#I hope the setup isn't confusing

[2nd2ndalto]

seeking solace in a bottle (and possibly a friend)

--

I had too many ideas for my holiday fic exchange, so I ended up writing two. This one is for @stressedanime . (I don't think it meets your wish list requirements, but hopefully you enjoy it anyway.)

The man who enters is familiar, someone Will’s seen around campus, maybe. Most people in New Rome are at least passingly familiar. He can’t remember the guy’s name, though, and he thinks he should. Nick, maybe? Will honestly doesn’t remember much right now. Which was kind of the plan when he came in here.

--

Will’s not really sure why he’s here, apart from the fact that he couldn’t bear to be alone in his apartment any longer, and this little bar on Via Cassia stays open later than all the others in New Rome.

The only thing he is sure of right now is that he doesn’t want to be sober. He’s been making a half-hearted attempt to nurse the rum & Cokes he’s been drinking since eight, but the fact remains that eight o’clock was five hours ago, and Will’s always been a lightweight.

The bartender approaches with a look that’s equal parts wry and sympathetic. “Sure you want another one?”

Will just nods. What else is he supposed to do? What comes next, when you’ve just abandoned what you always thought was your entire life’s purpose?

The door to the bar opens. Will glances towards it, reflexive. Even though each time he does, it’s with the accompanying dread that it’ll be someone he knows.

The man who enters is familiar, someone Will’s seen around campus, maybe. Most people in New Rome are at least passingly familiar. He can’t remember the guy’s name, though, and he thinks he should. Nick, maybe? Will honestly doesn’t remember much right now. Which was kind of the plan when he came in here.

A moment later, the dark-haired man heaves himself to a barstool a couple of spots down from Will. They make eye contact for a fleeting second when Will glances over, a quick nod.

“Hey, di Angelo,” the bartender greets the other man. “What can I get you?”

The answer is too low for Will to make out, but he remembers the name now. Di Angelo. Nico. They’ve had at least one class together. Something in first year. One of those tiered theatre-style lecture halls in the oldest buildings on campus. Something forgettable like intro sociology, maybe. Will has vague memories of a leather jacket and messy dark hair a few rows down from where he sat. Someone quiet, thoughtful. Didn’t speak up much.

Will stares into his drink long enough that his eyes unfocus and he starts to feel a little dizzy. It’s just a little too warm in here, and that combined with the dim lighting (and okay, the alcohol) is making him sleepy. Maybe it’s time to call it a night.

“Hey,” says a voice, and Will looks up blearily to see Nico di Angelo standing right next to him. It takes Will a second too long to focus on his face. But when he does focus – wow. The guy is really fucking pretty. Big dark eyes standing out in a pale face. And his mouth. Will very suddenly wants to trace the line of those lips, wants to see those eyes flutter closed and –

Oh shit the guy said something. Will thinks he makes a questioning noise in response. He’s not really sure.

Nico’s lips twitch, amused.

Will is mesmerized.

“You dropped your jacket,” Nico says. His voice is low and a little rough.

“Oh. Thanks,” Will says stupidly, accepting the garment.

A hint of a smile, and then Nico heads back to his seat.

Will watches him until Nico turns, quirking an eyebrow.

“You should move over here,” Will says, deciding he’s too drunk to be coy about it. He attempts to pat the stool next to him. Misses.

That half-smile again. Tired, maybe, but curious.

“Yeah? Why should I move over there?” Nico asks.

Will’s not a great judge of… anything at the moment. But he thinks Nico might be a little drunk too. Probably not as drunk as Will is. But Will’s definitely an above-the-curve drunk at the moment. So it’s a high bar.

“Because,” Will says, making a concerted effort not to slur, “I’m a little drunk, and if I try to come sit next to you,” he points waveringly at the stool beside Nico, “it’s gonna be awkward. I don’t know if I can stand right now.”

“Hmm,” Nico says, thoughtful. His eyes flick over Will’s face. After a long moment, he stands, taking the few steps over to the stool beside Will.

“Damn it,” Will realizes aloud as his words float back to him in pieces. “I was planning on not telling you how drunk I am.”

Nico’s laugh is low and soft. It makes Will want to lean in closer, ask him to do it again. He wants to feel it on his skin.

“No offense, but you weren’t doing a great job hiding it,” Nico says. “Maybe time to switch to water?”

“Yeah. You’re probably right.” Will pushes the rest of his drink over to Nico, being extra careful not to spill it all over his lap. That definitely wouldn’t help him in his current quest to appear flirty and suave.

Nico waves down the bartender and asks for a glass of water. He passes it over to Will when it arrives, and Will takes several large gulps.

“Your name’s Will, right?” Nico asks.

“Yeah.” Will blinks at him, managing to focus on the wave of dark hair falling over his forehead, his stubbled jaw. His brain is working slower than usual, and it feels as if it’s only able to process Nico in bits and pieces. But the bits and pieces are stunning. Tattoos peeking out at one wrist and at his collar. The mouthwatering contrast of his pale throat against his dark shirt. “We had a class together. Right?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Nico drops Will’s gaze, eyes dipping to his own drink. (Gods, his eyelashes are gorgeous, a gentle brush against pale cheekbones.) “But – I actually remember you from the student health centre.”

Will stares at Nico. He sways a little. Then a little more. Nico reaches out to steady him, his smile growing.

“Right!” Will says. His brain’s running a little slow right now, okay? “You had – you came in for all those vaccines!”

Nico nods. “Yeah, that was me. I um – I managed to miss most of my childhood vaccines. And like, all the – modern ones.” He looks awkward now.

“I remember now,” Will says, softer. “You were the one with the –”

Nico wrinkles his nose. “Yeah, seventy years in the Lotus Hotel.”

Will does remember, now that Nico’s reminded him. It had been a run-off-your-feet kind of a day at the health centre, Will’s part-time job. Each patient had blurred into the next. Nico would have stuck with Will anyway, because of the bizarre story of his past. But that’s not the only reason he remembers, he realizes now.

“Your hair was longer,” Will blurts out, just as Nico opens his mouth to speak. “You – you had a ponytail. And – an eyebrow piercing.” Will reaches out unthinkingly and manages to brush his fingers over Nico’s eyebrow without jabbing him in the eye. He can’t tell if Nico is impressed by this, per se, but he does go a little pink.

“Yeah. You have a good memory,” Nico says, soft.

Yeah, because you were hot, Will manages not to say out loud.

Nico looks down, turns his drink in his hands. He has beautiful hands, too, Will realizes. Slender, pale fingers, a silver skull ring on the middle finger of his left hand.

“I was kind of hoping I’d see you at the health centre the next time I came in, actually,” Nico says, raising his eyes to Will again, then keeping them there, soft. Almost defiant. “But when I came back for my second round of shots, you weren’t working.”

“Oh,” Will says, utterly disappointed in his past self. “I – I um –”

Nico glances down again, clears his throat. “My sister. Bianca – have you met her?”

Will pictures a woman with Nico’s delicate features, his mesmerizing quiet. His long lashes and pale skin. Female, but just as breathtaking. He’s pretty sure he’d remember someone like that. “I don’t think so,” he says.

Will’s not sobering up, exactly, but this conversation – and the beautiful creature across from him, of course – is proving to be an excellent distraction from his own miseries. He’s very glad he came in here tonight.

Nico’s lips quirk. “She should have gotten all her vaccines, too. We both missed them. But she joined Diana’s Hunters, right after we got to Camp Jupiter, when we were kids. Apparently that gives you a pass.”

Will nods in understanding. “Being an immortal teenager has its perks.”

Nico rolls his eyes. “Apparently.” He looks fond, though.

“Do you see your sister often?” Will asks. There’s a sudden, intense desire to know everything about the man next to him. Keep him here, keep him talking. It’s a welcome distraction of course, but there’s also a weird feeling that they should already know each other. And that doesn’t make sense – Nico grew up in New Rome, and Will’s only been here since he started attending college.

“Yeah, we manage to meet up a few times a year, when she gets a break from hunting down monsters.” Nico huffs out a laugh. “I was so fucking jealous of that magical bow and arrow when I was a kid.”

Will grins. “Those girls are pretty cool. They’ve got that whole – otherworldly feminist aesthetic going on. You’ve got the cool black sword, though,” he adds, gesturing at Nico. And then looking closer and realizing there’s no sword in sight.

But Nico just smiles, so maybe Will’s not making a complete fool of himself. Either that, or Nico gets off on that sort of thing. Will decides he’s fine either way.

“You do have a good memory,” Nico says.

It’s a tiny little compliment, but it makes Will’s heart swell in a completely stupid way. They gaze at each other for a moment, Will wracking his brain to think of what clever thing he might be able to say to keep Nico talking.

Nico’s watching WIll carefully, like he’s looking for something he can’t quite grasp, But like he wants to. And maybe it should make Will nervous, but it just feels warm. Comforting, almost.

“I haven’t seen you in here before,” Nico says.

“No, I think this is only the second time I’ve been here.” Will clears his throat. “Do you come here – often?”

Nico’s face breaks into a slow smile. Breathtaking.

Will laughs. “I didn’t exactly mean for that to sound like a line.”

Nico quirks an eyebrow. “Exactly?”

“Well.” Will shrugs, grinning. He manages to hold Nico’s gaze until Nico looks away.

There’s still a smile playing around Nico’s lips as his gaze drops to the polished wooden bartop. “My apartment is just down the street,” he says. “I come in here to study a lot.”

Will nods. “It’s a nice little place. Cozy.”

Nico makes a sound of agreement. “It’s a good change of scenery,” he says.

Will runs a thumb down the side of his water glass, drawing a line through the condensation. “I actually came in here because I was – trying not to run into anyone I knew,” he admits. “I um. I dropped out of med school. Today.”

It feels like the floor is falling out from under him as he says the words out loud for the first time. And he’s not completely sure why he’s telling Nico this. But it feels right.

“Really? Today?”

“Yup. That’s why I’m –” Will gestures to himself, “not so sober.”

“Well, shit,” Nico says.

Will looks up to see Nico surveying him with sympathy.

“It’s a good thing,” Will assures him. “I’ve – it’s been coming for a long time. I just finally got up the nerve to do it.” He stares down at the bar top for a long moment, swallows hard. Nico’s hand suddenly appears in his field of vision, gently removing Will’s empty water glass and replacing it with a new one.

“Sounds like it was a tough decision,” Nico says, soft.

Will nods. He is not going to cry in front of a complete stranger. Probably. Will blinks hard. Nico’s hand appears again, this time a gentle squeeze to Will’s wrist before retreating.

“Speaking as an almost-complete stranger, I’m proud of you,” Nico says.

Will lets out a wet laugh, looks up to a warm, gentle gaze. “Thanks,” he whispers.

And then, somehow, he starts telling Nico everything. What it was like growing up at Camp Half Blood. Learning to save his friends’ lives as a literal child. The way he’d sob half the night in his cabin sometimes, desperately homesick. How, just as he started to feel like he was getting his footing at Camp, he lost Michael, and Lee, and so many others. The way so much responsibility fell to him, and he just took it. Because what else was he supposed to do?

The way everyone just assumed he’d be a doctor someday, and the way Will just accepted it, too. The way it never really felt right, and how very long it’s taken to make sense of that.

And Nico, an almost-complete stranger, listens. And seems to care, to understand.

When Will’s throat is dry from talking more than he has in months, Nico shares, too. He fills in all the blanks Will’s wondered about – his childhood at Camp Jupiter and the years before, at the Lotus. Losing his mother. Losing his memories. Being raised by his sister – the only one in the world who knew him – and then having her leave, too.

Nico’s brow is furrowed, and he’s twisting the ring on his finger. “I felt like it wasn’t even fair for me to complain about it, you know? I still had my sister, she was just – off with her new friends. So many other kids at Camp had had their siblings actually die. Well – like you did.” His eyes flit to Will’s for a second, hesitant.

Will can’t help the impulse to touch, to offer comfort. It’s kind of in his DNA, after all. He reaches a hand out, laying it over Nico’s. “You’re still allowed to be sad even though bad things happen to other people too,” Will says, gentle.

Nico nods, his gaze on their hands. He seems to take a moment to collect himself, then turns his hand to hold Will’s back, a gentle squeeze. Nico’s hands are smaller than Will’s, a bit cooler. It’s an awfully nice fit, Will can’t help but think. Comfortable.

Maybe Nico feels it too, because he keeps talking, now with his hand in Will’s, punctuating with the occasional squeeze or stroke of his thumb. He talks about struggling to accept himself – his parentage and his sexuality. Being forced to come out before he was ready, and then losing Jason Grace, the first friend who Nico felt had really accepted him without question.

“I was supposed to meet up with them tonight,” Nico says. He finished his drink at least half an hour ago, and he hasn’t ordered another. “My friends – the ones who were closest to Jason. We meet every year on the anniversary of his death, to remember him. And I know it’s good for me to go. But I just…” Nico shrugs. “I’m not always good. With people. So I blew them off and came here instead.”

“And you ended up having to listen to my sob story all night,” Will says. A little regret seeps in as the effects of the alcohol start to fade and he realizes just exactly how much he’s talked Nico’s ear off.

Nico shakes his head.“No. I’m glad. That I ran into you.” He looks up, shy, but solemn.

“Me too,” Will says, soft. They gaze at each other for a long moment, something warm fizzing between them, their hands still joined. Will’s sure Nico’s gaze darts to his mouth.

“Can I get you gentlemen anything else?” the bartender asks. “Last call.”

Will binks, startled out of the little bubble they’d been sinking into.

“A shot of nectar?” Nico says.

The bartender nods.

“Make it two,” Will says. It should stave off any impending hangover. It’ll sober him up a little faster, too. He’s spent the last hour certain in the knowledge that he wants to kiss this guy he just happened to run into at a bar on one of the worst nights of his life. And he thinks he’d like to be sober for that.

They’re the only two left in the bar, and as they step back out onto the street, Will hears the door locking behind them.

“Where do you live?” Nico asks. His face is bathed in the golden light still shining from the bar. It catches on his hair, the shine in his dark eyes.

“Oh, I’m – across town,” Will says. “It’s okay, though. It’s a nice night for a walk.”

Nico nods, his gaze flicking over Will’s face. “It is.”

Now that they’re both standing, Will has the opportunity to appreciate the height difference between the two of them. He likes it. A lot. Nico is several inches shorter, delicate everywhere Will can see. Slight shoulders, narrow waist. Will wants to scoop him up in his arms and carry him… somewhere. Somewhere softer and more private.

There’s a beat of silence in which Will struggles to tame the butterflies in his stomach enough to make some kind of a move.

“Walk me home?” Nico asks with a small smile.

Will grins, a trickle of relief. “Yeah. Okay.”

Nico’s apartment is only half a block away, and the walk is over far too quickly. They pause again at the steps to the building.

Will is not exactly bad at flirting, but at points like this, where it feels as if the pressure’s on and he just needs to do something – well. These aren’t his smoothest moments.

They’re standing close. He thinks Nico opens his mouth to say something. Will can only think of a single thing he wants.

“I’d really like to kiss you,” Will says in a rush. After all, the worst Nico can say is no. And the past few hours aside, Will’s already having a terrible day. Getting rejected by this beautiful boy won’t really make it that much worse.

But Nico looks up, a slow, shy smile. “Okay.”

As first kisses go, Will would put it in his top three, definitely. It’s soft, and sweet, and when they both sway closer for a second attempt, Will takes a half-step in, and Nico’s hands rise to Will’s arms, a light grip that sends heat sparking across Will’s skin.

Nico pulls back first, just enough to speak. “Do you wanna come up?” His breath rushes over Will’s lips. There’s only one possible answer.

It’s anything but soft and sweet when Nico finally fumbles open the door of the apartment. They reach for each other immediately, falling against the inside of the door, Will pinning Nico to the solid wood with a soft thump. Nico’s hands are everywhere – cradling Will’s face, and then smoothing down his arms, tracing the shape of him, gripping his waist. Twisting into the belt loops of his jeans and pulling him closer.

Will’s mouth is everywhere, licking and sucking at Nico’s plush lips, then mouthing messily at the angle of his jaw, working at Nico’s neck until Nico moans.

Will decides in that moment that he doesn’t ever want to let his mouth part from Nico’s sweet skin, and he covers every exposed inch with kisses, Nico’s pale throat and the hollow of his collarbone, the line of his jaw and the soft skin under his ear until Nico’s gasping, tilting his head back against the door, fingers clutching at the waistband of Will’s pants.

“I – I don’t usually do this. If that matters,” Nico gasps.

It doesn’t, but – “me either,” Will manages between kisses. And it’s true, but he can’t imagine this night ending any other way, like it was promised from the beginning. From the moment he stepped into the bar tonight, or maybe earlier, maybe always. That’s probably a stupid thing to think, but Will’s brain isn’t exactly in top form right now.

He loses still more brain power as Nico yanks Will’s shirt up, presses cool fingers to his stomach, smooths over his waist. Nico’s hands rise higher, caressing Will’s chest, over the flutter of his heart.

Nico’s touch is impatient but startlingly gentle, like Will’s something precious. It brings a swirl of emotions that Will definitely isn’t going to unpack right this second. Especially when he feels Nico’s fingers fumbling for his belt, then his fly. Will thinks Nico’s hands are shaking. He thinks his might be, too. This, stupidly, feels far more monumental than a random hookup probably should.

Will clumsily kisses his way back to Nico’s beautiful lips just as Nico shoves a hand into Will’s boxers, gets a good grip and squeezes. Will whines into Nico’s mouth and Nico kisses it away, hot and wet and persistent, his tongue sliding against Will’s.

“I want you in my mouth. Is that okay?” Nico gasps.

Will can only nod, then make an absolutely stupid sound as Nico drops to his knees.

He thinks Nico mutters, “fuck, you’re big,” but then he’s not thinking much of anything, because Nico’s mouth is hot and wet and he’s sucking and stroking and pressing closer like he’s never wanted anything more in his life.

Nico doesn’t have roommates, does he? Hopefully not, because Nico doesn’t warn Will to be quieter – and Will is being loud frankly. Nico is, too, making the most obscene wet noises as he sucks and mouths at Will’s cock, little whines that zip heat through Will’s veins.

Will’s hands settle lightly on Nico’s head. Gods, his hair is soft, and the way it slips between Will’s fingers sends a fresh wave of heat crashing over him. He tightens his fingers, just a tentative grasp, but Nico moans around him, his rhythm stuttering. Nico’s hand flies up, closing over Will’s and squeezing, encouraging. Will holds tighter, eliciting another beautiful moan, Nico’s mouth working over him, everywhere.

Everything is fuzzy and heat and beautiful little bursts of sound coming from both of them, wet noises, sighs and moans. Will’s so lost in it, his world narrowed down to Nico’s hands and Nico’s mouth and the pleasure pulsing through his body, incandescent.

He’s so close now, his hips beginning to jerk unevenly as he fights to stay still. He needs something more than his fingers in Nico’s hair to keep him upright, and he falls heavily against the door with one hand above Nico’s head.

Nico stills a little, the motion of his hand slowing. He’s breathing hard, carefully trying to take Will deeper. Will’s body floods with heat, not to mention appreciation, and he tries very hard to stay still, his own breath coming in sharp little gasps.

Will’s sure he hits the back of Nico’s throat. Nico makes a choking sound, but doesn’t stop, doesn’t loosen his grip, swallowing again and stroking, stroking. Will focuses all of his strength on not letting his knees buckle. He’s shaking everywhere, teetering on the edge.

“Nico –” It’s the only warning Will manages before he’s pulsing, spilling into Nico’s throat. “Sorry –” he gasps, but Nico just hums, shakes his head, swallows again and again until Will whimpers, loosening his grip on Nico’s hair.

Will drops to his knees then, cradling Nico’s face, kissing him hard, licking his own taste out of Nico’s mouth until Nico moans with it. One handed, Will hikes his jeans back up. They’re both still wearing shoes for gods’ sake, but, careful as he can, he lowers Nico onto the thick, expensive-looking runner in the front hall. Nico goes down easily with a little whine, tugging Will on top of him and bucking up against Will’s thigh when he presses it between Nico’s legs.

Will desperately wants to make a good impression here, but the truth is he’s so wild to get at Nico’s bare skin that he’s not sure he does a great job, grinding into Nico where he’s so hard against Will’s thigh, mouthing at his collarbones while he shoves a hand under Nico’s shirt, probably leaving stubble burn and maybe a hickey or two behind. Nico doesn’t seem to mind, anyway, arching and gasping and clutching at Will’s shoulders.

Will moves lower, wet, clumsy kisses down Nico’s body, simultaneously fumbling with the fastenings on Nico’s jeans. He shoves jeans and underwear halfway down Nico’s thighs. Will finds himself very much hoping there’ll be a next time, when he can get them both undressed properly. When they can take their time.

For now, Will takes a brief moment to admire everything he’s uncovered before diving in, nuzzling into the crease of Nico’s thigh, against his balls, pressing quick kisses up Nico’s dick until he sucks the head into his mouth. Nico keens, hips shifting, restless.

Will licks everywhere, ensuring everything is nice and slick before adding his hand, too, firm slow strokes that make Nico let out a long moan. Will tries, then, to do what Nico did for him – because it was really fucking hot – tries to steady his breathing, take Nico as far in as he can, mouth and throat working.

But he comes up spluttering and gagging, eyes watering.

Nico props himself up on an elbow, brow furrowed. “Shit, sorry –”

“My fault,” Will gasps. “I was trying to impress you.”

And Nico’s expression falls into something so fond that Will nearly dives right back in to give it another try.

“I was already impressed, sunshine,” Nico says. His chest is rising and falling rapidly, lips swollen from their kissing. He levers himself up a little further, strokes Will’s face. “You were doing great. I don’t need anything special.”

You deserve everything, Will wants to say, but that’s far too intense a thing to say to this guy who he’s only known for a few hours, so he lowers his head again and gets back to work. He must be doing okay anyway, because before long he’s got Nico panting and making these intoxicating little thrusts with his hips and a second later Nico cries out, the sound echoing through the little apartment. Will loosens the grasp of his hand, sucks Nico gently through the aftershocks until he groans, collapsing back onto the floor.

“Fuck,” Nico breathes.

Will’s in complete agreement, collapsed against Nico’s thigh, breathing him in, floating back down. One of Nico’s hands fumbles to Will’s head, stroking through his hair, careful.

There’s quiet for a few blissful minutes, the slam of a door somewhere down the hallway.

The apartment is dark, but there’s enough light filtering from between half-cracked blinds for Will to make sense of his surroundings. It’s a cozy little space, old like most of the buildings in New Rome, and it’s cluttered with bookcases and papers, photos and trinkets. All the little bits of Nico that Will thinks he’d like to learn, eventually. There’s a dark sword lying across the coffee table, and it catches a line of soft light shining from the window.

Nico clears his throat. “I’m sober enough to take you home. If you want. But you’re welcome to stay. I – have a bed. It’s a lot more comfortable than the floor.”

When Will lifts his head enough to see Nico’s face, there’s a quiet fire in his eyes, something sure and simmering.

“Are you okay with me staying?” Will asks. He thinks he could probably sleep right here, face pressed to the crease of Nico’s thigh, feet from the apartment door. Mostly, he’s not quite ready for this evening to end.

“Yeah,” Nico smiles.

They prepare for bed together. And maybe it’s just the lingering effects of the alcohol, but Will keeps double-taking at how normal this all feels: Nico hanging Will’s jacket for him and giving him a quick tour of the apartment. Showing Will to the bathroom, and digging out a spare toothbrush. Idle, silly conversation as they prepare to climb into bed together. Nico’s in flannel pajama pants now, Will in his boxers and t-shirt.

There’s a little flutter of nerves as they climb into bed, but only because Will’s not quite sure what happens now. They settle on their sides, facing each other. Pale moonlight catches the shine of Nico’s hair.

“I’m glad I went to the bar tonight,” Nico whispers. He keeps saying these little things, low and earnest, that make Will’s heart throb in his chest, make his throat tight. Will’s probably reading too much into it, though. It wouldn’t be the first time. And besides, it’s been a long, emotional day.

“Me too,” he manages, and Nico smiles at him in the dark.

Will reaches a hand across the small space between them and Nico takes it, automatic.

“Full disclosure,” Will says, “I’m a bit of a cuddler.”

Nico’s smile becomes something warmer and fonder. “I’d be up for some cuddling.”

They shuffle towards the middle of the bed, feeling each other out, finally settling against each other curled like commas, Will with an arm snug around Nico’s waist.

This is so far from how Will expected this day to end. It's pretty damn far from anything he ever thought his life would look like, in fact: med school drop out, no concrete plans for what to do next, curled up in bed (and possibly half in love) with a guy he met a couple of hours ago.

But he presses his nose into Nico’s hair, and Nico sighs and settles against him, and for the first time in so long, Will doesn't feel like he's on the wrong path.

Notes:

1. Thank you to @anything-thats-rock-and-roll for the beta! 2. Title is from the Indigo Girls' Closer to Fine 3. I've been waiting for an opportunity to use the "unvaccinated Nico di Angelo" tag :)

[petermorwood]

I have a sword question, if I may. Or more of a sword confusion Im seeking clarification on.

In my mind a fantasy european standard sword (that obviously doesnt really exist, but like, when a knight or someone in a story has an unspecified sword), I always imaged a straight blade with a triangular tip, both edges sharp cutting edges.

Then at some point I learned about eg scimitars that have a cutting edge and a ...blunt edge?

I was looking at your recent addition to the post about the Turkish sword, where you distinguish between an inner cutting edge on a sword v an outer cutting edge.

And then Im thinking of those enormous zweihander types that are all about momentum and do those even need a particularly sharp edge? They seem in dnd parlance to be a bludgeoning weapon not for slashing.

And while Im asking, like. Rapiers are very stabby weapons, do they have sharp edges at all or judt a sharp point?

I guess my overall question culminates something like "what parts of swords are designed for what damage and why? Is there anything all swords have other than blade and handle like can they all be used for stabbing or do some have very blunt points etc? Is it a big deal for a sword to be double-edged, does that necessitate specific training? Whats up with different sword blades?"

I realise thats a pretty enormous question that might be unreasonable to ask. Im happy with whstever response you are or arent willing to give. Hope you have a good day :)

Sharp edge / blunt edge is the setup on any kitchen or table knife you've ever encountered, and being able to put a hand on the blunt "edge" - usually called the back of the blade - not only helps when mincing herbs or garlic, but also features in some techniques of swordplay.

Other techniques employed non-blade parts of the weapon, using the pommel like a mace and the crossguard like a pick-axe.

*****

Whether swords should be straight or curved, single- or double-edged, was an argument which continued as recently as the early 1900s.

The last swords issued to cavalry for combat use (modern parade swords don't count) were both remarkably similar designs, straight-bladed for thrusting, adopted by the UK in 1908...

...and the US in 1913.

There was, of course, strong opposition from those who insisted cavalry swords should be sabres curve-bladed for cutting instead.

Equally of course, both sides failed to notice - or ignored, since a certain kind of cavalry officer was only bright as regards boots, buckles and buttons - the uncomfortable fact that machine-guns and repeating rifles had made the whole ta-ran-ta-rah "cut them down with your swords, men!" cavalry charge an exercise in futility.

*****

D&D, unless they've considerably upped their accuracy game, isn't much of a reference for weapon realism.

"Enormous Zweihanders" and other big swords such as the Montante were a lot lighter and more nimble than they'd seem from reading an encumbrance chart.

They had their own techniques to take best advantage of length, leverage and momentum and were indeed sharp. Given a choice between a sharp combat weapon and a blunt one, sharp makes far more sense.

In addition, a sharp blade is lighter than a blunt one simply through having less metal. It may only be a few grams of difference, but it IS a difference.

That's also the reason behind a fuller, the groove(s) along a blade.

They're not "blood gutters", tough and cool though that may sound, but a way to reduce a sword's weight while preventing its blade from getting excessively flexible.

Finally...

The re-enactor is wearing half-armour, but these big swords were also meant for use against unarmoured opponents. Bodyguards often carried them (they looked impressive) and those sweeping strokes could block an entire street while The Boss got away.

That's when an ability to cut rather than merely bludgeon makes all the difference. Determined assassins might try to rush a blunt sword, but a sharp one would give anyone second thoughts...

*****

Double-edged swords versus single-edged ones seem to vary depending on cultural preference - also on period of history and intended function.

Bronze Age European swords had straight or leaf-shaped blades with double edges...

...while Ancient Egypt had the curved, single-edged khopesh, a shape which also turned up in Ancient Assyria (this one's in the Metropolitan Museum, New York USA).

It's listed as a "sickle sword", an incorrect term which I wish would go away because sickles are sharp on the inside of the curve while swords like this - their grip-shape shows how they're meant to be held and swung - are sharp on the outside.

And just when "the Ancient Middle East used curved single-edge swords" looks like a handy generalisation, along come straight swords, one from Ancient Egypt...

...another from Luristan, now part of modern Iran.

This next one comes from Ancient Iberia (Spain), right at the other side of the Mediterranean. Evidence of trading links? Your guess is as good as mine.

Iberia went on to use the falcata, a short single-edged forward-curved sword.

Those extra bits round the blade are scabbard metalwork; the wood and leather scabbard is long gone. This repro shows how they would have looked when in place.

Iberia also used a straight double-edged sword which so impressed the Romans that they adopted it, refined it and used it for several centuries. Here's one of the several Roman versions of that gladius Hispaniensis (Spanish sword), double-edged, mostly meant for stabbing but capable of very effective cuts as well.

Here's my repro of a similar sword, the elegant "Mainz" pattern with its long point and waisted blade. Very pretty, and pretty wicked.

*****

"Curved single-edged swords are Eastern, straight double-edged swords are Western", is another generalisation that won't work.

Here are Eastern straight swords...

...and Western curved ones.

*****

Viking swords were all double-edged...

...except when they weren't.

*****

Many rapiers could cut. Smallswords, which came later, couldn't.

Earlier rapiers with broader blades cut better than later ones with narrow blades, but IIRC even the later Italian and Spanish rapier styles include cuts directed at the opponent's face and sword-arm.

I have a notion that the modern thing about cutting with rapiers is based (like back-carry) on seeing it done in movies. IMO - more about it here - that's actually more a modern stage-combat safety thing than a period real-combat move. A fumbled cut is bruising and unpleasant even with a "safe" prop sword, but a fumbled thrust into the eye-socket or throat with that same "safe" sword can be fatal.

Even those early rapiers wouldn't sever a head or limb - a finger maybe, hence the elaborate hand-protection of swept and cup hilts - but blood from a forehead wound running into the eyes was, and in boxing still is, an efficient way to finish a fight by ensuring the opponent can't continue. One of the duels in "The Duellists" ends this way.

This example is a bit optimistic, IMO...

...but a longsword (double-edged)...

...or a messer (single-edged)...

...was quite capable of disarming an opponent in a very literal way.

*****

Some swords had minimal points, being intended mostly for cutting. One example of this is the Indian khanda broadsword. The second example is also very clearly single-edged.

Another cut-only sword without a point (but with double edges) is the Richtschwert (justice sword)...

...though this was a single-function (and hopefully single-cut) tool rather than weapon, neither balanced for nor intended for combat.

Hope this has helped answer the questions!

[dotthings]

It's a mistake to jump to the conclusion that Jensen meant there would be no follow-up or response from Dean's side. He was speaking about Cas's confession and making it clear there's no confusion, awkwardness, or barriers between them, over that confession. Only love and acceptance, mutual understanding. They can move forward.

Cas, we know from the canon, in his speech, is fulfilled just in saying it. We, as fans, would love to see Cas getting verbal confirmation on how he's loved, but Cas already knows. It's a lack of understanding of Cas not to understand this, it's still okay to want and need to see it said to Cas, but Cas understands. Cas had his own freight train revelations hit him, maybe he knew since Purgatory II, "you don't have to say it, I heard your prayer." Remember angels can sense longing. The story might still require it, but the point is that Cas isn't eating himself up about it, he knows he is loved, he even saw it in Dean's eyes.

Dean, otoh, did not get to speak his loving truth to Cas. That is still hanging. Sometimes it's not in the having it's in just being. It's getting to say it. Dean hasn't gotten to say it. We saw Dean's self evident grief.

We've heard Jensen speak about Dean's regrets about Cas.

We've heard Jensen saying he hopes "we get to see that at some point" about a reciprocation, a response from Dean, and Jensen has said "it would probably be a big embrace and then Dean would say 'can we talk about that goodbye a little bit?'" (Jib 11) This doesn't contradict what Jensen said at Purcon 8. Jensen seems conscious of a missing piece in the story from Dean's pov, from Dean's end.

At Vancon 2022, Jensen said about Dean's regrets (and I love so much how he personalized it so deeply, that Jensen spoke using "I" when he was speaking for Dean): "I lost Cas but because I didn't say anything, I didn't give him anything. And what I had in my head was I should have said I love you too and hugged him." This was in Dean's head in the moment he saw Cas get taken. The sense of loss. The regrets. Jensen said "I have an answer for that, and I had an answer for that in the next camera setup." What he gave us at Vancon 2022 was part one of Dean's feelings. He hadn't given us part two yet.

Purcon 8 was about the realizations that hit Dean like a freight train while he's sobbing on the floor, and it's not complete, but it's still a big piece. We still don't have the full picture. But it's about Dean's realizations as it hits him fully how much Cas loved him and how Cas loved him and how Cas loved him so entirely. And the mutual understanding and acceptance.

I am dubious this means there won't be any follow-up or reciprocating moment from Dean, that Dean has nothing that he still needs to say, for his own peace, it seems clear from Jensen's statements that Jensen believes Dean wants to hug Cas and say I love you back.

And that, in my opinion, would be massive. No it doesn't have to be along drawn out speech or a complicated conversation. But I'm not going to go rushing to assume there will be no response from Dean either.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Can I request one where Lampert and reader were friends with Kasper aka infected before he got well infected, basically the reader kept hanging out with infected and ended up getting infected too and they end up going to Lampert because they are still them atleast for a bit. angst definitely but you could make it have a fluffy ending

"I put more tape on those posters, Kasper. I'm sure Poptart will turn up soon."

"Thanks for doing that, bro. But...who's that?"

"Huh? Poptart is-"

"No, "Kasper". Isn't he like...the friendly ghost or somethin'?"

"Um..last I checked that was your name."

"Nah I'm pretty sure it's Infected." Kasper, or rather "Infected" as he apparently started calling himself, just shook his head before turning back his computer. He was in the midst of a gaming session, the round beginning as he tried staying focused.

You, on the other hand, just sat on the beanbag chair in his room, confused as all hell.

Ever since he caught that weird virus and brought it back to the apartment...it seemed to be getting worse. It began as a common sinus infection that made him lethargic, with half the stuff he was saying nearly indiscernible. He denied being sick enough to warrant a doctor visit, though, and figured it'll eventually pass.

And as his neighbor and best friend, you thought that giving him space was the best thing to do until he felt better.

At some point, you noticed a gradient creature with an unpleasant color scheme wandering in the dark alleys and down the hallway. It never spoke a word, making you wonder why it was here or if Kasper's illness had something to do with its appearance, but not even he was sure about it.

Then Poptart, his beloved cat, went missing a few days later. He knocked on your door crying and panicking the following morning, clearly scared out of his mind as he woke up to find its food bowl untouched.

That led you both to believe someone kidnapped the poor thing, so together you put up missing posters around the apartment complex, hoping somebody knew their whereabouts. Kasper had his suspicions that the gradient might've had been involved, but as off-putting as it seemed...you couldn't accuse it of anything without solid proof.

Last time you saw Unpleasant, it went onto the elevator, so god only knows what floor it could be on now.

Until it came back, you decided to stay with Kasper and look for Poptart, making sure nobody tore down the posters.

At the current moment, however, as you watched him game, you were a bit grossed out to see the pink snot dribbling from his nose--but when he raised his arm to rub it on his sleeve, you saw something even more alarming:

Pink-checkered textures covering part of his skin, briefly glitching before they vanished.

You got up from your seat and approached him, tapping his shoulder. "Kasper? I saw something weir-"

"I need to focus--oh no, no, no, N0!! My str34k!!"

You froze for a moment, concerned by the stark change in his voice--as though it was ran through a bitcrusher--before frowning as you saw him staring at his screen now, shoulders slumped at the "Defeat" message displayed across it.

"Awh man..." He whined, now sounding somewhat normal.

"Sorry, but..I just wanna be sure you're okay. At least keep a tissue handy, my guy. You're getting it all over your setup." Your eyes surveyed his desk for anything that could be a good tissue substitute--besides magazines.

"I told you, bruh, I feel fi...ah...ahhhCHOO!!" Kasper turned to sneeze directly onto the floor, where a few tiles began flickering pink...before you saw that same checkered texture from before.

But your gamer friend, totally unaware, just turned to stare you with a biggest grin on his face. "See? My sinuses are clear now!"

Then he sniffled again, sulking as his nose betrayed him.

"Look, this virus is turning into something bigger. It's gone beyond a small sinus infection." You huffed. "A virus wouldn't make you forget your own name. A virus wouldn't turn your carpet into that." Pointing to the glitchy texture that showed up, you made sure he was looking at it.

He blinked. "I did that?"

"You need a doctor, Kasper. And I will drag you to one if I have t-"

"For the gazillionth time, that's not my name!!" He suddenly snapped, punching the desk with anger you've never seen before. "It's "Infected"! How have we been friends this long if you can't even remember my ####### n4m3?! $w34r 1'll b4n u fr0m my lif3 if y0u d0n't st0p!"

You stared at him in shock, taking a step back as you saw his fist nearly glitch through the desk.

What was happening to him?

Did the virus force him to call himself "Infected"? Was it making him refuse to accept any help?

You had no idea, and it was scaring you.

"...s0rry.."

"It's..fine-"

"N0. It isn't.." His shoulders slumped again and he looked down at his hands, wondering what was wrong with him. "I...I didn't m34n t0 3xpl0d3 0n y0u. I..I just..."

Then he trailed off, staying unusually silence for several long moments.

That gave you an idea. You had to test something.

"Hey, just amuse me for a second...do you remember this guy?"

Infected raised his head, watching you pick up the picture frame that sat beside his computer. It was photo of him and Lampert--the living lamp robot you two met at ROKEA years ago.

Ever since the day he came to life, you three were the best of friends, always hanging out on each other's floors, trading stuff, making friendship bracelets, and playing games. You and Kasper were the ones to introduce Lampert to all the cool things the world had to offer..and inadvertently turned him into a bit of a germaphobe once he discovered things like sickness.

Still, you three did everything together. The day you took that picture was most memorable--especially the embarrassment of realizing the arrows on their shirts were facing opposite directions, which you only realized after the photo was developed and printed.

Oh, well.

Then after Kasper got sick, Lampert's been keeping his distance, and oftentimes things became tense in the elevator when the former didn't cover his mouth when sneezing or coughing.

But now that his infection was worsening, you weren't sure if the lamp would wanna see him anymore.

Or even...if he recognized the person in the photo at all.

You could tell by the way he took it from your hands and stared at it for some time, eyebrows furrowed with confusion, that he was starting to lose his memory.

"This l4mp dude..I think..I've s33n him on th4t elev4t0r.."

"We've known him for years, Kas. You and I..pretty much brought him to life." You frowned, worried that he was starting to forget him..

How long will it be before he forgot you, too?

"Don't tell me, after everything we've done together, you're forgetting about him--about us."

"I..I...I w4nn4 r3m3mb3r..but..." His hands began trembling, which you were oblivious to as your frustration began to rise once more.

"But nothing. You have to try. Forget your infection and think to when we last saw him. Where were we going?"

"..I don't...kn0w..."

"Yes you do. Who was in the elevator with us besides us three?"

"I h4v3 n0 id34..st0p it.." His voice shook.

"Kasper. You need to-"

"ST0P S4Y1NG TH4T N4M3!! Y0U'R3 N0T H3LPING!!" He shouted, and in that same moment the frame glitched, becoming covered in checkered textures. It felt like a sharp pain that pierced his hands, causing him to yelp and drop it to the floor, where it turned back to normal after it cracked.

You scrambled to pick it up without thinking, afraid he'd cut himself if he tried getting it, only to turn it over and discover that the photo inside was now ruined.

Kasper's face had been ripped out, as though the virus was trying its hardest to erase him and make him believe he had this random picture of some guy and a lamp robot for no reason...

'It's destroying everything he touches..'

Then your attention went to your fingers, which have turned pink. You gasped and quickly put the frame down, staring at your hand in horror.

It was already spreading to your wrist.

"W04h! A-Are y0u 0k4y??" Infected jumped out of his chair on instinct, unsure of what to do but wanting to help in some way.

But the moment he reached for you, you stepped away, clutching your wrist and scowling deeply at him. "Stay back! Now you got me infected, too, you jerk!"

"......I....I-I didn't m34n it.." His voice trembled, sounding more and more broken up as tears filled his vision. "I'm s0rry...I'm...s0 s0rry. I sw34r..I-I'm n0t d0ing it 0n purp0s3." Clutching his arm, he fidgeted with his sleeve, looking down at the ground in shame. "I'm sc4r3d, [y/n].."

Slowly, but surely, your gaze softened upon realizing how hurt he looked, and the fact that your insults weren't helping matters. You knew the risk to hanging around him when he was sick, so....how could you blame him?

Even he didn't know what was going on with him.

"I...I'm sorry for yelling. I know you didn't mean it. It's alright. We can see if Dr. Retro knows anything about this. She might have a cure or some medicine."

"......"

"Ka--Infected.."

He perked up, seeing you stepping closer. You knew there was no use in keeping distant from him now, since you caught the sickness, too.

With a small sigh, you patted his shoulder. "I'm not mad, okay? It's my fault for touching that picture frame. But I promise..we'll find a way to deal with this. I'll try to remember stuff for both of us...that is..if it doesn't also take my memor-"

He abruptly flung forward to wrap his arms around you, crushing you in a hug. Despite him sniffling like crazy (and feeling sweaty and gross), you returned it, letting his head fall against your shoulder.

He needed this.

You can't even remember the last time you two hugged, or did any of those cool handshakes he taught you.

"You know we'll have to tell Lampert, right?"

"Mhm.."

"...you want me to tell him?"

"Y34h.."

"Okay, next time the elevator comes, I'll hop on it." You patted his back, already sounding congested yourself, but you tried to ignore it.

Instead, you dread what you're gonna say to Lampert.

'He's gonna be pissed...'

...........

3008.

No, the Regretevator didn't have 3000 floors, but that's what Lampert's home floor was called anyways.

You weren't here to ponder why it was given that name, as the doors opened and you stepped out into a familiar place. A place you'd almost call a "second home".

Unfortunately, you were almost rudely pushed to the ground by some of the occupants--all who were rushing into the depths of ROKEA to find him.

Whoever made the rules apparently decided that should be the "objective" of this floor. But you knew where Lampert liked to hang out best, somewhere only you and Kasper would be able to find him.

So while the players scurried around like rats, racing against the clock, you headed straight to your friend, hoping you'll get to explain yourself without him freaking out.

As expected, you found him standing perfectly still among some lamps, switching his light off after realizing it was only you approaching. "Hi, [y/n]." He greeted with a small smile. "Any luck finding Poptart yet?"

"No." You shook your head, absentmindedly tugging on the glove that covered your arm. "Kas has been worried sick, but I put fresh tape on the posters..so...we'll see if that little kitty turns up."

"I hope so, too. Say..what's with the gloves and mask?"

"Oh these? Um-"

"Were you just cleaning up his apartment with those?" He asked, before sighing and shaking his head. "I hope you changed them. Otherwise they're just as unsanitary as-"

"No, no. I wasn't cleaning. I just...just..."

Your nose began to feel itchy.

Lampert just raised an eyebrow. "Go on."

"I..just..ah...HI-CHOO!" Turning away immediately to cover your sneeze, you were grateful that this place didn't allow it to echo through the air...otherwise you would've easily given away your location.

But after hearing him gasp, you looked back to see him take a huge step away from you, scowling. "Y-You're sick?! Why did you come here?!"

"That's what I was getting to. I...I just wanted you to know that I....caught whatever Kasper had." You briefly removed your glove, revealing the pink that was now almost covering your entire forearm.

Least to say, he was mortified. "No..what do you mean you caught it?? I told you not to hang around him until he felt better!"

"I thought he was getting better..but he's not. It's worse than we realized."

"Well are you surprised?" He scoffed. "He refuses to see a doctor and doesn't seem to care if-"

"It's the virus itself, Lampert. It's taking over his mind."

"...what do you mean?"

"He can't even remember his own name. He got angry and told me to call him "Infected". And even worse? He's...forgetting about all the stuff we did together. He could barely even remember you."

"That's...impossible. An ordinary virus wouldn't give people amnesia!"

"That's what I said, too. But..this clearly isn't ordinary. I was gonna go visit Dr. Retro. If she catches this in the early stages, maybe she can figure out some cure for it. But..I-I just didn't know how fast it would spread. So..." You sighed. "..I wanted to see you first. Just in case I end up forgetting about you, too...which I hope doesn't happen."

"I...understand, but you really should've went to her first." He simply responded, still in utter distraught as he stared at you.

As though you were the disease itself.

Why did this have to happen to his two best friends?

Did some higher being just...hate him specifically? All because he's a little wary of germs?

"I'm gonna go there next." You nodded, making sure the mask was snug on your face, but in that same moment, you heard somebody shout that they found Lampert, and you huffed. "Well shit..guess you gotta come, too."

"As long as you keep your distance, that's fine. Nobody else got sick from you, right?"

As much as his question hurt a little, it was a reasonable one to ask. So you just shook your head. "No. I'll stay in my corner and you can stay in yours."

"Fair enough. I just hope it's not too cramped.."

Nodding, you both headed back towards the elevator, keeping a good amount of distance between yourselves.

There was a time where you would've been walking side-by-side with him and Kasper, sometimes linking arms and bumping shoulders (which even the lamp tolerated back then), and you hoped that maybe one day..you'll be able to go back to that.

For now, though, at least he was willing to share a lobby with you and talk about what's been going on at ROKEA just like old times.

So this virus didn't completely ruin your friendship yet...not that you planned on allowing that to happen.

No way.

You'll find a way to beat this.

You had to.

[nervouswhizkid]

i. am so mad. i'm mad at season 4 and at every one of you that interacted with my last post abt vld season 3. i know u were all sitting there giggling at me as i walked into s4 knowing full well it was going to destroy me. no WARNING??? i don't even want to sit down and write about it, i'm gonna start crying all over again

i hate that keith left the team. i have to actually practice breathing techniques right now because it's making me so mad omg. i know i said last time that voltron without lance was unthinkable, but i didn't mean that keith should leave. THAT IS NOT WHAT I WANTED!!!! that also means that there was less keith (and klance) content this season, which i take personally. they did that to hurt me specifically. and on top of that, the team was being so mean about keith's wavering priorities. i feel like when anything goes wrong, with lance and keith specifically, everyone is so mean to them??? god forbid they make a mistake or have personal struggles, DAMN

i feel like this screencap says it all.

guys how about let's talk to each other instead of being passive aggressive and icing people out (i do want to point out though that lance seems more sad/disappointed here than anything. my little klance heart is breaking 😭) AND THIS SCENE??

the moment i realized keith was about to walk in my stomach dropped. they all look so angry and here comes Mister Puppy Eyes McGee. i actually can't take it that's my son everyone leave him alone!!! 🤺🤺🤺🤺 i know they had a big group hug after but that's not good enough for me, they should have tied keith up or handcuffed him to the ship, or something. WHY ARE WE LETTING HIM GO WITH THE BLADE OHMYGODDDD

look at this, like??

the camera setup is what gets me. you have keith smiling with all of his friends in the background and then it swaps to a dark, yawning hallway with the most heartbreaking frown on his face. that doesn't look like someone sure of their decisions to me. this boy is in pain!! i'm also just confused about shiro being able to pilot the black lion. maybe confused isn't the right word, but i'm not sure how to describe it. i'm not convinced?? black already denied him, so why now? i kinda feel like it would've been better had he not tried to reconnect with her at the end of last season, because there was no suspense for me this time. the moment he decided to go try again i was like "oh it's gonna work this time isn't it" i get that it's likely black could sense keith's internal struggles and feel him pulling away and maybe that's why she gave shiro a second chance, but shiro becoming the black paladin again gave keith the excuse to leave, because why do they need him now? they have a black paladin, and it's not him. but to me, it should have been. he went through all of that growth last season, and for what?? just to abandon them when things get rocky?? ugh, i hate this!!

i can't even talk about episode 2 without crying, so just know that i'm sitting here with tears streaming down my face as i write this. i was really excited to finally get some closure on the whole pidge-missing-family mystery, considering that's been a subplot since the beginning of the show. as much as this episode broke my heart, i really did love it. they executed it so well. the scene where pidge lands on that planet with the graves? and they're running and pleading for it to not be true, all the flashbacks of cherished memories and images of matt? dropping to her knees in front of his grave in disbelief??

now that's fucking cinema. you best believe i was bawling my eyes out the whole time. i have a little sister and our relationship is very similar to pidge and matt's, so this was just excruciating. i'm very glad he wasn't actually dead, but part of me almost wishes he was? that sounds SO dark, i hope you guys get what i mean. they just put the audience through the absolute wringer and then they're like "oh, actually he's still alive LOL gotcha!" and that makes me really happy for pidge, but man, what a plot twist that would have been. they've been searching for their brother all this time, so you expect some kind of payoff for dedicating so much time to that storyline, but what if he was just dead?? and there was nothing she could do?? wow this is painful to talk about why did i start watching this show if there's a fic where someone explores that possibility then pls share, for some reason i want to torture myself again, i just love how they did this episode. it's very trope-y, but sometimes you just have to lean into it and enjoy, and this was one of those times

the classic fighting-each-other-unknowingly and middle-of-the-fight-identity-reveal? i'll eat it up every time!!

real talk though why is matt so attractive 😏

soo, zarkon is back. fantastic. do he and haggar just not care about each other?? they haven't mentioned the fact that they're married at all and haggar basically still acts like his loyal follower. i'd entertain the thought that maybe it's been so long that it just doesn't really matter to them anymore, but haggar sounded like she actually cared when she realized they were husband and wife last season. but now it's like nothing happened?? i don't expect them to act all lovey-dovey, but there wasn't even a single line of acknowledgment. and i still cannot understand what lotor's plans are. what is his agenda? he wasn’t bothered at all by zarkon reclaiming the throne, and even went to the trouble to make them think he cared. he got that comet and made a couple of ships, but i still don't know what he plans to do with them. also– i can't believe he killed narti!! i know, i was literally just talking about how she specifically frustrated me, but i was so not expecting their death. i get why he did it, but now the rest of his group doesn't trust him.

i'd say that the one bright spot in this season was episode four. that episode was just so silly and gave me so much secondhand-embarrassment i actually had to look away at times LMAO is this where we got the whole Loverboy Lance and Lone Wolf Keith thing from?? i thought that was purely fandom-made, i was not expecting to hear that in an actual episode. talk about whiplash. and we got this ICONIC scene:

he did that wayyy too naturally. lance, buddy, got anything to share?

i really would have loved to see keith with the team during that episode. i can just imagine how he would've reacted to having to do all of that stuff. god, that would've been hysterical!! the images of the parasite in coran's brain made me gag though, was that really necessary🧍‍♀️

i don't have a ton to say about the final episodes. i mean, it was two episodes of them fighting on naxzela. it was definitely a bit of an avengers endgame feeling with all people they helped in previous seasons showing up to fight, so that was cool! i'm curious as to what purpose naxzela served to the galra empire though. were they always planning to use it as a bomb? and couldn't they still do that technically? they only broke the witches connection with it, so all they'd have to do is get another ship out there and she could do it again. what do you even do with a planet like that?? just destroy it?? i also just want to point out that lance said they should get out of there immediately, and nobody listened!! and then five seconds later they were like "oh no, we need to get out of here!" justice for lance i stg ohmygod and LOTOR is on their side now?!?!?! i actually can't wait to see how this plays out!! total transparency, i love atla and i could absolutely see this being a zuko redemption arc situation. it's clear his parents don't like him at all (are they actually heartless or something??) so why not join the other side!! I'M HERE FOR IT

i have to be honest, this definitely wasn't my favorite season. we're getting into the later seasons and i've heard plenty about how the writing goes a little left-field (though i'm not sure when that happens. most people seem to agree season 8 is shit, but i've heard complaints about s6-7 as well) so we'll just have to see! i'm sticking it out as best i can🚶‍♀️‍➡️ onto season 5!

[whisperwritingstuff]

got a nice big ol' hfs e/l treat for y'all today. @varanere00 and i were cooking with this one, if i do say so myself. enjoy!

------

When Vex returns, he walks in on a fully nude, aside from mask and collar, Scar sitting on the prior exam cot. Beside Scar, laid out on the sheets, are a neat and tidy row of glass stirring rods, arranged from thinnest to thickest. The thinnest one looks to be a bit smeared with something, and the second-thinnest is in Scar's hand, where he's idly flipping and contemplating it. "Vex! Welcome back!" Scar greets brightly.

Watching Vex's brain crash is always a treat. This time, Vex drops the armful of rope and pale blue fabric he's holding, as he walks right into the chair Scar had been sitting on. What Scar can see of his expression rotates from confusion, to recognition, to wrecked in the span of a few seconds. Vex’s attempt to catch himself on the rolly chair fails comically, resulting in a Vex splatted on the ground and the chair merrily rolling away.

"I hope you- I hope you disinfected those first." Vex wheezes out. Scar can't tell if the wheezing is from the sight of him or from the fall. He decides that since the sight of him caused the fall, they are both the same thing, and a definite win for him!

Scar is going to cherish that memory of Vex losing his entire composure, just for Scar. Very proud of his work. Worth every second of setup. In fact, Scar decides that he should surprise Vex like this more often- Just, not often enough that Vex gets used to it.

"Oh, I trust you to keep a clean lab~" Scar giggles, tapping the rod in his hand to his lower lip. "A lab stocked full to the brim of exciting joys to discover~"

To emphasize his point, he slips the rod down, over his chest, across his abs, to his widely splayed legs. Instead of gliding it along the curve of his dick, Scar follows down his inner thigh, settling to trace the cool, smooth tip of the glass along a faint line that curls around much of his inner thigh. To complete the full picture Scar allows his head to tip back, eyelids fluttering, giving a low noise that only isn't a moan by virtue of being very slightly more breath than sound.

The ragged groan that draws from Vex is very much a moan though.

A dull thunk has Scar looking up. Vex is face down on the floor, raising his head like he's about to hit thunk his forehead into the ground again, only for part of his head to disappear into the ground.

"Aww, what's the matter Vexy? Don't wanna enjoy the show?" Scar purrs.

"Yhmm whmmlw." Vex mutters, still half in the floor.

"What was that? I didn't quite catch that, Vexy. Maybe try that again with less floor in your face. Though, if you really want to shove your face into something, I'm sure we can come to an arrangement. I do after all have several assets that are just perfect for shoving one’s face into."

Vex pushes his face further into the floor, but it still does very little to muffle his answering scream. Scar titters a proud little giggle.

"Or we could do this the other way around~ I spy with my little eye some delicious cake all laid out for me~" Scar purrs, shamelessly eyeing up Vex's posterior. The sprawl really does emphasize the soft curves there nicely, even through his outfi-

"Vexyyyyyyy, whatcha wearin'?" Scar asks, sweet and innocent and half an octave too high to be casual and like his brain isn't running blurred circles around the inside of his head from just the slight hint of orange peeking above Vex's displaced waistband.

"What do mean 'what am I wearing'?! Clothes! Unlike you!" Vex pulls his head out of the floor.

"First of all, you told me to strip for you, and I have, so like, I don't see what you're complaining about." Scar shrugs, fully comfortable being nude. "And B, someone's been being a naughty little Vex, hasn't he?" Scar presses the flat of the rod back to his lips, grinning with just a faint wiggle of eyebrows.

"I didn't mean fully nude! Just as much as you're comfortable!" Vex's exasperated screeching is music to Scar’s ears. "Though now that I think about it, I should have expected you to be comfortable fully nude." Vex faceplants back onto the ground, groaning. Fully ignoring Scar's comment about him being naughty. Scar pouts.

"I'm feeling very comfortable, yes." Scar says indulgently, he can't stay upset for too long when he's getting such an absolute show out of Vex. All the delicious gooey moans and groans hidden inside that stoic shell, leaking out for him.

"Maybe you'd feel more comfortable if you came over here and took a seat, I've got a perfect spot for you." Scar slaps his own thigh such that the sound of it rings loud through the room, his breath audibly hitching. A sweet sigh escapes Scar, at the lingering sting.

"That's it. You're going in the machine." Vex picks himself up from the floor.

"Oh, does the machine come with vibrations?" Scar snickers. "Or is it more of a thrusting-"

"Loud. The machine comes with loud." Vex interrupts him. Picks up the mask from the floor and throws it at Scar. "Put that on. Then I'll tie you up, and shove you in." Vex turns around.

Scar reflexively catches the mask, thankfully only dropping the rod he's holding to his lap. Which reminds him of the other rods, leading to Scar scooping them up and depositing them on the closest non-bed surface.

That leaves Scar free to hide himself away under the sheets from the cot, also twisting to the side away from Vex. Just to be certain. Scar's heart thuds again, pulse felt in his fingertips as he raises his hand to undo the catches.

Despite knowing he's been maskless in here before, and knowing it won't be long, Scar still feels that instinctive terror to be taking off his mask here.

For a brief second, Scar wonders, what it'll do to him, to wear the mask of a villain. To willingly press the cool material to his face and do up the latches himself. To discard Hotguy's face.

Barely that moment of thought, and then Scar plunges ahead. Careful of his hair, securing Vex's mask into place, like it belongs there, hugging his skin. Like a softly tingling promise of mischief, just out of reach.

Scar lets out a slow breath, adjusting. The world hasn't ended. He's still here. Sweeter, slower, his heart calming. His breathing steady.

"All set." Scar's voice is serene as he slides the sheets down off himself.

Cub had not anticipated what seeing Hotguy in his mask would do to him. He almost drops the ropes he just picked up, again.

Hotguy, in nothing but Cub's mask and Cub's collar. About to be tied up by Cub. In ropes that, completely coincidentally, were the same shade of pale blue as his skin.

If Cub wasn't in the process of verifying he can trust that Hotguy truly means, can mean, what he says when he says what he wants, he'd either already be devouring Hotguy or locking himself in his room. To most likely ride the same-

That line of thought gets shut down hard, as it's doing no favors for Cub's other hard problem. A problem that's very visible in his light grey sweats.

Scar meets Vex's gaze and lets his expression curl into the same fae grin Vex has greeted him with uncountable times, atop windswept roofs. It feels right, Scar feels confident and ready, humming a single amused note at Vex's fumble.

Only the silent promise of those ropes keeps Scar from slipping off the cot to get his mouth on Vex's newly prominent issue. Scar crooks his fingers, a lazily assured gesture for Vex to come closer.

Cub lets himself be drawn in by those crooked fingers, that dizzying smile. It's not until he's standing between Hotguy's spread thighs, his own pressed hard against the side of the cot, that he recalls he has a task to do here. The coils of rope sit heavy in his hand as he rakes his eyes over the toned, golden body in front of him, debating methods of tying.

Having finally settled on one, Cub sets down all but one rope next to Hotguy, never taking his eyes off Hotguy. The rope he keeps, he uncoils, running the smooth length through his fingers. Cub gives it a firm yank once he has the bite in his other hand, hard enough to make a sound, sending a visible thrill through his subject.

"Your hands." Cub holds out his own hand, palm up, rope still in it. Hotguy offers up both wrists then, fingers loosely curled and wrists upturned, like he's waiting for Cub to cuff him. Cub doesn't cuff him.

Instead, Cub slings the rope around both wrists, looping the bite end and the working end into a double column hitch. He now effectively has Hotguy on a leash.

"Stand." Cub orders, holding out a hand for Hotguy to brace his tied ones onto, to stabilize himself.

Hotguy rises, eyes not having left Cub since the rope was brought out, each brush of skin against Cub's like painting with liquid fire. Cub guides him forward then, until he is standing in the middle of the free space, giving Cub room to work.

The first step is to tuck Hotguy’s arms up to his fine chest, running the rope over one shoulder. Following them closely, Cub then circles Hotguy once, wrapping the rope around arms and shoulders, ending up behind him to install the first countertension hitch. Cub places it as far off to the side as he can, to avoid having Hotguy have to lay on the rope crossings for the long hours of scan time. Cub repeats this for the second and third wraps, each tiered lower in evenly spaced gaps. Binding Hotguy’s arms down tightly, focus trained solely on pale rope and how it glides over and digs into golden skin.

For the fourth, and final, wrap, no countertension hitch is needed. Instead, Cub does a careful pattern of wrapping the rope around the tiered wraps, as far out as he can, in a manner that lays as flat as possible. Goosebumps break out across Hotguy's back when Cub smooths a cold hand over the ropework, checking for bumps.

Cub passes the rope forward over Hotguy’s shoulder then, having found none. Rounding Hotguy, Cub arrives back in front of him, to continue the tie.

Like opposing magnets eternally drawn to each other, Cub’s eyes seek out Hotguy's.

Deep, clear emerald bores into powder blue, Hotguy's gaze seeming so much more vivid without the visor between them. They have never been closer than in this very moment. Breathing itself almost feels sacrilegious, so profound is this locking of eyes. Neither dares look away.

Eventually, eons later, Hotguy closes his eyes with a bitten off mewl.

The spell breaks.

Cub rubs the tails of rope in his fingers, grounding himself on the friction, the soft fuzz along the surface. The dips and rises of the weave. He remembers, then, what he was doing. A series of crosshitches down the front, over where forearm presses against upper arm.

The first graze of his skin again Hotguy's is electrifying, like another shock to the brain. It has Cub instinctively splaying his wings wide, yearning to be touched.

His wings spreading does not mean he misses the sharp intake of breath Hotguy takes, in that very same moment. A bitten-off little mewl. As if Cub's cold skin burned him. The over under of the crossover hitches is an exquisite torture, with how it forces Cub to drag his fingers along hot skin. And oh, the noises Hotguy makes. Never loud or long, those bitten-off little mewls and gasps. As if anything louder would shatter the moment like the most fragile of glass.

A final, firm inward loop around the elbow, and Cub can escape back behind Hotguy. The tension feels less suffocating, back here. Less like he's being vivisected in a stage spotlight.

The row of crosshitches up in the back, following the line where the arm touches the torso, is almost trivial in comparison to the gauntlet of the front. Which Cub still has another one of yet ahead of him.

Hoping to make this easier on both of them, Cub hooks a finger in the back of the collar, and pulls. "Relax." Cub commands.

Hotguy, having tensed up further at the touch to the collar, melts.

"Good." Cub draws the word out. Runs his fingers down Hotguy’s spine while doing so. Now that Cub's started, allowed himself to praise and to pet, he can't seem to stop.

"You're doing so perfectly for me." Cub praises, while running the second line of crosshitches down the front, both sides now symmetrical, fingers dancing over skin between rope, teasingly.

"Beautiful. So beautiful." Cub loops around the elbow and back, trailing his hand over the rope and skin as he does.

"Doing so good, letting me tie you up like this." Cub finishes the second row of crosshitches in the back, tying off the rest of his rope, wrapping his arms around Hotguy's waist, plastering himself to the hot back before him, hard cock pressed into one plush buttcheek.

Scar is lost in experiencing a depth and breadth of freedom that is like not quite like anything he's ever felt before. From the very first command, Scar's mind releases the burden of decisions, setting into a slowly building cloud of bliss as his movement is tenderly taken from him. As he willingly gives up his arms, his hands. Turning himself over to Vex in full trust.

When his eyes lock with Vex's, there's no hesitation stopping him from falling into that mesmerizing glow completely. From mewling his need without shame.

The time slips past Scar in the cool touches of Vex's fingers, an icy balm against the heat of his skin, and the bite of rope into his flesh, firm and unyielding. Simmering need rolls through Scar in a peaceful sort of way, where he doesn't have to do anything about it, just bask in the sparks dancing along his nerves. Just take what he's given.

Instant relaxation pours into Scar's mind and body, dizzying and summer-soda sweet, before he even realizes Vex had spoken. But he does hear Vex's next word, his continued words after that. Scar stands as straight as he can, soaking in the praise, swaying into the brief blips of Vex's touch.

With his heart full and his back cooled by Vex pressing close, Scar tries to speak his appreciation, his adoration. Nothing doing, Scar's tongue trips over itself, turning the words into random sounds that mush together into sweet, encouraging trills. He wishes he could put his hands over Vex's, keep him even closer, but- But this is deep freedom. Freedom from guilt, from choice, from fear, from everything but honey-sharp bliss and belonging and being desired.

Cub stands there like that, for a breath, forehead pressed to Hotguy's neck. Soaking in the contact, the heat.

When he's caught his breath, moments that stretch like taffy into eternity later, he guides Hotguy over to the scanner. The scanning table is just high enough that Hotguy can't sit on it without help. Picking Hotguy up to set him on the table, Cub is very aware of how naked the other is. So far, it had been easy to ignore, just working on his top half, well above the waist line even.

Now though, now Cub has to face the truth.

"Lay back for me.” Cub keeps his hands under Hotguy's neck and shoulders as he guides him to lay back on the scanning bed at an angle, legs hanging off the side, awkwardly, naturally splayed open with how the geometry of it works out. “Good."

Cub steps between those legs, feeling like he's stepping up to his own execution. He's known Hotguy was at least partially hard throughout the entire tying up process so far. Now, Cub's confronted with the visceral physicality of it, Hotguy's erect dick right in front of him. It would be so easy to just sink down, envelop it in his mouth like he's been vividly imagining ever since he first saw it. There would nothing Hotguy could do to stop him while Cub took his time with Hotguy, enjoying every moment of methodical exploration. Nothing Hotguy could do to hurry him along either. The angle he's laying at doesn't allow for much thrusting of the hips, and Cub would have an easy time pinning him down. Forcing him to endure whatever pleasure or pain Cub saw fit to subject him to, until Cub was good and ready to stop.

The force of that sheer power sends Cub to his knees, burying his face into the inside of Hotguy's thigh. Right over the scar he left. And oh, does Cub want to kiss that scar. Now more that ever before. Run his lips over it, press little kisses to every inch of it, murmur apologies for messing up his swing, for almost killing Hotguy in that one stomach dropping terrifying, exhilarating moment he held the other's life in his hands.

But he missed the artery, missed the death sentence. Hotguy lives on, and with him, Cub.

Cub doesn't press his lips to Hotguy's skin, does not take that searing kiss. No matter how close, how tempting. Instead, he runs his fingers over it, just once. Feeling the raised skin under them.

Tearing himself away is a physical pain, both for him and for Hotguy, given the sound Hotguy makes the moment Cub breaks contact. Visceral and mournful, like he just lost a loved one right before his eyes. No words, just pure sound and emotion.

Feels like wading through hip deep glue to Cub, going back those few steps to the cot to fetch the other rope. Like two stars caught in each other's orbit, pulling each other in and spiraling ever closer, tearing each other apart as they go, only to eventually collide in a cataclysmic event that is equally likely to end them both or raise them to new heights as one forever joined entity. They pull each other in, testing and tearing and claiming whichever bits of the other they can. Eventually, they will touch, in mutual oblivion.

Cub can't wait for it.

Cub hooks his elbows under Hotguy's knees, bringing those knees up and together, when he returns. The rope is looped around both legs just under the knees, working end passed through the loop of the bite and secured in a simple overhand knot. Cub works his way down Hotguy’s legs in a similar manner, wrapping the working end around Hotguy's legs and the tensioning, securing everything with and overhand knot in the front, a handspan below the last.

Reaching Hotguy's ankles, Cub wraps around just above them twice, then wraps around the rope between them twice, tying off and locking the rope into place. Taking a step back, he admires his handiwork.

Wearing his mask, Hotguy is trussed up for him, in his colors. Hard cock standing at attention, weeping a little bead of precum at the slit.

Forcing himself to breathe, to clear his head and tear free of the heavy tension spun between them while tying Hotguy up, Cub clears his mind as best he can. Focus. Hotguy wanted to get the scans now. To what end, Cub is unsure, but it doesn't really matter. Hotguy wants this, and Cub can provide, so he will.

"Let's get you situated." Cub picks Hotguy up to properly lay him out, with no resistance at all. Hotguy nuzzles into him, purring, even.

"This does not seem like you are about to do something stupid." Cub observes.

No response from Hotguy.

"Hotguy? Hotguy, are you there? You need to wake up, snap out of it, I need you alert for this."

Thrumming pleasure pulses a beat through Scar's veins with every slow thump of his heart. Nothing else matters.

Scar wishes Vex would call for him instead of someone else.

And yet, Vex's hand on his cheek, the words i need you ringing in Scar's ears, those lift Scar up above the molten mess consuming his mind. Still into a space where everything is sweet and blissful and calm, but a space where thoughts have room to spin up in little twirls.

" 'M here." Scar says, voice coated with the thick sound of sleep tapering off. "I'm here for you." Steadier, firmer. He manages to focus enough to look up and meet Vex's eyes.

Scar wonder if Vex's pupils are as blown out as his own feel like they are. If Vex has pupils at all under that light.

In the meantime, Scar tests all of his limbs, a familiar routine for waking up bound in far less familiar places than this. He has to give it to Vex, the ties feel sturdy, but not uncomfortable. Scar's not entirely helpless, he could probably wriggle his way somewhere if left unsupervised for a while, but he wouldn't be able to do anything significant while under a watchful eye, or with a minor bit of securing.

Vex glances at Scar's slightly shuffling feet. "Seems like this has only given you a new issue with holding still for the scan." Vex comments, a wry twist to his lips.

"No, no never." Scar both tries to fall still and to rock into Vex, at the same time, with stillness quickly winning out.

"I'll make sure of that." Vex reaches for a... something? Scar doesn't worry about what it is, just allowing Vex to roll him up a bit to attach the thing to cradle Scar's head.

"Alright." Vex secures the thing, leaving Scar unable to move his head. "I'm gonna need you to get as close to the mindset you usually have as you can, right. Also, I'm going to take the collar off now, you ready?"

"Yeah, go ahead." Scar tries to nod, becoming distracted for a few moments by the shivering tingle down his spine when he can't. He's completely helpless now, Vex could do anything- Scar's cock gives a twitch, one of the very few parts of him still capable of moving. "Usually? Which usually?" Scar blinks up at Vex. He's got several usual mindsets to choose from, and he wants to get the right one for Vex.

"Like you're at home, relaxed, in a neutral kind of way. I need baseline readings." Vex says, as he slips his fingers past Scar's hands and neck. The light pressure on Scar's throat disappears, Vex pulling back, taking the collar with him.

Scar expects to feel more different, more lost, with the comfort of his collar removed from him, but the expected worries and strife never materialize. Just the steady hold of Vex's ropes cradling him, Vex's mask protecting his identity. Scar breathes, slow and deep.

"At home, okay, I can do that." Scar closes his eyes, though his body is still held as much at attention as it can be, given the circumstances. In his mind, Scar paints the picture of... A couch. A fancy surround-sound, big-screen movie player. A pile of boxes on a coffee table. He flicks on the movie and flounces back to squeeze himself between two bodies, one chill and soft and steady, the other warm and sharp and just a hint puffy. He hooks his arms with an arm on each side of him and chatters away as the opening riffs of Aladdin fill the room.

The only thing that makes it back out of Scar's mind and into reality when he opens his eyes again, are his brightly glimmering eyes and his buoyant smile. Maybe he'll get to have that moment of home again soon. He can hope. "Got it." Scar winks at Vex.

"Good." Vex holds up a pair of headphones. "I'm gonna put these on you. You'll be able to hear me through them. Then I'm going to put you in the machine. It's gonna be loud. Feel free to close your eyes if you get claustrophobic." As promised, Vex settles the headphones over Scar's ears, before the machine whirs to life under him, transporting him into a white tube.

Just the thought of having every noise except Vex's words whispering in his ears blocked out, and being put into a tight, enclosed machine to stew like that has a long moan escaping Scar, his thighs tensing up hard as he fights not to cum on the spot. Scar only barely manages, mentally clawing his way tooth and nail out of that sticky morass of searing lust threatening to overwhelm him.

Home. Neutral. Think of home. Hold that painted picture clear in his mind. "Did you know how much ad-libbing Williams did during recording?" Scar mumbles to himself, running through Aladdin trivia in his mind to force himself to keep focus and stay present. His toes wiggle very slightly with the desire to bounce his leg.

The machine closes, sealing him into it's gloomy interior.

"Alright, I'm starting the scans up now. Try to maintain the baseline calm." Vex's voice, crisp and clear, directly in his ear has Scar fighting his encroaching orgasm again.

“Calm, yes. Calm.” Scar repeats, voice strung high. He has no idea if Vex can even hear- His toes curl tight and he pants sharp breaths until he can stop thinking about how this would be a perfect setup for Vex to slide brand new Truths into the depths of Scar’s brain, his words the only solid thing to grasp-

Come on, no, not that. Scar wrenches his thoughts over to imagining burning his mouth on a takeout container of soup he sipped directly out of without thinking. The matching chiding from either side of him devolving into flustered arguments with each other that let Scar slip under the radar and just watch.

Calm. Scar can do this.

The loud whirring and thumping noises the machine makes help him get a grip on himself, to firmly plant his ass on his couch. Forcing deep, even breaths, Scar gets himself somewhat under control. Enough that Vex can hopefully give him directions, talk to him, without Scar running the risk of cumming with every word.

"I’ve got the baseline scan done. For this next one, I want you to think about things you regret. Doesn't matter if big or small, just. Try not to have a breakdown, okay?"

Regrets... Does not dropping to his knees and tearing Vex's pants off before the scan count? Mm, probably not. He might still get to do that, after all.

Scar turns deeper for regrets. His bow in his hands. A mistaken calculation. A now-faint scar, hidden under bright plumage. A body plummeting out of the sky. Legs that fail him at just the wrong moment. The crunch of wing-bone, the thump of a body. Dull dark eyes, as even the best healers expressed uncertainty at recovering flight.

He should have paused to double check his shot. He should have used a different arrow. He should have gotten more rest, made sure his legs were good enough for running during his patrol. He should have been better less careless, less forgetful, less blasé about consequences.

Scar's lungs feel tight as the old ghosts of reproachful voices ring in his mind. You had such potential, if only you'd apply yourself. He's trying. Just pay attention. He wants to. Everyone else does it, stop being lazy.

"Please..." Hot tears burn at the corners of Scar's eyes, unable to be blinked away.

"You okay in there?" Vex's voice, warm in his ears.

"Vex." Scar clings to that voice. "Please talk, for a bit. Please." Scar pleads, hoping Vex can hear him. He needs that crisp, real voice, drowning out all the specters still tugging at his thoughts with reproaches and admonishments.

Scar imagines rubbing away his own tears with the heel of his palm, even though he can't actually do that right now. It helps a little, he tells himself.

"Yeah, okay, I can do that. So the purpose of having you think about different things is to see what areas show increased activity by tracking the hemodynamic response-" Scar does not understand a word of the techno jargon Vex is babbling. His voice does soothe Scar though, even with all of those fancy sciency words.

Honestly, the technobabble is just right for Scar to hold on to that edge of regretting that he doesn't understand, can't contribute to the conversation, while still letting the sound of Vex talking carry him along, never sinking too deeply into his memories that hook into those emotions.

The tears finally spill from his eyes, leaving them less soggy-feeling. Dampening the strap of Vex's mask. His mask. His Vex's mask. "Thank you." Scar murmurs into a slight lull in Vex's talking. It is a little reassuring that Vex can hear him, despite the loud machine and everything. Even if being unable to communicate would be kind of ho-

"Now. Are you with me?" Vex's tone changes. Less rambly. Brighter. Clearer. A direct question.

"Yes. Yes! I'm here!" Scar hopes he will be told to think about something nicer now.

"Good job so far. Scans are looking good." Praise from Vex always hits Scar so good, melting his brain a bit. Focus! He scolds himself before anyone else can. Vex needs these scans to get his silly ideas out of his brain. If Scar has to focus to make that happen, he will. He has to so he will.

"Now, I want you to think about me. Not about being here in the lair though. Think about me like you would at home."

"...um. What?" Scar feels a momentary flicker of irritation that he can't tip his head. How is he supposed to think of being home, without thinking of being home? "Is this a trick question?" He asks, hesitantly.

Scar wants so badly to do well on the scans, to get them right and good and show Vex once and for all! How is he supposed to do that when asked to do the impossible, though?

The thumping around Scar pauses. "You said I take the guilt away, right?"

A failed nod. "Yeah." Scar agrees aloud instead. He doesn't have to feel guilty for being selfish here.

"That applies to when you are here? And I'm here? Here as in in the Concave?"

Scar chuckles at Vex's silly name for his lair. It's cute. Vex has this way of slipping in little bits of silly and cute, if you pay enough attention to him.

And Scar pays plenty of attention to him, these days.

"Yeah. Can't be guilty about getting what I want, if it wasn't my choice." Scar agrees. Maybe the lair isn't necessarily a vital part of it, but it is its own little world away from the world, a bubble to be pulled into where everything's alright. The where could be elsewhere, but it has been here.

"So pretend you’re home. Think about this, and me, like you are at home."

"But you just said to not think like I'm at home." Scar pouts. Is Vex being purposely abstruse? Maybe this is a scan for confusion?

"Why is that difficult? I'm not in your home." Vex sounds confused, as confused as Scar feels.

"What? Of course you are." Scar argues, starting to get a little peeved.

"I've never been to your place. You know, where you live. Not some idealized dream version of a home you want to have."

"Oh. Where I live. Why didn't you just say that?" Scar tries not to feel dumb, but Vex's words still send a crack through his imagined movie scene. Is it so bad of him to want more of those stolen moments of home? Maybe it is.

"It is social convention that most people refer to their current place of permanent or semi-permanent residence by the word 'home'. Only a small subset of people does not. I had assumed you fall into the former category. My bad." Is Vex insulting him or is he apologizing for making assumptions about Scar? Scar can't quite tell.

"It's- Whatever." Scar feels talked down to either way. He doesn't like it when Vex sounds like teachers and doctors. "So I just- Think about stuff like I'm at my place." Scar tries to gloss past his discomfort, the way those memories are a little too close to the surface still.

"Yes. Do you need me to talk again?"

"Probably shouldn't hear you if you're not supposed to be there." Scar answers, pushing down the thought of Vex in his apartment. On his much less comfortable couch. In his cramped little kitchen. On his bed-

Focus. He's in his apartment. Vex isn't there. He's... He just got home from a patrol, maybe. Just got the mask off. Aches in his muscles, bruises on his skin. Maybe he didn't see Vex, but he wanted to. It'd be wrong to want that, because seeing Vex means Vex is doing a crime, which is bad, but- The thought lingers anyway. At least Grian isn't here this time to rag on him for being hopeless about it.

The renewed pounding around Scar can be Joel hitting his punching bag against the wall again. Just so it doesn't break his immersion.

Scar walks himself through the steps of doing his bow maintenance and armor maintenance before packing them away. Better to do it every time he gets back, rather than scheduling times he'll forget and then being caught unawares in the moment by something locking up or breaking.

It gives him time to think about how his patrol went, too. Time to wonder what Vex has been up to. What he does when he isn't out fighting Scar. To wonder if they've ever passed on the street, entirely unawares. Scar likes to think he'd recognize Vex if he ever saw him out of costume, but- Well, it's a big city, with a lot of people, and who knows what kinds of powers Vex has that he doesn't talk about.

Scar wants to know all of them. For... For heroing reasons, of course. To- better thwart him. To bring Vex to justice for his crimes... A sullen, squirming weight sits in Scar's gut, at the thought of Vex imprisoned. He doesn't want that. He should want that. It's wrong of him not to want that. If he, if Hotguy gets the chance to lock Vex away, he will. And that has to be all there is to that.

"Very good." Vex's voice interrupts Scar's musings. "Now, think about friends, people that aren't me. Lovers too, if you have those." Scar wants to laugh at that. Him? Lovers? Fuckbuddies, sure, and a nice little collection of toys, as well as a trusty right hand, but no lovers.

Not that Scar's list of friends is terribly long either. He likes Lizzie and Joel well enough, but he's never quite sure if he's more of a charity case to them, a good deed that's occasionally funny enough to keep around. On his good days, though, he has a good time with them, sharing his new baking, and listening to Joel rant, and painting all their nails in color-coordinated sets.

And, of course, there's always Grian, a fixture in Scar's lives. Loud, puffed out to swagger larger than he is. Ready to knock Scar around if he's being stupid, but also there to share adventures, and hijinks.

Someone Scar can trust his back to. Someone Scar can trust his chair to. Someone Scar can cuddle into when the nights get cold and his building's heat has gone on the fritz again. A tap at his window promising that the rest of his day won't be boring. And isn't that the best blessing someone could give Scar?

"Last one." Vex's voice in his ears promises. "Now, I need you to think about me like when you are here. When you have the collar on."

Oh goodie! That one's easy.

Scar lets himself fall back closer to the present moment. He thinks first about giggling to himself while stripping and setting up the rods for Vex to find, and how delightful Vex's reactions were.

But there are so many other fun memories to flit through. Vex arching under his touch in bed. Vex carrying him like the princess he is. Vex's cool shoulder under his cheek, Scar tucked up close and fighting to stay awake through a movie that he won't catch the end of before succumbing to the coziness. The quiet surprise on Vex's face, when Scar presents him with a carrot cake decorated with Vex's favorite star-shapes, carefully measured and dotted across the top of the cake.

Joy and pride and contentment, painted in luxurious stolen moments.

It ends way too quickly, Vex announcing that he got everything he needed, he'll be coming over to retrieve Scar now, and does he want the collar back. Of course Scar wants his collar back, what a silly question. He'll keep Vex's mask too, Scar likes it.

Scar is eager to see Vex again, forgetting that the light will be blinding-bright when the machine spits him back out again. So he ends up scrunching his eyes shut instead, boo.

At least he has Vex's hands brushing against his head, freeing him from the dastardly stillness contraption. And if being freed to attempt to nuzzle into Vex's hands makes it a struggle to get his collar back on, well. That's a Vex Problem not a Scar Problem, sorry not sorry.

"So you believe me now, right? Your silly machine thingies told you I was right?" Scar asks, eager.

"I still need to evaluate the images. But then I will know, yes." Vex runs his hand over Scar's hair. "Now, let's get you untied, dressed, and then you can finally eat something and watch a movie or whatever, while I evaluate the images."

"Aw boo." Scar huffs about it taking even more time. Though the blow is softened a little by Vex's hand in his hair.

"Where'd you learn to tie like this anyway?" Scar asks, wiggling in place a little. This definitely isn't first time work, Scar's been Grian's practice dummy before, and working up to smooth, tight, even work like this takes time, he's found out.

"I've messed around with others a bit. Doc, Ren, T- Deepfrost." Vex shrugs, sliding his arms under Scar to pick him up. "You want the arms or the legs of first?"

Scar gives Vex a little headbutt for the stumbled name as well. "Figures Doc would..." Scar shakes his head a bit, amused. "I didn't know you knew Deepfrost." And apparently well enough to know his name too. Certainly, Scar isn't jealous of that. "Arms. The legs know what they did." His arms are more useful to him and more reliable anyway.

"Don't you know? All villains are part of the villain union. Of course we know each other." Vex teases, as he sets Scar down on the low back rolly chair again. "Don't you heroes have regular meetings where you discuss how righteous you are? How to better stick those sticks up your asses?" Clever, cool hands start unpicking the harness.

"There's better things than sticks to have up my ass." Scar comments flippantly, thinking about the several of those things that live in Vex's closet, and currently Vex's shower. "There'd better not be a hero union I was never invited to." But Scar can't rule it out entirely. "Does yours at least get dental?" Scar rolls his shoulders a bit as the harness comes away from them.

"You know, I never asked." Vex chuckles. The ropes fall from Scar's now freed torso. "But do feel free to elaborate on the better things, if you want. Always nice to get some more insight into a hero brain."

"Well, you've got about three of them right here on your person- Four if we count duplicates separate. So you ought be familiar with them already." Scar shakes his arms out, doing practiced stretches and little bits of massage to get all the blood going and make sure it's all in good working order.

Vex is letting him talk, kneeling down before him to get started on untying his legs.

Scar sways his feet to the side away from Vex's hands. "See anything you like down there?" He playfully lilts.

"You want to keep those tied then? Will they be okay with that? With their issues?" Vex wraps a hand around Scars calf.

"Yeah, they can take a lot worse than that." Scar shrugs, flexing his calf under Vex's hand. The muscle moves smoothly at the moment.

"Alright. I'd still like to massage them after untying them later." Vex stands, looking around. He spots something behind Scar, and heads over there.

Scar tries to nudge and wiggle his tied legs to spin the spinny chair, to little avail.

"Here." Soft fabric is draped over Scar's shoulders.

Scar gives a little mrpt as he looks up at Vex, pulling the soft fabric close around himself. "Whazzat?" He blinks, pushing pleasant thoughts of Vex's hands on his legs later aside.

"Shirt." Vex says. "Don't want you getting cold when I carry you." A sparkly blue thing is dropped in Scar's lap, before Vex scoops him up in his arms again.

"Grab my tablet for me." Vex pauses next to a table, with a tablet plugged into a computer terminal on it.

Scar pokes at the sparkly blue cloth a bit, not bothering to put the shirt on. It's fine as a cape. But he's pulled from his distraction by a new distraction! Vex's tablet!

"Do you have games on it?" Scar asks, as he snags the tablet, yanking out the cord to drop back down on the computer. Time to poke and swipe at the tablet to see what the lock screen looks like.

"No games." And also no lock screen apparently, as when Scar pokes at the buttons, it lights up to an image gallery. With lots of black and white images of a round thing.

"What?! How do you live with no games on it! Vex!" Scar flings his hand out dramatically, waving the tablet around.

Still, he gets tired of that quickly enough, pulling the tablet close and swiping through the squiggly pictures. Scar presses and taps, looking for ways to download games. Instead he ends up in a menu for setting pictures to stuff, so he starts assigning the bloomy-squigglies to everything he can find.

"I have a gaming setup for gaming. Do you want a blanket under you before I put you on the couch?"

"Depends. Do you count as a blanket?" Scar bats his eyelashes up at Vex. Gets a bit of dried tear-track cruff in his eye. Blinks hard. Rubs at it, whining.

"Mind if I put one down then?" Vex asks. "As I do not count as a blanket?"

Scar heaves a huge huff of a sigh. "Fine, if you have to." He'd still rather just sit on Vex, though.

"Hang on to me." Vex uses the hand that was supporting Scar's upper body to sort of throw a blanket over the couch, before turning around and sitting down, Scar still in his lap.

Vex doesn't have to ask Scar twice, tablet immediately dropped forgotten onto his chest so he can sling both arms around Vex and hold him close. "Best seat in the house~" Scar giggles, as he scoots and squirms to get comfy.

Vex plucks the tablet off his chest, once he's seated. "Can you reach your plate? And the remote?" Vex asks.

"Dunno!" Scar declares, not particularly caring. He does, however, care about resuming his gnawing on Vex's neck, so he does that instead.

"I can't review the images like this, Hotguy." Vex sounds entirely too patient right now.

Man, that Hotguy guy sounds like he's being a bother to Vex. Oh well, not Scar's problem!

"Mhm, how mean of him. Awful, really." Scar says in between licks and nibbles.

"Not my problem. You're the one that wanted the scan results as soon as possible." Vex sets the tablet aside, leaning back on the couch. The movie sounds continue, Obi Wan making his flight to Geonosis.

"You're the one who trusts your dumb machines more than me." Scar bites down on Vex's pulse, as hard as he can without breaking skin, just for a few seconds.

As soon as he lets go, he is yanked back by the hair, and slid off Vex's lap. "Behave. And actually eat some of the outrageous amounts of food you ordered." Vex is not happy with him right now, it seems.

What starts as a wanton moan from the hand yanking Scar's hair, trails into a whimper as he's moved away and admonished. He doesn't get why Vex is being suddenly cold- Outside of his usual physical cold.

"It looked good." Scar says sullenly, shoulders hunching down under the weight of Vex's arm. Not his fault the food stopped being interesting when it got here and stuff was going on.

Scar reaches out and picks a random container up, flipping it open to poke at the contents. Long since cooled and congealed scrambled eggs. Scar mostly just pokes at them and occasionally pinches a couple curds of egg into his mouth.

"I'm sure it did." Vex ruffles his hair and squeezes him close, before turning back to study the squiggles.

Scar picks away at the eggs slowly, giving a sigh as he lets himself lean into Vex when squeezed. The movie is fine, but this just isn't exactly how he imagined it going after he got out of the dumb machine. The moments before going in had been- Electric. Like they had been scant seconds away from something that could change everything! But this is just... It's fine, is what it is. Normal.

Scar has actually nearly finished the eggs, by the time the credits roll around. With his legs still tied, he can't get up to change the movie. So he noses up to Vex, getting his attention.

"I'll put on another movie. Next one again?" Vex looks up from his screen. The black and while squigglies have colors now, and look different from the other squigglies.

"Sure." Might as well finish the trilogy. He can move on to Disney movies after.

Scar did not account for Vex having to get up to change the movie. The emptiness at his side has him pouting. Worse, when Vex comes back, he doesn't immediately fill it, instead picking up the plate and holding it out to Scar. "Or did you want something else?"

Scar blinks at the plate, having entirely forgotten it was there until Vex moved it. "That's fine." Scar says, accepting the plate. Looks like it's more picking at food time for him. This is... okay. The food's fine.

Maybe he should ask how to do better at scans, in case he needs to do them again sometime. Maybe he messed it up, because he needed so much explanation. Maybe that disappointed Vex, and that's what killed the mood. Maybe he should have just kept his mouth shut and thought about whatever.

Vex settles next to him again, arm on Scar's waist this time. Giving little absent pets at the skin there.

"I'm making good progress. Got some really good images off you."

"They don't look like much." Scar glances over. The new colors are neat, but he bets other people have much more colorful brain pictures. Scar knows his brain has never been particularly good, not one of his strong assets. Hopefully Vex doesn't mind that.

"There's actually quite a lot going on here. If you look here you can see where the red and yellow overlap to orange, that's the areas that light up both when you think of me and of your friends." Vex points to a large orange blob, with little red and yellow flecks in and around it.

"That's a lotta orange. Is that bad?" Scar looks where Vex is pointing. The blobs kind of look like paint on a palette. He misses painting. Not too much time for it, these days.

"No, actually. It's what I was hoping I'd see. Means there’s no structural damage cutting you off from any parts of your feelings when you think about me." Vex pauses, going back to the gallery, and types something into a search bar. More colorful squiggles appear. "Like here." He points to two side by side images. Both have blue blobs, but the right one looks like someone cut a part off of it.

"This here is a scan of my brain, back when I tested the current version of the collar. The missing bit here is me not being able to think about physically fighting someone."

"You... really tested it on you?" Scar asks, reaching out to touch the blue blob. He knows Vex said something about testing them earlier, but it's hard to imagine Vex willingly putting it on himself, just to- To what? Make sure it works?

"Of course. Had to make sure it's safe, and comfortable. I do keep them on you for a week at a time." Vex shrugs, like it's no big deal.

"How do you get it back off again?" Scar asks. He looks to Vex, starting to reach for Vex's neck, before deciding better of it and looking back down to the picture, where he can trace the squigglies there instead.

"Doc supervises. He takes it back off me after all tests are run. Though he has used it to trap me at his place overnight, made sure I took a break." A wry smile twists Vex's mouth, when Scar glances up. "Doc can be annoying like that."

“I guess he can.” Scar says. He’s torn between being reassured that Vex has people he can rely on, people he trusts with his name, and his brain, and ropes, and- And a feeling that definitely isn’t jealousy. That isn’t an aching longing to be a part of the other parts of Vex’s life. He wants Vex to be happy! Scar just... wants to be there, too. “Sounds like you and he are close.”

"We're acquainted." Vex shrugs.

"Mm." Scar hums. "I'm sure you let all your acquaintances trap you and tie you up."

"Some of them, yeah." Vex agrees.

Scars fingers curl. He makes himself laugh. "Yeah, of course." Maybe Scar's the weird one, he supposes, only letting one really-really close friend- Well, one really-really close friend and one archrival, do that to him. "Sure, sure." Probably most normal people have lots of friends they do that stuff with.

"You're the only one I kidnap for birthday dinners, though." Vex laughs along with him.

Scar squishes in closer to Vex's side, headbutting him lightly. "Good. Keep it that way." Scar chews his lip briefly. "Which day?"

"The 20th." Vex taps through the image gallery, back to the orange squiggles.

"What- Really?" Scar blinks wide eyes, honestly shocked that Vex openly answered him. And more shocked to have Vex list the day after his own birthday! "Like. Really-really?" Scar grabs Vex's cheeks to look at him proper. "You're not joe-ing me?"

"Why would I lie about my birthday?" One eyebrow gently raised at Scar's reaction.

"B'cause it's like, an i-dent-i-fy-ing piece of information, and stuff." Scar moves his way through the word slowly to make sure he gets all the syllables in the right order and stuff. "And it's-" Scar's torn. He... He shouldn't bring up his own birthday, it's silly. It's silly to care that they're right next to each other like that. It doesn't mean anything. He squishes Vex's cheeks a few times. "It's a good day."

"Less so without the year." Vex hums. "And yeah. It is a good day. Especially if I can spend it with you."

Scar wonders if Vex ever wonders when his birthday is. Hotguy has one, for publicity, but it isn't actually Scar's. It's mostly just for fan events, to drum up good press. So he can make a show of that one, and still have his own to himself. Until suddenly he didn't have it to himself anymore.

"Could make an educated guess about the year." Well, Grian would probably do better at that than him. But- Some part of Scar doesn't want to tell Grian this information about Vex, wants it to be his own little thing. "I- Oh." Vex is treated to a close up view of Scar flushing when Scar registers what Vex said about spending Vex's birthday with him making it a good day. "I... like spending it with you too."

Vex studies his face for a long while. In the background, the Chancellor is encouraging Anakin to kill Dooku. "I'm glad." The smile he gives Scar is small, but to Scar, it means so much.

Scar's own smile is lopsided and bright. Scar takes a hand back, to scrub the heel of his palm over his own cheek, as if that could rub off the heat there. No...

But a much better idea occurs to Scar! He glides his hands down Vex's far arm, taking it between his and bringing it up to his face. First, Scar kisses Vex's palm, and then he presses the cool skin against his cheek for blessed chill relief. He won't be forgetting that smile, those casual words. His heart sings with feeling from it.

Scar leans in then, cautiously. He's hoping for a kiss, but anticipates Vex pulling back at any moment.

Instead, just as Anakin beheads Dooku with an ominous hum and crackle of lightsaber flourish, their lips touch. The kiss isn't grand, nor does it light fireworks in Scar. Instead it's slow, feels deep, despite there barely being any movement at all, never mind any tongue, and full of emotion. So full, Scar thinks his heart might burst.

After both an eternity and a split-second blink, Vex pulls back, leaning his forehead against Scar's. Nearly identical masks press together. "Soon. When I finish reviewing all the images. Then you can have all the kisses you want. Provided I don't find a nasty surprise, which at this point is very unlikely." Vex whispers. Promises. Scar is taking this as a promise.

Scar's breath mingles with Vex's, Scar soaking in the quiet closeness. "I'll hold you to that." He murmurs, with fond anticipation. All the kisses he could want? Scar can't even imagine all of them.

Scar knows he'll have to pull back eventually. And he will, Scar tells himself. Just a little longer.

‘A little’ turns into minutes, but Scar eventually manages to steel himself to pull back and instead settle his head on Vex's shoulder to let Vex work. Just a bit more patience, Scar can do that.

And while he does, he's got a movie to distract him.

[flownwrong]

resdogs fic recs

Having gone through most fics for this fandom (or at least this ship) I could get my hands on, and encouraged by the usual gang, I bring you a few recs under cut. Might or might not find some more later.

Free Agent Orange by @nigeltde-fic

A stunningly fond look at Freddy's fuckups and fucked-up-ness. Strikes me every time how much of an unreliable narrator he is here, detached and ready to cut into his otherness while just glancing off both the soft core of himself and the spine to support it, and how, in the end, he can never be anything other than himself. Can't think of another resdogs fic that gets at the undercover of it all quite like this one.

Cut My Throat by Delphi

Delphi's Freddy is ever-watchful, aware of himself — dangerous, too, for White. Competent, but clear-eyed about turning away from duty. The perfect puzzle-pieces-slotting-together desire between them here is electrifying. That first coming-together is scorching and urgent, a perfect use of the classic shaving setup, and the second one is confused and unmoored until it finally isn't. The ending kind of kills me every time with how it both circles back and doesn't.

Already Gone by Delphi

Quiet and sweet. I think it's incredibly hard to write a truly molasses-slow, non-urgent resdogs fic — especially in Freddy's narrative voice. This one works perfectly, despite focusing on paranoia. And all fic for this ship will be, by definition, bittersweet, but this is maybe the sweetest of the lot. The last paragraph always leaves me halfway to a smile.

In Deep by veronamay

I really love a Freddy who starts off too hard in the other direction in his own head — high on getting in, high on being off the leash — right up until the moment where he's hit in the face with the fact that he is down bad, and didn't he know it all along, through all the bullshit? But of course.

The New West by gigantic

Larry is hard to write and hard to explore. I think gigantic uses second person very well here to draw a line stretching way into the past and bring it all the way back to the bitter end with a merciless punchline. Reads like a good companion piece to the first fic on the list, actually, another slightly unreliable introspection of someone with tightly-leashed hope inside.

Something Better For Yourself by ostreatus

Another Larry piece. ostreatus says in the notes they wanted "to imagine a scenario or two where Freddy is largely unreadable beyond surface reactions", and it's something I can never get enough of. They manage, too — you can gauge just how affected Freddy is, and what did it, because you have context. Larry, struck where it isn't even supposed to hurt anymore, cannot. It's hopeless and moving.

And here we have it, folks. Side-note: while re-reading my bookmarks, I became conscious of the disconnect that should've been obvious to me — the reason canon-compliant resdogs fic strikes the reader in the heart is the sense of doom, of course; but while we know the doom is utter tragedy and what amounts to murder-suicide, the doom Freddy senses is just the betrayal — yet we all seem to agree it never feels any lighter. I just think that's neat.

[magicalgirlsirin]

hi rly enjoyed ur post on elysian realm! ik ur a new fan (i am too) but i heard that before retcon, elysia was a lot more morally gray. would you happen to know how exactly?? im rly curious bc i think it would be a severe improvement obviously. we deserve complex women who do wrongs

So when I say retcon in relation to the elyrealm arc it's less so "things they changed because of the story evolving and wanting to expand previously established events" and more "things they straight up forgot about in service of making Elysia a herrscher". It's not like hi3 is a stranger to retcons though?

For example, Durandal being the "original" Kiana is a retcon. The fact that our Kiana was a clone remained the same, but it's clear from older story stuff (iirc it's Everlasting Memory/Theresa's chronicle set?; second eruption manga doesn't focus on the Kiana part) that Durandal wasn't originally there. Otto refers to Kiana as K-423, and that Theresa needs to retrieve her, which implies that Theresa knows it's not Siegfried and Cecilia's kid, but her distress remains the same. The later game retcon by Thus Spoke Apocalypse is that OG!Kiana and Siegfried were going to go retrieve K-423, but OG!Kiana ended up injured and so Siegfried only left with K-423. And if you're confused then so am I because the details don't really super line up with the presentation, but it's like, fine, because at the end of the day the current writing intention and trajectory is for Durandal and Kiana to be sisters, and to both be Siegfried's daughters.

Anyways, for Elysia, a lot of her retcons occur in a very rapid pace from the first realm chapter set to Elysium Everlasting. Like I mentioned in my last post, the herrscher reveal is nonsense just going off of basic information like the fact she received MANTIS surgery like all the other Flame Chasers. However, there are other plot threads that are completely dropped for the sake of making Elysia a very special good girl who you should love because she's so nice and never did anything bad.

[About Betrayal 1 - Chapter 2]

[About Betrayal 2 - Chapter 2]

Elysia the traitor plot is something I was, well not hopeful for (a friend had already warned me that the game wouldn't do anything interesting with it] but I still ended up mulling it over a lot because it was such an interesting hinge piece for her initial presentation.

What stands out to me is the phrasing. Kevin says she never endangered humanity even if she was a traitor. Kevin says that Elysia made a decision. This implies agency, like Elysia was actively choosing to do something dangerous for the sake of the Flame Chasers. However, if Elysia was a herrscher from the beginning, then none of this makes sense. She doesn't choose to be a herrscher if she was one from the beginning, so why even make it seem like her betrayal was her choice at all?

[Traitor - Chapter 1]

It doesn't stop there though. Mobius' active disdain implies that whatever choice Elysia made, it was enough to make Mobius of all people consider her a lost cause. Mobius, who body mods and injects honkai energy into anyone with a pulse (hyperbole) to try and make humanity last just the slightest bit longer.

[Traitor - Chapter 1]

Mobius wants us to doubt Elysia's intentions. If you go through all their shared information, you'll find that the worst Elysia really does is just... coerce Mobi to wear pink dresses, and while that is obnoxious, it wouldn't warrant utter contempt for Elysia as a person.

There's actually a lot of stray text that implies there's something wrong about Elysia's existence, which I guess in generous terms could be interpreted as setup for the herrscher reveal? But it just feels like it's just there to add to the mystery that won't go anywhere.

[The Blind Spot - Recollection]

This right here nags at me. Deeply so. Elysia isn't so much a character as much as she is just a concept, the idea of a story that could be told. Not even in the canon-compliant weird endgame hook meta-textual breakout in Transcending Finality about the power of stories... Although, there's a way to introduce it here and tie it to Elysia to give some semblance of connectivity.

I went this long without actually giving my thoughts on how to make Elysia's writing good though. Disclaimer for clarity sake I know not everyone will agree with the changes I want to make and I'm also not claiming to be a more skilled writer than anyone in the hi3 team, they're all people with enough talent to be employed by the company.

That out of the way.

This isn't so much about making Elysia morally grey as much as it is about giving her an emotional core, because right now she's pretty hollow. Rather than a pristine girl who never did anything wrong, I'd rather cast her as a romantic, tragic heroine who would move heaven and fate just to seem noble.

Elysia was born human. Maybe she loved stories, and how they transported her to far off places, far far far away from the tiny town she was growing up in. When she was old enough, she traveled the world. Honkai descends. Because she was a globe trotter she ended up connected to many people, and was given the chance to join the MOTH organization. She gets MANTIS surgery. As the number of soon-to-be Flame Chasers grow, discussion begins about if the strength of the soldiers is enough.

'Maybe, if I had power comparable to a herrscher, we could fight with less casualties.'

She doesn't say this out loud, of course. It's a dangerous thought, a line that shouldn't be crossed. But she's curious. She breaks into Mobius' lab [Miss Pink Spy - Pristine Memory] to find the information she wants. Mobius figures out her intentions and warns Elysia off. It's not even in consideration, so keep whatever plan you have in mind off the table before you do something irreversible.

Mobius thought that Elysia gave up on the plan after the seventh erruption. The haunted look behind Kevin's eyes, the sadness creasing Elysia's face, all of it makes it seem like a simple consideration forgotten by the sands of time.

Elysia doesn't have a discipline. She told Dr. Mei it wasn't needed since her combat performance was well above standard margins anyways. (She is on par with Kevin in strength, after all.) At least, we all thought she didn't. A deal is made with Aponia.

Aponia, Aponia, apostle of fate, I offer you my 'humanity' to become a 'story'.

Elysia cannot receive any more disciplines. The target has to be "human". Elysia as a story, unchanging, pristine, capable of remaining as she is without blemish, can reach out and become a herrscher while remaining herself. She's desperate. She wants to help. She reaches into the deep, the start of the universe, and gathers the power. She names it Origin, since it's something she found at the source.

She's a herrscher.

Herrschers are an enemy of humanity.

Kevin runs her through with Shamash.

Elysia is still herself though, talking like she would as usual.

-Oh Kevin, I wanted to know if your tears would freeze, but I was hoping it wouldn't be like this. They're so warm, though. Thank you for crying for me.

-I see no herrscher here, just... the flame chaser, bearing the signet of ego.

The Elysian Realm keeps a secret. Aponia keeps it, the fact that Elysia gave up her humanity. The final banquet? A polite way to refer to Elysia's own demise.

It's sad, isn't it? That strength she wanted to give fell right through her fingers. Her own undoing, the desperate plan of a foolish girl who wanted to be a hero, but only ending up as a villain to oppose. It's so much more meaningful, then, that Elysia's gift, the power of sapience, is kept on to the next cycle of humanity. Held again, the power of ego, of humans, to someone with a kind heart to move beyond the past she's trapped in. Thank you, Raiden Mei, for carrying on the ideals of the thirteen trailblazers, the moths who chase the flame.

so anyways yeah i think elysia couldve been interesting whos to say

[allwormdiet]

Agitation 3.2

Okay so I passed out pretty quickly last night, picking up where we left off

This is funny but also a little fucked up. "Oh boy I'm sure glad that my plan to turn against my new friends and throw them all in prison has a convenient bus stop" like damn!

Also lmao at her still calling Rachel Bitch

Well isn't this just a little slice of hell. What if mall cops could beat your head in for shoplifting, or thinking you shoplifted?

I wonder what both of them think this interaction is, bc I guarantee you they have different ideas of what's going on

Brian and Alec's spar is a little funny honestly, Brian's trying so hard to get Alec to take this seriously and Alec is looking at this six-foot-something martial artist and former bouncer like "what do you expect me to do here"

Little surprised that Taylor knows what Beavis and Butthead is but that's focusing on the wrong thing

Iirc Taylor and Brian try being together and it doesn't shake out, but it's sweet seeing them get along regardless. Maybe it's just one of those "better as friends" things, or at least I hope it is.

The confusion over where the balls of your feet are is funny and also real, I had that same issue back when I was doing martial arts as a kid

Neat that Brian is a bit of a martial arts dabbler though, that's gotta be an interesting blend of styles on display when he's actually fighting

On the one hand, I sympathize with Taylor finding it a little unnerving that this polite guy is able to rattle off the best ways to incapacitate people with the application of violence

On the other hand, having read all of Arc 3 before doing these posts, I know Taylor isn't going to end up being nearly as precious about targeting weak points as she's going to be when it comes to actual combat

I'm a little shocked that none of the Undersiders find this setup too good to be true, honestly

Taylor's got good instincts to feel suspicious about this, not that she can do anything about it at this point

Also, knowing the how and why of Lisa joining this team, I'm sure she'd love to spill on this particular topic

Fun fact actually, as I was reading this arc I went from "I don't know what's gonna happen in this one" at the very beginning, to "oh I guess we're prepping for the bank robbery," to "oh my god the bank robbery is NOW?"

I mentioned it in an aside but holy shit this feels like it's going so fast, I never anticipated that the bank robbery would be on arc 3. I don't know what I was anticipating exactly, maybe more team-building exercises or something, getting to know the crew, but nah we're just in there.

Current Thoughts

More time with Brian, which Taylor doesn't seem to mind, and more time with Alec, which Taylor seems to mind quite a bit

Still reeling a bit that we're on the bank job already

I guess let's keep it rolling

[slutforpringles]

hey jaimie, just to clarify about the benchmark time thing set for liam. was it most likely based off max's best time from silverstone weekend that wasn't his fastest lap? my tl is just liam "fans" trying to claim that being two tenths off is still good and i'm just very confused 😭

Liam was two tenths off a benchmark set by Red Bull, not two tenths off Verstappen's best time from the British GP weekend. Red Bull wouldn't be expecting or requiring Lawson to be two tenths off Max in a car he's never driven before and when he's been out of a car for more than half a year. The benchmark would be factoring in familiarity, being a bit rusty and Liam being a rookie.

Max's time also isn't his fastest lap from the weekend - it's no doubt still a very fast lap, but it's probably also factoring in fuel, potential damage to the car Max had during the weekend, setup differences and just how much extra Max manages to get out of the Red Bull vs other drivers. So if RBR want Liam to be at a certain benchmark (let's say five tenths off Max), which is already to Max's benchmark (let's say that's another 2 tenths off Max's best), and Liam is still two tenths away from that - that's why they're disappointed with the lap times.

To put it plainly, if Liam was actually two tenths off Max's fastest lap from the weekend he'd more than likely be in the car for Hungary, and RBR certainly wouldn't be disappointed about his lap time.

(I hope that makes sense, my brain has truly switched off for the day)

[chipthekeeper]

Andor S1 Rewatch Commentary - Episode 5

favorite episode :))) this is mostly me whining and saying I miss people

by the way, this contains some very light spoilers for season two but nothing that's not in the trailer

Biggsy, are you ready? It's the best episode time. It's time. I'm so excited. Am I crying? Am I? I really hope that I can just enjoy this and not be annoyed about the news that came out yesterday. But I suspect that will happen. At the end, hopefully, just at the end

Biggs. This is huge, buddy. Let's see if I can actually figure out how to articulate why this is my favorite. I'm not really sure if that's gonna happen

Vel, I miss her :(((

I'm quoting everything in the previously on

This is the first time I get to watch something while having seen the season two trailer, which feels really weird. One day I'm gonna have watched that whole season too, and it's….gonna be over oh Jesus. Spiraling already

*groaning nostalgically* the theme music in this one!!! I feel ways about it. I feel very…soft

Starting with Syril's six seconds of sunlight. Are you gonna cry?

*chuckling* I'm never quite prepared for Kathryn Hunter's voice

Cereal time. “I promise to disappoint you.”.....Yeah uh, no ring on Eedy's finger in this. So that popping up in the season two trailer, quite a shock, and I….don't want to think about it

*mocking voice* oh you remembered how to mock me

I love how their table is just, it's a booth. That's really cool, I think more homes need to have booths for eating at

*giggles* You can hear the drays

Peaceful Aldhani morning……And look, Skeen titties

Saddest part about having seen the season two trailer is seeing all these guys now that aren't going to be in it because they're dead

How’s Skeen not cold? It's gotta be cold. Just yesterday you could see your breaths while you were standing around the fire. And now you're out here shirtless….whore

I love this conversation just being two fucking feral cats circling each other…..and lying

“She's already sharing a blanket if that's what you're wonderin’” And there we go. There's my whole life in one sentence. Like, I feel like my DNA rearranged when I heard that. Just fucking galaxy-altering line……Yep, I'm gonna c-cry already. “Wouldn't that be lovely?”

Fucking Perrin, god dammit…..Forever confused by this breakfast setup they've got. These little cups look like egg things, I don’t know what I’m saying

Can't wait to see what the fuck is up with Leida in season two. I'm scared for her….Leida's giant glass bowl has a straw

(here’s where I was just saying “schedule” like Mon says it because it’s funny to me but the transcription app I use says “Shitual”)

I really need to read that book. Is Leida in that book? She has to be, right? I know Perrin is. Perrin, who sucks

Dray milk breakfast, Biggs!!! Here we go. Hi Vel *gasps* Hi Cinta. She's doing laundry. The only person around here who does any fucking chores

“Memorable, isn't it?” That's me about the whole episode

Goddammit, I miss Nemik. I miss my whole crew so bad right now

This whole rant from Nemik, another part that just...gave me complete chills the first time watching

*whines when I see Vel*

I hate Cassian in this scene so much I hate him I want to punch him in the face. He's such an asshole

I miss Taramyn and his majestic mustache

Our first non-verbal communication between Taramyn and Vel. That's my favorite part of this episode. One of them anyway *gasps* There’s my boys, there’s the dray!! And Cinta gets to smile :))))

I love hearing about Roboda just bothering the guys to help her move furniture

Shedule again. That's what they should have called this episode. Shedule.

Skeen watching very, very closely in the background as Taramyn and Cassian go at it

Blevin!!! And Tigo. Oh captain, fuck!! I forgot that's what he was. I need to edit something……Let Tigo wear a ball gown! Season two, I need to see it. Is he even gonna be in it? He’s not deeaadd……no he’s not. Right…? No, he’s not

Mean lesbian glares! God I miss them

Taramyn says ‘wot’ too hehehe no wonder I love him

I just don't get why Cassian is the only one who would know this (you want your weapon on the outside). Why wouldn't Taramyn know this, he was literally….*sighs* whatever

Used to get so distracted at this point (TIE flyover) watching on Disney+ because the subtitles always said that Vel said something that Cinta actually said. And you could always tell that it was wrong, but they let it be wrong for way too long

Kimzi! Is he smoking? Or is he just dropping rocks off the side? What was he holding?! I need to know, it’s the little things

I need to write something where they just blow the fuck out of this dam and let the river flow again

Trailer shot. Just kidding, that was a couple minutes ago. I missed it. I mean, I saw it, but I was talking

More buried shit. Need to know about the buried shit. Oh boy, favorite scene…….Laugh at him! Laugh in his face!!

Is Vel standing on something there? She looks *snorts* taller. You dress yourself, bitch! This is my girlfriend……They really should have let Cinta talk more

Blevin has three attendants. Does he have an attendant for every…sector? He needs a few more. No, that doesn't make any sense. Bad math

Dedra, I love your gay little assistant……..His wiggles hehehe

The modellllllll….I still hope they made two and they kept one. It's too beautiful

“Stay focused, Clem.” I feel a lot about that moment. We don't need to get into it, but you can ask me if you want

Oh god, the drays are loose, oh g–oh. Just kidding, we did that on purpose—Poncho time!!!!

More cereal

Skeen's hat is the worst. Just kidding, it's Cassian's. “My turn. Lieutenant Gorn.”......There's music right here that's not on the soundtrack

*whines* “Everyone has their own rebellion.” My next tattoo, babyyyy. One day when I…get around to it….I love so much that it's Vel that says that line, it really means a lot to me

I love this Gorn scene, it’s so clever…..I love this guy. I refuse to believe he's dead, I don't care what they say. I can't wait to write my Everybody Lives AU for the Aldhani crew…..oh boy I'm just writing that in my head and not listeningggg

Gorn smile, Cinta’s boot. I just love knowing the next fucking shot. Before it even comes

Vel sit down, take a load off babe

How does he make this knife make that sound?....Time for some team destroying exercises!!

*perfect Skeen impression* “Sky kyber, look at it glow!!........Who brings a treasure to a robbery?” All I can do is just quote this whole—I'm sorry

“You can kill each other later” Oh Vel, not the foreshadowinggg!!

Lambda shuttle! Heh it's so small

*painful whining* My tummy hurts in this scene every time

“No. She didn't tell me.” *incomprehensible blaaagghhh noise, straight into coughing* Biggs. I can’t, I *stammering* I can't possibly say out loud with words how. I. feel. about. that.

I really want to see the version of Perrin and Mon that don’t hate each other. Is that in the book? I should read the book. But Perrin sucks, so maybe not. Maybe that doesn't exist

*delighted whining* Mmm, look at that!!! “Just like your model.” It looks so small from up there, waaaahhh

Obsessed much, Syril? That's a trailer shot too

Love a Star Wars watch. Chrono….And this shot of Vel makes me insane!!! Yayy!! Oh my god, it's almost overrrrr. I'm so mad. Biggs, aren't you mad? Aren't you upset that it's almost over already? No you just want me to let go of you so you can run around and be an asshole

*groaning for a whole minute* The music, the music!!!! My tummyache, Biggs. I love them so much……No farewells tonight, Biggs!!

*more whining and groaning* And there they go…*now I get loud and lift Biggs into the air, ranting at him* And see, got to sit around for a whole week—a whole week, Biggs. Wondering what they were going to do, by themselves. Away from the guys. Got to wonder that!! For a whole! week! Wonder!!!! I got to wonder!!! But I won't get a whole week to wonder about anything between episodes this next time. And that's why I'm mad. Right there. I had a whole week to be nervous for them after this scene. I just, I can't believe they're taking that from me. I can't fucking believe it, Biggs *enormous sigh as I let him down again*

And now this scene hurts. Because Kleya is concerned about him. And then we kind of see her lose her shit, presumably after he's gone. And that, that makes me feel things right here in my–in my chest…..”I wanted it too much” Yeah, that feels…relevant

A whole week, Biggs. I got a whole. Weeeeekkkk!!! Gaaaaahhhhh!!!! Although. I didn't spend the whole week thinking about it. Because during this week was when I wrote my first fic!!! Yayyy :) I mean, not my first overall, but the first for them. The first for them, Biggs. Aren't you proud of me? Aren't you? No? You want me to let go of you and leave you alone? *kiss his head* Too bad

But yeah, if you couldn't tell by this rant, I'm not particularly happy about how season 2 is going to go down…..But what can you fucking do?

What an episode, fuck!! I love it, okay, goodbye

[demonslayedher]

Filler Arc with Character Beats: Intro

Some time ago, I posted how I would direct a Gokangumi (Five Senses Squad)-centric anime filler arc to go between the Swordsmith Village Arc and the Hashira Training Arc, specifically what foreshadowing and character beats I'd try to make it hit, and what small changes I'd make to make it slip in as seamlessly as possible (like Muichirou being curious about the Mark and doing his own investigation into it before Amane simply tells them about it). As it turns out, over a year ago, I tried writing it in fic form, but lost steam after 5577 words because I didn't have the energy for a long fic. But I just reread what I wrote, and man, I looooove thiiiiis. So I'm sharing what I had below! It's basically Episode 1 of Hashira Training all over again, just with the same content presented in different ways from more fanfic-y character perspectives and off-screen character interactions, so this is nice timing for it since episode 2 of Hashira Training isn't out yet. No plans to continue writing it, but please enjoy the setup I had!

----

Nezuko…

“Good morning…”

Tanjirou relaxed deeper into his sleep as the sunlit scene replayed in his mind. For the first time in years, his sister had smiled.

Good for you, Nezuko… I’m so glad.

It was wonderful that she could walk in the sunlight again, and that she didn’t need to wear that muzzle. Finally, she could again speak for herself. All this time hadn’t been in vain.

--

All this time hadn’t been in vain.

Creating all those demons, granting an excess of his blood to the Twelve Moons, it hadn’t been for naught—Hantengu had lasted a whole night against the demon hunters so that he could witness a transformation Muzan had waited centuries for.

Kamado Nezuko…

His chosen demon, the one who had at last mastered the sun. A pesky one for how she had slipped out of his control, but with the hoard at his disposal, catching one demon wouldn’t be a major obstacle. Or so he had hoped to think, but Nezuko had stood her ground against Daki. With three of his Upper Moons already gone, that left fewer demons who stood a chance of containing her.

It was good he had so many of them, then. Muzan could stand to sacrifice any handful of them in pursuit of the chosen demon.

Hiura had heard a single twang and wondered if it was a biwa when he found himself in a different space than the cave he usually occupied. ‘Different’ rang though his head again to try to describe it, as there was no sense to make of it other than that he must had been in a dream. In any of his waking life, he was certain he had never seen a place like this.

“What is this? How did I get here?”

“What’s going on?”

With all those confused murmurs, Hiura’s dream was not his own, and he concluded that this must have been that space he had only heard rumors of. To his knowledge, only the Twelve Moon demons had ever been there, and there were many more demons here than twelve.

“Silence.”

Hiura shook when that voice spoke, and he spotted the eyes paired with that voice immediately—six eyes. It was his first encounter with any of the Twelve Moons, and it was just his luck that it was the most powerful one. He must have been brought here to die; there was no other reason Upper Moon One would waste time on lesser demons.

“Muzan-sama is present.”

All of Hiura’s shaking went still as his eyes scanned everywhere for the owner of that name. Up, down, sideways, nothing here made sense. There he was directly in front of him, red eyes blaring as icy as they did the night Hiura first encountered and tricked him into turning him into a demon. Tricking him was something Hiura knew he’d never be lucky enough to do again, and even a private inkling of it put him in danger. Muzan’s cells within him reminded him of that at every moment.

Before he had realized it, Hiura was bowing. Everyone was.

“Why do you all cower? You’re all demons who have pleased me.”

Pleased Muzan?

“You’ve eaten humans and gotten stronger. Developed the blood I’ve given you. You should be proud. Unless you’ve done something to displease me?”

Mind games! Muzan was playing them. They couldn’t dare take any pride in his presence. He was looking for a reason to find displeasure in them.

“None of you will speak?”

“Because it’s not enough yet,” thundered Kiritsuna.

Muzan’s lips stretched to a smile that narrowed his eyes. “Precisely.”

Damn that Kiritsuna! Always so self-assured, he must not have felt a shiver of fear in his life! Sucking up as always!

“Why would you have brought us here?” asked Zessou, always at Kiritsuna’s side. Dumb as rocks but always got away looking smart with that pretty face. What was he trying to do with his demon development, improve upon what used to be a lucky human form? Probably didn’t even realize he was doing it.

“I have three openings in the Upper Moons to fill. If any among you can fulfill for me a task, I’ll consider your promotion.”

The demons all grew excited, gasping or exclaiming with some shrill noises. Idiots, all of them. Muzan didn’t like them that much and they were all fools to think so. Hiura found this his chance to distinguish himself by a more productive question. “What task do you wish fulfilled?”

“A demon that has slipped from my control and uses fire against other demons, Kamado Nezuko. I want this demon brought to me, alive.”

Kamado Nezuko? That was a different name than Hiura had thought he heard before about that broad who got away. Fire, though. That was new and unusual. Not something Hiura wanted to deal with.

Not directly, anyway. If there was one demon to lure her out, another demon to contain her, then he could be the one to subdue her. The one to earn Muzan’s true pleasure.

“Why us?” asked some demon Hiura didn’t know. “Why not from among the Lower Moons?”

At this, Muzan’s smile was gone. “They no longer served any purpose.”

Although there was no sound, there was something like a weight pressing on all the demons, like it was across their shoulders and tied around their necks. Hiura wondered if this was Muzan forcing his will upon them to scare them, but he just as soon realized it was his own cells cowering in their own instinct.

If Hiura didn’t fulfill this request, he’d be dead.

“Prove your worth to me by fulfilling this task. My patience has already been tested enough.”

“Muzan-sama!” cried out one who was dumb enough to use that name. “More of your precious blood! Just a little more, and—”

“Moon Breathing, First Form—”

“What?”

“Breath Technique?”

“Dark Moon, Evening Palace.”

The demon who had spoken out and stood up was in pieces, having been torn apart by crescent blades. The other demons around her shrieked and cowered away from the blood. They screamed louder and sloppily scattered faster as Upper Moon One walked among them to the carnage, but Kiritsuna stayed put with no reaction to the blood splashed across his face, and not a tremor as the superior demon stood next to him. Upper Moon One lifted his hand over the gasping, crying demon spilled in pieces on the tatami, who squeaked, “Muzan… sama…”

“If you fail his expectations as you are… then this task… is meaningless to entrust to you.”

Her scream was cut off as he grabbed her head and absorbed it into his flesh. The rest of the pieces of her rattled and kicked until a dead silence; limp, melting demon remnants. Muzan was long gone. Upper Moon One turned his back, leaving them with the words, “Talent will be rewarded… from whomever proves promise…”

Another twang from the biwa and he was gone. Another twang, and another demon disappeared, then another. As the tempo picked up other demons were standing and ready to disappear, and Hiura lunged his hands out to grab Kiritsuna and Zessou’s sleeves. “There’s three spots,” he said, hurrying to get a smile out at them before the twang of the biwa came for them, “spots to reward all three of us, together—”

--

Tanjirou awoke to the sensation of his Breath being cut off. "Ah!" he sat up with a start, which made Muichirou release his hold on Tanjirou's nose.

"Your response is still pretty dull," he said. He had an impish grin, a light in his eyes, and bandages here and there around his face. 

"It's not as if you meant any harm," insisted Tanjirou, but he guarded his nose with both hands anyway.

"How are your injuries?"

"My foot might take some time. How about you and Kanroji-san?"

"We'll probably be back to work by next week."

"What? Amazing! I've got to work on my recovery to match you two!"

"We can't all be geniuses."

"That's right. I heard you're descended from the original Sun Breath user. Your crow told me and Kotetsu-kun."

Muichirou sent Ginko a look through the window, and she cowered from his gaze, for they both knew she wasn't very nice about it. "It's not a big deal. It's not as if I know anything about Sun Breathing. Mist Breathing is so many steps removed from it that I've only got tiny bits and pieces from my ancestors."

"There's got to still be something, though! I even had memories inherited from my ancestor."

"...huh?"

"At least, that's what Kotetsu-kun said. Now that I think about it, he probably only said that to make me feel better. Sorry, it's weird, I know."

"Make you feel better about what?"

"I thought I knew the person Yoriichi Type Zero was based on. The original Sun Breath user, your ancestor."

"Doesn't that not make sense, though? You're the only one in this whole Corp who knows Sun Breathing, after all."

"No, no, no, no, that's just because my family's practiced Hinokami Kagura for generations! There's nothing inherited about it, my father had to teach me everything!" Tanjirou waved his hand as fast as Zenitsu swiping a plate of dumplings.

"But how did your ancestors learn that?"

Tanjirou paused as he thought back to that vivid dream, and how he had asked that samurai how he must be sad with no successors. That samurai had to have had children later if Muichirou was there now, but something felt off about that. Not that he could say what was off about a passing fantasy in a dream, though. It wasn't even real.

"You've even got the same earrings."

"Eh? You've met him too?" he asked and put his hands to his ears.

"Yoriichi Type Zero."

"Oh," he thought back. Now that Muichirou mentioned it, that doll had indeed been wearing the same ones. Tanjirou had never asked his father what made the earrings special, but the samurai in his dream was wearing them too. That samurai still had them when he left, though, while he was saying he wasn't anyone special. He had to have been special, though, for the Kamado family wasn't the only one to keep memories of him. "The original Sun Breath user was mentioned in a diary of one of Rengoku-san's ancestors too. I don’t know if it'll help me use Hinokami Kagura to fight demons better, but his younger brother Senjurou has been searching through their family records to see if there's anything helpful."

 "Maybe they'll find something there about the mark."

"Mark?"

"I heard that when I fought Upper Moon Five, there was a mark on my face. Around the same time it would have been visible, I felt my heart rate increase to about 200 beats and my body temperature rise. Based on the 39-degree temperature reading Kochou-san took, I assume it was higher than that."

"You can tell in that much detail? Wow!"

"You should have more physiological awareness while using Breath technique too, you know. Still, it did help to get the number from the thermometer. You should have seen her, I've never seen Kochou-san so shocked, even though I insisted I felt fine."

"Oh?"

"And then the little girl who was with her mentioned you could run a fever of 38 degrees for over three days and feel fine, too," he said, then smiled. "You might be in trouble."

"Oh..."

"You get it though, right? How the feverish state made your Breath technique more powerful?"

"Yeah," Tanjirou agreed, "I don’t know if my fever ever got as high as yours, but being in that state makes me feel like my Hinokami Kagura had more of the power its capable of, and like b-b-b-BOOM, BASH, and like... gggrrrraaaahhh, and... you know?"

"...huh?"

"I'm saying something weird again, sorry. There was something else that helped me fight Upper Moon Four, too. When Nezuko burned my Nichirin blade with her fire, it turned red."

"A red blade? Aren't those supposed to be rare?"

"I don’t know if it's like the red blade Haganezuka-san always wanted to see, it turned black again later. But when it was so hot that it glowed, it cut through demon flesh more powerfully than I've ever felt before. Maybe, you think, it's like the same thing? Getting really hot? That BOOM, BA-BA-BA-BA-BA-BA thing?"

"Huh? You lost me."

"Sorry..."

"It made sense until that last part. Nichirin Blades work because they've absorbed sunlight, so glowing red may be due to an increase in the power of the light. Makes it all the weirder that Nezuko can be in the sunlight now! Doesn't that make her invincible?"

Tanjirou's expression softened at the mention of his sister. "It's such a relief. I'm so glad she can walk around in daylight now. She's out of that danger."

"Still weird."

For someone who had known her for twelve years as someone who could walk around freely in daylight, there was nothing strange about it. To Tanjirou, this was a return to what was just.

In many ways, he enjoyed the return of a sister from long ago. Back in the Swordsmith Village, it was like he had his four-year-old sister back, playing with toys and enjoying being tickled, and as feisty for attention as any little kid. Maybe she'd have enjoyed putting her hair in braids back then too, though her 12-year-old self would have only mildly hummed to herself with pleasure having done up her hair as she liked without needing to bother anyone. Nezuko was always like that, even Nezuko of ten years ago was always patient and obedient and sensitive to others like Takeo and baby Hanako. Maybe if she had been stuck in a box every day she'd have had that much pent up energy back then, too. 

Now that they were back at the Butterfly Mansion, Nezuko had the best person around for helping her work off that excess energy: Inosuke, or as he had finally succeeded in teaching her, Boss Inosuke. 

"Cave Explorers! Cave Explorers! We're the Cave Explorers!"

"Caff effporor!"

"Wait! Wait up right there!" he pointed to the ground. "You see that?"

Nezuko leaned her head on Inosuke's forearm to see where he pointed. "Hmmm?" There on the ground, stumbling over roots twice its width was a fledgling, too young to have taken a purposeful dive. Inosuke ran over and skidded to his knees for a look, startling the baby bird with his snout and looming eyes, and it stumbled backwards with panicked cheeping. Nezuko knelt and cupped her hands behind it, and it nestled against them for safety.

"Ha! That makes this your mission, Underling! Take that kid and put him back up in the nest!" 

Though he was already pointing to where he felt the nest was, he looked upward past his finger, and Nezuko followed the same glance with a curious 'hmm.' The nest was easy to spot, but higher than Inosuke anticipated. He felt a smidge of regret because he didn't want to put a girl on such a risky mission right away, especially not a girl so precious to Tanpachirou. Nezuko had no such hesitation, and her claws scratched the bark as she climbed. In a couple of tricky spots she looked around left and right first, but found new spots to grip as swiftly as Inosuke would have, so he found himself more and more pleased and excited with her progress.

Trouble came when Nezuko's long hair got stuck in the branches. It caused her some distress, but the nest was close enough that she could let her hair be pulled taunt as she stretched. "Hmm... mm!!"

"Like that! Just a little further!"

"Mmnhh!" she grunted and willed her reach longer. Vines poured out her veins onto the surface of her skin and her hand extended such that she could pick up the whole nest if she pleased. Her horn had little room among the branches and pressed against one in such a way that it made her head sink down against her neck uncomfortably, but she paid that no mind as she let the fledgling tumble from her hand to the nest.

"That's it, Underling, nice work! Whoa--watch out!"

A screech zoomed toward Nezuko. When she looked up to see the parent swooping toward her with talons arched, she guarded her face with her own arched claws. She caught the bird's foot, and it reacted by flapping and tugging and cawing. When the feathers flapped in Nezuko's face she closed her eyes and leaned backwards.

"Nezuko!!" Inosuke shouted her name. He could tell exactly where she was going to fall before the branches cracked. He dove and caught her inches before she'd have hit the ground rump first, and then chunks and splinters of branches rained on them. The bird kept screeching from the tree top as it settled into its nest, and Inosuke brushed the branches off the top of Nezuko's head as he asked, "Hey! Are you alright?"

"Thank goodness!" she popped her head up and smiled. 

He looked her over for injuries, but had she gotten any, they were already healed. Blood was coming from somewhere, though, and as they both looked for where, they spotted a gash down Inosuke's forearm. "Hngh," he grunted in acknowledgement. 

Nezuko's eyes were glued to a bead of blood that pooled and gathered weight, then broke free of the injury and ran a bright red trail down his toned arm. After it came similar crimson streams, leading her attention back to the broken skin and what layers of flesh might had been revealed.

She clenched her eyes shut, grit her teeth, and pulled herself away as though caught on a fishing line. That momentum took her to her feet and a few steps away from Inosuke. Inosuke could sense the tension down her arms as she squeezed her fists, but he had no moment to ask about it before Nezuko cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted into the forest, "Halp! Halp, halp!"

"Help? No, this is nothing, I'm not injured--"

"Ha-a-a-a-lp!!"

"I'm not injured!!"

"Not injured? Then is that paint? I didn't know you were an artist, Inosuke-kun."

He and Nezuko both looked to a tree behind them and spotted a Hashira in a butterfly haori perched there. Shinobu had the same smile as ever and descended on dainty feet. Nezuko approached her with long arms out for a hug, exclaiming with relief that someone had answered her calls, but without Nezuko taking notice, the impetus to hug her faded as Shinobu took a defensive stance. Nezuko, not conscious of this, stood in front of her to insist with gibberish that Boss Inosuke needed help, and Shinobu looked Nezuko up and down and far back up, to the tip of the single horn. She had heard about this form of Nezuko's, but it was unnerving to see it up close, especially when Nezuko posed no threat and basked in sunlight. Shinobu relaxed, then said to her, "the Butterfly Mansion is that way, Nezuko-san. You were calling to the mountains for help. The mountains. I might not had heard you if I wasn't on my way home."

"Thank goodness!"

"Fighting demons?" asked Inosuke.

"Picking herbs," she said, revealing a satchel. "There's a few in here I can spare for that, but all the bandages are at home. Let's go."

"I'm not injured--"

"I don’t specialize in delusions. If you keep saying that I'm afraid I'll have to send you to a different doctor."

Inosuke didn’t know what she meant by that or why it made her aura so threatening, but he didn't want any other doctors. He followed along, keeping an eye on both the girls from behind as Nezuko walked alongside Shinobu, towering over her in scale. As they neared the hospital Shinobu suggested Nezuko go play with Mitsuri while she has a chance before Mitsuri would be cleared to return to work, and the horn and vines faded as Nezuko shrank to a portion of Shinobu's size, hopped up and down and cheered, and then scuttled off.

"It certainly is a wonder to have befriended a demon," Shinobu remarked.

Shinobu and Inosuke continued to her office, where she instructed him to sit down and cooperate as she cleaned the wound and pulled out the splinters. He didn’t like that part, but the moment Shinobu expressed sympathy that he must be scared, he growled that there was nothing scary about it and proved it by staying as still as he could while she poked and prodded around. He convinced himself he wasn't whimpering. Without commenting on how brave he was, for this was of course obvious, Shinobu rubbed on some soothing ointment and began wrapping a bandage.

"This will be prone to reinjury if you catch it on anything. You don’t need stitches, but the skin needs time to heal."

"I'm not scared of this."

"Oh? Then you're not scared of it getting infected and filled with pus? I am."

"Why? It's just pus."

"I wouldn't want anything else to hurt you, after all the care I try to take of you. Is it so bad that I don’t want to see you hurt?"

Inosuke flushed behind his mask, his head went all spacey and fluffy, but something in her words and gaze made his neck tense up and his chest feel heavy. He relented, "You can put a bandage on it if you really want to."

"You won't take it off, right?"

"Hngh..."

"Inosuke-kun. Promise me you won't take it off?"

"Fine. I promise."

She offered her finger. "Pinky promise?"

"What's that?"

"It means you'll break your pinky if you break your promise. You'll give me that proof, right?"

Inosuke felt what she really meant was that she personally would break his pinky, and he respected a threat like that, so he offered his and they shook. Shinobu's voice took a light and airy tone as she sang 'pinky promise' in tune with the movement, and Inosuke was awash with a sense of familiarity, and an odd curiosity for Shinobu. He stared as he pondered, and Shinobu could feel his stare from behind the boar mask.

"What is it?"

"Your pinkies are weak."

"That's not strange."

"Your face is pale. Are you alright?"

Her face betrayed surprise, and then she smiled deeper. "You can tell? That's amazing! It's just low blood pressure. There you go, you're all set. Be careful."

She hurried him out because she had work to do with the herbs, but Inosuke stood outside the office door a moment wondering where he'd heard that song before.

--

It was another day before Kanao returned from a solo mission. She had been on more of those lately than missions at Shinobu’s side. So long as Shinobu wasn’t away on her own tasks, Kanao would start and end every solo mission reporting to Shinobu. She occasionally had advice, but all Shinobu usually instructed her was simply to cut the head off the demon.

That made it feel simple. Kanao didn’t have to think any more than that, and it had worked so far.

But that was what made her afraid. What would happen if she couldn’t reach the neck, and had to decide something else to do? She was vulnerable when taken by surprise, if ever there was something she couldn’t see coming.

“Good morning!”

Kanao nearly jumped out of her boots the moment an unfamiliar girl’s voice yelled at her. There were just as soon giggling voices that she knew from Kiyo and Naho.

“It’s too late for ‘good morning’!”

“You should say, ‘welcome home,’ Nezuko-san!”

“Nezuko?” Kanao asked, and then she found herself face to face with gleaming pink eyes and a fanged smile.

“Welcome… home!”

What was—but this—she shouldn’t—but--, a swarm of broken thoughts swirled through Kanao’s mind, until at last she blurted, “Is it alright for her not to wear her muzzle?”

“Most people would ask about her being in the sunlight first,” said Aoi, coming up behind Kanao with a bemused smile. She took satisfaction in watching Kanao flush and look back and forth between her and Nezuko as it dawned on her.

“Good morning!” Nezuko added, and Kiyo and Naho started laughing.

--

When Zenitsu at last returned to the Butterfly Mansion, his sparrow was chirping away something or other at him. He could never make out what words that bird wanted to convey, but it was easy to tell when Chuntarou was angry. He had probably heard how much trouble Zenitsu was in with the Corp. Jiichan might know already, too.

The one time he tried to do something to help, and it was unnecessary. All blew up in his face. What was the point of ever having tried? Ever having tried any of this. All this time in the Corp, chasing some dream that he might be useful to someone someday, anyone, just one person, it’d all been—

“—Aa?”

A heartbeat thumped through his ears. A girl’s heartbeat.

Zenitsu looked up and was caught by the most beautiful—nay, that trite word could not capture it—the most sublime sight he’d ever encountered in his life. It was Nezuko, and she was glistening in the sunlight. She was smiling—smiling at him!!

He screamed.

The other girls surrounding Nezuko all covered their ears as Zenitsu, doing the only sensible thing there was to do at such a glorious moment, confirmed that this meant she was eligible to be his wife now. And then—heavenly sounds!—she spoke words to him for the first time.

“Welcome back, Inosuke!”

--

There weren’t many quiet places around the Butterfly Mansion when both Inosuke and Zenitsu were home, but since Tanjirou hadn’t spent any time with Zenitsu since they started their mission in the pleasure quarter, he relished in his company despite all Zenitsu’s threats about murdering Inosuke. It was hard to find an opening to get any words in, but Tanjirou found a way to make Zenitsu temporarily quiet and turn his mood around entirely when he thanked him for his words about Thunder Breath and told him how it helped save the day. As Zenitsu skipped off, Genya lied still with a pillow over his head, aghast with how Tanjirou always had such a way of defusing the people around him. He always had the weirdest thing to say.

He wasn’t so bad, though.

--

Over the course of Tanjirou’s recovery, Inosuke and Zenitsu kept coming and going on their own missions, as did Kanao, though she went on more without her master nowadays. Genya joined them as soon as the little girls got him healed up and fed and back to full strength. From what Tanjirou heard, the demons had been very active lately. Going out of their way to cause trouble instead of keeping to the shadows like they had for centuries.

The one who knew this best was Ubuyashiki Kagaya, confined to his bed and helpless to aid his children. It made meetings with his Hashira harder to find chances for, though any one of them would drop anything but slaying demons in order to answer his call.

“Oyakata-sama, please, don’t trouble yourself to sit up. You don’t seem well.”

“Thank you, Gyoumei,” he replied. Always one to have keen senses, Himejima had stopped him just before he gathered his strength to sit up and be polite with his visitor. He relaxed against his pillow and smiled in the direction of the Stone Hashira’s voice. “I know you’ve had your hands so full, taking over extra territories.”

“You say that like I’m the only one. Shinazugawa, Iguro, and Tomioka have stepped up just as much during Tokitou and Kanroji’s recovery.”

“I’m glad to have you all supporting each other. With Shinobu being busy, I know you’re all spread thin.”

“Could Uzui be convinced to lend a hand?”

“I’ve sent summons, but it doesn’t seem they are reaching him,” Ubuyashiki replied, smiling at the reason why. As the crow told him, one of Uzui’s wives had swatted him with a room and yelled that her husband was retired. He had thought of sending summons to the former Flame Hashira, but he was satisfied that he had only recently begun to take care of himself again, and he preferred to let him rest until the time was right. “Muichirou and Mitsuri will be back to help soon, but with how active the demons are now, I wish for you all to have more help.”

“We’re Hashira, Oyakata-sama. You can entrust us with anything.”

“You say that like you’re unconvinced of anyone else being useful.”

Himejima frowned, for Ubuyashiki was right. “With all due respect, the caliber of swordsmen is not what it used to be.”

“It’s unfair to compare them to the unusually competent Hashira I’m blessed with in this day and age. Their will is the same as yours, Gyoumei. What they need is a chance to rise to your level.”

“You wish to raise new Hashira, you mean?”

“They have a way to go, but they’ve shown amazing resilience in the face of challenges. Even Genya gained experience fighting an Upper Moon, didn’t he? I hope you’ll have more faith in him, and the rest of his batch. If possible, I’d like to see what they all can accomplish against more and more powerful demons.”

“Left on their own?”

“Maybe not right away,” he smiled. “But a mission altogether, that could be good for them.”

--

Tanjirou was eager to go help his friends and progressed smoothly in his functional recovery training. He made it a point to try to keep his body temperature down to normal levels so that Shinobu wouldn’t hold him back, though. She had asked him about it and smelled angry. For now, under Muichirou’s advice, he kept that phenomenon to himself and waited to hear what Muichirou might find out about it as he investigated what archives the Ubuyashiki family might have. Still, Muichirou was a Hashira, and he wasn’t likely to have much time for that, so Tanjirou would have to try to keep refining that skill on his own (as soon as he was out of Shinobu’s watchful eye).

Haganezuka came and visited him, delivering a sword like Tanjirou never laid eyes on. Although, having commented so, Tanjirou was rudely reminded that he had not only seen it, but he had laid hands on it and nearly ruined it forever. As Haganezuka seemed to be in pain from his injuries and exhausted by the sword polishing process, Tanjirou decided to ask him more about red blades another time.

While the others were busy, Nezuko was there to train with him, and she never tired when running alongside him and cheering him on. She misunderstood and thought she was helping when she lifted up the rock on a rope that Tanjirou was training with. It tasted so good to laugh with her again, like it came out of him in a way that resounded with hers. Nezuko’s laugh was irreplaceable, and it was back. If it weren’t for all the demons out there, he’d happily stay put and bask in it forever.

Chachamaru, one day, delivered a letter. Tamayo and Tanjirou were in ongoing correspondence, and they had already exchanged a few letters since Nezuko mastered the sun. Like always, Tanjirou showed it to Nezuko when she peered over his shoulder at the paper.

“It’s from Tamayo-san,” he explained to her. “She says there’s no need to worry anymore about the sun! Your cells aren’t going to go back to the way they were, you get to stay like this now.”

“Hmm!” she replied with a wide, bright smile.

“Let’s see what else she says. ‘…Like how her blood allowed another demon to break free of Muzan’s control, it might also be used to grant mastery of the sun to other demons.’ Isn’t that great, Nezuko? You could help Tamayo-san and Yushirou-san too!”

“Thank goodness!”

“Thank goodness, for sure! Let’s see. ‘Kibutsuji Muzan is sure to be looking for her…’” he trailed off, his mouth dry at the name that just rolled off his tongue. Nezuko did not seem to recognize the name as well as she’d recognize the cells, and she tilted her head as Tanjirou read on, more quietly. “’With all the increased activity, it will be very dangerous if any other demons know about her abilities. For Nezuko-san’s sake, would you reconsider leaving her in our care?’”

He looked up to Nezuko as soon as he said it, aghast at such a proposition after all this time. Nezuko stared back at him, questioning what such words implied. Did she realize it would leave them separated? When she had heard it from Tamayo directly that one time she had understood, maybe it was harder to understand from a letter.

Even without words, Nezuko had made herself well-understood back then. She had a will of her own, and Tanjirou had every intention to respect it.

He smiled and patted her head. “Don’t worry. We’ll never be separated again. You’re going to be fine. Niisan won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Thank goodness,” she beamed and hugged him.

Tanjirou hugged her back, grateful all over again for how far they’d come.

[he-is-lightning-in-a-bottle]

Pacing in Dangerous Romance

I've seen a lot of takes that are confused about the tone and/or pacing of Dangerous Romance. "The romance plot feels fast tracked," "Kang should have been an asshole for longer," "I was expecting this to be darker, so I should readjust and expect a romcom."

Let me make a suggestion.

What if this show will not be paced around the romance plot, but around the money/family drama plot instead? If we look at that as the primary conflict, we are exactly where we expect to be be plotwise.

We have the setup in episodes 1-3. Sailom's only family is his older brother who tries to take care of him but is irresponsible with money and uses questionable ethics when acting as a caregiver for his patients. (He buys expensive dinners when he should be saving money, steals rice from his clients when they're out of food at home, and seems to be conning them into buying him expensive gifts.) The result of all this is that Sailom takes up the mantle of that financial responsibility instead with lots of extra work and temporary part time jobs. And we're introduced to their shady debt and the new owner of that debt, P'Name, who seems more dangerous than their previous creditor.

After the initial setup, we are now seeing the introduction of conflict (rising action) as the brother's injury and Sailom losing his tutoring gig escalates their already dire financial crisis. Our antagonist P'Name has started maneuvering Sailom into increasingly dangerous work as a way to pay that debt. This escort plot is only just beginning. Same with the unreliable brother plot.

I expect this to culminate by episode 6. Episodes 7-9 will be our Climax (peak conflict) where the conflict escalates to the point that seemingly all hope is lost. And episodes 10-12 will be our Resolution arc.

What this means for the romance plot is that it isn't the plot driver and the show won't be paced around it. It is there for character development. That's why it feels rushed right now: because this is the lighter part of the plot where the conflict is just beginning to escalate. Their relationship needs to be fairly established in the back half of this drama so they can weather the coming storm together.

Thinking of you @lurkingshan and @wen-kexing-apologist, among others who I may tag later after I read their more recent posts.

[britt-kageryuu]

A stream has started, but it's not in a virtual space. It's in a semi-empty warehouse. In frame are a set of large screens, a variety of tech setup, speakers, and some boxes/containers marked with the Genius Built logo.

The screens activate, a loading animation plays before going to a rainbow gradient background and the base models for all Four turtles walk across with one stopping every few feet in order of Raph, Donnie, Leo and Mikey.

Donnie: Hello members of the Bale, we're testing some new toys I got together for future events!

Leo: Gotta admit this looks pretty cool Dee.

Mikey: We're still going to figure out costumes for going in person right? It would be boring to just use screens.

Raphs model sits down and just smiles at his brothers. He's decided to just watch them have fun with this. He also doesn't have a mic on him for this stream.

Donnie: Of course, or else they would go to waste.

Leo and Mikey look confused, until in the warehouse Shelldon zooms past, and River follows after. They come back into frame a second later. Raph looks amazed.

Shelldon: Hey Dudes! Hope to see you IRL soon!

River: I got an upgrade!! And can't wait to join in on events!

Leo & Mikey: Awesome!

Leo: Wait, when did you last sleep?

Donnie: I got a solid 5 hours.

Mikey: At once or over the course of the last few days?

Donnie looks nervous, but composes himself.

Donnie: We'll worry about my sleep schedule later, I want to show off some of the overlays I had Mikey make for this setup!

Raph looks exasperated, and about ready to drag Donnie to bed, but he's decided this is a Leo's in charge moment.

They mess around with the screens, lights, and other stuff, including Shelldon and River being able to somewhat manipulate what's on the screen, like pushing over one of the turtle models, or objects that are spawned in.

Chat isn't so much ignored as much as the prompter was apparently not able to handle the spam of chat, messages, and notifications.

Masterpost

[alittledizzy]

Oh man i hope this isn't taken the wrong way but am i the only one whos a bit confused by the dteam gia friendship? Like she met then in squidgame, a few streams in groups and now shes been at the dransion for days/weeks? Im not implying anything! I swear im just confused where it came from lmao i guess dteam being pretty offline the last few months makes this friendship be even more random than usual😭

I'm taking this in good faith but honestly... that's just how friendships happen? Gia is someone that's super social - watch her ig stories, she's constantly traveling to/with family, friends, other content creators. She was in the finals with George and Sapnap for Squidgames, just like Shadoune - and just like Shadoune, the friendship has stretched out over other competitions and into real life hangouts. The only difference is that Shadoune isn't in the US for work regularly and Gia is.

Gia also has other friends in Orlando (the one she streamed with, Sylvee and Cate) and considering Dream team live in a mini mansion with an entire separate guest suite and have no issues with people crashing there - Parker, for months recording his music; Punz, before the cuckening drama; Tony, presumably.

I think it's also less confusing if you follow her even semi-regularly because she just travels a LOT, honestly. I think her staying with them is just a case of good opportunity to save some money, hang with friends, and have a great setup to stream from. I think last time she was there she left literally the day after that MC event so I'm pretty sure she was actually just there for the streaming setup those last few days.

I actually really love Gia and I really love dream team having another friend who doesn't seem to give a fuck about any backlash. The only negativity Gia has expressed about being associated with them is that people just can't stop assuming she must always be fucking her male friends.

[ryuichirou]

Replies

More replies! Related to our posts from yesterday + a couple of JadeSil ones from a while ago.

Anonymous asked:

I guess Sebek will be annoyed on waking up in the morning with Silver only to realized animals are around.

lol yeah, imagine falling asleep with Silver and waking up to that one scene from Bambi where all the animals greet the new prince. Things Sebek has to get used to….

hipsterteller asked:

Welp at least they didn’t find a skeleton

You mean… under the birdies?! Spooky..!

Anonymous asked:

Poor Jamil can't catch a break even at clubs.. (he secretly loves it, don't tell anyone lol he's shy)

- basketball poly asker

(this is related to a reply from yesterday)

Yeeeah, it’s probably better for Jamil when he gets pestered by these boys: this way he gets to have some action but also don’t proactively seek it out lol But of course the thought itself would never occur to Jamil! It’s all his subconscious mind.

Anonymous asked:

Hehe...imagine Azul seeing Jamil and Ace together. Another jealously alert. Even better, Jamil, Ace, and Floyd together.

Azul would get jealous with anyone who gets close to Jamil probably lol So with Ace it would be the same scenario as it is with Ruggie: he’s confused about Jamil’s choice and tries to win him over.

And with Floyd, well, Azul would just have to shut up and be patient and hope that Floyd gets bored of Jamil… because if he tells Floyd to stop, Floyd is just going to cling to Jamil even more :(

Anonymous asked:

Hi! I’m that JadeSil shipper from that one ask, is it okay if you can give some hcs on how would Silver’s first time would go if it was with Jade?

+

Anonymous asked:

I have Jade/Sil brainrot after seeing some other people talk about it…(and totally not because I am dirty minded)

What if one day Silver was eating Mushroom Risotto but it had a “special” mushroom (courtesy of Jade)  which had an aphrodisiac-like effect. Silver eventually asks Jade for help on why he feels so weird…and you can imagine how the rest goes

Sorry it took me so long to reply, Anon! Or are you two different Anons..? In any case, I’m sorry for taking so much time and for not giving a satisfying answer: since these two aren’t a ship we’re very invested in, even though we like it in theory, I won’t come up with any headcanons, but I’ll share my thoughts…. Because when I started to think about their first time, the setup I came up with was pretty much the same as what was mentioned in this second ask lol

Since the main theme/motif of their relationship that I always think about is mushrooms, I think the whole thing will start with Jade’s fascination with Silver’s appetite for mushrooms and his appreciation of them. And for a very long time, he would simply feed him without adding anything suspicious to it, but then he’ll notice just how good Silver is at describing the differences between different kinds of mushrooms Jade uses for the risotto. So of course he’s going to be tempted to feed him a “special mushroom”…

Poor Silver would be so conflicted. He never expected to get poisoned, and Jade seems deeply concerned as well… but is he really?  And would Jade really make such a mistake?

So yeah, long story short, Silver’s instinct would probably be to try to get back to his room and hide there until he gets better, but the poison is too strong, and with all his actions and words being just a big blur, he’ll end up having sex with Jade.

Jade is going to be surprised y Silver though, because while he knows that a lot of what’s going on is due to aphrodisiac (that was the whole idea), some of the things just seemed way too “natural”: Silver’s body is clearly used to having intense and lengthy sex, his movements are very intentional and he even has some noticeable preferences. Silver wouldn’t say a word during their first time (he just couldn’t articulate – he was too aroused), but his body language spoke volumes. Jade would probably be quite intrigued by him…

(whoops I guess I wrote it in a way that it isn't Silver's first time, I just noticed that...sorry!!)