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midnite-c6 · 19 hours ago

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After reading ur patient!namgyu fanfic I was just wondering if you could pretty please w a cherry on top write a fic about Seowan !! Doesnt have to be doctor x patient, I just need more fics w my beloved Seowan 🔥🔥 have a great day/noon/night!

i haven't seen any fics about seo-wan, it makes me so sad, but here's oneDJFH also, i added squid game tags because i want more nam-gyu lovers to see roh jaewon's character in daily dose of sunshine!! FIRST NON SQUIDGAME FIC .. my fav schizo TT.

kim seo-wan x reader !! <3 warnings: fluff , angst ?! , mentions of mental illness </3

つ⁠｡⁠☆ he's your study buddy!! both of you couldn't pass the exams the first time and you guys bonded over that. the two of you would sit next to each other when the professors lecturing about a lesson, since you both share the interest of being determined in passing the exams this year, there wouldn't be alot of talking during a lecture, but afterwards he's actually quite talkative!

he would also share his notes, giving you a bunch of sticky notes, all of them would have silly random doodles and small comments about how "you can do it!"

you manage to even hang out with him after classes ..which still includes studying, but you told him he needs to let lose, even for a little while. eating noodles in those small shops on the sidewalk, visiting libraries, and if you feel like your falling behind in studies, he would share the other side of his headset, making you listen to the lecture he found on youtube.

a new store would open up right next to the university, because the lessons were tiring and obsessing over the tests is unhealthy, the two of you decide to explore. it was actually a computer-shop.

since then, it's been you and seo-wan's new hobby, to play videogames for hours after lectures, how you were practically his pocket healer, how you two can't play alone without the other right by their side.

this newly-shared interest has gotten you two alot closer, you'd even ask him out, gratefully, the feelings are mutual, kim seo-wan is a simple man. now there'd be long sessions of kissing inside his small apartment, cosplaying, the two of you didn't have alot of money, but this was enough.

video games became a part of your life, one to escape reality. but unfortunately, this hit a little bit harder for kim seo-wan. you'd notice how he wouldn't take the time to study anymore. of course, as the concerned lover you are, you would remind him all the time, but he just wouldn't budge.

his parents were nice, they'd always treat you like you were family, even cooking dinner or lunch for you whenever you come over. since you haven't seen seo-wan in awhile, you'd ask them, only to find out your boyfriend has been sent to a psychiatric unit.

you would visit him everyday, telling him about your day, and asking about his. his day was filled with thinking of you, playing ping-pong with the other patients, and this fantasy world he lives in. but whenever you were too busy to visit, he'd be extra depressed inside the hospital and says he has ran out of mana. </3

you were always intrigued whenever he would tell you about his visions. his stories contain that you were truly his 'mediator', and that you're there in his life to save him. "this is very unprofessional, oh my dear.. mediator, but i'm inlove with you, for you make me look forward to explore even the darkest caves or the highest mountains." he'd take your hand to place a soft kiss on-top. he had forgotten your previous relationship before, atleast he still loves you in the new world he's living in.

you'd end up taking the test without him, but you'd never talk about it in the hospital, you know he needs more time.

in the end, you two agree upon each other to fight the fire dragon together, whatever the future may hold. because, as he confidentally says: "once i've saved up enough mana and leveled up all my armor, i choose you to come with me. you're the only one i can trust in defeating the fire dragon. i will protect you with all my life, my dear mediator!"

i'm sobbing just thinking about this bye ☹️☹️☹️ was gonna do nsfw parts too as i usually do but like i was too up in my feelings LMAOFHBRK trust im gonna post sum nsfw story next 🤞🏻

#squid game #squid game 2 #player 124 #nam-gyu #squid game x reader #squid game season 2 #nam gyu #namgyu #daily dose of sunshine #kim seowan #kim seo-wan #kim seowan x reader #nam-gyu x reader

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stromblessed · 2 days ago

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What makes me crazy about Arcane season 2 is that, if you watch only the final episode of season 2, there is nothing wrong with this interpretation of the themes or of Viktor's character. It is, obviously, a beautiful - if simple - sentiment that we all love to see in stories. And Viktor shown as the unloved misunderstood villain next to Jayce's unquestionably heroic narrative and forgiving heart supports this statement, as well as feeding the fire of jay//vik shippers.

This is assuming that season 2, and the final act of season 2 in particular, was written as a proper continuation and conclusion to the whole of Arcane. Which it was not.

Season 1 Viktor is pursuing change and "evolution" at first because he loves science and wants to help the undercity, and then later, because he is dying. He doesn't want to die without leaving behind a legacy. He doesn't want to die, period. What does that have to do with him not feeling loved? Interpreting Viktor's attempts to survive and his desire for legacy and success as "wrong" or something he should not have done instead of seeking love in Jayce or Sky flattens his character and moves him away from the themes of tragedy, progress, technology, and the gray area that exists between heroism and villainy, and makes season 1 less coherent.

You can take the season 2 finale and retroactively apply "Viktor wasn't loved enough/didn't understand love" to season 1 and sort of season 2 acts 1 and 2, but this involves imagining scenes and dialogue to fill in what wasn't written in season 1. It is not present in the text.

What is present in the text in season 1 is the class struggle. How Viktor is shafted in Piltover compared to Jayce. And how Jayce does not understand how Viktor is being shafted, nor how Viktor feels about that or Jayce's involvement in that imbalance. Viktor's one solitary attempt to reach out to Jayce and tell him what he's up to is nipped in the bud by Viktor himself because of Jayce's prejudice and the threat he poses by wielding power he doesn't know how to use - a microcosm of the threat Piltover poses to the undercity on a daily basis. The rift between them grows throughout season 1 as a result, culminating in Jayce's frankly inadvisable and rushed efforts to make changes between Piltover and Zaun that are ultimately futile anyway, and result in all of Jayce's fears and prejudices against the undercity being tragically and unfortunately validated anyway. Which does not carry through to season 2 at all, but that's for another post.

What is present in the text in season 2 acts 1 and 2 is... not much, if we're being honest. Viktor leaves Piltover because Jayce crossed multiple lines. Probably including the fact that Hextech is being weaponized (frustrating how this is not in the script - Fortiche animators could only show this through hints in the scenery and later in a music montage). Viktor is in the commune in act 2, he's not acting like himself, and it's about evolution, magic, and Viktor's attempts to "help" the undercity being futile no matter what he does. Jayce gets a hamfisted "arc" of - somehow? - unlearning his prejudice or something without meaningfully interacting with anyone from the cast let alone anyone from the undercity, with a halfhearted attempt at making him look like a misunderstood crazy person who is really "right all along."

By the time we get to act 3, Viktor's sudden turn to black-and-white villainy, his focus on "perfection," let alone Jayce's sudden black-and-white heroism and suddenly being "in the right" while Viktor is "in the wrong" is completely incoherent with everything that came before. And season 2's oddly disconnected and simplistic writing is smoothed over with "love was the answer all along. and poor Viktor never understood that until the very end :("

#arcane #arcane critical #anti jayvik #antijayvik #viktor #viktor arcane #if we really want all of Viktor's arc to be about how he wasn't loved enough then Sky needs to be a much bigger part of the conversation #but jay//vik shippers absolutely refuse to talk about her outside of any context that makes them feel like jay//vik is canon sooooo

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gayofthefae · 15 hours ago

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If you truly ignore Byler proof, there's a 50% chance. Because there is a 50% chance that a random guy in Arizona (with the last name Duffer) opened his laptop and typed out "boys kiss" and emailed it to a bunch of actors. For all the talk on how difficult it is to get a single shot, writing that is actually surprisingly simple and fast.

You're convinced that the people in your real life you believe are straight are, and honestly? That's what this is about. You can process that later, but do process it. Mike, however, is completely made up. Fictional. Doesn't exist. He is a puppet controlled by writers with free will. His relationship with a woman has 0 bearing on his queerness, (especially if he's bisexual, jesus christ guys, dating El doesn't disprove bisexuality).

At most baseline of a love triangle I'd say it's a coin flip.

People act like it's harder to write "Mike kisses Will instead" than to write, say "Nancy kisses Steve instead" because of their OWN mental block of him being queer. But there aren't actually any extra steps. All Mike has to do to have feelings for Will is say he does. All Finn has to do is act like it.

It is not as difficult to make a character queer as it is for you to accept them as queer, and that's what people are equating. It does not require any additional effort than any other situation in which one character is wanted by two characters. It is equally easy to put them with either one.

People act like just because Mike doesn't currently have overt feelings for Will that there are lots of steps on the road to that. There aren't.

The most planless, bullshit way of doing it they could do is to say "everything up until now - the I love you, all of it, was 100% true, but in this year and a half time jump, I have developed feelings for Will". A slightly better quality, equally as easy one would be "I believed everything I said and did was true, but I realized during this time jump that this whole time I actually had feelings for Will. I believed my actions but that doesn't make them true." Rewatchable, which we know they want.

Then, of course, the most commonly understood one, "I really believed I/was in love with you seasons 1-4 but learning that Will was the one behind the painting and that he knew me so well and made me feel so loved and felt that way made me realize I love him now." Cyrano, of course. We've seen it before, we know how it ends.

I, of course, prefer the more complicated, and therefore more accurate - and simply more interesting - versions, but this is on the assumption that they did not intend it and changed their minds when they sat down for season 5 or something.

Still easy as hell. So fucking easy. Tell Finn to look goofy at Will, don't even have to right lines about it, then have him talk to El and say any of the above lines. Written as bad as that, it doesn't totally matter. He will then, canonically and from the show's beginning when you rewatch it, be queer. Period, full stop. Tap Finn Wolfhard on the shoulder and whisper "be gay" and your job is done. It is very, very easy, actually.

People think that because represents him, they know everything about him automatically. But there are cases where you aren't him. You're the people around him. And just like them, you think he's straight. There are things I think about him that are projections of me, not analyses of the character. Yours is that he's straight. That came from you, not him.

People only act like it's hard because it's hard for them to wrap their heads around. But these aren't people who are magnetically repelled based on gender attraction. They're barbie dolls you're mashing together. You can pick whichever ones you want.

You may be Mike Wheeler. But the writers are 2x06 Erica Sinclair.

if a character canonically has a crush on another character (assuming it's legal), that means that the ship is a possibility. it's on the table. there's a chance of a relationship there. maybe if one of the characters is 100% canon confirmed not to be attracted to the gender of the other character, you could argue there's no chance, but unless they've outright stated so, it's on the table. it's an option. stop telling us byler isn't fucking possible. call it unlikely if you want - it's still an option now, whether you like it or not. get the fuck off my ass

#byler argument

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tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors · 3 hours ago

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what is The Goddamn Door?

i worked in store that shall not be named, but rest assured it was understaffed enough that leaving the register was a struggle every time. there were two bathrooms - to the right of entrance there was a hall, and on the left was the customers' bathroom, the right the employees. both of them are clearly labelled so.

both of these bathrooms were locked, with keys that attached to a pair of spatulas to tell them apart, because they weren't interchangeable. if a customer wanted to use the bathroom, they had to ask me for the spatula.

I was new to the world, young. It was my first job working with the public. I foolishly thought this would be a simple task.

"Here's the key! The bathrooms are over there by the entrance"

People come back saying they cant find it, which, okay. I think the hallway is pretty obvious, and has a big sign over it that says restroom and both the doors are labeled but. okay. i go through several variations in this first stage.

"Here's the key! There is a hall on the right, and the door on the left"

"Here's the key. There is a hall to the right of the entrance under a red sign - red, yes, red, not yellow, that is a wet floor sign-"

"If you look over there do you see the red sign on the wall that says restroom well if you follow it-"

but finally i managed to a majority of people to at the very least, arrive at the hall. but then they come back saying the key doesnt work, because they were putting it in the employee bathroom door. which okay. i also struggle to tell my left from my right on a good day. no shame. i get it.

but you see. there is another door. just behind you. and maybe TO ME YOU SEE JUST IN MY PERSONAL OPINION it would make the most sense to try the key in the other door also yes. but no they come back and they tell me. that the key doesnt work.

and when i get the hang enough to get them to the correct bathroom door mostly further unaided, they put the.

listen.

i'm trying to be so so so zen about this but they put the key in knob and then they trun the knob. but they didnt turn the key first to engage the tumbler.

and im TRYING im trying the radical compassion thing so hard lately but okay okya its fine. its fine it was many years ago

ahem

anyway

they come back. and they tell me the the key does not work. so the spiel at this point, if you have been keeping track (because i have been keeping track because the final variance of this goddamn script has been burned into the backs of my eyelids for all of eternity until the heat death of the universe, probably)

"Here is the key. To the right of the entrance, under a red sign is a hall, and when you enter the hall to your left will be a door with the words "Public Restroom." you have to put the key in the lock and turn it to open the door"

i need you to understand i am not talking about one specific individual who was particularly struggling. this confounding riddle developed over the course of months. every single time i thought i had it down to a science, someone would come back with a new and even more inexplicable variety on conundrum with this DOOOOOOOOR. ITS A DOOOOOOOOR THERE'S BEEN DOORS IN EVERY BUILDING YOU'VE EVER BEEN IN-

hh. okay.

and i'd thing 'one person isnt enough to update the whole thing' but its never ever just one person. its sisyphean. its like theres a troupe of hundred of improv performers whose job day in and day out is to ask themselves "how many different way can we not understand how to PUT A KEY. IN A LOCK. IN A DOOR. to torment this one specific 20yo into madness."

and you'd think that's it right. you see i have no specified what way one ought to turn the key in the lock.

and you see now. you see how the ourobouros devours its tail.

because the final variation is this

"Here is the key, To the right of the entrance, under a red sign is a hall, and when you enter the hall to your left will be a door with the words "Public Restroom." you have to turn the key in the lock to the left, and the knob to the right."

and thats too many directions so no one remembered it.

you do not want to know how much money i would pay to put The Goddamn Door through a woodchipper

#ask #doteddestroyer

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keeperofthepresent · 2 days ago

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Teru and Akane character analysis

A scene which plagues my mind and I can't stop thinking of is that one scene when Teru and Akane go to help Kou and Mitsuba, and Akane tells Teru "can't you be a bit gentler with supernaturals?" Teru replied with "I'm always gentle though?" and then there's that pause. A pause from Akane which lasts 3 PANELS, and when he replies to Teru on the third panel, his face is hidden.

It feels to me like he wanted to say something in response to Teru, but he decided against it. And this entire scene just had me analyzing both of their views on supernaturals and what being 'gentle' really means.

Teru has been exorcising supernaturals his entire life based on one idea: they don't belong on the near shore. It's as simple as that. No matter who or what kind of supernatural they are, they can't be good if they're sticking to the near shore.

Not only does he think that they're unstable and can hurt people, but he also believes that they simply should not exist around humans, no matter how they behave, because they're like ticking bombs.

Teru's mindset comes from his sense of obligation and responsibility that has been placed on his shoulders since his childhood. He 'hates' supernaturals but his hatred is general towards all of them. He doesn't hold a grudge or 'bad feelings' towards a particular supernatural, and he doesn't hate one of them more than the others.

This all fits really well with his 'selfless' image. He's not the type of person to hate based on personal agenda. He's only doing his job, and he's said before that none of it came easily for him, and he just had to get used to it.

If he hated supernaturals based on a personal feelings and grudges, then it would be easier for him to be an exorcist since he gets to fight them whenever he wants. But Teru doesn't really get any joy out of being an exorcist. To him it's just a chore or a job, no more, no less.

The most we've seen him do towards supernaturals out of personal feelings is using them as 'stress relief' with either him hanging Akane to the ceiling or fidgeting with a mokke. He lets out his pent up stress on them when he reaches his limit, but he doesn't 'exorcize' them out of stress.

Supernaturals just happen to be the reason behind his stress and misery, so he uses them to calm himself. But at the same time, he won't let his feelings show in his exorcisms. That would be unprofessional.

The only times we've seen him get emotional during exorcisms were when exorcizing Kou, and when he was fighting Amane right after. He was fighting Amane with an intent to kill, not to exorcize.

His exorcism of Kou, on the other hand, was done not only to save Nene, but to free Kou and prevent him from doing anything that he'll regret. Hanako has said at before that exorcism is like a 'release' to a supernatural, and Teru is very much aware of that.

That is why Teru told Akane that he's 'always gentle'. He's doing them a favor. He's freeing them. He's not just killing them. That's the difference.

Akane, on the other hand, views things differently.

As much as Akane says he hates supernaturals, we've seen that this 'hatred' is usually fueled by some kind of reason. When he expresses hatred towards supernaturals it's often accompanied with 'this is why I hate supernaturals' and a reason on why he PERSONALLY dislikes them.

Of course, that doesn't mean that Akane's hatred is not 'general'. He does in fact express hatred towards all supernaturals. but his hatred is also usually accompanied with a justification. A reason.

"Number 7 is a pervert." "He's a murderer." "You saw what he did to Ao-chan, didn't you?" "This is why I hate supernaturals, they're all like this." "They're all like that."

Akane always has something to back up his hatred. It's based on personal agenda. Unlike Teru, who dislikes supernaturals merely for their existence, Akane doesn't view them the way an exorcist would. He views them a way a human who's been constantly inconvenienced by supernaturals would.

And this difference between the two really shines through in this arc. When they were discussing the new timeline with Nene, Teru was constantly referring to Amane by name. He called him "Yugi Amane". Not "No. 7".

Akane's first instinct, on the other hand, was to think "a murderer becoming a teacher? What has this world come to?" He also kept referring to Amane as "No. 7".

Teru viewed this world as a completely different world. Amane is a human here so there's no reason to dehumanize him. Meanwhile, Akane kept making connections between both the new and the original worlds. he couldn't separate them as 'our world' and 'the world created by supernaturals'.

Teru was already disconnected from the new world, but Akane only thought of it as 'it's a bit different, but it's still us.' Even more so because he's one of the clock keepers.

So when Teru started accusing the clock keepers of trying to control their lives, Akane's first thought was 'I don't think they're as tyrannical as you make them out to be.' He says he hates them, and he does in a way, but he always needs a justification.

And with all the time he spent with them, he couldn't find a justification on why he should accuse the clock keepers of trying to hurt them. He couldn't find it in himself to think badly of them. 'Just because they're supernaturals' didn't work for him. Not in this case, at least. But that's a good enough reason for Teru to not want to remain in the new world.

Now moving back to the scene that had me making all this analysis in the first place: what was up with that long pause from Akane, and what was the significance behind hiding his expression in that scene?

Well, for one, it could just be that he simply didn't agree that Teru was being 'gentle' when exorcizing supernaturals. Their general ideas differ when it comes to supernaturals, despite their mutual 'hatred' towards them. Akane humanizes supernaturals to an extent. He doesn't know where to draw the line.

Teru, on the other hand, believes that being gentle means exorcizing them quickly. And Teru is no hypocrite. We've seen him exorcize Kou quickly before he managed to hurt Nene.

Others may not view that as gentle, but one time when we REALLY saw Teru being not-gentle at all was when he was fighting Amane. And Akane saw that too, and he was watching with a horrified expression. That's what Teru is like when he's 'not gentle'.

But is all of this really a good enough reason to warrant that long pause from Akane? Yeah, he's had to deal with Teru's antics on many occasions as a half-supernatural, but he's been taking it pretty well as far as we've seen.

But this pause feels like it means something more. Something personal.

Now moving on from here, all my ideas are mere speculation as I feel like there's not enough evidence to back them up. But what if Akane was feeling a gap in Teru's methods when it came to him personally?

He's a half-supernatural, but also still a human. Teru's treatment towards other supernaturals purely stems from his sense of responsibility and obligation, but what about the way he treats Akane? Considering that this scene comes shortly after Teru punched him over the timeline change, this can be a possibility.

He can punch Akane, but he can't exorcize him. He can call him a supernatural, but he can't exorcize him. He can zap him with his sword BUT HE CANNOT EXORCIZE HIM.

And where's Akane left in all of this? He's not one of the humans Teru is forced to protect. He's not one of the supernaturals that Teru has to exorcize simply because it's 'his job'. He's just left hurt, stuck in between. And this may also be why he had the idea that Teru hates him at some point.

But that changed. They were starting to get along, they became friends somehow. But it all came crumbling down when Akane unknowingly hurt Teru by betraying him. He expected Teru to just blindly trust him, but he hugely underestimated Teru's trust issues.

Akane's reaction to receiving the order from the clock keepers, his reaction to Teru telling him that he 'let him down', his reaction to Teru saying that his mom is alive here but he still wants to return to the old timeline, and his reaction to Kou's death all show SO MUCH guilt. He feels so bad and he probably thinks he ruined what they had.

But at the end of the day, Teru once again protected Akane when it came to it. He doesn't hate him, he just felt awfully betrayed. But Akane is still a human and his friend, there's no way he won't take a blow for him.

So what was Akane thinking in that pause? I personally believe that he was starting to feel conscious of how Teru treats him personally compared to other humans or supernaturals, since he never seemed to follow the same pattern with him.

He treated him differently, and with all the built up guilt, and the way Teru referred to him as 'clock keeper' not long before, it's possible he was starting to think that Teru has come to hate him for real now because he isn't 'gentle' with him the way he is with humans, but he also doesn't treat him the way he would a supernatural, who he exorcises for solely his job and for people's safety.

The way I see it, he was probably just thinking 'he probably doesn't only hate the supernatural me, but the human me too now.' Teru saying that he's 'gentle' with supernaturals was just a proof for him, because Akane doesn't feel like he's gentle with him personally.

Teru just punched him, not for 'stress relief' because he's a supernatural, but because he was disappointed in 'Aoi' as a human. Referring to him as 'clock keeper' instead of 'Aoi' was just to rub salt in the wound. He didn't expect his friend to betray him like that, and he decided he wasn't worth calling by name at that moment. He dehumanized him out of disappointment and hurt.

It's not that he called him 'clock keeper', it's that he didn't call him 'Aoi'.

This is all just a speculation though, and with the scene clearly implying something, I assume we'll get some clarification later on down the line.

Whatever went through Akane's head was definitely angsty though and I don't know if I managed to fill the last puzzle piece, but I tried my best.

#jshk #tbhk #akane aoi #teru minamoto #character analysis #toilet bound hanako kun #jibaku shounen hanako kun #i hope this makes sense #why are they like this

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jd-loves-fiction · 2 days ago

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For the Contes de Fées, i would like to ask for Azul, then you first meet him. Sfw or nsfw its up to you in the happy ending. (I dont feel like crying today lmao)

Gn reader if possible, you know who this is~

-🐙🐕

💐This one turned out quite shot but I'm losing steam fast :( hope you enjoy it hun!! ❤️

❧ A simple bargain

❧ When the sky had turned dreadfully dark, you should've turned tail and ran. But what hope did you have of outrunning a storm so close.

So you prepared for the worst and prayed. Before you knew it, you'd been thrown overboard so roughly, you were out before even hitting the water.

To survive would have been a miracle – one you did not believe in. And yet, you feel the tug of consciousness against the back of your head hours later, back upon cool rock and the scent of something cooking invading your nose.

You come to slowly and with much effort, regaining use of each of your limbs with slight twitches until they finally listen to your commands. Sitting up seems an impossible feat as you’re left gasping just from trying.

“Welcome back, captain.” The sudden greeting makes you double your efforts of standing up to know who saved you, though the silky voice is entirely unfamiliar.

When you succeed, you turn toward where the voice had come from to see a smartly dressed man tending to a pot.

You blink your eyes purposefully, making sure your eyes do not deceive you. The man is pale as birch, with hair like strands of silver and a smile that spells trouble without a doubt. It’s still not clear to you if you are truly awake.

“How– Who–?” Your voice fails you, raspy and as broken as you feel – aching down to your very bones, skin both cold and clammy and a strange taste in your mouth.

“Don't strain yourself, captain. Keeping you alive through the night was not at all easy and I’d hate for my efforts to be wasted before you can pay me back.” The man speaks with the practiced ease of a slimy businessman, though he must be nothing of the sort given the way his pale skin catches the light in such an mesmerizing way… plus the fact that the cave you find yourselves in has no entrance besides a pool of dark seawater.

“Who are you?”

“My name is Azul, though I respond to ‘savior’ just as well.” He finally seems to give you his full attention, only to give you a cheeky response.

“How do I know you’re not lying about saving me?”

“Do you see anyone else here?” He gestures around himself in a wide, dramatic arc and from that movement alone you can tell he’s going to be a pain in the neck.

“How do you know who I am? Why did you save me?” Questions rush out of you like a waterfall as your senses finally return to you in full. You’re head is spinning and aching, trying to make sense of what you know happened, where you are, who he could possibly be–

“So many questions… you’re lucky I’m a patient man.” Azul heaves a long-suffering sigh, standing from his stone seat to move closer to you, making you tense up, “I know who you are because I’ve been watching you and I saved you because I believed you’d be of use to me were we to make a deal. Which we will, once you get your bearings.” He stands a mere two steps from where you sit, back straight as a rod and spewing such overconfident nonsense you fear he might’ve seen the future to be so sure. If not for the way his fingers twitch at his sides, anxious.

“You sound so sure, and yet you don't look it.” He seems stunned at the accusation, subtly flinching in surprise. Seems you're more shrewd than he expected.

“There's always a degree of assumption or probability to deals such as these. I tend to avoid falling into blind confidence.” He pulls himself together so quickly that your weakened mind accepts it without question.

“What's this about a deal?” You bring a hand up to your aching forehead – dealing with businessmen is an endeavor guaranteed to give you a headache every time.

“I saved your life, so now there's the matter of how you'll pay me back.” Azul states simply, almost patiently – if you were to take his words at face value.

“Right. Can't I just pay you back?”

“I have plenty of money. There's something much more valuable that I want from you.” That can't be good.

You wait for him to name his price himself, but he simply looks at you expectantly – how dramatic, “What would that be?”

“Your heart.”

“...What?”

#💐event #twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst x you #disney twst #twst x y/n #twisted wonderland x you #twst wonderland #azul ashengrotto #twst azul #azul x reader #azul x mc #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland au #azul ashengrotto x reader #octavinelle

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greenwitchfromthewoods · 13 hours ago

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you in my eyes [5] l Javier Peña

Summary: you weren't friends and you certainly weren't planning anything more together

Warnings: smut, fingering, kissing, enemies (?) to lovers, misogyny and sexism at work, some bad language, Murphy shows up, alcohol

A/N: I don't know how many people read this series, but I wanted to add another chapter. Maybe I can make someone happy with it.

your feedback is very important to me and I want to thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. I secretly hope you like this story.🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

[previous chapter]

[masterlist]

You turned down the TV and sat up on the couch, someone was knocking on the door. It was already late Friday evening, which you decided to spend at home. After Messina announced that O'Connell had been urgently called to the States, you felt calmer. That's why you didn’t go to any pub or place like that.

The knock repeated and you finally approached the door.

"Javier?" the man on the other side smiled “What are you doing here?”

"Am I interrupting something?" he asked, a little confused.

"No. But it's late. Is something wrong?"

He raised his hand, in which he held the bottle of whiskey, and waved it, smiling slyly.

"I won the bet," he boasted.

You crossed your arms over your chest and leaned against the door frame, looking at him with interest. Peña was pleased to note that you were wearing a green baggy t-shirt, probably from the department's supply, and your hair was still damp from the shower. You looked nice.

"There was a bet, back at the office. The guys were betting on when O'Connell would give up and come home." Javier explained. "And I won."

"You bet he'd leave right now?"

"No. I said someone would punch him in the face."

You burst out laughing. And even Peña laughed, still holding his bottle in front of you.

"We're partners, so you deserve it, too."

"Oh! How generous of you! You flatter me, Agent Peña."

You bit your lip as if you were thinking about something, then gently pushed the door open, nodding slightly.

He entered the room, bringing with him the smell of cologne and cigarette smoke.

"I wasn't expecting guests." You announced, pulling glasses out of the cabinet.

"I was wondering if I'd find you home." He mumbled, unscrewing the bottle and giving you a furtive glance. "Didn't you want to go out somewhere?"

You put the glasses down on the coffee table with a clatter and sat down on the couch, pulling your legs under you. "I wasn't in the mood. I think I'll skip places like that for a while."

Javier poured the amber liquid into the glasses and handed one to you, sitting next to you.

"¡Salud!" He raised his glass in a toast, and you did the same. "What are we drinking to?"

"Peace of mind." You replied. "Unless you have other suggestions?"

"Naah. That's good too."

You tipped the glasses down and Javier filled them again.

"Nobody's waiting for you?" you asked as he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket and lit one. "I think you'd find better company than me."

"Oh! I definitely would!" Javier chuckled, blowing a wisp of smoke from his mouth. "Don't tell anyone I came here, you'll only ruin my reputation."

You laughed and covered your eyes with your hand as if you were thinking about something. "God! Can you imagine that?" Javier raised his eyebrows expectantly. "What the girls in the office say about you, what the guys say about me... And what would they say if we started sleeping together? Damn! Loise would go gray in an hour."

"Murphy would beat the shit out of me." Javier stated, sipping his drink. "He probably thinks you're too good for me."

"And he's right." you shrugged "I could be with the commander, but I'd trade him for a simple agent? Sorry, Peña, no chance."

"Fuck, you're a menace." he snorted, shaking his head in disbelief.

It was nice. He sat with you, talked about work and life. Melancholic stories from your past life, no plans for the future, because where you were you didn't really plan anything. Neither of you delved deeper, because why would you, it was just a friendly conversation over a Friday night drink.

After the third glass, he noticed your legs, exactly when you got up to go to the bathroom. The skimpy shorts gave Javier room for imagination. His eyes, dark as night, followed you involuntarily, and then he cleared his throat.

The alcohol was coursing through his veins, he felt hot, so he took off his jacket and threw it on the armchair next to him, rested his head against the headrest and closed his eyes. He didn't even hear you come back. Only the feeling of you sitting down next to him, the smell of your shampoo caught his attention.

"I'm a terrible housekeeper." you stated finishing your drink, Javier raised his head looking at you with interest "I don't have anything to eat, nothing I could give you." you pouted and he chuckled.

"Please, hermosa." he sighed "If I wanted to eat something, I would take you out for dinner. I have a hard time believing you cook anything yourself, to be honest."

You raised your eyebrows in surprise "You're suggesting that..."

"I'm not suggesting anything." he interrupted you and instinctively placed his hand on your thigh, stroking it gently "You just work a lot, like me."

"Maybe if we had someone to cook for sometime..." you pondered, completely not noticing his gesture, which only made Javier not withdraw his hand "Murphy and Connie, they definitely cook."

"Not as often as they both might claim." he raised an eyebrow and you laughed "But Connie is good at it. Anyway, you'll find out tomorrow."

"It's nice that they invited me, I guess..." you lowered your eyes, feeling a bit embarrassed "I mean... We don't know each other that well, right?"

Peña frowned.

"What the hell are you talking about? If it wasn't for you, they would still be collecting our fragments from the surrounding trees by now."

"Don't say that."

"But it's true." he moved closer to you, his hand moved higher, now resting on your hip, his thumb stroking your body hidden under your shirt. Neither of you felt embarrassed by this, maybe it was because of the drinks you had, or maybe it was that night. "You're doing a great job here. Everyone can see it."

"They think I'm a slut." you mumbled almost incomprehensibly and Javier had to tilt his head slightly to hear your words "No matter what I do, I'm labeled an easy girl. You know... I try not to worry about it, people will always talk, but sometimes... Sometimes it hurts."

He grabbed your chin and lifted it slightly. Beautiful brown eyes stared at you intently. "The most important thing is what you think about yourself. Double standards suck, you said so yourself and you were right. Surely if I say you're the coolest chica in the office, it won't change anything, right?"

You rolled your eyes. "Please..."

"And you have the prettiest legs." Peña added quickly, you chuckled "Your smile is also very pretty. And when you're excited about something, your eyes widen and shine so nicely." you snorted, your hand closing over his, which was still holding your chin. "And when you yelled at me the first time, I got hard."

The smile disappeared from your lips, which slightly widened in surprise. You fell silent, both of you a little surprised by this bold confession.

"Javier..."

His name was quieter than a whisper, but he heard it clearly. He leaned even closer. Warm breath brushed your lips.

"This is really a very bad idea." you said with difficulty.

"You can stop me, hermosa." His lips lightly brushed yours, you closed your eyelids, inhaling the air.

"Did I really make you hard?"

"Mhmm..." you didn't see the smile of satisfaction on his lips. "They call it difficult working conditions."

It was a split second and you felt his lips on yours. All dilemmas disappeared, and when you kissed him back he knew he was gone. Your hands instantly found their way to his face, your fingers tangled in soft hair and you pulled him closer, parting your lips.

An invitation that Javier read flawlessly. His tongue slipped into your mouth, you tasted the whiskey, and that was even more captivating for him. The kisses were intense, deep as if you both could finally give vent to what had been brewing inside you for a long time. You felt him squeeze your buttock and you moaned, but his tongue effectively muffled you. So you didn't wait for anything more, in an instant you slid onto his lap and clung to his body. Javier felt your breasts under the thin T-shirt, you didn't have a bra. He knew that, of course he had already glanced at your breasts, but when he felt it…

You pulled away from his lips for a moment and looked into his dark eyes.

"You can back out at any time. No hard feelings." you said. "I don't want you to feel..."

"Used?" Javier laughed quietly. "I guess I'm the one who should be saying things like that, don't you think?" his hands gripped your buttocks tighter, making you feel the bulge in his jeans.

"Oh!"

"That's a clear answer, I guess."

He lifted himself up and his lips captured yours again. The excitement grew in your lower abdomen with every passing second, with every kiss and touch. His strong hands shamelessly slid under your shirt, first stroking your back, and after a moment he grabbed your breasts. He kneaded your tits, rolled your nipples between his fingers, and you moaned as much as his tongue in your mouth would allow you.

"Take it off." he ordered, tugging at your shirt.

"Do it yourself."

"You're something else, you know that?"

You bit your lip, smiling obediently, raising your arms up so the shirt could be removed. Javier kissed you the second your lips peeked out from behind your collar. Damn, he was a threat to you.

Large hands explored your body, testing every inch of it, teasing every nerve. Could you want more? God, you didn't have to ask, he wanted to give it all to you.

When he slid his hand into your shorts, you gasped loudly.

"Fuck, you've got a real pool here, sweetheart." he mumbled, smiling slyly. "Would you like me to take care of that?"

A nod.

"Words, hermosa. Just words."

"Yes, please."

He ran his fingers over your folds, hot and wet, knowing perfectly well that he would be able to slide them inside without a problem. And so he did. And when you threw your head back, sighing quietly, he marveled at how wonderful the sight was.

Hot lips closed over one of your nipples, sucking and teasing with his tongue, fingers moving in and out, searching for that spot that could take you apart.

"Shit, Javier..." you moaned.

You clenched your fingers in his hair, hips rising slowly and rhythmically as he finger fucked you. Why did this have to feel so good? You couldn't remember the last time you felt like this, when someone had made you feel so...

"Oh fuck!"

"I think I found it." Javier chuckled, kissing your cleavage, your skin was slightly salty from sweat but still smelled of soft soap and you "I'm holding you, hermosa, take what you need."

He crossed his fingers with his thumb massaging your clit, the pressure was perfect and soon he felt your walls clench around his fingers, your body tensing and you held your breath for a moment feeling the pleasure spread through your body.

You rested your head on Javier's shoulder breathing deeply, his hands stroking your thighs sending a pleasant shiver through your heated skin.

"That was the first one." Peña finally spoke.

"The first one?" you lifted your head and looked at him curiously "Planning more of these?"

"Oh, sweetheart..." he sighed, brushing the strands of hair from your face, then bringing his lips to yours and stealing a tender kiss "At least two more tonight." another kiss "Two in the morning." another one "And how much more will you allow me to have with you, because - fuck - I want to see you cum again. I knew I'd get in trouble with you."

Your hand stroked the back of his neck, you could probably let him have a little more of you.

It was like an addiction. Javier was addicted, and you were his best drug. Before he knew it, you were crawling under his skin, coursing through his veins, and rushing to his head. Sometimes it felt like every time he saw you, his addiction grew.

His fingerprints were all over your body, and he proudly wore yours, even though no one was around to see it. You kept the fact that you were dating a secret, even though you never talked about it like that.

God! You never thought you could fall for a guy like that, and even more so that you would let him do things like that to you. Because sex with Javier was on another level.

Never before, no one had made you feel so desired, enough, beautiful, and fulfilled. Peña gave you the best orgasms, the ones that left you silent for a moment afterwards because you couldn't form a grammatically correct sentence in your head. The sleep problems disappeared and lazy mornings were something you loved doing with him.

His sleepy eyes, his hot body, his ruffled hair... In the dictionary, next to the word 'sex', they should have put a picture of Javier, you were sure of that.

In your apartment or in his, in the car in the parking lot, or at work in some tight space, because you wanted a quickie. It was getting more and more intense and what you were feeling was starting to scare you a little. A little over three weeks since O'Connell left, and you felt really good. For a while.

The information about the mole in the office was bothering Messina and she had talked to you about it many times. You promised that you would revolve around it, but for some time you hadn't found any new leads. It was frustrating.

"I talked to informants, but no one would tell me anything." You muttered one evening, resigned.

Peña opened a beer and sat down with his ordered food. "Maybe you're looking in the wrong places? Maybe it's not some higher agent or something?"

"But all this information that's been leaking..." you sighed.

“Honestly, many people have access to it. Hermosa, stop stabbing your food with fork and start eating,” he replied, gesturing to your plate.

However, your gaze drifted away for a moment. Javier noticed it after a moment, huffed impatiently. "Hermosa." he repeated warningly.

"Hmm?"

"You'll have cold food." he shook his head in disbelief. "I really don't know why I'm here with you."

You looked up from your plate and smiled. Your foot, under the table, slowly slid up his leg and headed for his crotch, rubbing it lightly. "I think I know why."

He raised an eyebrow expectantly. It was nice, what was between you. Although neither of you named it. The sex was fucking amazing, you could talk or not talk at all and Javier loved it. You didn't pressure him, you didn't expect declarations or confessions. You took what he gave you, you gave just as much.

And eventually both of you started eating more or less regularly, although the last attempt at cooking ended in burnt chicken, because when Javier came back from work he had a strong urge to get into your panties.

He grabbed you at the ankle and squeezed lightly which made you smile, he loved it. You spent quite a lot of time together and he slowly started to notice the little things he liked about you. Your smile was his favorite though.

"Murphy and I have to go out of town. We'll be gone for a few days." he said watching you as you reached for his beer and took a few sips.

"Anything important? Do you have new sources?" you asked, frowning.

Javier nodded "Yeah, we want to check them out. We also need to watch one guy."

"Okay. Just watch your backs. I won't be able to save your asses there." You squealed as he gripped your calf tighter and pulled you so hard you almost fell off the chair "Peña! Fuck you!"

"You wish." he chuckled, but then turned serious "You watch your back too, hermosa. Promise me that."

And you promised, and then you gave him something so he wouldn't forget about you and would have something to think about when he and Murphy were out of town.

"Will you miss me?"

You shook your head. "I don't think so."

"I think you will." Javier stopped the car in front of the office building and turned off the engine.

It was still early, the streets were empty. You were enjoying your last moments together. His hand on your thigh squeezed you lightly, it was nice.

"Tell me you'll miss me." He looked at you with a gentle smile and those eyes of a poor puppy. "I know you have a soft spot for me."

"You wish!" you chuckled.

"I will."

There was something in his tone of voice that made the laughter die on your lips. Those ambiguous sentences made your heart beat faster, but you calmed it down every time. You didn't want it to happen so soon. And what was that anyway?

"Maybe a little." You finally sighed, his lips stretched into a smile.

"Kiss me, hermosa."

It wasn't a request, more of an order, but you didn't mind. Javier moved closer, you stroked his cheek tenderly, and then you let his lips brush yours. At first gently, because he was teasing you, and he loved doing that. Finally, you curled your fingers in his hair and Javier slid his tongue between your lips, you moaned. His hand grabbed your waist as if he wanted to pull you even closer. Damn, he kissed like a dream.

Another brush of lips, another tender touch. Finally, he rested his forehead against yours and sighed. "Maybe we still have time, huh? Murphy will definitely be late."

"I don't think so." you replied quietly.

"He's always late."

“But not today.”

Javier looked at you, surprised, and then turned around. Steve was standing in front of the hood of his car, his glasses slid down his nose and he looked at you with disbelief on his face.

You opened the door. "I guess I'll go now." you said, smiling uncertainly, "Take care of yourselves."

"You too, hermosa." Javier replied, sitting down in his seat and putting on his glasses.

Steve nodded in your direction, then walked over to the car. "Really?" he asked, staring at his friend, "You and her? Really?"

Peña didn't even look at him, "Get in."

"Is that why you haven't been so annoying lately?" Murphy chuckled, but got in and closed the door with a soft click.

The engine started and the car slowly rolled down the road.

It was strange. They managed to come back a day early. He wanted to surprise you. He even bought some oranges, which you liked so much lately. But the apartment door was closed. Javier kept knocking for a while. He glanced at his watch. It was late, so you should have…

"She left." The older man peeked out from behind the neighboring door and glared at Javier.

"Long time ago?" he asked, surprised.

The man shrugged. "I don't remember. But she looked really nice." He smiled slightly. “You must have been late, boy. If she’s not here yet…”

Javier nodded and quickly went down the stairs. Something strange tightened his insides. He didn't expect this...

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist: @qpiiee @missladym1981 @axshadows @djappleblush @picketniffler @txmel @wowitsafemale @cheekychaos28 @underneath-the-sky-again @misstokyo7love

#pedro pascal #javier peña x reader #javier peña #javier pena x reader #you in my eyes series

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unicyclehippo · 1 day ago

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Hey, Ollie, you mentioned AGES ago that Show Me the Way Home (Avatrice) had a second chapter, it just wasn't perfect yet-- do you think you'll ever post it? Or is that officially an abandoned fic?

its not abandoned, i actually did some minor editing on it the other day. the problem is that its a very seasonally locked piece in my mind & also im lazy & also a perfectionist & also i want to watch wn again before i keep writing it bc i need to rmbr what the characters are like & basically any one of those obstacles are enough to shut me right down so.

it actually is a four part story & if u want, i can share a little with u now? maybe that'll make me feel better for not posting it yet lmao

thursday 22nd december

// 6:55 //

Beatrice stood by the doorway of her apartment, phone in hand and duffel bag at her feet, and wished she was already at her parent’s holiday home.

It wasn’t that she thought their reunion would be simple or pleasant; it was more that today had started hot and was getting hotter and her parents kept their home at a crisp twenty-three degrees at all hours of the day and night, environmental impact be damned. As the humidity clung to her, a bead of sweat rolling down the back of her neck, Beatrice’s thoughts drifted to the crystal blue pool and the ocean wind that would blow up from the cove and she checked her phone again for any word from her driver.

Camila’s voice travelled from the kitchen. ‘Maybe you should take the can opener with you. I mean, what if you need to open a can and you don’t have one? There might be beans. Baked beans, cannellini beans, red kidney beans.’

‘I’m sure my parents have one. They do have a kitchen. And a personal chef.’

Camila heard her. The apartment was too small for her not to have heard but she continued listing off every tinned item she could think of.

‘Lentils, obviously. Diced tomatoes, crushed tomatoes, peeled tomatoes, puréed tomatoes.’ There was a long pause. Beatrice wondered if Camila was reading the labels of what they had in the pantry; if she was, those lentils had been there for a very long time. ‘Tinned peaches.’

‘I think those come with a tab now,’ Beatrice pointed out. She kept her voice mild, not really wanting to draw Camila’s attention to her hiding place by the door.

At some point over the last few days, the nerves buzzing under Beatrice’s skin had jumped ship and now Camila was the one pacing the confines of their apartment. She’d picked over every inch of the house in search of things Beatrice might need—which ranged from the useful, like the good phone charger she’d “found” (definitely hadn’t stolen out of her room a month ago) to what could be charitably called not useful, like the can opener—and now she stood at the end of the hall bearing the can opener and a dark frown befitting a serial killer.

Beatrice cleared her throat. Carefully, she said, ‘I really don’t think I need it.’

Camila looked down at her weapon. ‘Oh. Right. No, sure, of course not.’ She tossed it backward into the living room; it missed the couch, landing instead on the floor with a loud thud, the sound of their rental bond being instantly halved. Beatrice winced. Camila seemed not to have noticed, though, and with her hands now empty she returned to chewing nervously at her thumb nail. She scanned the living room, hawkish, before fixing her attention on Beatrice once more.

‘Can I help you?’

‘Are you sure you want to do this?’

‘Camila…’

‘Because you don’t have to. You know that, don’t you? It’s not your only option—you could come home with me again! My parents would love it, we’d all love it, I promise. And you wouldn’t be intruding at all, I swear. The boys ask about you all the time and when you’re coming to visit again.’

‘They’re very sweet.’

‘Sweet! When they want something, sure! They’re still hoping you’ll teach them how to throw people—they bring up your match with Conner every time I call home.’

‘Tell them I’ll think about it.’

‘That can be your Christmas present for them. And Pop, he says you’re the only good one of the bunch.’

‘It’s because I don’t talk.’

‘I know. Poor guy. Christmas in a household of me’s. It’s so loud we have to mime everything for him.’

Beatrice smiled. ‘He turns off his hearing aids.’

‘What? That sneak!’

‘Don’t tell him I was the one that dobbed him in.’

‘It’ll be the very first thing I say—then you won’t be his favourite anymore and the rest of us will have a fair shot.’ Laughter shone in her eyes; it faded a little as she stared at Beatrice, gaze flicking down to the duffel at her feet. ‘I’m serious, Bea. You could call up your parents and tell them you’re not coming anymore. I’d prefer you tell them to go fuck themselves but.’ She sucked in a breath, shook her head. ‘Bea. Don’t waste your time on them. Spend your holiday with people who want you around. Who love you.’

It was a tempting offer. Of course it was.

From the day they met, Camila had been Beatrice’s friend; from the second, her sister. She’d gone out of her way to be all that a sister could be—kind, understanding, supportive, deeply irritating—and offered it all without cost. Her family was just the same.

Beatrice remembered last Christmas fondly. The singing, the laughter, her chair squashed up to the end of the table next to Camila’s, the friendly chatter, the elbows bumping, the squabbles breaking out, the yet more guests arriving and pulling up a chair, the pass the salt, pass the butter, pass the damn water would you I’m dying over here, where’s the champagne, Arthur we don’t need another bottle of champagne it’s not even midday for Christssake, Beatrice do you want a second serve help yourself sweetheart, when do we open the presents. It had been loud, sometimes overwhelming, and wonderful all the same.

But.

Beatrice shook her head.

Camila sighed. ‘I had to try, obviously.’

‘I know. Thank you.’ She set her hand on Camila’s wrist and squeezed. ‘I appreciate it, very much. Please tell them… Please tell everyone I miss them and that I’ll see them soon.’

‘You mean for your surprise birthday party?’

Beatrice smiled. ‘I’m looking forward to it.’

‘Good. Because mum’s going to need a menu from you—’

‘I thought we agreed we’d buy the food, Camila, I’m not making your mum cook for me.’

‘She likes to cook for her kids. Unless you want me to tell her you’d prefer eating a stranger’s food over hers?’ Beatrice scowled at the bold threat. ‘That’s what I thought. Pick what you want and I’ll tell her. Better yet, text her yourself.’

‘If I know your mother, she has something in mind already.’

‘More like eleven somethings.’

They shared an identical grin. Camila’s mother had a small habit of going overboard for parties and events. A buzz broke the moment. They both glanced down at Beatrice’s phone.

Mr. Morris I have arrived

Beatrice Thank you. I will be there momentarily.

Beatrice nodded. This was it. She slid her phone into her pocket. ‘Mister Morris is here. I should go.’ To Camila’s suddenly stricken expression, she soothed, ‘It will be fine, Camila.’ And, because she was not completely oblivious to Camila’s concern, ‘I will be fine.’

‘I know that. Of course I know that. But I want—you don’t have to be just fine. You should be having fun. You’re my best friend, Bea, I want you to be happy.’

Beatrice paused. She struggled for a moment to think of a way to explain the purpose of this holiday to Camila, explain her purpose, in a way that she would understand and accept.

‘It means so much,’ she began, carefully, ‘to be welcome in your family. But they will always be your family.’

‘Bea…’

‘You and they are all beyond generous.’ She held up a hand to stop Camila interrupting. ‘I know they love me, and I love them. I do love Christmas with your family. It’s always wonderful and comfortable and fun.’ She paused, considering her words. ‘But this is - this is about me,’ she admitted with difficulty, and was rewarded for the effort when Camila softened. ‘I want to go. I need to find out whether I have a place with them or not. And I’ve been so uncertain of how it might turn out that I haven’t tried. But this invitation is an opportunity. One would like to make the most of.’

Camila grabbed both of her hands and pulled her close. Very intensely, she said, ‘Okay.'

'Okay? Just like that?' Beatrice asked, doubtful.

'Yeah. I’m not going to say I understand because I don’t. It honestly makes me furious and a little bit sick to think of you going back to them. But I love you and I trust you and I want you to call me if you need anything. And whatever happens, Beatrice, you always have a place with me. Always.’

Beatrice smiled. Shifted so that she was the one holding Camila’s hands. Her friend wouldn’t let her go willingly and there was a big part of Beatrice that wanted to let herself be held tight and give in to her friend’s protectiveness, to be bundled safely up into Camila’s terrifying little car and trundling off to visit family.

It was hard to pull free.

Beatrice stepped back and opened the door.

‘There’s no need to fret, Camila. I’ll have Ava with me, remember?’

‘Yeah. I know. It’ll be great, you’ll see.’ The tightness around her eyes told Beatrice she didn’t quite believe her own words. ‘And you’ll call me.’

‘Every day.’

With one last hug, Beatrice picked up her bags and left.

// 7:03 //

The town car waited for her outside the apartment. It was sleek and black, washed and polished; the only evidence of the recent storms were faint specks of grey mud deep in the tyre wells.

Beatrice stopped at the bottom of the stairs, observing the car and its driver—Mister Morris, patiently stood at the kerb—and swallowed around a lump in her throat. He looked the same as when she had left. A little more silver in his hair.

He might not have changed much but she had. Now that she was grown (or perhaps, now that she was not in that household), she found herself full of questions—where was it that Mister Morris had driven from? Where did he live? Had the storms been bad on his side of town? How had he passed the time? Had they lost power? (She and Camila had huddled in their living room—it was, Camila had insisted, the perfect weather for a marathon of gory slashers—and the rain had hammered against the windows with frightening strength but had done no damage. She knew others had not been so fortunate.) Most pressing of all, how had he been? Questions that could not be answered by hiding.

Beatrice gripped the strap of her duffel and, setting her shoulders, marched to meet him.

‘Good morning, Mister Morris.’

‘Miss Turner,’ he greeted her, his smile small but true. ‘A pleasure to see you again. How are you?’

‘Quite well, thank you.’ Then, keeping her tone light and brisk, ‘And yourself?’

‘Very well, Miss Turner. Very well.’ It looked as if he wanted to say something more but then he only smiled and cleared his throat. ‘Your luggage, Miss?’

‘I can see to it myself.’

Beatrice stashed her duffel in the boot then folded herself neatly into the backseat. Mr. Morris retook the driver’s seat. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Beatrice fixed her eyes on the headrest in front of her.

‘We have another stop to make, Mr Morris.’

‘Yes, miss. Do you have the address?’

‘I do.’ She ran a finger along the inside of her watchband, rubbing away the sweat that had gathered there. She made it a notch tighter, then loosened once more. ‘They are - That is to say, she is my—’

Mr. Morris met her eyes in the rear-view mirror. His were green and kind. The kindness did not make it easier to say.

‘She is my girlfriend.’

‘Yes. I know.’

‘Oh.’

‘Though your mother used slightly different terminology. Companion, I believe she said.’ He kept his eyes locked onto the rearview mirror. When Beatrice glanced into it again, he said warmly, ‘Congratulations, miss. That’s wonderful. I’m very glad to hear it.’

When she had been younger, there had been a stretch of time where running away had seemed very appealing. Each time she attempted it, Beatrice had never made it further than the park four streets from her home. She’d been too pragmatic, even at ten years old, but she’d also been stubborn so Beatrice had say there in the swing until someone noticed; whomever did notice, it was always Mr. Morris who collected her. She was reminded of it as he started the engine. The sound of its growl scared old memories out of hiding—she remembered how the plastic swing creaked, the feel of the metal chain in her little hands, how the gravel of the park entry had crunched beneath the town car tyres. How the headlights had washed over her and away with the tilt of his park and how invisible she’d felt when the lights turned off. Like a ghost haunting the playground.

Beatrice stared thoughtfully at his back, remembering how he would climb out of the car and sit next to her on a too-small swing until she’d been ready to return.

‘Thank you, Mr Morris.’

He nodded. Then, ‘I do still need her address, miss.’

‘Oh. Yes, of course.’

#tagging my stories #warrior nun #avatrice

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what-even-is-thiss · 2 days ago

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I have a writing ask for you: I find myself feeling very stubborn about conveying certain details sometimes even if they might not be very important and cannot be pointed out smoothly. Not all, but some.

How does one learn or come to accept letting go of these? Is there even such a thing? How do I not care when I do, really, no matter how petty or small? How can I communicate my vision the clearest as naturally and to as many people as possible?

Perhaps this is really specific from detail to detail, but I have too many examples in mind to pick together a coherent banquet. This ask is already getting rambly as is.

My current tactic really is to spread the mention of specific details to make it feel more natural like putting medecine in an animal’s food, but this doesn’t feel like a sufficient enough way to deal with it. What if my story is not long enough for it?

I can deal with people being wrong about something I didn’t write, because at the end of the day I do not 100% know every single intention, but the idea of a significant percentage of people being wrong about something *I* wrote personally, bothers me alot more. Even though this distant personally uninvolved audiance of a high caliber is not really a reality for me currently.

I mean hell, the length of this ask probably already tells you that I am struggling to convey a rather simple problem, and this is a trimmed down version. I feel as if I can never guess properly enough how most people will interpreet my words to a satisfactory degree so I need to clarify which gets lengthy.

The first thing you need to accept as a writer is that you have absolutely no control over how people interpret your work and even if you think you’ve made your meaning as clear as possible it still won’t 100% mean the same thing to your readers as it does to you.

The next thing is that you can turn basically anything into a quirk of your writing style.

Maybe you’re just the sort of writer that goes off on paragraphs long tangents about a bird off in the corner before returning to the plot. Or maybe you just need to write what you’re gonna write and cut out the bits you don’t need later.

I have the opposite problem where I often don’t write enough and end up having to add more back in later. We’ve all got our processes. And to a certain extent finding what your process is requires some trial and error. But if you obsess over how people are going to interpret you then you’ll never allow yourself the freedom you need to figure out your style.

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alicefromwhichplanet · 20 hours ago

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(For the kids)How do you feel being your parents’ child? What kind of person is your carrier/sire?

Skystrophe:

Oh, these questions are… unusual. (Look around anxiously) So am I allowed to say anything..? Will they watch this show…? Ok…

I wanna say that many bots say it’s lucky for me to have Optimus and Megatron as my parents… but the truth is, having them as parents really brings me a lot of pressure. It’s… not so easy to be the only child of two extraordinary people, and you know you’re not so extraordinary yourself. I mean, I am only “just ok” at many things they can easily do great. It’s just… I’m still trying to figure out.

My carrier is a very strong bot. By that, I mean he’s powerful, not only in battles and strategies, but in the will. I think there’s nothing in the world that can defeat him, or make him feel defeated. When he’s with us, he’s always happy, confident, full of energy. When sire feels unsure, he is there to boost his spirits. When I feel insecure, knowing that he is there for me, always makes me feel better.

My sire, on the other hand, is umm, stricter. I know he means well. He told me all about those stories of heroes and primes, and responsibility comes with strength. He’s a lovable bot, of course. And he’s gentle with me. It’s just, I don’t know. Maybe it’s the way he talks. He makes me feel… nervous.

Jinglestorm:

Being my parents’ child, it’s a lot of fun! They both like to play, so I’ve got plenty of time playing with them. We go racing on the plains, have a picnic in the woods, or play chess and other board games at home. Oh! And they love video games too! We also play video games.

And my sire, he’s a wonderful bot. He’s fun, energetic. He talks a lot, which is sometimes a little bit annoying. Hmm. But he’s actually the decision maker in our house, kind of? Him and my carrier take turns being the brain. But because of my carrier’s “unstable” issue, sire did play the brain most of the time, though he sometimes came up with bad ideas and I had to stop him from dragging us all in.

My carrier is— very well known among us kids. The cool triple changer, the only one alive by now.* He is also not very stable, and we know that. Besides that, my carrier went through a lot in past wars. Sometimes he’s still haunted by his past ghosts. But he doesn’t need to worry, because I am always there for him.

*It’s my headcanon and part of the plots of Heroic Nonsense, where Blitzwing’s triple changer form came from a secret experiment project carried out by autobots. The project failed because most of the subjects suffered serious complications— they developed split personality disorders and became overly aggressive and easier to get killed in the battlefield. Blitzwing is the only survivor.

Clobber:

Hmm, I don’t know. I guess I’m lucky to be my parents’ child. I’m happy and comfortable living with them. My parents knew each other for very long before I was born. They have a tacit understanding that made everything simple. We three are quite alike as well.

My carrier is the brain of our family. It’s easy to tell. Sire even calls her “General” as a loving nickname. And also, she’s really my role model. Her talents go beyond military strategies. She has wisdom and courage to deal with a lot of trivial stuff as well. As for my sire, he’s more of a kind-hearted, good tempered bot. He cooks really well and takes all the gardening work. By that I mean, work like making a fishpond in our backyard. More delicate job like planting is done by me. I heard that they were notorious decepticon war machines in the past. I always imagine how badass they can be! But I don’t have the luck to witness that. All I got are two big bots fond of their own hobbies and get along well with the neighbors.

Just for the reminder:

Skystrophe— Megatron and Optimus’s son, Megatron is the carrier

Jinglestorm— Blitzwing and Bumblebee’s daughter, Blitzwing is the carrier

Clobber— Strika and Lugnut’s daughter, Strika is the carrier

More worldbuilding see my fanfic Old World, New World

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themoodyestj · 15 hours ago

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hey themoodyestj, did you know that not letting your partner sleep is a very big red flag?

expecting your partner to stay awake waiting for you after 12 am, red flag.

waking up at 6 am because you want to and expecting everyone else in the house to acomodate to your shedule, that's a red flag.

even worse, coming home late, dirty or drunk, smelling terrible, and lay with your partner like that, expecting a lovely welcome, super red flag.

just because Jensen is a thoughtful husband who respects his wife doesn't mean she's abusive.

also, it's sexist to assume there's anything wrong with a husband doing simple house chores.

I have to admit, I had to take a deep breath before answering your ask. Simply because, Anon, you're dense.

And you're clearly a child. You clearly have never been married, and you clearly never have found love, because if you did, you wouldn't be writing this. You clearly are someone who is lacking a lot and self inserting with a celebrity. So let me tell you how it works in the real world with married people. hey themoodyestj, did you know that not letting your partner sleep is a very big red flag? Oh, and you clearly don't have kids, because in the real world, sometimes you can't let your partner sleep. A marriage is something you do as a couple, and sometimes you need all hands on deck. A real red flag is to let your spouse do everything while you sleep in every morning. Especially when you have kids and you're a mom. There are some things only a mother does. I'm not going to say it isn't a gesture of love to let someone sleep in, but to take it as given as just let your partner take the load while you sleep (and we're talking about an unemployed mother who is served by nannies) is a red flag. To prioritize sleep over your family while your husband who is 9 months per year away takes all the work while the rest of the year it's not even you who does the work is a red flag. Even if it's just to spend the morning all together, have breakfast together. These moments are precious and fleeting and worth waking up early for. expecting your partner to stay awake waiting for you after 12 am, red flag. If I spent nine months away from home working for the family and making the money that feeds the family? God, I'd be offended if they didn't. If my partner can stay up for parties and pretending to be a celebrity, they better stay awake to wait for me so we can have some couple's time. It's not like they will do it for the rest of the year. If I'm at home for a short period of time for the benefit of the family, they better make time for me.

waking up at 6 am because you want to and expecting everyone else in the house to acomodate to your shedule, that's a red flag.

coming home super late and turning on lights and opening doors and intentionaly being loud with no consideration for the sleeping people in the house and waking up your partner just because you want to be lovingly welcome, that's a red flag. Again, expecting is something. Willingly offering is another. You're twisting the words. I'd say expecting and not be willing to offer are both red flags, for different reasons. even worse, coming home late, dirty or drunk, smelling terrible, and lay with your partner like that, expecting a lovely welcome, super red flag. Oh boy, let's hope your soulmate never has a mishap in life, get sick, need support or need to talk at a time that is inconvenient for you. You better make a schedule for them, and tell them they need to be neat and smelling good at all times, otherwise they won't be touching the princess. You, honey, you're the red flag. Zero empathy, for crying out loud.

just because Jensen is a thoughtful husband who respects his wife doesn't mean she's abusive. No, my mutuals and I would consider her abusive for reasons that were presented already, and were either glazed over or twisted into meaning something to fit your delusion. Not that I expected any different, you're a delulu after all. Not exactly known for supporting yourself in facts and things that can actually be seen. also, it's sexist to assume there's anything wrong with a husband doing simple house chores. I... don't remember anyone ever mentioning that. In fact, I'm positive none of them does anything besides basic chores. In fact, apart from the ones Danneel did to take pictures of, I doubt she ever did any chores at all. Look, anyone with two brain cells and a bit of life experience can tell that you're either a child, someone who seriously lacks life experience or completely deluded. I don't intend to start a kindergarten war, nor do I have much patience. So let's see if you understand it this time: Cry as you may, this is my blog, my beliefs and I will write about them. I won't stop, even if it bothers you very much. In fact, bonus if it bothers you very much, sorry to say. I have been holding back, but next time maybe I won't. And if I have a pet peeve is when Anons can't reach my mutuals because they don't have the balls to show their faces, and they come for me instead. So next time you come to my inbox with an ask, keep that in mind. Or maybe just go be deluded somewhere else, with your buddies pretending doing nothing is actually doing something. Your pick.

#anti aas #anti delulus #anti danneel #anti danneel ackles #anti elta

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scribbly-artist · 20 hours ago

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Someone To Take Care Of

Summary: You’ve had awful back pain all day at work, and nothing you tried could remedy it. You’ve come home late on top of it. You’ve come home to your partner, Jayce, who wants to help melt your pain away.

Author’s Notes: I was very sad and in an immense amount of pain that kept me awake at 2am this morning, so fuck it, self indulgent fic. We also discussed tickly massages in the server and that’s all I was wishing for when I was kept awake from the pain. 😔 Other cramp and pain-havers, I hope you enjoy this one.

Words: ~1,000 | AO3 Link

The moon was already high in the sky once you arrived at your front doorstep. Your back had been aching all day, no matter how many painkillers you took at work, nothing seemed to ease the pain. You were so exhausted after the very long day you had, you were just ready to crawl into bed and sleep at this point. But you still had dinner to make…

You went to shove your keys into the front door lock, but noticed that the door was already unlocked when you twisted the handle. God, were you that late that Jayce was already home? The workaholic Jayce??

You pushed the door open, closing and locking the door as you proceeded to dump your outside belongings and shoes at the door. You could smell the aroma of food, following the scent as it led you through the entranceway to the kitchen. Jayce, your partner, was at the stove cooking your dinner for tonight. You snuck up behind him quietly, snaking your arms around his waist as you slumped your head on the back of his shoulder.

“You’re home late,” he commented, swishing the dinner he was preparing in the pan skillfully. “Are you feeling alright? Was work okay today?”

“I’m so tired… my back has been hurting all day… no matter what I did, it wouldn’t go away…” you mumbled into his shoulder, holding him tighter.

He moved the pan off the heat as he turned around, giving you a nice squeeze. You always adored his hugs.

“I’m nearly done – let me finish up here, and I’ll help you with the pain. How does that sound?” He pulled away, cupping the side of your face with his hand.

“No, no Jayce, it’s alright–”

Jayce brought a finger to your lips, stopping you in your tracks.

“I can see you're hurting. Please, let me help. I want to take care of you.” His eyes were filled with loving concern.

…well, you couldn't say no to that face.

You sat at the kitchen table, watching him cook and then clean the space, putting the food away once he was done. He grabbed you by the hand with a smile on his face, a small smile appearing on yours, leading you to your shared bedroom.

You sat down on the bed, and he followed suit. He placed a hand on your shoulder with a nudge. “Lay down, I’ll give you a massage that'll melt that pain away.”

“Thank you, love…” you replied with a shy smile, laying face down on the bed, the soft pillows comforting you. Jayce towered over you to get into position, rolling up your shirt to expose your back. He made sure his hands were warm before he began, rubbing them together and then touching down on your skin.

Jayce has given you massages before, just because he wanted to treat you or make you feel better. You always forget just how good he is with his hands. He rubbed tender circles into your lower back, and with such simple touches you were already melting. Your eyes fluttered closed as you let out a satisfied groan.

“Did I ever tell you how good you are at this…?” You mused aloud.

That got a chuckle out of Jayce. “You tell me every time, hun.”

If only you could have dragged Jayce to your work today – you wouldn't have had to deal with this pain all day. You were mumbling and making noises as he continued, his hands travelling up your back. However, once Jayce reached your shoulder blades a laugh escaped you as you jerked upwards a bit.

Jayce stopped for a moment. “Sorry, did it tickle? I forgot you're so sensitive,” he remarked with a laugh. “Do you want me to go somewhere else?”

“No… no, that's fine…” you turned your head a bit so you could look at him. Your face went a little bit red seeing his. “Actually, I don't mind it… if it tickles a little…”

A smirk reached Jayce’s face at first. Then it wavered back into a fond smile. “Okay. I'll make sure it doesn't tickle too much. I still want you to relax.”

Jayce’s touch grew lighter, dragging his fingertips across your skin instead of his thumbs. You started sleepily giggling. It wasn't too extreme that you wanted to bolt up, but it left nice tingles all across your skin. It was very comforting. He dragged patterns from your shoulders to the base of your neck, to your shoulder blades, all the way down your spine to your lower back. You were putty in his hands.

“Thihihis ihihis soho nihihice…” you couldn't help but giggle your words out quietly.

“If this is all I have to do to make you relax, I should be doing it more often, hmm?”

No spot on your back was left untouched. He even dragged his fingers up and down the side of your ribs and sides just to hear you giggle a little more. His heart swelled knowing that you were at peace at his doing, his touch. And he wouldn't have it any other way.

Once he stopped, he gave you a gentle pat on the back. “Think that's enough?”

“Yehehes… I feheheel so much behehetter…” your eyes felt heavy, nearly closing as you spoke and snuggled into the pillow.

Jayce shifted so he could get up, gently tugging your shirt down for you. “I'll heat the dinner back up for you. No need to get up, I'll bring it to you.”

A sleepy smile was pressed onto your face. But before Jayce walked away, your hand caught his wrist. “Thank you so much, Jayce… I love you… ” you breathed out.

Jayce gave you a warm, loving smile as he paced back over, placing a hand on your head to stroke your soft hair.

“I love you, too. I’ll always be here to take care of you.”

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knaveumineko · 23 hours ago

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Umineko Episode 1 Blog: None Shall Be Left Alive

We're on the home stretch. It's time to present my final (for now) theory on what happened in Episode 1.

The last few murders are probably the simplest of the lot to pull off. The deaths of the last few servants are pretty simple if you're assuming that the servants were in on the conspiracy the whole time. Maria claiming to have seen the witch again doesn't matter if you assume that the witch is "possessing" people and that the servants simply mislead her. Natsuhi's death was either a suicide after reading the contents of the final letter, or a more straightforward murder by the culprit, who was lying in wait for her. The latter seems a bit more likely, given the disappearance of the final letter.

I'm skimming over all of that because we need to talk about that final scene. I'm going to level with you: I completely misread this scene the first time. It's a good thing I'm writing this blog or else I would have been moving forward with a pretty huge misunderstanding.

On the first read, I somehow thought that this just meant Maria was running up to the portrait for some reason, and there was some colourful narration being used to cover up what was going on in the cousins' final moments. In my defense, it was very late at night and a lot of crazy stuff happened at once.

OK, so with our dual assumptions that magic isn't real and there's no 19th person, this scene explicitly confirms that at least one of the people we saw dead somehow survived, and that this dead person is the culprit after all. Rereading Maria's narration also reminded me that Maria recognises the culprit as the Beatrice.

This leads me to an angle I haven't tried yet. I think I've been a little too married to one specific theory and not considering other possibilities, and now's the time to correct that.

What happens if we assume every single person who Maria recognises as the witch is the same person? That is:

The person who gave Maria an umbrella and letter

The person who Shannon met in the halls the night before her death

The person Maria is referring to in the scene with Battler and the servants in the kitchen, when she says that the witch is in the room with them at that moment

The person who Kanon met before he died

The person the cousins see at the very end of the story

I argued way back when that Kanon gave Maria the umbrella, but Shannon and Kumasawa's alibis are also extremely weak. Maria's claim that the witch was in the room with her during the scene in the kitchen implies that the witch is Genji, Kumasawa or Kanon. The one the cousins met at the end of the story has to be someone we thought was dead, but not Genji, Nanjo, Kumasawa or Natsuhi.

The only person who plausibly meets all of these criteria is Kanon. I mentioned earlier that I think him meeting the witch in the boiler room could be metaphorical, so I don't see that as a huge roadblock.

This reading would imply that Kanon faked his death somehow. I guess we'd need Shannon's death to be fake, too, since Kanon definitely wouldn't kill her? Also, there's this:

I previously had no idea what to make of this end text, but under this new interpretation the game is basically telling us that Shannon and Kanon are alive at the end of the story. Notably, Maria's line does not say that Rosa is alive. It only says that Maria somehow received the her lost parental love. In some way, the wound within her was healed.

It's troubling to me that this theory requires us to assume that even the most convincing of corpses can be faked, but in all fairness this was never a mystery that relied heavily on material evidence. It's all about using storytelling to figure out what's going on, and this seems like a pretty good story. I suppose if we "spin the chessboard around" then the reason the faces were mutilated was to help sell the idea that Shannon was truly dead, and then the other bodies had the same done to them because it would look weird if only one of the bodies was marked this way. In any case, with this final scene we absolutely need to assume that at least some corpses are fake. There's unfortunately no getting around that.

We should also discuss the epitaph. When I first read it, it occured to me that the directions match the island pretty well. Battler makes a point of describing the initial path as pointlessly long and circuitous, like a river. There are a handful of buildings dotted about the island, with a small population living there, like a village. The story goes out of its way to have the grandchildren and Shannon visit a beach, which matches the shore that the "key" is supposed to be located at. Narratively speaking, it would make sense for the epitaph's directions to refer to places on the island, since these are the only places that the characters can access. We could also speculate that, much like the story itself, the epitaph is being tricky and switching perspectives, so that "my beloved hometown" actually refers to Beatrice's hometown. Beatrice is said to live in the woods of Rokkenjima and be the head of house by night.

With these revelations, my guess for how it all went down is something like this:

Kinzo died ages ago, but Natsuhi kept up the illusion that he was alive to help her husband stall for time, and to finally claim some real power for herself. Kinzo's inner circle help to maintain this lie.

Shannon goes to the beach with the grandchildren and finds the "key," whatever that means.

Kanon visits Maria in the gardens, claims to be the witch Beatrice, and gives her the letter and umbrella. It was hoped that this letter would provoke the killing to begin. The seal was done using Kinzo's ring, which was stolen from wherever it was being kept after he died however long ago.

The siblings turn on eachother during their argument over the inheritance and begin murdering eachother. The servants agree that this is the Demons' Roulette choosing appropriate sacrifices, and so they start carrying out the ritual described in the epitaph, in accordance with Kinzo's will.

In order to ensure there are enough sacrifices, Gohda is killed and Shannon's death is faked. The servants also clean up whichever of the siblings survived the initial altercation. I'm thinking the servants would probably only have to kill maybe 2 or 3 people tops at a time, which seems more reasonable than someone Rambo-ing 6 people solo.

That morning, Natsuhi enters the study after being bullied into it by Eva, and lies about Kinzo being up there, maintaining her deception.

After the bodies are discovered, Natsuhi decides that her facade can't survive a police investigation and takes the convenient out of claiming that Kinzo has mysteriously disappeared.

The servants enter Eva and Hideyoshi's room with the excuse of serving dinner, and instead murder both of them. They then create a fake locked room mystery by cutting the chain to the door and telling everyone else that the door was locked when they discovered the scene. The letter was simply written by one of the servants the same way the last one was.

Kanon may have also gone back to the storehouse and let Shannon out around this time, since the story mentions him going there anyway.

Kanon's death in the boiler room was faked somehow. Maybe he had Shannon's help, and the one fleeing from the boiler room is her. Shannon may also have been the one who deposited Kinzo's body in the incinerator at this point, since she was free to act while everyone thought she was dead.

The servants have another letter, which was intended to help fulfil the "praise my noble name" part of the epitaph. They place this letter on the table whilst Natsuhi and the grandchildren aren't looking. It is notable that Maria does not claim that Beatrice was the one who put the letter on the table.

When the servants and Maria are forced to leave by Natsuhi, they meet Kanon, who was already hiding in the parlour. Genji locks the door, and then Kanon comes out of hiding while Maria isn't looking. He tells her that he entered by turning into butterflies, and then instructs her to look the other way and start singing.

The servants allow Kanon to set up their bodies in accordance with the epitaph, and then Kanon unlocks the door, leaves the letter, makes a phone call to the study, and flees the scene.

After discovering the bodies, Natsuhi reads whatever is written in the letter (a confession, perhaps?) and leaves to challenge the culprit, making sure to seal the door to the parlour so the kids can't follow.

Despite her efforts, Natsuhi is defeated due to being outnumbered and the culprits lying in wait for her. The culprits take the letter Natsuhi was holding with them.

Kanon and Shannon reveal themselves to the surviving grandchildren, thus fulfilling Jessica and George's wishes for them to return to life. They then all travel to the Golden Land, whatever that means. Perhaps understanding this Golden Land would be the key to understanding the grandchildrens' disappearance? Unfortunately, I don't see a way to progress much further on the epitaph, so I can't speculate much on this.

This will be my working theory going forward. With this, I will finally move on to the rest of the story and find out exactly how and why I'm completely wrong about everything.

#umineko no naku koro ni #umineko liveblog #umineko episode 1 #umineko #liveblogging #umineko when they cry

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evilasiangenius · 2 days ago

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“Ah, I’m so very sorry, Lord Asmodeus, I’m- I’m having a hard time recognizing who you are. I don’t think I’ve ever met you nor have I ever heard of you-”

“...what?” Asmodeus looked genuinely shocked. “You mean to say that-”

“-Crowley has never mentioned you, and yes. I don’t think I have ever heard him say your name to me before, not once. Not ever.”

Asmodeus looked as if he were about to say something, but then he closed his mouth.

“I suppose he must have had his reasons,” Aziraphale said by way of excuse, wondering what this particular demon had to do with Crowley, if anything. “Erm, so. If you don’t mind, Lord Asmodeus, I have a bookshop that I had really ought to go back to; after all my customers would miss-”

“Sit,” Asmodeus said, pointing to the armchair and reflexively, Aziraphale found himself sitting down.

“Goodness,” Aziraphale blinked, hand clutching the knot of his bowtie as if it could protect him but then deciding to clutch the arms of the chair because at least that was sturdier and not twined about his neck.

“I’m both surprised and completely unsurprised that it would be for your sake that Crowley rebelled against Hell. But why? Why now? After so many millennia of loyalty. What’s changed?”

“The terms of the Great Plan, I imagine? Though I don’t think it would be for my sake, that seems a bit much,” Aziraphale managed a nervous smile. “After all, things happened.”

“Yes, and circumstances changed. Circumstances for which there are no explanations.” Asmodeus paced a slow, predatory circle about Aziraphale. And while he was accustomed to Crowley walking in this manner, there was something much more disconcerting when the same motion was done by Asmodeus and Aziraphale found his eyes following the Prince of Hell’s slow strides with a nervous gaze.

“If you must know, Lord Asmodeus, I don’t really know why circumstances changed either, just that they did. I suppose it was by accident; after all, it’s not as if I left Heaven for him nor did he leave Hell for me, it was just what happened afterwards. A coincidence. You see, there was a bit of a mixup and-” And Aziraphale shut his mouth, realizing that he could not tell this demon what had happened; that they had come together that night when they thought they had the entire world before them and in the process taken on each other’s forms and-

The memory of it sent a warmth through him that made Asmodeus stop midstep to stare at him.

“Something happened between you two.”

“I...I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lord Asmodeus-”

“Don’t think that I can’t tell. I can smell Crowley on you.” And as if to prove the point, a forked tongue flickered out from between parted lips, tasting the air. “I can tell that you want her. Not in an ordinary sense, perhaps, in that simple physical sense. That would be too coarse and banal wouldn’t it? An angel wouldn’t deign to allow themselves to experience lust, to experience physical desire. No, it’s not lust. But you yearn for Crowley, desire her just as much as that animal part of your body desires air, desires water and food. Certainly you could live without it being a celestial, but you would suffer all your days, for the rest of existence, if you could not have her again.”

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