#yeah so I think I have a major? spoiler for barbie but whatever

[that-girl-glader]

Why is it that everytime I want to read/watch something it's social medias job to spoil it for me. Like no I have not watched barbie or across the spiderverse, and yes I'm depressed by that. But you don't need to spoil them for me, geez.

[sadhornydemons]

Rapid-Spoiler-Season-Speculation: Apology Tour/Ghostf*ckers

Caution: some references are made to other spoilers, so proceed with caution if you wish to avoid.

Apology Tour:

Alright, I'll admit, this episode I think I understand the least, so I'm sure I'm completely off the mark in even attempting to make sense of it.

Cake will be served, and it's clown Blitz version. Heart on an item in the back, heart on the knife. How many years has it been and she's still obsessed?

WHATEVER this is, Blitz didn't just stumble into it, I wonder if some type of invitation got him there.

Blood/red stained sheet for unknown reasons.

I think I'm the only one who preferred the earlier design, but guess I just have a type.

WHAT. DA. FUCK.

Yeah, of course, this is when my imagination starts churning.

Did Stolas reach just the perfect amount of drunk before his Spotify breakup playlist reached Olivia Rodrigo, causing him to throw on last year's Halloween costume and portal himself to his ex so he could express himself properly?

No, Stolas had an entire stage prop production prepared. That or we haven't seen the full extent of his magic conjuring abilities.

(same outfit, I'm keeping my eye on the spiked collar 'cause it's new to his wardrobe)

I don't know what could bring this on. At first, I thought it was a dream sequence, but the spiked collar turns up in a later scene. Maybe I just haven't accepted that my fav character could be an asshole?

Screenshots of Blitz, sheet is now a hoodie, we really don't know what he's looking at in this particular scene.

I don't think this is a full scale concert, though. Probably more of a private event. Maybe Verosika was planning a gathering of the 'We Hate Blitzo' fanclub, but Stolas was the only one to RSVP.

If it is, a public concert, I mean, I can just imagine the headlines:

Prince Stolas shocks audience members by appearing as the opening act in Verosika Mayday's concert, preforming his original ballad, 'Imp Dicks Aren't Worth the Heartbreak'.

And if it is a regular event, there's the possibly Blitz attended on purpose..to apologize about things? (hence the title) I don't know, it just all seems too weird.

As poster bleucaesura noted, Stolas is on his couch in this scene. The red stained sheet, presumably with Blitz under, stand before him. Stolas's collar is spiked, so this seems to happen after the musical number.

This is mainly all the info we have this episode, but looking ahead to future ones, I'm thinking this is gonna conclude the majority of the Stolitz angst. Or at least the current ones.

As many have noted, this season has been following a pattern of focusing on, and occasionally resolving Blitz's relationship problems. Unhappy Campers introduced Barbie properly, adding more details to the fire incident. Oops and Mammon's Magnificent Musical Mid-Season Special added to that by focusing on him and Fizz. Full Moon and Apology Tour seem to be based around Stolas and then both Stolas and Verosika, fitting since it's comparing people from his love life.

Hence, I believe the next episode will instead prioritize Blitz's relationship with M&M:

Ghostfuckers:

The IMP mobile is totaled and appears spray painted. Therefore, guessing this scene must take place first:

But what would cause "a life on the run", as Blitz puts it, unless he wasn't completely serious?

And I'm not sure if the hooded folks, "Come out, we've got your surrounded." scene was edited in before this or not.

There are those clouds in the background and it seems to call for a more scary scene, or at least until he checks his watch.

(actually those could all take place in previous episode or the ones to come, for all we know!)

Blitz wears a bad disguise rather than using an asmodean crystal. We could read too much into that because maybe Blitz just LIKES coming up with disguises, but in other spoilers, we see Blitz using a book for portals.

The enemy is doing bad things to the character's mental health, bringing about their worse fears. In reference to Blitz, I wonder if this is this is where those scenes come into play:

Interesting how it's edited like Blitz watching a filmstrip of his life, complete with a decorative frame.

Shown in a different style, I wonder if this flashback will also be used:

And, (if my earlier theory is wrong), this has to appear somewhere:

We see a flashback to a younger, longer hair Millie (not unlike her wedding photo):

(and it looks like outside a ship? Hey, maybe pirates really did have port windows!)

Which may be used to match up with this fight:

This, however, is hopefully, just another hallucination:

Okay, for the rest of this episode, one can't really speculate because the (looks both ways cautiously) storyboards leaked last year reveal a good chuck of the action and dialogue. So without getting TOO into that, for those who want to avoid getting too spoiled, I'll conclude this episode may turn out to be a fun, scary, but with admittedly triggering subjects, that showcase Blitzø's messy and occasionally obsessive relationship with Moxxie and Millie.

...and possibly new issues with Loona? Something is hinted out, but I might get into THAT speculation in the last two episodes.

[pebblysand]

Hi! I met your writing with castles and have been following since last year, and read some of your other things as well. Reading now the *special gift* (which was the light of my day, btw. And I absolutely loved it) I realized one of the things that captivated me so much about this story. Besides your amazing writing, the world and context you work with is such an universal experience, is heartbreaking. (There's more but don't have character left)1/2

(spoilers for castles chapter 11 under the cut)

First of all, this is one of the sweetest and most lovely comments I ever got. Thank you so much for this ask, you can't imagine how much it means to me that this story rings true to you, especially considering your personal story.

Re-reading your ask, I can't decide if your words "and there is no reason for you to know this" relates to you being Chilean (which, fair enough, I didn't know haha) or to what you said re:Pinochet, which, then yes, there is reason for me to know this, it's called going to school and being interested in the world you live in 😆. Please never assume that people shouldn't "bother" to learn about your History. It's on us to educate ourselves, as humans on this planet. (And, no, I have not, however, watched that documentary but I shall add it to the list).

This being said, though, what you're saying is incredibly interesting. It's funny cause as I said above, while I do know (a bit) about Chile, that was actually not one of the examples I looked when writing Castles, but I do see what you mean. I know historical examples that I did look at were:

Argentina and particularly the mothers of the Plaza de Mayo who asked to just know what had happened to their children

Obviously the WW2 trials and particularly, I read a French book that took place during the trial of Klaus Barbie in the 80s, which I thought was very interesting in how unsatisfying the trial was with an accused who refused to engage.

Spain and the Franco "disappeared" and the way people are today fighting for answers - and, sadly, the pushback of 'just move on' many have received.

I also wrote a lot of this chapter while the Bataclan attacks trials were going on in France, which was, I must say, probably the major inspiration, at least for the plot of chapters 10 & 11. It was one of the first trials in history that gave so much space to the victims (or "parties civiles, in French procedure), where over 350 people went to testify, either to their own experiences of the attack, injuries, or the loss of their family members and friends. I thought it was very interesting how, as a nation, we reported a lot on those, with the press writing at length articles about every testimony at the start of the trial. Then, the press reporting got more "quiet" when the trials focused on the accused and the more nitty-gritty responsibilities, and then louder again for the last victims' testimony, and the verdict. I did a lot of thinking about this, about whether we cared more about what the victims had to tell, in all of their gore-y details, wondering if it was just a collective voyeuristic drive for violence porn, or something more. I think it was something more. I think we collectively decided that we cared about these people, what they'd gone through, how they had (or hadn't, sadly, for some of them) rebuilt their lives, more than we cared about what the terrorists had to say. At least I did. And, I think it's one of the gifts of French criminal law as it exists, especially in terms of procedure, that the prosecution doesn't choose its witnesses, that the victims, whoever they are, can choose themselves to testify or not. Giving that space to speak (or not speak), is, in my opinion, so very important, and obviously influenced the last couple of chapters of Castles a lot. I think right now, we put a lot of weight on the victims of crimes (whatever that crime may be) to rebuild and be "survivors" and advocates and it's like: yeah, this is all good and done but sometimes, you just need the space to be like: this happened to me. And it wasn't my fault. I don't think victim negates survivor. I think they go hand in hand. Sometimes, you jut need to be heard as such.

And, at the same time, there is what I know from own work where, frankly, I've learned that trials are rarely satisfying to the victims, regardless of the verdict. There is always this saying amongst lawyers that to the victims, "it's never enough." And, this isn't to say anything demeaning to the victims themselves, but the fact of the matter is: if your son died, if your family member was tortured, if you were raped.... whatever sentence is never enough. Will never be enough. Even the death penalty wouldn't be enough. The justice system is the state's response to violence, but it's not that of those injured. It can't be. And, thus, as that party, you need to find other ways to rebuild yourself, and ways to move forward. And, as much as I believe recognition can start in a court house where you're given the time to speak and be heard, there's more to live than that. I think that's why trials always feel so unsatisfying - they're only one piece of the puzzle.

Lastly regarding Amycus being kind, I think there's two things. First, there's always that saying, right? "Hitler loved his dogs." I took it a bit literally there, but the spirit really is: bad people can be good at times, you know? And then, there's also the fact that Ginny would have spent hours with him. For months. Of course, he couldn't be mean all the time. And, it's a classic technique of abusers to be kind sometimes, so that the victim starts questioning herself. Maybe it's my fault, maybe he's not that bad. Ginny obviously struggles with that a lot, and it's an interesting this - as a writer - to explore.

Anyway, thanks a lot for your ask again. It always means a lot to me when people who have those kinds of experiences relate to my writing. I am so sorry you've had to deal with this. Love you too ❤️

jo.

[lcuistcmlinscnarchive]

After Niall’s Party | Lou + Haz.

Where: Louis’ House When: Niall’s Birthday Sept. 2018. What Happens: Harrys stays the night after everyone goes home and the boys allow themselves to be physically closer than they have been in a really long time.

Louis: The point when Niall had fallen after the karaoke in the very, very early hours of the morning had been when Louis had said to himself that the Irishman couldn't get worse. Spoiler: he did. And to say that he wasn't slightly relieved to get his best mate out and into the Uber would be a lie. Drunk Niall was a lot, and Louis sent him on his way with a hug and a 'text me in the morning so i know you're alive - lou :)' written on his hand. As he stumbled slightly back up to his home, Louis stopped along the way to say goodbye to another group of friends, hugs all round before he moved back into his  home, knowing that Harry was still there. Louis rejected the thought that he'd ever leave without saying goodbye, and he'd seen him not long before he'd helped Niall out to the cab.

Harry: Harry was in the living room area trying to get the TV back to its regular setting, since the party had dwindled down to very few people left. He had one single button on his shirt still clinging shut, his curls were messy and he had shiny, sleepy eyes, he wasn't sure where he'd set his phone down and he could not find his *shoes*. But in his drunkenness, he'd finally got the TV back to normal and turned the volume down to a more reasonable level before setting the remote down on the back of the couch, picking up the bottle of water that Louis had given him earlier. He turned around, smiling lopsidedly at him when he came into the room, "Hey, Niall head home?"

Louis: Louis got stopped once more in the doorway to say goodbye to some more people, and by the time that he was in the house it seemed that a majority of people were gone and the few that were lingering were getting their stuff together to follow suit. He looked around for Harry, spotting the younger man's curls through the doorway and automatically moving towards him with a slightly drunken swing in his step, a casual wave thrown at a guest as she made to leave. "Yeah, yeah, we're off parent duty," Louis joked, running a hand through his hair and sighing dramatically, "now we just gotta try and get him through to twenty six, huh? More importantly now, Haz, how *you* doin'? Feelin' alright, yeah?"

Harry: Even if he was pretty *lit*, Louis saying the words 'we're off parenting duty' to him made his heart flutter and his nose crinkle up a little in a way he probably shouldn't have allowed it to, knowing he'd simply been making a joke of how they'd taken over the job of looking after Niall the deeper into the night they got and the drunker he became. "Feelin' good, yeah, feelin'... *lit*, as they say." He grinned, unscrewing the cup from the bottle of water and bringing the mouth of it up to his lips to take a quick sip from it. He didn't really want to ask the next question, but the part of him that felt like he should overrode his lack of desire to, so he went ahead and did so with some playfulness but mostly reluctance in his tone, "S'that that... s'that mean I should be heading out too, then? Because ah, if you think so, then this then becomes the part where I admit I've lost my shoes and phone." He admitted with a laugh, running his fingers through his hair as his cheeks went just the slightest shade of pink with embarrassment as how much he'd allowed himself to drink. The joint they'd smoked with Lauren and Natalia before they'd headed out had been the icing on the already very drunk cake for him, and he was practically floating by then.

Louis: Louis pressed his lips together in a lame attempt to keep his smile on the down low, but the corners of his lips gave him away as he took in 'lit' Harry. He'd always loved this version of him - flushed cheeks and messed up hair, dazed eyes and that raspy, drunk edge to his voice that Louis would never stop loving. Honestly, Lou had loved every version of Harry. It was just suddenly painfully evident to him that he hadn't seen this side of him in years. "No," he said way too quickly to be chill as Harry mentioned leaving, "I mean, uh-" a soft laugh escaped as he tried to cover it, clearing his throat, "you can stay," he paused again, adding quickly, "if you want to. I mean, we can look for ya shit tomorrow, then. When we're in better places t'do so. The, urr, the guest room - it's made up. I didn't mean.." he cleared his throat once more, eyes finding Harry's instead of looking down at the ground. "As long as that's not where Niall took his mystery girl earlier, anyway."

Harry: Harry didn't even try to disguise the smile that came over him when Louis was so quick to say the word 'no' at even the suggestion it might be time for him to head home, wondering what was going through his head for the umpteenth time that night. "I did *drive*, so I mean... s'probably for the best, yeah?" He said about staying, even if the thought of it was making his drunken heart race. Louis hadn't actually implied that he spend the night *with him*, just that he could stay over. 'Like mates'. He tried to tell himself, but he wasn't buying it until he heard Louis clarify that he definitely meant the guest room, that he hadn't meant it like that. And Harry accepted that with a nod as he met his eyes, drunken sleepy smile unfaltering. Even if he had come to the party driving his own car and opted to drink anyway, he still had never expected Louis to invite him to stay in his guest room at the end of the night. That meant that inwardly he was thanking God or the universe or whatever force exactly it was that had granted him something like that; that had allowed him to have done something so right even if it was just having a few too many and losing a couple of his belongings around Louis' house throughout the course of the night. "Hopefully he was respectful enough to just use the guest *bathroom*. But if it's gross I can always take the sofa." Harry knew it wasn't the kindest thing to say, but it was more a dig at how Niall had interacted with Barbi and really any other woman who'd come near him over the course of the evening. "Thank you. For offering, I mean, s'awfully nice of ya." He was aware that Louis just as easily could've called Harry an Uber just like he called one for Niall, told him to come and pick up his things when he found them in sobriety tomorrow. But he didn't. And that filled the younger man with a sense of hope he should have known better than to have.

Louis: Lou had his hands behind his back, one hand holding onto his other wrist as he tried not to drunkenly sway too much. It was safer that way, to be sure that he wasn't going to make the fuzzy decision to reach out to Harry's mostly open shirt and pull him closer - to be sure he wasn't going to do anything to fuck this up. The cigarette he'd had about forty five minutes prior had sobered him up barely enough, but that didn't mean he truly trusted himself with Harry. Things just felt so delicate. "Alright, yeah, s'alright," Louis said with a soft smile of his own, relief washing over him when Harry agreed and didn't react like it was a weird offer. He took a step closer, reaching over to the back of the couch and switching the tv off with the remote, suddenly painfully nervous. "Lemme show ya where it is," he said simply, knowing they both needed to pass out. He then let his hand find the small of Harry's back, head nodding out to the hallway to signal 'after you', eyes darting through the kitchen when they passed it to check that the door was shut. The house was a mess - even more of a mess than Louis usually had it - but it wasn't bothering him at all. He was more focused on letting Harry take the steps first, hand sadly falling from where it had been resting on his back but Louis was still half watching to make sure Harry was alright, the other half paying attention to his own feet and making sure he didn't trip forwards into Harry and create a small domino effect. "S'the last door on the right, Haz," he spoke soft, his accent always thicker when he had been drinking but less so when he was sleepy. Lou felt his own body begging to lie down, to give into drunken exhaustion, but he wasn't going to do that until he knew Harry was tucked up in bed with everything that he needed.

Harry: "Y'are all done playing host, yeah?" Harry asked, drunken grogginess shining through in the way his words all ran together a bit, but not enough to make it hard to understand what he was asking. "Needa lock up er anythin'?" He asked softly after watching Louis turn the TV off, hyper aware of his hand at the small of his back even if he wasn't all that aware of much else. He didn't know what time it was, or if they were really the only two people left in Louis' house. He didn't know how many lights needed to be turned off or what a mess there was to be cleaned up, all he knew was that they seemed to be on the same level of drunkenness, and that was enough for Harry to go on without feeling like he was being overly hopeful. He carefully stepped forward, the saunter in his step that came with having too much to drink alive and well as he walked, which had him taking notice when he felt his ex's hand drop from his back. The entire way down the hall he was considering his next move, what he was going to say or do to stop Louis leading him there from being the end of the line for the night. And then he stopped, slowly turning to face Louis completely after opening up the door to the guest room that'd been pointing out to him, just holding onto the knob and studying his face for just a few seconds. He could see that they were both just as close to likely passing out the moment their heads hit the pillow, but that didn't stop Harry from not wanting their time together in consciousness to end just yet. He didn't want to say goodnight. So instead out came a question so daring and without consideration for consequence, it was like his last remaining remnants of liquid confidence were speaking for him, trying to ring the last bit of magic out of the night so he could savor it for all it was worth. He only hoped Louis wanted to savor it just as much. He met his eyes, head tilting just a bit as he felt for the light switch to the guest room and flicked it on, swaying a little where he stood, "...Lou, will ya..-" He wet his lips, barely a beat of hesitation before he just did it, "...D'ya think you can...stay?" He asked, his heart feeling like it was going to beat out of his chest by the time he got the words out, "Sleep with me. Jus'... next to me?" He didn't realize it sounded a little like he was pleading and less like a *casual* request until those last three words.

Louis: Technically he wasn't done playing host since Harry was still there, but it didn't feel that way. Maybe because the only time that he'd known how to 'host' with Harry around before then was to do it with him. It felt like parties they'd thrown together years back, making their way up to their bedroom together when everyone had either passed out or gone home. All Louis could do was reassure Harry that he'd sort the house out tomorrow, take the steps one at a time and follow him to the guest bedroom as directed. He told himself it was so that he could make sure the room was alright for Harry to stay in, but in reality he was just trying to cling onto the night and make it last that little bit longer. When Harry turned to face him, Louis got confused and let his eyes scan the other's face as if there were a clue there as to what the problem was. In reality, Louis just found himself subconsciously taking a small step closer to the man who still felt so familiar, hand coming up to rest on the wall next to them to steady himself a little. Their eyes meeting gave a drunken Louis something to focus on, and the first three words that came from Harry's lips had Lou wanting to say 'yes' almost as quickly as he'd said 'no' back when Harry had mentioned leaving when they were downstairs. Lou could feel the sincerity in the question, but it felt like such a bold thing to say that for a beat he thought he was hearing things. They'd so carefully sidestepped these moments - Louis generally keeping his hands to himself whenever he felt the itch to reach out to touch and instead saving everything for those long hugs every time they met or parted ways. But the second the question fell from Harry's lips, Louis wanted it so bad. If he were sober, perhaps common sense would reason as to why this wasn't a good idea. But he wasn't sober, and he couldn't say no to Harry like that. Lou nodded, only slightly at first before it became a little more sure. "Yeah, yeah - course," he said softly, hand finding its way to Harry's back again to show that he'd follow him into the room, even though he was half expecting the younger man to suddenly change his mind. His heart was thumping, his mouth had gone dry and suddenly it wasn't only the alcohol making him feel woozy. But all of that didn't matter when Lou's mind was just a constant stream of Harry Harry Harry.

Harry: The moment that he saw Louis nod his head yes in response, everything started to feel more like a dream. The fuzziness from the combination of the excessive amount they'd both had to drink and the weed they'd smoked not quite an hour before had already been enough to make reality feel slightly altered around them, but this shift in the atmosphere between them was indescribably different than anything else that had happened over the course of the evening. He felt Louis' hand at his back again and even if a part of him was nervous, he found the contact put him at ease. As they stepped deeper into the room Harry felt butterflies fill his stomach and his chest, but in his state of still clinging to that last bit of fearlessness that came with the level of drunkenness he was right before he his body was ready to pass out, he didn't let those nervous butterflies stop him. For a moment, he even thought those butterflies were going to dare him to do what he really wanted, which was to lean down and kiss him with more urgency than he'd ever kissed him with before. But he didn't do that. Instead he let them guide him, resulting in him taking a step forward, turning so that his body melted into Louis' in an act of pure adoration as he expressed how grateful he was that he hadn't turned him down when he'd asked him to stay, that he hadn't simply sent him home in an Uber in a way that could have left him questioning everything and feeling empty. His chin came to rest comfortably, familiarly in the crook where Louis' shoulder met his neck as his arms wrapped around him in a surprise embrace. His eyes drifted shut for just a few seconds, and he found himself breathing Louis in, the point of his nose just barely grazing his throat from where he had his face turned into it. "Thank you." His voice was throaty and gruff when he finally spoke, "F'not kickin' me out." He tacked on in a tone that suggested more lightheartedness, more joking, but it was clear from the way he still held onto Louis for a moment that he meant exactly what he said. "Or for tellin' me no." When he finally pulled back from the embrace it was with tangible reluctance, and his fingers went right to the last remaining fastened button on his shirt, plucking it open.  He'd barely taken half a step back from Louis by the time he was tugging it down his shoulders and letting it drop thoughtlessly to the carpet, hands traveling down to unfasten the buckle on his belt, fumbling just a little with it and the fly of his jeans. Once he finally managed and began to work them down his thighs he wound up backing himself up against the edge of the bed and just letting himself have a seat on it, abandoning the tight trousers he'd worn just for the occasion right there with his shirt, "..Ya want the other side, don't ya?" He asked when he looked up at Louis, worried that he'd somehow forgotten which he preferred over the last year since the last time they'd dared to sleep beside one another like this. Even then, neither of them had ever been drunk or daring enough to allow it to happen with so few layers and so much vulnerable inhibition between them.

Louis: Louis' hand on Harry's back was gentle, the pad of his thumb rubbing lightly across his skin through the material of the shirt in a show of affection that he wasn't aware that he was doing. He then kicked the door shut behind them, not bothering when it came to rest still slightly ajar, and before he knew it Harry's arms were around him and suddenly he was able to feel each time the younger man exhaled. All that his fuzzy mind could compute was the feeling of soft curls against his cheek and strong arms around him, with Louis melting into both simultaneously as he felt the most relaxed that he had done throughout all of his hosting duties. But then again, Niall's drunken fall and Ariana's embarrassing confession of love and Anwar's over-indulgence in harder drugs all felt like worthwhile stresses if it meant that he got to fall asleep next to Harry at the end of the night. "Thank you for stayin'." It was barely a whisper but he knew that Harry could hear it due to the otherwise silence of the room and the way that he felt the shell of the younger man's ear brush against his own lips as he spoke. Louis didn't mean to watch as Harry let his shirt slip to the floor but he couldn't look away, blue eyes following the way that the shirt fell down his biceps and wanting so badly to reach out and touch because he just needed to be close. But he just couldn't, regardless of how easy it would be to take a small step forwards, get up onto his tiptoes a little and kiss him. He couldn't do that when they just needed to get in bed, and Louis needed give into the sleep that his body was craving. Everything between them was so delicate already, he almost hated himself for even letting himself think about it. Lou crossed his arms over his front to grab the hem of his band tee, pulling it over his head in a surprisingly smooth motion and abandoning it on the floor. The jeans weren't so smooth, and he stumbled a little as he pulled them down and kicked them off alongside the shoes he'd been wearing to go out and take Niall to the Uber, but they lay there abandoned eventually. When Harry remembered his side of the bed, Louis smiled lazily and nodded his head barely, "yeah. Yeah s'perfect. If y'get in then I'll get the light." His voice sounded tired even to himself, socked feet padding back to the light switch to flick it off when he could see that Harry was ready and then make his way around to the other side, hands feeling out for the fabric of the comforter and navigating that way. The moment that his head hit the pillow, Lou could feel the effects of the alcohol and weed magnify whilst his muscles started to relax into the sheets. The wave of comfort, familiarity and affection that came from lying next to Harry settled him even more as he shifted onto his side to face his ex, arm tucking underneath the pillow as he lifted the other one ever so slightly in the air. The "come 'ere," that followed was whispered low enough for Harry to pretend he didn't hear it if he wanted to - maybe he could pretend he was already asleep - but they both knew that the offer was out there. Louis just needed to be close, and the fact that Harry had asked him to stay told him that the need was mutual. Because cuddling and falling asleep just sounded like the most perfect way to round off the party.

Harry: Harry's previously heavy-lidded eyes were wide and glassy as he met Louis' gaze, smile easily matching his when he saw it, since he was both relieved to be right about which side of the bed to let himself fall back on and that he hadn't been alone in being unable to keep from watching him undress. Even if they had seen each other in just about as little clothing then not too long ago during their play date at his own house with Freddie, Harry was aware that everything was different about that moment. He couldn't help wondering if it was his one chance, to be loud and clear about how deeply the love still ran on his side. He thought maybe the safest way to do it would be to express his desire somehow, just to see if it *could* be just as easy as falling right back into one another. He'd felt it so many times over the course of the summer, the possibility that maybe they were creating a second chance for themselves, slowly and carefully. But he also knew there was a possibility that he'd been reading too far into it, that Louis really was trying to be *just friends* for essentially the first time since they'd met. That they were never going to quite make it back to where they'd been before the summer that had broken them, no matter how much Harry had wanted to since then. No matter how sure he was that Louis could feel it too, sometimes. He pulled back the comforter and climbed into bed as he watched Lou head over to turn off the light, the sheets cool and soft against alcohol-warmed skin, the pillow a welcomed support to his heavy head. But he didn't want to go to sleep. The light flicked off and even with as relaxed as his body had begun to feel just from being able to lay down, his mind was suddenly alert, almost bordering on frantic. What if he fell asleep beside him without making a move at all? Without saying anything? What if he wasted his chance? He was asking himself so many questions by the time he felt Louis slip into bed on his side, and he dared to look over in his direction in the dark from his position on his back just as he was turning over to face him. His breath caught in his throat when he heard those two soft, barely-there words hanging in the air between them. And suddenly he realized... maybe he didn't have to push it just to make himself clear. Maybe he didn't have to lean in and ask Louis if he could kiss him in exactly the tone, touch him in exactly the way he knew might make him unable to tell him no, the way his mind had begun to yell at him to do so that chance he'd convinced himself he was about to miss wouldn't be wasted. Maybe for all they weren't saying, and hadn't been saying in the last three months, there was plenty being communicated between them. Maybe for tonight, they could just be close, and that could be enough. Harry shifted over without a second thought, fingers gently grazing along Louis' forearm as he felt for him, letting his arm come to rest over his midsection and immediately letting out a gusty sigh, sounding far too relieved that he hadn't had to ask Louis anything, even to hold him. He knew that if he stayed facing him that he wouldn't be able to focus on anything but how much he wanted to risk it all for just a taste of him, so he carefully turned over so that his back was toward him instead but their heads were on the same pillow. He positioned his head so he wasn't weighing on the arm Louis'd tucked under the pillow, and his hand laid on top of Louis, once he'd wrapped his other arm around him, his back pressed to his chest. He let out a shaky breath, so conflicted between the alertness caused by the quick, heavy beating of his heart and the fogginess in his head, how much peace it brought his body to fit like that with Lou again. He suddenly wished he'd had less to drink just so he could be more *present* for it. But he knew that no matter what, it was being burned right into his memory, like every moment of significance he'd ever shared with Louis in the past eight years. And with that thought came the courage to tuck his fingers into the spaces between Louis', not quite holding his hand, but wordlessly trying to tell him how much he needed him not to move away.

Louis: Louis was absolutely terrified that he'd somehow managed to get all of this wrong. Even though he felt that he and Harry were on the same page, there was no way to know for sure and that's what was so scary. Uncertainty. For a long time he thought that maybe they'd fucked up too much and life was just going to keep leading them apart from one another, but then suddenly it flipped and they'd been given a summer of reconnecting and starting to intertwine themselves back into each others' worlds. Harry had shown intent to keep growing closer through letting Louis bring his stupid mates to the show in Detroit and the way that he'd put so much effort into spending time getting to know Freddie. Louis really didn't want to mess that up, and something as simple as raising his arm like that in a request for both physical and unspoken emotional intimacy felt like it could do just that if it wasn't what Harry wanted, too. So when he felt the mattress start to dip and heard the rustle of the sheets in the otherwise silence of the room, Lou could almost feel the tensed up anxiety and fear wash away from him and all that was left was the pure desire to wrap himself up behind Harry Styles and hold him. Just like he had done in multiple different cities, states, countries, continents all those years ago. He'd missed this, and the heart thumping hard in his chest was a brutal reminder of just how much. He shifted his arm under the pillow a little to make sure that Harry had room to be rest his head comfortably, and his hand found Harry's hip under the covers as they shuffled closer until they were flush against one another and then he slid it around until Harry was wrapped up snug and tight. It felt inexplicably safe, like they were in their own little bubble and nobody could disrupt this or ruin the moment no matter how hard they tried. It shouldn't have been a surprise how easily they managed to fit back into this - how their bodies just knew exactly what to do in order to accommodate the other. Harry was warm and soft and familiar even after all this time, and Louis couldn't help but let out a groggy smile when he felt Harry's fingers in his. He squeezed them between his own, a silent way of saying goodnight as he fought the desire to drop down and press a soft kiss to the centre of his shoulder blades like he always used to. He started to do it, too, head ducking down out of habit but catching himself at the last moment, instead pretending to shuffle a little closer (if it was even possible) and letting his head rest back on the pillow again. Louis was so tired, but every part of him wanted to stay awake. To take in the change in Harry's breathing as he drifted off and the way that he'd feel the younger man completely relax against him. Louis wanted to peer over and to not just remember, but to actually see how beautiful Harry looked when he slept and remember all those nights when this was what he came home to and he'd felt so, so lucky. It was in this moment - with his arm tightly around Harry and body flush against his all the way from his chest down to his feet which rested behind Harry's ankles - that drunk Louis knew just how fucking gone he was for this man. Even after all this time the love was real and strong and there, and that was the last thing that Louis thought about before he fell asleep.

Harry: There was a part of Harry that still felt like he should test their limits, especially with where the pair of their hands with Louis' on the bottom came to rest on his hip. He knew it would've been easy to guide his hand elsewhere, to purposely rut back against Louis from behind until, even in their incredibly drunken, barely-awake state, they were unable to keep from crossing the line. But the bigger part of him was content in the knowledge that Louis asking him to move that close to him without any underlying ulterior motive could be taken as confirmation enough for him. He didn't need to do anything like that in order to feel like he hadn't wasted whatever opportunity this particular ending to the night had brought them. He squeezed Louis' fingers back, relaxing into him so that the curve of his body was pressed taut against his from their position on their sides, feeling a comfort he'd almost (but not quite) forgotten. Harry's breathing gradually slowed, and eventually his pulse followed, his mind allowing him to toss away the thought that falling asleep meant he wasn't taking enough advantage of what was happening between them. The warm, slow, rhythmic gusts of air he felt against the nape of his neck as Louis' breathing became more even from behind him served to soothe him, to stop his mind and his heart from racing, and as he began to doze off the pace his own breathing began to match. He felt every part of their bodies slotting together like pieces meant to fit finally finding their place again, his thumb running slowly over Louis' and down the side of his hand, the rope and the anchor invisibly aligning as he did so. As much as he wanted to stay awake and appreciate the importance of the moment, he couldn't help giving into the absolute serenity that had washed over the two of them, all while hoping to god he would still have a chance to let it all sink in when morning came. That both the stars of tonight and the sun tomorrow would be on their side, the way he'd felt they were on so many occasions before.

Louis: The first thing that Louis was aware of the next morning was that he hadn't closed the curtains before falling asleep the night before. The sunrise poured into the room and reflected off of the light walls so much so that Louis' hungover brain couldn't handle it. Almost immediately after he'd opened his eyes, he'd resulted to shutting them again and it was lucky that he didn't have to look at the clock on the bedside table in order to know that it was way too early for him to even think about being a functioning human being. He stretched his legs out, feet brushing against the back of Harry's as he did so. The two of them had naturally drifted at some point in the night, Lou's arm still around Harry's middle but nowhere near as snugly as it had been before, and yet their fingers had somehow managed to stay intertwined, albeit extremely loosely. The first thing that Louis did was fix this, linking their hands properly and shuffling forwards until they were flush against one another again. His other hand had managed to move in the night in a way that was awkward but somehow not uncomfortable, hand poking out from under the pillow on the other side of Harry. Lou could feel the soft exhales of breath hitting his skin to match the rise and fall of Harry's chest, and although the older man wasn't really awake enough to fully take it in it still managed to soothe him and keep him in the most relaxed state. Every natural instinct in his body told him to pull this man closer, muscle memory telling him to do exactly what he had done over a thousand times before all those years earlier. Now that Louis had shuffled forwards they were just as close as they had been when they had fallen asleep the night before, except this time Louis moved his head closer on the pillow until he could feel Harry's messy curls against his nose and cheek. They were soft and inviting, and it was no secret to anybody who'd known them back when they were together that Louis had always loved Harry's curls. He used to massage them when he felt affectionate, run his fingers through them when he felt thoughtful, pull at them when they fucked and then kiss the top of them afterwards as they lay in each others' arms just in case he had hurt them. It was also customary for Louis to nuzzle into them whenever the opportunity presented itself and for no reason at all other than it simply felt like home. He'd nuzzle them when they hugged and no one was really paying attention to them, when Harry sat across his lap at parties, as he pressed a kiss to his boyfriend's cheek or more relevantly when they lay in bed, Harry tucked up against him just as they found themselves now. That's the reason why Louis' muscles acted on instinct, face burying in the back of his curls and all but melting into their warmth and softness. At this moment he ran his thumb along Harry's and sighed happily, still sleepy as he let himself settle up against Harry's hair and ignore the way that it tickled his nose a little each time he exhaled. Everything was so much like it used to be and despite the hangover as Louis slowly came around, it was the best morning he'd had in a really, really long time.

Harry: The only way to describe the how Harry felt the next morning was completely and entirely at home. The warmth that filled the guest bedroom from the curtains that hadn't been drawn shut the night before had been welcomed, even if the light against closed, hangover-heavy eyelids hadn't been. But in his half-asleep, half-awake state of being too afraid to move and appear conscious and aware of his surroundings, he still found himself relieved when he felt the weight of Louis' from behind him rock just slightly, and heard the sound of them being brought shut, closing out the morning sun. He was grateful not to have it interrupt them, but even more so to feel Louis stretching out behind him, making no apparent move to shift away from him. That gratefulness was quickly replaced with pure elation as he felt Louis' fingers re-intertwine with his own, perhaps more solidly than they had at any point the night before when they'd been on the brink of falling asleep. He managed to keep his breathing slow and even, his head thankfully positioned in such a way that it wasn't obvious when his eyes blinked open, remaining half-lidded as he gazed ahead of him, still feeling fuzzy-headed and finding everything about the atmosphere between them so dreamy and delicate. It took everything in him to keep himself from letting a full-body shudder rock through him at the intensity he felt when Louis scoot closer to him so that they were pressed just as flush together as they had been the night before. He almost couldn't believe it; even in his wildest, most optimistic dreams, he never would've imagined that the magic might carry over into the next morning. But it was all the same magic and more as he registered the familiar feeling of Louis nuzzling himself into his hair from behind, and even in his state of pretending to still be entirely asleep, he couldn't help it when his fingers squeezed Louis' just a little in return. It was almost too much for his heart to take, as his body yearned for him to turn over to face Louis, to lay his head on his chest and feel his fingers gently threading through his curls the way he had so many other mornings, to listen to and feel the slow, rhythmic rising and falling of each breath he took. He knew he couldn't do that, he knew giving in to the desire to would be risking rejection no matter what might have been happening then. So instead, in his groggy state, he mentally begged himself to just savor it, to let it be a memory he could revisit on lonely mornings he woke up alone in his own huge bed, achingly nostalgic for a time when waking up beside Louis was the only norm he knew.

Louis: All of his senses were now entierly committed to Harry. Feeling the way that their hands linked together like they were designed to do exactly that, the smell of Harry's shampoo and the sound of his soft exhales into the otherwise stillness of the room. It was the tickling of the curls against his nose that started to bring Louis round, waking him up even moreso as his eyes started to open and he had that moment of wondering where the fuck he was. It had been a really long time since he'd woken up in someone else's bed - even longer since he'd found himself so intertwined with another person - so why did this feel so comfortable and normal? His head was pounding, resting against the pillow with his face still buried in Harry's curls. It all came back to him at once, body stiffening momentarily as he noticed that it was his ex boyfriend whom he was holding so tightly. The warmth of Harry's skin was addictive, and whilst Lou's brain was telling him that he had to pull back he could still feel his whole body fighting against it. But the truth was that they'd both come so far from where they'd been when they'd seen each other at that Hershey show. It felt so delicate, and Louis felt so fucking lucky, he couldn't let himself fuck that up. So reluctantly he shuffled his fingers out of Harry's, giving them one final squeeze before he let them go and placed his ex boyfriend's hand gently down on the sheets. He then moved his newly free hand to rest on Harry's hip, half on the material of his boxers and half on the skin. Then he started bringing his forehead up until it found the junction where Harry's shoulder met his neck and rested on the curve there, the curls still brushing against his cheek and he just stayed there for a moment. He let himself take Harry in for a second before he snapped out of it, slipping his arm out from under the pillow that they were sharing as gently as he could manage. The pad of his thumb stroked Harry's skin on his hip once before it was gone, Louis having to put some kind of distance between them as he pushed himself out of bed. His head was pounding, legs wobbly as he padded around to Harry's side of the bed and then out of the door. He stopped off at his room to throw on a baggy shirt and some joggers and grabbed the biggest things he could find that he could offer Harry to wear. He was pretty sure that the shirt he was holding in his arms actually had used to be Harry's, but he tried not to think about that. There was only one glass in the bathroom, so Louis filled that up with water for the both of them and grabbed some Advil out of the medicine cabinet before making his way back to the guest room.

Harry: Sometime in between Louis nuzzling into him from behind, the state they'd sunk into with the curves of their bodies fitting together with their hands tied up like that, Harry had dozed off again into a delicate kind of sleep. One that wasn't difficult to stir him from, especially with something as soft but seemingly deliberate as the way that Louis squeezed his hand right before he let it go. He hadn't even been made aware that they'd been laying there long enough for him to fall back asleep until he felt Louis' thumb graze over his hip and then the weight of his body moving from behind him. As warm as his own body was running from the way-too-many shots he'd downed the night before, he still felt just a little colder the moment that Louis was no longer close to him. He felt the loss of it immediately, which was to be expected. What he wasn't expecting to feel as he started to come to wakefulness was his own dick laying half hard up against his thigh. He waited until he heard the sound of Louis' coming around to his side of the bed and then making his way out of the guest bedroom to roll over onto his back and confirm his own self-betrayal and yep, he was definitely visibly bulging a little bit through his underwear. 'Fucks sake.' He breathed out, immediately grabbing for the sheet to cover his lower half since it'd slipped down his frame in the act of rolling over, trying to think of *anything* that would stave off one of the most inconvenient erections he'd ever had in his life. Anything that would keep it from becoming more obvious. And by the time Louis walked back in he was sure his face was more than a little flushed and he looked stupidly flustered but he hoped it could just play it off like it was the hangover setting in. Disorientation at where and how he'd just woken up. He *was* an actor now after all, right? "Hey. Mornin'." He greeted him, voice still thick with sleep-filled gruffness that he cleared his throat to try and get rid of. "S'it even morning?" He thought to ask afterward, keeping his arm laid over his lap even as he sat up and not willing to move from under the sheet just yet. A soft hint of a dimpled smile that he couldn't hide came over him when he recognized one of the t-shirts he was holding. "Thought I'd lost that." He admitted, smile becoming fuller and less reserved as he nodded at it with his chin. As he sat up even more, he became aware that his head was starting to throb dully, that his mouth felt dry and his eyes were still sleepy, even if the panic that the semi he was still trying to cover up had brought him into a state of wakefulness.

Louis: Louis had half-expected Harry to still be asleep when he'd walked back into his guest bedroom, and he wasn't at all eager to have to be the one to pull him out of that sleep. He'd looked so calm and peaceful, Lou almost felt it'd be cruel to bring him out of that and into the morning of hangovers and advil. Maybe it was just a selfish part of Louis not wanting his ex boyfriend to leave just yet - scared that bringing him into the morning would mean that Harry would have to leave straight away. But instead he was met with the fact that Harry was already awake and sat up, tattoos illuminated through the soft glow of the sunrise peeking through the window and making him look even more beautiful than he always did. If this wasn't all something that his heart ached for so actively, Louis would feel frustrated that they were in the position where they'd crossed so many lines whilst simultaneously not crossing any. Staying the night next to someone wasn't generally something that required any kind of meaningful discussion usually but why did it feel like their passing out next to each other meant they really needed to sit down and chat? Why did everything have to be so delicate that a simple action could require a thousand words to follow? Then again, they wouldn't be LouisAndHarry if things ever stayed simple. "Hmm?" Louis asked in question, pretty much being knocked out of his train of thought as he looked down at the shirt he was holding, "oh. Think I wore it often enough, decided I deserved to be gettin' custody of it," he joked, handing it over to Harry with reluctance when he realized that he may never get it back. It's not like he didn't have more of Harry's old stuff in his closet, but he didn't feel like he had enough to be so carefree in giving them back like that. Still, he handed them over, waiting for Harry to put them down before handing him the water and advil. It was in this movement his eyes landed on the slight bulge beneath the sheets, and as he pieced that together with Harry's flushed composure he realized what the problem was. He made eye contact with Harry, mind flashing back to mornings with wandering hands and kisses that were equal parts lazy and needy, taking care of each other and starting the day off *right*. Louis had to snap himself out of it, forcing himself to counteract his thoughts and put some distance between them as he took a step back and scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "Erm, yeah, it's, er -" he moved over to pick his phone out of his pocket of the clothes abandoned on the floor the night before. "It's eight thirty. I'll be downstairs, yeah? Puttin' a cuppa on and evaluatin' the damage," he said, slipping his phone in the pocket of his joggers and forcing one foot in front of the other until he was down in the kitchen, cradling his hungover head in his hands and trying not to linger on the thoughts of a half-hard Harry Styles upstairs in his guest bedroom and how much he really wanted to go back up and rejoin him.

Harry: Being face-to-face with Louis again like this for the first time since he'd settled in behind him last night was sort of a surreal moment for Harry no matter the inconvenient boner he was dealing with- it confirmed for him that it was all very real and not just a really good dream. How ridiculous it was that he'd let something like a bit of drunken cuddling go right to both heads, the one upstairs optimistic that maybe Louis wouldn't want him to leave right away. It was such an unexpectedly tender moment despite that, the way Louis seemed not-quite-willing to hand the t-shirt over after joking about getting custody of it from having worn it so much when they were together and sharing clothes was second nature. It prompted Harry to nod immediately in agreement, "I think you have too. Kept plenty of your things, after all, you've earned this one." He made a move to set them strategically on his lap, both the shirt and the joggers, but a part of him was certain in those brief few beats of shared eye contact that followed him moving to reach out and gratefully take the water and Advil from him, that Louis had seen exactly what he was dealing with that had him looking so visibly flustered. The *clear* reaction came with the body language that followed, the way he quickly moved to put a few feet between them as he reached to retrieve his phone out of the little pile of abandoned clothes they'd left there on the floor. Still, hearing him say that it was not only still morning but rather early at that also gave him a sense of relief he wasn't expecting, as if it being earlier in the day somehow might give him license to hang around a little longer. "Thank you." He said before quickly popping and washing down the advil with a few swigs of water, about to habitually offer it to Louis to see if he wanted a drink of it when he heard the second part of his sentence and watched him turn around to make his way out of the guest room again, and that's when Harry's face flushed much warmer than it had before, his heart pounding a few times in what felt like the hollow drum of his chest. "Alright, meet ya down there." He called after him in a desperate bid to appear casual before clearing his throat. He couldn't let his body betraying him like that stop him from getting to spend as much time there as possible, that much he knew as he set the water on the bedside table and threw the sheets off of himself, getting a good look at what he was sure Louis had just seen the outline of before muttering another "Fucks sake." Under his breath and moving to throw his legs over the edge of the bed so he could rise to his feet and get dressed. Naturally, the pair of joggers Louis brought him fit a bit *too* snugly, so he still had to sit and think about scenarios that were anything but arousing, like the urgency in the way his ex moved to get away from him. What that might have meant. Even more helpful was letting his thoughts wander to what might have happened the night before if Ariana hadn't made such a fool of herself- if he'd actually had to deal with seeing one of his closest friends and the love of his life hook up on the night of another close friend's birthday. That was enough to at least flag his erection and make it so he could finish the act of getting dressed, as long as he didn't allow his mind to wander to and linger on the moment they'd shared sitting there at the bar together having a laugh at the way she'd gone about her embarrassing dedication and serenade; *that* would have just made him nostalgic for a time when they were constantly sharing moments like that while knowing with every certainty that it didn't matter who else wanted either of them, they only wanted each other. He was no longer sporting that semi by the time he came downstairs holding the emptied water glass, he *was* however sporting the shirt Louis had brought him, and some really cute messy bed head. "Shit, bit of a disaster innit?" He observed aloud as he glanced around, "S'not as bad as it could've been, though." Without missing a beat he began slowly stacking empty solo cups inside one another, and when he came to one that needed dumped out he took that as an excuse to make his way into the kitchen, "We'll get stuff picked up some and... maybe make some breakfast or something, yeah?" He suggested, refusing to indulge himself in thoughts of what he'd rather be eating than hangover food for fear he'd wake his dick back up and be right back where he'd started upstairs with no chance in hell at concealing it.

[souichipresents]

Souichi Presents: Tomie, tOmie, toMie....

Kyahaha! Welcome, welcome back to Souichi Presents! The home of a true madman's task... to one day have reviewed every single Junji Itou story ever made! However... perhaps if you’ve noticed, even leaving aside the holiday hiatus, there’s been an unusual uptick in Non Mr. Itou Reviews. 

Why would this be? Well, I could say that I try to take in new horror as much as possible, to keep refreshed... but if I had to be honest in myself, it’s possible... I might be avoiding something. 

THERE'S JUST SO MANY OF HER. THEM. THESE STORIES. There’s so many of them. But that can’t stop me in my sacred duty because I swore an OATH... well I had a random idea when I was a freshman in college which I picked back up again for absolutely no reason I can recall and I’m sticking to it. 

Of course this is a labor of love, make no mistake. And there’s still a lot to love, as we get to... 

JUNJI ITOU’s, TOMIE: THE BASEMENT

(See part 1, MORITA HOSPITAL, here.)

Alright so if you weren’t here for the last part of this series, here’s a QUICK rundown. 

A girl is in the hospital while her not-boyfriend visits, until oh no! Tomie does that weird thing she does where her only enjoyment in stringing dudes along eems to be tormenting girls about it which isn’t weird at all. Sad hopsital girl is very sad, and also absolutely dying from Vauge Anime Organ Failure. But luckily for her, she’s able to get a transplant! Bad news, it’s a Tomie, signed off for the transplant from the sketchiest man alive claiming to be Tomie’s father. Again. Which is creepy because he is 100% actually the teacher from the very first Tomie story who may have impregnated her, was absolutely dating her, and 1000% killed her. So that’s creepy. 

Then it ended with ‘everyone with a uterus screamed internally during THIS bit’, alternate title ‘Aliens but with Tomie’. Now that we’re all caught up... 

(remember this is one of the very early translations, back when official publishers mirrored the art, so it’s left to right. God forgive us.)

Oh right, so this is early EARLY translation here, so it’s left-to-right again. My favorite part of this is that if theres a RUMOR about this, it indicates two things, really: one is that a patient happened to SEE this, which is just hilariously terrible. You get up, maybe getting some water, see- oh hey they’re operating and hhHOOOPS THATS A TINY HAND BYEEEE. 

Or option two: just some real gossipy nurses. “You would not BELEIVE the shit I put up with... yeah between this and whoever put the plastic wrap over the toilet seat, I’m out. I don’t care if it includes dental.”

...sorry, the heck is this?

Why it’s Fumihito! He’s... totaly unrelated to the story so far, and any future stories! But he’s sure here now. Good for you, Fumihito. 

Sure I make fun, but I’m pretty sure he might actually make it out of this ALIVE. Maybe the secret to surviving Tomie is to lack personality. Well he has one personality trait: checking out creepy things for No Reason. It might not get you very far at a party, but it;s gangbusters for moving a horror plot along. 

Well so much for my recap. This one’s probably more factual. Also can I just say I appreciate how in stride these doctors are taking this? Maybe they got all their ‘NO, THIS CAN’T BE’ out of their systems earlier. 

Well this has to be better then the goldfish bowl of hydrocloric acid the last tomie head was in. But whatever THIS is is... opaque... but not from... this side...?

....Mr. Ito, did you just have worries about drawing the doctors through the water at an angle? Well, god knows I wouldn’t want to. 

Now this is interesting, because it’s really the only go at a scientific explanation for Tomie’s... tomieness. But all he’s *really* saying is, hey, she can regenerate! I don’t think the real secret to this story is that Tomie turns out to be a large pile of planarians. ...though that would be amazing. 

...though it does speak badly for earths survival rate... do you eventualy wind up with a Tomie ‘apocalypse’? Crowds of tomies... gigantic tomies, like terrible lighthouses of adoration? Who knows, maybe every second tomie just kind of wanders into the ocean to keep overpopulation down... but still, you imagine it ends poorly. 

Yes well luckily rules don’t apply to NOSY MALE PROTAGONIST MAN! Able to use his amazing powers to satisfy his own vauge curiosity with a single bound. 

“And why are you in my room exactly?” “Plot contrivance! Need a character to follow to see the story happen, you know.” “...Isn’t that *me*?” “Don’t... don’t worry about it. 

This really highlights the difference in horror as a genre, you know? In most other stories someone being able to miraculously heal from major surgery would be a GOOD thing. Or at least even odds. 

See also: reading mysterious books, talking to strange new people, investigating odd noises. Don’t blame horror protags for doing those things; any other genre going into the magic furniture leads to narnia instead of hell. 

Similarly, only in horror is it possible for cancer to not be the worst outcome.

Now, I do feel the urge to make a joke here about just deciding to irradiate the monster why not, but they do actually have a logical train of thought here. They’re assuming something like cancer is happening; so they’re trying to see if radiation therapy could destroy the cells. 

WHICH is in turn interesting to me, because the “rules” of Tomie aren’t... clear. But they do seem to work. For the record-

Acid works. Fire works but you gotta be REAL thorough. Cutting is the opposite of working, bludgeoning not really much better. Water- laughable. Poison- untried. Concrete- ???? Radiation... well you’ll see in a minute. 

Meanwhile we get more of this. You wanted more of this, right? 

Tadashi sucked. Suuuuucked. This guy... exists. 

This does clarify a little more about her- it sounds like she has kind of a lonely life. ...I’m also going to throw this guy a bone and assume whatever he said in the original japanese might have been more of a “Oh, is that right?” then... that. 

Oh right, the monster. Radiation turns out to just make Tomie go from a kind of head-disaster to “barbie doll left on the stove.” Why? It’s a little late to want a scientific reason why THIS happens, because tomie already endlessly self replicates with no apparent need for outside energy... kind of. 

More then a few times we see her eating things (people) to regenerate from, but theres also times where nothing like thats around. Maybe having outside energy just speeds it up...? Or maybe she’s a nonsense curse monster. 

You know, I really didn’t think I’d like RE7 when the demo was out, but I like a lot of what they wound up doing with it in the main game. 

...And you are....?

Okay. Y’all. My dear friends. I love these comics. I love mr. Ito. I do. But we spend FOUR PAGES on, essentially, “Freddy hears noises behind the door, and briefly sees a walking figure.” I’m hitting the fast forward. 

There she is. The crux of this mystery- this and so many more. A living ghost? An endlessly self replicating memory? The guilt and fixation of a murderer imprinted into a endlessly replicating form? The grief of a murdered (pregnant!) teen girl horrifically cut down by a man?

If nothing else, a strange naked girl, in a fishtank, in a hospital basement he just saw a dude walk out of. What a strange sight. What a genuinely beautiful panel, highlighting a subtle, aberrant moment. 

...well. I mean, from a meta point of view, he took the safest available route, but... you can’t help but be disappointed, right?

Well Tomie has better things to do anyways. People to see. Short haired girls to loom over. 

No seriously, always with the short haired girls. Tomie has a.... type? Is that even what you could call it?

I’m not sure it really is about Tadashi, Tomie. I’m not really sure it is. 

Speaking of which, this is actually really unusual for Tomie. While she tends to generate terrible violence and suffering around her, I can’t really think of any time when she actually directly attacks someone. Usually she would have male ‘lackeys’ that she’d assign or manipulate to kill someone for her. This is an unusually direct motion on her part. 

Hey remember when she had slightly curly hair? We’re in the odd midpoint art wise where her design takes a odd turn. I can never figure out if it’s just a drift, or if it’s closer to how Mr. Ito wanted Tomie to look. 

Anyways it was nice knowing you, Dr. McDoctorson. 

Meanwhile, this is going to get a lot worse, and never get better. Note the interesting framing of the flowers here. I wish I knew if this was made before or after Dying Young. It feels like a very similar story thread, but Dying Young focuses more cleanly on the specific idea of ‘an illness making you beautiful, but at a terrible cost’. While this is... well. Tomie tomie tomie tomie. 

In the meantime, the doctors have been debating if tomie material can be used to cure illnesses (spoiler: hhhhooo boy no), and our main character went to visit John Smithee here. Who... does... this. 

...What the hell is he talking about? Her only personality change is she’s suddenly a little happier, and flirting with him. Also, he’s the one who’s been nonsensical in her grill hitting on her? Is this supposed to be like, ~oh I liked you for how you looked before~. 

I hate that. I hate every half-witted story where some boy is praised for seeing a girls ~natural beauty~. Like the discover of a girl is more important then whatever her plans for how she wants to look and feel are. And while this isn’t exactly because she just straightened her hair and got makeup, he doesn’t actually know that. So it just... grates on me. Endlessly. 

WHY IS THIS DUDE IN THIS STORY. 

Like this is supposed to be GASP TOMIE IS TAKING HER OVER but the problem is I don’t LIKE him, and his reason for turning her down is as shallow as anything Tomie has literaly ever said. 

It’s not sweet! And he has no functional personality. This story is supposed to be about her, but because she’s going through this transformation, it feels like he’s there so we see it from outside her point of view. But he just... sucks. 

Me too, totes-not-Tomie. 

Yeah his investment in how much more docile and quiet she was before really makes me feel the emotional weight of this terrible transformation coming over her. Which I guess is really my problem. 

This horrible thing happening to HER is being framed in how it’s affecting HIM. How HE feels about how she looked and behaved. And I could not care. Less. 

WHY CAN’T WE SEE MORE OF HOW SHE FEELS ABOUT THIS. 

meanwhile, Tomie accidentally saves many, many lives by getting rid of the other half of Kidney-Kaijulet, because these morons were going to inject more people with Tomie. 

Then this happens, and it kind of sucks. Even though it’s ~tomie~ and she’s evil or whatever... it... just kind of sucks. Which I guess is what winds up wearing me down in this series. We’re not short of media where ladies get hit and killed a lot. And I fully recognize there is context for this series as existing in japan that I’m not privy to, and will never actually be able to speak to. 

But to me, what the Tomie series has thats genuinely something different gets overshadowed by the monotony of the violence in it. For how little Mr. Ito work in later years includes outright slasher type violence, Tomie just... keeps goin. 

Also, she keeps dying but Creeper Teacher Dude here keeps being alive still, which also Just Sucks. 

Blink and you’ll miss it, here’s the whole reason any of this happened! It’s... this shithead again. Womp womp. 

Unintentionaly this might be the funniest page Ito has ever made. Poor bearded doctor just. 

WHY ARE YOU CUTTING HER UP? WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WI- WHY THE FUCK DO *YOU* HAVE A CAN OF GASOLINE. WHY IS ANY OF THIS HAPPENING. I SHOULD HAVE JUST TAKEN THE JOB IN KURÔZU-CHO. 

Also.... “squeak squeak?” That cannot possibly be the right sound effect. 

...alright this guys a total shitstain in five directions, but this is also pretty funny. He’s basically doing a Loony Toons exit in a dark horror story. 

Don’t listen to that too long by the way, it’s kind of hypnotic. 

And this... this one page makes, to me, the whole rest of the story.... 

The intensity of the reveal. The tight closeups from her face to his, the way she seems contained inside the arc of the fire. The slant of the panels around them- leading to such a sense of unease, and drawing the eye.  

This. This is a beautiful horror moment. 

What a strange moment. Do they leave together? I don’t remember if he comes back again, though I suspect he must. What happens to her....? 

Is she really completely gone?

And that, at last, is the end of BASEMENT. 

This is a really muddled one for me. I feel like theres so MUCH in it I could enjoy, but somehow it both has too many ideas, and feels stuffed with filler. 

I’d loved to see some of these ideas. A hospital researching tomie? A girl being corrupted BY tomie and slowly losing her sense of self...? Those are both amazing ideas that I wish had been their own stories. I wish the girl becoming tomie had kept the lense on HER. On how she felt, on what she was doing. 

I think in a way I find this pair of chapters to be more frustrating then others because... if there weren’t good moments, I could just freely mock it, and maybe even skip past it. But there is a good story in it! There really is. 

It just feels like it’s happening somewhere else, while the ‘camera’ follows this unrelated person. With a level of decompression that... doesn’t work for me. 

I suppose thats a greater problem I have with Tomie. It can just feel like so MUCH, but it almost never gets bad enough i can comfortably abandon it. 

Almost. 

That’s all for this week, folks! Join us next time won’t you? I’m hoping to get to more Ito, and talk about the hauntingly strange short “Madame Tutli Putli”, and possibly talk about the great classic of horror cinema, Scooby-Doo on Zombie Island. And of course, the souichi presents patreon is now on monthly donations, and I’ll be updating it’s milestones soon! Even a dollar or two makes a really big difference. 

And as always, Souichi WILL... return. 

[barnesandnoelle]

Fused Families

Part 1

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Death, language, Endgame spoilers (Are they really spoilers at this point?)

Summary: Bucky meets a little girl who completely changes his world; however, he needs a certain someone to take responsibility and take care of their beloved kid.

“Damn, I’m getting too old for this shit.” Bucky was right. After all, being as old as he was, anyone would have retired.

Bucky cracked the neck of a strange alien before moving on. New York was under attack again. Some dumbass aliens, no doubt, want to take over. Bucky really wasn’t sure, but when Sam calls you at two in the morning to “get your motherfucking ass out here”, you don’t ask questions.

A red, white, and blue shield flew past his head and struck down an alien he hadn’t noticed. He quickly shot a glare at Captain America.

Sam’s mocking really knows no bounds as he proceeds to insult Bucky while retrieving his shield.

“Losing your touch, old man?”

“I could say the same for you, you star spangled sparrow.” Bucky really wasn’t in the mood for taunts, but it did slightly make him feel better.

“Hey, it Falcon. Say it with me. Fal-Con.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and continued the fight. He had been fighting nonstop for nine hours. Wanda, Bruce, and Strange were putting an end to the incoming invasion, while Bucky, Sam, Rhodey, and Peter did damage control on the ground.

It was a mess. This was the first major battle since Steve, Natasha, and Tony we’re out of the picture, and they only had one of the original six avengers. Bucky rubbed his face as he tried to focus. Perhaps, it was sheer luck or Bucky’s enhanced abilities, but the faintest sound of crying reached his ears.

“Sam, someone’s hurt.”

“I got you, man. Hurry up.”

Bucky ran towards the cries in an instant, and he almost immediately found the source. Inside a newstand, a small kid was wrapped in the embrace of her parent’s corpses.

“Shit!” He muttered.

The little girl cowered, but Bucky knew better than to just leave her and get Sam.

“Hey, it’s alright. I’m here to help. I’ve got you.” He outstretched his hand to the little girl.

“Y-you’re a good guy?” She asked with hopeful eyes as she peaked out of her parent’s arms.

Bucky smiled sweetly at her and nodded. The little girl’s face lit up as a huge smile adorned her features. She quickly turned towards her parents and shook them both.

“Mom! Dad! He’s a good guy! You can stop napping!”

Bucky’s heart shattered at the sight. The burnt holes on their bodies is the only evidence of what happened to them.

“Mom? Dad?” Her voice shook.

“What’s your name, kid?”

The little girl turned her head to Bucky and then back at her parents. “Emmy. Uh, I-I don’t think I should go. My mom and dad are really tired.”

Bucky sighed. How the hell was he supposed to tell her?

“Hi, Emmy. I’m Bucky. I’m a friend of your parents actually. They told me to come pick you up.”

It was definitely the worst lie he ever told, but maybe it was enough.

“T-They did?”

“Yup! They told me they were going to nap here for a long time, and they needed me to take you out for some ice cream.”

“Oh! Really? Ok!” She squealed.

She turned back to her parents and kissed their cheeks.

“Bye, Mommy! Bye, Daddy! I’ll bring some ice cream for when you wake up! Good night!” She hugged them tight then gave Bucky her hand.

He smiled at her and pulled her away from her parents’ bodies. He heard the loud shots of guns outside. It’s going to scare her.

“Ok, Emmy. Your parents told me that the ice cream was going to be a surprise, so I’m going to cover your eyes, okay?” Bucky explained quietly.

She nodded. The excitement was rolling off of her.

“Also, there are a lot of fireworks outside, so it’s going to be very loud.”

She nodded her head again and raised her hands for Bucky to carry her. He smiled at her cuteness. He reached behind him and grabbed a large tourniquet from his bag. He wrapped it around her eyes and lifted her up to his chest. Without a second thought, he ran out.

“W-Where’s Bucky! Bucky!” A shrill scream pierced the air.

Bucky shot up from his seat outside the doctor’s office and ran in. He shot a glare at the doctor and social worker inside. The doctor gulped as he stepped away from Emmy.

“Seargant Barnes, I told you already! You can’t be in here!” The social worker repeated.

“She called for me, so I answered. She’s been through a lot. I won’t say a word. Just let me sit in.” He pleaded.

The social worker rolled her eyes, but after one look at Emmy’s teary-eyed look, she relented.

After the alien ordeal, Bucky took Emmy to the hospital. A social worker was called since Bucky had no blood relation to Emmy. This social worker isn’t the kindest. She’s heard all about Bucky’s occupation, and there is no way in hell his world will intermingle with Emmy’s.

Bucky stood beside Emmy and patted her head. The social worker looked at Bucky with such a fervent disgust.

“Bucky, can you take me to my mommy and daddy now? I wanna go home.” She whispered.

A guilt so deep pushed its way into Bucky’s chest. He’s such an asshole. How will he explain this to her?

“We can’t, kid. I still haven’t gotten you that ice cream yet. Just hold on.” He consoled.

She sighed and continued to stare off into space. The social worker kept pestering Emmy about her family, but it wasn’t looking too good. Bucky could tell. The more the social worker talked the more nervous and scared Emmy would get.

“I think she’s clearly had enough, ma’am.” Bucky spat as Emmy began to cry to herself.

“It’s Mrs. Marks to you, but you’re right. Come on, Emmy! We are going to take you to nice place. There’s lots of nice kids there.”

She rubbed her eyes and sniffled. “Okay, Bucky let’s go. Do you think they got ice cream there?”

Bucky shuttered. How did he get caught in this mess?

“I-I can’t go with you, kid, but Mrs. Marks is going to take care of you from now on.”

Emmy’s eyes almost bulged out of her head as she stared at Bucky then Marks then back at Bucky. It took the poor girl only two seconds to start bursting out in a full on tantrum. Emmy threw her small body on Bucky and cried her eyes out.

Crap! By the look on Mrs. Marks face, he knew there was no weaseling his way out of this one, but he would have to try.

“Please, Bucky! Mommy left. Daddy left. Now you’re leaving.” She cried.

“I’m so sorry, Emmy.”

“This is all (Y/N)’s fault. She left first! Now everyone is copying her!”

Bucky’s eyes shot open. (Y/N)? Mrs. Marks was also intrigued. Bucky took the opportunity.

“(Y/N)? Who’s that?”

Emmy was about to say something when she suddenly shut her mouth. There was a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“I’ll say only if I get to go with Bucky instead.”

“No!” Mrs. Marks practically screamed.

“Please, emmy. I promise I’ll work something out if you tell us.” Bucky whispered to her.

Emmy smiled triumphantly at her success. “(Y/N) is my big sister. Mommmy said she went on a big girl trip without permission. (Y/N) doesn’t talk to me anymore. She doesn’t like us.” Emmy muttered angrily at the thought of her sister.

“Can we go home now?”

The stern look on Marks’s face said otherwise.

Bucky looked to the ground in concentration. There had to be a way. In a split second, an idea sprouted in that dense head of his.

“Give me a second!”

Bucky quickly pulled out his phone and ran out the door. He dialed a number and tapped his foot impatiently.

“Hello?”

“Sam, I need a favor.”

“No more cookies, Emmy! You’ve had like twenty!” Bucky playfully scolded the little girl.

“I swear I only had three and a quarter!” She cried in defense.

A loud knock sounded on the apartment door. Bucky chuckled at his foster kid’s antics before handing her a cookie. He walked over and opened the door.

Sam stood there with an absolutely shit-eating grin, “I found her!”

It had been a about a year since Bucky found Emmy. Bucky was able to get custody of her soon after Sam walked into the doctor’s office declaring that Emmy was under federal government custody from now own due to her receiving delicate information from the head of the alien invaders. Completely untrue but apparently believable after Sam showed Mrs. Marks his “proper” credentials. Proper being that he stole Rhodey’s ID and replaced Rhodey’s photo with his own.

“Finally!” Bucky sighed with relief. “You don’t know how hard this foster dad stuff really is.”

“Couldn’t be that complicated. After all, she’s only six!” He mocked while handing Bucky a couple papers with an address on it.

“Hmm, in that case, you can babysit while I talk to the girl that abandoned her sister!”

Bucky quickly dragged Sam inside and ran out the door. Sam was perplexed as he look towards Emmy, the door, then back at Emmy. An evil smile fell across her small lips as she held up a Barbie eyeshadow pallete.

“Damn it”

“A6, A7, A8, and here it is.” Bucky mumbled to no one in particular.

He rang the buzzer beside the door and waited patiently. What the hell was he doing? He didn’t realize something very important on his way to (Y/N)’s apartment. She might not give a damn. He loves Emmy to pieces, but he knows he can’t fool the social worker for long. He had no doubt she’s been trying to get information this entire year. He just doesn’t trust anyone with Emmy except her family, but her last family member might not want anything to do with her. He’ll have to let Emmy in the hands of whatever abusive sickos get ahold of her in the system. He couldn’t let that happen.

“I’m coming!” A voice sounded behind the door.

Bucky straightened himself out and cleared his throat. The door swung open and a young woman stood before him. She was absolutely beautiful, and Bucky suddenly was at a loss for words. Still, he had a job to do.

(Y/N)’s eyes flashed with recognition at the sight of the Winter Soldier. “A-Am I under arrest?”

Bucky looked at her horrified face and quickly shook his head. “What? No, you’re not. This is about your little sister, Emmy.”

A sad look crossed her features as she nodded in understanding. “Yeah? How is the little darling? Is she okay?” She asked with real concern.

Bucky scoffed at her sudden worry, and he could tell she noticed as she glared at him. “Actually, that’s what I’m hear about. Your sister has been under my care for almost a year now while we tried to track you down. I’m trying to bring her back to you.”

The look on her face was of complete shock and confusion.

“Where’s her parents?”

“Dead.”

“For a year?”

“Yes.”

“From what?”

“Alien invasion.”

“She’s been alone this whole time?” She asked with regret.

“Not quite. I have custody, but I can’t have her for long. That’s why I’ve been trying to find you.” Bucky explained as he tried to hurry their conversation for an answer.

“I-I can’t. I’m not even a good sister never mind a mother. Just put her in foster care. I’m sure it will work out.” She rambled as she tried to close the door on him.

He pushed her door back open, and (Y/N) swore she never seen someone so angry. Bucky knew his anger was risking everything, but Emmy needed her sister. He had to show (Y/N) how much Emmy needed her.

“Look, I had her back when I found her. I’ve been treating her like my own daughter for a whole year while you have been MIA, so if I can do it, then I know damn well that you can ease off the selfishness and take some responsibility for you own family.” He ranted as he backed her into her apartment.

(Y/N) grew more nervous as he inched closer to her, chewing her out for her lack of maturity. She was also beyond angry. How dare he come into her apartment and demand things from her. She doesn’t have to be a mother to this kid. She doesn’t have to do anything for the Winter Soldier or her parents. She won’t do anything for them.

Bucky took notice of the sudden change of attitude as he watched her fists clench and her breathing hasten.

“How dare you come into my home and ask me to take care of a whole other person because you dug yourself into your own mess. If you couldn’t take care of her, you should have left her with the proper professionals not use me as your scape goat. I don’t owe that family anything, and I certainly don’t owe you anything either. Emmy is a sweet girl, and I am glad she doesn’t have to deal with those people ever again! However, I find it pretty hypocritical that the bloodthirsty Winter Soldier is trying to lecture me about morals. Do yourself, her, and me a favor and take her back to the right people. I don’t care who it is as long as it isn’t me, alright?”

Bucky watched the woman in utter shock. How could she be so heartless to her own sister?

“You know what? You are completely right. I did dig myself into an awkward situation, and yes, you don’t owe me anything.” He sighed in embarrassment at his outburst, but he knew he had to do the right thing-for Emmy’s sake. “But you owe Emmy everything for abandoning her, and don’t think for a second that I can’t take care of her. If there weren’t people trying to get me away from her, I would have full on adopted her! I can’t, though. I also can’t leave her in the hands of a broken system where she’d be completely lost and forgotten. Also, bloodthirsty? Really? I may have hurt a lot of people. Hell, I killed a lot of people, but I never did it out of my own will. You, although, are willfully abandoning the only person who could possibly care for someone as self absorbed as you!”

(Y/N) stared at Bucky in complete shock. Guilt crept up her spine as she realized she truly was wrong. She absolutely knew it, but she couldn’t hurt Emmy anymore.

“I think you should go now.” She mumbled.

Bucky scoffed at her dismissal and walked away. He pulled out a paper with his number on it and laid it on a nearby table.

“In case you change your mind.” He explained.

“I won’t.”

He nodded quietly before reaching for the doorknob.

“You know, she talks about you a lot. She told me every story you guys shared,” he frowned at the memory. “She thinks you hate her. She’s very angry at you and herself. She doesn’t know what she did wrong, but she’s blaming herself for a lot of things.”

(Y/N) nodded as he opened the door to leave. He was about to walk out when he heard her voice speak up.

“Did she like our parents?”

“Yeah, she misses them very much.”

She bit her lip and stared at her shoes.

“If she needs someone to blame, it should be them, but if she’s been brainwashed by those lunatics, I suppose you can just teach her to blame me.” She explained before leaning against the back of her couch.

He rolled his eyes at her remark and shook his head. “That won’t be my responsibility anymore. Whatever happens here on out, it’ll all be your fault anyways.”

(Y/N) blinked as Bucky slammed the door shut; she clutched her chest tightly in pain as tears flowed down her cheek. She can’t hurt Emmy anymore. She can’t, yet she is. Her eyes were trained on the number on the table. She grabbed it tightly and crumbled it into a ball before chucking it across the room. She sighed and wiped her tears.

“Damn, I’m getting too old for this shit.”

Hi, everyone. Thank you for reading!! How did you like the first part of Fused Families? Please give me advice and requests if you like! See ya 👋