Choices Side Blog

(but when you ask him, he will not deny the presence of the sick voices in his head, telling him that he is unworthy of something so soft, so precious. he is made up of scarred skin, alcohol on lonely nights and corruption eating up his insides. love is gentle touches, soft kisses and endearing words. sage had come to a conclusion, long ago in fact, that love would never come for him)

he finds the closest thing to love in blood, gold and alcohol. the satisfaction of receiving his day’s wage for another dirty job, the metallic tang in his mouth when his target somehow manages to land a straight punch in his face and the pretty, blurred faces of people he meets on drunken nights. but it is not love. sage sets out to find more work and more gold, the wound stings when the adrenaline of the fight wears off, and he leaves the next morning before his bedmate wakes.

(sage might not be deserving of love, but he can hope. cling onto the pieces of a love never complete, never real. but sage is not a liar when it comes to these type of things, especially to himself, so he leaves. it is the only good, genuine thing he can do)

he has long given up hope when the universe blesses (or curses) him with the presence of them. a strange human from another world claiming to be a barista, whatever the hell that is. they’re endearing, amusingly so, and sage finds that he gets a kick out of teasing them, watching their reactions. a pickup line responded with a roll of their eyes. the cunning, flirty touch of his fingers against their skin shot back by a playful jab at his own side.

(sage should have run the moment you smiled at him. he should have known that at that moment, he had already begun falling. when he realises, it is not too late. but sage stays. he swears it is just to see you smile at him one more time, repeats it till he loses count)

the past comes back to haunt him. an old comrade after him for the blood of his best friend on his hands. the growing corruption in his body. the danger of a shadow, someone that they all used to know, after you of all people. sage wishes- he wishes so badly that you would leave. listen to his warnings and just go away. but you don’t. and he hates it. he hates how you almost can hear that tiny voice in his heart, begging for you to stay. hates how you listen.

(sage has been selfish for almost his whole life. you make him a better person, painfully so. he doesn’t find it in himself to run away, to leave first as he had always done. part of him knows you will find him anyway, no matter where he hides. he is grateful, but it also breaks his heart)

sage hates how you love him. soft. caring. tender. it is everything he never knew he wanted, yet everything he knows he is not worthy of. not when it is you. what does he deserve of the person made of an underlying scent of coffee and mischievous smiles, caught between the pages of a borrowed spellbook? you are so bright, so powerful that sage cannot understand it. he cannot understand the way you smile at him over your shoulder, set against the golden horizon of astraea as the sun sets. smiling at him instead of the breathtaking view before you. sage indeed finds it hard to breathe when you look at him like that, as if he’s worthy of a love like yours.

(some nights he wonders why he lets you touch him, when his skin is stained with the blood of many and corrupted with his own magic turning dark. you are the sun and he, the butcher. it is hot when you touch him, bite his skin, kiss his lips. yet he cannot help but purr, relishing in your light. if this what it means to burn, then sage will gladly do so, as if it will let him atone for all his sins in some way)

sage wishes he learned how to love from a distance. he never did, and perhaps this is why he lets tulsi take his hand one night, guiding him out to the bath doors. let them love you. he wants to ruffle her hair as he had done when they were kids, feels an urge to kiss her forehead like he did when she was just a little baby. instead he just manages a tight smile at her, and she literally kicks his ass in response, sending him tumbling straight through the doors. and to you.

(he loves his family, he realises now. he loves his friends as well. tulsi. anisa. felix. rime too, once. memories of better days. there will be better days in the future, sage thinks as he finds your figure sitting on the edge of the pool, and we can start today)

you wait for him in the moonlight seeping into the bath, looking as beautiful as ever. sage always knew that, but it still takes his breath away when he actually sees you. silver stars dance in your eyes, kisses of the moon decorating the crown of your messy hair. a king, an angel, a god. it takes every inch of restraint for sage not to kneel for you and worship you like no other. he knows he is uncharacteristically quiet as he gets into the pool, splashing water over himself as he wades over to you. you watch him with that fond smile of yours, eyes shining in love. and for the first time, sage isn’t afraid.

(he isn’t afraid of a lot of things anymore. the dark thoughts do not cross his mind as your arms wrap around his shoulders loosely, his own arm snaking around your waist to hold you close. the burning touch of your fingers as you run your hands over his scars has been reduced to a simple, pleasant warmth. it is more than enough)

“i want to tell you everything,” he whispers against your lips. the confession echoes throughout the bath, but only heard by the both of you. this is the first step. sage watches as your lips pull into a small smile, practically purring as you run a hand through his white hair, smoothening it out of his face.

“take your time,” you tell him, pressing a kiss onto his nose. the action, so tender and soft, almost makes him whimper, “i’ll listen.”

(sage doesn’t understand what love is. perhaps he never will. but he does know that he is in love with you, a fact that will be etched onto stone. and your love makes him brave; brave enough to face his past and move on to a better future, with you and all your family)

a squeeze on his bicep, and another kiss on his lips. the unsaid words linger, a beautiful reassurance. i will be with you, no matter what.

Felix spent five years orchestrating a ritual to bring his lover back, but when the night finally arrives…

Rime is not the person lying at his feet. It’s a strange human from Earth, of all places. A strange human from Earth who has a morbid sense of humor, much like Felix himself. A strange human from earth who makes him laugh, who listens to him ramble about life and death and spirits and souls, and is genuine in their support towards him.

Felix thought he wanted Rime back. But then he meets you, and he isn’t so convinced. And then you are standing in his father’s office, and you are by his side, and you are there in a way few others have been for him.

And he thinks that maybe, he just wanted to feel safe again.

Felix grew up without much love from Escell, and Florian could only do so much. He grew up with an older sister who didn’t really care that much, and he grew up without many friends. The ones he did have were wrenched from him at a young age, and he never got along with the aristocratic brats.

So to feel that love had been intoxicating, and he’d gotten drunk off of it. He wanted to feel that warmth again, and if it meant practicing Necromancy he’d do it.

But now here you are, with a love so warm he fear he may very well burn from it.

But he cannot push you away. He’d tried, but you were stubborn, and oh, you were so warm, and he simply doesn’t want to feel cold again.

It’s selfish, but he knows he is not a selfless man.

But then you are fading in his arms, and he begs every god he doesn’t believe in—

oliver: *is morally gray*

yall:

Don’t even try to guess, it’s Dan Pierce! ‘Cause look, you really have to appreciate how even though he was in a coma for most of ILitW, you can still notice his character growth throughout his sparse appearances in the book. I mean, he went through everything he did and, provided you end things the right way, he still manages to stand up to the thing that left him traumatized as a kid and then afterwards proceeds to dedicate his life to helping people through their own struggles because he’s just that genuinely good a person and I have no idea why we don’t talk about it more often even within the small, still active corner that is the It Lives fandom.

For the the purposes of this post, let’s take the fact that real life student/teacher relationships are immoral out of the equation. Here I’m going to be talking about it strictly in terms of fiction. Now there are some people for whom this is never going to be okay. And that’s fine. As stated above, everyone has their lines in the sand. We can only hope that they can respect that other people’s lines may be elsewhere.

The romance genre, in any given medium, has always liked the idea of indulging in the taboo. Not that every romance story includes taboo, but the genre always has. And on a case by case basis this can either work or not. If the story at hand involves a typically not to be recommended relationship dynamic, the best of these tend to have an understanding that both the reader and writer are aware that this is possibly unhealthy in real world terms. But this is fiction, and we’re indulging. And there are definitely cases that dangerously normalize and romanticize unhealthy relationships. And that is a problem that needs to be addressed, but not every piece of fiction that includes something potentially immoral does that. Fiction is a place to explore many concepts, including things like violence, manipulation, power imbalances in relationships, etc. that are usually in the real world seen negatively.

Now I do have to say, while I think it’s fine to, in the case specifically of Queen B, either romance the professor or not, as long as you’re being respectful to those who do the opposite, I’m so far really uncomfortable with how forced it is. The seen in the bar was fine. But in the classroom? That was completely inappropriate to write in the MC continuously flirting with the professor without the player’s consent. Especially since the professor was so uncomfortable with it. MC should have the option to be uncomfortable with it too, and the writing should never dictate MC’s flirtations without player choice. Hopefully this will change in later chapters.

On an additional note, I do appreciate Pixelberry’s warning at the start of the book. I think it’s important that players who would be really bothered by this had advance warning and a chance to back out early.

In conclusion, fiction always has and always will include complicated and taboo subjects, and how okay this is is determined on a case by case basis by the content of the work itself, and by the consumer’s personal assessment of what they’re okay with and what they’re not. And in most cases, if someone is okay with something you’re not in their fiction or vice versa, you have every right to not interact with that opinion online, but you cannot judge their personal morality based on their fiction preferences, and you never have the right to harass them.

Edit:

From one of the writers:

FUCKING DISNEY.