#but can y'all at least pretend to give a fuck that he's ALSO suffering

[themagnusbane]

GAP The Series Episode 9 Thoughts

After the way we left things off at the end of episode 8, I really really need us to get an apology (or rather Mon should get the apology) in the first half of this episode, and for the truth about Kirk to be revealed. I'm tired of his ass and the drama his secrets bring, and I just want the sapphics kissing and fucking dammit!

So yeah, let's kick things off.

Aaaaand of course we're starting with my baby girl Mon crying her eyes out, with Sam's words ringing in her head. As someone who still remembers the horrible things my lovers have said in a fit of anger, this totally tracks. Words can't be taken back. It's why they haunt us, coloring our interactions with others, sinking their claws into the essence of who we are, and erasing our self-esteem with every trickle of their poison. Now, I know Sam is the way she is because of her witch of a grandmother, and Mon not telling her the truth about Kirk (which I still lay at the feet of Kirk because that piece of shit basically took advantage of his position and Mon's sweet nature to push her into keeping a secret she shouldn't have had to keep in the first place!!! He's just as terrible a boss as Sam!!), triggered those feelings of suspicious and distrust, causing her to lash out, but personally, I want to see her acknowledge that her words do hurt. Both truths can exist. Sam is the way she is because of the abuse she's suffered at the hands of her grandmother. But also, Sam's treatment of, and words to Mon, (not just what happened with Kirk, but since she started working for her), is horrible, and I really hope that this show has someone call her out on it, at the very least, cuz if I was the one in this universe and watching this mess, she won't like my words.

2. Y'all know how much I love this show, and these two women. They've been serving me EVERYTHING I wanted, since the very first episode. But I swear, I need to have a conversation with the writer. I find it very troubling that Mon's only upset right now, seems to be her worry that Sam doesn't love her anymore. There's a prioritization of Sam's feelings over Mon's pain in the start of this episode that just has me screaming at my screen at this point, because the writers in the room, made certain choices that I don't agree with.

3. But honestly, this is one of the most beautiful shot shows!!! That visual of Mon lying down on her bed, being surrounded by her mix of pink and white teddies and pillow, with her pale skin and pink lips and the black hair is GIVING!!!!!!!!

4. The way I hissed at Kirk's annoying voice and his talking about telling Sam the truth about his Facebook identity. Like DUDE, THAT IS NOT THE SECRET WE WANT YOU TO SHARE! Tell Sam about your backstabbing, traitorous ways!!! I swear, I can't believe I went from thinking of him as a good egg, to wanting to enter the screen so I can strangle his ass!!!

5. The audacity of him saying he's told Sam the whole truth when WE KNOW there's still more he's hiding from her. Trash! Trash! Also, Sam isn't jealous at your supposed affair with Mon because she wants you. She's jealous because her girlfriend keeps getting caught in compromising positions with your no-personal-space-respecting ass!

6. Kirk, don't try and be charming, it doesn't suit you. Don't try and flirt. Sam doesn't want you. Don't try and be complimentary, Sam doesn't need you to boost her ego. Just sit there and be the useless, lying fucker you are. Don't try and pretend to be someone you're not. We see you!!

7. I love how Sam thinks she can just show up, and Mon would jump to see her. Hell to the nah! Not after all the vile VILE things you said. Fuck that shit! Good on Mon for insisting on not seeing Sam. Make her work for it my darling. Make her WORK FOR IT!!

8. Shout out to Sam for recognizing just how amazing Mon's mum is, and that she's a core part of the reason why Mon grew up to be so gracious and lovable. Teacher Pohn, you deserve all the applause and all the flowers!! Take you for your generous spirit and your kind heart. Best mum award goes to you!! To think that both you and that witch of a grandmother exist in the same timeline. Smh. Honestly, whenever we get a glimpse into Mon's family and just the love she was raised with, I feel even sorrier for Sam. I imagine just how restrictive it must have been for child Sam to live with a grandmother like that, who's more focused on prestige and her bringing "honour" to their house, rather than Sam's own happiness.

9. Sam's heartbroken expression at Mon ignoring her and walking past, is breaking my own heart. Urgh!! See, this is why you have to be careful what you say, and realize just how much you can hurt the girl you love. You need to apologize Sam. Really apologize. Not the apology where you spin things around, and avoid stating exactly how you fucked up. You need to be honest, and own up to that shit, cuz you really really hurt your girl.

10. Mon's stepdad is awesome and he gives great advice. But I also resent the fact that what he's saying is from a position where he holds incomplete facts. He thinks that Sam and Mon's relationship is purely professional, and I can see why he believes that Mon's boss coming all the way to their house and patiently waiting to see Mon, after they had a "fight" is rare and commendable. But we the audience know that that isn't the case, and as much as I love his advise of speaking out and clearing the air by talking about the fight, I hope the writers find a way to work it into the conversation that Mon has every right to be upset, and that Sam is aware of that. But knowing the writers and how society has a way of villainizing anger as an emotion, I'm not holding my breath.

11. This is so unfair!! Khun Sam!! You know acting adorably is our weakness. How can you split between playacting like the little ghost baby and a dog in one scene??? How is Mon meant to hold onto her anger when you act so cute??? How am I????? Urgh!!! This is so unfair!!!!!

12. My baby Sam. Look at that honest, sincere apology!!! There was a bit of worry for a moment that she was going to gloss over it (girl, no one buys that when you basically called Mon a two-timer, you meant that in a "she's beautiful and clever" way. Don't try and play us.), but she powered through, and apologized sincerely and honestly. Sure she might have centered herself a little in the apology (would it really be Sam if she doesn't? Not like y'all should do that though. If you are apologizing and suddenly start talking about how the rift caused you to lose sleep, and how you don't feel too good, dial it back several notches. The apology is meant to center the aggrieved party's pain, not yours), but that was soon left behind as she was honest with her jealousy and was sincere with wanting to do right by Mon. You know what we call that????

13. Sam's pleased nod, at Mon loving the dinner set up has me grinning like a fool. Sam my beloved! Why are you so increasingly adorable???? Falling in love suits you so much my beloved!!!

14. And the gift giving!!! Her going to the same accessories stand that she had initially criticized for being "cheap", and purchasing matching bracelets for her and Mon??? Sam! My heart! Sweetheart!!! You are redeeming yourself at such a quick pace!!!

15. Hehehehehe. I love how drinking a scotch whiskey for them, is part of their foreplay for having sex. Rofl! You go my queens. Get it on!! Let loose! Get it on!!!

16. Gghjghjghjghjghjghjg. That little squeal of Sam when Mon pushes her into the pool. So fucking cute and adorable. Hehehehe.

17. I couldn't have been the only one who moaned at that shot of Mon looking down at Sam while the latter was in the pool right. Cuz fuuuuuuuck.

18. Aaaaaaand they are following it up with them making out in the pool. My mouth is dry. Fuck. This show is killing me. Sam's head being tossed back. The way she's licking her lips. The deep breaths. The fingers to her mouth. The camera panning to where we don't see Mon but we know she's there, tossing Sam's salad, and eating her out. Their two hands around Sam's throat? This fucking show! This fucking show. I'm too horny for this. RIP to my ass. This show has fucking killed me!!!

19. The fact that my eyes which have just been blessed by my lesbians, lesbianing, are now being tainted by Kirk and his heterosexual red roses, and entitled pushing of Sam to go on a date with him, is homophobic and should be classified as a hate crime!

20. Nita in that red jumpsuit though, is giving Scooby Doo-Monster unleashed!!!!

21. Aaaaand of course Nita noticed the couple bracelets. That sharp-eyed look, and the smirk after she makes the connection?? I WANT THIS WOMAN TO RUIN ME!! Just one night. That's all I ask!!!

22. Kirk strikes me as one of those pretty boys who get buy on their looks and have never had to really use their brains, which now that I think about is, an insult to those pretty boys because at least they have brains. Kirk doesn't even have an iota of a braincell cuz if he did, and if he use that singular braincell to think, he would have known that NEVER IN A MILLION LIFETIMES would Sam want to enter a joint-venture with Nita. Like how can you claim to be her fiancée and not realize this singular, basic fact?

23. I'm sorry, why... WHY would the writers think it is in ANY way okay for Sam to out Mon to Kirk? Her conversation with Kirk can easily stop at "I have a lover". That's it. That's all that she needed to say. But to bring Mon into this, to name her, to her soon to be ex-fiancee, in their workplace, when she is very much aware that her employees are nosy and they might even be eavesdropping on this conversation, and even if they aren't, WHY WOULD YOU OUT MON TO KIRK??? What the fuck!

24. Aaaaaaand she stalks off, after outing Mon, leaving her alone with her now ex-fiancee, a man who probably feels that he's been made a fool of... I have a migraine. With the way the writers keep writing Sam and the choices she makes, it's like one step forward and two steps back for me.

25. Nita taking the opportunity to hit on Sam is doing things to me because fuuuuuck, they look so good together, and you know shit would be smoking hot between them both!!

26. I love that Sam immediately shuts her down, but seriously Sam. This is twice in two scenes, back-to-back that you have outed your girlfriend, without confirming that she is okay with coming out. What the fuck are the writers thinking??? Why do they think this is in any way okay???

27. Sam's delusions in thinking that Kirk will "understand" has me shaking my head so hard. Girl, you give that man way too much credit. When will it occur to you that that man likes to make decisions on your behalf, without considering whether or not that's what you actually want???? You seemingly "broke his heart", admitted that you have been having an affair with the girl he's seemingly been bearing his heart to, and you think he's a-okay???

28. Ha!!! I totally called Yha and Chin having an affair!!! Sam's reaction to catching them is peak hilarity though!!! But, please tell me why I didn't clock that Chin has a wife?? Why didn't I know this? Was it mentioned, but I didn't remember it? Cuz I'm going through my memories of his character being introduced but I can't remember them mentioning his wife.

29. Sam's "I only come to work to look at your face" statement is so valid. I feel you on it girlfriend. Capitalism fucking sucks. Why work when you can be gay????

30. Yo! Are they about to have sex in the office????? Which no complaints, but is that door locked???? If there's anything we learned from the History that Shall not be Named, Also known as History: Salt is the ultimate villain, it is that ALWAYS LOCK THE DOOR!! ALWAYS!!!

31. Sam's hand on Yah's head as she pushes her out of the office is sending me!!!!

32. GAP is giving me the workplace romance I didn't know I NEEDED!!! That sex scene in the office? Jesus!!! This show's making up for edging us for so many episodes !!! GAP is like "they took forever to kiss", and now that they have, there shall fuck on every single available surface, and I am utterly grateful to them for doing that!!! Hehehehe.

33. I'm sorry, how the hell is Mon standing in front of the mirror, and can't notice that her lipstick is smudged, and she looks well and truly debauched.

34. Yha's "ooooooh. Haaaaaaa. Ooooooooh". I AM DEAD!!! DEAD!!!!!

35. Too many people are learning about Mon and Sam's relationship. I suspect their relationship won't stay a secret for long, at this rate.

36. Cher is so hot! Fuck!!! All the women in this show are fucking hot. It's the hair, plus the shirt and the teasing. They just do it for me. The amount of sapphic representation we are getting in this show, is making me so goddam happy. This is what I want! THIS!!!!!!

37. The honeymoon vibes of this getaway is making me so happy. Add Risa and Cher's openly showing their love. The conversation about same-sex marriage in Thailand. This is perfect. I'm squealing so hard!!!

38. Aaaaaand of course they can't let us be happy for too long. Like I get why Mon is hesitating. She's idolized Sam for so long, and feels like she can't measure up to her. But sweetheart... SAM LOVES YOU!! Urgh! I thought the only opposition to them marrying would be Sam's grandmother. I totally didn't factor in Mon's hang-ups into the equation.

Looks like next week's episode has the honorable grandmother making an appearance and URGH!! WHY??????????? I've been thinking of who might have put her on Sam and Mon's trail, and I'm thinking it's either Kirk or Nita, cuz I only trust those two as far as I can throw them, which isn't very far!!!

Next week's definitely going to be a doozy. Brace yourselves everyone!!!

#gap #gap the series #gap yuri #gap episode thoughts #gap episode 9 #beckyfreen #freenbecky #sammon #sam x mon #mon x sam #becky armstrong #freen chankimha #noria watches gap

[izukukuzi]

I truly cannot begin to illustrate how frustrating it is to see people reading the latest manga chapters and continuously coming away with "all might needs to die so izuku will learn to stop overworking himself" or "*insert character* needs to punch him in his face so he'll stop acting like this" takes, because?????????? what are you actually talking about?

the fact that so many people can look at the circumstances and constant stress that izuku had been subjected to and genuinely believe that the way to fix it is by PUTTING HIM UNDER MORE STRESS, PAIN, GRIEF, AND SUFFERING is just..... astounding. really, it blows my mind :/

#and see #i feel like I've said this shit before #like #why are you wishing more harm on him to fix the harm currently happening? #in what way would any of these supposed /ideas/ fix the underlying issue? #how are these /genius/ suggestions going to improve Izuku’s self worth #or change the fact that he feels like he has to do this on his own because simply being around his loved ones #means they're also in danger #like i already know literally SO MANY PEOPLE in this fandom has their funny feelings about izu #but can y'all at least pretend to give a fuck that he's ALSO suffering????? #anyways #I'm salty #ignore me #bnha 317 #bnha spoilers #midoriya izuku #midoriya izuku deserves better #:/

[stellocchia]

Hot take:

The afterlife on the dsmp as it has been shown in canon is good and anything too different from it would send some screwed up message.

The afterlife has to be objectively shitty for everyone. (Tho tbh schlatt didn't seem that tortured and from what we've heard of MD he actually seemed to be havin a decent time??? Wish they'd tell us a bit more about the "day to day" life of limbo)

Because. Well. It can't be neutral. Because we have so many suicidal characters and a neutral limbo would be good in comparison to their life. And while that's all well and good, it sends a really bad message of death being freeing and all of that. A message you don't wanna send to your potentially mentally ill audience.

And I mean neutral in different ways. You disappear as a person and become part of the big nothing? That'd be good for many suicidal ppl. Just. Half-conscious eternal sleep floating in nothing? Again. That's good for people having a bad life.

A good afterlife like heaven or paradise or whatever has the same problem but even worse. It makes death desirable. So a hard no for a story like this. Also I don't want people like schlatt or dream to die after being awful and then just. Get the big happy end like everyone else?

And yeah, I hear ya. "Cat, why do we not just have different afterlifes for different p-" no stfu.

That would be even WORSE

Listen, I want ghostbur to have a better limbo too but what kind of fucked up message would that send? Wilbur deserved eternal suffering for his poor mental health and ghostbur deserved eternal happiness for literally not having the capacity for it? And that's also once again establishing that death is desirable with the right circumstances.

And again. And this is important. An afterlife that judges you is an awful fucking idea for especially this story. A story where everyone is morally grey and has become worse due to trauma.

And the afterlife is objectively shit. But I also wanna point out that a lot of Tommy's complains came from Wilbur apparently tormenting him and Wilburs came from being alone all the time.... Which is not gonna be a problem for eternity when the afterlife is shared (which makes a good point for the theory that the current afterlife isn't the true afterlife but messed up because... How tf was JSchlatt the first one to die yet a revivebook existed)

Like yeah. The afterlife would also have been shit for Tommy even without Wilbur because... Sensory deprivation tank. But you also gotta remember that he very much requested to STAY THERE if he were to die again.

So dying and being revived is objectively worse.

But even more so. The people there don't change. They change in small ways! Wilbur went from being dead and not wanting to be revived during the disc war finale to being dead and not wanting to be revived but also planning to make life hell if he were to being dead and wanting to be alive again.

But overall. They can't grow. They can't start or have or complete a character arc when they're dead. And that's great. Change is a privilege of the living. Life sucks but death also sucks and there you can't even change. Life sucks but at least that can change. Life sucks but it can not suck at some point. Life sucks but if you give up and die that will never end.

Life is precious because it can be good unlike death.

Tldr: the dsmp afterlife is perfect the way it is y'all are just fucking weak.

I agree with most of your points, but not with Tommy. Like, a big part of why the afterlife sucked for him was also that he felt like he was constantly being ripped apart and stretched, he explained as much when talking about it. Wilbur made it worse, but he wasn't the only thing.

Also, while Tommy initially expressed that being back was worse, that's a feeling that hasn't been expressed in a long ass time and was probably the result of the mix between the sensory overload, the alienation and feeling like he'd been replaced. Most likely now his answer would be different. We can't really take something he said when he was freshly traumatized and act like he could never change his mind on it.

Further proof on that is how fervently Wilbur wants to live. How happy he is to be back. Makes me think that revival isn't all that bad if it isn't done in literally the most traumatizing way possible. And that's a good thing honestly. It sends a stronger message about life still being better and still being worth it.

But yeah, in general that's also why I like the canon Limbo. I really don't think it would have been smart to handle it any other way honestly.

The only reason why I don't like Ghostbur being there is because it doesn't really make any sense? Like, did Ghostbur exist as an independent entity before Wilbur died? If not why does he still exist now that Wilbur is back? How separate are they as entities? Why did nothing like this happen with other characters who also died? If Wilbur got Ghostbur's memories does this mean they partially merged in some way? How does a Ghost even die? Why was Wilbur able to interact with Tommy, Schlatt and MD in Limbo but Ghostbur supposedly isn't?

Like, it just creates so many fricking plotholes it's unbelievable. Honestly the best thing he could have done was just say that Ghostbur and Wilbur merged and that was it. At least it would have made sense. Now it's just kind of there as information and we have to pretend it makes sense even if it really really doesn't.

#ladycatland ask #long post #tw suicidal tendencies #dream smp

[mayhiems]

Part 1

Hmm so listen listen, I was gonna say this in the a/n for one of my Your Throne fics when I update, but I got impatient (I'm also worried about some of y'all). Kinda spoilers cuz I based it from the leaks.

So like I get that everyone thinks Medea having sex with Eros in Psyche's body is wrong, and mostly it's for two main reasons:

1. Lack of consent from Psyche's side. People assume that Psyche has never fucked before, cuz she's portrayed as an innocent and naive girl. And most of us were taught having sex = loss of innocence. It's not. So when Medea did that, people's thoughts kinda went "You made Psyche do something she wouldn't have! How dare u?!"

2. It seemed like Medea didn't care about Psyche, like she absolutely disrespected someone she was supposedly friends with.

Oh. Bonus reason on my side:

3. I fekin hate entitled predatory misogynistic men touching and even just looking at the sweetest and kindest women. Take your disgusting gaze elsewhere asshole, go mess with the people who'll actually fight back if you think you're the sht or smthng.

Okay so... no.1.

It's true we were never shown Medea and Psyche talking about the things they did while they were in each other's body. Maybe it's cuz they didn't have time to and their meetings were always short and monitored. I think one reason tho is cuz they already understood that they each did what they needed to survive.

Ep.44 in general,

And this scene in particular, I believe is a short and concise way for both Medea and Psyche to show their trust and acceptance of each other. I don't know about y'all but when my closest friends or family and I have MAJOR issues/disagreements, we confront each other but we don't say things directly at least not everything, things aren't discussed word by word. When you already know the circumstances for the series of events that happened and can't be changed, all that's needed is the understanding or forgivenes of the other. Some close and actual friends don't need to verbalize everything. Psyche and Medea are like that.

Medea is talking about the people they've lost, but what she didn't directly say was what she did to hurt Psyche. She mentioned not going back to the way things were cuz she didn't want to be ignorant of Psyche's suffering and do some petty murdering sht again. That was her reaching out to Psyche, it didn't seem like an apology but it was and it was also a promise to treat Psyche better. And Psyche accepted it.

Contrary to popular belief, Psyche is not stupid. She can connect the dots pretty fast, but her faith in the goodness and honesty of people make her ignore the more negative answers.

She knew it was Medea who took out her knight. She figured out what Lynn as a spy sent by Medea meant. Psyche figured out all that once Medea told her about the spies. That's why she's smiling, that's why she said what she said on the 2nd photo.

Psyche was forgiving Medea, and accepting that they couldn't do anything about the past and they needed to move forward. She was giving Medea her trust again.

How does this all relate to the fuck scene?

They didn't directly mention Medea's murder, the same reason that gross sht wasn't also mentioned. It was a painful topic that would've made Psyche sad and probably would've made her cry, NOT because she'd think "Medea I can't believe u fucked my fiance in my body!" but because the realization that Eros didn't love her would stab her again.

Psyche knew some aspects of Eros pretty well. She knew he was obsessive and possessive and very controlling. Eros' obsession with control and his being an asshole is partly why they probably fucked often when they met. He probs thinks along the lines of "I'm pretending to be her lover and fiance why can't I enjoy my priviliges?"

Yeah. He's a real asshole. And that time Psyche was just starting to adjust to that.

I'm not saying Medea was avoiding talking about it (well, maybe, I mean I'm not the author so I don't know exactly what the characters are thinking but based on what's established, I doubt Medea was exactly), I'm saying they were talking in code, talking in a language only the two of them know.

Hmm. I might be contradicting myself but ep.62 when Medea visited Psyche after getting assaulted by Eros on that sht boat ride.

Psyche apologized because she knew Medea liked to know everything so she can be ready for anything. She also apologized because she believes in love and thinks kissing and physical affection like those stuff are for those with mutual affections.

Medea absolutely hates Eros, so yeah, Psyche felt like apologizing. PLUS, it was out of character for Medea to kiss Eros, it made things complicated made weird situations like maybe...having Eros wanting a make out session out of nowhere?

I mentioned contradicting myself cuz in ep.62

It kinda seemed like Medea was guilty in the 1st pic, making excuses and justification in the 2nd pic not just for Psyche but also for herself.

Maybe Medea remembered her actions and felt bad about not being as direct as Psyche in apologizing, or maybe it's cuz Medea didn't feel the need to apologize until Psyche went down on her knees. Either way she felt bad for Psyche and had no intention of blaming her.

Medea recognizes that in all those shitty situations Psyche has never actually done anything wrong, she was forced, always forced.

The only mistake Psyche made in her relationship with Medea was not telling Medea about Eros being her secret lover. And even that was cuz she was forbidden from talking about her divinity, since opening up about Eros meant talking about the basement and talking about the basement meant speaking of her divinity.

Continued in Part2...

Dang it, hold on. I didn't know there was a 10pic limit in tumblr posts ugh. Lemme make dis part1 and imma go make part2 cuz I haven't tried posting explanations with photo evidence and hmmm it's kinda interesting.

#your throne #medea solon #psyche callista #psydea #i want to be you just for a day #medyche #Thoughts #Part 1 #Analysis #ramblings

[shadyteacup]

could i also pls request for ur 300+ event? i’d like 4 from the angst prompts (make me suffer AHDJDHSKD) with ranpo, thank u <3

Some sweet suffering coming up, now😌 I love torturing y'all so much, that I ignore the pain writing angst causes lmao

Edogawa Ranpo + “Please just pretend to love me.”

Word count: 1429 || Warnings: angst, swearing out of frustration.

You were one of those people that ran behind fame. You loved money, respect and a place among the important individuals of society. Your life’s goal has been to become successful enough to live a luxurious life, and have people look up to you.

During your efforts to do so, you met a certain noiret, whose brilliance and emerald gaze made you week in the knees. You fell for him, hard. At least, that’s what you made him believe. You made him fall for you. You both were living the perfect life. You would make him breakfast, kiss each other when you awoke, gaze into each other’s eyes, bathing in the morning rays. You two would eat out on Thursdays, order in on Fridays, and go shopping on Sundays. It was perfect. It was beautiful. But it was shallow.

Ranpo Edogawa, obviously, knew this. He knew that you were only with him because of his fame as the best detective out there. He knew that you were only into him for the benefits, and that if he was to give up on his career, you wouldn’t bat an eyelid before dumping him. That’s part of the reason that he accepted many cases and didn’t throw a tantrum when asked to actually work at the ada. He didn’t want to lose you. He couldn’t lose you. You were the only individual that has ever tolerated his mood swings and has stayed. Besides, you were gorgeous. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. You were so perfect. You played the part of a loving partner so well, that you almost had him, the smartest person on the bloody planet, fooled. It took him a while to realise your true intentions, and even after that, it took him a while to accept it. He loved you dearly, and he just didn’t have the guts to admit that your relationship was built on greed. He started closing himself off from others, and soon became a shell of the man that he used to be. He left the office early, didn’t talk to his peers, mostly kept to himself, didn’t joke around, and worst of all, lost interest in snacks. Yosano, his dear friend and concerned colleague, decided to confront him about this issue.

“What’s up with you? And don’t tell me that you’re fine, because you obviously aren’t.”

Ranpo had, after months of silence, openly talked to someone that day.

“I don’t think it’s true love, Yosano.”

He had shed many tears that day, knowing that his friend would keep them a secret. He trusted her.

“You think, or you know?”

She had asked. He was left stunned at her question. Was he sure of this? Was he just overanalysing, and hence overreacting? What if Y/N actually loved him?

“I- don’t know.”

He sighed, leaning into Yosano’s shoulder while she pat his back.

“Then find out. Observe. Know for sure.”

He sniffed.

“But what if I’m right?”, he shifted to look at her, his face showing just how scared he truly was.

“For once, I don’t want to be right.”

She had widened her beautiful eyes at his words. Giving him a comforting smile, she had consoled him.

“If you’re right, then its best to free yourself from this mess. Toxic relationships can really hamper one’s mental peace. Besides, you’re the smart one, you’ll figure it out. I’m sure!”

That’s why he was where he is right now. He had seated himself on the couch, waiting for you to come home from work. He had a plan in mind; a plan that would seal his fate.

He heard the keys jingling outside the door, signalling your arrival. He patiently waited for you to open the door and step inside, watching you as you discarded your coat on the rack and tossed the keys in the key holder by the door. You rolled your shoulders to release the pent-up tension and raked your fingers through your hair. You stepped in, oblivious of his gaze or presence.

“Welcome home.”

His voice stunned you for a second, and you jumped slightly.

“Oh my, Ranpo, you really scared me!”

You exclaimed, walking over to him to peck his cheek, and seating yourself opposite to him.

“What are you doing home?”

“Can’t I be at my own house?”, he cross questioned, crossing his arms.

You were taken aback by his aggressive tone and raised a brow.

“Of course, you can. What’s gotten into you?”

He sighed, looking away from your gaze. He had to stay in character.

“I just... I’m a bit worked up, that’s all.”

“What’s wrong, love?”

You shifted in your seat, leaning forward to look more concerned.

“I lost my job. They say that I’m not good enough, anymore. We’ll have to survive with our savings and your salary.”

You were baffled.

“Are you being serious right now?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

You scoffed, slumping back into the cushion of your seat.

“But you’re the best at what you do, they can’t just fire you like that!”

He sat silently, observing your turmoil.

“That’s impossible. They can’t just do that. What about all the work you’ve done for them? All the cases you’ve solved, all those hours that you’ve put in; they can’t do this to you!”

“They can, and they did.”

You stood up and began pacing in the hall. Your mind was filled with questions. Your main worry was, ‘Was my effort worthless? Will I have to breakup with him? If he isn’t who he was before, then is there any point in being with him? Was all that perfect play, all those stupid nights when I had to run down to the store to get him fucking ice-cream, or when I had to laugh along to his pathetic jokes, do the laundry, the dishes, treat him like a fucking child; was all that for naught?’

Your mental trauma was too much for you. You were breathing heavily, and your mind was clogged with worries. You were so out of it, that you failed to realise that you’d spoken your worries out loud.

When you heard your own voice echo back in your ears, you gasped, placing a palm on your mouth. Looking over at Ranpo, you widened your eyes at his expression.

“Fuck, Ranpo, I didn’t mean it! I was just worried about how we’re going to manage the expenses, and I-”

“Please just pretend to love me.”

He whispered. His tears threatened to spill. His emerald orbs shone with unshed tears as he clenched his teeth, glaring at you.

“I knew you were in it only for the fame and money. I fucking knew it, yet I stayed. I decided to stay because I had honestly fallen in love with you. I knew that my friends were right about you. Dazai had warned be before we became serious; he had tried to tell me to break it off with you; he had tried to forewarn me, but I didn’t listen to him, because I was so fucking lost in this puppet show, that I had started loving it. I should have listened to him and left you, you shallow hearted bitch!”

You just stood stunned at his words. He had ever even raised his voice at you before. This was so unexpected.

“I haven’t lost my job, Y/N. this was a test to see if you’re actually into this relationship, and guess what, you failed miserably.”

You just stood there, processing his words. So, he hadn’t lost his job? All is not for naught?

Laughing, you shook your head.

“You and your stupid games, Ranpo. I swear I can’t keep up with your pranks!”

“This isn’t a prank, I’m serious- ”

“Gosh, you had me scared for a moment there. This is all your friend’s doing. What’s his name again? Dazai? Yeah, he did this. And you fell right into his little trap! He made you hate me, but you don’t hate me, do you? You love me.”

“Don’t blame my friends. Honestly, how shallow can you get?!”

He chuckled bitterly.

“Get out. Right now.”

You just stared at him, dumbfounded.

“But love- ”

“Out! Now! Get out of my fucking sight!”

You nodded, understanding. He was too smart to be fooled anymore. Picking up your coat, you left the house.

Ranpo watched you leave, and slumped to the floor, on his knees. He had just lost the one person who had managed to make him feel loved. That night, he cried his heart out.

Jsksks I hope u liked it @kovzumee ! lemme know what u think, n if u didn't want this, feel free to req again♡

#shady☕ #shadyteacup event #shadyteacup #bsd #bungou stray dogs #dazai osamu #dazai x reader #bungo stray dogs dazai #bsd x reader #☕ says #kunikida doppo #ranposano #bungou stray dogs ranpo #ranpo x reader #bsd ranpo #ranpo manga #ranpo packs #ranpo fanart #bsd edogawa rampo #edogawa ranpo imagines #edogawa ranpo icons #edogawa ranpo headcanons #hanimehub #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs imagine #bungou sd #bungou stray dogs dazai #bungo stray dogs fanart #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs wan

[curligurl0896]

So getting to read @thejakeformerlyknownasprince 's FMA AU reminded me of my own ideas for a FMA/Animorphs fic. A crossover, in this case, a Megamorphs of sorts (complete with rotating narration) because I really want an excuse to have the Animorphs interact with the characters of the FMA universe. I don't have enough ideas worked out to confidently write a whole fanfic yet, so I think I'll just share some of my ideas so that at least they don't stay inside my head forever like the vast majority of ideas that I either never finish enough to post it or just never get around to at all, especially when my brain is always generating new plot bunnies instead of focusing on developing the ones I already have, it's so distracting lol

(Also maybe y'all could give some suggestions if you wanna, I'd definitely appreciate it lol)

Anyway, here it is:

First off, the answer as to how exactly the Animorphs end up in the FMA universe: I was kicking around a few ideas for this, and was originally thinking something along the lines of like, a freak accident that somehow results in them ending up in front of the Gate of Truth, but I think a better idea would be for an alchemist (or perhaps even several alchemists) to end up in the Aniverse, get Yeerkified, and the Yeerk (or Yeerks, as it may be), intrigued by the memories and knowledge of an alternate Earth where you can manipulate matter and shape it according to your will with nothing more than a well drawn chalk circle (or even less than that if you've been through the Gate, as the Yeerk(s) will eventually discover), lured in by the idea of a legendary object that supposedly can be used to circumvent a pesky little law known as Equivalent Exchange, decides to pull something of a "Tom's Yeerk and his Yeerk buddies a la book 52" deciding to start their own colony in the FMAverse where they won't have to answer to the Council of Thirteen or the Visserarchy (well, at least the ones higher ranked than the Yeerk in charge, who, I imagine, would have to be a Sub-Visser at the very least to have the power to arrange all this) in addition to being able to use alchemy, which, much like the morphing power, can be used for a massive variety of things, ranging from merely convenient to pretty damn useful in a pinch to OP as fuck to even just downright terrifying.

It takes a lot of time and meticulous planning, of course, as they have to find a way to transport the Yeerks, their ship, and all the other stuff they'll need to thrive over there through the Gate and into the FMAverse-- all while in a universe where alchemy flat out doesn't work. The Yeerks have to figure out how to get around that issue, and it takes at least a year of research and using their new hosts' alchemical knowledge to work out a solution, but they work it out, and soon enough they get everything set up and ready to go. At some point, the Chee find out about this secret unknown project going on, inform the Animorphs about it, and Jake decides that they should at least check it out on the off chance that it's something big.

That's where the story officially starts: with our team of traumatized teenage shapeshifters at the location where this thing is being set up (haven't figured out the where yet). They've spent the past several days spying on these Yeerks, but still aren't sure what exactly is going on-- they keep talking about opening a gate-- and aren't sure if it's worth it. Marco's convinced the whole thing is ridiculous, especially after overhearing a human Controller mention something about a "Philosopher's Stone" ("What is this, Harry Potter? Are they gonna wave wooden sticks around and yell in Latin?") . Rachel is bored at this point, and just wants to kick ass and call it a day-- they were probably up to no good anyway. Cassie isn't particularly keen on the asskicking part, but she's been having a bad feeling about all this that she can't shake, and Tobias agrees that something fishy is going on and says they should wait a few days-- after all, from what they've gleaned, whatever plans these Yeerks had would be set in motion very soon. Ax, being Ax, declares as usual that he'll just go along with whatever Prince Jake orders, though when Jake presses him about his opinion, he just says he isn't sure what to make of it. In the end, they keep it up for a couple more days, and sure enough, the time comes for the Yeerks to "open the gate", whatever that means.

After all the time they'd spent spying on the Yeerks, it is conveniently now, when the Yeerks are about to do their thing, that they're discovered. It quickly turns into a fight, and the Animorphs attempt to bail as they're soon overwhelmed-- and then the Gate is opened.

None of them had any idea what to expect next. They certainly weren't expecting the blue lightning that erupted around them in a massive circle, seeming to originate from the curving lines that had been so painstakingly carved into the floor. They aren't expecting the atmosphere to turn dark and purple and creepy, or for a giant grey eye to suddenly appear beneath them, or for wavy black tentacle arms to come out of that eye. And they definitely were NOT expecting to abruptly find themselves in the white void of Zerospace.

Only they aren't in Z-space, exactly. Surrounded by it, sure, but somehow they stand there, as if on solid ground, surrounded by the eerie blankness that had once nearly suffocated them to death.

Each Animorph is utterly alone, with nothing and no one else in sight. That is, until they hear a voice, one that sounds like several voices speaking in unison, and suddenly they see a figure-- or, more accurately, an outline of a figure, with only shadows to mark where the figure ended and the void began. The figure is shaped like a human in all but Ax and Tobias's case: the figure Ax sees is shaped like an Andalite, and Tobias's version takes the form of a bird.

Truth gives the whole "I am God, I am the world, and I am also you" speech, then informs them they can't pass through the Gate without payment. Suddenly, there's a huge gateway where previously there was nothing. Truth is unconcerned with the fact that these "A-ni-morphs" have zero clue what's going on-- it simply takes the required toll and sends them on their way.

Except the toll is literal body parts-- which, even then, isn't usually a big deal for an Animorph, but in this case it absolutely is a big deal, because, as they'll soon discover, there's no way they're going to just replace their lost limbs through morphing. It's expressly forbidden for one to simply have nice things in this universe; in other words, Truth isn't letting them off the hook that easily.

The discovery that they're not able to replace their lost body parts through morphing is especially horrifying to Ax, because, well, y'know... book 40. The one that every Ax fan, and really anyone who otherwise genuinely enjoys Ax's character, would like to pretend never fucking happened.

In fact, given Truth's precedent for irony when extracting payment from people who've opened/been through the Gate in the series, I have no doubt in my mind that Ax would end up suffering the exact same fate as Mertil. Andalites, after all, place high value on their tail blades, especially the warriors; it's their number one go-to weapon when shit hits the fan. Ax himself is such a warrior, in fact it's a huge part of who he is as a person. Needless to say I think yeeting Ax's tail blade would be the exact kind of twisted irony that Truth would employ.

He gets over himself eventually-- well, sort of. However, it takes him a long time to truly come to terms with it-- instead of accepting that the attitudes he'd been taught his whole life regarding those who aren't fully able-bodied are actually shit, I feel like he'd be more likely to double down on them, internalizing them, and actually go into full-on self loathing as a result.

He holds his metaphorical tongue, though, upon seeing that Tobias has suffered a payment that is arguably far more cruelly ironic-- given that Tobias is a bird, given that his initial attraction to the morph that eventually became his default body came from the sense of freedom and escapism only provided through flying, I think it's fairly obvious what Truth would take: his wings.

As for the others: Rachel has lost her arm (for basically the same reason Ed did), Cassie loses her hands (which she uses to, you know, help injured animals and stuff), and as for Jake... well, it was a bit of a struggle, the best I could come up with is the idea of him going blind much like Mustang did after being forced to open the Gate (though maybe not for the same reason, though... idk. If anyone has any better suggestions, please let me know lol, I couldn't think of any solid ideas for what body part would be ironic for Jake to lose). Marco is the only one who doesn't lose any outwardly visible body parts-- what he loses is his voice.

At some point, they are discovered, taken into custody by the Amestrian military, and eventually they end up in Colonel Mustang's office. Mustang listens to their story with a massive dose of skepticism. He isn't sure what to make of these bizarre barefoot children, nor their claims of fighting bodysnatching slugs from outer space by turning into animals, nor their wingless pet hawk, nor... well, he could only assume the other creature was some sort of chimera, although he had zero clue what animals could have possibly been used to make something with blue fur and extra eyes.

At this point, they're about to do a morphing demonstration to prove to the Colonel that they aren't completely batshit, when suddenly the door is slammed open, and a teenage boy with blond hair and sharp golden eyes comes sauntering in, accompanied by a hulking giant covered head to toe in a suit of armor.

The boy immediately starts shouting at Mustang, calling him a bastard and accusing him of wasting his time, to which Mustang responds by merely rolling his eyes and sighing, as if this sort of thing happens all the time (spoiler alert: it does). After a moment, the kid stops as he takes notice of the other kids standing in the room.

"So," he says, calmly, as if he wasn't yelling at his superior just a moment ago, "what's the deal with these fuckers?"

The casual use of the kind of language that would have surely landed them in hot water back home was quite shocking, but they don't comment on it. Instead, Rachel says, in a voice sweet as honey, "Oh, look, Marco. He's just as short as you are."

Before Marco could turn to glare daggers at her (come on, it wasn't like he could argue back in that moment), the boy goes absolutely ballistic, and the armored guy has to physically restrain him as he screams obscenities at Rachel ("The fuck did you just call me, you freakishly oversized bitch? I'll show you too-fucking-short-to-fucking-sit-at-the-fucking-table-without-a-fucking-booster-seat! Call me short one more fucking time, I fucking dare you to! You think I give a shit that you're a girl? I'll fuck that pretty face of yours right up, just you fucking wait--")

"Brother!" The armored guy cries. "Calm down!" Then, to the Animorphs: "I'm sorry about my brother's behavior. He's, um, a bit sensitive about his height."

"A bit sensitive" is the understatement of the century, but none of the Animorphs call him out on it. They're too dumbfounded by the sound of his voice, which sounds sweet, innocent, and, despite his size, sounds like it belonged to a boy no more than nine or ten years old.

And that's where I'm going to leave it for now, since I've spent way too long on this post already. I have a few other ideas, but mostly in bits and pieces, not really any more comprehensive plot points beyond this point. Please do let me know what you think!

#animorphs #fullmetal alchemist #crossover fic #partial outline #i really just want to write them interacting #and to talk about ed's staunch refusal to kill in comparison to the fact that the animorphs have crossed this line countless times #even cassie who's the pacifist of the group #but besides that ed and al could pretty much be honorary members of the team #even if they can't morph #i mean they definitely have enough trauma to qualify don't they?

[consumedkings-archive]

WITCHING HOUR, a john seed/deputy fic.

chapter ten: the kind of love we gather

word count: 7.5k

rating: m for mature

warnings: there is an interaction with an abusive ex-husband that eludes to physical/domestic violence. also, i think it's fair to warn against joseph himself--whatever argument there is to be had about the sincerity of his feelings, there's a few times where it feels like there's definitely some emotional manipulation happening.

notes: this is an interlude chapter, a little flashback/prelude going through isolde and joseph's relationship--or, at least, a significant part of it (still some secrets to be discovered!). i've had this chapter drawn up for a while and i thought this would be a great cliffhanger/changing point in the story to give their relationship and their dynamic a little more context, so i hope that's alright with y'all!

some of you folks who follow me here on tumblr may recognize a part of this chapter as a smut oneshot i wrote for them; that was the alternate universe to this instance in time, which is firmly rooted in their canon. lmao

it should go without saying that i have yeeted canon out the window for all of ancient names and witching hour, and the way that the seed brothers were pre-reaping and hope county is subject to much the same.

—Before—

The first time that Isolde saw Joseph, she knew she was in for it.

If he had been any other man, she thought, it wouldn’t have been so clearly a disaster waiting to happen. She would have been able to crash and burn with him as she pleased: but he wasn’t just any other man. He was John’s man, his older brother, the one that he tried so hard to live up to and impress. She had only heard of him in passing, but that was all it had taken. Isolde knew exactly how John felt about him.

“Who is that?” she asked, when she spotted the cleanly dressed man across the room. The office was dimly lit with the lights lowered; people mingled and chatted, drinks in hand, as everyone celebrated that they’d been able to move into a nice, new office downtown, with a whole floor to themselves.

John’s gaze followed hers. His expression flattened. “Stop it.”

No fun. Isolde feigned innocence. “Stop what?”

“That’s my brother Joseph, Sol,” he hissed. “Do not try to fuck my brother.”

“You have a couple, don’t you?” she asked. “What’s the one?”

“Fuck off.”

She sighed, taking a sip of her drink. Just her luck. A Seed boy, and yet, so fine. What a waste. “Fine, Johnny,” she said, patting his shoulder. Across the room, she saw Joseph’s gaze land on hers as he politely smiled at one of the other partygoers, and then stay locked, right on her. “I won’t fuck your very hot brother, who is very plainly making eyes at me from across the room.”

“He’s never had great taste in women.” John grimaced. “Off-limits, Isolde, I mean it.”

“Scout’s honor.”

So much for that, anyway, she thought later, when Joseph crossed the party and made his way up to her. He was even more handsome up close, and though long hair wasn’t typically her type, it looked good on him, pulled back and slick. Just enough to look polished.

“You’re Isolde?” Joseph asked, and his eyes swept over her. “That doesn’t seem right.”

“Are you the authority on Isoldes?” she replied. She arched a brow loftily at him. “I didn’t realize I was in the presence of an expert.”

“Well, it’s just that John rarely complains about beautiful women,” he countered easily, the flirtation slipping so seamlessly from his mouth that she might have missed it. “They’re his greatest vice. Yet, he complains incessantly about you.” He paused. “I’m Joseph, his brother.”

That did sound like John. Isolde wrangled a smile, leaned comfortably back against the wall as Joseph sidled over to her. With him in front of her, he almost completely eclipsed out the rest of the party, like he’d suddenly bubbled her and it was just the two of them in the entire room. He was so very good at that—with his eyes on her, it felt as though nobody else in the entire world existed.

“I’m flattered,” she murmured, “that I’ve managed to break John of his greatest vice.”

“I did come to thank you for that.” Joseph’s mouth ticked up into a smile, almost playful, if the rich timbre of his voice wasn’t so soothing. “And for taking good care of John. He’s a...”

Isolde watched Joseph through her lashes. He had no alcohol in his hands, but kept them tucked easily into the pockets of his slacks; he held himself without the easy arrogance that John carried himself. It was more like Joseph knew, exactly, his place in the world, and so didn’t feel the need to assert it. It simply was.

“Handful,” Isolde supplied.

“That’s a good way to put that,” he agreed. A quiet moment stretched between them—an easy silence, and she got the impression that it was going to be like this with him; no pressure to fill the silences—before she shifted on her feet.

“So, how are you going to do it?” she asked him, taking a sip of her drink. Joseph’s gaze, which had drifted to where John was chatting with Jacob and another guest, flickered back to her. The inquisitive tilt of his head followed after, and when she didn’t supply further questioning, he didn’t bother smothering the amused little smile on his face.

“Do what?” he asked.

“Thank me.”

The smile didn’t quite leave his face yet. “Didn’t John give you the same speech about how off-limits we are to each other?”

“Well,” Isolde relented, “whatever is he going to complain about if his brother doesn’t take me out for dinner? I’d be failing him as his vice breaker if I didn’t keep my game fresh.”

“Is that what I’m doing to thank you, then?”

Joseph’s voice was a low, rich sound, rumbling straight through her, vibrating in the cavity of her chest. She thought, instantly, that she’d like to know what it felt like to have him say her name into her skin. Isolde’s lashes fluttered; she hummed thoughtfully and polished off the last of her wine.

Dinner isn’t sex, she reasoned. So technically, I’m not really breaking John’s little agreement.

“It’s an option,” she offered after a moment. And then, in an act of what John would surely describe later as pure spite for his well-being and mental health: “Though you’re welcome to do more, if you feel inclined.”

This finally (finally, a part of her said) elicited a laugh out of Joseph. His eyes slipped from hers, lingering on her mouth before pulling away to the rest of the party, almost reluctantly.

“Tomorrow,” he said after a moment. “Are you free?”

“Technically I’m working,” Isolde drawled, “but lucky for you, I’m the boss and I can make my own hours.”

“Lucky, indeed,” Joseph replied amusedly. “Six, then.”

“And don’t tell John,” Isolde said, as though making a pact. The man inclined his head a little, reaching up and sweeping a loose strand of hair behind her ear and made a low noise of agreement.

“And don’t tell John,” he reiterated. “Yet.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“I asked you for one thing, Isolde!”

John was, as to be expected, upset.

“That’s not true,” Isolde defended, busying her hands with gathering up a few files and tucking them into her bag. “You ask me for a million things, every day. Namely, tolerating your ego. Not to mention keeping your head from exploding every time someone pays you a compliment, and—”

“You know what I mean.” John exhaled sharply, pressing his fingers to his temples as though Isolde had inspired in him the greatest of headaches. She hoped that she had. It would be the least he could suffer, after all of the brainpower she had to expend on the daily to keep him in check.

Leaning back in her chair, Isolde said, “It was just dinner, John.”

“Do not pretend to be stupid all of a sudden,” John snapped. “Joseph does not date around. He doesn’t ever do something that’s just dinner."

"Funny," she mused, "it feels like that's exactly what it was. Eating food together, at a restaurant, during the evening."

John’s head cocked to the side. He leveled her with a singular pointed look and said, “Oh, yeah?”

She squinted at him. “Yeah.”

“Is that so? Then what did you do after dinner, Isolde?” He crossed his arms over his chest, leaned against the wall as he waited for her answer. She kept her face wiped clear of emotions even though John’s question instantly inspired in her a flurry of memories; Joseph, snagging her hand on their way out of the restaurant, leaning in and kissing her; and kissing her, and kissing her, keeping her pulled close against him until she thought she was going to go dizzy from it all.

And then, well—

“We’re two consenting adults, John,” she said at last, and he threw up his hands.

“I explicitly said not to!”

“Yeah, well!” There was no good excuse; she knew that. The excuse was that Joseph was incredibly attractive, and Isolde had wanted him, and so that had been the beginning and the end of it. Still, she kept her eyes on the paper in front of her. “I made that agreement before I got a good look at him. John, I’m actually trying to get some work done, so if you could—”

John scoffed. “One, Joseph is related to me, so of course he’s hot, and two—you’ve got the impulse control of a toddler. I hope you know that.”

He pushed off from the wall and started collecting his things to leave her office; a blissful departure, to be sure, but there was something sitting and stinging in the pit of her stomach that wouldn’t let her leave it to rest.

“Rich,” Isolde said demurely, “coming from the man who can’t stop an endless chain of making-up-breaking-up.”

His movements paused. He stared at her for a long moment, before he said. “Hey, Isolde?”

“Yes, John?”

“Fuck you.” John’s movements resumed to the door. “Fuck you, and see you in the conference room in twenty.” Another pause, and then thrown over his shoulder: “If you’re not too busy letting my brother—”

“Alright, point made!” she exclaimed, exasperated. “It’s really not anything serious. Okay? It was just dinner and a date, that’s all.”

This had him stopping again, paused in the doorway with a bit of frustration welling up in his voice when he said, “You don’t know my brother, Isolde.”

“But I know me. Alright?”

He sighed. “Yes, alright. Twenty minutes, then.”

For a moment, it felt like things had been settled between them. John was still young, she thought; younger than her, and the baby of his brothers, which she knew meant he held on tighter to things that maybe he needed to all the time. Too tight, or too loose, to make it hurt less when something didn’t work out.

But the peace only lasted for a moment, because a few minutes after John had settled back in behind his desk across the hall from her, their secretary came around the corner, her arms filled with a fragrant bouquet of lilies.

“Ms. Khan, you have an admirer!” she exclaimed delightedly. Isolde met John’s eyes across the hall, staring at her with an expression that could only have been described with the phrase I told you so. “It looks like they’re from a gentleman named Joseph S—”

“Thank you, Laura,” Isolde interrupted, clearing her throat. “You can set them on the table there, I’ll find them a vase.”

Laura nodded and smiled, laying the bouquet delicately on the coffee table and then making her way out of the office. Isolde left the flowers untouched for about an hour, unable to stand the thought of John catching her keeping them alive (because she would never hear an end to it), but it was killing her a little bit. She had mentioned once, in an off-hand comment, that she didn’t like the typical flower bouquets like red roses or carnations; lilies were her favorite. One tiny comment, and this was the result?

There was only a note with the flowers. It said, Hoping John isn’t giving you too much trouble. Be by at six for you.

It felt a little treacherous; just enough to make it a bit harder to look at John with a serious face and not burst out laughing at the absurdity of their situation. Thankfully, close to the end of the day John made the dramatic announcement that he thought he was going to kill himself if he had to spend even another second sitting across from the elaborate bouquet.

“I’m going to go home,” he said, shrugging into his coat, “and try to retain at least half of my brain cells.”

Isolde hmm’d. “So just the one, then?

“Ha-ha. Goodnight, Sol.”

“Have a good night.”

It seemed like there were only a few moments of quiet between John’s departure and Joseph’s arrival, though in reality it had been a few hours; focusing felt like a chore, like it took a little extra work to get through the depositions she had to prepare and the emails she had to answer.

Just dinner, she thought. Just dinner and a date, and whatever happened after. And just one more date tonight. Not a big deal; adults go on dates all the time. I’m an adult. It’s fine.

But it wasn’t just that, because she was sure her heart rate had plateaued at a solid one hundred and ten since Joseph’s I’ll pick you up from work text. Because Isolde wasn’t the kind of woman who took a man back to her place on the first date, and yet.

By the time Joseph did swing by to pick her up, John had been gone for a few hours and she’d gotten almost no work done, instead completely consumed by the predicament she’d planted herself in. It did break the rules to date Joseph. No business and pleasure, first and foremost. Normally, Isolde would have considered herself a woman of incredible discipline, able to turn down temptations of varying degrees—but when Joseph rolled through her office door with those stupid, hot yellow aviators on his face, she thought maybe she had overestimated herself.

“You look tired,” Joseph said lightly, brushing some snow out of his hair. Isolde’s expression flattened.

“Thanks, Romeo. ‘Hi, Isolde, how was your day?’ ‘Oh, just fine, except for your brother throwing a baby temper tantrum every five minutes’. ‘You poor thing, Isolde, but you have to tell me how you manage to be so exceptionally beautiful still’.”

“I didn’t say you didn’t look beautiful still,” he replied. His eyes followed her as she walked around her desk, having slid her coat on and collected her purse; they stayed trained on her all the way up to when there was no space left between them, until he was gazing at her with amusement dragging his mouth into a smile.

She said, lightly, “You didn’t say I was beautiful at all, actually.”

Joseph reached up. Though the room was empty of everyone except the two of them, somehow it still felt special when he looked at her—it still felt like nothing else in the entire world mattered to Joseph in that moment except for her. The pad of his thumb brushed her lower lip, his gaze drinking her in, admiring and hungry in equal amounts.

“You are,” he said, his voice low, the timbre of it rattling something animal inside of her. “Beautiful.”

Kiss me, she wanted to say, because he was so close and yet seemed to refuse to actually finish the job. She didn’t think she could have mustered the words even if she wanted to; Joseph was a wildfire, eating up all the oxygen around her, sucking it right out of the air until there was nothing left but for her to feel swallowed by it.

“I wasn’t entirely truthful with you, the other night,” Joseph continued, dragging his thumb from her lip down to her jawline, “when I said that John’s greatest vice was beautiful women.” He paused, his head tilting. “They’re mine.”

Isolde’s lashes fluttered. She glanced up at him, and she said, “Well, that’s not the greatest sales pitch for yourself. How many red flags should I be looking for?”

He laughed and brushed his lips against her temple. “I get the feeling you won’t miss a single one.”

It shouldn’t have been quite so endearing, his casual reference to any red flags that he might have. Even his confidence that she’d pick them out (she would; if finding red flags was an Olympic sport, Isolde would have been a gold medalist) didn’t inspire the greatest feeling in her, though if she was playing devil’s advocate she knew that there were things about herself that didn’t make her so very well acquainted with healthy relationships.

“I’m glad I was able to come and pick you up today,” Joseph continued casually as they left her office and headed down the stairs. “It’s been snowing all afternoon. I’d hate for you to have to drive in this weather.”

And then he did things like that—uncharacteristically gentlemanly of him, to not want her to drive herself home in adverse weather. “I think I would have been fine,” Isolde replied. His fingers brushed hers at her side, snagging them and bringing them up to his mouth to kiss.

“Undoubtedly.”

It hadn’t been a lie, his remark about the snow. By the time they were pushing the doors to the lobby open, bidding the security officer goodnight, at least a solid foot of snow had collected and was pushed up against the lip of the sidewalk.

She grimaced. Winter was her least favorite season. Holiday cheer and Isolde Khan were not two concepts that melded well—not that she was a scrooge, per se, but with her only family halfway across the world and, on top, a tenuous relationship at best, it didn’t make Christmas very fun.

As they walked down the sidewalk, passing Joseph’s car in favor of pursuing a nearby restaurant, the blonde kept their fingers tangled together. The gesture was light, and didn’t demand anything, but it was enough to say something: I want you close to me.

“Does your family come here for the holidays?” Joseph asked lightly, disentangling their hands in favor of giving her hip a squeeze, keeping his hand there as they drifted into a warmly-lit wine bar. “I remember you saying they live in Turkey.”

So Joseph did just have that good of a memory. She’d have to be more careful about the things she said to him. “No,” Isolde replied, desperate to steer the conversation elsewhere. “It’s too far. And I don’t go there.”

“Then what do you do on Christmas?” he prompted. He tugged a seat out for her at a spot farthest away from the door and then planted himself across from her, absently reading over the list of wines.

“This,” she said, gesturing vaguely. And then, in an effort to redirect, again: “You, if you’re around.”

Joseph’s gaze flickered up to hers from across the table. She could tell he was trying to stifle a smile. “You’d have to come all the way to Hope County if you had that penciled into your planner, Miss Khan.”

“Oh, Miss Khan, am I? We’re suddenly very formal with each other.” Isolde grinned. “And what does Joseph Seed, in Hope County, do on Christmas?”

“We haven’t spent many holidays together, but this year I’d like have a big family dinner on Christmas Eve, the handful of us.” He settled back in his chair a little, like he was getting ready to be there for a while. “Since John’s moved out here for work, Jacob’s been out of the country, and we only recently found each other again, we don’t get a lot of time together.” He shrugged. “And you, of course. If you’re around.”

Before she had an opportunity to respond, caught off guard by how easily he wielded her own flirtation against her, she felt a few bodies brush past their table and then pause, only to be followed by a dreadfully familiar voice: “Isolde?”

Something sharp and hot brought her pulse to a grinding stop—or it felt like it, anyway, like all of the breath had been sucked right out of her and she had ceased to be alive anymore, a cadaver sat up to play pretend like in those old photos. No, she thought when she felt a hand touch her shoulder, nausea welling up inside of her. No, I don’t want this, not right now.

“It is you,” Alec said, his voice blooming with warmth. “I thought I recognized you. I know you like this spot.” His hand slid from her shoulder and she felt, without even looking at him, the way he turned his eyes to Joseph. “Who’s your friend?”

“Date,” Isolde bit out. “He’s my date.”

Her ex-husband let out what she could only describe as a comical exhale of breath. Joseph was watching her, inquisitive but ever-so-composed, before he turned his gaze politely to Alec and offered his hand.

“Joseph,” the blonde said. “It’s nice to meet you.”

The sight of the two men shaking hands made her want to puke. Everything Alec touched in her life was rotten, putrid—brimming with bile and spoiled, forever. She didn’t want it to be like that with Joseph, too.

Alec began, “I’m—”

“Alec is my ex-husband,” Isolde interrupted, her voice hard, punctuating each consonant of the words that came out of her mouth with violent intent.

Joseph settled back in his seat. Suddenly, Isolde was reminded that he had a penchant for remembering even the smallest throwaway details, and that she’d probably let him in on more than she would have liked about how her relationship had been with Alec without even saying anything. Yes, Isolde thought absently, her brain careening like a plane on fire as she watched Joseph fix his eyes on Alec, yes, he can tell.

“Fresh on the dating scene, and only six months divorced,” Alec remarked lightly, his infuriatingly handsome face the only thing filling up her peripheral. “I’m happy for you, Isolde.”

“So leave,” Isolde snapped. She finally looked at him, really looked at him, and naturally he looked perfect; dark curls, stubble neatly trimmed, eyes bright and amused. There were a few thin, gossamer scars on his face from the last time they were together— but he must have paid quite a bit of money to smooth those out.

He lifted his hands in a show of surrender, his gaze sweeping over her. Just that one gesture felt like a violation—she wanted to smash his face into the table and tell him he didn’t get to even look at her anymore.

“Good luck with this one, Joe,” Alec said, his overly-familiar use of a nickname that Isolde had never heard anyone use with Joseph sticking to her ribs like a heavy dinner. “She’s a wicked little thing.”

“I think I’ll be fine,” Joseph replied serenely.

Alec paused; his gaze lingered on her neck and suddenly he was grinning. Isolde knew what it was he was looking at—a bruise, a remnant of the night before, left by Joseph.

“Yeah,” Alec agreed, “it looks like you’ve already figured out how to handle her.”

Who’s going to pity you? If you were me, you would have seen that you were begging for it. You fucking asked for it. 

Isolde stood abruptly, the chair screeching against the wooden paneling of the floor. Sick, she thought, her stomach rolling. I’m going to be sick. “Leaving,” she managed out, only vaguely aware of Joseph also coming to a stand across from her, albeit more composed. “We’re leaving.”

I’m your husband, Isolde. It means it’s my job to keep you in line.

“Not on my account, I hope,” Alec sighed. “You’ve always been so dramatic. Anyway, Joseph—a pleasure to meet you, and—you know, call me if you need help with her. I’m always happy to lend my expertise.”

Everyone knows what it takes to get you under control, and I’ll tell anyone who asks.

She pushed past him, stepping around the table and clutching her coat and purse in her hands. There wasn’t time to put them on; there would never be enough time to get as much space between herself and Alec as she wanted.

I should have killed him, she thought viciously, taking in lungfuls of frigid air, snow dappling her face and sticking to her eyelashes. Right then, I should have bashed his fucking skull in.

Fingers brushed her arm. On instinct she startled, whirling to face the impending threat, half-expecting Alec to have chased her out into the street in an attempt to corner her—a thing that he had taken great joy in before, sweeping things off of the counter to grab and pull and rip—but it was Joseph. He waited two heartbeats before he reached again, his fingertips cradling the crook of her elbow.

It was a question: can I? Will you let me?

“I wish he would die,” she said, without thinking, the words spilling out of her like a poison she just couldn’t hold in anymore. Whatever information Joseph had gleaned about her tumultuous marriage with Alec made him unbothered by this statement; he tugged her closer to him, the hand not holding her arm reaching up to brush the pads of his fingers across her pulse point.

He said, “I know.”

“Joseph—”

“Isolde.” His voice was low, the words murmured against her forehead. “Don’t explain.” Because I already know, is what he meant. Because I already understand what’s going on here.

He tugged her coat out of her hands and pulled it around her shoulders. Bent like he was, leaned into her with something that she thought might be adoration, Joseph brushed their noses together. She felt tension flood her body; she was afraid that he might try to kiss her right then, of what she might do if he did while her body was brutalized by adrenaline, but he didn’t. 

He just held her.

“Here,” Joseph said, taking her hand and bringing it to his neck until she could feel the steady, rhythmic beat of his pulse under her fingers. “I’ve got you.”

It should have frightened her. Joseph’s intensity was an intimidating kind, but in these moments, the intensity was required to cut through the panic. It overwhelmed her fried senses, the neurons firing rapidly stifled and swallowed up by the looming responsibility to recognize his closeness. The smell of his cologne, the bump of their noses, the feeling of his stubble under her fingertips, his hands closing the jacket around her shoulders. All of it meant that her brain could no longer panic, and had, instead, something to occupy itself with.

“Can you take me home?” Her voice felt small coming out of her, like it belonged to someone else. A different Isolde, at a different place and time. The girl she might have been or perhaps was before Alec.

Low, Joseph murmured, “Of course. Whatever you need.”

A sick, macabre part of her wanted to look back behind Joseph at the wine bar. It wanted to see Alec again—the way that you couldn’t stop yourself from peeking through your hands at the monster in a horror movie, the way that you couldn’t look away from a brutal car crash on the highway. Sick, she thought dizzily. He made me sick.

“Take me home,” she said, more firmly this time.

“I’m trying,” Joseph replied. His voice was so soft that she almost had to strain to hear it over the pounding of her heart. His hands came to her face, cradling. “You have to let me.”

Isolde nodded, swallowing back what adrenaline insisted on leaking into her brain. She hadn’t realized that she was bolting her feet to the floor, gritting her teeth against the gentle pressure of Joseph’s hands, until he said, you have to let me. 

“Okay,” she murmured. He nodded and brushed the hair from her face. This time, his guiding pressure actually registered in her brain; when he nudged her away from the bar and down the street to his car, she moved, instead of digging her heels in.

When they reached the vehicle, he opened the passenger door for her and waited for her to climb in before he leaned down.

“I’m—” Isolde started, the words shredding in her mouth before they got out of her. I’m sorry, she wanted to say. “About—the bar, I—”

“I told you, don’t explain yourself,” Joseph insisted, tucking her hair behind her ear. There was something almost earnest about his gaze now as he watched her, her heart thrumming violently in her chest with a different mantra now. Same, it said, when Joseph’s fingers grazed her cheek, tilted her chin up. Same as us. Ours, too. He’s our kind.

“There’s plenty of people I wish were dead, too.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Shoes, clothes, charger, phone. No phone?

“Where did he put my phone?” Isolde muttered, searching through the suitcase on the bed. An array of clothing was laid out, but not yet folded; in fact, the only things that were packed yet were all work things that she’d have to take with her. Joseph would probably be furious—he had, in fact, specifically insisted that no work come on the vacation—but better than anyone he knew what it was like to rely on John for things. Which was that, if you liked things done to the standard that Joseph and Isolde wanted them done to, you didn’t rely on anyone else. Least of all John.

“Soli…” It was Joseph’s voice coming from the bottom of the stairs, not questioning but asking. Beckoning. You’re taking too long. “Dinner’s getting cold.”

“Where’s my phone?” she called back, pacing around the other side of the bedroom. “I’m trying to pack it up for tomorrow so that I don’t have to worry about it.”

A beat, where Joseph was likely collecting his patience, passed. “It’s down here. You left it on the counter.” And then: “Come eat, won’t you?”

He was doing that thing where he phrased it as a question and meant it as a statement. Joseph had learned, in a very short period of time, that she didn’t like when someone told her what to do; as petulant as it was, she’d buck against something like that desperately until it felt like her idea all along.

Isolde sighed. “Yes, I’m coming, Joseph.” One more up-and-down the stairs, ten more minutes of packing, and then she’d be content enough to sit down and eat.

“Full first name?” came the leisurely reply from downstairs. “My, you are in a mood tonight.”

Isolde busied herself with folding clothes, a smile fighting its way onto her face in spite of Joseph’s insistence that she was “in a mood”. She wasn’t; if he wanted to believe that, he was certainly welcome to, but she wasn’t in a mood. She was thinking.

So she put folded clothes over the work files and said, “Joseph, light of my life; the sun which my planet orbits; the fabric by which the stars are made…”

“This sounds more like the Isolde I’m used to.” His voice was closer now, coming from the doorway, and when she looked over her shoulder at him he said, “And definitely not coming to eat.”

“Do you go by Joe?” she asked lightly, dropping the last of her clothes in the suitcase.

Joseph wandered across the master bedroom until there wasn’t any space left between them; his hand came up to her face, trailing the slope of her cheekbone. “I certainly do not.”

“So, definitely call you that, then.”

“You are testing my greatest virtue,” Joseph replied, leaning down and kissing her. Just the once, though; long enough for her to want to lean into it, and not long enough to be satisfying. He pulled back just so far as to let their lips brush when he said, “Come sit down.”

Skimming her fingers along his chest, she asked playfully, “What are you going to do if I say no?”

The blonde eyed her amusedly. “John was right. You really don’t like being bossed around, do you?”

“How dare you say those words, in that order, in my presence,” Isolde murmured without heat. “You know I can’t stand to have someone stroking his ego by admitting he’s right about something.” A low laugh slipped out of Joseph and he carded his fingers through her hair, letting the pads of his fingers skim the back of her scalp as he kissed her temple.

She loved it. She loved when he did this; Joseph was so tactile, taking every opportunity to connect them through touch, like she grounded him. Like she was something precious that he wanted to enjoy every chance he got.

“You are the only one I’ll say something to more than once,” he said, his voice pleasantly low. “But luckily for you, I find your obstinance endearing.”

“If it helps,” she countered, “I don’t mind if you boss me around. Mostly. Why don’t you give it another try?” That wasn’t true. She did. But she liked the way it made Joseph’s ego inflate the second he did, even if it was for something stupid.

“Sweet girl.” His voice was a pleasant purr against her skin. “Always threatening me with a good time.”

This made her laugh. Joseph kissed the slope of her cheekbone, and then the corner of her mouth, his fingers sliding through her hair affectionately. She finally relented and allowed him to nudge her out through the bedroom door, making her way down the stairs. It wasn’t her first time going on a vacation with a… Friend of the romantic persuasion, but it was her first time going on vacation with a friend of the romantic persuasion back home. She’d never introduced her parents to any man that she’d dated—not only because they were eleven hours away by flight, but because there just hadn’t ever been anyone.

Joseph was—different. But she had always known that; she had always known that he was an exception to a lot of people’s rules, not just her own, and she was violating cardinal rule number one of her own personal regiment, which was “don’t mix business and pleasure”. Pursuing a romantic relationship with your business partner’s older brother didn’t exactly adhere to that, did it?

“It’s going to be hot,” Isolde said, “and the flight is long, and the traffic is going to be… Well, insane. But my parents will definitely insist on feeding us the second we get there—”

“That’s fine.”

“—so what I’m saying is, if I blink at you five times in rapid succession, we need to make up an emergency to leave. What’s the emergency? We have to have one ready and on hand, otherwise my dad will see straight…”

Her voice trailed off. The kitchen was not as she’d left it, a little over an hour ago, to pack. In fact, it was dimly lit by candles, the dining table sporting a bouquet—not roses, like someone might have expected out of a scene like this, but calla lilies. Her favorite.

“What—” She stopped in the doorway, but Joseph sidled up behind her, hands on her hips and nudging her forward. “Joseph, what…?”

“I told you.” He kissed just below her ear, reaching for her left hand and bringing it up to kiss her knuckles there, too. “You’re the only person that I’ll say something to more than once—”

Isolde felt something—something both hot and cold, sharp and too soft—whip through her immediately at the leading tone. “You’re not making any sense,” she managed out, trying to dig her heels in, but Joseph wasn’t trying to push her in any further so it didn’t matter.

“I want you to marry me.” Joseph said against her skin, and he slid something cool and metal along her finger. “I want you to be my wife, Soli.”

A ring, her brain said, the alarm bells ringing immediately. That’s a ring. Holy shit, that’s a really big fucking ring. On your finger. Holy shit.

“Isolde.” Joseph turned her around to look at him fully now, brows furrowing at what was surely a look of panic on her face. What she thought had to be the assumption that they were only nerves, he continued, “I know that—”

“No.” The word came out of her mouth before she could stop it, the single-word-statement fleeing her mouth in her panic. She thought she’d feel regret about it, but she didn’t; only about the way Joseph looked at her when she said it.

He seemed to be gathering himself for a moment, like maybe he didn’t think that she meant it, that she was playing some kind of joke on him.

Joseph began, “If this is your idea of—”

“I mean it,” Isolde interjected. “I won’t marry you, Joseph. So—no. Take this—” She fumbled the engagement ring off of her finger and put it into his hand like it was a cursed item, like she couldn’t get it off of her finger any fucking quicker. “Take this back. And—that’s it, I just don’t want it.”

His eyes were fixed on her, no longer soft in their romanticism, but hard, steely. “And why not?”

She swallowed up a sound that probably would have been close to agony. It was agony, having to explain to him; her mind vibrating at an entirely different frequency than his, the panic settling into her bones. She needed to say, I’ve been married before you and I know what it’s like to give yourself over to someone, she needed to say, I won’t fucking let someone own me, Joseph Seed, she needed to say, I told you two months ago I never wanted to get married again, and you just apparently didn’t listen, which is reason enough.

“I don’t need to justify myself to you,” is what she said instead, going to step around him. But his hand caught her wrist, the carefully manicured and polished exterior fading into something that hit an edge of tension, pulling pulling pulling until she thought she was going to watch him finally snap.

But he said, “You do.”

“Fuck. You,” Sol bit out. The anger flared hot in her chest. It was, at last, a familiar emotion; anger and not panic, filling her up. Drowning out the sadness that tried to rip through her like a wildfire. “I told you. I told you I wasn’t doing it again.”

“I’m different.” Now it was his turn to sound almost petulant, his grip on her wrist like iron. “You said that yourself. That we’re—”

“Not different enough,” she snapped. “Apparently, anyway, since you couldn’t wait longer than two months to try and put your name on me, could you?” Trying to pull her wrist out of his grip proved futile, and she managed out with the timbre of her voice vibrating with poison, “And get your fucking hand off of me, Joseph.”

He stared at her for a long moment before he finally loosened his hold on her wrist. Enough to let her pull away if she wanted to. She didn’t. Isolde stayed firmly put, willing her legs to carry her somewhere else—back home would probably be the best thing, driving the hours it takes between Hope County and the nearest lick of civilization.

You said that yourself. I’m different. 

He was. She wanted to say, you are, Joseph, but she didn’t, because she knew that it would only start them in another circle again, a snake swallowing its own tail in an endless cycle. 

So they stood there for a moment: neither of them saying anything, her last threat hanging, jolts of anger fizzing and popping in the air between them. Isolde’s hand slid just enough to catch at the wrist in Joseph’s grip, and he took her hand instead, then, tugging lightly to draw her close to him.

Testing her out. Feeling her boundaries. She’d basically said I’ll tear your hand off if you don’t listen to me, but he didn’t think she would. And now he was going to slam those buttons—slide his fingers under her edges until he found the exact farthest he could push her.

“I won’t,” Joseph said, very low and quiet, “let you do this to me, Isolde.”

She had been expecting something else. Something sweet, maybe—Joseph liked to do that. Sweet girl, he’d say to her, and if anyone else had tried to call her girl they would’ve gotten dumped, but with this viper it was different. It didn’t feel condescending when Joseph said it to her. It just felt covetous. 

And that’s what he was best at: bite, and then soothe. It made his sharp edges more tolerable. It made them nice. But now he was all sharp edges, only hard lines, catching on her and tearing every time the two of them made contact. It had always been this way; John had said that he thought they were poorly matched, and at the time, she’d written it off as John not liking to share even his business partner with his older brother. 

Now more than ever, she thought that he was right. They were both too unwieldy, too wretched, to let someone else sway them from their opinions.

“You are so fucking dramatic,” Isolde said, pulling her hand out of his grip at last and turning on her heel. “We don’t need to be married to be together. And your antiquated notion—”

“There are things I want to accomplish, and they’re best done with a wife—”

“I’m sorry, did you hear a period punctuating the end of my sentence? Don’t fucking talk over me, Joseph,” she snapped. For one split second, she saw something vicious flicker over Joseph’s face—just for that one, tiny second—and then he cleared his face. 

After a second of silence, of waiting for Joseph to try and get the last word in, she finished, “You don’t know me well enough to want to marry me. And—marriage is a scam, anyway. I would know, I handle nasty divorces every day at work.” I’ve handled my own nasty divorce. “If you’re looking for a pretty housewife to sit around statuesque and have dinner ready for you when you come home, then—well, then you really don’t fucking know me.”

Joseph was silent. His jaw worked, his eyes sweeping over her, tension radiating off of her until he said, “I guess I don’t.”

“I guess so,” Isolde agreed. Another moment of silence, where it felt like they were circling each other like wounded dogs, and she said, “I’m going to go—”

“Fine,” he interrupted, the thing that he knew she hated. “When you’ve calmed down, we can discuss this like adults.”

“There isn’t anything to discuss,” she said, gathering up her coat and keys and walking up the stairs. “I’m not going to change my mind, Joseph.”

From the kitchen, she heard him agree, “Not yet.”

“Shut up,” Isolde snapped. “You make me so fucking mad.”

He didn’t respond to that; she heard him moving around in the kitchen, gathering things and putting them away as she hauled her suitcase down to the front door. He met her at the door, opening it for her—which pissed her off half as much as him putting an engagement ring on her finger.

It shouldn’t have, but it did. It was like he was saying, I know you’ll be back, so go on. Feel free to leave whenever you’d like.

Like the gentleman he was, he carried her suitcase out and loaded it into the car, lingering around the driver’s side as she threw her coat inside. And then she was the one waiting, unsure of what to do; the muscle memory of her body said, kiss him goodbye, the fury in her brain screaming to get in the car and leave.

“When you change your mind,” he reiterated calmly, reaching up and brushing the hair from her face, “you know how to get in touch with me.”

Isolde’s gaze flickered at the touch, Joseph’s warm, heady cologne washing over her as the space between them vanished. She said, the amber and vetiver of him welling up inside of her and filling her like a wineskin, “I won’t.”

His lips grazed her temple, fingers brushing her jaw. “I love you, Isolde.”

Fucking narcissist, she thought, venomously, pulling away from him. Her gaze drifted over his face, trying to find something familiar, something that reminded her of the man she had thought she had loved—but who had clearly proven he was incapable of thinking of anyone but himself.

So finally, she bit out, “This is what you think love is?”

She wanted the words to sting. She wanted them to wipe the tranquility off of his face. He had always been so composed; the wretchedness in her wanted to shake it out of him, making him squirm like he was so good at doing to her.

But he didn’t; his mouth ticked upward in a serene smile, eyes fixed on her as he stepped back from the car. He seemed confident in himself—that it was love, that she would see it was. One day.

I won’t let you do this to me, he’d said.

“Have a safe drive,” he called, when she slammed the door. It was an hour to the airport; an hour, and then however long of a flight, however long she’d have to wait for the next flight heading out to Georgia.

Joseph turned and walked back inside as she pulled out of the driveway, as carefully as she could through the snow; in her rearview mirror, she saw him stop at the door and turn to look, eyes fixed on her.

There are plenty of people I wish were dead, too.

#fic: witching hour #otp: i could sleep inside the cold of you #witching hour interlude #joseph seed x ofc #joseph seed/ofc #ch: isolde khan #ch: joseph seed #this felt important to include #a lot of it is polished from my pre-cult canon but it feels!!!!! #necessary to give them a bit more context esp for folks who only see my content on ao3 #thank u everyone for being patient w me <3 #my writing #far cry 5 fic #fc5 fic

[revchainsaw]

Bumblebee (2018)

Good Evening worshippers, and welcome! Today the Cult of Cult goes a little more mainstream than usual. It's been a while since i've tackled a big Hollywood superhero film. But I do believe that these sorts of films will be remembered fondly my small groups of people in the future, especially the smaller films that are being overshadowed by the big bad MCU, films like 2018s Bumblebee.

The Messsage

Bumblebee was originally released as a prequel to the Transformers franchise that had started all the way back in 2007. However, reboots had really hit the market as a way to breath new life into struggling franchises, and the Transformers series had already gone to just about every absurd extreme you could imagine. No changes were made to the movie as it was released, but with it's more childish and heartfelt tone, and a new aesthetic that was softer, smoother, and all around just generally more pleasing to the eye, I think it was a wise choice to rebrand Bumblebee as a new beginning.

Our story is of two friends from two very different worlds and how they came together. Our first character is Bumblebee, then known as B- number sign/it doesn't really matter. Not yet Bumblebee is a soldier set with securing a safe location for the Autobots to regroup and make their home as they suffer a pretty serious defeat on cybertron at the hands of the tyrannical Decepticons. Optimus Prime, here again voiced by Peter Cullen and looking so much more like himself, assigns this task to Bumblebee promising him that they will meet him there when the time comes. Then Optimus fucks off for the rest of the run time making way for our little hero.

Bumblebee lands on Earth and is immediately set upon by John Cena and his military goon squad. It probably would have been wise for Bumblebee to avoid John Cena but in his defense, he couldn't see him. Hardy har har. In his attempt to flee his voice box is damaged, he seeks sanctuary by taking the form of a run down little VW bug, and suffers from amnesia.

Then we have Charlie. Charlie is not like other girls. She likes cars, all the retro music, which wasn't retro when the movie takes place, so I'm supposed to just think she's a rocker but it kinda seems like she'll listen to just about anything. I think in 2018 liking Motorhead and The Smiths (who are used ad nauseum in this movie) is perfectly common, but I feel like in the 80s that was a much different and much older attitude to take.

Anyway Charlie's poor family lives in a super fucking nice house and are poor because the dialogue keeps insisting they are so it must be true despite all the shit they have that actually poor people would sell blood and teeth to attain, but hell, this is Hollywood and Hollywood poor is like regular people upper middle class. Charlies family is so poor that instead of giving her a one time graduation/birthday present to buy a part for a car she already has, they just give her a moped, She also spends all her time at a pull apart where the manager (who might be her uncle that wasn't super clear) is willing to just give her a Volkswagen so I don't understand why she didn't already have the project car up and running. Whatever, it's a plot contrivance. All you need to know is that Charlie is tenacious and hard around the edges cuz her dad is dead and she's not yet mature enough to process that in a healthy way. Maybe her character arch will teach her to let others in, we'll have to find out.

There's also a wacky nerd named Memo, and some bad guys, and John Cena. They are all also pretty archetypal and contrived and don't really do anything of note that isn't just filling a beat that this kind of movie needs to walk. Charlie starts Bumblebee up, discovers he's a robot and the two begin to bond. Charlie learns to make a friend, and bumblebee is learning about himself. They get into hijinks and get revenge on a bully girl who makes Regina George look like a saint, she pretty much only picks on Charlie exclusively for having a dead dad.

The moment Bumblebee is woken back up, some technology goof em up that both he and Charlie are unaware of brings two Decepticon baddies into the picture. I don't remember their names, but since I love The Venture Brothers let's say they can be "Jet Boy and Jet Girl". Jet Boy and Jet Girl are sometimes cars, sometimes various flying military vehicles, and they make friends with the deep state and plan to get all the adrenochrome from all the orphans, or just to go find Bumblebee and beat his ass good cuz their bad guys. Let me tell y'all though, Jet Boy and Jet Girl are so bad that they don't even care that the government is listening when they reveal that they are planning on bringing a Decepticon Invasion and after they rough up Bumblebee real good they are going to destroy all life on this planet. So they start by killing a military scientist.

John Cena is after Bumblebee and he's homies with Jet Boy and Jet Girl until the military scientist butt dials him and he hears the evil plan. John Cena goes from heel to face and helps Bumblebee and Charlie save the day. It's a giant CG clusterfuck climax a la any superhero film in the last 10 years and I basically stopped watching. BumbleBee pulls a Hellraiser on Jet Boy, and then he hits Jet Girl with a freaking boat. Charlie uses her diving skills do dive down and save him, but he's a Giant Robot and he was okay and it was literally pointless for her to to except as a way to show that her character has completed her arch by doing the thing that was representative of her connection with her lost father.

Bumblebee turns into the Camaro from the first movie, meets up with Optimus prime, and the stage is set for this prequel to squeeze more prequels out. So it wasn't very creative, but was it bad? Let's find out.

Please Stand to receive the Benediction.

Best Aspect: Transform the Franchise

Bumblebee was directed by Travis Knight of Laika fame and it shows. This movie marks a stylistic change in the transformers franchise, as in it doesn't look like utter dog shit, but it also represents in many ways a tonal shift. It does hold on to a lot of gross sleaze that has unfortunately been forcibly jammed into the DNA of the franchise but it also attempts to be a more heartfelt entry. The characters of Bumblebee might all be sort of a waste of time, but at least they are doing something with emotions, even if the emotions of the characters are only explored as deeply as a children's cartoon I'm glad they are there. In the previous installments the only thing the characters did between running from action piece to seizure inducing action piece was drool over underage girls like a bunch of chimpanzees at the facility where they test experimental E.D. meds. It was nice to see that at least somewhat tampered. This transformers movie feels more like it's for kids and young teenagers, and strangely that more friendly tone makes for a much less juvenile product.

Worst Aspect: Remember I Love the 80s from the 2000s

I hope you really like Stranger Things. I do, but because Stranger Things was so successful it' s going to be everywhere. Not true Stranger Things just 80s nostalgia porn. This 80s nostalgia is going to be forced on you whether you like it or not, and it's not going to be fun. It's gonna be in your shows, in your music, in your Sunday like Bacon in 2010. It's that or Marvel Franchise Brand Whedonisms. Bumblebee is that brave movie that says, "Why not both?" It would seem fitting that a property as quintessentially 80s as Transformers should feel completely comfortable doing a period piece set in the 80's but it's so fucking half hearted it's depressing. It wasn't done to appreciate the roots of the IP, it was done to cash in on a trend and it feels it. All they did was throw up a date and insufferably force an 80s soundtrack down your throat as if that was enough to convince you that this movie needed to be set during this time. Other than that you could have told me this film was set in 2007 and I couldn't tell you any different.

Best Character: Charlie's an Angel

I liked Charlie. Sure her Arc is predictable, her taste is dumb, and she isn't exactly a master of her own destiny to any degree. But at least she is a woman in a transformers movie who's got something going on. Sure she's defined entirely by grief, but that sure is better than pretending that being able to work on cars is a feminist character trait instead of a weird fetish thing. They certainly do that thing with Charlie, but at least it's not the only thing they throw at the wall. Bumblebee is by no means out of the woods in this department, but it garners a lot of goodwill for trying. Like a racist uncle who just started his journey out of ignorance, but hasn't yet realized he has to stop asking mortifying questions to the barista at Starbucks. Okay, maybe that's an extreme metaphor. I'm saying that perhaps Charlie is not a great character but she's a great character for a Transfomers movie.

Worst Character: It's JOOOOHHHNNNN CEEEENA!!!!

Why is John Cena in this movie? I don't hate the guy, but his character seems pointless. You could remove him from the movie completely and replace him with any one of the random military goons at any point and it changes nothing. What was with that dumb salute at the end? It seems like they put him in this movie in post and it was just to pump up cast list. I wish he was given anything to work with. I can't remember his characters name, and it's not like John Cena did a bad job, I was just annoyed every time they kept giving him hero shots. I felt like I was watching a trailer for a different movie.

Best Actor: Optimal Primo!

Every time Peter Cullen speaks I want to listen. There's a reason they haven't had Chris Pratt or somebody with a bigger name come in and take over the role at this point. He's why the audience keep coming back. Peter Cullen IS Optimus Prime, and there's no changing that. He also wins twice. He's the best actor in the movie AND he's barely in the movie. Good call Peter.

Worst Actor: Mean Girls 2, Meaner and Girlier

I don't want to be cruel so I'm not going to go into to much detail, but there's an actress in this film who's performance is so mustache twirlingly evil and stupid that it ruined my suspension of disbelief when i knew going in that i was about to endure a 2 hour toy commercial about robots that turn into cars. Beldar Conehead was a more convincing human being than Tina.

Best Effect: Goo Be Gone

I really appreciated when the bad guys shot the government nerd into a blast of snot. That was pretty fun for me. Best part of the movie hands down.

Worst Effect: Live Action?

Bumblebee is a cartoon. It's a great looking cartoon but it doesn't sell itself that way. If we were doing a Roger Rabbit thing I'd have no gripes. However, I think CG is just getting worse. I'm criticizing this and it's still lightyears better than the previous entry's on the franchise. No transformation or fight sequence in Bumble Bee had me straining to make sense of what I was looking at. I think it was a great idea to start using some basic shapes and outlines to these characters, and return somewhat to their 80s designs. But at certain points, especially when there were no humans in the shot, i was pretty convinced I was watching Clone Wars. There may not be anyway around this, as the Transformers concept might not be able to be pulled off in any more effective manner. It's a minor gripe, but I just didn't think it looked like anything other than a very expensive cartoon, and in this franchise that's a compliment, because it least it looked like SOMETHING!

Best Scene: Space Opera

I am not a Transformers fan. I missed the boat on the cartoon as a kid. I would sometimes catch it at friends houses but I was more into Batman, Star Wars, and Ninja Turtles. By the time I came onto the scene the world had moved on to Beast Wars. I did one day arbitrarily decide that my favorite Transformer was Sound Wave. He looked great in this. I am a big fan of the return to form with a lot of the character designs in this. They really did keep the things that worked from the other adaptations, and they are steadily removing the things that didn't. For this reason, the scenes on Cybertron, particularly the battle with Soundwave (i prefer for personal reasons) looked great and were exciting to watch. I remember thinking Cybertron used to look like a Marilyn Manson shot a music video from inside to dumpster. This is so much better.

Worst Scene: Blocking the Box

There's a scene in Bumblebee where Charlie's family decides the best way to save their daughter was to cause a pile up of vehicles in an intersection, and it's pure contrived writing that saved any character in that sequence from being killed in a horrific traffic accident. It was stupid, played for laughs, and it wasn't exciting as much as it was anxiety inducing. I also thought that there was no reason the covert military group covering up extraterrestrial life wouldn't just disappear this family of fucking morons in their little piece of shit car. The logic of the scene was just so childish like, "No they won't hit me, I'm a good person."

Summary

Bumblebee may be remembered fondly in a decade. I think especially if the Transformers franchise were to end here. It didn't get the publicity of the other films, and that really is a shame. For my money, this was the best Transformers movie so far. I was very tempted to give Bumblebee a C, it does just enough to right what was wrong from the other movies to make me appreciate all that work. This movie has heart, and if you are at all into Transformers then l think you should see it. It's still pretty stupid, and pretty basic. It's not offering anything new to the genre, and it feels like a commercial for more movies. I really wish we could just get movies that want to tell a story. I thought it over and decided that it wasn't fair not to grade Bumblebee on it's own merits. Bumblebee is substantially better than the films that preceded it, but that's not saying a lot, when the films that preceded it are joyless exercises in self abuse.

Overall Grade: D

#Transformers #Bumblebee #Optimus Prime #Action #Adventure #Car #Super Hero #Robot #Scifi #Grade D #D #Grade: D #2018 #2010s #(D)

[dazaily]

karasuno first years using pick-up lines on their s/o

soo.. i’ve been wanting to write a karasuno head canon for ages, and i gonna write a hc which turned into a short fic that i’ll probably never finish... so this is the replacement. enjoy!!

description: so the the karasuno boiz were playing truth and dare in their changing room. and tanaka and nishinoya had dared your bf to use a pick-up line on you. 

warnings: implied nsfw. gender neutral reader. fluffy but sprinkled with swears. i was stressed writing this. long af. not proofread. 

. ⋆ 　 *  . 　· 　  ✫  　  ⋆

hinata shoyo

i’m sorry but, did u rlly expect our lil cinnamoroll to know what’s a pick up line?

he babie 🥺❤️

n e ways, it was finally his turn on their little game of truth and dare and nishinoya had dared him to use a pick up line on you.

“a pickup line??? what’s that? will it improve my volleyball skills??”

like i said a bABIE!!

nishinoya and tanaka needs to stop tainting my bbys mind.

“udk whats a pickup line??? how did u even end up with y/n.”

nishinoya is in shock.

and then the plan commenced.

their lil game of truth and dare ended up as a lil plan on getting u hinata to use a pick up line on you.

that night, u were walking home w hinata after club activities ended.

with noya, tanaka and kageyama trailing you, but we pretend they don’t exist.

“soo,, y/n”

“sup? y u acting all weird for? ur usually rambling abt volleyball by now.. u okay?”

“hoW DO THEY KNOW?? WHAT AM I GONNA DO NOW?? THEY TOLD ME TO SOUND NATURAL BUT THEY ALR KNOWS!! uGh my senpais are watching me, i gotta do them proUD!”

hinatas mind ran at 1,000km/h, it was insane. especially for someone who doesn’t usually use their brain.

“um, uM, Y/N! CAN U HELP ME HOLD SOMETHING?!?”

confusion.

that was the only thing u felt at the moment.

i mean u were alr infront of ur house, what’s the point of holding smt when u were leaving??

“whut”

conveniently, during ur moment of confusion, the only word u could form was “what”.

“m-m-mm-mY HAND!!”

hinata screeched at ur face

...

silence. whilst noya and tanaka facepalms in the bg

it took a moment, but ur brain finally computes what ur bf just said

“pFFFFFTT,”

ur first instinct was to release the phatest snort/wheeze. shane dawson is jealous. 

“y/nnnnnn~~ stop laughinggggggg”

hinata was now suffering from crippling embarrassment, as u wouldn't stop laughing no matter how much he pleaded.

omg imagine him all blushy and shiz akdkkoaw-- ok lets not get off topic

“ok,, okay, first of all, u could've just held my hand without asking? we’re dating? you don't need my permission to do smth we do everyday?? and, more importantly, who taught u that line u just used???”

u said half wheezing, half talking, struggling to convey wtv ur trying to say to ur bf.

lucky for u, he was strangely able to understand what u were saying, and he replies with a lengthy explanation of the entire situation. 

“ooo, so that's why noya, tanaka and kageyama have been following us,,”

“hOWD U KNOW??? NOYA-SAN OUR HIDING SPOT HAVE BEEN EXPOSED!!!”

as u left to go in ur house, he stops u by holding ur hand and gives u a peck on ur forehead. 

as he separates from u, he had the biggest smile plastered on his face, brightening the entire neighbourhood.

“goodnight y/n! i love you!”

kageyama tobio

erm, lbr this man would have 0 ideas in the field of flirting.

knowing this, our lovely 2nd year duo, decide its time for them to step in and help their junior in his dating life

despite it flowing extremely smoothly w/out their intervention

n e ways, so they forced the 1st years to play truth and dare w them.

when it finally came to tobio’s turn, the unfortunate child unknowingly picks dare which causes nishinoya to spring up.

“i have the perfect dare for you.”

commencing plan...

so nishinoya dares kageyama to say a pickup line to you, but since kageyamas a big baby in disguise, he dk any pickup lines.

bet he didn't even know any pickup lines, but that's not the point. 

so, being the mastermind he is, nishinoya told kageyama a perverted pickup line.

being the clueless innocent baby he is, kageyama decides to recite the pickup line he received from noya to u outside ur class.

“hey y/n,”

“hmm?”

“do you like dragons?”

“eh? why the sudden question? i guess so?”

“cuz i can see me dragon my balls on ur face.”

processing...

.

what the fuck.

it was like god hit the pause button on earth, like literally everyone just paused for a literal second, turning their head towards kageyama, trying to figure out who tf was the brave soul who said that. 

while still in shock, kageyama just stood there confused, as he was suddenly placed in the centre of attention for no reason. o there's a reason honey, a very good one.

“why's everyone looking at me,”

with that one sentence, the world went back to normal as if someone had hit the play button all of the sudden, leaving u to deal with the weirdly awkward situation u found urself in. 

“ummm... tobio.. do u have any idea what u just said.”

“uhh yeah, a pickup line.” 

at that moment, when he said that, it hit u.

“what did they do.”

“huh, what are u talking about??”

*insert confused kags*

“nishinoya and tanaka told u to do something right?”

“r u a psychic???”

despite being amazed at ur ‘psychic powers’, he immediately explains the situation, causing u to face palm so much ur face may be concave.

there are times where u appreciate ur dumbass bf being a ignorant qt, but times like this makes u wish he was a tad bit smarter.. 

debating ur options, u decided to explain the meaning of the pickup line he just used on u in public.

once hearing and understanding the meaning of the pickup line he used on u, his face lit up like a matchstick, shining bright red, stuttering madly, struggling to get even a word out.

“oh, um, well, im sorry for saying smtg so indecent to u in public, um ill make it up to u somehow,”

understanding him was a struggle due to the severe stuttering he was suffering from, but u managed somehow.

“nahhh, its cool, i should go lecture nishinoya for corrupting my precious baby though~~”

“b-b-b-bABY!?!?”

“hehe, yes ur my baby <3″

tsukishima kei

ugh this salty ass mfcker

honestly can't imagine him being forced into using a pickup line on his s/o

cuz, despite hw much we try to deny it, he is one smart mfcker,,,

but i think he would be curious how his s/o will react, so he would do it on his own will anyways.

umm, so this is how the situation went down.

it was another boring day, and the 2nd year duo was having none of that and decided too ensue a game of truth and dare with the 1st years.

this was how the c h a o s started.

he was trying to leave the game discreetly before he had to sell his soul to the devil. 

unfortunately for him, lady luck was not on his side, as he was chosen to do the next dare. 

“but wait a fucking minute, when the fuck did this become a game of dare or dare, when tf did freedom of choice decide to fuck off like that?”

plot convenience

so he was forced into a dare. 

the moment of dread came when tanaka stood up shouting he had a brilliant idea. and it all went downhill from there.

so tanaka dared tsukki to use a pickup line on his s/o. and his first reaction was no. 

“o come on, u never do anything romantic, i bet u haven't even held hands, sometimes i wonder how y/n’s still with u.”

“says the person who has never dated.”

tanaka shut ups. 

so somehow, he managed to get himself out of the situation. 

later that night, he couldn't stop thinking about pickup lines. he almost spent the whole night thinking about ur reaction. cuz volleyball is just a club, am i right..

he decided to use a pickup line on u tmrw, just to see ur reaction, not like he wants to use one, lmao that's lame, haha. a fucking tsundere.

the next day, during lunch, he left yams with the 1st year duo to go find u.

when he saw u, he immediately calls u. 

“hey, where's yams, u didn't tell me u wanted to eat with me today,”

“nah, i just had something to tell u.”

at this moment, tsukishimas heart was beating faster than ushijimas spikes.

“you know if u think about it we never stop tasting our tongues.”

“hmm, now that u said it ye--”

“how bout i taste urs for a change.”

since it was so unexpected, u had no idea how to react. 

as u returned to reality, u notice a slight pink on his cheeks.

u were gonna come back with a snarky comment, since it was rare he was so vulnerable(?) 

but ur plans were ruined when he glanced at u making eye contact, to check ur reaction. 

ur face bursts into the brightest red, hes ever seen. 

seeing ur extremely delayed reaction, he lets out a laugh, but immediately recollects himself. 

“it was a dare from tanaka.”

you were still bright red, but u felt the blush on ur face reducing after hearing the reasoning behind the line. 

“oh, haha, i was wondering what's up”

u said slightly dejectedly. 

he felt like he was just punched in the gut by guilt. 

“i was also curious about ur reaction, and i am satisfied to say the least.”

he leans down to ur height to whisper in ur ear, before initiating the kiss. 

ur blush returns almost immediately as u returned the kiss.

since yall were in school, he separed from the kiss after a few seconds. this is a place for knowledge, y'all nasties.

“welp, bye loser,”

after the kiss, he immediately return to yamaguchi, leaving u alone with ur thoughts. trying to escape from embarrassment.

he may be equal to the condiment on ur kitchen cupboard, but he still tries to make u happy, so appreaciate him and his efforts <3

yamaguchi tadashi

a babie uwuwuwu

pickup line what's that? hehe omf he's so cute

so how this about to go down. 

so truth and dare bla bla bla... ive written this exact thing 3 times please excuse my behaviour.

since he was bored, yamaguchi forced tsukki to join in on the fun together, a decision he would regret. 

soon it became yamaguchi’s turn, and everyone turned quiet due to the lack of dares they had or yamaguchi.

that was until the one and only nishinoya stood up. 

“hEY, u have a s/o right, how about u use a cheesy pickup line on her!!” *eyebrow raise*

while processing what nishinoya just said, yamaguchi’s face morphed into one of dread and fear, as he turns his head to tsukishima for help.

“u dragged us into this mess, i aint helping u.”

and there goes his only help, well it was his fault in the first place dragging him and his best friend into this mess. tsukishima u tsundere.

yamaguchi was on the verge of tears, thinking of excuses and ways he could get out of the god forbidden situation he brought upon himself. 

but the only thing he could think of was the worst case scenario, which was u breaking up with him.

looking at his senpais, he slowly faces the fact that there's no escape and accepts his fate. 

if this is the cause of the end of ur relationship together, it just means the gods don't want y'all together.

“idk any pickup lines....” 

this was his last attempt of escaping as he bids ur relationship farewell, already aware it was not gonna work. 

“thiS IS WHERE I COME IN, don't worry yamaguchi i am the encyclopaedia of pickup lines.”

ofc his senpais would know the cheesiest lines on the surface of this earth. despite insisting the earth is flat.

and so the dreadful event began. 

after school ended, otw to his club, he met up with u. with his senpais trailing behind stalking y'all, to see ur reaction.

“ugh out of all the pickup lines, they had to make me use the most overused one... im gonna cry,,, y/n i hope u don't leave me after this.”

well here goes nothing...

“hey y/n,,” extreme stutters that im too lazy to type out.

“hmm?”

“k-k-kiss me if im wrong,,, b-but dinosaurs still exist right?”

before he could even cringe at himself, u gave him a peck on his lips while smirking afterwards. 

yamaguchi proceeds to poof into redness after processing what had just happen, as u laugh maniacally in the background.

“u could've just asked for one, and tsukishima already told me everything so u don't need to explain,"

yamaguchi did not have the brain power to comprehend the situation at hand, as he was still affected from the kiss from earlier.

“i can't believe u think i would breakup with u because of something so trivial.. im kinda upset..”

finally coming back to reality, yamaguchi finally realises the situation he's in. 

“o-oh, i didn't mean to make it seem like i didn't believe in our relationship, its just that w--”

he gets cut off by u kissing him again.

when u separate, u began to laugh again. 

“hAHAHHA, ikik, i was just joking around, don't worry ill love u no matter what, now off u go to ur club ill see u tmrw.”

not knowing what to do or how to react, yamaguchi felt the need to do smtg before u left. 

“i love u, ill call u later tonight!”

#haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyū!! #hq #hq!! #haikyuu!! headcanons #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu hc #haikyuu fluff #hinata #hinata shouyou #hinata x reader #hinata headcanons #hinata shoyo #kageyama #kageyama tobio #kageyama fluff #kageyama x reader #kageyama headcanons #tsukishima #tsukishima kei #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima headcanons #tsukishima scenarios #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #yamaguchi #yamaguchi imagine #yamaguchi fluff

[wetookanoath]

*Literally ignores why this episode exists* So, La Llorona Special, this one got VERY long because apparently, I had a lot to say. So the rest is under the cut, but--

This is the worst preview in the story of forever, oh my God, what am I watching, what the fuck is this, what the hell. "Señora, yo no los conozco" FUCKING SAME, CURLY. I'M SO SORRY, LOVE. (My dogs were sleeping when I started this and they all stood and barked their asses off, the poor kittens ran into their little beds to hide behind their mom, oh my god)

Unpopular opinion: I don't like Ryan's facial hair in the sitting part, he looks like El Diablo, please never use that again. Though, I really like when he wears that t-shirt. Shane's cute, and fashion icon Curly is always the best dressed and better looking all around, ALWAYS.

"I'm half-mexican", I just love how he has been just straight up saying half-mexican lately, it waters my crops. Shane just staying there while these two latino icons talk, hjdnsjnksdjnkdnfr. Honey. Good white boy.

"I'm a shame in my family", bitch does that mean the rest of his family does talk spanish? He is the cousin that doesn't talk spanish, jndsinsdinefi. Y'all, just so we are good here: You don't need the language to be part of the culture. Your culture is yours, doesn't matter what you speak. As long as you feel it as part of you, your identity, your family, your place in this world, you belong.

Shane Madej is one of the few white guys I genuinely stan and I love him for staying there with his :D face while he heard these two exchange things about their culture. He is such a sweetheart wHO CAN PRONOUNCE SPANISH BETTER THAN RYAN????? Iconic.

"You know this, I'm a Boogara". How many times do you think Curly has fangirled over Ryan and the show? I honestly love that he was invited because he really is their biggest fan.

Shane saying he loves Curly? My shit. I love it. "But I'm thankful for you because every time I'm freaking out like you [Ryan], you'll say something and I'm like, Oh Thank God" I fucking love this. Also, Ryan trying to silence Curly, not wanting him to give Shane some validation, jdnsinkedneifn. HONEY.

I love Curly mentioning how all Latinx countries fight over the story because in reality, and if our research at Uni is still accurate and valid, this is a story that dates from pre-colonization but became widely know during the Colony and something we fail to remember is that the various Colonies sometimes took part in various areas that are now little or bigger countries. The New Spain was mostly Mexico, yes, but it was also part of Guatemala and so on. So to actually say "this is orginal from here", well that's like. Not gonna happen, lol.

Rude, Ryan. Chill.

Shane's 0: face at Curly's tía's tale is me listening to all the other world encounters I have hear during the long of my life since forever because I swear to God, there's no latino kid out there who doesn't have a tía or primo that saw something once.

Ryan is in so much pain listening to this, jnsdisndinsie. But look at him, remembering his tall counterpart is of polish heritage, and Shane knowing shit about it, ndsjwndjf.

Ah yes, la vieja confiable of telling your kids some angry spirit will take them if they don't behave. That's... the most latino thing I have ever hear Ryan say, lmao.

Shane saying he would run into the woman crying if they hear one to make sure she is real or not is like... Man, now I want them to fucking find her. Go find mama, kiddos.

I remember this from the thesis, this like "theory" that La Llorona could be connected to doña Marina. She is such a figure for our cultures, this woman put in a position of so much power even thought she didn't ask for it, that for many years has been seen as a figure of betrayal... that's another level and conversation for another day.

What Curly is saying of feeding the spirits by telling their stories is also such a thing from these lands. Who else has this belief of how you feed the spirits by believing in them?

"SEÑORA LLORONA, DEJA DE SER CHILLONA" CURLY NO FHDJNSBFJENFSUJENFU. I'M CRYING, OH MY GOD HDBNSHEJNF.

Ryan laughing at Shane saying "he said my name for sure!" djfniensfien FUCKER.

Seduce men??????? FEMME FATALE???????? WHAT THE FUCK????? NO????????

Shane and Curly wanting Ryan to show his biceps is a huge ass mood. "Why don't you show her your legs?" yes please. OH YEHA, THAT'S A THING THAT HAPPENED. ALRIGHT, I'M FINE WITH THAT. "No, no, no! It's too sexy!", Ryan are you okay?

"That's my girl Guadalupe, she's here. That's my girl, I'm happy she's here" I ADORE THAT CURLY IS A MARIANO. Like, part of being mexican is kinda believe or at least know the story of Maria de Guadalupe, and it makes me so fucking happy when other latinos also believe in her because what the story means to the people that was suffering during the Colony and specially to indigenous people in that time is something that is with us still, it's very present, very there, and it's really something to see. Like, no joking, even people who is not all that religious come to see the Manto and La Basilica because it's so iconic of our country and culture. If you guys ever visit Mexico City, get into a bus and drive to El Ajusco, you are not going to regret it. Say hi to mami Lupita.

"I'm not here to judge you, maybe he is here to judge you" "OF COURSE I'M HERE TO JUDGE YOU" I'm Shane.

"Can you hear that?" HOLY FUCK, THAT WAS CLEAR AS FUCKING FUCK BFDJNISNDFIRNFIR. RYAN'S FACE, HE IS PISSING HIMSELF, MY POOR CHILD. Shane's big laugh, oh my GOD, HE IS HAVING THE TIME OF HIS FUCKING LIFE. I'm so glad Curly is there to see that, lmao fjdfnjnsdrngfr. Awww, Curly saying thank you for that jdfnsndie. SAME.

Hello, Ryan's beautiful curly hair. Oh man, I love everyone's look in this one. Handsome boys, the three of them.

Shane's faces as the girl is speaking, I love how resposive he is and the fact that he doesn't say shit even if he obviously doesn't believe in it. Curly saying how we just know it's her? True, lmao. I have never had such experience, but every single story I hear, they just know. She's our Boogieman!

"Oh, this is where I'm going to lose it later?" "Your virginity?" WHAT THE FUCK SHANE, WHAT DOES THAT EVEN HAS TO DO WITH THIS?JFDNFDIDNFIR DID YOU LOSE YOURS ON A PUBLIC PLACE, HOLY SHIT JFDBFNIWSNDFIR.

Did Ryan just joked about having sex with both of them? LMAO, their laughs jdfnuenjf. Also, Ryan looks tiny with these two, someone get him highheels.

"This is a place were you get your children if you hate them" honestly, who does a park in a place that says has a spirit that steals children?! JDNSKAMSDKFD

Ryan having a picture of Shane as a child is everyting I care about now. Also, "we can of look alike! BEST BUDS!" Oh god, they look so freakin' adorable in those pictures, baby Ryan is the cutest fuking tihng in the world, I'M CRYING.

Curly and Shane in the swings is so cuteeeee. "Shane, what if we pretend we are children?" "Okay" I wonder, do they ever stop to think about their brilliant ideas to attrack spirits and realize, "Hey, are we like high or something?" "Don't think so, man" "UHM!". I just love that Shane just went, "okay" and also how softly Ryan asked that, they are cute af.

Did Ryan just said he wanted to push Shane on the swing? So. You just wanted to... you know what, valid.

"Look at this big, tall firned of mine!" Ryan, honey...

Curly's face as they are doing their bit, jdnfisnfijdfirjfir. Same. "Push your friend Curly, too" AWWWWW.

Curly talking to la Llorona is how I would go searching for ghosts. And these boys in the car, they look so cute. It was a good day for everyone's handsomeness.

SHANE WANTING LA LLORONA TO KILL HIM, IT ME.

... Ryan knowing exactly what Shane was going to do? Fucking magnificent. Ryan sounds so fond while saying "He's gonna move to his old standby of asking La Llorona to murder him", goddammit. "Sweet Curly" JDNSINWMSINFRINFGR. "The timid man" awwwwnnnn.

"I tried to appeal to that lady's interests but she wasn't having it" jdnfsjensfineifnir.

And of course Shane also knows perfectly what Ryan is doing during his solo walk. Oh man. I love them. Thank you for this, Curly. Did Ryan just said "ninios" jdnsindmfif.

"The Ghoul Boys prevail again" "This time" jfdbnsuwsndjeknfie, CURLY NO LES ECHES EL MALEFICIO JDFNDSDNINF.

#WOW THIS GOT SUPER LONG LMAO FIRST TIME FOR ME #buzzfeed unsolved #ryan bergara #shane madej #curly velasquez #bfu #supernatural #bfus #sss #la llorona ep #text #your local nerd talking.txt #mine #text* #ss* #sss* #llorona*

[takaraphoenix]

Shadowhunters Finale Review

...I can’t even summarize my thoughts properly right now because I am just so wildly exhausted and disappointed and frustrated, so here’s the unfiltered running commentary I made during the two-parter, sorted by characters and due to length beneath the cut:

On Jonathan:

Jonathan back at it again, killing flowers. ~puuure eeeviiil~ (Sorry. Still not over Jocelyn being a fucking dickhead who is ready to murder her son over one dead flower he killed as a toddler...)

...I just... I'm so tired of what they did with Jonathan? When they set him up as Sebastian Verlac, he seemed to layered, but this season, they are completely reducing him to the Incest Boi whose only motivation is “Clary doesn't love me enough!” and absolutely no one has even half a fuck to give about everything he has suffered...? Every abuse that is driving him and forged him...?

He could have been such a layered character. I'm not even talking redemption wise, to use the abuse to make him A Good Boi, but he could have been such an interesting villain, there could have been so much to him. This is stupid and sad.

But I am chocking on my laughter at the Seelie Queen literally teaching him WHAT HE COULDA BEEN TAUGHT FROM THE GET GO. To channel his powers. Granted, she channels them into killing Shadowhunters. But they could have been channeled into killing demons.

With the right parent, the right training, without living in hell and being tortured, he could have been an exceptional Shadowhunter. But let's pretend that he is Truly Inherently Evil only because of his demon blood and hey it's legit because he wants to bang his sister so who cares about this guy LOL.

HOLY SHIT THEY REALLY MADE CLARY MURDER HIM WITH A HUG. What a fucking way to go. I don't... I don't even know what to say to that to be honest.

On Clary:

WHAT THE FUCK HAS SHE DONE??

“How do I come back after everything I've done”. What. What line is that. That's the line they could have given Jace in the first episode of 3B. You know, the guy who saw his own body commit 30+ murders, among them the murder of his own grandmother.

What... What's that everything Clary has done? Dress hotter than usual? Go to a rave? Try some Seelie drugs? Sure she killed Lenaia, but that was also a chick she didn't even know and so far she's not been very traumatized by like – killing her own biological father (seriously, the writers never bothered to give her a genuine reaction to that). Way to be overdramatic, writers.

Shitty Ex Machina Rune's existence aside; WHY does the Ex Machina Rune work?? RUNES DON'T WORK ON DOWNWORLDERS. That was like a whole thing in season 1. They kill mundies and they don't work on Downworlders?? Why the fuck is Clary allowed to play – not just an angel but an actual god at this point.

(But y'all know I am going to use this shitty dumb stupid rune in so many fanfiction.)

...But like holy shit. It is so callous to have her say that she wouldn't trade the Shadow World for anything and that “and I met Jace” like he brought all light into her life when the Shadow World killed her mother. Have the writers just completely forgotten that a month ago she lost her mother, her only biological family left?? Ah but it's totally fine because she has Jace now!!! And even though we literally started the episode off with her being devastated and wondering how she will ever come back after everything she has done, they are now only half an hour later already forgetting that she has just gone through major trauma, that she murdered her own father, that she lost her mother? But oh the Shadow World is super awesome, wouldn't wanna trade those past two, utterly traumatizing months for anything!!! Not even for my mom being alive LOL! Just... do the writers even care about the characters? At all?

HOLY FUCKING GODS THEY REMEMBERED JOCELYN. FUCK THIS IS RIDICULOUS ESPECIALLY AFTER HER CONVERSATION WITH SIMON IN EDOM. I am baffled. But I am 100% behind Jocelyn's message because Clary has been a scary motherfucker all this season now with all the things she has done and the rule-breaking. Fuck yeah she shouldn't be allowed to play God, which she DOES at this point.

But like, on a scale of 1 to 10 how dumb did they have to make Clary? Out of all of the ways she could have killed Jonathan, they decided “Nah man she is totally giving up her Shadowhunter self to hug her brother to death” instead of having Miss Stabby-Stab-Stab pull out a dagger and stab him to death? She literallly just got the warning and decides “LOL nope this is how I go out”. What---

There is a huge difference between a character sacrificing themselves for the greater good because there was 100% no other way and a character somehow turning a completely manageable situation into a self-sacrifice that is completely unnecessary... She could have just stabbed him. Or, you know, captured him with a trick instead of murdering. She could have stayed a Shadowhunter without using the Deus Ex Machina runes, living like a normal Shadowhunter. But they really made her go “If I can't play god, I'd rather give up the Shadow World”.

What the fuck even was that “One Year Later”. They literally just wasted a whole year since C/ace reuniting had zero negative effect on her? She didn't combust or anything. They could have literally went after her the day of the wedding, explained amnesia to her and brought her back. But the writers had to be dramatic bitches that put Jace through hell again, huh.

And what exactly did she believe happened? Like, Jocelyn and Luke and Simon?? Basically everyone she ever knew? What did she think happened to them and to herself? She just decided to go back to art school or what? Did they even think about this ending?

Honestly. It'd have been better had they actually Donna Nobled her and said she can never remember and has to be a mundie. But this? This year gap and bullshit and C/ace looking at each other and she suddenly remembers his name because True Love Wins? That makes it even dumber.

On Jace & Meliorn: (I'm trying to give each character their own for the finale, but... I can't separate those two in this case)

THAT STARTLED LITTLE BACKING OFF JACE DOES WHEN MELIORN TAKES IT TO THE BEDROOM. If that wasn't a coming on from Meliorn, I don't know what is. I am definitely living for this little bit of Jeliorn because that was a ship I was sure I'd never get to see proper interactions of. So, small blessings.

Hng. Jace can't lie. How pretty. Seriously his bond with Meliorn is like the saving grace from all of this. And how much fun Meliorn is having with this. Oh my gods my shipper heart is soaring.

SERIOUSLY I AM LIVING FOR THIS. “A serious question. How handsome do you think I am?” WHY WOULD YOU EVEN ASK THAT. Because you want to let my shipper-heart beat some. Thank you, Meliorn, personally, for my life. (Not to mention the answer. A NINE?? Jace. You so pansexual and into handsome Downworlders. It's canon now and I am blessed.)

I'm just absolutely living for Jace getting to interact with a non-Clary and a non-Alec (especially since all of his Alec-interactions this half-season have only been about Ma/ec...). It's... so refreshing to see them use Jace as... a character... instead of a prop. Even if he's played as a comic relief, I am taking so much more from this.

(ALSO: Jimon sparring! Jimon sparring and JACE BOOPING SIMON'S NOSE WHAT THE FUCK.)

On Alec:

What's with Maryse telling him to “take time to mourn”? What the fuck is that? XD He has literally been in Edom and gone back too. There's always been ways in and out. You're sure fast to bury him.

But also, maybe Alec should focus on the way to bring Magnus back instead of planning this fucking stupid wedding. You'd need your groom first.

Tonight. They're literally... I am weeping at how stupid this is. They got engaged yesterday and are getting married today. I had... actual, dumb hopes that the wedding would happen after a time skip. But I forgot this show doesn't know what time is. Ahahaha. Hilarious.

But holy shit am I angry about him being all dodgy and asking Maryse's permission to invite his own father to his wedding. Like. I am very rationally angry about the fact that all the kids sided with their abusive mother over their father, but that they are really all just treating him like that now is insane. Sure, he cheated on their mother, but he is still their father?? He has still been their father and he has been the good parent. If you can forgive Maryse's abuse just like that, how do you hold Robert cheating on Maryse over him like that? This is absolutely insane. What kind of priorities do those writers have to fuck it up this badly? Like the “oh no dad cheated on you let us all comfort you and totally forget the shitty way you have been treating your children!!!” wasn't bad enough on its own, but that they are completely acting like Robert was not just the cheating husband but somehow also the bad parent now? If this is where the show wanted to end it, they should have from the get-go also written him as the bad parent and her as the good parent, then I'd understand this, I'd understand the taking sides thing, the way they all completely turned away from Robert, the way Maryse blossomed and turned into an entirely different character. That ALL would make sense IF they hadn't decided in the first season and in 2B to write Robert as the warm rather and Maryse as the cold and abusive mother. The starting points and end points don't match.

On Magnus:

Magnus. On that throne. In that light. Now that's a look, to be honest.

Also, awkward conversations with the stepmother are very amusing. :D” (But, honestly, Anna and Harry playing off each other is really great. They play the power-dynamic really fascinating.)

Magnus being like “Well no need to close the door if we burn down the place right?” is a mood. It's so stupid and ridiculous, but like it's right. XD”

I'm glad Magnus at least said thank you to Lorenzo and even invited him to the wedding.

I genuinely don't know how to react to “High Warlock of Alicante” to be honest. Like. I don'T know what to say to that.

On Maia:

...I'd like to live in the alternate reality where Maia was more than just her relationships to boys. I'm still let down by the fact that the one (1) badass shot she got in the trailer was literally her walking away from Jordan's funeral fire, with her other ex and her future boyfriend flanking her from either side. If that doesn't summarize this show, I don't know what does.

And while I admire her decision to reconnect with her parents, it also seems rather messed up considering she literally just decided to be The Alpha. So let's leave the pack that has suffered so many recent losses... all alone. That's... not exactly Alpha behavior, even if it is the right thing for her as an individual at that point.

I mean like yeah sure she came back to become an Alpha, but still it's—a weird choice.

BAT BAT EXISTS BAT IS THERE I LOVE BAT HE GOT TO SPEAK. I am so so salty that he didn't get developed properly, that his relationship with Maia didn't get fully fleshed out.

On Isabelle & Simon:

Isabelle as the Human Torch is sure a very nice visual, to be honest.

(ALSO HELEN! HELEN! HELEN! I am 200% sure I can ship Aline/Helen/Isabelle in peace now. Don't @ me.) Though explain to me why Helen doesn't get the fuck away from Isabelle ASAP after realizing that Downworlders turn Isabelle into basically a bomb? I mean, she is half-Seelie.

...and can everyone maybe focus on “Izzy now catches fire when she is touching Downworlders” instead of “SHE WAS KISSING SIMON!!!”...? Like, priorities, dudes?

And how did she conclude “I explore when I touch demon blood. I should totally go to Edom! The place where demons live!”... and act like that should totally “”shield”” her from the atmosphere? What... logic goes into that? I'm serious, someone explain to me why “I explode when I come in contact with demonic stuff” leads to “but I'ma be extra safe in hell where all demonic things live and the very atmosphere should be demonic!!!”...

And Simon and Isabelle... kiss once... like... literally once and the next time they get a moment of being shown alone they literally already fucked. This show... knows that... you can actually go on dates and have a relationship with... oh no never mind this show has never heard the word “pacing” before I forgot sorry LOL

On Luke:

...But like why did his runes return though. I mean, getting turned into a Downworlder like... burned the runes away. They were gone. Why would him no longer being a Downworlder also immediately reapply all of his runes.

I don't know if I really like this, to be quite honest. I don't feel like we know enough about Luke for me to know what to feel about this? Like, he said he didn't want to be alpha and he's been turned against his will sure, but he's been a wolf for like 20 years now. It's... I don't know what to feel on this. Like, he seems really happy about this, but it also feels incredibly cheap due to the show never actually focusing on his thoughts and feelings??

Okay no now that I'm through with it I actually actively hate it. He should have become mundie. Erase it all. Let him live a mundie life with Clary.

On Lorenzo:

I love how Lorenzo brings up the Downworld Council. SOMETHING I HAVE BEEN WONDERING ABOUT TOO. What the fuck happened to that. But nope, SoRrY Lorenzo you are just here to save Magnus. Again. (Others too, but still. It's once again for selfish reasons of helping the Shadowhunters with shit.)

I really like where they took his character. I thought he was just going to be a shallow prop to take Magnus down. Petty and empty. But that they actually give him growth and personality and a personal goal and that they also made him rekindle with Magnus after admitting what he truly wants? That was... actually good. That was more than I ever expected from those writers. Huh.

ALSO FUCK ME I AM 100% BEHIND LORENZO/UNDERHILL.

On Max:

MAAAAX!!! MAX WITH GLASSES! MAX BEING PRECIOUS! He is literally the only thing about episode 22 that I liked. Like that entire final episode was a fucking shit-show.

On Raphael:

Honestly at this point just fuck this show. It is his father’s wedding and he is a mundane. But let’s just have him interact with his ex and her new guy so he can give them his blessing instead of having him actually interact with Magnus.

#Shadowhunters #Shadowhunters Spoilers #Shadowhunters Review

[littlelovelymemes]

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#rp meme #ask meme #sentence starters #inbox meme #indie rp #rp ask meme #rp sentence meme #askbox meme #rp ask box meme #inbox memes #rp inbox meme #inbox starters #rp sentence starters #sentence starter meme

[ahiddenpath]

Digimon Adventure Tri Stage Play Reaction

Guys, this is not an analysis: this is my feels and obnoxious comments while viewing the stage play.  My initial goal was to use these notes to make an analysis, but they’re too funny/stupid/wow to hide from the world.  I typed these notes in real time, stopping the play whenever I had a thought.  It’s the closest I can get to having you watch me watch the stage play without using videos.  I will write an actual meaningful post soon, but for now, have a confused and jumpy/unpolished blob of feels.

The other thing I want to say is that I didn’t edit this after I wrote it, except for surface editing (grammar, spelling) and clarifications (mostly adding more names).  So if I formed an impression at some point, that’s what I really thought in that moment; I didn’t go back and change it.

That said: this will completely and totally spoil the stage play.  SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS!  Read on below the cut (if you dare; it’s almost 4K words long and full of images).

Hidden’s Digimon Adventure Tri Stage Play Reaction

I am immediately not buying that Mimi wouldn't want to camp in the bungalow.  Isn't this the kid that went to Tokyo Tower instead of patrolling Tokyo because the tower has AC?  I guarantee she'd whine an hour in about wanting the bungalow, but wouldn't allow Koushiro to point out that she made this choice for all of them x__x

 Did Mimi just... just throw the laptop?  How bratty can you get?  I... wow, I really hope they don’t treat my Mimi so poorly the whole play.

From Sora's speech, I can see that nostalgia will be a major theme here, which, to be fair, is appropriate, lol!  Nostalgia is pretty much why we’re here.

TAICHI! It’s so good to see you get your big bro on again, lol???  Hikari:  "I'm not a kid who needs to wait for you to walk home with me."

 Taichi: "What?  Why not?  WHAT'S WRONG?!  CONFIDE IN ME!"  He’s so aggressive and clumsy about it, lol??

Taichi:  "WHO ARE YOU CALLING A STUBBORN BLOCKHEAD."

Jyou, amiably: "You, of course! Wait-"  I'm like 15 minutes in and I have already decided that Jyou is my favorite (not surprising lol).

Jyou:  "YOU ARE IN DANGER, TAICHI.  I HAVE NEVER SEEN YOU STUDY."  Oh lord, Jyou is bashing Taichi with the stone of foreboding. Is Jyou okay?  Is he quite sane?  He isn't, is he.  Do you see that gleam in his eye?  No, no. He is gone and gone indeed.  Jyou’s actor is A+++

Annnnnnd oh hey, it's Yamyams doin' jamjams!  I can dig that bass, is he actually playing?  Oh hey, he's gonna sing for real, he's-  Oh my god, stop!  ABORT! He's terrible, hahahaha?!?!?!  IT BURRRRNSSS!!!  

OH MY GOD HIS BAND HATES THE BAND NAME AND THEY'RE SPEAKING TO HIM IN FRENCH WHAT IS THIS

Wait wow what is this weird ass vibe between the bros?  Teeks is accusing Yams of not visiting...  Did Yamato have that habit to start with?  Hmm...

So Takeru says, "I don't want to see us go our different ways."  I've mentioned it over and over, but this feeling is so important to me.  It's something I want to write an entire fic around.  On the one hand, it's such an easy topic, given the subject material. On the other, it's where my brain keeps going.  So... Let's see what happens!

Also:  Takeru:  "Stay hidden, Patamon!" *puts Patamon on his head and skips offstage* Takeru, sigh...

OH SHIT IT'S ETEMON, saying Taichiiiiihehehehe like a creep ass creeper.  He done got beef, too.

Annnnd we cut to everyone reacting because Mimi has no supplies (did you all not bring any?). What I like here, though, is that Jyou can at least talk to her without getting shut down.  Poor Kou-chan -__-

Koushiro: "We're amateurs, is there anything we should watch out for?"  OH I DUNNO, MAYBE ETEMON IN A HAT AND A VEST god damn I know this is supposed to be funny, but they all look like idiots- 

Koushiro: "That old man had a feminine way of speaking"  Says the dude being portrayed by a male actor FOR THE FIRST TIME-

Koushiro: "Taichi-san, you're the closest thing to a caveman we have-"  Ah, bless.

(At this point, my husband is pointing out while playing Destiny that the puppeteers do really good digimon voices, and I'm explaining that the digimon voices are pre-recorded, lol).

ANNNNND Mimi is whining for supplies that she forbade people to bring.  I am shocked.

Jyou is talking about how he wants to help digimon by being a doctor, by saving and protecting, and my heart is growing three sizes.  Best Chosen, y'all.

But oof, the atmosphere got so heavy...  Why do these kids refuse to talk about what they want to do???  Jyou remains refreshing.  Also, I'm just noticing how Koushiro turns his entire body around every single time towards whoever is talking?  He leans in, too.  It's both cute and unexpected (I would expect much more reserved body language, but I get that this is a play and that's what you do).

HAH!  Only Jyou can see the shooting star because he's the only one with his shit together!  I love that, lol!  (Also, is that really Tailmon's voice actress?  Hmm...)

NO, ETEMON HAS KOU-CHAN, BAD TOUCH, BAD TOUCH although really it's painful that we're still pretending they can't recognize Etemon.

Koushiro can't read the room...  Well, at least that's familiar, lol!

(At this point, my husband is asking what I think, and I'm stuttering over how annoyed I am at the ‘not-recognizing-Etemon’ gag.  My husband is laughing at me and saying I'm at a loss for words. Thanks, love.)

HOLY SHIT did Hikari and Mimi just use the tired "scary stories" trope to bring up the Dark Ocean? I'll give 'em points for that.  I AM INTRIGUED, let's go!!!  Oh.  Oh, they broke it off.  They're not doing anything with it.  That's... sigh.  Thanks, guys. (Caterpillar Sleeping Bag Mimi is cute AF tho).

Hmm, right now I'm thinking that Mimi's actress is so lovely and so lively and really feels like Mimi, but...  I also can't stand how they wrote her so far.  Throwing Koushiro's computer, talking over him, not allowing him to point out when she's contradicting herself, immediately requesting the supplies she forbade people to bring...  This stuff annoyed me in Adventure, but she was 10 and in a situation I would have strongly struggled to handle.  But now she's literally...  Making problems for everyone...  For nostalgia's sake...  At age 16? I'm so torn, lol, because the acting is so good but ahhhhh...  Let's see how this develops...

Hmm hmm, I'm listening to Sora talk about how she doesn't wanna grow up, either... Darling, you're already quite grown up, lol!  Lovely lady. I love how the digimon puppeteers echo their puppets, I can't get enough of watching Agumon's puppet and performer while Sora speaks.  They really did a great job!

I think I'm about an hour into this, maybe a little less?  45 minutes?  So far all that's really happened is that we've established that the characters want to be together as Chosen Children, and that with the exception of Jyou, they aren't emotionally or mentally prepared to seriously think of a future beyond that.  I'll be the first to say that this a compelling and interesting topic, and it's something I've wondered about for them, but...  Shouldn't... more things... have happened by now?  Hmm...  I understood that this would be an issue from Sora's very first bit of dialogue.  No one in the audience needs this much expansion and repetition, particularly with so few new ideas and so little momentum so far.  Tri is intended as a love letter for fans of Adventure, yes?  Mostly adult fans?  We don’t need this much repetition to understand, we truly don’t...

Ah!  Now Yamato is talking about Jyou and how to become an adult, finally dropping some new ideas in.  Love ya, Yams.  And ahh, man, Taichi is just... screaming all of his lines?  The actor is so sweet and cute, but the delivery...  I'm pretty sure it's supposed to reflect that Taichi is putting up fronts like nobody's bidness, though.  Yamato ain't buyin' it (Yamato is Almost Best).  I really want him to grunt, "Tell the truth or shut up." XD XD  GRUNT GRUNT.

 Augh, god, I can't take this tho?  Literally EVERY TIME someone tries to say something that will move the plot forward or inject some vulnerability into this play (except for Papa Jyou), they change the subject.  I'm about halfway through now and this has to be at least the 10th time we've been blocked from useful information and deeper thoughts with this method.  Tri suffers from this same issue, though...  Their plot is such that they can’t sustain tension if issues are faced in a natural way, so they CHANGE THE SUBJECT or DROP A LEAD or IGNORE A LEAD, etc, etc.  Here it's mostly saying, "Well what about you?" or screaming someone else's name, which...  Subtle???  Ah, Taichi's latest method of not saying anything is to ask Yamato to play his harmonica...  Oh my god, he's playing Walk on the Edge!  Okay, okay, you got me, stage play.  Hahaha, I remember Yams being better at playing a harmonica, tho!!!!  (I keep picking on this poor dude who is asked to do all of the awesome shit Yams can do, sorry my dude).

Taichi:  Should we sleep?

Yamato:  Let's talk some more.

Taichi: (shit!  fuck!  He remembered I'm dodging-)  YES BECAUSE HE ISN'T AN IDIOT EXCEPT WHEN ETEMON IS ONSTAGE OMG SOMEONE HELP ME-

Ahhh, and they fade out...  With no forward movement.  THANKS.  I mean we established mood, touched on Taichi/Yamato’s relationship, and set up the problems that will be address later (I assume), but...  It’s so drawn out...  

And now Koushiro is drawing on the ground with a stick, bless you, are you trying to compute something? Sigh...  Ah, bless, Tentomon is intervening, haha! 

But...  As right as Ten-chan is, he's also... Wrong? XD  DON'T TELL YOUR FORWARD MOVEMENT MACHINE TO POWER DOWN!!!  Annnnd yes!  We're an hour in and SOMETHING IS HAPPENING!  I am so ready for something to happen. (Tony: "Can we handle the stimulation, though?")

Oh god, the kids freaking out over their partners acting weird, Gabumon's stage hand collapsing... God, right in the feels, I'm almost mad about how easy it is to get an emotional response this way, lol!  We just love our babies too much, lol!

Wow, Yamato lost it at Kou-chan...  You know, we think of Taichi as carrying a lot of pressure (and rightfully so), but Koushiro carries just as much, as we saw in Kokuhaku.  He's not magic, Yams, he needs his tools, and he doesn't have 'em. Related:  Although I don't much care for how it happened, I definitely would love to read/write/see a story where Koushiro has no computer and has to adapt, though.  I'd also love to see one where a new tech wizard appears and he questions his role, but that's a whole' nother thing.

EWW OH MY GOD DON'T UNDRESS ETEMON MIMI WHAT THE HELL, bleeeeehhhhhhh...  Oh god, he thought his outfit was obvious...  Well, you see Etemon, somewhere in the last 6 years, the kids completely lost their ability to read situations x__x  (I get that this is a joke, I really do?  But???)

 Oh huh, so they're claiming Etemon wandered the Dark Ocean for 100 years?  Didn't he...  Come back in Adventure as MetalEtemon?  Is he referencing his second defeat?  ?????

OH GOD POWER RANGER ETEMON WHAT IS HAPPENING.  Haha it's kind of cute that he's like, "Eh I don't know these two (Hikari and Tailmon).  I don't think Metaletemon saw them?  But honestly I don't remember.  I think he was around Jyou and Mimi mostly?

Wait shit are we seriously doing the actual conflict part WITHOUT JYOU AND GOMAMON?  I am so mad right now.  I kind of feel like they'll burst in at some point???  I hope...

...Etemon has a song and dance number.  I am rolling on the floor in pain with the Chosen.  I'm doing it, guruguru mawaru-  No, NO, YOU PUT TAICHI DOWN-  Goddamit how many bad touch jokes do I have to make-

 OH THANK GOD, is Jyou coming back?  THANK YOU DIGI JESUS!  (Tony: "Wait is your favorite back? Did he leave?  It sounded like he wandered off and now he's wandering back in again."

Gomamon: "YOU'RE BEING GROSS JYOU" honey, oh child, you ain't seen nothing yet.  Oh bless him, he's so happy, can we just watch Jyou bounce around in joy please and no more singing power ranger monkeys?  I take back my complaints about nothing happening, haaaaaaaaaaaalp me Senpaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiii

Oh lord Etemon's back WHELP.  Oh shit, oh shit that Obon joke, THAT'S THE BEST JOKE IN THIS PLAY, isn’t it?  We can't beat that.  Should I... leave?

Taichi, in Etemon's gross ass digital Wonder Land:  "What's wrong, Hikari?"  WHAT'S WRONG?!  WHAT COULD POSSIBLY BE-

(My husband has informed me that I'm growling.  He tells me that, when we were watching Gravity Falls and Mabel tries to tempt Dipper and the others to stay in the perfect imaginary world Bill made for her, I said, "What is she, Satan?  Tempting them to stay here in comfort instead of facing danger to save everyone?"  This is a similar scenario, and it's one of the few things I didn't like about Gravity Falls and OH NO, TAICHI IS THE MABEL OF THIS SITUATION, HELP!!!!  Oh thank goodness, Taichi's done with this too, whew, okay, okay, breathe, stop growling).

Oh God, the Agumon puppet looks dead without the puppeteer, that's actually really awful? These puppets are amazing, guys.  I cannot say enough good stuff about the execution with these puppets.

Hmm, Taichi just begged for mercy, and Etemon is unimpressed...  Reminds me of the fandom after Saikai.  I wonder where they'll take this...

HOLY SHIT Taichi is losing his shit!  I won't say that all of that stammering and dodging earlier is accounted for here, since most of the characters did it to some degree, but it's nice to see the payoff within the same piece (instead of waiting months for the next Tri film and forming your own conclusions in that time period).  I'm actually happy to see a screaming breakdown like this...

Man Koushiro speaks SO QUICKLY, dude, slow it down!!!  Ahhh, he says that we're granted whatever we want here, so Etemon is probably trying to trick us by having us hear Jyou.  SOMEONE IS THINKING USING THEIR BRAINSSS I CAN'T BELIEVE IT!!!!

JYOU IS HEREEEE TO SAVE THE DAAAAAAYYY THE NEW DIGI JESUS, JYOUUUUUU!!!  (And while I 100% agree that you should be cautious, Kou-chan, c'mon, he arrived saying that you made his phone go off on the train and it made him feel awkward, that's pretty much proof that it's Jyou, lol!).  OH AND NOW KOU AND YAMS ARE ROASTING JYOU, classic.

Koushiro finally takes a stab directly at the heart of this...  It's not even about being children and avoiding adulthood; it's about not wanting to leave August 1st.  I realize exposition is Kou's job, but I didn't expect him to be the one to lay it out after all of this dodging.  I’ll be honest, I’m so pleased with Koushiro in this stage play so far?  I love how he moves, I love how quickly he speaks, I love that he’s able to come out and say this.  I wasn’t into the way the play used him spouting off numbers to indicate intelligence, but that’s a nitpick compared to the ground they gave Koushiro here.  

JYOU.  JYOU.  EVEN IF YOU DON'T BELIEVE IN YOURSELF, KOUSHIRO, I BELIEVE IN YOU.  He continues to be THE BEST, I am in awe, I bow before Jyou.

OH MAN is Jyou gonna work his awkward magic on Yams?  Where's my freakin' popcorn.  Oh, well, hell.  Yama said he... doesn't wanna talk.  *rubs forehead*  Great. Entertaining.  THIS IS FUN I AM HAVING FUN *curls up and cries*

Okay so now Taichi is freaking out and Koushiro is trying to talk to him (roughly 70% of this stage play is someone trying and failing to talk to someone else).  But I really like what Taichi says here- "I have nothing to hesitate about." We all know this isn't true; Taichi is hesitating all over the place right now.  Let's see where this goes!  (Please let it go somewhere this time, lord above).  WAIT- WAIT-  ARE YOU SHOWING ME KOUSHIRO POINTING FINGERS AT TAICHI'S BULLSHIT AND SAYING "I'VE BEEN BY YOUR SIDE FOR SIX YEARS!!" AND THEN CUTTING AWAY?!?!??!?!?!?!?  RAAAAAAAHHHH is this an aneurysm?  I think this is what an aneurysm feels like.  You can't drop lines that good and then CUT AWAY FROM IT GOOD LORD IN HEAVEN-

Sigh, tsk, groan. Hikari, Teeks.  Whacho got for me?  Whoa, I swear Takeru has been a second away from sobbing ever since Etemon revealed himself.  You... you okay, buddy?  Can I, uh, get you anything?  I love how much Hikari has her shit together in contrast.  Oh, and Takeru is about to say something usefu- ohhh, another cut. God, I have a headache.

Hmm, Sora and Meems are cracking, too...  Sora says, "It was simpler when I was everyone's mom.  It's not like me to decide on someone or something."  I really need to hear Mulan's Reflections in the background right now...

Mimi saying "I want to do SO many things!" is refreshing my soul.  I know she's one of the most shippable Chosen, but honestly, if not for the fact that she has a kid that is clearly biologically hers, I would assume that she's too busy doing EVERYTHING to have a family.  My headache recedes just a touch.

Hmm...  I actually really like what Sulky (Yams) is trying to say here.  "I don't want to be with everyone because I'm Chosen.  I want to be with Gabumon because he's my friend," basically.  Part of me sides with Jyou- dude we all get that, it's not a shameful secret- but another part of me...  Deeply appreciates that Yams can separate his duty as a Chosen from his bond with his digimon.  Gabumon is his best friend, his number one.  It doesn't matter if Gabumon can't fight, if Yamato can never digivolve him again. It doesn't even matter that he's a digimon.  It just matters that they're friends, and that they be together somehow, which may seem a more tenuous position by the day.  ...Now I'm sad.  Well played, stage play.  This moment is wonderful.

...Annnnnnd now Yamato is overacting to hell, and I'm laughing instead of thinking and feeling, was that supposed to happen?  Sigh. I still don't understand why he has to be SO SECRETIVE about it, but I mean...  That's our Yams??? 

And now we're back to Kou and Taichi, and they're pulling at each other's throats, as they will, and honestly this is the only "NOW KISS" moment for me, but where was I-

In all seriousness, I really like that the person to finally, FINALLY get the truth from Taichi is Koushiro.  That's how it often was in Adventure too, yes?  But I almost feel like Taichi's breakdown here is a reflection of what fans said in Saikai.  Taichi in Adventure always took action (although he grew so much during Adventure, I'd argue the version of himself he's referencing now wasn't there by the end of Adventure?). He can't fight in Saikai because he's concerned about hurting people/property/the tenuous relationship between humans and digimon.  He can't take action...  But the ability to see that is an indication of growth, not regression.  Will he understand that here?  

Ok god, Agu-chan is dropping some truth bombs...  And the way he and his puppeteer crawl...  I swear these goddamm puppets will be the death of me.

Agu-chan, can you do me a solid and STAMP THIS ALL OVER EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THESE KIDS PLEASE AND THANK YOU?!

HOLY SHIT IS THAT A METALGRAYMON PUPPET?!  THEY HAD THAT SHIT ALL ALONG AND THEY BRING IT OUT WITH 20 MINUTES LEFT?!  WHAT WOT WOOOOT?!??!  I cannot believe I'm seeing this.  And I love how heavy and cumbersome the huge puppet feels.  Like, I always felt like Metalgreymon would be huge and slow, right?

Etemon, I was done with your shit a LONG time ago...

WAIT he is admitting that he was Metaletemon previously. So... when... exactly did he fall into the Dark Ocean?  Sigh. This is one of those "Let it go, Hidden" things, isn't it.  Uh, wow, I am totally unfamiliar with Kingetemon.  That's... a... thing.  

The use of screens and images in the stage play are really fun!  It must have been awesome to see this show in person O__o;;

OH SHIT, Yamato arrives in a cloud of smoke, that's how you KNOW shit is gonna go down!

OH MY GOD OMEGAMON ONLY GETS A HEAD OH MY GOD I'M DYING (Tony:  "HEY do you know how big that thing's supposed to be?!)

KOUSHIRO IS WEARING THE GOGGLES I'm down.  HIDDEN IS DOWN!  REVIEWER DOWN!!!!

HOLY SHIT JYOU'S "A" ON HIS MOCK TEST WASN'T REAL okay this is also a Good Joke, I applaud. Also I am LOVING sassy Koushiro in this? His way of being sassy is to do it in a way where you're not quite sure if he is trying to be a butt or not, which is 10000000% yes lol (In contrast, Izzy is intentionally awful usually lol).

Annnnd I was right from the start; Jyou is carrying this entire thing, lol.  Oh my god, the delivery on this?!?!??!  AMAZING.

HAHAHAHHAHAHAHA. LAUGHTER.  THEME SONG.  DRAMATIC POSE.  I THINK THIS IS THE END SHOT YOU GUYS.

 Now the actors are coming out to speak!

THIS.  LITTLE.  SHIT. I love him?  I...  I love him. The snark is strong in this one. I... he is so... so beautiful.  I...  I think I might be in love?  (This at least indicates that I wasn’t alone in thinking the computer toss was too much???).

YAMATO’S ACTOR JUST SAID "DON'T SAY GOODBYE," Well played, son.  I like the cut of your jib.

 AHHHHH OKAY OKAY I have no idea how I’m going to analyze this.  My surface thought is that this play features a lot of the emotions and inner thoughts of individual characters that can’t fit into Tri, and that (I personally think) Tri suffers from a lack of.  Because there isn’t really ship bait and maneuvering around a new character and plot, we’re able to see relationships that feel much more familiar to Adventure than we often see in Tri (ie, Taichi worried about Hikari, Koushiro worried about Taichi, etc).  As you noticed, I’m very unhappy with the way the play pushes the payoff back as far as possible, cramming it into an AMAZING twenty minutes or so...  But I loved those twenty minutes.

Also, Koushiro feels waaaay more like Koushiro than he does in Tri, except for Kokuhaku.  As your local insane Koushiro fan girl, I am standing and applauding and screaming and crying.  NO PERVY KOUSHIRO.  NO FASHION DISASTERS.  Just Koushiro being supportive and apt and sweet and trying so hard.  I am refreshed.  I am younger.

And the passion and love and energy that went into us, so visibly in human form...  I can’t describe how wonderful the actors and the puppeteers were.  And even though I kind of hated Etemon, his actor was incredible.

So the stage play has amazing points and really irritating points, but on the whole, it’s my second favorite thing Tri has given us (following Kokuhaku).  I will try to write about it more smart-like soon!  If you got this far...  I’m in awe, lol!  High five, my friend!

#digimon stage play #digimon adventure tri stage plat #digimon adventure tri stageplay #digimon stageplay #trispoilers #tri spoilers #tri reactions

[renny-lithium]

y'all wanna know something that's completely fucked up?

i'll tell you, here goes.

when i was in secondary school, i hung around with a couple of girls i considered to be my best friends.

here's the fucked up thing - i never realised it until after i stopped hanging out with them, but they didn't even consider me their FRIEND. to them i was just 'that weird girl' that hung around with them, because we'd been 'friends' since primary school.

you wanna know how i realised this? various things.

for future reference, i will refer to them as S and E.

the one thing that stands out to me is this one time when i got put into a group project with S, and her reaction was to complain about everyone she'd been dumped with - including me. i was standing a foot away from her, staring at her, while she complained about being put in a group with ME. she later asked if she'd done something wrong, because i was suddenly keeping the fuck away from her and not talking to her or E, and i told her "you made me feel like i'm unwanted" and her reaction was basically "get over it".

another thing is how they treated me, aside from that incident.

here's a bit of trivia about myself - during year nine, when i was like 13 or something, i was selectively mute. no one actually bothered to do anything about it until the teachers noticed me using my made-up sign language to talk to someone, but you wanna know how my so-called 'best friends' reacted?

they ignored me. more or less pretended i didn't exist even though i was right there, and if i ever did force myself to speak (i often pretended i had a sore throat just to avoid having to speak) they acted like they never even heard me. also, whenever i got out of class before them, i ALWAYS waited for them. because i wanted to walk with them, because they were my friends, and i didn't like walking alone.

wanna know what they did? they didn't do that.

one time i specifically remember asking them if they could please, please wait for me after class, because i hate walking alone in a sea of people who hate me for no reason, and they said they would - cut to the end of class and they walked out, i expected them to be waiting outside, but they were already long gone before i get out of the classroom.

there was also the way they treated my other friends, ones i made without their 'help' or introduction. there was this kinda lonely girl who i'm gonna call SO, and at some point i guess i introduced her to my so-called 'friends'. this one time i was sitting with my so-called 'friends', without SO there because she was doing whatever, and they were talking shit about her.

i don't remember exactly what it was they said about SO, but what i clearly remember is them suddenly realising that i was sitting RIGHT FUCKING THERE and they turned to me and said 'don't tell SO we said any of this'. like they were threatening me.

at that point i began to wonder if they talked shit about me behind my back, cus if they did it to someone who actually cut herself on a regular basis and silently suffered an abusive public relationship with a dick that didn't deserve to exist, what were they saying about me?

one more thing - i was bullied literally all the time at school. it got to the point where i would actually try to fake illnesses or use the first one or two days of my period as an excuse to actually not go, out of fear of being bullied and humiliated every five minutes by everyone, even complete strangers, who knew about me only because i was 'that weird girl that's an easy target for everyone'.

no one ever stood up for me. not even SO, but i can forgive her, because she had far too many issues of her own to deal with - but S and E had no such problems. Their lives were, in comparison to mine and SO's, absolutely perfect.

and yet, even when i was being bullied RIGHT IN FRONT OF THEM, they never did anything to defend me. i was basically incapable of defending myself, purely because i knew that if i tried i'd only make it worse (though on a few awesome occasions i got pissed off enough to physically attack whoever was bullying me, or i would just simply walk out of the classroom even if the lesson had only just started).

so basically my so-called 'best friends' didn't give a single solitary fuck about me, and i'm ashamed to admit that i never figured this out until year eleven, when i was 15, and i stopped hanging around with them.

i thought my life would change when i stopped hanging with them, but guess what? it didn't. everything was still the same, i was still getting bullied every day, i occasionally had relapses into selective mutism and no one gave a fuck, i also tried to fake illnesses to get out of school, but you wanna know what actually did change?

as i began to look back on how my 'friends' had treated me, i began to get angry. not angry enough to actually do something, like when i would attack someone or walk out of the classroom, but the kind of burning anger that's incredibly dangerous because there's nothing you can do about it and the people responsible aren't even aware that it's their fault or that they've even done anything wrong.

so basically S and E ruined over half of my life and they probably didn't even notice or care.

i made a promise to myself that i would never, ever speak to them ever again - and i almost kept that promise, except for one incident during sixth form when, surprise surprise, S was in the same tutor group as me and she tried asking me for some help with something.

i don't think she even knew why i was glaring at her.

this story has a bittersweet ending, actually.

fast forward to now, and i've switched from sixth form to college (and lemme tell y'all that was the best decision i ever made in my entire life). i'm now in second year, halfway through, and basically everyone in the class is my friend. even those i don't particularly know very well, i consider them my friend - because we share common interests, and they actually don't bully me.

here's the bittersweet part - i'm waiting for them all to turn on me. i'm waiting for that one moment where i fuck up, and suddenly i'm the target for bullying once again.

i also have a friend who i consider to be my best friend ever, but i'm not sure if he considers me to be his best friend (i know he considers me a friend at least, otherwise he wouldn't let me follow him around like a lost puppy half the time). when class ends and it's time to go home, i'm usually out of the classroom before him, and i've sworn to myself that i'd never abandon anyone the way S and E did, especially if i think of them as my best friend.

sometimes, though, he's out of class before me.

and he always waits, unless he needs to be somewhere, in which case he actually he tells me beforehand and i'm happy to walk to the bus station without him.

but i never asked him to wait for me, because i assumed that he wouldn't bother. i assumed - and still do assume - that he's gonna walk off and abandon me like S and E did, because even if i ask, no one wants to wait for me.

but he does. he waits. and i continue to be amazed at that, even after an entire year and a half.

oh, and another thing - and this is actually a really nice thing.

you know how i said i went selectively mute in year nine? i forced myself to get over it the next year because i didn't like going to the school's shit version of therapy (which did nothing except make me realise that it'd be easier to pretend i was okay rather than actually be okay).

over the past few months i've been going through some very, very tough family shit, and i'm always switching between 'terrified as fuck' and 'too tired to care anymore'.

it has nothing to do with college, but i've gone back to being selectively mute again.

the reaction of all sixteen of my friends? they're actually nice about it. if i speak, they don't patronise me and they actually listen to me. if i don't, and i use some other means of communication, they will make genuine attempts to understand me and they don't act like it's a chore for them.

one memorable occasion was before christmas, and there was this guy from another class using the macs in our classroom to get his work done - one of my classmates introduced him to me, and said "she's a bit quiet, but she communicates in her own way", and all i could think was "now THAT'S how you do it".

they're all also genuinely concerned about the reason why i've suddenly gone absolutely silent when, the previous year, i was basically the craziest person in class.

i love these people. they're my friends, my real friends - but i'm burned by my past experiences with people who i also called 'friends'.

i'm still waiting for them to decide i'm not worth their time and that it'd be easier to laugh and point at me rather than try to help me. i'm still waiting to be abandoned by my new and real best friend, who i believe just tolerates my presence.

so, everyone, you're probably wondering - what was the point in me pouring out my heart like this?

i'll tell you.

i've realised that i'm not the only person who this kind of shit happened to. i'm not the only one who was constantly being left behind by people who were supposed to be their friends.

so i'm writing this, even though i'm not very well known by anyone on Tumblr, and i'm hoping it gets reblogged enough for people to look at their fellow students or even co-workers, and wonder 'how do their friends treat them?'

or maybe it's enough to make people realise that they're the ones this is happening to, or maybe give them enough courage to say 'fuck you' to their supposed 'friends' and walk away with their heads held high.

or alternatively, if you don't want to say it because you're too scared or too shy, just walk away and never speak to the abusive bastards ever again.

this shit can damage people forever. it can and will lead to suicides and pure depression.

it's not okay. stand the fuck up, everyone - those who see it happening, those who it's happening to, just . . . fucking everyone, stand up and tell the bullies and 'friends' to go and fuck themselves with a mace or something.

Renny, out.

#bullying #bully is not okay #fake friends #and i mean actual fake friends #abandonment #i have serious issues and i can't do shit about it #selective mutism #making a stand #hoping this gets thrown around so people can fucking see it #bittersweet

[nidawia]

Chronically ill.

I'm having a day I can't pretend to be strong. Having a day of breakdown and tears streaming down my face. A day of depression, sadness, anger, self pitying, self hating and exhaustion. Why? Because of my chronic illness. I have IBD. I have ulcerative colitis. I also have a syndrome in which I am more likely to faint, get lightheaded and run out of breath more easily than others due to my blood pressure randomly dropping. Some days I can't even get out of bed due to everything spinning and I'm feeling nauseous. Like, it's REALLY bad. I can't MOVE an inch and I can't have my eyes OPEN if I want to feel somewhat okay. It takes me at least 3-4 hours before I can slightly move around while laying down and have my eyes open. Then my IBD. It's honestly tearing me apart. I don't even know where to begin with this disease. Probably started around 3 years ago. I got diagnosed last year when I was 18 years old. I've been destroyed mentally, physically, socially, emotionally by it. Several times over. Right now I'm refusing to be on any type of hospital medication even if I'm in the middle of having a flare up. Why am I doing that? Because I don't fully believe in the doctors ways anymore. They "treat" your symptoms - more accurately; they hide them. You get addicted to take the medication. They don't try (at least the vast majority of them) to go to the bottom of things what might have CAUSED it. They don't look at the individual. They see the symptoms, they see the medicine for the symptoms and they give it to us. Money, money, money. That's all it's about. I, however, am trying the natural way. I take some "medication" - all natural for us though. Special tea. Vitamins. Liver pills. Etc. and then I'm on an EXTREMELY strict diet. No gluten for a year. No dairy products. No garlic or onions of any kind. No sugar. No citrus fruits or veggies. No soy. The list goes on and on. I have the most boring ass diet. But, two weeks ago I can tell y'all that I haven't felt so normal in over 3 years. No pain, no blood, no gas or weird noises from my bowel, lots of ENERGY, and I was genuinely happy to actually feel normal. I had forgotten what it felt like. Now, though... I'm having a setback. And I need to rant about it. Short backstory though: I should not have either IBD or my syndrome concerning my blood pressure. They've been triggered by a vaccine I got 3-4 years ago. All my problems started after that. They didn't tell us that people that have an asthmatic parent, they're immune system aren't as strong against the side effects of the vaccine. And guess what? My dad is an asthmatic! And what are one of the things I've gotten? An autoimmune disease! Coincidence? I think the hell not. However, somehow, I've been blessed to have a partner that loves me and supports me and wants to be with me for the rest of his life. We met online and we've met and been together in real life as well. We've known each other for like 10 months and he's absolutely amazing and I love him. But I'm so afraid of holding him back in life due to my fucked up condition. I don't want to do that to him. I want him to be happy. But selfishly I also want him all to myself. Moving on, today I've been so sad. And I'm gonna just copy paste a rant I gave a friend of mine: Even if this setback is hella much smaller than what I've suffered from before, it didn't stop me from having a breakdown. Something I actually haven't had for a very long time But I couldn't stop it today. I've lost my energy, I just feel completely drained. I want to sleep, but can't. I wanna do so many things, but I can't. I blame my sickness but then I inevitably, like all other times, blame myself. I really hate this though. Like I've said so many times before. But I can't help but let all negativity slip back into my mind. I hate the fact that I'll never be normal. Ever. Hate that I've become a victim to a CHRONIC illness I shouldn't even have. It's CHRONIC. I'll never ever heal from it. I may think I do, I may work towards it and I may hope to be "the one that got cured from an incurable disease", but it'll never happen. I can never be fully cured. I can never be fully normal ever again. My life is bound and restricted to my illness. I have days, like this one, that I succumb to my dark thoughts. Become depressed, sad, angry, exhausted of the fight and just lay in my bed crying all day. Start hating myself for being weak. For being a crybaby. I'm in a constant battle between "no, I'm not gonna let this stupid shit control my life, I'm gonna live it to the fullest and do whatever I want" and "I just wanna give up the fight. Take all medication from the hospital, destroy my body further. Shut the world out and be done with it." I lose myself. Can't stop the tears from rolling down. I'm living in constant fear and tension. My body can fuck up at any time. It has done that soooo much in the past. Destroyed me inside and out. I hate myself. Being weak. Ugly. Negative. Scared. Not confident. Closed off. Not easy to like or get along with. Not funny. Not smart. Nothing, really. I don't even know what my fiancé sees in me. I've been so scared to get close to anyone, to let anyone in. There's been so many reasons for me to avoid a romantic relationship. Been reasons to keep everyone on a distance. Reasons no one will truly understand if they aren't in the same position as I am. But I love him more than anything and more than I've loved anyone else. We complement and complete each other but I can't help to feel that I should, in fact, push him away... I love him so much and I just want him to be truly happy and live his life to the fullest, exactly the way he wants it with no regrets. I feel like... like I'll only hold him back. I don't want him to have to be tied to me and my never ending problems, the restrictions on my life. I don't want him to miss out on anything... on all the things that someone else could give to him. I don't want him to ever have to regret anything due to me holding him back. He's beyond amazing and supportive of my situation, but I cant help but think about all of this. He's the only one I can see myself loving for the rest of my life,and ofc he loves me too and feels the same in that way cuz otherwise he would've never proposed to me but... if he could be happier with someone else... I don't want him to miss out on it. That's how much I love him. I'd be prepared to let him go, even if my whole body and mind screams the opposite and it'll tear me apart every single day and be worse of a pain than anything else I've ever been through - I'd let him go if it meant for him to be the happiest he could possibly be I can't stop thinking about it. Can't stop thinking that maybe I'm just being selfish... I don't know. I feel like I don't know anything anymore. One wrong step and it all comes back like a slap to the face with a brick. That's what has happened. I've felt great, better than I've felt for over THREE FREAKING YEARS, took one wrong step and now I'm bleeding and in pain again I'm so goddamn sick of this So sick of wanting to actually fight it and live life but as soon as I stand up everything goes black. Or I'm in so much pain I can't even get out of bed. This sucks so much. *** Also, my setback is due to me trying eating chicken again and my body reacting to it. Since I've been stable for almost a month with no bleeding or pain in trying to expand my diet, which didn't work too well this time. My current diet consists of this: Oatmeal with oat milk. Sweet potatoes, normal potatoes (need to be boiled and then used the day after) Mango, bananas, pears, watermelon, blueberries, raspberries, avocado Parsley Salmon, white fish Asparagus, carrots (needs to be cooked so they soften up and are easy for the digestive system) Almond milk Max 3 eggs every other day and they have to be runny Maple syrup, honey "Clean herbs" - I have to season everything myself cuz I need to know EXACTLY what's in my food. Everything needs to be organic and of good quality. The only dairy product I'm allowed to use is real organic butter. Olive oil in only allowed to use cold and drizzle on top of things. So yeah. I get really depressed about the insane restrictions on my food, too. Can never go out and enjoy restaurants and probably never will be able to either... there's so much more I want to say and rant about but this is long enough. If anyone would ever read it all.... thank you for hearing me out.

#ibd #ibd problems #ulceration #irritable bowel disease #chronic illness

[shitfics]

The Smallest of Deeds (1/8); jongyu; nc-17

Jinki's clan is gone.

Killed by humans, with no trace of a motive, on a night he spent away at Jonghyun's cabin. To save Jinki from his loneliness -- and his desire for revenge -- Jonghyun suggests they journey south to find Taemin.

Their search for a place and purpose sends them to an organization known as the Inquisition, and the dangers they face after joining force Jonghyun and Jinki to confront parts of themselves and their relationship that threaten to break them apart.

[mirror on ao3]

Here it is, as promised! As with the last part of DA au, this work is (near) complete, so I will be posting the updates every other day. Thanks as always to my lovely betas, @jongyued, @yurilikesgirls, and @fleckle. I couldn't have done it without y'all!

This is my first time writing (what I would say) a traditional fantasy-type story with fighting and traveling, so I hope it's enjoyable.

I highly recommend reading As the Sapling Bends and the DA AU drabbles first, especially if you are unfamiliar with the dragon age series, as I introduced a few concepts in the first part. Feel free to message me with any questions/comments you have along the way! I will be posting on AO3, and will keep anon commenting enabled on every story there. I also have some doodles for the fic (mostly of jinki cause he’s gorgeous).

More notes (and the fic) are behind the cut.

For the fellow da nerds: as with the last fic, this should all be reasonably canon-compliant. It begins after the Inquisition has moved to Skyhold and stretches through the mission in the Arbor Wilds up to the end of the game (though onjongtae are elsewhere for those events). There will be no appearances or interactions the Inquisition cast to keep naming consistent/avoid confusion, but I do have headcanons about some interactions that I’ll share if anyone is interested, lol.

Since this fic revolves around the Inquisition more than Jinki's clan/Dalishness, the title is taken from an unknown Canticle of the Chant of Light:

Though the lands suffer a thousand wrongs, The Maker yet notices the smallest of deeds.

Since I tried to position all the characters in this story as background characters -- they don't exactly hold the fate of the world in their hands, or know much about what is going on at the highest point of the Inquisition organization, but the events still affect them, and their work fits into the larger goals of the Inquisition.

***

A storm has battled Ostwick for two days now. Jinki and Jonghyun arrived at the port city on the edge of the Waking Sea just in time to find shelter at a shabby inn. With no ships yet leaving, and the whispers about the obvious apostate and the savage knife-ear biting at them each time they attempt to take their meals in the inn’s tavern, they’ve been trapped inside the small bedroom.

The rain beats loudly against the window with each thrust of wind, and the noise is loud enough to drown out Jonghyun’s surprised gasp when a hot mouth covers his neck. He doesn’t question it at first — because it’s Jinki, and he’ll take anything the man will give him — until he’s pulled forward and over the older elf to sit between his legs.

“Fuck me,” Jinki breathes.

Jonghyun’s heart pounds in his chest.

This isn’t right.

Jinki’s eyes are too desperate, and Jonghyun knows from their months together that this isn’t something Jinki would ask for out of true want.

He steels himself and looks into Jinki’s eyes. “No.”

Jinki flips them over. His next words are nearly a growl. “Then let me fuck you.”

Jonghyun’s pulse races. That idea’s familiar — that’s something they’d done many times before Jinki’s clan was slaughtered, and once after, when Jonghyun had been too relieved to see any sign of life in Jinki to worry he might be taking advantage.

He doesn’t think he did. Jinki had slept then — a truly restful sleep — for the first night in a week.

Jonghyun searches Jinki’s face. He sees the bags under his eyes, the new hollowness in his cheeks, and the tight line of his lips. Jonghyun nods.

His hands are pushed over his head, and Jinki’s legs slip between his. Before, it had been tentative instinct Jinki worked on, where this is entirely feral. His legs are sore from their travel, but he welcomes it when Jinki lifts and spreads them, relaxing himself for the push of a finger against him. A second joins it, then a third, and Jonghyun has to grip at the rough sheets as his body is overwhelmed at being given so much so suddenly.

Even in his rush, Jinki always drags this part on out of fear of causing hurt without it. Jonghyun urges him on by reaching for the oil brought with them and pressing it against the side of Jinki’s hand. The sound of Jinki coating himself in it is quick and wet, and though Jonghyun knows this is more about need and distraction than pleasure, it still brings a warm flush to his cheeks.

The push in is fast, and Jonghyun can only hold on, clutching tighter at Jinki’s shoulders with each thrust until Jinki’s hips go rigid against him. The warm weight of Jinki’s body over his is enough for Jonghyun to finish first, and his release paints the sweat trapped between their stomachs when Jinki pulls back.

The nuzzle at his neck nears an apology and Jonghyun hums at it, letting his fingers smooth through Jinki’s hair until his breathing finally steadies with sleep.

Jonghyun sighs. The dark clouds of the storm have dimmed the sun, but he can still see the tension that has set itself so permanently into Jinki’s brow it remains even in his sleep.

The last time he saw peace in it was weeks ago, after one of the rare times Jinki chose to share his bed for the night. They’d even parted with a long kiss, and Jonghyun had smiled as he left, heart fluttering with the knowledge that Jinki would likely be back in a few days’ time with yet another carved trinket he pretended wasn’t a gift.

Then Jinki had returned only hours later, covered in blood, his hands dirty and full of Dalish-made items.

They’re gone, Jonghyun. All of them.

Jinki hadn’t cried. Only a brief, heart-rending stutter gave away his pain when he repeated to Jonghyun that his clan — his entire clan, because he had counted, and searched — was dead. That had been the start of the numbness.

The rage came next.

Jonghyun hadn’t known how to handle it. He’d been dealing with his own demons — the real and twisted spirits that visited every mage in their sleep when their dreams carried them to the Fade. For the first time in years, they tempted him with offers of power — power large enough to hunt and kill whatever human bastards had killed Jinki’s clan, if only he would let them in.

It took more than all his willpower to turn them down. And he’d had to draw on it again, when the glint of Jinki sharpening his knife in the dead of night had woken him from the Fade.

And he had to argue against revenge, as much as he thought it right. The number of humans it must have taken to wipe out the clan would be too many for Jinki to kill on his own. Jinki hadn’t cared, at first. Even the death of one shem could make the rest fear for their lives, and the clan deserved its justice, he’d said. He only stood down when Jonghyun reminded him that his death would mean the complete erasure of clan Lavellan, which was likely what the humans wanted. Even then, Jinki’s agreement was more a defeat than a resolution to move forward.

The days after that had become a blur.

With no chance of obtaining retribution, Jinki went quiet. Jonghyun knew better than to press him, so he had tried to resume his normal routine in hopes that would give Jinki some comfort. It took him days to drag him out of bed and into the garden, and even then, he could hardly call it normal — there were none of Jinki’s teasings, or the skittish smiles he’d give before stealing a kiss. Only Jinki following him like ghost, the markings of his vallaslin through cutting the growing gauntness of his cheeks.

Out of desperation, he’d suggested heading south, to Ferelden, to see if Taemin was still there.

Jinki had latched onto it like a lifeline.

They’d left the next day, walking from sunrise to sunset, and Jonghyun couldn’t even bring himself to complain about the grueling pace Jinki set. Traveling, at least, seemed to soften the wounded edge of Jinki’s silence.

That Jonghyun had come with him didn’t seem to sink in until they were booking their first room at an inn days later. He remembers the way Jinki had looked at him then, wide-eyed and vulnerable as he sat on the dingy mattress.

Are you...going all the way to Ferelden with me?

Of course. I want to stay by your side.

The words had slipped out without a thought, but he didn’t regret them. He could have deflected with a dozen excuses for coming along: that he was tired of the cabin, that he was curious about the new organization in Ferelden that had brought an end to the war by allying with the mages, that he wanted to see Taemin himself — but he wanted Jinki to know how he felt. He deserved to know that he had someone, even if that someone was a shem and a mage.

It seemed to help, if anything could be said to. That had been the night Jinki had taken him last, a flicker of heat behind the pain in his eyes, and when he’d begun to curl against Jonghyun for warmth when he slept.

With a sigh, Jonghyun fixes the thready blanket tighter around them both to block out the world and bring Jinki closer. If the storm ends, he needs to be up early to find a ship that will take them both and make preparation. They both need all the rest they can take.

 ***

 Sleep leaves him slowly, and the waking hole in Jinki’s chest makes him reluctant to leave its embrace. The mattress is still warm in the empty space next to him, and he shifts into it without opening his eyes. For a long moment, he thinks himself in Jonghyun’s cabin, safe in his bed, until a sharp breeze from the window carries the unfamiliar scent of saltwater into the room.

He grimaces. A wave of nausea rumbles in his empty stomach, reminding him of his location and everything that led him here. He’s in some shem city on the coast, waiting for the storm to clear so they can follow Taemin’s trail south.

What he’ll do when he sees him, he hasn’t the slightest clue — but that isn’t important now. All he needs to think about is getting there.

He stretches out his legs, realizing only after he pulls away the blanket and rises that Jonghyun is still in the room.

“Morning, Jinki.” Jonghyun tries at a smile from the small seat by the window. He picks up the basket on the table at his side. “I went ahead and bought pastries for breakfast so we could get an early start.”

A sweet and buttery smell wafts from the covered basket, drawing a growl from his stomach as Jonghyun brings it close. The collar of Jonghyun’s robes hangs low when he bends to set the food on the bed, and Jinki freezes at the sight.

One side of his neck is mottled with purple spots, dark enough for Jinki to wonder how he didn't realize he’d been making them the night before.

“You should eat something,” Jonghyun says, interrupting his staring. He unwraps the white cloth surrounding the pastries and takes a simple piece of bread for himself. “You don’t know if you’ll suffer from seasickness, and it’ll be hard to keep anything down then.”

“I don’t feel hungry,” Jinki says. Because despite all the weakness of his body and the emptiness of his stomach, it’s true. He hasn’t wanted to eat for days now. When he looks at food, all he can think of is the winter’s worth of stores from the aravels, scattered and wasted across the ground next to Joonmyeon’s body.

Jonghyun pushes a roll beneath his nose. “Please.” Then, more gently, “It has a berry filling.”

One glance at the desperate look in Jonghyun’s eyes makes him feel guilty enough to snatch the roll. He forces himself to take a bite, chewing slowly as he works through every foreign motion of his jaw. The sweetness of the berries feels dull on his tongue, and he only finishes because Jonghyun continues to watch him in worry.

Once he’s finished, Jonghyun smiles and hands him another roll. “You’re welcome to the rest of these. I’m going to prepare our things. I already found a ship that’ll take us this morning. 

Jonghyun bustles about the room, thoughts about their plans spilling forth unfiltered as he gathers his belongings. “We’ll sail across to Jader, and from there, it’s only a few days of walking south to Haven. That’s the town Taemin said he was leaving for, and we can ask someone there where he might be now. We both know he sticks out, and he can’t resist chatting up strangers. Any locals are likely to remember him, so his trail should be easy to follow.” He stops to look at Jinki. “Does that sound like a good plan?”

“Sounds fine,” Jinki agrees. He swallows the last crust of his roll, dry throat protesting around the small piece. He didn’t mind letting Jonghyun take the lead on their travels. It's made things easier, since most of the people they had to negotiate with were humans. Only one inn had refused them a room since one of them was an elf, but the rejection had been vehement enough he’d avoided talking with shems since.

Life in the forest with the Dalish had nearly made him forget that most of the world wants elves dead, enslaved, or carving out a servile existence in the slums. The memory of the inn-keeper’s scowl grates him, and he can’t help the twist of his lips when he looks up at Jonghyun. “Do the people you booked passage with know that I’m an elf?”

Jonghyun’s lips tighten. Though Jinki would never ask, he has a feeling the only thing that kept him from chewing the ear off that inn-keeper and burning the place down had been his consideration for Jinki’s wariness of magic.

“Yes, they know you’re an elf.” He closes his pack. “And I made sure they wouldn’t take issue with it.”

Jinki nods, trusting Jonghyun’s assessment, and stands to pack his few things.

He hadn’t been able to bring much from the remnants of his clan’s camp. The killers had looted the valuables and left little else. He has his bow, extra strings, his ironbark armor, one of Joonmyeon’s potion flasks, and Hyoyeon’s sword. The rest of the items important enough to qualify as mementos but worthless to the shems, he had hidden in a small cave that he knew would serve as a nest to snakes later in the season to keep animals from stealing. Hopefully, he can return to them someday.

Grabbing his long belt, he straps Hyoyeon’s sword to his side, letting it hang over the daggers attached to his thigh. Hyoyeon had served as a teacher to him in his first years of freedom, and he feels less trapped by the presence of shems around him with the sword at his side.

It will likely cause him more trouble than it would prevent — he’s heard that elves in Ferelden cities are forbidden by law to carry weapons, and the sword is as long as his arm — but he refuses to try and blend in.

Not that he could, even if he wished to — the markings of their goddess Andruil are plain on his cheeks and forehead, and he knows he’ll stick out amongst the bare-faced elves in the cities.

“Ready to leave?” Jonghyun shoots him an encouraging smile from the door, pack and poorly-disguised staff already fixed to his back.

Jinki nods and joins Jonghyun, not bothering to spare a look for the room behind him. They descend the stairs in silence, and Jonghyun tosses an undeservedly cheerful farewell over his shoulder to the innkeeper before leading them outside to the streets of Ostwick.

The coastal city was built scaffolded to aid its defense from pirates, with high walls to separate each level. The poorer districts were built along the coasts, where they would be easy targets for fireballs from any attacking mages, while the nobles’ mansions perched arrogantly over the top with large glass windows to overlook the city below.

The inn they stayed in is shabby enough that only the elven slums stand between them and the docks, and the overwhelming stench of fish and saltwater, made heavier by the recent storms, hangs over the poorly cobbled streets.  As they head towards the gate to the slums, the scent intensifies, and Jinki’s nose crinkles in distaste.

When he sees the poorly-patched houses of rotting wood and stone, he pushes back the hood of his cloak slightly, unable to restrain his curiosity. He’d experienced slavery and the free life of the Dalish, but never seen the more common city life of his kind.

Now, he’s grateful that he hadn’t.

As he’d expected from Taemin’s description, the adults look ill-fed, and the children only slightly better off. The shadowed alleys are dark enough to hide any less than legal professions from the city guard, and Jinki keeps an eye on them for movement, unsure how the inhabitants will react to a human and a Dalish man walking through their territory.

He’d expected glares towards Jonghyun — even his friendly Dalish clan kept an archer hidden in the bushes when humans came close for trade — but every elf they pass lowers their head when Jonghyun nears. Jinki catches a few lingering looks at his own markings, but even the most curious of them skitters away when they spot the staff on Jonghyun’s back.

Jinki grits his teeth and widens his steps until he’s ahead of Jonghyun. He can’t blame them for fearing a mage, but the deference Jonghyun is receiving makes him worry he’ll be mistaken for a servant or worse.

“I wonder if all ports smell this awful,” Jonghyun says when they reach the gates to the docks. His normal inviting smile is replaced with a persistent curl of his lips, and Jinki mirrors it, discomforted by the bustle of the city morning around him. Though Ostwick is nothing like the one he’d called home in Tevinter, the abundance of trade stalls and shouting shems along the docks reminds him too much of Perivantium.

“Where’s the ship we’ll be taking?”

“We’re taking the little boat with the blue sail. They’re Orlesian spice traders, but they allow the occasional passenger.”

Jinki follows Jonghyun’s pointer finger to the boat. The small ship is dwarfed in size by the massive trade and navy vessels, and is marked by the lion crest that Jinki assumes to be the flag of the Orlesian empress. Heavy-booted men and women trod expertly over the wood platforms leading to the ship, barrels and crates and bags hoisted over their shoulders as they load the vessel.

He keeps his eyes on his feet as they walk to the ship. The occasional whisper about his markings makes his ears twitch, and he has to fight the urge to reach for Jonghyun’s hand when he nearly falls after a shem bumps him roughly with the rolled up carpet he was carrying to a stall.  

Finally, they stop in front of a broad-shouldered sailor.

“Is it too early for us to board?” Jonghyun asks. “We assumed you’d want us on as quickly as possible.”

“Not too early,” she says. Her eyes travel to Jinki. “This is the elf you said was your companion?”

Jonghyun stiffens. “Yes.”

“Those markings...they’re Dalish, no?” The sailor’s lip curls, eyes flicking from Jinki’s ears to his markings as if she can’t decide which offends her more. “You didn’t mention he was that kind of rabbit.”

Jonghyun’s gaze hardens. “He’s not a rabbit. And him being Dalish is irrelevant. I paid enough coin for the passage of two people. Tattoos don’t change that.”

She narrows his eyes at him, but Jonghyun only lifts his chin in response. The pause carries on long enough that Jinki thinks they’re going to be denied passage, but she surrenders under Jonghyun’s stare with a raise of her hands and a sigh. “Fine. You have a temper to make up for your stature, I see. Go ahead and board. Don’t cause any trouble.”

“Thank you,” Jonghyun says, the bow of his head too courteous for the curtness of his words. He adjusts his pack and makes sure Jinki is with him before stepping on the gangplank.

The black waters beneath him make his stomach clench, and it takes all his willpower to force himself up the rocking plank and onto the ship. Jonghyun seems as disconcerted as him, walking along with his arms almost fully extended to try and maintain his balance. He closes his eyes and sighs in relief when they board, then forces a laugh that’s clearly for Jinki’s sake.

“That was a new experience, wasn’t it? I’ve never been on a ship before — didn’t realize getting on one felt so perilous.”

“Me neither,” Jinki says, disarmed from silence by his nerves. His hands drift to the hilt of Hyoyeon’s sword for comfort as he watches the last of the cargo and sailors board.

There’s not a single pair of pointed ears except his own on the ship. The crew and passengers are entirely shem, and he’ll be stuck with them for the next week with no land to escape to.

The gangplank rises, and dread clenches his heart in his chest. His life is in their hands.  There’s little he could do if they suddenly decided the ship would be better off without the lone elf, or if some of them had a penchant for elven features as he’d heard was common in Orlais—

Jonghyun places a gentle hand on his wrist. “Are you alright, Jinki?”

“Fine,” Jinki cuts. He jerks his arm away. There’s a small section of the deck not occupied by ropes or sailors, and he moves there to pace, ignoring the worry in Jonghyun’s eyes and the shrinking coast behind them. If the city had felt confining, this might drive him mad.

A shouted stream of Orlesian from nearby makes him flinch.

“We can try to find our cabin,” Jonghyun says. He points to a door on the end of the main deck. “It might be quiet down there.”

Jinki nods. He follows Jonghyun, dodging sailors and ropes until they’re through the door and descending into the depths of the ship. Thin strips of sunlight from the deck above and lanterns are their only light, and it takes them some time to find a door with a poorly-done carving of guest quarters in the wood.

The two beds inside are small, but nearly fill the cramped room. Jinki tosses his things under the left one and lays himself on it.

A wave rocks the ship, and Jonghyun stumbles to him. His eyes are squeezed shut, fist on the bedframe to balance himself, but his hand is gentle when reaches to brush back Jinki’s hair. “You can rest, if you want. I’ll be awake if you need anything.”

Jinki takes Jonghyun’s hand. He pauses, breathing slow for a moment, then twines their fingers together.

He's never been this far south. Never been this surrounded by humans. Even as a slave, there had always been the barracks, packed at all times of day with elves sleeping or sneaking off from work.

Being here feels like moving backwards, like he’s running again — because he is — but it’s all he can do. There’s no clan for him to go back to. Jonghyun’s cabin is too entwined with the memories of that life and the night he’d had to wash the blood of his friends from his clothes.

He curls his body tighter, until his knees are pressed against Jonghyun’s back, and waits for the images to fade.

***

 Jinki wakes when something knocks into the wall near his head. He pushes the blanket that was covering his eyes down, expecting to see Jonghyun fumbling with his belongings, only to find him laying on the other bed with his eyes closed.

His ears twitch at the sound of something rolling away from him and knocking into the wall nearest Jonghyun when the ship leans right. As it rolls back, the rolling repeats, and Jinki reaches down to try and catch whatever was causing the cursed noise.

The instant his fingers close around the object, he recognizes it — he’d carved it, after all.

The miniature crystal grace fits easily in his palm. He stares at the wooden flower, puzzled. It’s a useless trinket. Yet Jonghyun had thought it important enough to bring with him.

Jinki shakes his head and rewraps it in the fabric sack it’d escaped from, then tucks it into a deeper pocket in Jonghyun’s bag quietly and tries to return to sleep before his thoughts can sneak up on him.

He has little luck. Every quiet breath from Jonghyun itches his nerves, and watching him sleep soundly fills him with a mix of guilt and envy. Even resting flat on his back provides him no comfort.

The roof of the cabin is closer than it’d been in Jonghyun’s home, but not as within reach as it had been in the aravels. Just low enough for him to feel trapped, and high enough for him to feel exposed. Restless, he rolls out of bed, bare feet falling quiet to the wooden planks underneath him.

His stomach instantly clenches with hunger, but he ignores it, not wanting to risk exploring the hallways of the ship's cabin to find the kitchen. Instead, he follows the path he remembers from their journey down to the guest room, following the peaks of moonlight and dim lamps until he finds the stairs that leads out of the hull.

He opens the door and steps out onto the damp wood. The bustle of the day is gone, and only the sound of the lapping waves meets his ears. Jinki walks to the rail at the edge of the deck. The dark waves froth into a spray against the sides of the ship that flies up to his toes. Jinki watches it with interest, marveling at the way the dark water breaks into a white foam against the wood.

The experience is so new, it cuts through the haze he’s been in since he left the cabin with Jonghyun. His fear is even gone, for a moment, though he knows there’s a sailor on the higher deck behind him and another on the crow’s nest.

He can’t imagine a world with a night like this is the same as the one he’s been living in.

His ears twitch when he hears the creak of a door and the footfalls of boots, and he turns to see Jonghyun exiting the cabin with a long yawn.

Jonghyun stops beside him, assessing the silence between them before he tries to smile. “You’re faring well, I take it? You don’t seem to be bothered by the waves at all.”

“No.” Jinki rebalances his feet to better cope with the rocking of the boat beneath them. “I suppose I’m lucky.”

“I’m glad for that,” Jonghyun says, tone entirely genuine even as his smile strains. His hand rests over his stomach, and his back is bent with a strained hunch.

Jinki steps back, eyeing Jonghyun with caution. “You don’t look like you’re going to keep down your supper.”

“I didn’t.” Another wave crashes against the stern, and Jonghyun reaches desperately for the rail and pales. “Damn the Maker for creating large bodies of water.”

Jinki raises an eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t believe in the Maker?”

“Of course I don’t.” Jonghyun grimaces. “But handling hardship is easier with someone to blame, isn’t it?”

Jinki’s lips quirk up as he remembers the last time he’d heard Jonghyun invoke the Maker. It hadn’t been hardship, though Jinki was to blame for it, in a sense — it’d been his fingers in Jonghyun, after all, that’d made him breathless and desperate enough to cry out for a deity he didn’t even worship.

He opens his mouth, ready to tease Jonghyun in his usual round-about way, when his throat suddenly tightens as the rest of the memory falls into place.

That might’ve been the night his clan was slaughtered, by a group that left no trace of their motive or allegiance.

His smile fades, stomach churning with guilt as his emotions reel back to him. While he spent the night in the bed of a shem, his clan had been fighting for their lives. And he still took comfort in that shem, kissed him and bedded him like he might die without it.

None of it made sense.

Joonmyeon should have lived. Hyoyeon should have lived. Jungah and her children should have lived.

Before he realizes it, his eyes are stinging, and Jonghyun’s hand is a careful weight on his arm.

“Jinki — I’m sorry.” He sighs. “I shouldn’t have phrased that the way I did, when you don’t know who—”

“No,” Jinki cuts him off. “You’re right. It would be easier, if I had someone to blame.”

“I know.” Jonghyun’s fingers tighten on him. “I wish we did, too. But if you had been there to see it, you wouldn’t have—” he chokes around the words, and his grip suddenly feels more desperate than assuring. “There wouldn’t be anyone to remember them.”

“Taemin would. They saved him, when we first escaped.”

“That’s true.” Jonghyun runs his hand down his arm slowly, until it rests on his elbow. “But it’s not the same as how you do. I’m not sure he’d paint the picture of them they deserve, considering he’s such a staunch Andrastian himself.”

Jinki looks at the ocean ahead to avoid Jonghyun’s eyes. “You think?”

“I don’t think he gave your clan or the life they lived the respect they deserved, no. Their refusal to live by humans laws and be locked in one part of the city should be admired. No one deserves to be controlled or ruled over just for how they were born.” Jonghyun smiles bitterly. “I like to think I can understand that, considering I’ve ran away from the Circle all these years to avoid being caged for my magic.”

Jinki hums. He has no words, but he finds himself leaning into Jonghyun with a small smile on his lips. Jonghyun had said something similar before, their first night alone, when Jinki had drunkenly asked him why he treated elves as equals. It’d been what drew him to Jonghyun, despite his magic and his humanness.

Though his clan is gone, he isn’t alone.

 ***

 Jonghyun watches the approaching docks of Jader with a smile. He’ll be glad to back on land, and so will his stomach. He pays attention to Jinki and lingers as much as he can without earning a raised brow — the bags under Jinki’s eyes have gotten lighter, and his cheeks have already begun to round back out to their usual fullness.

He doesn’t understand it, but the sea seemed to bring Jinki some comfort. Though he’d avoided being around the humans on deck, he’d slept soundly during the day and come up for the last meal of the day. He’d even managed to have a full conversation with him, guessing what Taemin might have been up to in Ferelden. The adventures they could imagine him getting up to in the infamously laissez-faire country even made Jinki laugh.

Things are turning around.  They’ll restock their supplies, rest for a day, have a solid meal that Jonghyun could finally keep down, then continue south to Haven.

But the news they get at the inn cuts through their plans.

“You’re headed to Haven? The Ferelden town the Inquisition used as their base?” The innkeeper frowns in pity and shakes his head. “That place was destroyed months ago.”

Jinki pushes past him to the counter. “Destroyed? What do you mean?”

“Yep. Whole town’s gone. Attacked by some crazed templars after the Inquisition ended the war by allying with the mages.”

Jinki pales. Jonghyun can see the thoughts running through his head — Taemin might be gone, he might have lost everyone — and jumps in.

“The Inquisition isn’t gone, though, is it? There had to have been survivors — I swear I’ve seen some of their scouts in the city. They’re the ones with the eye and sword symbol, aren’t they?”

“Aye, they’re rebuilding from the attack. I’ve heard they found some kind of ancient fortress in the Frostback Mountains and set up there. Hear they’re calling it Skyhold, since it’s so high up. Truly blessed by the Maker, to have found it.”

Jonghyun sighs with relief. “Do you know how we’d get there?”

“Same way as to their old base in Haven — either take the West route along the border of Orlais, or head east through Gherlen's Pass.”

“Thank you,” Jonghyun says. “The information is appreciated.” He places an extra few silver on the counter on top of the payment he’d already set out.

Jinki stares ahead, eyes unfocused. “If Taemin was there when it happened, then...”

“There were survivors.” Jonghyun squeezes Jinki’s arm to assure him. “And Taemin never stays in one place for long, you know him — he might have already left by the time Haven was destroyed. If we head to this fortress, we can ask if anyone knows where he might have gone. We’ll find something.”

Jinki nods stiffly. The agreement is disquieting, and Jinki following in his step when he exits the inn to go purchase supplies more so. Even in the first city they had visited, when humans were bustling about, Jinki had made sure to never follow him. He’d held his head high, as if to show off the dark vallaslin markings that cut across his cheeks.

Jonghyun glances back at Jinki, expecting him to pick up his step or at least flinch at the cacophony of the market around them, only to find Jinki looking past him with the blank stare he’d thought was finally gone.

Of all the things in the world, he knows that losing Taemin would break Jinki.

That night, Jonghyun uses his time dreaming in the Fade to search for some sort of spirit that can assure him Taemin is alive. Though he knows it's unlikely — spirits are rarely interested in those without magic, and there’s no solid way of communicating with most of them — he still tries, rushing through realm after realm in hopes of a hint.

His worries twist the world around him, swirling the mysts until they solidify into the forms of a dozen templars. They draw their swords at him, and Jonghyun tries to summon a spell, but his mind is too focused on the memory of their mage-silencing abilities for him to find his magic.

All he has is his staff, and even that seems to vanish from his hands as the templars loom closer.

He wakes in a sweat. His last memory of the Fade is of him on his knees, begging a passing spirit of Compassion for help.

When he rises, he sees Jinki is watching him from the door, lips an impassive line.

“Are you ready?”

Jonghyun swallows. “I will be in a minute.”

He stands and gathers his things, ignoring the shaking in his hands left from the remnants of his nightmare. His nightmares have been free of templars for months, and he’s never been so fearful that he’s lost his ability to use magic in the Fade.

Both of them are quiet on their way out of the city, lost in their thoughts. Jonghyun purchases another basket of pastries that they share as they walk to the Southern edge of the city. A caravan of dwarven traders invites them to join them for part of their journey south, citing Jinki’s markings and Jonghyun’s staff as sufficient intimidation for any bandits they might encounter along the way. To shave some days off their travel, they agree to come along, and stick with the caravan until they reach the Frostback Mountains, where they split.

As soon as they had reached the mountains, the weather turned to a biting cold. Jonghyun uses some of his coin to purchase them an extra cloak each and a pair of boots for Jinki at the small outpost marking the path up to Skyhold. After a short rest and a quick meal, they begin to hike the well-worn path up the mountains towards the new Inquisition base.

At least the grimace on Jinki’s face is from annoyance now, and not pain. He only says a few of his complaints aloud, but Jonghyun can tell the growing cold is grating on him, and being forced to wear true footwear is as well. An inappropriate giggle sneaks up his throat every time he catches Jinki glaring down at the thick boots as if they were traps clamped around his legs to hinder his movement.

The hazards of snow are new for both of them. It fell on Jonghyun’s cabin in some winters, but never for more than a few days, and never in the amount the mountains seem to hold. Here, there are mounds of it, blown into great drifts and covering all but the tallest rocks. As they round the trail to the west side of one of the mountains, Jonghyun nearly falls for the dozenth time that day when his feet sink into a deep pocket of the fresh white powder, but the curse on his lips is quickly dispelled by the sight before him.

“Wow.”

Jonghyun dusts off his robes, movement slowed by his wonder at the mountains ahead.  The setting sun pinkens the snow, and frozen ponds dot glowing orange across the landscape for miles ahead.

He breathes slowly, letting the image sink in. “I never imagined I’d see anything like this — I can almost see how Taemin enjoys traveling.”

Jinki stops next to him. For a moment, Jonghyun realizes he might have said the wrong thing — he probably should have known better than to bring up Taemin, when they still don’t have confirmation he’s alive — but he relaxes when Jinki brushes a hand against his side.

He gives a small exhale (a laugh, maybe? Jonghyun hopes) that leaves a white puff in the air. “It is a pretty view...” His nose wrinkles with a sniff. “Miserably cold, though.”

Jonghyun grimaces. “Very miserable. I can imagine the night will be worse, too.”

Jinki nods. “We should set up our tent for now, and get as far as we can tomorrow. The faster we move, the fewer nights we will need to spend out here.”

“True.” Jonghyun bites his lip as he helps Jinki unload the canvas wrapped in their traveling pack.

Neither of them mention the other reason they wish to hurry.

Jonghyun lights a fire before dark to keep them from freezing as they eat their meager rations, and in the tent, they press together closely, not bothering to even use the second bedroll. The cold snakes too deeply in Jonghyun’s bones, and Jinki seems in need of him again, though Jonghyun knows he’d never admit it.

The slow and beseeching fit of Jinki’s solid body around his is familiar. He half-expects Jinki to take him as he did in the inn, but a hand slips between them, and Jinki only murmurs something about needing warmth before lifting Jonghyun’s robes to press their bare skin together.

Jonghyun closes his eyes, appreciating the heat. He’s not sure if he drifts off, or simply fades into a trance before the morning, but he has no memories of entering the Fade  before the light of morning sneaking into their tent wakes him.

The moment he reaches to secure the flap, Jinki peels back the top of their bedroll and makes Jonghyun shiver at the sudden draft of cold air over his body.

“We should go. It’s light out.”

Jonghyun mumbles an agreement. He wonders if Jinki slept at all, but there’s no point in worrying — neither of them will rest soundly until they hear word of Taemin, and that won’t come until they reach the fortress the Inquisition holds.

Once their tent is torn down and back in Jinki’s bag, they begin the hike up the mountain. The pace Jinki sets is twice as brutal as yesterday, and Jonghyun is just about to ask him to slow down when the fog of the morning clears to reveal stone towers in the distance. Each tower is linked by a wall, and over the tops of them, Jonghyun can see the crest of several rooftops and a large flag bearing the Inquistion’s heraldry.

“That must be Skyhold,” Jonghyun says, struggling around the words as he tries to catch his breath.  “We’re close.”

Jinki nods, but doesn’t stop to respond. With gritted teeth, Jonghyun hurries after him, willing himself to think of Taemin and not the burning in his lungs.

The sun has already lowered behind the mountains to the west when they reach a stone bridge leading from the end of the trail to the gate of the stronghold. A dozen refugees in tattered clothes file near the entrance, followed by a caravan of what looks to be merchants and a small group of dwarves carting a heavy and tightly-sealed container of what Jonghyun can only guess is lyrium.

At the end of the bridge, guards in Inquisition armor stand on both sides of the fortress’ open gate, spears pointed to the sky. Between them, a small table covered with parchment and ink houses a bearded man that nods sympathetically to each refugee’s story before waving for them to enter.

The door behind him opens, and a robe-clad elf with a surly step joins them for a moment to light the torches on either side before returning to the fortress.

Jonghyun’s breath catches. He’s never seen a fellow mage cast a spell so casually out in the open — he hasn’t even seen magic other than his own in years.

He follows Jinki to reach the line ahead of them. He’d heard of the Inquisition’s alliance with the mages, but a part of him hadn’t believed it. He unfastens his staff to lean on it as they wait, and after a moment’s hesitation, pulls off the worn wrappings around the crystal embedded in the end. He’s expecting a shout or at least a hissed curse, but earns no more attention than a raise of Jinki’s brow and a slight frown from a nearby dwarf.

No one in the line seems to care that he’s a mage. And when they finally reach the record keeper, he only gives his staff a single glance before tapping his quill against the parchment in front of him and adding a new blot of ink to the crowd at the corner of the page. “Are you an a apostate, or a refugee from one of the disbanded Circles?”

“...Apostate,” Jonghyun answers after a pause. “I haven’t lived in a Circle for years.”

The man marks this down on the paper as if it were no more concerning than his hair color, then nods to Jinki.

“You’re Dalish, eh? Are you are a mage as well?”

“I am Dalish,” Jinki says. He lifts his chin, either from pride at having his Dalishness acknowledged as something other than a curse or in defiance to being called a mage. “But I’m not a mage.”

The man’s brows furrow as he looks between them, trying to come up with a reason for a Dalish elf and a human apostate to travel together before shaking his head and asking them outright. “You’re an odd pair. You both refugees, or what?”

“Not quite,” Jonghyun says, taking over to prevent any further questions. “We’re actually looking for information on a friend.  We believe he visited Haven, before it was destroyed, and we’re trying to make sure he’s alright. He likely arrived before the Inquisition was formed, or right when it happened, but we were hoping someone might remember him — he tends to stick out.”

“What’s his name?”

“Taemin. He’s an elf — blond hair, probably still long, wears it in a ponytail —”

“Ah — Taemin?” The man’s eyes light up in recognition, and he lets out a bellowing laugh. “Maker, that one’s memorable. I assume you’re lookin’ for the boy that sounds like some kind of crossbreed between an Antivan and a Tevinter?”

Jonghyun nods. His heart clutches tight in his chest when the man pauses, and he can feel Jinki’s arm against him as he leans forward.

“He’s still here — been here since we started, same as me. They have him putting together information and making maps. I see him come in and out of here with scouting parties often.” The man rubs the prickly hairs of his chin. “He’s a strange elf, but well—” he eyes Jinki up and down, then stares right at the vallaslin on his cheeks and grins. “I imagine he isn’t the strangest one we could have here, eh?”

Jinki ignores the teasing and leans forward. “Where can I find him? Will you let us in?”

The man’s expression sobers. “He has his own room in the east tower, on the second floor. And sure, you both can go in — just be sure to speak with the quartermaster before you settle in anywhere. Space is gettin’ a little tight with all the mages we have coming in now that the war’s over and the Circles are all gone.”

Jinki, in the little bit of emotion he allows himself to show, looks like he wants to turn and run. But when the man gestures for them to head through the gates, Jinki walks through them with the same determined square of his shoulder’s he’d been wearing since they first set south.

Jonghyun follows after him. A shout from a nearby soldier makes Jinki flinch mid-step, and Jonghyun reaches out to grab his hand, but stops himself before their fingers touch.

Jinki had never said outright he didn’t want their relationship to be public, but Jonghyun can guess he doesn’t want the first thing the Inquisition learns of him to be his partnership with an apostate, however accepted they might be.

He follows Jinki to the tower. After the all-day hike, the stairs should seem insurmountable, but his eagerness to see Taemin well and alive carries him up the stairs quickly.

Down the winding hall they reach an open door. After a glance inside, Jinki freezes with wide eyes, and Jonghyun stops by his side.

The room is littered with parchment, ink wells, and tools, but Jonghyun only sees a familiar head of blonde hair and a pair of long-pointed ears.

“Whoever you are, I’m busy.” Taemin waves a hand in their direction, not looking up from the parchment in front of him. “And if this is about the broken table in the tavern, that was not related to my dancing on it.”

“You broke a table?” Jonghyun asks.

“Maker, I just said, it wasn’t—” Taemin looks up to them, and the scowl on his lips freezes and falls. His brows knit together, then his eyes go wide, and he looks between them with bewilderment.

“...Jonghyun?” When Jonghyun nods, he stands, focus shifting quickly. “Jinki?”

Jinki steps forward. A grin finally blooms on Taemin’s lips, and he throws his quill to the stone floor and runs to embrace them. “Maker’s balls! What are you two doing here?”

Jinki stiffens in Taemin’s hold, and Jonghyun answers for him. “It’s a long story.”

“I’d expect so!” He pulls back and nods to Jonghyun’s staff. “Though I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised at Jonghyun being here, since we’ve had mages from all over the world join us — but I can’t say I expected it. Never seen you out of that damned clearing before, except those times you hunted with Jinki.”

Jonghyun smiles stiffly. He glances at Jinki, trying to read his expression, but settles on a half-truth when he receives no answer. “Well, you know — I was interested in hearing what happened with the mages.”

“Yeah, they’re allies now — though that’s old news at this point.” Taemin shrugs and turns to Jinki with a raised brow. “But why are you here? There’s no forests for you to frolic through down here, and I can’t imagine you in all your Dalish-righteousness wanting to join an organization so closely tied to the Chantry.”

Jinki looks down and pulls his lip between his teeth. Jonghyun’s fingers itch with the urge to offer a reassuring touch, but he holds back when he sees Jinki draw his breath to speak.

“My clan is gone.” He stops, breath halting as he swallows. “All of them. There were no survivors I could find.”

Taemin gapes. “...Survivors? Then you mean—”

“They were killed,” Jinki says, stone-faced. “I don’t know who did it. I was at Jonghyun’s the night it happened.”

“Maker, I can’t...” Taemin’s hand hovers over Jinki’s shoulder, clearly unsure what to do. “We’d heard of elves being attacked in the Free Marches after they were blamed for a plague, but only in the cities. I had no idea....” Taemin trails off, then clears his throat. “I’m so sorry, Jinki.”

Jinki’s gaze turns sharp. “Who attacked them?”

“It’s a bit complicated, and wrapped up in Inquisition business.” Taemin rubs his nose. “I’m not sure how much the whole story matters.”

“I want to hear everything.”

“Alright, well...” Taemin sighs. “There’s this group called the Venatori that was trying to manipulate all the mages into working for them, in exchange for help in the war.”

“Venatori?” Jinki repeats. He clenches his fist, the knuckles of his shaking hands turning white. “That sounds Tevene.”

“It is. They’re a Tevinter supremacy cult bent on taking over all the lands — typical Tevinter villanry, but worse. We stopped them from getting the mages, but their people are everywhere, it seems — they had their people poison the wells in the city that was close to your clan for some twisted magic experiments, but only the humans ones. And naturally, when the humans got sick, but the elves didn’t, the nobles called it a curse and blamed the elves. So they purged the slums.”

“And my clan.” Jinki swallows. “Are you still fighting them?”

“Of course.” Taemin squeezes Jinki’s shoulder. “That’s our primary mission now — taking down their leader and all their little pockets.”

“Elgar’nan ghilani...” Jinki mumbles. Jonghyun doesn’t have time to recall what god or goddess Jinki invoked before he lifts his chin to look at Taemin directly. “What can I do to help your Inquisition, then?”

“Help...?” Taemin’s eyes widen. “You’d want to join?”

“Yes. If helping you hurts the shems that killed my clan, I will help.”

“Well — we don’t turn away any able warriors...” Taemin glances at Jonghyun for help, but he has none to give. “But are you sure you want to do this? It’s not likely you’ll get to deal with any of the humans responsible for what happened to your clan.”

“Helping you hurts them, doesn’t it?” Jinki says. “And that’s what I want.”

Taemin stares at him, then looks to Jonghyun for something, obviously lost for what to say to Jinki’s sudden determination.

Jonghyun has no help for him — he’s just as shocked.

Jinki crosses his arms and looks down at Taemin. “Do you not want me to join?”

“Of course not — Maker, I know you’re stubborn, and I’m not going to argue with you about it.” Taemin stops, holding back his thoughts for a moment, then continues. “But it’s a bit impulsive. You come here to see me, and now you’re going to join some organization you likely know nothing about—”

“You’re in it, aren’t you? Surely you think good of it.”

“Fine.” Taemin huffs and slumps against the nearest wall. “Speak with the quartermaster first, she’ll find you a place to sleep and an assignment. I can tell you’re in a mood, so I’ll just wait until you’re done and all this has sunk in for us to catch up—” he waves towards the door, but catches Jinki’s eyes with a sympathetic smile before he can turn. “Just know I’m here if you need anything. And I’m sorry for what happened.”

Jinki nods, lips tight, and leaves the room.

Jonghyun watches him leave with a tug in his chest, then smiles apologetically at Taemin.  “Sorry, I should—”

“We’ll catch up later.” Taemin assures him with a pat of his shoulder. “Follow him and make sure Jinki doesn’t do anything stupid., if you don’t mind? You’ve seen how he gets when something sets him off.”

Jonghyun dashes out after Jinki, thoughts racing.

Though he hadn’t expected seeing Taemin to fix everything, he’d imagined a happier reunion for the two friends.  But Jinki’s relief at finding Taemin alive had been snatched away, replaced with anger at the fresh knowledge that the country responsible for his slavery was behind the death of his clan. And now he’s going to throw himself into danger for whatever revenge he can get.

He’d wanted Jinki to find a purpose, since he’d seemed so listless, but he hadn’t imagined it being this.

On their way to Taemin’s room, he hadn’t noticed the view of the expansive fortress yards from the open windows in the hallway, or the decades of wear in the stone walls, but he doesn’t have time to wonder at them as he runs.

At the last doorway, he finally catches up. Jinki halts when he hears his approach, and Jonghyun skids to a stop beside him, boots slipping in the melted snow on the stone until he balances himself on his staff.

“Jinki, wait,” Jonghyun pants. His stomach churns, and the empty ache in his chest is from more than worry at Jinki’s safety.

Jinki had made the decision to join the Inquisition without even looking to him for an opinion.

He swallows that bitterness down. “Would you want me to join with you?”

Jinki turns to him, expression softer than Jonghyun’s seen in days. “You don’t need to.”

“I know.” Jonghyun runs a finger along one of the gouges in his staff, suddenly embarrassed. “But mages from everywhere are here now, too. It would make sense for me to join.”

“That’s true.”

“I mean, it’s not just that....” He reaches for Jinki’s hand and hooks their fingers together. “I meant what I said, when we first started traveling.”

A flush blooms at the high curve of Jinki’s markings. He stares at Jonghyun, lost for what to say, then clears his throat. “We should, uh, find lodging as Taemin suggested. Before dark.”

Jonghyun nods, and together, they step back into the courtyard of the fortress. He only realizes then that Taemin hadn’t given them directions to the quartermaster, forcing him to look around until he finds someone not wrapped up in their work for directions. By the time they’ve figured out where to head in the vast fortress, several humans and a few elves have gathered on the closest battlement, and Jonghyun can tell from the direction of their fingers that they’re pointing to Jinki’s markings.

He’s not sure if Jinki’s noticed, but he hurries them along to the building before anyone bolder can approach them directly.

The quartermaster’s office is already dark when they arrive, and a straight-nosed woman with the chastising stare of a Chantry priestess eyes them narrowly as they enter. “As many odd characters as I get in here, I can’t say I’ve ever seen any Dalish come through.” Her Ferelden accent is thick and drawling, and there’s a visible pause as she takes in the markings on Jinki’s face. “What might you be looking for?”

Jonghyun answers for them, if only to get her attention off Jinki. “A place to stay, if possible.”

“Hm.” She crosses her arms. “Do you plan on joining the Inquisition?”

Jonghyun watches as she picks up a leather notebook with recruits engraved on the front and opens it.

He’d worked so hard to avoid the war between the mages and templars, and now he’s volunteering for an organization that likely sees just as much fighting.

He swallows. “Yes. We both would like to. I’m Jonghyun, and this is Jinki.”

“Well, I take from the staff at your back that you're a mage.” She tilts her head towards Jonghyun, who nods, then at Jinki with a lifted brow. “And your Dalish friend’s skills are...?”

“I was a hunter for my clan,” Jinki says. “I can use a bow as well as daggers. I’m also a skilled carpenter.”

“Hm.” She raises a brow, seeming to size him up, then jots down his name. “We’ll put you with the other recruits. You’ll start with our training captain tomorrow. Meet him out in the east yards at dawn, and you can stay in the soldiers’ barracks for the night. If the captain decides you’re not a good enough fighter, they’ll put you with the workers.” She flips to a different page marked with the symbol for magic and adds Jonghyun’s name. “The mage can stay in the tower.”

“Does he have to stay there?” Jinki asks, and Jonghyun blinks in surprise. “Or is there a way we can have a room together?”

“Together?” She echoes, eyes wide. She looks between them, putting the pieces together — not many circumstances would allow for a human and an elf to become close friends, let alone partners — and Jonghyun feels his cheeks warm from the inspecting stare.

“Well, that’s...” She stops to clear her throat.  That’s a request I can’t fulfill. Guest rooms are for visiting nobility only, so I’d recommend you just go where I told you. But if you’re set on sharing a room, you’re welcome to explore the place — this place is damned big if you haven’t already noticed, and it looks like you already have a bedroll. You might find something for you two.”

After a quick exchange of thanks, Jinki and Jonghyun leave the office behind to search the fortress for somewhere to sleep through the night. Out in the open, there are too many wandering troops and servants for them to set up their tent. They quickly narrow their search to the crannies of the fortress, and the something the quartermaster had suggested turns out to be a small room placed high over the storage barn.

The chill of the mountain is worse than it had been in the courtyard, and Jonghyun thinks with the slightest bit of envy of the heating runes the newly-constructed mage tower must have had built into it already. It at least gives Jinki an excuse to press against him through the whole night, instead of the embrace-and-retreat dance he had been doing since their travels began.

Every breeze that sneaks in makes him shiver. There’s a hole in one of the walls, on his side, and a few dozen in the thatched roof. He manages to pry Jinki off of him long enough to do something about it only when he explains he’s going to cover the source of the draft.

After a moment of searching blindly across the stone floor, he finds the canvas they’d used for their tent and fixes it over the small hole. Satisfied with his work, he crawls back to the bedroll and lifts the top to slip inside, only to jolt at the sudden touch of something on his arm.

He looks down, squinting through the dark until he can discern Jinki’s hand on his wrist.

“Thank you,” he murmurs. “For staying.”

Jonghyun smiles. He pulls his hand away only to lace his fingers with Jinki’s when he joins him fully under the covers. “It’s what I wanted to do. You don’t need to thank me.”

#jongyu #da au #long fic #i love these two soooo much ;-; and i'm p proud of this one #my babies are going thru so much #pls enjoy!!! ^^