#but good god i could live without knowing things about their _ (_ here being deliberately vague. it was many things)

[aces-to-apples]

could you perhaps be enticed into writing more codakin? with:

❛ you’re such a tease. ❜

❛ you know where to find me. ❜

you’ve written them so fabulously before 💖

This ask is. From January 2022. I wish you all a very I live in shame :margehiding: but hey, here's a visual reference lol? Note: Cody is deeply horny and thirsting hardcore under the cut

Cody hadn’t been present on Geonosis for the start of the war, but he was assigned to lead the 212th Attack Battalion under General Kenobi barely a month later.

Alpha-17 had given him a full briefing before shipping out, and an entire section of it had been dedicated to the behavior and neuroses of both the general and the general’s commander: a Padawan-Commander by the name of Skywalker. One-Seven had hardly been complimentary but the briefing had been helpful in dealing with them both, even after Skywalker was promoted to general himself and took ARC Trooper Rex with him to the 501st Legion.

(The captains’ tiles look good on Rex, when he’s forced into his dress whites, but that’s hardly the point.)

It’s been nearly two years since that briefing and Cody has more than enough experience to put together his own hours-long briefing just on Skywalker himself.

There are so many things about him—how his mind works, how his brain works—that Cody doesn’t think anyone else in the galaxy knows. Not Kenobi, not Commander Tano, not anyone else who’s ever shared his bed, even. And even so, Cody would never have guessed it before they started breaking formation together, but—

“You’re such a tease,” he hisses, low and resentful, as Anakin struts past.

The Jedi shoots a sunny smile back at him before reaching the front of the room and proceeding to contort himself into several showy, highly flexible poses, ostensibly to warm up. His shirt stretches with him and these poses in a variety of new and vaguely life-changing ways.

Shirt, of course, being a generous term for what the little padawan-commander’s devious mind has conjured up.

If Cody wasn’t sure she’d have let on long before now, and in a much louder fashion, he’d assume this was a deliberate attack on her part. Psychological warfare, even. If Rex knows, of course, then it just might be, but ‘get Cody so horned up, in front of a crowd of unaffiliated brothers, that he nearly bites a data-pad in half’ is not a Rex-typical form of retaliation.

The pants are—fine.

Brown fabric in a twill weave, they have a loose fit for a wide range of movement and only stay up thanks to the valiant efforts of a thick letheris belt. Of course it also has an eye-catching bar of silver for a buckle. Cody thanks every god large and small for that belt, buckle be damned. Without its stubborn presence keeping some semblance of modesty, Cody might actually shame the whole of the 212th with his lack of subtlety.

The training room is large and padded thickly, made for and used to the acrobatic nonsense of Jedi cadets. At the front—leading a mixed cohort of brothers from various assignments just barely maintaining a sense of propriety through said showy stretches—Anakin isn’t even wearing boot-liners.

And then that damned shirt.

Cody has seen glittering, sinuous dancers wearing more of a shirt than that kriffing thing.

He wants to rip it off—possibly with his teeth—and replace it with something with more coverage. Possibly himself.

At the back of the room, he watches Anakin slide his legs out to a 90-degree angle, bend, and place his hand flat on the mats. Someone finally breaks and wolf-whistles, to which Anakin simply flashes a smirk at the whole room and pushes himself up onto just his hands. Cody would be noting down the whistler for disciplinary action if he wasn’t desperately adjusting himself in his codpiece.

The shirt.

The shirt is practically nothing—or nearly so.

A black scrap of fabric dug out of a garbage bin, if Cody has to guess. It stretches obscenely around Anakin’s bulk, cut off at the diaphragm and leaving his soft belly exposed. No sleeves or real neckline to speak of, horizontal cut-outs bare inches above what’s already generous to call a hem.

The diamond cut-out in the center of his chest is the last straw.

High on his left pectoral, just under the clavicle, is a little spot of brown pigment. Cody knows that little spot intimately and with great fondness. Lying flat, the shirt covers it; showing off for an adoring crowd, the fabric twists and bunches, flashing that little spot to keen eyes.

Each time seeing it makes Cody want to stalk up to the Jedi and block everyone else's line of sight. And then bite it. Or something.

Cody has never been the jealous sort. He's from Kamino, how can he be? He's never owned a thing in his life, much less had an exclusive claim on a lover. That his jaw aches from grinding his teeth is—abnormal, to say the least.

Obnoxious, even.

And General Anakin kriffing Skywalker has the gall to enjoy it. The air around him practically crackles with his delight, even as the stupid kriffing outfit is supposed to embarrass him, or whatever Tano’s intention.

Cody has been through actual physical and mental torture modules constructed by sadists and abusers and yet, the 90 minutes that Anakin spends leading the assembly through a series of stretches and moving meditations are the longest of his life. In fairness, he wasn’t fully armored, in the middle of a crowded room, painfully aroused for the torture modules.

By the end of the time slot, Anakin’s hair is darkened and his skin glistening slightly with sweat.

He flashes an exasperated grimace at his padawan—the first indication of discomfort since he strutted into the room to start—but dismisses the troopers but his usual warm half-grin and takes their farewell-ribbing with grace. Cody watches his shoulders slump just slightly when the final trooper turns away, before he rallies.

The strut returns and Cody, unthinking, grabs his wrist as passes on the way to the exit.

Anakin meets his eyes through his helmet visor and words fail him. What is he supposed to say? ‘That was unbearably hot, never do it again’? ‘Fuck me before you go or else I might explode’? ‘May I pretty please, with a moonberry on top, suck you off’?

He hesitates too long.

Anakin Skywalker can be achingly sweet and often is, but he can also be unbearably smug and self-assured. His eyes and smile darken, becoming something wicked and teasing, and he hooks gentle fingers around Cody’s utility belt and tugs him just barely closer. Trails those fingers up the center of his cuirass. Taps them just over his sternum, where he knows a small sunflower is inked brightly, just between his pectorals.

If his helmet was off they’d be sharing breath, foreheads nearly pressed together, as close to a kiss as they can get on a battlefield.

“You know where to find me,” he murmurs, low and deep, irises nearly swallowed by pupil as he keeps Cody’s gaze.

Then fingers tap sharply against his armor and Anakin rocks back on his heels, ruffling his curls and smiling sunnily. He whistles something jaunty as he swaggers away—a normal song at one point, probably, but most likely a filthy rendition thought up by bored troopers on campaign—and Cody can’t move or speak for several moments.

If he moves, he’ll do something very much not acceptable in public, either by himself or after hunting Anakin down through the halls; if he speaks, it’ll be to moan or whine or beg, damn the consequences of whoever hears. So he stays still and quiet as a stealth mission. Until sense returns.

Or his brain boots back up.

Once it does, though, ooh…

He is going to get his revenge for that, one way or another.

#star wars #the clone wars #sw fic #ask meme #anon asks #answered asks #by apples #subtle smut prompts #i'm GUESSING that's what list this was from lmao rip #codakin #commander cody #anakin skywalker

[llycaons]

ep21 (pt 1): jyl the mvp!

oh god oh fuck I forgot how emotional the last one ended. jyl pulling wwx inside to get a look at him and everyone's crying 🥺

😭😭😭

this is so funny. jc what are you so worried about? your brother hearing that you looked for him for 3 months? which you did? he's so silly and emotionally constipated. that is a totally normal thing to do for your family

I remember ppl being SO mad at jgy for saying the same thing to nhs in fatal journey before a Mandarin speaker had to step in and be like 'that's actually a normal thing to say to someone grieving, he wasn't being rude or inconsiderate' which. jgy is so gifted with social graces, of COURSE he'd say the appropriate thing at that time

this is so dramatic lmao. I know how you die old man and it's pretty embarrassing

ah the dramatic look over the shoulder bc he misses his boy best friend who HE pushed away wwx you mess

literally shut the fuck up sect leader yao you would be dead and powerless without the protection of the jiang clan you owe your life and your clan to this family be polite

wwx saying this is very 😮 but it immediately cutting to jc is ALSO 😮 and I don't think its intentional

oh my sect sect leader ouyang???!!

ofc the lans get put in rooms that have a name like that

wwx getting sick of everyone there and just getting up and leaving. politically not great but he lives his truth. I think along with missing lwj he just got sick of the old sect leaders congratulating him for torturing and murdering a man, and then hounding him about his sword

jc I am so fucking proud of you I could cry

the kicker is that jc is for once saying the RIGHT thing, compared to his usual sarcasm and aggression and sneers. but wwx is the one in these episodes who's not cooperating. he's being deliberately contrary, vague, and disobedient. he's not playing nice with jc or the other sect leaders. and I can tell why politics is the last thing on his mind given the fact that he just pulled himself out of three months of utter hell and he's still traumatized, but it doesn't help. his defense mechanism of joking and dismissal to cover his severe trauma and his massive secrets doesn't make him look very good either. it's so sad bc it's all he can do though!

also this is a grade A eyeroll from jc here. impressive

do not break my heart like that wei wuxian

*cues the observation that wwx is wearing his robes in the way that corpses being prepared for burial are dressed*

it is very annoying when fans create content where wwx is unwilling/unable to meditate when 1. how the fuck do you think he formed his core in the first place and 2. it's clearly an important part of his process as a demonic cultivator as well

jyl is being so supportive and compassionate about chenqing in a way that literally nobody else is. she compliments it! she compares it to her mother's most powerful tool!

I think the other translation is 'to give a full account'. I think chenqing's name is really neat, I love reading analysis for it

kill me. and wwx's face after she says this...

she's like the only person here who halfway knows how to approach someone with trauma. express your love and support and concern but don't push them. allow them to tell you on their terms, in their own time. don't make it the only thing you talk about. don't make them have to ask not to talk about it. lwj gets a little better at this but it takes like 20 years

and who else says this!!! who else thanks him!!!! im going to cry

jc and wwx both take a great deal of comfort and guidance from jyl in these scenes - she's level-headed, compassionate, affectionate, caring, and gives solid advice that her brothers can act on. and she stands up for wwx in ways that jc can't or won't. love her

literally shut the fuck up jzx I know how you die

see jc!!! this is what you SHOULD say to those assholes who won't leave you alone and who question your leadership! THAT'S what's called showing a united front!

on the other hand, given how things progress I don't doubt the jins would invent some pretext to attack the jiangs if jc didn't go along with them so it's not like simply saying this would have solved things. but man, this was a good deflection

#cql re-rewatch

[princeofgod-2021]

LIGHT OF LIFE 241

John 1:4

SATAN’S STRUCTURE 48: CULTURE & TRADITION 7

1Pe 1:18 Forasmuch as ye know that YE WERE NOT REDEEMED WITH CORRUPTIBLE THINGS, as silver and gold, FROM YOUR VAIN CONVERSATION RECEIVED BY TRADITION FROM YOUR FATHERS; KJV

We are still on the 3rd type of Tradition here but I need to digress for a bit. Bear with me.

Practical Traditions are not always directly “imposed” by guided instructions, as they can also be “inspired” through belief in certain guiding rules or doctrines, either true or false, valuable or vague.

For example, check this:

2Pe 3:10-11 But the day of the Lord will come like a thief; and in that day the heavens will be rolled up with a great noise, and the substance of the earth will be changed by violent heat, and THE WORLD AND EVERYTHING IN IT WILL BE BURNED UP. SEEING THEN THAT ALL THESE THINGS ARE COMING TO SUCH AN END, WHAT SORT OF PERSONS IS IT RIGHT FOR YOU TO BE, IN ALL HOLY BEHAVIOUR AND RIGHTEOUSNESS, BBE

That scripture is saying that if you have “SEEN” that everything in this life will fade away, it should automatically compel you to review your pattern of behaviour and develop Righteous Traditions.

It help us to see how some Divine patterns of tradition are derived: they are mostly our emotional, rational and “natural” responses or reactions to the Elements of our basic beliefs in the Faith.

Job 28:28 And he said to MANKIND, ‘The fear of the LORD – THAT IS WISDOM, and to turn away from evil is UNDERSTANDING.’” NET

So you see, the fear of God makes you watch out for anything evil and avoid it like plagues.

Joseph didn’t need to learn the Traditions of Righteousness from his father; he feared God and that’s okay!

Gen 39:9 No one in my master's house is more important than I am. The only thing he hasn't given me is you, and that's because you are his wife. I WON'T SIN AGAINST GOD BY DOING SUCH A TERRIBLE THING AS THIS." CEV

If you have seen that sinning against God is “a terrible thing”, you will develop patterns of behaviour that ensure such never happens.

Also, we work hard to correct impressions made about Christianity.

Tit 1:12-13 A certain one of them, one of their own prophets, said, “THOSE CRETANS ARE NOTHING BUT LIARS, WORTHLESS BEASTS, AND LAZY GLUTTONS.” HE CERTAINLY KNEW WHAT HE WAS TALKING ABOUT! FOR THIS REASON, CORRECT THEM THOROUGHLY so that their lives will line up with the truths of our faith. TPT

If “demeaning” things are being said about the Christian Faith, did you know we have a responsibility to prove them wrong or correct our wrongs by deliberately setting out with good behaviours?

Also, beloved, our divine goals and pursuits could make us develop worthy and sound practices.

Mat 26:41 STAY ALERT; BE IN PRAYER SO YOU DON’T WANDER INTO TEMPTATION WITHOUT EVEN KNOWING THAT YOU’RE IN DANGER. There is a part of you that is eager, ready for anything in God. But there is another part that is as lazy as a dog sleeping by the fire. MSG

So, if you want to stay above temptation and sinful living, you simply develop a pattern of regular Prayers.

The same goes if you have a divinely tenable desire from God, which requires petitions.

Php 4:6-7 DON'T WORRY ABOUT ANYTHING, BUT PRAY AND ASK GOD FOR EVERYTHING YOU NEED, always giving thanks for what you have. And because you belong to Christ Jesus, God's peace will stand guard over all your thoughts and feelings. HIS PEACE CAN DO THIS FAR BETTER THAN OUR HUMAN MINDS. ERV

The Exercise of Prayers is such a beautifully rewarding Tradition that saves you the stress of compromising practices that plague humanity, apart from the peace of knowing that God will do it.

This is what Jesus was telling the Apostles: “choose the simpler exercise of prayers than the strenuous and implicating act of carrying swords and shedding blood, just to solve simple problems”.

Mat 26:51-52 ONE OF JESUS' FOLLOWERS PULLED OUT A SWORD. HE STRUCK the servant of the high priest and cut off his ear. But Jesus told him, "Put your sword away. ANYONE WHO LIVES BY FIGHTING WILL DIE BY FIGHTING. CEV

That is how many Christians have adopted practices of senseless “wars” over their pride and issues that could easily have been addressed by simple prayers and the ultimate trust in the faithful God.

Jas 4:1-2 WHAT CAUSES FIGHTS AND QUARRELS AMONG YOU? AREN'T THEY CAUSED BY THE SELFISH DESIRES THAT FIGHT TO CONTROL YOU? You want what you don't have, so you commit murder. You're determined to have things, but you can't get what you want. You quarrel and fight. You don't have the things you want, BECAUSE YOU DON'T PRAY FOR THEM. GW

Neither Patterns of Good Behaviour nor Prayers are easy Practices to adopt because Satan and Mr. Flesh will seriously war against you.

It is always easier to do wrong than good, so be prepared!

Gal 5:17 FOR WHAT OUR HUMAN NATURE WANTS IS OPPOSED TO WHAT THE SPIRIT WANTS, and what the Spirit wants is opposed to what our human nature wants. THESE TWO ARE ENEMIES, AND THIS MEANS THAT YOU CANNOT DO WHAT YOU WANT TO DO. GNB

God will make a way for us all though, because we are His Children.

A behavioral Pattern of Prayer begins with a simple prayer of help. Call on Him and he will help you, in Jesus name, Amen.

Next, we talk about the negative side of this mode of developing Patterns of Behaviour through inspiration from scriptures, as we conclude on the 3rd type of Tradition.

Come back on Monday for more digging into this intriguing subtopic.

Keep Shinning!

Brother Prince

Friday, August 26, 2022

08055125517; 08023904307

[thatfanficstuff]

Make Me Forget (Part 1) - Elijah Mikaelson

Pairing: Elijah x reader

Warnings: angst

A/N: Celebration Summer #8. There is a part 2 to this so don't fret. Prompt is Person A gets injured Person B is not happy.

wc: 1759

***

Elijah Mikaelson and his family had left Mystic Falls to move to New Orleans months ago. And they’d left you behind in the process. After he swore to you that you’d never have to be alone again, he’d left you with little more than a letter telling you it was for the best. Associating with his family was dangerous. He couldn’t put you in danger. It would be better if you forgot about him. All of them.

What a load of shit. Elijah had swept into your life and turned everything upside down. For the first time you were a priority to someone other than yourself. It didn’t take long for him to become the center of your universe. You moved into the house and became part of the family. Klaus and you would create art and bitch about the Scooby gang. Rebekah took you shopping. Kol would try to get you into trouble while you tried to keep him out of it. And you succeeded for the most part. You’d kept him from getting killed by Jeremy and Elena. Surely, that was enough to cement your place in the family.

But they’d still left you. And it had been Elijah’s doing according to the rest of them. You texted and called and they told you how much they hated leaving you behind but Elijah had put his foot down. Threatened to leave them all if they went against his wishes.

Rebekah did admit it was dangerous at the moment. A bit of trouble with a pregnant werewolf and some witches. She still insisted it would be better with you there. That they’d all protect you.

Klaus begged you to come to his rescue. Elijah and the werewolf would be the death of him, he swore.

Kol just missed his friend. He spent hours talking about all the things the two of you could do if you were there.

Elijah was silent. There hadn’t been one answered phone call or response to any of your texts.

Rebekah swore he missed you. That he was a miserable bastard without you.

Klaus and he had argued terribly when the hybrid threatened to fetch you from Mystic Falls and bring you home where you belonged. Elijah had yelled and destroyed half the room.

Kol said when there was a moment of peace, Elijah sat alone and stared at a picture of you. “I caught him crying, Y/N. It was horrible,” he told you, dramatically.

You didn’t necessarily believe any of them. After all, he found it so easy to leave you, why would he brood over your absence. But you missed your family. You were going to New Orleans. Even if Elijah was angry with you for going against his wishes, the rest of them would welcome you with open arms. You’d just have to stand your ground with the suited Original.

There were probably a thousand better ways to get to New Orleans, but you took a bus. It was cheap and you didn’t have to drive. And even better, it didn’t involve flying. You hated to fly. You stepped off the bus and adjusted your backpack on your shoulder. You’d decided to travel light. While you intended to stay forever, you weren’t sure everyone else would be on board with that. If you did stay, you knew Rebekah would be more than happy to take you shopping to replace your clothes. And Klaus would pay for them if Elijah didn’t. It used to bother you when they spent their money on you, but you’d long gotten over it.

After typing in the address on your phone, you started to follow the walking directions. You were actually quite close to your destination when you were yanked into an alley. Almost before you had a chance to process what had happened, teeth tore into your neck. Son of a bitch. You fumbled in your bag as the vampire drank deeply. Your fingers wrapped around your stake and you slammed it into the asshole attacking you. He hissed in pain and stumbled back giving you the chance to pull it out and stab him again with more precision.

He collapsed at your feet and you stepped over him as you pulled a rag from your bag. You pressed it against the wound and tried to look inconspicuous as you stumbled the rest of the way to your family. Your head spun as you reached the door and you knocked quickly.

The door flew open to reveal none other than Kol Mikaelson. He grinned at seeing you, but it faded immediately when he noticed the state you were in. He grabbed your bag in one hand and placed the other on your arm to lead you into the house. “What happened to you, Darling?”

You made a sound of annoyance. “Guess.”

“Don’t be cheeky.” He dropped your bag by the stairs and continued to steer you through the house. “Brothers, we have a visitor,” he said when the two of you reached a library. Nik and Elijah’s heads snapped in your direction.

Nik stood in front of you in a flash. “Bloody hell, love. Can’t stay out of trouble for five minutes, can you?” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “It’s good to see you at any rate. Come, Kol.” The hybrid strode from the room, dragging his protesting brother along with him.

A moment later, Elijah stood in front of you. Dark eyes stared at you as he lifted a hand to your neck. A muscle ticked in his jaw as he pulled the rag away to get a view of the damage. His hand clenched at his side and you flinched. He’d never hurt you, but it was rare to see him so angry. And you weren’t certain if he was angrier at the vampire that attacked you or you for being there.

His lips pursed as he stared at you a moment longer, then he bit into his wrist and offered it to you. You drank enough to heal then stepped back. He strode away to the far side of the room. Keeping his back to you, he hooked one hand around the back of his neck and rested the other on his hip. “What were you thinking coming here? Did I not make myself perfectly clear that you are not welcome here?”

“I missed you.” God, did that reasoning sound pathetic to you now. How had you ever thought that would be enough for him?

He was back in front of you in a flash. “You deliberately went against my wishes. You followed us here despite knowing I did not want you here and look what happened. Do I need to say anything else to prove my point that it is too dangerous for you to be near us?”

“This had nothing to do with you, Elijah. This was some random asshole vampire picking the wrong person to snack on. I killed him for it.” Frankly, you didn’t understand how he could go from being madly in love with you to not wanting you around overnight. “Everyone else wanted me to come. Didn’t you miss me at all?”

“How could I miss someone that cares nothing for their own wellbeing?” he stated quietly, making you flinch again. It would have been better for him to yell. At least then you’d know he was simply angry with you. His monotone delivery made you believe that he simply didn’t care. Tears instantly flooded your eyes. Why had you asked that question when you were so afraid of the answer? He stepped past you and stopped at the door. “You can stay the night. Tomorrow you leave New Orleans and you will not return,” he said in a low tone. Then he was gone.

You didn’t move as tears streamed down your face. Vaguely you were aware of Elijah and Nik yelling at each other elsewhere in the house, though you couldn’t make out the words. Then you were pulled into a firm chest as arms wrapped around you. “Elijah’s an idiot, darling,” Kol whispered to you.

When you just continued to cry without saying anything, he swept you up in his arms and carried you to one of the chairs. He sat and placed you on his lap. You leaned against his chest and he played with your hair in an attempt to calm you. “It will be all right, Y/N. You don’t have to leave if you don’t want to. You and I can get an apartment on the other side of town. We’ll put it in your name and you can tell Elijah to fuck off when he wants in.”

That pulled a laugh out of you though it sounded rather pathetic. “At least I know why it was so easy for him to leave now. I mean, what a bother I must have been. I always wondered what he saw in me and now I know. Nothing. God, you’d think it would be a relief to finally know, right? So why does it hurt so bad?”

“As angry as I am with my brother right now, Y/N, I don’t think—”

“No. It’s okay, Kol.” You sat up and wiped the tears from your cheeks. “You don’t have to lie to me anymore. Rebekah said him and the wolf seemed to be getting along. Maybe he’ll love her and it won’t be a lie.”

You stood and held up a hand to stop him when he moved to follow. “I’m not angry with you, Kol, but I need to figure out how to live without all of you. See, he told me he loved me and that he’d never leave me. That I’d never be alone again and he abandoned me at the first opportunity. And he took my family with him. And when I come back to all of you, he made it very clear that I am not wanted. I was prepared for him to be angry. I wasn’t prepared for him to not care.”

You paced the floor as you thought about your next step. Kol’s dark eyes followed you. He was at a loss at what to do, how to comfort you. He could beat the shit out of his brother but, while that might make him feel better, he doubted it would help you any. Suddenly, you snapped around to face him. “Compel me.”

His brows shot up. “What?”

“Compel me to forget. Just let me forget all of you.”

#elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikaelson fanfiction #elijah mikaelson x you #the originals fanfiction #vampire diaries fanfiction #celebration summer

[tenthgrove]

Hello, I just saw that you opened your request. I'm the one who ended up writing a whole prompt! Imagine this for each member from La Squadra: they had an one-night stand with a random woman, she accidentally got pregnant and decided to have the baby without telling them. After a while, the woman got ill and passed away, but not without before sending her child with their father (let's imagine she has the direction of their hideout even if it's ooc, or she knew where they hang out). So, one day someone knocks the door and introduces themselves as the kid of one of the members/if it's too young, someone left them on the door with a explainatory note... How do you think each member would react by discovering that they have a child and they're supposed to take care of them from now? You can make each kid with different ages if you want, it would be funny to see Prosciutto or Ghiaccio dealing with a rebellious teenage son or Risotto trying to take care of a toddler, but I guess not all of them would want to keep their children. Sorry if it's a lot, haha.

La Squadra did a Diavolo

La Squadra x Reader, Platonic/Familial, SFW

A/N: your idea about mixing up the ages got me thinking, and I ended up using randomisers for the children’s ages (though I did consciously change some of them) and genders. It added a fun bit of chance to this prompt.

Formaggio, with an 8 year old daughter

The whole thing feels surreal to him. There's a little girl on his doorstep calling herself his daughter and by all evidence, it's true. He doesn't really know how to feel about it at first. On one hand it's kind of cool he had a kid all this time and you're clearly a lovely girl, but on the other hand, what the fuck? Still, not being the practical sort, his sense of sentiment far outweighs any question of how he's actually going to look after a child, so without much deliberation, Formaggio agrees to let you stay.

Formaggio isn't too experienced with kids but he doesn't exactly dislike them either, so he figures he knows what to do. At your age you can at least do the basics of looking after yourself, so he isn't too worried. The only problem is that if you ask him to cook for you or help clean your room, his eyes go very wide. He never quite picked up those skills himself, he's afraid, so you're going to have to ask someone else for that one.

The good news is that Formaggio is a very easy-going, fun sort of dad, who is a natural at playing with you and lets you do what you want when he can't be around. He quickly gets used to showing affection to you, letting you cuddle up to him on the sofa in front of the squad and even carrying you around once in a while. He gives amazing piggy back rides.

The bad news (or more good news, depending on how you are) is that you have to leave school. Risotto says that at your age you can't be trusted not to tell anyone your new family is a bunch of assassins, and taking you to and from school each day would be too much of a hassle. Nonetheless, you're welcome to continue your education from home, though Formaggio will hardly push you if you don't keep up with it. Melone is much better on that front.

Despite the risk, Formaggio can't bring himself to force you to lose all your friends, so he lets you keep meeting with them. Furthermore, he knows a few guys in other squads who have kids about your age, so he's happy to introduce you to them if you want a friend you can be more honest about your home life with. Formaggio might not have a clue what he's doing, but he's doing pretty good.

Illuso, with a 3 year old daughter

He's been fearing this day would come for years. A small child knocking on the door of the hideout, holding a note in hand addressed to him, just as a shady looking car drives away. Yeah, Illuso remembers your mother pretty well and he remembers the distinct lack of precautions they took during their encounter. Now, the consequences of his actions are here at his house, and Risotto is currently standing in the doorway of the office looking ready to give him the biggest dressing-down of his life.

After his tongue-lashing, Illuso frantically agrees to take responsibility for what he's done and see to it that you're well cared for, and begins the task of looking for relatives who might take you. Unfortunately, none of your mother's family can be traced, and Illuso can't exactly call up his own right now. Leaving you on the door of an orphanage isn't an option because you're old enough to say where you've come from, so it looks like for the time being, Illuso is stuck with you.

Initially, Illuso is not thrilled. He pawns you off on Melone, Sorbet and Gelato whenever possible and tries to live his life as before. But increasingly, he can't help finding himself visiting your room whenever he's stressed or has had a bad mission. There's something so pure about gently stroking your hair as you sleep. He can't help but feel... attachment, as he rubs his thumb against your tiny palm.

From then on, Illuso starts to make a point of spending more time with you. You're at the age where you just want to touch and explore everything you're given, so letting you make a mess with his makeup and beauty creams is an easy way for him to observe and learn about you. He even starts doing the more practical things like washing and feeding you every so often.

Eventually, Illuso becomes an actual father to you. He loves you as a father should and puts his time into making you happy. Illuso is glad he didn't give you away, as you've opened his eyes to so many things. For the first time in many years, he feels human. He feels redeemable.

Prosciutto, with a 13 year old son

As you tell him your story Prosciutto racks his brains. He didn't have many one-night-stands in his youth but the ones he did have were so far back he barely remembers them, so your mother's name doesn't immediately ring any bells. If it weren't for the striking resemblance between you, Prosciutto probably would have thrown you out for a liar there and then. But as you are, it's clear you're being honest. He lets you in.

After a short interrogation by Risotto to make certain you aren't acting on behalf of some third party looking to infiltrate the squad, it's agreed you can stay, so long as you keep quiet about it to your friends. At your age you can largely look after yourself and all you really needed was a roof over your head, so there's no problem with you moving into the spare room as long as you stay out of the others' way.

Education isn't much of an issue either, since you're likely well settled in your current school and can get yourself there and back. Just whatever you do, don't go telling anyone you live with a bunch of gangsters now. Prosciutto means it, you could seriously put yourself in danger if you do that.

Much to your father's ire, you end up befriending several members of the squad, especially the younger ones like Melone, Ghiaccio and Pesci who have some generational overlap with how you were raised. Prosciutto would rather you didn't do this but at the end of the day, he can't really stop you. God forbid you call him an old boomer again.

Your relationship is overall positive- Prosciutto makes a point of taking you on outings when he has the time, and giving you parental advice when you need it. However that doesn't stop you from making fun of his stuffy, old habits, and playing the moral high ground in regards to his work.

On that note, the problem comes when you develop an interest in the squad's work. It's only inevitable, given how pervasive the topic is in conversations around the house, and the fact you're more than old enough to know what a gang is, but the day you first ask him about it is no less welcome. What's scary is that you're about the same age as Passione's youngest recruits and, well, if you ended up joining them because of him, Prosciutto might never forgive himself.

Pesci, with a 6 month old son

He knew it had been a mistake. Not long after his 18th birthday he'd given in to the squad's pestering about his virginity and finally gotten rid of it just to shut them up. Now he's ridden with guilt. Not only did the poor woman get pregnant because of him but now she's died. He can't help but wonder, the letter attached to the basket you came in was very vague after all, was your mother's death at all related to your birth? If so, Pesci doesn't know how he'll forgive himself.

Pesci immediately panics and stumbles into his Fra's bedroom crying louder than you are. Prosciutto remains calm, advising him to first make sure this actually is his baby through Melone, in case this is somebody trying to trick him, and to then think through his options rationally. As far as Prosciutto sees it, he has two. He can either see to it that you're taken in by a caring, reliable individual, or he can keep you for himself. Surprisingly, Prosciutto's actually okay with the second one, since in his eyes duty to one's family is absolute.

Pesci stammers a bit and asks if he can wait a few days to make his mind up, which Prosciutto permits. But it isn't long at all until Pesci is far too attached to you to ever let you go, and it becomes clear you'll be staying for the long-run. Risotto is hardly happy about this but agrees with Prosciutto's sentiment of family, so he doesn't try to insist you be sent away.

Pesci is an incredibly loving father. He'll dash from the other side of the house at a moment's notice if he hears you crying. That said, being so young himself it's inevitable he requires some help with raising you. Sorbet and Gelato chip in quite regularly, as does Melone when Pesci is desperate enough to fall on using him. Prosciutto helps out too, being your uncle, and occasionally you've even had Risotto answer your cries.

La Squadra can only hope their situation improves somehow in the coming years, since Pesci has no idea how he's going to deal with an older child in a house full of assassins. At very least, being so young it's a long time before he has to worry about things like school. For now, what's important is that you are loved very dearly. Pesci has discovered a new protective streak in himself, something he discovers every time he looks in your eyes.

Melone, with a 4 year old son

When you arrived you were frightened and confused. You struggled to babble out the story you were told to tell as the strange men crowded around you in the front room of the house. Then, a bizarre looking man with purple hair pushed to the front of the crowd, insisting he knew what to do in a situation like this. He carried you somewhere quiet, and gently asked you to repeat your story again. You told him you were looking for your father, Melone.

Melone is elated. He's always wanted a child, but getting into a relationship stable enough to produce one has never been an option with the life he lives. Now the happy accident he never new he had has come home to him! Carrying you back to the living room, Melone introduces you as his son and announces to the team that he will be keeping you.

This is met with some protest. Not only are you of the age where you'll need constant supervision, but quite frankly, nobody trusts Melone to take care of a kid. Melone refutes their accusations harshly, making it absolutely clear he will not be giving you up without a fight. Finally, Risotto surrenders, on the terms that if he catches any signs of abuse or neglect, he will see to it personally that you are re-homed elsewhere.

Melone's parenting style is relatively laid-back. He believes parents should be a 'safe base' from which children should explore the world, coming back when they need advice but ultimately following their own whims within reason. He encourages you to play as you wish and does not stop you from bonding with the rest of the squad. Finding supervision for you while he's on missions proves to be a non-issue, since his stand's massive range means he can often do most of a mission's work at home.

When the time comes to educate you, Melone decides against the risks of enrolling you in school. He is an amazing teacher and can teach you everything you'd need in half the hours of a typical curriculum. Beyond the essentials of literacy and simple maths, Melone largely encourages you to follow you own interests rather than stick to some boring, arbitrary list of useless things a normal curriculum for some reason expects you to learn.

That said, he knows the importance of making friends, so he frequently takes you out to meet with neighbourhood children. All-in-all, the squad is surprised at his sensible parenting choices, and the happy child you are turning out to be.

Ghiaccio, with a 2 year old son

It's almost comedic the lengths Ghiaccio goes to to avoid the problem. As the others crowd around you in Melone's lap, Ghiaccio cowers in the corner insisting that you absolutely cannot be his. It's very obvious you are, of course. You look almost exactly like him, and have a cry to match. You've even inherited the same, mild visual impairments that earned him his glasses. There's no getting away from the truth.

After accepting the truth, Ghiaccio takes you away to his room to 'clear his head' before deciding where to send you in the morning, but when morning comes, that deliberation time quickly turns into a few more days, then a month, then never. It's clear Ghiaccio's become attached to you, and he cannot bring himself to give you away.

Unfortunately, he doesn't have the foggiest clue in hell how to look after a toddler. He has a hard enough time understanding what it is adults want from him, let alone small children. There are times he even considers giving you away again, but they never last long enough for him to go through with it. Bit by bit, he slowly learns how to be a father.

Melone is his primary co-parent. As cautious as Ghiaccio is about letting him around his baby, it soon becomes clear Melone can understand your needs far better than he can. The pair have many sessions together teaching Ghiaccio how to do things like wash you or cook your food. It's honestly a massive help, and probably the main reason Ghiaccio doesn't completely melt down within a month of having you.

These issues aside, Ghiaccio is a person who is very genuine in his affections. He would break the shins of anyone who even looked at you threateningly, and every fibre of his being wants you to be happy. He even learns to control his temper, as he knows from experience just how damaging an angry parent can be for a child. He's going to give you a better childhood than what his parents gave him, and that's a promise.

Risotto, with a 6 year old daughter

Well, perhaps this ought to have been expected. In his early 20s Risotto was really far less careful than he ought to be in regards to his encounters, so he probably had this coming. You are at a difficult age, old enough to understand your father is a criminal but young enough to still need his care. If he takes you in, there will be many challenges. And yet he cannot bring himself to turn you away. Looking at you he feels... obligation.

In the early days he tries his best to shelter you. He keeps you in his room and tells the others not to talk to you. But that's no way for you to live, and he knows it. Eventually, he swallows his fears and lets you explore your new home, even taking you out to the park a few minutes each day so you can run around. He talks to Melone about continuing your education, and asks Sorbet and Gelato if they'd let the spare room next to them be turned into a bedroom for you. He's going to make sure he raises you right.

Risotto may be quiet and introverted, but do not mistake that for emotionally distant. He does not underestimate his vital role in your emotional well-being, and is quick to pick up on when you are feeling sad or lonely. He makes sure to pick you up in his arms and ask what's wrong when that happens.

Though he didn't know her well, he mourns your mother with you, and is very watchful for the signs of attachment issues that may result from losing a parent at such a tender age. Being all you have left, Risotto gains a new instinct of self-preservation. For the first time in years, his life has meaning.

In terms of bonding, he prefers calm activities that allow him to passively observe your interests, such as watching movies or reading you books. When he's working in his office and doesn't need his camera on, he's happy for you to sit in his lap as long as you're quiet. He would ask if you don't read what's on his screen, though, at least not while you're so young. He'll give you a better explanation of what he's doing some day, but not just yet.

Sorbet and Gelato, with a 12 year old daughter

First of all, let's make clear that regardless of which one is biologically your father, they both feel equal responsibility for you. No doubt they were both present for your conception anyway, so as far as they're concerned, if one of them has a secret kid from a hookup, they both have a secret kid from a hookup.

Having always wanted children, they are happy when you appear on the doorstep and introduce yourself as their daughter. Though they don't say it out loud to avoid upsetting you, they kind of wish your mum had kicked it sooner so they could have raised you from a younger age, but they're more than happy to make do with what they've got. There's no hesitation in welcoming you to live with them permanently, and anyone who has a problem with this isn't brave enough to say it.

Right from the get-go they are very permitting parents, awarding you a generous helping of their cash each week and having a rule list that pretty much starts and ends with "don't talk to the police." Despite your age they don't expect you to be independent, and are happy to cook for you and help you out with other things when you ask. It seems parenthood was made for them.

Despite all this, there is one problem in your relationship that is making things difficult. That of your fathers' work. You're 12 years old and you aren't stupid. You know they kill for a living and you know they enjoy it. When you stumble into the bathroom at 1am to find them covered in blood and laughing together, there's no making excuses. No matter how good they are with you, this is going to make you afraid of them.

Sorbet and Gelato are incredibly stringent in solving these early issues. After all these years they've finally got the family they wanted, and they aren't going to let it slip away from their own cruelty. They are honest with you about their occupation, since they want you to know you can trust them, and make absolutely clear it won't affect their care for you. You are welcome to ask questions and receive honest answers, but other than that Sorbet and Gelato will make a point of not accidentally causing you to witness something you shouldn't.

With them, you are welcome to continue your old life in terms of school and friends. They want to spend time with you, but they don't want to overtake your existence completely. When you are up for it, they are keen to take you on outings that interest you so you can spend time together as a family. They hope you know how happy you make them.

#la squadra #la squadra di esecuzione #la squadra x reader #formaggio #formaggio x reader #illuso #illuso x reader #prosciutto #prosciutto x reader #pesci #pesci x reader #melone #melone x reader #ghiaccio #ghiaccio x reader #risotto nero #risotto nero x reader #sorbet and gelato #sorbet and gelato x reader

[completeoveranalysis]

~

Warning! This post contains spoilers up to chapter 170 of Tsubasa (and Chapter 71 of xxxHolic). Please skip this if you have not read that far.

Please also make no comments about what happens after that point in either manga.

~

OK SO HERE IS SPOOKY KUROFAI MARRIAGE PORTRAIT

The splash text reads: Shed blood and tears, without forgetting them, turn them into an existence.

Here is a link to my original post if you need the full context.

But here is the thing I said that just made me want to scream here in 2021, specifically in regards to that splash text:

"Incredibly motivating. It’s like the optimistic view of how things are when things are tough. The tough times are unavoidable a lot of the time, but you can and will get through them. You just have to make the choice to pick up the pieces and use them to construct a new future - which is never easy, but it’s the only way forward. For the dads, it’s both their past and their future. Kurogane has already gone through this; his life shattered and he used the pieces to forge a new identity and found new things to live for. For Fai, this is something he still needs to work on. He’s so used to running from his tragedy that he hasn’t yet figured out who he is beyond it. The “without forgetting them” is sort of a call out for him in that respect. You can’t grow by pretending they didn’t happen, or by pretending you’re a different person. Once he’s faced the pain and accepted that he’s alive and can continue living in a way that can make himself and others happy, then he’ll finally be moving forward."

IN WHICH.

LIKE.

I have no idea how anyone even reads this liveblog armed with knowledge of what happens next because APPARENTLY I JUST SAY THINGS that are VASTLY UNJUST and now I wilt away with the memory of what I thought of Fai back then.

I don't mean to give myself any undue credit here - I predicted none of Fai’s backstory. I had something completely different in mind when writing this, entirely based around the knowledge of Fai fleeing from Ashura with no context whatsoever about who Fai really was.

When you know where Fai came from? Oh my god.

Oh my god.

The words just toss my intended meaning out the window and dance around with the actual truth right in your face. Especially the “pretending you’re a different person” bit - I could never have predicted that Fai was using his brother’s namesake both as a way to eliminate himself from the world and to devote his life towards resurrecting his brother in his place. But HOT DAMN do these words ice skate in all the correct patterns without any knowledge of what the heck they could possibly mean in the end.

Also I'm in physical pain from the phrase: “without forgetting them” is sort of a call out for him in that respect." I know that past!me was thinking purely about Fai running away from confrontation with Ashura and pretending that he was fine and that everything was fine and that he could stay away from it all as long as possible. Things I did not know: That Fai's memories had been deliberately changed by two separate people to control the direction of his life. "Without forgetting them" is NOT a callout for Fai - Fai had no choice in that whatsoever (but they could still be a callout for ME for forgetting any of this plotline had ever happened oh my god). Fai was only ever running from Ashura with good intentions (ie, to NOT murder someone), and there was no way he could have known that his past had been rewritten to such a massive degree that it shaped the core of his personality for his entire life. And just as the splash text implies, it's only when he gets the CORRECT memories back that he can use them to forge a healthier and more accurate life moving forward.

A call out for Fai. Imagine. Past!me has so much to answer for.

I also want to revisit the bit where I said “once he’s faced the pain and accepted that he’s alive he can continue living in a way that can make himself and others happy, then he’ll finally be moving forward”, because this comes off entirely flippant now that I’m looking back on it.

My expectation for Fai’s potential trauma was somehow barely a tenth of what it really was in the end. And like, the idea I was getting at? Technically correct! But also only correct on the surface level. Fai didn’t need to just “confront his problems”. He needed to be completely stripped of the version of himself he had constructed from his false memories, worn down to the very core through reliving the worst parts of his life - and then shown how he was wrong about them. He was lied to his entire life, and so the goals he based his life around were aimed toward an abstracted version of reality. He was never going to be able to resurrect his brother, but he never could have known that without knowing that Ashura and Evil Wolverine had manipulated him and his memories every step of the way.

It's only when he can decipher this for himself that he can course correct - and it was only in taking the Original Fai completely out of the equation that Our Fai could finally begin to comprehend the idea of living for himself, and others, instead for fixing a mistake he never actually made in the first place.

So, yeah. “Once he’s faced the pain (of his past) and accepted that HE’S alive (and he’s allowed to be, because he never killed his brother) he can continue living in a way that can make himself and others happy” IS ACTUALLY ACCIDENTALLY CORRECT IN THE END.

I also want to point out that in the initial liveblog I never really discussed how Fai’s expression was relevant to this image, because I didn’t know exactly.

He’s smiling.

It's a small, gentle smile, but CLAMP really draw attention to it with the way he's looking off centre. Kurogane looks directly at the camera, but he's off centre - Fai is in the middle of the frame and he's vaguely looking elsewhere, head tilted in the wrong direction, as if he were looking towards Kurogane but seeing something else entirely.

The image itself was part of a series of splash pages where CLAMP were depicting the current state of the relationships between all of the main cast throughout the Infinity Arc (and it was glorious) and while I absolutely caught the fact that the relationship between Fai and Kurogane was intimate but strained, I didn’t know the context of Fai’s smile. His backstory shows us that Fai smiles as a way to make other people happy, because deep down he thinks this is the only possible value he can bring them - a smile is his only way of improving the world for the people around him, and his smile is the only thing he’s worth.

Here in the image Fai is partially draped over Kurogane but his distant look shows that he isn’t fully committed to the scenario - because before Seresu he could never be. As much as he liked Kurogane and allowed himself to get close to him, it was always always with the intention of him trading his life away for his brother’s at the end of the day. This is what caused the tension between them in the first place - when Kurogane made choices in Fai’s stead to keep him alive (in Acid Tokyo), he threatened Fai’s chance to trade his life for his brother’s, and so Fai distanced himself from Kurogane. Even if they fixed what they had between them, anything he had going with Kurogane could only ever be temporary until Fai could trade places with the real Fai.

And so Fai smiles - because any happiness he can give Kurogane and the others is all he’ll ever be worth. It's a temporary happiness that was never supposed to last or even exist in the first place.

And it’s not until we get OUT of Seresu that Fai finally has the opportunity to build himself from the ground up and start living for himself. For his own happiness and those around him.

And finally commit to the idea of being able to (and being WORTHY OF) making Kurogane happy in the long term.

Which is where we then get the punching scene in Nihon. And it’s perfect.

But OH BOY did past!me say some things that sounded correct but were utterly and completely wrong at every level.

#OOF #Leave me here this is all I’m going to talk about for years #FAI DID IT YOU GUYS HE GOT THERE IN THE END #The Fai in this splash page doesn’t exist anymore #AND NOT IN THE WAY FAI EXPECTED #UGHHHH I LOVE IT SO MUCH #Tsubasa Catch Up Chronicle #Catch Up T141 #Fai #We could also talk about #how Fai's cape is this messy waterfall of red #and all that symbolises #because his smile only hides so much trauma #and it all comes gushing out every time he allows himself to care about another person #let alone the fact that he thought HE was responsible for like #unimaginable amounts of bloodshed #but none of that was his fault either #HOW DID ANYONE READ A SINGLE THING I EVER SAID

[nervousladytraveler]

The Alibi

Inspired by the kiss prompt: A + B are in an argument, then they stop, just stare at each other, and then crash their lips together, because, like i said... fuck this shit Ross and Demelza

Requested by the lovely @veryflowerobservation

---

“God damn it, Demelza! I told you not to follow me tonight!”

For the last eight miles, Ross had been looking over his shoulder while Demelza drove. No one was behind them on the dark road, and it was most likely they’d been unseen, yet he continued to anxiously watch. There was nothing that would quiet the churning adrenaline that came from such a close call.

“Well it's a good thing I did follow you, otherwise…” Demelza snapped back at him.

“Otherwise what?!” He cut her off before she continued in what sounded like another self-righteous justification. Her words rang empty to him--she’d acted impulsively and it was just dumb luck that she hadn’t made things worse.

“You seriously ask me that?”

“Demelza, I would have sorted it instead of both of us being in danger!”

“No, Ross. In case you didn't notice I just saved your skin before you had anythin’ to sort. And you can’t just sort a thing like this with the police, by the way. Not even you. But now that’s a moot point and no one is in danger. Of gettin’ hurt or bein’ arrested--precisely because I came.“

Without any warning, Demelza took a sharp left at the Blowinghouse Turn bus stop, then minutes later turned right on the B3284 towards Truro. This whole time she’d kept the tiny Kia Forte steady at 30 mph, a frustratingly slow pace that further agitated Ross--and she was well aware that it would, no doubt. But she was right in her refusal to drive any faster. The last thing they needed now was trouble for speeding.

“Why didn’t you stay on the…” he started but stopped once he caught the acid look she flashed him. “You seem to know what you’re doing,” he mumbled.

“Yes, Ross. Yes, I do.”

To their relief, the road ahead remained empty. Then again people didn't really tend to be out driving at 2AM on a Tuesday unless they had urgent business. Or shady business.

“So was this all your plan all along--that you’d come out tonight and spy on me?” he asked.

“Spy? You’re not very good at keepin’ secrets, you know,” she sputtered. “Besides, you already told me what you were up to, just not when or where…”

“For good reason! Because I didn’t want you involved. But you told me that you’d stay home--you lied to me!” Ross’s dark voice filled the little car.

“Lyin’? You’re really speakin’ to me about lyin’?” Her laugh, bitter and sarcastic, met his anger head on.

Demelza Carne had worked for Ross Poldark for years now--since she was a teenager really-- first as an all around office assistant and recently as his bookkeeper. And she’d shown him time and again that she wasn't cowed by his moods. She was one of the few people in his life who wasn’t. She was also one of the few people in his life who hadn’t abandoned him once his business prospects began to fail. He shouldn’t have expected anything different from her tonight.

“But no, Ross, I hadn’t planned on interferin’ with your business. I do have a life of my own you know...“

“Demelza--wait--are you claiming I lied to you?”

“When you omit somethin’ on purpose, that’s also a lie,” she said calmly, then a moment later her agitation boiled up again. “Jesus, Ross! What were you thinkin’?! Comin out here on your own to meet those smugglers? You didn't think it was a set up?”

Smugglers. It rankled him that she insisted on calling Trencrom and his men smugglers as though this were some 18th century French scheme or an Enid Blyton novel, rather than a simple business arrangement.

But no matter what term Ross preferred, tonight proved it remained a dangerous business. And while the charge of “improper importation of goods chargeable with a duty which has not been paid” certainly sounded less exciting than smuggling, it still carried a severe penalty.

Tonight would have been Ross’s third transaction with Robert Trencrom, a local businessman who had approached him last summer with a proposition. It seemed that from time to time Trencrom and his associates had in their possession certain goods acquired through less than proper channels. What Trencrom needed was an unassuming place to store these goods until such a time when they could be distributed without suspicion. Nampara, Ross’s derelict farm, might provide the perfect cover since there were so many unused outbuildings, several that still had solid walls and intact roofs. It had been decades since the farm produced anything that needed storing, so why not let the space to others whilst Ross made a little cash on the side?

The past two times it had been Belgian cigarettes--not massive quantities but enough that the whole endeavour still carried a risk. Yet Ross’s involvement had been truly minimal, just as Trencrom had assured him. In fact, Ross had not even been home when the goods were delivered. Trencrom’s men had tucked the plastic barrels behind some rusting mowing machines, and Ross was only made aware that the goods had been removed some weeks later when an envelope of cash was left for him in his car.

And since these were cash transactions, Ross considered hiding them altogether from Demelza, who minded his books for him. But in the end, he explained in vague details what he had done and asked her not to question him further. Clearly she hadn’t approved but she said nothing.

It wasn’t drugs or weapons--or people--so it could be worse, he’d told himself. And as soon as he just got a little more out of debt, he’d cut ties with the lot.

When Ross didn’t hear from Trencrom all winter, he’d assumed the connection had faded and sighed in relief. He’d miss the income but not the entanglement.

Then a few weeks into May, Trencrom reached out again.

This time Ross was to be more involved and actually take delivery of the cargo himself. Naturally there would be considerable compensation--a figure Ross didn’t think he could refuse considering his current financial status. Trencrom hinted he’d been worried about the loyalty of such a big crew and so for this job he wanted to keep his circle small. He’d instructed Ross to meet them at the Rugby Football Club carpark just after midnight.

In the hours leading up to the hand off, Ross was determined to pass a quiet evening at home. So when his friend Dwight stopped by unannounced for a drink and a game of cards, he’d welcomed the diversion. He was also relieved that Demelza, who lived in one of the tiny cottages adjacent to the main house, seemed to deliberately be giving him a wide berth that day. She knew about the “business” Ross had later, but having already made her objections clear, there was nothing left to say on the matter. Normally she would have stayed--she liked Dwight Enys and the two of them playfully teased Ross as only true friends could. But tonight she left Ross with Dwight and went home early.

It was around 11PM that Ross received another call--the exchange point had apparently changed. He was now to meet Trencrom’s men at the airfield at 1:30 and he was to come on foot--without his car. The barrels were already loaded in a van so there was no need to remove them to another vehicle.That last detail did seem odd to him at the time. But once Ross had left for the appointment, he found it was a mild night, and figured he’d park at the beach and enjoy the walk to the airfield.

He was still almost a mile away when the familiar black Kia pulled up next to him. His every muscle tightened and he could hear the blood pounding in his ears.

“Demelza,” he’d hissed. “Get out of here!’

“Get in the car now, Ross,” she’d said simply.

“Look, Demelza, I know you don’t approve of this...” There was something in her eyes that made him take notice. Like an animal being hunted, she was on high alert.

“Get in,” she’d said again. “It’s a trap.”

“What?!” he’d asked, shaking his head in disbelief but still he climbed into the car without waiting for a satisfactory explanation.

“Seatbelt,” was all she’d said. He could hear the tension in her voice but she concentrated on the road ahead of her and didn’t even offer him a glance. “There,” she said finally and bid him to look to the right.

She drove on without slowing down so it was only a flash to him, still the chilling sight registered in his brain. Just beyond the tall hedges at the entrance to the airfield were three police cars, and two others that looked unmarked, all waiting in a circle with their headlamps off.

Demelza had been right--it had been a trap. And one he would have literally walked right into had she not shown up when she did.

It was doubtful that Trencrom was the one cooperating with the cops--it must have been one of the others in his crew. So Trencrom did have good reason to want to draw his circle closer. Ross wondered if he’d actually known there was a rat amongst them or just suspected it.

Ross knew he should be grateful for Demelza’s timely rescue but he couldn’t help resenting that she’d been right. She may have had a right to be so smug, but he didn't have to enjoy listening to her rub it in.

“I knew this would happen…” she muttered and drove on.

“Oh, you most certainly did not,” he growled. “No one did.”

“No one?” she laughed. “Well let’s see, Ross...the cops knew and someone else most certainly knew--whoever grassed on you, that is…”

“I would have thought, knowing you as I do, that you’d understand why I had no choice…”

“No choice? What sort of bullshit is that, Ross? Have you run round in your head how that really sounds? You know that's not an actual legal defense?”

“I mean I needed the money. I have a mortgage payment due and…”

“Yes, I am aware of that, Ross. Knowin’ me as you think you do, you should have talked this over with me. I’m your bookkeeper, for fuck’s sake.”

He didn’t want to think about what he should have done and whether he’d pushed her away as she claimed. He had good reason not to involve her--he’d wanted to avoid just such an argument with her.

And he also wanted to protect her.

“Turn left up here then pull over at the top of the hill and let me drive,” Ross grumbled as she rolled into the sleeping town.

“You’re most certainly not drivin’ my car!” she huffed but nonetheless turned as he had directed and pulled into the car park at the back of the Star and Garter Inn.

It was a clever move. They hadn’t spoken it but they both knew their friend Jinny Martin would be working the desk tonight. Perhaps she could get them a room and they could wait it out there until morning.

Demelza switched off the headlamps and then after a moment’s hesitation, the engine as well.

Ross heard her take in a sharp breath--more like a hiss--and waited for the tempest to continue.

“Well, yes,” he said just a beat before she opened her mouth to speak. “When the pick-up location changed last minute, I might have seen it was a set up.” It wasn't an apology but he hoped he could buy himself some time before her next eruption. “But I never imagined anyone involved in this arrangement would ever inform on me…”

“Oh Ross! I would have guessed it, and am surprised it didn't happen sooner. Honour amongst thieves and all that.”

“They aren’t--we aren’t--thieves.”

“Ok, not thieves per se but it’s still criminal activity to take delivery of smuggled cargo. Ross, you think you’re such a great judge of character but that lot...they’re greedy bastards and they just aren't your friends.”

“And you are?”

She stared at him, wide eyed and open-mouthed, unbelieving that he’d actually questioned her loyalty when she’d just saved him from a possible seven year prison sentence.

“Demelza, that came out wrong,” he said. Again it wasn’t an apology. At least not in its tone.

“Everythin’ you say comes out wrong, Ross. Or do you actually mean to be such an absolute arsehole?”

“Can’t you just admit that you could have put yourself in danger back there? With both Trencrom’s crew and the cops?” He put his hand on her arm and was surprised at how strong her muscles felt as she gripped the steering wheel. Instinctively he pulled away.

“Can’t you just admit how stubborn and stupid you can be?” Usually so bright and reassuring, her voice was hoarse from such rough use tonight.

“I’m stubborn?” he asked.

“No one saw me, Ross. And the important thing is that the police didn't see you. So you’re safe.”

“Well…”

“I suppose even if the cops had your name as someone possibly involved, since they didn't actually catch you doin’ any illegal activity, they can’t arrest you. Besides I’m your allibi for this evenin’. We can stay here overnight in case they’re watchin’ the house, and I’ll take you back to to pick up your car in the mornin’.“

“Wait! What if there’s CCTV here?” Ross felt a renewed jolt of panic tear through him.

“All the cameras are on the front of the building and the side where the guests park. This section is for employees.” She pointed to the few other cars around them. Older, tatty, bought second hand on the cheap but still at a cost as they most likely required constant maintenance. These were the cars of service workers--night clerks, cleaners, cooks. He recognised Jinny’s old Skoda with it’s Leicester City FC sticker on the rear. That car had been in the Martin family for almost two decades now and somehow, through mechanical expertise or through sheer will, her resourceful father had managed to keep it running. No one would bother these cars with the shiny new BMWs and Audis on the other side of the hotel.

“What about traffic cameras? Back along the road?” Ross asked, not sure if he was being cautious or paranoid.

“Maybe, but Ross, there’s no law against bein’ out with a woman.”

“Who happened to pick me up on the side of the road in the middle of the night…”

“Well, let’s assume we had to meet up in the cover of dark to avoid gossip since you’re my boss...and because of your jealous girlfriend.”

“Demelza, you know I don’t have a girlfriend,” he grumbled. “This is ridiculous…”

“I know that, but the police wouldn’t. A clandestine affair--a fake one of course--is a perfect cover for sketchy behaviour. But if you’d prefer I not be your alibi…”

“This isn’t a game!” he snapped again. He couldn’t stand that she’d laughed just now. Then a thought hit him and he had to ask. “How did you even know where I was going? That I’d be heading from the beach towards the airfield on foot?”

“Dr. Enys told me.”

“What? This just gets more unbelievable! Dwight knew this was top secret--why the hell did he tell you?”

“Top secret but still you told him?” she snorted. “Well, I’m glad you did, I suppose. He couldn’t follow you himself--he’d a call from one of his ‘patients’, which I think was actually code for Caroline wanted him to come round’--so he thought I might be able to stop you. At least he has some faith in me.”

“Oh come on, this isn’t about what I think of you…”

“Isn’t it though? You clearly don’t trust me and you don’t think I can handle myself and you think I’m silly.”

“Silly?”

“Oh sorry--ridiculous was the word you just used. Anyway Dwight was wary of the whole arrangement and thought it stank to high heaven.”

“Why didn’t he tell me that himself?!”

“He said he did--did you actually listen? And before you get angry at him, you should thank your lucky stars that he was still at Nampara when Trencrom sent word of the ‘new’ meetin’ point...”

“It wasn’t Trencrom who rang me,” he corrected her. “It was Charlie who told me the meet up was moved to the airfield.”

“Charlie Kempthorne? That tosser? Are you shitting me? And you didn’t think it was suspicious that Charlie would be privy to some secret revised plan and you wouldn’t?” she scoffed. “But really, Ross, you should be fucking grateful to have Dwight as a mate. He’s a real friend, you know.”

“I never said he wasn't.”

“No, you just said I wasn't,” she snorted.

“Oh come on, Demelza. You know I didn't mean that. What are you going on about?”

“In case it isn’t clear, Ross,” she hissed, “I am still so angry at you.” She spoke through clenched teeth. “That you got involved with those weasels in the first place, that you shut me out, that you almost...”

“It’s none of your business!” he shouted. “Why are you being this way?”

“Okay, it’s not my business and I’m not your friend, just some stupid girl who works for you and is used to clearin’ up your messes--and who knows she’ll be out of that job if--no, sorry--when you get nicked. Fuck this shit. And fuck you, Ross!” Without looking at him, she stepped out of the car and slammed the door.

Ross immediately followed her, afraid that she’d keep shouting and wake the hotel. She stopped in her tracks a few yards away and stood silently. It might have been the first time in nearly thirty minutes that she’d stopped yelling at him. Ross leaned against the still-warm bonnet of the car and exhaled.

Perhaps she’d known what she was doing, parking the car in a farthest corner of the lot, under a broken street lamp. They were completely hidden in shadow, still Ross could make out her face--her narrowed, feral eyes, her gnashing teeth that gleamed in the faint moonlight. For a moment he thought she might bite him.

He cautiously took a step forward then paused to read her posture.

The chill in the air--and in the words they’d just thrown at each other--was causing her shoulders to shake. He noticed she was wearing a blue jumper just a shade darker than her brilliant eyes. The sleeves were too long, and she’d had to repeatedly push them up, but they wouldn't cooperate and now hung past her fingertips.

It was his, he then realised, the old one he usually left hanging on the peg by the front door.

He almost asked her what she was wearing--or rather why she was wearing it--but instead, aware that he’d been moved and not all sure of the reason, he did something else. He made two broad strides towards her.

Startled, she looked up at him. Her shining eyes lit the night.

“Yes, like you said...fuck this shit…” he laughed and put his hand on her elbow, pulling her towards him. He expected resistance, but he found none.

It was only a moment that they just stared at each other but it felt eternal, and then at some unspoken signal, they crashed together.

It was an untidy and urgent kiss--almost violent in its clumsiness had it not been fueled by such sincere desperation. Then, as they both found their breath, their arms found each other. A great weight had been lifted--one that neither Ross nor Demelza even realised they were shouldering until that moment.

He wove his hands through her hair and kissed her again. This time their lips worked together, carried by the flood of surging desire and long-sought release.

“Demelza, I’m so sorry I got you in this.” His voice was low but soft. Now his hands framed her face, afraid she might slip away like sand through his fingers.

“Ross, I was just so scared for you.”

He could hear the tears she was trying to hold back and understood why she’d been so angry with him. He’d been such a spectacular idiot, and in more ways than one.

“Me too. When you turned up, Demelza...my blood ran cold at the thought that I'd lured you into danger. I would never let anyone hurt you…” He ran the backs of his fingers gently down her cheek then kissed her pulsing temple.

“I couldn't leave you Ross, I just couldn't,” she cried into his neck.

“Thank you for caring for me even though I don’t deserve it. Come, you’re shivering. Let's go inside. We can talk more…” But instead of letting her go, he pressed her closer until he was certain he could feel her heart beating against his.

“I don't want to talk anymore,” she sniffled.

“Me neither. I just want to touch you and know you are safe.”

“Will you, Ross?”

Good god, I’ll never let you go, he thought.

“And can you trust me?” When she looked up at him, the hunted, defensive animal was gone. Now she was raw, vulnerable. She was softly opening herself to him, and doing so completely.

Ross understood what would happen next, what was happening now. He felt it in his gut and knew things would never be the same.

“Of course I do,” he whispered. “More than anyone.”

The darkness of the night--their secret accomplice--wrapped herself protectively around them.

Demelza lifted her face towards him and Ross kissed her once more.

#lucretiassister #poldark fanfic #poldark modern au #fake dating sort of #kisses prompts #ross poldark #demelza carne

[mugasofer]

It seems like many, perhaps most, people historically believed in some immanent apocalypse.

Many philosophies claim that the world is passing into a degenerate age of chaos (Ages of Man, Kali Yuga, life-cycle of civilisation), or divine conflict will shortly spill over & destroy the Earth (Ragnorok, Revelations, Zoroastrian Frashokereti), or that the natural forces sustaining us must be transient.

Yet few panic or do anything. What anyone does "do about it" is often symbolic & self-admittedly unlikely to do much.

Maybe humans evolved not to care, to avoid being manipulated?

Many cults make similar claims, and do uproot their lives around them. Even very rarely committing mass suicide or terror attacks etc on occasion. But cults exist that don't make such claims, so it may not be the mechanism they use to control, or at most a minor one. "This is about the fate of the whole world, nothing can be more important than that, so shut up" may work as as a thought terminating cliche, but it doesn't seem to work that strongly, and there are many at least equally effective ones.

Some large scale orgs do exist that seem to take their eschatology "seriously". The Aztecs committed atrocities trying to hold off apocalypse, ISIS trying to cause it. Arguably some Communist or even fascist groups count, depending on your definition of apocalypse.

But even then, one can argue their actions are not radically different from non-apocalypse-motivated ones - e.g. the Aztecs mass-executed less per capita than the UK did at times & some historians view them as more about displaying authority.

I'm thinking about this because of two secular eschatologies - climate apocalypse and the Singularity.

My view on climate change, which as far as I can tell is the scientific consensus, is that it is real and bad but by no means apocalyptic. We're talking incremental increases in storms, droughts, floods etc, all of which are terrible, but none of which remotely threaten human civilisation. E.g. according to the first Google result, the sea is set to rise by 1 decimeter by 2100 in a "high emissions scenario", not to rise by tens or hundreds of meters and consume all coastal nations as I was taught as a child. Some more drastic projections suggest that the sea might rise by as much as two or three meters in the worst case scenario.

It really creeps me out when I hear people who confess to believe that human civilisation, the human species, or even all life on Earth is most likely going to be destroyed soon by climate change. The most recent example, which prompted this post, was the Call of Cthulhu podcast I was listening to casually suggesting that it might be a good idea to summon an Elder God of ice and snow to combat climate change as the "lesser existential risk", perhaps by sacrificing "climate skeptics" to it. It's incredibly jarring for me to realise that the guys I've been listening to casually chatting about RPGs think they live in a world that will shortly be ended by the greed of it's rulers. But this idea is everywhere. Discussions of existential risks from e.g. pandemics inevitably attract people arguing that the real existential risk is climate change. A major anti-global-warming protest movement, Extinction Rebellion, is literally named after the idea that they're fighting against their own extinction. Viral Tumblr posts talk about how the fear of knowing that the world is probably going to be destroyed soon by climate change and fascism is crippling their mental health, and they have no idea how to deal with it because it's all so real.

But it's not. It's not real.

Well, I can't claim that political science is accurate enough for me to definitively say that fascism isn't going to take over, but I can say that climate science is fairly accurate and it predicts that the world is definitely not about to end in fire or in flood.

(There are valid arguments that climate change or other environmental issues might precipitate wars, which could turn apocalyptic due to nuclear weapons; or that we might potentially encounter a black swan event due to our poor understanding of the ecosystem and climate-feedback systems. But these are very different, as they're self-admittedly "just" small risks to the world.)

And I get the impression that a lot of people with more realistic views about climate change deliberately pander to this, deliberately encouraging people to believe that they're going to die because it puts them on the "right side of the issue". The MCU's Loki, for instance, recently casually brought up a "climate apocalypse" in 2050, which many viewers took as meaning the world ending. Technically, the show uses a broad definition of "apocalypse" - Pompeii is given as another example - and it kind of seems like maybe all they meant was natural disasters encouraged by climate change, totally defensible. But I still felt kinda mad about it, that they're deliberately pandering to an idea which they hopefully know is false and which is causing incredible anxiety in people. I remember when Greta Thurnberg was a big deal, I read through her speeches to Extinction Rebellion, and if you parsed them closely it seemed like she actually did have a somewhat realistic understanding of what climate change is. But she would never come out and say it, it was all vague implications of doom, which she was happily giving to a rally called "Extinction Rebellion" filled with speakers who were explicitly stating, not just coyly implying, that this was a fight for humanity's survival against all the great powers of the world.

But maybe there's nothing wrong with that. I despise lying, but as I've been rambling about, this is a very common lie that most people somehow seem unaffected by. Maybe the viral tumblr posts are wrong about the source of their anxiety; maybe it's internal/neurochemical and they world just have picked some other topic to project their anxieties on if this particular apocalypse wasn't available. Maybe this isn't a particularly harmful lie, and it's hypocritical of me to be shocked by those who believe it.

Incidentally, I believe the world is probably going to end within the next fifty years.

Intellectually, I find the arguments that superhuman AI will destroy the world pretty undeniable. Sure, forecasting the path of future technology is inherently unreliable. But the existence of human brains, some of which are quite smart, proves pretty conclusively it's possible to get lumps of matter to think - and human brains are designed to run on the tiny amounts of energy they can get by scavenging plants and the occasional scraps of meat in the wilderness as fuel, with chemical signals that propagate at around the speed of sound (much slower than electronic ones), with only the data they can get from input devices they carry around with them, and which break down irrevocably after a few decades. And while we cannot necessarily extrapolate from the history of progress in both computer hardware and AI, that progress is incredibly impressive, and there's no particular reason to believe it will fortuitously stop right before we manufacture enough rope to hang ourselves.

Right now, at time of writing, we have neural nets that can write basic code, appear to scale linearly in effectiveness with the available hardware with no signs that we're reaching their limit, and have not yet been applied at the current limits of available hardware let alone what will be available in a few years. They absorb information like a sponge at a vastly superhuman speed and scale, allowing them to be trained in days or hours rather than the years or decades humans require. They are already human-level or massively superhuman at many tasks, and are capable of many things I would have confidently told you a few years ago were probably impossible without human-level intelligence, like the crazy shit AI dungeon is capable of. People are actively working on scaling them up so that they can work on and improve the sort of code they are made from. And we have no ability to tell what they're thinking or control them without a ton of trial and error.

If you follow this blog, you're probably familiar with all the above arguments for why we're probably very close to getting clobbered by superhuman AI, and many more, as well as all the standard counter-arguments and the counter-arguments to those counter arguments.

(Note: I do take some comfort in God, but even if my faith were so rock solid that I would cheerfully bet the world on it - which it's not - there's no real reason why our purpose in God's plan couldn't be to destroy ourselves or be destroyed as an object lesson to some other, more important civilization. There's ample precedent.)

Here's the thing: I'm not doing anything about it, unless you count occasionally, casually talking about it with people online. I'm not even donating to help any of the terrifyingly-few people who are trying to do something about it. Part of why I'm not contributing is, frankly, I don't have a clue what to do, nor do I have much confidence in any of the stuff people are currently doing (although I bloody well hope some of it works.)

And yet I don't actually feel that scared.

I feel more of a visceral chill reading about the nuclear close calls that almost destroyed the world in the recent past than thinking about the stuff that has a serious chance of doing so in a few decades. I'm a neurotic mess, and yet what is objectively the most terrifying thing on my radar does not actually seem to contribute to my neurosis.

#x risk cw #futurism #we live in the future #long #rambly late night posting #history #religion

[meetmymouth]

when sunny met harry (2) : harry styles imagine

read part one here summary: harry and y/n break up but they’re not the only ones suffering. their -now her- golden retriever sunny thinks harry’s coming back.

Just like everyday, as soon as she turns the lock, Sunny comes running to the front door, nails ‘clicking’ on the wooden floor as he jumps up and down on the other side of the door. As soon as the door’s unlocked and opened fully, Sunny leaves no time for hellos or any other form of greeting before he’s on her. It’s Friday night which is why there’s a bag for life full to the brim with groceries next to her backpack and Sunny takes it upon himself to sniff around the packaged food as if he’s looking for food.

It’s also the night Harry’s finally coming to see Sunny.

A month has passed since the phone call and it was last week when Harry’s name appeared on her phone, messaging to see if he could visit Sunny soon. Truth be told, she wasn’t ready to see him just yet. She knew she could’ve said no, or told him she would let him know when it would be a good time to visit but one look at Sunny’s way, she had caved in. Or was the look for reassurance only? She had accepted it in a heartbeat because deep down, she knew Sunny wasn’t the only one missing him.

And now there she was, trying to ignore Sunny as he barked relentlessly at the hoover.

When she reaches the corner of the sofa, Sunny comes closer to her and barks directly at Hetty the Hoover as if he’s trying to set some ground rules.

“Sunny, no!” The hoover is now turned off and she tries moving Sunny away from poor Hetty.

“Leave her alone! Sunny, down. Come ‘ere!”

Sunny does come, and she sits his bum down at her feet and stares at Y/N as if she’s going to reward him for being a menace.

“Why are you such a dickhead, huh,” she gives a pat to his fluffy head. “Do you know who’s coming to see you? Wanna wear your nice collar?”

As the pets continue, she feels a sudden pang of sadness at the memory of seeing Harry for the last time in this flat.

She thought about the look on his face; his beautiful eyes all glassy and lips pouty. Dark circles under his eyes and a large box full of his own share of vinyls to accompany his reluctant posture. How alien and hesitant he had looked in the middle of their, now her, living room.

She tries remembering the last conversation they had, last proper conversation before everything happened but Sunny’s heavy panting interrupts her thoughts and she heaves a sigh.

“Do you...” she extends the word deliberately knowing it will hype him up. “...know who’s comin’ to see your squishy mug today?”

This does nothing to hype him up though. Sunny remains seated at her feet, tongue slightly out as he stares at Y/N’s face as if she’s talking nonsense. “Harry’s coming, Sunny.”

At the mention of Harry’s name, Sunny’s goes crazy. He starts jumping up and down -as much as he can with the limited space between him and the sofa- and his tail keeps wagging in sync with his hoarse barking.

Although she too feels giddy about having Harry in the flat again -though she has to repeat the reason why he’s visiting in the first place every five minutes-, she’s also worried that her next door neighbour Mr. Yoni will knock on her door with puckered lips and slit eyes. As soon as she opens the door, Mr. Yoni will sigh and Y/N will start apologising, trying to bribe him with a cuppa and Tesco’s bourbon biscuits she knows he likes.

As she writes and plays the scenario in her head, she also keeps tidying up the living room, fixing up the pillows, collecting empty mugs and some pens scattered around. When she starts doing the washing up, she hears Sunny chewing the bone Harry’s gotten him and can’t help but roll her eyes at how sentimental she’s being. Exes and a dog.

So what, she thinks, are we going to co parent a bloody dog now? Saying yes to him visiting was a weakness on her part. She knew it was. She’s also not expecting them to get back together just because Harry’s coming to see Sunny. No. She has to get her shit together.

Harry’s charming. Interesting. Lovable and endearing. From the first night she’s laid her eyes on him; in his stupid corduroy trousers and a fuzzy striped cardigan, she knew she couldn’t forget him after that night. She was totally mesmerised by him. By his face. Yes, he was handsome- he is handsome. But he was also beautiful. Pretty. He had soft features, delicate... but there was also a sharpness to him, could cut you with his affection as soon as your eyes met across the room. His love could kill you. He could’ve told you the earth was flat and you would think ‘well, this kid is onto something’. It was his charm and the general aura to him that held you back from questioning him and his actions.

When they first met, he had just gotten out of a relationship. She knew because they ran in the same circles. She knew of him. They’ve been to the same birthday parties and even one or two weddings. Despite that, they had never spoken to each other before that night. So when they shook hands at a close friend’s birthday party that night, his hand still damp from the beer bottle he was holding, she knew she had to get closer to him, she wanted to be the reason behind that dimple appearing and the crinkle by his eyes when he smiled, his two larger front teeth peeking between his parted lips.

Though, much to her dismay, they didn’t hit it off like it happened in the movies. Theirs was a civil introduction. Nice… friendly. She couldn’t say much and the conversation died quickly as he was swept away from her by his friends. She had later learned that he found her annoying at first. In his words, she looked like she was better than anyone in that room. In her defence, it was because she was mesmerised by him and well, she wasn’t exactly the social butterfly Harry seemed to be. They always laughed it off though, with drunken smiles and chuckles between wet, sloppy kisses. It took them six months of friendship until she had enough and asked him out. One day while sipping margaritas in her garden, she had had enough and called him out. ‘Bloody hell you’re stubborn as fuck’ she said, ‘you’ve been looking at my arse all day and I’m pretty sure you’ve been eyeing my lips since like last month. So either come kiss me or just… keep it in your pants’. And then there he was, making a move.

Seven months into their relationship, Sunny became a member of their- well mostly Y/N’s family. They were happy. Sometimes too happy that it kept her up at night, wondering if the universe was plotting something against them soon. Turns out it wasn’t. They were just Harry and Y/N. Too comfortable with each other. Too in love. Too happy. Until the bickering had begun. At first it was mostly because Y/N kept putting his clothes in the wash before they got ‘really dirty’. Or how Harry kept making a mess in the shower, never cleaning up after himself, leaving his hairy razor on the counter. And it didn’t help when he started spending most of his free time in Los Angeles while she worked in London. It wasn’t only his fault. She had also stopped making time for regular phone calls as he kept them no longer than ten minutes and it went from long, meaningful chats to Harry talking more about his friends and their adventures than himself. In return, Y/N more or less, and perhaps without realising, started cutting their conversations short and vague because ‘I think the chicken’s ready, I’ll ring later’ or ‘Sunny’s chewing my shoes again, gotta go’.

When he came back from LA, everything started going downhill as if they weren’t bad enough before. Y/N started feeling uneasy in his presence; feeling self-conscious, mostly when they ate, when he came to have a wee while she showered or when they had sex. It also didn’t help how they always had people around. They didn’t get much free time to themselves. It was always Harry and Y/N… and the others. So it was a gradual thing, the fall of their relationship. And when they officially ended things, he not only left her heart in pieces but also another, much tinier heart was more or less broken. Sunny’s.

She puts those thoughts away and focuses on the washing up in front of her, snorting at how she’s been rinsing the same mug since God knows when despite it looking squeaky clean. Taking off one of the gloves, she touches the screen of his phone and her eyes widen at the time. Harry would be here any minute and she didn’t even have the heart to change into something more comfortable.

She decides on a cup of tea and spots the opened package of cheese twists and perches on the sofa. TV’s on, filling the flat with Alan Carr’s distinct voice as Sunny comes up and places his head on Y/N’s leg, looking as precious as ever.

“God forbid I eat anything by myself. You silly boy,” She breaks one of the cheese sticks in half and throws it next to his paws. “There you go.” As soon as the stick hits the floor, it’s gone in seconds as Sunny tries to lick the remnants of the cheese stick off of his face and the wooden floor.

Two more cheese sticks later, she gets a text from Harry letting her know that he’s here, at the door.

As she makes her way towards the front door, Sunny follows behind. Her heart starts beating faster and she feels her cheeks heat up, having an epiphany that Harry’s here, on the other side of the door. Sunny barks once as her hand reaches the door handle as if he knows who’s here. As soon as the door opens, their eyes meet and it’s like someone’s pouring hot water down her head. Harry opens his mouth but he gets interrupted when Sunny spots him.

Y/N watches as the two go crazy for each other, Sunny jumping up and down, trying to get his paws on every part of Harry’s body as Harry tries crouching down to pet him.

“Dear God you’ve gotten huge! Sunny! Bloody hell- ouch- stop biting m’ankles!”

“Come inside, he’s inviting you in,” she mutters and immediately regrets that stupid remark. As if it’s Harry’s first time meeting Sunny.

He looks up again and gives her a smile. “Are you inviting me in?” He says, tone as playful as ever. He glances down at Sunny again before she catches his eyes.

“Come in before he has a heart attack trying to get all your attention.”

“Always been an attention seeker, am I right Sunny boy?”

After he takes his shoes off, they make their way inside, careful not to trip and fall since Sunny’s still trying to catch Harry by his ankles. She sits on the far end of the sofa as Harry crouches down to give Sunny a proper cuddle.

The dog looks like he’s having the time of his life as Harry scratches his head, massages behind his ears and gives him gentle pats on his furry bum and Y/N tries hard not to cringe at the dog hair swirling in the air. He looks mesmerised by Harry and Y/N can’t blame him. When Sunny sneaks in a couple of licks, they both laugh as Harry wipes the sticky saliva with the arm of his thick jumper.

“Alright, alright, chill.” He gets up despite Sunny’s whines and his attention is now on Y/N.

“Hi,” she can’t help but give him a little wave from the sofa.

“Alright?”

“Mhm. Want a cuppa?”

“Would kill for one actually,” he grins impishly and Y/N’s already on her feet, walking towards the kitchen.

When she glances back, Harry’s following and just like before, Sunny’s following close behind as if he’s being pulled by an invisible string. Clingy dog. She wonders if he’s feeling the things she’s too afraid to feel ever since Harry’s stepped into her flat.

They wait for the kettle in a slightly awkward silence as she takes the time to get used to his presence in her home again. It’s bittersweet, having him in the kitchen. Like when he used to wake up in the mornings and make a mess which he referrer as making breakfast. If it weren’t for the sound the kettle was making, she swears she could still hear the clatter of cutlery and Harry swearing loudly whenever he dropped something on the floor.

“Thanks for, you know, thanks for this.”

“Don’t worry about it, Harry. He’ll probably go ballistic as soon as you leave but I know you were missing him so… yeah.”

He gives her a sad smile and looks down at the dog who’s laying at his feet.

“Does he bark... always? Like, how bad does it get?”

“Well,” she puts the teabags in the mugs. “He sits in front of the door and barks non-stop as soon as I’m home. He usually tires himself out by the time I’m out of the shower but it’s been worse lately.”

As she pours the water, Harry glances at the fridge and a snort leaves her mouth at how reluctant he looks.

“Wha’?”

“I know you wanted to get the milk out. Just- don’t make this awkward. You can open the fridge without my permission.”

He gives her a pout and she has to turn her back to him and fiddle with the spoons for an unnecessary amount of time so that she doesn’t reach out and pinch his lips.

“I didn’t want to act like I own the place,” he mutters, milk in hand and Sunny all perked up at the sound of the fridge.

“Don’t worry about it. Honestly.”

The milk is back in the fridge, teabags stored back in the cupboard, kitchen light is turned off and they find themselves on the opposite sides of the sofa. Y/N sits cross legged on the spacious sofa while Harry’s looking oh so formal, one hand holding his tea and the other scratching Sunny’s fluffy neck who’s still not letting him out of his sight.

“You comfy there?”

Harry looks up, startled, and chuckles. “Erm, yeah. Why?”

“Dunno, you just look like you’re ready to run as soon as your tea’s finished.”

She knows she’s not subtle, judging his every move ever since he laid foot in the house. It’s not like she wants him to feel uncomfortable or guilty. It’s the opposite really; she doesn’t want to see him look so uncomfortable and on edge. It’s selfish really because it’s only been months after their breakup. Of course they both felt uncomfortable and awkward. And when he looks like his one foot is out of the door, Y/N feels horrible. She feels like it’s her own fault that he’s not feeling welcome.

“I just- I don’t know the limits? Like…” he places his tea on a coaster and clears his throat. “Like how comfortable should I get? Or- should we get? Am I allowed to sit all relaxed on the sofa…”

“Look, I get it. I’m sorry. I’m acting like a kid,” she takes a sip from her tea.

“Maybe- maybe I shouldn’t have suggested it this soon?” Harry more or less whispers, as if he’s walking on thin ice and he is. They both know it.

And well. Is he wrong? Were they stupid? Was she stupid, having his ex over for the sake of a bloody dog? Who was she kidding? She selfishly wanted to be in his presence again and she used both Harry and Sunny.

The awkward silence now increases as she tries to find something to say.

She wishes she was Sunny. Not because he’s still at Harry’s feet, head laid upon his socked feet but because he’s probably clueless to what’s been going on.

“Y/N?”

When she looks up, Harry’s still looking at her. His eyes are full of concern and she hates how familiar it looks.

“Yeah?”

“I’m really sorry. I don’t feel unwelcome at all. I know that’s what you’re thinking,” he gives her a tiny smile and her eyes fall to his dimple.

“You’re right though. I think we both acted without thinking. I mean, it’s kind of my fault anyway. Calling you like that-”

“No-”

She shakes her head feverishly. “Yes. Ringing my ex as if Sunny’s a baby and he won’t fall asleep until his daddy wishes him good night.”

It’s dead silent until a snort comes out of Harry’s mouth and Y/N raises her eyebrows.

“Well he kinda is a baby, in’ he?” He reaches and pats Sunny in the head, making him perk up at the attention being given to him again. “And I am the daddy so…”

When he looks up though, Y/N’s watching him with an unimpressed look on her face.

“Too soon?”

“Not surprised at your inability to read the mood. Always cheeky. You done seducing that tea?”

When she stands up, Sunny does too. He knows she’s making her way to the kitchen with her tea in hand so he would normally follow close behind, thinking she’s going to fetch him more snacks.

He laughs at that though. He does because they get each other’s weird sense of humour.

“Nah I’m trying to see if I can finish it.”

“I won’t even take offence at that. I know I make a mean cuppa so, suit yourself.”

She tries passing him but he stops her.

“Come on, please sit down. I won’t get mad if you do the washing up after I leave,” he gives her a smile and surprisingly, it’s enough to make her sit down.

He waits for her to speak but it never comes. They sit in silence while Harry pets Sunny aimlessly.

“Can we- can I continue what I was saying before?”

“What? About you being a daddy?”

He snorts at that, the same hand that was petting Sunny now coming up to his head, fingers running through his hair so effortlessly. She watches as the hairs glide smoothly between his long, ring cladded fingers.

“No,” he rolls his eyes but a there’s a hint of smile there somewhere.

When their eyes meet, she smiles at him, properly smiles at him for the first time that night. When he returns it with his own dimpled smile, she almost forgets. She forgets why he came and for a second, it feels like they’re back in time. Back to when they spent most of their nights in front of the TV. Sunny curled up and snoring by the sofa while Y/N played with Harry’s hair, their legs tangled and his back against her chest. It takes her a minute to understand why Harry looks so confused.

“Sorry, I’m just really tired,” she murmurs.

“’s okay. I’m kinda glad you didn’t hear what I so bravely confessed there,” he chuckles at the ground and the sound makes Sunny lay his head against his legs, asking for more pets.

Despite his vagueness, she smiles at his boyish charm. “What was it?”

“Nah, not tellin’ you now,” he smirks, never once looking up from his petting session with Sunny.

A sigh leaves her mouth and that’s when he looks her way.

Were they flirting? Could exes flirt? Should they flirt?

And wait, did he get a new ring?

“Was it about my poor taste in cushions again?” She smirks, trying to sound as nonchalant as she can.

“Well-”

He tries getting comfortable on the sofa, leaning back and crossing his legs but Sunny starts barking as if to complain about Harry’s divided attention. He reaches down and gives him a pet but never once takes his eyes off of her.

It’s quiet after that. None of them speak. They lose the eye contact as soon as Sunny abruptly gets up from his laying position and walks to his water bowl, both of them watching him leave.

“He’ll bite my ear off as soon as you leave tonight,” Y/N mumbles, trying to pass it off as a joke but Harry doesn’t smile.

Instead, he sighs and scratches his knee. “I actually saw Sunny the week you called me… your brother was walking him near Gemma’s house and- well, yeah.”

At the news, she feels an anger bubble up inside her. Not towards Harry -maybe a little- but towards her brother. Since her brother’s not here, she’s going to take it out on Harry.

“Why didn’t you tell me when I rang? You- I, oh God. I’m such a fucking idiot. You came here out of pity and not because you missed Sunny, right?” She keeps going as if someone’s been timing her. “You probably laughed after right? At how pathetic I was? You should’ve told me!”

“Well, I didn’t! It’s not a big deal-” he tries again but she cuts him off and he’s slightly taken back by her widened eyes.

“Not a big deal? You came here because you pitied me! Well fuck, I know it’s pitiful but you shouldn’t-”

“I wasn’t missing the bloody dog, I only saw him that week! I used him to see you!”

She freezes, trying to process his words but as always, Sunny steals the show.

This time, he’s choking on his water.

⋆                           ⋆                                 ⋆

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[spritewrites]

never fucking change

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy

Characters: Five & Klaus

Word Count: 1976

Divorcing the idea of a 58-year-old apocalypse-surviving time-traveling assassin from his skinny adolescent brother was something that Klaus was finding… tricky. As much as he respected Five and his efforts to save the world (and, more importantly, his family – and, most importantly, him), it was tough not to find him… well, kind of adorable. The sight of his brother sitting at the kitchen table at 8 a.m. in his schoolboy uniform drinking a whiskey on the rocks was pretty disturbing. In almost a funny way.

Klaus could easily flash back to their Academy days, when Five had been somebody he’d looked up to. When you’re a scrawny, hyperactive medium-in-training who’s afraid of ghosts, a brother who’s smarter, more confident, and more powerful than you are seems like a hero. And in some ways, Klaus could still see that know-it-all, snarky teenager when he looked at Five. In more ways than one, he hadn’t really changed much.

“He hasn’t changed at all.”

Klaus spun to see Ben leaning against the kitchen counter, grinning. More than a decade with no one else to talk to, and Klaus wasn’t that surprised that Ben could practically read his mind on his face.

Ben tilted his head toward where Five was stirring his drink. “Same kid who would cheat at sparring when we were little and then make fun of us for losing.”

Klaus choked back a laugh at the memory, causing Five to glance up from his drink.

“Something funny?” Five asked, clearly more out of politeness than curiosity.

Klaus had to bite his lip to fight his smile. God, same bored tone, too. “Nothing, just… remembering.”

Five took another sip. “Remembering? Really? Bad form, Klaus. I expected better of you.”

Klaus rolled his eyes and grabbed a bagel off the counter, twisting it apart like an Oreo. “You sound like dear old Dad.”

Five smirked. He always smirked, never smiled. “Do I? Sorry, must be the old man in me talking.”

Klaus giggled airily. “Remembering’s not so bad. This old house…” He gestured vaguely around the kitchen. “Well, it’s not what it used to be, but we had some okay times in here.”

Five snorted. “Yeah? Were they all after I left?”

“Oh, come on, you wouldn’t have tried so hard to come back if you hadn’t missed us at least a little bit. Can’t be all apocalypse, all the time, can it?”

Five fixed him with a stare. “When you’re living in the apocalypse? Uh, yeah, it can.”

“Okay, okay, fine. But you never missed the times we used to have? Going on missions? Bedtime stories with Mom? Sparring practices?”

Five rolled his eyes. “I missed winning, yes.”

Klaus crossed his arms, holding the bagel in his teeth. “Onfy becauv you sheeded.”

“Excuse me? And are you just going to eat a plain, untoasted bagel for breakfast?”

The bagel was removed. “Only because you cheated, asshole. And yes, I need my carbs.”

“It’s not cheating if I’m stronger than you,” Five grinned, leaning back in his seat. “Powers were totally legal.”

“Yeah, but it’s not fair if my powers don’t exactly help in hand-to-hand combat, Five and Dime,” Klaus pointed out, ripping his bagel into smaller pieces and putting some in his pocket. He winked at Five. “For later.”

Five wrinkled his nose, half at the bagel and half at the stupid nickname. “I could’ve done it without powers too, you know.”

Klaus raised his eyebrows. “Oh really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Prove it. Spar with me.”

“Jesus, Klaus,” Ben sighed, fixing his brother with his patented Ben look of utter annoyance, the one he’d perfected when they were still kids. Klaus ignored him. This was just getting fun.

“Unless you’re scared.”

He was baiting him. Five knew, and Klaus knew that he knew. But Klaus also knew that brotherly competition – especially in the Hargreeves family – always won out over logic.

Five rolled his eyes. “I’m not scared of you. That’s not the issue here.”

‘Just getting fun’ was Klaus for ‘getting out of hand’, but if there was one thing Klaus was good at, it was digging his own grave. He giggled again.

“You think I’m scared of you? You look like a discount Oliver Twist.”

For a moment, Klaus held his brother’s eyes, watching the cogs in Five’s head move in directions that he didn’t totally understand, but he had a bad feeling about. Then, Five downed the rest of his drink in one gulp and slammed the empty glass down on the table, a sadistic smirk on his face. “Fine. You want to spar, kid? Let’s spar.”

Klaus gulped. You know, when the idea crossed his mind, he’d kind of forgotten the whole assassin… thing. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

But before he could backpedal himself out of this one (another Klaus skill), he was on his back on the kitchen floor, fighting for his life – or, more accurately, his limbs. Seventeen years on, Klaus was much bigger than his brother, so it would be difficult for Five to adequately pin him. Difficult, but not impossible.

Five had been rigorously trained by Hargreeves in hand-to-hand combat, because his powers made it easy for him to get up close and personal with criminals. He had skill, technique, and years and years of experience, way more than Klaus had.

But Klaus? Klaus could fight dirty.

Five had both of his knees firmly around Klaus’ thighs and was fighting for his wrists when Klaus leaned in close and licked his ear. The former assassin let out a disgusted noise and recoiled, not much, but it was enough give for Klaus to roll them both to the side and spin so he was on Five’s back, half pinning him to the ground.

Five growled and rolled back over to face Klaus, taking one of his arms and shoving it behind his back, but Klaus simply grinned and planted a kiss on his adorable brother’s nose. Five spluttered, clearly flustered but not willing to give up. He got his knee around Klaus’ waist, then flipped them so that Klaus was being pressed face first into the kitchen floor, one arm still tucked behind his back.

“Give up, Klaus, you know you can’t win!”

Klaus groaned, a huge smile on his face. “Daddy said I can do whatever I set my mind to!”

He wrenched the elbow that was pinned behind his back, but he didn’t move it forward, like Five was expecting. He moved it back even further, just far enough to grab onto Five’s leg just above the knee and give a firm squeeze. Five yelped, jerking back his leg and toppling off of his brother. In an instant, Klaus was on top of him, pinning his arms to his sides. His devious grin would have been deliciously contagious for anyone but Five.

“You know, you didn’t always win at sparring, Saturday Night Five. Sometimes I’d manage to end up on top.”

“You’d cheat, is what you mean,” Five shot back, struggling against Klaus’ weight. Klaus feigned shock.

“Cheating, dear brother? You dare accuse me of cheating? Why, I don’t think it’s cheating to use my opponent’s weaknesses against them!” He orchestrated his point with a deliberate poke to Five’s lowest rib, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from his brother. Klaus’ smile grew, and Five turned bright red.

“Still ticklish, old man?”

“Cheating,” Five choked out, struggling harder. He couldn’t jump if he couldn’t focus, and he couldn’t focus if Klaus was gonna… He didn’t even want to think about what Klaus was gonna.

Klaus tilted his head. “You know, if I recall correctly—”

“Stop recalling,” Five interrupted, but Klaus soldiered on.

“—then I believe that you were weak here…” He traced his fingers over Five’s lowest rib. Five’s jaw snapped shut, and he closed his eyes and breathed hard through his nose with the effort of trying not to laugh.

“K-Klaus…”

“…but not as weak as here…” He skittered his blunt nails under Five’s chin, who scrunched up his shoulders and let out an uncharacteristic whine through clenched teeth.

“Bastard, I swear I’m gonna – NO!”

Klaus let out a delighted giggle. Using his brother’s distraction, he had snuck his other hand to rest threateningly on Five’s kneecap.

“Using my opponent’s weakness against him wins the day again, huh, Five-Alarm Fire?” He drummed his fingers casually on Five’s knee. Five arched his back and cursed quietly through his gritted teeth. Klaus leaned in, lifting his hand from Five’s leg for a moment. “What was that?”

“I said, I’m gonna slit your throat in your sleep, you deranged—”

Klaus never found out what kind of deranged thing he was, because immediately he was scribbling tickling fingers over Five’s kneecap and Five shrieked, dissolving into embarrassing high-pitched giggles.

Klaus hummed happily, frustratingly casual as Five writhed frantically beneath him. “Whoops, I remembered your weakest spot. Guess you’re right, I really should stop remembering.” He grinned down at his brother, who was currently red-in-the-face and cackling. “But you know what I think, Five-nal Destination? I think I’m the best at sparring! What do you say to that, hm?”

Five tried to say something that was probably going to be cutting and snarky, but he choked on his words as Klaus moved to tickle the back of his knee, making him tip his head back and squeal.

“Tell ya what, Five O’clock Shadow, if you say I’m better than you at sparring, I’ll let you go. Capeesh?” (Klaus was delighted to find that when he shut Five up for a minute, he got to use all the funny nicknames he wanted with none of the rude eye-rolling.)

“F-fihihine!” Five spluttered through his hysterical laughter, sounding a delightful mix of furious and desperate.

Klaus generously eased off his brother to let him speak, limiting himself to the occasional knee squeeze as Five fought to catch his breath. There was a murderous gleam in his eye, but his dimpled smile ruined the effect.

“I – AH!” Squeeze. “Y-you’re better! You’re better at – AIE!” Another squeeze. “At sparring! You’re better at sparring! Now let me go, you motherfucker!”

Klaus grinned. “Hey now, Grace is a lovely woman and I respect her boundaries,” he replied, climbing off his brother. For a moment, Five lay back on the kitchen floor, clutching his knees to his chest and catching his breath. He looked so peaceful that, when he spoke, it took a second for Klaus to hear him properly.

“…gonna get you back so goddamn hard,” he threatened, the ghost of a smile still etched on his face. Klaus gave him a gentle shove.

“Oh, come on, admit it, you had fun.”

Five fixed him with an indecipherable look, and for a second Klaus feared for his life. But then the corners of Five’s mouth tugged upward, just enough to show his dimples, and he was gone in a flash of blue light.

“You’re an asshole.”

Klaus spun to see Ben sitting at the kitchen table, a huge smile on his face despite his mean words.

Klaus pointed threateningly at him. “You’re lucky it wasn’t you. You were always even worse than him, and if anyone could stand to have a little fun, it’s you. Once I get strong enough to manifest you, it’s over—”

Ben held up his hands in defense, fighting back laughter. “Okay, okay! No need, I already know that you’re the best at sparring.”

“Damn straight,” Klaus replied, pulling a squished piece of bagel out of his pocket and taking a bite.

With a flash of blue, Five was behind him, digging his thumbs into Klaus’ waist. Klaus yelped, nearly choking on his bagel as he spun around to catch the culprit, but his brother was already gone. From a few floors above, he heard victorious laughter.

Some things never change.

#umbrella academy #tua #tickling #tickle fic #ticklish!five #five hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #my fics

[shanastoryteller]

Would you mind writing more about Achilles? Also, a gods and monsters story about Helen would be interesting to see. :) have a nice day!

It hadn’t been a game.

He is seventeen years old, the strongest soldier inhis father’s army, the fastest runner and most skilled archer, and if he’s notquite the best swordsman on the island, well, give him another couple years. Dionis his brother in arms, his dearest friend, and Patroclus had thought theywould live together and die together on the battlefield. He’d thought Dion wasbeautiful and warm and that his hands were the perfect size for Patroclus’sown, if he could ever must the courage to take them.

He is seventeen years old when he’s proven wrong abouteverything he thought he knew.

It’s the middle of the night and he’s walking homefrom a long day of running drills, and then staying later than everyone else towork on his sword dances again and again until he feared his bones would popout of his arms. He’s almost home when he hears a woman scream, and then he’s pushinghis tired limbs to run before he can think better of it. W.hen he finds a manforcing himself on a crying girl in an alleyway he doesn’t think anything aboutpulling him off of her and punching him in the face.

Then it’s Dion looking up at him with a bloody noseand all the air leaves Patroclus’s lungs.

“What are you doing?” he asks, lips numb. Herecognized vaguely that they’re blocking the exit of the alley, that the girlis pulling her torn dress back up and can’t run until they get out of the way,but he can’t bring himself to move.

“What am I doing?” Dion wipes the blood from his face.“What are you doing? What’s your problem?”

He’s incredulous and pissed off and not evenremorseful, isn’t acting like he did anything wrong, and for a moment Patrocluswonders if it’s just a misunderstanding, if he’d interrupted something heshould have left alone, but he looks back at the girl, who’s their age, who’s huddledback against the alley wall with wide, frightened eyes, and knows that it’snot. “I’m telling my father about this.”

“About what?” Dion presses. “What are you so angryabout? You can have her if you want her so badly.”

Rage floods his body chases away any tirednessremaining in his limbs. “You – how could you act like this? You are in myfather’s army, your actions are his actions, and you attack a citizen, and thenpretend it means nothing? I’m telling my father about this, and when he hearsabout it, he’ll kick you from the army and you’ll return home in disgrace!”

Dion gets closer, scowling, and shoves him in thechest. “Are you out of your mind? My father will disinherit me if I get kickedout, don’t play around with me.”

“No one’s playing,” he says darkly, and shoves himback. “You’re pathetic. You don’t belong in my father’s army. If your fatherdenounces you it’ll be the least of what you deserve.”

“I’m not going to let that happen,” Dion says, and thecoolness of his answer makes Patroclus’s hackles rise, lets him know there’sgoing to be a fight based on his tone alone.

He doesn’t remember who makes the first move after that,but then they’re fighting, properly fighting, not sparring or messing around,and Patroclus is losing. He wouldn’t normally, but he’s been training for hourswhile Dion had left with all the other soldiers, and his friend’s hands arearound his throat and as his vision starts to go dark all he can think is thatperhaps Dion’s hands are not so lovely after all.

Then he can breathe again, and he’s coughing as he rollsover and pushes himself to his knees.

Dion’s blank eyes stare up at him as blood poolsbeneath his head, a bloody rock a few feet away. He looks up a little higher,and the girl is there, shaking with her hands wrapped around herself. “I – I’msorry, he was going to kill you, I didn’t mean – I was just trying to stop him!”

Right. Okay.

“Go,” he says, looking at his dead best friend.

“What?” she repeats, and she holds out her hands likeshe’s going to try and pull him upright, and he flinches. She freezes and deliberatelytakes one step back, away from him.  

“You’ll be killed,” he says, knows vaguely that he shouldprobably be gentler about this but those thoughts seem so far away from himnow. “He’s a general’s son, and they’ll kill you for what you’ve done. They won’tcare what he did to you or me. You have to go.” His father outranks Dion’s, buthe doesn’t think that’ll matter to his either of their fathers.

“I’ll tell the truth, for both of us, okay? Don’tworry about me. Neither of us will be hurt,” she insists.

Her clothes are simple but fine. She might be a lady’sfavorite servant, or maybe even a low ranking noble, but even if she’s someoneimportant enough that she’s right, that still means telling the truth. Thatstill means everyone knowing exactly what Dion had done, and the thought makesacid rise to the back of his throat. “No. I know what he was about to do to you,but no. You already took the man’s life. At least leave him his reputation.”

She swallows, leaning back from him. Before he can tryand apologize, she asks, “But what will you do?”

He’ll take the blame, of course. Otherwise they’ll golooking for Dion’s killer, and they’ll find her. “Go. If you die, then he’sdied for nothing, understand? If you’re both dead, then there was no point toany of this. So you have to live.”

She tries pleading with him, but he doesn’t listen, doesn’tanswer her, and eventually she leaves.

He stays in the street with Dion’s corpse until dawn, untilpeople start to fill the streets. They see him and scream. He’s silent as he’staken in and when he’s questioned he woodenly states that it was because of agame, that it was an accident, because if he says anything else, if they killthat girl for killing Dion, then it was all worthless. And he can’t have that,can’t stand that, even at the cost of his own life, his own reputation, hisfather’s reputation.

His father won’t look at him as he sentences him totwenty years of hard labor. Most people don’t make it past five, but he’s youngand he’s strong, so maybe he has a chance.

Patroclus hopes it kills him long before five years.

But he never makes it there, instead of being cartedoff he’s brought to a palace room in the middle of the night. Inside it is KingPeleus, the ruler of their small land.

“Your majesty,” he says dropping onto his knees andbowing his head. This has even reached his ears? He’ll never be able to bearliving now, with his king thinking he’s a murderer.

“Rise,” his king commands, and he listens, because whatelse can he do.

He notices, standing, just behind him, is the girl.

“This is Princess Polydora,” he says, and Patroclus’seyes widen. He’s heard of his king’s daughter from a different land anddifferent marriage, but he’d never met her, hadn’t known what she looked like. “Shetold me what happened, what you did for her, and what you were willing to sacrificeto protect the memory of your friend.”

“Yes, your majesty,” because he can’t think ofanything else to say.

The king is silent for a long time. “If you’re truly committedto ensuring your friend’s memory remains pure, then I can’t pardon you, and youcan’t show your face here again.”

“I understand,” he says. He doesn’t ask for a pardon.

A smile curls around King Peleus’s lips. “You’re agood man. I have work for you then, if you’ll take it.”

He inclines his head, because of course he will, forthis man who knows the truth and is good enough to offer him a pardon and kindenough not to force him to take it.

“I have a son,” the king announces, and Peleus doesn’thave the energy to be shocked although of course this new is shocking. “He’sunder a dangerous prophecy to befall a terrible fate should he ever become involvedin war, and so when he was born my wife took him and hid him in a far away landso that the Fates could not find him. She hasn’t even told him that he’s aprince. You will go to him, and protect and serve him, for your life is nowhis.”

He’d thought Queen Thetis was dead, but clearly not.

“Yes, your majesty,” he agrees, because going faraway from all of this to serve a prince, dedicating his life to his king’schild, may be the only thing left worth living for.

“Good,” theking says, and leaves without a backwards glance.

Patroclus is left kneeling, confused, and Polydora comesforward and offers him her hand, pulling him to her feet. “My brother’s name isAchilles,” she says, smiling, “and I think you’ll like him.”

gods and monsters series, part xxxii

read more of the gods and monsters series here

#gods and monsters series #greek mythology #patroclus #if you want to know achilles #you got to know his lover #anon #asks

[mistresseast]

can you explain in more detail why you think the PT weren't good friends for akiren? i'm not asking out of hate or to start drama, i just never interpreted things that way and i'm genuinely curious. i don't think them being brainwashed by maruki makes them "bad friends", but i don't know if that's what you meant either. i'd love to read a proper explanation on this that isn't just people arguing in the notes of that post.

Hi! Yeah, I know the ~discourse~ climate is pretty touchy and not a good place to exchange ideas, so I’ll do my best to put my thoughts on this matter into words. 

Settle in, bc this one is long.

I’ll start off by saying I don’t dislike the PT, nor do I think they’re bad people, and honestly I think they love Joker a lot! Ryuji calling Akira after his fake death and talking about how his ideas on what makes a hero have changed because of Akira genuinely makes me emotional, along with dozens of other scenes with the thieves! They’re good kids who could be really good friends to Akira but that’s not what’s shown in the game. I don’t think it’s controversial to say Akira’s relationships with all of his friends are transactional. That’s kind of the point, all of his confidants arise out of deals, give and take, and in the metanarrative of the game, that’s how it works. You as the player help these characters solve their problems, and through ranking their confidants up, you get access to more gameplay perks. So it’s pretty even!! But like,,Akira, the character, isn’t the player. There’s no in-story mechanic by which he can cash in friendship points for being-good-at-killing-things prizes. Yes, he uses those abilities to not die in the metaverse, but there is no literal, in-universe way to explain how hanging out with someone translates to [insert gameplay perk here]. So you have to look at what is physically happening in the story. Akira hangs out with the PT, stands there while they have drama with another irrelevant character, and then one way or another their problems get solved and they swear to be Akira’s blood brother or whatever. Akira is a crutch for these characters, and they say multiple times that they wouldn’t have been able to do what they did without him. So all of their shit gets handled and Akira gets?? Like actually gets?? What? Inquiries about his well-being? Offers to help him? Questions about his life, his interests? No,,,not really,, But he gets access to a super powerful persona!! Yay!!! Bc everyone knows he’s just a little shadow-killing machine, right? And even the relationships he does get something tangible (as in separate from the mechanics of the game) out of, like Kawakami’s, are built on the notion that if Akira stops providing for whatever reason, the relationship will end. So essentially, Akira is under the pressure of filling whatever role his friends need him in for however long at any time, and he’s been led to believe that if he stops or fails, he will stop receiving any reciprocal care and acceptance.

(And I know this is all gameplay stuff, I know it has to be like this to codify the complicated process of human relationships, I know all of that, I’m just trying to find a deeper layer bc that’s what I do.)

This whole thing comes into pretty clear focus for me during the third semester when you visit everyone in the false reality. Everyone is happy to see him, of course, but they’re clearly wrapped up in their own happiness. Which is understandable, again, I’m not saying the PT need to be attached to Akira to be good friends, but it all still feels off to me.

If they know Joker, then they’d know it’s weird that he just shows up and starts asking these pointed questions while they’re in the middle of something. All of their other interactions with him have been led by them. Yeah, Joker approaches them bc the player has decided to hang out with them, but the other character always chooses the activity and leads the discussion. Akira showing up out of nowhere and asking them to “remember” and “move on” and whatnot should be raising some major red flags. And it clearly does, since their memories do start to return, but they’re all too scared of losing their happiness that they nope out of the conversation as soon as possible, without stopping to consider why Joker might be trying to reach out to them like that. They’re his friends; they should know he wouldn’t just be trying to hurt them or make them unhappy. After all, their entire relationship with him up til that point has been exclusively about Joker trying to help them. This doesn’t make the PT bad people, running away is a totally natural reaction in that situation. They’re just kids, and their minds have been manipulated to a point, but it’s not like they don’t remember Joker or the way they’ve grown since meeting him. In fact many of them mention how much they’ve matured recently, but they never actually relate that back to Akira, despite him being the primary driving force behind most of their personal arcs, even though they definitely remember him. Translation vagueness or deliberate nod to the idea that the PT don’t actually credit Akira with all the hard work he did after their initial lip service? Hmmm. Anyway, their failure to recognize that Joker is struggling just demonstrates to me what was set up all throughout their confidant links, that their relationships are transactional and that they don’t necessarily consider Joker and his individual needs outside of what he provides for them. And when they no longer need him bc that hole has been filled, he simply doesn’t occupy the same place of importance in their lives. 

Makoto’s flashback in particular stood out to me, bc it was from a moment where she was specifically talking about feeling like she finally found a place to belong with the Phantom Thieves (and by extension, with Joker), but then she desperately tries to brush it off. Obviously that sense of belonging wasn’t meaningful enough to her for her to want it back. And I’m not blaming her, of course, any teenager would choose to have their father back over being in a vigilante group lmao, I just thought it was telling that the devs decided to show us a scene that was originally meant to be heartwarming as an example of the harsh reality Makoto wants to forget. All of the flashbacks are from defining moments for the thieves, but that one specifically got me like *thinking emoji*

So his friends are hesitant, despite the fact that they must know something is wrong. It’s understandable, they all stand to lose a lot if someone messes with the status quo. I genuinely don’t think I would react any differently. But there is someone who reacts differently and against his own self-interest. It’s Goro, the one who has arguably the most to lose, who doesn’t turn away from Akira. He seeks Akira out and teams up with him to uncover what’s really going on, even though he has every reason to believe that prodding too deep will literally mean the end of his life. He forces Akira and himself to face the truth because he knows anything else would just be an insult to what they’ve suffered so far. He’s the only one who never flinches, and that, more than any of his friends’ come-to-jesusing (which Akira still has to initiate) is what Akira needs in that situation. For the first time (outside of the brief instances in the tutorial levels), we see a situation where Akira is actually the dependent one, the one who needs help, who needs support. And the only one who has ever provided that, unconditionally, without demanding anything in return, is Goro. I could go into how Goro’s confidant blows all of the others out of the water in terms of building both himself AND Akira as characters, but it’s been said already and by smarter people than me. But basically, despite competition being a core theme of their relationship, Goro is the only character who is portrayed as Akira’s equal. Their contests are all in the name of improving not just Goro, but Akira too. Goro is the only character who expresses an interest in Akira’s inner life and development, and as such he knows Akira better than anyone else. So when Maruki tries to trap them all in a gilded birdcage, Goro won’t stand for it and he knows Akira won’t stand for it either. That’s why he’s so betrayed if you choose to accept the dreamworld. You’re negating the basis of your entire relationship with him and going against your own principles. Out of every character in the game, the one who knows Akira best and refuses to abandon him even when that could mean his own death is Goro Akechi.

I want to reiterate: I do not hate or even dislike the PT!! And tbh I don’t really think they “abandoned” Akira. That post, imo, is supposed to be kind of hyperbolic. Unless it’s referring to how many of them literally sprint away when he comes to talk to them lol. I look at it more like a commentary on how thoughtlessly the PT act as soon as their wishes are granted. I know it’s set up linearly for story purposes, but isn’t it kind of sad how no one checks up on Akira in the week he’s going around talking to people? Especially after he’s been acting so comparatively weird? It’s not unusual that they might be caught up in other stuff, but while you’re going around and visiting everyone, you don’t get a single text or call from ANY of the thieves, for a whole week!! Goro even comments on it directly with his pointed little “I’m sure you’re just as close as you were before” comment. God, he’s such a bitch. Ultimately, the PT do get their acts together, and it’s partially out of the realization that Akira is struggling alone against something and needs their help, which I love and appreciate. I think they are good friends who want to support Akira, but they can’t understand him past the role they’ve placed him in, and until they do, they’ll never be able to be what he needs. Akira loves his friends and knows he can rely on them in most ways, but those relationships will always be dogged by the pervasive fear that he must constantly earn the right to have the relationship at all. What he needs MOST is someone he doesn’t have to perform for, and from what we see in the game, none of the thieves fit that bill. Except Goro. 

I know this was long and rambly and probably pretty disjointed but I wanted to be as thorough as possible and all of my thoughts just sort of gushed out. Obviously ymmv about all of this depending on how you interpret the game, but this is what I arrived at thanks to my analysis so this is what I have for you! Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk

#ask tag #anon #this is not an invitation for argument or discourse #i simply wanted to provide my interpretation of things #rude and probing questions will be deleted :)

[farchanter]

Hollow Knight

Bear witness to the last and only civilisation, the eternal Kingdom. Hallownest

The experience of playing through Hollow Knight has taught me that I can't ever review games professionally. Because if I find a game I really enjoy I will spend forever with it, turning over every stone I can possibly find to fully soak in it.

Friends, I love Hollow Knight. That isn't to say it's perfect— and we'll get to that— but let none of my critcisms detract from how great this game is. I played some great games in 2020, but Hollow Knight has been the crown jewel of my quarantine. I cannot wait for its upcoming sequel, Silksong.

You are a wandering swordsman who comes across the rotting ruins of a once-mighty kingdom known as Hallownest. As you explore, you learn about what tragedy befell the kingdom and its inhabitants— and how your own destiny and choices play into its future.

Hollow Knight is a Soulslike Metroidvania, a sentence I didn't really enjoy typing out. You explore a 2D world, navigating the ruins and acquiring new powerups, abilities, and unquantifiable skill which allow you to plumb deeper into Hallownest's depths. It's hard— it's not quite kick-you-in-the-teeth-bury-your-controller-at-a-crossroads hard the same way a Dark Souls would be, but just about every boss fight will kill you several times before you "solve" it. It's a good balance: I've played games like this before that just leave you tired and cranky after finally finishing an encounter, but Hollow Knight hits a great sweet spot where you feel amazing after finally winning a boss battle. This creates an indelible experience— I'm going to remember beating the final boss with sweaty, shaking hands for a long, long time.

As an exploration game, or as a combat game, Hollow Knight feels really good. Movement is fluid, and fighting has the elusive "grimace when you're hit" quality that makes for a satisfying experience. There's enough depth to the system that you can really grow into it, and I found my growth from flailing around Dirtmouth to dancing through the Queen's Gardens to be a joy.

I also want to take a moment to specifically call out the soundtrack. Christopher Larkin does an amazing job creating pieces which are both atmospheric and intense. I bought the soundtrack, and I'm listening to it now as I write this.

Part of what makes Hollow Knight so enjoyable is that, despite its Metroidvania perspective, it is focused first-and-foremost on being an RPG rather than a platformer. I really disdain platformers, particularly the ultrahard ones that permeate the pantheon of indie darlings, so I would be remiss to not mention that there are some sections which are really annoying platforming parts. If you don't mind the spoilers in this video, the White Palace is by far the most egregious— and it was a mandatory section for the ending I wanted. In just about any other game, I would have rather quit. I'd much rather die 20 times in the same boss fight than die 20 times falling into the same spike pit. But, that's just my personal preference— and, like I said, people seem to really like games like this.

We live in a golden age of great environmental storytelling— the idea that you can find the story and deduce it for yourself rather than be explicitly told it. When done well, it's a really effective means of conveying a narrative which is both immersive and makes you feel clever. However, I do think that Hollow Knight swings its pendulum a little bit too far in that direction— there's a great story here, but the characters who do tell it speak in deliberately vague dialogue and the clues you find while exploring aren't adequate on their own to tell you the whole story. I don't know that it's possible to fully understand the plot of Hollow Knight without the Hollow Knight Fandom wiki as a constant companion while playing, and that's honestly kind of a bummer. I like the community, and the way that community has filled in the gaps the game won't, but I do feel like a game should be able to have its story stand on its own. Without this supplemental material, I fear that the game is so cryptic— and there's so much that's so easy to miss while trying to not be exploded by a jellyfish again god damn it— that a player without it would just wind up with a good action game devoid of plot. This is another one of those things that other people seem to enjoy, so your mileage here may again vary.

Despite their mysterious dialogue, I did really love these characters: they're the biggest reason I took such a leisurely pace to finish the game. I wanted to rescue Bretta, I wanted to restore the memory of the Last Stag, I wanted to find all of the missing children, I wanted to save Zote, and for the Hollow Knight...

One of my favorite parts of the narrative of this game is that you are asked to make a really powerful decision about who your character is, and what they want. I can't really explain that choice without spoiling essentially the entire game, so I'm putting it after the break here.

In short, the people of Hallownest came under psychic attack by a supernatural entity known as The Radiance. The Radiance haunted their dreams, and ultimately broke them to her will and turned them into— essentially— zombies. Faced with utter collapse of civilization, the King and his advisors devised a desperate plan: The Radiance's entire essence could be imprisoned within a single mind. However, that being would need to be both magically and physically imprisoned for all eternity for the sake of Hallownest. They would be under constant mental attack by a Radiance trying to break loose.

They realize that their chosen vessel would need to lack a mind of its own— in addition to the cruelty of that fate for a sentient being, if The Radiance were to break the will of the prisoner, then it could begin its mental attacks all over again from within the body of the vessel. They developed a plan to breed a child who they thought would be devoid of mind and will— and after hundreds of attempts, they produced a child who met their criteria. They dubbed them the Hollow Knight, sealed The Radiance inside their mind, and entombed them for all time.

However, the Hollow Knight did have an independent will— and, after a long time, The Radiance broke it. From within the sealed crypt, it began to attack the people of Hallownest again— and this time succeeded in destroying the kingdom. At the time the game begins, with its enemies defeated, The Radiance is still attempting to break the physical restraints keeping the Hollow Knight in place and venture out into the world to rain destruction on the remaining survivors of Hallownest.

Your character is also a product of that program to produce a soulless vessel, and you have been supernaturally called back to Hallownest to usurp your sibling and take The Radiance into yourself instead. You, not they, will be sealed away for all time to allow the broken pieces of the kingdom to go on.

This is where the choice comes in. Over the course of the game, you discover that there may be another way: you can enter the Hollow Knight's mind yourself and destroy The Radiance. But this path is much more difficult.

What makes it such an interesting choice, to me, is that it asks you what you believe about your character. The game, true to fashion, never specifically says "hey, your character also has a will of their own!" (in fact, at least one character specifically says you don't— or, importantly, that your mind might be beyond her considerable power to understand. This might be kind of a satirical intepretation of the "silent protagonist player proxy" trope.) If you believe that your character is soulless, then the idea of taking the easy way and sealing yourself makes logical sense. No harm would be done, in that case.

But I could not stand that idea. A soulless being would not have saved the missing children, Bretta, Zote, the Last Stag— I did not want that for my character. And, so, since this is I am the one playing the role in this roleplaying game, I decided it wasn't so. I took the extra challenges, I took the harder route— and I defeated The Radiance.

For me, then, it wasn't just about beating a hard boss capping off 40+ hours of gameplay. It was about a personal vindication for my understanding of my character. That was a pretty powerful feeling.

#completion list #games #completed #todo #review #metroidvania #soulslike #hollow knight #team cherry #knight #the quarantine list

[princeofgod-2021]

LIGHT OF LIFE 241

John 1:4

SATAN’S STRUCTURE 48: CULTURE & TRADITION 7

1Pe 1:18 Forasmuch as ye know that YE WERE NOT REDEEMED WITH CORRUPTIBLE THINGS, as silver and gold, FROM YOUR VAIN CONVERSATION RECEIVED BY TRADITION FROM YOUR FATHERS; KJV

We are still on the 3rd type of Tradition here but I need to digress for a bit. Bear with me.

Practical Traditions are not always directly “imposed” by guided instructions, as they can also be “inspired” through belief in certain guiding rules or doctrines, either true or false, valuable or vague.

For example, check this:

2Pe 3:10-11 But the day of the Lord will come like a thief; and in that day the heavens will be rolled up with a great noise, and the substance of the earth will be changed by violent heat, and THE WORLD AND EVERYTHING IN IT WILL BE BURNED UP. SEEING THEN THAT ALL THESE THINGS ARE COMING TO SUCH AN END, WHAT SORT OF PERSONS IS IT RIGHT FOR YOU TO BE, IN ALL HOLY BEHAVIOUR AND RIGHTEOUSNESS, BBE

That scripture is saying that if you have “SEEN” that everything in this life will fade away, it should automatically compel you to review your pattern of behaviour and develop Righteous Traditions.

It help us to see how some Divine patterns of tradition are derived: they are mostly our emotional, rational and “natural” responses or reactions to the Elements of our basic beliefs in the Faith.

Job 28:28 And he said to MANKIND, ‘The fear of the LORD – THAT IS WISDOM, and to turn away from evil is UNDERSTANDING.’” NET

So you see, the fear of God makes you watch out for anything evil and avoid it like plagues.

Joseph didn’t need to learn the Traditions of Righteousness from his father; he feared God and that’s okay!

Gen 39:9 No one in my master's house is more important than I am. The only thing he hasn't given me is you, and that's because you are his wife. I WON'T SIN AGAINST GOD BY DOING SUCH A TERRIBLE THING AS THIS." CEV

If you have seen that sinning against God is “a terrible thing”, you will develop patterns of behaviour that ensure such never happens.

Also, we work hard to correct impressions made about Christianity.

Tit 1:12-13 A certain one of them, one of their own prophets, said, “THOSE CRETANS ARE NOTHING BUT LIARS, WORTHLESS BEASTS, AND LAZY GLUTTONS.” HE CERTAINLY KNEW WHAT HE WAS TALKING ABOUT! FOR THIS REASON, CORRECT THEM THOROUGHLY so that their lives will line up with the truths of our faith. TPT

If “demeaning” things are being said about the Christian Faith, did you know we have a responsibility to prove them wrong or correct our wrongs by deliberately setting out with good behaviours?

Also, beloved, our divine goals and pursuits could make us develop worthy and sound practices.

Mat 26:41 STAY ALERT; BE IN PRAYER SO YOU DON’T WANDER INTO TEMPTATION WITHOUT EVEN KNOWING THAT YOU’RE IN DANGER. There is a part of you that is eager, ready for anything in God. But there is another part that is as lazy as a dog sleeping by the fire. MSG

So, if you want to stay above temptation and sinful living, you simply develop a pattern of regular Prayers.

The same goes if you have a divinely tenable desire from God, which requires petitions.

Php 4:6-7 DON'T WORRY ABOUT ANYTHING, BUT PRAY AND ASK GOD FOR EVERYTHING YOU NEED, always giving thanks for what you have. And because you belong to Christ Jesus, God's peace will stand guard over all your thoughts and feelings. HIS PEACE CAN DO THIS FAR BETTER THAN OUR HUMAN MINDS. ERV

The Exercise of Prayers is such a beautifully rewarding Tradition that saves you the stress of compromising practices that plague humanity, apart from the peace of knowing that God will do it.

This is what Jesus was telling the Apostles: “choose the simpler exercise of prayers than the strenuous and implicating act of carrying swords and shedding blood, just to solve simple problems”.

Mat 26:51-52 ONE OF JESUS' FOLLOWERS PULLED OUT A SWORD. HE STRUCK the servant of the high priest and cut off his ear. But Jesus told him, "Put your sword away. ANYONE WHO LIVES BY FIGHTING WILL DIE BY FIGHTING. CEV

That is how many Christians have adopted practices of senseless “wars” over their pride and issues that could easily have been addressed by simple prayers and the ultimate trust in the faithful God.

Jas 4:1-2 WHAT CAUSES FIGHTS AND QUARRELS AMONG YOU? AREN'T THEY CAUSED BY THE SELFISH DESIRES THAT FIGHT TO CONTROL YOU? You want what you don't have, so you commit murder. You're determined to have things, but you can't get what you want. You quarrel and fight. You don't have the things you want, BECAUSE YOU DON'T PRAY FOR THEM. GW

Neither Patterns of Good Behaviour nor Prayers are easy Practices to adopt because Satan and Mr. Flesh will seriously war against you.

It is always easier to do wrong than good, so be prepared!

Gal 5:17 FOR WHAT OUR HUMAN NATURE WANTS IS OPPOSED TO WHAT THE SPIRIT WANTS, and what the Spirit wants is opposed to what our human nature wants. THESE TWO ARE ENEMIES, AND THIS MEANS THAT YOU CANNOT DO WHAT YOU WANT TO DO. GNB

God will make a way for us all though, because we are His Children.

A behavioral Pattern of Prayer begins with a simple prayer of help. Call on Him and he will help you, in Jesus name, Amen.

Next, we talk about the negative side of this mode of developing Patterns of Behaviour through inspiration from scriptures, as we conclude on the 3rd type of Tradition.

Come back on Monday for more digging into this intriguing subtopic.

Keep Shinning!

Brother Prince

Friday, August 26, 2022

08055125517; 08023904307

[let-the-dream-begin]

A Place to Belong Chapter 35: Le Protecteur

Chapter 34

Read on AO3

November 15, 1752

Another shriek from Jenny pierced the air, and she bore down fiercely on Claire’s hand.

“There you go,” Claire soothed. “Good, good.”

“Ye’re almost there, Mistress,” the midwife assured. “Few more pushes should do it.”

“Christ…” Jenny groaned in pained exhaustion, throwing her head back. “He’ll...he’ll be alright, won’t he…?”

“Of course he will,” Claire assured her, though her heart clenched even as she did. “You’re fit as a fiddle this time around, and it’s been a quick delivery. Everything will be fine.”

Before Jenny could answer, she was seized by another contraction. Claire was not lying; the odds were certainly more in their favor for this pregnancy. But the terror of burying another child was at the forefront of everyone’s minds, no matter how different the circumstances were.

When Jenny collapsed onto Claire again, a loud bang abruptly sounded, causing Claire to jump violently.

“What the bloody hell was that?”

Before Claire could get up and run to the window, Jenny screamed again, squeezing the life out of Claire’s hand.

“Here he comes, Mistress!”

With a final shrieking howl, the midwife was catching a baby, who immediately started wailing.

Thank the Lord.

“What a braw wee laddie!” the midwife exclaimed.

“He’s alright, Jenny…” Claire breathed, tears gathering in her eyes. 

The midwife brought him before them, squalling and squirming, and Jenny chuckled breathily.

“He’s alright,” she confirmed, taking him in her arms with a heavenly sigh and pressing him into her breast. “And he’s feeding.”

Claire laughed out loud, wrapping her arms around Jenny’s shoulders and leaning her cheek into her head.

“Time we named one after the one that sired them, eh?” Jenny said, stroking his tiny cheek with her finger.

“Wee Ian,” Claire said, trying it out.

“Aye. My sweet wee lad.” She fervently kissed the crown of his head, and Claire kissed Jenny’s head as well.

Thank you God.

Jenny was moved into the bed, and wee Ian was properly cleaned and thoroughly inspected.

“He’s perfect, Jenny. He really is.” Claire was pacing the Laird’s room with him, drugged with sleep after his feeding, beaming down at him. “Perfectly healthy, and perfectly sweet.”

“Maggie’ll be over the moon,” Jenny said, leaning heavily into the pillows. “She’s been dying to hold a wee bairn again.”

“Little Jamie will be very happy, too,” Claire said softly, brushing at the little button nose on the baby. After the heartache the boy felt after losing his baby sister, the sight of a healthy wee brother would surely bring him joy.

“Shall I go fetch the children? I think the girls are just up in the nursery.”

Claire meandered into the hall, bouncing the little bundle and cooing at him. Suddenly there was another loud bang, a different sound than the last. It was the front door, followed by the clomping of several boots. Claire was reminded of the sound she’d heard just before Ian’s arrival: a sound that was most definitely a gunshot.

“Find the weapon!”

Why on Earth had someone been firing a weapon in the first place?

“Where is your mistress?” one of the soldiers demanded, and Claire saw that young Jamie, Fergus, and Rabbie were all struck dumb in the parlor below. Claire swallowed and hurried back into the Laird’s room as a small hoard of footsteps clambered up the stairs.

“You three search the rooms downstairs. MacGregor, come with me.”

Claire’s insides burned with hatred at the sound of the name, a Scottish Redcoat that had graced them with his presence a few times already. He was a thoroughly disgusting human being, with no respect for anyone, including himself if he could stoop so low as to betray his own people.

Captain Lewis strode in, followed by the traitor in question. Claire took several quick steps backward, flattening herself into the wall between the windows and pressing Ian’s face into her breast.

“Where’s the weapon?” Captain Lewis demanded

“Weapon? We have no weapons here, Captain,” Jenny said, clutching the blankets to her.

“My scouts heard a shot from the vicinity of this estate,” Captain Lewis went on as Corporal MacGregor emptied the wardrobe of linens and clothing. “So I ask again. Where are you hiding the weapon?”

“I canna answer fer what yer scouts heard, but I’ll tell ye again, I dinna know of any weapons here,” Jenny said, her voice calm and even. “We’d never risk such a thing.”

“I remind you, Madam, that as an officer of his Majesty’s Army, I am obliged to search this house should I have the slightest suspicion that the act of proscription has been breached.” MacGregor continued to clatter about, emptying the trunk at the foot of the bed and throwing its contents about the room. “And we will continue to do so until you comply with my request.”

Jenny’s eyes were wide with fear, but she steeled herself to continue. Corporal MacGregor tossed aside Jenny’s bed covers without a thought, exposing her wearing only a shift after having just given birth. “Captain,” she stammered, scrambling to cover herself up. “I have cooperated with every request made by His Majesty’s soldiers.”

Captain Lewis turned slowly to face Claire, who, upon instinct, pressed the baby further into her chest. His eyes swept the room, taking in the bloody rags and the hay in front of the fireplace.

“Have you just delivered this child, Madame?” he said over his shoulder to Jenny, keeping his eyes boring into Claire.

“Aye.”

“Is this the midwife, then?” the Captain sneered.

“No, sir. That is my cousin. Elizabeth Fraser,” Jenny said. “She always comes by to help wi’ a birth. She’s a healer, ye see.”

Captain Lewis was newly promoted. This was his first time paying a visit to Lallybroch, but of course he’d been told the suspicions of the two captains that came before him. The Fraser cousin and the red-haired child were certainly no secret, suspicious though they were.

Corporal MacGregor was suddenly tugging on Ian’s swaddle, and Claire fiercely tightened her grip on the child, shooting daggers at the Corporal.

“Hiding the pistol in there, are ye?” the man spat.

“It’s my child, Captain!” Jenny cried. “Please, dinna hurt him!”

MacGregor dug both hands around the little bundle, and Claire went blind with rage and fear.

“Corporal — ” Captain Lewis warned, but it was too late. Claire growled and yanked back on Ian, and then fiercely spit right into the Corporal’s face.

You’ll not harm another child I love as long as I live.

Claire panted heavily, like a fierce animal ready to kill for its young. MacGregor’s face was red with anger as he slowly and deliberately wiped Claire’s spit from between his eyes. Before another thought crossed Claire’s mind, he wound up his hand and brought it hard across her cheek with a loud slap, sending her tumbling to the floor.

Claire’s vision was blurry and her ears were ringing. She only vaguely registered Jenny’s cry of fear and Ian’s wailing; it all sounded like it was underwater. She blinked dumbly and curled herself around the baby as MacGregor wound his foot back to deliver a blow.

“Corporal!” Captain Lewis barked. “That’s enough.”

Claire was trembling, unable, in her dazed state, to stop frightened tears from spilling out of her.

“Here’s the pistol, Captain,” Mary MacNab’s voice floated into Claire’s hazy subconscious, and she picked her trembling head up to see that Mary had entered the room.

Corporal MacGregor marched over to her and seized a pistol from her hands. “ ’Tis mine.”

“Yours?” Captain Lewis said, skeptical.

“It belonged to my late husband, Ronald. It was the only thing I had left of him, so I kept it. It gave me comfort. Mistress Murray knew nothing of it.”

Claire finally gained enough of her senses to sit up and began hearing more clearly again. She bounced the screaming child in her arms, rubbing his back soothingly.

“And what occasion did you have to fire it?”

“I saw a raven land near the house while Milady was delivering her child. So I shot it dead.”

Claire felt liquid trickling above her lip, and upon touching under her nose, discovered that the blow the Corporal delivered had given her a bloody nose.

“Just one of their foolish Highland superstitions, Sir. Believing a common bird can bring ill luck,” MacGregor said, his voice thick with disgust. “Shall I take her into custody, Captain?” He roughly seized Mary by the arm, and she gasped, breathing raggedly.

Captain Lewis narrowed his eyes at her for several lingering seconds before answering. “We have the weapon. She’s no threat.”

Mary sighed with relief.

“But I warn you once more, Madam,” the Captain said, walking right up to Jenny’s bedside. “If another violation occurs, there will be no mercy.”

The Captain stormed out of the room, and MacGregor roughly threw Mary onto the bed. MacGregor made to leave the room, but he stopped, turning around to lay his beady eyes upon Claire, still curled into herself on the floor. He took menacing steps toward her and bent from the waist until she could smell his vulgar breath.

“I know ye’re a Jacobite hoor,” he hissed. “Ye may have everyone else fooled, but no’ me.” Claire’s chest heaved as she stared him down, blood from her nose running over her tight lips.

“Corporal! If you please!”

He straightened out at the sound of his Captain’s voice, but before he turned to leave, he delivered a final blow to Claire, stomping mercilessly onto her stomach.

Claire doubled over again, crumbling into the floor as she began sputtering with wheezing coughs, and yet never losing her grip on the baby. Mary scrambled across the room as MacGregor left, hastily taking the baby in her arms and delivering him to Jenny before dropping to the floor beside Claire.

“Mistress? Are ye alright?”

Ian quieted as Jenny brought him to her breast. “Sister? Can ye speak?” Her voice was pitched high with fear.

Claire continued coughing until her face was burning, and then she took a heaving breath that rattled her entire body.

“That’s it, Mistress. Breathe…” Mary soothed, dabbing at the blood on her face and smoothing some frazzled curls away from her face. “She’s just had the wind knocked out of her,” Mary said to Jenny. “She needs to breathe a moment, is all.”

Breathe she did, heaving and wheezing on the floor until she stopped seeing stars. When she finally felt air filling her lungs again, she reached her trembling hands toward Mary, and she helped her into a sitting position, leaning her against the wall again.

“Shall I fetch ye some water, Mistress?” Mary asked, and Claire nodded.

“Cold…rag...” she stammered. She gestured to her face, where already an angry bruise was blossoming.

“Aye, Mistress.” Mary scuttled off.

Claire looked up at Jenny from her position on the floor, new tears forming in her eyes.

“He’s alright, sister,” Jenny said. “Just a bit shaken up. Ye protected him jest fine.”

Claire sighed with relief, resting her head on the wall behind her and forcing herself to breathe deeply. 

“Maman!”

Claire picked her head up and focused her bleary vision on a brown curly mop as it rushed toward her.

“I have brought you water. Mary MacNab is fetching the cold compress,” Fergus said handing her a glass. “Are you alright?”

In the corner of her eye, Claire could see wee Jamie had followed closely behind his cousin, and he was now sitting on the bed beside his mother, holding his new brother.

“I’m...I’m fine…” Claire said breathily, taking a grateful sip of the water.

“They beat you!” Fergus said, his face scrunching up with rage. “I will kill them!”

“You’ll do no such thing,” Claire said firmly, putting a hand on his knee.

“They are cowards! To beat a woman bloody! I will kill them!”

“Stop it,” Claire said, her breath returning to her enough to raise her voice. “That’s enough.”

“You are my mother and I must defend your honor,” Fergus spat, and Claire almost jumped. She’d never heard him raise his voice in this manner, never seen him so red in the face. “If they ever touch you again…”

He began slewing through all sorts of French profanities, some of which Claire could not even understand.

“Fergus!” Claire interrupted. “That’s enough. There’s a newborn in the room. Either calm yourself down right now or blow off some steam outside.”

Still red in the face, Fergus huffed impatiently and stood up, nearly bumping into Mary MacNab and her bucket of water on his way out of the room.

Claire sighed, exhausted, as Mary settled herself beside her. “D’ye think ye can get up, Mistress? To somewhere more comfortable?”

“I’m fine here…” Claire held the cold rag to her stinging, throbbing cheek. “That was very brave, what you did.”

“Aye, Mary. Ye did well. I thank ye,” Jenny added.

“It was the only thing I could do,” Mary said softly, dabbing gently at the dried blood on Claire’s face.

“You didn’t fire it, did you?” Claire asked. “I know it’s not really yours.”

“No, I didna.” Mary looked up at young Jamie, who was suddenly looking very bashful. “It was yer lad.”

“Fergus?” Claire said. “What on Earth was he thinking?” “It was as I said, he saw a raven and thought to protect the bairn,” Mary explained. “Foolish as it may have been, it was well intended.”

“Did ye know about this, Jamie?” Jenny said, looking down at her son. “Answer me.”

“Aye, Mam.”

“D’ye ken it’s punishable to fire a weapon?”

“Aye, Mam.”

“And yet ye still made yerself part of something so damnably foolish?”

He hung his head. “Aye, Mam.”

Jenny exhaled through her nose, lips pursed tightly at her son. “I’ll be seeing to it that yer father gives ye a thrashing. D’ye see the beating yer Auntie took because of yer foolishness? D’ye ken that Mary MacNab could hae been dragged away, never to be seen again?”

Jamie was weeping now; sad, broken little sounds.

“I just…” He sniffled, his voice stuttering. “I wanted to protect the bairn, Mam...I didna want to hurt another bairn…”

Silent tears leaked onto Claire’s cheeks, and Mary hesitated in her ministrations. Even Jenny took pause, her entire resolve shattering for only a moment as she took in his words.

“Aye. I ken.” Claire could tell she was fighting to keep her voice stern. “Yer love fer yer brother is admirable at that. God love ye fer it.” She fervently kissed the top of his head. “But ye must answer fer the danger ye’ve put us in. I’m sorry. Off ye get, fetch yer Da to me.”

Head hanging, Jamie slid off the bed and dragged his feet out into the hall, shutting the door behind him. Jenny exhaled shakily and quickly reached up to brush tears off her cheeks. Mary MacNab left Claire on the floor to retrieve the sleeping baby and place him in his cot.

“Ye’ll no’ be too hard on him, aye?” Mary said softly. “His heart was in the right place, ye ken.”

“Aye, I ken it was.” Jenny sniffled.

“He isna so old as the others. My Rabbie should hae known better. But yer Jamie is still wee.”

“No’ so wee...but aye. I see yer meaning.”

“Rabbie will be dealt a thrashing, surely,” Mary said resolutely. “Damnable fool.”

“How about Fergus?” Jenny said, pulling Claire’s attention from the spot in the floor she’d been staring at. “He’s no’ too old fer a thrashing. I can ask Ian tae do it along wi’ Jamie and Rabbie.”

“No,” Claire said quickly. “I...I want to talk to him.”

“Are ye sure?”

“Yes.” Claire sat up a little straighter and wet her rag again to make it cold again against her hot cheek. “He hasn’t been himself lately, and this was straw that broke the camel’s back.” Jenny and Mary looked bewildered at her choice of expression, and she sighed exasperatedly. “He just needs to be spoken to candidly. I can handle it.”

“Alright. I trust ye. He’s yer son.” Jenny adjusted herself so that she was lying down. “After I’m finished wi’ Ian, I’m going to faint dead away.”

“You need your rest.” Claire made to stand up, and Mary rushed to her side to help her up. Despite Claire’s usual loathing of depending on someone as such, she was quite grateful for the aid, as she was certain she’d have toppled over without it.

“And what about you, Mistress? D’ye think ye should rest before talking to the lad?” Mary inquired.

“No...I just need to get my bearings. I’m fine.” Claire took a grounding breath before releasing her vice like grip on Mary’s forearms. “I’ve been dealt worse.”

[royalnugget42]

SPN is ending

And here’s my take on how it will go down, based on the limited knowledge we have. Please be aware that these are not foolproof predictions. Title analysis can only get you so far, and some of the titles are vague enough that they could mean just about anything. Still I’d like to try my best to predict the narrative based on how I would go about it and based on the vague references.

I’ll go episode by episode, include as many details as I can reasonably add, and try to keep my Destiel shipping goggles off as much as possible. Buckle up.

14

First one is pretty easy. Episode 14, “Last Holiday” promises to be kind of literal, with a mysterious figure appearing and giving Jack, Sam, and Dean the holidays they missed out on. However, I was curious, since Supernatural has a habit of including obscure or not so obscure references in their titles, if there was any other thing we could correlate this to.

There is actually a movie called “Last Holiday” starting Queen Latifah, whose character is diagnosed with a terminal illness, which results in her making the decision to abandon her boring life and live like a millionaire in Europe.

The idea of the fight with Chuck being a “terminal illness” on the horizon could be why now is the best time for these guys to live it up.

This possible reference coupled with the ‘last’ seems to say that this episode will be a sort of final moment of levity before the endgame. Past this episode there be monsters, lads. I’d also like to point out that since it will be just Jack and the brothers if the promo photos are anything to go by, this will be a good time to get in some forgiveness and family bonding for our characters before things go downhill again.

Looking at promo photos for this episode again, I’m not sure where, but the episode may also carry some development for the plot. I’m not sure whether the photos of Cas, Amara, and Charlie were for this episode or another one (since they are not listed as cast members for the episode on IMDb), but we’ll be seeing all of them again soon it looks like, and I can’t wait for Cas and Jack to go on a hunt together again.

15

This episode will be the beginning of the descent. We’re standing on the edge and staring into the void, and we’re about to take the plunge. How do I know this?

“Gimme Shelter”, the title for this new episode, seems to have a literal meaning of the characters continuing to try to hide from God. However, as usual, the title is also a reference, this time to a song by The Rolling Stones. The lyrics to said song are nice and foreboding.

Oh, a storm is threat'ning

My very life today

If I don't get some shelter

Oh yeah, I'm gonna fade away

War, children, it's just a shot away

It's just a shot away

War, children, it's just a shot away

It's just a shot away

Ooh, see the fire is sweepin'

Our very street today

Burns like a red coal carpet

Mad bull lost its way

War, children, it's just a shot away

It's just a shot away

War, children, it's just a shot away

It's just a shot away

Rape, murder!

It's just a shot away

It's just a shot away (3X)

The floods is threat'ning

My very life today

Gimme, gimme shelter

Or I'm gonna fade away

War, children, it's just a shot away

It's just a shot away (4X)

I tell you love, sister, it's just a kiss away

It's just a kiss away (5X)

Kiss away, kiss away

Cue nervous anticipation

This is definitely where things are going to really pick up plot wise. Most likely, more will be revealed about Billie’s Plan to Kill God TM. Although, the idea of Death herself leading the Winchesters to victory feels sketchy to me still. She is deliberately withholding all the details, and she’s doing it for a reason.

Something down the line is going to make the Winchesters angry with her, and she’s not going to tell them about it unless it’s absolutely necessary. I have a feeling what it is will get revealed in the next episode.

16

“Drag Me Away (From You)” has some very clear negative connotations, and on top of everything has a weird format. It could be based on the lyric from Africa by Toto, ‘it’s gonna take a lot to drag me away from you’, or a reference to the song “Drag Me Away” by Melissa Etheridge, whose lyrics mention angels, and are about resistance and perseverance, two defining characteristics of the Winchesters. However, I’d like to point out another correlation.

Like I said before, the title has a weird format. The only other episode of Supernatural with a similar title to this one is season 12 episode 12 “Stuck in the Middle (With You)”. That episode was about what seemed like a normal hunt, but was actually a mission for Mary by the British Men of Letters to get the Colt. In that episode, Cas came ridiculously close to dying a painful and slow death, which does not bode well for this episode if it’s correlated in any way.

If what I’m predicting for Billie’s plan is true, this episode will be where the viewers are clued in on the thing she won’t tell the Winchesters about. The brothers might not necessarily get clued in (like how they still hadn’t realized Mary’s involvement with the BMOL at the end of 12x12), but whatever Billie is withholding will have serious consequences.

For this episode, I predict that Cas will come absurdly close to death again, because I believe Billie’s plan involves him dying. Billie doesn’t consider Cas a member of TFW. Multiple times in the most recent episodes, she talks about how important Jack is, how important the Winchesters are, but never Cas, and it feels like a weird oversight.

“Ever since I got this new job, I stand witness to a much larger picture. You know what I see? You. And your brother. You’re important.” 13x05 “Advanced Thanatology”

“I told you Dean, you and your brother have work to do.” 15x12 “Galaxy Brain”

Surely Cas has a part to play, since he’s one of the main characters right? But Billie doesn’t trust Cas, as well she shouldn’t. Cas is a wildcard, an angel who doesn’t do as he’s told. He straight up stabbed her in the back, something that she was completely caught off guard by.

I could make an entire post about how Cas hasn’t played by the rules of the universe since season 4 episode 18 “The Monster at the End of This Book”, but I digress. The point is that this episode is probably going to shed some light on the true threat the team is facing. Which leads us into...

17-18

Here’s where things start to get muddy. The titles from this point on get vague, and without any solid information about the previous episodes, these could be headed anywhere.

“Unity” is the next episode, number 17, and that could mean a lot of things. In my proposed timeline it is after a supposed revelation about Billie’s plan, so maybe they feel more unified after learning it.

In Supernatural‘s usual story structure, though, it feels like this episode will probably be the buildup to what seems like the end of the villain, but will actually be the darkest hour.

The episode following right after this is titled “Despair” and I think that’s telling. Supernatural writers do this often, where the boys make a plan, and inevitably when they follow it something goes wrong. “Unity” is the plan being made and carried out, and “Despair” is either the episode where everything goes wrong, or the aftermath.

[EDIT: The title of episode 18 is actually “The Truth”, which I believe may still narratively serve the same purpose, but now I’m more convinced that this is where the Winchesters learn about Castiel’s deal and/or something that Billie has been keeping from them about the plan to kill God. Thank you to @kingofthecrossroads for the updated information.]

Before I go into detail about this two-episode arc, an obligatory

Warning: Shipping Ahead

To my eyes, “Unity” seems like the perfect place for Castiel’s arc to reach a breaking point. If I’m right, and this is the episode where everything seems to succeed, then what better time for The Empty to snatch Cas away from his happiness.

If I was a writer, and I was in fact planning on making Destiel canon, this is where I’d do it. It makes the most sense to have Dean and Cas finally realizing their love for each other be the catalyst for Cas “finally giving himself permission to be happy” especially if this episode also contains a false climax regarding the Chuck storyline. Cas has said multiple times that he’s “far from happy”, so there has to be something huge happen for Cas to get there. Not to mention, Cas would be a sort of vessel for the audience, simultaneously happier than we’ve ever been because we were finally right, and sadder than ever because Cas is gone.

“Despair” won’t just be despair that the plan failed. It could also be Dean’s despair at losing Cas, our despair at seeing our hopes for them dashed.

[EDIT: Again, the title will NOT be “Despair” it will be “The Truth”, but I still think it’s telling that Despair was a working title for long enough that it’s on the IMDb page, and if “The Truth” contains the truth about how Dean and Cas feel about each other, then this will still be a dark episode.]

Shipping over, let’s continue.

19

Now we come to another referential episode, “Inherit the Earth”. There’s really not enough information to have anything solid regarding the nitty gritty details, but we can take a look at what this title is most likely referencing. “Inherit the Earth” is just a tiny part of a common phrase. It’s used in media all the time, but we’re interested in the original source.

I’m not sure if the episode will contain references to all the pieces of this passage from the Bible, but “Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth” seems to build off of the last episode, “Despair”. Another translation for the word meek in this instance may have been “powerless”, and after the negative moments in the previous episode TFW would probably feel pretty powerless. Maybe, in the previous episodes, Jack failed and lost his powers again, and that’s what caused Despair, but now he will inherit the powers that God had, or inherit control of earth.

If the rest of the passage is to be taken into account here, there’s also the “poor in spirit” who will ascend to the “kingdom of heaven”, possibly a reference to Cas being depressed and fighting for Heaven to be maintained. “Those who mourn will be comforted”, and that may actually bode well for Sam and Dean, who constantly mourn for the friends they’ve lost. Maybe in this episode they’ll get some closure on that front, maybe with their friends trapped in Hell going to Heaven (Kevin). The next line after “inherit the earth” refers to “those who hunger and thirst for righteousness”, and if that isn’t Michael/Adam to a T...maybe this will be the episode we see him team up to fight God. I’m not sure who the last line might refer to other than Sam, if you have any ideas feel free to tell me.

And after all this, we have the big one.

20

“Carry On” is referring to “Carry On My Wayward Son” by Kansas, and I don’t have a clue what it will entail. If the previous episode goes well, then this will be a sort of epilogue, with a (hopefully) happy ending for TFW, maybe we see Eileen and Sam get together, some kind of family dinner with Jody and the girls to resolve that plot line, or potentially, if the writers plan on doing it, a scene confirming Destiel.

It’d be interesting if they showed the brothers going on a normal, run-of-the-mill hunting trip, like a simple salt-and-burn, or even a (different) woman in white. It would be a nice way to bookend the story, to end on a hunt, but instead of the brothers on their own, it’s the brothers with the help of everyone they’ve come to know and care about in their journey, all the lives they’ve touched.

If, however, the conflict is not resolved by the end of the previous episode, this could be the resolution and epilogue all rolled into one, though if it were me I would want as much time as possible to resolve any lingering character questions because, at the end of the day, Supernatural has survived because of the characters. They are what people stay for, what they watch for.

Reminder that all of this is speculation. I do not know what will happen, this is just how I think the story could progress based on what we know so far.

For better or for worse, at this point Supernatural will be over. Will they do a perfect job? Probably not. This is Supernatural, it’s not the most perfect show. However, I’m excited to see where the writers will go with it. They have their work cut out for them.

[EDITED]

#spn #supernatural #supernatural theory #spn theory #spn s15 #spn season 15 #spn 15x14 #spn 15x15 #spn 15x16 #spn 15x17 #spn 15x18 #spn 15x19 #spn 15x20 #saileen #spn 15x12 #destiel #i tried not to let it influence me #hope this is coherant