#this exact shot and these exact lines awakened something in me that i kind of wish never existed

[ellalalala]

I really disliked the "Roman empire" trend but if I had to choose my Roman empire it would be this part of Nahida's retelling of the Tatarasuna incident

Just this. Nothing else. This is it.

#haven't known peace since this dropped #this exact shot and these exact lines awakened something in me that i kind of wish never existed #“once in a while-” enough #i hate dottore but i also love him so much. he really speaks to me #dottore

[the-force-awakens]

Thoughts on Poe and his relationship with the force? For me, especially in the comics, it's always been one of the most interesting explorations of a non-force user connecting deeply with the force. I keep coming back to Poe's speech at L'ulo's funeral and just sit in awe of the writing for a good for minutes.

Oh, I have so many thoughts on Poe and his relationship with the Force, and a lot of them always go back to that scene in the comics, and something Oscar said in an interview ahead of the Force Awakens:

He knows about Luke and Han. But his family - he comes from a long line of rebel fighters, as well. So he’s committed totally to the Resistance. He believes in the Force. (source)

So, one thing that they seemed to have landed on from the get-go, is that Poe believes in the Force - enough that, y'know, he mentions it as part of his speech at L'ulo's funeral, and one thing stands out to me:

These days, we don't talk about the Force that much. I don't know if it's gone out of fashion, or if it's just harder to see around us. It was different for me growing up. We used to tell stories about the Force all the time.

Which sounds to me like 'believing' in the Force here, doesn't just mean Poe knows it exists, but that he possibly believes in it the way Lor San Tekka and the Church of the Force might - like it's part of Poe's religion. I mean, consider how excited he is to meet Lor San Tekka, and how much Tekka knows - the Force means a lot to Poe, and shapes his worldview.

The rest of my thoughts are technically not disproven by canon, but are the kind of extrapolation that's definitely more "headcanon" than anything:

I think Poe's relationship with the Force is interesting because of how much the Force is seeped into his story, and not just in the sense that Poe believes in the Force in a seemingly religious way: there's the fact that Poe first hears Leia in Free Fall, just outside/around a set of old religious ruins (because Kijimi used to be a religious site, back when). There's the fact that we meet Poe in a village filled with people who do worship the Force, and that it's canon (or semi-canonical) that Poe taps into it on Takodana while flying.

(I think Poe taps into it a lot, actually, if we look at how uncannily intuitive he can be...or the way he can easily dodge blaster fire while running into battle....or how in tune he can be with his wingmen - there's a shot in TLJ of him moving in perfect synchronicity with C'ai, during the briefing with Holdo, that I never noticed. Poe does it with more people than just Finn, apparently, and that fascinates me.)

But I also find it...particularly interesting that Poe is present (or nearby) a lot of the times when Force Sensitives first tap into the Force. He's in the village when Finn connects to it for the first time properly (I'm assuming that's the moment, anyway, since Ren has such a profound reaction to Finn), and - well Rey's a little more shaky, since he's vaguely sort of around, flying on Starkiller, when she fully embraces the Force. But then in Terrifying Tales, he's there when Dean connects to it for the first time as well....

I don't think Poe is properly Force Sensitive, I don't see him being able to lift anything, or stuff like that. But I think the Force loves him, and I think it might get a little stronger around him (hence the above with the Force Sensitives). The Force does just...move strangely around him, I think - he grew up with a Force-sensitive tree in his back yard, he's the right hand of one of the last Jedi in the galaxy (even if she quit training), he's tapped into the Force before while flying (probably more than once, if we're being honest, considering no one in the gffa flies anything remotely like Poe), and there's the very interesting scene in TLJ that - sure, proves that Poe is as good a tactician and leader as Leia - has Poe and Leia come up with the same plan, at the same exact time, from opposite ends of the ship...which is then immediately followed up with Leia having a Force Bond moment with Ren.

And then there's the torture scene. Ren doesn't go easy on him. In the novelization, it's described as "silent agony". In Battlefront II, we see precisely what it's like for the person on the receiving end, and Del does give up the information that Ren needs. In Kenobi, we see Reva get what she needs within seconds.

Ren doesn't...get anything from Poe. According to a Topps Card:

Kylo Ren tortures Poe Dameron in an attempt to extract any information about the Resistance's plans and the map to locate Skywalker. Poe manages to keep the location of the Resistance base a secret, but is in so much pain, he cannot mask his thoughts about BB-8 having the information [source].

By all rights, according to what we've seen in Star Wars and of non-Force Sensitives being interrogated for information...Poe shouldn't have been able to keep anything from Ren. But he did, even while under excruciating agony. Consider how many Resistance secrets are in Poe's head - he knows not just the location of the base, but likely the location of most of their spies considering that Resistance shows that Poe is the one to keep contact with them.

And there's the fact that Poe's torture is something that canonically reverberates throughout the Force, since Ezra hears his voice in the World Between Worlds episode of Star Wars Rebels ("The Resistance will not be intimidated by you").

So, I don't know. I think Poe worships the Force, and I definitely don't think he's a passive agent to it, I do think that he influences it to some degree, and that it influences him to some degree. I think the Force loves Poe right back, and that push and pull dynamic is so interesting to me when so many of the people in his life are Force Sensitive....

and it's utterly heartbreaking to consider that Poe's first experience with it, was on Jakku and the Finalizer, assuming Leia had never used it around him before (which I do find a little doubtful, and I like to think he's seen her do some Force stuff before, but if we wanna go the angsty route lmao...), and that something that he loves and worships, and possibly loves him right back, was then weaponized against him.

#ask box #galacticwildfire #my meta #poe dameron #i just!!! think!!! poe and the force!!! is interesting as hell!!!!! is all!!! #he's so in awe when he sees rey in tlj #and then i also find it so interesting that he looks /concerned/ when she holds back the transport in tros #almost like he knows something *isn't* right about it this time #i am forever rotating this man and his relationship with the force around in my brain ough

[oftenderweapons]

heyhey! if possible, i’d like to place my order for a strawberry smoothie + spinach & artichoke dip + clam chowder + bbq sandwich. thank youuuu 💕💕

Pairing: Taehyung x reader

Wordcount: 3.3k

Genre: smut. Final fluff. But mostly smut. Pining. Drabble for Bangtan Bistro

Rating: 18+

Tonight we’re serving

- Strawberry Smootie: Kim Taehyung

- Spinach and Artichoke dip: Smut

- Clam Chowder: “What do you mean my meal has already been paid for?” (It’s been rephrased for stylistic purposes)

- BBQ sandwich: Celebrity in Disguise (you need to squint but I swear it’s there just read till the end LOL disguise might have been taken a bit too literally)

TRIGGER WARNINGS: okay, mild alcohol consumption (wine, brandied cherries), swearing, dirty talking, heavy flirting, making out, oral sex (sixty-nine, face fucking male receiving), brief masturbation (male and female receiving), briefest mention of rimming female receiving (just a quick lick *wink wonk*), quite rough sex, manhandling, one degrading comment, impregnation kink and breeding kink, lactation kink (I guess), mild bondage (knees), outright ramming, cumeating and creampie. Final soft, sweet surprise I don’t wanna spoil, I promise it’s a good thing.

Remember to vote for next prompt here and here is my complete masterlist!

Also, lemme self promote my new Taehyung AU

Bfbfhreb there, ready to go! Enjoy 💜✨

Feeling the scorching hotness against your spine was exciting. His eyes were there, planted against the see-through back of your blouse and you could feel them like molten metal dripping down your skin.

He was following the line of pearl buttons tracing your spine, holding close the sheer peacock blue gossamer.

Taehyung licked his lips subconsciously, his mind already wild with pictures of his fingers snapping every button open, one by one.

“Sir, may I ask your order?” A waiter interrupted his musings.

The young man startled. “Steak. Rare. And… Uhm, you do have a Nobile di Montepulciano 2018, right? Just a glass. One for the lady at the bar too. Roasted vegetables with the steak.” He closed the menu and placed it on the table. He loosened his tie discreetly.

The waiter checked the wine chart and confirmed the order. “The steak right away? No appetisers?” He asked.

Taehyung followed you as a polished waitress accompanied you to a table across the room, the iridescent fabric of your top shimmering in a holographic effect under the soft light of the chandeliers.

“No appetisers,” he confirmed, his eyes never leaving you. “About that glass of merlot for the lady. She has moved over there,” he curtly indicated the direction with a nod of his chin. Looking at the waiter he searched the backpocket of his slacks. “Now,” He extracted his wallet, looking for a note and laying a 50,000 won piece on the table. “I know this might come off as rude but I’m asking for more than food, so…” Taehyung let the sentence fall eloquently. “Tell me something about her. Name, phone number, shoe size, I don’t care as long as I get to see her again.”

The waiter’s eyebrows shot up. “Of course, sir. She usually comes here with her friends, but tonight apparently she is by herself. They usually come on Thursday night.”

Thursday, of course.

Taehyung smiled. “Thank you. But I need a bit more than that.”

“I’ll come back with more, I promise.” The waiter bowed politely and left. Shortly after, Taehyung noticed the waiter walking to your table bottle in hand, gesturing to the other table as he talked to you discreetly. From the distance he could recognise a small smirk aimed in his direction, before you turned to the waiter, batting your lashes as you nodded.

He noticed a set of earrings glimmering like twin stars at your earlobes, while a fine thread of diamonds adorned your neck, matching the other pair of jewels.

The waiter poured your wine and leaned towards you, the epitome of politeness as he explained the situation very elegantly.

You were slightly surprised but didn’t let his words sway you too much. Keeping a sphinx-like composure you said something Taehyung couldn’t decipher from the distance, the waiter walking in his direction straight away.

“The lady said she is waiting for you to drink, sir.”

Glass half full, Taehyung lifted it in your direction, waiting for you to mirror the gesture. He cocked an eyebrow as you did, tipping the rim in your direction before bringing it to his lips and taking a small sip, observing your red lips lay on the glass while your neck stretched.

Watching your throat move as you swallowed was a vision too erotic for him to handle, and he politely fixed his stance, trying to alleviate his need.

Just as his steak was delivered, he was struck by surprise as the same dish was served at your table.

If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought it a shame that you and him were sitting alone, ten metres apart at two different tables.

A part of him was pleased to realise that you had specifically asked his exact same order; however, his ego was drastically redimensioned once you started eating. You were a tease, licking your lips as the juices from the meat glistened on the deep scarlet colour of your lip tint. He felt embarrassed at the amount of details he could see now thanks to arousal, feeling like a predator as he studied your hands gripping the cutlery, your mouth opening wide for a bite too big, and the wine. He loved watching you drink. He loved watching the diamonds twinkle as your throat moved.

He was almost sad the moment he noticed you had both finished the food.

“Please, put the lady’s bill on me,” the waiter nodded as he took the empty dishes away.

“She wanted me to tell you her shoe size is seven and a half and that she doesn’t want anything less than six inches.”

Taehyung snickered and looked at the table cloth as he felt his cheeks blush. “I know I’m asking a lot of you, but would you tell the lady that I’m interested in another kind of number?”

“About that, she mentioned 100-85-120. I believe you can understand perfectly.” The waiter commented. “May I bring the dessert chart? Or would you perhaps be interested in today’s special?”

Taehyung nodded to himself. “What about your divine flaming cherry bites?”

The waiter bowed his head in acknowledgement. “For the lady too?”

Taehyung smiled. “Yes.”

The older man was glad to assist the young customer, not at all because of the tip — he would have considered it rude from anyone else, however the warm smiles and the way he used honorifics and register had the man trusting the wealthy, polished kid. He almost felt fatherly sympathy for the smooth charmer sitting at the table: he looked at the woman with nothing but adoration and devotion. There were at least twenty women in the room, some of which had way more skin on show, and way sultrier looks; still, he only had eyes for you.

Once dessert was delivered at both your tables, the flirting resumed, your instincts awakening dangerously as he made a fine work of licking his fingertips, stained with the chocolate sauce covering the brandied cherries elegantly placed on a small pastry basket.

It was your turn to catch fire as you stared at his deep, dark eyes, his unwavering glance, and the beautiful shape of his mouth, his brown, wavy locks pushed back elegantly. He looked like the devil.

And you had every intention of burning in his flames.

As you asked for the bill, the waiter shook his head politely. “The gentleman at the table over there has already taken care of it, miss.”

Your eyebrows shot up before you smirked. “Then I think I should stop by and thank him.”

“He’ll be more than glad, miss.”

“Thank you for your help. I hope your shift will proceed smoothly, mr Lim.” You rose to your feet.

“It is always a pleasure having you here. Greet your friends on my behalf.”

You chuckled gently. The kind, warm man had seen you and your mates come across the foyer so many times, for dinner or for drinks. He always exchanged greetings and was always happy whenever you asked him about his family and the business. “Will do. Goodnight then.”

“Goodnight, miss.”

You took slow steps in the man’s direction, stopping beside him. “I believe I owe you a thank you.”

“No need to thank me.” He said, looking up at you.

“What if I wanted to thank you.” You replied slowly and quietly.

“How?”

“An empty hotel room can be very lonely.” You said, looking at your feet and toying with a keycard in your hands. “I’ve booked a room to celebrate my birthday and let me tell you everything has been so dull so far.” You pouted a little before shrugging casually. “Maybe we could turn the night a little brighter.”

“I am a gentleman, I don’t really like visiting ladies in their private rooms.” He looked away theatrically. “However, how would I disappoint such a refined woman? And leave you all alone on your birthday. I believe that would be unforgivable.”

“Indeed.” You confirmed.

As he stood up, he placed an arm around your waist. “Sorry, I tend to be an old school romantic. Stop me if you feel uncomfortable.”

“I love a bit of romance.” You smiled at him, batting your lashes seducingly. “What brings you here for a lonely dinner?”

“Business.” He replied curtly.

You snickered. “Of course.”

“Floor?” He asked once in the lift.

“Thirty-fourth,” you replied, fixing your skirt.

“Pretty high up,” he commented, pressing the button.

You resisted ten floors before staring at his lips. By floor fourteen his mouth landed on yours, sucking your lower lip, enjoying the plumpness of it before he opened wide, his tongue sliding out and entering your mouth, tickling your palate before swirling round your appendage.

His palm caressed your side, reaching your asscheek and squeezing it, his throat emitting a low hum.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t hold on anymore,” he apologised as he parted from you once the doors dinged and opened.

You fixed your hair, his hand gesturing for you to lead the way — an excellent excuse to stare at your behind as you walked in front of him.

Once you reached the door, he kissed your nape while you slipped the keycard into the lock. His hands were already fumbling with the tiny buttons before the door would even buzz open.

“You can call me Nymph.” You said, as his hands proceeded working the small buttons.

“Of course. I'm Sir to you.” He stated sternly.

You smiled and shook your head. “Of course.”

You turned around and took off your shirt. “Get yourself naked.” You said distractedly.

He clenched his jaw at your command but obeyed nonetheless. “Nothing less than six inches?” He commented as you slipped off your heels, his glance following the red soles of your stilettos.

With a hand to his chest you pushed him with his back to the wall and teasingly dragged your palm all the way to his belt, lingering there a while before moving further down. “I’m sure you can deliver.”

“In kind.” He smirked, his eyes rolling shut as your fingers teased him over his slacks.

“Naked, now, sir.” You ordered.

“A hungry Nymph we have here.” He commented, undoing his necktie and throwing it on the bed. Next, he only undid the buttons necessary to get his shirt off. His undershirt was gone in seconds, just as your blouse and skirt disappeared, your body clad in a burnt pink silk slip.

Taehyung licked his lips and undid his belt, kicking his slippers close to the door before getting rid of his trousers lightning fast.

“Shall I get on the bed?” You asked, taking a few steps back.

“Oh no. Stay right there, Nymph.” He ordered, standing in nothing but his underwear before placing his hands around your waist and pulling you closer, kissing your neck, your chest, your hardened nipples hidden underneath the smooth silk. He began walking you backwards to the bed.

“Climb,” he purred once the back of your calves touched the mattress, making you turn to face the bed, your body kneeling on the comforter before he pushed your front down, getting you on all fours. He flipped your slip up, exposing your skimpy panties. “I’m gonna rip these.” he growled before biting your ass.

“Don’t. Just take them off.” You replied, turning around to look at him with imploring eyes. You didn't want to ruin the set.

He followed your request, immediately dipping his nose in your wetness once he managed to unstick the fabric from your folds. Shamelessly, he moaned as his tongue went from your dripping hole to your puckered one, laving it lewdly.

“Yes, Sir.” You keened, pushing back against his tongue.

He chuckled, parting from you, standing to his feet and taking off his boxers.

His cock pulsated painfully at the sight of you, at the way you stared at him while he reached the other side of the bed and laid down, settling in the middle, his erection right below your awaiting mouth.

You tried to lower yourself and swallow his tip, however he stopped you. “Get on my face right now, Nymph. I wanna see if you taste as expensive as you look.” He growled.

You simply licked your lips, his cock twitching as your hot exhale caressed his flushed skin. He was so veiny, and all you wanted to do was check if you could feel that against your inner walls. Straddling his face, you settled on top of him, not wasting a second before taking him in your mouth now that he was underneath you, under your control.

He moaned sinfully, his breath hitting your moist skin before his tongue flicked against your entrance, eliciting a contented hum.

For a few minutes all you could hear was the sounds of you sucking his cock, wet slurps filling your ears as your mouth became messy with saliva and his precum. At the same time, Taehyung was enjoying your cunt covering his whole face in juices, while some of his own spit eventually landed on his cheeks, coating his chin and nose too.

He was starved, shameless, wild. He parted from your folds only long enough to say 'naked, now'.

It didn't feel like there was any room for insubordination.

You freed his cock only long enough to remove your slip, sucking it back in your mouth before you took off your bra. As his hands met your breasts, grabbing them with thrilling pain, you felt him push you upwards away from his sex.

“I don't want to cum in your mouth. Gimme that tight, dripping cunt, Nymph,” he growled, touching your clit while his tongue teased the softest flesh of your labia.

“I'm going to ride your face, Sir?” You asked, feeling your breasts starting to bounce as your hips began grinding against him.

“Fuck my face, sweetness.” He replied, your body following his command straight away, your mouth opening in brainless, fucked out whimpers as your orgasm approached.

He kept going.

And even when you started to cum, he went on.

Even when you were humping against him ruthlessly, violently, he continued.

And when he noticed a second high take over, he outright refused to let go, no matter if you cried and begged and yelped.

He only calmed down once he felt you grab his cock and begin to stroke.

He slapped your mound violently, growling minaciously before he pushed you forward, on all fours, grabbing your thighs and opening his legs so that your front fell against the mattress once he pulled your knees from beneath you, placing your drenched core right against his crotch.

His stronger hand spanked your ass. “I told you I want to cum in your cunt and that's what you do?” He hit again. “Touch me so I'll have to cum on my belly like a teen nerd?” Another spank. “Hope you're gonna stay put now.”

He maneuvered the tip to your hole, sliding the head inside.

You purred and whined once you felt him sheathed deep in your core.

The angle was majestic. His upward curve teased the back of your vagina, rubbing against all the right spots, the soft head pressing against the inner nerves of your clitoris.

Just as you tried moving your hips against him, he sat up straighter and grabbed your hips, shoving you on his cock with breakneck speed, making your front burn with the friction against the sheets.

“Sir, please. Please it burns.” You called, desperate after a minute or so, feeling your control slip.

He gave a few more thrusts before he realised you had voiced discomfort. “Inside? Am I going too fast, does it hurt?” He spoke with tenderness and apprehension.

You shook your head. “My chest against the sheets.” You explained with a small whine.

He nodded and laid down,catching your leg and leading it in a half circle motion, helping you roll on your back as you unstraddled him.

However, his kindness was short-lived. As soon as he found your calves beside his chest, he grabbed your ankles and sat up, bending your knees and blocking them with his forearm; his free hand searched for the necktie and, once he found it, he expertly slid it beneath your legs, and then around them, tying a knot above the swell of your calves.

You stared at him with your mouth open, eyes wide and inquisitive before a naughty grin lit up your face.

He rose to his knees, crawling closer to you, bending your knees to your chest and letting your ankles settle over his left shoulder.

“Hold on tight, Nymph.” He said, bracing a hand beside your face as he lined his shaft with your cunt, sliding in effortlessly, grunting at the unspeakable tightness of your sex. “Fuck me so good, sweetness.” He mumbled. “I'm gonna rail you.” He groaned as he felt his balls tighten. “I'm gonna fill you up and watch those tits grow once you're full of my babies.” He teased. “Now you're gonna milk this cock and take every drop of my cum.”

You mewled at his sinful intent, squeezing round him and feeling his hand generously finger your clit.

“Please, fill me up. Please. I want to be heavy with your babies.”

“And you're gonna lactate them.” He whispered darkly at your ear, making the gesture feel so dirty, even though it was just natural mammal anatomy.

“I will, Sir.” You cried out, feeling your end tower over you.

“And once they're done suckling, I'll take my turn.” He growled. He had only maybe three strokes left before he would cum.

“I'm yours. All yours. Please, breed me, Sir. I'm yours,” you wailed, voice close to breaking.

“You are my horny little cumslut,” he snarled before joining your mouth with his, covering both your and his cries as you finally reached the peak.

His cock drilled deep into you as he coated your inner walls in cum, the hotness and stickiness of it pouring out of you and gluing him to your entrance.

It felt magnificent.

“I know you.” He whispered gently at your ear. “My most precious darling.”

You were still drifting ecstatically, your eyes opening slowly, lazily.

“Hello Lace.” He cooed at you, smiling softly. “Welcome back, my love.”

You mirrored his smirk and wiggled your feet against his shoulder. “Hello, my beloved fiancé. Would you please do me the courtesy of untying that?” You arched an eyebrow.

He chuckled and obeyed, almost expecting you to slide off of him; instead, you simply moved a leg to his other side and crossed your ankles behind him to tug him close to you.

“That impregnation thingie really got you going, uh?” You said, wiggling your eyebrows at him.

He nodded and kissed your chest, cupping it softly and pecking your nipples, your skin still flushed from the burning friction and the recent orgasm. “Even though I know you're covered, I find the idea so sexy.” He confirmed, pressing his face to the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent. “You looked very hot in that outfit. It really made me want to seduce you all over again.”

“It was fun watching you act the part. You even tipped the waiter.” You chuckled.

“You told me your measurements, Miss 'no less than six inches'.” He kissed your earlobe. “Do you know they're the combination of the apartment safe?”

You laughed and then quieted down for a second. “I wanted to jump your bones the very moment I saw you.”

“Happy to know my future wife still gets the hots for me.” He commented, matter-of-factly.

You giggled quietly. “I love you.”

He combed your hair slowly, tenderly. “I love you too.”

#taehyung x reader #kim taehyung smut #thebtswritersclub #thetruthuntoldnet #bangtansorciere #taehyung x yn #taehyung fluff

[mymostimaginaryfriend]

one inch from the edge of this bed

♛ 5x01: James dreams about Teresa. (1.6k words; rating Mature: language, violence, sexual situations) tags: james can have some magical realism as a treat, morphine is a helluva drug

 ➢ read on ao3 or below the cut:  

(note: I originally wrote this as part of a longer story about James’ journey to reunite with Teresa, so for the purpose of this drabble, morphine is making him forget he’s already seen her...cool? cool. thanks for reading!)

♛

James rarely sleeps deeply enough to dream. What starts as a coping mechanism in his childhood only gets cemented further by the military. Now no matter how tired he becomes, he can never quite turn off that last light in the back of his head. It’s for the best, probably. The things he’s seen—the shit he’s done. Who knows what nightmare would crawl out of the well of his subconscious if given half the chance.

The rare times he does dream, he’s usually able to wake himself up within a matter of seconds. It’s automatic now, like he’s rewired a shortcut in his brain. By the time he opens his eyes the dream is nothing more than a faint memory skipping across the surface of his mind without ever dropping an anchor.

The big, bad assassin and his built-in night light. He’d laugh if he didn’t count it as yet another valuable weapon in his arsenal.  It’s not like he doesn’t know this concession by his personal demons is only a layaway plan. Whatever he doesn’t pay for now will come due at least ten times over later.

Still, when he opens his eyes to see morning light filtered through breeze-stirred curtains, he doesn’t catch on right away. It’s not the sunshine that tips him off or the softness of the bed. It’s not the light breeze wafting through the open window, or even the dip of the mattress behind him.

It’s a sense of peace he hasn’t known in nearly a year. It’s the sound of her hushed voice, whispering his name.

“Don’t hide from me,” she says. “I know you’re awake.”

His heart leaps then plummets at the smile he hears in her words, sweet joy chased by sick panic. It’s not just the nightmares he’s been avoiding in his sleep. 

Dreaming of Teresa is an indulgence he can no longer afford.

When he left with Devon, he knew he’d need more than just physical distance between her and his new life, from what he’d have to do there and who he might have to become to do it. He couldn’t risk it warping his feelings for her.  He couldn’t let it twist his memories or cloud his purpose.

So in the last moments of his freedom, as Devon drove him away into the night, he allowed himself to hold close all that she meant to him: her innate goodness, her fierce bravery, how her eyes warmed whenever she smiled.

And then he built a room around those memories—built the wall brick by brick in his mind until they were shut away. He didn’t need a key. He didn’t even build a door. It was the only way of protecting both those memories and himself.

Leaving her meant leaving her behind.

One look at her now will undo all of his careful compartmentalization. One look at her, no matter if she’s real or imagined, will destroy those walls to dust.  He can’t get off mission, he has to stay on task, he has to—he can’t remember what exactly.  But it feels important, deathly so.

He closes his eyes and waits for the awareness of the dream to catapult him to consciousness but something is wrong. His mind refuses to obey the command.

Error: shortcut not found.

And with every passing second it’s harder to remember why it’s so important for him to resist, his urgency to awaken quickly replaced by an urgency of a different kind.  He can’t stop the hum in the back of his throat at the touch of her fingers brushing across his abdomen or how his body automatically angles itself toward the warmth of hers, inexorable like the tide.

She laughs and the sound of her joy hooks beneath his ribcage, turning him toward her.  They never had enough time.  Little things like lying in bed together, easing into the day with lazy touches and hushed sighs turned into something valuable, something to hold on to, something that’s supposed to be in a lockbox behind a fucking brick wall.

“Hmm, it’s like that is it?” she asks, voice like warm honey sending an anticipatory flare of heat up his spine. “Let’s see if I can’t wake you up.”

The drag of her hair across his chest is all the warning he needs before her lips find his and what’s left of his resistance falls away like tumblers in a lock.  There are no more walls left between them now. No air. Just heat, hands and skin so soft he can barely manage not to bruise it in his desperate need to get her even closer.

An alarm bell rings in some distant corner of his mind, but one hand has already buried itself in her hair, angling her head for better access to her mouth.  The other has slipped beneath her sleep worn shirt, fingers brushing up her ribs to the soft, warm weight of her breast.

This isn’t real.

He doesn’t fucking care.

The past year has been a brutally cold one, filled with blood-soaked ops and people he couldn’t trust.  He’s spent the last twelve months always on guard, either enacting violence, experiencing it or expecting it. To have Teresa here, tangibly safe in his arms, and so, so warm is almost more than he can take, let alone resist.

Her breath stutters against his lips and it feels like a hit of pure oxygen, like she’s reviving him from the dead.

He opens his eyes, pushing her hair back up and out of her face to take her in. She always smiled more freely in their quiet moments together, something that made him feel more powerful than any firearm ever had. Her lips curve now, soft and sweet, her eyes half lidded by pleasure and the knife that’s lodged in his heart tears a downward path, spilling all of his carefully contained emotions from the wound. His grip on her waist tightens too much to go unnoticed.

“What’s wrong?” Her eyes flicker quickly over his face, the ever present worry never too far from the surface of their lives.

He wants to reassure her, to hold onto the playfulness between them, but the ache of it makes him honest. “I miss you.”

“I’m right here,” she replies, voice barely a whisper, perhaps sensing the deadly seriousness of his words. He’s never missed anything half as much as her.  It used to scare him to think of what he’d be willing to do to have this once again. What lines he’d cross to get back to her, to this.

He no longer wonders anymore.  He knows.  The knowledge that he’d do it all over again if it kept her safe didn’t absolve his crimes.  It sure as hell didn’t silence the echo of screams in his head.

“Are you?” His voice is rough but he gentles his hand, smoothing it down her hip to lightly grip her thigh, relishing the strength he can feel beneath his fingertips. He forces a smirk, an attempt to salvage the lightheartedness, and though the slight narrowing of her eyes suggests she sees right through his façade, she concedes to his wishes with a soft smile, tossing her hair over one shoulder to lean down and nip his jawline.

“What do you miss?” she teases, biting gently at the tendon of his neck, sucking lightly at first then sharper.  “This?”

His breath catches in his throat and she hums her approval into his skin.  “Or maybe this?” she murmurs, shifting to run a flat palm down his belly, lower and lower until she’s cupping him through his boxer briefs.

He groans as she strokes him, and she smiles in delight as his hips reflexively rock up into her hand. Her eyes lock onto his, like she knows exactly what power she has over him, like she wants to see the exact moment he surrenders.  It won’t take long. It feels so fucking good that it’s only his pride that keeps him from panting.

Her eyes dance wickedly.  “Or maybe this?”

As quick as lightning, she releases him to grab at his waist, tickling in just the right spot to make him nearly levitate off the bed.

“Fuck,” he laughs, grabbing for her wrists to roll her underneath him, pinning her arms above her head. She’s breathless and beaming and so goddamned pleased with herself that he can’t take his eyes off of her.  She’s beautiful.

“This,” he murmurs, slotting himself between her legs, rolling his hips hard and slow, repeating the movement when her face goes slack with pleasure.

“This,” he breathes, as her heels dig into the back of his thighs, pressing him closer as he leans down to catch her moan with his mouth.

This, he thinks, losing himself in the hazy heat of her. This, this, this.

He senses it a split-second before it happens, like a sudden change in air pressure.  The distant urgency of his mission slamming into focus with the echo of a high powered rifle shot and the shattering glass of the window.

Fiery pain rips through his abdomen, but it's the soft cry beneath him that has him in agony.

He remembers now what was so important.  He remembers now what he was supposed to do.

“Teresa,” he chokes, slumping to the side to get himself fully between her and the window.  He's losing strength fast, barely able to prop himself up enough to assess the damage.  At first he thinks the blood covering her chest is his own, but then he sees it: the entry wound where the bullet passed through him into her.

Her eyes stare up at him in disbelief, words gurgling around the blood pooling in her throat. “James?”

He has to —

“James,” she repeats, blood trickling out the corner of her mouth, her voice growing faint.  

He has to —

“Save me.”

♛

ao3

#queen of the south #qots #qots fic #jeresa #*ficbyme #i figured everyone else put james Through It this week why not me too lol #i've always wanted an el santo james hallucination but a morphine dream will work #thanks for reading!!!

[murasaki-murasame]

Thoughts on Higurashi Sotsu Ep14

Do you ever wanna just watch two little girls who are actually 100+ year old witches beat the absolute SHIT out of each other for 20 minutes straight? :)

Anyway, thoughts under the cut. Plus Umineko spoilers.

Part of this might just be because I’ve been high on painkillers for a few weeks now [long story short, I’ve got a lot of dental work that needs done], but this is perhaps the most entertaining episode of anime I’ve seen all year, lol. Not even in a jokey ironic ‘so bad it’s good’ way.

I feel like this is going to be the most polarizing episode of this whole show, because for better or worse it really crosses the line between Higurashi and Umineko, so whether or not you’re a fan of that whole trajectory the story’s been taking will really change how you feel about this.

Though to be honest I think on one level people are ignoring how Higurashi has always had a lot of these things in it. For one thing, the concept of the fragment space and ‘game boards’ has been a thing since Minagoroshi, and we’ve always had stuff like Hanyuu being a literal god who can manifest in the real world, and the existence of the mythical sword was hinted at in Matsuribayashi and then expanded upon in Kotohogushi. This episode also directly referenced the over the top rooftop fight scene from Tsumihoroboshi, which was just the start of Higurashi having lots of fun and silly fight scenes, like the fights between the club members and the military in Matsuribayashi, or the whole fighting game spin-off arc thing. Even in the VN there was an intentional shift from horror and mystery to high-octane fight scenes fueled by the power of friendship and miracles.

Obviously on the other hand there’s definite Umineko stuff going on here, but in general this feels like a pretty natural progression for this series to take.

Anyway, this was absolutely worth the wait, and it goes a long way toward making up for how bad the pacing in Sotsu has been thus far, lol. I still think they could have cut this down by at least two or three episodes, but still. As a climax to this whole conflict between Rika and Satoko, it was really cool.

Sort of like how Nekodamashi had it’s rollercoaster death montage, I really loved how this whole episode transitioned between fragments in increasingly seamless and surreal ways. The use of transition cuts between scenes was honestly really cool, and made it way more dynamic and engaging than it otherwise would have been to basically have an entire episode spent on one fight scene.

I think a lot of people are hung up on the exact logistics of how the fragment-hopping worked in this episode, but I don’t really think you should read into it too much. It basically operated on dream logic and heightened emotions. In the first few fragments Satoko might have waited a bit before attacking Rika, but it very quickly became one continuous sequence of events for all intents and purposes, with how their back and forth dialogue and their exact movements transitioned from one fragment to the next.

Basically it ended up becoming a fight between voyager witches who have become totally divorced from reality and just hop from one fragment to the next whenever they please.

I was wondering how they’d follow up on the gun scene, since it created this stalemate where they both know what’s going on and thus have no reason to surrender, but I really like how they decided to take this. I know a lot of people have been wanting more of a drawn out battle of wits between them, but the whole concept of them just getting into an endless fight with each other now that everything’s out in the open is extremely entertaining to watch.

It does make me even more convinced that it was a bad idea to have Nekodamashi happen in Gou, though. The immediate resolution to the cliffhanger was more anti-climactic than most people would have wanted after so much time spent leading back up to it, and the whole tone and pacing of Nekodamashi would have flowed very seamlessly into this. It also would have fixed the issue of the last two episodes being almost entirely recaps if this was instead the first time that we saw the Nekodamashi loops.

Anyway, there’s been a lot of debate about whether or not we might get a third season or some other kind of continuation to this, and I think this episode makes me way more convinced that it’s actually just going to end here, whether people like it or not. I think I’ve already said that there’s literally nothing the story needs to do anymore except have Rika and Satoko hash things out with each other, and that’s exactly what they’re focusing on now. Maybe they could spend time recapping Satokowashi, but that’d be extremely pointless. And at this point it’s pretty clear that one way or another the other club members just aren’t going to be very important to this story. There’s a bit of a loose end with their teenage selves showing up in the OP with new outfits, but that might be as simple as an epilogue scene set back in the Matsuribayashi fragment or something, and them looking ominous might be a red herring.

Also, in a more meta sense, there’s certain stuff the staff are doing and saying that make this seem like the finale of the whole series, like how in a couple months they’re going to release a congratulatory book compiling all the official artwork and interviews for Gou/Sotsu, or how they recently released a compilation CD of all of Ayane’s Higurashi-related songs, or how [I think] the artist for the Gou manga said on Twitter that the new chapter that just came out will be the last one to come out while the anime’s airing. We’re also getting two new Higurashi manga arcs starting soon, along with the reveal that the Gou manga will diverge from the anime and go into a new answer arc called Higurashi Jun.

So in general it just comes across like everything’s being wrapped up with Sotsu. I can see why people would be disappointed if we don’t get more, but with how the story’s been going, there’s just not really much material left to work with. Also, we know from TV listings that there at least won’t be a direct continuation in the next season, so if we get anything more it wouldn’t happen until January at earliest, and at this point I’d rather things just wrap up here instead of having to wait even longer to get the actual ending, lol.

I guess we won’t know how things will end until next week, but we really seem to be barrelling headfirst into this being Bern and Lambda’s origin story. Which has been pretty obvious for ages now, but this episode in particular really cements it. This whole fight is really similar to the one they have in Episode 8, and you can see throughout the episode how they’re embracing their looper/witch personas and becoming divorced from reality. You can even see the foundation for how Bern and Lambda have a twisted love for each other based on the fact that they’re basically the only people who can actually understand each other, and they’re so detached from reality that the violence between them is more like a sign of affection.

I feel like this is also going to end up tying into the miracle that Hanyuu is waiting for. At the moment we’re in a situation where it seems like they’re stuck in an infinite stalemate because they’re in a fight where neither of them wants to lose, but neither of them wants to win if it means permanently killing the other. So it seems like there might not really be any way out of this, but if they’re able to truly forgive each other and embrace their identities as witches, then they can basically step away from this entire conflict and just enjoy being with each other. It seems impossible for this to end with either of them ‘winning’ and things going back to how they used to be, so it could certainly be called a miracle if they both decide that they’re OK with that, and they take a third option where they can both be happy in a way that neither of them would have predicted at first.

This could also lead to a situation where Rika is able to ascend to a higher level by letting go of her human side once and for all, which could give her the ability to appear in the part of the fragment space where Eua and Hanyuu are, so she can save Hanyuu from getting killed by Eua’s spear.

And on that note, the whole bit with Hanyuu at the end actually reminds me a lot of the idea of logic errors in Umineko. I think people kinda over-use that term when it comes to stuff in this series where it doesn’t really fit, but that scene was actually extremely similar to the whole set-up where Battler got stuck in a locked room that he couldn’t come up with an answer to get out of, and he had to wait for the ‘miracle’ of Beatrice awakening so that Kanon could arrive and save him. Hanyuu is in a position where she’s already committed to flying straight at Eua, but the spear is right in front of her face and about to kill her once time starts again, and she has to wait for a ‘miracle’ to happen to change her fate. Which is also a lot like how in Matsuribayashi she almost got shot by Takano, but a miracle happened and Rika was able to divert the bullet. So it’d make a lot of sense in general if in the next episode we see Rika show up there and save Hanyuu.

And considering how Featherine acts in Umineko, I could honestly see Eua sticking to her word and rewarding Hanyuu if a miracle like that actually happens and saves her. So even if it’s anti-climactic, this might end with Eua accepting her loss and backing off, and maybe not even doing anything to punish Satoko for losing in her fight against Rika. Which is part of why I think the whole lingering threat of the ‘world without Rika’ might not even lead to anything and might just be a vague threat towards Satoko that never materializes.

Other than that, I think the last episode will probably also involve us going back to Matsuribayashi and seeing what sort of ending Rika and Satoko’s ‘human selves’ get once their ‘witch selves’ leave them behind once and for all. Which will probably just be along the lines of Rika going to the Saiguden to check up on Satoko, and them heading over to the cafe where the other club members [and probably Satoshi as well] are waiting for them, and it’ll just end on the note of them presumably working things out between each other peacefully.

Along those same lines, I think that the whole story of Gou/Sotsu will also get somewhat recontextualized as being a sort of deranged power fantasy that Satoko came up with in her head while visiting the Saiguden. I don’t think that’d be intended to devalue anything that happened here, but it’d be like how Umineko presents enough narrative framework for a non-magical interpretation of everything, while at the same time still acknowledging the value of the magical interpretation.

While I remember, I’m curious to see how the manga version turns out, since it’s clearly diverging a fair bit from the anime. It might just be an alternate take on the story concept, but at this point I think it might be presented as an ‘earlier loop’ of Gou/Sotsu, with how it’s been implied that Eua and Satoko have met before without Satoko remembering it. So maybe this whole series of events has repeated over and over again, presumably with Satoko ‘losing’ each time so things get reset, and Gou/Sotsu is the final iteration of that loop where they’re finally able to achieve a miracle.

I feel like the manga version is probably gonna end up being closer to what people wanted out of Sotsu, since it seems to be going in the direction of Rika knowing everything without Satoko knowing that, so they can have more of a drawn out conflict between each other as Rika tries to figure out how to win. Which is one way to take the story, but I still like how the anime ended up doing it, even if it could have been paced a lot better. I also think that the manga isn’t exactly a straight improvement over the anime anyway. There’s stuff it does well, but there’s stuff it doesn’t do well, like how the whole Nekodamashi arc feels extremely weird in the context of Rika not remembering her deaths [or at least not being given a clear reason for why she can suddenly remember them], her not deciding to go for five more loops before killing herself, and Satoko apparently not having any idea about Rika remembering her deaths, which seems to defeat the point of Nekodamashi’s rapid-fire death loops.

Either way I’m curious to see how Jun goes. I assume that we’ll still get some version of Satokowashi out of it, but I think that unlike with Sotsu they’ll spend much less time on answering the damashi arcs, and I also think at this point that the answers to them won’t be exactly the same as they were in the anime either.

Also, we recently found out that two entirely new Higurashi manga arcs will start in November, called Oniokoshi and Hoshiwatashi, which seem to be collectively referred to as Higurashi Rei, using the kanji from ‘the Reiwa era’, since it seems like the idea of these new arcs is that they take place in the Reiwa era. Oniokoshi seems to be about Keiichi’s son and a new mysterious character, while Hoshiwatashi seems to be about two entirely new characters, so I’m really curious to see how their stories pan out. I’m particularly excited about Oniokoshi since it’s being drawn by Natsumi Kei, who’s basically the primary artist for the Umineko manga, so that kinda makes me biased towards it, lol. And even though there’s basically nothing to go off of except for one preview image, it looks like it might go in a bit of a gay direction, which would be really neat. But we’ll see how it goes.

So yeah, I guess at this point with where things are going I’m gonna be really disappointed if we don’t get something like an Umineko remake after this, lol. It wouldn’t be very satisfying if it just ends on the note of ‘go and read the Umineko VN’ or something.

#murasaki rambles #higurashi #higurashi sotsu

[writeofmind]

a ghost?! (pt. 1)

Genre: fluff, slow burn, multi-shot <3

Pairing: College!Rosé x Reader

anon: Hi! If possible could you make a master list of all the fics and scenarios you have posted? 😅 I’d also like to request a blackpink college AU focused on Female Reader x Rosé 🥺 lots of fluff and maybe some slow burn and smut? I’d be happy with any Rosé fluff or blackpink fluff though 🤍🤲🏻 thank you 😊

A/N: hi, j anon! this is part 1/? of your slow burn college!au. :D I will try to make this as slow and fluffy as possible. i don’t have a specific plot that i’m sticking to rn, but i have general ideas that i’m very excited to write. that being said, feel free to send in suggestions as to how you want this story to go! (or you can leave it up to me, and be in for cute surprises >:) ) 

a ghost?! | caramel lattes | your favorite regular

-

There were two things that you learned from living your college life. One, you definitely weren’t a morning person, and two, your roommate was a ghost. 

Not literally. The thing was just that you had never formally met them; when you moved in, they weren’t home, and when you would wake up in the afternoons, they would already be long gone and out of the house. Your schedules never lined up with each other, so for the past few weeks, you’ve just been barely missing them, not even knowing their name. 

You didn’t mind, really. The apartment was kept clean at all times, so it really did feel like only you lived there sometimes. But, you can say: if your roommate was a ghost, then they were the loudest ghost. Ever.

It was just your luck to be paired with them, too; they would be up at the crack of dawn, most times even earlier. You’d often wake up in the mornings to music playing or their (you’re sure you can say her) voice singing along. If you were being honest, the latter was your preferred way of waking up. She did have a wonderful voice, and you wished you could get yourself out of bed to tell her that; but she just woke up way, way too early. 

Today was another one of those days. Music was blasting in the background, yet another replay of “Call Me Maybe.” 

Ugh, god... you raised your head at the rude awakening, squinting your eyes at the door. Not this song again.

Based on what little you knew about your roommate, you had an image in your head of what she may look like. To put it short, you imagined a sorority girl, in a way. The type that dance and sing along to pop songs, dresses in tank tops and jeans, partying everyday, that sort of thing. You figured that maybe she didn’t party a lot though, considering she was already home and sleeping when you would walk through the front door. 

You let your head drop back into your pillow. You were too groggy and beat from work the night before that you blocked out the song, blocked out your roommate’s singing, and fell soundly asleep once again as her music faded out the front door and into the hallways of your apartment. Jeez, that girl needed some headphones.

When you woke up a few hours later, the apartment was silent. There was a sigh of relief from you, and you groaned as you stretched your entire body out. Class started in about an hour and a half, so you decided not to laze around in bed and instead get ready for the day.

When you walked into the kitchen to grab something quick to eat on your way to campus, you smelled something delicious. Sniffing the air, you smelled... something spicy? 

Sure enough, when you walked inside, there was a pan of tteokbokki sitting right on the stove. The aroma of the spiciness itself made your mouth water the closer you got to it- then, you saw a note next to it, sitting right under a bottle of water.

Good morning, roomie! I heard you come home late last night, (not that I was trying to be a stalker, but I couldn’t sleep so I was still up when you got back. Crazy, right?) Anyway, I figured you didn’t eat because I didn’t hear you in the kitchen, so I made extra tteokbokki this morning for you to take with you. I made it a little too spicy, so make sure you grab the water too!!

- PC

Your eyebrows raised higher the further down you read the note. She made you breakfast? And packed you a water? 

How sweet of her, you smiled. You wasted no time in scooping a whole bunch of the delicious rice cakes onto a plate and devouring every single piece. (She was right, though, it was super spicy.) 

That was really sweet of her. I should do something for her, too. I feel bad that I haven’t thought to even leave a note. And PC, huh? I wonder what that could stand for. I should make a mental note to ask. 

After eating and cleaning everything up, you realized that you wasted a little too much time in your own head and was running a bit behind schedule. You grabbed the water bottle quickly and ran as fast as you could out the door, into the elevator, and out the main lobby of your apartment. You didn’t even notice the blonde haired girl you almost ran into along the way. 

-

When you were finished with your school day, you always dreaded having to go to work afterwards. Not that it was a terrible job, you were just a barista at a café near campus, after all- but you would be tired and drained after pulling afternoon to closing shifts.

So there you stood, leaning against the counter top at your job as you sipped away at a small cup of espresso. You and your coworkers chatted absentmindedly. It wasn’t too busy tonight, except for a few straggling students that stayed to study. Your manager had even offered to let you go home early, but you decided you needed the money- you were practically getting paid to stand around, anyway.

The bell on the door jingled after what seemed like hours (and maybe it was). Your coworkers, all clowns, hid away from the incoming group of customers and shuffled behind the counters, leaving you to take care of them all. You glared at them and groaned internally, but that was the rules of a college student barista. If you’re not fast enough to hide, you face the consequences.

“Hey, guys,” you put on your smile as you approached the register, “what can I get for you tonight?”

When the girls got closer, you were glad that your hat was a bit too big for your head. It covered the burning read at the top of your ears at the sight of how pretty they were— all four of them, to be exact.

One of the shorter ones smiled back at you. “Hiii,” she greeted, “do you guys know what you want?”

The redhead of the group spoke up first. “Yes, can I just have a tea, please?” She turned to the other girls, “I noticed that my voice has been kind of raspy from rehearsal. I hope it’s nothing serious.”

You minded your own business as you punched in the order. “Of course, and for you?” You looked at the tall brunette, who was squinting at the menu board. You had to hide a laugh as you slid a smaller menu to her. “Here you go, our menu is printed kind of small.”

“Oh my gosh, thank you,” she laughed and took the menu in her hands. The shorter one that spoke earlier laughed too and simply pushed the brunette’s hands down. 

“Can we just get two large white mochas, please?” 

You smiled as you punched in that order too. “Of course.” You now turned to the final girl of the group, who stood silently, staring back and forth at the pastries in the case and the menu board. “For you, miss?”

When she looked up at you, you froze. 

Wow, she was cute. 

She smiled at you so sweetly, brushing her blonde hair behind her ear. “Um, yes please, can I get all of the vanilla scones that are in here? Oh, and a caramel latte, please.”

Just from eyeballing the case, there were at least 10, if not a couple more scones in there. You glanced at her with a humorous smile and nodded. “Yeah, no problem.”

As you punched in the order, you made sure that you only rang her up for four scones. It was almost near closing time anyway (you told yourself that, but really you still had a couple hours left), and you didn’t want to have to waste any pastries. 

“Can I have your guys’ names for your drinks?” You popped the tip off of your sharpie. 

The redhead, again, spoke first. “Jisoo.” 

Then went the brunette. “Lisa,” she then pointed to the shorter one, “Jennie.”

Lastly, you turned to the blonde. Again, she smiled, and nodded when she spoke. “Rosé.”

Such a pretty name, you thought to yourself. You made it a point to draw a little flower next to her name, just for funsies. You let them know that their drinks would be ready soon, and you gathered all the scones in the case for the girl to have.

The girls didn’t notice the price difference at first when they paid. After calling out their names for their orders, it wasn’t until they sat down at their table with their drinks and snacks that they realized something was off. 

It was Rosé who came back up to the counter as you were wiping it down. 

“Um, hi,” she spoke softly as if not to surprise you, “I’m sorry, but I think there may have been a mistake?”

You looked up at her from the counter with raised eyebrows. “Oh, I’m sorry. Was your drink wrong?”

“No, not at all! It’s great,” she shook her head and showed her bag of scones, “but, um, I think you mischarged me for these.”

Ah, so she did notice. “No miss, that’s okay,” you laughed at her innocence and honesty. Her face even looked worried just from you saying that. “We’re going to be closing in a couple hours anyway, and to be honest, the scones can be a bit overpriced when you buy a lot. Don’t worry about it.”

Her eyebrows were furrowed in the cutest way possible. “But— are you sure? You won’t get in trouble?”

“I’m sure, I’m sure. It’s fine, really miss.”

“Aww... well, thank you—” she beamed and squinted at your name tag, “Joy.”

Aw, shit. You internally slapped yourself in the face, I put on the wrong apron. 

Of all days to be talking to a cute girl, you weren’t even wearing the right apron with the right name tag. You really didn’t want to have to explain yourself and essentially embarrass both you and the girl right now, and you were quite frankly a bit shy already from talking to her for as long as you have. So you just smiled back. “It’s no problem, Rosé.”

With a giggle, the girl turned back around and hopped over to her table, where you could hear her recounting your conversation. You chuckled.

-

As your shift went on, the students inside the café began to disperse and pack up their bags to head home. One of the last students to leave was the group of girls you served earlier, and they even made sure to call out “bye, Joy!” as they left. Your coworkers looked at you funny but ended up laughing at your awkwardness once they realized your mistake.

“Oh, come on, y/n!” One of your best coworkers, Seulgi, laughed, “Now you’re gonna be known as Joy to them! Joy is not going to be happy.”

“Look, man, I didn’t wanna correct her, alright??” You sighed and palmed your forehead, “I got nervous!”

“Ah, well,” your other coworker Yeri shrugged, “at least you may not see her again. So you don’t have to be too embarrassed.”

Your shoulders dropped at the sound of that. You may not see her again? Boo. 

Your closing shift went by smoothly and before you knew it, you were walking through the threshold of your already dark apartment. You saw that your roommate’s door was closed and her light off, but her shoes were on the shoe rack, so you knew she was already sleeping. 

You almost went straight to your room to knock out before remembering what your roommate did for you this morning. You didn’t want to just leave her hanging and make yourself seem ungrateful, so you grabbed a post-it note and a pen.

Hi there, roomie, you began, thank you for the tteokbokki this morning! It was delicious, actually, and I only needed a few gulps of water between each bite. (lol, i’m just teasing, it really was good. i love spicy food.) i’m not sure if you like flavorings in your coffee, let alone if you like coffee or not, but here’s some for you for the morning, since you’re usually up earlier than me. you can use any of my coffee cups, i have way too many.

- y/n

After setting up the coffee machine to brew in the early morning, you stuck the note on top and dragged yourself into your room to get ready for bed. 

-

The next morning, you woke up to silence. No music, no singing, nothing. And it wasn’t early in the morning- it was the usual time you yourself would get up and out of bed.

Huh? you wondered, This feels... unnatural.

You got yourself out of bed and ready for your day as you normally would. You walked into the kitchen for your usual breakfast of coffee and a single granola bar, when you saw yet another note waiting for you on the kitchen table.

it’s no problem at all! i almost thought you hated the tteokbokki when i didn’t see any feedback when i got home. TT TT it’s so funny that we haven’t even met yet. btw, i’m sorry i’m loud in the mornings, i never realized how late you got home every night. i’ll let you sleep in more. :) and you’re so sweet, thank you for letting me use one of your cups, and thank you for the coffee this morning :)

p.s, just so you know a fact about me too, i love caramel in my coffees.

- PC

#rosé #blackpink scenarios #blackpink #gg scenarios #kpop scenarios #rosé x reader #girl group scenarios #park rosé #park roseanne #park chaeyoung #rosé fluff #rosé fic

[misssophiachase]

Thanks to the talented @klarolineagainnaturally for the gorgeous cover, I am in love with it! So, in honour of Valentine’s Day, here is an UPDATE, thank you for the love you’ve all given me so far. Let me know what you think. 

Synopsis: One wedding involving a best man and maid of honour who've grown up together but don't know quite how to reconcile their unresolved feelings.

Mr Mikael and Mrs Esther Mikaelson and Dr Grayson and Mrs Miranda Pierce request the pleasure of your presence at the wedding of their children:

The Hon Elijah Edward Mikaelson and Dr Katherine Elena Pierce

On the twenty-third of June, twenty-twenty one, 1400h at Ely Cathedral followed by a reception at Mikaelson Manor, Ely Cambridgeshire

Dress: White Tie

23rd June 2021, Mikaelson Manor, Ely Cambridgeshire - 9:39am

“Okay, less trying to manhandle the cupcakes and instead more hustle, Mikaelson,” Caroline ordered, barely slowing down in the process.

Klaus, meanwhile, was trying to be annoyed but couldn’t stop thinking how adorable she was when taking charge. He’d met her in the kitchen as directed and was already in full ‘save the cake’ planning mode. She was in her element clearly.

He was a little disappointed she’d decided to change out of the shorts and robe combination into jeans and a t-shirt but Klaus decided that it was okay if he could spend even a little more time with her. Once the wedding started he doubted they’d have much time to talk, let alone anything else.

Which was unfortunate for Klaus because he had a lot he wanted to say. Over a decade’s worth of things, in fact.

The realisation that he’d liked her since high school but was too stupid to see it.

Then falling in love with her two years ago when they pseudo speed dated and watched romantic comedies on Valentine’s Day. He’d woken up with her cradled in his embrace and Klaus knew it probably wasn’t a coincidence they’d ended up that way.

The night had been unlike anything he’d ever experienced with anyone. When she pretended like nothing happened Klaus had no choice but to deny it too. He’d been in denial ever since until now.

The previous night’s events had been playing on repeat in his mind as he tried to sleep. She stole his sandwich and then they talked, like really talked.

Then there was that whole other thing that happened before Tully ate the wedding cake. Nobody knew about that yet and given it was his brother’s wedding day it was probably best.

Too much to say and too little time clearly.

“So, what exactly are these bonbons for anyway?” He asked, removing one from it’s white box and transferring it to the cake stand.

“It’s Bomboniere.”

“What now? We can’t all be wedding aficionados,” he joked.

“They are the gifts for the guests,” she explained. “We’ll make them the cake, not overly traditional but problem solved.”

“Well, not to nitpick love,” he murmured, she gave him a look which clearly meant she didn’t believe him. “But what are you going to give the guests instead? I mean I don’t need a gift, even if my presence is a gift in itself to the happy couple.”

“Ignoring that ego, I assumed people wouldn’t notice?”

“If you mean my grandmother as well as Mikael and Esther then good luck,” Klaus shared.

“Well, do you have any better ideas?”

8.5 hours earlier

“Well, do you have any better ideas?”

“I only mean that you could kill a few of the jokes and add some more sentimental content, I realise you do have that stand-up comedian dream but I’m sure it can wait a little longer,” Caroline teased, sandwich in hand. He’d long given up hope she’d return it to him.

“Sentimental? Have you met me, Forbes?”

“Oh come on, I’m sure you have something buried way deep, deep, deep down inside.”

“Cute.”

“He’s your brother, you must have something you could share about growing up together and…”

“Well, there was that time he wet his pants when Kol…”

“Not what I meant, Mikaelson, and you know that. He’s getting married, this is your only opportunity to do this and you have to get it right.”

“So, what have you written for your Maid-of-Honour speech?”

“Oh, so now you’re going to copy me? Trust me, I don’t think you could pull off half my speech.”

“Let me guess, you are going to say something like...'the best love is the kind that awakens the soul and makes us reach for more, that plants a fire in our hearts and brings peace to our minds.'

“Did you memorise The Notebook?”

“You made me watch it remember?”

“Yeah, like two years ago."

“What can I say, cheesy lines have this annoying ability to lodge themselves in my brain, unfortunately.”

“Let me guess you’d say: a wedding is a sacrament... a joyous celebration of love and commitment. In utopia. In the real world... it's an excuse to drink excessively and say things you shouldn't say.”

“Says the girl who’s judging me but using her own rom com lines.”

Klaus realised he was trying to play it cool and quoting the Notebook and recognising dialogue from The Wedding Date wasn’t a great look. Klaus didn’t want to admit it, especially to Caroline, but he might have watched those movies a few times since.

It was ridiculous, especially given he didn’t like them..much...but they reminded him of her. He figured if he couldn’t have the real thing he’d torture himself with romantic comedies instead. Messed up, right?

“ So it isn’t true?”

“That guy had the right idea.” Of course he knew the guy was called Nick but Klaus figured he’d already embarrassed himself enough.

“So, you don’t believe in marriage.”

It was faint but he could sense the change in her tone and strain in her voice. For a split second Klaus felt buoyed, like maybe he still had a chance with her. But at the same time he wasn’t sure if he was imagining things.

“I believe in marriage if it’s for the right reasons and with the right person,” he replied, noticing her face soften slightly. “I just think the concept that the wedding day is supposed to be the biggest and happiest day of your life is wrong. It’s about the commitment, not just one day.”

“I think that’s fair, everyone gets caught up in all of the wedding festivities and forgets about the real meaning behind it all.”

“As we hunt for wedding rings in the garden and madly try to perfect our speech the night before,” he teased. “Although that part about drinking excessively and saying things you shouldn’t has my Great Aunt Maude written all over it.”

“Noted,” she chuckled. “So, maybe that’s what you need to say in your speech then.”

“I’m not sure my mother would appreciate me insulting Great Aunt Maude during the speeches, even if she will probably be too drunk to remember.”

“Not that part,” she shot back, rolling her eyes exaggeratedly. “The part about marriage being not just one day but a commitment shared for life.”

“Let’s hope everyone is too drunk to remember me saying that,” he joked. “I do have a reputation to protect, Forbes.”

“Well, maybe it’s time you stopped caring about what people think and be yourself. If there is anytime to do that it’s for your brother’s wedding.”

“You have this annoying habit of eating my food, making me watch romantic comedies and also making me feel guilty.”

“It was one sandwich, Mikaelson. If you don’t want me to eat it next time don’t add mayonnaise. As for the guilt, maybe that is just your conscience screaming to be heard in the form of a best man speech.”

“I never said I wasn’t taking notes.”

He held her gaze, a genuine smile that had been suppressed. Instead of looking away, Caroline’s blue eyes remained trained on his. It was as if there was no wedding or kitchen or mayo sandwiches. Just them. At this moment.

Klaus could pinpoint the exact moment he knowingly fell in love with Caroline Forbes, it was when she teased him about crying during the Notebook. The moment he unknowingly fell in love with her was when she rolled her eyes at him when he gave a smart ass comment during english class. Here and now, Klaus knew no one would ever compare to Caroline Forbes and that he needed to get out of his comfort zone and tell her just how he felt.

“Caroline…”

“Wow, is that the time?” She interrupted, her creamy cheeks tinged slight pink as she consulted her watch. “We should get to bed if we want to be functional tomorrow.”

Then she was gone as quickly as she’d arrived. Klaus wasn’t sure how to feel. Disappointed she’d interrupted him or relieved that he didn’t make a fool of himself.

Either way, sleep didn't come easily that night.

“Hello?”

“What did you say?” Klaus broke out of his trance wondering how long she’d been trying to reach him.

“I said, how are we going to fix the Bomboniere issue,” she pressed. “It’s T minus four hours until the ceremony starts. If only your grandmother and parents didn’t have such a keen eye for detail.”

“It’s not detail, it’s how things will look,” he drawled, knowing his parents’ motives all too well. “I’m surprised they thought a cupcake would suffice to be honest.”

“Well, Kat wanted to do a donation gift to the hospital for the Bomboniere and there was so much back and forth during the planning stages that a cupcake was a quick fix.”

“A donation gift?”

“In lieu of a gift, the happy couple donate to a chosen charity on the guest’s behalf.”

“That’s a brilliant idea.”

“Well, not to brag but it was my suggestion.”

“Of course it was,” he said warmly, thinking it was just another reason to love her for being so kind and generous. “What was their issue with a donation to a good cause? Oh hang on why am I even asking, it’s my parents, I know exactly why.”

“Well, apparently your father argued it would be showing favouritism to donate to one particular cause and given Elijah is supposed to represent all people and groups it wouldn’t be a good look.”

“Oh please,” Klaus scoffed. “That is a lie and we all know it. I love how my parents can still manipulate every situation to their benefit even years later.”

“To be fair to Kat and Elijah I think it was just easier to give in to avoid further disruption of the event plans which were already fairly delayed.”

“It’s their wedding and they should be able to choose what they want,” he growled. “Okay, I have an idea.”

“I’m listening.”

“We nominate a half a dozen different charities and it is up to the guests to choose where their donations go. Then father can’t say the bride and groom are being partial to one charity over others…”

“But that the decision is ultimately up to the guests.”

“Exactly.”

“But there’s not much time to make it happen.”

“I hate to stereotype but I’m going to,” he shared. “Men don’t take that long to get ready, with the exception of Kol, so we can get this done in time, I promise.”

“I’d like to help...”

“On the other hand, and not to stereotype, but some women take longer to get ready.”

“You’re talking about Rebekah aren’t you?”

“Apparently I am incredibly transparent too. How about I work on this and you find a cake or cupcake topper?”

“Wow, you know its name? Have you ever considered wedding planning as a new career direction, Mikaelson?”

“You tell anyone about my part in this and I will detail the almost wedding ring loss in my best man speech and that is a promise, Forbes.”

“You drive a hard bargain,” she mused, her smile widening and tugging at his heart more than he was expecting. “But I’ll take it.”

She held out her hand and Klaus was almost afraid to touch it given the feelings it would no doubt conjure up and now was neither the time or the place. He acted against his better judgment and enveloped his hand in hers.

Her skin was soft and enticing and as soon as she touched him, the feelings he was trying to ignore had made their way from bubbling below the surface to front and centre. But there was a wedding and Klaus wasn’t even sure if she felt what he did so it really wasn’t the time.

“Klaus...” the way she said it was so vulnerable and inviting and all he wanted to do was let her finish the sentence but he was also afraid at the same time. He couldn’t do rejection right now, that was for sure.

“I, uh, better get going if we are going to pull this off,” he smiled, albeit awkwardly given his heart was racing due to their unexpected contact. “We’ll compare notes in a few hours.”

He was the one to leave this time.

Klaus felt bad but at the same time he knew it was the right thing to do given the enormous job at hand.

Entering his bedroom, Klaus close the door quietly behind him. He leaned his head up against the door, willing his heart to stop racing and to return to normal so he could try and be productive. Klaus knew he needed to focus.

Then he let his eyes wander around the room. He could be messy at times but this was another level. His clothes were strewn across the whole space. Given he hadn’t packed that much, Klaus was wondering how his clothing seemed to have tripled in that time. 

Then he realised it, there wasn’t more of it, it was just cut into many pieces. He bent down and grabbed a few handfuls of material confirming the jagged edges weren’t a fashion statement but sabotage pure and simple.

Klaus knew exactly who had done it and why. Klaus knew he was to blame for her outburst, although he was certain she wasn’t that upset at the time given she couldn’t wait to get out of this ‘god forsaken place’ he’d dragged her to in the ‘middle of nowhere’ with ‘nobodies’ to ‘the detriment of her social media.’

Yes, he’d woken from a restless night after his time in the kitchen with Caroline and decided it was best to be honest and tell the truth. Klaus couldn’t in good conscience keep dating Hayley when he was madly in love with Caroline. Even if she didn’t reciprocate his feelings Klaus knew Hayley didn’t deserve that. She’d basically packed her bags on the spot while he tended to the Tully cake eating emergency. When he’d returned briefly she’d shut herself in the adjoining bathroom and wasn’t ready to talk.

Looks like she still wasn’t given the bathroom door was wide open and her luggage was missing. On the plus side she’d left but on the down side she’d shredded his entire wardrobe. Immediately Klaus felt sick, rushing to the wardrobe to check on his suit for the wedding. Needless to say it had been unceremoniously massacred and left in a pathetic heap at the bottom of the cupboard.

A woman scorned and all that.

Now, he didn’t just have Bomboniere to fix, as promised, but now he had a suit emergency too.

“Bloody weddings,” he muttered, wondering how he was going to fix this problem.

#all you never say #klaroline fanfiction #klaroline fanfic #misssophiachase #klaroline #thanks lottie #klarolineagainnaturally

[soulmate-game]

Crack One shot

Soulmates were real, but there was no universal type of bond. The only agreed upon fact was that everyone only had one soulmate, and that was whatever that person needed most in life. If what they needed most was a romantic partner, their soulmate would be romantic. If they needed family or a lifelong friend more, then that would be the bond they would have. It could show up in any way, some more common than others but many unique to that pair or trio of soul bonded individuals.

Marinette had arrived in Gotham last week. She had won the Wayne Enterprises International Scholastic Competition for her and her class, the reward for which included a month long trip to Gotham. Three of those weeks would be spent in Gotham Academy during the week, with the weekends spent in personalized internships with Wayne Enterprises employees.

Except Marinette, who as the winner of the competition, got her internship with Bruce Wayne and Tim Drake themselves.

And after finding out that Robin was her romantic soulmate on her first night in Gotham? She was really hoping this internship would go smoothly without any life altering discoveries.

Someone needed to flick Tikki for not giving her enough good luck though, because that did not happen.

Marinette thought stumbling through her and Robin’s game-styled Bond would be more than enough confusion and complication for at least the rest of the year for her. But no. No, of course not. Because when she met Bruce Wayne at his manor for their first official day of internship on Saturday, nine days after arriving in Gotham City, she shook the billionaire’s hand for the first time.

And when their hands connected, the only thing in either of their favor is the fact that Alix had turned down the invitation to come with Marinette and therefore the only other people in the mansion were Bruce’s family (including Alfred, of course). Because as soon as their hands touched, bright silver light shone for a moment before what was basically a holographic screen popped up. On it in bold black font were the words:

— SOULBOND INITIATED STATUS: Familial FAMILIARITY LEVEL: Introductory BONDED INDIVIDUALS: Bruce Wayne (AKA:REDACTED) and Marinette Dupain-Cheng (AKA: REDACTED) INITIATE SOULBOND GUIDE? (Y / N) —

“B-But I already met my soulmate on Thursday!” Marinette objected, eyes wide as she pulled her hand away like it burned. “This can’t— this is a prank, right? New WayneTech or something?”

Unfortunately, Bruce stares at his own hand in similar shock.

“Miss Dupain-Cheng, I also already met my soulmate,” he informed gravely, poking his palm with the index finger of his opposite hand. “But look. I did not get a physical mark from my romantic soulmate, but…”

Marinette knew. She didn’t want to acknowledge it, but she knew. Everybody with a physical soulmark said that you knew when it was real, when it wasn’t paint or a tattoo or anything else, because it felt real. In some intrinsic, magical, mysterious way, everyone intuitively knew if a physical mark was or wasn’t genuine.

And the little, silver bat signal on the center of Marinette’s palm was definitely genuine. Her eyes went wide at the sight of it, and the information on the holographic soulbond-board changed.

BONDED INDIVIDUALS: Bruce Wayne (AKA: Batman)

Bruce showed Marinette the small silver ladybug symbol on the exact same spot on his own palm.

And Marinette Dupain-Cheng (AKA: Ladybug)

“What the fuck?” That was Dick, who was the first to get over his shocked silence. But not very well. “What. The. Fuck? If Bruce had a familial soulmate, I would have thought it would be me. You know, first adopted son and everything,” he waved at himself, but his tone wasn’t jealous. It was just confused. “Or any of this other adopted children,” Richard gestured to the line of them next to him. “Why get a familial soulmate now? And why have two soulmates?”

The last line on the hologram began to flash insistently.

ACTIVATE SOULBOND GUIDE? (Y / N)

“I, uh, think we should click yes, Monsieur Wayne,” Marinette suggested, lifting her hand to do just that before pausing and glancing at her new (what? Father figure? Uncle figure? Oh my god if Bruce was Batman, did that mean Damian was Robin? The builds and estimated measurements matched up. Did that mean Bruce—) “Mon dieu, you’re supposed to be my father in law figure,” Marinette realized aloud, her face suddenly paper white at the realization.

“... I agree, let’s see what this ‘Soulbond guide’ is, exactly,” her familial soulmate decided to say, ignoring her realization entirely. He pressed the ‘Y’ with one finger before Marinette or his other children could protest. The silver screen changed, the text melting away in favor of showcasing a horizontal line. Until that line spoke, and moved to show the wavelengths of its voice as it did so. Like a digital mouth. Occasionally text would pop up to complement or supplement the spoken words.

“Hello. I am your SOULBOND guide, A.I.D.E, or Autonomous Introspective Destiny Escort. I am a pocket personality created by the Universe and Fate Itself as your guide and informant regarding your soul bond, and nothing but your soul bond. My knowledge may extend to some aspects of your personality, memories, background, and motives behind actions, but otherwise does not delve far beyond the specificities of your Bond. Even my knowledge of your timeline and social structure in your reality are limited. That being said, do you have any questions regarding your Bond?”

“Oh my god, it even reflects Bruce’s emotion issues,” Jason breathed, thoroughly intrigued and entertained.

“But what does that say about Marinette?” Tim shot back. “She isn’t emotionally stunted like both of her soulmates.”

Yeah, everyone agreed at that point that trying to hide their identities from the French girl was a moot point.

“No,” Marinette agreed slowly, eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t even want to ask what you mean by emotionally stunted, because if Robin is any indication…” she winced, and several people in the room chuckled. Jason outright cackled. “But after dealing with HawkMoth for so long and not being able to let out any of my negative emotions, I developed a kind of mental system I guess. I just kinda… click and delete my anger or betrayal as often as it takes, if that makes sense.”

“That is not healthy, and we will talk about that later,” Damian said instantly, not looking pleased. Marinette just shrugged and grinned at him sheepishly.

As usual, Bruce was the first to actually begin to interrog— ahem— ask questions.

“Why do we have two soul bonds?” He asked, getting right to the point.

“In your case, it is due to your alter ego BATMAN. BATMAN has been a separate part of yourself, or at the very least you have seen him as separate from yourself as Bruce Wayne, for more than eighteen years. This grants BATMAN his own soulmate, as if he were his own entity. People such as Superman do not have this attribute, as they are fully cognizant of the unity of their two identities. BATMAN’s soulmate is Marinette, a familial soulmate. In her case, Marinette is in possession of the Ladybug Miraculous, which holds the power of Creation. This, along with the fact that Marinette is what is classified as a TRUE LADYBUG and/or a CREATION SOUL, gives rise to the possibility of a second soulmate being created for her as the need arises. This was compounded by the fact that she, like you, also sees LADYBUG as being a separate person from her own identity as Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Since she has held both a true CREATION SOUL and maintained this mindframe of being two separate people for several years, LADYBUG was granted a soulmate of her own, which is you. Does that suitably answer your question?”

“The first of many,” Bruce admitted grimly, turning to Marinette. “Do you want to ask anything else, or get on with the internship?”

“Just one question today,” she answered immediately, her mind buzzing. “What does the soul bond allow us to do, and how do we activate it?”

“You can activate the Soul Screen and myself by tapping your soulmark with that intention in mind. Your abilities are as follows; Mental Communication link— a two-way telepathy activated on command only when the Bond Mark is activated. Surveillance— the ability to see through your Soulmate’s eyes through the Soul Screen in emergency situations only. Bond Text— The ability to send written messages to your Soulmate by holding onto your soul mark, imagining the contents of the text, and sending it. Nobody except your soulmate will be able to see said message, and it will appear on the palm that hosts that individual’s Soul Mark. SOS— If one member of the soul bond is in life threatening danger, the other member’s bond mark will glow and a meter showcasing the endangered member’s life force will appear next to the mark. Upon the life force extinguishing, this Bond will permanently dissolve. Resurrection, time travel, and magical Cures will not revive this Bond.”

“In other words, the Universe is calling both of you out for being reckless and is only giving you once Chance here,” Barbara surmised ruthlessly. “Good luck. Alfred, what’s for lunch?”

As everyone filed out of the room with the dissolution of the Soulbond’s novelty, Damian, Bruce, and Marinette were left standing in awkward silence. Silently, Marinette shut off the Soul Screen and A.I.D.E with it.

“... we won’t be able to keep secrets anymore,” Marinette said, seemingly just thinking out loud. “Once we activate the Soul Screen, AIDE will totally rat out any we try to keep.”

“She was my soulmate first, Father, so I’m stealing her now,” Damian said by way of warning Bruce before he picked Marinette up and carried her away. The billionaire playboy philanthropist just stared after them, wondering what the hell he did to taunt the Universe into making him the butt of all of its jokes.

He tapped his ear twice, a different bond awakening. “Selina? Please tell me you’re in town. I think I’ll crack out some of the good alcohol tonight.”

“Celebrating something?” The familiar voice purred in his ear.

“Coping.”

—*—*—*—*—* This is not at all canon to the original story, but takes place in the same universe. Just an idea I had for a second that I wanted to write a stupid one shot for. This is crack and I’m okay with that.

#maribat #daminette #mlb x dc #platonic brucinette

[chaosincurlss]

In another world, I’m camped at my best friend’s bedside, reminding her of all the ways I’m going to help her heal, of all the ways I am grateful she survived, of all the ways I love her. She wears a sleepy smile that I’ve seen nothing short of a million times, and a hospital gown that does nothing to hide away the deep purple of the harm the world has done to her. One person should never have known so much pain, and she never should have had to be the one reaching to swipe away the tears that cascaded along my cheeks. Of course, she wouldn’t be the girl I’d grown alongside if she wasn’t the one trying to piece me back together, even when she was the one falling apart. That would be the place where I know myself, where I know the person before me, where I’ve memorized the features of the face my eyes can’t leave.

In this world, I’m looking down at a person I’ve been told is my best friend, but the girl in the coffin looks nothing like her. Everyone comments on how she looks as if she’s sleeping, but those are just the lies they need to tell themselves, because the truth is that this corpse looks like nothing more than some mangled version of Elena Gilbert. As if some twisted person had been given a canvas and asked to paint an idea of her, a broken and warped idea of her that no restorative makeup was going to fix. Some depraved creature had been let loose with the idea of Elena Gilbert and they’d left her this distorted thing. Her cheeks sunken from where her bones had been crushed and they hadn’t cared quite enough to conceal it, the line of her hair disrupted by the loss from when she’d been pulled across the gravel, the perfect button shape of her nose that should be scrunched by laughter now forever scuffed by the injuries she would never have the chance to recover from. From the slumber she would never have the chance to awaken from. I don’t know why people say they look like they’re sleeping, now more than ever, I don’t understand why they say it. At best, they look dead. At worst, they look like someone you’ve never met, but are expected to mourn anyway.

In this stranger’s stray strands of chocolate hair, I was expected to find memories of the times we’d spent playing dress up before we had any idea of what the world would be. Of when we would take turns in whichever princess dress happened to be the favorite that week, though the plastic pearl clips were the constant that stayed with us through it all, and I wished I had them now — I wished I could tuck her hair away just as we did when we were nothing but a twirling vision of trouble in tiaras, and I wished for the magic they held for us then, the type of magic that could undo the very worst of days.

When I took this stranger’s icy cold hand in mine, it should have reminded me of the very first time she’d slipped her fingers between my own, when her skin against mine spoke of something more than it ever had before, of the night that had felt like finally coming home. When we’d held our breaths, and let the silence lay heavy in the darkness of a childhood bedroom, words too much of a threat to such a flighty thing, if we’d even had words for what we were at all.

There was a sickening connection that I didn’t care to recognise in the midst of all of this — one I didn’t care to recognise, which meant that it was the only thing my mind could latch itself on to. I wanted no link between this nauseating period in my life, and any kind of happy moment that I’d been lucky enough to share with Elena, but it was there. This sense of blur that only came along with an emotion so intense that the human body didn’t know what to do with it. There was no part in our mind well enough equipped for the way that our feelings can simply overpower every other function we have, so comes the blur. Either end of the spectrum, the body doesn’t care to differentiate, it all hits the nervous system in the same way, the edges of it lost to the intensity of it all.

The moments of undiluted ecstasy. The moments of debilitating grief. A blur.

How we went from friends to more, the stretch of time it took and the ways it wove its way into my days and into the very fabric of my being, much like the days since the accident and the flurry of planning for the wake and the way that it chipped away at the very fabric of my being. A blur.

The moments when our hands ventured further than they ever had before, the way she said my name as if it were a question, as if it was everything to her, the moment they said the word ‘dead’ and there wasn’t an inkling of a question to it, as if they weren’t taking everything from me. A blur.

The way her lips brushed over the sensitive skin of my stomach and demanded that every hair I had stand in salute to her and the ways she could make me feel, the way my screen lit up with her smile every time there was a call to make and I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to feel again. A blur.

Promises of forever made through tears as we braved her empty home for the first time since her parents went over the bridge and how I couldn’t leave her side, how I wouldn’t let her drown in her despair and waste what they would have wanted for her, how I stand alone without her arms around me and there’s nothing to keep me from going under. A blur.

As I try to find my memories’ home in this shell of a person I don’t recognise, without the comfort of the warm chestnut hues that housed every up and down of this rollercoaster that we had called us, the want of warmth soon boils over into a burn. A burning rage for the emptiness of it all, for the finality we would never have, for the clarity she would never be able to grant, for the moments that should have come with the time that we always assumed was guaranteed. Each moment ahead became blurred — first by the silent and pure anger that bubbled for a life that would remain unlived, buried six feet under with every possibility that went with it — second by the tears that came alongside the accompanying agony of such a realization.

From my parents, to my teachers, to my friends, to passersby on the street — I had always been this little gust of Chaos, the ever-twirling bundle of blonde curls, whose path you didn’t dare enter. Not without a taste for Chaos, or a strong enough armor to combat it.

And, oh, how the Chaos swirled below the surface, nothing in my path but this future of shattered bones and scattered dreams, and all that I knew was that I needed to reach for something real, and the scrap of this imposter that I’d been given was nothing close to enough. So much was left buried beneath the surface, beyond this face that I didn’t know, there had to be a piece of the girl I loved somewhere below the chunky wool of the turtleneck the undertakers had insisted upon. A freckle that sat just where her shoulder met her neck, perhaps they’d tucked away her mothers necklace to keep it safe, there had to be a piece of her somewhere, something to tie me to this desolation.

So, my fingers curled at the material, and pulled in search of a prayer that any God who watched over this abomination knew wouldn’t be answered. They would sit in their almightiness and laugh at the girl whose heart broke too easily, the girl who filled herself to the brim with more hope than any one person should be able to carry, the girl whose mouth would fall agape as her eyes fell upon the jagged markings that should be the dip of Elena Gilbert’s collar bones, the exact place where sweet kisses would pool in exchange for the sweeter sounds of her laughter. Not only was this not the body of someone I knew, it was barely a body at all, something sewn together and strategically layered with thick clothing to fool those who dared to gather here in this place that had no hope of salvation.

At once, my hand dropped away, and the material sprung back into place, returning back to its post to guard the secrets that lay below. I expected that the horror had found its way out from within, that the discovery couldn’t have gone unnoticed, but when my gaze shot upward — the same busy conversations were carrying on. The same stories being swapped of the loveliness of the girl we had all known, and the tragedy of such an accident, an accident that had somehow lost its details between the asphalt and this room. Silence and I weren’t well acquainted with one another, though my mind swam with the images that were now seared upon my brain, and they were something as unfathomable to me as the fact that I apparently hadn’t made a sound. Then I can feel that edge approaching, the one where the blur takes over, the one where your mind decides that your fragile little self has had too much of the emotion that it has given to you, and floats you out to sea until you can be trusted to be returned to calmer waters. There was no comfort to be found within the confines of the casket, lesser comfort to be found in the walls that surrounded me, and yet I couldn’t help but search — as if she might round the corner at any moment, and this might have been nothing more than the worst corners of my mind grasping at my dreams. Solace was all that I asked, among all of the unknown, just a moment of relief.

In a sea of unfamiliarity, there stood a startling reminder of what unfamiliar truly was, a face in the flood of bodies that swirled in this whirlpool that threatened to pull me under — an expression of complete stillness amid this Chaos, tucked away at the very edges of the crowd, where another may have let him remain nothing but alien. Not me, not the ever dutiful hostess whose role was snapping back into place at the sight of a guest left unwelcomed, one who was also uninvited as far as I was concerned. This skin of someone who planned, who preened, who tended to the details and the finer details of events — it was the familiar ground I’d needed to find my footing once again. It wasn’t the hand I’d wished to hold, it wasn’t the beauty mark I’d sworn to worship for the rest of my days, but it pulled me far enough away from the depths to satisfy the ever watchful guardian within my mind that was determined to protect me from myself. If I never said it aloud, the Gods that spent their days laughing away at my misfortune would know and wonder at the miracle of my gratitude for the rudeness of a man who showed up to a funeral without invitation. For they would know that if it weren’t for that moment, if my eyes hadn’t caught on his, if I wasn’t compelled to leave Elena’s side and ever so politely quiz him on his funeral attending etiquette — the waves would have crashed over me, and I never would have seen shore again.

[stealingpotatoes]

After Hours

AO3 Link

Summary: Emily wakes up from a nightmare on the Dreadful Wale. But she’s not the only person awake. 

(NB: If you think about Meagan’s Heart line "Some nights she wakes choking, hearing the screams of a young girl, watching - her mother die", along with the fact Emily has got to have PTSD in some shape or form after DH1 it leads to... stuff. This is stuff, I guess. Perhaps poorly executed stuff, but stuff nonetheless.)

---

Emily gasped awake and shot up, panic gripping her entire body.

She looked around her frantically, before her shoulders dropped out of their tense position and her breathing became less ragged. She was on the Dreadful Wale, in her cabin. She was fine. She was safe. It was just a nightmare. It was just a nightmare.

But, of course, it wasn’t really just a nightmare, not really... most of it had actually happened. Not in quite the same way as the dream, but similar. Recognisable.

This wasn’t the first time she’d had a nightmare in the month-and-a-half she’d been on the Dreadful Wale. She didn’t get those kinds of nightmares that often -- not as often as when she was a kid, at least -- but they still happened enough.

In all honesty, Emily was hoping that with all she’d seen since the coup began, she’d have something else to have nightmares about. She’d hoped she wouldn’t have to see those masks when she slept ever again. But instead, all the events had merged into some horrid and warped amalgamation.

Tonight, it felt like she’d seen everything. She hadn’t just seen her mother killed, she’d seen the Golden Cat, the Loyalists’ massacre, her father turned to stone, Alexi stabbed. And all she could do was watch. Stuck still, no matter how hard she willed herself to move, to fight, to do anything. She was helpless. She could only watch, just like when it happened.

And the Whalers… the Whalers were there. They did it. All of it, for some reason, not only assassinating her mother. And Daud was in it. He led the Whalers. Emily couldn’t remember his face, not really. Just the impression of it. It made sense; she’d only seen it briefly, fifteen years ago. Still, she remembered his red jacket, and how big and scary he was. And his blade… his blade ripping through her mother--

Emily inhaled sharply and blinked away her tears. She needed some air.

Emily changed into her trousers and shirt. It probably wasn’t cold enough to merit her wearing her coat. Anyhow, everything felt too hot and stuffy; she could do with a bit of cold. She pulled her boots on, opened the door to her quarters and made her way to the top deck, staying as quiet as she could, careful not to wake Anton or Meagan.

She opened the outer door and was immediately met by the starry sky and a cool night breeze on her skin. Emily shut her eyes for a moment and breathed the sea air in. Exactly what she needed.

She opened her eyes again and quietly closed the door behind her, before walking to the side of the Dreadful Wale’s low-lit deck and leaning over it.

Emily stared out at the dark sea. The waves were calm tonight, as was the wind. The occasional gust rippled along the water (and blew her long, undone hair about her face), but otherwise the waves were low and methodic, gently beating at the Dreadful Wale’s side. They were small enough that they weren’t disrupting the reflections of Karnaca’s lights and the moon and stars all too much. It must’ve been about three hours past midnight, but the city still seemed to be as awake as ever, even from all the way out here.

Emily looked up from the reflection at the city itself. She’d understood why her father had missed it so much from the very second she’d seen it sailing in. She wasn’t quite sure what it was, but there was a sort of magic about it. A certain joy or brightness, even now, with all that the city and the Empire was going through. Or maybe it was just because the sky here was actually blue, and not almost always depressingly grey, like Dunwall’s.

Emily laughed to herself a little. She’d also come to understand why her father complained about Dunwall’s weather so much after being here. Karnaca was so much warmer than home. Not oppressively hot -- at least, not most of the time -- but a nice, comforting warmth. She definitely preferred it to Dunwall’s weather too.

“Can’t sleep?”

Emily startled at the sudden noise. She looked over her shoulder towards the source of the voice: Meagan Foster, standing a few paces behind Emily on the deck. Emily chided herself mentally for not hearing Meagan coming before. Meagan was weirdly good at sneaking up on people; she’d made Emily jump a few more times than she was happy to admit, and Anton had made a fair few comments about it.

Emily smiled at Meagan. She couldn’t see her properly in the low light, but she could tell Meagan was fully dressed for the day, in that cream coat she always wore, despite how early it was.

Emily’s eyes lingered on Meagan’s arm for a few moments. She still wasn’t quite used to Meagan having both arms, or both eyes again, but that made sense, really; it had only been a couple days since she’d changed the past back at Stilton’s Manor -- only a couple of days since Meagan had got her arm back. Or only a couple days since Meagan had never lost her arm...? It was all a little confusing and Emily wasn’t even going to try to pretend she understood it completely.

Meagan walked up to Emily and joined her leaning on the ship’s side.

“Yeah- it was just a bad dream. That’s all,” Emily answered dismissively.

“Ah.”

Emily glanced at Meagan. Now she was closer, Emily could see her better. She looked tired, in that sort of way people did after a rude and unexpected awakening. Probably the same way Emily looked right now. Maybe even for the same reasons… Emily remembered something the Heart had said about Meagan once; something about how some nights Meagan woke up choking, hearing the screams of a little girl watching her mother die. Had that happened tonight? And who was that girl? Was it Meagan? The Heart was always so vague and she didn’t usually answer Emily’s questions, or explain much further.

Emily knew so little about Meagan’s past.

All she really knew was from Meagan’s aside comments and that… well, that didn’t add up to much. But Emily had decided Meagan’s past didn’t matter; what mattered was that she was helping Emily now. Emily wasn’t in a position to start being picky about her allies. And if Meagan didn’t want to tell her, Emily wouldn’t ask. She owed Meagan that much. She owed Meagan her life, really.

“I take it you can’t sleep either,” Emily stated, looking at Meagan through the corner of her eye.

Meagan gave a small nod.

“Anything keeping you up?”

Meagan hesitated. “Nothing in particular,” her eyes were still trained on the water.

Emily looked out to the sea too, and they fell into a silence. The peaceful water lapping on itself and the side of the ship took the place of their conversation.

“After we returned to the Tower- after all the shit that happened after my mother was assassinated, I used to get nightmares a lot.” Emily started, breaking the quiet. She was talking more to herself than she was to Meagan, and she knew it, “And I’d always ask my father to stay with me. Because I uh- I insisted I didn’t get nightmares when he was there.” Emily laughed a little, “I still got nightmares, of course, but…” she trailed off.

“But it was nice knowing he was there?” Meagan finished, quietly.

“Mm,” Emily hummed with a smile. She looked down at her hands and sighed, “I know he was busy- he was so busy. He had all the work he had to do as my protector, then as spymaster-- and he was pretty much doing half my paperwork too. But he never said no. Every time I asked, no matter what, he’d stay. He’d sit by my bed for the whole night sometimes, just because I was a little scared of a bad dream.” Emily looked up and stared out at Karnaca across the water, “I miss him.”

Emily glanced at Meagan. Meagan was still staring out at the water and her expression was almost completely unreadable. Emily caught herself. Right… Meagan probably didn’t want to be regaled with stories of Emily’s messed up childhood.

Emily made a dismissive motion with her hand, “Sorry, I- I’m rambling.”

“He sounds like a great father,” Meagan said after a moment, with a reassuring and unusual warmth.

“He is,” Emily smiled. Is . Emily was going to free him from whatever spell Delilah had put on him, and she was going to get him back. He wasn’t gone. She hadn’t lost him.

Meagan and Emily settled into another silence.

“My uh-” Meagan stopped and took a slow, steady breath, “My father wasn’t the sort of father you came to with your bad dreams.” She paused, “But he always knew what to say to us, and when to say it. When one of the t-- when one of my... younger siblings was freaking out about something, he’d say the exact right thing. Every time...” Meagan sighed quietly, almost too quietly for Emily to hear, "I guess I know what you mean."

Oh, this was odd. Meagan was telling Emily about her past. She was actually choosing to tell Emily about her past. Was Meagan just that tired? Had Emily picked up a new Void ability? Or maybe they were just friends now? They had known and lived with each other for over a month now, after all, and… Emily realised she should probably stop analysing the situation and just be thankful Meagan was telling her.

“Are you two close?” Emily asked tentatively.

Meagan let out a sort-of amused huff, “No. Last time I saw him was… it was a while ago. More than a decade.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Emily shifted her position a little. This was definitely going to be crossing a line; “Did something happen between you?”

Meagan’s mouth drew to a thin line, “We had a... disagreement . A big one.” Meagan paused for a moment, sombering, “The kind you don’t come back from...”

There was another silence and Meagan suddenly looked quite uncomfortable and almost confused, as if she’d only just realised what she’d been saying. The silence became more awkward.

“You should get some more rest,” Meagan finally looked at Emily again, pushing herself off the side of the ship, “Aramis will be here this evening to brief you on what he knows about the Duke’s palace.”

“Yes,” Emily stood up straight too. There was a short moment before Emily gave Meagan a small wave and turned towards the doors.

After a few paces Emily stopped and turned on her heel to face Meagan again, “Thank you.”

Emily was pretty sure Meagan gave her a half-smile, but she was a little too far off to see in the dark. Emily smiled back and turned around again, heading off to bed.

#emily kaldwin #billie lurk #meagan foster #dishonored 2 #dishonored #fanfic #potes wrotes #hope everyone's having a wonderful day!!!!

[rirururu]

Why Zenitsu is my Favourite Character in Kimetsu no Yaiba

NO SPOILERS FOR THE MANGA

Yeah, it’s pretty cool that the guy can one-shot anything he sees. Let’s just get that out of the way. It’s hype. He’s like a Pikachu version of One Punch Man but with his personality in the supreme opposite end of the spectrum which consequently makes him just as funny and badass to watch. I think that’s initially what draws most people to his character on a surface level. Heck, that’s what made him so endearing when I was introduced to the series as well. But he’s evolved into so much more than that for me over time.

AKA. That in-depth analysis post that I make every year that is way too long because I want to talk about something so badly but no one else is doing it.

I remember catching up to the manga a few weeks ago and not being able to choose who my favourite character was. They’re just all so good. It was at some point that I realized while flipping the pages, to my (pun intended) shock, Zenitsu was and probably always has been the character I looked forward to seeing the most. It’s like he snuck up on me and was already clinging before I even noticed he was there. Sure the running gag where he fights while sleeping is amusing to watch. Sure the Thunder Breath is an amazing technique. He has a great design to back all of that up, not to mention that his backstory tugs at the heartstrings. But change a few words around and you could apply that reasoning to basically any character in the series.

There lies my dilemma where I couldn’t decide on a favourite of the cast. What stuck out to me and started setting Zenitsu apart from the rest was how he fought. Of course, this isn’t the only reason I like him so much. However, I feel that a lot of people misinterpret his fighting style so it seems best to use that as a starting point.

Sadly, the fact that he needs to be unconscious in order to battle and that his conscious personality is so abhorrently pathetic compared to his sleeping one isn’t new to anime and has been done countless times. Like many people, I expected the usual revelation of Zenitsu having a split personality or alter ego or “dark yandere side.” I’ve seen either it or some variation of it so many times in anime, manga, and video games. I mean, how else would anyone explain his ability to fight while sleeping? It’s the easiest way to have any of it make sense and is the route most stories like to go.

It very quickly seemed like the path his character was taking would be entertaining but ultimately not unique in any way. Seeing as most characters of his type rely on the gag / fighting style in order to remain zany and popular, he most likely wouldn’t develop much past it either. But as the series progressed and very early on (ie. where the anime is now), you come to realize that this simply isn’t the case.

To begin with, it’s apparent just by watching episode 17 that there is no crazy side of his mind at work here. When Zenitsu sleeps, he fights. When he fights, he's dreaming. He states here immediately after waking up that he had such a wonderful dream about being powerful like he’s always wanted. He had a dream where he was strong enough to defeat the demon and brave enough to make decisions. But evidently, that’s exactly what he was doing in reality. When he dreams, he’s the one controlling his own body in the outside world and making judgements on what to do in battle.

How does he do this without say, ramming into a tree about 5 seconds in? He reveals pretty early after his introduction that he’s always had amazing hearing. It was so advanced that it creeped others out and drove them away. One statement he makes in particular is that he can recognize entire conversations that are happening around him even as he’s sleeping. Now, that’s interesting. Why did the series bring that up if it wasn’t important? He can sense someone’s presence, emotions, and even intentions based on sound alone. It’s perfectly logical that, just like Tanjiro, he’s able to detect his surroundings except using his ears instead of his nose. He most likely goes one step further to project that into his dreams in order to fight without any eyesight.

In other words, there is no alter ego. It’s all him. Zenitsu’s just that good. When he sleeps, he’s culminating everything that he trained and all of his hopes and wishes towards becoming a better person who doesn’t run away into that one moment. When he sleeps, he rids himself of all of his fears and doubts so then his body can fight completely on instinct and clear-minded focus. He can do it. But his low self-esteem and fear of dying alone gets in the way. It’s only inevitable that it does. After all, he’s been told his entire life by everyone except one person about how useless he is until he actually believed it. He can’t even stomach accepting compliments on his strength.

That isn’t a normal reaction to being told that one is strong. That scene did a pretty good job of highlighting the contrast between how Zenitsu (very happily) embraces praise on being great versus how he completely rejects the idea of anyone thinking he isn’t a useless coward. It says a lot that his image of himself is so bad that his own body and mind developed this unique way of fighting and force him into losing consciousness as a defense mechanism whenever there’s a threat of death nearby.

Of course, the series makes it no secret that this “running gag” has taken a toll on Zenitsu’s mental health. He always awakens believing that everything he just did only happened in a dream, which explains why he clung to the idea of Shoichi being the powerful one so vehemently. He never gets the chance to confront his fears properly. Subsequently, his hate for his cowardly self grows even bigger each time it happens and so does his belief that he just can’t do it. And that’s what really gets to me. The sleep-fighting is not just a running gag. It’s a snowball effect. The series uses what seems like a gimmick that is so worn down in anime to the point of becoming a troupe and turns it into a young boy’s ongoing uphill battle against his own mind and hate for himself.

That’s why it’s so important that by the end of the series, Zenitsu learns how to fight without sleeping at all.

Yup, that’s right. His character seems to be heading the exact opposite direction of where I thought he’d go because of how counter-intuitive it is. For the sake of his own growth, he has to overcome and be rid of the zany gag that was what initially drew watchers to him in the first place. Eccentric traits such as this are usually a safety net for stories that aren’t confident enough in their plot or characters. It’s how authors get more sales. But Zenitsu isn’t written out to be a butt monkey badass for views. He’s written as a real person. He’s failed. He’s succeeded. Some people believe in him while most don’t, but what really matters is that he starts believing in himself.

Zenitsu as a character really speaks to me in that sense. He can only do one thing. After all these years of training, he can only perform one single attack. It’s discouraging to work so hard and only be able to achieve one goal while others can reach triple the amount with half the effort and time. It’s easy to start running away and thinking you can’t do anything right because of that.

Despite the poetry that shounen anime like to wax, that’s the reality for most of us when our lives are on the line. We complain and laugh about how annoying Zenitsu is when he imitates a whiny baby that screams in fear at everything, but the fact of the matter is that the way he acts is the most realistic given his upbringing of people looking down on him, his past filled with failures, and the effect that his continued sleep-fighting is having on his well-being. Why should he die in this war if it’s inevitable that he can’t win and there are other people much better for the job? It’s a chillingly accurate impact that living in a world where it’s so easy to die at the hands of a demon can have on someone.

However, because Zenitsu never gave up, he managed to hone that skill with the intent of at least becoming the best at that one thing. Thunder Breathing First Form is meant to be a straight one-strike attack. If driving school has taught me anything, it’s that the faster you’re going, the more the most minuscule of mistakes can spiral into gigantic deviations in movement. Yet he’s taught himself how to use Thunderclap and Flash six times in a row (hence six fold) and in six different directions / distance of his choosing in such quick succession that it looks like he's using it continuously. We even saw how his fifth step landed him perfectly on a thread so he could bounce off of it for the finishing blow.

Just imagine how much dedication and training it takes to have that kind of control. He grew up with nothing. He’s trained so hard just to be able to do one thing. Now he’s going to make his “dream” of being powerful enough to help people into a “reality” on only that and that alone. His eventual development away from relying on sleep-fighting is a representation of it. And that’s when he officially started ascending into becoming my favourite character.

#kimetsu no yaiba #kny #demon slayer #zenitsu #agatsuma zenitsu #meta #rant #discourse #gif #long post

[degenerate-perturbation]

Chapters: 17/28 Fandom: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Female Amell/Female Surana Characters: Female Amell, Female Surana, Anders, Velanna, Nathaniel Howe, Oghren (Dragon Age), Justice (Dragon Age), Sigrun (Dragon Age), Varric Tethras, Isabela (Dragon Age), Male Hawke (Dragon Age) Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Self-Harm, Blood Magic, Prostitution Series: Part 2 of void and light, blood and spirit Summary: Amell and Surana are out of the Circle, and are now free to build a life together. But when the prison doors fly open, what do you have in common with the one shackled next to you, save for the chains that bound you both?

 Yvanne searched nearly an hour for a pub that wasn’t the Hanged Man, got horribly lost, and somehow ended up at the Hanged Man anyway.Was the damn place somehow the only pub in the city? But by that point she was sick and tired of walking, and so went ahead inside.

 It was less crowded now, but for whatever reason, still serving. Though this time, her prospects for getting some unscrupulous lecher to put her up didn’t seem nearly as good.

 She’d have to barter. How hard could it be? She’d done it before in the Denerim markets, and she’d carried Hawke’s stupid candlestick all this way.

 Five minutes deep into a screaming argument with the bartender about how much exactly the gilding on the candlestick was worth, she saw motion in the corner of her eye as someone approached.

 “What’s with all the fuss?” said the outlandish woman she’d met before—Isabela? She wasn’t jingling quite so much this time. She was barefoot and divested of most of her gold. Her mussed hair and squinty eyes suggested that she’d been sleeping.

 “You again?” Yvanne said, not lowering the candlestick. “What, do you live here or something?”

 “I’ve got a room here. And what about it?” She raised an eyebrow. “The real question is why you’re waving a candlestick around and causing all this fuss.“

 “If this ginger idiot would just take the damn candlestick there wouldn’t be any fuss.” She rounded back on the bartender. “Look, you wretched man, this is      real gold,    it’s more valuable than anything you’ve ever seen in your life.”

 “She with you, Bela?” sighed the bartender.

 “Sure she is,” said Isabela, and turned smiling to her. “Now how about you stop waving that thing around before you hurt someone?”

 “I’ll definitely  hurt someone if you don’t leave me the—”

 “Come on, now,” said Isabela. She snatched Yvanne by her candlestick-wielding elbow and all but dragged her to a secluded nook. The other woman was a good deal stronger than her; Yvanne doubted she’d be match for her, without magic.

 “Right,” said Isabela, letting her go. “Care to explain?”

 “Care to mind your own business?” Yvanne shot back, yanking her arm away.

 “Well, not if you’re going to be bludgeoning my favorite bartender.”

 “I’ll bludgeon      you.”  

 “Really? Will you? Go on, then.” Isabela took a seat on a bench and swung an ankle onto her knee, leaning back.

 “Look here,” Yvanne said, jabbing the candlestick in her direction, but decidedly not doing any bludgeoning. “I have just about      had    it with all of this. I’ve been robbed, blackmailed, menaced. I’ve gone without food or drink or sleep or comfort, nearly puked my guts out, lost about everyone I’ve ever cared about, put up with your dwarf friend’s horrible jokes, been sobbed on by a soggy nobleman, and now I’m being prevented from even buying myself a drink. I’m at my      fucking    limit and I am—sick—of—all—this—      shit!”  

 The other woman nodded. “Been there. Want a drink?”

 “No thanks,” Yvanne said exhaustedly, and collapsed into a chair. She pressed the heel of her palms into her eyes. Maker, she was tired.

 Isabela sighed. “Look,” she said. “I’m sorry about earlier. I saw that man come at you, and couldn’t help but be reminded of myself when I was younger.”

 It wasn’t surprising. Isabela looked a good deal more like Yvanne than Hawke did. “I’m not that young.”

 “Never said you were. Just thought you looked a little lost.”

 “And what about it?”

 They sat in silence for a moment.

 “Varric told me who you are and what you were doing here,” Isabela said eventually. “Sorry if you didn’t want people to know. He can’t resist a good secret.”

 “Figures,” Yvanne muttered. But she supposed it didn’t really matter. She wasn’t an apostate, or a deserter. Nobody was looking for her. Nobody cared about where she was, one way or the other.

 “So judging by the fact that you seem to be trying to barter for booze with one of Hawke’s candlesticks, I guess meeting him didn’t go over too well.”

 “How do you know this is Hawke’s?” Yvanne said defensively.

 Isabela tapped it one of the candelestick’s stems, slightly bent. “I remember the exact incident where this got dented. It involved a burglar, a coopful of chickens, and a very ornery—well, nevermind. It’s from Hawke’s place, I recognize it.”

 “Aren’t you perceptive.”

 “You have to be, in my line of work.”

 Yvanne put the pilfered candlestick on the (uncomfortably sticky) table. “Want it back?” she said, shamed. “Don’t think I’m having much luck persuading the damn bartender it’s worth anything.”

 “No, no. I encourage petty theft, as a matter of principle. Actually, if you need a fence, I know a few guys.”

 “Uh. No thanks.” She looked at her distorted reflection in the shiny gold. “I get that he’s your friend, but talking to him…I just couldn’t.”

 “Just because someone’s family doesn’t mean they’re      family.    Like I said. Been there.“

 “Well. Thanks.” Yvanne hesitated. “I heard the dwarf calling you ‘Rivaini.’ Is that where you’re from?”

 Isabela shrugged. “Why do you want to know?”

 “I might go to Rivain.”

 “What for?”

     Because there is the barest chance my mother might be there. Because I have nowhere else tolerable to go and nothing else tolerable to do, and if I don’t do something, I might just fucking kill myself.  

 “Don’t really know,” said Yvanne.

 “How are you planning on getting there, then?”

 “I’ll figure something out.”

 Isabela gave her a look that was endlessly, awfully patient.

 “Look,” she said, “judging by the fact that you’re bartering with stolen candlesticks, I’m guessing you aren’t long on funds. You can try and stow away, but that’s risky. I wouldn’t bother unless you’re really desperate. But I can do you one better—I can offer you a job.”

  “What sort of job?” Yvanne said, wary.

 “A few of us were going to go down to the Wounded Coast to deal with some slavers. Fenris is really chomping at the bit to go clear them out, but it’s hard to get a good crew together without Hawke—he’s everyone’s mutual friend. And as you saw, right now he’s a bit indisposed. Come with us, help do the job, collect the bounty, and of course there’s always looting to be done. And if that’s not enough, or you can’t find a ship, well, there’s always lots of jobs, if you’re willing to get your hands dirty.”

 “What makes you think I’d be any use against slavers?”

 “Let’s just say you seem formidable, hm? I can get you something better to bludgeon with.”

 “I don’t know…”

 She shrugged. “You’ve got til tomorrow morning. But it’s a standing offer. Like I said, always plenty of jobs.”

 Yvanne sighed. She really did need the money.

 “In the meantime,” said Isabela, “you can stay in my room for the night, if you want. Not that there’s much night left.”

 “I—ah—”

 “Meaning nothing untoward, of course,” she added, perhaps too quickly. “Not that I’m in the habit of taking in strays, but I shudder to think how the red the streets of Kirkwall would run with blood if I let you loose on them still wielding a blunt instrument.”

 Yvanne snorted. Then she looked at her, really looked. Isabela even without her myriad of knives and pounds of jewelry seemed so invincible, and here she was being kind. Whatever Yvanne playacted at being, Isabela was the real thing. And she was really very beautiful.

 She felt, absurdly,      want.  

 Not that it mattered, because Isabela meant nothing untoward. She wasn’t offering, so of course Yvanne wasn’t going to ask. Not when she actually wanted to.

 All of a sudden she was afraid. If she was capable of wanting something like that, what else was she capable of wanting?

 “Thanks,” she said, “but I think I’ll go my own way.”

 Isabela gave a slightly      well-I-tried    shrug. “Suit yourself,” she said, then added, “and good on you.”

 By this time the first rays of the morning sun were crawling across the sky. Yvanne could see the beginnings of it from the window. She left hurriedly, before she had the chance the reconsider.

 Because she could see it, quite easily. Going off on an adventure with Isabela and her friends. Getting to know them, making some money. Probably Hawke, too; that was probably inevitable, if he was everybody’s mutual friend. And once she’d made some money she’d drink it away, and it would be alright, because there’d be another job lined up, just in time. And she’d go again, replenish her purse, spend more time with those people.  It hurt her heart, the way they reminded her of the little simulacrum family she’d built and then abandoned at Vigil’s Keep, and it would never be the same. But perhaps in time it would hurt less and less, and eventually not at all. Maybe next time Isabela      would    mean something untoward, and she’d sleep with her, and that would be fine. She’d learn the inside jokes. She’d make some of her own. She would become another fixture in their shared lives. Would that be so bad?

 Here in this city of bones and poison she would dwell, among something-like-friends, among something-like-family, and it would be better than being alone. A half-shadowed life, after all, was better than a full-shadowed one. A half-shadowed life contained also light.

 But she had once dwelled      all    in light. Not for long; only a few months, all told, of uncomplicated happiness, before Rolan had arrived and spurred on the rot.

 For those few months—golden, perfect—she had known more than base contentment. She had known joy.

 How could she now stand to live half in shadows?

 —

 After most of the morning had passed, she found the docks. She stole breakfast out of a merchant’s stall with the practiced ease of a girl who’d spent her whole childhood hiding things, and her recent adulthood one small disaster away from living in the streets. At the docks, she found a barrel to sit on and eat her mango and watch the dock workers. Her half-baked scheme of stowing away on a vessel bound for Rivain was in fact hardly baked at all, and was almost sure to fail the moment she tried to implement it. She didn’t even know which of these ships were bound for Dairsmuid—if any at all.

 She carefully did not allow herself to think about what she would do when she got to Dairsmuid. Maybe nothing. Maybe she would go live in the swamps by herself and be a mad apostate. Or maybe she wouldn’t live. All she knew was that she needed to not be here, and she had nowhere else to go.

 As she mulled all this over, a hand closed around her upper arm. It caught her off guard; and she was pulled into the alleyway

 Her first thought—      ah! Here it is! I’m going to be robbed and raped, it’s about time!—    was f  ollowed almost immediately by—      no way in hell will the bastard have the satisfaction!    

 She twisted, and bit down hard on her assailant’s hand. He yelled and released her; she spun to face him, deciding which of her most horrible spells to unleash if he touched her again. Her assailant was tall, broad-shouldered, holding a fighting staff wrapped with cloth strips, and—Andraste’s left tit, did he live in the sewers? What was that      smell?    It was bad even by Kirkwall standards.

 “What in the Maker’s name are you      doing    here?” the man hissed.

 “Eating my      fucking    breakfast, you shit-stinking ratman! Let go of me before I beat you to death with your idiot stick, or—Andraste’s tits.” She blinked, as though her eyes deceived her, and all the fight went out of her. “Anders?”

 She was shocked that she recognized him. It had been a few years since she’d seen him, but not      that    many. Anders looked like he’d aged at least a decade. There was grey in his hair and lines on his forehead and around his eyes. He was dressed in what looked like the bedraggled remains of the Tevinter-style robes he’d once favored, pieces of his old Warden uniform, and an awful lot of rags.

 “Maker,” she said, “what happened to you?”

 He glared at her. “If you’re here to arrest me—”

 “Arrest you?” At first she couldn’t even process what he meant by that. “Andraste’s fucking tits, I’m not here to arrest you! Hells, I didn’t even know you were      here.    Is that why you grabbed me? Did you lose your mind along with your earring?”

 He self-consciously, and probably without realizing he was doing it, touched his ear. “I thought—when I heard a woman named Amell was here, I thought the Grey Wardens had come to arrest and charge me for deserting. But I see you’re…not in uniform.”

 "Charitably put,“ she muttered. She probably didn’t look much better off than he did, even if she smelled better. “No, I’m not here to arrest you, and   as a matter of fact my presence in this city has nothing to do with you in the first place.”

 “Alright, alright!” He snorted. “I see you haven’t changed all that much.”

 “      You     have.”

 He brushed a piece of limp greying hair behind his ear. “That’s true.”

 He didn’t      seem    like an insane, gibbering abomination. She had so many questions. Most of them feauring rude words. The rest, variants on Are you alright?

The questions hung in the air like an acrid fog. They weighed her tongue and choked her. So Anders spoke first. “So if you’re not here to arrest me for desertion, what are you doing here?”

 “Don’t.”

 “Is Loriel here—?”

 “      Don’t.”    It came out as a hiss of air.

 He drew back a little in surprise. She wondered what her face had done. After a moment she regained control over herself. “You’re a clever fellow,” she said dully. “You can connect the dots.”

 She didn’t dare look at him. If she saw pity, she would have no choice but to kill herself. “Why did      you    come here, then?”

 “You’re clever, aren’t you?” he said. “I’m sure you can connect the dots.”

 Then she did look up. There was only one good reason that she knew of for Anders to come to Kirkwall. “So did you find him?”

 “Don’t,” he said, pained. And that was all she needed to hear.

 So they stood in the darkened alley by the Kirkwall docks, two people who had known each other, once, lost in their own separate tragedies, together and alone.

 “So why’d you stay?” she said eventually. “Kirkwall’s not exactly friendly to our kind.”

 “That’s exactly why we had to stay.”

 “We?” she said sharply.

 He hesitated. “Justice and I.”

 Her eyes widened. “So it’s true. You let him—”

 “Yes. Keep your voice down, would you?”

 “Can I talk to him?”

 He glanced sharply at her. “I don’t think that would be possible.”

 “We could go somewhere hidden—”

 “No, not because someone might see. I’m a wanted man as it is,“ he said dismissively. "I mean, I don’t think it’s      possible.”  

 “What?”

 “Justice is…he’s gone.”

 Her heart thumped. “You mean he’s dead?”

 “Not exactly. He’s not the same. When we—you know—we did more than join. We became the same being. I can’t tell where he ends and where I begin. We’re something different now.”

 She boggled. “What in the Maker’s left trouser pocket are you talking about?”

 ”  I’m not the person you used to know.”

 "Good thing I knew both of you, then,“ she said irritably. “Nobody’s ever the same person. You’re not special.”

 “I’m sorry.”

 “Can’t you at least try?” She tried not to let it sound like a whine. “I can help; I’ve learned so much spirit lore since you left. I wanted to help him, back at the Vigil, but then you…can’t you try?”

 He hesitated. “Alright. But make it quick. I think he finds it uncomfortable to borrow my body like this.”

 She held her breath. Anders blinked, and when he opened his eyes, they weren’t his eyes anymore.

 “Justice?” she breathed.

 “Yes.”

 “Maker.” Impulsively, she reached up, put her hands on either side of his face. She had never expected to feel this particular pattern of Fade energy again. “It’s really you.”

 The spirit smiled faintly, as though humoring her. It wasn’t anything like Anders’ smile, but a great deal like the smile she’d seen on Kristoff’s corpse.

 “What’s it      like?”  

 Justice thought about it. “It is different from possessing a corpse. Most of the time I am only a passenger. I try not to intrude.“

 "That sounds unfathomably lonely.”

 "Anders did me a great service in allowing this. Together we will accomplish much.”

 “It’s like you’re trapped, isn’t it?” Her mouth curled into a bitter line. “We would have found you another vessel.”

 “I have no objection to my current status.”

 “But are you happy?”

 “I am fulfilling my purpose.”

 “That’s not what I asked.”

 “I am fulfilling my purpose.” But the second time he said it—unless it was her imagination?—it almost sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

 She’d almost forgotten what it was like to actually talk to a spirit. They could be awfully single minded. But Justice hadn’t been like that. He’d become more than his purpose. He’d lived in the mortal world, known friendship and love.

 “Do you remember that sparrows’ nest I showed you?” she said dully.

 “Yes. I remember it.”

 “Good. That’s good.”

 “Yes,” he said, slowly, as though it took great effort to retrieve the memory. “It was good.” But then his brow—Anders’ brow—darkened slightly.

 “You should stay here in Kirkwall,” the spirit said. “You should help us.”

 “Help you with what?” she said, caught off guard.

 “Change. We are bringing justice to the mages of Kirkwall.”

 At first she wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly. Then she laughed out loud. “How?”

 “Many ways,“ Justice insisted. "We are healing the wounds of the sick and the poor, to show the people that magic need not be feared. We are disseminating a manifesto. We have contacts who are able to put pressure on the Grand Cleric. We are helping apostates escape the Gallows, guiding them to freedom. Progress is slow, but extant. You could help us.”

 "Manifestos? Civil discussion with the Grand Cleric?” She shook her head. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

 "I consider this a matter of deadly seriousness.“ Here Justice’s voice took on the cadence and timbre of Anders’ voice. She wasn’t sure who she was speaking to anymore. "How can you abdicate your responsibility to your fellow mages?”

 This talk was starting to make her angry. It was one thing to hear this talk from a naive spirit, but from Anders? It was too absurd. “You can’t abdicate something you never agreed to take on in the first place. What do I have to do with other mages, besides the unfortunate fact that we all share a curse?”

 “That is exactly the attitude that we are fighting against,” said Justice, or Anders, or maybe there really wasn’t a difference anymore. “Magic isn’t a curse, and it never was.”

 "I can’t listen to this.”

 “Mages are your people. You should seek justice for them.”

 She scowled and spat. “And give up, what? Everything else?”

 “Yes.”

 A part of her wanted to keep arguing. Maybe she just enjoyed conflict a little too much. But the spirit’s face—her old friend’s face—was so pathetically earnest that all her anger drained away.

 “Maker, Justice. It’s not bloody fair, what happened to you.“ Her breath hitched. "You were becoming a person. You knew joy, you knew love. Now it’s like…” She shook her head. “I don’t even know what it’s like. But it’s not fair.”

 She was met only with steady blue fire. “Of course justice is fair. What else could it be?”

 That was about all she could take. “It was good to talk to you, Justice,” she sighed. “Please take care of yourself.”

 The spirit said nothing further; the next time he blinked, the blue light was retreated, and it was only Anders again.

 She looked balefully at him. “How could you? You as good as killed him.”

 “Probably,” Anders said, miserable. “But it’s done. I can’t undo it.”

 “Well,” she tried, suddenly guilty for aggravating what was clearly a sore wound. Could Justice hear them say these things? How much ‘access’ did he have to the outside world when he was hidden? “Maybe I could. Like I said, I’ve been learning a lot of spirit lore. It shouldn’t be impossible.”

 “No,” he said hurriedly. “I don’t think that’s wise. What we’re doing is too important. When we’re like this, there’s so much I can do…I don’t need to sleep or eat much, and my magic has never been more powerful, and…” He caught the look on her face and trailed off. “It’s better this way.”

 He caught her doubtful gaze. “It is,” he insisted.”

 “If you say so.”

 “Look,” he said, with obvious effort, “I don’t have too many friends in this city. The ones I do have…aren’t entirely sympathetic to what I’m trying to achieve. What I’m saying is I could really use someone like you in my corner.”

 “No. No, I don’t think so.” She didn’t say she was sorry. It would have been absurd to say it.

 “I see,” he muttered. “Pressing business elsewhere?”

 “Of a sort,” she said vaguely. “I’m going to Rivain.”

 “Got a ship, have you?”

“Not yet. Was working on it when you assaulted me.”

 “Uh-huh.”

 “You don’t happen to know which of these ships is headed for Dairsmuid? Perhaps one unlikely to notice a stowaway?”

 He shook his head. “Come with me. I know someone who can help.”

 —

 Anders had contacts in the Mage Underground. He took her through the Darktown sewers—that certainly explained the smell. After a long, foul journey, they arrived at the—Yvanne could only call it a den—of a man called Federico, who dealt in “herbs” and owed Anders a favor. Federico didn’t have a ship, but his cousin did.

 Anders and Federico argued for a while, and finally nodded and shook hands.

 “Alright,” Anders told Yvanne. “I got you passage. Federico’s cousin has a ship headed for Dairsmuid. He takes apostates from the Gallows sometimes, but you’ll have to work as a windmage.”

 “A windmage?”

 “A shipboard mage who summons winds in case the ship gets becalmed. It’s not too hard. You’ll be fine.”

 “Windmage? I’ve barely used magic all year. I haven’t cast a wind spell in—Maker, I don’t even know how long—and you think I can be a windmage?”

 Anders shrugged. “Weren’t you the youngest Harrowed mage in several decades of Kinloch students? You’ll be fine.”

 “Anders, I swear—”

 “You’ll be fine!” He cleared his throat. “And another thing—if you want to make it in time, you had better leave now. If you miss the ship, you miss your chance.”

 “What?! I have no idea how to get to the docks, or what this ship even looks like—”

 “Calm down.” Anders rolled his eyes. “I’ll take you.”

 And back in the sewers they went.

 Along the way something occurred to her. “Hey,” she said. “How did you know I was here, anyway? Another one of your sewer contacts?”

 “Sort of,” he said, and then paused for so long that she thought he was finished speaking. Then he said, “Hawke told me.”

 “Hawke!” Yvanne said. “Is there a single person in this wretched city that isn’t acquainted with Hawke? I’m so bloody tired of hearing about Hawke.”

 “Hawke’s a good person,” Anders said defensively. “And a great man.”

 “He’s a pathetic milksop who’s never known a day’s hardship in his life,” Yvanne spat.

 “That’s not true.”

 She snorted. “What are you defending him for?”

 “Not that it’s your business,” Anders snapped, wavering, “but he helps. Our cause, I mean. Even if he doesn’t always agree, he still helps. And he’s been kind to me.”

 Yvanne flashed back to the Amell estate, reprocessed some of Hawke’s ramblings. She put two and two together and was instantly overcome with the monstrous unfairness of it all.

 “Oh, I see,” she said coldly. “You’re shtupping him. That explains it.”

 It was hard to tell in the sewers, but she was gratified to see Anders flush. “Don’t call it that.”

 “It’s all coming together,” she said in a mean sing-song. “Came for one boyfriend, found another. Traded up, too; the new one’s rich! Gotta say, Anders, looks like you’ve really got it made. Servants and silk sheets, and you still get to feel like noble martyr in the bargain—”

 “Shut,” he said, “up.”  

 The sewer filled with blue light and the too-intense vibration of the Fade. For one terrible moment Yvanne thought she’d really gone too far. Anders had never been her match in combat magic before, but he was an abomination now. The dismembered bodies of the patrol Wardens flashed through her mind.

 Then the blue Fadelight winked out. Her heart thumped. Anders said nothing. He kept moving, so she kept following him.

 “It’s not a bloody crime to be happy, you know,” he said eventually.

 “Are  you happy?” she shot back.

 He only shrugged. “We are fulfilling our purpose.”

 They didn’t talk for the rest of the journey.

 “I guess Federico’s cousin won’t mind that I smell like shit?” she said sourly when they emerged again.

 “He’s used to it,” said Anders. “That’s him over there, in the blue coat. Get going, would you? I had to spend a favor on this. Tell the captain that ‘Feathers’ sent you.”

 She spotted the man he was pointing to. His ship was a great deal bigger than the cog that had taken her to Kirkwall.

 She turned to him. “Listen, Anders, I just wanted to say—”

 “You’ve said it all already,” he said.

 She shut her mouth, feeling like she’d already made every wrong choice. “Take care of yourself, Anders.”

 He only nodded tersely. She thought about hugging him, and then thought better of it.

 She had a ship to catch.

 She felt awkward approaching the gangplank. “Um,” she said. “Feathers sent me.”

 The man in the blue coat looked dubiously at her. “You?” he said, and shook his head. “Very well. Get on, you’re late.”

 She stepped aboard, once again feeling useless and small amidst all the shipboard activity.

 Since she had nothing to do, she went to the portside, hoping for a final glimpse of her old friend’s face. But it was too late. Anders had already disappeared in the crowd, and she had already never seen him again.

#dragon age #dragon age femslash #amell #surana #the warden #long post #tagging that because read more is a crapshoot

[twdmusicboxmystery]

8x15: Worth - Re-Watch

This episode focuses on Eugene and him making bullets for Negan. This is when Daryl and Rosita try to go get him, but that doesn’t go so well. I’ll also talk about Aaron and Oceanside, and this is where Negan kills Simon. This is also where Negan reveals that he knows Dwight is the traitor and takes him prisoner.

So, first we have this scene where Michonne is lying on her bed, in the exact same pose as in 5x15 with Noah’s T-shirt. I told myself I was gonna pay attention to this and figure out what the connection was. And then I totally, um, forgot. Lol. The only connection I’m seeing is that (due to the turnip and all the other stuff) this may foreshadow Michonne going to search for Rick, right? Well, right after she lays on the bed this way in 5x15, she and Rosita go outside of Alexandria to search for Sasha. So maybe that foreshadowed the same thing? I’m not sure. We may not entirely understand this until we see more Rick/helicopter stuff play out.  

For the Eugene stuff, it’s all pretty interesting, but I don’t have to say too much about it, because it just points to what I keep saying about him. Up through this episode, he’s still determined to help Negan bring Rick and co under control. 

Here, Rosita and Daryl sort of kidnap him and Rosita gets in his face, telling him TF won’t kill him, but she’s pissed at his betrayal, and they’ll force him to do something meaningful with his “pathetic life.”

That really gets to Eugene and he decides here that he’ll sabotage the guns, which ultimately helps TF win the final battle against Negan. So, this probably foreshadows him doing this again against the helicopter people. Sabotaging the guns so they backfire probably foreshadows him doing something much bigger to help TF win against the helicopter group.

And of course we have the part where he hides in the ashes and then pops up from them after Daryl and Rosita run by. That definitely screams phoenix/Beth/probably helicopter group.

I could say more about specific symbols and interesting sequences (including cars, walkers, serious references, etc) but most of them ultimately just point to what I’ve already said. (Or, I don’t know what they mean, but would just say they point toward something in the future with the helicopter group.)

Let’s talk about Aaron and Oceanside. They spread his whole Oceanside thing over like six episodes, so it feels really random and disjointed. After watching the whole thing and putting it together, well, it still doesn’t make a lot of sense for S8. It’s another one of those story lines that really doesn’t go anywhere. But, after looking at the whole sequence, I have a better idea of what it means.

So, it starts with Aaron and Enid going to Oceanside, several episodes past. The basic gist is that I do think the two of them represent Beth and Daryl, with Aaron representing Beth and Enid representing Daryl. I don’t have to explain to you why Aaron might be a Beth proxy here (he often is). As for Enid, keep in mind that she lost Carl, her soul mate, this season, much as Daryl lost Beth. And Carl often = Beth, so it works.

So, they first go to the distillery to get alcohol to take to Oceanside and bribe them. I have two possible ways to interpret this sequence. They really end pretty much the same way. The difference is in the beginning part.

So, maybe them going to the distillery represents Beth and Daryl’s arc in S4. It’s just a very subtle nod to the moonshine shack. The other interpretation is that this represents something that will happen in a future season that has to do with alcohol, and the moonshine shack foreshadowed THAT.

So, then there was the whole sequence, which made very little sense, about them sitting in their car in the dark and the Oceansiders show up and Enid shoots Natania. I thought that perhaps this COULD represent Beth getting shot (Enid is quite distraught about it) but admittedly that’s a bit weak. More likely, it represents some future arc we can’t guess at, yet.

Enid and Aaron are taken prisoner at Oceanside, but Cyndie says she isn’t willing to kill them and just basically tells them to get out. She’s definitely not willing to help in the war against Negan.

This was the first part that confirmed for me that this was Beth/Daryl thing. Cyndie tells her people to un-handcuff them and Enid gets scared that Cyndie might be intending to execute them. She says, “You’re taking us to the beach?” Which is weird because no one said anything about the beach. At all. But it hearkens back to Abraham’s “battlefield to beach” line, which is definitely a Bethyl thing.

(On that subject—don’t you love when I interrupt my own interruptions, lol—Eugene also had a line about Alpha to Omega. It just made me realize that all the Alpha to Omega references, including Paula’s in S6,  probably point to the final battle with the helicopter people. Omega means the end so it probably all points the final, big battle of the series, which I think will be against them. But anyway.)

So then Enid and Aaron end up outside of Oceanside and he tells her to return to Maggie and he’ll stay and try to change Cyndie’s mind. This is the next part that really caught my attention. We have the hug that is reminiscent of the Bethyl hug, even if it’s from the front rather than the back. (That sounds twisted, lol.)

But we also have some more interesting dialogue here. He tells her that she specifically needs to tell Maggie not to come rescue him, which seems purposeful to me. Some future arc involving Beth, Daryl, and Maggie. Then he starts saying things like, “It’ll be okay. I’ll be okay. No matter what, I’ll be okay.” (More Beth proxiness.) And then Enid says, “Promise me I’ll see you again.” And they hug.

So again, two possibilities. This might represent Beth and Daryl separating in S5. Even though that wasn’t intentional and Enid and Aaron’s is, it might represent that Beth (Aaron) lived and Daryl will see her again. Not to mention, if you remember, Aaron spends the next little while alone out in the woods, away from TF, and there’s a lot of water involved.

The other option is that this entire thing represents something we haven’t seen yet. After they reunite and come back together, at some point in the war, they’ll have to go to different places to handle different things, and they’ll have a conversation similar to this. Which would be really sweet and romantic. And again, this seems to be tied to the whole idea of Daryl drowning on the beach that @angelthefirst1​ talked about.

So then, as I said, Aaron spends a lot of time outside Oceanside. First, he starts to pass out because he’s had no food or water. Cyndie, Rachel, and Beatriz find him, but basically just step over and ignore him. Beatriz tells him to find himself some water. (Beth and helicopter group anyone?)

Then it starts raining, which really mirrors what happens in 5x10, and that was probably a foreshadow of the same thing.

He then gets really water-logged, fights walkers, passes out. When he awakens again (this is in 8x15) the Oceanside women are standing around him. He speaks to them and finally convinces them to help against Negan.

They then show up at the end of the war in 8x16 and throw Molotov cocktails at the Saviors. And there are some interesting things in that scene (Gracie is a baby and is crying throughout it; Tara wants to stay behind to slow down the Saviors because she’s afraid they’ll hear the baby crying. That all feels really symbolic to me.) But overall, while they helped Tara’s group, Oceanside’s contribution to the war was really minimal.

Which means it foreshadows something. (Setting bottles of alcohol on fire and using them is bombs definitely smacks of the moonshine shack.)

So, after Enid and Aaron split up, the two ways I was interpreting the sequence kind of meld into one. It basically just foreshadows Beth talking some group of people into coming to help in the bigger war, and they will. In fact, we’ve talked about whether Beth is with Stefanie’s group, and whether they’re part of the helicopter people, or part of the Commonwealth, or neither. 

And there’s no way to know how it will all play out. But I was thinking that if the Saviors represent the helicopter group in a future war, this suggests Beth talking a different, smaller group into coming to help. Which is something many of us have theorized for a long time.

That’s it for today. I’ll go over 8x16 tomorrow. Stay tuned! ;D 

#beth greene #beth greene lives #beth is alive #beth is coming #td theory #td theories #team delusional #team defiance #beth is almost here #bethyl

[anangelicday-mrwolf]

Wolfsbane : Noblesse Fanfic (post-ending)

(previous chapter)

Chapter 11 – Awakened

‘How can this be? How can I fall asleep? I can swear I took the tonic in the right dosage!’

As his medical expertise kicked in, Frankenstein speculated about the chance that the components of the tonic were below acceptable range of quantity, since he had used a new species of wolfsbane. He ruled out the option soon enough, however.

‘Not likely. I took extreme caution with the quantity of components, since I was working with a new sample. Besides, it worked fine for the past few days.’

Standing in the reenactment of his most feared phenomenon, Frankenstein endeavored to comprehend the situation. Yet he was interrupted by dark purple wave that spurted out in a circle around him, his face stiffened upon the soul-shredding shrieks.

At last... We’ve found you.

At last.

Until when did you think you could hide from us?

Billions of souls from the Dark Spear began jabbing words at him, their tone so very ominous and vicious, so very obvious that they had been waiting for this moment.

When it comes to a cold tug-of-war, first comment is the key. Knowing that, Frankenstein flexed his centuries-old poise.

“God, this is unbelievable. I know how much you folks love me, but nobody would welcome too much love.”

As always, his trick was super-effective.

Shut up! Shut UP!

You dare to stay arrogant, you thick-skinned fiend!

We shall see how long you can keep that sickening smile of yours!

One day we will bring judgment upon you!

And when we do, it’d be no use begging on your knees for our mercy!

‘Beg for mercy? Me?’

Though he was literally trapped in his nightmare, Frankenstein released an amused smile. For centuries has he nurtured his immunity against Dark Spear’s threat. He would rather give up on his name than beg for the weapon’s mercy.

“Too bad, but not happening. There’s no way I’ll be begging for your mercy, not even if you fillet my entire body or wrench my head off my shoulders.”

Frankenstein pictured the Dark Spear getting blinded by its fury, which would render its control weak and allow him to regain his body.

Kekekeke... There you go again, Frankenstein.

You want to upset us. Again.

But you’ve forgotten that we were originally humans. We still have the ability to educate ourselves.

You’d got to do better with your tongue if you want to keep those taunts of yours functional.

And it looks like you thought we’ll get you by directly laying our hands on you.

But now we know how to bring you down once and for all.

How to make the best revenge out of you.

How to make you devastated like never before.

The Dark Spear spoke something Frankenstein has never heard from it before, successfully wiping his face clean of a smile.

Just then the surface of nothingness began to brew in red. Before he could even bat an eye from what he was seeing, from a corner not very far from him sanguine fluid exploded and gurgled in a huge ball.

The crimson projection, seemingly molded with blood and guts of a living creature, was carved into a humanoid shape. Upon the spot where facial profiles would have been if it were a real human, fine structures began to stand out more and more distinctly.

To Frankenstein’s shock, they were sculpted into exact features that Raizel possessed.

Frankenstein......

To Frankenstein’s horror, the bloody Raizel emitted a sound very much alike to the actual noble’s voice, causing Frankenstein’s brows to skyrocket towards his forehead.

“Mas...”

STAB!!!

Before Frankenstein could utter a gut reaction with a term now made instinct for his lips, dark purple spikes wrecked through bloody Raizel’s body from behind, because of which bloody Raizel spouted blood from its mouth and collapsed.

Bahaha! Just look at his face!

I told you this would do the trick!

Just you wait, Frankenstein! This is only the beginning!

We’ll soon bring the same punishment upon all you hold dear!

We’ll make sure your reality is much more vivid and horrible than your nightmare!

Frankenstein’s dismay, so striking he felt as if all the cells in his brain were minced, was followed by his wrath. The Dark Spear dared to shove an effigy of his master in his face to dismantle it, thereby ridiculing its model, and announced they will do the exact same thing to the latter. It has basically reached the end of the line that Frankenstein could bear. The man was about to reveal all of his teeth as he growled in anger, just before the Dark Spear continued the show.

Master Rai...?

Boss...?

Frankenstein...?

He was thwarted by a series of voices also awfully familiar to him, and he turned around to find bloody M-21, Tao, and Takio, upon which he was made immobile.

“N-no...!”

He knew they were not real. Yet he could not help vocally responding to them, which was in vain.

STAB!

STAB!!!

SLASH!!!

Three more figures were added to the bloodshot floor, which were promptly joined by new bloody bodies.

Aargh!!!

Aaah!!!

Regis and Seira.

Kgh...! Oof...

Aaargh!!!!

Kgh... Aaaah!!

Gechutel, Karious, and Rael.

Sir... Ugh!!!!

Why...? Why did you leave my son to die, Frankenstein...? Just why...? Argh!!

Master... I don’t wanna die! Please! Please don’t leave me!! Pleaaase!!!! Aaaack!!!

Even Razark, Rayga, and Tesamu were summoned, only to be diced by Dark Spear’s aura. That was more than enough to crush Frankenstein’s composure, but Dark Spear did not stop, being as inconsiderate as it could.

Frankenstein.......

The name that bore through his ears dozens of times fossilized his entire body.

‘No way......’

He knew there is no use wishing he were mistaken, but Frankenstein was shivering as he slowly turned his face. His fear was made true upon seeing bloody Lunark crawling towards him, with multiple dark purple stakes spearing its limbs and body.

Frankenstein... Help me... Please save me...

‘No. This is impossible. What are you doing here? You shouldn’t be here.’

Words he could not dare speak choked him. At that moment, bloody Lunark’s body started to melt down in a mucous chunk, and bloody Lunark stretched out one of its arms in desperation and terror.

Please save me, Frankenstein! Don’t leave me to die! I thought you love me! I know you love me! Please save me...!!!!

The upper body of bloody Lunark was halfway gone, and Frankenstein’s body leapt on its own. Alas, the paradoxical rule of a dreamworld that physical laws never work properly in a dream decided to step on his lab coat. Frankenstein was certain he pressed on his legs as hard as he could, but his body was not even 5 centimeters away from where he was. Floating awkwardly in the air, Frankenstein could not bring down his arm struck out towards bloody Lunark.

‘No...’

Unfortunately for him, bloody Lunark’s face was deteriorating, and from its jawless face echoed her voice.

Please!!!!!!!

“NOOOO!!!!”

*****

Frankenstein’s eyes shot open and greedily took in light, like a drowning person devouring air right before hitting the road to the other world. He lifted his body as if he were in seizure and madly rotated his head to inspect his surroundings. His vision, made binary due to his unfocused eyes, was merged into one, and he could make out his lab visibly streaked with Dark Spear’s aura, in clear need for repair.

After diagnosing what happened, he covered a side of his face as if trying to rip out his eye.

“Goddamn it...!”

He had been feeding on the tonic more often than regular meal to somehow stay awake, but he had come to this.

He was concerned about how to deal with the situation before the 3rd Elder was back, but he soon learned that there was no need to worry about quick administration of the scene.

“What the... What on earth happened...?”

The 3rd Elder walked past the entrance towards him. The man was donning casual hoodie and cotton pants, with a plastic bag of groceries in his hand.

“I can see these marks are from your power. What kind of problem would make your lab like... Like this?”

The 3rd Elder looked genuinely flustered, based on which Frankenstein surmised at least he woke up before he arrived. With the assurance, his instinct for survival was sparked to life, maneuvering his tongue in a speed of light.

“The file I was trying to decipher happened to be unusually complicated. So I lost it, since I’m not making any progress when there is so much to read and handle.”

“...I’m grateful I was outside in the meantime.”

“Sorry about the mess. I’ll fix up this place, so you don’t need to mind it.”

“I can help you with...”

“Thanks, but no thanks. There’s something I gotta double-check as well.”

“...Very well. Call me whenever you need me.”

With the 3rd Elder gone to the kitchen, Frankenstein began to collect what he could at the moment and work his head.

The damage was not so severe, which meant that he probably did not waste much time in slumber. Which meant the wolfsbane tonic was not entirely ineffective.

‘Perhaps my body has grown resistant to the tonic. So I’d require greater dosage.’

Frankenstein swiftly reached a conclusion; after all, he had predicted such case could take place. He noted to himself that he should recalculate the formula for the tonic to increase the contents.

Meanwhile, he was being tortured by an unpleasant feeling.

No, unpleasant was an understatement.

‘How very bold of you, Dark Spear.’

Bold was also an understatement. He so very wished he could pull out the Dark Spear and punch it so hard it would blast off past the Arctic towards the Andromeda Galaxy.

‘It just had to choose only those I care about...’

As he recalled the bloody figures one by one, he got stuck on the last scene, which was evidently directed by Dark Spear with extra care.

‘Why...? Why her...?’

He tried so hard to force amnesia upon himself. But as it is commonly said, people are bound to think about elephants when they are told not to.

Please save me, Frankenstein! Don’t leave me to die! I thought you love me! I know you love me! Please save me...!!!!

For some strange reason, that line was branded especially strongly in his memories. As a chain reaction, he reminisced how his heart exhibited irregular pulse when her head touched his chest the same day, which altogether led him to a theory.

‘Do I love her...? No, that’s not possible!’

He violently shook his head and deliberately sped up his hands and feet to restore his lab. He was vehemently struggling to play blind to his feelings already awakened.

*****

Meantime, Seoul in the afternoon

Thin lines weaved in the form of a chessboard were swirling within vicinity.

No, not within vicinity – in a distance.

As she squinted her eyes and compelled her vision to be more productive, she could better make out the lines, which turned out to be the edges of tiles on the ceiling.

‘Where am I...?’

Whether it is heaven or hell, she never heard that there is a tiled ceiling in the afterlife. To add to it, the last thing she remembered was Yuri ramming in all sorts of stuff by Crombell’s order, until he froze her in the end.

Crombell. Experiment. Yuri.

She was reminded of the pains and mortifications she went through before being frozen.

You look alarmed. But I suggest you give up. Right now your body will never obey you. What do you make of this, Dr. Crombell?

Excellent. I’ve earned something much more useful than I’d expected. She’d make a fine primary sample for this experiment. So Yuri, I believe you know what to do.

Back then Crombell’s face, smiling inside the monitor, made her stomach heave.

“Crombell... I’ll get you for this, you...!”

“Finally. You’re awake.”

She flinched as if she were electrocuted and turned her head, wincing and moaning as the back muscles so far relieved of their duties pulled with a burning ache. The speaker’s voice drew near along with taps of shoes.

“Please don’t move. Your body is still stiff.”

She aimed her semi-muddy light green eyes to the man who was covering her shoulders with the blanket that slid to the floor.

“Who... What are you?”

“...So you don’t remember me. Which I figured.”

With mysterious looks Takio responded to Yuigi, awakened at last.

(next chapter)

The title of this chapter refers to both Frankenstein and Yuigi. When I give a title, I try to settle on something that can encompass everything that happens in the chapter.

And yes - next chapter will be about Yuigi and Takio. But since almost nothing is really known about Yuigi, what you will find in next chapter is solely based on my imaginations. LoL. Hope you’d stay tuned for next week!

#fanfic #korean webcomic #korean webtoon #noblesse #frankenstein #lunark #frankensteinxlunark #wolfsbane

[yo-namine]

Okay, time to talk to myself about Re:Mind and Limit Cut Episode. 

Spoilers galore under the cut!

I'm just gonna start off by talking about how the DLC handled my biggest gripe with base KH3, which was obviously how Kairi was written in the last few hours of the game. Like I said in my other post, Re:Mind doesn't totally fix those problems, but... Well, here's what we get:

Kairi's "murder" is reframed a bit in the DLC. Base KH3 presents it as Xehanort killing her just to provoke Sora et al. into "clashing" with him to make the final key. In Re:Mind, we learn that Xehanort was actually stowing Kairi away (by "crystallizing" her, which... means she wasn't dead? But Sora still takes all the steps Chirithy gives him that are specifically for restoring a heart from death, and it works, so...?) as a fail-safe of sorts in case he needed another Light. Xemnas foreshadows this a bit when he says that Kingdom Hearts needs the Princesses of Heart in case the whole 13 Clashes of Light and Darkness thing doesn't work out. And for what it's worth, I do think this is a little better for Kairi as a character just because it shows that she was "killed" due to something unique and special about her, rather than what she was to Sora. She's still being used, and she's still sapped of her agency, but presumably no other character could have worked in that role against Xehanort, so... that's something, I suppose.

During the Xemnas/Saix/Xion fight, there's an added scene where all the Lights get to take a shot at Xemnas, and Kairi actually broke that motherfucker's guard and made him stumble when no one else could... And then she got captured, bloop, but at least this time it was because she was actually fighting and simply got bested. I can appreciate that. I liked seeing her shield Axel from Xion's attack, too.

And of course, she does get the chance to take on Xehanort later. She has a nice battle set-up (a sort of warp dash ability similar to Riku's and Roxas's, shotlock, reflect, and a GORGEOUS link attack with Sora), and it's a little cathartic to play as her taking Xehanort down. However, I don't think she ever learns that Xehanort took her as a safety measure for his plan or why she was the one chosen for this in the first place. She doesn't speak to Xehanort at all, which makes her big battle with him at the end feel rather... impersonal? And never mind him "killing" her in KH3; Xehanort's ultimately responsible for her losing her family when she was four years old, as well as the destruction of her home world. I'm not saying Kairi and Xehanort needed to have some long overwrought conversation or anything, but there definitely should've been some dialogue between them.

Kairi's actually involved in Naminé's restoration after all!!!!!!!! I remember the Ultimania's explanation of Naminé's return leaving a bad taste in my mouth because it seemed like they framed Kairi's death as ultimately a good thing, because hey, at least her murder freed Naminé from her heart. But that's not what actually happened; instead, Kairi and Sora go to Radiant Garden at the end of the game, and she lets him use the keyblade to release Naminé's heart from hers. And honestly, that scene right there? That was probably my favorite part of this entire DLC. The fact that Kairi really did play a part in restoring her Nobody is a much better payoff to her earlier lines in the game about wanting Naminé to have her own experiences. She wanted to give Naminé her life back, and rather than that being something wrenched from Kairi against her will, it was something she did for Naminé of her own volition.  I just. 😭

/tl;dr thoughts on kairi

As for everything else in Re:Mind:

I loved the background moments with Sora and Kairi in the ending cinematic. Each one is framed so that you can't see their faces, so they all feel like you're looking in on something secret. The "Behind the Curtain" trophy name is pretty fitting (and just downright cute, lol). And like I said above, I loved the scene where Kairi and Sora restore Naminé's heart. You just see him pull the keyblade away from her chest, and then she cradles Naminé's heart in her hands and fjsldfjskd. I teared up at that. It was just such a sweet and gentle little moment. Sora and Kairi taking Chirithy to Ven (and Sora even giving them a little push, lol) was really sweet, too. I loved their body language while they watched Ven run off, how you see them turn toward each other just slightly.

I also like how Sora and Kairi's relationship evolved from "Even if we're apart, our hearts are always connected" to "Heart connections are nice and all, but I'd much rather actually be with you."

Demyx and Riku interacting was something I never knew I needed. Riku's like "PLEASE be careful with that vessel, it's very important--" and Demyx is just "Bro, I got this," and hoists it over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

Sora and Roxas actually talk to each other! I liked the scene where Sora's Station of Awakening starts to peel away to reveal Roxas's, and you get little glimpses of Roxas's memories. And it turns out that Sora actually did release Roxas's heart from his, and it wasn't just Xemnas kicking Xion into his chest that did the trick, lmao. I like that change.

Xemnas mentions that the original Organization doesn't remember Xion, but they do have records of her. That's a nice little tidbit to have for my Day 4 AU. 👀

Saix says the Guardians must be desperate if they're getting a Princess of Heart involved in the war, and Axel's like "Nah, she's our trump card." Aw. I also thought it was interesting how Saix purposefully uses Axel and Roxas's names to try to trigger Xion's memory of them.

I had to watch the recusant's sigil bit like four times before I understood what the hell was happening, lmao. The sigil represents the Sea Salt Trio's actual connection to one another that they had to "reclaim" from Xemnas, which... okay, but why was that needed? The thing I always liked about this trio is that they're the only one that we see develop fully from the beginning to the end of their relationship. They were always the most believable (canon) trio to me because of that, so throwing in this whole "The sigil binds us together!" thing just seems kind of stupid and unnecessary. They're friendship is good enough as-is. You don't have to add in this nonsense to represent their bond; their relationship development itself already did that. But whatever, they still had a really cool combo attack.

Scala ad Caelum is expanded on! I really enjoyed exploring it and solving the little puzzles to put Kairi's heart back together.

I LOVED THE GUARDIANS VS. NORT REPLICAS BATTLE SO MUCH I HAVE TO YELL ABOUT IT. I ACTUALLY DIED THE FIRST TIME BUT I DIDN'T CARE THAT I HAD TO REPLAY IT BECAUSE I WAS HAVING SO MUCH FUN. THE TAG TEAM ATTACKS!!!!! AQUA, XION, AND MICKEY'S COUNTER-ATTACK!!!!!! EVERYONE ACTUALLY WORKING TOGETHER!!!!!!!! IT’S ALL I EVER WANTED!!!!!!!! 

There are so many cute dialogue exchanges during the Guardians vs. replicas sequence, too! Ven and Roxas compliment each other, Aqua scolds Axel for talking too much (twice, I think? Axel fusses at her the second time, lmao), Terra says something to Riku that I couldn't quite catch, and Riku's like "All thanks to you!" It's just so cute and charming, and it really made the Guardians finally feel like a team.

Mickey Mouse straight-up Boromir-ing his way through the Nort replicas was... I think I loved that? Yeah, no, I loved that. I was laughing through half of it because I kept getting knocked back, but it was a great sequence (visually and gameplay-wise).

Connecting all the keyholes was very satisfying, and was just a beautiful visual altogether.

Sora and Kairi's reunion was adorable. And then Sora sees Goatanort enter the scene, and he just looks at Kairi and is like, "You ready, B?" and Kairi's like, "FUCK yeah, I'm taking his trachea through his kneecaps!!!!!" Okay, not really, lmao. Actually, Kairi's surprised when Sora asks her that, like she didn't expect him to let her help, or maybe she felt like she wouldn't even be able to, but she says she's ready anyway. Kairi’s under-confidence in her fighting skills is a little more apparent in the DLC. Like she says "I can do this" right before the final battle, but it comes off as her trying to reassure herself. She even has a counterattack where her battle quote is "Please work!" and I don't remember hearing her say that in the base game. Girl knows how outclassed she is compared to most of the other Guardians (and Xehanort), but she fights like hell anyway. Attagirl. 🎉

And as for Limit Cut:

Aww, I love that Terra calls Riku "a great leader."

Cheers to David Gallagher for saying "Are you sure about this?" with the exact same inflection as the John Cena meme.

Riku's a master now, right? When will he get some spiffy keyblade armor???????

Okay. Riku is having dreams about looking for Sora. Sora is dead (?), and "the edges of sleep and death touch." Kairi has been asleep for the past year so that the Radiant Garden team can study her heart in effort to find Sora. Nomura? Nomura? Nomura. You cannot fuck this up, man. You can do this. You can write the Destiny Trio working together again. You can write a full story in which Kairi has an active role. You can write her and Riku interacting. You can do it. I believe in you.

The data battles are so hardddddd. I wound up just watching all the LC cutscenes on youtube, lmfao. But I do want to try to beat at least some of these bosses. Tragically, Riku is TRAPPED IN MERLIN'S HOUSE, so you can't leave to grind or anything. Boo.

I don't really care about Yozora. I think we got a confirmation from Sora that Nameless Star is Stella (?), and that's cute for her I guess, but I genuinely don't care, lmao. But I definitely understand the compulsion to include beloved characters from old cancelled projects in your newer ones, so I hope Nomura has fun with that. ...That sounded sarcastic, lol, but I meant it. I hope he gets to do something cool and creative with this recycled cast. It just might not be a story I'll end up following, is all.

Data greeting is SO much fun. I sank a couple of hours into that the other night just creating scenes and playing with effects. The controls are really easy to use, and it's even fun to just explore environments like Radiant Garden and Scala ad Caelum without messing with photos at all. I hope we can unlock more character outfits and poses in the future, but I can definitely enjoy it as is for now.

Overall, I'm pretty happy with this DLC. True, about half of Re:Mind is a rehash of the Keyblade Graveyard scenes with some extra content here and there, but it's sort of justified story-wise since we're in a timeloop. I enjoyed the extra Kairi scenes and the interactions between the Guardians the most. Limit Cut is mainly just bonus bosses, but like I said, I do want to actually beat those once I can figure out a strategy for them. And I'm obviously having way too much fun with Data Greeting, lmao, so yeah. Not a bad update.

#my posts #kh3 bloggin #dlc spoilers

[simply-ellas-stuff]

My Thoughts on Episode Two of Batwoman *Spoilers*

Opening Sequence, Kate finding out she's relatively bullet proof was kinda adorable. The Crows shooting that man was dumb, but understandable. Entering the batcave was a cool sequence, a little choppy but cool.

Batman fever sounds a little dumb, but I like the build up of everyone hoping it's Batman.

Breakfast scene, Kate you blunt wierdo. That breakfast was awkward. The acting was a bit... stuttered - the pausing after Kate mentions Beth was like they were being told to make it dramatic but the actual set was too dry for it be as dramatic as the actors made it seem. Kate's abrupt way of telling Daddy-Kane that his long lost daughter is actually alive. Laurel was a bit smoother in telling Quinten that Sara's alive - Kate should take lessons from... well either of the Lance sisters.

How is it "not labeling" when you immediately drop like seven labels, Mary? Just curious. That "lets not" line seemed to come from Ruby a little more than Kate, just sayin'.

Alice is insane, but I'll talk more on that in a bit. Along with the flashbacks.

Luke talking to Kate about being the city's next great hope and then schooling her about how much she doesn't know only for her to compare him to his father (which, I'm sure they're is an estrangement based on his reaction) seemed like a low blow that didn't really need to be said. That could have been a moment of Kate going "Yeah, maybe I'm not Batman and don't know all his tricks but I need to do this and I need help"

Kate going to Sophie for help seemed a bit weird, like they were trying to not flirt. Sophie already knows Kate is Batwoman, I know it.

Wonder Woman is in the Arrowverse? I mean I know on Earth-Two Barry and Iris have Bruce, Hal and Diana's numbers on their phones...

Beth and Kate are twins?! When exactly was that mentioned in the first ep? I though Beth was the big sister, not a twin.

Fraternal twins don't have exact DNA Kate, that's identical twins. So, You'd need something else to compare the DNA to.

Kate, You were going to stop a wedding? Really??

Sophie pulling Kate out of the way was a little too obviously not real.

Not gonna lie, The fight sequence of the White Rabbits getting the Knife back was a bit... pause-y and awkward almost like they'd been taught the choreography to the fights but didn't quite get taught the rhythm, if you get my meaning. but I'll attribute that to Ruby's back surgery she had just before filming the rest of the season.

Why is Daddy-Kane so fucking adamant that his daughter isn't alive?!

Everything fucking happens in fifteen years in the Arrowverse.

"Fifteen years ago my mother was murdered" - Flash

"It's been fifteen years [since Beth 'died']" - Batwoman

So, the clinic is on Bennett Ave? Mary is protective of her little clinic, Good. Mary is such a fangirl.

"Waffles" is cute, and nice story building.

They HAVE to be Fraternal Twins for Kate to even slightly consider the idea that Alice is Beth.

Why can't Mary know Waffles? That doesn't make sense? The exgirlfriend can know but the stepsister can't?

When Ruby said the line "Its better if you don't know" to Mary, her real accent came out a little.

Daddy Kane assumes that Alice is mimicking Beth's important things (The Birthstone, The House, etc) but he he won't give hope a chance?

The Wafflestand is a great storytelling tool, it gives a deeper background makes the story a little more grounded and heartfelt.

I have a feeling Beth didn't kill those old people in the house, I think it was the other guy. Alice seems a bit more, strategical than that... but maybe I'm just reaching.

The goddamn swing is very Alice in Wonderland.

The swingset/wafflestand scenes confuses me, although Alice offering up her blood as a DNA test makes me think it's really is Beth.

If Beth is Alice, some of those details would be pretty dead on for drowning in a car - although she never explained how she got out of the car. Alice seems very unhinged. My only idea if it true is, Beth clung to the story of Alice in Wonderland (maybe a story her and Kate used to love) to keep herself sane while in isolation but it slowly drove her insane instead until she took on the persona of Alice (Dyeing her hair, finding those dresses, and building a cult of White Rabbits) while keeping the memories of Pre-Alice-dom.

That moment "If I was your twin, wouldn't you feel something" (or whatever she actually says) I think that feeling is why Kate thinks Beth is still alive - Twin intuition.

Kate putting herself between Daddy Kane and Alice was a great scene. Also, Why does it sound like Kate/Ruby is losing her voice - is that because she was probably still recovering from her back injury?

Kate's "Here I thought you could keep a secret" line was sassy but said a little awkwardly.

"Three little sisters" line from Alice made me think of myself and my two older sisters.

Alice/Beth doesn't want to share Kate with someone else how... obsessively psychotic.

Alice going after Mary was... a mess. Not wanting to share Kate is believable though. If the thought of being able to see Kate again is what kept her hold on her memories it would make sense that she wouldn't want to possibly lose the only shot at keeping her sister - killing Mary. It's understandable but it's also textbook insanity and obsession.

Mary's fangirl about Batman/batwoman just saved her ass, nicely done.

The Van exploding was unexpected but I did expect something to happen on the way to Arkham.

The poeticness of Kate/Batwoman saving Beth/Alice then then literally being slammed apart by a bigger force cops/Crows is either foreshadowing or something similar. Also, WHY THE FUCK WERE THE COPS SHOOTING INTO THE WATER?! That is not how you get people out of the water, what the fuck. Also, the framing of the scene reminded me of the opening sequence of Underworld Awakening between Selene and Michael.

Also, If they used the defibrillator in the suit, Kate's reaction should have been different. A groan before she opened her eyes. a light jump from the jolt. Literally anything besides her just opening her eyes, humming, and jumping up to leave. Also, if her heart was still beating while he used the dfib, she could have had a heart attack or he could have just straight up stopped her heart. Just pointing that out.

[[I got an ad for Tomorrow People on CWWebsite;; Firestorm, Golden Glider and Lincoln from Agents of Sheild all in one show looks pretty cool - I've never seen the show]]

Gotham Skyline in from the Ocean/River is gorgeous.

"Robin's high school graduation" Oh my fucking god! Is Robin alive in the Arrowverse then? Is he with Bruce where ever the fuck he is??

Mary and Kate having a heart to heart in the medical place post-Alice attack was kind of heartbreaking. As someone whose felt like barely a sister I see where Mary is coming from and the line about "if she [Alice] is [worth it], tell her I'm not a threat" speaks to me more than it probably should because the context is pretty much in the ballpark of "If you think she's the better, tell her I know my place please. Because I know I mean less and she needs to know that" which I understand completely.

Kate and Daddy Kane arguing was kinda pathetic, he's a dick. Just straight up, He's a dick. Even though I did feel bad for him when he cried in the flashback, the person he became is a dick - and yeah grief effects everyone differently but you would think he'd try and keep Kate as close as humanly possible instead of pushing her a way and threatening to arrest her.

Sophie and Kate talking, "are you happy?" "yes" "yes or ish?" then Kate being shut down was heartbreaking (and all to a Billie Ellish song).

Also, Why does Sophie keep helping Kate if she had no romantic feelings towards her?

I'm honestly hoping that Kate finds a different girlfriend because this whole Sophie thing kinda gives me a bad feeling.

Luke and Kate should be besties, it would be perfect.

Kate torturing Alice's boyfriend is funny, in a weird way. Kate should have a voice changer on her Batsuit.

Alice writing to Kate is... poetic. The bat was gross.

StepMom Kane wants the knife gone why? What does she gain from that? Power?

Alice knows Kate is Batwoman, that was quick.

The Note "You have our fathers eyes" was beautifully written.

The CGI on the bat could've been better.

Anybody else think that Daddy-Kane faked Beth's death certicate/the DNA evidence to keep Kate from searching for Beth as hard as she was(staying up, not really eating, blaming herself, etc)? And that's why he's so fucking adamant at denying the idea of Alice being Beth??

Kate was so hellbent on finding her sister (staying up late, not really eating, thinking about it all the time, building a map of all the places they looked) that it makes me think Daddy Kane/Catherine Hamilton faked the Skull fragments and DNA confirmation so that Kate could move on with her life. But that doesn't explain why Step-Mom Hamilton Kane blew up the van and stole the knife so it could be melted down.

#Arrowverse #Batwoman #Kate Kane #mary hamilton #catherine hamilton kane #jacob kane #beth kane #the flash #batwoman season 1 episode 2 #batwoman season 1 #batwoman episode 2