#I just want the feel of that scene elsewhere for them somehow. and I will make it happen mark my words

[canarydarity]

This post will make sense to exaclty 3 people here. But one day I will write a scene emotionally equivalent to the Baltimore reunion here in this fandom….one day…And the payoff will be so so excellent

[thriftedtchotchkes]

keep it on the low

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: just because you and joel broke up doesn't mean you can't still (secretly) enjoy each other's company

warnings: 18+ MDNI, language, hurt/angst, ex!joel, possessive!joel, pwp, smut, post-breakup sex, rough sex, mild exhibitionism

word count: 3k

a/n: all i can say is oops. blame sza, i guess. and of course, couch gif for obvious reasons. as always, thoughts and feedback are always appreciated!

Joel’s being obvious again. Discretion’s never been his strong suit, but he’s especially attuned to you today, and not in a good way. He’s not undressing you with his eyes, itching for the moment he can take you home like he usually is.

Nope, he just looks irritated as fuck. Way too angry for someone who just happens to be sitting in the same room as his ex. If he keeps this up, you’re going to get caught, and then what are you going to do? Fuck other people?

Like that’ll ever happen. You and Joel broke up almost three months ago and yet here you are, still hooking up like there’s no one else in this town to have sex with. But you have an agreement…sort of. You keep sleeping together, you don’t talk about it, and you definitely don’t tell anyone else. It’s high school-level dramatic and, honestly, you’re both way too old for this shit.

You know everyone’s gossiping about you behind your back, trying to figure out why you’re not together anymore. It was a bad breakup, probably the worst you’ve ever had and the biggest Jackson’s ever seen. The second this town hall is over, they’ll all be chatting amongst themselves, analyzing your behavior like it’s any of their business.

And Joel’s only giving them more to talk about. Seriously, why is he staring at you like that? If you can keep your eyes to yourself for an hour, surely he can at least pretend to be listening to what Maria’s saying, even though it’s boring as hell and doesn’t apply to either of you in the slightest. The winter dance next week really isn't your thing, no offense to her, but at least you're trying to look interested.

You shoot him a quick glare across the room, and he rolls his eyes, finally shifting his focus elsewhere. Apparently, that little interaction is all it takes to stir up the gossip mill because you can already hear a few of the worst offenders whispering to each other.

Fucking vultures. You’re pretty sure half of them are trying to make a move on Joel now that you’re over. Too bad he’s still busy spending his nights buried inside you.

The meeting ends pretty quickly after that, and everyone gets up from their seats, some staying to help put away folding chairs and others loitering around before they head to dinner. Somehow, Joel ends up next to you as you’re walking out, probably on purpose, and you take the opportunity to tell him off.

“Way to be fucking obvious, asshole,” you mumble, hoping no one else can hear you. “Did you have to stare at me like that? You made it seem like I spat in your fucking coffee this morning.”

He scoffs loudly, and you elbow him in the side, throwing him a warning glance. He’s acting like he wants everyone to know what you’re trying so hard to hide and it’s really starting to piss you off.

“Wasn’t lookin’ at you any sorta way, darlin’. You’re the one makin’ a fuss and gettin’ everyone’s attention,” he smirks. It’s not even fair how good he looks when he does that.

You feel a strong urge to slap it off his face, but that’s not really an option right now. An annoyingly intrusive thought tells you to save it for later when you’re alone, but you push it to the back of your mind. He’d probably enjoy that, anyways.

You quirk an eyebrow as subtly as you can. “…Are you kidding me? I wasn’t the one glaring at you the entire meeting.”

He looks around pointedly. “Ya think you’re not makin' it worse right now?”

You pause to take in your surroundings, and he’s right. You’re making a scene unnecessarily when you could’ve just ignored him and gone home like you’d planned. This is exactly why everyone thinks the breakup was your fault. Why they all think you're the villain in his story.

Joel knows just how to bring out the worst in you and you hate it. It’s one of the reasons you broke up in the first place. He pretends like everything’s fine and nothing’s ever his fault, and you’re constantly tricked into proving him right. But today he’s being purposely antagonistic and you can’t tell why.

“Oh, fuck you, Joel,” you grit through your teeth. “Stay the fuck away from me.”

He doesn’t.

Not even a few hours later, he’s at your back door—like always, so no one sees him come and go—eyeing you a little wildly. Hungrily. And suddenly, it all makes sense.

He's horny. Probably has been all day, judging by his behavior earlier. He doesn’t say anything, just lurches forward to kiss you, to get his hands on you, but your arms shoot out to stop him.

“Uhh, what are you doing? Pretty sure I told you to leave me the fuck alone.”

He’s already panting as if he ran all the way here, but the tent in his pants tells you otherwise. His heart is racing under your palms, and while you haven’t forgotten how furious you still are, the fact that he’s this desperate for you makes you want to.

"Yeah, but ya didn't mean it. Ya never mean it,” he says like he knows you so well. You hate that he does, but the last thing you’re going to do is admit it.

“Why the fuck would I say it if I didn't?" you scoff.

"'Cus it's more fun that way," he leans in again, but you jerk your head back. Is he serious? It’s not like you normally have a nice little chat before you fuck, but he usually has more patience than this.

“Joel, stop. Are you trying to get us caught?” you eye him incredulously. It’s dark out and, yeah, you’re not having this conversation on the porch where anyone can see you, but other people’s windows still face your yard. He’s acting ridiculous.

"Maybe I wanna get caught,” he replies smugly, crowding you against the door. “Maybe I want everyone to know who ya belong to.”

His eyes are unreadable, and you’re caught between shock and intense curiosity. But then, that familiar feeling of fury returns, and you allow that to win out. You reach behind you for the doorknob, twisting it open to back inside.

“No. Nope, that’s not happening today,” you say with finality, yanking him by the collar into the house. You shove his back against the door, slamming it shut, and your grip tightens on his shirt. He’s smirking again, and it somehow looks even better on his face now than it did earlier.

“There’s my girl,” he breathes out, his hands finding your waist to pull you closer. It sends an unwitting wave of heat through you, a gasp escaping your lips before you can stop it. Fuck. He hasn’t called you that since before the breakup. Because it hasn’t been true since then, or at least that’s what you tell yourself.

“Only in here. Right, Joel?” He nods his head slowly, but his eyes betray him. He doesn’t believe that for one second.

“Sure, darlin’. Whatever you say.”

And, for now, that’s enough for you. You crash your lips into his hard enough to bruise and he groans into your mouth, rocking his hips into your belly so you can feel him straining in his jeans. It’s a little dizzying knowing just how much he wants you. How much he always wants you.

Flipping your positions to lead him backward, you reach down to unbutton his pants, your lips still moving languidly against his. Your fingertips purposely skim his bulge as you tug down his zipper, and he bucks into your hand, something soft and needy rumbling out of his chest.

More layers of clothing are stripped off and thrown haphazardly on the floor, leaving a trail from the kitchen to the living room, until the backs of his legs bump into the couch. All that's left now are his boxers, your underwear, and your bra. You make quick work of the latter yourself, dropping it to the floor, and then kick off your underwear, smirking at the look of sheer yearning on his face.

He reaches out to touch you, fingertips only managing to graze the side of your breast before you slap his hand away. He's not allowed to touch you until the playing field is even and he's as bare as you are. He already knows that.

His eyes are so dark, pupils dilated until that gentle brown has almost completely disappeared, and the way he's looking at you is reminiscent of a different time. You ignore it, focusing on all of the things you know he's about to do to your body instead. It'll help you forget whatever you just recognized in his gaze for a little while.

You tug on the waistband of his boxers, letting them snap back into his hips.

"Off," you tell him simply, giving him enough time to pull them down before you shove him onto the cushions. You climb into his lap, hands settling on his shoulders as you lower yourself down to drag your wet folds across his cock.

He hisses a breath through his teeth, his fingers digging into your hips to guide you, and you let him slick himself up against your pussy. He's so hard below you, looking painfully and almost angrily red at the tip. You sigh at the repeated friction on your clit and he twitches at the sound, dribbling precum that immediately mixes with your wetness.

"Need to be inside you. Now," he moans breathily, burying his face between your tits. He turns his head slightly to nip at the sensitive skin, and you tremble, trailing a hand up the side of his neck to bury in his soft curls. "You ready for me, darlin'?"

You nod quickly, chest heaving as you lift enough to reach down and wrap your fingers around him. Pumping him a few times, you drag the tip between your folds before lining him up with your entrance. He pants damply into your chest, more precum leaking out in anticipation.

And then you're dropping onto him, crying out loudly as you impale yourself on his cock. His hips shoot up off the couch, forcing himself deeper into your cunt, and he lets out a pained whoosh of air, adjusting to you as much as you are to him.

"Shit, that's—," he chokes out a moan as you start to move, "—tight. Fuckin' grippin' me, Christ."

You purposely squeeze him a little harder, exhaling sharply out your nose when his nails bite into your skin.

"Yeah, because you barely fucking fit," you tease breathily.

But it's more than that. You mold around him like you were made to take it, soft sighs leaving your lips as you ride him slowly. He fits perfectly, something that took precious time, his cock finding a home inside you over and over, reshaping your walls in his image. The lock to his key.

You bury that thought, too—with every swivel of your hips, every brush of your clit against his skin. He latches onto your breast, sucking a nipple into his mouth as you continue to work him.

His eyes flutter shut, hands beginning to guide you up and down a little faster as he swirls searing circles around the nub until it peaks. He tugs at it sharply with his teeth and you gasp, a spear of heat lancing through your spine as you gush around him.

It all feels so…fuck, he knows exactly how you like it. And both of you can hear how much you like it, feel how sticky you're making his lap. The slide around his cock is wet and easy, and your pussy's gripping him even tighter, but you need…god, you need—

"Joel, fuck me—come on, fuck me," you whimper, tugging him away from your tits by his hair, and he responds immediately. Taking over, he establishes a frantic, steady rhythm, lifting you until just the tip is inside, and forcing you back down.

But it's still not hard or fast enough to satisfy the way he needs you right now. He wraps his arms fully around your waist to hold you in place, pistoning his hips into you, forcing increasingly louder haahs out of your chest.

"That's it, darlin', take it…take it," he groans, head tilting back so he can observe every subtle change of expression as he gives you exactly you asked for. He leans up to capture your lips, but it's not so much a kiss as an exchange of breath, soft and humid as you pant heavily into each other mouths.

It quiets you for a brief moment—potentially the best possible moment, because out of nowhere, you hear faint voices passing by outside. They're way too close for comfort, and you realize belatedly that you made a huge mistake earlier.

"W-wait, the curtains—shit, the curtains…ngh…are still open," you barely manage to gasp out. "Fuck, the windows are open."

It doesn't deter him in the slightest and, instead, spurs him on. "S'alright, it's dark in here. They can't see us," he rasps, keeping up his merciless pace.

Ducking his head down, he sucks hard on a sensitive spot—your favorite spot—right above your collarbone, and you whimper much louder than you mean to.

"They can still fucking hear us," you all but growl, feeling your thighs start to quake despite your growing panic.

"Good, let 'em," he laughs almost cruelly, and he sounds so possessive that it stuns you momentarily. He takes the opportunity to abruptly tug you off his lap and toss you onto your back across the cushions, fucking back into you before you can even process the shift in position.

Now that he's on top of you, pressing down with his entire weight, his pelvis grinds into your already swollen clit with every single thrust, and you can't help the wail that escapes your parted lips.

He doesn't hesitate to pull you close, hugging your head to his neck as if he's trying to block out the rest of the world. Everything and everyone, but you and him.

"Always so loud for me. C'mon, darlin', lemme hear ya," he murmurs into your hair, hips snapping into yours. "I know you can be louder than that. Scream for me."

And you do. There's nothing else you could've done anyway, not with how he's dragging against everything just right. Your hips desperately swivel into his, chasing that hot, slick friction every time he connects with you.

The slap-slap-slap of your skin on his becomes a deep, wet thock-thock-thock the closer you get, your pussy dripping pathetically down his cock, fluttering with your impending release. He can feel it, you know he can, because he's moaning loud enough to rival even you now. He ruts greedily into you, hitting so much deeper than before.

"Christ…you're gonna make me cum," he warns, voice wrecked, his face still buried in your hair. "Jesus fuckin'…" You keen into his neck, still desperately chasing your own high, but it's not enough.

"J-Joel, I need—," you try to tell him, but he cuts you off.

"—'m fuckin' cummin'. Fuck," he grunts roughly, tumbling over the edge before you get the chance. His hips slow even as he continues to punch his cock as deep as it'll go, flooding your pussy.

No. Shit—no, no, no. He can't slow down, not now. You're almost there—so fucking close. He has to keep going. Just a little bit longer.

"No, Joel, no," you sob, legs kicking up around his waist as you grind up into him needily, increasing your speed. "Please, harder…please, please. Keep going for me—"

You feel rather than hear the groan rumble in his chest as he resumes his previous, unforgiving pace, ramming into you almost painfully.

"'m gonna. Don't'chu fuckin' worry."

At that, your orgasm quickly crashes over you, and you don't even realize you're slapping a hand into his side, still begging him not to stop as you wring him dry.

It's deafening what erupts from your chest when you finally cum. There's no doubt anyone outside can hear everything. Every squelch, every squeal, even the couch creaking, being pushed to its absolute limit.

Joel's name leaves your lips breathily, repeatedly like a prayer. You're shaking like a leaf underneath him, and he pulls back to brush your hair out of your face so he can kiss you, tender and open-mouthed.

This, too, feels gut-wrenchingly familiar but, for some reason, you don't want it to stop. Right now, you don't want to forget how it makes you feel.

He pulls out slowly, shoving two thick fingers inside you before your pussy can leak your combined releases all over the couch, and the sigh that escapes you sounds both content and despairing. He notices right away. Of course, he does.

Watching him leave you after nights like this hurts so much worse lately. Maybe it's nostalgia. Or maybe it's the unavoidable emotional connection you feel when he's inside you.

Even though months have passed since you decided you'd be better off without each other, something inexplicable keeps bringing you back together. It's not just the sex and you know it, no matter how much you choose to pretend otherwise.

He knows it, too. He tells you all the time—in the softness of his kiss, his desire to please you, and his eyes, still only ever focused on you.

And, now, in the possessiveness of his words and actions. Of his touch.

He gazes down at you knowingly, as if he can see every one of your troubled thoughts in the cloudiness of your eyes. He's always been annoyingly good at that.

"Y'know, I don't have to leave just yet," he murmurs, brushing his nose gently against your cheek. "Only in here, right? You're still mine as long as we're right here."

You let him wrap you up in his arms, nodding into his warm, beautifully scar-riddled chest.

"I'm yours."

thanks for reading! 💕

[sammylkcho]

Please.. Forgive me.

Warnings/Notes: vague descriptions of dismemberment, descriptions of gory scenes, angst, deaths, anxiety, intrusive thoughts, mentions of suicide, more questions than answers

"I'm sure we’ll be able to get out of this, especially with Painter’s help.. distracting those disposables Urbanshade brings so we can grab the crystal" you said in a cheerful voice, swinging your legs back and forth from the box you were sitting on.

Sebastian let out an uncomfortable hum, his attention glued to the files marked "CLASSIFIED" in bold letters. He was pouring over the documents without even a glance away, barely even pausing to breathe. You’d seen him work himself to exhaustion like this before, sometimes even passing out from the strain. Secretly, you were starting to worry he’d begin hallucinating from the lack of sleep.

Your face unconsciously tightened into a frown, and your lips pressed into a thin line as you noticed his anxious habit—running a hand through his hair and trying to tuck it behind his fins. It reminded you of when he’d always push the hair falling down each side of his face behind his ears back when he was (well, still is) human.

Quickly replacing your frown, you kept chatting away about all the things you could do once you were back on the surface. You mentioned how living by a nice beach could be a fresh, relaxing start for both of you after everything. Painter could even capture the beauty of the sunsets there.

There was no sign he was listening, but you knew his mind was elsewhere. Still, you kept talking—it was a surefire way to help calm your own nerves.

Listening to Painter ramble on about whatever he liked—a new drawing or sketch he’d made, or even just complaining about the disposables—was one of the only things that could ground you, helping keep you tethered when your thoughts began to consume you. Somehow, it both soothed you and brought back all the anxieties you were left with at the end of each day.

Sometimes Painter noticed the shifts in your mood and asked about them. Usually, you didn’t tell him anything to avoid worrying him, letting him continue his usual ramblings, but today was one of those rare moments when you let a thought slip.

“.. Are you alright? I started complaining about Sebastian, and you didn’t even jump in to defend him or argue about it” he noted, trying to keep the worry in his tone hidden. Being soft or consoling wasn’t something his programming was used to after all his time in a place like this.

You looked down, trying to find the right words to explain to the AI the emotional mess you were in now (and, honestly, always) and to make him understand, even just a little.

“It’s just... Is it wrong that I’m becoming numb to someone dying? I used to feel sick, to gag whenever I saw a disposable’s corpse, and now it doesn’t faze me—their deaths or the brutal injuries. It’s like it doesn’t gross me out at all. I think picking through bodies with Sebastian is getting to me...” You chuckled softly, though it was more out of hollow irony than anything.

“And besides, it’s hard trying to help Sebastian when he only lets me tend to the disposables that end up here. Other than that, he doesn’t let me help him physically or mentally.”

You ran a hand through your hair, trying in vain to calm yourself or slow down the racing of your thoughts. You felt your breathing grow ragged, your hands shaking beyond your control as if they were reacting all on their own.

“It’s exhausting... I want to help him a little because I know the hell he’s dealing with, but I also have no idea what goes through his head, especially when he won’t tell me the full story.”

Your voice wavered, your teeth chattering as a tremor started to take over your body.

“He tells me I can’t help him when I can’t even help myself. I can handle my mess and his at the same time; I know I can.”

You could hear Painter’s voice saying something, but it didn’t register.

“I know I can do it, I’m fine. I wouldn’t get tired of hearing his complaints or thoughts.”

There was Painter’s voice again. What was he saying?

“I can handle it, I’M FINE—”

“You’re bleeding!”

Painter’s voice came through the old computer speakers so loudly you swore it sounded distorted.

You tasted something metallic on your lower lip, and your tongue quickly recognized the taste of blood when you licked it, realizing what it was.

You looked down at your hands, now stained red, with the indents of your nails pressing into your palms.

When you blinked, trying to focus on your surroundings, you noticed your eyelashes were wet, and your cheeks felt uncomfortably damp. You had been crying too.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to… Sorry.” You didn’t even know why you were apologizing or what for. You just felt the need to after putting poor Painter through this, letting him see you unraveling over your anxieties, showing him this sorry state.

“It’s okay... Just.. do you want to talk it over more calmly?” he asked, his words sounding a bit awkward as he wasn’t sure what to say or do.

You quickly shook your head, wiping your tears away with your sleeve. You braced your hands against the floor to stand, relying on it to steady you because your legs were still trembling. You didn’t trust yourself to get up without some support, given how shaky you still felt.

Before Painter could say anything else, you left as quickly as you could, trying to drown out the voices in your head blaming you for burdening him, for voicing your problems aloud. You didn’t deserve even his pity.

You were pathetic—worse than pitiful.

You couldn’t even bring yourself to show up at Sebastian’s shop, the place you called home.

You sprinted quickly into one of the rooms down the long hallway you’d been running through. Instinct drove you under the desk in the wide room, both hands clamped over your mouth and nose to stifle the sound of your heavy, panicked breathing. You needed to hide from this monster.

Scenes of the person you were escaping from replayed in your head like a film.

It was just another disposable who’d somehow made it this far while you’d been with Painter. You’d spotted him at a distance in a dark room before the voices over the speakers cut through the silence, alerting you and the disposable who was now only inches away from you.

“There’s another person inside the facility. They violated company regulations and are complicit with Z-13. Their elimination will yield twice the initial reward.” The HQ voice blared through the speakers, making you gasp when it mentioned your name.

You’d forgotten that some of the cameras still worked throughout the facility, likely monitoring the disposables and reporting on what was taking them down along the way.

The moment you took a step forward and your footfall echoed across the room, you felt a burning gaze on the back of your neck. Without daring to look back at the person behind you, you took off running, a prey fleeing from its hunter.

The sound of a missed gunshot made your blood run cold in an instant. You didn’t even want to ask how he got a weapon, but he had one—and you were completely defenseless.

That’s what brought you here, crouched under the desk, silently praying to God that, just this once, he would listen and spare you from this person.

You prayed to God, to Eyesfastion, hoping they’d appear out of pure chance and force him to look them in the eyes. Or for an Angler to come roaring through the rooms, Chainsmoker to slow his steps. Any miracle.

Of all the times you’d wanted to be six feet under, wished for death to just take you already, this time you didn’t want to go. No matter how often you’d begged for death to come, this time, you wanted to live.

You held your breath, clamping down on it entirely when the sound of firm footsteps filled the room where you hid.

Closer and closer.

The desk creaked as something leaned against it. He was mere inches away. You could hear his breathing and the clank of the gun as he set it on top of the desk.

Your shaking eyes drifted to the glass in front of you, showing a view of the vast, deep ocean no other human besides Urbanshade could ever witness at such depths. Due to your crouched, hidden position under the desk, you couldn’t see your own reflection in the glass, but you could see his. A sharp gasp escaped you when you saw the appearance of your hunter.

His gaze immediately dropped downward as your gasp echoed through the room. His hand swiftly gripped the gun before he moved around to the back of the desk.

Sebastian was tucking away documents and small DNA samples he found into the neoprene suit of the now-deceased expendable, also grabbing the unused batteries. He stored everything in the small pouches strapped along his tail.

When he finished organizing everything and made sure it was all in place, he started heading back to his tent, the quick thought of seeing you there to talk non-stop just to fill the ever-present silence. A humorous smile crossed his face; this time, he’d make sure to join the conversation.

The door indicator’s number flashed, crackling quickly, before the face of Painter appeared on the screen.

"SEBASTIAN."

The AI’s shout disoriented him for a couple of seconds, leaving him confused by its sudden appearance. Painter usually waited until Sebastian visited him in his usual location to relay any messages, so seeing him appear here and shout was odd.

"What’s going on? I’m doing inventory on the expendables, so you can tell me whatever you need later, you stupid—"

"Shut up, you filthy fish, and get to room 65. They’re in danger."

The mention of your name and that you were in danger ignited something inside him.

You had already mastered the dangers of this place, even if you still trembled with fear after an Angler encounter. What had stopped you now?

He didn’t take the time to respond to the AI, instead moving as fast as his instincts could carry him to the room number. He knew the place like the back of his hand and was only six rooms away—just a little more, and he’d be there.

He was greeted by a wide hallway and the stench of blood, sharply invading his senses and nostrils. The smell was sickening, but he could bear it for a few minutes—though this time, it felt disturbingly familiar.

The stench led him to a room where he immediately noticed blood-stained glass, crimson trails streaking downwards. The sight disgusted him more than anything else, for no clear reason.

His third hand moved to his three-barreled shotgun. Although he heard nothing, something told him that wasn’t a good sign.

His breath caught entirely when two bodies came into view, and he recognized yours immediately, even though he tried not to.

You were covered in blood, both your own and your attacker’s. Dried blood streamed from your nose, bruises becoming clear against the pallor of your skin. You had two gunshot wounds: one in your stomach and another in your leg.

Then he looked at your attacker.

The blood on the attacker’s face made it hard to see him clearly, but gray hair and a graying beard showed through wrinkles and lines that marked his features.

He had also been shot, but his wound was on the forehead, and there were a series of scratches on his neck, arms, and face—made with fierce aggression.

Sebastian could almost picture the possible scenario that led to all this.

A fleeting thought crossed his mind, wondering if your pulse might still be beating, but it vanished as quickly as it came.

He heard no breath, no desperate gasping for air. Nothing.

The silence terrified him; you were supposed to fill that silence with words, turn that "nothing" into "something."

Had your attacker enjoyed your suffering? Had he even regretted, at any moment, the shots he’d fired at you? Had he seen you lifeless and felt fear at his mistake? Would he have slept soundly knowing he’d killed you?

No.

No, he didn’t believe it.

He would have made him regret being alive. He would have killed him in a worse way than he killed you.

He would have made him swallow his own teeth, fingers, and scraps of skin while he was still alive. Being alive would have been its own torture.

More than anything, he wanted to avenge you, to have done something so that this repulsive creature hadn’t killed or tortured you, even if in some "stupid" way.

…

He needed you.

[cbrownjc]

My thoughts about Devil's Minion right now after Rolin Jones' comments (spoilers):

A meta so thorough, that I first wrote in a post/reply elsewhere, I'm putting it into a separate post, (with some more added to it), just because. And especially since I know I've gotten a lot of followers over the course of Season 2 because of my Devil's Minion posts as well, and I want this all in a separate, individual post for quick reference, just in case.

Fair warning: if you are totally happy and fine about what happened -- i.e. how Armand turned Daniel -- then yeah, what I am going to say here isn't for you. I'm not trying to harsh anyone's vibe, especially if you are just happy that Daniel is a vampire now, okay? This is just about how I feel and see things about it at the moment (particularly regarding RJs comments about it). So if you're not up for criticism, critique, as well as speculation about Devil's Minion right now, then yeah. IMO, just skip this post, please.

Okay. So. Rolin Jones just gave an interview with The Hollywood Reporter and this is what he said about Daniel's turning by Armand:

Jones confirms that, just like in Rice’s books, Armand is the one who turns Daniel into a vampire. “Will we see that moment of turning? No, but Armand finally made a vampire and clearly made him out of spite,” he says with a laugh. “It looks like it was really not a great moment [between him and Daniel], but that connects those two characters. They will have scenes going forward, obviously.”

-- Rolin Jones, Hollywood Reporter, 06/30/24

Okay so, to start. For me, someone who has been waiting since 1995 (when I was 17) for Devil's Minion, for Armand and Daniel's relationship to finally be adapted in some way, I'll be honest. There are only two ways this can go now that I can see at the moment: either Rolin is lying/trolling to hide the truth about all of this, or he is telling the truth and this is truly the way they are going with this.

If Rolin is lying/trolling to hide something about all of this, then I'll forgive that lying/trolling instantly once it's revealed that he was. (Put a pin in this.) Having to flat-out lie or troll is sometimes par for the course when it comes to running a show and not wanting to spoil anything about what might be coming up in it. So honestly, if that's what's going on with what he said here? Meh. No skin off my nose.

If he is telling the truth, however? Then I'll have zero desire to watch the show anymore, once I see it 100% confirmed in some way with my own two eyes in some way on screen somehow. (Again, pin in this.) Because I have very much learned my lesson when it comes to TV shows and lazy writing/bad adaptations after Game of Thrones.

Because Armand turning Daniel out of spite is the antithesis of what Devil's Minion is supposed to be for both characters. It is an utter and complete misunderstanding of both characters and their relationship together. It's an utter downgrade of their relationship from the books, and I am not here for it. I literally do not care what "romance" they might later have planned for them if this is how Daniel was turned.

Look. If you are someone who only ever cared about Daniel just being a vampire, then this is all likely fine for you, and that's okay. But not me. Because Daniel being a vampire never was, or has been, the important part of Armand and Daniel's relationship. Not in my eyes and, frankly, not when it comes to the original story. Daniel becoming a vampire is not the important part of the Devil's Minion story. The actual love and romance before Daniel is turned is because it is during that part of it that the actual character development and growth both of them go through from it takes place. Especially for Armand's character.

And that only has any depth when Daniel is human and Armand is forever refusing to turn him because of his hangups about making another vampire.

And Armand finally turning Daniel out of love was a huge step that showed Armand beginning to move forward and heal -- from not only his time in the Children of Darkness cult, but begin his healing when it comes to his Marius issues as well.

Armand turning Daniel out of spite undercuts all of that. It undercuts the whole story. And flat-out guts some of the major depth of the relationship and Armand's character development overall.

Not to mention it makes Daniel no better than someone like Claudia wrt Armand turning him now. Maybe even less than her since at least Claudia got turned out of Lestat's love for someone else. Daniel doesn't even get that? The person who is supposed to be his eternal companion doesn't even get turned by him out of love, an important point to the bond between such Maker and Fledgling eternal companions, but out of hate and spite instead?

Yeah, no thank you.

This is not what I've waited since 1995 to see with these two and the fact their relationship may have gotten treated like this -- if this is true -- utterly astounds me how this show could get Loustat so right (and even upgrade them so beautifully in so many ways such as with Louis' turning) and utterly fail Devil's Minion so badly. Because yes, it's failing them. It's a terrible and, moreover, just a shallow adaptation of Devil's Minion if this is how it really all goes down.

Because there is way more to Armand and Daniel than them just Daniel being a vampire and them finally "getting together." Or at least there is supposed to be. And this ain't it.

(Pin!) Now, with that all said? The fact that Rolin flat out says that we'll never see Armand turning Daniel? Yeah okay, I'm sus on that one. Because really. The only reason not to show Armand turning Daniel next season -- and visually confirm that Armand did it -- is if because . . . Armand never actually turned Daniel in the first damn place.

Or, if he did, it maybe was not fully Daniel.

I mean, you're not going to ever actually show Armand turning his first-ever fledgling (who he's supposed to go on to have a romantic relationship with at some point) after making a big ass deal out of the fact that Armand has never turned anyone before? Ever?

See I know damn well that Armand is being framed as a villain right now. He very much has to be given how the end of the book IWTV and how the upcoming book The Vampire Lestat, goes. Armand is the main villain/antagonist in it. Even in the present day, it is clear Armand hasn't gone yet gone through all of the growth that he does from Queen of the Damned on. So he's still back in his villain-era mode right now. And his post-breakup with Louis mode in the present day. Which is fine, it's how his story -- and the story where it is right now -- goes. I am thoroughly okay with that.

And the very idea that Armand turned Daniel out of spite? Very much plays into that framing-him-as-a-villian state where Armand's character is right now. And will be for the majority of Season 3, which I've already before now suspected and said.

So here is where the speculation on my end of things comes in. Because yeah, not only can I not help myself but because -- until I see this play out with my own eyes -- I'm willing to be reasonable and look at the various ways this all could still play out that doesn't completely gut out the very heart of Armand and Daniel -- as characters and their relationship together. (Or at least not have it be so damn shallow by the end when they inevitably get and stay together.)

So as @nalyra-dreaming can confirm, I gave her a few scenarios that could be behind Daniel's turning weeks ago, when I first suspected it was going to happen (before the screener leaks about it started). In one of the scenarios, I said that if Daniel's vampire eyes are any color other than violet, then that is NOT Daniel's spirit/soul/consciousness in Daniel's body that has been made a vampire.

As the saying goes, "The eyes are the window into the soul." And am I really supposed to think this show got Lestat and Louis' eye color dead on correct but just missed Daniel's iconic eye color? Really? (Because no, I do not find it romantic that Daniel has his Maker's eye color, or whatever. Besides, vampire eye color doesn't even work like that -- the show didn't even do that with Louis and Lestat who are the main, grand romantic couple of the damn show.)

As I said here in this reblog, I stand by my opinion/theory that no way this show gets Daniel's iconic violet eye color wrong, even on accident. I said so weeks ago, before even seeing Daniel's eyes in that final shot in the season finale, and just predicting that he was going to get turned.

No way this show got Daniel's iconic eye color wrong when he became a vampire, not when they went to all the damn trouble creating those vampire contacts and gave Jacob's Louis green eyes to match book-Louis.

And yes I damn well know they could just have Daniel pop up with violet vampire eyes in the Season 3 premiere and there goes all of that, and it really was all just laziness, incompetence, and a mistake when it came to the color of Daniel's eyes in the finale. But right now? I'm treating Daniel's eye color as the equivalent of Rolin saying "Lelio is so boring!" as to the question of why Sam's Lestat was playing Harlequin and not Lelio in the Season 2 theater flashbacks. Something the show changed on purpose and for a reason.

Because we all damn well know that we are going to see Sam's Lestat as Lelio in Season 3, correct? Because we are.

And yes. I know some people really hate the idea of a body swap scenario regarding Daniel, but I'm sorry. At this point, it really is the only scenario out of this whole storyline that I can see right now, that will keep it anywhere close to retaining the heart of the Devil's Minion storyline, especially if Armand really did turn Daniel out of spite here (even though, again, we'll apparently never see that turning to confirm that in full. Uh-huh, okay.).

And two things that I think do set up the possibility are:

1.) Louis says Daniel was turned after he left Armand alone with him. But Louis actually wouldn't know something like that unless he was told since he wasn't there. All we can really assume at the moment is that Daniel told Louis what happened after Louis left the room. And as RJ and Assad said, we'll never see the actual turning. So who knows when the hell it happened.

2.) Raglan James, via those direct messages asking Daniel for "reciprocation" for getting him a copy of the script, with Armand's handwritten notes, of the trial-play. Between that request and the Talamasca publishing Daniel's book, that loops Daniel into the James orbit very much. And ties Daniel very close to any Talamasca going on even more.

And, quite frankly, I've thought since Season 1 that David Talbot's character was out and would be merged with both Louis and Daniel on the show. And Sam pretty much confirmed in his interview with Autumn Brown that some characters from the books will be merged together with others in the show. So, yeah. David's character is very much a character I always thought they were doing that with, and I know I'm not the only one who's thought it before now as well.

And honestly, I can much better deal with some type of scenario in which Armand maybe ends up turning two versions of "Daniel" -- and therefore technically having two fledglings, even though they are kind of the same person -- over what is being put forth about this right now. One turning -- in spite -- of Daniel's body without his true spirit/soul/consciousness in it, and the other turning -- out of love -- of Daniel's spirit/soul/consciousness inside a different body of some kind. (Which I won't go into now, as that is a whole separate long meta if I did.)

Because at least with that scenario then, in a weird way, Daniel being Armand's only fledgling would still hold. 🤷🏾‍♀️ Along with a few other things that can happen regarding Armand's character growth in between each turning.

But that is it. Because there is no way they can have Armand turn Daniel (as fully Daniel) out of spite -- as Rolin directly says he does in this interview -- and actually keep the heart of the Devil's Minion story and romance now. Not even if the Devil's Minion chase and parts of the relationship happened in the past IMO . . . another thing they are clearly avoiding talking about, btw. Which, at least right now, just tells me that, if we're lucky, we'll only -- once again -- get one episode that flashes back to that time in Season 3. Can't really be helped, since Season 3's primary focus will be regarding Lestat and Lestat's backstory. (As I've said before Daniel isn't even in that book. So whatever we get with him in Season 3 really will just be extra, added stuff.)

Oh, and something else I very much recognize is that Loustat shippers -- particularly book ones -- have gone through it these past two seasons, but now seem to be coming out of that darkness. Maybe now it's time for Devil's Minion shippers like me and others to face the same damn thing now. Because of something Assad let slip a few weeks ago about not getting Armand's full story until Season 4, I think that is how long we're going to have to wait to see the full of this play out.

But I advise right now that if some of you think you can't handle that and would just rather quit the show and binge things later, I totally get it. Waiting two seasons -- basically 4 years minimum -- is going to be a pain in the ass. I already know right now that there are some things I'm not going to have the patience for during the hiatus times in between, particularly this one. (One thing I can already say, at least right now, is that I'm not inspired to write any show-based Devil's Minion fanfic this hiatus like I did during the last hiatus).

But quitting the show altogether? No, I'm not there yet. Because yes Rolin does like to troll. Plus Hannah's tweet. Plus what was said about Devil's Minion at ATX Festival. Plus my thinking, long before now, that David Talbot was always out wrt the show, and the fact that Raglan James is here and Daniel's character has been heavily tied into The Talamasca plotline of the show.

And given everything I've seen this show do wrt it's writing up until now, I just can't fully believe they would really make Devil's Minion this damn shallow and devoid of its depth and heart. And just have Armand turn his one and only canon fledgling and immortal companion out of nothing but spite. When Armand loving Daniel and finally having to trust in Daniel's love for him, as well as his own love for Daniel over his own fear was a major point and culmination of the Devil's Minion storyline.

After everything I've seen these first two seasons wrt this show, I can't think these writers would miss such an important heart and point of the Devil's Minion storyline and romance so completely.

Not yet at any rate.

[otomehonyaku]

DIABOLIK LOVERS Haunted Dark Bridal ☽ Genteiban DVD Mini Drama Translation ☽ Side Story II (Kanato, Reiji, Subaru)

Original title: DIABOLIK LOVERS 限定版 SPECIAL DISK III Side Story II Voiced by Kaji Yūki (Kanato), Konishi Katsuyuki (Reiji), Kondo Takashi (Subaru) English translation by @otomehonyaku Click here for the audio (special thanks to @uzi-boozii for providing the audio!)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Please do not reuse or post my translations elsewhere or translate my work into other languages without my permission.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Another interesting little drama CD (♡ˊ͈ ꒳ ˋ͈) I love these 'behind the scenes' mini drama set in between certain events of the anime. This particular one takes place after Kanato takes Yui to his wax doll room! Please enjoy (ㅅ´ ˘ `)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[This CD takes place after Kanato takes Yui into his wax doll room.]

00:00 [Reiji lifts his cup of tea and takes a sip.]

Reiji: Hm. There is nothing quite like English tea. This aroma, this flavour… No other country’s tea could accomplish this.

Kanato: You sure seem like you’re enjoying drinking that bland-looking liquid. I certainly would not. Right, Teddy? Cold days like this just make you crave exceptionally sweet chocolate milk. Ah, shall I call her over and have her make chocolate milk for me?

R: Wait, Kanato. Why did you, of all occasions, decide to call on me during my tea time? This is my one moment of relaxation in the day. Do you not understand? You have something to say to me, do you not? 

01:09 K: Me? To you, Reiji? I wouldn’t know what. Teddy says he has no clue, either.

R: Really? Nothing comes to mind at all?

K: I just told you, I don’t know.

R: You clearly lack self-reflective behaviour.

K: I couldn't care less about your expectations. I hate being kept in suspense. I am holding off on my precious hot chocolate by listening to your useless sermon, so please explain properly.

R: Kanato. Listen to me.

K: I want her to make me hot chocolate, and quickly! I want to drill her to make chocolate milk with the exact amount of sweetness that I prefer! That is her duty!

[Kanato slams his fist on the table.]

02:00R: Kanato. That is precisely the problem.

K: A problem? What is? I may do with my dolls as I please.

R: She is not your doll. Your reasoning that you can do with her as you please is incorrect. So, you cannot expect me to let slide the improper behaviour you exhibited yesterday.

K: What are you saying that I did?

R: I am talking about what you did in the wax doll room. You were trying to turn her into a wax doll, were you not?

K: And what about it? Don’t you think she would look extraordinary as a corpse? Hey, Teddy. You’re glad you’ve made a friend too, right?

R: It seems as though you do not realise the weight of your actions.

K: What’s wrong with turning her into a wax doll? I was only trying to preserve her beauty so that she may live on for all eternity.

R: Wax dolls are not alive, Kanato. You, of all people, should know.

03:16K: I don’t care whether she lives or not. As long as she’s beautiful, that’s enough for me.

R: We are under strict orders not to kill her. Have you forgotten? We must obey Father’s orders. We cannot go against him. You know this, do you not? I think we should treat her with a certain level of care.

K: What makes you say that, even though we never received such orders for the other sacrificial brides? Do you not think that is strange, Reiji?

R: Orders should be followed. I follow them without question.

04:09K: Hehe. You understand that she’s special, don’t you, Reiji?

R: What do you mean?

K: Her blood smelled quite… nostalgic somehow. I was plagued by the strangest feeling, as if a distant memory had come back to me. Didn’t you feel it too, Reiji?

Right, Teddy?

R: I did not. She is merely prey. Nothing more, nothing less. I do not recall ever thinking something so imperfect is special.

K: Hehe. Do you really think so?

[Something cracks, debris falling to the ground.]

K: Hm?

R: There are cracks in the sealing… Is that Subaru again? I will go and check on him. Wait here. Understood? We are not done talking.

[Reiji walks off.]

K: Huh. Subaru has been acting off lately. Teddy, should we go and have a look as well? It’s exciting to watch our home crumble to dust, isn’t it?

05:45[Reiji walks into Subaru’s room.]

R: Subaru. What on Earth are you doing?

Subaru: Fuck off. Don’t barge into my room without permission.

R: By all means–go ahead and break your own belongings. However, this house is not just yours. I cannot stand idly by and watch you destroy it.

S: Shut up.

K: Oh, Teddy, look! Subaru broke the desk again. This room does not need furniture, does it?

S: Fuck off, you little hysteric brat. You get the fuck out, too!

[Subaru tries to push Kanato out of the room.]

K: Teddy? You should never use such words, okay? People may start to question your dignity if you do.

S: The fuck?

R: Kanato, I thought I told you to stay put downstairs.

K: It may go wherever I please. I will not let you order me around.

S: You fuckers, get out of my room with your whining.

K: If you can’t calm down, I won’t be able to enjoy my hot chocolate in peace.

S: Then don’t drink it!

[Subaru throws something.]

06:57R: Subaru! I keep having to take care of things every time you break the wall or a piece of furniture. Please consider my efforts as well.

S: No problem if it’s replaced with something new, right?

R: That is not the problem. Please understand.

[Subaru walks over to his iron maiden.]

S: Fuck off. I’m going to sleep. Hurry up and get out of here.

R: Wait.

[Reiji tries to hold the lid open.]

S: Get out of my way!

R: Do you not think your destructive behaviour has increased lately?

S: So what if it has?

K: I do have a feeling why, though.

S: Huh?

K: It’s her, isn’t it? When I think of drastic changes to our household recently, I can only think of her arrival. Hehe. You have taken a liking to her too, haven’t you, Subaru?

S: Fuck off. I have zero interest in her.

R: Oh? That sure is strange.

S: Why? 

R: If you have no interest in her, why did you give her your precious silver knife?

K: The silver knife–the one thing that can end the eternal lives of us vampires. I wonder what he was thinking when he gave it to her, don’t you, Teddy?

08:16 S: Shut up. Stop fussing so much. I am the one who decides what I do with my own knife!

R: That certainly depends on the situation. Besides, you even aided her in running away. It seems to me that you should get a proper grip on what is happening in this house right now.

S: I hate this.

R: However, I believe it is best to act only after properly assessing the other party. In reality, she did not escape, even when you offered her a way out.

S: Hm.

R: I have no clue why, though. Good grief, human life is such a finite thing. Whydo humans only repeat such pointless behaviour? Truly pitiful.

S: I wonder.

R: About what?

S: If you naively assume that she’s a mere human, it’ll come back to bite you.

K: Hehe. Hey, Reiji. I told you! There’s something about her. Something special…

S: Besides, ever since she arrived, Richter has been here often, too.

09:43 R: Indeed. I have seen Uncle around often lately. Subaru. Has Uncle told you anything?

S: ‘Before long, the awakening will come,’ or something like that.

R: Is that what he said?

S: C’mon, the two of you are so annoying! Get the hell out of here already!

R: This is enough for today. The two of you. Please think thoroughly before you act from now on.

[Subaru closes his coffin. Kanato yawns.]

K: You’re tired, aren’t you, Teddy? Let’s go and rest in our favourite little place.

[Kanato leaves.]

R: Good grief. I should not wait and instead take care of things today. The next time, I will show no mercy. And even then, what on Earth did Uncle mean? It seems that I should look further into it.

11:00 K: Hey, look, Teddy. This pure white dress… I had it especially made for the occasion. This feeling, this texture, and this lustrous finish… Haha. I can truly envision the day when she wears it among all the others. I already have a spot for her in mind.As Reiji said, I shall think thoroughly before I act… Haha!

[wanderingblindly]

From the ask game: flip flop with any scene from the Seattle/photography fic? Or maybe when they first met? I’d love to read what Lando’s feelings were at that moment lmao

- CX

(ask game) (original fic)

I’m cutting myself off before I rewrite the entire thing what the fuck hahahahahha

“They didn’t even bring tabs!” George flails in his enthusiasm; Lando’s arms loosely tossed around his shoulder, leaning against him from his perch on the counter, and lets himself be jostled.

“They’re babies, mate, they not gonna —”

“I knew to bring tabs for the syllabus back then, so —”

Alex takes a swig of his shitty beer. “Thank god we’re not all like you, Georgie.”

“Rude.”

Lando’s used to feeling eyes on him. Like long grass grazing his ankles, it used to draw his attention; but now it’s merely a passing fact, white noise in his life that fades until it’s nothing.

And yet — half listening to Alex and George bicker, half enjoying the safety of their closeness — he feels them. Buzzing on his skin, sharper than the grass he knows, he feels them.

Over George’s tirade, he hears him before he sees him: “Yeah, uh, yeah. Thanks for having us.”

Lando looks over towards the kitchen door, catching the strangers eyes with ease — a ball to a waiting glove. They’re already a little unfocused, shoulders tilted crookedly; he’s already pretty far gone, grabbing a seltzer off the table for something to do.

His eyes leave him as fast as he found him; and yet they want to draw back.

“Didn’t even bring a pencil to class today,” Lando chips in, feeling George’s tense under his arms.

“Mate,” Alex says, letting himself lean against the kitchen wall with an exasperated smile. “Gonna get him going,”

“Why can’t you take anything seriously,” George starts, shifting to drop Lando’s arms and look at him fully.

“Don’t remember you being my TA,” He smiles, focusing on Alex’s resulting giggles. “When’d you switch to psych?”

George stutters out a response, somehow sounding drunker the more worked up Lando gets him. It makes him smile, warmth building in his stomach as he takes in how much he loves them, but a small part of his mind lingers by the kitchen island. Lingers on the glimmer of red cheeks and drunken staring he saw there.

---

He’s met her once or twice, maybe had a seminar together or something. Or maybe she works at one of the libraries, one of the cafes just outside. He can’t really remember, leaning back on the couch, jaw cupped in his hand, and listening. She’s nice enough, bubbly enough to fill the gap left by George and Alex sneaking away to do what the do in private.

They don’t think he knows, but he obviously put that together a while back. Maybe they’ll put their heads together and realize they’re in love one of these days; the thought makes Lando smile, her cheeks turning a distinctly inebriated sort of splotchy red. Flustered.

His eyes flick to the other side of the room.

He’s still watching, that boy whose flush looks more like soft candy floss than red ink. Pressed against the wall, clearly the wrong side of tipsy, and staring. It gives him a moment of pause, the glassy sheen to his eyes almost like a tourist gazing up at the Winged Victory — so different than usual; reverent rather than rapacious.

“And so then I was like, ‘Carrie, you can’t just say that about a person!’ You know? Like, so uncalled for,” She scoffs, edges tinged with a giggle, and draws Lando back down to earth. He laughs along, mind elsewhere.

He doesn’t like being stared at, the feeling of being more a fixation than a person. And yet.

He sees the man slip out of the room, forgetting to close the front door against the crisp spring air.

---

Bit excessive, Lando thinks as he steps out onto the porch. Sitting out in the dark all alone, even for a quieter guy, it’s just. Lando lingers on the edges of the porch light, suddenly unsure about the entire thing.

Maybe he made it up, that brief moment of distinction in the living room.

He walks up to him anyways, slipping into the second rocking chair like it’s second nature. And he waits, tucking up his feet to make himself comfortable, sparing a glance at his new neighbor.

Soft nose, soft cheeks, sharp jaw, all painted rosey in the dark. It’s started to run down his neck, flooded up to dust his ears. It’s precious, Lando smiled a little, watching him breathe so deeply while clearly struggling to keep it together. Reminds him a bit of George when they fist met, too sharp and too soft and bleeding at the edges.

“Bit sick?”

He jumps, Lando winces. Not his smoothest start. But the man looks at him, and Lando wishes — without meaning to — that it was daylight.

“Already looked pretty sloshed in the kitchen,” He shifts, making himself more comfortable. “Go too hard at the pre?”

The silences stretches between them. Normally, Lando would give up and go talk to someone else — conversations soaked in beer and seltzer don’t really matter, anyways. But he doesn’t want to.

He raises a brow. “Gonna say something?”

“I’m, uh. Oscar.” Lando smiles a little; he looks like an Oscar, somehow. In the roundness of his nose and the lilt of his accent, he’s an Oscar.

“Lando.”

“Weird name.” His eyes blow wide as he says it, and Lando doesn’t bristle like he normally would. It’s almost… endearing. Like a cat that scared itself with its own tail.

Instead, he laughs. And he means it. “Yeah, get that a lot.”

The breeze is biting, but Oscar’s gaze — fixated and definitely a little awkward — is warm. He shivers at them both.

“Are you… cold?” He stumbles over the words, their earnestness driving into Lando’s ribs like a knife.

George would have reminded him that he should have brought a jacket. “Nah, I’m fine,” He nuzzles his nose into his elbow, waiting to get used to it. He could just go inside, he doesn’t really *have* to be —

“No, it’s. Erm.” Oscar pitches forward in the rocking chair, nearly tumbling out of it. It would be hilarious if Lando didn’t realize what he was doing, clumsy fingers trying to grab the bottom of his sweatshirt, struggling to pull it over his head.

His shirt lifts a bit in the process, exposing the skin just above his jeans — the unexpected line of his abs. Lando’s eyes snap away when Oscar finally gets his head unstuck, holding the sweatshirt out between them.

His hair’s a rumpled mess, eyes trained on Lando’s face with a sort of… fevered servitude.

“Here.” He breathes, and Lando notices that his shirt is crooked from the ordeal. It looks like he just woke up, disheveled by his sheets.

Lando feels his face run hot as he gingerly grabs the sweatshirt, warm and soft and well-loved in his hands.

“I — yeah, thanks.” He gets on, unable to look away from Oscar’s… everything. Putting it on feels like some sort of promise, heart skipping a beat when the sleeves fall beyond his one fingers.

But maybe it’s nothing. Oscar’s eyes, his sweatshirt.

Maybe it’s just the spring air.

“What’s your major?”

Oscar smiles, and Lando realizes it: he’s fucked.

[gffa]

If Kenobi season 2 happens and they bring back Commander Cody, how do you think they should handle Obi-Wan and Cody storywise?

I'm so very on the fence about whether I would even want a second season of the show--the first season was never meant to be anything beyond a mini-series and I think having it be self-contained that way made it so much more satisfying. It wasn't meant to be an ongoing story like The Mandalorian is, and Ewan was just leaving the door open for any potential future stories. On the other hand, I WILL NEVER HAVE ENOUGH OF EWAN'S OBI-WAN. For me, I think any potential second season needs to really feel like it has a point and feel sufficiently tied to Obi-Wan's core story if they're going to the effort of bringing all the actors back again. Which means: Anakin needs to be a central figure in it, even if I'm not sure how well that would work after that unnamed moon wrapped things up pretty well between them and Obi-Wan was where he needed to be for ANH. An Obi-Wan show needs to be centered on Obi-Wan's story. Versus that I think whatever Cody's storyline is, it needs to be about him, and not about someone else story. Which means I'm not sure how good I would feel about him being part of an Obi-Wan show, which would make his issues about Obi-Wan, meanwhile Obi-Wan's been more about Anakin and Luke and the Jedi. (Leia worked because she was about Anakin and Padme and Obi-Wan's connections to the Republic/Bail.) I would prefer Cody's story about what he does after leaving the Empire to be told elsewhere because I think Cody deserves to get that to himself. What I really want is a story that can fully focus on Rex and Cody meeting up again and maybe joining the Rebellion or working together to help other clones. There's some really potentially good, crunchy conflict to be had between Obi-Wan and Cody because of Utapau, and theoretically what I would love is if it could be tied into a story about rescuing Luke and some clones somehow, that they intersect for an episode or two, that it has this undercurrent of how well they worked together--and still do, they fall right back into seamlessly understanding each other and complementing each other's fighting styles--but that they're on different paths now. Obi-Wan has his sacred duty to watch over Anakin's son on Tatooine. Cody has his need to help his clone brothers or fight in the bigger Rebellion. Both important paths, but they part ways as friends again, maybe Obi-Wan can put him in touch with Bail to join the Rebellion proper. I would love to see Cody and Obi-Wan crossing paths again, conflict about what happened on Utapau, maybe that's how Obi-Wan finds out about the chips, Cody gets closure and can go on to fight against the Empire that oppressed him and his brothers, Obi-Wan is watching over Luke to ensure the galaxy has a future, and both of their core stories are respected, but there's resolution here. I'm not against cameos in Star Wars, I just want them to be used for emotional resolution, not because of Rule of Cool. This is why I thought the 501st trooper was perfect for the show, because it was part of the theme of Obi-Wan seeing Anakin's ghosts everywhere, that's why Leia worked so well for me in the show, because it was about Anakin's ghosts again, about the missing part of Obi-Wan as a Jedi who was a teacher, about the loss of Padme in the galaxy, about his duty to help the people of the Republic where he could versus his own crushing depression and trauma. Whatever role Cody would play on the show, I would want it to support the core of those same themes, while also respecting that Cody has his own story to be told. What I picture so clearly in my head is, post-fight scene where they've wiped the floor with whoever was coming after them, is just the two of them nodding at each other in understanding, that there are scars between them but they both can let it go now, Obi-Wan knows it wasn't a betrayal, Cody knows that Obi-Wan doesn't hold it against him, they both know the other has purpose in their life, and they each have regained a friend. The galaxy looks a little brighter after that.

[adventuringblind]

Drive With You Forever

Chapter 4.5: Fumbling through intimacy

Max Verstappen x Charles Leclerc x Lando Norris x Reader

Chapter summary: Max helps out our reader with exploring themselves

Warnings: It's just smut. P in V sex, innocence corruption, minor dom/sub vibes, oral (both receiving), fingering

Notes: I decided I wanted to explore how Max and our protagonist would figure this out. Max had experience, and the reader has litterly never tried anything.

Previous <-

Masterlist

The following media is not intended for anyone below the age of 18. If you are not 18+, please do not interact with this post.

She knew about it. Hanna had explained sex to her. What she'd not explained was the things leading up to it.

Her and Max had been together romanticly for six months now. Though they had discovered they had felt things for each other for longer.

It's the end of a race weekend, and Max had taken the win. They were supposed to go to an after party but Max had kissed her. Then, he kissed her again. And again. And now his tongue was down her throat.

They'd gotten thos far before, but never further. Something about tonight felt different. Max was high on his confidence, and she was feeling open to new things.

Plus, if her vision is right, she doesn't want to add a third without getting to this stage as two. It sounds weird outloud but makes sense in her head.

Max pulls away for air. Leaving both of them panting. He's searching her face for confirmation he's reading this right. "Do you want to go further tonight? We don't have to-"

"No, I want to, I've just never done anything like this before."

Max thinks for a moment. "Have you ever touched yourself?"

She looks at him skeptically. "Like in my own body? Because don't we all touch ourselves all the time?"

Her answer tells him everything he needs to know. Something about the innocence in her eyes turns him on even more.

He sometimes forgets that she is barely on any social media. She uses Google if someone can't answer her questions. She reads novels that he can just tell from the cover don't have any sex scenes.

They've watched some movies where things got heated, but she always cringes and turns her head away. Yelling at Max to skip past it.

Max puts his lips back on hers. "Jump." He orders in-between breaths.

She obliges, and Max catches her weight. His hands tucked firmly under thighs. He walks them to the bed and tosses her on it.

"If you need to stop or even get a tiny bit uncomfortable, say the word and I'll clean you up and we can go to bed."

She nods her head. Something about his tone is making her excited. She felt that warm feeling in her stomach before but had never known what to do with it. Maybe this will help her understand.

Max crawls over the top of her. His kisses now leave her lips to travel elsewhere. He places them around her ear, her jaw, then her neck. The collar bone, though, has her making a noise.

Her hand covers her mouth in embarrassment. Much to Max's displeasure. He removes her hand from her face and holds it in his.

"You can make sounds. It means I'm doing a good job." He smirks. Then he continues kissing her.

His free hand plays with the hem of her shirt. Still the Ferrari shirt she was wearing fir the race.

"I've always liked you better in blue. Can I take this off, please, love?"

"Sure." It definitely does not sound confident. Something about Max right now was making her feel things she had never before.

Soon, her shirt is discarded to somewhere in the room. Max makes quick work of his also and tosses it to the void.

Skin on skin in a new place has her whining. Max is taking his time, memorizing every inch of her torso with his lips. He takes care to kiss every single scar he can make out.

Now he's eyes her waistband. Her jeans definitely weren't the most stylish thing, but they are comfortable. "Can I get these off of you?"

"Please." The new word came out on its own. Max's pupils dilate at the miniscule beg. He somehow stripped her of the jeans faster then her shirt.

His jeans are next. He's doing his best to make it even so she feels comfortable.

Her mouth falls open. Max had always been rather attractive to her, but lord this was another level. She reaches out to him before he can continue kissing her everywhere. Her fingers dance across his chest through the lines of his abs.

His thighs, though, hold her attention for longer. The way the muscles are flexing with every movement. Her hands run along the sides of them, and Max is in heaven. He hums his approval at her motions.

"I had a plan in mind, but you seem to have taken a liking to something in particular."

Max throws himself back on the bed. Pulling the females body in between his legs. "You can explore me if you want." He encourages.

She takes her time learning his body. How kisses feel in different places. Her hands find every outline of his thighs. Max is putty in her hands. He guides her to different areas. Letting their bare skin touch more and more.

It's not long before she gets eager to move forward. Her fingers tug at the waistband of his boxers.

"Can I?" She stutters. Her cheeks are turning pink. She was copying his words from when he took off her clothes.

Max kisses her again reassuringly. "Go ahead." He whispers into her neck. His hot breath sticks to her skin.

She tugs them down and off completely. Her eyes widen just a bit. She's clueless now. Her eyes moving between him and his dick.

Max grabs her hand and guides her to him. He leads her through some small touches, letting her get used to new sensations and textures. Then she's stroking him and his mouth falls open.

She looks pleased at herself now. His actions bring some confidence back to her.

"Do you want to try something else?"

Again, she's eager, but Max dosen't want to take advantage.

"If you feel comfortable, you can use your mouth instead of your hand."

To her credit, she is trying. Her body repostions so she can reach him. She eyes Max again. Looking for some sort of instruction. He guides her head to him.

You'd think she's done this before with how easily he slides down her throat. He's still guiding her but not holding her there. He kets her do things at her own pace. "If you need a break or need to breathe, just come back up. I won't be upset."

She doesn't, though. The taste is weird, and her mouth is sore, but she continues. Max is a moaning mess beneath her, and the pain is stimulating. She finds comfort in pain, and this is no different.

"Fuck- I'm gonna cum if you keep going." Max is writhing now. His hands tangled up in her hair. Her hands are still tracing around his thighs.

Cum. That's a word she hadn't heard yet. Well, she had, but she didn't know what it meant.

Max is twitching now. His legs are shaking. She makes eye contact with him to check if he's okay and it sends him over the edge.

He spills into her throat. His muscles twitching as he hits his high.

She doesn't pull off, though. She's coughing and gagging, but she's still there. It takes max, pulling her off to get her to stop.

Her mouth is drenched with her spit and his cum. Her eyes are teary from the soreness.

He wipes her mouth with his hand. "Do you need water? I'm sorry I probably should have warned you sooner-"

She dosent say anything, just points to the sink. Indicating she does want water.

Max gets up to get her some. She takes the glass thoughtfully. Swishing it around her mouth before swallowing.

Max is cradling her. "You did so good schat. You are absolutely amazing."

She melts into him. His words are a stark contrast from those she heard growing up. His eyes scan her face. "Do you want to keep going?"

She nods her head again.

"Words this time love."

"Yeah, I want to try more things.”

"How are you feeling?" Max is back to caressing every inch of her body.

"It's warm in some areas, I guess." She shrugs. The feeling is hard to describe out loud.

Max knows exactly what she's talking about. He's already tugging at the waistband of her underwear.

"Can I take these off of you."

She nods her head and then quickly slips a yes in there. Remebering he said to use her words. She's not super sure why words are neccecary, but if it makes him comfortable, then she'll run with it.

Max slides the rest of her clothing off with ease. Taking special care to admit every aspect of her body. Running his fingers along every scar.

She leans into his touch. The mild insecure feeling she had at his his initial hungry gaze now gone.

Max gently guides her down, and she just lets it happen. Confused at every moment, but she trusts him to let him guide her.

He spreads her legs apart and sets himself in between them, placing chaste kisses along her inner thighs. Hums of pleasure slip past her lips.

His tongue hits her most sensitive area. A place she's never touched. A place nobody has ever touched. That fact alone is probably what has her whining at the single action.

Max is lapping at her. His tongue memorizing her taste. His teeth barely graze her.

She doesn't understand the feeling. It's amazing, and yet her body is trying to pull away. Her hands are still at her sides, clutching the bed.

Max takes one of her hands and sets it in his hair. The new sensation only adds to the pleasure. His arms wrap under her legs, and his hands grip into her waist, effectively holding her in place.

Her moans set him alight. Determind to bring her to the edge. He works his tongue furiously. Coating her in endless layers of his saliva.

Something is building inside of her. A new sensation she's never had before. It's hot, and it's good, and she never wants it to end.

"Max I-" He doesn't let her get her words out. The coil in her snapping and white heat flooding through every inch of her.

She's leaking her pleasure into his mouth. Her back and body trying to escape from his hold.

Max keeps her held in place as he brings her through her high. His name falling from her lips as a prayer.

He pulls back finally. Not bothering to wipe his mouth as he pulls her into a hungry kiss. The taste is new to her, but she doesn't care.

She tries to get more even as he's pulling away. Their breaths heavy. She wants to keep going. She wants to feel that high again.

Max holds her for a minute, keeping her face an inch away from his. "Do you want to keep going? We can stop if this is to much."

"No, I- that felt good - I want more of whatever thay was." She pants.

Max smiles. "You mean an orgasm?"

"Sure?"

He laughs and pulls her in again. Successfully pushing her back down and straddling over the top of her.

He keeps his lips on hers as his fingers begin toying with her entrance. He searches her eyes, the pleading look she's giving him enough to send him over the brink again.

He slips his middle finger inside of her. Her little gasp against his lips and buck of her hips makes him excited.

He keeps his eyes glued to her face. His free hand settles on her breast as he slips another finger in. The flow of his hand making her bite her lip.

Her moans are picking up, and shes already trying to chase her high again. Max takes this as his signal to pull his fingers out.

She looks at him, confused and frustrated. "Need to be in you." He mumbles into her skin.

Max reaches for the nightstand where he smartly put a condom before they could get far. His mind made sure he did something rational first. He tears it open and slips it over himself.

Again, the female beneath him looks confused. Whatever the question is, he'll have to answer it later.

He lines himself up with her. "This is probably going to sting. If you need a break or need to stop just tell me."

"Okay."

Then he's slowly sliding himself into her.

He's right, she thinks, or does her best to. It burns. But it's a pleasant burn. It's a good kind of pain compared to the one she's used to causing herself.

Max is watching her face and body for signs to stop and slow down. However, the blessed out look on her face as she takes him entirely makes him think she likes it more then what they were doing before.

"Are you okay?" He pants. Bottoming in out in her. The warmth and tightness of it all make words difficult for him.

"Better then okay."

Then he's moving. Slowly at first, letting them both adjust. The glossy look in her eyes and sounds falling from her mouth pull him closer to the edge.

She's taking every inch of him. Her arms wrap around his body, pulling him closer to her. Their skin rubbing against each other. Moans filling the empty space of the room.

It doesn't take long for them to both get there. Max can feel her clenching around him. "You're doing so good for me. You feel better than I'd have ever imagined."

Their on the edge. Max is getting sloppy, and her nails are digging into his skin, only encouraging him to continue.

"Let go."

Then their their. Strings of the others' names fall from their lips. Max slips into his mother tongue as he finishes. Every one of her muscles is twitching.

Max slows himself. Wiping tears that had escaped her eyes. Doing his best to pull out gently.

Her eyes look foggy. Max's lingering touch the only thing keeping her grounded to reality. He plants kisses on her face before standing up to clean himself and starting a bath.

When he comes back into the room, she's sitting there awkwardly. Like she doesn't know what to do with herself.

Max finds himself kneeling in front of her. "Do you need anything? Are you hurting?" His concern for the girl evident.

She shakes her head. Not knowing what she should do now or what she needs. "Was that good? Did I do well?" She's asks. The initial insecurities coming back into play.

Max cradles her face. "You are absolutely perfect."

~

Next ->

@styles-sunflower @purplephantomwolf @boiohboii @reblog-princess-blog @jjsprobablywrong @jayda12 @faithm120601 @eugene-emt-roe @lpab @yaaadii @80sloverry @spongebeck3101 @eviethetheatrefreak

[hannahbarberra162]

hOrnithology for Beginners, Part 6

on Ao3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Note: there's a loose end I forgot to write into this chapter so I'm gonna do an epilogue.

I mentioned this elsewhere, but my work picks up a lot in the fall / winter. I'm still writing, I just have less free time. I liked writing this story a lot, I thought it was fun. Just a lil silly for some laffs.

Marco POV

“Marco, what the fuck.” Thatch was genuinely upset, which was a rare occurrence. Marco grimaced. 

“I know, I know.” He put his thumbs on his temples, rubbing his forehead with his index fingers. He knew he was playing a dangerous game by not telling you that he was the Phoenix, but he didn’t think it would end like this. 

“No, Marco, really. What the actual fuck?” Thatch was gesticulating wildly with everything he said and getting louder with every word. Marco needed to diffuse this situation before they got kicked out of the restaurant and caused even more trouble for Etta. She’d excused herself quickly after the scene unfolded, picking up your section to work them both. She was trying to hold herself together, but he’d seen some tears on her face. You’d all fucked up, but he’d fucked up the most and had to fix it somehow. 

“Let’s go yoi, I caused enough trouble here.” Marco threw money enough to cover the bill down on the table and stood up, walking quickly out the restaurant. Thatch rose immediately, following Marco closely, continuing to berate him. 

“That’s just evil, Marco, how could you?  You knew that poor girl didn’t know who you were and you lied to her? Both ways? And you were going to her house tonight? That’s messed up, man. That’s low.” Normally Marco would have stopped Thatch’s rant, but he knew he deserved it. He didn’t know how to make amends, but he’d find you and try to get you to understand that he didn’t do it to be mean or spiteful. Things had spiraled and he hadn’t taken control of the situation to suit his own interests. He didn’t think you’d believe him, but he wanted to try. He had a good guess of where you’d go - he took off towards your waterfall.

Your POV

You quickly made your way to your house, grabbing only the essentials you’d need for a few nights out. You’d rather suffer in nature than sit in your house and brood. You couldn’t go back to that job and face the scene of your complete humiliation. Not only that, you really didn’t want to see Etta. Her betrayal had hurt worse than anything else. You expected pirates to be terrible, that wasn’t anything new. But to have your best friend double cross you made you feel like a bullied child again. 

You grabbed your supplies, some food, a change of clothes, strapped your blow dart gun to your thigh and hit the road. You knew no one was coming to find you, but you wanted to be gone in case someone saw you on your way. You didn’t want them to get their last laugh while you were still upset. A few days by yourself and you’d be back to the way you’d always been - alone and aloof, but this time bitchier than ever. You walked past a building with wanted posters plastered along the side wall. You’d never really looked before, you didn’t care about any specific pirates. But glancing along the wall of wanted criminals, you quickly saw Marco, his picture showing him half transformed with wings instead of arms. He had a really high bounty - in the billions - he seemed like a big deal. All that meant was that everyone else but you knew he was The Phoenix and no one bothered to let you in on that little secret. You ripped it off the wall in anger. Fuck him. 

Making your way to the waterfall, your mind kept returning to Marco’s face as you put everything together in the restaurant. He didn’t seem to have a “gotcha” look like you’d expected. He’d looked shocked, like a deer caught in the headlights. Maybe he was a good actor, maybe he really felt that way. Ultimately it didn’t matter since he was the one who hadn’t told you he was a Zoan devil fruit user and let you think he was just some pirate and an unrelated phoenix. You set up your camp rapidly, going through the motions without thinking. You shoved your sleeping gear and food in the tent. You stepped into the pool, swimming towards the waterfall, going through the cascading water to the alcove behind the falls. It was large enough for a few people to relax, or you to wallow in your misery. 

You’d chosen to go behind the waterfall for a few reasons. One, Marco wouldn’t be able to follow you, if he wanted to come rub his victory in your face. You weren’t exactly sure about Devil Fruits and water but he probably couldn’t make it through the pool and definitely couldn’t make it behind the waterfall. Two, the loud droning sound of the waterfall was relaxing and drowned out any other sound. Like the sound of crying. You hadn’t cried in years, you always felt that your life was okay compared to a lot of others in the world. You felt guilty crying over something small like your articles being rejected from ornithology journals again when there were people being enslaved the world over, birds being hunted to extinction, and children starving on every island. But in the back of the waterfall, hidden from eyes and ears, you finally allowed yourself to cry. You cried over your lost friendship, your romance gone south, and your memories of the phoenix being tarnished instead of the highlight of your life. You cried for your loneliness, your broken heart, and for finally realizing you’d never fit in anywhere. You sobbed, letting your tears fall while the waterfall concealed you and your sorrow. 

You felt exhausted. The adrenaline from earlier had worn off and combined with your crying jag, you felt completely spent. You leaned back against the alcove, hugging your knees. You weren’t hungry or thirsty, you just sat there dazed for long enough that the sun started to make its descent. You thought about coming out from behind the waterfall but lacked the motivation to do so. It was so seldom that you allowed yourself to really dwell on your feelings that when you did it was all consuming. Even though the waterfall was loud, you could hear a little from behind. Loud sounds like shrill bird calls, monkeys howling, and one familiar voice. 

“Where are you yoi? I know you’re around here, I see your tent. Please, I just…I want to apologize.” Marco was looking for you, which made you suspicious. You didn’t say anything, he could rot for all you cared. 

“Please, I know what I did was wrong. More than wrong, it was cruel. I should have told you from the beginning. Please, let me make it right yoi.” You snorted, you couldn’t think of anything he could do to make it right. He just wanted to apologize to make himself feel better, not you. It was like when adults made kids say sorry, you knew it wasn’t really sincere.

“If you’re behind the waterfall, that’s really clever. I can’t get to you. But…I can outlast you yoi.” You looked towards the sounds as if you could see him. Outlast you? What was he planning to do? Lay siege? Confident in your ability to get him to fuck off, you stayed where you were. He’d get bored of picking on you and leave.

“I have to say, you have nice camping gear yoi. I could use a little rest. And I see you brought more pineapple for me. I’m going to enjoy it since you’re still hiding.” Hiding?! Marco was trying to use your anger against you and irritate you enough to come out so he could talk to you. Well, it wouldn’t work. You had good reason not to talk to him, even if your stomach was growling and you wanted your pineapple. “And you left your sketchbook here, I can finally see your drawings yoi!” You felt your blood boiling in your veins. He had the audacity to use your things and eat your food and look at your private drawings? After he set you up to look like an idiot? Well, you weren’t the only one who’d look like a fool.

“FINE!” you yelled angrily. You went back under the waterfall, heading towards Marco. He hadn’t been lying - he really was eating your pineapple and sitting on your camping chair, looking at your sketchbook. Such a dickhead, you thought to yourself. Coming all the way out of the pool, you stomped up to Marco, grabbing the sketchbook from his hands. You gave him a dirty look and crossed your arms over your chest, protecting your favorite possession. You walked back over a few feet away from Marco, putting space between you. You had nothing to say to Marco, so you just glared at him.

“I deserve everything you’re thinking and more yoi. You can let me have it,” Marco said remorsefully, hand on his heart. So you obliged him and did just that. You shot him with your blow gun. 

Marco POV

Marco was a seasoned pirate. He had fought thousands of opponents and was the first Commander for an Emperor of the seas. Marco was known for his lethal fighting style and ability to recover from attacks, which was reflected in his billion Beri bounty. And yet, you had managed to hit him with your blow gun. To your credit, for a civilian you were incredibly fast. And he hadn’t been expecting you to attack him and was caught off guard. The dart itself didn’t hurt him much, but it didn’t feel great either. Marco yanked the dart out of his left thigh, looking it over. Something appeared to be dripping off the tip that wasn’t his blood. He started experiencing mild itchiness around the wound site but ignored it.

“Ow,” Marco muttered. “I deserved that yoi.” You were smiling like you’d won the lottery.

“You did,” you replied, pleased with yourself. “You might want to go home now,” you continued. Marco wasn't worried, he healed the puncture wound instantly.

“I’ll be OK, the dart didn’t hurt that much -” Marco paused as he caught himself scratching his thigh. It was true that he could recover from almost anything, but not quite everything . Marco hoped his intuition was wrong. “Was there anything on the dart?” he asked, dreading the answer.

“Of course there was. Darts wouldn’t be an effective poaching deterrent if they weren’t poisoned.” You smiled even wider.

“Ah. It wasn’t that Peel Rhino venom, was it?” Marco secretly sent a prayer to every god he had ever heard of, trying to keep his fingernails from digging into his skin. You huffed. 

“Even I’m not that cruel ,” you said, throwing his earlier words back in his face. You gave Marco an indecipherable look.  “You’re going to have a rough time, but no, it wasn’t an aphrodisiac. If you fuck with me again, next time it will be. You’re going to have round bulls eye rashes that are hot to the touch and are incredibly itchy. Lasts about 8 hours. Hope you have zinc oxide and ferric oxide.” Marco was thankful you’d shared that information with him, he was already feeling more spots starting to bother him. He wondered if shifting would help but he doubted it. Like Ace had discovered, some toxins couldn’t be helped by Devil Fruits. He’d probably be able to clear it faster than 8 hours, but it depended on the specific toxin. Marco sighed heavily. This conversation would be uncomfortable physically and emotionally. 

Your POV

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want things to be like this, I should have told you from the beginning. I wish I could go back and change things.” Marco was contrite, having dropped his act to irritate you. At least he had the decency to look remorseful for you, that was a nice touch. But he might just be more open to being nice now that you’d shot him. His hand kept drifting down towards his muscled thigh as the itching got worse. You’d accidentally pricked your finger once with the toxin and it had felt like ants were under your skin.

"Yeah, I don’t forgive you. Leave me alone” you interrupted. You didn’t give a shit what he felt, you wanted him gone and you thought the toxin would do the trick. Marco was powering through much longer that you expected him to. You were a little glad he’d stayed, getting your anger out felt good. He stood in front of you and you could almost watch the rash developing in front of your eyes. 

“I know I don’t deserve forgiveness -”

“You don’t.”

“And I’m not asking for it. Can I please just apologize to you yoi?” You wavered a little in your mind, even if nothing in your expression or body language changed. Some small part of you wanted to hear him admit what he’d done and hear how it had hurt you. Not that it would make you forgive him, but it was rewarding to finally have someone admit wrong-doing after a lifetime of weak non-apologies. 

“Say what you want, I can’t stop you.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was the Phoenix. At the very beginning, I thought you knew yoi. When I realized you didn’t, I should have told you right away.” Marco scratched his thigh through his pants.

“Why didn’t you?” Thinking back to those times when you were with the Phoenix made you cringe. You’d swam naked in front of him, for quite a while. You had been feeling a little bad about the toxin but remembering that tidbit made you happy he was itchy again. 

“I don’t know how to explain it exactly, the Phoenix is a part of me but it is also its own separate entity. It really likes you yoi. It liked the way you acted towards it, and I did too. I…it made me feel good,” Marco finished lamely. “But that doesn’t mean it was right yoi. I’m sorry. I regret making you feel -”

“Ashamed? Humiliated? Mortified?” you helpfully supplied for him. 

“Yes. All of those yoi. I know you don’t want to see me anymore but I thought I could do one thing for you.” You narrowed your eyes as Marco scratched harder. What could he possibly offer you?

“You shouldn’t scratch it, that makes it worse. And I don’t want anything from you.” You did actually. You wanted him to hold you in his talons and fly in the sky. But he didn’t need to know that.

“You might yoi. I know you want to know more about the Phoenix. I’ll answer any questions you have and allow you to sketch whatever you want. You can publish the information as long as it doesn’t compromise my or my crew's safety.” You made no movements but inside you were freaking out. If you were able to find out information from Marco, maybe one of your articles would finally get published and you’d be able to join the Ornithological Society of the Grand Line. Joining the OSGL had been your dream for as long as you could remember. Marco transformed one of his legs into talons to scratch at the other as he waited for your answer. His control over his Zoan form was incredible, maybe you could…no. You didn’t want him to think you’d forgiven him. Before you could speak, Marco had sliced through his pants with his talons in an effort to scratch his leg. 

“I’m afraid I have to leave yoi. I’m going to try finding ointment that can help. Think about it, I don’t need an answer now. I’ll come back here tomorrow at noon. If you’re interested, we can talk yoi. If not, you never have to see me again. Take care.” With that, Marco transformed his arms into wings and flew off into the evening air. He was still scratching at his left thigh in phoenix form. Served him right. 

Even though you were furious with him, you still couldn’t look away from the sight of the heavenly bird. 

You had the whole night ahead to decide what to do. After Marco left, you took out the Phoenix feather he’d given you. It had some kind of bio-luminescent properties and glowed in the moonlight. You ran it along the skin of your arm, enjoying the soft sensation. It didn’t feel like a normal feather, it felt like having your fingers near a tea candle. You could almost feel the warmth of the candle, but not quite, it was just out of your grasp. It made you shiver no matter how many times you’d run it over your skin. You couldn’t bring yourself to get rid of it, no matter how badly Marco had hurt you. It was too beautiful, too precious and you didn’t want to squander such an invaluable item.

Deep in thought, you pondered Marco’s offer. Your articles had been rejected many times from the OSGL, no matter how interesting you thought the subject matter was. If you wrote about the Phoenix, your article would be accepted for sure, given how little information was known about mythical birds in general. And you’d be able to get reliable information out of Marco rather than relying just on your observations or theories. 

On the other hand, if you accepted Marco’s offer, you’d tacitly be accepting his apology. Your ego still stung from the wounds he had inflicted. But…you doubted you’d ever get another chance like this. Marco had practically handed you a once in a lifetime opportunity, one that could catapult you into ornithological fame. It was a twist of fate that the same person who would be helping you achieve your dreams was the one who had crushed your desires. You stayed up late into the night, watching the stars, thinking of how to solve your dilemma. 

At noon the next day, you were waiting in the spot Marco had indicated, holding a notebook and pen at the ready. You weren’t sure this was the right call, but your curiosity would only be satisfied one way. Marco arrived promptly, again half transformed. He had no visible rashes, but looked tired. 

“You’ll answer all my questions?” you asked coolly.  You didn’t want him to think he was off the hook just yet but you were bursting with questions for him. Once you had decided you were going to take Marco up on his offer, you wanted to go all in. 

“To the best of my ability yoi.” Marco yawned. You gave him your meanest smile.

“Rough night?” 

“Unbelievable yoi. I haven’t been that itchy and uncomfortable since…I can’t remember. Do you distill that toxin yourself? You could have a career in poisoning yoi.” Your smile turned a touch more genuine. You did make it yourself and it was a taxing process. 

“I don’t have sympathy for you -”

“and neither did anyone else. My brothers were rooting for you to shoot me again today yoi.”

Arching an eyebrow, you continued “well, hopefully it doesn’t come to that. I do have a lot of questions for you. So tired or not, I hope you keep your end of the deal.” Marco smiled calmly.

“Have at it yoi.”

“What do the other colors you get from the phoenix’s cones and rods look like? And can you see them in human form? Or just bird form?” Marco appeared surprised.

“I’m not sure I follow yoi.” You rolled your eyes. He didn’t even know about his own biology? 

“Birds have five types of cones, which support tetra-chromatic color vision and a double cone which is thought to mediate achromatic motion perception. Humans only have three types of cones in their eyes. Ergo, you can see different color spectrums when you’re in bird form. What does that look like? Can you describe it?” Marco’s eyes widened slightly.

“You know, I never looked up why my vision is so much more vibrant as the Phoenix yoi. That makes a lot of sense. I’m not sure I can describe it exactly, it’s like more shades and depth to the colors we already see.” You jotted down a few notes.

“I hope the rest of your answers are better than that, otherwise this isn’t going to be worth it. OK, next question. When you’re half transformed, are the transformed bones hollow? Can you feel the difference in weight when you’re flying between your hollow bones and your regular bones?” 

Marco’s POV

Marco rubbed the back of his neck as you continued your interview. At times it felt more like an interrogation, but his Phoenix half was absolutely loving the experience. You stayed seated on your rock, writing Marco’s answers down at a furious pace. The Phoenix took all your interest as praise and was utterly charmed by you. If Marco didn’t control himself, the Phoenix would have broken out into birdsong for you. Your questions were precise and interesting, prompting him to think about things he hadn’t before. Marco found himself enjoying the discussion. He was used to answering the same questions over and over. Questions like, did he enjoy flying (yes, of course), how did he transform only some parts of his body (practice), can he understand normal birds (yes, if his head was transformed), did he lay eggs (no), things like that. No one had ever asked him if he molted (yes) and if so, if it was complete or partial (partial). He’d never given thought to the unnamed yearning he sometimes felt when he was on land for long stretches before you asked him if he ever felt compelled to migrate. Both he and the Phoenix were engaged and throwing themselves into the conversation, answering your questions fully. Of course Marco didn’t answer anything that could be used against him in combat, but your questions were so esoteric he couldn’t imagine the uses beyond pure scientific research. 

You also had Marco pose periodically in various stages of transformation for you to draw. You took your time sketching the exact anatomy of numerous body parts. The Phoenix was in heaven, your undivided attention to every detail of its body giving Marco the chills. Marco watched you sketch, completely absorbed in your work. Your sketches were perfect, capturing the essence of the Phoenix with just a few strokes of your pencils. He wished he could keep some but he knew better than to ask for one. After a few sketches, you’d resume asking him questions. This process went on for hours, but Marco never tired of it. If anything, he enjoyed your company more and more. 

“Finally, do you form monogamous pair bonds? And if so, for how long?” you asked without a hint of shyness. Marco was nonplussed at your bold question, especially given the situation between the two of you. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I’m going to answer that one yoi. If the World Government found out that I had a pair bond for any amount of time, that person would never be safe.” Marco didn’t want to answer you, he was sidestepping the question. He knew that he and the Phoenix preferred a single monogamous partner but that was difficult when he spent so much time at sea. The Phoenix didn't care about the tension between the two of you and would have happily accepted a pair bond between you at this very moment.

“All right. Well, thank you. If you can get mail, I’ll send you a copy of my article if it gets published.” Marco was hoping you’d ask for him to take you flying. That would be a surefire way to get further back in your good graces. Instead, you offered him your hand. “I’m still a little mad but thank you.” Marco swallowed his disappointment and took your smaller hand in his own, shaking it.

“I know it will get published, yoi. If you write like you draw, you’ll be a famous scientist soon.” You gave him a small smile. 

“Bye.” You started packing up your things. Marco knew this was it, his time with you was over. 

“Thank you for letting me talk with you. I…wish I had done things differently yoi.” 

“Me too,” you said quietly. “But it’s time for you to go. Bye Marco.” Marco took his cue, transformed and left. He turned his head and watched you marvel at the sight of him one last time. 

~~~

Seven Months Later…

Marco came to the top deck of the Moby, he’d heard that Doug had brought a letter for him. The old, cantankerous news coo hated everyone, including Marco. Approaching the bad tempered bird slowly, Marco saw Doug had a large envelope in his satchel with Marco’s name on it. He could only think of one person that might like this uncooperative coo and use him as a mail courier. Marco reached for the letter, got bit by Doug, and took the letter from his satchel. Doug gave Marco the bird equivalent of the finger and flew off. 

Opening the envelope, Marco slid out a heavy scientific journal with art of a Phoenix on the front cover. There was a short note taped to the journal, which Marco read with a smile. He quickly flipped through the lengthy article, scanning it with the intention to pore over it later. Still reading, he turned to go leave it in his room, nearly running into Ace.

“Watch it! What’s got you so focused?” Ace tried to read over Marco’s shoulder but Marco held the magazine high up in the air. With Marco being over a foot and a half taller than Ace, it was an effective strategy. 

“None of your business -” Marco was cut off as Thatch suddenly grabbed the journal from Marco's hand. Ace was shorter than Marco but Thatch wasn’t. Marco loved his siblings but sometimes he wished he didn’t live on the world’s fastest rumor mill.

Thatch was looking at the cover with his mouth hanging open. “That’s you Marco! Who did this drawing? It's incredible! What the - is this whole article about you? It’s like 35 pages long!” Thatch was flipping through the journal. Marco knew better than to reach for it back - he didn’t want it to get damaged in a scuffle.

“Yes, it’s about me. Give it back yoi. Now. Unless you want a wound that won’t heal quickly.” Marco eyes flashed as he spoke. He hadn’t intended to sound so menacing but the Phoenix wasn’t playing around. It had been moping for months, hoping to reunite the lovely little ornithologist who doted on it. Thatch handed over the journal quickly once he saw how serious Marco was.

“Wow, didn’t know it meant that much to you. Is this from that one bird island? With that bird girl?” 

“Yes, that’s her yoi. She published an article about the Phoenix. And it looks like she’s speaking at the Grand Line Ornithological Society’s annual conference.” Marco was proud of you, he hadn’t been joking when he said you’d be a famous scientist. Flipping to the information about the conference, Marco read through the details of the upcoming event. He suddenly felt a yearning to fly. 

Your POV

You hadn’t expected your article to be so well received that you’d be published and offered to speak at a conference in under a year. You’d sent a copy to Marco via Doug, like you said you would. You loved Doug and thought he was the sweetest news coo you’d ever met. No one seemed to agree with you but that was neither here nor there. Standing backstage at the conference center, you fiddled with your jacket anxiously. You weren’t comfortable with public speaking, you barely liked to talk to people in small groups. Part of you wished Marco was here to charm the scientists and answer everyone’s questions so you wouldn’t have to. But that was just a pipe dream, you knew you had to do this alone.

Writing the article and finalizing the drawings had you thinking a lot about Marco and the time you’d spent together. Even though you now knew he was the Phoenix, you still had a lot of love in your heart for the bird. And you could admit that you’d had fun with Marco when you’d been bird watching together. But none of that mattered, he was long gone and you’d never see him again. You took in a huge breath and held it in, releasing it slowly. Your neck was aching from all the accumulated stress, even though you were also a little excited. You were the next speaker to present and your notecards for your speech were damp from your sweaty palms. You could do this, you’d spent so long preparing.  You were the most nervous for the question and answer portion of the presentation, since that wasn’t something you could prepare in advance. 

You heard your name being called and you walked out onto the stage to the restrained applause of the crowd. All of a sudden, the crowd started clapping louder, with some members even standing to clap and cheer. You were confused - you hadn’t spoken yet. You saw flickering blue flames in your peripheral vision.

“Thought I would join you yoi.” You looked up to see Marco standing next to you, resplendent in his half transformed form. 

“I..I didn’t know you were coming,” you said while avoiding the microphone den den. Marco fully transformed into his human form, bringing the attention of the crowd off of himself. 

“Surprise yoi. Now, let’s hear your wonderful speech.” Marco was collected and peaceful, which helped you calm your own nerves. You began by introducing yourself and Marco, though he needed no introduction. The audience was completely silent during your talk, held in rapt attention as you spoke about Marco and his Zoan form. At the end, Marco gave a demonstration of his complete transformation to the delight of the crowd. Surprisingly, the audience members had few questions that were directly for Marco. Instead, they focused more on your research and theories about legendary birds. Thanking everyone for their time, you hurried off the stage with Marco following you. You were elated, this may have been the beginning of your professional career. You gave Marco a quick hug around his middle.

“Thank you Marco. I'm glad you came. A heads up would have been nice though.” 

“I can’t announce where I’ll be yoi. I’m a wanted man,” Marco teased gently. You supposed that was true, though this conference didn't have any World Government officials. It was all scientists whose area of expertise was of no interest to the WG.

“Well, I appreciate it anyway.” You felt awkward, you didn’t know what to do now. You were thankful for his help but weren’t sure how you felt or what he wanted to do now. 

Marco leaned down to you and whispered into your ear, causing you to shiver. “I have one question for you, since you asked me so many. Would you like to go flying?” You felt like you’d found the One Piece. Flying had been your dream since you were a child, that was what had sparked your interest in birds. Maybe...you could relent and give Marco a little bit more of your time. You could take things as they came and enjoy the ride. After all, you were an ornithologist. It was your scientific duty as a researcher to spend time with this interesting, infuriating, attractive, funny, smart pirate. And you took your professional responsibilities seriously. Very seriously.

[vickyvicarious]

so weird how jonathan had no reaction at all to renfield yesterday... it was almost as if he wasn't there at all, and seeing renfield like that SHOULD have elicited at least SOME reaction in him. i genuinely think he should have vouched for renfield or at least tried to, even if he didn't tell anyone how much renfield reminded him of himself

I totally agree.

I truly do think that Stoker really just forgot that he'd written Jonathan as included in that scene. His complete silence throughout and the lack of any mention at all from either Jack or Renfield really just don't seem likely to me. Admittedly, Jonathan is quieter around the other men as a rule, and Renfield might not have known enough about him in particular to try and curry his favor. But Jack not introducing him really seals the deal for me. That would seem like such a weird and deliberate snub if Jonathan were actually there.

If Jonathan didn't see the man in person, then I find his reaction afterwards a lot easier to believe. All he says about it himself is, "We were, I think, all a little upset by the scene with Mr. Renfield. When we came away from his room we were silent till we got back to the study." Even in the ensuing conversation about it, with other people admitting they feel bad, he's totally silent. I find him just being unsettled and vaguely distressed about it but still dismissing the man as "mad"/an agent of Dracula totally believable... but only if he didn't see or hear him during that conversation.

Of course, we could consider that these men are all but strangers to Jonathan right now. He doesn't know them well, but he has read Jack's diary. He has seen how he treats (at least some) madmen under his care. Jonathan has only just gotten confirmation in his own mind that he didn't go completely mad himself for months, and he still definitely suffered from that brain-fever and is still suffering from PTSD. Maybe he doesn't feel like he can speak up, lest he himself get dismissed as being mad himself, or even just too emotional to be trustworthy to help in the vampire hunt. Maybe he doesn't even feel like he can write down any reservations he might have had, because the others are probably going to read this journal. Maybe his lack of reaction in the room was because he was having a flashback and going quiet and still, and none of the others knew him well enough to really notice, and then later on he didn't want to bring it up at all. Maybe there's a way you could justify it somehow.

I personally still feel like he would have said something more somewhere. A question if it would really harm things to at least move Renfield elsewhere to remove him from the Count's influence. Or at the very least some comment in his writing, even if just trying to convince himself the agreed-upon decision is the correct one (as we see him repeatedly doing about keeping Mina out of things). I just can't reconcile Jonathan being there with his utter nonreaction. And Renfield's lack of reaction to him too.

[alea-says]

H50 Meta - Why Het Explanations Don't Work in the Absence of Women

OR, is it any wonder the H50 fandom rallied around McDanno when canonically, the more important a female relationship was to a main character, the less screen-time the female received.

OR, H50's inverse relation between the supposed 'romantic importance' of female characters and their screen-time.

I feel like I could write a whole series of essays on this, and it's linked not just to why fandom persists in 'shipping' McDanno, but also to the way the show doesn't represent women properly. Which isn't just a fault of H50, by the way, but I'm focusing on H50 because it's what I'm currently watching and there are some really clear examples.

Full Disclaimer: I am a McDanno shipper, so may carry some bias into this, however, I am also female and critical of the way women are presented, or rather not-presented, in television. I'm also one of those people who will happily ship a couple while also enjoying whatever ship is presented on-screen. In other words, while I love McDanno, if H50 could present me with a believable het ship for either of them, I would enjoy it. Finally, I have not yet finished H50, having just started s9, so this is written from that perspective.

Screen-time equals importance, so where's the female screen-time?

We all know that, the more important a character or scene is, the more time it is given on screen. That's why the main characters are on our screens far more than the side characters or extras.

One of the narrative ways television tells us something is important is by dedicating screen time to it.

If the camera zooms in a piece of paper wedged behind a bookshelf - you know it's going to be an important clue later. Because screen-time = importance.

However, on H50, I have seen it repeatedly shown that, the more 'important' a female character becomes to a main male character, the *less* screen-time they get.

So it is any wonder the audience is left questioning their actual importance or relevance?

Steve and Catherine

As one of the first het relationships presented to the audience in a positive light, I'll start with Steve and Catherine.

S1 Catherine is always there to fill a plot-hole and give Steve the intel he needs. They're shown as a rather relaxed 'couple', or 'friends with benefits'/'friends with favours'.

We continue on, and Cath becomes more of a main character, even joining five-0 in s4. For a while, at least, it appears that they're increasing her importance to Steve, and increasing her screen-time.

But then, in s5, suddenly - no Catherine. She's off elsewhere. It's like, somehow, she became so important they had to remove her completely.

Of course, she returns at the end of s5, and beginning of s6, just long enough for them to tell us Steve loves her so much he wants to propose.

Only - what happens when Steve considers proposing? Catherine leaves. And lies to him.

It's kinda hard to believe this is the het relationship they're selling, when she's not even on screen as much as she was in s1.

And there are any number of reasons for why they did it this way, but it starts a pattern that is seen throughout H50, of the increasing importance placed on a het relationship equaling decreased screentime for the female half of that relationship.

Danny and Rachel

The other main het relationship presented from the beginning, of course, is Danny and Rachel. Now, they start out divorced, but by the end of s1 Danny is having an affair with his ex-wife.

And what happens directly after that? Rachel actually leaves Hawai'i for a bit. There's the whole question of Grace's custody and Danny fighting to keep Grace in Hawai'i.

Now yes, Rachel ends up back with Stan (for a bit, anyway). But I find it fascinating that ex-wife Rachel who Danny is angry at gets far, far more screen-time than Rachel when Danny is pursuing her once more. Basically, as soon as she becomes an 'important romantic interest' for Danny - not more screen-time.

Want some stats? She's in 5 episodes of s1, and then not seen again until s5 (thanks to the Hawaii five-0 wiki for making those easy to grab).

Danny and Amber/Melissa

In terms of length of a relationship, Danny's relationship with Amber/Melissa runs through quite a few seasons. However, when we look at her actual screen-time, it's interesting to note that the more time it's been since she and Danny started dating - the less we see of her.

And also, the less she's mentioned. So not only do we not see her on-screen, but she's also not referred to on-screen very much. It got to the point where I would honestly go 'oh, I forgot about her' when she was mentioned. At which point it felt like they were mentioning her just for the sake of 'confirming' Danny's heterosexuality.

Steve and Lynn

The same can be said of Steve and Lynn.

I actually felt that, after burning the Steve and Catherine relationship, the start of Steve and Lynn's relationship was the most promising het one he'd had so far.

I mean, their first date involves getting shot at, which we know is basically like a hobby for Steve.

But then - suddenly - as their relationship continues on, and supposedly, based on length, becomes more 'important', the less of her we see.

She starts out as this interesting, dynamic character, and the longer she and Steve are the together the more she is shown as nothing more than a prop for his heterosexuality.

She isn't there for the 'intervention' about Steve's health that Danny stages (neither is Melissa, although Dog is - what does it say when it's more important to have your random poker buddy at your intervention than your long-term girlfriend?)

Again, not only does Lynn lose screen-time as their relationship progresses, but also mentions of her drop off, until, like Melissa, she'd be mentioned suddenly after a long time of not being mentioned, and I'd go, huh, I forgot about her.

Girlfriends as opposed to Characters

It's like, once they become established girlfriends, the show can no longer treat them as proper characters.

Which makes the het relationships are really hard to believe - because relationships happen between characters.

We indicate who is important to us by how much we talk about and to them. So the fact that, the longer these relationships go on, the less they are even talked about by their supposed boyfriends, well - is it any wonder we find their relationship hard to believe?

And I could probably do a whole 'nother essay about the issues with how this perpetuates a narrative of women as only there for the men's desire, not standing as separate characters on their own, and simply a 'prop' to help show off their 'masculinity' and 'heterosexuality'.

It's incredibly two-dimensional, because to have a 3-dimensional relationship, you'd have to actually give them screen-time, either by putting them on the screen or at least by having other characters talk about them.

So why McDanno?

On the other hand, you've got Steve and Danny continually on screen, continually talking about and to each other, and showing through actions (and words) how much they care about each other.

Yes, they are main characters. But this is why fandoms like to ship main characters together. Because they *are* characters. Because the screen-time given to them tells us that they're important and we care about them.

It's a little hard to take their het relationships seriously when the people they're engaging in all the 'couple' behaviour on-screen with is each other (such as discussing their future plans, staging interventions, visiting each other in hospital, helping do up the house, etc). (and yes, also hugging, arms around shoulders, sitting next to each other while on 'dates' with their girlfriends, etc)

Now, I'm not saying you have to ship McDanno, or that I'd want a whole bunch of screen-time taken up by the next random woman chosen to prove the main's heterosexuality. But I am saying it's kinda hard to value those heterosexual relationships when both the characters, and show, aren't shown to value them.

[astercontrol]

I've written a lot of this elsewhere, but today I feel like putting together a Very Long Post about how much I love Ram.

From the variety of different Ram-related posts I've made, I guess you can tell that I've got the type of all-cylinders obsession that the most devoted fanfic writers get about their blorbos. Obsession on all levels, to include both "wanting to see him hugged and comforted through every step of unpacking his trauma" and "wanting to see him get the absolute hottest sex of his life, over and over until exhaustion."

Because we do that, here in fandom (horny and loving creatures that we are, ourselves). And he really does deserve all the good things he can get.

Ram... it's hard to explain WHY I love him so much. Why so MANY of us love him so much. He gets a lot of fan love for hIs comparatively small role in that movie, and I think it's a combination of things, the LAYERS of the movie, the subtle complexities that are never clear in canon... maybe never even thought about or planned by the scriptwriters, but still THERE.

There is of course a level on which he seems very innocent, pure, naive... (thinks doing actuary work at an insurance company is helping people, poor sweet summer child...) (/my cynical jaded pharmacy technician voice)

But at the same time.... He went from that clerical office job to being a warrior, and is GOOD at it. You don't really see him kill, but you know he must have. Many many times.

...okay, technically you do see him kill, once.

Collaboratively with Tron, when they derezz their Lightcycle opponent. And it's bizarre to see how much FUN he seems to be having in that moment ("So long, sucker!")

Maybe he's been oppressed by the Red warriors for so long that he really feels nothing but joy in killing them. Maybe he's feeling unusual joy in that moment because Flynn's just offered him a way out. Or maybe some programs just get taken over by a playful, campy energy when they're put in Gaming mode, even lethal games, even if it overrides their usual nature. I don't know.

Anyway, somehow, despite all he was made to do... Ram managed to keep some of that air of innocent playfulness.

And hope. And caring for others. Trying his best to comfort whoever needs it. At the beginning of the movie he was honest with Crom about what probably awaited him, but then he did his best to take Crom's mind off it by asking him what's going on outside-- that's the best he can do, even though it probably kills him on the inside that he can't help more.

Amd he is SO sensitive to others and what they may be feeling and needing (though this is shown in such small, understated ways).

There is that scene where he's alone with Tron in the cell, and says "the new guy was asking about you." We never actually saw Flynn ask Ram about Tron, and there isn't any obvious point at which he could have asked him offscreen. Pretty sure this was an unintentional plothole-- I think there was a line in the early script, but it was cut.

Which leaves me, in my ill-advised attempts at Watsonian interpretation, getting the (probably unintended) impression that Ram noticed that moment just before Flynn got dragged out of the cell. That moment where he was looking at the place where Tron had been before, and looked like he WANTED to ask, but didn't get the chance. And Ram saw him "asking" with body language, and remembered it.

Which, I don't care if they did that by accident, I find it damn compelling, okay.

And then Tron says he'll probably never get to meet Flynn because Flynn's in a match, but Ram says "you might, there's something different about him." Ram has some kind of perceptiveness about Unfamiliar Things In The System that even the security program lacks. He's shown with SUCH empathy and sensitivity... even if it's so subtle it might not be on purpose.

And ...gah, the tenderness of that scene where he holds hands with Flynn before derezzing.

I mean... aaaahhhh. it breaks my heart. He deserved better... And I know the scene feels less powerful after we write fix-it fic. But hey, there's the side of me that likes a good tragedy, and there's the side that wants everyone to live happily ever after, and there's enough possible universes to satisfy both.

I WANTED to see so much more about him.

There was SO much unexplored potential in the dynamic between his playfulness and Tron's seriousness. We know Tron can smile and be affectionate, but I wanted to see SO MUCH more of it-- and so much more of Ram getting to bring that side of him out.

He'd have been so good at it.

And now I'm gonna get into the horny side of things... because the horny side, to me, can also be an important part of what makes a whole, multidimensional character. (And also because I sometimes just feel like going into the horny side, which is fine too. I'm a complicated enough character myself.)

I talk a lot about my headcanons/theories, but I don't think of them as "canon" exactly. They aren't more "real" to me than other interpretations; they're just one possibility. (Or sometimes more. For a few things I have multiple contradicting possibilities I like to explore.)

As for Ram and his sexuality:

I think of him as gay, but in a weird Program-specific sense. Programs don't have genders in quite the same way as humans. There's the visual render, which is changeable, and underneath is a lot of energy and data that Programs can perceive about each other... some of it is analogous to human gender identities, but not all of it translates exactly.

I think what attracts most programs to each other is the inner energy, not the outer graphics. And in Ram's own experience I think he tends to be attracted to the energy of masculine programs (those whose programmers are considered men in the User world).

I think he's only felt this powerful attraction a few times, though. Certainly to Tron, and also to Flynn (really, that User-energy seemed powerfully attractive to all three of the programs Flynn befriended in there).

But I think Ram is still very free and generous with intimacy, even to those who don't attract him in that way. He's a kind soul by nature, canonically getting his own kind of empathetic pleasure ("great feeling") from helping people with their "needs."

And (in my own smutty but strangely wholesome imagination) I think this would extend to the Program version of sexual needs.

The first Tron fic I wrote was about Ram "comforting" Crom when they both realized Crom probably didn't stand a chance in the Games. I think Ram genuinely enjoyed this, and took plenty of pleasure in his own way, although the attraction was not the same kind he felt for Tron and Flynn.

In the "headcanon" I like to write, Ram did this often, because it was the only way he could think to help other programs in the cells and the games (when helping plan for their future seemed like a lost cause). ....I think when he's in this mode, he sees beauty in everyone, and takes pleasure in giving pleasure, no matter who it is.

But I imagine that the more intense attraction becomes active when it comes to being in a triad with Tron and Yori.

And this is because Ram is very attracted to the intimate connection that Tron and Yori have *together.*

He wants to be shared between them, because he sees their love as a powerful amplification of *Tron's* energy that he's so attracted to. And he's very excited by the idea of being swept into the middle of that.

Which is projection on my part.

I mean, when I got into Tron fic, I immediately latched onto a specific headcanon about how Program intimacy and attraction works, the one that most closely meshed with what I myself was into... which got me exploring some stuff about my own complex place on the sorta-queer, sorta-poly, gray-ace-gray-aro spectrum.

And Ram's feelings (as I imagine them) are a bit like my own experience of being poly.

At least, even though I'm probably somewhere on the aro-ace spectrum and don't have quite as much capacity for romantic love and sex drive as other people... a big part of what I love about having multiple partners is being close to the connections they have *with each other.* And this supersedes whatever inclinations I'd have towards "attraction" in a one-on-one sense.

Soooo yeah. Watch me project my whole self onto Ram, and then maybe get better at loving myself because of how much and on how many levels I love him. That's what being a fan is all about, okay.

[spotlightlowlife]

A step not forward but to the side.

First off, this family time tale is a nice idea.

Shorts is a good idea too. Filling in gaps without having to commit to a story, but that's also the issue and has been for a long while.

Though it's nice to have the sisters enjoy a day together, we gloss over what little we were offered in the first place.

Millie

The Millie episode in season one had the family be tough farm folk who were open about their disappointment at Millie's choice of partner and lifestyle, which truly didn't have to take away from Millie but it did because that was all their entire yet breif content and throughout these scenes, as is now usual, Millie had zero to say on the matter. It was up to Moxxie to find an excuse to finally stand up to the parents after making all the effort, though the impression of bridges burning thankfully wasn't there, Millie still had nothing to contribute.

Fast forward to this short and Millie has nothing to say on any matter. Moxxie not getting a mention doesn't make it more of a Millie story when Millie yet again has no argument for her frowned upon choices even when they're bought to her attention...

Why couldn't she defend her job?

Why couldn't she defend her choice to move?

Also for us...

Why didn't we learn why Millie moved to the city and why this particular place?

Did she leave home abruptly and why?

Did she always give the impression of wanting to be elsewhere?

When did Millie discover she loved spar days, shopping and clubs and why don't we know these things?

Dispite her lack of anything to say, I was impressed by Millie not feeling guilty about leaving the farm, but again this could be yet another example of nothing to say (if only at atleast one of the 'also for us' questions had been addressed)?

Sally

BS on Sally running that place alone, this is yet another example of pushing blame onto someone else to make a character seem nicer and more innocent, this show has a history of doing this, Stolas is sad because of Stella and (somehow) to a lesser extent Paimon being one example but there's one better. What we saw was a close knit family who were united in their bafflement at Millie's choices yet happy to see her, Sally was the only one who's judgment come across as fairly harmless teasing in the two lines she got, but now their parents are useless, the brothers are of little help, nobody else was around and Sally is sad because of this. It's reminiscent of Ozzie and Fizz exuding confidence, a love for lust and enjoyment at grudges (was the Fizzbot programmed to pick on Blitzø), the same two who happily mocked Millie, Moxxie and Blitzø, now push the blame for their unhappiness and work choices onto Mammon just as we meet him.

We really could have dwelled more on how much they miss one another and how much they have in common.

Sally coming across as a fish out of water didn't work neither, she dressed similar to Millie in the first place and again after the out of place dress scene that didn't even fit this series (maybe Hazbin), she never come across as rough and unglamorous.

Lastly Moxxie

Moxxie silently slipping past them unnoticed, apparently happy that his wife is happy to me isn't sweet, it's like he can't be comfortable in his home when Millie has her known to be hostile towards him for no good reason family over, that even so much as a greeting before leaving them alone ruins things. Had Millie and Sally been asleep this would have been exactly what was intended, sweet.

Has anything improved?

A side step this was.

[luna-rainbow]

Ah yeah. There was that excellent Twitter chain when the show screened from a practising psychologist talking about how bad the therapy was. /

i mean... there were also veterans, real veterans, who spoke about how that was the "therapy" assigned from the uS government so it wasn't so inaccurately. it I'd wrong but yeah they said that's exactly what they get which sucks... there was this woman specifically, a Black woman, she does tiktoks and so and she did a long video on YouTube talking specifically about that scene and how much it sucks that the real actual government gives them that...

I’ve seen that video. It was a great video with a lot of insight into veteran experiences. I don’t remember what she said about therapy specifically but she spoke a lot about how hard it was to get the system to recognise her trauma or for her abusers to have any form of retribution.

From memory though, most of the vets were commenting on the first therapy scene. The psychologist I referenced was also talking about that scene. It was a great scene of bad therapy, not because it’s unrealistic, but because sadly it isn’t. That said, it doesn’t affect the headcanon that the therapy program was just to keep an eye on Bucky. Vets who had poor experiences with the VA say they feel it was aimed at getting them back into duty without actually addressing their trauma. A lot of people (myself included) liked the first therapy scene when it screened, because we saw bad therapy for a traumatised POW and thought the story was going somewhere with it, but....uh, nope. (** This post is already getting too long but good storytelling isn't about realism, it's about creating meaning)

I haven’t seen many comments from vets (apart from one commenter on the other post, thank you 😊) specifically talking about the couples therapy scene. And I was talking about the couples therapy scene specifically as being so poorly done (and in context of the poorly researched writing elsewhere in that series) it's unrealistic.

Firstly, massive faux pas in Raynor disclosing Bucky’s treatment to JOHN F(ucking) WALKER. That’s a HIPAA violation right there and while Bucky might not know anything about it, Sam could report her ass right there and then. Also Walker somehow…can dictate the treatment program? (Although I wouldn’t put it past the military) But he’s not even Bucky’s superior officer? Bucky's not even in the military? Raynor said in the first therapy session that “you’re a civilian now” so how does Walker get a say?

Raynor then discloses treatment details to Sam - although I’ll let this one go because Bucky might have consented to that. She then insists Sam join Bucky for the session, which…can happen but neither Sam nor Bucky wanted it, and why would you want to spring a group session on not ONE difficult patient but two?

When Sam sat down, he had to ask her name, which means they’ve never met before. He tries to tell her it’s a really bad time, and it’s clear from his tone and body language that he’s not wanting to engage. She not only does nothing to address that, she doesn’t even do the basic courtesy of taking a history from Sam before launching into her confrontational “treatment”. Look, maybe psychologists are built different but a clinician starting treatment without even knowing the background? If we’re going to treat psychology as real therapy and not voodoo science, then like all physical treatments, it comes with risks. How TF do you assess that risk if you haven’t even talked to the patient??

So she then subjects Sam and Bucky to “couples therapy” which unsurprisingly triggers both of them because she hasn't assessed her patient. Sure, prolonged eye-contact between real couples is meant to increase intimacy and empathy. But you know what other situation people use prolonged eye contact? When the fight response is engaged and it’s a warning for imminent aggression.

So, good work fake therapist for doing the human equivalent of making two angry bulls lock horns then patting herself on the back on creating intimacy. “Look they are touching their foreheads together how cute” no the fuck not they are about to gore each other in the eye.

Luckily for her Sam and Bucky had enough wits about them to not actually hit each other, but they did the verbal equivalent of the same, and both of them left that therapy session more angry and hurt than they were when they started.

TL;DR - the second therapy session was a load of BS because

HIPAA violation upfront and throughout

Walker for no reason dictating Bucky's treatment

Raynor dragging Sam into therapy without having ever met him before

Raynor subjecting Sam to therapy without assessing him

Eye contact used erroneously in a situation that is likely to increase aggression

These are not just bad therapy, it's bad writing from someone who doesn't know how therapy works.

[empressxmachina]

"Innocent Guilt" by me | (Also on DA)

Fam. Y'all. Chat. Dawg. I shouldn't have gone here and gotten this far because my focus has been cooked because of it. But I've been led down a lovely path of some top-tier playthroughs, dubs, parodies, stage plays, musicals, and the cursed world of the fan works from Objection.lol and elsewhere, including the few from this hyper-specific corner of the internet that I know exist. 😉

So, what's this visual about? Well, the law is already complex with corruption and general crime, and what better societal conflict to emphasize the drama of it all than size differences!?

(A bunch of context and the stock references are under the cut.)

Prior World building:

Let's just say that... after some time of the smaller souls slowly climbing the societal ranks to fully equal/equitable rights, respect, and treatment, someone somewhere said, "Fuck that," and all the small souls are suddenly dehumanized if not eradicated for being inferior.

Phoenix, while actually having a solid circle of peers, disappears, with said circle fearing the worst of him. He, at his lowest, somehow ends up by Miles, who takes him in.

I do think that shifting sizes is possible in this tale, but I didn't apply that for these two.

Of course, it's not all calm, and them learning about and dealing with each other, their pasts, present desires, and future outlooks is puzzling. It's a game of debates and mysteries; we love Discourse™.

I'm intrigued by a system where the smaller folks can be "protected" by being bound under some tall soul's "ownership," like a pet, with Miles considering convincing Phoenix to apply for it under him for his safety and Phoenix denying it every time... until he may have to or feign it, such as...

What I had in mind with this scene itself:

Miles insisted on Phoenix's expertise and views being useful for a case as part of an investigation. Phoenix is (physically) brought in his classic suit to remind others of his once-renowned history and skill. Yet, despite him being truly useful as Miles imagined he'd be, he's not taken seriously by anyone else. Perhaps the defense attorney got in a literal mess, needing to be bathed away in this moment, and here's they are in his regal mansion, discussing all that occurred in that tumultuous day, all going on a roller coaster of feels:

the case as a whole (with an updated case/autopsy report, of course),

what society deems fair and false,

past mistakes made,

the shared disappointment of and the later reassuring each other of their mutual value,

etc.

It could also be a scenario ending in the same vein but starting with Phoenix going off on his own for some time, fighting hubris to remind himself that he's a person, just to come back distraught and be brought back to a harsh reality.

Obviously, a bitty bathtub couldn't be provided, despite Miles' big bank account, because in this broken society, that would publicly imply that Miles has a pet petite person, and anything bad that could be point to Phoenix, regarding his whereabouts or social status, is, well, bad for all involved!

Nor did he already have one because he wasn't very social enough to invite all sorts of people, let alone anyone, over until recently.

Do they and the powers of friendship and love win in the end for redeemed rights? Find out on the next episode of the Steel Samurai! Imagine what you want, but I like a happy ending!

All of this aside, while I know this could've been made better (especially with shadows because I just can't be bothered), I'm proud of myself for getting this far!

Though, I will say, I don't think I'd ever be pleased with Miles' hair bangs/fringe. The original media have quality character design and are a lewk, but, likely due to his form being cropped, I couldn't angle or visualize the best angle for the hair bits. I hope that they were at least recognizable enough to detect that he was him, disregarding the hard carrying the classic suit and the jabot/cravat do.

The same goes for Phoenix, his suit, and his Sonic the Hedgehog hair, but that came out more rationally to me. particularly the latter if he's implied to be washing it.

How about these "unnecessary... feelings?"

Sketchbook Pro

vignette

"Whisky on a Glass Cup" - Photo by cottonbro studio from Pexels

"Coffee cup" - Photo by lifeforstock on Freepik

"A Shirtless Man Looking at a Bathroom Mirror" - Photo by Eren Li on Pexels

"Person Sitting on Window Sill While Holding Wine Glass" - Photo by cottonbro studio on Pexels

"man, ..., moody, ..., emo" - Photo on PxHere

"Red necktie with blurred background" - Photo by and on Freepik

"suit, hanging, jacket, covering, garment, clothing, fashion, retro, urban, brick" - Photo by Marko Milivojevic on Pixnio

"Gold and White Chandelier Near Gray Curtains" - Photo by Skitterphoto on Pexels

"texture, pattern, red, pink, cloth, ..." - Photo on PxHere

"Round Golden Badge" - Photo by tasper on Openclipart

"Kraft Paper A4/C4 size String and Black Washer Envelope Mockup on light grey background. High resolution." - Photo by PrimeMockup on Adobe Stock

Circa October 2024... Yes, really. Happy Unnecessary Feelings Day! (That wasn't planned, but sometimes things work out.)

It's fresh because I had to tell somebody about this ASAP, or I'd crash out, thus I moved it up the queue. I'm not the only one who sees the vision, right? This vision is surely one to be vast and expanded, right!?

You don't have to tell me that I should just write a story. Yes, I should, but I can barely commit to anything that isn't a one-off. A girl is busy.

If you know my history, this is likely going to become a collection for which I'm going to need some pun name. (Or, I could just call this "Ace Attorney Fanaticism" like with my X-Files trilogy, but that's boring.)

Phoenix Wright, Miles Edgeworth, Ace Attorney, and related characters/themes © CAPCOM.

There's a bit of me that wanted to give this picture some "Turnabout" title, but I can't think of a good one. Do y'all have any ideas?

Where is AA7, for crying out loud!?

[determinate-negation]

i cant stand this style popular in the party/art scene in nyc (and maybe elsewhere i just dont know it) that is basically just 2000s americana aesthetics like fucking realtree camo and american trucker hats worn semi ironically with more trendy chic high end things to create this awful amalgamation of like wearing ugly shit on purpose that basically makes everyone look like a vapid reactionary but somehow appeals to their niche meme culture shit its also crazy bc i feel like its the most popular with the influx of people who moved here from the midwest to start a tattoo business or something. idk why you want to emulate american nationalist aesthetics and the aesthetics are trash anyways. this says a lot im just not sure exactly what it all means. idk im annoyed by petit boug creative types tbh most of them are only a step away from being fascists