#to remake our forgotten promise

[blowingoffsteam2]

This parallel though,,,

#soriku #thinking about all the context of these moments #the contrast between what Riku was walking away for then vs what he was walking away for in kh3 #in kh1 that was the moment he had truly broken his promise #and in kh3 that’s the moment he remakes it #just like his poem in CoM #walking the road without you #to remake our forgotten promise #and meet you at road’s end #well something like that anyway

[abnerkrill]

fantastic rebuttal to "writers don't deserve better pay because the stuff they write is terrible/unoriginal", full thread here

(to explain, the "Unknown" under his name is from a add-on bot detector; it usually can assign a percentage likelihood that a user is a human being and not a bot, but I think the blue check system disrupted the add-on so it says "Unknown" underneath his name now.)

[image id under the read more:

May 7, 2023 tweet thread from Tom Vaughan @/storyandplot

With #WGAStrong rightfully in the spotlight this week, I've seen some less-than-sympathetic comments focusing on the lack of originality in our projects. This is a fair criticism of the system, but not the writers. A quick history of how we got here (thread emoji)

The first thing to understand is that Hollywood has NOT run out of new ideas. The studio’s preference for I.P. has nothing to do with regurgitating ideas and everything to do with MARKETING.

The late 60s-70s is generally considered the artistic high of the studio system. Ironically, many contribute this to corporations buying up the studios! The corporations knew they had no idea how to run a movie studio, so... they put creative people in charge.

This is how you got the run of so many great films the studios would never make today. They also took bigger chances on young, promising talent (the first "film school generation" of filmmakers.)

But with the success of JAWS and STAR WARS, the corporations demanded more of those kinds of hits. The creative folks insisted such things were unpredictable, and the business folks said let's make them less so.

(Sidenote: This was also the same time a completely different phenomenon was happening. A/C was becoming the norm for theatres, making summer movie-going much more attractive.)

Over the next decade, more and more MBAs and marketing people gained influence in the studio system. Being business folks, huge hits were not a creative problem as much as a product/marketing problem.

The 80s is when the “high concept” became pre-eminent because it narrowed a sales pitch to one sentence, a trailer, and a poster. This made everyone a marketing agent for a movie because everyone could explain what it was about!

In the 90s, marketing became just as important as the film itself (reflected in their respective budgets) when Hollywood discovered they could profit from fifty years of pre-existing awareness for old TV shows and movies.

This allowed the marketing department to move away from pitching a movie and convincing you to go see it (lower success rate), to simple “audience awareness” and building anticipation. (higher success rate.)

The audience knew what THE FLINSTONES the movie was. They just needed to know the casting and when it opened. No one needed to have the remake of GODZILLA explained to them. They just needed to know when it opened.

The marketing department prefers AWARNESS over SELLING because awareness is something you can throw money at. Selling is harder, and it’s less predictable. This is why franchises are so valuable.

Whenever someone says, “That’s something I can sell!” It’s usually something that can sell itself. What they mean is, "I just have to let people know about this!"

Hollywoods's reliance on property the audience is already familiar with is 100% because... the audience is already familiar with it. It is easier to market the product and this increases its chances of success.

This focus on I.P. has become so pervasive, many, including executives themselves, have forgotten WHY it's valuable. They'll option an unknown comic BECAUSE it's I.P., forgetting that it's unknown and lacks the main asset of I.P.

Writers do love writing on an I.P. that means something to them. Every Star Wars fan who became a filmmaker would love to work in that universe. But we do not love it more than our own original work. We would always rather work on that.

So when you see another remake, or reboot, or adaptation, and think, "Can't they come up with something new?"

Remember, the answer is yes. Yes, we can. And we want to. You can blame the market or the marketing, but either way, the widespread production of truly original content is just not the studio business model we're in right now. #WGAStrong

end ID.]

#wga #wga strike #NOW WITH TRANSCRIPT PEOPLE REBLOG THIS ONE

[prying-pandora666]

The Search Remake Previews!

Just in time for @azulaweek we have some undersketches for @book4air (The Book 4 Air Restoration Project).

This is a rewritten and redrawn version of “The Search” to fit with our overarching story for Book 4: Air. It’ll be fully voiced and orchestrated with limited animation like the previously released episodes.

So here are our never before seen previews! Just like I promised!

This takes place right before Azula and Sokka fall through the roof into Noren’s house. A moment of understanding between them as Sokka apologizes for antagonizing Azula, and even opens up to her about his own guilt for resenting Kya’s sacrifice. Kya did it all for Katara, and Sokka felt forgotten because he also needed his mom. He hates himself for feeling that way because saving Katara was the right choice. He is surprised when Azula isn’t judgmental, and feels similarly about her own mother’s sacrifice for Zuko.

Sadly the moment is ruined by Zuko proclaiming himself as Fire Lord inside, and Azula assumes the entire conversation was a trick to stall her.

This beautiful art was drawn by the one and only @rickorangejr-blog! Give him some support and check out his original content.

Here is a clip of another edited scene, fully voiced and partially animated:

Help us finish Book 4 Air - including our remade version of “The Search”! Whether you weren’t a fan of the original, or you were but would love some new and refreshing content, we hope you will enjoy our take.

Support us on Patreon as episodes are expensive to produce and we pay fully out of pocket.

Or if you can’t, help signal boost our videos so we can overcome the YouTube algorithm!

Happy Azula Week!

#avatar the last airbender #atla #avatar #book 4 air restoration project #azula #sokka #comics discourse

[jasminedragonart]

Why modern disney sucks. an essay by me. P.s. you dont have to like my opinion, it is literally just an opinion and no amount of telling me to go outside or get a hobby is going to stop me from procrastinating on this site and spitting out my views on my blog.

You don't have to read it. it's fine.

So disney has lost its magic, and to be honest there's no one reason why. It's actually a number of reasons to do with the stories they choose, the animation, the woke feminism of Hollywood and not understanding the formula which we will explore in the paragraphs below.

Let's start with the stories they choose to tell. Back in ye olden days disney's main thing was retelling fairy tales. You have Snow White, Cinderella, Pinnochio, Robin Hood all classic fairy tales that would have been accessible to everyone. The thing was, as well, that disney didn't cater to children, or girls. Disney was focusing on a broad audience of all genders and ages. Meaning it had to appeal to adults and children. which it did. Snow White was seen by a lot of adults when it first came out. A lot of the stuff in Pinnochio is what only adults would truly understand and what kids did served as a cautionary tale. for example the beer and smokes when Pinnochio got to Fantasy Island. it was only when animationbecame targeted more towards children that we see the animation and stories change to a more child friendly stage. But even still, they could still be enjoyed by adults.

Modern disney has forgotten that. They see something catered to children as catering to toddlers. Kids can learn about drinking. they can learn about smoking because, chances are, they see it every day. my parents used to smoke around us. My parents and family used to drink around us on new years and christmas. It's a part of life children already know about. There is literally no need to censor it. But they do, which waters down what is a story about morality into a barely able to be followed movie.

Then there are the stories themselves. Disney seems to have steered away from the fairy tales, which theres nothing wrong with. But by doing so they're putting a lot of pressure onto their writers who, in my opinion, dont understand the fairy tale structure. Or the story disney has created. So theres a character, they want something, there's a villain, they stand in the way of our hero. They overcome the villain and have a happy ending.

This, structurally is a good formula. It's easyto stick to it's easy to replicate. It's easy. But disney doesn't like this anymore. They want to humanize their villains which, you don't have to do that. Villains sometimes need to just be villains. they don't need depth. They're literally there to stop the protagonist. That's their story, we don't have time or the energy to humanize them because if we do the ending wont be as impactful.

Let me give you a scenario. In the new girl boss amazon Cinderella they gave the evil stepmother a backstory. They humanized her, and did we feel sorry for Cinderella after that? after we find out the stepmother is only hard on her for her own good?

Go back to old Cinderella. she's mopping floors, she has to get up at dawn. She has chore after chore after chore and when she is promised a reward she doesn't get it. The stepmother has nothing to humanize her. The step sisters are horrible. It really helps us to feel for Cinderella and that's important because we WANT Cinderella to now escape. We WANT her to have a happy ending with the prince.

We don't want that in the amazon Cinderella.

I will give the Disney remake of Cinderella this that they did make me feel for her. It wasn't bad.it just wasn't magical.

They need a villain. It's why frozen, in my opinion, was so bad. The villain needs to be established from the offset. None of this surprise crap. Remember this is a kids film, they kind of need the clarity. Not always. But you have to remember you only have an hour and a half to tell this story. It's different in tv shows. You can build that stuff up. But in movies you don't have that time. You need established roles. That's why they make money. Syndrome is immediately a villain. He doesn't try and trick mr incredible himself, he does it through Mirage who herself isn't a bad person so it makes sense. Clayton, Gaston, Maleficent, Hook, they're all bad and we need them to be that way. We dont have time for backstories for them and the hero.

It's not about them.

disney doesn't follow a formula. It also chooses the wrong characters to be their main character. Like in Luca, like I said, Alberto should have been the main character. He had the more interesting story and you go with what's more interesting when it comes to writing.

The reason I didn't like encanto was because it was all over the place in terms of plot and follow through. Bruno was set to be this big bad. Then he's not. theres no follow through. same with the grandma. Again, we need someone to contrast the hero against and we need a poignant defeat. Like in the princess and the frog or tangled, again, they had a villain, rapunzel turned on her own would be mother because she's shown to us to have no redeeming qualities in this film.

Let's move onto money and animation. There is no money in 2d anymore. Which is sad. You can feel the passion in old disney because they spent years making them. These days they plop out a new film every month. There isn't time to care about a movie. There are no special art styles. Like Hercules, Atlantis with its comic book style, Tangled which is cgi but was going to be 2d so you can see the art style still. All new films look the same I'm sorry but they do. I feel like people put their whole soul into those old movies. Like the jungle book animation is amazing. So is mr slithers in robin hood. I know people work hard, but my brother, an animator, even says he wishes they put money into 2d stuff because it's just better hands down. More creative, more fairy tale esque. Like if you look at Klaus, which is not disney but oh my god the animation in that is beautiful.

Thats not to say modern animation cant be. But disney isnt known for that. Pixar and dreamworks are and dreamworks does such a good job with creating art styles in their movies. They arent carbon copies. You look at shrek and you look at kung fu panda and you know they're different.

Onto new age hollywood feminism. I don't think disney knows what feminism means? They can't. Not possible. Why else would they purposefully trash their old films and make fun of them in their new films? There is nothing wrong with wanting to be snow white or sleeping beauty. They are representations of their time and representations of women. leave them alone. They don't need to be woke. They don't need to be strong willed. every girl is different.

I feel like Disney is trying to fix their old movies but they literally dont have to be. The formula works for a reason. People would stop watching them if there was a problem with them. But they don't. We still watch them, we still find meaning in them today.

I feel like Disney focuses too much on making things child friendly that they're forgetting the reason old disney works is because its family friendly. Aka theres something for everyone.

Theres more, someone did a stellar video on youtube explaining why movies like the little mermaid helped disney revive itself. Like they cracked the musical formula. I'm gonna try and find it and put it on here. But this is all I have so far.

#Disney #Modern Disney #Aka anything after princess and the frog and tangled

[datcloudboi]

List of Films Turning 20 Years Old in 2024

The Alamo (the one with Dennis Quaid)

Alexander ((the Alexander the Great biopic directed by Oliver Stone and starring Colin Farrell)

Alien vs. Predator

Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy

The Aviator (the Howard Hughes biopic directed by Martin Scorsese and starring Leo DiCaprio)

Barbershop 2: Back in Business

Before Sunset

Blade: Trinity

The Bourne Supremacy

The Butterfly Effect

Catwoman

Cellular (an action-thriller starring Kim Basinger and Chris Evans)

The Chronicles of Riddick

Closer

Collateral

Dawn of the Dead (the remake directed by Zack Snyder and written by James Gunn)

The Day After Tomorrow

Dodgeball: A True Underdog Story

Downfall

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

Fahrenheit 9/11 (the Michael Moore documentary about how the Bush administration handled the aftermath of September 11, as well as their handling of the Invasion of Iraq)

50 First Dates

Finding Neverland (a biopic about J. M. Barrie, the guy who wrote “Peter Pan”. Barrie was played by Johnny Depp)

Friday Night Lights

Garden State

Ghost in the Shell 2: Innocence

Harold & Kumar Go to White Castle

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

Hellboy

Hidalgo

Home on the Range (one of Disney's most often forgotten animated movies)

House of Flying Daggers

Howl's Moving Castle

I Heart Huckabees

I, Robot

The Incredibles

Kill Bill Volume 2

King Arthur (the one with Clive Owen)

The Ladykillers (the remake of the 1955 movie of the same name directed by the Coen Brothers)

Layer Cake (the first movie directed by Matthew Vaughn, who would go on to direct “Kick-Ass” and “Kingsman”)

The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou

The Lion King 1 1/2

The Machinist (the movie where Christian Bale lost like 60 pounds)

The Manchurian Candidate (the remake of the movie of the same name starring Denzel Washington)

Mean Girls

Million Dollar Baby

Miracle

Napoleon Dynamite

National Treasure

The Notebook

Ocean's Twelve

The Passion of the Christ

The Phantom of the Opera

The Place Promised in Our Early Days (the first film directed by Makoto Shinkai)

The Polar Express

Primer ((the time travel movie where you sit in a box for 12 hours and be back in time 12 hours. I think.)

The Punisher (the Thomas Jane one)

Ray (the Ray Charles biopic)

Resident Evil: Apocalypse

Saw (the 1st one)

Scooby-Doo 2: Monster Unleashed

Seed of Chucky

Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events

Shaun of the Dead

Shrek 2

Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow

Spanglish

Spider-Man 2

The Spongebob Squarepants Movie

Team America: World Police

The Terminal

13 Going on 30

Troy

Van Helsing

The Village

#dennis quaid #alexander the great #oliver stone #colin farrell #alien vs predator #will ferrell #howard hughes #martin scorsese #leonardo dicaprio #marvel blade #richard linklater #before trilogy #jason bourne #matt damon #catwoman #halle berry #kim basinger #chris evans #vin diesel #riddick #michael mann #tom cruise #dawn of the dead #zack snyder #james gunn #ben stiller #vince vaughn #jim carrey #adam sandler #jm barrie

[elsternwick-rp]

Elsternwick Spring Update! (04-24-24)

Good evening, everyone! We hope your day and the month of April has been well, we've been busy at work planning a number of events, and encounters, and while we've been excited to share them with you, we only feel now they are finally ready to be seen, and we hope you'll look forward to them! So, why don't we begin with some new arrivals?

New Arrivals (Circa 04-24-24)

The train has pulled into station, bringing with it many fresh new faces to Elsternwick, we hope you enjoy your stay here!

Zayne 'Delights Marcus (Original Character) - Pichu

Friend/My Friend (Original Character) - Mari

Morcant Ruben Mar {aka Ruby} (Original Character) - Aster

Sandalphon (Granblue Fantasy) - Clarity

Mithrun (Delicious in Dungeon/Dungeon Meshi) - Fionn

The Scout (Team Fortress 2) - Fish

Eoghann (Dungeons and Dragons {Original Character}) - Pact

Izu (Kamen Rider: Zero-One) - Bee

Starlo (Undertale Yellow) - Rook

Ingo (Pokemon Black/White - Fionn

Cole (Dragon Age) - Fionn

Dexter Douglas (Original Freakzoid Remake) - PIchu

Kvothe (Kingkiller Chronicles) - Fionn

Reserves

We also have a  few reserves, hopefully soon, we’ll be seeing them, and look forward to whatever plots you may do with them!

Magolor (Kirby) - Carmine

Sari Sumdac (Transformers Animated) - Doot

Harrier Du Bois (Disco Elysium) - Vin

Dropped Reserves

We only have one dropped reserve this time around, sad this vampire didn't work out, but maybe one day we'll see him around!

Astarion (Baldurs Gate 3) - Vin

That about does it for the character update, we hope this clarifies things, and if you do not see your name on this list, please do not fret!

This run of new characters had a larger than usual amount of applicants who we could not reach via Discord, if you sent an application in the past three months and have not been accepted, please check in with us and we'll clarify if you've been accepted or not!

As a reminder, please have an alternative way to contact you if you send in an application! Sometimes Discord doesn't let us add you to send your invite! (Be it because of settnigs or other issues!)

Now, onto the second part of the announcement!

As you may have seen in our previous update, we have an update planned for Spring! Enough time has passed, and we believe that is is all ready to go!

Overabundant Life (Spring Event: April - Mid June!)

With the death kneels of a mushroom man who was preventing the cycle of life and rebirth, an explosion of pent up natural and life energy has saturated Elsternwick and the surrounding area, Spring was delayed for a month or so, but now it is here in full force... perhaps a bit too much full force!

Plants and vines are growing all over town, on buildings, on people, everywhere! There's even a few rare plants that hunger for human flesh... and herbs that many will pay a pretty penny for, hope you've got your shears at the ready!

Not only that, but an explosion of animal life has brought new life to the forest, all types of creatures are wandering in and around the forests of Elsternwick, baby animals, protective mother animals, and a few odd ones you may have seen before, you'll have to be careful, if you're feeling daring, maybe you can go hunting...? Make sure they're cleared to hunt!

With melting ice and flowing water, the Lakes and Rivers of Elsternwick are brimming with latent life, hungry fish, and unusually clear water, it's a fine time to fish, or perhaps explore the lakes around town, you may even find some long forgotten treasure...

And finally, as Spring begins, Arcadia Carnival begins with a grand festival, tents and games of all types are visible around the board walk, with portals to other worlds freely open, wonderful visitors of Fae Nobility wander freely, and promises of endless joy surround the carnival... there's even a promotion to get extra Arcadia Tickets! Perhaps just this one you can trust faeries...?

And that's just a few things planned for our Spring Event! As you can see, it's focused mainly on how Spring has life growing all over the place, and we think there's plenty of opportunities for interesting roleplays, we look forward to what you may end up doing!

It ends in Mid June, so don't fret, you've got plenty of time before our Summer Events!

Upcoming Features

Finally, we have a small update on some of our upcoming events for 2024!

In 2023, a majority of the events were serious and focused on Story, including alternates, curses, and emotional energy running amuck, for 2024, we decided that this year's events would instead focus inward, with a majority of our events focusing on Locations within Elsternwick, and expanding on the lore of our fair city!

This was player voted on thanks to Discord's brand new Poll feature, which also helped us decide which places to focus on with upcoming events, and we're pleased to give you a small teaser of what's to come in Mid-May! Hopefully you won't be waiting too long...

Elsternwick's rivers have long run through the town, with many passing over it, unaware that another long river flows beneath...

When problems begin to plague Elsternwick's water, citizens will have to traverse into the maintained sewer sections and find various surprises, and perhaps a glimpse into something forgotten in the town's past.

You'll be surprised by What Lurks Beneath. As Above, So Below, as they say...

We're still ironing out the details, but we hope you'll look forward to it when it's ready in May!

Once this is finished, why not cool down and head to the beach?

Amazing things are beginning to wash up on the shores, and the roar of the ocean hides many things, valuable and wonderful things that the Museum and Library may be very interested in...

With the return of an ancient book, strange things are happening there, and perhaps some of these beach curios could help calm whatever has taken root in the library, bringing history to life...

Our next Event will likely overlap with Summer, so you'll be waiting longer for it, but we hope you'll look forward to it!

Update Done!

This should about do it for this update! Sorry to keep you waiting, and we hope you'll look forward to the upcoming events, and any interactions with our new arrivals!

And we also hope the rest of your Spring is amazing! In Elsternwick, or otherwise!

Spring will give way into Summer in just 50 days, and we'll have activities planned for then as well, and we can't wait to see what creative things you'll do with our events for this year! Whatever may come, you're sure to learn more about Elsternwick and perhaps those who live in it...

But until then, we hope the rest of your night is well and wonderful!

We look forward to whatever you may be up to, both within and without Elsternwick!

See you again soon!

#elsternwick annoucements #elsternwick rp arrivals #elsternwick events #discord rp group #discord multifandom rp #discord roleplay server

[philliamwrites]

TDWC 08: Secrets of the Forgotten

Pairing: House Leaders x gn! Reader

Warnings: canon divergence, slow burn

Summary: “Please, don’t mind me at all,” Claude beams, his grin as wide as the Cheshire cat’s. Dimitri’s scowl deepens more. His eyes turn into the blue of an icy-cold glacier dominating the coastline of Faerghus in the North. “I do, actually. I wish to speak with the Herald in private.” “Then get in line for an appointment. Our Herald is very popular with folks, as you know.” And with that, he closes the door in Dimitri’s face.

Notes: [01] | 07 | 09

Words: 9.7k

A/N: huge thanks to @raindrops-on-the-roof for joining me on this ride and being my beta-reader!!

i lived, bitch. it's been so long but after a year, i'm back with the next chapter and it was ton of fun working on it becase we're finally introduced to a new figure and get some original content. also claude's a menace and that's what we all want. enjoy!

08: Secrets of the Forgotten

But evil things, in robes of sorrow, Assailed the monarch’s high estate; (Ah, let us mourn, for never morrow Shall dawn upon him desolate!) And round about his home the glory That blushed and bloomed, Is but a dim-remembered story Of the old time entombed.

— Edgar Allan Poe, “The Haunted Palace”

The underground canals running through Abyss, like veins moving blood through the body, are dirty and smell of human waste and decay, but Balthus plays a hand much dirtier and everyone huddling around the small, crooked table in Wilting Rose Inn groans in unison. Except for Byleth. She shows her own cards, a Royal Flush, and earns a round of earnest applause. You try catching her eye to find out whether she has turned time back in her favour but her ever-steady gaze doesn’t betray anything.

“Okay, lesson learnt.” Balthus gets up and stretches, putting his taut muscles on full display. “I never imagined there could be someone worse than Yuri out there. Clearly, I was wrong.”

“Is Yuri really that bad?” you ask, throwing your Flush on the table.

Balthus gives you a seldom serious look. “You have no idea.”

It’s certainly not that hard to imagine. He sometimes has this intense, piercing gaze in his eyes when he talks about knights patrolling too close to Abyss’ entrances for his liking, even though his whole body is a picture of relaxed serenity. He’s an amazing actor, you can give him that.

“Another round?” Byleth asks, already shuffling the cards expertly with her slender fingers. Apparently, part of being a mercenary also entails having an amazing poker face and constantly winning at card games.

“Oh, no, no, I think I’m on guard duty,” Marco, the Rogue, says and flees.

“I forgot I promised to check if there’s enough candle wax to … remake candles,” Ethan, the Marksman, says and bolts.

“These are the men supposed to protect us,” Barbara, the Smith, sighs. “Yet they fear their pride won’t stand after losing a game to a woman.” She gives Byleth a scrutinising look that is also approving at the same time and follows her comrades. The rest of the crowd scatters like butterflies fluttering away after being disturbed from their peaceful slumber.

“That Barbara.” Balthus shakes his head. “Can’t say I know anyone more capable of making grown men feel like little boys.”

“I like her,” you admit. “She doesn’t call me the Archbishop’s Lapdog.” Like most Abyssians.

“Just give everyone some time.” Balthus’ grin is part amusement, part pity as he gives your shoulder two hard claps to bid you good night. “They’ll see in no time you’re no church stuck-up.”

You aren’t so sure about that. You have been down here for a couple of days only, engaging in fights, defending the place against the mercenaries and bandits that wander into Abyss—on accident or on order still remains a question. It was obvious that fighting a few battles for them would not change their mind so quickly—a few good deeds did not undo the year-long abuse and persecution most of the Abyss dwellers had to suffer. You doubt you alone can heal those wounds, yet still there is a fierce fire burning inside you, a light blazing to banish all the shadows clinging to their pained hearts.

Not for the church’s sake, you’ve realised quickly, but for the Herald’s, for the first one loved Fódlan’s people; loves Fódlan’s people still. Every night you lie in your dark quarters, a single, tiny room with nothing but slatted frames and a thin blanket for a bed, nothing feels surer and more honest than this feeling Seiros’ Champion allows you to glimpse as if what it means to be the Herald is that simple.

And simple it is, for if you cannot remember your identity, your wishes and dreams and ambitions, you can take his on until you have figured it out for yourself; surround yourself with them just like you donned his ceremonial robes at the very beginning.

If Byleth questions your new-found vigour for battle, for tactics and schemes on the battlefield, she hasn’t voiced it yet. Or, maybe she is simply too occupied trying to understand the cards Fate has dealt her.

The Wilting Rose Inn clears out as the candles burn down until only a few loyal patrons remain in their respective, quiet corners. It becomes easier to talk to Byleth, since you cannot be sure who might be listening in, ready to forward information to Yuri and give him whatever reason to put your head on a stake. Not that he would actually do something like that. At least, you hope he would not do something like that.

You also realise how much you missed just being in her presence, and they become the only short moments during the day when you allow yourself to relax and droop your shoulders whenever exhaustion weighs you down.

Today, Byleth has made it her personal mission to teach you wood-carving. It goes as expected: you’ve cut yourself three times and have nothing to show for but a misshapen try at a cat that bears more resemblance to a stone you might find in one of Abyss’ gutters.

“I am,” you say as the sharp edge nicks your thumb once more, “a danger to myself and everyone around me.”

“Good thing I’m the only one here then.” Byleth gently takes the knife from you as if you are a toddler and only to be trusted with tools that are highly unlikely to chop your limbs off. Like a spoon. You’ll remind her of that next time she pushes a sword into your hands and demands you to participate in another sparring session. “I’m not as practised in magic and Tome wielding as Linhardt or Lysithea, but I am sure you still need all your fingers to conjure spells.”

“I could try it with my toes.” You wiggle your bloodied fingers at her like the boogie man. “Become the first Warlock that casts Dark magic with their feet.”

The smile that tugs at the corners of Byleth’s mouth is a greater victory than having chased off the bandits yesterday. It is followed by a frown though, one so light, the softest shift in her brows that you wouldn’t have noticed it were it not for the long hours during tea-time you spent studying the planes and features of her face like an artist might while studying their muse.

She leans back in her creaking chair and pockets her knife inside the hidden sheath strapped around her upper thigh. “We are making slow progress uncovering who is after Yuri and his friends,” Byleth says. “I know we’ve been through this already, but any guesses?”

“You’d think with how often we got rid of them by now, they would realise trying to drive the underground residents away is a waste of time. Whoever pays them must hold a serious grudge, why else would they spend so much money on sending mercs in here?”

A shadow passes Byleth’s eyes. “Unless these kids know more and are hiding the true reason someone would be after them.”

You understand her concern. You two have agreed to help, but your official duties and first responsibilities lie in taking care of the academy’s students and seeing that no harm comes to them. Which is no easy task as they so readily throw themselves into defending the Abyssians.

“I … I don’t think that is the case.”

Byleth simply lifts an eyebrow, urging you to go on.

“I can’t explain it very well. I just don’t think they have anything bad in mind. I don’t think there is a reason to doubt them.”

It doesn’t make sense, and yet you know Byleth is the last one to argue against a point like that. This quiet, strange connection that exists between you two is undeniable—just like the sun’s travel over the skies and that it lies to rest in the West and rises again in the East, day by day. Everything is connected, you just have to find out who is spinning the thread of your Fates together.

“I really thought they were trouble at first,” Byleth says and gestures to the barman to bring another round. “Especially Yuri. He is cunning and sharp, a dangerous combination for a leader.”

“I’d like to think he is hiding a warm, pleasant core beneath all that scheming and calculating,” you say, taking the drink the moment the bartender leaves it at your table. “Hiding it somewhere very, very deep.”

A corner of Byleth’s mouth twitches. She’s holding her own glass, lazily swirling the amber liquid in circles. “He is young, but I would not put it past him to hold ulterior motives. Promise me to be careful around him.”

“He and his lot helped me before they knew I was the Herald,” you concede, thinking back to Constance’s reaction after you woke up. “They simply saw someone in need of help, that’s all.” Since then, it has not occurred to you even once that they might be criminals hiding away under the church’s nose. You still think of Alfons and Briana’s small faces, their round button-noses and large eyes as they look up at Yuri in adoration. They deserve so much more than hiding away in some dark, rotting cellars.

You swallow your shot in one go, and instantly begin to cough and pound your chest as it goes down burning. Byleth knocks her glass back without any problem and swallows the burning liquid as if it were water. You still blink against the tears stinging in your eyes.

“You sound like you trust them already,” Byleth says and waves for another round. You try to share a mildly concerned look with the bartender, but he ignores you and slides two more shot glasses in front of your noses.

“Trust is maybe a little much,” you mumble, thinking of Yuri’s sharp smile, the way Hapi struggles and fails not to roll her eyes whenever you offer some insight with your Crest. “But I don’t think they’re bad. Or evil.”

Byleth nods, either because she has come to the same conclusion or because she puts trust in your decision not to doubt them. She downs another shot, looks at you expectantly. You scramble for another topic, anything that will save your throat from burning up a second time with this goddess-forsaken liquor.

Inevitably, your eyes fall on the sword strapped to her waist, only to call it a sword puts any blacksmith who has mastered the art of steel and iron to shame, and you have no desire to meet the one responsible for this craft, the one that bends bone and magic to their will. Byleth follows your gaze. Her hand rests on the hilt, hesitantly at first. You don’t think you have ever seen her hesitate before.

“The Sword of the Creator,” you mumble. “What does that even mean?” Has the Progenitor God truly wielded such a thing? What kind of goddess was she to come up with such a hideous weapon, to forge the Heroes’ Relics in such a portrayal and present them as gifts to humanity? It is like receiving an apple and only finding the core rotten and inhabited with worms after you have taken a bite. You wonder if this repulsive fascination is you or Seiros’ Champion, yet he remains silent.

Byleth stares into her glass as if the answers for all her questions lie hidden at the bottom and by drinking fast enough, she can unravel them. You are pretty sure that is how people become drunkards.

“Holding the sword … wielding it.” Byleth searches your gaze. “It felt raw. Unlike anything I have ever felt, and yet...” Her nimble fingers dance across the hilt once more, halt at the round socket where it seems that something spherical is missing. When she locks eyes with you, something tells you this is something she has not even told her students. Maybe she can’t tell them. Maybe, just like you feel with her, she feels that honesty comes easier when only you are around. You take a sip from your glass, welcoming for once the biting heat that forces you to shut your eyes and turn your head away.

Why can’t you tell her about the first Herald? Why do you want to keep his existence within you a secret? You listen for his voice, his opinion on the matter, but Seiros’ Champion is still silent, and you hope it doesn’t stay that way in matters of life or death. What is the use of an ancient dwelling inside your heart when he does not share in his unending knowledge and experience?

“And yet, it felt right,” Byleth finishes, cutting off your thoughts, and somehow you can easily imagine what she had felt—for the very same could be said about meeting the Herald. Right, natural. Like returning home. “I wonder … if there is any truth to the people’s claims that only a descendant of the King of Liberation would be able to use its power the way I did.”

You’ve read the historic texts on Nemesis, the King of Liberation. How the goddess gifted him the sword to use its power to save Fódlan from wicked gods over a thousand years ago. He liberated the people from their thralldom and thus was named King and Beloved of the people until the sword’s heavenly power, too terrifying and mighty for any mortal to bear, corrupted him and he turned to the darkness, waging war across the land and thus forcing Seiros to destroy him. It strengthens your belief that whatever benevolence the Goddess gifts her patrons, the price to pay in the end seems too high.

“I hope,” Byleth continues, “Professor Hanneman will have answers to that when we return. I still do not quite understand why Rhea has allowed me to keep it.”

“Is there any explanation as to why it was her sword inside the tomb and not the remains of Saint Seiros?” you ask. It would also beg the question where they are instead. But Byleth shakes her head.

“There wasn’t much time to go into details,” she says. Her fingers linger just a moment longer on the sword, before she withdraws them—a little reluctantly. “When you disappeared, we moved heaven and hell to find you. It was by mere luck Claude spotted one of the Abyssians disappear inside a passageway under the Abbey.”

“I hate how no one told us,” you say. “You would think a whole bunch of people living under the monastery is worth mentioning at some point after appointing us to our positions.”

“I’d like to think there was a reason for keeping silent about it,” Byleth says though even she doesn’t sound sure, and it strikes you as odd. Not Byleth doubting Rhea, but her not being sure about something. “A reason I can’t wait to hear once we’re back on the surface.” She reaches across the table, presenting her open palm to your hand holding your glass. You surrender and give it to her, watching a little too intently when her throat bobs as she swallows another round.

“Yuri expects another attack on the Abyss soon,” Byleth continues and rises to her feet. She stretches like a cat in the sun. “We should head to bed and rest up. I wouldn’t want a repeat of the last battle.”

“Oh, come on, it was not that bad.”

“You almost fell asleep from exhaustion when those two Grapplers advanced,” Byleth says, using her Professor voice on you.

You can’t help but grin. “And just like I predicted, you came and saved me.” Byleth’s mouth twitches into a flat line, but you can see that she is pleased. “Pulling an all-nighter to study the maps and outline of Abyss and the secrets it has to offer was a good idea. There are some interesting chambers holding traps and pitfalls. Whoever built this place really wanted to keep people away.”

“Makes you think what could be hiding deeper down in Abyss,” Byleth thinks aloud. “And maybe one of the next bandits will be kind enough to tell us.”

You nod. It was Claude’s idea to take someone captive and get answers from them, and hopefully shed some light on what it is exactly that their employer wants from Abyss.

Byleth escorts you to your chamber, your quiet voices bouncing off the damp walls in the dark corridor that stretch away into unprepossessing shadows. Unlike up in the monastery, the walls here are bare of tapestries and sometimes even of torches which makes traversing the tunnels difficult. You’ve let Linhardt show you simple fire spells to have a source of light on you.

“But it would be far easier if you learnt Light Magic,” he had commented as you two bent over scrolls and books, fighting a yawn. “Also much safer and highly unlikely to set yourself on fire.”

You had closed the tome he’d slid across the table to you, smiling stiffly. “Duly noted.”

The flame dancing across your palm now flickers but doesn’t waver, illuminating the corridor and painting Byleth’s face with a sheen of soft, amber light, giving her pale complexion a little colour. She is watching you conjuring the spell; how your fingers close around the flame as if it were a small beating heart, easily snuffed out whenever a breeze swipes through the corridors.

“I see your Magic Prowess is growing,” Byleth notes. “As is your ability to hold your own ground on the battlefield. You’ve grown used to fighting.”

That isn’t a compliment you had ever thought someone would tell you, but coming from Byleth, you know it is true. You have noticed it yourself—how with every battle it gets easier to see the enemy’s movements and abilities, their weapons and gear. Calling upon the power of the Herald’s Crest, usually a taxing and draining endeavour that left you resting up in your chambers, has become much easier since you have met Seiros’ Champion. Whenever he makes his presence known with quiet whispers of where to lead your students next, soft pushes as if he is placing his small child’s hand upon your shoulder to guide you to victory, his support is like wind in your sails, propelling you forward and lifting your courage.

“You are not as scared as you were in the beginning,” she continues. “You have never much wavered in your tactics, but you seem even more sure now.”

All that praise from her makes your ears scald with heat. Though praise it seems, you know that Byleth only speaks truth. “I have finally started to trust in my abilities. If people see me doubt, how can they follow where I lead them in battle?” you say, even though that is not entirely the truth, of course. Which is why you hastily add, “And I trust you. As long as you are by my side, we are invincible.”

“So it is,” Byleth says, turning her head so that her moss-green eyes dig into you like hooks. “And yet I wonder. This courage, is it just because you wish to defend Abyss? To prove yourself before Yuri and his companions. Or is there something else? Something that you want to share with me?”

You both pause in front of the door leading to your quarters, the silence smothering you like a heavy blanket of freshly fallen snow that puts everything into a deep slumber. No matter how much you dig through that snow though, you can’t find the resolve to tell her about Seiros’ Champion. Where would you even begin to explain?

It might seem that I have turned mad but believe me when I tell you the soul of the first Herald resides within me and sometimes, he whispers to me what I should do, and he likes to gossip from time to time as well. He seems fond of Edelgard in particular, and notices whenever she looks at you, but you choose not to see it.

You stare at her, not entirely sure what you are waiting for. Maybe that Byleth learns how to read your thoughts so you wouldn’t have to speak these outlandish things aloud. Instead, you say, “No. There is nothing.”

Byleth considers you for a moment. You make it a point not to shy away from her scrutinising gaze, as one would do with nothing to hide, you assume. In the end, she relents first, but not because she grants you an easy victory. You’re certain she knows when it is wise to return to a battle at a later time. “I see,” she says mildly. “Rest up, then. I will see you tomorrow.”

 You watch her disappear down the hallway, the blade at her side peeking out from under her black robes like a sly wink; like a promise waiting for the right time to jump out of the shadows and strike you in the back. It occurs to you then, for the first time, that maybe the timely meeting with Seiros’ Champion and Byleth activating the power of the Sword of the Creator might be connected.

The Chalice of Beginnings. The way it all ties back to the Rite of Rising, the very same festivities used as a distraction to try and steal Seiros’ remains—unless the Western Church somehow knew what they would find inside the tomb would be something entirely different—and ultimately the reason you are all down here … calling it simply coincidence is like cooing at a fox shortly before it snaps with sharp fangs at you. It is hard to tell what play you are conducting on the stage unknown forces have set you upon. All you can hope for is that it doesn’t end up being a tragedy.

With the scrolls, papers and books Aelfric was kind enough to lend you spread over the make-shift workplace you’ve put together using crates, you’re spending the evening reading up on the Rite of Passing and the Four Apostles. Even though some of the texts are so badly damaged you can barely make out their content, it all matches with what Aelfric has already told you: the ritual is believed to have the power to resurrect a life that was lost using the chalice which only the Four Apostles had access to. After the ritual failed, they bound the chalice so that it would never fall into mortal hands. Capable of something that grand, it is no wonder whoever is after it throws ambush after ambush at the Abyssians in hopes to find crumbs leading to where this treasure of immeasurable worth might be.

But if that chalice really exists, where is it? To search for the Chasm of Bound below Abyss feels like trying to find a needle in a haystack. There is no telling how much time you have left before either Rhea demands everyone’s presence back or you are unable to protect the Abyssians any longer from the mob of greedy thugs.

“Knock knock,” a voice says from the entrance to your room.

You startle, too lost in thought to notice anyone approaching. Claude is leaning against the doorframe, having come up behind you as silent as a cat. He has changed out of his gear, wearing loose dark trousers tied at the waist, and a simple white shirt that stands in contrast against his tanned skin. The first buttons of his collar are open, showing the elegant curves of his collarbones. His dark hair is damp, curling against his temples and the nape of his neck.

“Did something happen?” you ask, moving in alarm to rise from your seat, though surely, he wouldn’t lean so leisurely and relaxed against the door if there was another attack. He confirms as much with a lazy wave of his hand, unhitching himself from the frame. “Nope, nothing to worry about. I just thought I’d drop by and say hi. Do you know how difficult it is to pin you down? You’ve gotten really busy since we’ve come down here.”

“You know, no rest for the wicked.” You try to restore order on your desk by organising the books and scrolls in one corner. You’ve completely lost track of time, and as it turns out, magical fire is incapable of burning candles to their wick, so there is really no telling how long you’ve been holed up in your room, studying the ancient texts. “Do you need something?”

“Just thought we’d have a nice, pleasant chat.” The smile flirting with Claude’s lips is dangerous for it tries to appear innocent, yet the way his green eyes glint with mischief, like the edge of a knife flashing as it is drawn from a hidden sheath, promises nothing good. “Been a while since we’ve had one of those.”

 You can’t remember if you have ever had one with Claude. Maybe all those moons ago after you had awoken with your new power, which now feels like a lifetime ago. You lean back in your chair, allowing your eyes a break after all those hours of reading. Maybe this distraction might help.

“Okay, I’m all yours.” You stand up, waving at the chair to offer Claude a place to sit, and absolutely missing the way he shoots you an amused glance at your choice of words. Instead of taking up your offer though, he steps backward. Suspicion crawls up your back, feathery light like a spider making its way to new prey caught in its web.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Claude says and with a swift kick, shuts the door behind him. You stare at him, tongue-tied. Can students just do that with faculty members? Yuri’s voice creeps up from a dark corner in your memory: “You’d do well to keep in mind that the monastery rules don’t apply down here, Herald.”

“I just have a few questions, is all,” he continues, still smiling but anything pleasant in his voice has made room for an urgency that you can’t remember ever having heard coming from him. Claude crosses the room in quick strides, and leans his hips sideways against the table. His eyes flick over the remaining texts on your table, his head slightly cocking to one side to get a better angle to read them. When you clear your throat, he startles, and looks back up at you.

“Right, sorry.” He knows that you know that he, in fact, is not sorry. “The library here has some pretty interesting things, I gotta say. Books and scrolls you’d never find in the monastery’s library. There are some things that are hard to believe, though. There’s this funny book hidden inside a false cover that talks about a Distance Viewer and Flammable Black Water and a Metal-Hold Printing Machine. Imagine the technological advancement one of the nations would achieve if they could actually build and utilise devices like that.”

“Is that why you’re here?” you ask. “To talk about the Abyss’ book collection?”

“What? No. No, I—,” he begins, tapping his slender fingers impatiently against the wood. You don’t think you have ever seen this restlessness about him. Claude has always appeared as steady as his bow-hand, sure that wherever he aims the shot will land true. “I was just wondering if something happened after your fall down here. Something you can’t tell us.”

You feel as if ice water has been dumped down the back of your neck, shocking you to full alertness. Claude must see that he has caught you off guard; a look of hesitancy flashes across your face before you can speak. “And what would that something be, exactly?”

He lowers his voice. “I thought you might tell me.”

You stare at him, throat tight, the cold sweat sensation of anxiety spreading slowly through your limbs. “Nothing happened. Whatever gave you the idea that I’m hiding something from you guys?”

There is a moment of silence as you two trade a look that feels like a dare. There is something forbidding about the intensity of Claude’s gaze, the tension of his stillness. His fingers stop their rhythmic tap tap against the table, and now clutch onto its edge, his knuckles turning white. “I’ve always figured your reservation towards using your Crest came from the novelty of it. The foreignness of a power that isn’t yours. But in our recent battles, there’s nothing of that anymore.

“I thought maybe it’s because you met the Ashen Wolves and the people from Abyss, and you feel sympathy towards them and that’s giving you a little more oomph to try making use of the Crest. But that’s not it, is it? You’ve changed from despising the powers to fully embracing them. Wielding them as if you’ve never done anything else in your life.”

You swallow, your mouth suddenly dry. Your tongue darts out to lick your lips, and you don’t miss Claude’s eyes quickly jumping down to your mouth for a second. Or maybe it was just your imagination, the flickering shadow of the small candle’s light across his face. “Maybe I’ve just grown used to it,” you reply quietly.

“Herald, you grow used to balding or riding a new steed.” He looks at you sharply, his head tilted to the side. Something in his voice changes in that moment. “You don’t get used to something that changes your life from being a nobody to suddenly standing in the centre of the world. Not really.” His voice has a veneer of calm, but beneath you could hear the vibration of some very different emotion.

What changed for you, then? you want to ask. It doesn’t feel like the answer would be so simple as the appointment to the heir of the Leicester Alliance.

You shift, folding your arms in front of you for lack of a response. As much as you like to discount Claude’s tendency for plots and schemes, there is something disconcertingly earnest about him right now. The similarity is striking you all of a sudden, the shadow passing his eyes one you have already seen in Sylvain’s when he had tried talking about his Crest and its troubles.

“All I’m saying is,” Claude continues, and he takes a step towards you. Instinctively, you take one back. He takes another one. This goes on until it ends with your back against the wall. “All I’m saying is that maybe Teach finding her new shiny weapon triggered something in you,” he says now, propping himself up against the wall, his hand splayed beside your head. “Maybe a memory? Something like that?”

You hold his gaze, not shying away from his scrutinising eyes or the close proximity. So, you are not the only one thinking that the Sword of the Creator and the Crest of the Herald are connected in a way the other Crests are not. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that Claude, of all people, is the first to have noticed it. You had simply failed—or underestimated him, rather—to anticipate that he would also act on that theory and corner you like a mouse to get answers. Literally.

“Nothing like that happened, Claude,” you say now, feeling like you’re walking on a lightrope, and a single misplaced word could send you plunging. And then, he is there, his presence like the light brush of soft flower petals against the back of your mind. Do not tell him yet. Do not tell anyone yet, I ask of you. I do not wish the world to know I still exist. Silly Champion of Seiros. You’ve already understood his feelings perfectly without him having to tell you.

“Somehow, I was given this power. I tried fighting it for so long, but there’s no way I can run from this. I realised that, so now I’m just trying to make the best out of it.” It is only half the truth, but that is something Claude doesn’t need to know. It is also something he didn’t want to hearyou realise as you watch his expression turn into something close to disappointment.

“I’m sure Lady Rhea would enjoy hearing this,” Claude says, his voice deep and thin like a knife’s edge—and just as sharp.

“You’re not very subtle, Claude.” You try to move past him, but he doesn’t budge. “What’s your problem?”

“Problem? There is no problem.” The mask of bored indifference slips back on his face, turning his eyes distant, and cold even. An easy smile stretches over his features, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Maybe I just enjoy teasing you.”

“And maybe I’ll enjoy sticking a dagger in your side.”

Claude laughs. “That’s not very Heraldy of you.”

You try to see if that laugh means you’re good, but his eyes are closed doors. Your face must be a question mark, because he says, “Herald,” and touches your cheek gently, grazing your skin with the rough pads of his fingers. You inhale sharply, gaze snapping up to his. Claude’s eyes widen, realising what he’s doing only then, and his warm, calloused fingers freeze against your cheek.

Just as he opens his mouth, knocks come from your front door. He lifts an eyebrow at you, asking if you are expecting visitors at this time. You just shrug. You certainly didn’t expect him, and yet here he is.

Claude pushes himself off the wall, allowing you to cross the room and open the door a crack wide. Through the narrow opening you see Dimitri standing in the hallway. When he spies you glancing at him, he gives you a shy smile that quickly turns into a scowl when Claude comes up behind you. He presses his chest against your back and leans an arm against the door frame above your head. “Oh, Dimitri?” Claude drawls.

Dimitri pales as he sees, and certainly misunderstands the sudden intimate proximity Claude is displaying. He presses his mouth into a thin line. “Pardon the intrusion, Herald. I thought maybe this would be a good moment to review the last battle reports. But I see…,” and here his eyes dart over to Claude and sweep over him as if he were a particularly unpleasant surprise he found under his bed, “… you are preoccupied.”

“Please, don’t mind me at all,” Claude beams, his grin as wide as the Cheshire cat’s.

Dimitri’s scowl deepens more. His eyes turn into the blue of an icy-cold glacier dominating the coastline of Faerghus in the North. “I do, actually. I wish to speak with the Herald in private.”

“Then get in line for an appointment. Our Herald is very popular with folks, as you know.” And with that, he closes the door in Dimitri’s face.

You’re pretty sure Dimitri on the other side is wearing the same expression of dumbfounded surprise that is on your face. “What is going on with you, Claude?” you ask and turn to him, forgetting how close he is. When you almost bump into his chest, you take a hurried step to the side. “The way you are acting is unbecoming of someone with your station.”

Claude shrugs. “Don’t worry, Dimitri won’t take it to heart. It’s just that things have started to happen that don’t make sense, and I am all about making sense of the senseless.” He looks over at you, smiling. “Makes sense, doesn’t it?”

You’re spared the eye roll for an answer when distant bell ringing heralds another ambush on Abyss. Claude heaves a long, weary sigh. “No rest for the wicked, huh…” He turns to open the door, but except a little rattle, nothing happens, no matter how hard he shakes at the handle.

“Come on,” you say, unable to contain the urgency in your voice. “Open the door.”

“Well.” He turns around. “It appears that it is stuck.”

Your eyes go wide. “Then unstuck it.”

Claude throws himself against the door. It doesn’t budge. He curses. “My shoulder will never be the same. I expect you to nurse me back to health when this is over.”

“This is your fault,” you press out between gritted teeth. “Just break the door down, we can’t waste more time.”

“That’s what I’m—,” Claude throws himself once more against the hard wood, “—trying.”

There’s a loud crack and the door opens to the other side; not by swinging but by being lifted out of its hinges. Behind it, Dimitri is peeking around the frame, eyebrows raised to his hairline. “I thought you two might be in need of some assistance.”

“Yeah, I was … I was about to do the same,” Claude says.

You push him aside, hurrying down the corridor and waving them after you. “Lucky for us, Dimitri was faster.”

“No, really!” Claude calls after you. “I was just about to do the same!”

The fight lasted throughout the whole night. When you return to your chamber, drenched in grime and blood, you can’t even be bothered with your missing door and fall face first into your bed, remembering too late that it’s as hard as the ground.

After an hour or two of resting, you quickly clean yourself up and meet the others for a short breakfast of dry rye bread and mushy oats, letting them believe the red bump on your forehead is from the battle. There is a little spare time before the meeting to discuss your next course of action, so you head back to your room for some more shut-eye.

“Herald.”

A raspy whisper stops you, drawing your attention to a chamber you walked past on your way to the classroom many times. Not once has it been occupied since your arrival in Abyss. But now it is decorated with heavy velvet curtains and tapestries. Violet lights hang from lanterns on the ceiling, illuminating the heavy furniture and curtains in soft, misty light. You remember Constance mentioning something about a Wayseer’s room, usually empty, but now inhabited by an elderly woman sitting in an armchair too big for her behind a round, mahogany table. You can only see a pair of narrow, dark eyes staring up at you. Her nose and mouth are hidden behind a white veil.

“Please, do come in, Herald,” the woman croons and gestures to an empty, cushioned chair standing before the table. Her eyes twinkle with mischief. “There is so much we have to discuss.”

Something in your chest gives a sudden, sharp tug. Seiros’ Champion? No, this feels different. Somehow … It feels wrong. You shouldn’t be here. You hover within the doorframe, looking down the corridor left and right. It is like everyone except you two has left Abyss.

Curiosity taking you in its reins, you step into the room, your eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. “Who are you?” you ask, cautiously making your way across the room towards the chair.

The woman chuckles.

“They call me Wayseer, Herald. For I see the paths people have walked and how far they still have to march until they arrive at their destination.”

You pause, hand resting on the chair’s backrest. The wood feels impossibly cold against your skin. “You can see … the future?”

The woman chuckles again. It is the sound of dry leaves scattered by the cold autumn wind. “You mean do I have the same ability as you? Making Time bow to me? Oh no. Nothing of the like. I simply glimpse where I am allowed. No one else has what you wield.”

“Of course.” You sit, quickly swallowing your disappointment.

“Oh, but why frown like that, Herald.” The Wayseer places her hands to both sides of a translucent orb placed before her on a dark socket. You could have sworn it was not there a second ago. They were small hands with lithe fingers like spider legs. On each finger she wore heavy rings. “So many would kill for what you seem not to appreciate. Power. Glory. The chance to sit upon the throne of the world.”

“I would appreciate people not telling me how to feel about it,” you snap, irritation lashing out like a cornered beast. Taken aback, you lean away from her, your back pressed right against the cold chair. It feels as if you are pressing yourself against a solid block of ice. Where did this come from? This fury?

The Wayseer’s lip curls. If she’s taken offence at your irritation, she doesn’t show. She shifts in her seat like a child impatient to finally be allowed to play with a new toy.

“What can you tell me about my paths then?” you ask. There is little you hope for, really. If she tells you she sees you living in a nice house by the sea in twenty years or so, that is all you can ask for. A peaceful life. You would simply be happy hearing you will survive the next few years. And, if she can see where exactly you have come from, then maybe luck really is on your side this time and you can finally find some answers.

“Very well.” The Wayseer’s chuckle is drier than crisp autumn leaves. She holds out her wiry hand and says, “Close your eyes, Herald, and give me your hand.”

You aren’t too keen on skinship with a stranger, but just to humour both of you, you comply, and placing your hand into hers, palm up, you close your eyes. You feel her gnarly fingers dance over your wrist, brushing over your open palm as light as a spider’s touch. You fight a shudder.

The pain is so sudden and jarring like a lightning bolt. Before you can pull your hand back, the Wayseer grabs your wrist hard like a vice—surprisingly strong for someone this old. Her head darts forward and she sucks your bleeding finger into her greedy mouth as if it were water and she is dying of thirst.

“What are you doing?” you demand, fighting to free your hand. Finally, the Wayseer releases your finger with a wet pop from her lips, and for a second you believe to see razor sharp teeth before the veil obscures her mouth again.

The Wayseer smacks her lips and scratches her nails against the smooth surface of her orb. Maybe this is all a joke. If Claude and Hilda jump out from under the table any second and laugh about the silly face you’re making, you wouldn’t even be angry. But no one emerges, and you stay alone with this mad woman. She’s moving her hands in strange motions over the orb, and in response colourful clouds swirl inside the ball. First red, then blue, and golden until, like a storm rolling in, all of a sudden it becomes black.

The Wayseer recoils.

She tries to suck in air as if she is drowning, her eyes bulging like a dead fish’s. She spits on the ground and a shudder wrecks through her, one that has her falling from her armchair onto the ground, her body convulsing. She begins to cough, a horrible, rattling sound, as if there is something stuck deep inside her that she can’t get out. Clawing at her throat, digging her nails deep enough into the skin to tear, she kicks and wails as if set in invisible flames. As if something is burning her up from the inside. Like poison.

You jump to your feet, rounding the table to help her but she screeches and scrambles away from you, eyes ripped wide open. “Who … no, what are you?” she croaks.

“I … I don’t know.” Your voice is so quiet you don’t know if she can even hear you. “I hoped you could tell me.”

The Wayseer turns to the side and spits some more. It is so dark that it almost looks black, whatever that is—blood or maybe something far gruesome?

Did I do that? you think, horrified as you watch her climb to her feet, still shaking and shuddering. You are about to apologise, reaching forward to steady her by her elbow, but the Wayseer shakes your effort away impatiently as if you are nothing but an annoying fly.

“Oh, my dear, you seem forsaken to me,” she says, and you can’t hold back your surprise how easily she bears no mind or grudge to whatever has happened. Whatever you might have caused. “Just like—” She stops. Her eyes are fixed on her orb that is now swirling in undistinguishable shapes. She leans over it, her gaze pining you like a dead animal on a corkboard. “It seems to me that the answers you seek lie in the Shadow Library, Herald,” the Wayseer says now, her voice suddenly smooth like clear water. Or the satin concealing a sharp knife. But what makes your stomach churn is the way she purred “Herald.” Almost mockingly, and you realise the spiking fear in your stomach doesn’t belong to you. It belongs to the first Herald.

“Why can’t you tell me?” you ask.

“Because it is not my place to tell you.” The Wayseer casts down her eyes now. Her whole behaviour doesn’t make sense. Making light of the Herald’s name first, now acting obedient. You listen inside for the voice of Seiros’ Champion and find one emotion burning like a beacon in the dark. Get out. She is the enemy.

You jump to your feet, almost knocking the table over. “I have to go.”

“Of course.” The Wayseer bows her head slightly, and from the way her eyes become slits, you can see she is smiling underneath the veil. “But don’t forget, the Shadow Library holds answers. Do not let anyone stop you from chasing the truth.”

You give an awkward nod, not trusting your voice.

When you quickly leave the room and throw a last glance back, you think you see the unfamiliar face of a man staring back at you from inside the Wayseer’s orbs, his eyes eerily white.

The Shadow Library is a dark, damp room tucked away at the end of a narrow hall that is seldom frequented by the Abyssians. When you take a look inside, relief fills you that only Linhardt is currently occupying a seat close to a wall, an uneven stack of books his only companion.

The Wayseer didn’t say specifically where to look, but you would start with records on the first Herald and see what you could turn up about him.

But first, you have to deal with Linhardt who’s napping away in his seat, cheek squished against the edge of an open book.

“Linhardt.” You shake him. “Linhardt!”

He jerks up. “I’m awake,” he lies, blinking sleepily against the dim candle’s light. He looks up at you, squints and seems to recognise who caught him. “Oh, it’s just you, Herald. Come to a late study session as well? Or early morning? It’s certainly hard to tell down here with no sun.”

“How long have you been awake?”

Linhardt thinks about that for a moment, his eyes losing focus, then refocusing again. “Forty-two hours, maybe?”

“Bed. Now.”

He leans back, considering the idea. “We can’t say for how long we’ll have access to this hidden knowledge. Did you know it was only with the founding of the Adrestian Empire that we have the calendar as we know it today. They used to call our moons ‘months,’ if you can believe something this extraordinary! You can’t find data like that up in the monastery’s library.”

“Linhardt,” you repeat. “Go to bed. Or do you want me to get Byleth?”

Linhardt doesn’t need to consider this. He raises to his feet, sways a little from exhaustion, and tugs his uniform in order. “Good night, Herald.”

He turns and moves to the exit, but you call him back. “Linhardt!”

He stops. You point at the table. His mouth twitches into an unpleasant line, the only sight of his disapproval, but he returns, drops the books and scrolls he’s hidden in the folds of his robes, and leaves for good.

Quiet settles, and you give it a minute or two to calm your beating heart. “I know you don’t like this,” you say out loud, hoping Seiros’ Champion might finally stop being so anxious inside you. “I don’t trust that Wayseer either, but if I find answers here, I’ll take anything I can get.” He doesn’t know what it is like not knowing anything. Are you even a real person if you don’t have a past; if you don’t have anything or anyone remembering you? “I have a right to know who I am.”

Unfathomable sadness spills at those words—his mixing with yours and you can’t say who started it. But he quickly recedes, leaving you alone. Somehow you feel even worse now. Lonely. You wonder where he left to where you can’t follow him.

You make your way along the walls of books, allowing your fingers to gently journey over the spines. There are so many stories in here that so few people get to read. This library’s collection appears larger than the monastery’s as well, solely for the fact that they don’t have enough space for all the knowledge cramped into every nook and cranny. Wherever there is even some small additional space, someone has made it their calling to fill that blank spot with a book—even when it doesn’t fit.

Without any idea to start, you continue down the aisle and pick whatever sounds interesting. Letters from heirs to noble houses, an antiquated note on what meat to use for a special dish prepared for the new emperor at ceremonies, a novel set in the Adrestian Empire with a date of removal and Seteth’s signature. So this is where the books end up that Seteth doesn’t allow up in the monastery.

You’d hoped to find more about the Herald down here maybe, but there are no records, no memoirs, not even discourse. Why did no one care to keep your records alive? you wonder, but wherever the boy has retreated to, he can’t hear you, or perhaps, chooses not to hear you.

Nothing sticks out as something truly worthy of Seteth’s scorn at first glance. That is until you find the burnt remnants of a report stating some details on a handful of noble houses, another scroll that talks about a False God and the children of men fleeing to the depths of the earth. One paper strikes you as particularly important, but the page is so old and worn that most of the text is illegible. The Truth of Heroes’ Relics. You wonder what it might be, what truth lies within the relics and their Crests that the writer of this paper finished with the words “I daresay the Goddess would not wish for me to learn more than I already have.”

You finally hit a breakthrough when a stack of papers falls to your feet, bundled together with a crumbling piece of wool. When you begin to read, you realise these are the fragments of a forgotten memoir of someone who had fought in the War of Heroes. With clammy hands, you begin to read.

__/15 - Ailell Forest It has been several moons since King Nemesis was defeated, and the tides of war have turned from bad to worse. I have received news that my friend Daphnel has fallen as well. Those zealots are after our heads, and those of our leaders. All that is left for us is to disappear into the muddy waters Seiros has created. My long life may soon come to an end …

__/2 - Itha Plains I somehow escaped with my life, but I fear the end is near. They tell stories of the Shadowlord’s execution and with him gone, what point is there for us, those who have survived? Those who remain and carry a broken legacy. People are worried, for their Herald has locked himself in his rooms, unwilling to speak to his followers or Saint Seiros. They do not understand how he could be so distraught over the Shadowlord’s death. They do not know the truth. Once more, Seiros has chosen to keep secrets, to play with her charges’ obedience and fear. But I know. The world will know the truth at some point and then Seiros will reap the rotten harvest of what she has sown. I misspoke and was driven away to the Fhirid River. They hunt us like animals. I considered leaving Crusher behind, hiding my trails. Maybe it is too late for that. I wish I could see my wife and son again … just one last time.

You read the content of the worn pages once more, trying to make a sense of it. Daphnel was one of the Ten Heroes, as was the author of this letter—if you remember correctly, the Heroes’ Relic Crusher was wielded by Dominic. It must be from after the corruption if King Nemesis was defeated, but from the way those words are framed, the author doesn’t strike you as someone mad for more power or revenge. It is strange but you feel pity for this person.

There is another name that stands out, of course, one that you have not heard in all your moons since joining the church.

The Shadowlord.

The name is like a brush of icy cold fingers against your mind, as gently as a snake grazing your ankle before it springs forward and sinks its venomous fangs deep into your flesh. A shiver passes your body, only it is settled so deep within your bones that you know this is not your fear rekindled.

But as you focus on chasing after Seiros’ Champion before he can disappear back into the murky depths of your mind, a cough comes from the library’s entrance. Your gaze snaps up to see Yuri standing in the doorway. The look of annoyance on his face is something that deserves its own painting to commemorate it.

“I hope you plan on putting that back exactly where you found it,” he says, strolling over as if he doesn’t have any care in the world but the tense set of his shoulders betrays him. “Wouldn’t want any of that to find its way into the hands of someone from the surface.”

“Don’t you get bored?” you ask, folding the papers back together and pushing them back between two books.

Yuri stops, quickly eyeing what you’ve put away to undoubtedly have a look himself once you leave. “Bored of what?”

“Pretending I’m still the villain and here to sell out your people?”

To your surprise, a look of unabashed amusement lights up his face for a moment. It settles back to a somewhat neutral expression, but the glee still remains in the soft dip of the dimple on his left cheek.

“Better safe than sorry,” Yuri replies, shrugging casually. His nimble fingers dance across book spines. “Though yes, even I must admit that your deeds for the people of Abyss are not what I have expected.” His fingers pause. Yuri leans forward, lilac eyes gleaming. His face is predatory, but his voice is gentle. “You are not what I have expected.”

His words feel like the warm flick of a candle’s light. You didn’t realise until now how much you cared for Yuri’s approval. To think he’s warming up to you slowly might still be an exaggeration, but maybe he’ll grant you the generosity of a looser tongue now that he doesn’t see you as the enemy.

Your eyes skim back to where you’ve returned the letters, fingers itching to take them with you until you know every word by heart. “I’ve … I’ve read about this person. Shadowlord. Any idea who that was?”

Yuri raises a slim eyebrow. “The Shadowlord?” He looks a little puzzled, his eyes roaming over the books. “It’s just a story. A boogie man living in the shadows that steals you away if you don’t finish eating all your vegetables. Grandparents used to tell their grandchildren that story so they wouldn’t be naughty.”

“So just the bad guy in a fairy tale?”

“Is what I’ve heard.” He gives a single shrug. “Who knows. All fairy tales have a spark of truth to them though. Maybe he truly existed.”

You’re sure that is what people thought about the Herald as well until the story became reality. You just hope this particular story remains one.

“Also, I would appreciate it if you don’t go around the monastery telling everyone what you’re reading down here,” Yuri says, waving towards the library’s entrance to signal your late-night reading has come to an end.

You hesitate only a moment before you follow him down the corridor, leaving the books and tomes behind. “Okay, I won’t tell anyone.”

“Great.” He winks at you. “Saves me the trouble of sneaking into your room and slitting your throat.”

“Charming as always.”

Maybe one day you’ll be capable of holding a pleasant conversation with him without any death threats. Though it already feels as if a little of Yuri’s animosity has disappeared in favour of giving you a chance to prove yourself.

He drops you off at the door to your quarters, already flaunting down the corridor to whatever nightly escapade fancies his tastes without so much as a wave at you over his shoulder.

“That Wayseer,” you say before he can disappear into the shadows. “What’s her deal?”

Yuri stops. He turns slowly, his eyes flitting from the dark corners of the flickering lights on the walls to you. There’s a question in his eyes you don’t know the answer to. “What Wayseer?” he asks, and you can feel your blood run cold. “I know everyone going in and out of Abyss, and I haven’t heard about someone like that hanging around.”

“But that room next to the scrap chamber…”

“Hasn’t been occupied in years.” When Yuri answers this time, he turns around and looks at you a little sceptical but also impatient as if he doesn’t have time for whatever pipe dreams you’ve come up with. “I guess someone played a joke on you. Don’t let it get to you.”

You nod, but your mind still lingers in that room, with that person. It would be easy to brush it off as a joke. But this sense of wrongness spikes again, a kernel of goddess-awful flavour that the more you think about it has you gagging. You had felt an awareness. No. More than awareness, more sentient than that. It was recognition.

A/N: someone over at ao3 made fanart of the first herald and i'm absolutely in love!! check it out here!

if you're interested to join the taglist, please let me know! i want to resume uploads every month, so the next chapter should be up on September 15th. thanks for reading and take care!

#phill.tdwc #fe3h x reader #fe3h dimitri x reader #fe3h claude x reader #fe3h edelgard x reader #dimitri x reader #claude x reader #edelgard x reader #fe3h house leaders x reader #fe3h x oc #fe3h x gn!reader

[rescuefield-arch1]

something that makes me go 🙄 is when people accuse claire of not caring about sherry ( and i guess leon by extension ) and just "fucked off to find her brother" as soon as they were outside rc borders. like, the og r.e3 epilogue makes it clear that leon brought it up and that "push" to leave was what eventually saved her from also getting tangled into government bullshit. but she promised to come back, and she did, albeit finding a completely different situation on her return that was out of her control. and we know claire joins terrasave specifically because she doesn't want other kids to go through what sherry did. claire feels so much guilt for leaving that her whole life has been dedicated to make up for that mistake - because she never wanted to leave in the first place, she just ended up doing because as much as she's come to get affectionate to these people, she owes chris the effort to find him and make sure he's okay in europe; he would do the same for her.

this is even more highlighted with remake claire. for the second half of the game she's basically forgotten why she was there in the first place - she even tells sherry that she will indeed take her to see where she lives, even jokes about how she needs to take a shower etc. her whole mind has set on taking care of sherry already, just the way chris took care of her when their parents died. so they get out of RC and claire is even willing to entertain sherry's silly goofy talk about being adopted by her and leon, getting a pet ( or not as they both agree they're kind of a commitment lmao ) basically living some sort of parallel life that could have happened if only there hadn't been an outbreak to kill everything. we don't know exactly how long in remake time our trio stays together, but in my canon it's about two months between late september and mid-late november, with claire eventually leaving and planning her attack throughout december. it gives a lot of time to bond, put trust in each other and create an actual dynamic that feels like found family ( because as much as some people hate to admit it there is a familial dynamic going on, obviously never addressed officially though r.e6 touches upon it here and there )

all this to say that claire cares about her apocalypse buddies dearly and if she feels anything towards them it sure is not that they're a burden. if anything as time went by i'm afraid she's become mad at anything that prevented her from doing things her way, especially wheb it comes to sherry.

#𝙏𝙃𝙄𝙉𝙂𝙎 𝙇𝙊𝙎𝙏 𝙄𝙉 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁𝙄𝙍𝙀 ⎯ dev #i really hope that those cvr rumors are true and we'll actually get to see the time between escaping RC and going to europe #claire fought tooth and nail for sherry even when she was a whole ass late teenager lmao she never stopped caring for that kid #she doesn't expect to be called her mom by anyone especially sherry. but she is her baby now in claire's mind you know #i have so many feelings 😭

[celystial]

@siderealxmelody cont.

Rigelus stared at Rhysand through the mirro and rolled his eyes. "What happened to you?" The question hung between them. 500 years of history in that question. How did Rigelus talk about that? The jealousy? The rage? All the ways Rhysand had gotten the actual things he wanted? His kin had lost this world a millenia ago. He has grown up in the shadow of that defeat. His parents killed, slaughtered by those demons. Hunted down from their lands to the East to kill Asteri and drain their bodies - their light. How did he explain to Rhysand whose family was everything he'd ever wanted? Parents that adored each other? Sisters and brothers who cared for and never overstepped - who let their siblings breathe? He'd been 6, the murders had laughed as he screamed over his mother's body. If he hadn't been dragged away by Eosphoros and Austrus...if Hesperus hadn't killed them - would any of them had survived that? So he'd thrown himself into an impossible dream - his people would rise again. They'd take the old lands of Midgard and remake them. A haven for fae and others to come and be free. To feed and lord over like they used to. They'd claw their way back to Void-Chosen if it killed them. Rhysand hadn't approved, had called him a monster by the end. But it didn't matter, Midgard's borders were sealed. A wall just like Prythian had for the mortals outside their lands. Hadn't his kin called for those mortals? Promising them riches and security they never had under the fae? Rigelus steeled himself and met Rhysand's eyes. Ignoring the pity, that contempt. "Call me when you have that cracked. If you want our help that book needs to be cracked Rhysand." "And it'll be enough to stop -" "The Cauldron is a tool like any other. Since you refuse to let me actually see the book -" "I wouldn't trust you with any of this Rigelus if I was out of options." Rigelus huffed and stood reaching to close the connection. Rhysand stilled and looked away from the mirror for a moment. Rigelus's fingers stilled. Would she be there? The Princess he'd met 500 years ago? She was Queen now, High Lady of Night now. Not that he payed attention to those types of things. But how could he notice when Rhysand's face softened, when he looked like he'd had 500 years ago when that bond had finally snapped? "Rhysand? Is there anything else?" He despised mated couples. Thank The Void Hesperus and Austrus kept their relationships far more private. "Hmm? Oh, no. Tisi was just saying that the book had other things not related to the Cauldron. She says they're stories do you know anything about that?" Rigelus tilted his head and leaned back in his chair. "Probably observations? Or summarizes of everything my ancestors did. If I could just see -" "No." -------- Rigelus walked along the Istros late that night. He needed the night air, the quiet to think. What reports he was hearing was troubling. Hybern was small, but mighty. They had Demon blood, he wouldn't put it past the Princes to be part of this - He stopped blinking. He mentally cursed his own mental fatigue. He should have noticed where his body was taking him. He wasn't in the Eternal City where his body couldn't do anything more than find a window to have stand at to face Vaalbara. He looked to the sky, praying to Void to give him strength. He felt no different as he moved to where she sat. "Rough day Quinlan?" It felt far too intimate to call her by her name - especially in this context.

Of course it would be just her luck to run into the one person she had been avoiding since news of him arriving in Lunathion. It seemed that not ever her favorite little spot in the city was safe now.

❛ What do you want, Rigelus? ❜ She doesn't entertain his question. Why should she? He can't be trusted. He's her enemy in all sense of the word. She hasn't forgotten the casual threat he made her not too long ago. No, she hasn't forgotten that at all.

#siderealxmelody #≺ bryce quinlan. * threads. ≻

[applesfallingfromblondehair]

Hii, I hope I'm not annoying yet! It's that one anon from like, a month ago, who just sort of happened around these parts and I want to know why YOU think Taron isn't a major celebrity. Like, I'm fucking around on youtube right now and ended up on one of his interviews and he's so charismatic and SEXY (it's the voice I'm afraid; not immune to a gravelly voice). He's not got that many acting credits to his name, at least none of importance, and I feel like if he was going to blow up, he would have blown up after Kingsman TSS, no? So why do you think he hasn't? I'm not being judgy btw. Dylan O'Brien is one of my favorite actors and he hasn't blown up the way I think he deserves to either !

Hi! Not annoying at all, I promise, I love replying to these.

Just so we're clear, though, "none of importance"? What about our not-so-little movie we love so much that won him a damned Golden Globe and the respect of fans and international treasures all over the world? Have we all already forgotten about that? 🥲

If I may be so bold, I think Taron's career has "stalled" after Rocketman purely because of the pandemic. He was going to film Kingsman 3 in the summer of 2020, but we all knew what happened in 2020, so that got inevitably pushed. He was rumoured to star in a remake of Little Shop of Horrors with Chris Evans and ScarJo, and that got shelved, too, you guessed it, because of the pandemic. Just an unfortunate time, overall, but we all know how that year went so it isn't really surprising, is it.

And honestly you know what? If he doesn't quite "break Hollywood", I think I'd still be happy. If not happier. He has always felt like an approachable one to me, and the last thing I want is him moving to LA and becoming a showbiz douche like his (once) great friend and (alleged) flame. No, thank youuuuuu.

#answered #taron egerton #my man is relevant thank you very much #rocketman

[qu-film-history-to-1968]

Melodramas Are Not Forgotten

Julia Merolle

     Many things have been lost from cinema’s past to Hollywood today. Many films are forgotten. Only certain things have carried over. One of those are melodramas. Melodramas were very popular in the early to mid-20th century and became popular again in the early 2000s. Many remakes have been made of melodramas, specifically ones that were based on novels.

     A popular melodrama from the early twentieth century was The Gold Rush (1925) directed by Charlie Chaplin. This film was made during the 1920s and set in Alaska during the Klondike Gold Rush from 1896-1899. While it is a silent film, the plot focuses on mainly two characters who mostly banter with each other throughout a blizzard, and have to resort to eating things such as shoes because they are trapped and in poverty. In the end, both characters find gold that was there before the blizzard occurred and become millionaires. This is a nice ending to an otherwise horrible event in history. A quote on the topic of the film states, “Relating how his funniest scenes in The Gold Rush (1925) were inspired by a grim account of the bitter cold, starvation, and cannibalism experienced by the Donner Party, he later recalled, “In the creation of comedy, it is paradoxical that tragedy stimulates the spirit of ridicule, because ridicule, I suppose, is an attitude of defiance. We must laugh in the face of our helplessness … or go insane.” (Chaplin 303). Examples of this can be shown in the film such as the scene where The Tramp and Big Jim are eating a shoe and the scene where Big Jim envisions The Tramp as a chicken. Both of these scenes are comedic, yet depict real problems that people had to face during this time.

     Another popular melodrama from the early twentieth century besides The Gold Rush is City Lights (1931) directed by Charlie Chaplin. This film was made and set during the early 1930s, which was the same time as The Great Depression. While it is a silent film, the plot focuses on three characters who are The Tramp, a blind girl, and an alcoholic millionaire. The Tramp stops the alcoholic millionaire from committing suicide multiple times and also uses his riches to impress the bling girl, who thinks that The Tramp is a millionaire. In the end, The Tramp ends up with the blind girl who can now see due to the millionaire, who doesn’t remember because his money was stolen and he was beaten to which he accuses The Tramp. The Tramp leaves for a while but then meets the girl at the end of the film. A quote about City Lights and its melodrama themes states, “If Chaplin pushed the level of sentimentality to its limits in The Kid, the film also represents his most sophisticated integration of comedy and melodrama until City Lights. He achieved this by playing the genres of comedy and melodrama against each other in three basic ways he had discovered and refined in the course of making his previous films; these techniques were burlesque, juxtaposition, and substitution.” (page 8). Another quote about this film states, “Desire, however, the promise of love held out and the threat of its being withdrawn, again provided the essence of the melodrama in City Lights. Its promise rests on the tramp's ability to sustain the illusion that he is the wealthy and handsome benefactor the girl imagines; its threat lies in the inevitability of destroying that illusion when he makes it possible for her actually to see him as he really is. Chaplin occasionally undercuts the melodrama, as when Charlie's first longing gaze at the flower girl is rudely interrupted by the bucket of cold water she unknowingly throws in his face, but for the most part, the substitutions and incongruity he previously used to comic effect now also underscore the film's sentimentality.” (page 11). Examples of this can be shown in the scenes where The Tramp stops the alcoholic millionaire from committing suicide and the scene where The Tramp overhears that the girl is very ill. Both of these scenes depict real problems that people had to face during this time, which was during The Great Depression.

     When comparing melodramas to contemporary films, a film that I thought of is A Star Is Born (2018). Both of the protagonists are Jackson “Jack” Maine and Ally Maine, who eventually becomes his wife. The melodrama themes in this film stem from issues such as alcohol and drug addiction as well as suicide are shown in this film. Another important note about A Star Is Born is that it is a recreation of multiple films of the same title starting from the year 1937. Then every 20-30 years, there has been a remake such as 1954, 1976, and now 2018. Another film that is a contemporary melodrama is The Great Gatsby (2013). This film is similar to the original period in which melodramas became popular, which was the 1920s. The film was set in 1929, during the Roaring Twenties and the start of The Great Depression. Nick, the protagonist is in a psychiatric ward recalling the story of Jay Gatsby, who fell in love with Daisy Fay and then went to war, came back, and sees that she is married to Tom Buchanan. A love triangle ensues, while also relating to the divide between socioeconomic classes as well as new money and old money. Similarly to A Star Is Born, The Great Gatsby is also a recreation of multiple films of the same title starting from the year 1926, 1949, 1974, and now 2013.

     Overall, melodramas have had a resurgence in Hollywood. While many people think they were something that was left in the early to mid-20th century, they became popular again with films such as A Star Is Born (2018) and The Great Gatsby (2013). Remakes have been made out of many popular melodramas. Melodramas also stem from novels, which makes these adaption films, besides the contemporary ones such as A Star Is Born and The Great Gatsby a theme in Hollywood today. There have been many movies adapted from novels, which tend to be melodramatic.

Source:

Woal and Woal. 1994. Chaplin and the Comedy of Melodrama.

#submission

[living-in-the-state-of-dreaming]

So, so angry at the whole situation surrounding the whole ‘ recasting ‘ of the Final Fantasy Seven remake. To preface this I would like to say that; I’m sorry, if you like the new voice cast that’s fine and your opinion. However. Personally? I find it a stupid reason to replace an entire cast for the reason why it was done, especially when all of the voice actors WANTED to come back and were expecting to! I’m sorry but firing a whole cast because you want a new ‘ younger ‘ or whatever cast??? Is a stupid reason! Hell it’s not even a reason! I really don’t give a shit if you want to cater to a younger demographic with hiring actors instead of keeping the damn voice actors that have been the voices behind these beloved characters for YEARS, I don’t care if you wanna bring horny little and to be honest for the large majority of those who play Overwatch or watch tv shows like Teen Wolf or whatever other show that you watch, stupid teens and preteens into the community.

I. Don’t. Care.

Final Fantasy IS NOT A COMMUNITY WITH JUST A YOUNG DEMOGRAPHIC! I AM FRIGGING 26! And I know people who still love the franchise and characters in said franchise who are the same age if not older then me! Honestly younger people picking up the series and playing it is absolutely fine with me. I welcome it actually because that would be super cool; in fact I always love it when I hear people are still playing Final Fantasy games, especially the older games but this??? This is not the same! Or how you go about it! Especially when you are handling a game as well loved and well known as Final Fantasy and the characters within the game!

I met Steve Blum! And I was so excited at the thought that I was finally going to hear him be Vincent Valentine again after so many years of wanting it to get Remastered! Not only that but I was also excited for the possibility that I may be able to meet other voice actors such as Cloud and Zack Fair and heck Tifa’s original VA’s because of this! But now, that will likely never happen because of this pricks actions! And I know I’m not the only one upset about this! Actor’s and actresses are not the same as Voice Actor’s and actresses and neither are they superior to them. Stop acting like they are. They are two different fields and lines of work that deserve the exact same amount of respect as the other. How dare you treat these beloved voice actors of our equally beloved characters this way. The original voice actors will never be forgotten despite what you try to spew out while you abuse your new position of power. I can promise you this because no matter what anyone says, the original VA cast to me will ALWAYS be the voices behind Cloud, Vincent, Sepiroth, Tifa and the others, to me and many others.

Honestly I’ve only just heard about this John Heinecke guy, and I probably didn’t even spell his name right but I honestly don’t care because if I’m being honest I already thoroughly dislike him and if I’m being even more honest, that would be putting it very mildly. He already seems like a giant asshat who I never want to meet. Screw you. How dare you do this to the series and our beloved characters like this. If you don’t want an entire community who has been with this series and the voice actors of their beloved characters for YEARS to come after your ass or start giving you hate, then you shouldn’t of done this for such a stupid fucking reason, let alone done this at all! Non respectfully. Fuck you John Heinecke. You did a seriously shitty thing. I hope the money you rack in with this poor taste cash grab helps you sleep at night because you seriously don’t deserve any of it. You seriously suck and I hope I never meet you. No this will likely never reach you but again, screw you.

Sorry all, I just learned about what happened with the whole remake situation and...I am to put it lightly. Fucking. Livid. SO fucking. Livid.

#Thoughts Of A Dreamer #Final Fantasy 7:Remake #Final Fantasy Renuion #Seriously what the actual fuck. #I don't usually swear but my fudge I am SO l i v i d.

[getyouasenju]

Dragging Along.

*Spoilers if you haven’t finished the shinobi war arc :) nothing too major though*

Word Count: 1.2k :)

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“You’re being ridiculous”

“Oh look! a new word for you, shouldn’t you be saying that I’m being- oh yeah! a drag? your girlfriend is being such a fucking drag right now isn’t she? say it, I know you want to”.

She didn’t mean for it to come out that harsh. She hated arguing with him, was it supposed to be this hard? She peered up at him. One hand on his hip, the other on his temple squeezing, eyes slammed shut. He looked entirely done with the conversation, done with her. She had just gotten back from her mission, the feeling of matted hair, blood, dirt and who knows what else, was all too familiar. Her Jōnin jacket was basically a sponge for the downpour outside and she was still sporting the soggy shoes she’d travel in for weeks.

“Girlfriend? I guess that ring you’re wearing means nothing to you then, huh? you’re not my fucking girlfriend (Y/N). I wouldn’t take this shit from a girlfriend. you’re my fucking fiancée”. The words quickly tumbled out of the Nara’s mouth. He let a sigh pass his lips before slightly tugging on his loosened ponytail. They were supposed to be in love. Not ripping each others throats out in their living room.

“Take my shit?” (Y/N) hisses. He’s talking about having to take her shit when he was the one ready to leave the night in a huge rainstorm to see her. For fucks sake why the hell was she in the leaf anyways? “So why do you Shikamaru?” She’d been gone for weeks but he was still as fresh in her mind as he always was, she loved him. He’s been so busy being helping Naruto transition into his term as the new Hokage and her still being a shinobi, that they haven’t seen or spent very much time together. They haven’t even began planning their wedding. Does he even want one at this point?

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~4 months ago~

Shikamaru was as nervous as he’d ever been. They’d been together for four years. They’d been through a war together, they grew up running in the same circles and this lead them to each other. His mother screamed when he told her he’d planned to propose. Ino screamed loud (much to his distaste) and demanded to pick the flowers for the set up. So, there he was in their shared house surrounded by dozens of beautiful flowers. He picked a simple but beautiful ring, he knew she’d love it- but yet he was still anxious. He thought back to his younger days. “Someday, I just want to marry a regular girl who isn’t too ugly and not too pretty. Have two children, first a girl, then a boy. Retire after my daughter is married and my son becomes a successful, and spend the rest of my life playing shōgi or Go. Then die of old age before my wife”. He laughed to himself.. not too pretty, not too ugly.. regular..There wasn’t a regular thing about (Y/N). She was hands down the most gorgeous girl he’d laid his eyes on. The determination she had, the way she kept so many people save in the war, the way his friends love her, the way she comforted his mother after his fathers death. He had no doubt she’d make a good mother, wife and all around life partner. Oh he was nervous alright, but when the the door knob turned- his heart swelled. He was smitten, all he had to do was teach her how to play shōgi correctly and he’d be set for life.

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“So why do you Shikamaru?”

The sudden question pulled the Nara out of his head, he snapped his eyes open and looked at his soaked fiancée. What? This caught him off guard. “Because I love you (Y/N)” He let another breath go, where was she going with this?

(Y/N) smiled bittersweetly. “Okay, it’s settled then. You love me, and I love you. So we’ll both be staying here tonight. together. Like two people in love do, Shikamaru” she walks past the Nara after kicking off her soggy shoes, moving to unzip the heavily soaked vest. As she reaches the bedroom door she glances back at the man. “Are you coming fiancé?” Shikamaru stood rooted in his position by the door. he shifted, putting his hands in his pocket looking to his right, “(Y/N), I still need to go, She needs me”.

A dry laugh came from the small woman. Dropping the soaked jacket to the floor, it was long forgotten now. “She needs you. Okay, for what. what could she possibly need you for shikamaru!” she yelled. By this point (Y/N) was livid. What man that was supposedly so in love with her would go running to another woman in the middle of the night- in a fucking rainstorm! She tried to be calm but he was breaking her down, she could only take so much before she really exploded. “Why is she even here, she isn’t from here and at the snap of her fingers, you come fucking running!” (Y/N) basically had steam coming out of her ears. “I thought you were Naruto’s right hand, not Temari’s”.

Still avoiding eye contact with her the Nara speaks again, “I-I.. I need to see her (Y/N). Please. You know how much I love you”. Another dry laugh filled the space. (Y/N) spoke slowly, “I didn’t ask you if you loved me. I asked you why the fuck are you running to her side when your fiancée is back after not seeing you for weeks, soaked and upset!”. It was silent, you could hear the rain hit the window and then something made (Y/N)’s stomach churn.

She walked up to the boy she loved and asked him, “Has she been in our house Shikamaru?”, her heart was sinking, racing and breaking all at once. The silence was all she needed. Shikamaru made directed eye contact with his girl, “Nothing happened”.

“No, but you see- that’s enough for me” shaking her head (Y/N) steps back trying to put enough distance between them. “(Y/N) lis-” (Y/N) shakes her head again. “I’ve been listening to you speak in circles this entire time. I’m done, you can go see her now. I won’t stop you I promise, but before you go- please take this with you”. Slipping the delicate ring off her finger, she forced it into his palm. “Don’t worry,” she smiled at him, it was bittersweet “I won’t be here when you get back”. She turned around and went into the bedroom.

Shikamaru looked down at the ring he spent so much time picking out for her as he tried to slow his racing heart.

What the fuck just happened?

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Hi guys. New here! This is my first writing! Don’t be afraid to message me, I wanna be friends! ALSO- If you saw this before. I had to remake an account, the blog was a secondary one and I needed it to be primary for interactions!

Until Next time! xxo (▰∀���)ﾉ

Part two!

#naruto #naruto imagines #naruto imagine #oneshot #shikamaru nara #shikamaru angst #shikamaru #shikamaru nara imagine #shikamaru nara imagines #anime #angst #imagine #shikamaru imagine #shikamaru imagines

[alexandenigtscreations]

Have a sketch prompt you’d like to see? Send me an Ask!

Anon sketch prompt -> here,  asked about TMA endgame speculations.  And, ho boy, I do have a lot of them.  Though I think I managed to get the core theories down.  

Going to break this into three broad categories: Together, Apart and Fade Away.

Together:

There are a couple of ways that these two could remain together.  1) they can’t turn the world back and just have to deal with permanent Eyepocolypse.  This would mean that Gertrude was right on the tape, that a change of this magnitude can’t be undone.  I don’t think this is likely because Jonah was the one that sent the tapes to Jon.  He’s going to try and play as many mind games as he can to keep the watcher’s crown in his place.  A way out of that would be to make a new ritual to remake the world as best they could (if Jonny wants to give his characters a way out at all).  They could also flat out end the world and everyone’s suffering.  After all, it is a tragedy.  

 2) Martin does what Peter Lucas tried to set him up for in the first place and Kills Jonah’s body, taking his place.  (I’m personally obsessed with this idea).  I think it is likely that Jonah chose Martin to be the replacement for Elias’s body (being that he targeted people with few attachments and were underestimated).  Until Lucas took an interest in Martin that is.  Martin probably is holding a lot of blame for the eyepocolypse too, being that he could have Killed Jonah right then and there and stopped any of this from happening.  There is probably a lot of fear that Lucas was probably being serious with having Martin stop Beholding’s ritual.  Or, we could, potentially, lose Martin as we know him.  That would definitely screw Jon up pretty bad.  Or Martin might be equal in power to Jon.  Do think it’s likely that Martin will surprise us again.   

3) Twisted: where their trials become to much.  They break under the horror of it all and give in to the fear and power.  Martin may take Jonah’s spot with a bit of friendly murder and they take up residence in the Watcher’s tower.  Maybe Martin refuses to let go of Jon; holding on to the promise of not letting bad things happen to him.  Don’t think it’s likely given Jon’s stubbornness and Martin’s steadfastness, but it’s fun :D  

I can see them going into more grey moral areas though, and it will be really interesting to see how they deal.  

Apart: 

Even as an avatar, Jon had been able to go through Helen’s doors.  Now?  He’s far more powerful than a mear avatar.  The old world may not be able to handle someone like Jon.  If they manage to create a new pocket dimension to force the fears into, Jon might be dragged along with them. Martin being unable to stop any of it.  

This could also be separated by death.  Most likely Jon’s.  (In one of the Q&A sessions, Jonny mentioned that things would be “especially bad for Martin”)  This makes me believe that he will live on after the season 5 finale.  Also, the death of the narrator would make for a defined end.

Fade Away:

Following the trail of fear crumbs, I believe that this is the most likely of outcomes.  It would give Martin time to say goodbye to Jon.  It would give them a respite, and a few more tender moments before Jon collapses in on himself.  Jon has mentioned before that he doesn’t want to be a forgotten mystery (I believe this was in the Library of Alexandria episode), but after everything said and done, maybe being a mystery isn’t so bad when compared to an Apocalypse.   I’m imagining two types of fade-away scenarios.  

1) Relating to Mikaele Salesa’s safe house.  Jon just crumbles both mentally and physically in the normal world.  Leaving Martin as a caretaker until Jon dies.  I HATE this one.  Give me blood, murder, bloody worms, but don’t let Jon forget Martin.  Damn it!  This may occur if Jon does something like blind himself and cut off all connection from Beholding.  “Could you even survive at this point?” Martin had asked in season 4, and Jon didn’t have an answer.  

2) John Amherst withering away to nothing.  If Jon is to fade away, I really hope that it’s like season 4 and it’s mostly his body.  John Amherst when entombed in the concrete slab by Gertrude’s assistant, was implied to have died over a period of years after being cut off from frears.  I’m hypothesizing that if they end the eyepocolypse, that they wouldn’t be able to fully extract the fears from the world.  It would be as before, the fears praying on the most vulnerable.  Jon, who was the most powerful being in the eyepocalypse and had been force fed the fears of the Entire World, is probably unable to go back to statements and snaring victims.  (though it would be low key hilarious if the whole world just had nightmares about our archivist and he was actually healthy for the first time since joining the Magnus institute).  He’s not fully cut off, so he gets to keep his mind, but his body deteriorates. 

We might hear Jon’s last moments caught on the tape recorder, ending the final episode.  And I don’t know what to do with that, the final “Statement Ends”

Other Things I have no Idea what to do with:

The Web:  What do they want?  Do they really prefer the world as it was?  Do they want it back? Or do they like things as they are now? Annabelle seems to have no trouble pulling strings from Mikaele salesa’s place, so that may mean that the camera doesn’t work on all the fears.  I mean, Annabelle is being kept alive by bloody spiders and has been living there just fine, even able to dispatch of creatures of the corruption that wander into the bubble.  She’s been there the whole time!  And she’s fine!

I think that the web did want the eyepocolypse to happen though.  Just that manipulators don’t like to get their hands dirty if they can get someone else to do it for them.  

Helen: Love, love, love Helen; but don’t trust her.  I understand attaching yourself to the most powerful being in the hellscape, but, she is a being of lies and deception.  What is her long game?  Does she even think in those terms? 

Mikaele Salesa’s Camera: Either it, or something like it will come back again.  Jon and Beholding have their own kryptonite guys!  Also, he was wandering through the hellscape, looking for a pad to crash in.  The hellscape turned back into the world as we knew it when he passed seeming to indicate that it’s still there, under the fear. 

Georgie and Melony: Being that Georgie can’t feel fear and Melony ex-communicated herself from the damn eye, pretty damn sure they made their own little safety pocket.  What that looks like, and what impact it will have on Jon is unknown.

Basira:  Could still try to kill Jon.  The world ended, so what the hell right? 

Chrysalis: The hell is Jon’s chrysalis?  The hell does that mean?  Is this physical?  Metaphorical?  or Both?

Tape Recorders: Given that these bad boys were able to work in the Mikaele Selesa’s safe house, just want to know what their story is and where the tapes go when they finish recording.  Can’t really picture Jon or Martin carrying around a cassette collection in the eyepocolypse.  

Marked: So, Daisy was able to hurt Jon because of the strength of the mark she made before the eyepocolypse, makes me wonder what other avatars that marked our archivist could do to Jon.  

Statement Ends

#tma #the magnus archives #jon sims #Jonathan Sims #the archivist #Martin Blackwood #JonMartin #evil #corrupted #ask #pen and ink #digital overlay #My head is so full guys #tragedy #horror #theory #end game thoughts #spoilers #tma spoilers #season 5 #whump #watcher's crown #good cows #AlexandeNight #My art #traditional art #etc #magic #gathering consern #the magnus archives is a tragedy

[csolarstorm]

The Season of Sinnoh: Reflecting on Diamond and Pearl

Tomorrow a lot of us get to play BrilliantDiamond and ShiningPearl, which kicks off a fun few months where we play our faithfully recreated ILCA renditions of Diamond and Pearl as we wait just mere months for GameFreak's love letter to Sinnoh, Legends: Arceus.

The Sinnoh games are special in more ways than one. They are the culmination of the Japan-based Pokemon games, sort of a capstone to an era before Black and White started the tradition of exploring the globe.

Arguably, Diamond and Pearl are the realization/completion of the region that encompassed all Japan from the 1998 Spaceworld Gold demo; after all in the demo there are several early concepts of later evolutions like Tangrowth, Lickylicky, Leafeon, and Mime Jr.. The demo also had the “Heart Stone” and the “Poison Stone”, which I theorize might be inspirations for the later Shiny Stone and Dusk Stone, mainly because Dark type Pokemon like Umbreon originally started out as more Poison types.

In the long run, HeartGold and Soul Silver cemented the connection between Johto and Sinnoh canonically.

Paradoxically, Pokemon Pearl is both a really important game for me, and kind of a forgotten one. I was a Freshman in college when Pokemon Pearl came out, and it was perfect timing because I was studying historical symbolism and religious texts. At the time it came out in the west, my class was studying depictions of Hell, so I named my Empleon “Styx”. (It's a body of water, after all.) It...actually wasn't a great year for me. I was suffering depression from health problems, and as you can probably guess, Pokemon Pearl was a refuge for me. It's a tale as old as Pokemon.

That’s why I regret not doing the game more justice. I made the mistake of trading away my Palkia for a shiny Ponyta that my former best friend chained. I had never encountered a shiny before, and I loved blue Pokemon. But even though she was already going to release it, she would only only trade it for my Palkia. And to add insult to injury, she asked me change Palkia's name to “Charlie” after that old YouTube series Charlie the Unicorn. Our, um, friendship wasn't doing too good.

With my Pokemon transferred to Pokemon Black, I eventually sold Pearl, and that too was a really bad idea in retrospect. It was a different time. So ironically I’m kind of glad to have a “faithful remake” so I can have another chance to play Pearl. Back then I was so busy training older Pokemon from LeafGreen that I didn’t even train a lot of Sinnoh Pokemon besides Styx. There are so many Sinnoh and Hisui natives that I can’t wait to give attention to now.

It’s no secret that BrilliantDiamond and ShiningPearl struggle in the shadow of Legends: Arceus. Heck, BDSP weren’t even finished until the patch about a week ago. Even though we’re hyped for Legends: Arceus, it is technically a risky move for the Pokemon Company. It’s not the straightforward Sinnoh remake the older fans have been clamoring for, and a lot of the younger fans haven’t played Diamond and Pearl, so they don’t know the context for the prequel.

So as insurance, the Pokemon Company went to ILCA, the developer of Pokemon HOME, and hired them to develop a very safe, relatively cheaper Diamond and Pearl remake using the free Unity engine. In short: BrilliantDiamond and ShiningPearl probably wouldn't be around if the Pokemon Company didn't need safe alternatives to Legends: Arceus. If you’re disappointed with BDSP playing it safe, wait for the full experience of both games.

Regardless of why, it’s pretty cool that The Pokemon Company is celebrating Sinnoh with both a prequel AND a remake. It’s clear that Diamond and Pearl were important Pokemon games not just for us, but for GameFreak too. They close out the foundational first four generations of the Pokemon games, fulfill the promises that earlier Pokemon games couldn’t yet achieve, and brought fans across the world together with WiFi for the first time.

The Season of Sinnoh has started. Let’s have fun with our faithful remakes while we count down to a trip back in time, to the old region of Hisui.

#Pokemon #Sinnoh #Pokemon Diamond #Pokemon Pearl #Pokemon BrilliantDiamond #Pokemon ShiningPearl #Pokemon Legends Arceus #Arceus #Palkia #Johto #Spaceworld 1998 demo #Pokemon Gold #Pokemon Silver

[ruewrites]

bestie can we get some solodeus angst

The Next Step

AO3

WBT

Ship: Solomon/Asmo

Word Count: 3081

Warnings: None

A/N: Hey Anon! So I struggled with this request for a bit. So I decided to write a little oneshot for WBT. I hope you like it and I hope this may be what you had in mind for some angst (with a happy ending)!

“So do you wanna do something this week? We could go check out that movie  we thought might be bad. Frankenzilla’s Aquatic Monstrocity Two?” he tried to make his voice sound as tempting as possible. The semester was coming to a close  and Asmo missed his boyfriend. It felt like he hadn’t seen him outside of the one class they had together and even then their only greeting was a quick kiss before running to the next place. 

Sure they had coffee trips still, but both of them were too exhausted to usually say much and then classes interrupted any other time they might have. 

Solomon sighed on the other end of the line. The soft tapping of his keyboard reached Asmo on the other end of the line. Was it another application or course work this time? Perhaps he was responding to another email from the staff at one of the schools he applied to. There were many options, and each one twisted a knot in his stomach.

“I can’t tonight. I’m overloaded right now. You know, assignments destined to kill me and all. If not the assignments, the applications.” Despite the chuckle tinting his voice, Asmo could hear how tired Solomon was.  He could practically picture the piles of empty or lukewarm coffee cups surrounding him. It was a familiar sight, and one that Asmo would often see when trying to coax him to bed to relax and get some sleep. That was another thing Asmo had been missing: cuddling. The way Solomon’s arms would wrap around his waist, or when Asmo would commandeer Solomon’s chest as his own personal pillow. 

Quality time was something Asmo desperately needed, especially before the next step came… And graduation was rapidly approaching.

“Well, we don’t have to see the movie!” Asmo’s voice was coming out quickly, and he hated it.

“Asmo-”

“We can go walk in the park-”

“I really ca-”

“Or we could go to our favorite cafe! The one off campus. Wouldn't it be-”

“Asmodeus.” 

Asmo’s words died on his tongue. Solomon snapped at him. Solomon never snapped at him. Not once in the entire year they’d been together as a couple. When they were younger maybe, but not in their more recent history. It made Asmo sick to his stomach.

 A small whimper left his throat and his fingers gripped his phone a little tighter. 

“Fuck,” Asmo swore he heard Solomon slump back onto the couch, “Asmo, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. Asmodeus I-”

“It’s fine,” Asmo was fighting back tears, “It’s fine really-”

“No. No it’s not I shouldn’t talk to you like that, sleep deprived or not. I know you Asmodeus, I know it’s not just fine,” Solomon finally let exhaustion overtake him, his voice was dripping with it, “And I really am sorry, I can’t hang out right now. I want to, I really really do. Honest.”

“It’s fine,” the words came out softer this time before silence stretched over the line. 

Solomon was the first one to break it, “I love you and I miss you.”

“I love you too.” Asmo was just barely keeping himself together, and he had no doubt that Solomon knew this. Solomon knew him too well.

“I’ll make it up to you as soon as I can. I promise. I love you, so very much Asmodeus. Goodnight, I’ll see you in class tomorrow if I’m still alive.”

Asmo didn’t even crack a smile at Solomon’s attempt at a joke when he heard the familiar click signaling the end of their call.

They were seniors. They didn’t have much left. What was the next step?

At the news that Mammon could pull some strings to get Asmo some sort of job in the fashion world, he’d been elated. He’d talked about it days upon days on ends with Solomon, and Solomon had been so happy for him. Meanwhile Solomon had been pacing back and forth, waiting for some sort of response from a master’s program. He’d said he’d be happy getting into any school, lucky even, but Asmo knew him. Solomon had his favorite, his ambitious Solomon aimed for the stars and Asmo had no doubt in his mind that he’d end up right where he wanted to be.

But that scared him.

It made him feel terrible. He should be supportive of and happy for Solomon, yet something was holding him back. At this rate, they would only have the summer together, and that wasn’t enough time. The summer would fly by before Asmo knew it and then he’d maybe have to help Solomon move into some fancy dorm somewhere far away from him and his love. 

At one point he’d been excited about the next step in his life, but now graduation just seemed like a looming storm overhead.

His mind was wandering and he couldn’t stop it.

He’d had breakups over less. Expecting Solomon to stay with him after they graduated was selfish, and yet he dared to hope for it. The best he could hope for was that Solomon asked for a break. Was it any better? No. But at least Asmo would have the illusion of hope. People broke up with Asmo over him deciding to dress down or for being too clingy. Then again, he knew he’d dated shallow people in the past and Solomon wasn’t shallow.

But it was still selfish for him to want what he did.

But a part of him didn’t care.

Asmo wasn’t stupid. He knew Solomon was the best he’d ever had. He was attentive, remembered when Asmo said little things, made him feel good in more ways than one, and was nothing short of wonderful. There was no way Asmo was going to let himself lose him and yet-

“He’s going to break up with me.”

“You don’t know that.”

One of the cats of the cafe rubbed against his side. Perhaps she could feel his sorrow. Asmo had just finished sobbing in his room before texting Satan. His pillow had become completely damp with tears and his eyes were red and puffy and looked as if they were made out of glass. Satan could keep his thoughts level and talk Asmo out of whatever negativity currently plagued his thoughts.

“But he hasn’t been spending time with me! Our normal hang out times have been completely run over!” Asmo sniffled, half-heartedly bringing his tea closer to his lips, “This is how breaking up normally starts.”

Satan shook his head, “You really think he went to all that work to get with you only to break up with you? Didn’t he get a tattoo to represent your relationship or something like that when the two of you had barely been dating for a month?”

“Three months. He wanted to get it a month in, but it took me three months to the day of our anniversary to finish the sketch.” Asmo’s fingertips lightly traced the rim of the cup, eyes fixed on his reflection inside. He’d wanted that tattoo to be perfect. So many scrapped ideas had flown around in his head before he was finally happy with one, that and he’d been nervous about Solomon getting a tattoo dedicated to them. They’d gone to every appointment together. Asmo said he wanted to make sure the art was good, what he meant was that he wanted to make sure Solomon didn’t change his mind. 

Had it really all been for nothing?

Suddenly his phone buzzed.

💖Honey Dearest💖: Hey

💖Honey Dearest💖: Look I feel really bad

💖Honey Dearest💖: And I’m very sorry

💖Honey Dearest💖: Incredibly sorry

💖Honey Dearest💖: You deserve so much Asmo, and my time for you has been taken up by other things

💖Honey Dearest💖: But I’ll have free time this weekend and I can make reservations for us

💖Honey Dearest💖: I need to talk to you about something

💖Honey Dearest💖: Something that’s been on my mind

Asmo’s heart stopped. With shaking hands he shot up, startling the poor kitty next to him. He shoved his phone into Satan’s face, “See? See??? He wants to talk so he can let me down easy! Oh I’m going to lose him!”

“Asmo hush. You’re startling the cats,” Satan’s brow furrowed as he looked over the text messages, “He’s not saying anything about breaking up with you. It actually seems like he’s putting effort in to see you.”

“You don’t know that! I’ve been here before. I know this isn’t good I- I-”

Oh he was the definition of a mess right now.

“And you don’t know that he’s going to break up with you. You’re not the only one who’s  dated people Asmo,” Satan pushed the phone back into his hands and went to pick the forgotten, luckily unspilled, cup up. “Send him a text and at least hear him out. I think you're reading too much into this.” 

Asmo had drowned Satan out. He vaguely saw him go behind the counter to start remaking his drink again, but other than that Asmo didn’t process a thing. 

Keeping Solomon was his main goal. He needed to figure out how to convince him that they were good for each other, that they could make this work. If he did leave him, Asmo knew that was it. He knew Solomon was the best he could get, and he wasn’t about to lose his chance at a happy future.

After texting Solomon an agreement to the meetup and deciding on a place, the rest of Asmo’s days leading up to the weekend were consumed with worry. In the end he’d made a list of reasons as to why they should stay together and how they could make everything work. If he was being honest with himself, he knew this list was more for him. He wanted to remember his reasons for when the time came. The last thing he wanted was to be left blubbering in public.

He’d made himself up nice. If Solomon was planning to break up with him, he wanted to assure he looked fine as hell and make him second guess the decision. It’d been a while since he’d done himself up this well, maybe he should do it more often. He used to do this all the time with partners because he wanted to make sure they loved him. But Solomon had loved him so matter what. He loved looking at Asmo first thing in the morning before he did himself up and when he was still in one of Solomon’s shirts. 

Asmo had never felt this comfortable in a relationship before. He’d never felt so safe before.

…

He was going to miss that so much…

The feeling of being safe.

Being wanted.

Being adored.

Despite his worries, the whistle that left Solomon’s lips sent a blush to his cheeks. 

“You really look nice.”

Solomon’s hair was slicked back the way Asmo liked it. Why did he also have to put effort into his appearance? Asmo felt even more anxious now, looking at him in the doorway. Solomon was the only one who’d ever made his heart flip like this. It had been impossible to calm himself all the way over  to the restaurant.

Solomon had always been good at picking up when something was off, and Asmo had to wonder what he was thinking. Then again, even though Asmo was being uncharacteristically quiet, Solomon seemed uncharacteristically chatty. Asmo knew he could get that way about things he enjoyed, but this wasn’t one of those moments. Instead Solomon was tripping over his words as he discussed… nothing really. The sinking feeling in his stomach continued as they took their food and left once again to a little secluded place in the park. Solomon has suggested it, he mentioned that it might be best if they could be alone for a bit.

It didn’t make Asmo feel better.

Eating didn’t really seem possible. Instead, Asmo was pushing the food around inside his box. He’d take a bite eventually, as soon as he was sure it’d go down alright. 

“I heard back from the program I applied to,” Solomon started, “I got in.”

“Oh? I’m so happy for you! Solomon that’s wonderful!” Asmo hoped his cheeriness didn’t sound forced.

Are you going to leave? 

“Yeah! It’s a huge relief. One less thing I have to worry about.” Solomon went silent now. The inches between them felt like miles to Asmo. He should feel happier for him. His boyfriend’s dreams were coming true, he knew Solomon had wanted this program more than anything. Why couldn’t he be happy for him?

The soft shutting of Solomon’s to go box brought Asmo’s attention back. Their shoulders brushed and Solomon kept the contact.

“I’m happy I can have this with you,” he murmured, “I know I haven’t been around much this half of the semester, and I do mean it when I say I’m sorry about that. You deserve only good things Asmodeus. You do.”

Asmo stiffened.

“The past year has been nothing but amazing, you’ve been nothing but amazing.”

He was tripping over his words. He’d heard this phrasing before.

“I mean every moment I’ve known you has been a pleasure, but having you close like this, it’s been… wonderful.”

Now. He should say it now. Say how he’d give up an easy in to his dream and follow Solomon wherever he went if it meant they could stay together. The past year had been a dream and Asmo wasn’t ready to wake up and let go yet. He’d go to the ends of the world for Solomon, he’d give up his life for him. The future seemed so blank without Solomon, and Asmo was scared to enter it without him.

“So, what do you say Asmodeus Morningstar? Do you want to take the next step together?” 

Wait.

What?

“Will you marry me?”

Asmo hadn’t realized his eyes were closed. Kneeling in front of him, with the most gorgeous ring Asmo had ever seen, was Solomon. He looked so hopeful yet nervous. There was only one thing Asmo knew, and that was that he wasn’t a pretty crier.

Through blurry eyes he watched as panic overtook his boyfriend as he scrambled to stand up, “Hey hey hey. It’s okay.  We don’t have to-”

Asmo wanted to say something more, wanted to say something profound and loving to Solomon. Instead what came out was unintelligible blubbering for his boyfriend to decipher.

“What do I mean by that?” Solomon asked, “Well I don’t want to force you to marry me. I just thought it would be nice to ask before graduation, and I know I haven’t been able to see you and-”

As Asmo wiped the tears from his eyes, Solomon took in a breath and slowly let it out, “I love you, and even if I couldn’t see you I’ve had a lot of time to think about this.”

Asmo wrapped his arms around Solomon’s neck as he sniffled, and for the first time since their last talk on the phone he found himself smiling. This isn’t what he thought their proposal would look like at all. “I’d like to get married.”

“You would?”

“Yes,” looking into Solomon’s eyes and Asmo almost choked on his words again, “Yes.”

Kissing Solomon had always been a heavenly experience, but Asmo couldn’t help but laugh as his fiance left his lips to cover every inch of his skin in love. Asmo also didn’t miss the way his hands shook when he put that ring on his finger. 

After all of his anxieties, this was definitely a breath of fresh air.

Although, he wouldn’t be telling Satan about how right he’d been.

***

“You suuuuure we can’t get a house?”

“Asmo we won’t be living there forever, we can rent out an apartment and then go house shopping.”

“Mmh, I still like the idea of having a house.”

Asmo sat in between his fiance’s legs, Solomon’s chin resting on his shoulder as the two of them looked over their options. There were a few nice places between Solomon’s grad school and where Asmo would have to drive for his new employer. He’d made sure Mammon knew where the school was so he had a radius to look at. Luckily, Mammon seemed to know a guy. 

This whole situation had been lucky. Asmo wanted to follow Solomon so badly, talking on the phone or video chatting simply just wouldn’t be enough! Solomon’s only condition had been if Asmo could also pursue his dreams as well. No way was he going to let him  not take an opportunity if something was offered to him! 

But it worked out, it always did. It always would one way or another.

“One day we’ll get a nice house, make it all our own,” Solomon mouthed against his neck, “As soon as we get married.”

Giggles left Asmo’s mouth as Solomon’s mouthing turned into tiny butterfly kisses, “I’d like that. But now that you mention it, we never got to celebrate our engagement did we?” 

Solomon paused and looked up at Asmo with a quirked brow. “Celebrate?” his arms tightened around Asmo’s waist, “What did you have in mind?”

Oh Asmo loved that wicked smirk.

“I wanna ceeelebraaate,” he giggled, leaning further into Solomon’s chest.

“I heard you, but that doesn’t tell me what you want.”

Asmo was about to go further when Simeon cleared his throat. He stared at the couple from the archway leading to the kitchen, “Mindful. Someone will be arriving home soon. Don’t make me banish you from the living room.”

“Ah, sorry Simeon, don’t worry, we’ll be mindful.”

“You better, I already have to think about looking for a new roommate because of  you.”

The tone between them was playful, they’d become relatively good friends since Solomon started living there from what Asmo could see. 

“I’m sure I could help,” Asmo chirped, “Maybe one of my brothers or someone else we know might be interested.”

“Thank you Asmodeus, I appreciate that. Now behave, both of you.”

When Simeon disappeared, Solomon leaned close to Asmo’s ear, “We’ll celebrate as soon as we move into the new apartment.”

“Oooh I like that! I guess that means we should pick one out then yes?”

“Oh my smart fiance is very incredibly right.”

Solomon leaned in for a kiss and Asmo gladly obliged. 

While the future was still uncertain to a point, they had each other, and they’d be taking their next steps together.

#anon #request #anon request #WBT #obey me #ruewrites #obey me solomon #obey me asmodeus #obey me simeon #obey me satan #human!au #soloasmo #asmosolo #asmodeus x solomon #solodeus