celebrate the victories of this season. Ushijima had the habit of growing oddly quiet whenever this season would arrive, the nerves of knowing whether or not he had been voted as the best performing winged spiker were rendering unable of forming any word. 

And like every year, you were accompanying him. 

You found yourself to be cherished under the flashes of the photographers, exposing in front of the public eye a relationship which was burning with the fire of a Phoenix. Only, to the private eye, you had doubt regarding the renaissance of your idyl. Your love was burning, indeed, burning amongst the unforgiving inferno of a romance which had turnt into a mere illusion. 

Being at a public event, it was common for Wakatoshi to answer the journalists’ question, and being someone quite reserved himself, the preying eyes of the interviewers often gravitated about his private life— who is he dating? Is he single? Does he have someone on his mind? 

A journalist gathered enough courage to approach him, and you thought it was your time to affirm yourself— as the galas went by, you and Wakatoshi grew and grew closer, and this year was your first time as his official romantic date. A grin had already bloomed amongst your facial features in anticipations to his answers regarding his private life. 

“Ushijima-san, thank you for allowing us to ask you several questions. Now, everyone knows you as this relentless warrior on the court, but do you also happen to have the same success on the court as in your private life?” The journalist asked, a gleam of hope shone in the irises of her eyes.

Ushijima hesitated for a short instant which seemed like an eternity, the metaphorical gears in his head were working with difficulty, and the words connected to one another without ever forming a complete sentence, or at least, one which reflected his thoughts. “No, there is no one in my life except volleyball. And I believe it will always remain this way.” He announced to the journalist in response, despite your obvious presence next to him. 

And as the words were drowning in your eardrums, you felt yourself gradually disappear under the haunting sensation of being forgotten. His hold on your hand also seemed to be gradually becoming numb, as if you had truly obtained all the characteristics of a ghost after his reply. After he stated that you meant nothing to him, and will never mean anything.

“Y/N, I’m pleased to see you are happy to be here, should we continue, my love?” His question provoked the rise of a cacophony of miserable whimpers inside your head, not only did Ushijima failed to see you for who you were, but he also failed to perceive your most vivid emotions. ❝𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞.❞ You were sitting on the edge of the bed, the back of your calves rocking softly against the wooden surface, your skin had already adopted a spectrum of reddish and purplish tones from all the bruises caused by this constant rocking of your legs against the edge of the bed, you were bruised from waiting for him, you were bruised from loving him. 

“Y/N? I ignored you were waiting for me, you should have gone to sleep instead.” Did this tone remind you of your lover’s? Or did it remind you of yet another lecture given by a parental figure?  “I tried, trust me I tried, Wakatoshi. But I can’t sleep without you anymore... You’re, you’re always abroad and I can never catch you. It’s like I’m dating someone who only exists through phone calls and texts... It’s like all this time I’ve been dating a ghost.” Your lower lip began to tremble under the heavy weight of the words pouring from your mouth, “I don’t even know if I want you anymore or not. I can’t tell if your presence is hurting me or not, I don’t know who you are anymore to me.” The last words died on your tongue in a shameful whisper, your orbs solely focused on the ground. 

Wakatoshi’s hand reached for your shoulder, like a metaphorical saving hand trying to save your from drowning in your most horrible nightmare but as your fingertips were about to touch his and be saved from the misery hovering above you like a sword of Damocles, a sudden sob ripped apart this moment of solace and you felt all alone again, shut away from the world, an exiled soul in a loveless abyss.

Ushijima knew you couldn’t find deliverance in his presence anymore, he knew that in your eyes, he had become a poison you needed to find an antidote for. Each second spent with him felt like pure agony, and he felt eaten alive by his own guilty for having fallen asleep to the sounds of your rocking sobs like the most miserable lullaby. 

❝𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐧.❞

The absence, the ignorance.

Two cruel elements which, once associated to one another, signed the end of your relationship with Ushijima Wakatoshi. You had left him a letter with your most beautiful calligraphy, soon ruined by the uneven spheres caused by your tears. You even left him a bouquet of flowers, an attention he used to pour a lot of importance in at the beginning of your relationship when it was still blooming. Now your relationship was wilted, colorless, and already falling apart. And just like that, a petal had fallen on the wooden surface of your kitchen counter. His kitchen counter.

Ushijima tried to make up for your absence by concentrating the burning hole in his chest left by your absence by unleashing his frustration in his spikes. At first, he was applauded by his coach, and his performances were worthy of his peers’ praises.

But the same spikes infused with frustration were now infused with a rare kind of genuine hatred when you sent him a text saying you had found someone else, someone who had more time too, but the last straw was that you had apologized.

Said rare kind of genuine hatred wasn’t directed to the person you were dating, even less you. It was directed to himself, Wakatoshi Ushijima, and how in the deafening silence he managed to give birth to the loudest emotions.

And the praises turnt into worry.

Like your compliments turnt into whimpers.

It was the same circular scheme.

During training, as the palm of his calloused hand slapped the leather surface of the ball, picturing his own face on the martyr of a ball, Ushijima cried out in pain.

He ignored if the origin of the pain emanated from the way he had just dislocated his left wrist, or was it coming from the final rupture of his last heartstring as he had witnessed himself coming undone under the weight of his emotions, his memories, his regrets.

And the praises from his coaches regarding his spikes were now made vocal for another player. And the praises, your praises, regarding himself were now made vocal for someone else whose name wasn’t Ushijima Wakatoshi.

Someone who had the luxury of time.

Someone who had the privilege of loving and being able to be loved.

Someone who wasn’t him.

❝𝐃𝐨 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐈 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐧.❞

[benevolent-savage]

this is what happens when u enable me lets go

(spoilers ahoy)

Firstly, here’s some somewhat miscellaneous reasons that don’t contribute to any sort of narrative analysis but are still parts of the character I like.

His boss fight is my favorite in the game thus far. It’s not super hard, but it isn’t super easy either, and I even managed to solo it on my Balance after a few practice rounds. Sufficiently challenging without feeling unfair.

His boss fight music. It is a bop and a half, go give it a listen, my soul ascends from my body a few centimeters every time I hear it start up.

His voice. I’m sure it’s processed at least a little but gotdamn his voice is so deep and spooky it startled me when I first heard it. Very curious who his actor is; I think he and Inyanga Whitestripes share the same one. Either way, very well voiced and acted.

His design is very good. It’s the perfect mix of innocuous but also spooky sorcerer fella who knows some shit. And I was afraid that the designers would try and make him like. Handsome? Under the hood? To try and make him more sympathetic? But they didn’t and I’m glad for it.

With those out of the way, the next thing to establish, I guess: I don’t interpret Old Cob to be the main villain of arc 3, nor do I interpret Raven as such. They’re definitely antagonists, but they’re not the ultimate problem; the ultimate problem is their divorce, and how they keep dragging people into their bs. It’s established the Aethyr is a physical manifestation of their anger towards each other, and as it thins, communication between them becomes possible, as Sparck puts it in this thinly veiled metaphor toward the start of Empyrea part 2.

But Cob’s still an antagonist and I love him so I’m gonna talk about that. Most of this is going to be talking about his motivations for doing what he does, since I don’t see him quite as the ‘likes to watch the world burn for the hell of it’ archetype that others might.

One of the reasons that drew me to his character is how legit his gripe is, when put in perspective. Old Cob- or Grandfather Spider, if you prefer- is not a mortal like the other antagonists of previous arcs, which establishes he has a different thought process right off the bat. This new universe was built on his suffering and he has a grudge against the ex wife who made it, so as a god, it makes some sense he’d try to destroy it and build one he would like better. He’s fully aware that what he is doing will hurt people but decidedly doesn’t care, and I appreciate that so much. He’s chaotic as fuck and he owns it, along with his superiority complex that’s as wide as the day is long.

Yet his reasoning is like. Weirdly understandable? Like, if my ex-whatever put me in jail for a lifetime sentence and stole my kidney to pay for a new house or something, I too would go apeshit and want my fuckin kidney back. That’s mostly how I interpret his situation. He’s not doing this for hell of it, he’s doing it because he wants to get back at his ex because he’s bitter and petty and for the most part he knows this but he feels justified in doing do because she ripped out his goddamn kidney- I mean heart, and he wants that back.

And then, even after all that, he and his magic are treated as if they’re inherently evil. While, sure, Shadow is a ‘dark magic’, its actual properties aren’t anything malicious by itself. It is described as “a magic that changes reality,” and that’s it. Incredibly exploitable and you should practice caution while handling it, but used correctly it is powerful and helpful; this is likely alluding to the backlash mechanic, where likes decrease the percent of damage you take, dislikes increase the percent, and I imagine the person meant to be the literal embodiment of the magic in question to be similar in nature: not inherently harmful and lashes out if he feels he’s been mistreated.

Going off that, I’m not sure he ever wanted the FirstWorld to be destroyed, and therefore believes his incarceration to be entirely unjust; he doesn’t deny that he instigated the fight between the Titans, but when it comes to being accused of its actual destruction, he gets angry.

...Okay the written text doesn’t really display how mad he got here, but he was like. Big Angy. Super offended. Honestly, a big part of why I love and analyze the hell out of his character comes from how his VA delivers his lines and his voice in general. If you haven’t heard it for some reason, I recommend looking it up. Anyway, here he’s basically saying he didn’t destroy the First World, and even if he did, he’s suffered enough punishment because of it, to my interpretation. The only one I remember blaming him for it is Raven; Bartleby was there, and I don’t recall him blaming anything other than the Titans for it. This is of course not accounting for the various changes made to the lore since he was introduced, but they could have easily thrown in a line like ‘And now Spider plans to destroy the Spiral the way he destroyed the FirstWorld!’ or something to make it clear it was done intentionally.

And this may very well be straying into headcanon territory here, but I think he holds positive relationships very closely to him, even if things went sour in the end; he clearly still has some remaining affection for the Titans, calling them ‘the children’ and being incredibly angry at Raven for forcing one of them to destroy his Heart.

When Rat loses in Polaris he shows up to praises his efforts and even comfort him, in his own weird way. He reprimanded Scorpion in Mirage, but it’s because Scorpion wasn’t doing what his dad asked him to and got his ass kicked as a result. As for Bat, every time they’re in the same room together he pays him some sort of compliment.

Bat claims that he and his brothers are meant to be his tools, and to some extent that’s true, but he also genuinely cares about them, and it’s really interesting to see a villain defect from the usual ‘not caring about anyone other than themselves’ and openly show affection for his kids while still managing to be an incredible asshole.

In line with this is his relationship with the Wizard. There is, of course, a foundation of manipulation to their dynamic, at least to some degree. I thoroughly believe that Spider was overshadowing Coleridge, at least partly, so our character could bust him out of prison.

And while this is happening, he regains some of his spent power and removes threats to it as well, namely Morganthe, using the Wizard’s help. In fact, I have very little doubt that he was at least partially responsible for her fall; his timing on that two-liner was too on the nose.

But even with that, I think he genuinely treasures the Wizard’s help and company, which is why he attempts on four different occasions to either sway them to his side, or warn them away from what he’s doing.

Boy, I want that vacation, but it’s your fault I’m here.

And then, of course, his relationship with Raven, something that is basically a summation of his character arc. Laden with baggage and tragic in concept, it is my belief that most of what he’s doing isn’t because he genuinely hates the Spiral or he wants to get back at her, but because he loved her and treasured their relationship; so upon her mistreating him, he lashed out at everything she’d made and detested it as a result. But only because he felt betrayed and hurt so he has to inflict that on other people because he is, as aforementioned, a petty and bitter old fuck.

Moving off that line of thinking, an admirable quality he possesses is how smart he is. This guy has so many wrinkles in his brain it must look like a raisin. Well, perhaps not ‘smart’ exactly, but how good he is at manipulating certain situations to his advantage. Like in Mirage; you just know that he was fully expecting Mellori to be there and fully planned to use her as a back up plan, or you could even argue that the whole debacle in Mirage was a ploy to get his hands on her, while having the added possible benefit of things actually working out.

Actually his scheme in Mirage was really interesting now that I think about it. His aim was to turn back time to when the FirstWorld was whole, further implying that he never wanted its destruction in the first place. It would also, of course, be a time where he had his Heart and would have the ability to avoid having it ripped out again. This would involve not having the Titans fight each other again, or at least not starting it and suffering the consequences. It would be everything he wanted to achieve knocked out in one go with minimal muss or fuss, compared to other methods. It’s probably a part of why he shows up personally to bargain with Eerkala and the Cabal, and why he directly intervenes in our Wizard’s efforts to stop him; it was too important to trust to any of his kids, so knowing Scorpion probably wouldn’t have been able to execute it anyway, he used his kid as a distraction for the most part.

I also like looking into the fact that his element, besides Shadow, is Storm, as opposed to pure Shadow or Death, as most major antagonists are. Storm is a school based on invention, experimentation and improvement. This is something that interests me for two reasons: one, the magic of major antagonists is always a part of their character, Malistaire the most blatantly, and two, because of this line he says in Mirage.

To my interpretation, this would imply that he sees the Spiral as something that could be improved. And as a god, he would of course find it his obligation to try and fix this flaw. When he made the barter with the Cabal, I don’t doubt he was being at least partially honest about restoring the FirstWorld; it would certainly fix the flaw it has in the context of stealing his internal organs, but he would also probably seek to improve it, make it more suited to Shadow or something.

Something else I find intriguing is how weirdly honest he is; I don’t recall him ever lying to us once, unless you count omitting certain facts as lying. But that’s absolutely something I can see him using against people, like “I didn’t lie to you, I just didn’t tell you, your fault for not asking ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ .” As said before, he;s really good at manipulating people and he weaponizes whatever he can; @that-wizard-oki​ made a really great post about how he uses conflicts- his fault or not- to his advantage, and does his own thing in the background without interruption, Mirage and Neumia probably being the best example of this, with Scorpion and the Cabal serving as distractions while he either carries out things himself or gives instructions.

To pull all of this together narratively, I think it’s important to consider this line from Mellori during one of their confrontations:

He feels powerless, so he puffs up his god status. He has little power to fight with, compared to before, so he mostly manipulates and creates back-up plans while causing conflicts to serve as distractions. His love hurt him, so he lashes out at others and drags them into his problems.

You may ask, “But Sam, these are all bad qualities, why should we like him because of this?” And I would respond “Because it makes him a complex and interesting antagonist.” The kind of character that executes his shitty actions in such a way that you can’t help but respect- even just for the level of dramatics put in to it- while also having a motive that makes you stop and consider that maybe he has a point but is very much handling the situation the wrong way.

Like, c’mon, he ticks so many villain boxes. Tragic backstory? Check. Blatant thespian who owns it? Check. Gets his hands dirty before the climax of the story? Check. Smart/ manipulative/ has back-up plans? Check. Understandable, strong motives? Check.

He’s got layers. Like onion. I felt like there was always something new to discover about him, and for that I can assert my opinion that he’s one of the best characters in Wizard101.

lmao if you read this far into my simp-for-shithead post congrats. feel free to shoot me more asks on the subject bc i cant write persuasive-essay-esque format anymore my brain is rotting. if you will excuse me, im off to listen to the chronoverge combat track for the 82937487734th time

[digitalvoidheart]

Pixelated New Moon - New Moon Ending (Ending-1)

First

¤¤¤¤¤¤

Moon didn't want to leave him. He couldn't. Cross was too much of an asset. He can combat for sure, maybe heal just as well but the situation he's facing is just. Not. Helping!

Sure, Cross' explanation of why his team needs him vividly clarified the doubt, and that without him they'd go ballistic, he still wants him to come along. Just why does this stupid game only allow one player to leave?! It's not fair!

Moon started to feel overwhelmed with anger, stress and guilt. It's not fair! He will DIE if I don't get him out and it will be MY fault! I doubt anyone would want to help him with the sacrifice of their only life! It's not fair, it's not fair, it's not fair! It's not fair! IT'S NOT F-

"Hey, you're starting to breathe funny. Calm down" Cross' soft calming voice once again broke him from his trance of furious and berating thoughts.

How is he still calm? His life is at risk and he decides he wants to comfort Moon? A player with so much less experience and at a lower level than him?

"Why?" Moon croaked a whisper. "Why do you wanna send me back knowing full well you won't be able to go back?" By now tears began to prick his sockets.

Cross' heterochromatic eyes widened at his question, his stoic mask cracking. He paused for a while before looking down as he let out a sigh. He smiled weakly, the emotion drenched with pain and sadness that an empath like Moon could feel the tightening of the metaphorical strings tugging at his Soul near to the point of shattering.

"You have a home to return to," he finally whispered and looked up, tears running down his cheekbones. "And I don't intend on snatching that away from you."

Moon gasped at the small tension Cross' Soul relieved. Tears welling in his sockets from the pain the achromatic player felt "You deserve a second chance at this fucked up life game."

Cross shut himself up, trying to salvage the broken pieces of his tough exterior so he didn't seem vulnerable to Moon.

This was becoming a more difficult situation for Moon. He wouldn't want to be the last person to shred Cross' last sliver of hope just to get home.

Home... They were his home... and they needed him.

Just like Cross.

But how to help both?

A force pummeled into Cross' chest knocking him from his welling negative emotions. Upon looking down, he saw his cloaked companion giving him a hug.

He looks so small. The traitorous thought bubbled out. He chuckled weakly at the stupid idea in his head, too emotionally distraught to do anything than return the sweet gesture.

They remained in silence like this. For how long? Neither knew. Could've been hours or days, maybe months but by then, Cross calmed down and didn't realise when did either settle down on their knees, still in eachothers embrace. Maybe time was fucked up in here just like the world around them.

Cross didn't realise that his emotional moment had taken its toll on Moon's as well, knocking him unconscious whilst comforting Cross. As Moon's head lolled from side to side as Cross shifted his position only did he notice Moon fell asleep.

This kind player with the dilemma to save himself or Cross. He didn't want to become a burden to others.

From his monochromatic pocket, Cross fished out a "Hidden Card". He sighed. He could only hide like this- like a coward. But like all lies, the truth eventually comes out.

He filtered through his memories, on how he ended up here.

Joining a team, being forced to kill for exp, several failed attempts of destroying his "killing machine" self until his final escape in the void of this level.

He didn't bother watching his 'team' struggle, more than ready to end his unstable existence.

That is until he noticed a similar but smaller figure to his pixelate into existence beside him. He knew it wasn't right to snoop on other's businesses but... He felt it. That tug of urgency to help or get help from.

Now's not the time for walking through memory lane (or trauma lane).

Cross shook his head. He searched around Moon's small form for any sack or lumpy item containing the escape key.

Bingo.

He eventually found Moon's gold bag. Cross stood up after placing Moon down comfortably, before facing the task bar meant for Moon.

He pressed the "return" option, holding out the bag of gold. He watched as the bag glitches off of his hand and out of existence before returning just as quickly, as the bar now showed two values. One slowly increasing like that of a super fast countdown, the latter increasing just as speedy.

0

78000-

It went down and down until the values switched. While Cross waited for the values to switch, he subconsciously kept giving glances at Moon's tired form. The soft sound of the money counting down resonated through the silence.

Until it stopped.

A quick look over confirmed the switch in numbers. The numerals then glitched out of existence, in its place glitched a static-y portal which flooded the silence with its cacophonous noise.

He knew he shouldn't have. Knew that he shouldn't have listened to the voices telling him. Ordering him to look back. But being weak to orders, looked back once more at Moon.

Then turned away.

---

Moon woke up to a black space. His previous companion nowhere nearby and the thickness and heaviness a burden to even move a digit.

Looks like Cross saved himself after all, Moon thought, a melancholic smile overtook his tired face.

He knew that the opportunity was available, no threats to pass if Cross wanted to take his money and escape he guessed.

But why.

Why did it still hurt?

By the stars, he GAVE Cross the option to leave and abandon him! He knew this could happen! But why? WHY did it still hurt?!

First abandoning Nightmare and the trio, now Cross. Why does it always-

"If you think drowning me in your sadness will kill me, you're sorely mistaken" that voice...

Shifting his eyelights to the origin of sound, he almost sobbed when he saw a hint of cyan glowing softly in the darkness instead... of... Black and white...

Where was Cross? The concern rippled through him as he tried to lift his dead weight of a body on what now seemingly felt like a heavy blanket and bed.

"Not so fast, hero. Being in the Void for some time clearly took a toll on your strength." a tendril pushed Moon back to bed, the purple eyed skeleton not even fighting back, clear proof of his weakened state. "Since time acts differently here and in there, we do not know for how long you've been away. All we know is once the boys completed the tasks, you were jettisoned out of a portal. We just brought you back from the medic."

Nightmare moved closer to his line of sight, scrutinising the other both physically and emotionally. A good few minutes of staring before he scoffed, turning away.

"We're glad to have you back" he mumbled, clearly not used to showing that he cared to others.

-----

It had been weeks since the previous level and fiasco with the Void. While the rest of the team was a bunch of curious cats, Moon refused to speak of his interactions and story while there, and they respected that... Reluctantly.

But Moon did seem to change while with the others. He was more cheerful and supportive, rather than being depressed (Nightmare is glad for it even if it makes him gag).

Moon, never forgot his Void companion, Cross, either. The crumpled and creased note in his cloak pocket now acting as his Ikigai and duty.

*******

Hey Moon. If you're reading this, it means you're safe in the real world. I'm glad you're ok.

This message is also to tell you, that I'm now in a better place and I'm glad I spoke to someone like you before my departure. Thank you for being a kind person and someone who willingly sacrificed their life for mine even when I didn't deserve it for becoming a killing machine.

I have a small favour to ask of you. Promise me you won't feel bad. This was my decision. I almost took up your offer to leave you behind. I'm sorry I almost left you to die.

But with what you taught me in that little amount of time, I knew you deserve to live and show that you can do so much more than I can.

So promise me to not be sad and show your team, the world what you can do. I believe in you.

Good bye

-Cross

*********

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

New Moon: Where Moon leaves the Void

Ok the part after Moon falls asleep? that had to be written a bajillion times with no backup cuz tumblr was being a complete douche to me. I finally decided to sit my butt down and finish it off before I lose my motivation eternally

But poor Cross... Tbh I almost made the ending a sad one where Moon takes his own life because of regret but I'm too tired to do that and I have 2 more endings.

They may not be as long but be on the look out for em!

[specterchasing-a]

Let The Words Fall Out || Alfie & Eddie

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @yikesimonfire & @specterchasing

SUMMARY: Eddie heads over to Alfie’s apartment during a time when they could both use the company. One thing leads to another, and Eddie decides to be honest for both of their sakes. 

CONTENT: Internalized homophobia tw

There was no reason for Eddie to risk climbing from one balcony to another. Alfie agreed to let him come over, and would likely answer the door for him if he knocked. But his legs were already dangling on either side of the conjoined railing by the time he realized his options. At any rate, the balcony route felt more familiar to Eddie, something he appreciated now more than ever. He preferred things this way. It almost felt normal.

“Hey,” he greeted his neighbor as he slid the glass door open. Usually, his arrivals came with more panache, but recent events watered down his usual flair. Eddie considered Alfie for a moment, a sad smile pursing his lips. As expected, the atmosphere between them felt different now. He didn’t want it to, but when had he ever gotten a say in that sort of thing, anyway?

“So, we’re clear to be total bummers today, right?” Eddie questioned as he plopped down beside Alfie on the couch. “‘Cause, I gotta admit, I’m gonna have trouble if we’re supposed to play happy.”

“Hey,” Alfie croaked in response. After he told Eddie to come over, he’d taken up his usual spot on the couch. Waiting. His palms were sweaty by the time the other man sauntered in; fists clenched hard enough that his short nails bit into his skin. There was no denying that Alfie had a tendency to be rigid — standoffish, even — but the way he held himself now was something Eddie very rarely experienced. Halloween 2017, to be precise, not that Alfie was even remotely thinking about that now. No, he was too busy wondering if he was making too much (or too little?) eye-contact to be worried about how tense the rest of his body was. 

As Eddie joined him on the couch, Alfie forced a laugh and slackened his shoulders a considerable amount. The tension was still present, but with any luck it wasn’t noticeable. “Total bummers,” he agreed. “I couldn’t fake something like that right now, anyway. Not going to ask you to do it.”

Alfie’s lips pressed into a tight line as he glanced at Eddie. The sad look in his eyes reminded him of the last time they were alone together. Since then, Alfie’s jealousy had shed its skin to reveal tatters of guilt and sadness beneath. Did it show? 

“This whole Nell thing, it — it’s been rough.” Far worse than it would have been if things were normal between him and Eddie.

Eddie noticed as tension faded from Alfie’s frame, same as he noticed some of it remained. So, this was the new normal: fake laughs, forced eye contact, and regret. He felt the familiar itch to reach out and touch him in a way he hoped would be soothing, but he couldn’t do that anymore. It meant something different now, something less harmless. Eddie felt an awful surge of jealousy for the man he used to be, the one who could place a hand on Alfie’s arm and feel warmth instead of guilt. Now, he had to settle for busying his hands by twiddling his thumbs in his lap.

“Yeah, I bet,” Eddie said with a nod. He couldn’t look at Alfie for too long, not when every glance felt like prodding at open wounds. “I think I’m still in shock.” His mind was filled to the brim with rapidly swimming thoughts that picked at his peace of mind like underfed piranhas. It was all too much, too much to keep to himself.

“You can still talk to me about anything,” Alfie told him earlier in the day via text. Eddie desperately wanted to believe him, so he took a leap of faith.

“Bex is missing too,” Eddie blurted. “I think she is, anyway. Either that, or ignoring me.” He resented himself for not knowing which option he preferred. “And… something else happened too.” His eyes closed tightly for a moment as he recalled his conversation with Morgan. When they opened, his gaze turned to Alfie. He ignored how badly it hurt.

“I think I’m making a mistake, Alfie,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

Alfie bobbed his head in agreement. These days, he was all too familiar with the feeling of ‘shock’. Eddie and Bex. Eddie in his office. Nell’s strange behavior. Nell’s disappearance. Just because he could count it on one hand didn’t make any of it less disconcerting. “Bex is missing too.” Five fingers now.

“Oh,” Alfie very nearly whispered. Of course. Everything was always about Bex. It shouldn’t have come as any surprise. If he wanted to maintain a friendship with Eddie, he would have to get over hearing about her. Eddie needed him to; that’s what friends were for.

A sixth metaphorical finger was raised when the words “I think I’m making a mistake” fell from Eddie’s lips. Alfie’s brow raised, his head turning slightly towards Eddie with a look of confusion — and concern — etched into his features. “I don’t think they’re related,” he began slowly, careful of the words he chose. As far as Alfie was aware, Bex wasn’t part of Nell’s search-and-rescue mission. “But, with all of these portals opening and closing, I—” A soft sigh escaped him before his knees turned inward to Eddie’s own. “I can’t imagine she’s ignoring you, Eddie.” He wanted to tell him that he wouldn’t if he were Bex — if Eddie was his boyfriend. “Why would she?” he murmured instead. 

Alfie didn’t understand, but Eddie couldn’t blame him. Vague confessions rarely led to clarity, and the amount of information he dumped in his lap only made things murkier. He needed to choose his words more carefully to make sure he didn’t do more harm than he already had. Eddie nervously ran his fingers through his hair as he fell back against the couch. 

“No,” he said unhelpfully, shaking his head lightly as he recalibrated. “I mean, plenty of reasons, actually.” Morgan supplied him with a thorough explanation as to why Bex might cut ties with him. Bex didn’t seem to agree with her, but she didn’t have a view of the full picture, and Eddie trusted Morgan enough not to divulge a secret like his. Not yet, he hoped. If he was lucky, he still had time to prove he wasn’t as bad as she thought.

“But that’s…. I think something else is going on, something worse.” With Bex, the safe bet was always on the worst case scenario. “And that should be all I’m worried about. She’s my girlfriend, I should be consumed with concern, and—and I am.” He nodded as he spoke, relieved that the words felt true. “But there’s more to what I’m worried about than a few missed messages.” Eddie’s appreciation for his own honesty already started to wane.

“Last time I saw you in person, you said I owed it to myself to try being with her.” Eddie’s gaze fell onto Alfie again. “Let’s be honest, you only said that because it’s what you thought I wanted to hear, and you weren’t… wrong, but…” He trailed off, scanning Alfie’s face as silence overtook the conversation for the time being. Eddie found comfort in the familiar lines and curves he observed. He let out a breath. “This isn’t right,” he said. “I’m being selfish by making her play a part in the lies I tell myself.” Fear rooted itself in his eyes as he realized there was no coming back from what he was about to say. “Alfie, I’m gay.”

It was physically impossible, but Alfie was certain that his heart leapt out of his throat at Eddie’s confession. The words preceding it were a rollercoaster of emotions; sadness, jealousy, empathy, and a hint of regret. Of course Eddie was worried about Bex. After all, they were friends when Alfie first met her and he knew firsthand what it was like to be concerned for someone’s well being that he cared for platonically. In one fell swoop, whatever jealousy he felt towards Bex and Eddie’s relationship dissipated. Of course. Everything Eddie said weeks ago suddenly clicked. He shouldn’t have been so relieved. It was selfish to think that this changed anything, though. At the end of the day, Eddie was still just his friend and he needed to support him now more than ever.

Shifting slightly in his seat, Alfie offered a small smile. “Me too,” he blurted, a gentle laugh trailing behind. “You… already knew that.” His eyes searched Eddie’s for a moment as he wracked his mind for something more substantial. But words never came easy for Alfie — something Eddie was well aware of by now. Desperate to fill the silence, Alfie reached out and tentatively squeezed Eddie’s upper arm, never breaking their shared gaze. 

“I’m proud of you, Ed,” he dared to say. “I— I know that doesn’t make anything less terrifying for you, but I am, if that counts for anything.”

The fear in Eddie’s eyes shifted into relief upon hearing Alfie’s response. He let out a soft laugh that mixed with a restrained sob in the back of his throat. He didn’t expect to be met with rejection or scorn, not from Alfie, but he didn’t think comfort would be possible so soon. His gaze fell to their laps momentarily as his body relaxed. He was safe, he was okay, if only within the walls that surrounded him. That was enough, for now. His eyes quickly reclaimed their connection with Alfie’s, exuding voiceless gratitude as silence reintroduced itself. Eddie didn’t mind the quiet, for once.

His gaze flickered to Alfie’s hand as it reached for his arm before he leaned into the contact as much as he comfortably could, as if pleading for it to not end.

To say Alfie’s next words caught him off-guard would be an understatement. Eddie couldn’t remember the last time someone told him they were proud of him. Surely, this wasn’t the first time some expressed pride in him, but it felt an awful lot like a first. Tears bloomed in his eyes, two or three adventurous drops spilling down his cheeks, as he stared at Alfie with unbridled admiration. 

“You have no idea, do you?” he asked quietly. Eddie understood Alfie underestimating how important he was, but he wouldn’t abide by it. “Out of everyone I know, there isn’t anyone else I would rather hear say that to me.” Alfie ranked higher than Eddie’s parents when it came to people he wanted to impress; higher than anyone else he’d ever met. “You are the most important person in my life, Alfie, hands down. If it wasn’t for you, I might not even know this part of me existed.” Eddie realized he might be getting a little ahead of himself and took a moment to recover. “Not saying that I think you’re the reason I’m gay, pretty sure that would’ve been a thing either way, but… the way I feel about you, have felt about you, makes it a little less terrifying. With you, it just feels so natural, y’know? Like taking a breath, or checking the weather. How I feel about you shows me that I’m not broken, because who in their right mind could get to know you the way I do and not feel this way?”

“I am still scared, and I don’t know what’s next, but I do know that I’m an idiot for ever thinking this is something I could run from, or that I wanted to run from it in the first place.” Eddie’s voice shook as he spoke, exposing his lack of confidence, but he persisted in spite of doubt. “Being with Bex showed me how rare whatever it is that’s between us is, and it’s also shown me how much it hurts to live without it. I don’t wanna trade you in for something the world expects from me, not when I have a chance at being happy with someone who makes me feel like there’s a future worth sticking around for.”

The tears in Eddie’s eyes warned Alfie that he said something wrong, but his facial expression told a completely different story. His first instinct was to brush the tears away, although he questioned whether or not it was appropriate. Before he had a chance to decide what was proper, Eddie began showering him with compliments that rendered him speechless. Alfie’s brow knit together and his eyes searched Eddie’s face, as if he’d find more truth there than the words being spoken. As much as he wanted to believe each syllable that spilled from Eddie’s painfully beautiful lips, his mind was clouded with disbelief.

“How?” Alfie finally uttered with a small shake of his head. “After the way I’ve treated you, Eddie? I— How?” A knot formed in his throat as Eddie spoke and it kept his own thoughts from bubbling to the surface. “After that?” After the conversation in Eddie’s apartment. After he dodged straightforward answers with someone he considered his best friend? After years of playing hot and cold, all because he didn’t know how to cope with his feelings for Eddie? 

The hand against Eddie’s arm was quickly displaced to brush his hair back as remorse replaced the look of bewilderment on Alfie’s face. “You don’t deserve that— you didn’t— you never did,” he warbled. Soon after, his fingers moved away from Eddie’s face and reclaimed its position against his arm. “You’re right. I told you to try it with Bex because I thought that’s what you wanted to hear — because you were upset, and I’d already made it so much worse by not being supportive. Because you deserve something — someone good. Someone that makes you happy, and I…” Tears stung at his own eyes as he choked over his words. “I made everything worse, so how…? How?”

Considering the man he just confessed his love to was Alfie Ramirez, Eddie should have seen disbelief on the horizon. Even under the guise of friendship, getting Alfie to accept a compliment felt more like pulling teeth than telling someone they looked nice. It broke Eddie’s heart, the way he never saw himself as a person worthy of being told how phenomenal he was. And, he really was phenomenal. Despite their past and the way Alfie made Eddie question his significance, he kept hanging onto their friendship because the moments he knew Alfie valued him made uncertainty worth it when it reappeared.

“Do you have any idea how much hell I would raise if you pulled the same stunt I did?” Eddie asked with a shake of his head. His hand raised with a thumb extended and ready to wipe away Alfie’s tears. He sometimes forgot how priceless the small beads of liquid were, but that could be blamed on Alfie’s emotional state outweighing all else in his mind. If he could, Eddie would forge a future where Alfie never felt the need to cry again. “The whole town would burn.”

“You earned that reaction,” Eddie insisted. After a moment of nervous hesitation, his hand gently repositioned to cup Alfie’s cheek. “Don’t worry, I’m not saying I deserved how it made me feel or anything, but I think both of us were justified in how we acted, don’t you? So, maybe we weren’t graceful about it. Oh, well, this is life, not The Nutcracker.” He shrugged softly as his thumb gingerly brushed back-and-forth against Alfie’s skin. His heart raced faster than usual, the anxiety of his confession still present, but he willed himself to remain in the moment he currently shared with Alfie. There would be time to worry later. Now, he needed to play his part in making sure they landed on their feet after weeks of free-falling.

“As far as I’m concerned, you’re perfect. Stubborn, self-deprecating, reclusive, and you have the worst diet I’ve ever seen, but still perfect.” It felt freeing to admit to Alfie how he felt about him without worrying his secret might be discovered. Without the burden of stealth, Eddie felt more like himself than he had in a very long time. “All you’ve ever done is given me something to look forward to, whether it was feeling you close to me or hearing you say my name like you wanted to strangle me. I’ve never cared much either way because, deep down, I know what our foundation is built on.” And that was love. Now that he was free to be himself, it seemed like he couldn’t stop from overflowing with all the words that had been left unsaid over the years. It made him feel both excited and uneasy at the same time.

The notion that all of White Crest would be reduced to ash if Alfie got into a relationship elicited a chuckle from him. No matter how emotionally-charged the conversation was, Eddie still managed to make him laugh. The bastard. His eyes closed at the sensation of Eddie’s thumb against his cheek and he let out a content hum. It felt surreal. 

Naturally, Eddie wasn’t finished with his typical comic relief; something Alfie was more than happy to oblige. “For the record, Doritos are cholesterol free and have two whole grams of protein.” His lashes fluttered open as he shot Eddie an impish grin. But even in the midst of their banter, Eddie found a way to keep them on topic. 

Alfie wasn’t keen on believing everything the other man said about him, expertly deflecting each compliment with humor instead. That had always been their normal, after all. Even in high school, well before their friendship blossomed beyond acquaintanceship, passing comments from Eddie were brushed off with nervous laughter and self-deprecating jokes. During their more recent years as neighbors, Eddie came to know him better than most; arguably, better than anyone else in his life. But no matter how much more sincere the compliments became, Alfie could never fully accept them. He’d run the risk of falling for Eddie if he did, not that he was at all successful at delaying the process. 

For the first time, Alfie allowed himself to lean in to Eddie’s touch, turning his cheek towards the hand pressed against it. His breath quivered as a cocktail of emotions coursed through him; excitement, nervousness, relief. “Can we just… stay like this?” he said finally, still reluctant to accept Eddie’s songs of praise. He wanted to relish the moment without worrying about Nell or his curse — or worse yet, Bex. Right. Bex. Savoring the moment was a fool’s errand so long as she was still technically in the picture. This was fleeting — even if only for the time being. 

Eddie tittered at Alfie’s Dorito-inspired interjection. “In that case, I take it back, your diet is clearly the best it can be,” he said with a matching grin. If he wasn’t mistaken, things were beginning to feel like they did before the night at the bar. Better, actually, when he thought about it. Now, nothing stood between them except for his unfortunate relationship status. Eddie felt queasy at the idea of explaining to Bex why he couldn’t be with her, but he knew it needed to happen sooner rather than later. When he heard from her next (he couldn’t cope with thinking in terms of ‘if’), he would set the record straight. And he knew someone who could help him do exactly that, if that bridge hadn’t been reduced to ashes, at least.

When Alfie asked if they could stay the way they were with his cheek pressing into the palm of Eddie’s hand, the urge to kiss him was undeniably strong. He managed to refrain by promising himself to make up for lost time in the future.

“Of course, we can,” Eddie said as if it were obvious. “Just not yet.” His hand parted with Alfie’s cheek as he moved forward to wrap his arms around him. Clinging to him on the couch made for a mildly awkward position, but it was worth it to feel him close. “I know I’ve already kept you waiting for too long, but I need a little more time to clean up the mess I made. I don’t want anything I’ve done to take away from good this is.” His face nestled into the crook of Alfie’s neck. “I know exactly what I have to do.”

[nebraska-is-a-myth]

Mourn the living, raise the dead - Part 8

Sorry for such a long wait for this chapter, please don't kill me

Masterlist

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Tommy has had to do a lot of mourning in his short time on earth. For years he mourned the loss of a mother he never met, and the normal life he never had. After that he mourned the loss of friends and family when his father took him halfway across the world to live in some shitty American apartment, which eventually led to the mourning of his dad. Killed in a car accident and leaving Tommy orphaned at the age of 11. He mourned every single failed foster placement until he eventually found solace in the shadow of Technoblades power and willingness to let scrawny little 15 year old Tommy into his life. But good things don't like Tommy. They let him think that maybe this time it will be better, and then everything crumbles before him and he's back to square one. Alone. Another piece of his heart breaking from the hurt. So when he was forced to mourn Technoblade, Tommy had given up any hope that happiness would find him again. Even when Dream took him in and proved to him time and time and again that he wouldn't leave him, Tommy never really let himself be happy in fear of losing everything all over again. But something inside him changed when he met Tubbo. Tubbo was sweet and kind and chose Tommy over everyone else and he never could quite comprehend why someone like Tubbo would choose someone like him. Countless times Tommy had kept on trying to distance himself from the other boy, but every time Tommy was in a bad mood or tried to push him away, Tubbo always seemed to find him with a hug and a smile (and all the proper tools to cause some chaos, weather that be hotwiring a car or setting an abandoned house on fire, where there was a Tubbo, there was a crime) Tubbo forced himself into Tommy's life and chained himself to Tommy. Physically and metaphorically. So over time, Tommy learnt that maybe letting people in wasn't so bad after all. Wilbur, Fundy and Eret came into his life all at once and one by one they all became his family. Something Tommy never thought he would have in this life. He felt loved for the first time since he moved out of his home town, and maybe he would be okay with everything that had happened in his life if it meant it would lead him to this point. 

Mourning Eret seemed different. 

Tommy felt empty and hollow, like a piece of him had drowned with his friend. Parts of what happened are still blurry to him, but he remembers the pain he felt when he realized Eret would never hold him again. He wouldn't be able to tell him to shut up when he told nonsense stories or chase him around town after stealing something when they were supposed to be out grocery shopping. He wouldn't be able to comfort Tommy after a nightmare or play silly games with him in Wilbur's living room. All he could feel was the pain in his chest and the rasp in his throat after crying into the night. Funnily enough, all his physical injuries were gone. His leg had healed past the need for his crutches almost as if there was never any damage there at all. (“Are you sure you're not in any pain Tommy.” “Yes Will I'm bloody sure now stop poking me”) Mourning Eret felt like a punch to the guy or a black eye, he almost wishes someone would punch him just so he could feel something other than the overwhelming sadness that's taken over him.

Wilbur became his rock in the hours after it happened. First Tommy was mad at the older man after dragging him out of the water, but then Tommy just cried into Wilbur's shoulder and he hasn't really left his side since. He doesn't know whether it's because he doesn't want to be alone, or if he’s afraid that he’s going to lose Wilbur too.

They don't get much time to process everything before everyone is thrown back into the reality that they are still going to war in less than a day. (Tommy barely has time to search the smoldering rubble of Wilbur's office for Erets spare glasses before they’re all called back into training and preparations. The glasses are scratched and a little damaged but Tommy just slips a chain around his neck and wears them proudly around his chest) There isn't time for a proper funeral, not yet. Tommy doesn't really like the idea of having to bury an empty coffin either, so for now the remaining four pay their respects by setting Erets car ablaze. Fundy came up with the idea, sort of reminiscent of a Viking funeral. None of them could bear to sit in it any longer without bursting into tears, so after making the final preparation for their confrontation with dream smp the following day, they all ride out to the beach and park the car on the cool sand. Nobody's left in the city to stop them. Once the sun has set and the stars have come out, Wilbur lights the match and the car goes up in flames before them, along with memories of one of their closest friends. 

They all lie in the sand together for a while, looking up at the night sky and reminiscing about the good times when everything was so much simpler. When Eret was alive. 

“Do you remember Fundys birthday, when we all went bowling and Tommy almost got us arrested?”

“I did not almost get us arrested Tubbo.”

Tommy has his resting against Wilbur's midsection as the older man strokes his fingers through the blonds hair, he feels Wilbur chuckle and he thinks he can almost hear him smile.

“You absolutely almost got us arrested, we practically had to sprint out of that bowling alley.”

“Okay so maybe I shouldn't have thrown myself down one of the lanes, but I needed that strike and Fundy was cheating!”

“I was not cheating, if anyone was cheating it was Eret!”

They don't mean for it to go silent, but the wind steals their conversation every time their friend's name is mentioned. But this time, Tubbo doesn't let it get carried away into the night.

“Do you think he’s up there, looking down on us?”

Wilbur doesn't know how to answer, he continues to stroke his hand through tommy's hair and thinks for a moment. He never really believed in heaven or hell, or the afterlife, just a big vast void of nothingness. But as he stares up at one of the brightest stars in the sky, he sees the way it sparkles at him, almost as if it's looking down onto his little family of four, protecting them from what's to come. In that moment, every thought about the afterlife leaves him, and all he can focus on, is the way the star looks at him.

“I think, in some way, yeah, he is. He’s also probably shouting at us for destroying his car.”

He hears the other three chuckle and he smiles up at the star.

Wilbur was never any good at science when he was a kid, but he knows that stars don't just disappear. He knows that stars can fizzle out, and they can burn for over hundreds of years, but they're always there. He finds comfort in knowing that if he ever misses his friend, he can just look up at the stars and everything will be alright.

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The next day the remainder of L’manburg stands tall against the leaders of the dream smp on the outskirts of the city. Sapnap is standing with a gun already in his hands to greet them and Tommy can hear Tubbo swallow his fear. Tommy can feel Dreams eyes on him the second he comes into eyeshot, but Tommy's face remains impartial to the older man. George sniggers when he sees Tommy wearing the ugliest looking sunglasses and almost makes a joke about the boy stealing his brand, but Dream beats him to it.

“Gentlemen, have you made your choice.”

Dream hopes with all his heart that they choose defeat. He doesn't want to fight l’manburg for power or land or money, he wants to run away with his tail between his legs if it means he doesn't have to raise his gun at any of them. But George and sapnap are twisting his arm behind his back, if he doesn't do this then he’ll be kicked from the top spot in the food chain. And even though he doesn't care for social hierarchy, if George or sapnap were in charge, chaos and death would flood through the city. He doesn't want to fight Tommy, or Wilbur, or anyone for that matter, but if it means sapnap or George wont gun them down without a second though, he will pretend that fighting them is what he wants.

“You have taken everything from us dream, even when we thought we had nothing left you took our oxygen and you left us to suffocate. If it means laying down our lives today for independence, then so be it. But that blood will be on your hands.”

Dream wants to stop this, to stop everything now before it's too late. But he sees the fire burning in sapnaps eyes and his throat goes dry.

“How does it feel by the way, does Erets death feel good on your conscious Dream.”

George lets out a high pitch laugh and even sapnap seems to crack a smile.

“Its not fucking funny you-”

“Not now Tommy.”

Wilbur silences Tommy and turns back to the masked man.

“Independence, or death. You chose dream.”

Sapnap steps forwards and points his gun at fundys face.

“Well if you insist.”

Dream raises his hand and sapnap lowers his weapon, disappointment clearly hung across his face.

“Before all that nonsense, do you mind if we call in one more person, wouldn't want it to be an unfair fight now would we.”

As George finishes speaking a red sports car comes revving into view from behind the dream team, Wilbur wants to vomit at how George looks excited by it all. When the car stops just behind the trio, the team watches the driver's side open and sees Punz step out of the car. Wilbur finds it strange how he doesn't seem to be carrying any weapon, and he clearly lacks the same body armor as the rest of his team.

That is until the passenger door opens.

And Eret steps out of the car.

[crownarg-the-watchers]

Into the Dark

In every direction the walls of the tunnel echoed with a thundering whisper, the sound of wind ripping through trees like a storm and the crackle of boots trodding on dead leaves in autumn. The crash of waves into cliffs, that pulling, reaching water that strangles the rocks; the crack of earth in drought as the very ground splits open in thirst. Red light flashed erratically in the dark, sparking out like a lightbulb before it bursts, like a blacksmith’s fire throwing burning particles of metal into the air.

The only being who could hear the noise walked on, limped on, stumbled on. He had walked far into the long abandoned mines, past what had been maintained and kept safe, past areas that used to be kept safe and now held nothing more than broken rails, empty torch holders, and carts still full of coal. Walked into caves the miners never touched, trying to find a way down, through the earth, through the stone, through the bedrock. The structure was unsteady around him, groaned disconcertingly, in a way that suggested it would collapse on him at any moment, and he drowned it out with rushing static as he walked on. It was no matter if the walls buried him, if the ceiling crushed him – he would still find a way to continue forwards.

Usually he was always the one to leave, before people noticed he never aged, before people dug in too deep. Before anyone suspected he was anything they couldn’t trust he would go, ask his last questions and be gone before sunrise. He had not watched countless people grieve him – no. They were far from uncountable. The Observer knew each of them by heart, their names and their stories, who they had been before, and who they had been after. Could summon up their voices like summoning wind on a mountain, something cold and numbing and familiar that makes his bones itch, could hear them asking him not to leave and knowing that he will anyways. It was odd, being the one who had been discarded, rather than the other way around.

Dave who had vanished without a word, who always vanished and always came back until he didn’t, who had been the Observer’s only friend who understood. You don’t befriend mortals, they both knew, because they always die, and you don’t. And if you go down the path of craving death, you don’t come back. Mortals can – it’s a long and difficult journey, but they can love life because one day they won’t have it anymore. The Observer knew how to pick mortals without loving them, and Dave vanished before he got too attached to anyone. He imagined holding his best friend’s hand, showing him how interesting mortals could be – and supposed Dave must’ve gotten too attached to him, as well.

To his left, the wall crumbled and fell into the darkness with a deafening groan and sigh, like the earth was shifting into a more comfortable position on it’s sofa. Again, he thought about being between the stones as they fell, to fall with them or to be crushed where he stood. Did he crave death? No, but he craved the fall, from the clear blue sky into the sparkling void, to land with a splash among the starry depths, just to know what it would be like. Was death to fall, or was death weightlessness, or was it to become everything around you – not to be lighter than air, but the same weight, the same density, until you float somewhere in the middle like a cluster of water droplets in a cloud. Perhaps death was to be scattered in the sky like the constellations – he didn’t know, and he would never find out.

Syd didn’t leave you, lied a small voice, the voice of an old radio flipping through stations without lingering on any specific one. It was his own deafening white noise that whispered sweet untruths in his ear. For surely if she wanted to return by now she would have, she would have woken up by her own volition just as Mona had, would have clawed her way back to the surface with stubborn determination, with the passion that she breathed like oxygen. Would have – and he flinched as he thought this but nonetheless it must be true – by all means she should have surfaced when he spoke to Baroness, when he showed her the journal.

His head pounded, like someone was driving a nail through his temple, like being torn apart and put back together with no anesthetic. The constant deafening noise and the flashing lights probably didn’t help, nor the half dozen things he was trying to see at once. He was lost, desperately so, trying to get to a destination unknown from a place yet more unknown. He knew how to go back the way he came, in theory how to clamber up those walls and return to the light and safe familiarity, but it felt undoable. His lungs were rock dust and soot, his feet stone that carried him downhill, his knee a beacon of pain that kept him unsteady. If he wanted to he could leave this place, but he continued on as if it wasn’t even an option, sticking with what he had started.

Llyr had genuinely not left him. Arc had stumbled, had fallen into the dark. When the rocks had crumbled and plummeted downwards so had they, because they were mortal and far from being air they were stone, unsteady and shifting like the very walls of this cave. In the spirit of poetry, in the spirit of the metaphor his guppy had fallen rather than died, and he walked after them, walked into the dark. When he said he knew where cat was, had he lied? He knew, he knew arc had fallen beyond his vision, that arc had plummeted into the darkness, that in the spirit of poetry arc had not died but rather fallen. None of what he said had been a lie. He always let people make their assumptions about what he meant, but he had only ever spoken what he believed to be true. If he had ever been wrong, it was a mistake, not a lie.

He stumbled as the pain hit him again, and reached out to steady himself against the wall. It his never been “nurture” that made the person – no. A statue is not made when the artist caresses softly the stone. The marble must be chipped away with precise force, carved in a particular way – too far and it will crack and shatter, too little and the rock will remain the same. No person is not made through suffering, not the one easily molded like clay, not the one who must be melted and recast like bronze. The material is nature, the person you will always be in your core, and it is your trials that give you shape beyond the stone you began as. With too much pressure one becomes a million shards, with too little one stays a rough rock that scrapes the knees of playing children. The Observer stumbled again as his leg nearly gave out beneath him, twisted his face into a pained scowl, and continued walking.

The records room was invisible to him still, unseeable. Within is the one person he was leaving, temporarily, the one person he cared about whom he could not imagine asking him to stay. There was no universe in which Ethan wasn’t furious at him, and there was no universe where the Observer deserved his forgiveness. He didn’t deserve it, he kew, and so he had already made up his mind to not seek it – because he knew that if he asked, Ethan would forgive him anyways. He wouldn’t apologize because he didn’t regret what he said, and if he went back he wouldn’t change a single thing that he had done. Though he didn’t like that Ethan was hurt, there wasn’t any use apologizing for something he didn’t regret, and there was no reason Ethan should forgive him, so he wouldn’t bother. Not for saying what he said, not for leaving.

For days he’d been without food, nor water, nor rest. He only continued walking in the direction gravity said was down, hitting the occasional dead end, the occasional rockslide. His head ached to the rhythm of the wind, ripping through trees, and the crunch of autumn leaves underfoot. The sound of waves against the walls of these very tunnels, the cracking noise of dry earth. His knee caused him to stumble, his exhaustion caused him to slow, but he walked on because what else was there to do when discarded? What else is there to do, but walk away again, leave another town, another home, another life behind. Don’t love mortals – he knows – because they will always leave you first.

[elephantinparis]

A Sky beyond a Storm Review

If I could give this book -∞ rating I would. This review won’t be spoiler free, so if you haven’t read the book don’t read further. Now that that’s out of the way let’s get into it.

First of all, I want to start by saying how sad and angry I am to be writing this because this series had become one of my favorites and it completely disappointed me in the end. I’m not sure disappointment is even a proper word for what I’m feeling at this point. I also want to mention that yes, I am a huge fan of Nightbringer, but I wasn’t expecting a hea for him. What I was expecting was an arc true to his character from previous 3 books. Instead, what I got was a complete character assassination. It all started from the very first chapter–Nightbringer kills a small child, but at that point I was still trying to defend the book and genuinely thought: yes, it fits his character since he despises scholars. So even though I didn’t like it I understood. But then the complete character destruction started. First, we had a moment when he saw a happy family and went: yeah, I’ll kill the mother and the kids out of nowhere because they remind me of my family and if I can’t be happy no one can. Now, let me explain why this is ooc behavior: The Nightbringer as we knew him always had a beef with scholars only. The family he randomly kills are not scholars. Another thing: why would he put someone through the same agonizing pain when he is always specific about the deaths having meaning to him and that he doesn’t kill in vain(scholar killings are not in vain for him) other people, however, don’t fall into that category. Another ooc behavior moment was when he put one of his jinn in chains (yes only for a second and yes the jinn tried to use her influence on him), but the Nightbringer I know would never put his people through that after them spending an actual millennia in a prison. He spent so long trying to get them out, he would never put them in chains again. Then the cherry on the top of the cake was that all throughout the book the author tried to drive it home how much Nightbringer wanted Laia dead and how much he wanted, and I quote: “Open her up.” Another inconsistency since in Reaper he saved her more than once and completely let her go (because we know he loves her). Yes, he wanted to know what magic she possessed since the moment in Torch, but he had multiple opportunities to kill her and he never did. But in this book, he more than once physically assaults her when she’s in no position to truly hurt him and from his previous behavior that’s ooc actions. And you can come and say: but wait a minute Laia is a real threat now and that’s why he wants to kill her after he “opens her up” and I’ll point you to the chapter where he finally learns of his wife’s betrayal and understands what magic Laia possesses. And what does he do? He walks away. The man who spent the entire book hunting her down has her vulnerable, alone, he finally figured out the mystery of her powers and I am to believe from all his previous actions that he’ll kill her, but he DOESN’T. Because, of course, it’s not in the nature of his character to kill someone he loves even if they’re trying to stop him. So, which is it Sabaa? The inconsistencies are jarring. It just drives it home how his actions in this book were character assassination. The final nail in Nightbringer’s metaphorical coffin (because of course in the end he gets no funeral, no established peace, nothing. Unlike Keris…but I’ll get back to that later) is the fact that his evil villain plan is to literally end the world…I’m sorry WHAT?! So, in the span of this book he went from wanting scholars dead, then wanting all humans dead and then wanting the whole world to end which would result in his people dying, too. What in the actual hell is this?? So many possibilities could’ve been taken with this character, even if the author didn’t want to give him a redemption arc, he could have been a much better villain with a good goal. Instead we get this. Please someone try to explain WHY would he do this when he just freed his people? They would suffer just as much from his plan, so it makes no sense at all. His entire character was about protecting the jinn, giving them a safe space once he freed them. Another thing I noticed is that in the previous 3 books Nightbringer was very much humanized, embers and torch focused on him feeling again, his growth once he fell in love with Laia and even in Reaper his actions were tied to her, but in this book it’s completely forgotten. He does monstrous things to other people who aren’t scholars which was never his goal before. He had a millennium to set his anger and hurt on others, but he focused on those he felt were responsible for his life being ruined – the scholars. And yes, he was wrong to try to take revenge on people who didn’t do anything, but the point remains the Nightbringer I knew would have never done anything to jeopardize the jinn’s safety. Even as a villain his story went in a very cruel direction. I never praised Leigh Bardugo’s depiction of her villain Darkling, but maybe I should’ve since she gave him the bare minimum and Nightbringer didn’t even get that. Funny that the author has said on more than one occasion he was her favorite character. I shudder to think what she would’ve done if she disliked him. 

Another character who was treated with cruelty all throughout the story is Helene. Now I’ve got to give credit where it’s due - Helene grew a lot throughout the series: she shed her prejudices, finally acknowledged she had been protecting the wrong people and that martials need to change, she also grew as an incredible leader and a warrior and when the people chose her to be their Empress I was so proud, but then…she made her vow. To never marry, to never have children (which is totally fine since it was even mentioned she didn’t want them earlier), to completely give herself to her duty to the empire. It rubbed me the wrong way immediately because a big part of her arc was love–love for Elias who rejected her, love for her family–who got slaughtered before her eyes, love for Avitas–who also was killed for no real reason other than to make her suffer even more. And what does this show? It shows to Helene that love isn’t her friend because it only brings her pain, she lets people in, loves them with every part of her soul and they end up dying. So, at this point we have a young woman who started the series thinking she wasn’t worthy of love end up thinking love itself wasn’t worth it. How messed up is that? Still as cruel as this arc was it was at least consistent or that’s what I thought. In her very last chapter, it’s heavily alluded she might have something with Musa. And if it was written as just two friends grieving their lost loves it wouldn’t have bothered me at all. But there were clear romantic undertones and then I was left thinking: what? I thought she chose only her duty. And though Avitas was barely a few weeks in the ground at that point I couldn’t even fault Helene for wanting to move on because I just wanted her to be happy again. But at the same time, I cannot ignore the inconsistencies. The cruelty she experienced was too much.

It’s ironic how two of my favorite characters got the short end of the stick.

I don’t really have much to say about Elias since he didn’t really have his own plot, he was just inserted into Laia’s. His ending was by no means earned and I know it’s hard to say that because he had gone through so much in the first 2 books. But ever since Torch he made a conscious choice to become the Soul Catcher. Sure, he only did it to save Laia’s brother, but he made a vow to serve and he completely disregarded his job after the fact. I think if the ghosts that got out in Reaper didn’t hurt anyone, he would have continued to ignore the duty he himself chose. Now in this book he could’ve had an interesting development since he didn’t remember his past life, but this was resolved in the very beginning when Cain somehow gave the memories back. Then in the very end for a quick resolve someone just took over his job and Mauth was okay with it. The person who took over was just brought back for plot convenience and it makes me so mad. He didn’t earn the freedom…

Then we have Laia. The problem I had with her character in general is the fact she disregarded her past with Nightbringer. She can be in love with Elias and acknowledge what she felt for Nightbringer. Alas, she only sees a monster, shows no compassion once she learns of his story and since she spent all the book trying to kill him and not just stop him the very end felt hollow when  she suddenly starts showing compassion to a suffering Nightbringer. Laia from Torch showed compassion and understanding in her own way toward Nightbringer and now it was just gone. She was still conflicted and in this she’s completely closed off. I don’t think her romance with Elias would’ve suffered if her very real past with Nightbringer was acknowledged properly.

I also want to talk about Rehmat (Nightbringer’s wife). We learn that she had a gift of seeing the future and once the war started and she lost their children she saw what Nightbringer would become. So, what does she do? Does she go to her husband and tell him what she saw, tries to change the future, show him that even when she’s gone, he can go on and be who he was always meant to be? Beloved. Hell no she goes to humans and uses blood magic to extract her essence and be put in the progeny of a random tribe. Then waits a millennium to kill her husband. What in the world is this?? The reason why she does this is never addressed. So, as a reader I must make assumptions that she never loved him. That she didn’t even try to change anything. She also could’ve told him of her plan so he could’ve found someone to awaken her sooner so they could once again be together. He was deeply hurt and alone without their people and she left him too. Tell me how you bring in this new force and you don’t even explain her actions? How is this good writing?

Now I want to talk about the death count and if the deaths had any meaning. Got to start by saying that only supporting characters were killed.  First, we have Darin. Killed by Nightbringer because he wanted Laia to kill him for his plan. See, the thing is Laia already wanted to kill him throughout the book, she got the weapon and she came there with the goal of killing him. Nightbringer didn’t need to “encourage” her by killing Darin. So, in my opinion the death was pointless and served no great purpose. It was a way to make the reader hate the villain, sympathize with the heroine and was done for shock value. Livia was another character to suffer a pointless death. She was the only person Helene had. There was no reason to do it same with Avitas. I guess for Avitas I could try to excuse it by saying it’s war and he did die on the battlefield. Keris had always been a great fighter and even Helene couldn’t take her on. But she already lost Livia and now this?? Too much. Too cruel. Livia’s ending could’ve also been written off as a war casualty, but she wasn’t actively participating in the war. Sure, she was the Empress Regent, but to me it’s just too much after her family. Both deaths only caused Helene pain and she didn’t gain anything profound from those losses. Lastly, I truly hated how the author tried to humanize Keris Veturia. And when I say tried, I really mean it because at least for me it didn’t work. The author suddenly had her saying she couldn’t kill Elias when time came even though she already had. She poisoned him and he died because of her. That woman first abandoned him, then tortured him throughout his time at Blackcliff and then in the end cost him his life. And Elias mourned her…She also had a lovely send off in the Waiting place where she found piece with her mother. So then if this villain deserved peace why didn’t the other one? At least Nightbringer had his reasons. We never knew hers.

In conclusion, I don’t understand how the story could’ve gone so wrong. As always everything you read is my personal thoughts and my humble opinion.

Tagging: @nightbringer @bookittothelibrary we suffered so much...I can’t.

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

Free Fallin’

“Can we, uh. Drive?”

Cas turns to Dean Winchester, amused, yet not entirely surprised. The hunter’s standing in the doorway, the line of his lips slant. But he’s got his eyebrows raised in a pleading stance, his posture as unsettled as pinkening, flustered cheeks. He is, in spite of the hesitation, to the core of his being, endearing to Cas.

But Cas rallies to stay serious. There’s a chance Dean needs that right now. “If you’d really rather. Of course.”

If you really want to avoid this. 

Dean seems uncomfortable, still, though Cas just gave him an out. Cas can feel the restlessness in his guilty stare. 

It hadn’t been long since Castiel got his wings back. And this was the first chance he was going to have, post completely healing, to fly - trial runs (flights?) didn’t really count, because they didn’t have any destinations, and he’s actually been looking forward to flying with someone, because it’s been a bit of an eternity since he’s done it. Been of use, like that. So ever since the case popped up on their radar, courtesy of a small-scale hunter in Maine, who acceded to keep them updated, he’s been waiting. 

It’s too far away to drive, if urgency strikes. They’d have to fly. Especially now that they could.

(Sam set off for Texas with Jack six days ago - a newspaper article leading them to cremated ghosts with elite, mysterious family members, and a whole lot of them. It’s fairly tame, as far as salt-and-burns go, and Castiel trusts both Sam’s intelligence, and commitment to keeping Jack safe, enough to not have decided to follow, three days in.

Which means it’s just Dean and him.)

Cas knows he’s never been more enthusiastic on a personal level about the discovery of a vampire’s nest. And he doesn’t pin it to a hunter’s heart dripping gamelust - because he’s aware that the idea of flying across the country with Dean Winchester, after so long, is significantly more appealing than the intricacies of pretending, and ridiculous badges, when they get there. 

So alright, Cas’s been waiting for this. Packing, planning and leaving. With Dean, and Dean’s familiar duffel, and his wings - it’s been an exciting thought. No matter how little time it’d take, and no matter how many times he’s flown around the vast Milky Way in the entirety of his life as an angel - this had felt like something monumental for Cas to suggest, and for Dean to agree to, through a mouthful of dinner, and several thoughtful nods. It had felt like something special.

But now, if Dean’s in enough discomfort to come out and audibly hint at it, it’s harder for him than he let Castiel believe - in the past, or even the night before yesterday. Cas knows he’d never impose on Dean. Or reinforce the multiple, exceedingly valid arguments he hadn’t had to use the first time, in favor of flying versus driving. Dean has the right to retract his agreement, his consent at any moment, and Cas instantly resolves to not let it show that this had meant something, because Dean would end up shouldering all the guilt Cas had no resolve to create, and absorbing it to the deepest crevices of his mind, to let himself fester in it.

Cas stays impassive. Ever proficient at dormancy. 

Still, Dean picks up on it. Guarded walls come up to shelter something akin to fear. “You wanted this.” It borders on inflammatory. A tinge of accusation, but it doesn’t feel pointed at Cas. 

“I did.”

“I’m sorry, Cas.” Dean grimaces, entering the room with a streeled step. It’s as if Cas’s earnestness knocked a few layers off his shield - and reduced the distance between them, literally and metaphorically. Truly, honesty is the strongest axe Cas swings at Dean’s unhealthy defenses, with.

“Dean, you needn’t be.” Cas assures him, and he means it, although the disappointment within him is giving way to a sullen sense of despondency he doesn’t wish to indulge in, so he deflects by concentrating on Dean instead. 

Dean shifts, raises his eyes from the floor to meet Cas’s, and they linger in a stare of depthless confessions. 

It’s unlike them.

So when Cas tries to render a small smile, because it felt like the silence needed to be reacted to - needed one of them to pull off, there’s no way for him to know that it’ll push them over the edge. Dean wrenches away from him, and Cas sees the strings holding him stoic, snap.

“Sonuvabitch, Cas -”

Dean storms up to him, glaring. He’s angry, it almost radiates off of him - just not, per se, at Cas. 

“- we’ve all come such a fucking long way!” He growls, and Cas meets his stare uncertainly, thrown off. This is unpredictable, to say the least. Dean’s positively glowering at him - except it’s through him, like he’s been hollowed out. “We saved the goddamn world, man. Died a combined total of a hell of a lot! Sam’s gone from being an angry teenager to a kickass, new-age Bobby Singer. Dammit Cas, we lost your wings and got them back.”

We lost your wings.

Cas nods, faintly. He still isn’t sure where Dean’s going with this. 

“Back then? You would’ve put two angelic fingers on my forehead, and zapped me the fuck to India, or something.” Dean grits out, edging towards his worst temper. Cas can hear him trying to restrain himself. “But now, you won’t - now, you listen, and you try - because you’ve grown, Cas. You’ve become family, and I -”

Cas doesn’t think about the fact that if Dean isn’t angry at him, there’s no reason to be yelling. Instead, he thinks about the rare haziness in intense, green eyes, and the pain in his crushed voice.

“And I haven’t fucking changed.” Dean ends abruptly, inflicting a scornful glare at the floor, and -

Oh. 

“Dean,” is all Cas says, because he isn't sure Dean’s done yet. They’ve always jumped to conclusions, and realized they were wrong later, but Cas really doesn’t want to interrupt right now. 

“Ten years, we’ve known each other.” Dean looks up again. There’s too much in his eyes. “Forty years, I’ve been hunting. And I’m still the goddamn same, Cas. Angry, pissed-off, worthless. The hits just keep on coming, and all I do is bury myself in the losses, and then Sam or you screws my head on straight and we pull a miracle out of our asses, but end of the day, I’m this fucked-up, hurting piece of shit, and -”

Emotions shine at the corner of Dean’s eyes; years of keeping it all down, finally overcome. With the surfacing ruinness, Dean lets out a strained sound, and lets his head fall. Chin buried in his chest, at last, he forces out. 

“- and I’m still too afraid of flying.”

“Dean.” Cas loses what remained of his reticence, and if Dean has more to say, he can say it with Cas close, hovering near with his hands featherlight along Dean’s arms, wanting to comfort, but not knowing how. Cas wants to be there - but he’s never gotten a chance before. He has no idea how. “Dean, look at me. Please. It’s not like that, Dean, you’re not those things - Dean, you’re one of the best men I know, just, please -”

Cas knows he isn’t doing the most articulate, or efficient job of reassuring the volatile, shaking hunter - almost - in his arms. None of it seems to seep through, however hard he tries. It’s years of repression. Like the other shoe dropping, the facade of being okay just crumbled - and it’d been the most convincing one yet, one Dean’s been hiding under since God was sent away. 

Instead of listening to Cas, Dean’s lost in his head. He scrubs his face with his hands, and then fists them in his hair, screwing his eyes shut. It hurts Cas to be so helpless right now - because no words seem to make a difference.

“I’m scared of it, Cas.” Dean repeats, voice breaking mid-sentence, and the heels of his palms pressed to his eyes.

Cas looks at him, terrified. He wishes he could hug Dean - wrap himself around him in a tight embrace, and not let go until Dean stops shaking, because right now, he’s trembling, but Cas has no idea if he’s allowed to do that. Dean is - well, from what Cas interprets of the situation, he’s having a panic attack, and Cas doesn’t want to cross boundaries. 

Cas just wants to brush off Dean’s tears, which have never been there before, and run his hands through his hair, and caress his temple, and he wants to soothe Dean’s knuckles with his thumbs, and he wants to tell Dean how wonderful he is, again and again until he believes Cas, and then calmly, he wants to take Dean’s hands, and -

That’s probably exactly what Castiel needs to do. 

Dean’s too out of it to register Cas gently plucking Dean’s hands from his face, freeing his hair of their assault - or maybe, he just can’t comprehend Cas holding his hand so tenderly, like it’s some kind of a precious thing, and Cas’s hands curl around his fingers, pushing Dean’s palm against his. 

Dean’s hands are colder than his, so Cas squeezes till Dean’s feel warm, and he looks at Dean as he does it, and Dean’s noticed now, and he’s staring at their hands, held between their chests, and he’s looking such awe - this delicate, beautiful wonder which makes Cas demand from himself why he hasn’t done this before. 

Somehow, as the seconds pass, Dean quietens. 

And as Cas holds on - simply holds on, running the pads of his thumbs on Dean’s skin, Dean’s chest stops heaving. He still looks dazed, and is breathing heavy, when Cas moves insufficiently closer, swaying into Dean’s space. 

“Will you let me try again?” Cas asks, in the same voice he’d have asked, do you trust me, and Dean understands it. 

He keeps looking at their hands. 

“Will you let me take you flying?” Cas says. “And we can hold hands, or if you’ll let me, I can hold you, and I promise it’ll be alright.”

There’s nothing, for a while. 

And then, Dean’s right thumb twitches, tracing the second knuckles of Cas’s fingers, and Cas feels a shadow of solace go through him, nervousness mingling with grace in his veins. 

“I’d let you take me anywhere, Cas.”

Cas feels his heart swell. Dean looks up slowly, seeking out Cas’s eyes, and Cas holds his gaze, and just like that, they’re back to saying things without any words. 

You fell from Heaven. Pulled me out of hell. We’ve been to purgatory together, so believe me, I’ll go to the corners of the world with you. 

“Maine?” Cas ventures, with growing confidence, for a smile - history assures him that Dean’ll join in, and he almost does. Only a wisp, but it’s there. 

“Yeah, but fucking hold me, okay?” Dean huffs, and it’s such a relieving sound of mild exasperation, more than a reach for normalcy, and Cas adores it. He knows Dean isn’t alright - not yet, and he doesn’t know how long it’ll take in the long run, but he knows he’ll be there for Dean. Through all of it, and on the other end. 

This is the farthest they’ve gotten, too. Dean’s hinted at these issues before, but he’s never had a breakdown in front of Cas - or anyone, and he’s never not backed off into a shell, after. This Dean is trying, and it’s wonderful. And it’d be growth, if Cas had ever looked at Dean Winchester, through the lens of an all-knowing immortal, like he’s not the most incredible being in the world, but a specimen, an experience - a phenomena to be analysed. 

Cas looks on, trying to dissect the way Dean’s eyes stay glued to his, unconsciously, and trying to read Dean through them. He can sense faith, and hope, and his resolve is renewed. 

“Well, we’d have to let go, first.” Cas points out, slow, and Dean tentatively does it first, ending up with his arms on his side again. Circling back to awkward, and adorable in his nervousness. But Cas doesn’t let him fold in, and retreat into himself, because now that he’s got Dean saying yes, and Dean asking him to, of course he’s putting his arms around him. 

Of course, he’s putting a hand on Dean’s hip - and drinking in the subtle responses of his body to Cas guiding him closer, and his other hand goes to rest on it’s eternally demarcated place on Dean’s left arm, as he looks up at Dean with all of the admiration and reverence he feels inside, trying to coax it into his eyes, and it’s not even a fraction of a millionth which makes it there, but Dean still blushes, so maybe for now, it’s enough. And then Dean’s hand grazes against Cas’s elbow carefully - because Cas hasn’t asked Dean to touch him yet, (so he doesn’t), but oh, how he wishes he would.

“How are you, Dean?” 

“I’m going to close my eyes.”

“How would you know you’re not scared if you closed your eyes?”

“How do you know I’m not going to be scared?” Dean throws back, still vulnerable, but a lot more himself. It’s a challenge, a flame disguised as a rhetoric, but Cas treats it like a question. And answers, as plainly as he can.

“Because now, you believe in me.”

It’s not a lot of words, and not the most eloquent Cas has ever been, but it conveys so much that it almost stuns Dean again. He nods, jerkily.

I’ve always believed in you.

Dean waits.

Trust is not the same as belief.

Cas decides it’s not worth this moment wasted, to stop for supplies or guns. They can circle back for them. This is it. Dean’s ready right now, and Cas wants to show him how beautiful it can be - and how with Cas, Dean never needs to fear flying.

Castiel would, and has given up his life for Dean Winchester. He’s charred, ruined, and lost his wings. Yet now, the angel shall show him how to live, on those very wings. Life is a string of poetic ironies, threaded together by choices. Love is the first pearl, and courage is the last.

“Cas.” Dean breathes out, as Cas starts to dissociate, focusing himself deep within. Dean stares openly, for Cas’s eyes are closed now, as he reaches through the realms to gather himself. “Of course, I believe in you.” Falls from his lips in an awed whisper, and the sound of his voice is still too much for the frailty of the moment.

That’s when it happens.

“I love you.” Cas lets out, because it seems far too important that Dean knows, and there’s limits to implications which can’t hold him back anymore. They’re going to fly together. 

Dean’s eyes widening is the last thing he sees, before he needs to concentrate his grace again. It feels like giving in to an old habit you’ve had to live without, more than a lover you’ve moved on from - and Dean’s hands grabbing onto him don't even register as they take off. His grand, celestial wings flap, and time hurls them out of their reality. 

Everything fades, and with the sounds, borders, and colors, so does Castiel - once again, heavenly. Everything goes away, stripping their hearts bare and momentum flickers on their skins, as ethereal, sky-like wings render the only one who remains, speechless.

Beholding the magnificence of his angel, love resonating through his ribs, Dean keeps his eyes open. 

*

It never takes too long.

Dean holds on to Cas, with arms clinging around his neck, until the end. It feels like he’s gliding - but somehow also like he’s driving hands-free in the clouds, though he’s surrounded by too much of everything for it to be the sky. He’s not terrified, but he’s overwhelmed, and he’s goddamn living- hell, he’s never lived this much in a breath, because the second he’s trying to replace the oxygen in his lungs, he finds the chasm of warped space start to dissipate. 

The ground under his boots returns, just like that.

He breathes in air - cold, real air, in the middle of a field which is certainly not Kansas, with a full-blown smile on his face which he’s not even thinking about. It still feels like he’s floating, to some imaginative part of his consciousness. It makes his heart slower, and shoulders lift, and he’s unjustifiably happy, and peaceful, and to hell with being afraid, he feels content.

Dean Winchester feels brave again. 

Maybe it’s because of Cas’s words. Maybe it’s because his arms are still fastened around him. Or maybe it’s because, Cas. He’s everything. Dean's been an idiot to have been trying to ignore the things he feels, because if he’d gotten here sooner, he could’ve had more of Cas looking at him like that, and Cas’s hands planted warmly on his sides, and Cas just smiling at him from this close. 

Now, he’s determined to make the most of the time he’s got. 

When Castiel slowly opens his eyes, looking composed again - and a little proud, definitely pleased, almost too lovely, Dean doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t wait for the voice in his head to catch up, and start second-guessing what he’s wanted to do forever. Dean just lurches forward, grabbing the trenchcoat lapels to reduce the gap, and kisses him. 

Cas responds almost right away, pushing back into the kiss, and Dean, with all of himself, and letting both arms circle Dean’s waist and shoulders, ending up impossibly close. Dean cups Cas’s face, tilting it towards himself, as he kisses him with everything he’s ever felt. There’s gratitude, and apologies, and need, and want, and then there’s the love, and that’s where he stops thinking. 

“Cas, I -” Dean pants, running out of breath. They’ve stopped kissing, and are simply paused in the moment with their foreheads leaned into a reassuring touch. Dean’s waiting to hear himself say it, and he hopes Cas is, too. “I - god, Cas - I love you too.” He takes a full breath. “I love you so much.”

And then Cas breaks into a smile, chest heaving as well, with the corners of his eyes wrinkling, and lips pulling up, and Dean gets to lean in and kiss him again, and he gets to tell Cas he loves him, and tell Cas he loves him every morning, and every time he feels like it’ll burst out of his chest if he doesn’t, and he gets to want Cas to hold him, as they fly, and -

Goddammit, he gets Cas. 

And that’s a happy ending, if Dean Winchester’s ever dreamed of one.