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arospecsyourblockdudes · 2 years

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The afterlife, Scott found, was dreadfully boring.

Sure, it was…..nice. Once he got over not feeling his own heartbeat, it was nice. Nice to live in a Rivendell not threatened by demons or ice powers or fish-related explosions. Nice to be able to spend time with his brother, his actual brother, not the demon he’d turned into. Nice to be with Jimmy without the pretenses of alliances and politics. The sun shone brightly, it snowed soft flakes every here and again, and it was always warm inside of his house.

But that’s all it was. Nice. Scott knew he was dead. And while some rest and relaxation was absolutely needed, he grew weary of it. There was no way to forget the life he’d lived, the burdens he’d borne, the weight of the golden antlers on his head. And an eternity of niceness made him restless. Everything was so perfect, his hands itched to break something so he could fix it.

Plus, besides the dullness, it was uncanny. Jimmy was still alive, the real one, he knew that. It was hard to kill a creature that’d already lived a thousand years, and he doubted Rivendell was Jimmy’s happy afterlife. And Xornoth, his brother….well, Xornoth was dead but he didn’t know where he’d ended up. Probably not here. Scott hadn’t known him before the corruption got him. And he assumed at least most of the other emperors and empresses were living still, and yet when he flew to visit their lands, there they were.

So, his afterlife was populated with imitations and terrible perfections. Scott longed endlessly for the things that used to annoy him. Jimmy’s stammering excuses every time he’d messed something up. Tracking snow on the carpets by accident. Sausage’s obnoxiously loud laughter. Lizzie’s penchant for scams and tricks. Buzzing bugs, horrendous blizzards, Xornoth in a crystal, the horrible weight of responsibility….

Well, almost all the things that annoyed him.

A man couldn’t live like that. Scott doesn’t think any reasonable person would stay sane if they had to live forever like this. People crave imperfections, they’ve lived a whole life surrounded by them.

One day, he’d just had enough. He wasn’t sure how long it had actually been, the fake Xornoth had laughed when Scott flinched at his touch, and fake Jimmy had made a lunch without burning anything (which wasn’t like him at all). And so he made his way to Aeor’s church.

Aeor was much easier to contact now, most likely because there wasn’t the barrier of reality to get around. What here was real? Scott could feel his presence in the winds and rains, like a faint electric shock. So, Scott knelt in front of the podium and called to him.

It wasn’t long before he felt a shift in the air, as if lightning were about to strike. He was listening.

“Aeor, I don’t want to sound ungrateful. My afterlife here has been great. But I’m entirely alone here. Is there…is there anything else I can do?”

I do not understand, hummed a voice both within his head and without. You have your friends here. As you’d have liked them to be. There is no reason to be lonely

Scott resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Yes, but being how I would like them to be only makes it ever clearer that they aren’t my friends. Can’t I…I don’t know, be a ghost? Haunt them a bit?”

Your friends have moved onto their own plane. You wouldn’t find them in your old world.

Scott gasped, eyes flying open briefly in shock. He caught the image of a pure white stag, glowing as bright as the sun, before shutting them tightly again. “Have…have they all died? How long has it been? How…how?!”

Why do you wish to know? It has not been very long. And I do not believe it would help you to know the cause.

Not very long to a god could be just about any amount of time. From five months to five hundred years. Scott didn’t put too much stock into that. “Why haven’t I gone where they’ve gone? Where have they gone?”

Because you died by the Rune Sword’s blade, you are here. The rest have ended up in a transitory place. A cyclical state. They will be washed clean of their previous lives to become ready for the next.

“Is it possible to join them?”

I could transport you there, yes. You would lose all memory of your life as King Scott of Rivendell. You would not remember this afterlife. As I stated, it is a place to prepare souls for their next life. You would not be there forever. And I cannot guarantee where your next life is.

Scott’s breath caught in his throat. To lose his memory of this life…of everything…some things seemed worth forgetting. He wouldn’t mind not remembering the dark hopelessness he felt as the End Dragon fell, the way he feared his own self when he froze Gem. But every memory, gone. Is it worth it to spend a small amount of time with the ones he loved if he wouldn’t even remember that he loved them?

“May I think on it? It’s a big decision.”

Of course. Come back here to give me your answer when you’re ready. We have all the time in the world

With that, Aeor left, the atmosphere in the building returning to normal. Scott waited a moment before he opened his eyes and stood, brushing the dust off his skirt. He stared at the golden horns on the wall. He resolved to give it one more day. If he couldn’t stand one more day in this place, he would join his friends.

The rest of the day passed as it always did. It was snowing gently when Scott stepped out of the church, and he took a moment to enjoy it. He took a walk around the gardens, nothing seeming out of place. Xornoth joined him, startling him near out of his boots. It was difficult to relax around this Xornoth, even if Scott knew he wasn’t a threat. They chatted for a while about absolutely nothing interesting, before Scott made some excuse to leave. Then, he made his way over to the Undergrove, and just…observed this Shrub for a moment.

When he wasn’t interacting with the people here, they were near robotic. This Shrub was tending to her mooshroms, except she kept patting the same one on the nose for far too long before pouring feed into the trough. Stiff, repetitive, motions. Creepy.

Eventually, Scott went up to say hello and they chatted, yet again, about nothing. What was there to even consider discussing? This Shrub wanted to know how Jimmy was, Scott said he was fine. Scott mentioned the nice weather around here, this Shrub said it was always lovely. She offered him some mushroom stew for dinner, he declined. The Shrub he knew would’ve teased him about his distaste for mushrooms, or insisted he stay for at least a cup of tea. But this one just shrugged and said maybe next time and Scott left.

Jimmy was at home when he got back, and let Scott make dinner for them all. It was strange how he always got Rivendell cuisine just right, as if he’d lived here all his life. While he cooked a simple potato soup, Scott made small talk. Tried to ignore how odd it was that this Jimmy never wore his Codfather apparel. It had been his pride and joy when Scott knew him, never taking it off for anyone hardly. He hardly ever saw Jimmy’s face, and that had been fine, even if he wished he got to see him more often. It was how he wanted to go about, so Scott never minded. But of course, this Jimmy never wore it. This Jimmy never responded to teasing and jabs, never got mad, never had his pride hurt. It made Scott want to grab him by the shoulders and shake him, but he couldn’t. Couldn’t do, as long as it looked like Jimmy.

Dinner was awkward. Always was. Scott, Jimmy, and Xornoth, sat in Scott’s small sitting area. They didn’t ever need to eat, Scott had discovered, but it was nice to. It always turned out nice. Scott dismissed all attempts at a scripted conversation and went up to bed.

He didn’t know where the others slept. His house only had the one bedroom and the one bed. He assumed they just left for one of the houses in the village. Maybe they didn’t sleep, but the thought of that spooked Scott so he never considered it. Either way, Scott liked his privacy, so he slept alone.

The stillness kept him up. No howling winds, no bug sounds, no creaks or groans from the house settling or from the weight of snow on the roof. It was unnerving, especially so tonight when he knew there was a way out. At the price of remembering his life, sure, but a way out of a facade. A way into authenticity.

Scott lay like that a moment longer before pushing himself out of bed. He’d made up his mind. He pulled on his boots, put a warm coat on, and made his way to the Church of Aeor.

The silence made the crunching of his steps on the snow seem deafening. Nobody was awake at this hour, but the church would be open. It always was.

Scott cut through the lawns and pushed open the church doors. All was as he’d left it this afternoon, except s few candles lit to provide a little bit of light. It wasn’t necessary, as the moonlight through the windows was enough.

He strode down the aisle to the podium, ignoring the swarm of nerves in his gut and kneeling. If he backed out of this now, he’d never forgive himself, he knew. No matter how nervous he was, it was better to be out of here. Out of routine, out of uncanny perfections, out of imitations and scripts and fakery. It was worth any price to leave an eternity of that.

He wouldn’t need to call Aeor. He knew the god was listening.

“I have my answer for you. I’m ready to leave.”

——————————————————————————

Some time later, or maybe some time before, a mothling wakes up

#empires smp #alsmp #Scott Smajor #anyway my hc is everyone else went to alsmp after empires and Scott eventually left his afterlife to join them #also skirt smajor never leaves my heart #so basically none of them remember their empires life n r getting ready for their next life (empires 2 perhaps?)#who knows what like…oli and Mika and Lauren and all them r doing here #they just also are hanging out getting ready for a new life perhaps #why isn’t Pearl there? who knows! perhaps her soul was bound to her land #or perhaps she already made her way thru which is why she’s considered a saint here

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mcyt-incorrect-promptstuff · 2 years

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Sweetest pie but it's candy!Meghan and candy!Jimmy

Anon, correct me if I'm wrong, but wasn't Mika the second candyperson?

#a prompt #song prompts #im gonna post the song prompts at the same time becs theyre pretty short and i dont know what to do with them #solidaritygaming #solidarity gaming #candy jimmy #ripmika #candy mika #afterlife smp #alsmp

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blood-orange-juice · 2 months

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About Natlan Harbingers, inspired by the same reddit post.

This is a theory based on theories and I'm probably connecting dots that don't even exist, but I wonder if we can derive something about Natlan themes from comparing what we know about the Harbingers involved.

(for example, Fontaine was about dysfunctional found families, identity paradoxes, mind transplants and creation of life)

It's safe to assume we'll see Capitano and Columbina, so, hmm.

There'a a theme of ethics binding a person.

Wanderer about Columbina:

Wanderer about Capitano:

Rules never fit reality fully. Also, "all is fair in love and war". Every story is about ethics in some way, of course, but it could be made one of the focal points.

(rigidity, the concept of fair game, etc)

There's something that looks like either mind control or something about undead (Mika's character story 4):

Things that we know about Columbina imply mind control too. But also she was the one singing over Signora's coffin and the chapter is called "Incandescent ode of resurrection", so I assume something about the border between life and death is also possible.

Also prehispanic Mesoamerica used to have incredible death-related myths (souls spending years moving from one level of the afterlife to another), and it's about time we get some proper Abyss lore, so maybe we'll learn that death in Teyvat is not what it seems.

(and then there's Bennett. maybe he's unlucky because he already died once)

#look #my brain needed something to do #so now you get to read this #natlan #columbina #capitano #fatui #fatui harbingers

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flatoutin-eaurouge · 2 months

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Don't leave me alone in this cruel world. Part 2/2

Pairing: Mika Häkkinen x Michael Schumacher

Part 1

Two days after Mika was administered to the intensive care unit at The Royal Melbourne Hospital, Michael stood in front of the large brick building with a painful knot in his stomach. The walls of the building loomed ominously over the parking deck that he was still standing on next to his Ferrari road car. The late afternoon sun casted shadows over his tear-stained face.

He fidgeted nervously with the envelope in his hands while he stared at it with a tormented expression. Inside the carefully sealed paper casing was a letter to Mika. A testament to their fair and friendly rivalry and everyting Michael had gained and learned from it. Michael hoped the letter was still readable as his tears had made the ink bleed onto the other side of the page.

He clenched his eyes shut and took a deep breath, feeling the chills crawl down his spine. He was nervous to face the consequences of what he had inflicted upon Mika and himself with his wish for the Finn to stay in Formula One.

His eyes were red-rimmed. He hadn't slept in 48 hours, being kept awake by images of Mika's deep red blood on his silver-white overalls. By images of his face becoming paler and paler as the blood poured from his nose and mouth. By images of his shiny blonde hair sticking to the red moisture on his cheeks.

Michael's sigh was gut wrenching when he set foot over the threshold of the intensive care ward. He remarked that the hospital looked superficially like heaven with its pristine white walls and its bright lighting and soft buzzing noises. If Mika were to die, and he had to leave the mundane world in his afterlife, heaven was the only place he belonged.

Not a single bad word had ever crossed the Finn's mouth when he spoke about Michael. He truly was that angelic no-bullshit-just-racing type of guy. A characteristic Michael had always admired about him.

As he wandered through the corridors of the hospital towards the registration desk of the ICU, his heart banged against his sternum. He was afraid he would have to beg to see Mika. He probably wasn't on the visitors list. Why would he be? If he hadn't convinced Mika to stay in Formula One, he would probably be home with his family. Michael gulped against the bile in his throat.

Upon arriving at the registration desk a stern woman looked him up and down.

"Name?"

"Michael Schumacher."

She glanced at her computer screen and frowned.

"I am sorry, sir. You're not on the list."

Michael shook his head and sighed deeply.

"I expected that, but I need to see him. I need to see how he is doing! I am a colleague, a fellow racer."

The woman quirked an eyebrow and stared at him through her stern reading glasses.

"Sir, Mr. Häkkinen is in a serious and life-threathening condition right now. Only family and associates are allowed to see him."

Michael took a very audible shuddering breath and tensed his shoulders, bracing himself against an emotional breakdown.

"Ma'am! You don't understand! My entire mental equilibrium is balancing on a thin line!" He planted both his hands firmly on top of the desk. "I was with him when he shed his blood! I staunched his fucking wounds! I told him to keep participating in this dangerous hell sport!"

The woman took in Michael's devastated face. She could see the tears pooling in the corners of his eyes. She noticed the veiny and white-knuckled hands on the desk in front of her. This man was on the brim of insanity.

She sighed. "I will probably get in trouble for this, but I will allow you to visit him for a couple of minutes. I can see the circumstances really hurt you."

Michael felt like falling to his knees to thank the woman, but he wisely didn't. The woman clearly deserved some descreteness after breaking with the hospital protocols for him.

"Follow me."

Michael followed the nurse through the corridors of the ward with trembling knees. This might be the last moment he would see Mika for a long span of time, or worse, the last time he would ever see him. Michael felt himself become nauseous all of a sudden

The nurse opened the door to Mika's room and suddenly he was faced with a bright, flat kind of light before he saw him. His fallen angel.

Michael's breath shuddered as he made his way to Mika's bed. The Finn was as pale as a sheet of paper and his eyes were shut. All the blood that had covered his face and hair in the aftermath of the crash had been cleaned off by the nurses.

He laid lifelessly on the bed with all sorts of tubes and wires attached to his body to monitor his vitals. His pale hands lay limply on top of the blankets, but his chest was moving up and down. Michael knew that it were the machines doing the breathing for him, but he was alive.

Michael kneeled down at the bedside. His hand hovered hesistantly over the blankets covering Mika's body. He wanted to grab his hand and kiss his cheek, but he was afraid he would inflict him more unneccesary pain. "Poor Mika. Look at you..."

He turned around to the nurse and swallowed audibly. "Ma'am could you maybe leave us alone for a couple of minutes?"

The nurse looked around nervously. "I don't know if I can. You're not supposed to be here in the first place."

Michael stared at her with red-rimmed eyes. "I came here to let my emotions out. I want to tell him how much he means to me. Is it too much to ask for a little bit of privacy?"

The nurse sighed and - upon seeing a single tear escape the corner of Michael's eye - she nodded. She quietly shuffled to the exit of the room. "You get fifteen minutes."

Fifteen minutes... it was way too short, but it was still longer than the time Michael was with Mika after the crash.

He pressed his forehead against Mika's arm - which lay limply next to his side and had a IV-canula attached to it - and sobbed. Sobbed in the bedsheets. One of his hands carefully moved up and planted itself in the shiny, blonde mop of Mika's hair. Caressing the soft locks and curling them around his fingers.

"I am sorry, Mika. I am sorry I did this to you."

He cried like he had never cried before, damping the sleeve of Mika's hospital gown.

"I wish you could hear me. I wanted to tell you how much you mean to me. Please know that I only wanted you to continue in F1 because I thought I couldn't miss you. Things would never be the same again!"

He retrieved his hand and shoved it under the blankets, feeling for the bandages that probably covered Mika's gaping wound. The wound that the medics had pulled the metal rod from that had impaled Mika.

He could feel the outline of the bandages and let his fingers trace the edges of it. He felt a sudden urge to feel Mika's skin. He wanted to know if he felt warm. His fingers fumbled long enough with the gown until he could feel the strip of skin between the waistband of Mika's pajama pants and the gown.

Michael sighed. His skin felt warm, despite his pale countenance.

"Mika please get well! I can't lose you! I want you to be happy with your family! I know you've dealt with something similar! You can beat death again!"

The steadily beeping sound of the heart rate monitor was the only reply he got, together with Mika's chest moving up and down by the artificial respiration.

Michael stared at the Finn's face. His countenance was untensed and surrendered in a calm serenity. He looked at peace with the possibilty of becoming an angel.

Michael stretched out a hand and traced the contours of his face, his nose, his cheekbones and finally his colourless lips. Taking in and memorizing the immortal beauty of the Finn.

"You might become an angel when you're over a hundred years old, but now is not your time. You're a husband and a father."

A tear plopped onto Mika's cheek from above him. A tear that traced a path over his porcelain skin. He looked so fragile, almost as if his skin would crack under the lightest amount of pressure.

But Michael couldn't help himself when he leaned down to kiss the patch of skin his tear had damped. Mika's skin was soft and warm enough to confirm he was still alive. "Now is not your time," he muttered with a sob as his fingers tightened around his rival's hand. "There is still so much I want to tell you..."

Michael was interrupted by the door of the hospital room opening.

The nurse stood on the threshold. "Your time is up. I kindly ask you to leave."

"But..."

"I am sorry, but Mrs. Häkkinen is on her way to visit her husband."

Michael gulped. He was not yet ready for a confrontation with Erja. He wasn't sure how she was coping, and he wondered if she blaimed him for this dramatic turn of events.

Michael sighed and nodded. "Yes ma'am. I will leave." He quickly put the envelope with his letter back in his pocket. It was not a good moment to leave the envelope with Mika now.

With slumped shoulders he walked to the exit of Mika's room. He looked around one more time and couldn't supress a heartwrenching sob.

The nurse put an arm around his shoulders. "Know that we do our utmost best for him."

It was two days after Michael had visited Mika at the hospital that Jean called him and told him the news he had feared most. Michael sagged to the floor in a boneless heap and wrapped his arms around his shaking body. Tears cascaded uncontrollably down his cheeks. Will he ever recover from this? Will he ever be able to overcome the guilt he felt? Did he still want to race in F1? Or would it remind him too much about the fatal crash? Mika had died all alone in one of the intensive care units of the hospital. Michael couldn't live with the fact that Mika died alone. Was his death unforeseen?

Michael was inconsolable. He had holed himself up inside his motorhome with the blinds closed. He had been crying non-stop, praying to a God he remembered believing in once. No one was allowed inside his trailer. Not even Corinna who had started to worry about Michael's mental health. He had told her he didn't want to burden her with his grief. "Give me a few days."

The days that followed, Michael was suffering from his feeling of guilt. He cried himself to sleep at night and only got up from the bed to eat, shower or change clothes. He was a complete mess. How could this have happened?! If only there was a way to reverse time!

Michael's face was pale. As pale as Mika had looked in the hospital the day he visited him. He was cold to the touch and his heart was a black hole. As black as the suit and tie he was wearing for the ceremony a few days later.

When the invation to Mika's funeral came in, Michael was faced with the harsh reality of it all. The finality of it. As he stood in front of Mika's casket, he felt his knees wobble. The photograph of Mika sitting on top of the casket brought him to tears. The pictured man was smiling his handsome crooked smile. A smile that always used to fill Michael's heart with warmth. His beloved rival was an angel now.

He kneeled down and touched the casket with his fingers, caressing the oak surface to pay his respects. His tears dripped onto the soil below him. Goodbye my good friend. You were the best rival I ever had. I hope you will forgive me...

All of a sudden, Michael felt a hand on his shoulder. Not a hand that wanted to console him, but a hand that wanted him to look up. So he did.

He stared straight into the face of Erja Häkkinen. The woman was holding her son Hugo and looked absolutely devastated. Even more so than Michael himself. Her face was covered with wet mascara stains. She looked down at Michael with her lips pressed in a thin line.

"You know that you played a role in Mika's decision to continue racing," she muttered. "I wanted him to stop, but you told him to continue! Look at us now! A widow and a fatherless son!"

Michael stood up to face the heartbroken woman. He wanted to say so many things, but he could only manage to mutter a quiet: "I am so terribly sorry!"

Erja sighed and turned her back on him, leaving him alone without a word of forgiveness and, as a consequence, causing him to hurt even more.

"Erja, please!" Michael stretched out a hand at her. "Don't leave me like this."

The woman turned on her heels and stared at him.

"What do you want, Michael?" She asked as tears dribbled down her cheeks. "He listened to you, instead of his own wife! Do you have any idea what we went through in 1995?"

"Of course I do! I can imagine how bad it was."

"I had to change our bed sheets every morning because he still had blood loss from his mouth two weeks after we returned to Monaco! He was kept awake by nightmares for a long time! I was scared to lose him everytime he crashed!" Erja sighed. "I know his death is not in anyway your fault! But it's hard to process what could have been if he did quit before the start of this season."

Michael was speechless. He crouched down and covered his face with his hands. His shoulders started shaking. He felt Erja's hand on his shoulder again.

She managed to muster a rueful smile. Michael could see the symphatic expression took her a lot of effort.

"Michael we really need to talk again when this is behind us for a while. It's still too soon for the both of us."

When the funeral was over, Michael left the location in complete shock. He had been afraid he would have to throw up when they lowered Mika's casket into the grave. He wasn't even sure he would be able to drive home safely the way he felt.

All of a sudden, his phone started ringing.

Michael groaned. He didn't want to pick up his phone, afraid that it would be Ross or Jean calling him to ask if he could race this weekend. Fuck the next Grand Prix! My childhood rival just passed away! Of course I can't drive right now!

He however did pick up his phone with a curt "Yeah," because he was afraid his voice would be too shaky to speak coherent sentences.

"Is this Michael Schumacher?"

"Yes. Who are you?"

"That doesn't matter, the voice replied. "I called you because I know how much Mika Häkkinen meant to you."

Michael felt his cheeks turn red in anger. What the fuck was this guy talking about?! Why was he calling him so soon after the funeral?! "Tell me your fucking name! Don't talk about Mika with me if I don't know who you are, you sick fuck!"

A silence.

"Calm down, Michael. I only mean well." The voice paused. "I have a proposal for you..."

Michael waited, glaring at his phone.

"Would you give up your eighth WDC for Mika? Would you give up your success in the future to bring him back?"

"What?!" Michael barked. "Do you think I believe you, creep?! What eighth world championship?!"

"Would you?"

Michael sighed. He didn't trust the caller, but he would do everything to get his Mika back. "Yes, in the blink of an eye! But I will never win eight championships! And seven is fine too if I can get Mika back. But if I see this conversation appear in one of the news papers in the near future, you are going to have a big problem!"

The voice laughed. "Don't worry about that, Michael."

The caller hung up the phone and Michael felt like stung by a bee. It all went black before his eyes and he dropped to ground.

He woke up with a start, breathing in and out heavily as if he just managed to escape from drowning. Where was he?

Mika, alive and kicking, snapped his fingers in front of him. "Hey man, I asked you something."

"I am sorry. W-w-what?"

Mika frowned and quirked an eyebrow at him. "I wanted to know your opinion on me quitting Formula One next season, but clearly you weren't paying attention."

Michael blinked at the Finn sitting opposite to him in the lounge chair. He needed time to process what the hell just happened. Was he really back in the ballroom after the prize giving? Was he chatting with Mika? His Mika? He looked at the Finn in disbelief and stretched out a finger to touch his face.

"Are-are you real?"

Mika scrunched his nose in a reflex when Michael's finger pressed into his forehead. "Michael, what are you doing?"

He grabbed Michael's hand and directed the prying finger away from his face. "You're acting weird."

"Mika! It's really you!"

Michael leaped from his chair and let himself fall into the arms of the suprised Finn. He pressed his face in the crook of his neck and breathed in the cheap eau the cologne his rival was wearing.

He sighed in relief.

His body felt so weak from all the stress, grief and guilt leaving his soul so abruptly, that he was clinging to Mika in order not to slip from the man's lap.

Mika held him despite being completely perplexed, but it was more like an awkward grip than a loving embrace. He just kept his rival from slipping down his lap.

"Yes, Mika. You should quit! I know I am going to miss you terribly, but don't risk your life for this hell sport anymore! You are a deserving World Champion and you deserve time to enjoy your success with Hugo and Erja!"

Mika blinked his eyes in confusion. "Okay..." He patted Michael's back. "Are you afraid that I am too much of a challenge for you?"

Michael grinned smugly. "Of course, Mika. Tell yourself that." He hugged the Finn close, reveling in his body warmth.

"But above all, I want you to be safe!"

#makkinen #mika häkkinen #michael schumacher #mika hakkinen #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1fanfic #flatoutin-eaurouge

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natequarter · 3 months

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could you do thomas?

favourite thing about them: he's literally the saddest sluttiest dead whiny poet in the world and i think he needs a good fingering. in the wound, obviously

least favourite thing about them: the writers never allow him to grow out of his obsession with alison, and right into the finale he's still in the same fucking obsession. he barely gets to be explored. he gets the thomas thorne affair and he gets to grow in other ways but he is never allowed to escape what is turned into the defining element of his character. in the finale he reverts into his one-note early series one self and it's just... so tiring

favourite line: "and how you dies - died!" it tells you a lot about thomas in multiple ways - how he takes the very literal statement of being stuck physically on the grounds and makes a somewhat false assumption about the nature of the afterlife, how he mimics the people around him but garners no genuine love and support for it because they all just ignore him, how he reaches out to alison to attempt to impress her - and also that he looks at ghosthood from a very poetic perspective; they are stuck there and that's deep, man. probably. somehow

brOTP: humphrey! i think there's genuine room for thomas to connect... or have character development... or be allowed to change... my other one would be mary but obviously she's gone now

OTP: the captain. and they were both bottoms!

nOTP: kitty

random headcanon: he's scottish. wait, the show has covered that one? alright, he was the younger brother and he was never expected to a) inherit or b) do anything meaningful and grand with his life, hence why he's allowed to run around being a gaudy disaster and also why isabelle's father disapproves of the match

unpopular opinion: it literally is that deep. he has one of the most traumatic deaths. not that you can rank trauma, but besides mary, he definitely had the worst fate. he was brutally manipulated by francis and his own foolish arrogance and then tricked into believing he was unloved, and died to find a group of people who also did not give a shit and mocked his death. hamlet acting out his insanity to an unfeeling audience, here was go again

song i associate with them: grace kelly by mika. i think he'd like upbeat 2000s and especially early 2010s pop in general but grace kelly is particularly fitting for him i think. am i too dirty am i too flirty do i like what you like etc etc

favourite picture of them: his flamboyant armchair pose which i can't describe but has unbelievable cunty flair. you know the one

(link)

#asks #thomas thorne #bbc ghosts

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twilightmalachite · 6 months

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Raison d’être - Epilogue 3

Author: Akira

Characters: Shu, Mika

Translator: Mika Enstars

"Just like how ya love me, right, Oshi-san?"

[Read on my blog for the best viewing experience with Oi~ssu ♪]

Season: Spring

Location: Apartment in France

Shu: Yes. It seems that Grandfather really wished to be buried with the woman he had separated from himself.

Embrace it as himself, without denying or forgetting her existence.

So that at least, he can spend eternity with her, the woman who was undoubtedly his “beloved lady”, in the afterlife.

Fufu. Although I’m sure when he does go to heaven, he’ll get a scolding from my even stricter grandmother. Seems my grandfather hid this fact from even her.

She’ll be wondering why she was never told something so important.

Because she would have loved my Grandfather with all her heart, including that “truth” of his.

Mika: Just like how ya love me, right, Oshi-san?

Shu: Don’t get any strange take-aways from this.

Mika: …But, there’s still some things I don’t understand.

Though most of the mysteries have been solved.

The diary was written as if “MADEMOISELLE”-san was real was jus’ a fantasy Grandfather dreamed up as “the way he wished it could have been”.

He truly wanted t’live in Paris with the non-existent “MADEMOISELLE”-san as a friend.

Shu: I’m sure you’re right. Those faint lies blended in with the reality in that personal novel were my grandfather’s desires.

There’s also much meaning to the title, “The Taming of the Shrew”. I presume it symbolizes my grandfather’s suppression of his youthful impulses within him.

Rather than the shrew being a real woman, it was a conflict that existed within my grandfather.

But aside from that, what is it that you don’t understand?

Mika: Right. So it’s about a “Mademoiselle”, but…

Shu: ? I told you, “MADEMOISELLE” is an imaginary friend brought forth from my grandfather’s youthful indiscretion, based upon himself in woman’s clothes—

It was likely hidden away by the landlady once he returned back to Japan, as there was no longer any use for it. Beside the cabin in the woods, a place of memories of where they had met.

As a side note, I do not think you will be accused of grave robbing just because you simply dug up a doll that was put away and buried in a coffin.

It appears the land in that area belongs to the landlady. As long as the landlady does not press charges you are acquitted, and she has told me she has no intention of doing so—

Mika: Not that. Um, I mean Mado-nee.

Shu: Ahh, you mean the Mademoiselle with us here. Having the same name makes this complicated.

Mika: How come “MADEMOISELLE”-san looks so much like Mado-nee?

Shu: Hmm…?

Mika: “MADEMOISELLE”-san was a stand-in for Grandfather from that time while he was in woman’s clothes, right?

Even though Grandfather was younger back then, doesn’t Mado-nee look too young to be him? It’s like she were “MADEMOISELLE”’s younger sister, or daughter.

Shu: ……

Mika: Hey, Oshi-san, maybe I’m jus’ talkin’ nonsense again, but…

It’s possible the landlady doesn’t think of Grandfather as just a friend.

I think she really loves him as a person of the opposite sex.

A-And thought of Mado-nee as the child of the both of them.

Shu: ……

Mika: Meanin’ the landlady gave Grandfather Mado-nee with such sentiments in mind.

But, even knowin’ her feelin’s, Grandfather didn’t respond. He had already gotten married to his fiancée.

Pretendin’ to pay it no mind, but unable to bear t’throw it away, he stored Mado-nee away in the cellar.

And that’s when ya discovered her as a child, Oshi-san—

Shu: …There’s no way to know for sure, and even if it was true, there still was no romantic affair between Grandfather and the landlady.

They parted and began their own families in their respective hometowns.

It is a story that has already ended—A comedy, and a tragedy.

All we can do now is pick up the wreckage of those stories left behind, and connect them together and fantasize about them.

And by doing that, you might as well have them be happy fantasies.

You’ve destroyed it, but there was another doll here in Paris that looked like Mademoiselle.

The real one was mistakenly shipped back to Japan—and remains to be safe and sound.

One was with my grandfather, and one was with the landlady.

Shu: They were a memento of the lie, the deception they both told the world back when they were young, weren’t they?

So that whenever they see it, they can laugh as they remember the joyful days of their youth.

The little Mademoiselle was nothing but a memory, a symbol of this happiness.

That’s how I choose to interpret it.

And now, the fragrance of happiness left behind by our predecessors remains fragrant even in our midst.

Like the aroma of a rose that remains forever.

Mademoiselle is not the crystallization of things such as sorrow and regret.

She is the crystallization of happiness that our predecessors have passed down to us—I still pale in comparison to them, but that’s how I’d like to interpret it.

~…♪

Shu: Ah, the city of beautiful flowers.

Hey, Kagehira, let’s weave happy stories here just as they did.

So we too can laugh. Let’s get along, for now and ever.

That would be the greatest offering we could give to those who have come before us, wouldn’t it?

[ ☆ ]

← prev | story directory

#raison d’être #raison d'etre #shu itsuki #mika kagehira #event #translation

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yuripoll · 7 months

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HONORABLE MENTIONS: HIRAETH - The End of the Journey (2020 - 22)

NOTE: This is a rejected self-submission, since it really can't be considered yuri at all. However, the main character's core arc of coming to terms with her girlbestfriend's death definitely has romantic undertones, and with the author being Yuhki Kamatani, I'm willing to believe that was the intended reading.

HIRAETH - The End of the Journey - is a three volume supernatural drama series by Yuhki Kamatani about grief and longing for death.

What lies beyond death? Mika, an energetic teenage girl, will soon discover the answer for herself. Struggling to overcome the loss of her best friend, Mika ceases to find meaning in her life and decides to die by suicide in an effort to chase after her friend in death. However, her fate takes an unexpected turn when an immortal human, accompanied by a god, prevents her from dying. After learning about the existence of the afterlife from the god, Mika determines on a new goal: to join the two eccentric individuals on a journey to the world of the dead—in hopes of seeing her best friend once more. - MAL

JP is available on Kodansha, who also did the ENG translation.

CWs under the cut. General severity rating: significant.

attempted suicide & suicidal ideation <- this is a major theme thoughout the series. the manga starts with the lead character attempting suicide to see her friend again. she regularly states that she wants to die, and all three of the main characters are on a journey to the afterlife.

grief and death <- both are major recurring themes. there's both minor and major character death in the series.

car accident <- there's a non-fatal crash in the first chapter. no one is badly hurt by it.

violence / blood <- nothing too gory, but there's blood now and again.

terminal illness <- one side character has cancer. while it explores her feelings about her impending death and we see her in the hospital, she doesnt die within the span of the series.

note that besides the undertones with the protagonist, the other two main characters are both canonically queer; one is non-binary (...and non-human, which is always a caveat in nb rep) and the other is mlm.

#i love yuhki kamatani's art soo much btw its so good #knockouts

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env0writes · 13 days

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NaPoWriMo Vol. 3, 4.10.24 “Heaven Postponed-- Interim Lunch"

We all have a Last Supper In our pantry cupboard If a wafer Will pay for My admittance to Heaven Then unleaven My bread The angels may call with coronets But until I’ve finished my french baguettes I will not be rising It isn’t surprising What a good meal will do to feel satisfied For me and for you to be gratified As we are The afterlife can wait For me to lick and clean my plate So if you come on feathered wings Be cautious that I don’t pluck and fry them tasty things If you call upon me on Sunday A much stuffed man will you find unmoved by Monday Will I be So give me my wafer and my wine My wishes are knotted up in twine Let me be hallow Filled with spirit and spud in my hollow I’ll even tip Not tithe, after that final sip And roll, not float, on high

@env0writes C.Buck Ko-Fi & Venmo: @Zenv0 Support Your Local Artists! Photo by my friend Mika

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emsee22 · 24 days

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Some interesting Gimple interviews

Q: So many main characters died in season 3. Was there a conscious decision on your guys’ part as you mapped out season 4 that you wanted to lessen the kill count a bit?

A: ...So it’s just in telling the stories and seeing where the stories go. You can do that in any episode and even in its least incarnation it has a great deal of power, but you shouldn’t lean on that power. And just in the stories we were telling this season, it really didn’t seem like our stories with these characters were leaning that way. They often do and there are plenty coming up. And I don’t even mean season 5, I mean season 6 and season 7.

Q: Scott, your first season as showrunner is in the books. What was the most valuable lesson you learned?

A: You can do irrefutably impossible things with the right amount of planning and support from intelligent and hardworking people and pizza.

Q: Season four explored the things people do to stay alive. What’s the theme of season five?

A: Are we too far gone to be people anymore, to actually be human beings, to be able to relate to one another on an emotional level, to be able to live a real humanistic and emotional life — are we too far gone? Next season really is who do we become after that? Once that question is answered for ourselves, who are these people? That idea will be explored a few different ways. Commentary from me: I think we will see Georgie again once Rick and crew prove that they are NOT too far gone. This was the same question Heath was talking about with Tara before the PPP card. I don't think we will learn what PPP is until that question is answered.

Q: This season was a remix of the comics. Will you continue with that approach in mind?

A: Absolutely. As we said during our first conversation, in “Pretty Much Dead Already” when Sophia comes out of the barn, that’s a remix. If we use verbatim from the comic, that’s awesome. And if we have to change it, that’s an opportunity to tie character and theme to it in different ways. There are ways we even chose to remix it, like with Lizzie and Mika, to find ways to take things that Robert did. He long played that [with Ben and his brother, Billy] in the comic, and we can do the same thing even a bit longer than he did it just because I liked the way he did it in the comic and I wanted to turn it up that much more.

Commentary from me: He says they can take a comic book storyline and really stretch it out and do it a whole lot longer than the comic dead. Ringing any bells? Issue 44 anyone?

Q: Of the ones that I've seen recently, including "Daryl" and "The Ones Who Live," they've been driven less by a sense of survival than a sense of hope. And this seems to be the case, particularly after the pandemic. I'm wondering if this notion influenced the shape that this show and "Daryl" have taken.

A: That's interesting. I feel that hope has been integral to the show all along. Granted, it was sort of, "We can find a safe place; we can actually live. We can do more than survive; we can live." But then you get pulled down by the things you have to do to survive.

Commentary from me: This just makes me think to Beth's diary entry monologue in Inmates.

Robert Kirkman on if the Walking Dead will ever have a cure ^^

And this more recent article contradicts Kirkman.

#beth is alive #team defiance #team delusional

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thedo0zyslider · 10 months

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Long Forgotten But I'm Still Here - 4k words

Oli has some feelings about being thrown into Empires and forgotten by all his friends. And none of them are the good kind.

A03 Link

This new world--Empires as Oli had begun to call it--was quite a rollercoaster, to say the least. Being thrown into a new world randomly, separated from all your friends, was not pleasant. Zero out of five stars, bad yelp review, unpleasant experience, would not recommend.

He’d declared himself the king of Afterlife, which is what he’d called the one before this one, because everyone else had died. They’d used up all their lives or disappeared, leaving him in an empty realm. Until he’d been shoved into heaven that was, to this day he still didn’t know what that was all about, only that once he’d gotten there he hadn’t been allowed to see Sausage; who he knew was up there, for the record. Miss Pearlescentmoon also made a great first impression, by promptly throwing him into some random wilderness, in a world that was decisively not his old one.

If Oli was being honest he’d fucked around for a little while, doing whatever stupid idea came to his little head. He’d settled on a beach, in a poorly built wooden house that he deemed a megabase, with a little wolf companion to keep himself company. It soon became him and this strange little dog he’d tamed, named Sausage in memory of his long gone friend, against the world. It had been them against the mobs, the elements, everything. Even the Warden, a fateful encounter that had killed his beloved pup and left Oli friendless and alone. Again. For a third time, but that was okay, that was fine, because he could do other stuff. He could do stuff that didn’t involve other people, like burying his late dog on some random patch of snow. Like killing the ender dragon, a creature he had once respected and revered, and stealing its unhatched egg.

He could do things like floating in an endless void for god knows how many years, a stolen baby dragon clutched close to his chest and listening to some vague murmurings of a poem about love and players and the end of some kind of game . He could do things like being spit back onto his beach, his house now missing and in a world clearly full of people. A world clearly full of his friends, if the ever familiar building styles said anything.

It was kinda jarring really, to see almost everyone you care about and have them not remember you. It was fine though, nothing Oli couldn't deal with. It was just a little weird, how all his friends were both different and the same at the same time. Well. the ones that were actually with him anyways.

Some people, he found out slowly and over time, weren't here. Callum was the most notable absentee, to Oli at least, though he doubted anyone else even knew there were people missing. The fox had always had such a presence in his lifetimes, even if could only remember a few. It felt like a big chunk of the blonde was missing, and he silently mourned the absence of his furry friend. Lauren, his fellow Enderian, wasn't here either. (They hadn’t been Enderian's for long, or at the same time, but Oli didn't care for those technicalities. They were still fellow Enderians.) Though he wasn't sure if Lauren would have fared too well in this world, she did have a tendency to fold like a wet paper towel. Meghan and Mika were missing as well, and it was frankly strange to see Shelby running around without them. At least she still had Joey, and Katherine, he guessed.

Oli had figured all that out from observation mostly, because he was not ready to interact with people after spending god knows how long in the void. So he’d wandered around as stealthy as he could, investigating the nearest tavern he saw. Said tavern seemed to belong to Gem, but before he could even process that Fwhip had showed up and was shoving him in jail. Apparently that ancient city his dog had died in was the one Gobland was built above, and stealing from it thousands of years ago, before anyone lived there, was a crime .

He’d ended up being stuck in that miserable cage for a month, a month ! It was honestly torture, admittedly a little (more like very) inhumane of Fwhip, and had probably given him a fear of enclosed spaces, so that was great. He’d been stuck in that stupid fucking cage, left with nothing but his horrible, horrible thoughts and rotten fucking cave pork. He hated pork after that, didn’t think he’d ever be able to stomach the damn meat again. Oli and Fwhip had been friends, friends , and the bard had just been shoved in a cage like that didn’t matter, just because the little goblin couldn’t remember.

While in the cage he’d wondered why no one remembered, and why they simply just couldn't. He wondered why Pearl couldn’t just snap her godly little fingers and make everyone remember who they’d been before, however many centuries ago that was. Then he wouldn’t be in a cage, then he wouldn’t be forgotten and he’d get his beloved friends back. It really didn’t feel like all that much to ask for, in Oli’s opinion anyways.

The blonde hadn’t paid much attention to whatever community service he had to do after being freed. All he cared about was the freedom from the cage and Fwhip’s horrible goddamn cave empire. All he’d paid attention to was that he could actually walk more than five paces again, and the fresh surface air blowing through his unkempt hair and making it windswept. He’d pay whatever fine he’d been taxed with later, when fwhip eventually came knocking at his door. For now he set out, back to the one place he knew best in this weird little world.

The blonde had returned back to his beach, which was apparently a little ways away from Gem. He had a feeling that Dawn’s princess was faking, and that she did remember him, but he wouldn’t press for details. He wasn’t even sure he could handle that knowledge emotionally, so Oli was very content with not knowing. It did bug him though, that she wouldn't at least drop the act when they were alone, if only to make the world feel a little less alien and isolating than it was turning out to be. Instead Gem just acted like she was an innocent little sun princess, and also dubbed him a bard.

He only focused on Gem’s little act for a day, before setting off to sea. Oli was a little sick of this world. He wanted to go back home to Afterlife, where his original friends had lived. He wanted to go back to the orb and his other builds, maybe even see if some people had returned from their disappearances. This world, the one he’d dubbed Empires, was weird, strange and hostile, and it wasn’t home .

He’d sailed and sailed for a few days, going decently far out. There was land he could see sure, but it was strange and uncharted, which was reassuring. It was away from people, and maybe that meant he was getting closer to home. Maybe he hadn’t been shoved into a different world at all, maybe this was just another corner of Afterlife’s vast, mostly unexplored world that he could leave and ignore for the rest of time.

As soon as Oli had gotten his hopes up he had to sail back, because there was something, some kind of force above the water stopping him from going further. Because of course there was, because of course he was stuck here and couldn’t go home. As he traveled back Oli bitterly wondered if this strange border was just a him thing, and if Joey and his other friends had ever found it during their times with sea bearing origins.

Oh, yeah actually, speaking of Joey , the man had bloody attacked him! The pirate man (because Joey was a pirate now for some reason, and with an empire that matched the whole theme as well) had been rambling about skeletons or something as he sank Oli's small boat. He'd been free in this world for five minutes and people were already trying to drown him!

From there he'd washed up on the shore of Sausage's empire, who had kindly nursed him back to health after his attempted murder. Sausage still looked the same since Oli had last seen him, helping the man ascend to the heavens. He could tell this was the same Sausage though. There wasn't really a reason, more of feeling than anything. Joey had possessed a different, oh what's the word? Vibe. That's it. He'd had a different general vibe to him. This pirate man was still Joey of course, just more....devious than the previous version Oli had encountered. More pirate-like, if you really must. Sausage however was the same, there was no doubt about it. Sausage still worshiped the same god, which made him a little more suspicious, and now he looked at the mural of Santa Pearl with more disdain than wonder than he had before.

Oli suspicions of reincarnation were confirmed when Sausage mentioned visions, but he couldn’t pry on that one because the man had thrown him at Katherine as soon as he was fully healed. Apparently he needed a new change of clothes, or something. Oli hadn’t been paying much attention to what he wore, so he didn't notice until it was pointed out. Being almost drowned by a friend will disorientate you like that.

And for some unfathomable reason Katherine had dressed him as a bard! A bard ! He wasn't a bloody bard ! Being musically inclined didn't make him a bard , but it was fine. Everything was fine and not weird. It was just like changing origins in Afterlife, wasn't it? Instead of regular old Oli, he was bard, just like how he'd been an Enderian and then had to adapt to being an axolotl. Oli could adapt, that was easy. Sure, he'd adapt to being a bard, just like he'd been adapting to new things his whole life.

(If part of him was tired of adapting; of losing friends, then he didn't think about)

Yet despite that he'd left Katherine's place feeling sour, yelling about how he wasn’t a bard. If there was one thing that didn't change, it was Oli's commitment to the bit.

The newly made bard wandered the land for a little while after that, which gave him plenty of time to get used to the versions of his friends he was now stuck with. Everyone was still the same deep down, even if they'd formed into slightly different people. Sausage was the exception though, because he was literally the same person. He was worried about running his mouth just a lil, as mentioning past lives didn’t tend to go very well. But Oli also had a need to be annoying in an endearing way, and that need always won over his anxiety. So he set off, newly obtained lute in tow, and walked around until he found signs of civilization.

The first person he encountered, Scott, was still full of sass and his hair stayed dyed a teal blue. Oli started to wonder if it was even dyed at some points and if he was just born with weird hair, but it had to be, because he'd been blonde before as an angel. He wouldn't be surprised if this Scott had dyed his hair either, he was a very colorful and creative man. It made for quite the pretty empire, Oli did have to admit. That man still knows how to make a good block palette.

Joel’s empire was very close to Scott, close enough that you could see it from the latter’s house. He’d heard Joel was a god and Oli had hoped he would be like Pearl and that someone would remember him. But no, the sky god was like everyone else, he had no memories of before. Which was just dandy , didn’t hurt that one of his closest friends forgot him. Nope

Instead of remembering Joel had just called him weird and then introduced him to his child. Because Joel having a kid was normal and not a shocking development. The kid, very creatively named Hermes, was apparently Joel’s and Sausage’s, and had been an armor stand before being brought to life by the two. Joel had a living armor stand for a son but sure, Oli was the weird one. That was totally normal.

There was also a new person, one Oli had never met before, their name wasn’t ringing any kind of bells. Her name was False, and she was setting up a little steampunk themed area near this world's Scott and Joel. He hadn’t paid this newcomer to much attention though, he could always meet her later. There was plenty of time, for now anyway. Never know when God's going to throw you into a strange new world after all. Plus, from what he’d heard, False tended to be skittish, suspicious of everyone, and was very good with a sword. The bard would meet her later if it meant avoiding another murder attempt.

Katherine still kept her usual love for pastels, but her kingdom was apparently corrupted and being taken over by a mysterious black substance. All of the builds were split, one side being the princess normal style of building, and the other decayed and ruined. Oli’s second visit hadn’t lasted long after learning that. He did not want to get involved with any sort of curse, nope, no thank you.

He’d avoided going to Fwhip again, because he’d seen enough of that damn cave, and headed up the mountain instead. There he met Lizzie, who was once again living life as a small, furry, mischievous little animal. This time she was a cat instead of a kangaroo or raccoon, and still acted the same as Oli remembered. It was a little reliving, to know that his friend was still her unique little self, even if she didn’t remember him. Though Lizzie did seem more inclined to go along with his seemingly nonsense ramblings of the past, so that was a plus.

The Mayor of Animalia had warned him of a witch though, and Oli immediately made it his goal to find this supposed dangerous and scary witch. The witch wasn’t scary in the end, because it was Shelby. She, like everyone else, didn’t remember him, and was just a little spookier than he last remembered; almost like her shadow origin at the very start of Afterlife.

From there he’d wandered to a mesa, where he found the second to last person he had yet to know. The hot and dusty biome was inhabited by Jimmy Solidarity himself, the very man who’d given him community service and freed him from his stupid little cage. Oli already did not have a high opinion of the man, because he was working closely with Fwhip; other than that he seemed fine. Except for a slightly different vibe, one more troubled than before, he was basically the same Jimmy the bard had used to know.

The last person he met was his favorite, one that hadn’t actually been in Afterlife. This guy, Pixlriffs, was his favorite instantly. The archaeologist was a stranger to him, someone he could look at without a thousand memories flying through his head. Pix listened to whatever he’d ramble about, be it his past of whatever random topic came to head. The man seemed to be genuinely listening as well, and Oli wouldn’t be surprised if he took mental notes every time. There was a connection there of some kind. He didn’t really know why, the bard could just tell this man was different, that he wasn’t what he seemed. It was nothing sinister, not in the slightest, just a feeling that Pix also knew more than he was maybe letting on.

It was these little encounters, his time on this server that the bard replayed over and over again in his head as he returned to his beach. He set up shop permanently this time, deciding to build tents as an empire, because they were easy and only really required him to collect wool. He went through the motions, gathering materials, building, sometimes socializing, thinking and letting all his emotions bubble up inside him. Oli didn’t want to deal with them, because he was adapting again, that all he had to do was adapt again and everything would work itself out like it always did.

Sure, it hurt that none of his friends remembered him. But he was fine, he was over it. He just masked whatever he felt with his normal comedic relief attitude. That always worked before, so why wouldn’t it work now? It definitely wasn’t unhealthy or anything, definitely wasn’t coming back to bite him. Nope , not at all.

He broke down when he next saw Sausage.

Oli sat there in Sausage’s arms, feeling pathetic as he sobbed his eyes out to a man he barely knew. But he did know this man, he knew him well, they’d been best friends and that was why he was crying. He was crying because no one remembered him, and it hurt and he couldn’t ignore it anymore.

He barely heard Sausage’s comforting murmurs over the sound of his own sobs. Such a kind person Sausage was, to comfort Oli in such a moment. He was the one person who could maybe understand, with his visions and what not, but Oli wasn’t sure if he even would. How could he? The man didn’t even remember what his visions were about, which was arguably worse, but that wasn’t the point. The point was Oli remembered, and Sancuatry’s ruler didn’t, it wasn’t the same, it would never be the same.

Sausage shifted them both until Oli’s head was buried against his chest, dampening the nice fabric of his shirt. The bard felt bad about that, despite the fact Sausage had been the one to put his head there. It was a really nice shirt. “Shhh, it’s okay, it’s okay.” Sausage muttered quietly, hugging the bard to his chest more. Hands began to stroke his hair tenderly, Oli leaning into it. He didn’t want any of that to calm him but it did , because Sausage was apparently great at providing comfort.

Oli always hated crying. It made him feel stupid, his face all puffy, nose runny and his eyes red. So now on top of having a mental breakdown he felt stupid, and in response just tried to hide himself more in Sausage’s kind arms. The brunette just couldn’t sit there and let him suffer though, no matter how much he knew Oli wanted to do just that.

“Now, what has you so upset, querido ?” Sausage asked softly, tilting Oli’s head so the latter would make eye contact with him. The bard met his gaze hesitantly, hating how he kept leaning into Sausage’s soft touch. He didn’t want comfort, he had never wanted to cry in the first place. He wanted to go home, back to his beach and his multicolored tent to mope by himself. He wanted to go home and watch the rain that was currently falling from the back of said tent and let it lull him into a fitful sleep, as he’d done far too many times for his short residence in this world. But no, he was here, in Sanctuary, losing all his dignity in an empty town hall, to a man who didn’t remember what they were once before. At least no random citizen was here to see his sob fest.

Oli didn’t respond at first, just stared back at Sausage with still watering eyes. He cracked eventually though, only because he could tell Sausage wasn't going to let him go until he did.

"It's, it's like your visions or whatever…" Oli began, looking away. "Like how you remember things and you don't know where they're from? I do that, but I know what they are." He explained it slowly, taking a few pauses in between his words. He was lying, he was lying through his teeth to Sausage . Oli didn’t get visions, not even anything close to that, he just had to know everything ever. He hadn’t been blessed with reincarnation, he had to remember everything . But he wasn’t going to cry again no, he wasn’t, not if he just gave himself a chance to breathe. "Like your sunflowers? I knew who they were from as soon as I got here." He ignored how Sausage stiffened under him slightly, before forcing himself to relax again.

Sausage made a quiet humming sound, seemingly a little lost for words. "Do you…remember anything else? Like my sunflowers, I mean?"

"I remember bloody everything , Sausage!" Ah, there goes the dam he'd been trying so hard to build. Oli clutched the fabric of one of their shirts; he couldn’t tell who's due to hot tears running down his cheeks again. "No one else does!" He snapped. "They just think I spout nonsense!"

No one had told the bard that exactly, but just because he was comedic relief didn't mean he was stupid . He knew the certain look Scott had given behind his back when he talked about the latter's time as a vampire. He knew the face Joel made when he thought people were mad. Oli knew these people too well, he knew all their little cues and everything. They hadn’t needed to say he was crazy for him to understand.

Oli waved his hand in dismissal. "But it's fine," He continued. "I'm fine, I'm just a silly little bard getting worked up over silly little-"

Sausage's grip tightened on him, and it was the closest he came to being anything but gentle all night. "Stop deflecting, Oli!" He hissed. "It's not fine because you're not fine, because you're crying over this." Oli wanted to break again, but he wouldn’t. He'd listen to Sausage scold him and he wouldn’t cry, because he was better at hiding his emotions than this and wasn’t supposed to break in the first place. "It's not fine that you lost all your friends and it's not fine to pretend ignoring it is healthy!" Sanctuary's ruler squeezed him into a tighter hug as he finished speaking, clearly dead set on not letting the bard go.

"I know," He whispered, burying himself closer to Sausage's warmth again. It was really all he could think to say

"Then why ?" Sausage asked, sounding so worried and desperate it hurt.

"Because what else was I supposed to do? Act all sad and depressed and weird everyone out more?" Oli snorted, sarcasm and slight irritation dripping into his voice. There was nothing he could do but his usual unhealthy habits, nothing his brain would let him even attempt to try.

"You could’ve talked to someone!" The brunette hissed, grip tightening around the smaller in his arms just a little, but not enough to hurt; just enough to convey his concerned frustration.

"They wouldn't understand, Sausage. No one else but you could-"

Sausage cut him off quickly. "They’d at least listen. People here care about you, Oli, even if they don't remember who you were to them. I don't remember but I still care!" He said, and yeah maybe that was what got through Oli’s stupid, stubborn head. Maybe that was what made his damn break again and made him stop trying to fight with his friend’s perfectly reasonable solutions and kind words about his unique problem.

"You were my best friend," The bard muttered, almost too quiet to hear. Yet it seemed to echo throughout the otherwise empty town hall.

Sausage responded just as quietly, and the response echoed just as loudly. "And I'd like to be that again."

They sat in silence after that, only for a little while though. Oli shifted into a more comfortable position, silent tears dripping down his cheeks. Sausage kept his tight yet caring grip on the bard, not going to let go until Oli started to feel better, or told him to leave. Kind words and comforts were muttered into dyed blonde hair, and it reminded the bard of his time in the void. He was again surrounded by silence, feeling numb as words of kindness and care were mutated into empty air.

"Do you…wanna talk about it? That is, if there were people who didn't come here, could you talk about them? If that helps?" Sausage asked it slowly, carefully, almost hesitantly. Oli was just as slow in his response, only nodding after a minute of careful consideration. Hiding from the brunette seemed a little useless, especially with the chance he would remember their old home too one day.

"Well….there was Mika." Oli muttered, beginning to tell of people he shouldn’t know in this world. He told the tales of the missing, some of the dead, to a man who’d lived alongside these strangers once upon a time. Sausage just hummed every so often, an indication he was listening, and stayed as a steady comfort when more tears spilled down cheeks that were flushed red from crying.

Maybe this world wouldn’t suck so bad, with moments like these. Maybe this could be home, one day, and maybe it'd be a bit more permanent this time.

#ron.writing #ron.fic #oli theorionsound #empiresblr #empires smp #mythical sausage #theorionsound #empires sausage #empires oli #empires season two

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