#which is a kind of twist i LOVE. Maybe I wish it had been emphasised a bit more over the story though? unsure. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

takahero · 3 years

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some descriptions of Basta in Inkheart if you’re interested!! spoiler warning just to be on the safe side, in case u haven’t read it. and my unsolicited commentary here and there

“‘Naturally I recognised them at once. Capricorn had sent his best men. Even Basta was with them.’” — pg.99

“Rasping cat’s-tongue voice” pg.125

“(Basta’s face) was thin, sharply angular, with close-set eyes…Basta was not a tall man, and his shoulders were almost as narrow as a boy’s, but Meggie held her breath when he took a step towards her…He had an aura of fury about him, or something keen and biting—” pg.126

“Only Basta wore a snow-white shirt, just as Dustfinger had said, with a red flower in the buttonhole of his jacket, a red flower like a warning.” pg.131

“He caught her eye, and with a twisted smile kissed the blade of his knife.” — pg.173 (I JUST HAD TO ADD THIS)

“‘Oh, Basta can’t write,’ replied Capricorn calmly. ‘None of my men can either read or write. I’ve forbidden them to learn.’” — pg.176 (literacy rights for Basta 2k21)

“She could see the trepidation even on Basta’s face, although he was doing his best to hide it by assuming a particularly bored expression.” — pg.185

“‘Abduction!’ Basta savoured the word. ‘Sounds good to me. Really good.’” — pg.192 (ok but if u read it a certain way. unofficial evidence that basta would enjoy reading if he could LMAO)

“‘Where’s our luggage?’ she asked.

“Dustfinger looked at her with amusement. ‘I expect Basta’s divided it out among Capricorn’s maids. He likes to ingratiate himself with them.’” — pg.213 LMAOOOOOOO OH MY GOD

“Basta was still standing in the road. His face was sharply outlined when he lit a cigarette with a lighter.” — pg.215

“And he bent down to cut through the leather thong that Basta wore around his neck. It had a little bag tied with a red drawstring hanging from it.” — pg. 231

“‘Ah, Basta!’ Fenoglio smiled. Each of his separate wrinkles expressed self-satisfaction. ‘One of the best villains I ever thought up. A rabid dog, but not half as bad as my other dark hero, Capricorn. Basta would let his heart be torn out for Capricorn, but his master is a stranger to such loyalty.’” — pg.264

“‘You know, if you were to ask me which of those two I was prouder of, Basta or Capricorn, I couldn’t tell you! Even though some critics said they were just too nasty!’” — pg.265

“Basta emphasised the word, putting his foxy face so close to Meggie’s she could see herself reflected in his eyes.” — pg.301

“‘You’ll do no such thing!’ he spat at Flatnose, as the grey cat disappeared under the wardrobe. ‘Killing cats is unlucky. How often do I have to tell you?’” — pg.303 (friendly reminder that the last time he appeared, he kicked a dog in the ribs 😐)

“Basta was walking just behind her, and she heard him quietly cursing the rain.�� — pg.304 (irrelevant but i kind of hc basta to like the rain, since it would dampen dustfinger’s showbiz LMAO)

“Basta’s eyes always narrowed when he smiled.” — pg.305

“‘You wear long sleeves,’ Fenoglio continued very slowly, as if giving Basta time to take in every single word, ‘because your master likes playing with fire. You burned both arms right up to the shoulders when you obeyed his orders and set fire to the house of a man who had dared to refuse his daughter to Capricorn. Ever since then, someone else has laid the fire, and you confine yourself to playing games with knives.’” — pg.308

“‘Oh, I know all about you, Basta,’ he said. ‘I know you’d give your life for Capricorn any day, and you’re always hungry for his praise. I know you were younger than Meggie when his men picked you up, and ever since you’ve loved him like a father. But shall I tell you something? Capricorn thinks you’re stupid, and despises you for it. He despises you all, his devoted black-clad sons, although it’s his own doing that you’re still so ignorant. And he wouldn’t hesitate to set the police on to any one of you if it was to his advantage. Are you quite clear about that?’” — pg.308 (FENOGLIO…..RUTHLESS)

“Basta winked at Meggie.” — pg.310 (wink 1)

“Every cruel deed with which he had ever credited Basta was probably going through his head. Basta relished the fear on his face for a few delicious minutes.” — pg.312

“Basta’s car had not been in the car park at all since they’d come here. It was unusual for it to be gone so long, because Basta didn’t like to be away from the village for any length of time.” — pg.318 basta is a homebody guys

“‘Save your tongue for later, scribbler!” Basta interrupted. ‘I don’t like whispering.’” — pg.324

“Almost all the women in the village kept away from Basta, but he didn’t keep away from them.” — pg.337

“‘Take him, for instance,’ he said, pointing to Basta. ‘I always knew he was a very unhappy boy before you picked him up. As it says in another very fine book, it’s terribly easy to persuade children that they are worthless. Basta was convinced of it. Not that you taught him any better, oh no! Why would you? But suddenly here was someone to whom he could devote himself, someone who told him what to do — he’d found a god, Capricorn, and if you treated him badly, well, who says that all gods are kindly? Most of them are stern and cruel, wouldn’t you agree? I didn’t write all this in the book. I knew it, that was enough.’” — pg.345 (this is really the part that made my stance toward basta change. like PHEW. that’s a lot to unpack)

“Basta was notorious for his silent tread.” — pg.363

“Basta’s breath smelled of mint, fresh and sharp. Apparently a girl he’d once wanted to kiss had told him he had bad breath. The girl had regretted it, but ever since then Basta chewed peppermint leaves from morning to night.” — pg.364

“He whistled softly through his teeth, then held the book close to Meggie’s face.”— pg.374 (i was rendered speechless)

“Basta’s lips quivered with annoyance, but he bit back his reply and, without a word, put his hand under the black cloth.” — pg.377 (ugh I loved this. like we know he worships capricorn like a dog, but earlier fenoglio flat out told him capricorn couldn’t care less about what happened to him. more than that, capricorn asked basta to bring meggie and fenoglio — prisoners — into his home. later dustfinger says that basta would’ve slept on the threshold of capricorn’s room if he could but none of the men sleep there. so with all of this fresh in his mind, you can imagine him feeling quite hurt and betrayed. UGH I wish he had a greater arc surrounding capricorn…like even if we saw a few hints that his loyalty was starting to show cracks…idk what his arc is in inkspell so maybe I’ll sit tight for that)

“He was in a hurry to get back to the light of day, away from the dead and their ghosts. His hand shook as he hung his lantern on a book and opened the grating over the first cell.” — pg.409

“Dustfinger was always surprised to find how easily you could scare the man with a few words.” — pg.409 LMAOOOOO

“‘That notion of burning us isn’t a very new idea, Basta, but then you were never fond of new ideas.’” — pg.422

“His teeth were almost as white as his shirt.” — pg.442

“Meggie saw from his face that everything in him felt revulsion, but he came closer and took the creature. He held the scaly body well away from him as it wound and twisted in the air.

“‘As you see, Basta doesn’t care for my snakes!’ said the Magpie, with a smile. ‘He never did, not that that means much. As far as I know Basta doesn’t like anything but his knife. He also believed that snakes bring bad luck, which of course is pure nonsense.’ Mortola handed Basta the second snake. Meggie saw the viper’s tiny poison fangs when it opened its mouth. For a moment, she almost felt sorry for Basta.” — pg.446

“‘Basta likes to use snakes to scare women who reject his advances. It didn’t work with Resa. How did it go exactly — didn’t she finally put the snake outside your door, Basta?’” — pg.446 (10/10 resa & snake well-deserved)

“Basta did not want neighbours. Indeed, he wanted no other company but Capricorn’s. Dustfinger knew Basta would have slept on the threshold of Capricorn’s room if he had been allowed to, but none of the men lived in the main house.” — pg.478

“Basta was probably the only man in Capricorn’s village who locked his front door.” — pg.480

“They said in the village that whenever Capricorn had a house set on fire Basta took away a brick or stone, even though he feared fire at other times, and clearly that story was true.” — pg.480

“(Everything in Basta’s house was scrubbed clean, as spotless as his snow-white shirt.)” — pg.481

“Once or twice, footsteps approached, but each time they passed by the house. What a good thing Basta had no friends.” — pg.482

“Basta was not in a good way. Whenever they looked at him they saw his hands clinging to the bars, knuckles white under his sun-tanned skin.” — pg.503 (BASTA’S SUNTANNED?!?!)

“Basta in particular was the object of enough scorn and derision for ten men, and from his failure to react at all one could only guess at the depths of his despair.” — pg.503

“For the fraction of a second life came back into Basta as his former lord and master stopped by the bars; he raised his head, his eyes pleading silently, like a dog begging for forgiveness…Basta only bowed his head and stared at the floor. Elinor thought he looked like an oyster with the flesh and life sucked out of it.” — pg.504 (i honestly still can’t wrap my head around his behaviour in this chap. i mean yes, the gladiator-style death sentence looming over his head can’t be understated. but i think for me it was how rapidly his spirits deteriorated from screaming for help in the cell to becoming a husk of a man before he even saw capricorn again? how?? was it all because of dustfinger spooking him so bad in the crypt?? 🤔🤔)

#the list nobody asked for #im gonna keep adding and editing for personal reasons #it’ll be interesting to see if any of my thoughts change after inkspell tho I’m kinda scared #basta #i could’ve sworn there was another wink!!!!!!!!! I SWEAR #basta: don’t swear oaths u can’t keep #inkheart

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lesbiansforboromir · 4 years

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once again you made me deeply emotional over boromir. i don't have the fellowship (much less the english edition) at hand, so i can't even re-read my fav parts with him. any particular boromir-related stuff you may share?

FUCK ok I’ve got a migraine and a passion and I do not know how to use either of them but I’m gonna use this ask to talk about something I’ve been thinking about for months, not kidding on that one.

Galadriel... was the direct cause of Boromir trying to take the ring- HEAR ME OUT.

There are some very important things to remember about Boromir when you’re considering his actions and motives.

- He explicitly came on the quest assuming it would lead them all to Minas Tirith, because that’s where he needed to get back too. It’s very clear, he and Aragorn are literally going because Minas Tirith is on the way to Mordor. And every detour and every delay of the Company amps up his frustration and worry.

- He left Gondor with the certainty that his city would be besieged VERY soon and that they would not be able to break it. His trip to Rivendell is desperation based in it’s entirety, he’s looking for anything that might help.

- He knows absolutely none of these people from adam and whilst he very much wants to trust them, they have yet to win his loyalty or faith in ANY capacity. I’m sorry! I know everyone wants the Fellowship to be that good good found family foundation but it simply isn’t that for Boromir and never has been.

Okay so when they finally leave Moria and Gandalf’s dead, everyone’s grieving and miserable. They are also worried, Gandalf was their guide and as much as Aragorn’s a tracker he doesn’t have Gandalf’s expertise. Then again, Moria had been entirely Gandalf’s decision in the first place, claiming there wouldn’t be many orcs in there at all in an argument he has with Boromir about how dangerous the mines would be in comparison to the Gap of Rohan. Indeed, if Bilbo hadn’t given Frodo the mithril shirt then Frodo would be straight up dead and it would have been Gandalf’s decisions that caused it.

So at this point Boromir’s faith in Aragorn’s ability is pretty low. And no one else in the Fellowship has any interest in leading. Boromir deferred to Aragorn’s judgement because Aragorn’s more knowledgeable of Eriador and also just... a dude who needs to be in control, it’s easy to tell. But now Boromir’s not so sure Aragorn’s up to it, since he seemed to rely on Gandalf so much.

And then Aragorn tells them all they’re going to go through the Golden Wood. Now Boromir knows from the Rohirrim and Gondorian legend that the Golden Wood is Strange And Scary And Dangerous And Men Who Walk in Never Walk Out Again. And he says this, politely. Aragorn tells him he’s foolish for fearing it and essentially that if people got hurt in the Golden Wood then they deserved it. Again, despite the general discourtesy of these comments, Boromir chooses to believe Aragorn’s judgement.

The next thing that happens is they are accosted by Haldir, treated like possible enemies or spies (despite Haldir admitting that Elrond had already told them they were coming) and a day and a lot of dwarfphobia later Haldir is threatening Gimli with death. No I’m not joking, Haldir says there’s a law dwarves can’t come into Lothlorien without a blindfold. And when Gimli gets justifiably angry about this and wants to go back if he’s being treated this way, Haldir says he WILL be killed if he tries to leave. Weapons are drawn! The only reason this de-escalates is because Aragorn suggests they all go blindfold because ‘it is hard on the dwarf to be so singled out’. I cannot express to you how soon this happens after Aragorn assures everyone that Lothlorien is safe. I also cannot emphasise enough how Gimli does absolutely nothing to deserve this, he’s polite and kind as ever until Haldir instigates it.

So again!! Another mark against Aragorn’s reliability! And then we come to the CRUX of the matter, the meeting with Galadriel and Celeborn.

A lot happens here, some of it very funny in terms of Galadriel’s treatment of Celeborn, but the important part is at the end where Galadriel mind-interrogates all the fellowship but Aragorn and Legolas. Again, this isn’t subtext, in-text it says interrogate. And the fellowship discusses it afterwards. Gimli, Sam, Merry and Frodo all agree that ‘Galadriel offered them a choice, to go back home where they would be safe, or to continue on with the quest though there may be far greater perils ahead’.

But that couldn’t have been the choice she gave Boromir. Because he can’t go home to be safe and sound away from the evil!! He lives there!! This has been Boromir’s fight his whole life, it has never BEEN a choice for him. And from this moment on Boromir’s manner changes dramatically. He questions Frodo about what Galadriel asked him, he expresses concern about Galadriel’s motives, he says he believes she was TEMPTING HIM (remember that for later), concerns which are, once again, sharply and cruelly dismissed by Aragorn.

There is then a MONTH of a time skip, we get descriptions of the how the other fellowship spend their time in Lothlorien. Gimli and Legolas become friends. Everyone else grieves Gandalf and has a lovely time in Lothlorien... apparently.

But Boromir has never had any real positive feelings toward Gandalf and did not show any real grief at his loss initially. And whereas the rest of the fellowship seems respectful and awed by Galadriel and Celeborn, Boromir replies to their questions at the end of the fellowship’s stay in Lothlorien with what I would call veiled anger. `As for me,' said Boromir, `my way home lies onward and not back.' Which is a callback to the interrogation, the stark difference between the motivations and priorities of the rest of the Fellowship in comparison to Boromir. Which became VERY obvious to him in that moment. So I would posit that! Boromir did not have a good time at all! Boromir was stuck somewhere he felt unsafe and unwelcome and every extra second they spent in Lothlorien was yet another moment he was away from his currently-at-war home!!!

Anyway just before they leave the fellowship is privately discussing what road they should take when Boromir makes a slip of the tongue, where he’d always been articulate and clear before.

‘But if you wish to destroy the armed might of the Dark Lord, then it is folly to go without force into his domain; and folly to throw away-’ He paused suddenly, as if he had become aware that he was speaking his thoughts aloud. `It would be folly to throw lives away, I mean.'

It is very obvious to Frodo what he actually meant here, and this is where essentially Frodo’s inner monologue lays it all out!

Frodo caught something new and strange in Boromir's glance, and he looked hard at him. Plainly Boromir's thought was different from his final words. It would be folly to throw away: what? The Ring of Power? He had said something like this at the Council, but then he had accepted the correction of Elrond.

The important points in this section are that 1: Boromir has started thinking about the Ring of Power as something usable. 2: He did not think this before now, he had accepted Elrond’s words. This is ‘new and strange’. Something changed here.

And of course it did! Boromir doesn’t trust any of these clowns anymore.

Boromir’s advice, priorities and concerns have been almost entirely ignored and derided throughout the fellowship, even from the very moment he arrived in Rivendell! And after nearly freezing on a mountain, being chased by wargs, dragged through a mine of Orcs, a Balrog, threatened by supposed allies and then mind invaded by some elf he’s told to be in awe of, whatever will he had to trust and stay faithful to Aragorn’s decisions is barely hanging on.

And Galadriel didn’t just invade Boromir’s mind, she was tempting him! He says so himself! And considering the circumstances and how he speaks about it, the only logical conclusion is that she is tempting him with the ring, because Boromir’s shown no sign of conflict or interest in the ring before now. So Galadriel was the one who put that concept into his mind in the first place. It’s Galadriel who initiates Boromir thinking again on whether this was in Gondor’s best interests. And Boromir recognises she’s trying to manipulate him!! Which is fucking heartbreaking!!

'To me it seemed exceedingly strange,' said Boromir. `Maybe it was only a test, and she thought to read our thoughts for her own good purpose; but almost I should have said that she was tempting us, and offering what she pretended to have the power to give.’ (--) `Well, have a care! ' said Boromir. `I do not feel too sure of this Elvish Lady and her purposes.' `Speak no evil of the Lady Galadriel! ' said Aragorn sternly. 'You know not what you say. There is in her and in this land no evil, unless a man bring it hither himself. Then let him beware!’

Do you see?? Do you all see?? Am I making any sense at all?? Well I make sense to ME so lets continue- Here, you see how Aragorn puts all the blame on Boromir again? The twisted knot Boromir is in at this point is unfathomable and EVEN STILL! Boromir resists! For a very long time! This is what I mean when I say any characterisations of Boromir being overemotional or somehow out of control get at me so much, NEVER has a man had so much self discipline in his wholeass life. Boromir’s entire civilisation could be being bulldozed by Minas Morgul at this very moment and yet he takes everything that’s thrown at him without malice and internally continues to desperately hold onto his integrity.

But that’s what’s at stake! His integrity! Because now he’s grappling with what seems like a choice to either keep faith with the fellowship, stay with them and go where they go despite how much his country needs him, or potentially do something drastic in order to bring a the powerful weapon Gondor seems to have ALWAYS been looking for home to finally actually save his people. Because that’s what Galadriel offered him! And whilst he doesn’t trust her, it’s also in his head now as a logical thing to want! He doesn’t trust Elrond either at this point, so why should he believe what he said about the ring! It’s obvious everyone has boundless ulterior motives!!

Oh! Here’s a good place to try and explain my theory of how the ring’s temptation actually works. The Ring can control people one of two ways. The first we see with Frodo and with Boromir, it takes FULL control of their actions for a split second when they are vulnerable. For Frodo it made him put it on on Weathertop. For Boromir it made him attack Frodo. However this effect is exceedingly temporary and the person effected immediately comes back into themselves and recognises that what they did was outside of their control.

The other way is often thought of as this like pervasive constant pull to the ring that effects you even just by being around it, wearing you down etc. But I don’t think that’s what happens. I think, in order for the ring to start exerting real dangerous persistant power over you, you have to know it’s power and logically want it. You have to come to that conception yourself, you have to think about it.

And I have a lot of reasons for this but where it pertains here-!! Boromir is a fine, reliable and solid member of the fellowship RIGHT up until Galadriel’s mind meld. It’s not gradual, he goes from making jokes, carrying Hobbits and fighting Balrogs to BARELY being able to control his speech and biting his nails and staring at Frodo creepily. There is barely any easing into it and it starts with Galadriel!!

And you know what! There’s an even more sinister layer to this because like... WHY was Galadriel doing this mind stuff in the first place? An immediate obvious answer would be to test the fellowship, to make sure everyone was solid enough to carry on, to ensure the folk who continued were focused. But... If that’s the case... and Boromir’s test was the Ring... like... he obviously failed that test right? She was reading his mind! And she does it again before they leave! If we’re to assume that Galadriel’s mind powers are greater than Boromir’s ability to deflect them then... surely she would have known! That this turmoil was in him! And if she KNEW then why didn’t she say anything to anyone? To Aragorn?? But I don’t think yall are ready for that discussion yet tbh and I have to stop typing or I’ll go blind.

TL;DR Boromir didn’t want the Ring until Galadriel tempted him with it and made the idea of it saving Gondor a possibility to him.

#galadriel critical #boromir #erran vs tolkien #UGH that was good to get out even though I am CERTAIN it's incomprehensible #tolkien #lotr #gondor #I've got so much boromir meta built up in me cus I've been too out of it to do any real writing #and so many asks I wanna answer right!!#chats #HHHH #Anonymous

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themonotonysyndrome · 3 years

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The Queen’s Lynchpin

We’re getting to part 3 of the ‘Successors of the Future”! This week has gone back to being hectic so I could only write this part here and there for only a few hours. Still, I’m happy that I could finally finish it.

And we have the names of MC’s and Yandere!Malleus children as well as his second wife and the other prince! Any piece of info from @tri3tri Second Wife AU is always fun to read! With that said, I’ll be adding their names into the 2 previous oneshots after this is posted so it’s all align. If you want to know more about this AU, please drop by at @tri3tri blog. Their content and drabbles are amazing!

Lastly, I think it’s alright if I don’t add the link and summary of the previous oneshots of this series in every new piece. The intro is just gonna be super long otherwise. But if you guys think that a link and summary it’s a good, please let me know I’ll be sure to add them in.

“Uh Mama? Have you been hearing... noises in the middle of the night?”

“You mean your sister talking to her mirror in her room in the dead of the night? Then yes, sweetie.”

MC smile, deeply amused, when her son let out a huge sigh of relief. “Oh, it’s just her talking to Ren.”

“I’ll tell her to keep it down if she’s talking to Renata at night, don’t worry.” MC assured him with a pat on his head.

“Thanks, Mama. Say, do you have any plans for today?” Lucien’s sudden question was a little odd to MC. The three of them have been staying in the house - only going out for a grocery run - lately, and she didn’t have any plans to change it.

“Not really. I was thinking to catch up with some leftover work from the office before Monday comes. Why? Do you want to go anywhere?” MC inquire curiously.

Lucien is quick to shake his head. “Oh, no, no. Umm... Mama, you often look so sad lately. We know that having Ren away at Twisted Wonderland has been hard on you, so I just thought maybe we could all do something to help make you feel better.” He explains with a bit of hesitance, wringing his hands. It’s clear to MC that this is one sensitive topic that he didn’t want to unintentionally hurt her with.

MC couldn’t help but smile at how thoughtful her little one is. Really, all of her children can be rowdy in their own way but at the end of the day, she always noticed that they tried so hard not to make her worry. But as the parent, it’s her honour to protect her children - not the other way around. Which is why seeing the hesitant expression on Lucien’s face tugs her heart.

“Oh, Luci. I didn’t mean to worry you and your sisters. It’s just that...” MC paused for a moment to think on how to properly express her feelings. “None of you has ever been separated from me. The issue with your father is one thing, but I can’t help but fret about your oldest sister. Is she eating well over there? Sleeping early on a school day? Oh, but then again, she does have a habit of waking up around 2 in the morning looking for a snack if she sleeps too early.” MC bit her lower lip, she should have told Renata during their last talk to keep some snacks in her room in case she gets hungry.

Ever since Renata had first contacted Sherrie and taught her the communication runes and she in return, taught her and Lucien on how to draw them on any mirror in the house, they all have been talking to Renata through the large, hanging mirror in the living room every day.

“We can ask her if she’s been waking up in the middle of night after our dinner, Mama.” Lucien assured their mother. He took her empty tea cup and pour some tea from the still hot pot and push the porcelain cup back to her. They were having tea and a light meal in the kitchen after he had woken up from his nap.

Sherrie passed on their invitation since she’s too busy livestreaming her latest game in her room. From below, they could hear her muffled voice.

MC took a sip and hums thoughtfully. “You’re right, Honey. I’ll be sure to do that. Anyway, you mentioned a family activity - what do you have in mind?” Perhaps a distraction is just what she needed to get her mind off Malleus and the inevitable danger he’ll bring.

Lucien’s eyes brighten in delight. Happy that he could do something to cheer her up.

“I found this recipe recently and I was hoping that we can all cook together? It’ll be fun I promise!” He pleaded. Among all her children, Lucien is the only one with the knack for cooking. Sherrie can make simple meals whenever she wants.

Renata, however, needs to be supervised even if she wants to boil a pot of water.

“Sure! I’d love to. So what’s this recipe you want to cook?”

Much later when it’s almost dinner time and Sherrie wrapped up her livestream, MC and Lucien are already in the kitchen preparing to cook. Curiously, she glances at the list of ingredients and steps for dinner that was left on the kitchen counter and her eyes bugged out at what they were going to make.

“I feel like there are things that mankind should never attempt lest the price be their sanity. And this? This is it!” Sherrie shrieked, flapping the flimsy paper incredulously at them. MC is preparing the dough while Lucien makes sure they got all the ingredients out and ready.

“What? Boba pizza sounds delicious!” Lucien rebuke with a small frown. “And beside, you won’t know if you like them if you haven’t try.”

Sherrie just slap her forehead at his words, as if she couldn’t believe this. “I know you’re pretty crazy for boba teas but this is ridiculous! Pizza dessert for dinner? Can’t we have something normal, Mama?” She pleaded their mother.

MC toss her a playful smile as she rolls the dough. “Well honey, it does sound pretty exciting when you said it. Pizza dessert!” When Sherrie’s face scrunched up in disgust, she tries to coax her daughter, “Aww, c’mon, honey. Look, you can order a delivery for yourself but come have fun with us! I’ll even let you toss the dough if you want.”

Sherrie folded after that. Honestly, making pizza - of any kind - is always messy process, but her children are having fun with smudges of powder on their faces and MC felt her heart lighten just hearing them laugh. Dinner might be unconventional tonight, but it was worth it to see Lucien enjoy eating his pizza and Sherrie reluctant admittance that it tasted alright, if a bit weird.

Once the kitchen is all cleaned up and their stomachs full, they settled in the living room. MC and Lucien watched as Sherrie used her old, red lipstick to draw the runes on the mirror. The surface rippled once, sinking the runes and reveal Renata in her pyjamas beaming at them.

“Good evening everyone! How are ya’ll doing?”

“Hi sweetie. We just had dinner.” MC said, glad that her eldest daughter still looks healthy and happy.

“You wouldn’t believe what we had for dinner.” Sherrie interjects dryly. The 3 of them are sitting on the couch with MC in the middle. “It’s so weird!”

“But you liked it!” Lucien countered with a smug grin before turning to his oldest sister. “We had boba pizza! It was amazing!”

“Boba pizza!? Nooo! I can’t believe you all ate them without me! I’ve been wanting to try them!” Renata whines. “I wish we can pass stuffs through the mirror. Wait - I might be able to do something about that actually.” She goes on to mutter about needing to bully the headmaster again.

The family traded what they did during the day, Renata assuring them that yes, she had a storage full of snacks in her room and that her favourite lesson so far is Flying class. Once that’s out of the way, MC asked her daughter, “How are your assignments? Is Leona-senpai’s son helping you out?”

When Renata told them that her History’s assignment partner is none other than Leona’s son, MC was a bit worried if he carries his father prejudice against Malleus towards her daughter, but Renata assured her that other than his funny attempts at posturing and warning growls, Bakari Kingscholar has been nothing but civil and helping out with researching and editing their papers.

“Yup! We’re nearly done with our homework and I think we’re friends now? He’s a bit of tsundere which makes teasing him so much fun!” Renata giggled. “You know, just today we decided to have lunch together after our assignment and when I went back to my room and check my bag, there was a candy bar inside. He must’ve slip it in when I told him that I snacked often.”

Sherrie immediately drop her phone. She was mindlessly browsing through her Twitter account while they talked, but her attention perk like a hound dog. “Whoa, whoa wait - he bought you food when you told him that you eat often? Me thinks he might like you, dude.”

MC’s eyes widen and Lucien gape. Could that be true!?

But Renata just rolled her eyes. “Oh please, I think he was thanking me for not making him do all the work. You know those tough guy acts? Yeah, it’s nothing special.”

Sherrie tilt her head, clearly not believing it, but keep it to herself for now.

“Being the only girl in a school for boys must be tough.” Lucien mused sympathetically. “I’m glad that you have a friend with you, Ren.”

“Well, Diasomnia students has mostly been friendly yet distant with me so far. Probably because of this,” Renata twirl her fingers beside her horns to emphasise her point. “But it’s cool. So far, no one tries to bully me or anything. And by the way, I’ve been staying out of trouble, Cherry. I haven’t even landed myself in detention so far.” She proudly announced.

“Yet.” Sherrie snickers.

Lucien frowns at her. “Ren has been working hard, Cherry. She’s been sticking to your plans, right? I seriously don’t think she will mess it up.”

“Nah, it’s all cool Luci. I’ve mostly been blowing off steam during Magishift. It’s super fun! I wish you guys could play too.” Renata said and then proceed to explain to her siblings what Magishift is all about.

That’s another thing that MC had picked up as Lucien grew up. Despite how close her daughters are, they do bickers as sisters tend to and Lucien usually act as the mediator and peacemaker between them when things get too heated.

MC couldn’t help wonder if her sweet boy would ever be like this if he was raised in Malleus’ castle.

The family talked a little more until it was getting late. After bidding each other goodnight and MC telling her daughter to keep herself safe, she ushered Lucien and Sherrie to their bed and tucked herself in.

That night, she dreamt of a past memory. However in her dream, all 3 of her children are laughing and free as they grow in her world.

Now that Lucien thinks about it - he doesn’t really know what Sherrie plan is exactly. He’s aware that they’re doing their best to help Renata avoid being discover by their father as long as they can and Mama told her to make friends with the children of her old friends since they helped her out a lot during her school life in Night Raven College but other than that? He doesn’t know what they would do once father found out about their oldest sister.

That particular though came back in his mind when he woke up from his sleep because he heard Sherrie giggling in her room. With blearily eyes, he checked the time on his phone and groan.

It’s 3.15 in the morning.

He push himself out of his warm bed with great difficulties and slowly padded towards Sherrie’s bedroom.

He knocked twice and groan, “Sherrie? It’s seriously late. Why aren’t you sleeping yet?”

“Shit, Luci-chan? Sorry, did I woke you up? You can come in if you want. The door is not locked.”

With a tired grumbled, he swings open the door and zombie-walk to her sister who is sitting in front of her vanity table, talking to Renata.

“Hey Luci! Sorry that we woke you up!” Renata apologised quickly, guilty that they’ve disturbed their little brother. “I was just reporting to Cherry that I found several hidden and unmarked paths that connects to father’s castle and to the outside world of the Valley of Thorns. I thought it might come in handy so I wanted to share it with her.”

That sounds interesting to Lucien. He’s a little more awake now. “Did you use your spells to scout the area?”

“I sure did! Haven’t been caught by anyone or any bat so far.”

“What... what does father’s castle look like?” Lucien couldn’t help but asked. It’s hard to believe that he and his family are actually royalty. That his Mama and sisters used to live in a castle.

It’s still hard to accept that he’s actually a prince.

“Gloomy.” Was Renata immediate reply. All her previous good humour vanishes and her hard glare surprises him. “We hardly get any sunshine because father controls the weather with his temper tantrums.”

“Not to mention that we had to live with basically strangers.” Sherrie added. “I never really feel comfortable around the castle’s staffs. Sure we got the family wing all to ourselves but we still had to deal with them.” Both Lucien and Renata understand her unspoken words: having to deal with judgemental strangers is difficult.

“What are you going to do once father founds out you’re in Twisted Wonderland, Ren? Are you going to go hiding?” Lucien asked.

It’s Sherrie who answered him, “No. We’re going to make sure that he can’t forcefully take Mama or any of us back to the castle. I just need a little more info and we can act once the 3 of us are in Twisted Wonderland.” She explains.

“We suspect that once Cherry hits sixteen, the Ebony Carriage will also pick her up and by that time I’ll be in my second year as a student here. If that’s the case, we just need you here and then it’s the second phase.” Renata took over explaining here. “Rumours spread fast in Night Raven College, but it’s not going to reach to father. He’s in an isolated country. Well, not until he’s here.”

Lucien blink, now lost. “He? Who’s he?”

“We have a halfbrother - Victor. He’s the same age as you, Luci-chan. Looks like father didn’t waste any time getting his second wife pregnant.” Sherrie said with a smile that honestly send cold shivers up his spine. It’s sweet with a poison laced underneath. Lucien seen this smile only once. A girl from school tried to blackmailed and bullied her into doing her biddings.

He heard that the girl was transferred to another school in a different state soon after when news broke out that she was selling drugs with her boyfriend to the students.

Lucien would like to believe that the incident had nothing to with his sister, but he’s seen what she does for Renata whenever she lost her homework or to the English Literature teacher that had an issue with her.

So Lucien needed to asks this. “Are you... are you going to hurt him?” His voice is soft and careful.

Through the mirror, Renata eyed Sherrie in which his second sister leans into her chair and relaxes. “I won’t, don’t worry. After all, he’s not at fault.”

Words are Sherrie’s favourite playthings and at that moment, Lucien hopes she means it.

Funny enough, I’ve been calling S/N (Lucien) as Luciel because it means light and I HC that MC sees him as the unexpected light that Malleus gave her. Her daughters are a treasure but Lucien serve as MC’s light. It’s fate!

So far for Lucien, my main reference for him are two people actually. Dead Master from Black Rock Shooter and Nisha Labyrinth from Elsword!

Will expand more on them as I continue to write. Also, I’m shit when it comes to timeline and ages so here’s my rough idea so far:

Renata = 16 years old (first-year student)

Sherrie = 15 years old

Lucien = 13 yeard old

I’ll change the kids’ age if Tri reveal them on their blog.

#twisted wonderland #fanfic #twst mc #malleus draconia x mc #twst kids #Malleus and MC kids #yandere malleus draconia #Draconia Family series #Second Wive AU

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sokkas-honour · 3 years

Note

for the spotify wrapped writing i'll say number 4 and sokka?

omg this one was so fun to write! ty for requesting!

dream boy - modern!sokka x reader

pairing : modern! sokka x reader

wc: 1.7k including lyrics

notes/warnings: going off of the hc that sokka is a baseball boy from my girl @draqondance and it’s just unedited but enjoy !!

part 1.5 | part 2 | part 3

taglist (send an ask to be added!!): @draqondance @biqherosix @missmorosis

sometimes i think i see your ghost, in passing hallways, the staircase to my apartment,

the clock couldn’t seem to hit three fast enough, the sun was shining outside but everything about your seventh period math class just made you gloomy. you tapped your foot on the ground, anxiously waiting for the final bell to ring so you could get out of the boredom that was calculus. you sighed and rested on your hand that was on your desk and tried to see if you could understand what your teacher was saying but you’d spaced out too long to even know what the hell he was talking about.

with another sigh, you slightly turned you head. you were seated at the back of the class, meaning you could see a part of the empty hallway since the door was open and there he was, the beautiful water tribe baseball player. your heart rate picked up as he simply passed in the hallway though he seemed to catch your staring because he backed right back into your line of view and smirked at you.

his flirty actions imply earned a playful eye roll from you. you watched your friend laugh before waving goodbye and continued on his way knowing he’d be able to speak to you after school anyway.

god did you love that stupid boy. seeing him, even for a split second, singlehandedly made this boring period your favorite of the day. his smile, his dorkiness, his horrible jokes, just sokka in general made your heart race at a speed that was practically impossible to slow down.

i accidentally self impose, bashful thoughts, careless wants, emotional involvement,

the baseball game ended and your school won 7-4, with your best friend pitching his best game yet, you couldn’t contain your excitement. as soon as sokka stepped off the field, you rushed out of your seat to go congratulate him outside of the dugout. your whole friend group couldn’t make the trip to the away game but you had promised him that you’d never miss a game when he got accepted into the team freshman year and so far, you’d never missed one. wether you were swamped with work or sick, you always found a way to sit on those bleachers cheering him on.

“sokka! that was your best game of the season!” you exclaimed as soon as you saw come out and ran to him. he was smiling that adorable stupid smile he always did and rushed to join your halfway.

“i know! did you see how i curved that ball on the last guy! he never saw it coming!” he excitedly retold you the final play that you’d just seen, pride shining from his eyes and grin.

“yeah! sucker didn’t even know what hit him!” you replied matching his energy and he just engulfed in you in a hug out of excitement. to your dismay, he quickly retracted it.

“sorry! i’m just so excited!” he apologised though you didn’t mind at all, hell, you’re disappointed he didn’t let it last longer as you craved affection from sokka that was anything but platonic or initiated by you, how you wished the hug lingered.

“sokka! you don’t have to apologise! i’m just as excited as you are!” you reassured, your cheeks hurting from smiling so much as you placed both your hands on his arms to emphasise how unbothered you were by his actions.

“okayyy. can we go get sea prunes? pretty please?” the pitcher begged, looking down at you with his signature puppy dog eyes that made you practically weak in the knees, he knew you’d never say no to them.

you've got my heart bursting at the seams, maybe you're the boy from my dreams,

most people only saw you and sokka as two inseparable best friends, two peas in a pod, practically attached at the hip, and they wouldn’t be wrong. sokka and you had been best friends ever since kindergarten when he accidentally hit you in the head with a snowball during your recess.

you’d always been close friends but ever since highschool started, you’d fallen for your best friend and you’d fallen hard. his adorably cute smile, his adorably cute eyes, his adorably cute ponytail, his adorably cute jokes, just his adorably cute self was enough to make you long for anything more than a simple close friendship with the water tribe boy.

you’d seem to have done a pretty good job at hiding it as none of your friends ever picked up on it. sokka and you had always have a pretty touchy friendship, you’d hug all the time, you’d place your head in his lap, he’d lay his head on your shoulder, but none it had any ulterior motive. so when zuko confronted you about it you were surprised, he was the one to find out about it, not toph, not even katara, the said crush’s sister, no it was zuko.

zuko seemed to have seen right through your lies about your lack of feelings for the baseball player which led you to just dumping all the reasons that he made your heart put a race care to shame. you told him about the daydreaming that occurred whenever someone would point out that you would both be a cute couple, you told him about the monthly dreams you’d have about you finally confessing your emotions that were always reciprocated.

zuko was kind and always listened but always took the oppurtiny to tease you about it when you were alone.

if you're gonna love me make sure that you do it right, i’ll be under your window in the moonlight,

oh i tend to keep my heart locked water-tight, all you gotta do is meet me after, meet me after midnight.

‘y/nnnnnnn, meet me by our favorite tree like at around midnight. i need to tell you something important.’

you’d been doing your english homework late one night when your phone buzzed with a message from the boy that made you swoon. your heartrate would always pick up a bit when he would send you a message but the content written made it race even more. you quickly replied to agree to meet him.

you grabbed your coat and your shoes and quietly left the house, making sure not to wake your sleeping parents. once outside, you took the ten minute walk to an old willow that stood about halfway between the water tribe sibling’s house and yours. you had often spent afternoons with the two of them just laying in the ground and watched the leaves around them slowly move with the wind.

when highschool started, you often found yourself throwing a rock or so at sokka’s window when it would be late in an attempt to get him to sneak out with you for walks under the beautiful moon. one night you almost got caught so you both agreed to simply text and agree to meet at that nostalgic willow.

upon arriving and passing through the weeping willow’s leaves you saw a figure leaning against it’s trunk. you were able to recognise the boy thanks to the light from his phone that he was scrolling mindlessly on.

“hey sokka.” you made your presence none in a rather soft way, not wanting to spook him.

“hey y/n, thanks for coming.” he looked up and smiled at you and put his phone back into his jacket pocket. your eyes had long acclimated to the darkness and were able to see him sit on the ground and pat the spot next to him to which you happily obliged.

“so what did you want to say.” you asked once you sat next to him.

“okay well i wanted your help. how do i ask a girl out?” his questions came out of nowhere and took you aback, you feared the direction that the conversation would go in but you shoved your emotions down. sokka may be the boy of your dreams but he was still your best friend, and you’d always want him to happy.

“well first of all, i need to know who this girl is.” you smirked, a small spark of hope as your mind rushed to not only a horrible ending to the conversation, but one that ended in a confession of feelings from both sides.

“okay well, only if you guess.” he joked which earned a playful eye roll from you before continuing. “okay well i’ve been friends with her for a while but recently, i’ve been feelings differently towards her y’a know? she’s always been there for me and always knows how to make me happy. i just feel warm and safe with her. i dont want to ruin our friendship because it means so much to me!”

“well sokka, i give up.” your spark grew at his description of the girl he was mad for, the only person you could even think of that fit the criteria was you. boy if you only you hadn’t been that naive, maybe that would’ve saved you from the heartbreak that was coming.

“okay well i thought it was obvious.” he grinned, leaning his head back in a way that told you that he was thinking of the girl who’s name you were about to know.

“it’s suki. i’m head over heels for suki.”

your heart dropped and felt like a knife had just been shoved into it, twisted, and then ripped out. no, your heart had just been broken. you felt like crying, you’d been so stupid in thinking he’d ever have any feelings for you. god it all made sense now, you’d never admit it out loud but you had been spending less and less time with sokka in the last couple of weeks. you had been spending more time with zuko where you would gush about the boy you were in love with.

if only you’d looked at the signs, he had been spending more time with the star volleyball player, the straight a student, the perfect in every way, suki. you couldn’t hold it against him, you loved her as a friend and she was impossible to not love. the words that left your mouth following his confession hurt your soul more than anytning

“you’d make a great couple sokka, you really would.”

#sokka x reader #zuko x reader #sokka #zuko #atla #atla x reader #gaang #sukka #sukki #avatar the last airbender imagine #avatar the last airbender x reader

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queerfables · 3 years

Text

Supernatural Post-Mortem (1x12 - 1x15)

P, N and I discuss these episodes after the fact, because I didn’t make notes while we watched them. I don’t think I actually have any major warnings for our conversation about these episodes.

1x12 - Faith

Notes to self, as a reminder of what it was about: “Dean faith healed, reapers”

When I read these out to P & N, they both start making excited sounds and I join in because yeah, we all really loved this episode!!

N: This is when Dean nearly died saving kids, too. P&I: Is it? N: Yeah, at the beginning, when he got electrocuted! Another point for Dean is good with kids! P: A good boy!!

This is the episode where Dean’s life is saved when it’s traded for the life of the gay man. Me: So, like, Dean was given his heart! P&N: Ohhhhhhhhh. N: Aw, Dean has a queer heart. Me: I mean, we knew that already. N: Yes, but it’s surprisingly literal and I love it.

N says, “I think every time Dean tries to problem solve in an episode, there’s probably a simpler solution.” When he was in the tent trying to stop the faith healing from happening, he yells, fire, but he could have like ACTUALLY started a fire, which would have stopped the lady from hanging around and trying to continue killing the guy. Or he could have faked a heart attack, which might have made people doubt the whole faith healing thing.

P&N disagree with me on this, but I personally think the subtext of the villain in this episode trying to kill Dean when she realises he’s trying to stop her is that it’s because he’s queer. She doesn’t try to kill Sam, even when he’s trying to stop her just as much - she locks him in a basement and tries to reason with him about why his brother is an abomination. (Ofc I do tend to think Sam is queer too, but maybe she hasn’t figured that out).

I generally loved the lady who had a brain tumour in this episode. It was really powerful to set her up as, like, complicating the narrative of “We have to stop these healings from happening”. It’s not wrong but she kind of shows why it’s not that simple, there’s always a cost even to doing the right thing. She also feels like one of the first ladies Dean actually had a real connection with, their - maybe romance? maybe friendship? whatever it was - really worked for me.

N says they loved how the reaper was super keen to kill the lady who’d been controlling him. “I mean, I would be too. I don’t wanna go around murdering queer people!” P agrees. “Right? I love queer people.” I would definitely rather murder homophobes instead.

1x13 - Route 666

Notes to self: “Cassie, Racist Truck”

P: Oh! I loved Cassie! N & I agree. Cassie was great.

I actually did start making notes from this episode while we watched but I never finished them. Here’s what I had: --Dean says he was called by a friend who really wouldn't have called if it wasn't urgent. Me: "That sounds like an ex" --It's Cassie! I'm excited to meet her! --P, N & I agree Cassie is a babe and we're excited to see how Dean fucked this up

N says, “It might have been me reading too much into it but I actually thought this episode was a pretty solid commentary on race.”

N: I really thought that, despite the entirety of supernatural handling race about as well as a greased football, this episode had a solid multiple-layer analogy for the way racism, historically and currently, expresses itself across communities and generations. the analogy goes as far as making it clear that the instigating incident that prompts the angry, racist resurgence is done by a white dude, but that he is shielded from the initial backlash and consequences while the revived racism starts out targeting tangentially-related black people instead--something that definitely happens irl. It also makes it clear that a) racism is something you have to actively examine and purge, sometimes multiple times, b) it is not over even when the racists are dead and its spectre lurks amongst our communities and, most importantly, c) respectability politics are junk and sometimes you have to help cover up a racist’s murder

P says that they love that the white dude was a cop but, like, actually a good cop. Again, because of the covering up racist murder.

I’d like to emphasise that I loved the way that Dean and Cassie’s relationship was portrayed. It turned out it was actually not entirely Dean’s fault that this fell apart. I mean, I personally think he should have lied to her until he was able to come back and then told her the truth, so she wouldn’t think he was coming up with a bizarro lie to leave her, but also like... He was trying to be honest, he wanted to really connect with her, and I have a lot of feelings about that.

I’m sad that Dean and Cassie aren’t going to work out in the long run but I understand why. Would have been cool to see her again, though.

I just want you all to know that through a very, VERY meandering conversation, we now have N and P arguing over whether octopi or alligators have the perfect body. N: Sack! Tentacles! Beak! P: SCALES AND TEETH. N: I’m just saying that the number of problems you can cause as an alligator is kind of limited. All you can do is bite things. P: That’s all you need!!!! We’ve declared the conversation a draw for now but they’ve promised (threat) to come back to it later

Also N is now looking at Giant Squid fanfic and keeps announcing things like “There’s a whole tag for ‘Dubious Consenticles’??” and “SQUIDITCH”

None of this is related to Supernatural but it IS very funny.

1x14 - Nightmare

Notes to self: “Sam’s visions, telekinetic abuse victim gets revenge”

N says, “This was just fucking intense, if I remember” and P says, “Yeah, it was scary.”

N says they saw the guy’s death coming as soon as it was revealed it was him committing the murders. Basically, Sam and Dean couldn’t have trusted a rehabilitation arc without being directly involved and the nature of the show is that they couldn’t have been directly involved.

We understand why the episode played out the way it did but we wish it handled it differently. We were all 1000% on the telekinetic victim’s side and fully supported him murdering his abusers. I remember when we were watching it, being, like, horrified by the things that happened to his dad and his uncle and then when we found out the truth about how they were abusing him we were like “Oh, yeah, warranted.” We do think the mother was probably abused too and that’s why she didn’t step in to stop anything. Still understandable that he can’t forgive her, though.

My main thing I’d like to say about this one is that I love Sam connecting with the other people who’ve been affected by the yellow-eyed demon (in later episodes too) I would really, really love more of that tbh, I want him to form a network. I love how much he understands and relates to this kid, and how hard he tries to save him.

I also love the part where seeing a vision of Dean in danger allows him to use telekinesis too. We’re in the middle of s2 now and we haven’t seen that again and it’s a shame!!! I want more of that!!!!

P says xer mad the show dropped Sam’s telekinesis stuff too. “In a later episode, Sam says he gets visions but other people get other things, and it’s like, ‘No! Buddy! You have more than that!’” N says it would be cool if they set it up so that Sam’s powers, in addition to getting visions about the other people like him, included being able to use their same powers when he’s near them. Like the episode later on where a guy can use mind control?? Instead of just being immune, wouldn’t it have been rad if Sam could do that too?? KILLER.

1x15 - The Benders

Notes to self: “THE MOST DANGEROUS GAME. Sam in a cage.”

P: OH YEAH, this was the one that wasn’t even like -- N: It was just people. P: Yeah, it was just dudes being dudes.

I very much enjoyed this episode. N agrees. I think P is distracted typing something on xer own computer. N says, “It wasn’t as fast paced as some of the other ones but it was fun.”

N: I have thoughts about the way they handled the cop killing the head of the family. I feel like he was already cartoonishly evil--to make him openly sneer in the cop’s face about her dead brother and hunting ppl as an in-the-moment justification for killing him seems... almost cowardly? he was an irredeemable human-hunter who raised an entire family to hunt ppl in the woods. that’s enough justification! i think viewers should get that. you don’t need to make him have a rude snarky one-liner to justify his death. commit to ‘some humans are Bad’ properly! P: I have thoughts about the little girl. She was weird and creepy and I didn’t like it. I think my major issue with her was that she was a child, who was used as a twist to be the worst one of the family, which is so overdone. We get it, kids are creepy. And also, given that the rest of her family - her dad+uncles/brothers(??) and her grandpa/dad(??) - were murderers, implied cannibals, and general all around awful people, she’s more likely than not a victim of abuse. So I think portraying her as the worst of them all is callous at best, highly problematic at the worst. Get her therapy and away from the people that call themselves her family. Anyway, it boils down to that I think it’s overplayed, and I wish she had a happier path than “Oh, she’s so creepy!!!!”

I love N & P’s really interesting and coherent thoughts but I have to be completely honest that 90% of my thoughts about this episode were like “Mmmmmmm, Sam in a cage” and later “Mmmmmm, Dean tied to a chair.” The other 10% was me having emotions about Dean being desperate to find Sam. Don’t let that undercut the extent to which I loved the episode though. I really loved this episode.

#Fable watches SPN

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commentaryvorg · 4 years

Text

Danganronpa V3 Commentary: Part 6.1

Be aware that this is not a blind playthrough! This will contain spoilers for the entire game, regardless of the part of the game I’m commenting on. A major focus of this commentary is to talk about all of the hints and foreshadowing of events that are going to happen and facts that are going to be revealed in the future of the story. It is emphatically not intended for someone experiencing the game for their first time.

Last time…

…Kaito went to space. That’s all. He was in space, and he was happy.

Now to start chapter 6, which I am not quite as excited to get into – can’t possibly imagine why. There’s still definitely a lot I want to talk about, though.

We open the chapter with… Makoto. Not the Makoto we knew (he doesn’t exist), but a kid who’s called Makoto nonetheless. That’s almost certainly the most popular thing to name your kid in this universe, even probably for cultures that aren’t Japanese.

We also have some bizarrely cheerful music. Originally my feelings about this was just that it gave a very weird mood whiplash from everything else that had been going on. But now all it makes me think of is this game’s bonus board game/RPG mode that this music is actually taken from, which I may have got rather addicted to played an inordinate amount of one point. Hearing this now just makes me want to roll some dice and optimise my characters’ stat spreads, dammit! (And by “my characters”, obviously I mean Kaede, Shuichi, Kaito and Maki, who else.)

Makoto: “I don’t have any talents or anything. I’m just a regular teenager…”

…

Makoto: “Getting into an elite school like this was just the start of my bad luck.”

The writers (entirely out-universe here, of course) really just wanted to drop all these similarities to Makoto Naegi here just to mess with us and make us wonder if this kid really is him despite looking different, didn’t they.

Makoto: “I want to run away from my daily life… I want to run away and just forget all this…”

This is considerably less like Makoto Naegi, though. He may have been ordinary, and a little daunted at getting into an elite school, but he was ultimately pretty chill with it and didn’t really want anything to change.

Makoto: “But I’m okay! I have a reason to live!”

Remember the Monokuma Theater last chapter where Monokuma said he’d be thrilled if Danganronpa was people’s reason to live? Apparently it really is, for probably way more people than just Makoto here.

Makoto: “I’ve got something to look forward to! That’s why I’m gonna be okay! Thanks for the courage! Thanks for giving me something to get totally obsessed with! Thanks for the strength to keep going!”

This is extremely relatable to me! This is what genuinely loving and caring about a work of fiction looks like! I can’t tell you how many times in my own life I’ve felt like things are going great for me almost entirely because there’s a work of fiction that I absolutely love that makes me happy just to think about.

Makoto: “I’ll keep on rooting for you, so please keep trying your best!”

And look, he cares about the characters! Obviously, somewhere inside him he is hoping to see bad things happen to them, but that’s because he wants to see them overcome those trials! On the level on which he is actually engaging with the characters as if they’re people, by cheering them on like this, he just wants them to succeed.

It’s kind of like the way I’ve been doing this commentary. On the one hand I’ve been very unabashedly appreciating all the horrible suffering everyone’s gone through and the ways in which it’s been emphasised because that’s what makes this fiction so enjoyable. But when I talk about that, I take the more detached, third-person-pronouns approach, like they’re elements in a well-crafted work of art. Whenever I use second-person pronouns as if I’m engaging with the characters myself, imaging that they’re real people I could talk to, I almost never say anything about how I appreciate their suffering. I’m not engaging with them because I want them to suffer. I want them to suffer so that I’ll end up caring about them even more and therefore will want to engage with them more. Which would all still be thoroughly fucked-up if they really were real, but this is how engaging with fiction works.

(I am making a big point to stress all of this about Makoto here because, oh boy, the next time we see the in-universe audience, things are not going to be remotely this way and that is my biggest issue with this chapter.)

Makoto: “And—! One day, I’ll also—!”

…audition for Danganronpa and hopefully probably get myself killed in one, is what he’s about to say.

No, Makoto. You were doing great at being a healthy, wholesome appreciater of fiction (aside from the part where it’s not really fiction and you’re watching real people die) until now. Genuinely wanting to be a part of your favourite works of fiction is usually quite an understandable sentiment… but not when it’s Danganronpa, what the actual hell.

We have suddenly jumped from Makoto being a reasonable example of someone enjoying a work of “fiction”, into him being an example of how utterly fucked-up this outside world actually is. People – specifically, teenagers – will apparently willingly throw their lives away to be on Danganronpa if they don’t think their life has much else going for them. That’s why this Makoto hates his life, to make him someone who’d want to do this. If Danganronpa really is his only reason to live, then it does make some kind of twisted sense that it’d also give him a reason to die.

Something important to note about this scene is simply the fact that we’re seeing it. This is in a context entirely removed from anything happening right now in the Academy and is for our eyes, the out-universe audience, only. So there is no reason to doubt that what we’re seeing here is the truth. This Makoto kid really is watching “Danganronpa V3” unfold like it’s basically a work of fiction and having a great time.

I’ve seen some people propose the idea that sure, the killing game was put on as a “fiction” for people’s entertainment, but only for a shady illegal underground audience of people who should know they’re being shitty, probably hidden away somewhere in the deepest darkest corners of the internet. On some level, I might like to believe that, because it’s nicer and easier to buy than thinking the entire world is this obliviously twisted. But Makoto here is a completely ordinary teenager who would be very unlikely to have any idea how to access something like that, and he doesn’t seem to have any conception of the fact that what he’s watching and enjoying so much is illegal and frowned upon and he needs to keep it secret. So I don’t think that can reasonably be the truth here.

Anyway, back at the Academy, Keebo is busy destroying everything. He’d better leave the training spot alone, though – that place contains precious memories of Kaito and deserves to remain undamaged.

Also bear in mind that this is still the same evening after Kaito’s trial. They are not getting any time to rest here.

Keebo: “Did you call for me? Please keep it brief. I have other matters I must attend to.”

Geez, Keebo. “Keep it brief, because I’m busy getting all of us killed”? Yeah, maybe that’s why they won’t want to keep this brief.

Maki: “What’s with that weapon and the jet pack?”

Keebo: “I obtained this equipment from my lab.”

Maki: “You had equipment like that… in your lab?”

Implicit in Maki’s words here is the sentiment of: then why the fuck didn’t you use it *sooner*? Which, yes. Very much.

Keebo: “I made some modifications to drastically improve their power output and functionality.”

Tsumugi: “Since when have you been able to do that? You didn’t level up or anything, right? Did… something happen?”

The fact that it’s Tsumugi asking him this suggests that he really wasn’t supposed to be able to do that at all. It would be pretty stupid of Team Danganronpa to have someone that potentially dangerous here. Obviously they figured he’d never do anything drastic because his inner voice had him on a leash, but the suggestion from Tsumugi’s words here is that he shouldn’t even have been able to make those modifications, inner voice or not, and he just figured it out himself somehow by being a smarter person than she’d written him to be. Maybe he learned a thing or two from his time with Miu?

Keebo: “I wanted to be treated like a real human. A creature of flesh and blood like you all. But I no longer have the luxury of clinging to that wish anymore!”

You never had that luxury, not while abandoning that wish (and only temporarily, mind you) would have saved your friends’ lives!

The writing is trying to present this like it’s some kind of character development, but there’s been absolutely no build-up to Keebo realising something like this. And there’s no reason that the seven people who’d died before his lab opened up wouldn’t have been enough, such that he somehow needed to see four more deaths before finally making this decision. The only actual change now is the lack of his inner voice – but that never had anything to do with the part of his character that felt awkward about not being human and shouldn’t be making a difference to this supposed character development.

Tsumugi: “If you do something like that… we’ll all die too, y’know!? There’s no oxygen in the outside world… There are no living things…”

Tsumugi would like to remind us all that there is definitely 100% not anyone alive out there, even though Kaito's efforts just proved that there almost certainly somehow is.

Shuichi: “Our hope is… everyone here. Our friends who are still alive.”

Shuichi is good. He’s not going to forget the last thing Kaito said to him!

Keebo: “We simply do not have the power to change the outside world on our own.”

Well that’s very foreshadowy of you, Keebo. He’s only talking about making it less uninhabitable, but.

Keebo: “All we can do now is refuse to submit to despair!”

Shuichi: “And you would be willing to let all of us die to accomplish that?”

Yeah, doesn’t sound very not-despairing, does it, Shuichi? Keebo’s just gunning for a different type of despair right now.

Keebo: “Kaito and Kokichi gave their lives to end this killing game… We should follow their example! We should be willing to give our lives to end this killing game!”

Okay, so to be fair, this might sort of count as following Kokichi’s example, since he wanted to ruin the audience’s experience (even though he went about it in literally the worst way possible by giving them two incredibly entertaining trials). Killing ourselves to give them a boring ending is actually along the lines of what Kokichi at least should have been trying to do, and is in fact what everyone will attempt in the end once they realise what’s going on.

But fuck off with your implication that Kaito would have wanted this, Keebo. Kaito gave his life so that everyone else could survive and escape, not so that they’d all do the same as him! Kaito’s sacrifice was only ever about “ending” the killing game so long as doing so would save everyone!

Maki: “…Is that what your inner voice is telling you to do?”

It’s interesting that Maki considers this possibility. I wonder what she thinks his inner voice is, since she’s pragmatic enough to not believe in hearing voices, especially not for a robot.

Keebo: “We can never submit to despair! Because we are students of Hope’s Peak Academy!”

Keebo may have lost his inner voice, but he’s clearly still very much a thrall to the other kind of brainwashing that’s been going on here.

Shuichi: “Because there might still be hope. There might still be a place to call home.”

Keebo: “And what are you basing that claim on?”

Shuichi: “…Nothing. I just have a feeling.”

Shuichi just has a hunch! He’s doing a Kaito and he knows it and it’s so lovely that he’s able to say that with a smile!

Maki: “Just a feeling…? You sound like that idiot right now.”

Maki knows it just as well, of course. She’s smiling, too! I love how her calling him an idiot has become a thing of affection now. They really are his sidekicks.

(I am going to bring up and be delighted by every single moment in this chapter of them fondly remembering Kaito like this and you can’t stop me.)

Shuichi: “…Kaito said so. […] There can be no killing game without an audience.”

…So actually, Shuichi was basing his claim on something after all and just wanted to act very Kaito about it anyway, and that is adorable. Well, maybe he felt like it was appropriate because this still isn’t very concrete evidence, but.

Look at him being really sure of this argument, though! Kaito gave everything to prove that and he succeeded, and Shuichi is not going to let his efforts go to waste.

Shuichi: “There’s still a possibility!”

Keebo: “True, we cannot say there is absolutely no possibility. But even a mere possibility—”

Shuichi: “That possibility is our hope!”

Finally, someone gets it! The actual meaning of the damn word! They don’t know for sure that it’s true, but so long as they can keep believing that it’s possible there’s a home for them out there, that is hope.

Monokuma finally shows up with his Exisals in tow. (I wonder what Monotaro makes of the small mountain of screwed-up bloodstained toilet paper in the recesses of his cockpit.)

Monokuma: “Huh? Is the robot malfunctioning? He must be – why else would he try to defy me?”

Haha, yeah, Keebo is very much meant to be part of the workings of this killing game and not someone who should try and fight against that, isn’t he?

Goodbye Danganronpa

Wow, geez, that was late for a title card. I forgot we hadn’t even had that yet. Of course, this title is pretty straightforward, yet a lot more literal than anyone would be expecting it to be on their first time through.

Maki: “But why did Monokuma leave a weapon like that in the research lab? He’s… pretty careless, isn’t he?”

Good question! The way Maki’s actively asking this suggests it’s something that actually has an answer, but I’m still not convinced it’s anything but lazy writing.

Maki: “If the outside world is destroyed, then the mastermind must be in this school, right?”

Makiii, Kaito proved to you guys that the outside world probably isn’t as destroyed as it seems! Don’t you believe that too? (I mean, yes, the mastermind is in fact in this school, but there’s no reason to necessarily think that right now.)

…Actually, Maki still buying the lie about the outside world despite Kaito’s efforts to discredit it might be down to her in particular being very subsceptible to the Flashback Light’s manipulation. There’ll be some more indications of that in this chapter.

Tsumugi: “Someone… You mean a Remnant of Despair, right?”

Tsumugi is very quick to keep things on-script and remind everyone that this is definitely about Remnants of Despair.

Maki: “If we can find them and kill them, then this killing game should end.”

Shuichi: “Ah, I don’t know about *killing* them…”

Yes, Maki, listen to Shuichi! Remember that the last time you tried to kill the “mastermind”, you nearly got Kaito killed instead! Kaito risked his life because he didn’t want you to kill anyone else, even if it was the mastermind!

Maki: “…Hope?”

Shuichi: “Our home. Where we’re going to live after this killing game ends. I know there is hope out there. We have to find it before we leave.”

This is what Kaito was talking about when he said Shuichi could find “something beyond the truth” – something beyond that destroyed world they saw at the end of the tunnel. Kaito sacrificed everything for the plan to give them this hope!

(And again since I must nitpick: they wouldn’t be finding the “hope”. The fact that they’re even looking means they already have hope, thanks to Kaito.)

Himiko: “This isn’t some fictional story, so I don’t think things’ll work out that well…”

Hoo boy. We’re in chapter 6 now, all gloves are off, hints are being dropped left and right and they do not care about being subtle.

Shuichi: “But if we look for it, we just might find it. If we don’t try… we’ll never find anything.”

This is also quite Kaito of him! Kaito never specifically said anything with this wording, but he was always advocating the idea that you’ve got to put in the effort to be able to get anywhere.

Maki: “No matter how impossible it seems, we’ll accomplish it.”

Speaking of Kaito! This… is awkward localisation. Maki’s phrasing here is a close match to the Japanese phrasing of Kaito’s “The impossible is possible, all you gotta do is make it so” catchphrase. Evidently, Maki’s localiser is a different one to Kaito’s, and they never got the memo about what Kaito’s catchphrase was changed to in English and just translated this directly.

This is still clearly reminiscent enough of Kaito to get across the point that she’s thinking of him anyway, but Maki is meant to have straight-up said that the impossible is possible, and, awwww! That’s adorable.

Shuichi: (Maki…) “…Yes… that’s right!”

Shuichi agrees! He’s happy for the reminder! They are such good sidekicks.

Hope Searching time, again! This is still an appropriate title, because, like Shuichi just said, they are searching for proof that they have somewhere to return to, and that is hope.

A sudden tremor causes part of the entrance hall’s floor to collapse and reveal a staircase downwards that leads to Kokichi’s lab. Shuichi guesses that this was meant to open with a mysterious item, presumably if things had been proceeding as normal and Monokuma had happily given them their “presents” like at the beginning of any other chapter. But, awkwardly, there was never any mysterious object around here that looked like something that could have opened this. Yet again, anything which is not directly meant for the player to interact with simply doesn’t exist in the game world, even if it’s something that should exist as part of the story.

“Now it is time to test your bonds with your friends!”

DID YOU KNOW THIS DANGANRONPA GAME IS ABOUT FRIENDSHIP.

…Okay, this whole Friendship Power mechanic for this investigation is actually a very thinly-veiled way to force you to investigate places in a completely linear order by restricting where you have access to until you’ve reached a certain point in the story. But since they were going to have to do that one way or another, I love that they flavoured it to be about this.

“So work hard to end this killing game before dawn breaks!”

Oh, boy, this, though. This whole time limit mechanic is really badly-implemented.

The first thing is that it’s not a real-time time limit at all. I’m leaving my game running as I type this and it’s not going to make a difference. The timer just ticks forwards a small amount every time you examine something or talk to someone, as is appropriate for what is after all a visual novel and not an action game. I’ve seen several blind LPers assume it was a real-time time limit (because the game is very vague about it) and get instilled with a sense of urgency because of that, so I guess that was meant to be the point.

What the real, ahem, “challenge” of this time limit is is that you’re supposed to try not to examine anything nonessential. Which is really not an okay way for a mystery visual novel to be! Half the fun of these sorts of games is seeing what kind of silly bonus dialogue you get for checking things that don’t matter, to the point that many people’s approach when investigating a room is to figure out what object will progress the plot when they examine it and then examine that one last. But here, the developers are telling us we’re “failing” at playing the game properly… when we’re trying to play the game as much as possible. That’s quite frankly rude. They went to the trouble of writing a bunch of bonus dialogue for this investigation, and yet they apparently don’t want anyone to see it.

There’s also the fact that, from my experiments, there is extremely little leeway. You can examine at most two or three nonessential things while still remaining within the time limit, and anything more than that causes you to run out of time before the end. Even if someone is actually trying to examine only the essential objects, on a first run through they’re not going to know exactly what’s important, because sometimes the relevant thing is not that intuitive, and they’re almost certainly going to make more than just a few “mistakes”!

And the punishment for “failing”? I’m sure literally everybody has already seen this themselves, but all you get is Shuichi briefly going “Oh no, I took too long!”, a brief cutscene of the Academy exploding… and then it puts you back at the beginning of whatever room you were in with the timer wound back far enough that you can hypothetically finish from here. It’s the most petty of slaps on the wrist, but of course it shouldn’t be any more than that, because having to replay the entire chapter for the crime of not knowing exactly what was important, or, gasp, wanting to see more dialogue, would be incredibly obnoxious. So what’s the point in even having it be possible to fail in the first place?

What they should really do is have the timer tick forward only when you examine something plot-relevant. That way you’d get the illusion of being in a hurry to anyone who’s on a first time and hasn’t realised how it works, but none of the annoyance of meaninglessly “failing” or of it being incredibly inconvenient to actively go looking for bonus dialogue.

…Also. Uh. Turns out I was partially wrong about it not being a real time limit. I assumed that because the timer doesn’t seem to visibly move when you’re standing around, yet you can notice it tick forwards a small chunk whenever you finish examining something. Buuuut, as I left it running while typing this, with Shuichi just standing in the hallway, the timer has progressed a bunch. Some quick science, namely staring at the screen for a while, confirms that it does actually move in incredibly small pixel-by-pixel increments that are hard to notice unless you’re looking for it. So I guess also don’t go leaving your game running during this part either! Geez. …And, turns out it also ticks forward outside of dialogue if you’ve had the Monopad open for a while. It doesn’t even let you pause the game to pause the timer! Rude.

The timer does however completely vanish during actual dialogue, meaning that it is presumably actually paused then. …Yes; I did some more science to confirm this, this time sitting on a dialogue box for probably something like half an hour and seeing the timer still only tick forwards a little bit once I finally clicked through the dialogue. Talking (or thinking) is a free action, apparently, even though standing around without talking or thinking isn’t.

Anyway, here’s the method I used last time I played this chapter to be able to see all optional dialogue anyway while still technically not “failing” because fuck you too, game: Save as soon as you enter a new place. Go nuts examining everything you want to, while noting which ones seem to be necessary to progress and which ones aren’t. Before leaving for the next place, reset back to your save and this time go through the room while only examining the correct things (fastforwarding the dialogue if you want, not that it matters), so that the game thinks you did so in the minimum amount of “time”. Then head to the next place (as quickly as you can, apparently), save as soon as you enter it, and repeat. Doing this last time I played was how I learned that there was so ridiculously little leeway for “mistakes”, because even then I only just barely made it.

And of course I’m going to be doing that again on this playthrough to get all the optional dialogue, because that’s what this commentary is here for, dammit.

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#danganronpa #danganronpa v3 #drv3 #ndrv3 #chapter 6 #deadly life #commentary

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devilsknotrp · 5 years

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Congratulations, Ruby! You have been accepted for the role of Connie Romano (FC: Natasha Liu Bordizzo). My God, you understand Connie perfectly. Everything, from your writing sample to your headcanons, fundamentally demonstrated how much thought you’d put into her and how she will relate to the other characters in play. I think you emphasised her softness - and though it would have been too easy to make her too gentle, you struck just the right balance between her sensitivity for others and her quiet resolve. Connie might be uncertain, but she’s not always a pushover. You also dealt with the theme of peer pressure really well. We’d love to see her continue to struggle with that as the group develops, especially because, at some point, she will have to make a choice... Altogether a wonderful application. Please have a look at this page prior to sending in your account.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Name: Ruby Age: 19 Pronouns: She/her Timezone: NZST Activity estimation: I’m enrolled full-time in university so my workload fluctuates week-to-week. I don’t like to really estimate activity because I can’t make promises that it will always remain the same. But I do strive to be active to some extent at least once a day. Triggers: [Redacted]

IN CHARACTER

Name: Connie Denise Romano constancy // devoted to Bacchus // from Rome Age (DD/MM/YYY): 20th of July 1978. CANCER sun, AQUARIUS moon, SCORPIO rising, VIRGO venus. Gender: Cis female Pronouns: She/her Sexuality: Bisexual. Connie has uncomplicated feelings about her sexuality. It has always just been something that has existed within her, devoid of complication, unlike much else of her psyche; she is constantly plagued by complicated feelings about everything else. But she has always known she’s had crushes on girls and on boys. It’s not something she’s ever come out and said to anyone, but she thinks she’d be at peace with it if it came out, or if she dated a girl. It doesn’t seem like a secret that needs to be hidden, but she hides it anyway. She hides a lot of things.

Occupation: High School Senior; aspiring NYU theatre applicant – eventually she wants to be a theatre actress, possibly film but she has no real overwhelming desire for the need to be seen like that. She definitely wants to venture into filmmaking and screenwriting; she has hoards over unfinished manuscripts stuffed in her drawers, most are roles she writes for herself.

Connection to Victim: Brian Goode had always been a bright kid. Connie remembers him in snippets: riding his bike down the street, or down at the arcade, or talking with David. That’s the real thread of connection she has to Brian. David. Connie has always liked David. He’s always kind and she sits next to him in a few of the classes they share together. She had only seen him as a sort-of-maybe friend until he asked her out. Taken by surprise, she had awkwardly turned him down, fumbling her way through an excuse. Connie had still felt too new then, too hurt by everything that had gone down, and David was sweet; she wasn’t ready for sweet. But then it was like he was everywhere, and now she can’t help but look for him in every crowd, or think about what he might say about something. It’s only a small crush, but it makes her feel young and alive and a little shy. Now she feels like they share something. There are moments since Brian’s disappeared that she’s thought about telling David she understands, but that would mean opening up about the gruesome crime, and that’s the secret she holds closest to her chest. Instead, she bakes cookies for his family and has spent time trying to be there for him. As a friend. But she can’t shake the feeling that Brian’s disappearance is connected to her own family’s murder. She’s terrified of what it all means, and she’s determined to help discover what really happened.

Alibi: What were they doing the afternoon Brian Goode disappeared?

Connie had been in the theatre room when Brian Goode disappeared.

“What were you doing?”

“I was practicing my monologue. Wuthering Heights, by Emily Bronte.”

Pause. “It’s Catherine’s bit. You know, I wouldn’t be you for a kingdom!”

“Was anyone else there?”

“It was just me.”

“And what time did you arrive? Did anybody see you? When did you leave? Can anyone confirm that you were there?”

“I must have gotten there at around 2? I’m not sure, sorry. I think I got home around 8? My brother saw me. Em. He was there when I got home. I don’t know if anyone else saw me,” Connie shrugs, “maybe a teacher? I’m sure someone would have been working.”

Connie had been on a bus back from Sioux Falls. Two days earlier she had lied to Emilio and told him she was going to be staying at a friend’s house, throwing out Kelly Shah’s name. Then she hopped on a bus and headed back to her hometown. In the mail she had received a curious post-card, a simple I’m so sorry, baby in sloppy handwriting she could only guess was her mothers. Her bones trembling she had made the snap decision to go back to Sioux Falls. It had her grandma’s old address scribbled as the return address. Her mom must want her to come home. And Connie needed answers, security, her mom.

But Sioux Falls didn’t provide any answers; just dead-ends. Her mom wasn’t there and all that lingered was an air of misery. She walked around the block she grew up and bought a milkshake from Bugsy’s and cried behind her school’s old shed. It felt like a million years ago that she had lived there. And it felt like just yesterday her parents had been brutally slaughtered.

She had gotten on the first bus back to Devil’s Knot after that. She was never going to know what had happened to her parents. She was never going to know where her mom went. She was never going to fully belong to this world. But she could go home and laugh until her stomach hurt with Em.

Her bus had pulled up in Devil’s Knot at around 6PM. When had Brian gone missing again? Connie hadn’t gone home straight away. She got off the bus and headed out to “The Clearing” – she had been to countless parties there, fooled around with boys she wasn’t interested in, spent hours practicing her scripts. The creepiness that lived there felt safe to her, somehow. It felt like a loose connection to her own trauma. She couldn’t visit the site her parents had been murdered at, but she could find solace in the space another gruesome crime had taken place. She was a little entranced by the mystery of the case, wanting desperately to be able to bury herself in the facts and knowledge of the Silverman legend since she couldn’t know the details of her own.

Connie didn’t spend long there. She sat on one of the couches and cried until she felt okay enough to clip on her happy, cheerful, popular girl façade and she went home. All the lights were off by the time she returned to their little suburban home. Em tried. But sometimes Connie just wanted to scream out at the absurdity of trying to build a life while they ignored their past. He wasn’t home. He didn’t see her coming in. But it didn’t matter, he’d protect her.

Connie doesn’t know why she lies but she can’t take it back once it’s out of her mouth. Maybe it’s to protect her mom, or maybe it’s to protect her past, or maybe it is to protect herself. Wouldn’t people see her differently if they knew the truth of where she had come from? Couldn’t they suspect her? She knew how mass hysteria worked. She was an intelligent girl.

Faceclaim: Natasha Liu Bordizzo

WRITING SAMPLE

Connie’s got her legs splayed out on the floor of the drama room. Her knee jutted out at an awkward angle, her thigh starting to cramp. Fingers raking through sheets upon sheets of discarded scripts. All the words are blurring together. Either she can’t concentrate or she’s started to cry. Connie feels so detached from her body that she couldn’t tell you which one it is.

It makes her feel a little sick, being squashed up in this room. It used to be her sanctuary. If Devil’s Knot was starting to overwhelm her, the past sneaking up in her mind, her friends starting to drive her stir-crazy – she could always escape here. An easy lie tossed over her shoulder, ‘You know I have to practice!’ and then she’d indulge herself in reading scripts, curled up in the disgusting bacteria-ridden green couch in the corner. The room was nearly always empty, save for a few other theatre kids who’d come and go from time-to-time. But Connie had started to learn the hours in which they came and went, always aiming to be there by herself. From 11am to 1PM was usually a safe bet if she wanted some time for herself.

But now she’s sitting on the cold floor and her stomach is doing somersaults. She’s almost certain she’s going to be sick soon. Her breakfast making its way back up. She can’t stop thinking about Brian. That cute little kid just gone. His name on the tip of everyone’s tongues, the stifling silence around his disappearance, the haunted clutch-hold his presence has had on this town. Connie knows all the rumours about the past tragedies, she had studied up on the Silverman case as best as she could before arriving, and then the gaps had been filled in by eager classmates ready to divulge all the sick, twisted mysteries Devil’s Knot had to cough up.

She sees her Dad’s mangled body. Her stepmom’s headstone. Her mom’s own vanishing from her life. Connie knows all about tragedies and mysteries and satanic ritual cult bullshit. Part of her feels like a bad luck magnet. She’s been reading the same line on the script Mrs Rubens had written for her for half-an-hour. Fed up, she crumples it up in her hand and throws it across the room. Some days she wishes it was acceptable to screech until her lungs hurt. Connie has this sudden overwhelming desire to douse herself in gasoline and sink under water. To throw her body across the room and see how it lands. But instead she presses her lips together and lifts her body up off of the ground. Does a quick stretch to release the tension building in her muscles and fetches the screwed up piece of paper from across the other side of the room.

She just hopes Brian isn’t suffering. She wonders if it would be better if he was found dead or alive. Is he being tortured? She’s read all the books on satanic cults. She’s not sure if she believes in any of what they say – the sex orgies and torture and animal sacrifices. It was all started from puritanical religious ideologies. But part of her does wonder. She wasn’t allowed to see the case files from her parents murder but she knows it was something satanic. Connie shakes her head in an effort to rid her head of the thoughts, threading her fingers through her hair and brushing out any knots that have gathered. Shut up, brain! She wants to yell. It’s always going too fast for her liking. Her brain is still stuck on Brian as she goes to twist open the door to leave. He was such a sweet kid, and even if he wasn’t, no-one deserves to go missing. It’s horrific.

She checks the time on one of the clocks hanging up on the wall before she leaves. If she hurries she might catch some of her crowd still at Patsy’s Diner. She doubts she could keep any food down, but they’re all expecting her. Connie doesn’t know if she can handle having to talk about the case like it’s an enthralling gossip fest tonight, sometimes she wonders if her friends have any hearts at all or if they’re all made of ice. But she plasters on a bright mega-watt, charming smile and works herself into a happy state of mind.

It’s easy to pretend. But she wonders how long she has left until she falls apart at the seams she’s meticulously stitched herself together with. It’s starting to feel like any minute this wild wolf within her will be unleashed. The days are become longer, more tightly coiled around her, and there’s still no sign of a missing child. It’s not normal. Connie isn’t sure how to act like everything can still be the same when something so sinister has taken place…again. In this town, in her life.

She pulls a piece of gum out of her bag, a simple black square shoulder bag she’d picked up as a treat for herself last week, before all this chaos had been unleashed. Carefully she unwraps the mint flavoured piece of gum and pops it in her mouth, throwing the wrapper away in the nearest bin. The act of chewing soothes her nerves, the pop of flavour giving her something more interesting to taste than the rising vomit trying to push itself out of her.

ANYTHING ELSE?

NOTE: Since a lot of Connie’s life is entwined with Emilio’s, I’ve taken a lot of liberties in imagining what her childhood and present day living situation etc. looks like! This would be fleshed out better in conjunction with Emilio’s player & story, obviously, if I was accepted.

BIOGRAPHY.

BEFORE.

Connie Denise Romano was born on the twentieth of July, 1978, as the clock struck a quarter past three in the afternoon, in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Her parents were on the brink of a divorce, Grease was still on top of the charts and the stage had been set for her arrival.

Her birth mom was a loose cannon, a firecracker, a live-wire. Connie remembers being enamoured by her, wide-eyed, watching her mom flit around their living room in her dressing gown, belting out Call Me by Blondie, drenched head to toe from the rain outside. But she also remembers the screams in the middle of the night, the long periods of time where she’d disappear for, the terse fights between her parents in their living room at one in the morning. By the time Connie was six her mom, Annie, had left for good.

Emilio will never understand that part of her: the sliver of Annie that lives underneath her skin, that aches to come crawling out on the middle of the stage, the screeched monologues where she shuts her eyes and channels the energy of the woman who’s DNA runs through her. Emilio’s mom is lovely, he’ll never wonder if she was responsible for the murders. It haunts her at night sometimes, a bubbling question mark underneath the surface of her skin. Her memories are clipped, dream-like, half the time she wonders if Annie wasn’t even half the nightmare she remembers her to be; sometimes she’s curious if she was worse, and sometimes she swears these bursts of anger that flare up within her are from her.

It was just Connie and her dad for a while then. He was her best friend, her confidant, her hero who could do no wrong. He tried to teach her to be fierce and resilient in the face of danger, strong and confident and sure of herself, but that’s just not the kind of kid she was. Connie was shy, she was bright and personable around the right people, but she always fit in better at the adult table than the kids table. Clinging to her Dad’s leg at parties, mumbling her name when asked, declining the offer of a birthday party. He enrolled her in drama classes to help ease her out of her shell, or maybe, because he was scared she had that same pent up energy bubbling under her and he wanted her to have a healthy outlet to channel it into. It didn’t matter, she fell into the role of theatre like she was born for the stage.

He remarried when she was ten. Connie had craved a mom so badly, she had spent every night praying at the altar of her bed to stars for one. This intense, sensitive desire that ran through her to be loved. Julia was kind and she took her shopping and they had movie dates, just the two of them, together on the weekends but Connie could still sense the distance. Julia was marrying her Dad, not her. She liked being an easy kid, knew even then how to shut up and play the right part. She went along with being tolerated and not loved. It was an easy role to play.

Her journey into adolescence was rocky. Connie didn’t know how to fit in at first. Her mind has always jumped miles ahead, inquisitive and adept at reading her own emotions. She struggled through middle-school, teetering on the edge of a million different friend groups, playing the shy girl, the weird girl, the outcast girl, the friendly girl, the popular girl; she kind of knew everyone, and no-one ever really knew her. It wasn’t the way she preferred it, her bones ached for settlement but all she could find was restlessness.

In her first year of high school she had no-one. She struggled to make friends in Sioux Falls. The same people she had known her entire life flitted in and out of her life like revolving figures in a play, she reached out to grasp them and they all just slipped away. Her friendships grew away from her, their common interests and shared histories fading into oblivion to make room for those awkward silences of knowing there’s no mutual understanding left anymore. It had left her sad, but Connie always moved on from everything without pushing it, a smile on her face. It was all for her to digest silently, not in a fit of rage.

She made friends in her sophomore year: a bad crowd, her dad had called them. It had been her rebellious stage. Connie had quietly embarked on a journey of destroying herself for fun. It was the year she began to detest everything inside of her. Her insides recoiled and she couldn’t stand to look at herself in the mirror. Every morning she woke up fatigued and nauseous with the thought of having to exist in the world. She had met Peter in one of her drama classes. He was older, and he smoked, and his friends liked to go out to the woods late at night. He kissed her and she felt like she was permanent, her feet stuck firmly on the ground. Then he’d go days without calling her and she’d let herself go stir crazy inside her own brain. They never got up to anything wild. It was never that sort of rebellious phase. Connie would just hang out past her curfew with them, smoking cigarettes she hated the taste of, laughing along when the boys wrestled on the ground.

But by junior year they were gone and she was stuck with herself again. And then her world got shifted upside down.

DURING.

They are hazy memories she can’t quite recollect. A bad dream she tends to forget about. Connie liked to buy the cover-up of a random attack. It goes down better for her. Peter had called her afterwards, to ask if it was satanic, he talked her ear off about the occult. Connie didn’t care. She pushed the event to the back of her brain and reworked herself into a new woman. This would not define her. It would not become her. It is always on her mind.

Police officers. Lawyers. Social workers. God, the fucking social workers. Connie remembers them all in bits and pieces, like watching a film she’s only half interested in. The open mouths, the silent words, the folded up case files she couldn’t look at. The funeral. The faux sympathies from her classmates. The rancid vomit she would throw up every night.

Emilio filed for custody of her and they moved to Devil’s Knot to start a new life.

Connie made herself a list of rules before leaving: no-one was going to know about what had happened, she was going to find herself with a group of friends, she was going to stop thinking about her missing mom and her dead dad, she was going to stop hurting herself for fun. Her life was going to become easy, despite everything.

AFTER.

Emilio is all she has left. He’s quickly turned into her best friend, the only person in the world she thinks she trusts, but it still makes her stomach twist and turn when she remembers he’s responsible for her. He’s overprotective sometimes, and she’s gotten good at lying to even him. It just doesn’t feel like this is her life sometimes.

It would have been easy to fade into the background. Connie has been doing it her whole life. She’s too quiet, sometimes, and her head is always racing too far ahead. She’s always caught up in her own little world. Entering Devil’s Knot she thought she’d immediately fall in with the outcasts. That’s where she belongs, right? But instead she was easily swept up by the most popular kids in school. She doesn’t know how it happened. One minute she was nervously getting ready for her first day, freaking out, and the next she was being pulled along by Kelly Shah.

It had been nice at first, to belong somewhere. There are moments she genuinely appreciates her friends. Then there are moments she feels like such an imposter it makes her want to scream. They don’t know the first thing about her and Connie doesn’t see the point in putting on appearances, it’s starting to wear her down. All she wanted was to live a normal, boring life. But she’s starting to see it’s going to be very hard to achieve that.

Especially with Brian now missing. It feels like only the start of something deeply sinister.

HEADCANNONS.

i. Connie’s wardrobe consists of lots of turtlenecks, solid colours, lilac cardigans, lots of miniskirts, chunky boots that hit right under the knee, navy track pants with stripes down the side, lots of sweater vests, mood rings, flower and butterfly charms and hair-clips, empire waist dresses, low heels, plaid patterns, her favourite cream and baby pink floral long skirt, cropped chunky cable knit sweaters, floral patterns. Her main colour combinations are: black, lilac, peach, navy and red.

ii. Her top artists of the year have to be Alanis Morissette, Goo Goo Dolls, The Smashing Pumpkins, TLC, Oasis, No Doubt, Aaliyah, Hole, Jewel, Bikini Kill, Madonna, Fiona Apple, Modest Mouse, Bjork and Belle and Sebastian.

iii. Connie is a major fan of The X Files. The week Brian Goode went missing was the first episode she had missed since her dad’s death.

iv. Her other staple favourite shows are: Seinfeld, the newly airing Sabrina the Teenage Witch, Beverly Hills, 90210 (she’s a secret Brenda Walsh fan; like she just gets it), Party of Five, The Nanny, Melrose Place and My So Called Life.

v. Connie had been a feverish reader in her youth, devouring all the books she could get her hands on. Her dad had said her mom used to love to read. It had bought her closer to her somehow. But then she hit fourteen and couldn’t stand the sight of words. It’s only after her dad’s death that she’s been getting back into reading again.

vi. Connie hated hiking before her parents died. Now it’s one of her favourite secret hobbies.

vii. She loves to bake.

viii. She had been obsessed with the O.J. Simpson case the year before.

ix. She had bought all the Satanic ritual books she could grab her hands on right after the murder. Everyone wanted to shield her from the truth but she needed to know. Nobody would tell her anything so she had to find out for herself.

x. There is something about ‘The West Memphis Three’ that unsettles her. She has to look away every-time they’re brought up.

xi. She’s a social drinker but a secret smoker. It’s only habitual, a stress-reliever, the only tie she has left to Peter and his crowd. Em has no idea.

xii. Her day-to-day life has been very boring lately: school, theatre practice, listening to what everyone else is doing and going along with the crowd.

EXPANDED CONNECTIONS.

i. EMILIO: It’s funny how quickly tragedy can bond you. Connie has always looked up to Em. He’s her big brother, how could she not? They were as close as they could be, considering the age gap and the intervals of missing time between visits. He was still her big brother and she still wanted him to like her and he still annoyed her constantly. But now he’s all she has left in this world. Her very best friend. Her guardian, now responsible for her well-being. It’s like walking a tight-rope with him sometimes. She loves him and she hates him all in the same breathe, and then she feels bad when she knows he’s just doing the best he can.

ii. HEATHER: Heather is unlike anyone Connie has ever met before. There is just something about them that draws Connie in. It’s electric. Their determination, drive, commitment…Connie envies and admires all of it. She thinks the world of them. The brightest part of her day is when they have debate or are studying together or Connie catches her eye from across the room. There’s just something about them that makes Connie glow warm and happy, inspires her to strive to be a better person.

iii. ELIAS: Connie immediately felt a connection to Elias as soon as she met him. He seems to be the only like-minded person in this town to her sometimes. He’s her trusted confidante when it comes to the arts. Some of the rumours about him have limited her from being able to develop a deeper friendship with him the way she wants, her group would just never allow it, but she always feels at peace in his presence and wishes she could just ditch her friends some days and hang out with Elias.

iv. DAVID: He hadn’t really made her radar, other than he was nice and new like she was, and they sat in the same classes together. But then he asked her out, and she turned him down, and now she can’t get him out of her mind. It’s only a small crush, not anything near what she feels for Heather, but it’s there all the same: blossoming in her chest. Since he’s asked her out, she feels like they’ve grown into better friends, and now with Brian missing…well, she’s been spending a lot more time with him.

v. KELLY: Kelly is probably the closest thing she has to a best friend here in Devil’s Knot. Connie both loves and loathes her. There are times where she swears it’s just the two of them against the world, a genuine, real friendship. And then Kelly goes and does something that completely makes Connie pause and wonder who the fuck this girl is. But at the end of the day, her arm is gonna be slung around hers, and they’re gonna giggle at the back of class together, and go shopping together, and Connie is gonna spend her weekends curled up in Kelly’s bed. There’s so much pressure that comes with being friends with Kelly Shah. It always feels like too much sometimes, like Connie is gonna mess up and get kicked out of town.

vi. HOMER, SAM: As much as Connie feels uncomfortable by being in the same group as the popular kids – there comes an immense amount of pressure and responsibility and anxiety with the job – she genuinely does like both Homer and Sam, even if sometimes she feels not good enough in the group or she questions what they’re doing, she thinks the two of them have good hearts and she finds her friendship with the two of them mostly an easy ride.

vii. MILTON: Connie secretly hates Milton. She can’t stand him. He makes her blood boil and rise and she has to bite her tongue every time he speaks. She doesn’t understand why Kelly is still with him at all.

PLOT POINTS.

I’d love to see Connie somehow get tied up in the Chapter business through Em; I don’t see her being truly a part of it, but I think it could be fun to explore maybe her opposition to it and how that affects her relationship with Emilio.

An exploration of the Sioux Falls drama and how that ties into Devil’s Knot’s mystery, if it does at all.

Her complicated relationship with her birth mother – possibly going to see Karen Shah to deal with it or going to see Karen Shah regardless, actually. I’d also love to see Connie trying to find a mother figure through some of the other women in town. It’s something that she’s always desperately been searching for.

I can definitely see her getting involved and trying to figure out what happened to Brian since her own past is still a mystery. It’s going to be easier for her to try and get the truth out of a situation she’s removed from while still feeling like she’s gaining peace of mind from her own trauma. I can see this leading her to work with the younger kids or some of the past generation that was involved in the Silverman case.

I’d also really love to see some sort of connection to Pete Silverman. I think they’d both be characters who carry a lot of guilt. Pete, for his past. And Connie, for the past she’s hiding. Somehow they’re very different but feel similar.

I’d also love for her to get involved in Brian’s disappearance through her lie about her alibi – did someone see her on that bus? Did someone see her out in the clearing? Does someone know about Sioux Falls? I’d love for her past and her lies to come unravelling.

I think a lot of constant themes have popped up in this app with Connie – her past, her commitment to theatre and the arts, her sense of being lost and not belonging, curiosity / avoidance about satanic rituals, her need to belong somewhere, guilt / regret / avoidance / overthinking, her ties to her different family relationships, the friendships she’s made here – I think these are all important parts of her that will be explored in various different ways and plots. I think my overarching goal for Connie as a singular person, not involved within the mystery, would be for her to find a true sense of belonging and confidence rather than playing the role of whoever is wanted from who in that moment. Connie needs to discover who she is.

#dkaccepted #accepted #connie romano #literate rp #new rp

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dat-town · 6 years

Text

second star to the right (and straight on till morning)

Characters: Jimin & You

Setting: Neverland au, fairy au, pirate au (a.k.a a twisted Peter Pan au)

Genre: angst

Warnings: emotional manipulation, ritual blood play (nothing too nasty or descriptive though)

Summary: They tried to warn you yet you didn’t listen. Eyes closed, lips parted, here you have been paying the price in sickeningly sweet kisses, lost and forgotten in Neverland

Words: 7.4k

Network Bangtan Bingo ▶ square: Neverland

I wish you the happiest b-day, Connie darling! ( @lthyl ) You deserve so much and I hope you are surrounded by people who love and treasure you. I feel honoured for the chance that I got to know you and that I can call you a friend. I love you a lots!!! ♥

According to the legend it’s impossible to tell apart fairies from humans until you are deep into their trap. No wonder why so many lost, lonely souls become their prey, stuck on an island nobody else has ever seen. There are tales and gossips whispered about Neverland, the home of fairies and their victims, the lost boys who are said to never grow up. Some say it’s nothing more than a fabular story told to children to keep them away from wrongdoings.

Yet, after you have seen the most beautiful wonders of the world by your father’s side, miracles called magic tricks and witchcraft, you have learnt to believe even in the most impossible things. Being the daughter of a pirate, you bask in the thought of having seen it all. So that’s why you don’t neglect the possibility of fairies’ existence and dare to hope that what they say about them is also true. That if you ask something of a fairy, there is no such thing they cannot do. Whispers also warn you to beware of the high price you should pay since there is no free wish when you deal with a fairy. But you couldn’t care less about the consequences in this life-death situation when your beloved father, your one and only relative is on his deathbed.

It’s a curse, he told you, a curse nobody can lift off. Maybe not even fairies but you have to give it a chance and you are ready to pay whatever price you need. So you travel from island to island talking with elders, asking them about anything they know of Neverland, even the slightest hint interests you. Most of their answers are gibberish, nothing you can hold onto but you don’t give up. You cannot until your old man still haven’t breathed his last.

However, your journey seems fruitless with no actual clues and an exasperated sigh leaves your mouth as you find your way into a bar in Portland City. The nasty smell of alcohol and dust hang in the air which makes you grimace in disgust but you don’t turn around to leave, no, you walk down on that worn carpet instead, looking nowhere near the drunken bastards around you. They holler after you out of some animalistic urge they have which makes you want to gag. You despise these kind of places on land because they stink of the depravity of humanity.

You slam an empty leather bottle on the counter demanding for a refillment. As you do, you don't care about the whispers and the rumours around you. A female must have been a rare sight for these folks, you convince yourself and get over it. Though, you are not that apologetic when a bragging voice comes from directly behind you.

“Hey darling, need company?” the man coos shifting closer which makes you snort. Did he really think that this line would work on you? That you are just another empty-headed little girl from around? Oh no, he couldn’t have been more wrong. You don’t have that elegant gun on your belt just for the show.

“First of all, I’m not your darling. Furthermore, I’d advise you to disappear from my sight before I make you regret coming here,” you mutter not even bothering with looking the man in the eye so that he can see you aren’t joking. Which seems like a mistake on your part but not taking the hint is definitely stupidity on his.

“Ew feisty, I like it,” the man crack up and he dares to put a hand on your shoulder despite your warning. As soon as his dirty fingers make contact with your bare shoulder, you grab his wrist as fast as lighting and turn around your axis. Like this, you twist the man’s arm backwards and pin it down on his own back.

“Leave me alone,” you grunt as you let go of the whining man. “If I see you anywhere near me again, I won’t be so forgiving.”

To emphasise the severity of the issue, you take out of a Japanese dagger from your belt and jab it into the wooden material of the table just between two fingers of the bastard. He quickly withdraws mumbling something about you taking it too seriously but a snarl from you is enough to make him run. All bark, no bite, huh?

After leaving a lasting impression on the guests who quickly turn their gazes away, you take a casual sip of your ordered alcohol and search for a quiet corner in the bar. Nobody dares to bother you while you read the same paragraph again and again in your journal that has numerous notes about treasures and secrets. A tired, annoyed sigh falls from your parted lips because once again a day passed and you couldn’t figure out more than you have already known. Every clue you had assured that you were looking for an island surrounded by azure ocean, a skeleton-like cave and a magical atmosphere that makes you lose the track of time. Nothing that could give you the right lead to know where to start searching.

After finishing your drink, you are just about to get bored of this land and put this day down as another fruitless one on your hopeless journey when somebody gracefully slides into your box and sits down at your table.

“I heard you are looking for Neverland,” the boy in his early twenties whispers and you squint at him. He has the features of a pretty, rich boy. Elegant curves, well-trimmed soft-looking hair that resembles summer nights. What a reckless boy to think he could get away with such a stunt just because he’s good-looking. Didn’t he see what just happened? Is he so eager to meet his fate?

“And what’s it to you?” you ask out of spite, furrowing your brows, not at all impressed. His sudden appearance catches you off guard. Even so because despite his simple clothing, the loose white shirt and a pair of brown trousers, he looks so foreign among the dregs, the drunken scum of Earth with his clean skin and wishful smile.

“I want to come with you.”

You laugh sarcastically, treating it as a bad joke.

“No way, we don’t take passengers,” you eye the boy up and down with a dismissive curl of your mouth. He looks like he was born to live on land, has no clothes of a sailor and knows nothing about how to set sail to the open sea. How can he be such a fool to get on a ship full off sneaky pirates? It makes no sense.

“Please... they took my little brother,” he pleads, his soft, sweet voice attempting to melt your walls but it doesn’t work, not really until he adds: “And I have the information you need.”

Well-well, it’s finally something! However, you can’t be sure he actually tells the truth. You lean forward as your fingers still play with the handle of your dagger, ready to strike. The boy gulps and his smile falters but he doesn’t pull away. A brave soul, you have to admit.

“Really? Well then we will see if it’s worthy enough to take you for a ride,” you shrug as you decide to give it a try. In times of need - like this - even lies sound more merciful than this helplessness and empty void. Lies and truths both give people directions and purposes, a chance to turn the tables. Just what you need.

You lean back comfortably, ready to listen and the boy with his curly locks falling onto his forehead props himself up to his elbow and looks around closely watching out for eavesdroppers.

“Second star to the right, and straight on till morning…” he recites like it was sort of a poem or just an over-replayed memory stuck in his mind. It sounds like a riddle and you can’t help but think that it’s exactly something fairies would do. Some misleading phases thrown at uncultured sailors. A smart move.

“Ah fairies and their weird ways of talking,” you click your tongue with a curious tilt of your head, musing over the meaning behind the riddle.

“Jungkook kept repeating this before he was kidnapped,” the boy explains his source. “I have asked several sailors and astronomers which the second star to the right is but they keep asking questions like looking from where, do you mean East and I just don’t kno…”

“Which is the first star that appears when it gets dark?” you quiz him quickly, interrupting his mindless rambling. No wonder why he didn’t get anywhere with this kind of attitude. Pretty boys and the way they see the world in black and white.

“The Morningstar,” he answers confidently which surprises you. You didn’t take him for someone understanding astrology. But he must have engaged in the topic since his brother - was it Jungkook? - was kidnapped. Funny how fate works, isn’t it? You have searched over seven seas to find any clue about this island and once you are close to give up, this boy comes out of blue with the information that could lead you to your destination. In the meantime, he must have been searching just as much for his sibling without gain and here you are providing him the oh so simple solution.

“Correct,” you nod but the crease between the boy’s eyebrows makes it clear he doesn’t understand the reason behind the question and your deduction of the riddle. “But there’s a star that’s always there even when we can’t see it. It’s coming up from the East which is the right side of modern-age maps...”

“You mean the Sun,” the boy realizes a bit belatedly what you are talking about and you look at him amused as he pierces the missing pieces together. “So the Morningstar is actually the second star.”

“Yes, I think so,” you slightly bow your head. Even if you can’t be sure, it’s finally a clue and you have a good hunch about it, so it’s worth a try. Apparently the newly turned up stranger agrees, too.

“Then we have to get going when the Sun goes down,” he states so casually, it makes your fingers stop tapping on the table’s surface.

“We?” you blink at him confused.

How arrogant it is of him to really think of joining you! Is he so naive to believe pirate ships are all about rum, gold and all that jazz? Doesn’t he know about the danger, the blood and the sweat your kind shed to make a name for yourselves, to survive?

“Well I helped you with the information. This was our deal,” he reminds you oh so naively you can’t help but scoff at his childish antics.

“I said I would decide later but you know what? Come with us and if you are wrong, we will leave you wherever we end up by the morning.”

It isn’t fair and you know it. Especially because you came up with the plan, not him. Yet you know that he would only be a burden and your liability. One more mouth to feed, one more risk to take. You don’t mean to add a new member to your crew and especially not one like him. He would probably cry the first time he saw a kraken.

However, the boy doesn’t show any sign of protest but rather there’s a curious, almost awe-struck glint in his dark, dark eyes.

“Are you always this cruel?”

“Nah, I just learned how to live in this harsh world,” you answer half-heartedly and flip your coat onto your right shoulder as you stand up from your table, ready to take a leave.

“Cool. I’m Jimin by the way,” the boy once again showcases the manners of a merchant’s son as he eagerly reaches for your hand, a shy smile adorning his surprisingly delicate features. It has been a while since you last saw a man with such a soft skin.

Against all your better judgement, in the end you leave the bar with this gorgeous young man by your side. Knowing your crew certainly won’t be happy with the new addition, you are ready to face with their wrath and protest against letting him on board. Thankfully, you manage to shut them up with the promise of Neverland, the land where wishes come true. And then, when the last flicker of the golden Sun disappears behind the wide ocean, you point to the brightest shining dot in the sky.

“Eyy, there we go, my men. Head to East and let’s not stop until morning,” you order and the crew follows you without questioning your decisions. They all respect your father - as much as pirates can be loyal - and he’s still their captain even if he had to stay on land because of his condition, the sickness that ties him to bed. You’re not sure his men would listen to you even after he died but you don’t even wish to think about these what ifs. Not yet, you will have to deal with it eventually when the time comes. Hopefully not too soon.

Third Eye, your father’s right-hand takes the wheel from you, providing you time to rest and ease your mind but you can’t possibly close your eyes without seeing horrors. You fear of what tomorrow might bring, destroying your foolish hopes. So while everybody else is snoring in the ship’s bottom level, you find a good place on the deck, near the nets and stare up at the stars leading you to Neverland or your end, whatever it may be.

“Can’t sleep?” Jimin suddenly plops down next to you, dirtying his elegant clothes but he doesn’t seem to care. Just like the wind messes up his neat hairstyle but he doesn’t bother to fix it. Still, even so dishevelled, he’s so out of place. A ship full of pirates, carrying guns on their belts and wearing their hearts on the sleeves… he doesn’t belong to this kind of crowd. He’s a mystery, the wrong screw in the machine, a beautiful flaw in the system. There’s something off about him. Way too trusting to jump on the chance and join a bunch of brute pirates. You could have killed him the moment he stepped on deck after you got the information from him but he still seems to trust you. Maybe that’s why you lowered your guards - not for the pretty face but the fact that he couldn't hurt you anyway.

“Uh well yeah. Even if we found Neverland, there's no guarantee fairies exist to grant wishes,” you shrug speaking about your inner doubts out loud and it feels freeing in a weird way. You probably won’t see each other after tomorrow anyway. After he saves his brother and you save your father, you part ways like you never met so you aren’t afraid of him taking advantage of your uncertainties.

“Oh but they exist, you can be sure of that,” he nods, determination clear in his eyes and from a naive boy you didn’t expect any less.

“How do you know? How can you be so sure?”

“They took my brother, remember? Everybody keeps saying he must have drown and got lost in the sea but I saw it. I saw them taking him,” he explains and for once, it makes sense. But is it remorse or guilt tinting his voice? It makes you curious.

“How long have you been searching for him?” you ask instead of admitting that you are also one of those non-believers. He saw a fairy and lived to tell the tale? Such a rare occurrence. Seems a bit too convenient for you but you don’t complain. There’s no reason to until you keep your guards high up enough… those walls that seem to quiver at every single glance of this naive boy sitting next to you on the bench.

The moonbeams light his pretty features just right, making him seem unreal and ephemeral at the same time. He doesn’t look at you but stares ahead, at the brightest star on the dark night sky among dozens of sparkling dots lacing this holy canvas. So he watches the Morningstar and you watch him, equally as beautiful and unfathomable. There’s something about him, something more than his pretty face but you can’t quite put a finger on it.

And when he whispers ‘four years’ the moon sighs and grieves with him.

"Oh gods...” you mutter but Jimin doesn’t need your pity.

“The problem was that nobody believed me and I couldn't solve this riddle,” he shakes his head tearing at his hair in wild frustration. When he looks at you, his fingers still in-between his locks and he looks so young with stars in his dream-like eyes. It makes your cold, cold heart skip a beat. “But now? I finally have hope.”

“Well, we cannot do much more, only hope we are not going to be late,” you whisper softly yet it leaves a bitter aftertaste in your mouth.

Hope is such a dangerous thing to bargain with. It tends to delude people into believing in miracles that would never happen. These false hopes can ruin people, can make them chase after mirages. Who would know it better than you? Searching for an island that might not even exist? Begging to fairies for their help? Since when have you been so pitiful?

But now that you have come this far, you don’t really have any other choice. You decided to sail these seas and there’s no way you would change your direction now. So you can only wait both excited and afraid to see what fate the morning brings.

For the longest time nothing happens. Jimin starts snoring by your side, then his head falls onto your shoulder and you’re so startled by the unfamiliar contact, you freeze in place. Your limbs go rigid and your breathing becomes shallow as disbelief fills your body. You could plunge your dagger deep into his lungs after all the threats of you leaving him on an inhabited island yet he chooses to trust you. Or does he know something you don’t?

Gosh, he just fell asleep! Why are you already calculating if he had any ulterior motive or not? Maybe it’s your intuition telling you to be careful even if he doesn’t seem much of a threat. But careful or not, at some point you also doze off. Luckily, preserving your reputation, you are up before dawn could rip apart the canvas of the night with its magical colours. You can already smell the fresh smell of the break of day in the fishy air but looking around you see no signs of any land nearby in this faint lighting. Anxiously and abruptly, you stand up letting Jimin’s body fall onto the deck without anyone to hold him up. It startles him awake which is no surprise since you weren’t quite nice about it.

“I don’t see anything,” the corners of your mouth droops in bitterness as you take in the sight of the eternal ocean around you but there is only water and nothing else as far as you can see.

“Maybe we were wrong about the stars,” the boy behind you grumbles, sleepy roughness still in his raspy voice. Oh no, you don’t want to think about how attractive his deep tone is.

“Or it’s really just a fairytale and the island doesn't exist,” you bite into your chapped lips drawing blood and it has a metallic taste... like disappointment.

Jimin seems to notice the slight shift in your behaviour and quickly picks up on it. He walks up to you, standing just by your side staring out into the open, uncharted waters. The dark, blue waves are illuminated by the faint orange hues of day-break without the Sun actually appearing within sight. It’s a peaceful kind of sorrow, a heart-breaking kind. Like realizing you have given up on a dream.

But what kind of dream? the boy might wonder.

“You know why I came but why are you searching for Neverland so desperately?” he asks curiosity dropping from his melting voice. You haven’t mentioned your reason before in your short-lived acquaintance and he doesn’t expect an answer now either. He knows you don’t trust in him, not really, just barely enough to bring him with you to the middle of nowhere, following a star just as clueless as him. But when you do answer he can almost discern resignation in your tone. Like you had nothing more to lose.

“I need a fairy to grant me a wish or make a deal with me, I don’t care which,” you shrug seemingly unbothered by his curiosity for once. Your face is stone-like, marble like ancient Greek statues and your heart is just as cold.

“Why?”

“I don’t want my father dead,” you confess in a whispered tone, genuinely, blinking hard with trembling lips. “Especially if I can do something about it. But I have been doing this for so long and I… I haven’t even seen my father in a month and… what if he dies while I’m away?”

Your slam your mouth shut, willing yourself to get a grip on yourself because you absolutely shouldn’t cry. You just can’t, not in front of a stranger nor your crew. They can’t know that deep down you aren’t that fearless you like to think you are, that true to your heart you are nothing more than a coward afraid of being left alone.

“It’s alright. Everyone feels a little lost sometimes,” the boy beside you puts his hand on your shoulder soothing your tensed muscles gently. There’s something magically calming in his touch, the way it makes you feel relief almost immediately. You want to say something, to argue but then it happens...

“Hey, look there, at the edge of horizon,” Jimin points ahead and your gaze follows the direction of his elegant fingers. Just as the first rays of sunshine peak to the surface, a crooked form of an island appears on the horizon. It really must be magic, there’s no other explanation..

“Land!” one of your pirates yells too and a relieved smile ghosts on your mellow lips.

“We are going to anchor the ship there, everybody get ready,” you shout at the still drowsy crew. Excited as they are, singing a pirate song about hunting for treasures, the ship turns into the right direction. Your men are so eager to discover the island, go and get their hands on the promising gold that you have a hard time gaining their attention.

“Don't forget that supposedly fairies live here and they are manipulative creatures, so be careful!” you warn them and all of you agree to come back before sunset and if anybody found something interesting, they should blow the horn.

However, pirates are ever so reckless and careless creatures so all of them expect your second-in-command jump off the ship as soon as you reach the shore and they run into the wildness before you can breathe out any other words. Idiots.

Now you can’t bother with them. You have a lot more important mission. First, you need to find a fairy. Cool, easy-peasy. It isn’t like fighting evil sirens off or crossing a river full of crocodiles to get to the gold. You secure your gun on your waist belt, get a compass and take on after your crew. But sadly, just like them, you have no idea where to go or what to explore. Seeking out of a fairy isn’t like hunting for treasure, there’s no map with a big X mark on it, no messages in bottles. Now, you have nothing more than whispers and tell-tales.

“Can I come with you?” Jimin picks up the pace with you and even though you aren’t quite impressed by the fact that he practically launches onto you, you don’t push him away. You are glad to have company even though you don’t need pretty boys following you around on a possible suicide mission where they can get both of you dead because of their recklessness.

“Sure,” you shrug, agreeing because you don’t feel like being alone.

The wet sand under your feet is cold, you feel it even through your leather boots and it makes you shiver. There’s something wrong with the waters. It smells like blood.

You make a disgusted face but keep walking on the slippery sand in the morning light until everything shift out of focus and the world seems to turn upside down. It takes a moment and a little shake of your head while you collect yourself. It isn’t hard to pinpoint what changed. The Sun is nowhere to be seen, instead the silver ring of the Moon is up. Darkness falls upon the island and the chilly weather sends a shiver down your spine.

“What… what is this?” you gape, not quite believing your eyes.

You watch it in awe as you reach out a hand towards your ship and when your fingers get past a certain, invisible border, the edge between light and dark, you see sunlight glinting on your rings. It’s like fairy tales coming true right in front of your eyes. Huh, it’s true, isn’t it? Time really passes differently here.

“Magic,” Jimin hums looking around without an ounce of panic or fear on his handsome face. There’s no crack in the perfect picture which makes him even more unreadable. Most merchant boys would have run out of the world screaming if that happened to them. But as it looks like, this is definitely not the first time Jimin leaves home to wander around a bit. Was it while he searched for his brother? Or do you have a completely different image of him printed in your mind? Maybe he isn’t that innocent and harmless after all and it would be better to keep him at least in an arm-length distance. Or maybe there’s nothing wrong with him, only this eerie atmosphere makes you feel uncertain and confused. But oh well you are so good at avoiding problems. Time will reveal his secret eventually, won’t it?

“So how do they look? The fairies?” you cough to clear your thoughts as the two of you make your way deeper into the woods interlaced by hanging vines and the scratching sound of the wildlife. It makes you itch in an uncomfortable way.

“I heard they are gorgeous,” the boy on your right smirks and you roll your eyes. It’s not easy to prepare yourself for the enthralling effect of beauty. Although, they can’t possibly be worse than sirens in your opinion.

“Not helping,” you bite out bitterly and you come to a stop when the road ahead of you splits into two.

It’s only a momentary hesitation though, because you choose the less obvious and more sinister-looking one because usually these kind of paths lead to the reward. You don’t mind getting dirty on the way either as you crawl under branches. That’s how you end up by a river that cuts the island in half with Jimin following you quietly. Usually you have a great sense of direction which comes in handy since your compass seemingly broke, its pointer turning around and around without a stop.

“I think we should cross the river,” you prompt, eyes scanning the area until you find a few bigger rocks planted in the river-bed leading to the other side. The water is so still in the crack between lands as if smooth glass was covering the surface. It looks beautiful, almost dream-like.

As soon as you take a step forward, Jimin grabs your elbow gently, halting your actions.

“Are you sure you want to go further?” he asks in a soft voice, curious yet warning.

You have come a long way here, there’s no way you would turn back now that you are so close to disclose the truth. You want to tell him this and question his motives, his plan to rescue his brother but then your ears peak up on something more interesting.

“Do you hear it?” you whisper concentrating on the rhythmical drum sounds that only seem to get louder and louder along with your heartbeats.

“What?”

“Music,” you answer enchanted, almost possessed by the melody as your footsteps unconsciously follow the slippery rocks straight towards the skull-shaped cave on the top of a hill on the other side. “Could that be it?”

In your hurry and excitement you take a wrong step having your leg slide down the rock and you almost slip into the mud. If it wasn’t for the strong arms securing you by the waist, you would have fallen face-first into the dirt of the riverbank.

“Careful,” Jimin whispers as he catches you. His warning is a bit too late for your shaken up state but you nod anyway. You don’t want to break a neck before getting to the fairies.

“Thanks,” you mumble locking eyes with him and staring right into those endless pits of darkness, for the first time, without any valid reason to, you feel inferior.

“Don’t mention it,” he waves it off kindly but there’s something off about his smile. Or the ease in his steps. He moves around like he owned the place, like he knew of any twist and turn, all the trees… as if he had been familiar with this place. But that doesn’t make sense, it doesn’t fit his story or the one you unconsciously made up in your head about him.

You keep walking, legs deep in mud, avoiding traps but this time, Jimin leads you and you let him without a question. He doesn't even act clueless anymore like he knows you suspect something and doesn't care if you knew. But know what exactly? Who is he? Or rather... what is he?

“Jimin…” you prompt softly, words sticking to your throat, sour and bitter. Your nails dig into the soft skin of your palm because you clench onto your dagger so hard.

“Hm?” the oh so confident boy ahead hums, not even turning around. He keeps going straight up on the rocky road.

You don't know as much about cartography as your beloved father but you are quite sure he's leading you to that skull-like hill, the source of the primitive music and for some reason it makes you more nervous than it should. You have faced and defeated a lot stronger man who happened to be lacking in the brain area. You, women, are resourceful and merciless if you have to be. Perhaps that's the reason why men fear you. Why they say it brings misfortune to have a woman on board. Silly them, they are all so obvious, an open book for you to read and manipulate if you need to. It isn't easy to earn respect as a girl among men. But you had your ways and didn't think anybody could be an exception. Until Park Jimin happened. He's unreadable even for you and he makes you question the balance of forces. He makes you question a lot of things actually.

"What it is?" the boy turns around eventually, getting impatient or just more curious because of your silence and you blurt out the first thing that comes to your mind.

“You said you saw it when they took your brother. Why didn’t they take you, too?” you quirk a brow elegantly, intertwining your fingers behind your back.

Four years ago, both of them must have been children. What was the difference between him and Jungkook then? Why did the fairies only take the younger and left him behind?

Most people don't react too well if you pry in their business but Jimin's behaviour is rather impassive. It doesn't match his vibrant demeanour.

“Who knows?" he scoffs bitterly and the rawness of his tone makes it painfully human. "I have never been anybody’s first choice. Just like I wasn’t the favourite son either.”

Suddenly, he seems so open, so vulnerable and so willing to talk, you want to know everything about his story. But first, before you reach the inhabitants of this island, whether they are real fairies or not, you need to confirm your suspicion.

“You have been here before, haven’t you?”

It's been all too obvious from the moment he revealed his riddle but you let him lead you and your crew straight into this trap wherever that may be, Neverland or not.

Despite your quiet voice, your question puts Jimin off, it disturbs his casual walk and yet, it doesn't get the reaction you expected. You were so sure his shoulders would tense up and he would look at you with innocent, doe eyes with a soft pout on his rosy lips. But he does none of these.

“I might have,” he flashes a confident, lopsided grin that makes your stomach drop with cold realization.

“And you lied to me.” He has been, all this time. Oh what a scum! You made the same mistake men usually commit when they look at you: you should have known that a pretty face doesn't mean he's harmless.

“Well, I tend to alter reality to fit my own tongue’s taste,” he admits like it was nothing and for the first time, you really look at him under the Moon's pale light. His soft ginger locks, dark orbs resembling the universe, the defined jawline and that mischievous smile playing on his mellow lips. You have seen it all before but you have never really looked hard enough to catch the stars reflecting in his eyes and the pixie dust on his cheeks sparkling under the light.

“You… you…” you stutter helplessly. Your voice betrays you and Jimin smirks devilishly.

“Have you figured it out yet?”

You look him in the eye and realize that tales about tiny fairies with wings that could fit into your palm are nothing but lies. In reality, they live in bodies God has wasted too much beauty on.

“You are one of them,” you whisper stunned, taking a step back. Oh you should have known better, Park Jimin is way too peculiar to be a mere human.

“Well, that’s one way to put it,” he shrugs languidly and trots forward with a laugh that makes your skin tingle. Oh so there’s more to it, you guess and fasten your steps to catch up with him. You won’t leave him out of your sight now that you know he’s the one who can help you. Yet, you still need to rearrange the puzzle pieces of his mystery before you can trust him with your father’s life.

“Why are you doing this? Kidnapping kids?” you ask breathing hard while the two of you are climbing to the top of the hill. You wonder where you are going and what he wants to show you but you don’t ask these frivolous questions that will be answered one way or another anyway.

“You are talking about it as if I was so bad, a prison guard. They all knew what they were doing, they are here willingly.”

“But why are you doing this?" you repeated the question desperately wanting to know the reason. Not the kids' motives but his. Jimin, whether it is his real name or not, turns around to look at you and grimaces.

"You know what the biggest magic is here, in Neverland?" he asks and staring at the glowing flowers emitting sparkling substance everywhere you step, you shake your head. You had never been in a place similar to this before. At first sight it might have seemed ordinary but every fiber of its being breathes magic into this island and the deeper you get, the more it shows itself before you.

"It reveals the real you," he says and you blink with a lump forming in your throat. Jimin previously assumed that you had cruelty in you but by now he must have known that you are rather weak and lonely. You just pretend to be the opposite. Should you even try to deceive him at this point?

“Immortality has a price,” he continues with burdens too heavy on his shoulder, finally satisfying your curiosity. Between the vowels of his words there's an unsaid confession: and I keep paying. “Once I was a lost boy. Rejected by the society, a disappointment to my own parents who disowned me. Then I found this place and learnt its magic. I brought my half-brother here and we gathered those who are similar to us. Desperate, alone and lost. We became a family.”

While he is talking, you arrive to the top of the rock formation, standing on the roof of the dirty white skull, looking down at the greenery of the island and the parade of other youngsters down in some kind of alley. Now they are all looking up at you curiously and you gulp nervously.

The question “Why did you lead me here?” falls off your tongue shakily as you look at the boy oh so confident in himself.

“Like many of us, I also heard of the pretty pirate girl searching for the island. I got curious. I was in the mood for a little game,” he winks playfully and silence falls upon you. Nausea is choking you as you take a step away from him and his overwhelming presence only to stop by the edge of the cliff. You are very much aware that there is nowhere to run from here. This is his territory, he would find you in every hidden spot. Or would he let you leave? Just like that if you said you changed your mind? But you didn’t and he knows that.

“Come on, ask! The question you wanted to pose all this time,” he encourages you with a lovely smile as he traps you between his body and the abyss behind you. Would he push you and watch you fall? No, that wouldn’t make sense, right? And even if he would, you aren’t afraid of dying. It sounds quiet, peaceful, easy... Then why is your heart beating so loud?

“Is it true then? What they say?” you blurt out without thinking.

“Ah but they say an awful lot of things, darling. Which one did you think of?” he inquires further, yearning to hear those words from your mouth only, to know that you need his help.

“Can you really save my father from death?”

“Of course, we can do anything and everything,” he hums and puts his index finger to his chin as if he was thinking hard, calculating the odds. “But it takes a lot to bribe Death.”

“I would do anything,” you interrupt him quickly. It's for your father. If you had to, you would walk through Hell without regrets or looking back at all.

“Anything? Are you sure about that?” Jimin tilts his head childishly and it's almost endearing that his dimples only appear late, as signs of the blooming years of teenagers.

“Yes,” you nod confidently, embracing yourself for whatever comes.

“Even if it means you can’t see him again?” Jimin asks and you falter for a moment because your father would never forgive you if you made a deal like this. But if it’s for him, you couldn’t live peacefully, knowing that you could have saved him but didn’t. It’s the burden you have to live with

“If I can be sure he’s healthy, it’s enough for me.”

“What a selfless girl. So stupid,” the gorgeous boy coos, gentle fingers stroking your cheek and you don’t have enough willpower to turn your head or slap his hand away. Less than a day, when another man tried to touch you, you threatened their life but Jimin… He has you wrapped around his finger. It must have been his aura, the magic, this magnetic pull of his being.

“But aren’t we all? Stupid, I mean,” he chuckles lightly and you find it truly mesmerizing. You had never been one to fall for men’s charm but this boy, this ethereal creature makes you weak in the knees. You are both fascinated by him and afraid what he could do with that kind of control over you.

“Have you heard of crossroad demons, sweetheart?” he asks as he takes your hand, gently as ever and places it palm flat out on his chest just over his heart… or at least where his heart should beat but there’s nothing but stillness. Your breath hitches and his entire demeanour changes. There’s nothing left from the coy boy asking for a ride in the bar. He’s rather sly and manipulative now. The real him.

“There are no crossroads where I’ve grown up,” you confess and there’s no lie in your words. You have grown up sailing the seven seas. You have set foot on the land so rarely, it still makes you uneasy after a while. So many strangers, the crowd, that stuffy feeling of being locked in and you missed the scent of the oceans, the breeze in your hair.

“Very true,” Jimin cannot argue with you but it only makes his evergreen smile grow a bit bigger, the curl of his lips a bit more sadistic. “We are called by a lot of names: fairies, lost boys, demons. But all we do is striking deals and I’m telling you this so you know what you get yourself into if you agree. I can save your father. He can live a long life missing you and searching for you because in exchange you have to give up on your most precious thing.”

“What?” you furrow your brows in a confused manner since you have close to nothing to offer him beside gold and rum or your ship. But Jimin doesn’t talk about physical currency. He averts his gaze somewhere behind you and you follow suit. The sight of the maelstrom colours takes your breath away. “Oh… the sea.”

“Yes. You cannot leave this island once we come to an arrangement,” Jimin lays down the rules and whispers into your ears in his raspy, cunning voice. “You just have to say the word... Deal?”

It’s scary to know there’s no way back but you are in too deep to give up now.

“Deal,” you nod and Jimin claps his hands together gleefully.

“Perfect! All I need is a little blood,” he winks at you as his fingers run down along your arm until they reach the dagger clenched in your hand. You hand it over to him willingly and let him leave a tiny cut on your index fingertip. You watch the carmine drops fall but you suck in a sharp breath when Jimin lifts your hand mouth level and closes his lips around your digit. He licks around the wound, lapping off the blood in a kittenish manner and you could do nothing but stare at him. He pulls off with a pop sound and smiles at you with ruby red stained lips. “And a kiss.”

You don’t need crossroads on seas to know how deals with demons work so you stand on your tiptoes, fingers grabbing the collar of the fairy’s and press your lips to his. It tastes bittersweet and it gets to your head quickly like good, matured wine.

Jimin pulls back after a short while brushing a mop of hair lovingly behind your ear.

“Welcome among the Lost, darling,” he whisper-tells and his eyes glow in the dark. You have so many questions, so many doubts but before you could utter anything out, he grabs your shoulders and with a swift movement he pushes you off the cliff, into the void.

Everything falls and you scream with your eyes shut closed but the pain you expect never comes. You dare to pry your eyes open just enough to see the sparkling dust floating around you in the air. The magic-tasting air of a place you might have seen in your dreams and there’s a boy more beautiful than sunsets smiling down at you, reaching out a hand. You don’t know him but somehow you know you can trust him, so you take his hand without hesitation and then... then you fly, darling.

#nbficbingo2018 #sfwbangtan #bangtan bookclub #btswriters #angstykpopnet #jimin scenario #jimin imagine #jimin fanfic #jimin x reader #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fanfic #peter pan au #fairy au #fairy!jimin #pirate au #fantasy au #series: once upon a fairytale #stories

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grassangel · 5 years

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Most of you enjoyed the mix of classic Doctor Who storytelling with a more modern concept.

Our Doctor Who fans love a bit of mystery, and some twists and turns are key ingredients for a great story!

Why am I even trying to guess what the things they tell us in the emails mean? Because again this seems bland in a way I think a lot of people might’ve gone ‘eww’ at the episode.

Anyway, usual ‘did you watch’, how do you rate it (I said 8, because it’s good, but it’s not really higher than that), then comments.

It was a good, solid episode. The team didn't get much to do, but that was okay because it was all about the Doctor and how people treat her new face (and body). I did like they got to be in awe over King James though. The interactions the Doctor had with both Mistress Savage and Willa could not have been done with another Doctor, and I loved the Doctor going up against a female antagonist. I would've liked to have seen more of their interaction and I actually thought it might have been a bit more interesting actually if there hadn't been aliens though. Despite that, I did enjoy the ending. King James's actions felt thematic with The Woman Who Fell to Earth, and we got to see the TARDIS depart for once, something I felt had been missing! I also enjoyed the setting, though that water looked really cold.

Kind of emphasising the whole female antagonist, hoping desperately they’ll bring Missy back? Maybe....

Ratings time!

Funny, For all the family, Charming, Adventurous, For people like me, Topical (covers topics and themes I care about), Emotional, Fresh, Shareable (stories I want to share & discuss), Warm, Gripping, Scary, Easy enough to follow A fairly tight cluster, but ‘fresh’ scored highest

The other characters, Monsters/Villains, The location: 17th-century Lancashire, The storyline, The core cast (The Doctor, Ryan, Yasmin & Graham) Woot for location, storyline and core cast! (I had trouble with monsters/villains because I loved Mistress Savage, but didn’t care much for the Morax.)

Yasmin, Ryan, King James I, Becka Savage, Willa Twiston, The Doctor, Graham Obvs Mistress Savage and the Doctor won. Poor Yaz and Willa though.

Words! Fallible for King James I, complex for Becka Savage, vulnerable for Willa Twiston.

Then the how familiar are you with the series and do you want more surveys and free space!

The dutch angles made some scenes off-putting and hard to watch. But I really did enjoy the Doctor going up against a female antagonist and having to negotiate a misogynistic setting, and I'd love to see more of both in the future. It's something I think can and should be explored further in at least a couple more episodes. Especially female villains. I was slightly disappointed that the team didn't get dressed up for the relative time period. I know period dramas are criticised for not having PoC in them, as it gives the impression people of colour weren't present in the period. And I think, even if they aren't from the period, seeing Yaz and Ryan (and Graham and the Doctor) dressed appropriately would help combat that feeling of not belonging. Especially since the two other historical episodes have been fairly modern. Ryan's reaction to King James's affection was really fun, though I wish we could've heard what he thought about it as well.

...give more lines to Ryan please? also a thing or two I brought up in my yeah, ehh, hmm, nah review and yet more insistence on future female villains being a thing.

eta: the link at the end now properly takes me to the forums and this gem of description was in the discussion

WHICH SOMEONE ELSE ALSO FOUND FUNNY

#BBC fan panel

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richie-txzier · 7 years

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Shut The Fuck Up, Eileen

Request: Do you need a prompt?))) Soulmate AU: you can hear the thoughts of your soulmate! Fluff Reddie?

Requester: Anon

Pairing(s): Eddie Kaspbrak x Richie Tozier, Stan Uris x Bill Denbrough

Word count: 2060

Warning: None

Author: Admin Tozier

Note: I added to the AU slightly so that when you kiss your soulmate you stop hearing their thoughts

“Alright, who THE FUCK HAS COME ON EILEEN STUCK IN THEIR HEAD AT 3 FUCKING AM?”

Bill loves his friends. He really does. He believes each one of the six people in his friendship group brought something - a new perspective into their otherwise monotonous, sickeningly-suburban lives. Mike brings the logical aspect, while Ben balances this with emotional opinions; Stan brings cynicism, while Bill brings optimism; Beverly brings calm, while Eddie… Yeah, Eddie brings unadulterated rage that, if they all weren’t so used to it, would make have them all shaking their boots, because, despite his short stature and smooth young complexion, this boy had a dirty mouth and a glare to match.

Piled on the small pic-nic bench during their lunch break, the six Losers watched as Eddie paced in front of them, eyes blazing and hands flailing wildly as he emphasised his points with crude gestures towards the sky as if his soulmate would be able to see them somehow. He twisted towards them with a disbelieving and manic expression, “All I wanted to do was take a fucking piss and this goddamn bastard just had to be thinking, admittedly, a great song, but definitely not one appropriate for the time of night! But the worst thing was they weren’t even the right lyrics! THEY WEREN’T EVEN THE RIGHT LYRICS, GUYS!”

Eddie collapsed on the seat between Beverly and Mike, breathing heavily and tugging his jumper sleeves over his hands to rub at his eyes. Beverly smiled softly and wrapped an arm around his shoulders to hug him into her side, plucked the lollipop out her mouth, and remarked, “At least it’s a good song this time.“

They all shuddered as they remembered the expression Eddie held after he had to go all day with Final Countdown pounding in his mind. It definitely made Bill grateful for the comparable calmer mood Eddie was in this time; but, with a tug in his heart, he realised it may be because of how exhausted Eddie was. He had his head rested on Beverly’s shoulder as if he couldn’t hold it up himself, dark bruises under his drooping eyes and just an overall slouched demeanour so unlike the usual pristine boy held.

He looked fucking shattered.

Bill felt Stan reach over to steal a couple of Bill’s M&M’s, and, with his signature lip curl, snorted, "Maybe he thinks he’s a goddamn DJ."

Mike shook his head, stroking Eddie’s hair softly and they all watched with a similar stinging feeling how he tilted into his touch with closed eyes, a yawn roaring from his mouth, "He’s an asshole, that’s who he is."

"And it was so fucking LOUD as well. Like, Jesus, how can someone think loudly?” Eddie whined into Beverly’s shoulder, and she rubbed his back, freezing for a moment as she completely took in what he had said.

“Wait it was loud?” She repeated. Eddie nodded.

“Well, that’s great!” Ben erupted from across from her, smiling brightly through his peanut butter and jelly sandwich, “That means they’re close!"

"They better not get too fucking close or I might just ‘accidently’ kill them,” Eddie grumbled as he picked his head up to start massaging his temples. Mike patted his head, “It’ll be all over soon, Eddie. You’ll find ‘em.”

Eddie dropped his face in his hands with a groan.

Eddie really wanted to meet his soulmate. He really did. The prospect of meeting the person the universe had literally said is the most compatible and wonderful person for you was a glorious idea if it ever happened. But right now, he would gladly give up his soulmate if it meant them shutting up for five fucking seconds. He honestly didn’t know if this person ever stopped thinking; thoughts when he was brushing his teeth in the morning, thoughts all throughout the day when he’s trying to concentrate on work, thoughts while he’s eating dinner, thoughts when he brushes his teeth before bed, just thoughts all day, every day, non stop.

Eddie wondered if anyone had gone insane from too many soulmate thoughts. Maybe he would be the first.

That would be cool, I bet I’d get a reward as I was shipped off the loony bin-

What if rocks are actually soft but just tense up when we touch them?

Oh fucking hell here we go

If I were in a video game I wonder what kind of stats I’d have?

Fucking 0 intelligence, I can tell you that, Jesus Christ

I wish I cried macaroni because I would get free macaroni and that would make me so happy that I would cry from happiness and make more macaroni

...what the actual fuck?!

Eddie's pen went straight through his English work and he cursed under his breath, and then promptly smacked his forehead onto his desk with a groan. He was losing sleep over this; nights of where his brain wouldn't shut off became sleepless, causing him to curl up in a ball and try to push the loud thoughts of someone else from his mind. They were loud, which meant his soulmate was nearby, maybe they went to his school? That would be convenient. He knew the best places to hide a body around here-

"Mr Kaspbrak?" A voice interrupted his vengeful plotting and he lifted his head to meet the stern look of his English teacher, "Are you alright."

"Sorry, sir, I'm uh, don't feel too well. May I go to the bathroom?"

The teacher glanced at the clock and sighed, "I suppose so. It's nearly the end of class so take your belongings with you."

Eddie nodded before sweeping all of his things into his backpack and bustling out the classroom, ignoring the curious stares of his peers. He could feel the pounding in his head with every step he took and decided maybe going to the bathroom was the best solution after all - he didn't want to be stuck in the lunch rush anyway. He swung open the door, slipped into a stall and leaned his throbbing head against the cool cubicle door.

With scrunched up eyebrows, he wished his soulmate luck if they were to ever meet.

"Anyone seen Eddie?" Bill asked, slowing his steps to look at the backs of the apparent five of them his mouth drawn to a line. He bumped his lunch tray between Stan's shoulder blades and the curly haired boy shouted in protest, twisting to see his innocently smiling face with an unimpressed expression.

"He ran off in English. He said it was to the bathroom, but I think he was having soulmate problems again." He offered and sped up his steps in case Bill was to nudge him again.

"I hope he's okay..." Ben said, looking back into the hoards of children crowding the corridor.

The five of them appeared outside, the white blinding autumn sun piercing their vision causing Beverly to squint to see that their usual pic nice table had been taken by another group of friends.

"Bastards." She reacted simply and scanned the rest of the courtyard to see if there were any free spaces. All were taken except for one near the edge which held a sole boy that, with a sudden brightness of her eyes, she instantly recognised. "Let's go sit with Richie!"

"Who the hell is Richie?" Mike asked, being the first to follow her with his packed lunch swinging in his hand. She didn't answer as she reached the table, setting down her lunch tray.

He looked up suddenly, the noise of the tray scaring him, and the momentum causing his large and frail looking glasses to bounce out of place on his nose. He fixed them, smiling widely as he recognised the redhead, showing slightly large front teeth out of plump lips.

"Bevster! What a pleasure to see you this fine Wednesday afternoon!" He spoke with a fake cockney English accent, one that broke considerably due to the chip he was still chewing on.

"Heya Richie, how's life?" She asked as the rest of them tentatively sat down around them. Ben and Mike slotted in next to Richie as Bill and Stan quickly sat next to Beverly, unsure of the new person.

"Wondrous, now that the prettiest girl in school has blessed me with her presence," Richie remarked, flashing her a wink. Ben tensed up next to him.

"Shut it, Rich." She laughed, before realising the rest of them were awkwardly looking at them, "Oh shit! Richie, these are my friends, Bill, Stan, Ben and Mike! Guys, this is Richie, we hang out when I smoke sometimes."

There was a chorus of various greetings from the rest of them and Bill even leant over the table to shake his hand, which Richie laughed at. There was a bang as the doors to the building slammed closed and Bill looked behind her to see Eddie has emerged and looked confused.

"EDDIE!" He shouted and the boy jumped to look over in his direction, before coming over.

"Fuck me, Beverly, how many friends do you have? This is getting close to a gang bang-"

Richie stopped as Eddie reached them and he took in the boy's face.

Mama mia, he's adorable

"Fucking hell!" Eddie said aloud, clutching his head and stumbling back, his face contorted in pain. Mike jumped up to skip around the table and hold his elbows as try to look at his face.

"Eddie, Eddie! Are you alright?" Eddie looked up at his friend before leaning sideways to stare a the wide-eyed long dark-haired boy.

"YOU!" Eddie shouted, ripped away from Mike's gentle hold to point at Richie intensely.

"ME?!" Richie exclaimed back.

You fucking asshole!

Richie winced in pain, hand coming to hold his head as he stared back, realisation melting over his features until a brilliant beam shot through his face. He muttered a soft, "Holy shit."

Ben's jaw was slacked while Beverly's mouth was curled into a warm grin as in unison they said, "No fucking way."

Eddie's eyes were rock-hard as he glared at the taller boy with all his might, Richie's goofy smile slipping as Eddie clambered to stand on the table, towering over the now standing gangly boy, steaming practically bursting from his ears.

"He's going to murder him," Stan stated quietly as he sat to the side, casually playing with Bill’s fingers, the two of them watching the scene unfold. Bill clicked his tongue.

"Think positive!"

"I'm positive he's going to murder him."

Eddie stomped over the top of the table to land on the seat Richie was previously sat on, his short stature now meaning that they were now face to face, "YOU'RE THE FUCKER WHO CAN'T STOP FUCKING THINKING ALL HOURS OF THE GODDAMN DAY! DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD IT IS TO TRY AND SLEEP WITH SOME FUCKER SHOUTING IN YOUR HEAD ABOUT CRYING FUCKING MACARONI! OR-OR-OR FUCKING BEACHES MADE OF FRENCH FRIES?! ARE YOU ALWAYS HUNGRY?-"

Hands suddenly came to cup his cheeks and Eddie was suddenly being tugged forward, his mouth crashing into Richie's. He froze, eyes blown and looking at Richie's closed eyes behind thick frames as his soft mouth moved gently into his.

And honestly, as much as Eddie ranted and raved about wanting to murder his soul-mate, this was the feeling that ultimately changed everything. Suddenly he realised why people do so much for those who they loved, why they'd sacrificed everything just for a taste of this kind of physical affection from someone that made a rush whoosh through them, electricity spark across his skin and his heart drop so far he felt it in his stomach.

Eddie looked shell-shocked as Richie pulled away, his own eyes wide as he was sure he felt the same thing. Richie’s voice was breathless as he spoke, “I’m Richie, by the way.”

“Eddie.” He replied, a smile twitching at his cheeks. Richie chuckled shortly and then stepped back, hands going into the pockets of his heavy denim jacket.

“At least now you won’t hear my thoughts anymore.” Richie offered. Eddie blinked.

“Oh um, yeah.”

They stood awkwardly for a moment.

“I think you stood in my fries.”

“I think you should kiss me again.”

Eddie smacked a hand over his mouth, surprised at the words that jumped from his throat. Richie just grinned.

“You’re cute, Eds.”

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brooklynislandgirl · 3 years

Note

20. Do you enjoy wearing lingerie or seeing your partner wear it? {Non-random Inquiries for Beth}

Spicy and Sweet || Accepting

Maybe the first time she noticed was when Anakin volunteered to help her fold the laundry. One of those nebulous mornings where the world seems poised for something, holding its collective breath between the heavy rainstorm the night before and a lag in the equally thick mist before it starts again. Though he says nothing about the way his body must ache...anyone passing more than a curious glance could see the fine webbing of lines at the corners of his eyes and the bruise-coloured shadows beneath. The way his mouth pulled to one side as he worried the inside of his lip between his teeth in place of soft-voiced curses. The whiteness of his knuckles as nerves involuntarily twitched in response to pain stimuli both within and without. He’d cradled a cup of coffee for nearly thirty minutes while his hand leeched the heat from it at breakfast and he’d been unusually, thoughtfully quiet. A vacantness as still as too empty houses long after the occupants have moved away. And because she knows Anakin, she doesn’t offer him the Key, though they both know she could. Though they both know if he really had to, he wouldn't need it.

What she's offered in it's place was a mother's touch. Not just any of a dozen of her tender and loving caresses, but The Mother's. Taking the pain away as effectively as any medication he could crawl into without the dangers of stomach-turning relapse, without that way he kind of dozes off mid-sentence sometimes, head lolling down toward his chest. Things that always seem to close up her throat in instinctive panic. She is grateful to be able to mitigate some of the hazards of his choices, though she can't fix the root cause. But after the agony had dulled down enough for him to come out from under it, he curled up on the couch with her and plucked one of her camisoles from the willow basket.

Were Anakin anyone else, Beth would have been more than tempted to snatch the satin right out of his hold. Fires of embarrassment would have immolated her from the inside out. It is an intimate piece of clothing. The lilac colour and the french lace is sometimes the only thing that lies between her skin and the rest of the world, it's one of the few things that makes her feel feminine. Beautiful. Not in the typical draw-the-eye-to-her-somewhat-physically-lacking-charms that is always at the centre of what is sexually attractive. No, it is the colour that doesn't wash her out until she's some anaemic paper-white thing. More so it doesn't make her feel alien; too big eyes set in an odd rounded triangle of a head. Mouth too full. Nose too small. Too short and too thin but with limbs, fingers, and toes too long. Like one of those grey kind everyone swears crashed in Roswell and are now locked up in Area 51. In it Beth feels comfortable in her own skin as she isn't anywhere else.

So to watch those long fingers of his tracing the scalloped edges of the lacing, twisting the sleek fabric across his knuckles, hearing his palms drag across the shadow-and-light of it maybe translates to what he might... This is where Beth catches herself and swans her neck until the heat in her face diminishes. Keeps her own hands busy by taking up a different item and starts to fold it more out of muscle memory than any conscious thought. She doesn't want to make him uncomfortable. She more than knows how it is to be the object of someone else's focus when that intensity of scrutiny makes you want to crawl out of your own skin, so she only watches him from the corner of her lashes. The fascination though lies almost entirely in the synthesis of time-dilated raccoon washing and the more sensual moulding of clay. She can't explain it any better than that to herself, the appeal of it all especially paired with the intimate nature of the camisole. Were that she could capture the feeling and save it for a moment when she doesn't particularly feel much of anything at all, which happens more often than it not. And maybe too it's paired the subtle music playing in the background, Holy Wine. Or maybe it's the unspoken feelings rising up that she hasn't exactly figured out. Why she has them, what they mean, if she's projecting things or seeing something that isn't reciprocal and therefore makes everything that much more impossible to explore. And now she's so lost that it almost feels painful.

She places the linen shift on the table and decides to maybe choose something utilitarian to distract herself with. No one has ever had romantic notions about scrubs before, at least not that she's aware of, especially ones that are that kind of pastel-Pepto Bismal pink with multicoloured cartoon sharks. The quietude doesn't sit well with her though, and by the time she's gotten through another set of scrubs ~solid colours, no nonsense~ she feels the need to fill the space between them with something. Some part of her sits back behind the green glass of her eyes, horrified by the first thing that comes to mind. Wants to compose an apology before the first few words come spilling out of her. "Long long time ago," she begins, pulling a small netted bag containing socks to be paired and folded into her lap, "dere was dis guy, right? His name Julius de Medici. He was a' Italian aristocrat disowned from his family f' bein' a' alchemist. Or mebbe some oddah reason. And dere was dis girl. Her name was Mia di Napoli ~which means she came from Naples. An' dat's also in Italy. Mia was very poor. An....Orphan, like you."

She almost sounds apologetic at that moment and when she spares him an actual glance, there's a wealth of empathy there, and a dislike of the particularly emphasised word. She knows that Anakin knows he's both those things, doesn't need to be reminded of the fact, especially not when the weather's like this. At the same time, she doesn't exactly mean it in it's dictionary sense. When she says Orphan like that, she means someone not belonging to a proper Tradition, someone who has typically Awakened and educated on their own by trial and error, surviving beyond those first few months. To be truthful, she has a special place in her heart for them, doesn't look down on Orphans the way most others do. To have such a catastrophic thing happen with no guidance, no explanation, able to rely on only your own enlightenment? That takes courage and intelligence. More than even the most vaunted Masters could muster on their own.

"Anyway, Mia work as a t'ief an' a prostitute. Now, as you can imagine, dere must have been so many rumour going on at da time about how dey met, how dey decided to join forces as it were, but da trut' is... dey accomplished some kine unheard of. See Julius an Mia undertook a alchemical ritual dat fuse dem into a single bein'. Some Awakened accuse de Medici of resortin' t' Infernalism to achieve dis ritual, but as far as I know, it was nevah done before or repeated aftah. Some say... da reality of it is dat da ritual was preformed wi' da aid of da Psychopomps... dey were spirits back den, from deep in da Umbra... da kine...alien in deir own way. Not a lot written about dem, well...if ya not one of da Hermetics. Or dem Dreamspeakers... but ya know kinda gettin' inta da weeds here.

"So anyway, da resultin' individual, bot' kane and wahine at da same time, took da name Heylel Teomim. Dat's Hebrew for "twins of da mornin' star". Now, da infusion of two souls was nevah quite perfect; Teomim's appearance was constantly in flux, an' when speakin' in da first person, he tended t' alternate between "I" an' "We" even in da same sentence. Now, dey....we...use he/him pronouns but mos'ly because even now... It's an advantage among our kine...t' be...masculine presentin'. You can see how it chafes a lot of dat...aren't. Verbena, especially, lotta dem Dream Speakers. Oh...an' dere's been inflammatory speeches in official Councils by females in da Sons of Ether. Dey been tryin' for at least a hundred years or more now...t' change it back to when it was da Electrodyne Engineers, or t' da Society of Ether, on da grounds dat it makes it more gender neutral an' welcomin'. An' because da ladies... well. Dey bring up a good point dat a lot of deir creations ~robots an' oddah experiments~ eiddah don't match a single gender or any gender, an' I fine dat real interestin'. I wish dem luck. But again... weeds.

"...Many people regard Teomim as unusually attractive an' highly charismatic, but also find some kine slightly... off... dat kept dem from gettin' closer. Teomim, for all dey eloquence an' brilliance, was prone t' arrogance: saw demself as a perfect being, or at least as closer t' perfection dan anyone else could come. An' mebbe let dis invariably colour interactions wi' anyone who nevah share da same opinion. Which you can imagine was more like as not." She smiles a little thinly now, as if the telling of the story makes her tired, or maybe it's finding the right way of spinning it. But seems entirely unaware of it. This is typical of historical lessons from Beth. Rather than offering events and dates and places she's certain Anakin's never heard of before, she filters it through her own view. Adding thoughtful commentary or asides that yes, while they could be tangential, also tried to exude a kind of humanity to the information. And while names and places might not be familiar to him, she never talked down to him, left room for him to ask any questions he might have. Her patience was limitless in this regard. Probably because no one ever really offered her the same courtesy. That kind of gate-keeping was full of hubris, and it rubbed her the wrong way so terribly that she'd be damned if she made Anakin feel those same things.

"Eventually, dere was da Grand Convocation dat lasted like a whole decade where lots of stuff happened such as da creation of Horizon. You know how... my green house is like da Tardis? Bigger on da inside? Well, dat's because a lot of it sits in a little bubble of it's own reality. An' dat's why...when we do our magick...it's safe dere. T'ink of it kinda like... a mystical laboratory, with precautions an' safety features for any kind of accident or mishap. And dat protects you an' me from da forces of Paradox. An' Horizon is li'dat, too. Except instead of a little bubble... it's... well, I dunno. I nevah actually seen it, but it is our ~Da Traditions'~ most important, biggest stronghold. An' it exists entirely in da spirit world.

"Teomim took part in it as a representative of da Solificati, ancient alchemists dat...I'm gonna be honest, I don' know lots about. He was chosen t' join da First Cabal... which had members of different Traditions, an' was an experiment t' see if all us different kine could work togeddah. Not only dat, but somehow he got chosen to lead it, too. It's said dat charisma of his help smooth ovah many of the group's conflicts, at least in the beginning. He made specially close friends wit' da Hermetic Louis Du Monte, an' Akrites Salonikas, who was the representative of da Seers of Chronos...who eventually became known now-a-days as da Cult of Ecstasy. On da oddah hand, dere was Walking Hawk, the Dreamspeaker, who believe Teomim's existence was some kine unnatural. Dey nevah made friends wi' each oddah.

"As da story goes, Teomim's strongest ally was Eloine. Chosen an' Beloved of da Verbena. About her...well. She grew up in Ireland, only child of a family descended from Queen Boadicea, an' of course, da Wyck. She became an accomplish witch at a young age, an' came to da Grand Convocation wi' her parents an' Lady Nightshade, our first Elder, of whom she was a close friend. She was said to be incredibly beautiful an' incredibly kind, but dat her penchant for dancin' ...skyclad.. scandalise quite a lot of da more conservative folk who wen go. Still, her spirit captivated many many. For dat reason, she was named to da First Cabal, an' because she seemed to embody da values for which we Verbena stood above all oddah.

"All da stories say it was nevah love at firs' sight, but dat it was da greatest of dem. Love, I mean. So much so dat dey have twin keiki togeddah right around da time dat Teomim...." It starts with a single falter of voice that crushes her into silence. A dark thought or memory maybe that weaves its way across her features until it draws some insubstantial veil across her, enshrouding her with a palpable kind of discomfort. It has nothing to do with Anakin at all, at some point she'd stopped looking at him entirely to focus on a sight past the moisture-soaked windows. But when all of her came to a kind of unnatural stillness the very vibe of the room changed. Glacially slow, she began to collect her things back in the basket, all but what he had in his hands, and with a furrowed brow, she got to her feet. "But old history...no maddah when.... is all.." Another one of those nebulous hand waves of hers before she takes that basket and leaves the room. Leaves whatever it was he had in his hands.

Leaves Anakin.

~*~

Maybe the idea stayed with her far longer than she expected.

It wasn't often any more that she left the house without him in some kind of tow, whether forging ahead with his long limbs creating space for her to pad along behind or beside, or Anakin sometimes drifting along happy or hapless in her own wake, wrist tethered firmly in the circle of her fingers; never too tight, never too lose, but simply in that Beth way of hers. It was too easy for something to catch her magpie eye and of course she would have to drag him toward it, asking endless questions or making up her own stories. It was easy to see her love for the city in all of its various aspects, particularly his 'blue' Dog in the park whose name she can never remember. Her solo forays take her to less than usual places. Her questions not asked of him were more softly posed. It wasn't really embarrassment tendriling down to consume her in the face of amused sales people but more like trying to keep a secret. As if she were loud enough he'd somehow overhear her across miles. Then of course there was the absolutely ridiculous in hindsight task of bring it in the house bit by bit, smuggled under various guises so as to try and keep a secret, which Beth was typically not very good at. Not in the context of the mission. Eventually though, she's pleased with her procurements. Colour and style, an artistic eye lent to the choosing rather than relying on her off-kilter sensibilities toward self-titillation. She would be lying if she said she can't wait, assuming he's game for it at all. That's the thing though, isn't it? It's not just about sensuality. It's not just about a certain unspoken tension that sometimes charges the air like that moment just before a lightning strike. It's an offering to allow him to be vulnerable. To make choices that he might not give a thought to any other time out of fear, out of a sense of shyness. If nothing else, it's opening the door for him. Let him know that no matter what the subject, she will always be a safe place to explore his feelings about it free of judgement or weirdness. For him to know that she will always have his best interests at heart. And with all of that, she has to understand that maybe things aren't so very black and white between them either. More and more of late, she knows her feelings have been shifting. She tries to tell herself it's just a by-product of their closeness, that hushed intimacy between them that has grown from seed to sprout and thrives despite all the reasons it shouldn't. She also knows that she is an absolutely terrible liar. Somewhere along the way, she's chosen Anakin.

And the only problem going forward if she doesn't want to think about the parables of the First Cabal...or their age difference...or the fact that this could, from the outside, be seen as her manipulating him because of the imbalance of power in all the ways that count... is that she doesn't really know if Anakin is just being friendly. If he's found it a little too easy to use her as a stop-gap for his need to connect and always feeling a little out of place in the world. The worst of her fears that creep up on her late at night when sleep is a stranger that refuses to approach is that maybe, just maybe... she's seeing things that aren't there, that he somehow has felt her loneliness and knows just how to shape it to his advantage.

And that's not really even a condemnation of Anakin himself but the very real sense that she's never been any good for anyone. That she possesses no inherent value in and of herself. If she were him, she certainly wouldn't choose her. Not like that, anyway.

It almost makes her second, third and ninth guess herself.

~*~ It doesn't come up until the next time the day dawns much like the first. Grey and recalcitrant. When appointments are cancelled and the city holds her breath waiting to see if the storm brewing in the gulf is going to make landfall. She can feel his tension so thick that she can almost choke on it from two floors away. She wants to ease that in anyway she can, and distraction usually always works on her. So she takes her time in setting the stage, so to speak. A soft Indie playlist on the blue-tooth speakers strategically arranged around her room, mostly because it seems like a very Iron and Wine or Lumineers kind of afternoon, but also because the low beats and more often than not acoustic instrumentals blend with the rain lashing against her storm-windows in a very holistic way. She adds a few drops of lei-flower oil to the diffusers to add a touch of warmth where it didn't exist before. Mixes well with the freshly laid fire in the hearth grate and with the candles that add a soft glow. Rather than presenting him with the array of satins, laces, and silks, still in boxes, she gathers them and drapes them strategically on and behind the folding screen in the corner. Pulls it out a little more from where it normally sits because he is a great deal larger than himself and might want a bit of room to move in. If he wants to.

That's again the biggest part of it all. The option to choose or not choose as it pleases him. "Ani?" She is only as loud as she needs to be from the bottom of the attic stairs. "'Ano'i... can ya come f' my room? I...ah...I got some kine wan ya f' see."

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escapingtheconstrictingboxes · 7 years

Note

“I could kill you right now!” for any ship you'd like? I was thinking nessian, but maybe a ship you wouldn't expect, if you have a different one in mind!

Okay, so this was supposed to be short. Short. Except, my mind went, no. I’m sorry it took me so long to respond but hopefully the length will make it up.

I did end up doing Nessian but hopefully it was something unexpected.

Nesta could feel Cassian flying towards the house, coming back from another week of overseeing the camps. Her hands tightened around her book in anticipation and she tried to read the words on the pages but in truth, she’d been stuck on the same page for the past hour. Nesta wouldn’t admit it readily, but she had missed him. She missed his voice, his touch, his heart. She missed him. While they had been together for the past few years, she was still overjoyed at this sense of love and comfort with him. Even if she never admitted it out loud.

Nesta felt him circle around the house once and she reached out to him through the bond and tugged on it. She heard him land on the balcony that connected to their bedroom and still no response. She frowned and turned to face the bedroom door, tugging on the bond again. Nothing. She heard him walk to the bathroom and that was where he stayed. She heard him turn on the shower and that was when she knew something was wrong. Closing the book in her hand, she left it in the living room as she entered her bedroom. Nesta ignored the clothes that Cassian had apparently removed as he had made his way to the bathroom. She sat on the edge of the bed, her hands fidgeting as she waited for Cassian to come back.

Nesta looked up the minute she heard the door open and she watched as her mate walked out in just a pair of shorts. The first thing Nesta noticed was the empty look in his eyes. Some important spark was now gone and Nesta didn’t know where it was. Cassian’s eyes seemed to scan the room and they landed on her, registered her but he walked past her like she wasn’t there. Nesta noticed how he hadn’t tied up his hair like he normally did before going to bed. She normally complained about how he took much longer on his hair than she did…but now, it looked like he hadn’t even noticed the loose hair. Nesta twisted around as she watched Cassian slip under the covers on the other side of the bed, facing away from her.

She’d seen Cassian in times like these but he had always come to her. Always. He’d normally gather her up in his arms and keep her close. Nesta normally knew what to do when Cassian’s mind was wearing himself down. But this was different. He was isolating himself from her and Nesta didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t feel anything from him through the bond except for a wall that Nesta had never met before. She’d never felt this rough stone wall. Cassian had always opened up to her even if he didn’t want to talk. He’s always let her in. Until now.

Nesta slowly walked around the bed and held back the urge to touch him as she kneeled before him. His face was blank and his eyes were open but they were unfocused. She slowly brushed a strand of hair away from his hair and she placed her hand on his coarse cheek. He hadn’t even bothered to shave. “ Cass?” She asked softly, searching for any kind of response from him. His gaze left the wall and came to rest down on her face. No, not on her face. Just above her head. Nesta slowly brushed her thumb just below his eye bags. “ Cassian?” She asked again.

She could only hear the slow beating of their two hearts and this new feeling of fear was swallowing her. “ Cassian, please look at me,” she said, her voice dropping to a near whisper. Finally, his hollow hazel eyes met her watering blue ones. He didn’t move and he didn’t speak. He simply stared at her before turning away from her. Nesta stared at his back in shock and she clutched the covers in her hand tightly.

Quickly, she rose from the ground and swiftly walked around the bed once again, crawling onto the bed beside him. His eyes were firmly shut but Nesta knew he was nowhere near sleep. Slowly, she laid down and faced him, expecting him to open his eyes and once again look at her. When he didn’t, she moved closer and cupped his cheek gently. No response. She traveled through the bond and came to stand in front of his mental wall. She let herself explore his wall, walking along it’s edge and gently brushing along it as she murmured over and over again, Cassian.Open your eyes. Look at me. Let me in.She repeated them for who knew how long and still nothing changed.

By now, Nesta was panicking and wasn’t sure what to do. She felt horrifyingly helpless and wished she could do more. She wished Cassian would let her comfort him. Even if she wasn’t good at it. Maybe…maybe she was the problem. Nesta figured it was only time then. That she was too much to deal with. A sinking hole had opened within her and Nesta could feel her heart dragging itself down.

Suddenly, Nesta felt herself getting pushed down into the mattress and she looked up with wide eyes to see Cassian growling down at her. He had placed a knee on each side and this wings had flared slightly, which only emphasised the dangerous spark in his eyes. “ No,” was all he growled to her as his large hands gripped her hips. It took Nesta a while to realise that she had left her mental shields open. Her own hands cupped his face and she could see Cassian soften slightly under his touch. Then why won’t you let me in? She asked, trying to sound unhurt but there was no hiding it from her own mate.

Cassian sighed and laid back down beside Nesta. “ It’s just,” he started off but stopped himself. Nesta waited patiently, understanding the storm of emotions that had to be spinning in his mind. His head dropped to look down at the sheets and stayed there for several minutes. “ I’m the General Commander, Nes. Rhys didn’t offer me that position just because he knew me. I had to learn how to kill other men with nothing other than my bare hands. How to fight a whole legion if I had to with nothing other than a sword,” he said quietly as he looked anywhere but at Nesta. “ I had to learn how to torture people. How to cause as much as pain in them without killing them. How to make them scream the longest.”

Nesta wasn’t sure how to respond. She knew this, of course. She’d heard it many times. From the Inner Circle and even from Cassian himself. But to hear it said with such solemness, she knew there was much more to this. “ What happened, Cass?” She then asked softly, her mind trying to store and analyse every piece of information it got. “ It was at the female camps,” he murmured after a long silence. Nesta’s hand was on his cheek even though Cassian still wasn’t looking at her, “ The camp leader didn’t know I was there and he was yelling at a female warrior for not doing her chores properly. He was…he was going to hit her, Nes. I saw him raise his hand to slap her. Maryn, the warrior, didn’t even try to stop it.” He paused there and he took a shuddering breath. Take your time, she said softly.It took him another few minutes to start talking again. “ She looked so much like you. Her hair was the same colour as yours and from the back, I kept on thinking she was you. And to see him raising a hand towards her…I lost it, Nes. I didn’t even know what I was doing until I had the man against the wall with my hand around his throat. I let go of him immediately, I swear, Nes.” Nesta’s hand traveled to his head to run her fingers through his hair in a soothing manner. “ Sounds like he got what he deserved,” Nesta murmured. He didn’t respond to her words. “ You should’ve seen all of their faces, Nes. All the camp members around me.” Nesta then felt Cassian open up his mind. She entered tentatively and felt the essence of Cassian wrap around her and guide her to a chamber in his mind.

I let go of him in shock and I could see the fear radiating from him. I took a step back, struggling to keep my composure. I made sure to look at him with a level look and said, “ I want you to report to my office at dawn. Until then, you are suspended from carrying out your duties. You will assign someone else. Understood?” The camp leader nodded at me and I noticed his shaking figure as he left.

I turned around to see the eyes of the whole camp on me. Each one of them contained a look of pure unbridled fear. The woman who I’d protected had her head bowed in submission and I could feel a sick weight in my stomach They were all afraid. Of me. I’d always known that if I became General, others would be frightened by me. They would have to know about the paths I took to get to where I am today. The fear was inevitable…but to see it in my own people? To see it in the Illyrians that I was trying to give a future to? These faces were ones I never wanted to see again. I took off to the skies without another word and I didn’t relax until I knew was out of sight from the camp.

Nesta pulled back from the memory with a slight gasp and she moved to tilt Cassian’s face up to face her. She opened her mouth to speak but he beat her to it. “ I could kill you right now, Nes,” he said softly and his hand came up to lightly brush his knuckles along her cheek. Why aren’t you afraid of me?, he echoed through the bond. I’m a mons-Don’t you dare finish that sentence, Nesta growled back. She rolled on top of him and straddled him with a practiced ease. Nes-She shut him up by placing a finger on his lips even though he was talking through the bond. Nesta moved the hair out of his face and held it in her hands gently. Slowly, she let her fingers wander up his torso and she made sure to stop and trace the bigger scars. “ These scars represent your bravery. Your scars do not show how many people you have killed but how many battles you have survived,” she said firmly, her eyes only following the path of her hands. Her palms then rested on his chest. “ These tattoos represent your strength. To have lived though the darkest of hells and to have gotten parts of your very own essence inked on your chest is something only the strongest of us can do.” She wasn’t sure if Cassian was even breathing. He hands wandered to his own and she grasped them lightly. Intertwining their fingers together, she brought their hands up between them and kept her eyes on them as she said, “ These hands represent your world. They do not stand for how many worlds you have destroyed but stand for the world you have created for yourself. For us, Cass.” She placed his hands on her hips and he gripped her lightly.

“ Our enemies should be afraid of you. And those Illyrian assholes at the camp? Definitely. But I will never be.” Nesta finally met his gaze and she could feel her throat tightening. He was looking at her like she was his sole lifeline and it took her a moment to continue. “ I was so empty before I met you, Cassian. I thought looking after Elain was my only purpose in the world. Then, you came along with your arrogant self and that’s all I thought you were. After the War, I thought you were an idiot for following me. For staying with me,” she paused and she looked away as her voice dropped down. “ Because I didn’t think I was ever worth having someone like you. But…you helped me heal, Cass. You helped me become who I am today,” A tear was threatening to fall and she blinked it back hurriedly, “ I will never be afraid of the man who helped me grow into the warrior I am today. I fell in love with you, Cassian, and I will not be afraid of you.”

Both their eyes held tears on the edges of falling as they looked at each other with a million emotions flowing between them. A large hand traveled up her body and cupped the side of her face. Cassian pulled her down slightly and then searched her eyes as his way of asking. Nesta closed the distance between them and met him with a soft kiss and sent her love through the bond as her means of consent. “ Nesta,” he murmured, her name sounding like prayer coming from his lips. A hand had been shoved in her hair and the other was wrapped around her waist. She stayed on top of his body, burying her nose into his neck. When the silence stretched far too long for her liking, she asked, What are you thinking about?His response came almost immediately, I’m thinking about how I’m never going to be able to beat you at our wedding vows. Nesta had to press her lips to keep from laughing but she couldn’t stop the smile that grew on her face. “ You found me, Nes,” he murmured after a while and Nesta felt him press and light kiss on her forehead. She made a curious sound and pulled back to look at him. Cassian slowly placed her beside him and pulled her close. Their noses were almost touching and their eyes met as he said, “ I was so lost before you came. I didn’t know what I wanted to do with myself, who I wanted to become. At the camps…all I wanted was something better. All I’d wanted was clothes, food and some shelter. All of which that Rhysand and his mother gave me. So I stayed with them. They were the first people to show me any kindness, Nes. Then, I knew that to stay with Rhys, I’d have to become better. So, I did. I became one of the best warriors there are. Rhys offered the position of General and I took it. I didn’t want to leave him. Rhys, Az and Mor were the only family I had. I still…I don’t know if being General is something I want, Nes,” he stopped there, biting his lower lip and Nesta could see how hard it was for him to keep talking. To admit it. “ But I knew when I met you. I knew that you were mine and I was yours. And I was right. You saw me for all that I was and you still chose me.”

Gently, Nesta captured his lips with her own and said, And I will keep choosing you until we are nothing but a whisper in this world.

Send me a prompt!

#gareth answers an ask #nessian #nessian fic #cassian and nesta #cassian and nesta fic #my fanfiction #nessian prompt #cassian and nesta prompt #acotar #acotar fic #acotar fanfic #acotar prompt

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absynthe--minded · 7 years

Text

What I think needs to be said

Dear absynthe–minded,

I’ve been following you since you declared you would make a new dress in reaction to the 2017 Beauty and the Beast movie, which I think is an admirable project.

In response to the recent controversy, I would like to make several points.

Point One: Why the costuming in the new movie is a big deal, and why people should care about it

I’ve got no clue about fashion and periodic clothing, but even I can see that the costuming in this movie was done badly, and with barely any regard to social norms and fashions at the time; and more importantly without any apparent respect to the actual costume designer. I’ve looked up Jacqueline Durran’s work and it’s absolutely incredible, I am absolutely in love - I never realised that she was responsible for the amazing costumes in Pride and Prejudice and Anna Karenina.

It is fairly obvious that if she had any input or advice for the costumes in Beauty and the Beast, it was disregarded. So I do not understand how those anons can hear about this and say, “Why do you care about this, it’s got nothing to do with you, get over yourself,” etc.

Because costume design is Durran’s life. It is a job she takes obviously takes pride in. She is internationally renowned in her field and winner of numerous awards, among them an Academy Award for her work on Anna Karenina. And it is not just job, it is art. As an artist myself, I know that when you make art, a bit your heart and soul goes into every piece you make.

And I love and admire Emma Watson, I really do. But taking control of an artist’s work the way she did is Not Okay for so many reasons.

The general opinion seems to be that Watson’s goal was to make this movie more feminist, and to have her costumes reflect that. But this raises the question - how is it okay from any feminist standpoint to walk all over a fully capable woman’s work? How is it okay to take a woman’s art - her job, her life - and decide that it is not good enough?

I’m not sure that that is what actually happened, but this certainly sounds as if Durran - even though she doesn’t act offended by this, so there is an unlikely chance that she was okay with it - had a plan, and Watson stamped her own opinions on those without fully understanding the intricacies of periodic clothing and the importance of fashion actually had in that period of time, never mind her lack of experience in costume design. If she had been an expert in the field, it would have been different. But she is not, she is an actress, and so she comes across as a woman who appropriated another’s work and forced her stamp on it.

So I fully understand your outrage. It is even more personal for you because this might be your future. Your work that you love and take pride in might be taken and twisted to suit someone’s opinions, and be used in a fashion that offends you personally.

(Such as wearing a dress and hiking up the for the sole purpose of revealing the bloomers worn as underwear. Honestly. No.)

Point Two: Why the changes to Belle’s characters are such a big deal

Again, People have been questioning in varying levels of politeness if you are justified in being revolted to the point of tears by the new movie.

The answer is: You are. You definitely are.

For one, and this should be a no-brainer, you have the right to have opinions, and you have the right to defend those so long as you don’t force them on anyone, which I don’t think you have done at any point unless I misinterpreted or overlooked something.

I am honestly appalled at the awful things some of those anons have been saying, and admire the bravery with which you face their hate - I for one would have a great deal of trouble dealing with that kind of toxicity.

For another, and this is the point that people just don’t seem to understand, so I will spell it out for them.

2017’s Belle is not a new Disney Princess.

“Of course, we know that, it’s a remake, dumbass.”

Yes, of course. The point is this:

The remake of Beauty and the Beast has been advertised heavily as not just that, a remake, but a movie that surpasses the original and adds to it. A movie that brings a modern Belle with it. An improved Belle.

Basically, we are told that the original Belle and her qualities are no longer valid. The New Belle is the improved and better version, a modern woman™, they are telling us that the New Belle is what women should be now. They are telling us that we should replace the Belle we grew up with and loved with the New Belle.

“So what? They’re the same character!”

Sure. They are the same character. But they are not the same person.

This wouldn’t be a problem if the original Belle and the New Belle had the same personality, now would it? But here’s the thing. They are not.

The original Belle is lovely. She’s graceful, she’s intelligent, she is sweet, kind and selfless. She‘s also soft and she gets scared, and likes pretty things, and she sees the good in people. And she’s misunderstood and an outsider in her own city, people look down on her ideals; she’d like to break free of her life, feeling that there is more for her out there.

New Belle is actually a lot of those things. But the thing is, they are prioritised differently, and it makes her different.

I’m just going to highlight the most important differences, I’ve only watched the new movie once which isn’t enough to fully analyse a character.

So. Is New Belle graceful? I would say no. Again, she hikes up her skirt and shows off her bloomers, among other things.

Is she sweet? No, not really. She’s confrontational. She had her moments, but it’s just not a defining characteristic.

As for kindness and selflessness - she was those things, but it wasn’t as pronounced as the original Belle. In portraying Belle as a strong female character, she was made more grab-the-bull-by-the-horns and less accepting.

And this New Belle doesn’t value pretty things as much. Or material things, period. She’s less soft, and more importantly, I got the feeling that she was jaded towards people - hence she was confrontational. She didn’t believe in the good of people as much. Actually, she seemed to look down on them.

I’m not saying that New Belle is a bad character per se - but she is very much different, and again, we are encouraged to look at her as better. As stronger.

Now here’s the thing that makes all of this so important.

Original Belle isn’t weak. She is strong and brave, precisely because she is kind. Because there’s incredible strength in kindness. To go out every day and be praised only for your looks and ridiculed for who you are, for your ideals, for your intelligence, for what makes you you, and still be able to smile at people and be kind to them. Original Belle never rolled her eyes. She never sighed in aggravation, she didn’t do sass. She went on with her life and stayed kind even when others were unkind towards her.

And New Belle doesn’t have that quality and she’s portrayed as strong because of it. This is the real problem. The 2017 movie tells us a woman is strong when she’s talking back and wearing bloomers, when she refuses to wear corsets, when she confronts others, when she fights. And - and this is a pretty important point actually - it tells us this vehemently. The strong™ Belle moments are all emphasised in some way (like the costumes, as you’ve pointed out), we basically get the feminist messages shoved in our faces. The movie doesn’t give us a subtle message to consider and think about at home. No, we are told a point and we are told to accept it, and fast. At least, that is the impression I got from it, and I found it uncomfortable.

The original movie doesn’t tell us about how a woman needs to be. It’s not about feminist propaganda. It tells us a story in which the heroine is kind and stays that way, and makes the best out of a bad situation in a quiet and gentle way. She’s gentle and peaceful, and that is okay. It has a love story in which one learns to look past the other’s terrible looks and sees the good within, and the other falls in love because of the qualities others laughed at her for. To me, The Beauty and the Beast is a story of acceptance.

Again, I’m not saying that New Belle is bad.

But in replacing Original Belle with New Belle and told that the latter is better and modern, we are told that the original Belle’s in this world are outdated. A thing of the past. That we should change to be like New Belle. That we aren’t enough anymore.

So this isn’t actually just a little problem. Because maybe 9 out of 10 people don’t see it that way, but the tenth? The one who grew up wanting to be just like Belle, who had posters of her all over their bedroom, who felt this Belle was their friend who would love them if they were real, who felt encouraged every time they watched the movie?

To them, seeing the new Belle will be disappointed at best, and devastated at worst. It’s like seeing a beloved friend pushed into the shadows for the louder and shinier twin sister, and not being able to do anything.

And what makes this even sadder, there will now be children who’ll grow up never knowing the original Belle.

I don’t know about you, but I think that prospect sounds really lonely.

So I hope that some people will now better understand the significance of this controversy. Absynthe–minded, I fully support you, and I wish you courage. Please know that you’re opinions are valid, you are valid, and what you do gives courage to a lot of people out there.

Thank you for being you.

okay like

this is the nicest thing anybody has said to me about this project? And also just... thank you. For understanding, and for Getting It. Thank you so much.

#absynthe's followers speak #submission #the great belle redesign

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imagine-darksiders · 7 years

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Could you maybe do a scenario with all our beloved Horsemen and their not yet s/o right before they leave they're human companion to confront a particularly dangerous boss? Like before War leaves to fight Straga while his s/o remains with Azrael and they throw their arms around him and tell him to comeback alive, because they can't stand to lose him too but with all the Horsemen? Pretty please and thanks a bunch for being you! Wishing you a great day, plenty of inspiration!

Thanks for the sweet message, I need all the inspiration i can get Im so tireddd xxxx

Nothing lasts forever,Forever is a lie. All we have is what’s betweenA Hello and Goodbye….

Death: “This is it, isn’t it?” You whisper tiredly up at the even tireder looking horseman beside you.

“….Yes,” he sighs down, “I believe it is.”

The pair of you are standing at the base of the Tree of Life’s trunk. The fight with Absolom, the fight that you knew was coming but never thought would actually arrive is finally upon you.

You move forward to enter the dark tunnel, but you’re stopped by Death suddenly grabbing the back of your jumper. You twist your head around to look up at him with a questioning gaze.

“You’re staying here,” he states sternly, “with the Crowfather.”

Of course.

On your way to the tree, Death had made you swear that you wouldn’t try to interfere with his fight against Absolom, and although you’re far from happy about it, you know you’ve really little choice in the matter. There’s no way the horseman is letting you through that door.

Grimacing, you give him a reluctant nod and he releases your garment, striding past you towards the large, stone doorway. But this time, he is stopped by you grabbing his hand and snaking your fingers through his own.

The horseman pauses, but doesn’t pull away. Instead, he lets out a soft sigh as he turns fully to look down at you. Suddenly under the scrutiny of your best friend, you tighten your grip on his hand but cast your eyes down at his boots.

“Can- can you…” you let out a shaky breath, desperately trying to force the tears back into your eyes, “Can you do me a favour?” You look up to find that he’s nodding for you to continue.

“I hate asking for you to do something else for me, you’ve already done so much. But….” You choke suddenly, your throat going tight and throbbing, “Promise me. Promise me you’ll be okay?”

Death sighs yet again, this one much longer and much sadder than before.

“I’m afraid I don’t deal in promises, little one.” He says in a quiet, gentle voice.

“Well then…Tell me,” you demand, “Tell me you’ll be okay.” The words come out sounding like a pained whine and you bite the inside of your cheek to stop the tears that now drip down your chin like water falling off tree leaves.

Death regards you with maddeningly kind eyes. You almost want to hit him, to tell him to stop being so damned understanding all the time. But you’re so tired, tired of all of this. “You know what happens after all of this?” He asks, knowing full well that its all you’ve been thinking about for days.

With a solemn nod, you answer miserably, “I know. I just want…” you give an exasperated sigh before continuing, “I want to be able to say goodbye.”

Death’s eyes glint with the remnants of remorse. “There may not be time.”

“Then MAKE time!” Suddenly, you snap up at him, almost immediately regretting saying that so harshly. But you’re scared for him.

Instead of looking hurt or shocked, Death nods to you, “Of course.” He whispers, raising a hand to straighten out the sleeve of your crumpled jumper. He’s playing for time, you realise. He wants me to say something now.

Without a second thought, you throw yourself forward and wrap your arms tightly around the horseman’s waist, burying your face into the cold skin of his chest. Death doesn’t make a sound and doesn’t miss a beat as one of his hands rests against the back of your head, pressing you deeper into him and the other lingers delicately in the small of your back, sharp fingernails lightly grasping the fabric of your top.

“Please be alright, I love you,” you mumble into him, “I think I might really love you. You’re gonna be fine.” Whether you’re reassuring yourself or him is up for debate, but right now, he simply allows himself to revel in this final, caring contact you’re giving him. There’s a dull ache in his chest where a heart might be found when you tell him you love him. ‘It’s a good ache’, he thinks.

War: War strolls forward to stand before Azrael, glaring up at the angel as he demands that he open the way to the last of the Chosen.. Azrael nods with an air of finality, raising his hands towards the floor, but with a flicker of his eyes, he notices you standing behind War, looking as though you’re fighting to keep yourself from falling apart.

“Hmm….War,” the angel begins, lowering his hands, “I believe there’s someone who wants to wish you ‘good luck’ first…” War follows Azrael’s gaze to rest on your tiny, sad form. You’re shaking and biting your lip painfully hard as you scrub some dried blood off your face. The horseman pulls his lips back into a sympathetic grimace, closing the gap between you and pushing a large, metal finger underneath your chin. He gently forces it into the air and your watery eyes finally meet his soft blue ones.

You swallow whilst he waits, gazing into your eyes with a fierce brightness that almost makes you look away again. But instead, you hold his eyes with your own and whisper, sadly, “Don’t go…”

War furrows his brow, “I must, Y/n. Straga-”

“I don’t want you to go, I don't want to lose someone else that I love.” You whimper, finally letting the tears spill over your lower eyelids to roll steadily down your face. The horseman’s look softens significantly. He hesitantly looks to Azrael, as though needing guidance from the angel in what he should do next. Whilst he’s looking away, he suddenly feels small hands stretch their way around his stomach, nearly touching at his back but not quite being able to reach all the way around his girth. War looks down, seeing you with your face pressed to the armour just below his breastplate. Fingers twitching uncertainty, War ends up stroking a thumb over your hair and softly patting you on the shoulder with his other hand in what he hopes is a reassuring gesture.

War clenches his teeth at the thought of leaving you, temporarily or otherwise, so turning to Azrael, he mutters, “If anything happens to Y/n whilst I’m dealing with Straga….”

“I can assure you,” Azrael bows his head towards you, “no harm shall come to the child under my watch.”

War returns the nod, before slowly backing up, forcing you to relinquish your tight grip. As he turns and begins to head down the steps, you call out to him,”Please come back, War!” He pauses and looks over his shoulder at you. Blinking back tears, you offer him a wobbly smile, “I’m running quite low on friends nowadays….”

Strife: You all but throw yourself at Strife when he turns to bid you a temporary farewell. He lets out a startled grunt as you collide into him and your arms grip his neck that would likely be painful to anyone else. But to Strife, it provides the utmost comfort. He sighs and wraps his own arms around your back, suspending you in the air while he leans backwards to make your face meet his. Your forehead comes close to his and he presses his forward to bump into it affectionately.

“Hey, what gives, small fry?” He teases, looking playfully into your eyes as they brim with unshed tears. “Why the waterworks?”

You shake your head dismally as he gently lowers you to the ground again. You raise a hand to flick a stray tear away from your face as you look up at him with a stern expression on your face.

“Do you promise me you’ll come back?” You ask, hands clasped before you in a pleading gesture. Strife’s eyes widen briefly and you watch a smirk flit onto his face.

“What’re you talkin’ about, huh? Course I’m comin’ back.” He reaches up to rustle your hair and knuckle your chin. You pout up at him but can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips. He’s always been an expert at cheering you up, making you feel like everything would be alright in the end.

Still, this is going to be one of the toughest fights he’d face, he wouldn’t even let you in the vicinity, opting to make you stay back and wait for him somewhere safe.

“How come you’re so worried about me anyway?” He raises a brow to emphasise the question, one which you can answer without missing a beat. “Because I love you, Strife. You’re probably the best friend I’ve had in a long time and I’m not too keen on losing yet another person I care about.”

Strife grins with a cocksure look about him. “Shucks, Y/n. Now you’ve gone and made me feel guilty about havin’ a death wish.” He chuckles, but you’re still sombre.

“Strife,” you murmur, catching his lively eyes that crinkle at the corners reassuringly, “just….Just make sure you do. Come back, I mean.” Looking up at him shyly, you try your best to keep the tangible worry from your voice. But Strife simply lowers his head, peering at you through half lidded eyes. There’s a beat of silence before he says something and it’s so out of character for him, you almost blanch.

“I’m not leaving you alone here, promise. I’m gonna come back, cause I gotta, for you.” The sincerity in his tone is as moving as it is unnerving and you can’t help the stunned expression that envelops your features.

With a wink, Strife whirls about and lopes off towards his quarry, leaving you standing in the dying light of the sun, praying for his safe return.

Fury: It had been a very tense argument about why you weren’t allowed to go with her to fight this particular demon. You were both adamant that you wanted to protect the other, you by helping her kill her target, and she by keeping you as far from it as possible.

The stalemate lasted for hours until finally, you caved. She looked so tired and worried that you told her you’d stay behind. But you were livid about having to do so.

“I know.” She whispered, brushing the back of her fingers across your cheek, “But this is not a creature that I can protect you from, not like I can with those we’ve faced together so far.”

Her brief explanation did very little to console you, so Fury placed both of her hands behind your head at the base of your neck and pulled your head forwards until her soft, plump lips met your brow.

“You are so brave, Y/n. So very brave...” She trails off when you rest your hands on her forearms and rub your thumbs along her exposed skin there. You let out a miserable sound as she pulls away, your hands sliding down her arms to grasp both of the horseman’s hands tightly. Fury laughs, suddenly you can’t stop thinking that this could be the last time you ever heard it.

Fury begins to back away, slowly letting her arms stretch out in front of her, finally letting go with one and turning away from you slightly. Your remaining hand still laced with her own starts to slip slowly from her grasp, your fingers and hers are outstretched until only the very tips are touching…. Then she lets go completely, turning fully from you now she summons her horse and mounts up.

With cold, cruel tears pouring from your eyes, you reach towards her, “Fury!” She turns briefly to glance back down into your face, her brows creasing sadly at your own anguish. “I love you..” you whisper, so quietly you cant be sure she actually heard you. But judging by the way her golden eyes flash brightly and her lips stretch wide into a joyous grin, you feel your doubt slide away, leaving only enough room for hope.

“And I love you, dear one.”

#darksiders #darksiders 2 #imagine darksiders #reader #death #war #fury #strife

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angelfaceloublog-blog · 7 years

Text

13th February

After seeing Jack Whitehall last night, who was absolutely amazing coming home was not the best. Although without Imogen remaining in London and away from home would not have been so amazing. Was so nice to have had a day with Jason having fun and literally not worrying about a thing. Driving down rather than messing around getting the train was definitely a good idea to.

Had to go to therapy with Anne today as decided to skip it Friday as just do not feel am making any progress what so ever in terms of my eating disorder. Literally every day is binge purge. Yes great I now have my waking weight, at least for the last couple of weeks, at just below, literally just below, nine stone but should that really be what I am aiming for in life? What I see in the mirror should not be that important. I should not care what others think of me. I should be able to ignore or retrain that part of me that sees something hideous, something that others see and feel repulsed. I can’t really do much about what I have been given but I wish my mind would let me give it some respect.

I get so tearful, emotional and overwhelmed when I think about the impact I may be and probably am having on Imogen. What kind of good parent does that to a child? I like to think I am a good parent, I know I am in a number of ways as I have the most amazing daughter who is so perfect in so many ways. BUT what if everything she experiences because of my damn mental health is slowly having a detrimental affect on her. What if she is seeing everything I do to myself and thinking that in some way this behaviour and repeat occurrences are OK?

Addressed in therapy today and I guess is a main homework, other than my binge purging, is my self harm to my arms through scratching or letting thedog at them. Feel rather repulsed when I think about what I do but in the same breath rather accomplished and satisfied. I can’t describe why I have this satisfaction. I see the blood that I can tear out from where the cuts are healing and want to get more, want to open the wounds up further, make them bigger so more comes out. See what damage I can make occur, see how big they can become, see how much I can make them fill with pus like stuff under the scab so the scab is soft and I can burst it and inside congratulate myself a little. My mind is evidently twisted.

I then reflect back on yesterday and the fact yes I didn’t take my insulin I didn’t binge. The first day in blooming ages I did not binge. But was this because I was also drinking cocktails in the day and had a nap (probably due to high blood sugar following 2 Long Island Iced Teas and lunch). Was it the alcohol that stopped me feeling the need to find a way out of Jason’s company to binge?

Did probably the worst thing I could and googled Long Island Iced Teas. Turns out yes they are one of the most alcoholic cocktails available *yay* but also extremely high in calories. Hmmmm didn’t figure that. Feel disgusted in myself now for enjoying them so much. For goodness sake I had 2 with lunch and a bloody large one after dinner. Not sure why haven’t done the working before. Bearing in mind I can probably drink one regardless of size at the same speed as a normal vodka and diet coke which has around 60 calories, a Long Island Iced Tea has I think 4 types of alcohol and if those are around 60 each that is already 240 then I know I have diet coke and there is a lime wedge, supposedly, well on all the recipes I saw, there is other liquid that I think is rather high in sugar that is never mentioned in the cocktail menu. Most websites advised one cocktail was around 700 calories. Like WTF that is like a dinner, and although I know some of the salads I get in restaurants these days are definitely over this, that is a scary sounding number of calories for dinner yet I had atleast 3 standard size ones yesterday. With the size of them though I would probably think at least 4 of the so called standard size if not more.

Pilates practice this evening was also disappointing. Ruth is off for the week and so classes being covered by a cover teacher called Flavia. Lovely lady but Ruth as a STOTT pilates instructor is really good at queuing the breath so I know I am engaging the muscles at the best time for each movement and although I know my shoulders get tight, I feel it and at the end of the workout I feel good. This wasn’t the case today, I felt let down. The breathing I found unable to regulate in the exercises I wasn’t really familiar with. I was able to try the more tricky versions of each exercise but then was not sure when and where I was really meant to feel the engagement most. I tried to maintain the rule of exhale when moving but then in some moves there were a number of movements. Frustrating. Then also I have a thing about wording. Flavia uses the word Child Pose rather than Shell Stretch which makes me think she is more used to Yoga. She called what Ruth calls the Hip Roll, a Shoulder Stretch. When we do Shoulder stretch the pelvis is lifted straight from the floor to the diagonal, whereas the Hip Roll comes up to diagonal through unrolling every vertebrae in the spine. The class felt it had less work in it with not as much direction to ensure I was working correctly. Maybe Ruth is just an exception to a standard Pilates instructor and I just have to accept that? I am also going to try out a Pilates class at Dunstable Leisure centre on a day I do not have a class with Ruth or on a Tuesday morning perhaps when I don’t have a class until the evening with Ruth. I love how it makes me feel and am so glad I came across Ruth’s classes.

Looking forward to tomorrow, Kidstime children’s activity day in Flitwick (Street dancing and African drumming). Really hoping Imogen is able to engage and enjoy it. Am worried she will not want to take part in the dancing but have tried to emphasise it will be fun, it will most likely be a variety of activities to create a dance rather than a hardcore dance class. I offered to pick up Helen, Beth and Alex from Leighton Buzzard as I know she doesn’t drive, so will be nice if Imogen is able to begin the day with a bit of bonding with the girls making her more comfortable to join in the activities. Am really hoping Laura has been able to arrange transport as she is alright to chat to and will pass the day. I know she also gets on with Helen. Charlie would be good to have for the day also. Hoping Shelley and her children have decided to stop coming. So glad I made a comment on my form about their disruptive behaviour as Carly then spoke with Shelley at the end of the last Kidstime to pick up the fact her youngest 3 or is it 4 just do not seem to want to be their. They annoy the hell out of me as even when we were talking about rules and respecting others etc they just ignore it, they do not seem to see that everyone else is behaving in a totally different manner. I was shocked when I realised Imogen was the same age as one.

Now I am sat here not even writing on the 13th but at 3:15 on the 14th as if I wrote the above before bed yesterday. Guess until its actually getting up time this morning I can validate this being an entry for the 13th. Am wide awake and only got up to pee. Washing machine has just finished a whole cycle, one benefit of being awake, so I can take everything out. Yay more stuff to add to my growing ironing pile. Wonder if I can get away with emptying the tumble dryer upstairs and putting on the items that I will take from the washing machine. Know there are towels and our bedding, probably some underwear that can be tumbled to. Or would that be dancing with the devil and potentially waking Jason up?

I’m concerned now though that when I go back to bed and doze off that when my alarm goes off in a few hours, I am just going to be zonked, if that word can make sense). However, I am looking forward to breakfast, not because I am desperately hungry but just because I enjoy it and missed having it at the Premier Inn. If I had been on my own it would have been so easy to demolish so much at breakfast, cooked and continental. Would probably have stuck a purge in there and carried on. Just make sure I took in enough liquid wile eating to make it nice and easy to bring enough up to mean it was OK to take more in. Would have had a full full English, rather than being worried about taking too much and being concerned in myself about how much I was taking. I would like to try the pancakes toasted, not really with syrup but butter and Jam. I’d also like the crumpets OMG could just load a plate high. The pastries don’t really bother me, neither do the muffins or most of the cereal. The Granola I love but would have it with loads of milk rather than just enough. I hate this food obsession. I hate what I do with it. I hate that I love food. I like the flavours, the textures, the different combinations when put together. I get that feeling I am missing out unless I try everything, but ‘normal eaters’ do not have this silly compulsion. They make a decision as to what they are having, get it and eat it. If they are away at a hotel or on holiday, yes their choices may differ from their usual choice, but it is a one off and is not needing to have everything.

Bleh, think I have so much stuff swirling in my head but now am at the point whereby nothing can be articulated,I know I need to go back upstairs, I know I need to take the washing from the machine but really can’t be bothered to do it. I will but moving from the seated position I am in seems like a mammoth task. Quite happy with the comfy seated paralysis I kind of imagine I am in. Not moving anything other than my hands to type. My arms are even remaining balanced in one place on the edge of the laptop and I am feeling rather proud that alot of my typing is being done without the need to look at the keyboard. It must be so satisfying for authors to see their work in words being transcribed onto the screen in front of them. Brings a satisfaction that what is in the mind is being recorded and can be looked back through. For a novel or non-fiction book this is obviously 100% required. This journal, not so much, but knowing it is here to reflect back on is a positive in my mind. Just need to get into the hang of writing every day. Will or would help me alot in therapy as would actually remember days. Don’t really want to spurt on about eating behaviours but they are a key point in my therapy and journey I want to make to recovery so guessing they will have to have some input to entries. Maybe it will help me work out my thinking patterns that lead me to binge daily? Maybe then I will be able to make progress. Save my life and stop cutting the length of my life. I so much want to be OK, be healthy, have energy, have concentration, have the ability to be a proper adult, parent, employee, daughter, auntie etc etc. I want to one day and one day soon to own a property decorate and renovate the property so it is beautiful and full of good quality items rather than the thrown together crappy collection of furniture we have here. Like what Aileen and Dean have been able to do. Maybe one day these dreams, which are not ridiculous and too adventurous, will hopefully come true.

Night Night xx

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