#also because people stay exactly the same and it’s so jarring that it’s impossible to live with

[purplesurveys]

1706

List 3-10 things in nature you find amazing.   How big and deep the ocean is and how little we’ve explored of it. Stretches upon stretches upon stretches of vast land that’s just completely filled with trees. How ecosystems can be formed inside a jar.

When was the last time you sat in front of a campfire? 🔥🪵   I’m not sure. You’ll never find those here given how hot it is. I think the first and last time was in 2008 when we had overnight thing in school and we built a campfire so we can roast marshmallows just like what we’d see in movies and cartoons.

What is your favorite campfire song, and why is it your favorite? 🔥🪵   I don’t even know any. I just know The Campfire Song Song from Spongebob, and I’d say that’s very catchy. I’d still sing it every now and then. It’ll help if you just sing along!

When was the last time you had a deep conversation with someone, and who was it with?   Sometime last week, with Celeste.

List three ways in which you are sensitive.   I’m very protective of certain socio-political opinions, like please don’t be a raging racist or homophobe around me (impossible with Filipino boomers).

I am quick to take things personally, so I think it’s bullshit when people excuse their mean words as being ‘in the heat of the moment’ - no, you mean exactly what you say *especially* when you’re angry.

Goes without saying but I am also extremely protective of BTS knowing their background, their rough way up, and things they’ve had to endure in silence.

How many brothers do you have?   One.

Are you faithful in a relationship?   Yes.

What is your favorite thing to daydream about and/or what is it that you daydream about the most?   Traveling the world.

Would you describe yourself as passionate?   Yes, but I also don’t force passion. I hate half-assing anything I care about, but at the same time, if I know that I’m really not feeling something then I wouldn’t pretend to like it either.

What are you the most passionate about?   These days, my job. It exhausts me but it doesn’t stop me from wanting to be good at it.

List three things you can see if you look out the window closest to you. 🪟   The rain, other houses, and trees.

Have you ever climbed through a window? 🪟   Nope.

What was the name of one of your childhood imaginary friends?   Katrina.

If someone were to call you crazy, what might the reason be?   BTS.

Do you think you are crazy? 😜   ^ I mean I’m definitely not denying that lol.

What are three ways in which you are blessed?   I try to avoid using that word because it has a strong religious connotation.

What are three trends from the 90's that you took part in and enjoyed?   I was barely alive in the 90s haha, but some 90s comeback trends that I like these days are high-waist jeans, baggy cargo trousers/pants, and athleisure. What is one thing you've moved on from?   My high school group of friends. I’m on friendly terms with 99% of them still (we even saw each other at one of my recent events!), but I’ve long accepted that my dynamic with them will never be the same as it used to be. You grow apart from certain people, and that’s okay.

What is one thing, if anything, that you still need to move on from?  I don’t think in these terms. If I’m not able to move on from something, I’d never be in a rush to get to that point already. If my feelings want to continue simmering I’d just simply let them be.

Which do you think is better: the real world that you live in, or the life that you daydream about?   The latter, I guess. Reality will never be 100% nice to you and a picture-perfect life is something I get to enjoy in my daydreams.

What group of people do you feel like you fit in with the most?   Low-maintenance people, BY A MILE. My college group and best friends all fit into this category and that’s why I love them to bits. I can have a good time with them regardless if we’re having cheap street food at a sidewalk, staying at a run-down hotel, or catching up at a fancier bar.

I realized this all the more when I went on vacation with my work friends and I witnessed them gradually go crazy just because the power went out at our hostel. All it took was an hour, and they decided This Wasn’t It and we packed our bags and canceled the rest of our booking so we can stay at a hotel with aircon. It drove me fucking wild. I’d never experience that with my irl friends; in fact a power outage would’ve been 100% all the more reason for us to make something fun and memorable out of the trip.

Where is one place you've been in which you didn't feel like you fit in at all?   My first school.

What is one song that motivates you?   Snooze by Yoongi, Ryuichi Sakamoto, and The Rose’s Woosung.

Do you prefer milk chocolate or dark chocolate? 🍫   Milk.

What are three of your favorite songs to sing when you're by yourself?  BTS has a ridiculously solid Japanese discography, considering they’re a Korean group. I’d never skip out on the chance to sing along to Crystal Snow, Your Eyes Tell, and Film Out. I feel like in general Japanese is also easier to memorize and pronounce, so that’s maybe why I enjoy their Japanese songs so much.

Would you describe yourself as a wallflower?   Not so much. I like going around and striking up conversations.

Do you smile at strangers?   No, not really practiced here.

Do you sing in the shower? 🚿   Very occasionally.

Do you prefer to take showers or baths? 🛀   Showers.

What are three little things in life that you enjoy?   Continued from the last weekend. Hitting all the green lights when driving, work meetings getting postponed to a later date, and seeing my dogs do the tricks they know. :D

If you could pick any three foreign countries to visit and explore, which three would you pick, and why? ✈️ 🌎   India, Norway, and Bhutan. All of them just seem to be vastly different from my own country, so it’d be a nice change of scenery and pace.

Do you feel you can honestly say that Jesus saved your life?   No.

What are three pleasant surprises that you enjoy?   Seeing old friends, like people from high school, somewhere random; Waking up, checking the time, and seeing I have 1-1.5 hrs left to continue sleeping before getting up for work (BEST); Anticipating really bad traffic only for it to turn out moderate or nonexistent.

How often do you wear your hair in a bun?   Almost never now. My baby hairs are super annoying and wearing a bun in all my hair’s frizzy glory makes me look 20 years older. I just do a low pony like what’s trending now.

True or false: Normal is boring.   Ugh, enough of this. “I’m not like other people” has become more boring than normal. Let people like mainstream or mundane stuff!

What are three ways in which you would describe yourself as "normal"?  I like a lot of mainstream things, like pop music and BTS; I work a very stereotypical, corporate, 9-6 job; Idk if this last one counts as normal but I like staying in and don’t feel FOMO when I’m not drinking on a Friday or weekend.

...and what are three ways in which you would say you are not normal?   I would rather cut people off than forgive; I take work more seriously than I should (the amount of times I get, “You’re not even the heir to this company, calm down” from my bosses, LOL); I hate fruits.

What would you say is the best thing about your life right now?   I’M SAVING MONEY. OMG like it’s something I’m so genuinely proud of and happy about hehehe. My self-control has improved a lot and it’s just great to see the effects actually come to life!

Do you still get excited about your birthday? 🥳   Yes. Weirdly enough, I’ve gotten more excited about my birthday the older I get, which I know is the opposite from what others may feel. My childhood birthdays were very uneventful due to financial limitations we had at the time, so these days I like to go all out and treat everyone with food enough for an entire village especially since I can afford to do it myself now.

What is one book that you've read over and over again multiple times, because you liked it so much? 📖   Twilight, hahah. I know I know it’s a ‘bad’ book, but me being a fan just overtakes everything at the end of the day.

Would you say are generally a quiet person, a loud person, or in-between? I’m an in-between that largely leans towards being loud. I’m only quiet when I’m hungry and tired, or when I’m surrounded by people I don’t 100% vibe with. What are three of your favorite ways to help people?   I let them rant to me and I always try to match their energy, whether they’re angry, exhausted, excited, etc; I share posts when someone needs crowdfunding/donations, or when someone posts a poster of their lost pet; I offer to drive people home even if it’s ridiculously out of the way for me.

What type of volunteer work do you enjoy doing the most?   I haven’t done any volunteer work, but if I get the chance, I will pick an animal shelter/rescue org.

What is one song that you've been listening to on repeat lately?   Seven by Jungkook and Latto.

Do you eat healthy? 🥗   Not actively, but I won’t skip out on it. Filipino cuisine is also, in many ways, healthy (we looooooove veggies in our food), so I feel like healthy eating is already kind of naturally part of my diet.

When was the last time you ate a salad? 🥗   I had a garden salad in May.

Would you say you mostly live inside your head?   No.

Have you ever been to California? ☀️   Nope.

Are you a fan of chocolate-covered strawberries? 🍓   Nopes.

True or false: You're not perfect, but that's ok with you.   False-ish. Perfection is impossible to achieve, but I can’t help but be competitive and get pissed off if I can’t do something right.

Do you enjoy creative writing?   No, it’s my biggest weakness when it comes to writing. 

I feel like this is also a good example of the previous question, hahaha. I just stopped writing stories and poems altogether because I never figured out how to be good at them.

What color was the last pullover hoodie you wore?   Black.

What type of list was the last list you made? 📝   It was two lists. One was a list of things I needed to do for the rest of the afternoon; then the second was a list of stuff I needed to delegate to my associate.

What is your favorite pizza topping? 🍕   Barbecue sauce, chicken breast, and onions.

Have you ever had a near-death experience?   Nah.

Besides Bzoink, what are three of your favorite websites? 💻   Twitter, YouTube, and Reddit.

Do you check Facebook every day?   Yes.

Do you prefer coffee or tea? ☕️   Coffee.

Do you think you look better with your hair up or your hair down?   I’ve been told it looks better up.

What color was the last coat you wore? 🧥 Black.

[drowningbydegrees]

As it turns out, falling into bed with your very best friend who you are privately very much in love with isn't nearly so nerve wracking as waking up with them the morning after.

Read on AO3

He can’t remember the last time waking up was a remotely soothing experience. Geralt’s sleep muzzy mind has no other word for the body plastered against his front from shoulder to hip, the steady heartbeat against his palm where his hand is splayed out across someone’s chest. His nose is tucked against the nape of someone’s neck, and the scent is far too familiar to be jarring.

“Jaskier,” he rumbles quietly, his mouth miles ahead of the rest of him. The quiet, absent pleasure of waking up tangled with someone who smells sleepy and content and like they’re his leaves no room for reason. There’s no room for anything really, except to press a kiss to whatever patch of skin he can find, savoring the soft sigh it earns him.

Jaskier is… The night before rushes back to him, and Geralt almost jerks away, even though it would be entirely pointless to bother with that now. He cracks an eye open and is met with the disaster that Jaskier’s hair, mussed in the night by sleep, and by Geralt’s fingers buried in it before that. Even as worry begins to creep in, he sort of wants to do it again.

This isn’t the first time they’ve shared a bed. This probably isn’t even the hundredth time they’ve shared a bed. This is most definitely the first time they’ve done so with so little clothing between them, none to be exact. There’s only the blanket tucked around them both, warm and lovely and unexpectedly distressing.

Geralt isn’t sorry, per se. Jaskier’s chest rises and falls under Geralt’s palm in the slow rhythm of sleep. It’s the loveliest thing Geralt can remember waking up to, and therein lies the problem. An emotion fed only grows, and this unruly, sprawling affection is the worst offender. Stupidly, Geralt had thought getting this out of his system would quell it, but the longing reaches a fever pitch instead.

Jaskier is beautiful, all the more so for the way he shifts in his sleep, closing the gap Geralt has tried to put between them. Geralt could happily wake like this every day for the rest of his life, but it isn’t a fair thing to ask of someone who flits from one love to the next like a butterfly between flowers. He will not trap Jaskier in this just because he happens to be besotted. Somehow, the resolve not to try to keep this does nothing to ease the guilt welling up that he wants to in the first place.

Nothing Jaskier said the night before conveyed meaning beyond a playful desire to tumble into bed together. Moving the target now would only be cruel. He should be rolling out of bed, hastening them back to normal. He should be proving that this has done nothing to harm their friendship. It isn’t Jaskier’s fault, after all, the way Geralt wants to breathe him in and kiss him senseless and forget the rest of the world until the innkeeper boots them out.

“Geralt?” Jaskier startles the witcher from his worries, wriggling impossibly closer and laying a palm over his knuckles. “You okay?”

“Thinking,” Geralt replies vaguely.

“Well, don’t hurt yourself,” Jaskier teases, still warm and lethargic with sleep. Geralt almost manages to take advantage of the levity of the moment and extricate himself, but before he can, Jaskier rolls over so they’re nearly nose to nose. His fingers cradle Geralt’s cheek and any attempt to escape now would just be graceless. “What about?”

Geralt doesn’t know how to answer, so he only hums noncommittally and hopes Jaskier will let it lie. Of course, Jaskier being Jaskier, does no such thing. He takes advantage of the change in positions to tangle his legs up with Geralt. “I can’t tell you to knock it off if you don’t tell me what it is.”

“We should get going.” Geralt tries once more to escape, frowning when Jaskier shows no sign of releasing him. It’s silly of course. Jaskier couldn’t hope to hold him here if Geralt was set on leaving. He just can’t actually make himself do it.

“Was it that bad a night?” It’s an easy opening, an invitation to stray back to their usual banter, but Geralt gets no further than a raised eyebrow before Jaskier is clasping a hand over the witcher’s mouth. “Wait. Don’t answer that or I might have to smother you with a pillow and that’ll just be unfortunate for both of us.”

Right there, with Jaskier smiling at him, Geralt can almost believe they’re going to survive this. Almost, but almost still leaves a distance he cannot cross. As soon as Jaskier pulls his hand back from Geralt’s mouth, the witcher opens it. “They’re not going to let us sleep in forever.”

“They might if I convince them to let me play again this evening. We could move on tomorrow,” Jaskier ventures, but something in Geralt’s face must give him pause. “Oh do not look at me like that. The world isn’t going to end just because you stop to take a breath once in a while, Geralt.”

“That’s not…” Geralt starts, but he doesn’t know how to finish. There are no words that convey the razor wire sensation of facing down the impermanence of Jaskier’s affections, of realizing how deeply his own feelings run far too late.

“Shh.” Geralt knew what to do with impulse, with Jaskier’s mouth crashing into his, with Jaskier’s hands scrabbling at him to shed his clothes. He doesn’t know what to do with the tender, intentional way Jaskier regards him this morning, lips pressing to the witcher’s brow and lingering afterwards. Does it mean something, or does Jaskier grant all his lovers this subdued, aimless devotion? Lust was so much simpler than this aching sort of affection that puts down roots even as Geralt tries to burn it away.

Geralt doesn’t precisely surrender, but he resigns himself to the lazy attention Jaskier is so determined to lavish on him. If he lets Jaskier turn him away later instead of now, there will be at least this one pleasant thing to remember. So he doesn’t complain at Jaskier’s fingers combing through his hair, or the bard’s body pressed warmly to his. If every touch feels like a harbinger of their demise, it’s still hard to let go of.

He almost passes things off as okay, he thinks, until Jaskier kisses him. It’s a brief thing, immediately withdrawn. “Geralt?”

If realizing the hopeless situation he’s stumbled into was uncomfortable, the idea of talking about it is nothing short of torture.

“Well, you haven’t shoved me out of bed yet, so you’re not mad. Talk to me,” Jaskier coaxes, his expression so openly concerned and affectionate, Geralt could scream.

“It’s no-” Geralt starts, but Jaskier shut him up with a theatrically sour look.

“I swear if you say nothing,” Jaskier threatens aimlessly, an easy smile on his lips, but underneath, Geralt can hear the way his anxious heart threatens to vibrate right out of his chest.

“I don’t know what this is,” Geralt admits because that, at least, is safe. It’s nothing about how he feels in relation to anything. It’s nothing about the want that simmers under the surface despite his guilt.

Jaskier’s brows scrunch in a way that would be endearing if the entire ordeal didn’t feel so fraught already. “I don’t think I follow. I mean, I know having a conversation isn’t your usual wheelhouse, but it’s not exactly a foreign concept.”

“Not. That.” Geralt bites the words out, tight and clipped while he gathers his frayed nerves enough to explain. “You’re not in the habit of keeping people. I don’t know what you want.”

For just a second, Jaskier looks like he’s been struck and Geralt wants desperately to take the whole thing back. But the bard’s expression smooths out and then twists up in a wry smile. “Of course I don’t. What would I even do? Drag someone else along on our travels?”

There’s a point Jaskier is making. It’s right there. He knows it is, but it eludes Geralt anyway. “You could have stayed somewhere if there was someone you wanted to stick around for.”

Jaskier laughs, just a giggle at first, and then so hard that even his efforts to bury his face against Geralt’s shoulder do nothing to stifle it. “You are absolutely right. I could fall completely and utterly in love with someone and choose to stick around.”

“I don’t see how that’s funny,” Geralt says flatly, staring at the far wall of their room. The urge to curl around Jaskier and forget the whole stupid conversation in strong, and maybe he’d have been better off doing that in the first place, but he doesn’t surrender to it.

“Well, you’re one of the smartest people I know, so these moments where you decide to be an absolute idiot happen to be hilarious,” Jaskier teases. The bard must take pity, because his palm slides to cradle Geralt’s jaw, and Jaskier puts himself right at eye level where the witcher can’t look away. “Don’t you realize? I fell in love with someone, and I chose to stick around. It happened ages ago.”

Geralt has long since given up on trying to anticipate what Jaskier will say to any given prompt, but that is… somehow not even on the same continent as anything he might have expected. “What?”

“You really are determined to make this as difficult and stressful for me as possible, aren’t you?” Jaskier asks. There’s a tightness around his eyes when he looks at Geralt, leaving the witcher with the awful realization that Jaskier must be flying as blind as he is. He’s probably as unsure of Geralt’s intent as Geralt is of his. And yet… “I chose you, you ridiculous man. I always choose you.”

That… that explains a lot, actually. Geralt swallows thickly as Jaskier’s nose bumps against his. “Why didn’t you ever say?”

“Ah yes. ‘Hello my very dear emotionally… hampered witcher who will sometimes, on a very good day, admit that we are friends. Would it it complicate things overly much if I also happened to be completely, utterly in love with you?’” Jaskier huffs out a helpless, almost panicky sort of laugh. “Tell me Geralt, is there any time in the last few years where that would have gone well?”

Years? Now, confronted with the full force of it, Geralt isn’t sure how he even missed it last night, let alone for so long. Now that he knows it’s always been a bit painfully obvious. And much as he’d like to, he can’t really argue against Jaskier’s point that it probably wouldn’t have gone well to say so. “What changed?”

Jaskier sighs in that dramatic, overdone way he tends to when he’s being asked what he thinks is an exceedingly silly question. “You did.”

“Hmm.” Geralt doesn’t comment and Jaskier doesn’t press for further conversation. It’s peaceful, this thing blossoming between them, now that his most immediate concerns have been silenced.

That Jaskier laid his heart on the line and asked for nothing back isn’t lost on Geralt though. The words catch and stick on his throat, so Geralt writes them into the tender way he traces the curve of Jaskier’s spine with his fingertips. He presses them against Jaskier’s lips, jaw, throat with lazy, lingering kisses.

“So tell me-” Jaskier starts, the words interrupted by a soft sigh as Geralt’s thumb skims the divot of his hip. It’s an unmistakably promising sound all by itself, even ignoring that delightful way Jaskier presses into the touch. He finishes his thought, but it’s unmistakably breathless. “What are you thinking now?”

The recognition that this isn’t some fluke settles warmly around him. This could be always. There are so few things a witcher really keeps, but for now he’s willing to entertain the notion that this might be one of them.

“I’m thinking…” Geralt mumbles against the side of Jaskier’s neck, delighting in the way the bard’s fingers tangle in his hair and tug. “That maybe we’ll leave tomorrow.”

[charlie-minion]

Could the same SPN finale make a little more sense with some additions/changes?

I’ve had the idea for this post stuck in my head for days now, but with every new conspiracy theory and every new eventuality in the fandom, it became difficult to cool down enough to write something less ship-related and more narrative-focused.

What Supernatural and non-SPN fans have to understand is that a lot of us have expressed disappointment and frustration after 15x20, not because of Destiel (that’s just one part of the whole problem), but because the finale doesn’t make sense. Everything was leading up to something beautifully crafted until the end of 15x19. Beyond that, it’s hard to understand what happened. The story rendered all the character growth irrelevant, invalidated the themes of free will and “family don’t end in blood”, regressed to the original brother codependency they spent 15 years trying to overcome, made a queer non-binary character in a male vessel and a deaf female character basically disposable, and kept the show’s reputation of queerbaiting and misogyny until its very last breath.

That’s not going out with a bang! At least not a positive one. We all were ready to mourn Supernatural, but we wanted to feel proud of its legacy, and somehow TPTB managed to tarnish that legacy in less than 45 minutes. What a way to ruin the other more than 13,600 minutes of story!

It doesn’t matter who is to blame (The CW, Robert Singer, Andrew Dabb). It doesn’t matter why it happened (homophobia, censorship, marketing for Walker, bad writing). What matters is that at the end of the day, the finale that aired is what we got and that’s going to hurt for a long time. It hurts even more when we realize that the same finale could have easily made more sense, even without being perfect.

That’s what I want to do in this post. I want to show you how things would have been less jarring (for the fandom), while still keeping the goal to please the general audience.

Before I begin rewriting 15x20, I have to mention that I talked to my conservative boomer sister about the finale. She hasn’t watched the second half of season 15 yet (she’s waiting for Netflix to have it), but she’s been watching the show for a long time (she introduced me to it 8 years ago). She’s the perfect example of a viewer from the general audience. Loves the show but doesn’t give a second thought to it and definitely isn’t paying attention to character development or themes. Doesn’t engage with fandom, actors, or any of the show’s social media. Pure GA! When I told her the series finale had aired, she asked me about it and I refused to give her spoilers. Because of that, she told me the ending SHE wanted. She said she would be happy with either of two possibilities: the boys retiring and finally living a normal life OR they going to heaven and finding peace at last. She saw Sam and Dean as a unit, which means: both retiring or both going to heaven. AND she saw Cas as part of that, too. She wasn’t so sure about Jack. And for her, we could use the “Eileen who?” and it wouldn’t be a joke. She didn’t remember her.

NOW IT’S TIME TO WRITE A NEW VERSION OF 15X20 (KEEPING 15X18 AND 15X19 EXACTLY THE SAME AS THEY AIRED). This will be a very long post:

The opening remains almost the same. No “Carry on my wayward son” to induce feels. Too soon and too predictable! (Reasoning: Everyone was expecting it to play right there, so it would bring more tears at the end)

In the opening, after the scene where Jack says “People won’t need to pray to me or sacrifice to me”, we also see the scene from 15x19 where he says “I won’t be hands on”. Then we see the rest of the opening as it was. (Reasoning: People needed to be reminded that Jack would NOT intervene and that’s why later on, he would NOT save Dean).

We get the same montage, but when Sam takes a break from his morning run, we see him reading a message on his phone. A simple: “Hey Sam, what’s new?” from Eileen. Sam smiles fondly and begins to type a response we don’t get to see. The next scene continues the same, Sam making breakfast. (Reasoning: A text was a very simple way to show that Eileen was alive and still in communication with Sam).

The montage slowly ends as Sam enters the library (not after he sits down). He seems to be talking on the phone but we only hear an “I’ll tell him. Bye”. As he walks towards the table, he tells Dean: “Charlie says hi. Mentioned something about Stevie’s perfect scrambled eggs we have to try.” Dean’s answer is “Awesome!” (Reasoning: Just ONE line was needed to unbury Charlie and her girlfriend. ONE LINE).

Sam sits down, opens his laptop and everything continues the same. The title card shows for the last time.

YOU SEE? In the first 4 minutes they could have acknowledged that THREE WOMEN were alive and safe: Eileen, Charlie and Stevie. It wasn’t hard! Don’t blame bad writing on Covid! Now let’s continue.

Sam and Dean arrive at the Pie Fest just the same. Dean goes to get some “damn pie” and Sam takes out his phone. He dials and when someone picks up, he says “Hey, Jody, how are ya?” We don’t hear the rest of the conversation. The scene moves to Dean coming with his 6 portions of pie. Dean sits down and Sam tells him, “Talked to Jody. The other hunters haven’t had much work lately.” “That’s good, isn’t it?”, Dean says. All we get from Sam is “Yeah.” So, Dean looks at him and asks “what’s wrong?” like it happened in the episode. (Reasoning: Again, a couple of lines to make sure the people that were killed in 15x18 are safe and remembered by the boys in 15x20. Why is this important? Because they’re family!)

The conversation about Sam’s sad face happens the same. Sam is the one that mentions Cas and Jack. (Reasoning: Because this episode was so Sam-centered, it’s obvious he was the protagonist in the finale. If we see him communicating with Eileen, Charlie, and Jody, then it’s NORMAL, even expected of him to be the one to bring up Cas and Jack). Without these additions, it’s harder for people to understand that most of the finale was NOT from Dean’s POV but from Sam’s.

Dean’s “if we don’t keep living, then all that sacrifice is gonna be for nothing” stays the same. (Reasoning: I believe it’s necessary that the show sticks to the importance of “letting go” and “what is dead should stay dead” for the first time ever because the message is “even when you lose someone you love, you can still find some form of happiness and keep living, for you and for them, because that’s what they would have wanted”. Bringing someone back means “I can’t live without you”, and that’s just more codependency. It’s how the demon deals began in the Winchester family –Mary being the first one to do it. This would explain why Dean didn’t ask Jack to bring Cas back, as he asked Chuck. He understood Jack was NOT going to interfere anymore and accepted it. Besides, when Cas saved Dean from hell, Dean thought he didn’t deserve to be saved. This time that Cas saved him, Dean finally feels worthy enough to accept that YES, HE DESERVED TO BE SAVED ALL ALONG, just as much as he deserved to be loved by that angel of the Lord. In this scene, Dean also says that the pain is not gonna go away, which means that from HIS PERPECTIVE, it still hurts that Cas is not there. The problem is that the finale is not showing his POV but Sam’s.  

Sam pies Dean on the face just the same. (Reasoning: That part was just to avoid ending the scene on a sad note).

Everything related to the case happens exactly the same. (Reasoning: At this point, people don’t really care about the MoTW, they care about Sam and Dean).

NOTE 1: The case is important to show that even when the Winchesters are finally free of Chuck’s influence, they CHOOSE to keep hunting. It isn’t something they do out of revenge or because it is their destiny anymore. Maybe they were forced into the life at first, but they’ve learned to find joy in saving people. Being hunters is who they are. However, the fact that a job application was shown on Dean’s desk is also important because it means he was willing to explore what else was there for him besides hunting. Maybe he could find a balance? Maybe he was thinking it was time to quit? We will never know! The thing is that Sam only finds out about it when he goes into Dean’s room after his brother is dead, so maybe that’s when it hits him that Dean wanted to explore his options, and Sam starts to think it’s time for him to do the same.  

NOTE 2: I believe the masks the vampires are wearing is something we can blame on covid. If they had their faces covered, it was easier to use people from the SPN crew for some scenes, instead of using more actors unnecessarily.

NOTE 3: When Sam and Dean arrive at the barn, we get 3 visuals to remember Cas in the same scene (those are for the fandom, not for the general audience): a) the barn, obviously; b) the bag that resembles Cas’ trenchcoat so much that many people thought that’s what it was; and c) two feathers hanging on Dean’s right when he opens the trunk.

The scene with the throwing star happens the same. (Reasoning: The episode is still told from Sam’s point of view, so it makes sense that he fondly sees his brother as a man child).

Jenny the vampire? Uhhh… I mean, it’s not the best piece of writing I’ve ever seen, but it’s not the worst, so okay. That stays the same. (Reasoning: There is none, but she’s not what really ruined the finale, so whatever!)

Dean still dies impaled on a rebar. (Reasoning: OK. HERE ME OUT!!! I hate as much as everyone else that Dean is killed. I think it’s lazy writing, but that’s what we got and I can’t change that in this re-write, so if killing Dean is what we have to work around, then, memes aside, death by rebar is better and here’s why. There’s no one to blame for Dean’s death: no Chuck (the boys were willingly hunting even after Chuck was defeated), no vampires (they were all killed and were no real threat, so it was impossible for Sam to begin a quest for revenge against all vampires. What was Sam going to blame? A rebar? Can you kill it? Hunt it? NO. It was an ordinary death, a stupid accident. Just like any person can die at any moment by slipping on a banana peel. Is it a good death? No, but it’s good to know he doesn’t die trying to save Sam or Cas, because Dean Winchester is NOT willing to give up his life in exchange for anyone else’s anymore.

Sam takes out his phone and says he’ll call for help, but his phone is more visible to the audience. He dials and it’s almost to his ear when Dean stops him and Sam hesitantly hangs up. (Reasoning: People have complained that Sam didn’t call an ambulance, but actually he tried to. It’s just that people missed that part, maybe?)

After Sam puts his phone back in his pocket and says “OK” to Dean, he adds, “I’ll pray to Jack”. Dean’s immediate answer is: “No hands on, remember?” “But Dean”, Sam says, and Dean interrupts him with “OK listen to me” and tells Sam what to do with the kids they rescued. (Reasoning: Jack is God now and how come Sam didn’t remember? The viewers remembered, so it was necessary to include a line that ruled the option out and that showed Dean didn’t want Jack to intervene. The rest was fine).

The lines “You knew it was always gonna end like this for me. It was supposed to end like this, right?” disappear completely from Dean’s monologue. (Reasoning: This is the most problematic part of Dean’s dying speech. He fought God and earned free will, he is no longer controlled by fate or destiny. Accepting that he is supposed to die on a hunt regresses his character development and denies his desire to keep living. This was a total mistake and should be removed).

Instead, if going to heaven is the ending TPTB wanted to give Dean, at least he should say something more empowering. Sam tells him that both of them are going to take the kids somewhere safe. Dean answers and the scene follows like this: “No. Sammy, we made our choice, didn’t we?”, he smiles with difficulty. “We were free to write our own story and we did. We decided to keep saving people, hunting things. Because it’s what we love despite the risks.” (Reasoning: If Dean’s going to die it doesn’t have to feel like it was always meant to be that way. He should die knowing that he exerted his free will until his last breath).

The rest of the dialogue between Sam and Dean happens almost the same. Except that instead of Dean saying “‘cause when it all came down to it, it was always you and me. It’s always been you and me”, he says “’cause when it all came down to it, we’ve always had each other’s backs. Always.” And instead of Sam saying “Don’t leave me”, he says “I still can try to save you.” (Reasoning: It sounds way less codependent without diminishing the importance of their love and support for each other).

Besides, let’s change Dean’s “I’m not leaving you” for “You don’t have to be alone. You’ve still got family.” The rest stays the same word by word. (Reasoning: Dean reminds Sam that “family don’t end in blood” and there are still lots of people out there who love Sam and will be with him).

“I love you so much, my baby brother” stays exactly the same. (Reasoning: Dean always had trouble to express the big L word. I always believed and said many times that before Dean could say “I love you” to Cas or any other character, he had to say it to Sam. So, this is important as part of Dean speaking his truth).

The last part when Dean insists Sam tell him that it’s okay stays the same. (Reasoning: It’s the final moment when the codependency cycle breaks. No more running in circles).

The forehead touch between them stays the same. (Reasoning: I think I would do something similar if my sister were dying. I know there are w*ncest shippers out there, but it shouldn’t matter because the moment feels appropriate for that kind of goodbye). 

See? There are changes but not too many. That’s why I’ve been saying that it was easier to get it right, yet they still managed to screw it up.

The second montage stays the same. (Reasoning: Life goes on, but of course Sam has to mourn).

The call about a case in Austin remains the same. (Reasoning: It’s the only part of the episode where someone from the found family is mentioned, so I think that Donna’s name is perfect in that moment. However, without the other additions I’ve made in this re-write, that off-hand mention feels too little. Its purpose was to tell the viewers that if Donna was alive, so were the others, but the way the episode was executed gave us an isolated Sam, incapable of having friends and a family without Dean).  

After 30 minutes of Sam’s POV, let’s finally see the last bit of Dean’s POV that we’ll ever get.

Dean arrives in Heaven and Bobby receives him. All their conversation stays almost the same, except that after mentioning Rufus and before saying “and your mom and dad…”, Bobby adds an “Ellen and Jo let me borrow their place”. (Reasoning: If you’re gonna put the man outside the Harvelle’s place, at least mention them for Jack’s sake!).

Besides, after Bobby tells Dean that Sam will be along and that time in heaven is different, Dean gives a small smile and says, “Well, there’s no rush. I want him to have a long, happy life.” Bobby answers with: “I would expect nothing less from you, boy” and tells him he got everything he could ever want, etc., just like it happened in the episode, and finishes by asking “What are you gonna do now, Dean?” (Reasoning: It’s important we know for sure that Dean is NOT codependent anymore and that he doesn’t expect to have a miserable afterlife just because his brother is not there yet).

Instead of saying “I think I’ll go for a drive” Dean says, “I think I know what I want” and walks towards baby. Bobby still tells him to have fun. (Reasoning: “Know what I want” is ambiguous enough to help us introduce the last piece of the puzzle, the one thing Dean’s wanted for many seasons and has never been able to express).

 The biggest change is coming:

Dean gets on the Impala and has a moment of silence while he contemplates the wheel. He begins to pray: “Hey, Cas, you got your ears on? I hear you’ve been busy working on this updated Heaven with Jack. You were right about him, Cas. You had faith in him and he saved us all. You could always see the best in everyone, even when they couldn’t see it themselves. Even when I couldn’t see it myself. There’s so much I want to tell you. Maybe you can visit sometime. I hope prayer’s still a thing up here.” (Reasoning: Dean’s side of the confession was unaddressed and that was terrible writing. If there was no way to get him to speak his truth textually, at least take him as close to it as possible).

We listen to a flutter of wings and a “Hello, Dean” from the back seat. We don’t see Cas, but the camera shows us Dean’s cocky smile and he says “Took you long enough.” He turns around slowly. End of scene. (Reasoning: The flutter of wings confirms that angels have their wings back and ties that loose end. The final “hello, Dean” was highly anticipated and it made sense. If Misha couldn’t be there to film, for whatever reason, or if the problem was the kind of conversation Dean and Cas would have, then don’t show it, but leave the door open. Let us know that the two characters were reunited and will talk, but whatever Dean has to say is so private that it’s not for us to hear, only for Cas.  

We finally hear “Carry on my wayward son” and get a montage that begins with Sam playing with his kid. Then we see Dean driving, super happy, and Sam living his life to the fullest. We still get Sam’s Blurry Wife, BUT… we see pictures of Eileen in the living room (not just of John, Mary, Sam, and Dean). We also see photos of Jody, Donna, Charlie, and AU!Bobby. (Reasoning: FAMILY DON’T END IN BLOOD).

The scene where Sam is wearing the party wig and looks miserable inside the Impala is cut and nobody talks about it ever again because it never existed. We get a scene of Sam teaching his son how to fix the car instead. (Reasoning: First of all, don’t give Sam a life where years later he’s still in pain. Second of all, the fucking wig was a crime).

Sam’s dying scene stays the same. The only thing is that his son signs a couple of phrases to him before actually speaking. (Reasoning: More confirmation that Dean Jr. is Eileen’s son).

We hear the final “Evanescence-like Carry on my wayward son”. Again we see the photos and there’s family other than the Winchesters there. (Reasoning: Obvious at this point).

The rest is exactly the same. The show began with two brothers and it’s okay if the last scene is with the two brothers reunited in Heaven. At this point, the other parts of the story are acceptable enough for us to feel happy that they get to see each other again after years of a happy (after)life.

Now look me in the eye and tell me this was too hard to execute. I still think that bad writing is a thing we can’t deny here, adding to the possible meddling of the Network. Maybe Dabb wanted us to hate the finale because he couldn’t get away with what he truly wanted. If that was his intention, then kudos to him. He and The CW really gave us a finale that only 30% of the fandom liked.

I hope you guys have enjoyed this and it helps to give you some peace of mind. In my heart, this was the finale we got. It wasn’t perfect, but it didn’t drop the ball either.

[jaskierswolf]

What I'm afraid to say

Part 5/6 - AO3

part one | previous | Next

Geraskier - T

Summary: Five times Geralt tries to tell Jaskier he loves him, and one time he succeeds.

______

Geralt follows Jaskier along the path, they don’t have any destination in mind and Geralt is happy to follow his bard as he struts and dances and twirls along the dusty road. Everyone always says that it’s Jaskier that follows the White Wolf, but Geralt knows differently. From the first day back in Posada it had been Geralt that spurred on Roach to trot after the bard as he strummed on his lute. Geralt has been following Jaskier ever since, taking contracts in the towns they visit, stopping along the path to forage for ingredients, and finding the best places to camp.

Geralt smiles, knowing his face is hidden from the bard as he chatters on ahead of Roach. Jaskier is beautiful like this. He may be a man used to the finer things in life, but travelling suits him. It invigorates him as he flits from town to town, like leaves on a breeze.

Jaskier talks about everything and nothing, weaving stories and ballads out of thin air about every little thing they encounter. Poetry falls from his lips as easily as a priestess’s prayer to the gods. Geralt had known only silence before Jaskier, but now that void would stifle him. Nothing is as peaceful as the constant tenor floating through the air, wrapping Geralt in its warmth, a reminder that Jaskier is alive. The bard may be born to travel, but travelling with Geralt puts him in danger. Geralt would do anything to keep him safe, anything, but it isn’t always enough. He cannot cage the bird that wishes to fly free.

Because Jaskier is free, almost like a force of nature that cannot be contained, and that thought makes Geralt chuckle. It seems only right that the bard named himself after a flower, and not for the reason many people would think. He isn’t delicate, and whilst he dresses as brightly as wildflowers, there is a nasty streak in the bard. He can be bitter, jealous, and condescending. He is not just a sweet little buttercup.

He is so much more.

He is the water that flows in a river, a breath of life and unforgiving all the same. He is the light of the sun, warm and yet blinding. He is the spirit of the forests, so alive and yet dangerous if you never learn how to respect it.

And Geralt loves him.

He loves him so desperately that the words are stuck in his throat. His tongue cannot seem to work anytime he thinks of how he might tell Jaskier the truth. So he finds other ways, and hopes, prays, that one day Jaskier will hear the full extent of his feelings.

His smile fades as he remembers the jagged scars on Jaskier’s skin, marks from the cockatrice that tried to take the bard from him. He would love to wrap Jaskier up in his arms and never let the bard leave an inn or tavern again, he knows it wouldn’t work. Jaskier chose his life with Geralt for the adventure, for the hunts that threaten him every time he ignores Geralt’s pleas for him to stay behind.

The Cockatrice hunt was the start of it, a catalyst that caused his feelings to spiral out of control. Now he’s barely able to hold on. Every day he feels like he’s falling over the edge of a waterfall but he never hits the bottom.

Fuck, he just hopes that Jaskier will be there to catch him when he does.

“Geralt!” Jaskier cries, spinning round with his lute in his hands and a dazzling smile on his lips. “Can you hear that?” the bard asks, tilting his head.

Geralt frowns, looking around for any danger but even when focusing his senses he can’t hear anything, just the trill of the birds from a nearby tree and…

Oh.

Of course, Jaskier listens for the beauty in the world when Geralt only sees the evil.

“Hmm,” he replies, too ashamed to admit that he hadn’t even considered the birds until after he’d checked for bandits or monsters.

“I wonder,” Jaskier hums, deep in thought as his tongue flicks out and swipes along his bottom lip. “Do you think I could write a song based on the bird songs?”

Geralt doesn’t reply. He thinks that Jaskier’s songs are more exquisite than any bird song, but he doesn’t say that. He never says it. He wants to, gods he so desperately wants to. He wants to love his bard the way he deserves to be loved, but he is a witcher. He could never love Jaskier in the same carefree way that his bard loves everything and everyone.

Luckily, Jaskier doesn’t need any encouragement from Geralt, he never does. He just laughs, more musical than any other bard that Geralt has ever met, and spins back around. Disjointed notes fill the air as Jaskier tries to figure out the pitch and rhythm of the bird’s calls. He grumbles and swears under his breath until he gets it right. Geralt is no bard, but he knows as soon as Jaskier has cracked it, a sweet scent wafts through the air and Jaskier cheers, dancing forward with a spring in his step.

The rest of the day is filled with Jaskier’s attempts to find the right lyrics and rhymes for his latest song, an ode to nature, he calls it. Geralt is almost disappointed that Jaskier seems to have found a new muse. His heart aches in his chest as he considers that Jaskier may not need him anymore, that he’ll move on and leave Geralt in the dust.

Geralt isn’t sure what he’ll do when that happens.

Even the long winters at Kaer Morhen now seem empty without the bard to light up his life.

They set up camp quickly, falling into a well worn routine, moving around each other as they each complete their tasks, like nobles dancing at a banquet, completely in sync but never clashing. Soon enough they are sitting on logs opposite the fire, Geralt sharpening his swords in a steady rhythm as Jaskier plucks aimlessly at his lute. The bard stares up at the sky watching the stars that twinkle in the otherwise black sky. There is no moon tonight and the only other light comes from the fire, the orange glow casting eerie shadows around the camp. The soft light makes Jaskier look impossibly even more beautiful. There is a light stubble on his cheeks and Geralt tries to memorise the line of his jaw, his nose, his cheekbones.

“You know…” Jaskier breathes barely above a whisper, “we’re all rather insignificant when you think about it.”

Geralt wants to disagree. Jaskier is anything but insignificant, in the time Geralt has known him, the bard has become the single most important part of his life. Jaskier is the light in the dark, his guiding star on the path, the reason he fights so hard to survive in every hunt.

Geralt stays silent.

“The stars, burning bright and lighting up the heavens, each of them far larger than any of us. Even a witcher or a sorceress is nothing in the life of a star,” Jaskier murmurs, never looking away from the sky.

“It’s not about how long we live,” Geralt mumbles, his heart racing in his chest, almost as fast as a human’s. He feels the blush on his cheeks and his tongue feels heavy in his mouth. This is the moment he will say it. I love you.

“Hmm?” Jaskier asks, finally looking at Geralt from across the fire.

“It’s about how bright you burn,” Geralt explains, and Jaskier burns so brightly, brighter than any star or moon or sun.

Jaskier’s smile widens as his expression softens, wrinkles appearing at the corner of his eyes and he bites his lip, a sign that he’s deep in thought. He hums and plucks a few notes from his lute that sound suspiciously like ‘Toss a Coin’. “I suppose you’re right. We’ll make a poet of you yet, darling.”

Geralt’s heart clenches at the pet name, but he knows it means nothing. Jaskier loves freely and Geralt is no exception, but it would never be in the way that Geralt longs for, he’s too damaged, too scarred.

And yet, Jaskier is also scarred now.

“Can I see?” he asks, knowing the bard will understand him. It’s the same question he’s been asking every night since the hunt. The scar has faded now, still visible but less red and jarring against Jaskier’s pale skin.

Jaskier rolls his eyes, a fond smile dancing on his lips. “And they say witchers don’t feel.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt growls, only calming once the bard shrugs out of his doublet and pulls up his chemise. Geralt breathes a sigh, a weight lifted from his chest. The scar is exactly how he remembers it, fading and perfectly healed, and yet every night he worries, a nightmare plaguing him relentlessly that it has reopened and is bleeding beneath Jaskier’s colourful doublets.

“See, all fine, stop your nonsense,” Jaskier chides and pokes him on the nose. Geralt’s nose wrinkles and he sits back from the bard, causing Jaskier to let out a peal of laughter. “Oh dearest Melitele, how I love you,” Jaskier says between giggles, the words falling off its lips like the sweetest honey.

Geralt stammers wordlessly.

I love you too.

He opens his mouth, gaping, his cheeks burning hotter than the fire. Jaskier just laces their fingers together, as if it means nothing at all, and kisses Geralt on the cheek. “I know, dear heart, I know.”

A warmth pools in Geralt’s chest at Jaskier’s words, letting the bard’s voice soothe him. Those three damn words are still stuck, but he has time. Jaskier knows now, he’ll wait for Geralt.

He hopes.

[bored-storyteller]

All the parts you want. If you have anything specific in mind let me know!

Part 1:"Keep death away"

Part 2:"Beyond the Mask"

39- Tokyo Ghoul- Uta x Human! Reader pt. 3

"Just like you"

His tattooed hand presses against the wardrobe door that he has just closed, right in front of you.

Your breath tickles his knuckles as he hurries to hide the jar from your view, which you only caught a glimpse of it.

Trapped between him and the piece of furniture, your guilty gaze meets his.

"Oops ... sorry." You murmur, barely smiling at him.

Uta sighs slightly, shaking his head with his sweet and calm expression: "no ... I'm sorry, I forgot they were there."

You watch him bend over to open a drawer to look for the leather straps he asked you to retrieve, only to see him return to his workstation soon after.

Were those fingers in there?

The shop has been closed for a while now, and even if you would never say it out loud, this makes you happy. It's not exactly the best for you to always be ready to snap to hide in the bathroom, waiting for his customers to leave.

It hasn't happened many times, actually, but in one of them you heard Uta justify the presence of your smell as "his next meal". It made sense, yet you couldn't ignore a shiver running down your spine.

Despite any moral expectations, since you discovered that that boy is a ghoul you have found yourself much more company with him than before. It is something of yours, mutual. Now that a frightening world has knocked on your door, the one who showed it to you has become your safety and protection, and in the same way Uta comes into your protection with concern and at bottom with a slight sense of guilt it tickles his soul, relieved simply by the relief of not having to hide from you anymore.

Even if you are now aware of who you have in front of you, however the dynamics between you two are still fragile, and above all the dynamics between you and your inner fears are fragile.

The day after the tragic and at the same time sweet evening that opened you to a completely new reality for you, he immediately took care to give you the necessary recommendations: if someone asks you for something, any person, you absolutely must instantly forget that he is a ghoul.

At first you actually felt offended. Did he really think you were that stupid to tell someone about this? Did he think you would ever endanger him?

But soon after, you realized that it was not for his safety that he worried so much. He was afraid for you.

"This is really dangerous" he had told you "If anything happens to me, nobody has to know that you know, okay?"

If anything happens to me.

You couldn't say anything clever at the time, so you just nodded, but something bittersweet had started to tingle in your heart.

He is dangerous, and at the same time in danger. You are in danger of being there with him, you are in many ways. Some would say that you are committing a crime, that you are wrong, that you deserve punishment just because you enjoy his company. Yet you can't feel guilty.

You have so many questions to ask him, but in those days since the revelation you have not asked him even one.

It is so difficult for you to understand what you are feeling. He kills, he eats people, this is now known. He is one of those monsters that the news is talking about so much, one of those monsters that should be exterminated.

Yet you are now there, observing the empty, weeping eyes of a mask behind a display case. He must have done it recently, it's the first time you've seen it.

But still, you are there, in a hidden shop where you risk finding a box of human eyes by opening a drawer, and the thing that scared you the most until the other day is that you can't get the reaction you would expect from you.

You keep looking at the masks and him as you did until last week even though you know.

You didn't tell him, but it all kept you up at night. You've always thought about it, every moment was spent to find a way out of that tangle of thoughts and emotions that went through you both in his presence and in his absence.

It was hard to make peace with yourself, it was almost scary, but in the end you accepted it. You had no choice but to accept it.

He eats people like you, but if he didn't he couldn't exist ...

"I like this mask ..." so sad, so scared, a soul of a poor devil in hell.

"Really? I recently did it. But you know, to tell the truth it gives me a strange feeling. "

Even if he doesn't look at you he is attentive to you. Even if he sits on his stool where you are, he listens to you, he perceives you, much more than you perceive him.

Now you know… someone in that cruel world has to die, and you don't want that someone to be Uta, despite the price.

Yeah, the price, that price you didn't pay.

Now there is one more thing you have to solve with yourself, something else to admit, so fragile and so strong together.

You approach him to see what he is working on - or rather to see him.

When you look at him, every time, you immediately remember that he is a ghoul, but at the same time it is as if you forget him.

You've been spending a lot of time together now, yet each time you want more, and you don't really care how wrong it is.

“Listen…” his peaceful voice quickly distracts you from your thoughts “… you've been pretty quiet lately. Do you feel ok?"

His hands do not stop for a moment to work, to create. He certainly has deadlines to meet and yet what he is doing is not simple work, it is art. You feel privileged to be able to observe it at work.

"I'm sorry, you're right, I've been thinking too much lately."

You just laugh, a little embarrassed and a little really strangely and genuinely amused by that turn that everything is taking, as long as you are with Uta you feel free to smile again, despite everything.

You move closer to get a better look at his fingers intertwining with ribbons and straps. Who knows how he does it.

"Is it really such a big problem that I'm a ghoul?"

His words rain down on you like a cold shower interrupting all consideration, yet on his part they were necessary.

Uta also finds himself strangely surprised. His skilled hands interrupt the art, in the surprise of that new doubt that until now he had ignored.

No, in fact, he hadn't really ignored it. It had simply always presented itself in a thousand other terms that had never been posed as such a placid question.

He had experienced that stigma, that exclusion from the beauty of the world in a thousand sick ways, but never as he is experiencing it now with you.

And again that world that runs too fast for him returns, that world that "loves only humans", yet in his selfishness he prays on the sidelines that you will be able to give up that love that that magnificent world grants you, to stay there immobile, with a Pierrot like him.

For a moment Uta doesn't know what to do, whether to resume his job to avoid your gaze and protect himself, or to risk looking at you, discovering your emotions.

Yet before he can decide, he feels your movement.

You don't even know what you're really doing, you just know that for some reason at that moment you need to feel him as much as possible, to understand, to fix yourself.

Kneeling on the cold floor, in the intimate solitude of the closed shop, you let your arms surround his waist without fear. Your head in his lap, nestled against him as much as possible.

He doesn't react, he just looks at you, blank in the face.

Suddenly he feels angry restlessness rising in him. What are you doing? He can't read it, what does it mean?

For some reason he can't really feel your hug, it's as if he doesn't contemplate it among the possibilities. You're hugging someone else there. Snuggled against his stomach, you are approaching human victims like you, not him. There is no bridge between you two, it is impossible to believe.

There is no way that you, little fragile human, can really accept something so big, he cannot ask it to you, he thinks ... and yet ...

"I like it ..." your words are light, shy, and even fearful. Afraid of the scope of what you are saying, of that bestial confession you are revealing "that you are a ghoul ... I like it ..."

And that's the hard truth. It's just something of him, it's him, it's something attractive.

It is attractive to know that those gentle lips could bite you and trap your flesh, that those light hands could tear you apart. That safe sense of danger he gives you is tempting, and the trust you place in him just makes you enjoy that awareness.

This is hard even for you to admit, but you cannot ignore it, nor leave him unaware.

And once again your words overturn his stage, destroy it and rebuild it according to a new conformity.

He is surprised, you can feel it from his breath that stops for a moment, jumps against your cheek.

One thing he loves about you is that he can't help but believe you. No matter how much those words may be at odds with everything life has taught him, if you say it then it's true for him.

His delicate fingers intertwine with your hair, light, almost shy. His hand caresses you patiently, aware, almost as if he is caressing a child, while he holds you there in a sweet constriction.

"Really?"

His calm question about him is not a request for confirmation, as much as wanting to hear you say the things he never has the words to say.

You rise from your seat, getting back on your feet, but unexpectedly you are prevented from walking away from him.

Now it's his arms that surround your waist, and you find yourself there, trapped between his knees and his arms, without being squeezed. His eyes look at you attentively, his bizarre face shows nothing but his calm composure - which does not at all reflect the vibrations of his heart -.

“I think… it's part of you, you wouldn't be the same otherwise. I like it."

You don't know with what courage you spoke those words, so sure and sincere.

You are not embarrassed, perhaps because you both love that little world that belongs only to you, where no one can see and hear you, that behind the scenes of the circus of life.

And it is your way of seeing reality that he likes, what he needs. That your putting Uta before the ghoul, that small and natural confirms that you always give him. This is what still gives many hope, the existence of someone like you, who knows how to see things in the order in which they should be seen. It is the principle for which love exists between humans and ghouls.

The light and affectionate smile that is painted on his lips is the confirmation that is needed, nothing else.

"I could eat you ..."

"I know" but you won't.

You should be food for him, you are. You are a possible meal, but you are also a person. You are someone. You talk, laugh, joke, cry, get angry ... and over time he has learned to want to keep it all, because he likes the way you are. Though you may be his source of life, just imagining feeding on you becomes painful for him. The thought of devouring you, of consuming you, of making you disappear from the world, of swallowing your body, your laughter and your tears, your voice calling his name… has become extremely painful.

And he's also sure you don't really know what you're saying, he's sure you want to change a lot of things about him if you only knew them, but for now it's okay that you only know that drama.

Indeed, no, it is not a scene. Uta is Uta, whole and sincere. What you know is the real and authentic facade of Uta that you deserve to know, there is nothing wrong with that, and he is sure you know it.

Everyone is modeled on relationships, you do too, but it's not that you are less true with him than with others.

The same goes for him, and despite this he is also aware that the affection that binds him to you will not change when he is talking to Renji, and not even when he is at the center of an auction. Uta is always Uta, and you are always you, no matter where you are or who you are with.

Two extremely complex creatures, monster and prey that still share something so profound and at the same time solid and concrete.

His lips curl slightly more, in a vague expression of veiled sweetness.

"Good."

His hand slips on the table as he stands up, but you don't notice it, too focused on seeing that the other hand hasn't given up on the touch on your hips.

Only when something lands on your face do you wake up. You do not understand it immediately, but the mask, still white and anonymous, is now on you, supported by him.

Before you can say anything or ask for an explanation, Uta is close to you, so close that you know you can feel the hard cover vibrating slightly on your cheeks under his breath.

It is still too early, everything is too delicate to utter certain words between you two, to give voice to deep and primitive feelings, which have nothing forbidden even though society would like you to believe.

It is not for fear that you will not admit what you both know, it is just for the pleasure of enjoying that moment, that moment before, that sweet harboring the affectionate secret.

This is why it is the stiff and cold lips of the mask that are kissed, a slight barrier that separates the delicacy of that touch from you.

A kiss that doesn't whet anyone's appetite, is just a silent admission of something extremely big.

And as the mask came, it goes away, returning to its place, leaving you uncovered and incredulous.

Uta also moves away, returning to turn his attention to the stock cabinet, abandoning you still and dazed in front of that almost dreamlike situation.

"Uta?"

"Yes?"

His answer is always ready as he rummages through the rolls of tissue.

"What was that?"

His quiet face of him turns to you, and you know him well enough to notice that slight amused glint in his eyes.

"What was what?"

“That! You know!"

A slight amused snort from him lets you know you'll never get your answers: "You must have daydreamed."

-End-

[13uswntimagines]

Chanukah party (USWNT x Baby!Reader)

This isn’t a request but @literaryhedgehog​ and I thought it would be fun. The basic premise is that reader is at camp during Chanukah, and the team feels bad (especially Lindsey) so they throw her a party. (thank you @notmia101​ for betaing this for us). 

You smiled at Alyssa as she described her winter plans after training camp. How she was going to visit her sister and her family for Christmas. How they were hoping for snow and how they were going to kill an innocent tree and desecrate its body with lights for their amusement. Her words, not yours. It was a game she and the other girls played every year, trying to make their Christmas plans sound as horror-movie-ish as possible. It was a way of trying to make fun of themselves so you could share the amusement and join in laughing at them. 

But despite their efforts, a little piece of you always felt left out because you couldn’t (wouldn’t?) participate. See, you were one of the few who didn’t celebrate Christmas. You were proud of your Jewish heritage, even if your family wasn’t the most ~religious~. But you were proud of the culture you had been raised in. You held its traditions very near to your heart and weren’t AT ALL bitter that the rest of the team had time designated to visit their family during their winter holidays while you still had training camp through the third week of December.  

You were kinda zoning out because you could only take so much of their cookie baking, their stalkerish man that watched kids while they slept, and their hiding of a stupid stuffed toy you were sure would give you nightmares (who the fuck thought having an ‘elf’ stalk your family all month was cute?!?!? Capitalism was a weird man). (Though you may or may not have paid attention to Lindsey’s plan to dress Ferguson like a little elf…) 

“What about you kid?” Tobin asked, nudging you out of your daydream. 

“What?” You shook your head, making everyone around you laugh. 

“Do you have plans for the holidays?” Lindsey repeated, her smile showing off her dimples. 

“Oh, um. Chanukah started a few days ago. It’s cool, they have an app with a menorah and everything. My family has been face timing me most days, but it will be over before training ends.” You shrugged, hoping they couldn’t see how much being away from your family during this time of year sucked (though you were glad to be included on the camp roster). 

Most of the veteran's jaws dropped, how had they not known that you were missing something so important to you? How had US Soccer overlooked a holiday (and inadvertently given you an ultimatum- celebrate or make the national team). 

“Then why did they schedule training camp this week?” Tobin mumbled. Again you shrugged. 

“There’s 23 of you and only one of me… it’s really not that big of a deal,” you smiled briefly and gave the same speech you had given since middle school, “It’s not like the ‘Jewish Christmas’ even though it happens around the same time some years, my family doesn’t even exchange presents, so I’m really just missing the party they’re throwing on the 18th.” 

“That still isn’t fair though. I mean, we get Christmas off automatically, even if we don’t celebrate it!” Christen huffed, throwing her hands up. 

“I mean, this isn’t like a new thing. We’re always at camp during this time. And next year the holiday starts in November, so it’s not something that can consistently be scheduled around. I guess it’s just a sacrifice I have to make to be the best right?” You said earnestly, shaking your head. You knew all of the arguments, you had heard them for all of your life. 

“But-“ Emily started to protest, but before she could get the words out you cut her off. “Don’t make a big deal guys, it’s fine. Really,” 

The team stared at you for a few seconds, several women opening and closing their mouths several times. You shifted uncomfortably under their gaze, breathing a sigh of relief when your phone rang, glad to have an excuse to get out of this situation. 

“Ok so we’re totally going to make a big deal out of this,” Lindsey said turning back around to face the team the second you were out the door. 

“I’m guessing you have a plan to woo your girl?” Emily smirked, wiggling her eyebrows. 

“It’s not to. No. We are doing this as a team to be supportive of our teammate who is part of a traditionally marginalized culture that we need to be more supportive of,” Lindsey grumbled sternly, smiling when Christen nodded in return. “I’m googling “Chanukah for Dummies” right now. 

They were going to make this camp different from the others (and if she got to impress you that was just a bonus). 

…..

“Umm, why does it smell like something is burning?” Becky asked, walking through the hotel corridor towards the dining room. 

“Because Latkes are apparently more difficult to make than I expected,” Kelley said, tossing what looked like a stack of burned hockey pucks into the trash. “I didn’t realize the whole room was going to smell like fried food- do you think they’re going to fine me when we check out?”

“If they fine you, they better fine Em too. The stench from such a little jar is kind of amazing,” Lindsey huffed. 

“What did she do, get her sardines or something?” Becky asked, shaking her head, remembering the smell that she couldn’t quite place. 

“No. Something called ‘Gefilte fish’”. 

“But isn’t that usually for Passover?” Kelley asked, looking up from where she was trying to scrape burned potatoes off her pan.

“They said it was traditional, isn’t that what we’re going for?” Emily huffed, pouting. Lindsey rolled her eyes at her best friend. 

“I’ve got music!” Chrystal called, walking through the door in a star-patterned sweater. “It turns out there are not a whole lot of Chanukah songs. There’s a Spotify playlist that’s only 3 hours long, or so, so I supplemented it with a lot of Leonard Cohen and Paul Simon.”

“And I brought the sour cream and applesauce as requested!” Sam called, walking in after her, “also some apple juice and honey bourbon. I know apples and honey are a thing for Rosh Hashana, so I thought maybe we could make some cocktails?”

“I won’t tell coach if you don’t,” Kelley said taking the bottle and pouring herself a shot. “Someone else needs to take over the latke making. My attempts have all either looked like lefse, hashbrowns or just burned.”

“Lefse?”

“I had an ex-girlfriend from Minnesota. It was a potato tortilla thing her family sent her at thanksgiving. The point here is that someone else needs to cook or we are just going to be eating sour cream and applesauce on their own.”

“We could make french fries?” Rose suggested tentatively. 

“With bacon and cheese! Those are the best,” Emily exclaimed, only to have Lindsey (gently) slap the back of her head. 

“No, Sonnett. She can’t have bacon and I don’t think she’s allowed to have cheese and meat on the same plate…” 

“I think if we just batter potato pieces in egg and flour and fry them it would taste nice with the apple sauce and sour cream. And we’ve made french fries before so it won’t be so much of a… learning curve. Though you did a great try, Kelley!” Rose said, patting Kelley’s arm.

“You guys are useless. Did you even look at a recipe?” Megan shook her head. 

“If you think it’s so easy you try it.” Kelley scoffed. Megan raised her eyebrow at the woman, stealing the spatula from the defender's hand. 

“Tasty made here we come,” 

*****

“Happy Chanukah!” came from all around as you walked in. Lindsey was very proud. Not only had she gotten the team on track and ensured that they had all of the stuff google said would make the perfect Chanukah celebration; she had also kept you off their trail until this moment. The shock on your face made all the work on their day off entirely worth it. 

The room was decorated in tinsel with a shiny plastic menorah in the center of the table. Several people were wearing ugly sweaters with different “decorations” taped on. A sign on the back wall said “We survived, let’s eat!” Lindsey had decided against hanging up the posters Rose and Mal made saying “Stick it to the (ro)Man!” and “MaccaBEe mine.” The first one because she wasn’t sure it was appropriate, the second one because she knew it wasn’t.

“Ooo who brought the hotdog of the sea?” You asked, biting your lip to suppress a giggle as you walked over to the table to see the food on display. 

“What?” Lindsey’s eyes tried to follow yours, utterly confused. They didn’t get hotdogs. They most certainly weren’t on the list that Chanukah for dummies had given her. 

You smiled softly and shook your head, pointing to the tan balls that Emily had provided. 

“That’s what my siblings and I call it during Passover. Gefilte fish is kinda a love it or hate it thing…” you trailed off, scrunching your nose just slightly. 

“And you’re not a fan?” Lindsey smirked, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. 

“Umm, I plead the fifth,” You mumbled, shaking your head slightly. It wasn’t your favorite item in the world. 

“That was all Emily,” Kelley snorted, clapping you on the back, and you grinned devilishly back at her. 

“Well, it was very nice of her to be so thoughtful. She can try a piece with me,” 

Emily cringed at the idea, but nodded nonetheless. It was your party and if eating the smelly thing out of a jar made you happy, then that’s exactly what she would do. (She also stealthily shot Lindsey the middle finger while you were surveying the rest of the items on the tables). 

“Honestly the sufganiyot is my favorite,” you said, taking a step towards the platter, your lips ticking up at Lindsey’s adorable confused face. “sorry, the donuts,” you clarified, picking up one of the many powdered sugar-covered donuts in the stack, inspecting it to see what kind it was. The Jelly ones were particularly important for the celebration. 

Lindsey blushed a little. “We didn’t know if you wanted jelly or custard,” She said hesitantly, watching as your eyes got impossibly brighter. 

“Both are amazing, thank you,” You smiled softly at the midfielder, brushing a stay bit of powdered sugar off her pink cheeks. You held her gaze for a moment before seeming realizing you had an audience, and turning towards the rest of the team. “thank all of you,” 

It wasn’t the traditional Chanukah you usually shared with your family, but the friends who had become your family made it special nonetheless.

[goodlucktai]

the ship sways but the heart is steady

chapter one: the ship sways

the untamed pairing: jiang cheng & wei ying, lan zhan/wei ying word count: 2549 summary: Wei Ying’s friends are at rock-bottom, and Wei Ying puts his life on hold to help them put theirs back together. To absolutely no one’s surprise except Wei Ying’s, his family goes with him. read on ao3

x

During family dinner, Wei Ying’s phone rings, cutting mother off mid-sentence.

Jiang Cheng cringes inwardly and his brother’s face goes two shades paler. They have guests over, so mother doesn’t do more than glare hatefully in Wei Ying’s direction.

She won’t make a scene in front of Yanli’s husband, or even Wei Ying’s fiancé—Jin Zixuan is everything Yu Ziyuan wants in a match for her daughter, and Lan Zhan’s family is one of the richest on the East Coast.

Lan Zhan is also willing to give as good as he gets. His eyes are already narrowing in mother’s direction, the tentative ceasefire of family dinner wobbling precariously beneath their feet as he perceives the great and unforgivable offense of insult to Wei Ying. A-Li resolutely tries to pick the conversation back up from where it lulled, with all the steely resolve of someone throwing herself into the path of a rampaging bull. Jin Zixuan has graduated from grimacing into his wineglass to gazing hopefully at the clock every three minutes.

Always willing to fall on the grenade, Wei Ying ducks his head meekly.

“Sorry, I thought I silenced it,” he says, the shape of a laugh in his voice even if he can’t manage to drag it all the way out. He’s rummaging his cellphone out of his pocket, presumably to turn it off as a gesture of good faith. “I’ll just…”

But his eyes catch on the screen, and something happens to his expression that Jiang Cheng has never seen before.

Wei Ying stands up, so abruptly his chair sails back with an awful screech, and excuses himself. Lan Zhan follows him out of the dining room without a single word or a backwards glance. That’s all it takes for mother to pick up a scathing tirade against Jiang Cheng’s good-for-nothing, ungrateful, waste-of-space brother.

He joins Jin Zixuan in watching the clock. Worry swims in the back of his mind like a school of startled fish.

#

Wei Ying’s apartment is really actually Lan Zhan’s apartment, but the two of them have been inseparable since they were fourteen, and it naturally followed that where one of them would live, so would the other. The place is ridiculous, modern and minimalist, and it would look like something out of a magazine if not for Wei Ying’s inevitable clutter. But even the stacks of books and magazines, and haphazard easels, and little jars of paints and loose brushes everywhere manage to make the place seem charming and lived-in instead of the horrible disaster tornado it rightly should be.

Jiang Cheng asked him once what the monthly rent was but Wei Ying looked so haunted by the question that Jiang Cheng decided he didn’t actually want to know.

They’re all crammed into the conversation pit, recovering from family dinner in the usual fashion. Jin Zixuan is much more likable when his tie is loose and he’s nursing a lukewarm beer.

A-Li is clinging to Jiang Cheng’s hand so hard he’s beginning to lose circulation but he’d sooner agree to amputate than he would shake her off.

“You’re on speaker, A-Qing,” Wei Ying says with mock-severity. “Keep it PG for the children in the room, please.”

“So Jiang Cheng and Jin Zixuan are there?” Wen Qing asks rhetorically.

Jin Zixuan sighs but doesn’t rise to it. Jiang Cheng snaps, “Listen, assholes,” partly out of half-hearted irritation, and partly to hear Wen Qing sigh the way she does when she doesn’t want to reward someone with a real laugh.

“Yanli and Lan Zhan are here, too,” Wei Ying says cheerfully. His tone doesn’t match how worried his eyes are. “This is a family-only meeting. So tell us what those texts were about.”

Jiang Cheng realizes right away why Wei Ying bailed on dinner.

There was an apartment fire. The Wens lost everything. Wen Ning is in the hospital with smoke inhalation and second-degree burns because he ran in to make sure their neighbors got out safely. All of their savings are wrapped up in putting Wen Qing through medical school. She’s adrift now in a way that Jiang Cheng has never been.

“There’s... we have an old house, somewhere out in the country. It was sold to my grandparents cheap, but they never got around to renovating it. It’s not even livable, just bare bones.”

A-Li starts crying the second Wen Qing does.

“It’s too much,” Wen Qing forces out. “I can’t do this on my own.”

Wei Ying, to his credit, actually does hesitate. A whole five seconds. And then he says, “I thought you were supposed to be my smart friend. Who said you were doing this on your own?”

He says it as easily as if it was an absolute given that he would turn his whole life around and upside down for her. All she had to do was call.

#

There is a minor disagreement between Jiang Cheng’s siblings.

“A-Li,” Wei Ying says, holding both of her hands in both of his own and looking deeply, imploringly, into her eyes. “You’re way too pregnant to fly.”

Her face crinkles alarmingly, eyes already red and puffy from recent tears. Jiang Cheng, Jin Zixuan and Lan Zhan tense in exactly the same way, at the same time.

“I won’t have you going all the way to California by yourself,” Yanli says in her most eldest-sibling tone of voice. “I won’t have it, A-Ying.”

“I am a grown-up,” Wei Ying points out gently, with all the wisdom of his twenty-four years. “I pay bills and have a job I hate and everything. And I won’t be by myself, I’ll have A-Qing and A-Ning.”

“And me, obviously,” Jiang Cheng grumbles. Wei Ying whips around to stare at him.

“Oh,” Yanli says, a blanket of relief rolling across her face. “Oh, of course.”

“You can’t,” Wei Ying hisses at him, looking more panicked now than he has all night. “Your mother—”

“Okay, first of all, don’t tell me what I can and can’t do,” Jiang Cheng bites back, prickly with worry for the Wens and worry for his idiot brother. “Secondly, you, going by yourself, is not an option. It’s off the table. It was never on the table. Stupid,” he adds, on principle.

Lan Zhan doesn’t contribute much to the conversation at this point but Jiang Cheng learned a long time ago that that doesn’t mean shit. Lan Zhan has more opinions than any three people combined, whether or not he chooses to voice them. There is no fucking way he doesn’t have thoughts about his fiance picking up and moving nearly three thousand miles away.

Maybe there’s some strange alternate timeline out there where he would be content to stay behind and let Wei Ying go off without him, but Jiang Cheng would bet his entire trust fund that that’s simply not happening here.

If ever there was a world where Wei Ying would be backed into a corner and forced to help the Wens alone, this world isn’t it.

#

There’s a minor disagreement between his siblings, and there’s a whole fucking nuclear fallout at home.

“I forbid it,” mother snaps. She’s livid, but she’s livid so much of the time that it started losing its edge a few years ago. “Absolutely not. I refuse to allow this family to lose face because you want to gallivant across the country for some charity case.”

Jiang Cheng sees it when Wei Ying’s posture changes. The dreamy raincloud gray of Wei Ying’s eyes hardens into heavy steel, and his spine stiffens, and his shoulders go back; the absolute opposite of his downcast self at dinner earlier. He’s willing to fight any impossible battle as long as it’s for someone else.

Jiang Cheng grew up looking up to him. He spent all of his formative years as Wei Ying’s little brother. That’s why he’s willing, too.

“The Wens aren’t a charity case,” he says. Not very loud, but he says it. It’s a lot more than he could have done when he was a kid.

“You don’t even know them! They’re just some random people on the Internet. They’re probably scamming you, and you’re both idiot enough to fall for it!”

That’s so untrue and unfair that Jiang Cheng doesn’t know how to argue for a moment. They’ve never met the Wens in person, but Wei Ying has been friends with them since he was ten. They mail each other presents for Christmas and birthdays. Jiang Cheng distinctly remembers calling Wen Qing for help with biochem homework, multiple times. Wen Ning always Skyped with Yanli when he was stuck on a recipe, the two of them cooking together from three time zones apart. They’re all tangled up in each other’s lives, comfortably, irrevocably.

Of course we know them, Jiang Cheng thinks, bewildered.

Out loud, he says, “They’re not scamming us. And we already told them we’re coming.”

Mother screeches and storms around the house and throws things, but she hasn’t actually hit either of them since they grew taller than her. She hasn’t been a source of real fear since Jiang Cheng started looking down at her instead of looking up. It’s mostly just miserable to be around her now.

He remembers that fear, though. It sticks to his body like a half-healed scar. It reminds him to flinch.

#

It’s early enough in the morning that it might as well still be nighttime when Jiang Cheng and his suitcases finally show up at Wei Ying’s building. He leaves his luggage in the lobby under the watchful gaze of the concierge and takes the private elevator up, keying in the code to his brother’s apartment.

The doors roll open to the living room. Lan Zhan is holding a tiny animal carrier in his hands, gazing at Wei Ying in an extremely gross and smitten way while Wei Ying discusses the upcoming trip with their pets. Pidan and Bao are not being particularly attentive, snuffling at his chin and chewing on a piece of his hair respectively.

“Diedie has decided to be stubborn and not listen to good sense,” Wei Ying is telling the rabbits seriously, “so you’re coming with me and ruining your life instead of being safe and comfortable here at home.”

“Baba is being dramatic,” Lan Zhan informs them in turn. “And also foolish, if he doesn’t realize that our home is wherever he goes.”

“This is the weirdest domestic scene I’ve ever walked into,” Jiang Cheng says loudly, since apparently the telltale ding of the elevator wasn’t enough to announce his presence. He has to interrupt before they do something horrible, like make out in front of him. It’s a constant fucking risk with these two. “Are we leaving or what?”

So the rabbits go into their crate with a frankly absurd amount of fanfare and Jiang Cheng helps wrestle the luggage downstairs. By then, the shuttle that Lan Zhan ordered is waiting for them at the curb.

He knows it isn’t going to be a vacation. Wei Ying’s friends are at rock-bottom, and Wei Ying has essentially put his life on hold to help them put theirs back together. It’s going to be hard work. It’s probably going to be painful, and a little bit scary.

Jiang Cheng is only involved because he chose to be, but it never occurs to him to choose anything else.

If this is where his brother is going, it’s probably the right place to go. And if it’s not, if the whole thing turns out to be a horrible mistake and he regrets all of it, then at least he’ll be in good company.

#

Wen Ning is out of the hospital by the time their plane lands, and he’s waiting with Wen Qing at the airport. Wei Ying, who by all accounts should feel as foggy and queasy as Jiang Cheng definitely does, drops his bags and sprints across the terminal towards them.

Jiang Cheng and Lan Zhan follow at a more reasonable human pace, possibly in part to give the friends a few moments together. The busy airport traffic moves around them like a river flowing around a rock.

Wen Ning is sobbing, almost a full head taller than Wei Ying but buried against him like the little brother he is. Wen Qing is leaning quietly against the two of them with her eyes closed, as if filling her reserves and shoring up her strength.  

She’s the type of person who would be able to cow his mother with a single glance, Jiang Cheng thinks admiringly, and more efficiently than Lan Zhan ever could. She must have a spine built out of steel to be able to stand there without crumbling under the weight of what she’s lost.

And Wei Ying stands there holding them up, tireless and steady. He’s talking too quietly for Jiang Cheng to hear, saying something that makes Wen Ning nod against his shoulder. He’ll hold them up until the ground falls out from under his feet if he has to. Thankfully it’s more like three minutes.

Introductions aren’t necessary. They all just trade exhausted looks and move as a cohesive unit towards the doors.

Wen Ning starts to help with the bags, bandaged hands and all. Wen Qing and Jiang Cheng both snap at him before he can so much as touch a suitcase, and then he just waffles in place anxiously, like he doesn’t know how to person if he isn’t actively being helpful.

“Hold the kids,” Wei Ying says in the spirit of compromise, taking the pet crate from Lan Zhan and holding it out to Wen Ning instead.

Somehow, they shuffle everything out of the airport and into a rental car. Lan Zhan’s phone starts to blow up as soon as he turns airplane mode off, so he turns airplane mode back on and returns the phone to his pocket.

“My uncle has checked the credit card statement,” Lan Zhan says calmly. “My brother is handling it.”

“Poor Lan Huan,” Wei Ying murmurs.

“We have to call A-Li,” Jiang Cheng remembers with a jolt. He digs his own phone out. “She wanted us to call as soon as we landed.”

Everyone clusters in close for the FaceTime call with Yanli, who is tearful and hormonal and indignant about being left behind. Jiang Cheng begs her not to get into a fight with their mother over this. Yanli raises her chin and says, “We’ll see.”

It’s a very long drive to the estate. Wei Ying’s head sinks against Lan Zhan’s shoulder in an inevitable, unstoppable act of gravity. He falls asleep within minutes.

“You have to help me thank him,” Wen Qing says quietly, tapping anxious fingers against the steering wheel. “Help me figure out how to thank him.”

Jiang Cheng snorts, not unkindly. “What makes you think I know how?”

An entire childhood spent raising each other, protecting each other, annoying the shit out of each other, and there are still some things Jiang Cheng has no idea how to say to his brother in a way that he’ll understand. Like I’m sorry, and thank you.

Lan Zhan turns his head to the side, so that his cheek is pillowed against Wei Ying’s hair. Outside, the sprawling California countryside sprints past the windows, wild and golden under a relentless summer sun.

[remmushound]

Rise boys = Raphael, Leonardo, Donatello, and Michelangelo. Bay boys = Donnie, Raph, Mikey, and Leo.

This is a fic to lead into a Bayverse/Riseverse crossover! This is also an opening to make any requests for the bay/Rise interactions! I’m also accepting bay requests separate from the crossover! @brightlotusmoon

Link to second part: https://remmushound.tumblr.com/post/645470221504839680/brightlotusmoon-part-2-of-the-bayrise

The alarms sounded in the lair in the early morning, while Donnie was still in REM sleep and Mikey still wrapped himself snuggly in his blankets. When Raph still hugged the bear he always denied he owned and while even Leo still hadn’t woke to take advantage of the day. The only occupant of the lair that was awake was an old rat in the dojo, taking advantage of his son’s absence to meditate on current issues that worried his mind.

His ears jerked to attention as the nirvana of his mind was jarred with Donnie’s warning alarm. He was to his feet in an instant, and soon from their rooms came his sons one by one. Leo first, like always, closely followed by Donnie, and then Raph, and last Mikey.

“Dude, who turned on the screaming?”

“Talk to me Don.”

“Working on it!” Donnie was already at his desk, working a mile a minute to pull up the camera from where the alarm originated. “Got it— wait, that’s not right.”

“What is it?” As usually, Leo was hovering over Donnie’s shoulder and looking at the screen.

“Just looks like black to me.” Raph grunted from where he stood, a more respectable distance away.

“Yeah— it is— somethings up with the cameras.”

“What, they broke?”

“No, someone turned them off— and the only way they could do that is to hack into the camera’s systems—.”

“Which obviously didn't happen.” Leo said, “Could someone be covering the screen a different way?”

“Well, I mean, I guess, but—”

“Alright, then lets move out— try to get a better idea of what we’re dealing with here.”

“Don’t gotta tell me twice.”

Leo held out his arm to stop Raph from running off immediately. “Careful, Raph. This could just be a sewer worker in over his head.”

“Yeah. Or it could be the Shredder.” Raph growled.

“Exactly. So be ready, but quiet. No use exposing ourselves if we don’t need to.”

Leo made the motion and Raph took point and was the first down the slide that took them out of the lair. Mikey was after him quickly. “Don’t worry, I’m a professional!” Mikey waved jazz hands.

“So am I.” Leo shoved Mikey down the slide after Raph. “Don, you next.”

“Arlight, but Leo I really think—”

Leo shoved Donnie into the tube the moment he got within sliding distance, and then gave it a few seconds before jumping in after him. The slide was a steep one, more like a straight drop than anything else, and eventually curving into a slope and then a tunnel. For a moment during the decent, Leo felt his shell leave the wall, and he braced himself for the jostling that came when he hit the curve straight on. He could see all three brothers in front of him in varying stages of the slide, Mikey making every attempt to loop around the length of the tunnel as many times as possible, which kindled his speed enough that he was dangerously close to colliding with Raph. He did another loop, narrowly avoiding the older turtle as he took the lead

“SNOOZE YOU LOSE, RAPH!”

“Mikey! Stop breaking formation!”

“Woah—“

Raph had to put on a quick break as he almost ran into Mikey’s shell, and the momentum made him spin around and slow. Before he could right himself, Donnie started to panic and tried to avoid raph by sliding over the walls as Mikey had, but it wasn’t fast enough and collided into Raph’s plastron.

“WATCH IT DONNIE!”

“THIS WASN’T MY INTENTION!”

“OUT OF THE WAY!” Leo just barely escaped another collision by doing the same move as Mikey, dodging the backup of his brothers as he sped after Mikey.

It took another half a minute for Raph and Donnie to detangle from each other, still sliding all the while.

“Move your arm!”

“Ow, that’s my leg—“

“I don’t care what it is, I’m gonna break it!”

“I’m trying— oh, my glasses—“

“Get offa me Don!”

“I’m struggling just as much as you are!”

Finally, Donnie got himself separated and held his position by digging his staff into the stone to defy the rushing water. He waited until Raphael had turned the corner before he let himself go once more to rush after him.

~~~~~

“Get back here.” Leo growled and grabbed Mikey the moment he caught up, turning the smaller turtle to face him.

“Ah— mercy—!”

“What’s up with breaking formation?”

Raph arrived, flying out of the slide and into the lower section of sewer, landing hard behind them.

“I coulda crushed you!” Raph gave Mikey a harsh shove.

“Hey hey hey, chillax, my dudes!” Mikey tried, holding his hands up in defeat. “I didn't mean to!”

“That’s not an excuse!”

Leo heard Donnie fly out and breathed a sigh. That was all of them.

“Guys, Quit fighting!” Donnie tried to get between them and Mikey. “We’re not alone here, remember?”

“Right.” Leo huffed, and made a motion for the brothers to follow him. “Remember— stick to the shadows and if we do find something, wait for my command before you do anything. Think you can handle that, Mikey?”

“What? I could do that in my sleep, bruh! I’m a shadow! You’re think I’m over here— hwa ha!” He fliped around Leo waving his nunchaku, “—but I’m really—over here!”

Leo prodded the handle of his sword into Mikey’s stomach to quiet him before he took the lead in climbing up the tube that led to the higher section of sewer. The walls were slick and lined with a thick layer of sludge, so getting a grip was difficult, but not impossible. Every so often he’d look down to make sure his brothers were following after him— Mikey, Donnie, and Raph in that order. If they were to fall, each brother would be able to catch the ones on top of him— Mikey could hold Leo, but if he fell then Donnie could catch both Mikey and Leo, and if all three fell, then Raph was at the bottom as backup.

Leo stopped as he reached the surface, just barely peeking his nose up over the edge. All he saw was dark sewer, and after a minute of searching every shadow and potential hiding space, he felt a sharp prod.

“Ow!”

“Move it!” Mikey insisted impatiently, “I don’t wanna look at your butt all day!”

Leo growled and retaliated with a careful kick to Mikey’s shoulder before pulling himselfup finally through the tunnel. He took another look around before turning to give his brothers the signal to follow, but Mikey was already through and Donnie was halfway out.

Leo made a ‘really guys?” motion and sighed, just letting the misdemeanor pass as his three brothers joined him in the dark tunnel.

“See anything Don?”

Donnie hummed and pulled his goggles down over his face to get a better view in the dark.

“Hm. Not picking up any heat signatures besides ours, but there’s splash marks on the walls higher than the current should be able to reach.”

“Meaning?”

“Something’s been splashing around here recently— the amount of residue is too big to be a rat. It could be a dog maybe, but that wouldn’t explain the camera…”

“Dude, it’s like, totally an aligator.”

“No it’s not.” Raph nudged his baby brother.

“No, dude, it totally is! I read about it once!”

“There are no gators in the sewer Mike.”

“Actually, there’s reports of gators living in the tunnels as far back as the nineteen twenties. The story goes that people would buy baby gators when they were small and cute and abandon them when they got too big to be kept in an apartment. The fascinating part is that the city actually rescues up to a hundred alligators a year from exotic breeders or incompetant owners with no liscence.”

“Donnie—“

“Though theoretically they could survive in the sewers for a short time, long-term survival would be highly improbable given cold tempatures and the bacteria in human feces. The only reason we can survive down here is because—“

“DONNIE.” Leo said, this time louder, “The alarm?”

“Oh. Right.” Donnie cleared his throat, looking away sadly as his rant went unfinished. “I… am detecting trace amounts of mutagen, but that could just be cross-contamination from one of us or Splinter. I’m sure someone would have told us if Bebop or Rocksteady escaped.”

There came a noise. A loud, jarring noise like the snap of metal. Each brother had their weapons ready before the sound even stopped echoing, dropping into their respective defense stances as they stared down the side of the tunnel that the noise came from. Nothing happened. A minute passed. Nothing.

“Think they left—?” Mikey was shushed thrice.

Leo gave the motion for his team to follow him as he lead the way down the tunnel.

“It could be an ambush.” Donnie whispered to Leo as they approached.

“If it is, we’ll be prepared—“

Leo held out his hand to stop his brothers as the sound started up again. It took a second, but eventually Leo took notice that it wasn’t the same sound. This time it wasn’t metal snapping, it was more like groaning. Like someone had taken two metal pipes and twisted them together. And there were footsteps— heavy, slow footsteps in uneven intervals.

“What in the world…?”

Leo squinted when a figure made itself known. It looked amost like a spider, with a massive, spiked body and five and a half legs. It seemed to have two heads each moving separately of the other, and the noises it made sounded like something under great strain or in pain. It swayed unsteadly before them and tried to take a step forward.

“Stop right there!” Leo commanded to the beast, holding his katana in its direction.

The monster seemed to understand., and it stopped.

“Leo, that’s—“

Leo shushed Donnie.

“But it’s—“

The figure tried to move toward them again and Leo flashed his sword in another threat. “I said stay back!”

“LEO!” Donnie didn't give Leo the chance to say anything, pulling up his goggles and flicking a flashlight on the creature. “Look…”

The creature— or more like creatures— flinched at the light shined in their faces. Of the six legs Leo had thought he’d seen, only two of them proved to be real, and the one creature turned out to be two. The smaller one was on the bottom, supporting a second, larger creature on his back. Leo, Raph, and Mikey all gasped and withdrew in their shock, but Donnie held steadfast and kept the light trained on the enemy.

The smaller creature was a dark green with stripes of purple streaking across him, purple armor torn and some lost all together. He only had one kneepad and both of his sock peices were soaked dark and torn. His elbow pads remained mostly untouched, and his hands were bare. Technology littered his body— goggles on his head and a tablet on his arm and a belt and shoulder straps that supported a massive shield over his back— over his shell. From the armor came four metal arms, one of them broken and the rest straining to support the immense weight on top of him.

The larger was big enough to cover his carrier almost like a blanket, hiding a majority of the small turtle beneath his massive plastron and bulking arms. He might have been a lighter shade of green— it was hard to tell in the lighting, and even then it hardly mattered. The only evidence the great beast was still living was the fact that he was moving his head around, just slightly. Thick streams of crimson bubbled forth from a gaping wound in his carapace, bleeding out and covering him in streams of shiny red that dripped down his arms and side and onto his companion. He gave the slightest groan at the light shining on him and tried to open his eyes.

“What the fuuuuu…?” Leo gaped.

The purple-clad mutant looked weakly to the four with tired, terrified eyes. “Help…”

He collapsed into the sewage.

[voltimer]

'The Magic of Johto's Level Curve'

(or, 'a leisurely analysis of the singleplayer balance of Pokemon GSC and HGSS')

The Johto games - especially HeartGold and SoulSilver - seem to have a very good reputation. Some often put the aforementioned HGSS into their top 3 or describe it as the core Pokemon experience. I personally agree with this sentiment and HGSS is either #2 or #1 depending on my mood (it usually competes with Black 2 and White 2).

Despite all its praise though, there seems to be an incredibly consistent point raised against it: the level curve. I see it described as unbalanced, janky, and generally bad.

There are two main problems people tend to cite. First is the level progression in Johto itself, with Gyms 5, 6, and 7 not exactly being a smooth progression upwards and then Team Rocket's Archer and the 8th Gym having a notable level spike compared to those last three. Wild Pokemon levels are also usually a lot lower than the major boss fights they are ahead of, making raising new 'mons harder and grinding for boss fights longer. The other problem is Kanto, whose problems can essentially be said to take Johto's levelling issues and ramp them up. The jump from fighting Blue to the Elite Four rematches and Red is also very significant.

What I'm not going to do here is refute that the above isn't true - these level scaling inconsistencies are certainly present. It's also very different to the vast majority of main series entries, whose level curves are more linear and gradual. Gens 5 and 7 even have a feature which multiplies exp gain based on how much lower or higher you are than the Pokemon you defeat which in a way acts like a rubber band around each game's level curve, ensuring you can catch up easily but not go too overlevelled either. Playing GSC and HGSS when the rest of those entries are like that is a bit jarring. Pokemon is so well-known for having quite a formulaic design across its main series and when compared to that formula with regards to level progression and the like, the Johto games do seem a bit off-colour.

What I am going to do though is try to explain why this so-called bad level curve is at the very least not actually that bad, or, if I can convince you well enough, that the Johto games actually have a unique and (what I call) magical singleplayer game design not properly replicated in any other entry. It goes to the core essence of Pokemon's theming, and it fits with the fact that Johto's narrative also happens to put the most focus on those themes than the rest of the series.

When I say the core essence of theming, I mean the very basics of every Pokemon adventure: you, the player, leave home to go on a journey around your region, meeting various people and overcoming various challenges along the way together with your partner Pokemon. Challenges you overcome are all thanks to the bonds you share with your partners and how you raise them with love and care. As you get older, this is the sort of thing in Pokemon that you probably end up taking for granted. It's typical "power of friendship" stuff, and most people will tend to come to conclude through learning about the game mechanics that this sort of thing is superficial and that stats are all that matter in the end. The more modern Pokemon games also have such a big focus on larger-than-life stories with big climaxes featuring the box Legendaries that it's easy to lose this basic level, down-to-earth narrative theming.

Johto is significant for not having any larger-than-life aspects overshadowing its core. Instead, the core takes centre stage. There is no real overarching story besides your adventure. Team Rocket's antics take a sub-plot role but in the end act as a foil to your story, being one of the more major obstacles you overcome. Catching Ho-oh or Lugia is no cataclysm either, but rather a reward for your achievements throughout the game and thanks to your good and pure heart - recognised by the Legendary in question. Moments throughout the game like how you deal with the situation at the Lake of Rage, or the Dragon's Den trial where you're asked questions to test your ideals as a trainer (which, of course, you pass with flying colours) all contribute to this core as well.

The way Professor Oak congratulates you after defeating Lance ties the knot perfectly on the main campaign:

"Ah, <player>! It's been a long while. You certainly look more impressive. Your conquest of the League is just fantastic! Your dedication, love, and trust for your Pokémon made this happen. Your Pokémon were outstanding, too. Because they believed in you as a Trainer, they persevered. Congratulations, <player>!"

These are just examples of the main story events, though,and Johto has a lot more than that. The region is filled with things to do beside the main campaign - Berries/Apricorns, Pokegear calls, the Ruins of Alph and other optional caves, the Bug Catching Contest, and (in HGSS) the Pokeathlon and Safari Zone, just to name a few of the more notable ones. Tama Hero's review of Pokemon GSC talks a lot about this and it's well-worth a watch even beyond the section describing the games' breadth of side content.

Tama Hero also touches upon the supposed level scaling issue, and her response to the complaints is that there is a "sprinkling" of opportunities for small bits of exp gain throughout the game which should help you stay on track in most cases, and where you can't match levels, you can outplay your opponent.

I certainly agree with the latter. It always feels entirely possible to beat bosses at a level deficit throughout Johto. The Johto League is one of the key cases where you'll probably end up at level disadvantage, but I've consistently been able to defeat it with a team of lv 40s on average (so nearly 10 levels behind Lance's peak), and I'm pretty certain that my not-even-10-year-old self did so as well, even though it took me many, many attempts. From various people I've talked to and bits of let's plays I've seen over the years, this seems to be the common experience too. I think only a minority of people have had to grind to match Lance's levels in order to beat him at all. Granted, it might take you a couple of tries at that level disadvantage (or a great couple of tries more, like little ol' me), but that's surely not an unreasonable expectation. The concept of getting stuck at a difficult stage in a game could be called a universal one, and I think most people agree that it's always pretty satisfying to finally surmount a challenge like that. This can even be said about other Pokemon games - Kanto, Hoenn and Sinnoh also all have large level spikes at the end. In fact, at least when it comes to the end of the maingame, I'd argue Hoenn and Sinnoh have a larger level spike than Johto, but they're not considered impossible or anything

Regardless, though: it's certainly possible to win difficult battles in Pokemon at a level disadvantage. Tama Hero argues that the strategy required to do so isn't something the game teaches you very well, but I think this is a tad pessimistic. In the end I think that most wins will just come down to understanding of more fundamental skills that you've probably learned through the course of the game naturally - using type matchups (gyms are all type themed), using moves with stat changes (the earlygame is full of moves like Growl and Tail Whip), using status moves (no doubt you're going to see the effects of Paralysis and Burns throughout the game at least), and apt use of items (bosses always use potions and often use held items). Players also have more control over the battle than the enemy, with the default Switch mode and a huge amount more items available. It's true that the games don't teach you the deeper, untold mechanics very well, but learning about those only unlock even more ways to succeed for the numbers-minded veterans.

On the topic of those deeper, untold mechanics I also want to talk about something which Tama Hero doesn't mention at all - Effort Values, or EVs. Most of you reading will probably know about these by now, but for those who don't, EVs are hidden values which can increase a Pokemon's raw stats by a certain amount based on the other Pokemon they defeat. They were present in a slightly different form in Gens 1 and 2 in the form of "stat exp" but the premise was the same: your Pokemon grow twofold when you defeat Pokemon, by gaining visible exp for levelling up and visibly gaining stats every time that exp bar fills, but also by gaining stats little by little every time they defeat any Pokemon. Your Pokemon's EVs weren't visible to you in-game until Gen 6 with the Super Training graphic, and numerically weren't until Gen 7 where you can press X on the Pokemon's stat screen to show what are called "base stats".

EV optimisation is crucial to competitive play because the stat boosts they give are quite significant. Competitive players will "min-max" spreads, putting as much as possible into 2 stats to maximise strengths and not wasting any on stats they aren't making use of. In maingame playthroughs, though, EVs will usually end up being a balanced spread because you'll invetivably be facing a variety of Pokemon with different EV yields throughout the game. EVs can also be increased with the Vitamin items (Protein, Calcium, etc.) which you find a handful of throughout the game (and can buy at a premium) and can be used to manually raise EVs, though only to a certain point.

In Gens 3 and onward, a Pokemon can have up to 252 EVs in 1 stat, and 510 in total. At Lv 100, 4 EVs in a stat grant 1 point extra to it. For the singleplayer campaign the conditions are a bit different, but if we assume as a standard that by the Elite Four your EV total is maxed out and you have an even spread, your stats will all be up to 10 points higher than they would be without EVs. In Gens 1 and 2, you can actually max out all of a Pokemon's stat exp values but you're unlikely to cap them all for a good while beyond the maingame so we can consider them about the same as in the later gens for this.

But why is this important?

Firstly, the difference EVs make in the above scenario account for what is usually about 5 levels' worth of stats. Depending on your exact distribution, it could be a couple more or less levels' worth in each stat but the bottom line is that they make your Pokemon's strength higher than it may seem based on level alone.

This means that the wild Pokemon grinding that is criticised for being too tedious in Johto as a result of low levels is also better than it seems because even when you don't level up, you're gaining EVs for every one of those you defeat. The stagnant levels in the midgame of Johto also contribute more to your Pokemon's growth than it may seem from the slow level gain. The Pokegear rematches which you gain access to after defeating Team Rocket before Gym 8 may also be a little infrequent, but they also very often give you Vitamins afterwards to add to all of this.

Secondly is what seems to be a fairly unknown fact: in-game trainers do not have any EV spreads. Thanks to the work of speedrunners, we have exact data of enemy trainers' Pokemon to show this. Trainers do have IV spreads based on their "AI level" (more 'advanced' AI levels will have up to 30 IVs across the board) but the difference near-perfect IVs will have on their Pokemon is not as great as the combination of random IV spreads and relatively balanced EV spreads yours.

That 10 level deficit vs Lance is suddenly more like 5 in practice. Some of his Pokemon also happen to have pretty high stats naturally in Gyarados and the Dragonites, and the level deficit will still be slightly present, but once we factor in strategy again, you can abuse their type weaknesses and make good use of items, status and whatever else have you to swing the odds in your favour.

The only way you can find out anything about EVs in Johto is from a NPC in Blackthorn City who gives your Pokemon the Effort Ribbon if they have reached their total of 510, and the only practical way for a player without the technical knowledge to have achieved this is to have spent time throughout the game doing lots of little bits of training - in other words, putting in the effort - to have incidentally capped their Pokemon's EV total. It's only fitting that you find this NPC towards the end of the Johto campaign because it's likely that by this point a couple of your team members will be eligible for the ribbon.

This finally ties back to the point of core theming. EVs are an invisible stat giving your Pokemon an extra edge over their in-game opponents, or, at worst, one closing a gap in strength between them, as a result of all of the time you've spent raising those Pokemon throughout the game. In other words, EVs are essentially the statistical representation of the "dedication, love, and trust" you have for your Pokemon which gets you through seemingly difficult challenges. Levels, then, are only a surface representation of your Pokemon's strength: they create the feeling of an uphill battle, but you can win against the odds by believing in yourself and your partners. It's probably exactly what you thought as the naive and uncynical child playing through a Pokemon game for the first time, and probably one of the ways you made such fond memories of it. In hindsight, this is definitely how it was for me. It is a sort of magic, really.

There is still a big Red elephant in the room, and I do think that the level gap between the end of the Kanto Gyms and Red is maybe too hard to go and beat immediately after even with the power of EVs and such, but Red is by all means a superboss and final challenge of the Johto games, and I don't think it's unreasonable to have to grind for a while to build up for and to finally be able to take his team of Lv 80s on. The same can be said about the Elite Four Rematches in this game and others, Steven in Emerald, or that one Barry fight in Platinum if you do decide to beat the E4 rematches 20 times to make his levels nearly match Red's. If you're setting out to fight a superboss like this, the grind is part of the prerequesites. It's definitely still possible to beat someone like Red with a 10 or even 20 level deficit if you play well, though. I admit, I haven't beaten Red in a long time, but I have beaten Emerald Steven with a ~15 level gap before. Tama Hero also said she has beaten Red with a team of level 50s in Crystal in the review.

I said before that the other games in the series haven't replicated this sort of thing as well. Gen 5 was the beginning of a marked shift away from this design, with its overarching story-driven style and a change to exp gain which would honestly be incompatible with the level curve in Johto. Gen 6, whilst returning to the exp system without level deficit multipliers, saw different means of statistical representations of the 'dedication, love and trust' trio in Pokemon Amie, which can break the game almost as much as the Exp Share when enough Affection is built up. Gen 7 brings back Gen 5's exp system whilst retaining the Exp Share and Affection systems, and actually ends up even diverging from the EV design which went before by having in-game trainers and Totem Pokemon with competitive, min-maxed EV spreads from as early as the Trainer's School. Whilst I am yet to play Let's Go and Sword and Shield, their Exp system with a 'permanent Exp Share' of sorts makes it a huge amount different and from what I've seen and heard, overlevelling is quite easy despite the game being designed around the feature. I really hope that Brilliant Diamond and Shining Pearl at least return to Gen 6's exp mechanics, or better, reunite us with the held-item version of the Exp Share which doesn't make me feel like I'm cheating whenever I use it.

Before I go too off-topic, though, I should probably return to the original thread of this post to make some concluding remarks. What can't be denied that the way GSC and HGSS are designed may not be for everyone. I know for sure that a lot of people prefer to be able to breeze through a Pokemon game at a brisk pace without many roadblocks, but as someone who in recent years has come to appreciate much slower-paced and immersive singleplayer Pokemon playthroughs, I can't help but love the way GSC and HGSS are designed in the way I've explained, or appreciate their unique identity amongst the rest of the series. Coming to think about this has also shed light on why I adored HeartGold as much as I did when I first played it way back 11 years ago. I poured hours and hours into the game, and as a result, its magical design put me under its spell.

_____________________________________________________________

Though I linked to the references I did use when they appeared, here they are again. Do check them out if they're of interest to you!

Tama Hero's GSC review: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FgtMVKP2T6Y

speedrun.com trainer data for HGSS: https://www.speedrun.com/pkmnhgss/guide/k2zij

speedrun.com trainer data for SuMo: https://www.speedrun.com/pkmnsunmoon/guide/d2683

Tama Hero (YT) is one of the few people I know who actually makes longer-form Pokemon analysis content besides Aleczandxr (also YT), who whilst not being a 'PokeTuber' has made some brilliant analyses of storytelling through setting in Sinnoh, Hoenn, Johto, and just recently, Unova. I did not refer to them here but I can highly recommend their content, at least.

Thank you very much for reading to the very bottom here. This is my first time writing something like this and I appreciate it.

[gryffindordaughterofathena]

Hi Dri! This week’s newlywed’s round will be a short one (but hopefully a fun one). This week we’re playing:

What Would They Rather?

Note: The setting is back to Ethan x MC being married/together. They have to guess what their partner would choose from the options. Dialogue is entirely up to you!

MC, what would Ethan rather?

Beer or Wine

A Cruise or Camping

Horror Movie or Chick Flick

Stay at home or Go out in the rain

Get up early or Stay up late

Ethan, what would MC rather?

Cook dinner or Do the dishes

Diamonds or Pearls

Live in the city or Live in the country

Walk on the beach or Dance in the club

Travel overseas or Explore locally

Ahh the favorite part of my week!!

PREVIOUS INTERVIEWS

What Would They Rather?

Note : I am choosing to answer this before they get married but after he proposes.

Diana : Oh today's round is so fun.

Ethan : Is there anything that you don't think is fun?

Diana : Having to sit in Bloom's meetings obviously.

Ethan : Now you understand my pain.

Diana : *rolls eyes* Let's get started.

Diana, what would Ethan rather?

Beer or Wine

Diana : Wine, provided it's the expensive kind. The sun will rise in the West before Ethan has beer. Also you'll rarely see him drinking wine, it's mostly scotch, neat.

Ethan : I remember you ordering the exact same thing on your first day as an intern.

Diana : Because I knew you'll be the kind of guy who would judge me for ordering colourful drinks.

Ethan : Those are abominations Rookie and you know that.

Diana : *turning to Bree* See what I mean.

A Cruise or Camping

Diana : Camping, where there are less people around to irritate him.

Ethan : You know me well Rookie.

Diana : That's why you are marrying me.

Horror Movie or Chick Flick

Diana : Chick Flick, because if it's horror I actually watch it but in case of Chick flicks, we can put it on the background and make out on the couch. I don't remember the last time we watched a movie because of this.

Ethan : Are you saying that you don't enjoy it?

Diana : Of course I do, you are better than the movies Ramsey.

Stay at home or Go out in the rain

Diana : Stay at home, and watch the rain from the window. None of us like going out in the rain, but we do enjoy staying at home together as it rains outside.

Get up early or Stay up late

Diana : Both, he stays up late and then gets up so impossibly early that just thinking about it gives me a headache.

Ethan : There are a lot of benefits of going out for a run after waking up early Rookie, one day you'll learn to appreciate it as I do.

Diana : Nope, never, I appreciate the breakfast in bed that comes from it though.

Ethan, what would Diana rather?

Cook dinner or Do the dishes

Diana : This feels like a calling out question.

Ethan : It's doing dishes, she can't cook too many things and it's mostly me in the kitchen duty, but once we are done eating, she always insists on doing the dishes.

Diana : It's the natural thing to do, you cook and I clean up the table and then we do dishes together. Also it's more fun this way.

Ethan : If you can call flinging water at me fun.

Diamonds or Pearls

Ethan : Definitely diamonds.

Diana : Both are beautiful, but diamonds are just so pretty.

Live in the city or Live in the country

Ethan : Live in the country, city life can be a bit jarring for both of us at times.

Diana : I love Boston, but sometimes the simple country life can be very appealing.

Ethan : Exactly.

Walk on the beach or Dance in the club

Ethan : Walk on the beach.

Diana : Clubs aren't exactly my scene.

Travel overseas or Explore locally

Ethan : I think it's both for Di, she loves traveling and if we do get a longer holiday, it's traveling overseas and if it's a simple day off, then it's exploring old book shops, locally.

Diana : There's a different kind of charm in both.

Well that's it for this week. Thanks again for the questions Bree.

Tagging:

@genevievemd @jamespotterthefirst @drariellevalentine @rookie-ramsey @aleynareads @miss-smrxtiee @terrm9 @aestheticartsx @fireycookie @maurine07 @starrystarrytrouble @schnitzelbutterfingers @tsrookie @anntoldstories @iemcpbchoices @stygianflood @sophxwithers @actuallybored @iloveethanramsey @natureblooms24 @chemist-ana @mercury84choices @casey-v @uneravine @mm2305 @mrsethanfreakingramsey @smilex1104 @missmiimiie @shanzay44 @sweetheartdetectivex @potionsprefect @headoverheelsforramsey @jerzwriter @mainstreetreader @coffeeheartaddict @adiehardfan @mia143 @kdjdhdvksojs

[docholligay]

Divided by Four: Thirty-Six

 I AM DONE WITH THIS YOU ARE FREE OF HAVING TO SEE IT

Lena Oxton would never have another birthday, and this was an odd thing to think about. 

It was one thing, for Tracer, to know that she was dying--she had known that for what seemed like an age now--but quite another for her to know that there were some things she would never do again. The early ones, she hadn’t known, really. The last time she would get on her motorcycle. When she would last trust herself to fly. That final walk down the hall without help from anyone or anything. These lasts had come without announcing themselves, and so Tracer had not gotten the chance to savor them appropriately. It was a mistake she was trying not to repeat, as she felt the sand slip through the hourglass now. 

So it was comforting, in a way, to know that this would be her last birthday, even if it felt strange to admit. Tracer had resolved to drink in every instant of it. 

She’d told everyone that it was silly and a little wasteful to bring her gifts, given the reality of the situation, and really all she wanted was to be around her people and drink a beer or two, have a few laughs, and for no one to get too misty-eyed. There were a number of things about dying that Tracer didn’t particularly care for, but one topping the list was the way people mourned her before she was gone, when all she wanted to do was enjoy whatever she had left without sadness. There was no point, so she thought, in being so sad over the last bits of something lovely that you ruined it for yourself. It was rather like a child whimpering while eating the last squares of a chocolate bar. So the only gift she had asked for, was for no one to cry in her view, and on that they had delivered. 

But also, people had brought gifts. Nothing fancy, really, mostly soft pajamas and blankets, a nice lotion, a particularly plush backrest pillow she was already making use of, things that spoke to both the reality of the situation and the inability of the people who loved her to let it pass by without making the most of it. Her uncle had made her a coconut strawberry cream cake, and she’d even managed to eat some of it. Pharah had made sure to tell her she had better live long enough to use the thick flannel pajamas she’d bought, as she’d had her father send them from Canada. 

“Or you’ll do what, exactly?” Tracer had grinned as she said it, “Piss on me grave? Well, I’m being cremated, so even that’ll feel a bit ‘ollow, now won’t it?” 

Everyone had laughed, even Winston, who seemed to taking the whole thing rather hard, however much Tracer joked that he’d been taking care of her for the last ten years and really should enjoy his retirement. But mostly, it had been a good day for her, and if she was feeling a little misty herself, it was nothing but the idea that she was so deeply loved, and that not everyone got to experience that in their lives.

She was born under a lucky star, and the last year or so was only a bump in that road near the end of it, a bit like the jar before you leave the pavement. And even that was only her health, wasn’t it? 

Moira could take her life--and as happy as she was knowing Moira died never knowing how badly she had hurt Tracer, it did sting a bit to know that was how it would go down in the books--but Moira had never managed to take anything more dear to her. Her family. Her friends. The general sense that she was loved and cared for. Even her mind was sharp and busy as ever, which admittedly made her body’s disobedience a bit more annoying, but she was grateful to have her wits. People would remember her as herself. That was important. 

If anything, the relative frustration and pain of the last few months had made her feel all the more loved. Had showed that it must be true.

So nothing was all bad, really. 

Night had fallen over London, and as tired as she was, Tracer still could not bring herself to go to bed. Winston had asked gently if she was ready, and she had just shook her head and told him she wanted to stay up awhile. It was nice, this deck she and Winston had put together on the roof of the place. He’d doubted her, when she’d suggested the project, and wondered how he would ever possibly use it, and told her there was no need to put the work in. Sometimes Winston had to be talked into having nice things for himself. He probably would have approved the project so much earlier if he’d known how much time Tracer would spend up here. 

The smell of London filled her lungs. She should be more afraid of death, she supposed, but she could never quite let go of the idea that even when she was gone, she wouldn’t be. Not that she believed in an afterlife, really, but she also didn’t not believe in an afterlife, and she’d seen London built on its own ashes so many times, that she had to imagine that even when she was gone, the bombed out wall of what was left of her would be built around, become part of a Pret or a pub or even just a ruin where the pigeons nested. 

What was tough was knowing when the building needed to come down, which she hadn’t yet quite figured out for herself. It was one thing to be gone in an instant, a bomb dropped, a moment and then just the rubble. It was another to sway into disrepair, to try and pinpoint the day you had to tell those who had lived in your heart that there were homes elsewhere, and it was time to seek them. When the little joys of being were outweighed by the reality of decay. 

“Lena?” 

The lightness she felt at hearing her name in that soft brogue was enough to tell her that day had not yet come, and she would keep on for awhile yet. Tracer thought she might live one hundred years, and never tire of hearing Emily’s voice. It was impossible. 

“It’s grown late. You’ll tire yourself.” A kiss on the top of her head, and then Emily sat down on the edge of the daybed where Tracer found herself spending much of her time lately. 

Tracer chuckled. “Too late. Doesn’t take much anymore, it’s just,” she shook her head, “a bit aggravating, right? There’s so much I’d like to do in a day, not that I can do much of it anyway, but I’d like to at least imagine it. I get frustrated so--” 

Emily nodded kindly as she rubbed Tracer’s shoulder, tight with the constancy of spasms that ran through it, but as Tracer’s eyes flicked upwards, she saw the tears on the edge of Emily’s eyes. Not the time to talk about it. Never seemed to be.

Emily would miss her, and there was no real getting around that, no matter how she tried. Tracer had already spent plenty of time writing and rewriting a letter to be published when she was gone, Pharah sitting alongside her on her small laptop, to try and let Emily know in the most public way that she’d like her to move on, and wasn’t only saying it, that she meant it, nagging over the words until Pharah had offered to remove the burden of waiting for death from her. 

Pharah joked like that, more than most, because Pharah was kind, in her way, and knew Tracer needed someone to be able to joke with. It was a favor to her. When Tracer had told her, she had asked to be treated the same as ever, and to Pharah’s eternal credit, she came very close. 

“Never mind me.” she grinned “Tired and rambling, right? It was a wonderful birthday, Em. Marvelous, really. Been thinking back on me birthdays---I’ve been so lucky. I am so lucky. Thank you, for everything you’ve done, for it.” 

She was tired, and her body jerked and shook, but she was still, in this moment, the master of a failing plane, and managed to but her hand on Emily’s leg. Emily curled up next to her and rested her head on Tracer’s shoulder, letting out a little sniffle as she drew her arm around her.

“It’s not fair for you.” 

“Me?” Tracer kissed her forehead “Oh, none of that now. Not for me. What’s fair, any’ow? Should ‘ave been killed a thousand times over, love, but I wasn’t, Was I? Plenty were,” she muttered, half to herself, “And I noone in whole of me life ‘as ever wanted to ‘ear it but I’ve ‘ad the sense for years that I wasn’t precisely meant to get me pension. Call it a self-fulfilling prophecy if you like but I--really, who it isn’t fair to is you. Life’s been more than fair to me.” 

Emily said nothing, but wiped her eyes and took Tracer’s hand in hers. 

“I mean really, think about it. Not a bad life at all, on balance. Pilot. Top Flight Instructor. Commander. Bloody ‘ero of London. I lived more in thirty-six years than most people would if they ‘ad twice the time. So it’s all right. I made it all count. Course I want more, but, I do tend to rush through things, don’t I? Just me way, don’t stop to admire the view much. Some people are like that, like fireworks, or, oh I don’t know, a stick of gum. And,and at the fag end of it all, I get to be in London, taken care of instead of sent away, when by rights I should have been shot down, or shot through, or lost forever. To be sitting on a London roof in a pile of pillows? Not precisely the gulag, love, and I won’t be greedy. Em, look at me, please.” 

Emily sat up and looked at her, and Tracer squeezed her hand. 

“I lived long enough to find you, and to love you.That’s all that matters. I ‘ave led a bloody charmed life. I ‘ave. Truly. I could not possibly ask for more.” she grinned, “That’s a lie actually,  would ‘ave loved to get all the way through to the King so as I could watch his bloody face when I refused the knighthood publicly, but,” she chuckled, “We can’t ‘ave everything.” 

Emily gave a little chuckle and shook her head. “You’re awful, Lena. Happy Birthday. My prince charming.” 

“And it really was, Em. It is! What do you say,” she winced as she tried to sit up a little, her body jerking her back against the back of the daybed, until Emily balanced her, “What do you say, we ‘ave Win come up with that last bottle of champagne? Toast to ourselves till midnight? Just the three of us?” 

Emily nodded, the teeth poking thought on her smile. 

“That’s what I’d like to see, tonight. Thank you love. Just us three, and your smile.” 

The clouds and fog and too much light of London parted for a moment, just a few stars peeking through the grey and haze. They sparkled down on Tracer, who sparkled back a bit, the diamonds of the natural world. Bright against the night. 

Bit of light in everything.

[chidoroki]

TPN ch181

(spoilers! AAAHHhhaha..my children!)

Okay, so remember in my last review when I said I was impressed how Ray, Gilda and Phil managed to narrow down where Emma might be in the matter of a couple months? Well, I take it back because it hasnt been just a few months, it's been two damn years! Oh my god, I can't imagine how hard it must've been for everyone, especially our two boys, to search for so long without even getting on single clue about Emma's whereabouts. Some of the children still doubt whether she's alive or actually in this world with them or not.

(image limit, so imagine the panels of the Goldy Pond kids discussing the lack of clues and Thoma and Lani doubting the reward again)

Thankfully, Gilda gets the idea to search in forbidden zones which is where we see her, Ray and Phil. Speaking of which, oh my poor boy. This is the longest Ray has been without Emma by his side. I thought the one month after Goldy Pond was hard enough on him, but two whole years? Damn, I can't imagine the stress and anxiety he's been experiencing. He's still so frustrated too and gets so close to Emma without even realizing it. Then, surprisingly, his beloved family steps in to help? The people he personally couldn't save now come together to help him save the one person who originally saved his life. Like, hello?? I love this! Conny, who was another sibling he had to use in order to put his initial escape plan in motion to save Emma and Norman's lives, is now assisting him in saving Emma from being alone. Yuugo, who knows firsthand how important Emma is to Ray and how close they are. Isabella, knowing her son kept his promise as he's always set out to do whatever it takes to protect his entire family. The fact that Ray's lost family members can feel how strong his bond with Emma is and they jump in to help reconnect the two of them again.. just, wow. It may be all the rayemma week feels getting to me but that's like a damn soulmate occurrence if i ever saw one!

The two unknowingly pass each other again but thanks to Emma conveniently losing her necklace and finding it with perfect timing, they all finally encounter each other. Everyone expresses their complete shock and relief that they had finally found Emma, and while I am happy they their search ended up a success, the mood changes fairly quickly due to our girls lost memories. She hasnt the slightest idea who "Emma" is, who these people are or why they're so excited to see her. The kids wonder if they have the right girl, as they take notice of Emma's bare neck.

One look at the necklace in her hand though and Ray finally puts the pieces together. Honestly, I'm not at all surprised he's the one to figure out the true reward, as Ray has been very perceptive since the beginning. He's also always been openly honest and blunt when things get serious, so naturally he's the one who has to let everyone know this because while it's a sad truth no one wants to hear, or even believe, they all need to realize it, including Emma. Even Ray has trouble coming to terms with the sacrifice Emma made. He understands how hard it must have been for Emma to accept the heavy price of her forgetting the family she loves so deeply and he looks so broken when he realizes that. He must be feeling so guilty that he couldn't have been there with her when she made the new promise. He still puts the blame on himself and he's so upset that his failure lead Emma to live in a world alone without the family she cares for more than anything.

I wasn't too satisfied last chapter when demon god told us the real reward and Emma's response was a simple "okay," so I'm grateful we learned more about the conversation now in this chapter. She really did want to live her family. She even knew some of them might get mad at her for keeping a secret. She says it's a selfish request, for her to place such a heavy burden on herself, but what mattered to her back then upon accepting the reward is what has always mattered to her, and that's her family's happiness and safety. It wasn't just her loved one either, but for all the demons and cattle children. This girl truly has a heart of gold and demon god himself is left surprised. Of course I wish she didn't think she was being selfish since everyone did agree to follow her as their leader but aahh.. my poor girl.

Spoiling the very end now, but we dont get one last fullscore trio hug. Of course that upsets me since I thought it would've made such a perfect ending, but it makes sense now given how everyone's reunion with Emma happened. While their happiness and relief is completely understandable after searching two years and finally finding Emma, they overreact and this visibly freaks her out. Come on guys, last time I said to gently remind her of her past, not bombard her right away. Having a ton of strangers surround you and tell you such outlandish things is quite jarring. I'm glad she takes the chance to listen to everyone, but she just doesnt know these people well enough to suddenly hug them. I imagined a hug would've happened upon her recalling some of her memories somehow and feeling relived that she met the two boys she often once dreamt about, but oh well.

Norman takes this time to step in and ease some of the tension, saying how happy he is that Emma's alive and even reiterating some of the things he said to her during his shipment scene. While this chapter soon shows how well the escapees have adapted to the human world and changed, it also puts an emphasis on the boy's true personalities that they showed since the very beginning. I've already mentioned above how Ray stayed true to himself, about him being open and honest to the others with the truth and even his own feelings. With Norman, I don't know the word for him really, but his speech about their family and his feelings remind me of ch1/ep1 where we see him trying to calm Emma down after seeing what they did at the gate. He stayed by her side and remained hopeful even though he was just as scared. Right now, I get the same vibes. He's just as upset as their family upon learning Emma lost her memories, but he still wants her to be apart of their family.

Although it seems like a very rushed way of tying up loose ends, I'm happy to hear about how well the children have been adapting in the human world. They're attending school and following their passions. They all look so happy! The entire Lambda crew is healthy and Cislo even has a prosthetic leg! The medicine made from Adam's dna was successful and also helped those children from the mass production farms. Mike Ratri and the clan are actually being helpful and trustworthy. I absolutely love Norman's comment about Ayshe not killing him! It really makes me smile and I assume that means she's forgiven him.. maybe. Her dogs were indeed able to cross over to the human world too and now there's even more! Chris is finally awake! They seriously have to fill the poor boy in on so much news though.

I get it. It took the entire story for me to understand but now I get Norman's intense feelings. He's been infatuated by this girl since childhood. He told us/Ray his feelings at age 11 then "gave his life" to give her a better chance at survival. He kept living just for the slight possibly to see her again. After almost two years, they reunite, only for about a week or two before they all cross over into the human world and Emma is no where to be seen. Another two years pass and while they all find her, she's almost a completely difference person. Yet Norman's feelings remain so sincere for her that he accepts this new Emma. He lets her know that the bright future she wished for came true. (me? speaking of noremma? even im surprised)

Her head might not have the slightest idea who these people are, but her heart surely remembers! Emma's feelings for her family were so strong that they persisted throughout these entire two years, even after she stopped having those dreams about them. Deep down, and without even realizing it, she loves them so much that it makes her cry.

“Why am I... Even though I don't know them. Though I don't know anything. Though I can't remember. Why... Does it feel warm, but also so painful in my heart? I wanted to see you.”

Seeing everyone else get emotional and expressing their feelings to her right back and having all of them accept this new Emma.. yeah, that has me in tears! Demon god truly underestimated these kids and how deep their love for each other went. Emma's family was never going to give up looking for her because, thanks to her influence, they also didn't believe anything was impossible. “Screw destiny” indeed! (also we never did learn the old dude's name or Emma's new one hm? odd.)

Did Emma get her memories back? No. Did Ray pat her head again so I could die from nostalgia? No, because I'm still here. Did we get a fullscore hug like I originally hoped? No, sadly. The ending isn't picture perfect but honestly, this is still okay. Our precious girl is finally reunited with her family again. Most importantly, they're alive. The trio are teenagers about 15/16 years old now, which amazing since they once believed they wouldn't see a day past the age of 12. Yet here they are, living happy and free in the human world without fear and killing, which is exactly what Emma wished for.

I can't believe the manga is truly finished. It feels like it all went by so quick, but perhaps that's only because I haven't been in the fandom as long as others, like if you've been here since the manga started then I applaud you and can't imagine how sad this must be after four years. The anime is what caught my attention and my love for this series only grew when I jumped into the manga right after season one ended. I must have binged all available chapters at the time in like three days, all the way up to ch129. Since then I've waited patiently week after week to see how this suspenseful story would pan out for out lovable and very large cast of characters. Each new twist and cliffhanger made my brain crazy and stressed me out but it was so great to experience them with everyone.

Also, big thanks to all of you who share your comments on these reviews of mine! Even though I started writing them pretty late into the story and at the most stressful time, it was great to hear so much feedback and experience the exciting finish with everyone. The manga may have ended, but don't let that make the fandom quiet! We still have future manga volume releases to look forward to, the live-action movie that is still set for this December along with a live-action series that was also recently announced. Most importantly, season two of the anime is still scheduled for January 2021! You can bet I'll do reactions for each episode as I normally do with other anime! The series still has so much more content to give us, especially if the anime continues to recieve future seasons over the upcoming years, so of course I'll give my thoughts on all that I can.

I give all my thanks and appreciation to Shirai & Demizu for such a wonderful and suspenseful story, for all the memorable characters and the stunning artwork. The series has truly become my favorite. That's right, I said it! My favorite. TPN has taken over Black Lagoon as my favorite series. (Revy can still keep her spot as my favorite character but I'll be damned if Ray isn't a really really close second.)

[winterhawk-olympic-bang]

Let’s Get It On

How To Write Sex

Guest Poster: CB

Here is our second Writer Workshop post, written by CB. Have a read and then head over to the Discord Server where we have a channel for you to take part in a discussion based on the post, with chances to share your own ideas too. 

So Your Characters Want to Bang

Welcome to my Ted Talk on How To Successfully Write Pornography! We’re going to cover a few bases here (first, second, third, and home base, to keep up with the metaphor), but feel free to reach out if you have any questions either on the Discord server or here on the Tumblr. If you take a look at my body of work you can see that a significant portion of it is explicit fic, which I’m told is a struggle for some folks.  Apparently my CPU is 80% porn.exe, so I’ve got a bit of a niche. Additionally, I’ve got a medical professional background that includes a very specific nurse certification in sex-related shenanigans, so if you’ve got questions, I’ve got answers. 

When I decide to write porn (or when my characters decide it for me), I have a few basic things that I keep in mind in order to make sure the story stays on track, the character arcs fit with the scenarios, and that everything doesn’t start to feel too formulaic.  I’m going to share my methods and maybe you will find something that helps you out or inspires you to give writing explicit fic a try!

The Mechanics

Let’s start with the basics. Fictional pornography can start to feel, well, a little bit formulaic, especially if you read or write a lot of it.  There’s a standard formula of kissing, rubbing, fingers, dicks (or other bits), everybody comes, the end! There’s nothing wrong with sticking to the basic formula, especially your first time (ha!), but here are some thoughts on how you can make sure you’re getting the specifics done and done well, and how to avoid feeling like you’ve written the sexual equivalent of an English essay. 

Lubrication.  It… really doesn’t matter exactly what kind of sex your characters are having, you can’t go wrong with lube. Getting things wet and slippery is half the fun and also twice the enjoyment. Sometimes characters decide to get it on in unfortunately risque locations, and lube may not be readily available - here is a nice list of MacGyvered lube solutions you may find helpful in that circumstance. That being said - if you are writing anal sex of some sort, lubrication is an absolute must have. 

Preparation. Otherwise known as foreplay.  Prep is and can be sexy! Everyone involved wants to have a good time, some preparation is required! I don’t just mean fingers in the butt (although that can be important too, we’re gonna get to that), but just generally building up the level of arousal over time adds to the dynamic you’re trying to create between two characters. Even if it’s fuck-or-die, sex pollen shenanigans, just talking about how hot the character feels for it is still a form of preparation/foreplay.  Specifically speaking to buttsex - the amount of prep your character needs is heavily dependent on the circumstances.  For your consideration - is this a first time sex situation, or does your character regularly bottom? Are they pressed for time, or is this a long, drawn-out affair? There is not (despite what fanfic writers would have you believe) a certain number of fingers that you have to insert into anyone’s anus that makes them ‘ready’ for sex.  A person who regularly bottoms may not need any fingering at all, in fact, but they are still going to need lube. (See point 1.) If your character has never bottomed before, they’re going to need more time and patience than a character that does it a lot, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they need more and more and more fingers. It just means they need a partner with consideration for their comfort. And lube.

Coming. People (and thus, characters) don’t often come at exactly the same time.  Frequently someone comes first. The other person may not come at all! They don’t have to! If it’s important to you, that’s fine. But it can be fun to play with the dynamics of one character coming and the other character not, because they’re caring for the first character, or because they want to wait and enjoy the burn for later, or because of whatever other reason - which brings us back to character and story dynamic. Also, playing with this particular dynamic can make your pornography feel a lot less formulaic.  Character B didn’t come because they wanted to wait and savor the feeling, and maybe in a few hours or days, Character A gets to really have a good time paying them back with a truly spectacular orgasm.  Maybe they just really wanted to see their partner fucked out and happy, and coming really wasn’t that important to them. Maybe they’re sex-postive ace, or maybe they take medication that makes sex and orgasms hard to achieve, but they still enjoy the intimacy. It’s up to you (and your characters!), but it’s not necessary for both people to come for the scene to be satisfying.

Penetration. Penetration is not the end-all-be-all of sex. Penetration isn’t even required for something to be considered sex.  Some people never want penetration, and that’s okay.  This is a good time to consider your characters’ boundaries, a good way to involve consent, and a good way to consider what kind of bedroom dynamic your characters are going to share - even or especially if it’s completely different to the dynamic they share outside the bedroom.  Is penetration necessary or important to the characters, the story, or the development of the relationship? Even if you just want to write it, that’s fine, but considering your characters’ perspective and feeling will give the act more depth and nuance.

Expectations (and subverting them so that whatever you’re writing feels fresh and different). Like I said before, there’s a certain amount of ‘this is what’s going to happen’ expectation in fictional pornography. A series of steps that you can pretty much guarantee is going to get you from point A to point F in the sexual alphabet. One of the biggest ways that you can make your sex scenes feel more intimate, more character-driven, and more unique is by subverting those expectations and doing something different that fits your dynamic better or isn’t “the norm”. For example, in a recent fic I had a character fantasize about what it would be like to have the object of their affection on their hands and knees - but when it came time for the sex, said character flipped the script and climbed on top instead! Fictional pornography isn’t real, and people don’t necessarily want realism in their fiction, but adding some realistic elements (oh no, I’ve lost the lube!/it turns out I don’t like this one thing can we try another thing/a hilarious thing has just happened) can be fun and unexpected, and make the reader more invested in your story.

So You Want To Add An Explicit Scene

You’re writing a lovely enemies to friends back to enemies to lovers arc and the time has come to do the do.  I’m excited for you! I’m excited for your characters! But now you want to know how do I add this to my story organically? How do you make this feel like a natural progression of the story, how do you segue from fighting Doombots to sweating it up in the sheets? 

The trick, in my experience, is to build up to that moment way before you get there.  You have to lay the groundwork for attraction before anyone takes off any clothes.  Does Character A get distracted during the fight by staring at Character B’s biceps? Was that an absolutely beautiful sniper shot at an impossible angle and it was so good that Character A’s breath literally catches in his chest and he nearly gets hit in the face by a robot fist? Did someone else in the battle have to remind Character B to pay attention to the fight?  Is it movie night and Character A doesn’t even know the plot of the film because they’ve been too busy staring at Character B’s face in the light of the television screen? 

A little pining goes a long way, but you have to establish attraction before your characters can act on attraction. It feels jarring to your readers if the characters hated each other two paragraphs ago and now they’re fucking in a public space.  Even if it’s hate sex, you gotta have the POV character hate how attractive they find the other character.  Then you just need an inciting event - one character takes off their shirt because it’s ripped from the fight, or they bump into each other in the communal kitchen and that hot line of their bodies pressed together sparks a kiss - and then you’re off and running! 

The exception to this might be an established relationship Plot What Plot fic, but even then, you’ve probably got an idea that sparks the actual sex - include that in your fic!

Help, This Is Moving Way Too Fast!

Oh no, the pacing is off! It happens to the best of us, don’t worry. You get in a hurry (just come already, oh my god!), and you push through to the end and then on re-read or in beta, you find that the whole thing just feels flat and rushed.  It started off so well, and then you lost something somewhere in the middle. 

The way I combat this is by focusing on how the characters feel and/or how they react to what’s happening. 

Someone’s mouth is on someone else’s body - how does the POV character feel about this? If they’re the recipient, is this the hottest thing that’s ever happened to them? Are they afraid to let go and enjoy it? Are they 404 Error: Brain Not Found? Play around with it. Does the non-POV character say something unbelievably hot/romantic/sappy/hilarious? What kind of mood are you trying to set? This is a character interaction as much as dialogue is, so you’re still working with the back-and-forth of two people who are communicating, but with their bodies. (And words too, to be honest).  If the scene is too rushed, slow it down with some internal dialogue, external dialogue, or something emotional (like a realization or an acknowledgement - oh no I love them/oh no I don’t hate them/they always take good care of me). If the scene is too long (to be honest this rarely happens, but it can), consider whether you’ve added too much dialogue or other extraneous interactions that have slowed your scene and taken attention away from what’s happening.

Help, It Sounds Like A Medical Exam

This is nearly always a terminology problem. 

I’m not here to tell you what words you can and cannot use in your sex scenes.  Everyone feels differently about acceptable terminology (though we have all laughed at dick euphemisms).  And that’s not even getting into writing fics with trans characters or different gender identities. Personally, I tend to use cock/dick for penis, and I avoid specifically naming parts for vagina-havers because I’ve never found a good one that I liked that I felt flowed smoothly in my own writing.  So this one is more nebulous because it’s a personal choice you’re making about what words do it for you and what words don’t.  It’s also, again, about your character’s perspective.  If you have a character who prefers certain terminology, that’s the terminology you use. 

Here’s what I can suggest.  Don’t focus as much on the parts of the body you’re writing, and focus much, much more on the sensations you’re creating.  There is a mouth on your POV character’s penis - how does that feel to them? Is it: hot, tight, wet, is there something happening with the tongue, are they sucking really hard, are they going really deep?  Alternatively - is the non-POV character enthusiastic? Are they into it? Is how into it they are super hot to the receiving character? Are they sloppy but determined? Beyond the physical sensation, how about emotional reactions? Has your POV character never had this before, or has no one ever treated them with such tender care? Is it the best blowjob they’ve ever received? The worst? (This can still be hot - can the POV character give them careful, precise instructions on how to do it better? Does the non-POV character find THAT extremely hot?). 

Keep in mind that you’re not writing technical directions for the characters in your scene.  (Unless you are, because you’ve discovered Gentle!Dom!Bucky, who is telling Praise!Kink!Clint exactly what to do.) You’re writing a scene that conveys something emotional to the reader. ��Is it a sexy emotion? Yes, yes it is. It might also be a sad emotion, or a happy one, or any of the range of human emotions, really, but the point is that readers probably know how the sex works mechanically, what you’re trying to do is give them feelings about it.

Speaking of Feelings

Let’s talk a little bit about motivation.  Yes, even sex scenes need motivation. Not to be the prima donna actor over here, but ask yourself: Why am I writing a sex scene? 

Generally speaking, well-written sex scenes are better received if they accomplish a goal.  Writing a sex scene well is easier if you have this goal in mind before you ever sit down in front of your computer.

Does this scene advance the story? By this I mean: is this an emotional resolution, does it convey something about the characters’ relationship that cannot be conveyed in another venue or does it better express that aspect of their relationship, does it have meaning beyond the immediate gratification of an orgasm or add to the fic in some way?

Does this scene advance the relationship? Is it a big step for one or both characters? Are you showing vulnerability/trust/compassion/concern/etc? Is it an emotional milestone? Is it an expression of love that one of the characters can’t make with words but can demonstrate physically?

I’m going to pull some very specific examples from my own work, helpfully crowdsourced and reviewed by a trusted friend so that I can talk more clearly about what I mean.

Russian Red: if you haven’t read this one, it’s a story about Bucky wearing lipstick and then giving Clint a blow job. That’s it, that’s the fic. When I put it like that, it doesn’t sound all that exciting, really, and maybe it doesn’t even sound like something you’d like. A man wearing lipstick may not be your thing!! That’s okay! (And as an aside, people enjoy reading/writing things that they have absolutely zero interest in in real life, and that’s okay! Fantasies are weird like that, and a normal part of human sexuality, and we aren’t judging anyone for their kinks here.) But this fic employs very specifically some of the points I’ve made so far, so I want to talk a little about it, especially foreplay and emotional investment. 

Bucky wearing lipstick in this fic is not about Bucky at all.  It is explicitly about fulfilling a fantasy for Clint.  In fact, later in the fic, Bucky has a moment of insecurity about it because he had what he thought was a great idea, and in the moment of truth it becomes a bit of screaming panic because what if the whole thing is stupid!!!! We’ve all had that moment.  So readers can relate. But also - throughout the course of the fic it becomes something that Bucky also enjoys and finds sexy.  So there are multiple motivators: emotional satisfaction for Bucky because he’s doing something for Clint, physical satisfaction for Clint because he is getting his fantasy fulfilled, and then the added bonus of Bucky finding the whole thing unexpectedly hot means that he is also satisfied by the encounter.  I have created an emotional need that is satisfied through porn.

Emotional investment (also known as the character is putting in work).  Bucky goes through a lot to make this fantasy happen.  He has to tell Natasha what he’s doing for one thing, which is uncomfortable. A little bit of character discomfort makes the payoff at the end better, because your reader is invested in your character having a good outcome! It also shows that Bucky cares about Clint more than he cares about the mild discomfort/vulnerability of asking Natasha about lipstick for a mildly kinky thing he’s doing.

Foreplay - the more invested Bucky gets in doing this thing for Clint, the more he starts to find it hot and exciting, the more like foreplay it becomes, which means the payoff in the end is that much better. (Revisit the point on preparation from earlier!).  There is a lot of build up from the moment Bucky puts the lipstick on (tactile sensations, memories tied to lipstick, etc.) to the moment he leaves the very first red imprint of his mouth on Clint’s skin and realizes oh shit, this is hot.

This fic is very, very close, tight third-person POV.  Keeping the POV so close and tight means that your reader is very much in your POV character’s head - the reader is getting their experiences (emotional, physical, tactile senses) but they’re only able to interpret the other characters’ motivations and reactions through the lens of your POV character.  It’s trickier writing, but it means the reader is more connected to the character and therefore the porn. Also, it means that the reader is much more in tune with the non-POV characters’ reactions, which means incoherent mess is just that much hotter.

Personal Security/Security Failure: So these fics are… their own claim to fame in fandom. Gentle!Dom!Bucky and Praise!Kink!Clint have sexy, sexy adventures.  The first fic is their first meeting, the second one is fondly known as Circus Spanking. If you haven’t read them, that’s the basic summary, but please mind the tags if you choose to explore this series. Here we’re going to hit on consent, which is important and sexy, and vulnerability/trust. 

Again it’s very close, 3rd person POV, which means you’re very much in Clint’s head when he’s a wrecked, incoherent mess.  In the previous fic Bucky was watching the incoherency happen, which is very hot. In this fic the reader is experiencing the incoherency.  There’s also a lot of buildup in the first fic of Clint experiencing this inexplicable attraction to Bucky, and the confusion he has that Bucky is equally attracted to him - so like foreplay, you’re building it up before they ever take their clothes off.

Consent.  If you are dabbling anywhere in the kink neighborhood I cannot express to you how important it is to include explicit consent.  Please get a kink sensitivity reader. Don’t surprise your audience with dubious consent - make it clear and explicit from the start, even if it’s consensual nonconsent (which is a tag, but can also be addressed early with a line like ‘this is something they’d talked about previously’). But also! Consent can be sexy! It can be fun! It doesn’t have to be a drawn out contract of hard limits and detailed diagrams (though I have seen that done and done well!). Consent can be as simple as checking in with a partner if they’ve gone quiet or seem so wrecked they can’t express themselves. Consent can be one character telling another exactly what they’re going to do to them (hot hot hot!!), asking if they’re okay with it, and then doing exactly what they said.

Vulnerability/trust. Just like with the previous fic, vulnerability adds a sense of emotional intimacy that can be super hot.  If you’re writing kinky fic, vulnerability and trust go hand in hand, and show how deeply invested characters can be in each other - and that they respect and care for one another as well.  One character making themselves vulnerable to another with the understanding that the other character isn’t going to take advantage of that trust can be supernova hot if you employ it correctly. The key here is making sure that the character in the position of power respects the vulnerable character’s boundaries.  Security Failure in specific sets up an emotional need (increased trust) that is fulfilled physically by the porn that follows.  Clint needs to trust Bucky more, and Bucky needs to know that Clint trusts him.  Clint making himself super vulnerable in this fic lets both of these needs be fulfilled.

 Interactions outside the bedroom compared to interactions inside the bedroom.  In this fic, I chose to have these mirror each other - Bucky is in control of himself and in command of the situation in all of their interactions, so before they ever get naked you know what to expect from the dynamic. What can also be fun, however, is subverting expectations, so that how characters interact outside the bedroom is very different from how they interact inside the bedroom - so this is another time when knowing what your characters want/prefer is important motivation for your writing!

Character moments in your porn - there’s a scene in the first fic where Clint (this is all Clint POV) thinks about how much he likes performing a certain act, because it makes him feel good and useful.  It’s a very short interaction but it tells you a lot about the character - it tells you he likes to be useful, that he likes to be considered good (hello praise kink!), and it tells you he has low self-esteem which makes you want to wrap him up and a blanket and tuck him in and tell him how good and useful he is, but you also want Bucky to wreck him.  Your characters still have characterization, even during porn. In the second fic, we see character growth that mirrors growth within the relationship, but there’s still room to grow because Clint is still uncertain and insecure, and the fic helps advance their relationship to a new level of trust.  Through porn.

Communication, communication, communication.  Especially in kink fic but honestly in most porn - your characters have to communicate with each other! It can be nonverbal, but you’ve gotta make it clear to the reader.

The Big Finish

Everyone came (or maybe they didn’t), now what CB?

Oof, good question. 

To be honest, endings are the hardest (ha!) part.  And luckily, we’re going to have a Workshop specifically about how best to accomplish them! But as far as sexy scenes and how to wrap them up and move on, I like to use resolution of whatever need I was trying to meet, and then open the next scene with something that demonstrates a new level of intimacy/relationship dynamic/etc. if it’s part of a larger storyline, or just fade to black if it’s a one-shot. 

I hate to keep beating a dead horse, but this also depends on your motivation for writing your sex scene.  If you were trying to accomplish something with the story, then you need to somehow demonstrate that goal has been met - are they more comfortable around each other now, are they happier to show off their relationship to their friends, are they finally admitting they’re in a relationship? If you were trying to accomplish something with the relationship itself (which, as you can see, may go hand in hand with the story), then how can you show that? Does the one who usually leaves finally fall asleep in the other person’s arms? Is there a big flowery declaration? Does someone crymax? Does one partner tenderly clean the other partner up with a warm cloth and snuggle them into submission? The world is your oyster! Do what feels right for your characters and the journey you’re taking them on! 

And don’t forget the lube. 

[lov3nerdstuff]

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 5.8}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 5.3k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

______________________________

They came to stand in the middle of the bridge where the wind was whipping around them in icy streams relentlessly, clawing at Robin's skin and making her eyes water as she leaned on her forearms on the railing to look down into the black ravine beneath. It was scary out here indeed, even more so when the wooden construction swayed under the wind's rapid beating.

Robin looked up from the dark for a moment, and instead let her eyes lock with his as she motioned for him to come over to the edge as well. For a second he stayed frozen to the spot right in the middle of the path, safe between the railings, but then he moved to stand next to Robin as her gaze had undoubtedly commanded him to. A mere step away, he mirrored her stance and they looked down into the blackness together.

"Have you ever considered jumping?" Robin eventually asked without a hint of reluctance. He knew how weird her mind could be, at least to a point where the question shouldn't surprise him anymore. "I mean… do you ever hear that calling? From the bottom of the abyss?"

"All the time."

"The allure of the fall, and the promise that comes with it… It's quite tempting, is it not?"

"It shouldn't be. Not to you." His words touched Robin in a way she couldn't explain, and instinctively her eyes returned to the man next to her with the soaring of her heart.

"It shouldn't be to you either. But obviously we don't have that choice." She said, and for a moment observed with a strange fascination how the wind blew his hair around his face like raging black rivers on a bed of white.

"Most people couldn't handle a choice like that."

"To me, the temptation is so much more frightening than the height or the darkness." Robin sighed. "It's ironic… the scariest things are always just a product of one's own mind."

"I agree. Sometimes what we aren't afraid of what is, but of what could be. What we could do, and sometimes even what we want to do. The human mind is the most dangerous place of all."

"Exactly." Robin said with both a smile and a huff, but the grim look on his face dwindled her excitement in an instant. Maybe it was time for a subtle change of topic. "I haven't actually answered your question from before."

"I am aware."

"Would you still like to know?"

"Obviously."

"Alright…" Robin sighed under her breath, and focused on one single star in the nightsky as she considered her words. "I can truthfully tell you that I am happy with the work we do, and I'm happiest right where I am."

"Good."

"What about you?" She turned her head to look at Snape once more, directing the inquiry at him and not the night, but she would have been met by black eyes that seemed to look straight into her soul either way. "Are you happy?"

For a long moment he didn't reply at all. He merely held her gaze in a way that made him seem impossibly close to everything Robin tried to hide, while however he was still standing at the perfectly imperfect distance of one large step away. But like a piece of music, his silence created the distance that the unspoken words behind his eyes pulled her through in a chase of an everfleeting melody. Robin's heart was racing; a sharp contrast to her easy facade that became harder to keep up by the second.

"I am closer to happiness than I have been in a long time. Longer than I care to remember." He finally replied, and the statement was both positive and heartbreaking at once. Robin wanted him to be happy, truly. Not just close to it. But she realized that there likely was nothing she could do about that.

"Well, I'm sure you're gonna be even closer to it later, when you can finally get rid of that insufferable person who keeps dragging you out into the cold every new year's eve." She tried to joke instead, actually having to smile at her own sense of humor, thus also smiling at him.

"I doubt that." He replied though, and averted his eyes to peer back out into the distance. "It will rather be a momentary setback."

Robin's small smile widened inevitably, radiantly taking over her entire face, but she just couldn't help it. Hearing that her presence at least was preferable to him than being alone was enough to make her skin tingle, and her heart boast in her own happiness. Maybe if he thought like that, they really could be friends somehow. Maybe they already were.

"Quit smiling like a fool, you make me regret saying something nice." He grumbled a short moment later, still staring out into the dark, and Robin finally cracked. With her laughter, the entire tension fled into the open night as well, and it left her feeling finally at peace.

"Well, I'm not going to stop. And you better don't regret it either, because it actually made me happy." She grinned up at him in the utmost certainty that he wasn't even annoyed with her for real. "So just get over yourself, will you?"

As an answer he merely turned his head just enough to glare down at Robin, and she had to grin even more as she turned to look ahead now instead. The view really was spectacular, he hadn't promised too much last year. Even if the swaying of the bridge was fairly distracting, and the cold bit horribly into the exposed skin of her face and hands. But it was beautiful just like that, loud from the wind and silent from the night, cold from winter and warm from Snape's presence next to her.

It couldn't be long now. Minutes, or just seconds until the year would end. And once again they would greet the new year with comfortable, companionable silence. But this time there were no arches, no columns or masses of stone between them that would give either the illusion of solitude. This time, when a year ended and a new one started, when the sound of fireworks could barely be heard over the wind, they stood on the bridge together.

"Happy new year…" Robin finally spoke up, once the silence had surrendered to her will. "Or at least one that is a bit closer to happy, if that isn't entirely impossible."

"I stopped using the word impossible when I met you."

"Then I will be sure to challenge you another step closer to happiness." Robin smirked, and turned around to lean her back against the railing.

"Please don't." He sighed and rolled his eyes in the typical exaggerated manner as he stepped back from the railing as well, coming to stand in the middle of the path in front of Robin instead.

"I most definitely will." She smiled innocently but brightly, and while she had no idea how she could do that, she was absolutely determined that she would indeed.

"If you insist." He sighed and motioned for her to come along back to the castle. As they walked next to each other through the dark, he added, "You could always start by making me coffee when we are back in the dungeons."

Robin let out a snort, then chuckled to herself, and at last nodded with a sigh and a smile. "If that's what it takes, I'll gladly make you coffee for the rest of the year as well."

"Tonight should be quite enough."

"How gracious of you."

"Why, pray tell, do you have to sass me at any given opportunity?"

"Someone's got to do it." Robin shrugged with a smirk, as they crossed the courtyard where it was actually quite a bit warmer than it had been out on the bridge. Maybe they would better stay in here again next year… but perhaps without all the columns between them.

"You still are truly insufferable!" He grumbled, but his hand returned to the small of her back at almost the same time nonetheless.

"It's a new year, not a new reality. What did you expect?" She raised her eyebrows with a laugh, and gladly let herself be led towards the dungeons once more.

"Of you? Absolutely nothing less."

_______________

For Snape's birthday, Robin had actually come up with three little things that she'd hoped wouldn't make him as uncomfortable in a combination as just giving him one obvious gift straight up. For one, she had throughout the day done her utmost to keep people from bothering him. That had basically entailed sitting around in the hallway in front of his office all day and keeping everyone from entering unless they had a really good reason to. An issue that Robin couldn't take care of herself. Thus she did a good amount of his work, but without his knowledge of course. Only in the evening, when she had 'randomly' brought chocolate cake to have with the usual coffee, she had admitted that she'd seen to it that he had a quiet day. However she only had told him because he had actually been concerned about the absence of the usual idiots throughout the day, and she'd felt bad to be the reason for his concern.

The third and last thing she wanted to give to him now was an actual gift, and she had been looking forward to this part of the present the entire day. With a mischievous smile, she placed a small jar on the table in front of him, which held nothing but a single golden pearl inside. He stared at the object for a few seconds with that intensely burning gaze, then directed the very same at Robin.

"What is this?" His tone was unusually shallow, and at the same time his eyes spoke volumes to her, in an entirely different language.

"What does it look like?" Robin asked in return, calm to the core, for she had come somewhat prepared for a reaction like this. It was rather understandable, actually, if not even very much reasonable. "It's my gift to you."

"You cannot seriously expect me to accept this."

"Whyever not?"

"Do you have any idea how rare these pearls are?"

"Of course I do." She shrugged with a smile. "That's why I'm giving it to you in the first place. There would be fairly little use in me giving you something you already possess, and as far as I'm aware, you didn't have any Alteria pearls. Until now."

"If you could come by this, it cannot be authentic." He reasoned to himself with a frown, and at last picked up the small jar with a careful touch to inspect the object inside. "These cost more than I could ever afford, and I actually get paid fairly well. Occasionally."

"It is as real as they get, I can promise you that. But if you don't believe me, you can always check for yourself."

"How can you promise something like that?"

"Because I know where I got it." Robin sighed, but her smile stayed. Maybe he would stop doubting her if she told him how she had acquired it indeed, but that would also kind of take away her own fun in his incredulous expression.

"You cannot give this to me, Robin, no matter where you bought it. It isn't a gift, but a fortune."

"Value is such a stupid concept." She rolled her eyes at him and leaned back in her chair. "This pearl in itself means nothing to me, I could toss it out of the astronomy tower without a second thought and very likely get me another within a day. But it means a lot to you, obviously, and to me that is where it gets its only value. It's only valuable if you keep it, and if it means something to you."

"You have a strange concept of value yourself." He said, but he couldn't beat Robin's arguments. "If you truly want me to consider keeping it, tell me who sold it to you, and how you could convince them to do so."

"I will tell you anything you want to know, but after that you will keep it, as my gift to you, without remorse, yes?"

"We will have to see about the remorse, but if it means so much to you then yes, I will keep it." A pause. "...Just so you stop bugging me."

"Thank you!" Robin rolled her eyes in exaggeration at his late comply, before she sat up straight once more to start explaining with a sigh. "Alright… First of all, you should know that I agree with you of course. Alteria pearls are extremely expensive if you try to buy them, and I am not crazy or rich enough to do that. Or stupid enough, for that matter. It would truly be a waste of money."

"Consider me confused, then."

"It's not at all confusing, actually, it just seems that something very basic escaped your notice for once. Now, before you get all scolding with me, it isn't a mistake, but more of a… negligence of alternatives."

"And your point is?"

"My point is that everyone tries to find a place to buy the ingredients they need, whether that be plants or animals or something like Alteria pearls. People are always looking for the place to buy it cheapest, or to buy it at all. What everyone, including you, seems to forget however is that finding the ingredients by yourself isn't actually all that difficult if you know where to look. I mean sure, there is the school gardens and the greenhouse, or even Hagrid's creatures, but do you ever go out beyond that to find the ingredients you usually would buy?"

"No… As a matter of fact, I do not." He replied with a mild frown that made him seem almost surprised at the realization. Probably he really hadn't considered doing something like that before. Robin smiled at him in silence while he seemed to think it through.

"Obviously not all ingredients can be tracked down without a trip around the world, but you can come by a surprising amount if you put a little time and effort into it." She went on to explain. "What I mean to say is that I didn't buy the pearl. I merely tracked it down for you. Sometimes knowledge is more valuable than money."

"No matter what I believe to know about you, you always manage to surprise me." He finally mused, with the faintest of smiles, as he twisted the small jar with the pearl in his hand. "Thank you for this gift."

"You are most welcome."

"Will you tell me how you found an actual Alteria pearl without leaving the school grounds? I am curious to know." He inquired with a real smile for once, a small one, but it was most definitely there. Robin's heart melted into mushy tingles once again.

"It takes away the entire mystery, but oh well…" She sighed with a mirroring smile and leaned forward as she started to explain. "I bargained with the Merpeople. Legilimency is actually a pretty good form of communication, and while I'm by no means actually good at it, it sufficed to tell them what I wanted and what I could offer in return."

"How did you even get to that point?"

"Plain old research. I'm actually surprisingly good at that." She laughed and brushed a stray piece of hair behind her ear, only for it to immediately untug itself again. "I read that Alteria pearls grow in some weird kind of oyster. It's black and has blue hair on the shell… looks beyond creepy, if you ask me. I still have it somewhere if you would like to see it, but it's rather useless. The condition under which they grow are very similar to the conditions in the deep parts of the black lake, so I thought my chances were good. I figured that the fastest way to find one was to ask the folks who live there. I've had my share of experience in trading though and thus I looked up something that the Merpeople might actually be interested in in return for their assistance."

"And what did you offer them?"

"Music." Robin shrugged with a smile. "I shared a few memories of music I love, and what that music felt like to me. They love music, sirens and selkies and their whole kin."

"I never would have thought of that."

"Well, I never would've thought of cutting something up instead of squeezing it out, or of heating something up before adding it to a potion to keep the temperature steady; all those little things to make the recipe better." She replied with a smile. "Would be pretty dull if everyone was good at the same thing, wouldn't it?"

"It certainly would be less productive for our work." He mused, and then looked at his empty cup in front of him with a risen eyebrow. "More importantly, it would be a shame if my ability to make coffee was as mediocre as yours."

"Sneaky…" Robin chuckled, but already picked up their cups from the table. "But I'll play along and do you the favor to make you coffee to prove how 'mediocre' my skills really are."

"Do feel free to prove me wrong."

"Oh, I will for sure."

_______________

One of the most dreaded things in the fifth year at Hogwarts –besides the inevitable OWLs– was 'the talk', as generations of students had called the career advice meeting that took place around the end of April. It was obviously supposed to show the students possibilities for what they could strive for after school, and which N.E.W.T. classes they would need to take to have a chance at getting into their chosen career path. Mostly, the students dreaded this conversation, for it entailed talk about grades and the future. Two topics most people at 15 or 16 weren't all too fond of.

As Robin discovered, the professors weren't all too fond of the talk either. At least one certain potions professor seemed to be dreading it quite as much as his students, and he made no secret of that fact either. Not in front of Robin at least, and she appreciated his honesty as always, even if she could do fairly little but listen to his complaints about her classmates over coffee on the night before the endless row of conversations would take place. What she could do and did do, however, was to offer that he could skip out on her own career advice session that was planned for late noon and use the time for a break instead. They could always talk about it after dinner over coffee, after all.

To Robin's surprise he actually deemed the suggestion a good idea and took her up on the offer, which unfortunately meant that Robin had to attend classes for the entire day, while most of the other students could skip out on at least fifteen minutes of classtime themselves. It was a terribly slow day, and Robin was only glad once it was time for dinner. During the meal, the career advice talks were the number one topic of conversation in every house, even among the lower years who listened curiously, and the higher years who shared their own experiences from the years prior. Robin shrugged most of it off and tried to tell herself that it wasn't a big deal, but she honestly dreaded talking about her future like it was some predictable certainty, something she could actually look forward to.

As it turned out, Robin's 'talk' started just like any other conversation she and Snape had every single night anyway. She made them coffee, mainly because he was looking so annoyed with the entire world already that she took pity on him, and they sat in his office at the small table just like they always did these days.

"So tell me, do you have an idea for what you would like to do after school?" He inquired with a risen eyebrow, and took a sip of his too hot coffee, only to scowl at it a second later.

"Not really. I don't see the point in deciding on something now only to change my mind later. I'll find something when the time comes."

"I'm certain you will."

"Is that how this conversation is supposed to go?" Robin asked with a humored frown, and crossed her arms on the edge of the table as she leaned forward.

"No. But I see no point in telling you what to do, for you will ignore it anyway and do what you yourself deem best."

"Well, what if I don't know that's best?" Her frown lost a bit of the humor in it. "What if I end up homeless under some bridge because I'm not good enough for anything?"

"Are you asking me or yourself?"

"Nevermind." She grumbled and leaned back in her chair with a start. One brain cell less, and she would've started pouting. He had a point.

"Going by your grades, you indeed are more than good enough at everything you do."

"That doesn't count."

"No?" He quipped, eyebrows raised in feigned surprise, as he went to recite by memory. "Exceeds Expectations in Astronomy, History of Magic and Divination; Outstanding in Charms, Transfiguration, Herbology, Care of Magical Creatures and quite obviously Potions… That does not count for you?"

"You forgot the Acceptable in Defense Against the Dark Arts." Robin mumbled to herself and stared down at her hands in her lap. Yeah, after the incident with the petrification, Morgan had actually dropped her an entire grade without any good reason. That arse…

"That is hardly your fault and you know it as well as I do." Snape said in an almost scolding manner that obviously did nothing to cheer Robin up. "Is it really so hard for you to be proud of your other grades merely because one isn't perfect?"

"Obviously. But I don't expect you to understand that."

"I believe I do though. Professor Morgan's unfair treatment of you doesn't pass by me without an equal seeping rage."

"But that's not even the point!" Robin groaned under breath, then sighed. "Sorry. Of course I'm angry about Morgan's idiocracy."

"But?"

"But I'm also angry because I don't have perfect grades in every subject. It probably sounds pathetic to you, especially because it doesn't actually matter for anything. I know that the OWLs will make up most of the final grade."

"Then why does it matter so much to you?"

"Because…" She stopped, thought, but still didn't know how to convey what she was thinking. Feeling. "It doesn't matter why it matters."

"To me it does, if it upsets you." He said, and the statement had Robin's heart skip a beat once more. Great… he was getting too good at making her tell him things without actually demanding it of her. It was unfair, when he used kindness to disarm her, and left Robin entirely defenseless.

"If I'm not perfect, I'm not good enough." She sighed, but couldn't bring herself to look him in the eye. "I define myself over my grades and it's stupid and pathetic and still I do it. When I'm not perfect, I'm nothing."

"Do you actually believe that?"

"I don't believe it, I'm not stupid enough to want to think something like that. I just… feel it." She shrugged, and picked at the corner of the table with her fingernail. "I always have."

For a moment, it was quiet. Snape didn't say a single word, until Robin finally gave in and looked up to meet his eye. "I am surprised."

"By what?" She asked right back, surprised herself that he didn't straight out tell her how stupid that was indeed.

"You give yourself so confident, and yet you tell me that you think so little of yourself." A pause, a shared glance, a million things unspoken but one. "I had no idea that you were so ridden by self-doubt."

"Sorry to disappoint." Her voice was but a whisper, her tone cold as ice as her gaze dropped back down to the black liquid in her cup. After a moment, it blurred together with the rest of the table, and then the entire thing was washed away by tears at last.

"You are disappointing no one but yourself." Snape finally said. "And you are prone to keep doing so if you measure yourself by impossible standards."

"You were the one who told me to be better! What did you think would happen?!"

"I expected you to push yourself, yes!" He snapped back with an irritated expression. "But you cannot blame this on me. I never wanted you to be perfect."

"Good for you, because I only would have disappointed you in that as well."

"As well as in what?"

"I don't know! Everything?!" She huffed and rolled her eyes to herself. "I may be quite good at school, alright, but what else is there to be proud of?! I'm terrible at dealing with people, nobody in my grade even talks to me anymore, and I'm probably the worst Slytherin there ever was! I'm nothing like the other people in this house! The stupid hat probably made a mistake by putting me here in the first place."

"You are right. You are nothing of what the general public expects of people in Slytherin. They are supposed to be lazy and irresponsible, arrogant, ignorant and most of all, so very proud of their heritage that they dismiss every thought of being just as flawed as everyone else."

"Thank you for summarizing it so very eloquently." Robin huffed again, but the general unease she felt just wouldn't make way for brighter thoughts.

"That however does not mean that you do not belong in this house." He simply ignored her comment and went on with a pointed look at her instead. "You are intelligent, resourceful, ridiculously loyal to those you deem worthy of it, and determined to reach any and every goal you set for yourself. And if that loyalty, ambition and passion of yours aren't some of the core principles of Slytherin, I would be ashamed to be the head of a house that values those qualities less than egotism and pride."

"Maybe. It doesn't matter." Robin said, even though she didn't believe her own words. Everything he said mattered to her, and especially if it was something that made her heart soar like that. But her brain was stuck in a downward spiral that it would take more to escape from than this.

"Then what does matter? Can you tell me that?" He sighed and leaned back in his chair in what looked a whole lot like defeat. Was he truly giving up on her already?

"No." Robin whispered, and her eyes filled with tears again, simply because of how pathetically annoying she was being. "I'm sorry… maybe I should just go."

"Don't even think that I would let you leave like that." He was quick to reply, and Robin slumped back down in her chair before she'd even gotten the chance to get up.

"Because we haven't finished the talk yet?" She asked with a sigh, and went back to picking at the edge of the table.

"Because you clearly are upset, and I have every intention to change that before I let you leave." He said, and Robin actually had to smile a little at his words. However when he got up from his chair, her eyes followed him to the door with a frown. "I will be back in a moment. You should use the time to think about what it really is that troubles you so much. Then perhaps we can solve the issue when I return."

"Where are you going?"

"You will see." With that, he closed the door behind himself and left Robin alone in the office.

A few minutes later, or more like a good while later, he returned and Robin immediately had to smile. He had brought chocolate cake.

"Have you thought about what the real problem is?" Snape finally asked, as they were both chipping off pieces of the cake that he'd placed in the middle of the table between them.

"I'm probably just having a bad day. Somehow, everything makes me nervous and then I say something wrong and then I get angry with myself… And then there's the whole career advice thing on top."

"I believe the cake might be a start on the generally bad day, but you will have to elaborate on what concerns you about the career advice if I shall be of any help to you."

"Alright…" Robin sighed, then finally looked up from the intricately decorated cake fork in her hand. "The whole 'talking about the future' thing is giving me anxiety. I mean, I do have good grades now, but I'm just so scared of failing when it actually comes to something important. And talking about OWLs and N.E.W.T. classes and careers is important enough to panic over. I just try to spare myself the disappointment of making plans and then finding out that I'm not good enough for any of them."

"That is reasonable and yet ridiculous. You haven't ever failed any classes before, not even a single essay in my class, which is remarkable enough on its own… What makes you believe that you might fail now?"

"Nothing in particular. It might be general anxiety, or just my own pessimism. Everyone is scared to fail though, so maybe I'm just being dramatic. Maybe I care too much about being better than everyone else."

"It might surprise you, but not nearly everyone cares about their work and their future as much as you do. Not nearly everyone has the capacity to care so deeply about anything at all, actually."

"Are you saying that it's a good thing that I panic over possibly screwing up my future?"

"Not necessarily a good thing, but it certainly makes you who you are. People are shallow, and you are the very opposite. I for my part have always had quite a distaste for shallow people. So you might actually consider your ways a good thing, yes." He stated, and waited for her to look at him before he continued. "You have absolutely no reason to be concerned, Robin. Your grades would make anyone go green with envy and I have no doubt that your OWLs will look even better than your current record. If you do not believe your own success up to this point, then perhaps you can at least believe me. And I am absolutely certain that you will achieve anything you set your mind to."

Robin's lips curled into a smile, and she found that she had to believe him no matter what. She wanted to believe him. Maybe worrying too much was a disadvantage she would have to live with if it meant she was granted to have passion in return. And oh, she had so much to be passionate about. So much to care about. Maybe she should pick out some N.E.W.T. classes indeed.

"Perhaps we should start over." He said after a moment, and sat up straighter in his chair. "Do you have an idea what you would like to do after school?"

"I'm always open for suggestions." Robin smiled in return, and her heart did that silly thing again where it probably could be heard in the entire room. "All I know is that I want to do something with potions. And study ingredients."

"Why am I not even remotely surprised?"

______________________________

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[komahinasecretexchange]

Title: maybe not star-crossed (but daybreak)

Author: @fieldofsunflowers8

For: @emmakoneko

Pairings: Hinata Hajime / Komaeda Nagito

Additional Characters: Kamukura Izuru, Nanami Chiaki

Rating: M

Warnings: No specific warning applies beside the ones that could be applied in Danganronpa in general

Prompt: Hajime realising he loves Nagito.

Author’s notes: hi!!! this is my exchange piece for the komahina secret exchange!!! this was super super fun to write, and i really hope my giftee likes it! special thanks to my friend for looking over this and making sure it’s coherent :D have a good day, loves!

Hinata Hajime is not a romantic, but romance fills his thoughts anyway.

It’s an identifier that isn’t exactly of importance, of course. Romance on Jabberwock Island, specifically in the aftermath of the Neo World Program, is something privately kept by each individual pairing. Occasionally, it’ll be the subject of harmless speculation on the slow days, but overall, it is just… a part of life.

A part of life that most of them never got to fully experience.

A part of life that Hinata doesn’t necessarily need to have a piece of.

A part of life that he wants, all the same.

He isn’t certain if it’s the influence of Kamukura on him that makes him hesitate in the face of it. The other is a lull in the back of his head most of the time, diminishing everything to uninteresting, and yet seamlessly taking control when Hinata gives the slightest hint of needing help, slipping into the role of the Ultimate Talent easily. It’s a difficult dynamic, and it would be a lie to consider it a linear sort of thing– lines blur when you are made to become another person, and further, residing with that person in the headspace.

Hinata wonders if, before it all happened, back at Hope’s Peak Academy in the suffocating reserve course dorms, with little to hope for… he maybe pined after romance in a desperate way, if he wanted something to break the suffocating silence, if it would all really be any different to him now.

It’s not something he needs right now, which is what he tries to convince himself matters the most. He has enough overwhelming quiet, and even more overwhelming noise. He has tasks to commit to– even though all of the Remnants have awakened, there are Future Foundation members to call, emails to send, resources to manage, buildings to reconstruct, surgeries to conduct… it keeps him busy, to say the least.

(He hardly allows himself more than the clinical, repetitive process of healing. Not his own healing– that is far from the forefront of his mind. Rather, constructing robot arms and extracting rotting body parts and starting up chemotherapy. For the others. Not him,

never him.)

Prioritizing romance is selfish, in all cases. Putting it before himself and everyone on the island, losing himself in the want of something he isn’t even sure he could recognize, if he saw it in front of him, if he had a flickering chance of love… it’s selfish. Excess. A lapse.

However, there is still a kind of yearning he keeps in the back of his mind, in the endlessly swallowing part of his throat, in the throes of his heart. A sort of fixation, solely focused on a single individual, who keeps him awake through restless nights and sends him directly to the infirmary for more work, who leads him to discover new places on the island that the person tends to frequent, who leaves him with an unfamiliar warmth that his body rejects like a disease because love is not-

One that defies all his wants and needs, all his thoughts on relationships and the others, all his thoughts on the person whom he thought he hated more than anything.

One fixated on Komaeda Nagito.

And this is where his doubt is born.

–

The first time he hears the name Komaeda Nagito is in a time before the seeds of despair were planted by his hands, before The Project became more than just a whisper of Hope’s Peak conspiracy and research. He hears it from Nanami Chiaki, before she became just a program, before an entire class gave into despair at the sight of her death.

He hears it from her at the fountain. Their fountain, he has taken to calling it, because while they aren’t exactly the only people to come here, they are most certainly the two students who frequent it the most. Before, it was a place to admire Hope’s Peak from a distance (one he maintained out of respect, or maybe self-hatred, or maybe an amalgamation of both), but after meeting Nanami, the cynical tones of the setting were replaced with a sort of safe haven.

It’s now comforting, for him, to hear the sound of her game starting up against the sound of rushing water, leaves and blossoms fluttering around them as the sun lights up the campus around them.

In all honesty, it’s easy to get lost in the surroundings, in his own thoughts, especially when he has the space to. Nanami rarely presses any matter, unless it is something she’s particularly passionate about, so Hinata zoning out isn’t exactly an issue for her. It’s not like she doesn’t do the same. Which leaves them with a pretty nice relationship, because either of them are free to completely lose themselves in their thoughts without having to make small talk.

However, he does jar himself back to reality to pay attention to the game she’s playing– it’s a survival game, which is sort of exciting, because that’s the kind of video game he thinks he’d be best at– and listens to the soft breath she always takes before she starts to speak.

“Do you know a lot of Ultimates, Hinata-kun?” is what she asks, her voice as dreamy as usual.

It’s sort of a harsh question unintentionally, since it sort of nags at the parts of him that wishes he could be an Ultimate, would do anything to be an Ultimate, but he shoves that down and keeps his voice casual. (It’s not a big deal, anyway. Nanami affirms him of his worth a lot, and really, he should just… accept that things are the way that they are. But it’s really, really not that easy. Not when everything seems to loom above him, dangling promises of talent and hope).

“Uh, not really?” he answers tentatively. “I mean, I know Koizumi, and I sort of know Kuzuryuu because I’m friends with his sister.” Friends is probably not the right word for it, but being her friend is pretty much impossible. “And I know you, of course. But, I dunno about the others.”

“Mm,” she hums. She focuses back on her game for a while, and Hinata focuses right alongside her, but she ends up speaking again only a few moments later. “I was just thinking… a lot of my classmates would really like you.”

“Oh?” He leans forward, just a bit. “I don’t really know much about them, but maybe?”

It’s not really relevant, in any case, or possible, because I’m a reserve. So, why do I want to entertain this impossibility?

“Well, I can tell you about some of them.” There’s some passion in her voice, underneath the languid sort of pace her words take.

He shrugs. “Sure.”

She opens her inventory as sort of a pause screen, organizing all of the items while talking. “There’s Mioda-san. She’s… sorta loud, but she’s the Ultimate Musician, so that makes sense, I think. She’s really optimistic, she likes bright colors… reminds me of a dancing game… you’d get along with her, probably.” The idea that Hinata could be friends with someone like Mioda Ibuki is unsettling in a hopeless way, but he’s interested in the descriptions regardless. “She gets along well with Pekoyama-san, who’s the Ultimate Swordswoman. She’s really pretty and quiet; she’s defensive over Kuzuryuu-kun, too. Like a Skyrim housecarl, kinda. I remember Komaeda-kun saying something, once, and she was immediately at Kuzuryuu-kun’s defense. I don’t think Komaeda-kun meant it badly, though.”

Hinata tilts his head. “Who’s Komaeda?”

Nanami bites her lip, stacking some potions before saying, “He’s the Ultimate Lucky Student. He’s… sort of an outcast, I think, but he cares about the class a lot. I wish he would talk to us more.” She puffs out her cheeks in a cute way. “You might like him… but you also might hate him. Maybe.”

“Why would I hate him?” From what Hinata’s hearing, maybe dislike would make sense, but hate sort of implies he would have done something… really off.

“Mm… Komaeda-kun has strong views on talent and hope. It might annoy you, but…” she sighs. “I dunno.”

That’s a vague description, but it gives Hinata enough information to sort of… make inferences. Of course, Hinata sort of expected some Ultimates to view talent as superiority, and he knew that some of the adults believed it, but to hear it being an actual thing from someone his age… sort of sucks. At least the rest of the class seems to not agree with it.

But… is Hinata really sure of that?

In any case, he tunes back into the way Nanami continues talking about her classmates, about a sheepish mechanic and a princess she seems to have a slight crush on. He laughs along with her, listens with intrigue and fascination at some of the things her class has done and somehow not gotten expelled for, and feels the sense of peace grow overtime (alongside his quiet bitterness).

All the while, though, part of his mind thinks about Komaeda with a… weird sort of interest.

(And for some reason, Hinata wants to both avoid him as much as possible– which might be a bit harsh, admittedly– and also… maybe meet him.)

–

Hinata doesn’t sleep well.

His sleep patterns vary. Sometimes, he falls asleep in a random place– he’s been found on the floor of the dining hall and at the beach, once, both instances embarrassing– and stays asleep for the better part of a day, barely brushing below twenty hours as he restores his energy. Then, he pushes himself, neglecting rest for three days straight until he downright collapses again.

He tends to get nightmares, too. When he’s sleeping deeply and for a long time, it’s not enough to jar him. When he first woke up from the Neo World Program, though, they were relentless, leaving him paranoid and guilty constantly for all he has done to his friends– his family, now.

His family that he needs to stay awake to care for. His family he has to keep intact– physically and mentally.

(He remembers that, for a week, all he saw in his dreams was a burning warehouse.)

He doesn’t sleep well, working on restocking and labelling all the medications they have in the infirmary, and he finds that none of the others sleep well, either. Some sleep too much, some function on caffeine and nothing else. But there’s one other person on the island that varies with Hinata, not exactly the same but similarly.

Komaeda.

Hinata’s been monitoring Komaeda’s progress closely, almost closer than the way he fusses over the others. Komaeda’s health is precarious, even with the rotting flesh of Enoshima’s arm fully removed from his body, and one of the facets of his lifestyle that directly impacts his not-ideal progress is his shitty sleep schedule.

A simple example: he falls asleep at 4:00 PM, wakes up at around 7:29 PM. He goes to the dining hall, all of the other inhabitants having finished dinner and retired to their rooms for the later parts of the afternoon, and eats a worryingly small portion of dinner. He goes to his room, stays up for hours, and falls again the following day at 10:00 PM, successfully bypassing lunch and repeating the process.

It’s horrible in every possible way– it doesn’t do wonders for his prognoses and mental health, and Hinata doesn’t like the dark circles under his eyes that grow more familiar with each progressing day.

(It doesn’t suit his face. Because, well, Hinata can acknowledge that Komaeda is very, very pretty. But the shadows are… worrying. He still looks beautiful, but he looks more fragile than he’s ever been, even in the green pods, and Hinata wonders why he’s worried in a way beyond medical observation.)

However, there is one benefit to it, a meek silver lining that could hardly be considered one at all: Komaeda and Hinata end up accidentally interacting quite a lot. Komaeda follows lights– buildings with fluorescents open, signalling that Hinata is currently occupying them– and Hinata follows the soft sounds of Komaeda hanging out at the beach, throwing rocks into the ocean or tripping on some ridges and yelping.

The latter ends up happening when he exits the infirmary and sees in the distance a white-haired man face first on the beach shore, and he sighs in a way that isn’t fully exasperated as he walks over to help him out (maybe fond, maybe fond).

Komaeda tilts his face, his cheek still buried in sand, and looks up at Hinata. He decisively accepts his help, straightening himself out and brushing the sand off his pants with a smile. His voice is cheerful– far too cheerful for 5:00 AM– as he says, “Good morning, Hinata-kun! I’m so sorry you had to see me in such a disgraceful way!”

Hinata rolls his eyes. “You weren’t disgraceful. You just tripped. Also, why are you even out here?”

Komaeda’s lips curl slyly. “Do you even have to ask, Hinata-kun?”

“Ah.” Fair enough. “Well, you should, uh, try to get some sleep.”

“Will Hinata-kun get some sleep?”

It’s equally frustrating to talk to Komaeda and get him to do anything… and interesting. There’s also a bit of heat that wants to pour into his cheeks, something he fights with a poker face, at the idea that Komaeda cares about his sleep schedule. Technically, a lot of people on the island do, but it all comes back to the inexplicable feelings he has around the other. In any case, Komaeda’s due for an answer. “I was actually heading back to my cabin to do that.” It’s sort of a lie. Sort of.

(He was probably going to lay awake, staring at the ceiling again. Maybe he’ll think about the other, maybe he’ll think about everything else.)

“Can I come with you?” Komaeda asks.

Hinata squints. “… Why? How would that help either of us sleep?”

“It could be relaxing to be near another person,” Komaeda defends, his logic slightly flawed. “But I understand that being around me is absolutely dreadful, and I shouldn’t impose even the disturbing thought upon another person. I apologize for that, Hinata-kun! I’ll get out of your sight, now!”

“Wait,” Hinata finds himself saying before Komaeda can actually leave. The other stops and looks at him, a curious but not demanding expression in his murky grey eyes. It’s sort of cute. Hinata isn’t sure why, why he looks at the other in that way.

It’s with a defeated sigh that he says, “You can come with me,”

and Komaeda’s eyes light up in a way that’s really, really endearing.

–

The first time he meets Komaeda is a month after his conversation with Nanami.

Stress has settled onto his shoulders, making a permanent residence there, as exams approach at increasingly rapid paces and life-changing emails chase him forward, forward, forward. He finds little enjoyment in his spaces between classes, isolating himself up in his room and hardly having time to reply to any of his friends (not that there’s an overwhelming number of people on that list). Occasionally he takes a break, but these times just remind him that he has so much to do, so much to consider, his entire life might change with a few signatures and-

-he needs a breather.

He ends up leaving half-finished history homework on his tiny desk, nearly tripping over his laundry bin in exhaustion as he makes his way out of the dorms. He figures a small walk might do him some good, since he’s hardly seen the sun as of recent and it might be less intimidating to think through things when he has fresh air to breathe and the soft ambience of nature surrounding him.

He hums to himself for the first part of his walk, careful to stay out of the way of others, but he eventually falls into silence as the number of people around him dwindles. He’s tired– he’s so, so fucking tired– and he should probably be adjusted to fatigue and restless nights, since he’s not exactly new to overworking himself, but he hasn’t. Not fully. And God, he’d probably kill for a nap, for someone to hear him scream everything he thinks, to go to a completely different school for a few days and relax.

But would he even want that? Would he know what to do with so much free time? Would it even be okay, going to a place that would view him as equal, not endlessly lesser than another sector of the school? Would it even make sense to be worth something, when he has spent so long not being worth anything?

It’s in this rumination that he ends up near him and Nanami’s fountain, and he almost expects to see her there…

… but instead, he sees someone else.

The Main Course uniform is the first thing he sees, the red tie loose around the Ultimate’s neck, their jacket still buttoned properly. They must have been out there for a while, since their white hair, unruly atop their head, is slightly ruffled from the wind. Their grey-green eyes that remind Hinata of mercury he had seen in chemistry class is focused on the pavement, but looks up when Hinata’s footsteps grow closer. On their face, there’s a pleasant smile, one that Hinata finds strikingly pretty…

… one that disappears when they make eye contact with Hinata.

He can’t say he expected anything other than this.

“I thought reserve course classes were still in session,” they muse, which is an interesting conversation starter in any case. Paired with the way they were almost glaring at Hinata, it left him with… an unsettling feeling.

“They, uh, aren’t,” he replies eloquently. “They ended a bit ago.”

“Ah.” They smile, slightly, but it looks… more cold than friendly. “Can I get a name? Or should I just refer to you as ‘reserve-kun’?”

Hinata quickly decides he doesn’t like this person. “Uh, Hinata Hajime.”

They nod. “Komaeda Nagito.”

That name is… kind of familiar.

Oh. Oh. That’s the name of Nanami’s classmate. The Ultimate Lucky Student, who has strong views on talent and hope, if he remembers Nanami’s words correctly. Someone that Hinata would either like or hate– and it is strongly veering towards the later– someone who is a bit of an outcast. Someone who Hinata isn’t sure if he should have a lot of pity for, or none at all.

He’s heard more stories since, ones where Komaeda is a background character. He’s gotten the vague idea that aside from his unsettling opinions, he also tends to be an overall concerning individual, with a shocking inferiority complex, calling himself trash near constantly. It seemed to worry Nanami, which in turn worried Hinata.

But from the way this guy is talking, it doesn’t really seem like this guy feels inferior at all. At least, not compared to Hinata. Which is…

… not surprising.

Hinata isn’t really sure how to progress the conversation, especially one that started this oddly, so he figures he should make do with this new information, asking, “Oh, you know Nanami, right?”

“Nanami-san is my classmate, yes.” He tilts his head to the side and sits up a bit straighter. “You must be the reserve she’s friends with, then. In retrospect, I remember she’s mentioned your name once or twice. I thought she was kidding.”

Yeah. Hinata definitely doesn’t like this guy. “Well. She wasn’t.”

“So it seems.”

This conversation is going nowhere. “Well, I’m gonna go. And, uh. Finish my walk. So-”

Before Hinata can leave, Komaeda speaks up. “Don’t you feel awe, Hinata-kun, walking around Hope’s Peak, looking at a school filled with such hope and talent?” He punctuates those words, wrapping his arms around himself and looking up at Hinata. “Doesn’t it put you in your place? Knowing that you’re a stepping stone for hope, just here to further the Ultimates’ abilities? Isn’t it beautiful, so beautiful that you know you’re unworthy of it? Do you have another purpose aside from this, or do you put your value in mindlessly pacing the perimeter of Hope’s Peak Ac-”

“What the hell are you even talking about?” Hinata interrupts. This guy looks really worked up over the random bullshit he’s saying. He’s managed to get under Hinata’s skin really fast– which, yeah, Hinata has kind of a temper, but Jesus Christ.

This must be the whole concerning thing.

Komaeda just smiles wider. “You’re rather disrespectful for a reserve. Shouldn’t you be worshipping me? I mean, I’m utterly worthless in every possible way and deserve to be destroyed like the filth I am– but at least I’m an Ultimate.”

Hinata gives up, walking away from the other and running an agitated hand through his hair. He can hear Komaeda laughing raspily, still at the fountain, and it just forces his steps to go quicker.

(The most aggravating part of all of that is that it hurt. It shouldn’t– the opinion of a slightly-unhinged, annoying, pretty Ultimate shouldn’t hurt him. But it did.

Because there was some truth in that mess of shit he was saying. Hinata is inferior. Hinata would always be inferior to the Ultimates he looks up to– not as much as Komaeda said, but still. The whole being a stepping stone thing, he didn’t get, but… he is unworthy of this place. That much is true. That much hurts.)

He decides, without much hesitation, not to mention the encounter to anyone.

–

“Uh, make yourself at home, I guess,” Hinata says when Komaeda steps into his cottage, his eyes wide as he looks around the scene. Which is fair– Hinata hasn’t exactly had time to clean the place, and he’s sort of a restless sleeper, so it’s a shitshow of a mess, as of current. Komaeda’s room, from what Hinata’s seen, is a lot neater than this, so hopefully he isn’t all that judging.

(Not that Hinata really cares about Komaeda’s thoughts on his cabin.)

“Thank you, Hinata-kun,” Komaeda replies politely, sitting on the edge of the bed. Hinata sits beside him, and they both ignore the bed sheets that are tangled at their feet. “Once again, I apologize for intruding.”

“I invited you,” Hinata points out.

Komaeda frowns a bit. “Well, yes, but-”

“I wouldn’t have invited you if I didn’t want you here. I don’t exactly do things out of pity or kindness when I’ve been awake for over a day,” he states bluntly.

The other stares at him with a weird expression in his eye, something like understanding. “Ah.”

“Yeah.” Hinata kicks the sheets. “Speaking of.”

“Are you going to sleep, Hinata-kun?” Komaeda sort of teases, but there’s a level of seriousness in it. Hinata sort of hates the way the other makes him feel like he’s fucking up by neglecting himself (which is sort of an oxymoron in thought, but). It’s something Komaeda has always done– made Hinata feel like a fuck up, that is– but it’s sort of different, now, when it’s more of a constructive criticism than a blatant attack.

He’s not sure how he feels about the change.

“I was going to talk about you sleeping, actually,” he retorts, clearing his throat.

Komaeda smiles mischievously. “Did you invite me here just to watch me sleep? How flattering, Hinata-kun, but I assure you I would not be able to do harm to others or myself whilst asleep.”

“That’s,” he takes a deep breath, “not what I meant.”

“Ah, okay. Sorry for assuming!”

“It’s fine?” It sounds too much like a question to his ears, but. Whatever. “I just meant, like. I’m sort of concerned about your health.”

“This doesn’t seem like the mood to discuss this,” Komaeda observes.

Hinata blinks. “Was there a specific mood set by any of this?”

Komaeda looks unimpressed. “Hinata-kun, we’re in your room at 5:00 AM, spending time together. I don’t think this is ideal for a medical visit– especially considering how exhausted you are. I thought you were more trying to be a person than a doctor, right now.”

… There’s some truth in that. There’s some pain in that. Hinata doesn’t try to be inhuman in any way, but he knows, deep down, that it’s a difficult task to accomplish. Months of conditioning combined with the instinctual drive for survival resulted in Kamukura’s eternal boredom and apathy to manifest as a defense mechanism, one that Hinata employs in situations that aren’t necessarily defense-requiring. Like administering medicine, or investigating his own psyche, or trying to breach any topic with Komaeda.

He hates it, but it’s part of him, neither nature nor nurture. Just… a trait, forced upon him, one he has to adapt to.

“Hinata-kun?” Komaeda’s smile is thin. “I apologize for overstepping!”

“It’s fine.” He sort of has a headache. Maybe he should sleep. “You’re right. Sorry.”

“Ah, Hinata-kun doesn’t have to apologize! He can do whatever he likes! I still appreciate him regardless!” he reassures enthusiastically, in an almost adoring way.

… And. The thing is.

Hinata has been viscerally aware of Komaeda’s attraction to him ever since he awoke from the Neo World Program. It didn’t take overwhelming amounts of self reflection and memory analysis to realize that Komaeda has had feelings for him, ever since the Despair Era, when neither of them were the person they are now or were before it all began. It’s present in Servant’s endless worship and Komaeda’s subtle (and sometimes, less subtle) affections.

It’s something that Hinata thought, initially, he could just… accept. The fact that the other likes him is simply a fact of life, like the fact that this same individual is still suffering from frontotemporal dementia and lymphoma, like the fact that the other has trauma neither of them can even begin to impact, like the fact that Hinata is privy to entirely too much about the other that he’s hardly aware of.

This is why his yearning and fondness for Komaeda, despite his conflicting thoughts of romance, takes him by surprise. The idea that Komaeda’s affections could be requited is a shocking concept to both of them, one that might be earth-shattering or simply a natural progression of their current behavior. It’s a thought that he keeps in the back of his mind, primarily, believing that not much can be done until Komaeda heals.

And yet, it surfaces in the quiet moments like this, where Komaeda has that energetically adoring expression, where the moonlight accentuates his face in a pretty way that will only get more beautiful with daybreak, where Hinata is just staring at him mindlessly. It surfaces like this, and Hinata wonders, to himself, if he loves the other.

If this is how it comes to him.

“Hinata-kun?”

Or maybe it’s just a lapse.

“I’m tired,” he replies, which isn’t a proper response but it is the only thing he can find himself saying, right then.

Komaeda nods and starts to stand up, “Ah, okay! I apologize if I bored you, I know I can tend to do that. I hope you sleep well, Hinata-kun-”

Hinata catches his wrist.

“Maybe,” he inhales. “You can stay? And sleep beside me?”

Komaeda’s face shifts, emotions spreading across his face like auroras, but they’re quickly stifled by another smile, one that seems a bit more genuine. “Ah, of course! Whatever Hinata-kun wants.” He takes the eagerness Komaeda exhibits while taking off his shoes and scooting to the center of the bed as confirmation that Komaeda wants this as well.

It’s odd how Hinata has the courage to ask something like that, despite everything.

Hinata draws the curtains closed, hoping that the sun won’t wake them up, and he slips beside Komaeda in bed. The other adjusts well to sleeping in someone else’s bed, all things considered, but he looks fairly stiff all the same. Hinata knows there’s nothing he can do to change his slight discomfort– anything he could do would be a bit too courageous, and he’s already expressed a lot of bravery considering that he’s more contemplative than rash, at the moment.

So he lays down beside him, facing the other who faces away, and he finds himself tracing the contours of his body (innocuous and entirely unrelated to medical concerns), the way his hair curls against his nape, how his hands lay at his sides. It calms him to study the other, and he wonders if that is love, if all of this is love, even if he has a thousand other concerns.

It takes a pathetically short five minutes before he says, “Komaeda…?”

“Yes, Hinata-kun?” Komaeda still sounds awake. He wonders if he was planning on sleeping at all.

He breathes out a soft exhale. “Can we talk?”

–

He does not see Komaeda again until after despair overcomes the world.

But by then, both him and Komaeda are separate people. The memories prior to the creation of himself– Kamukura Izuru, that being– are vague and only documented in a diary that Hinata Hajime struggled to maintain. And Servant, while not suffering direct memory loss of everything regarding Hope’s Peak Academy, does not appear to want to verbally recall anything regarding the school to Kamukura. This could be from lack of trust. This could be his nature.

They meet in a bloodied street, bodies scattered across the asphalt in an unpleasing way. From an aesthetic standpoint, it is disgusting, but Kamukura does not necessarily dislike it. He does not dislike anything.

He only finds this despair base.

Servant’s hands are dirtied from crusted blood, which is to be expected. His hair is awry, his face in a considerably tormented frown, and his attire is dirtied aside from his chain that drags obnoxiously loud on the pavement.

Kamukura clears his throat.

His face shifts drastically when he sees Kamukura, which is the most interesting part of his appearance, as of current, and he immediately drops to his knees. It is certainly an interesting display, yet predictable, and Servant’s voice is raspy when he says, “Kamukura Izuru.”

“So you have heard of me.” That is understandable. The only reason Kamukura is at this location, after all, is because Enoshima requested prior to her death that Kamukura take ownership of Servant. She had considered it a present to him, but Kamukura finds nothing to be a gift, especially when it is at her hands.

One of her hands is severed and attached in place of where Servant’s would be. Expectable.

“You’re the Ultimate Hope,” he breathes. “I- I have been looking for you-”

“How convenient,” he cuts off his likely obnoxious rambling. He does not want to hear about his godhood from the lens of a worshipper. “As I was looking for you.”

Servant’s face flushes. “You were looking for me? Ahaha, I’m sure you must be mistaken.”

“Enoshima stated that in her death, you were to be my property. Transitive ownership.” His face twists at the sound of her name, which is not necessarily expected, but can be easily explained retroactively. “You are mindlessly idling, as of current. You plan to travel to Towa City, but have not done so yet. You have killed seventeen people directly in your time of being a Remnant of Despair, but you are growing bored.”

Despite his wide eyes and droll expression, Servant is clever enough to catch on. “You would like me to travel with you, Kamukura-kun? I warn you, I am useless in every possible way and unworthy of your presence.”

Kamukura glares at him. “I will determine that.”

“… Understood.” Servant hesitates before standing up, and there is shocking amounts of excitement in his expression. “I apologize for being overeager, I’ve never travelled with someone like this before. Someone like you before.”

“That is to be expected,” Kamukura says as he begins to walk, stepping over corpses with grace as the Remnant beside him trips and stumbles, babbling about despair and hope and talent all the way.

From there, an attachment forms. They continue to travel in this manner, relocating from place to place with little but each other’s companionship (and what they can find, in this cataclysmic scenario– assorted piles of canned vegetables and month-old water bottles). Along the way grows learning, basic answers to questions that benefit both of them only slightly, though prove to be boring, as Kamukura does not have a favorite color or movie or food. But the basis of small talk leads to a more expanded exploration of morality, of death and life and the liminality of such matters, philosophy and physics and their prediction for where the world will be.

Kamukura discovers, then, that Servant is not capable of matching him in intelligence. However, he nears close to having this ability, exhibiting his cleverness in a distinctly separate way than how Enoshima enforced her analytical prowess upon her victims. It is refreshing, to have this difference. It is refreshing, by extension, to have him.

That is how the evolution of their relationship begins.

Sexual ties between them have been present from the start. Servant is poor at concealing his overwhelming attraction to the other, and Kamukura has curiosities he was not interested in exploring with Enoshima. Thus begins tumultuous, albeit safe to an extent, exploratory intercourse, which Kamukura finds not particularly boring.

Then becomes an inherent domesticity in residing together, in sharing beds (although, Servant only allows himself to sleep beside Kamukura if he is particularly in pain, that day. Kamukura does not necessarily mind if Servant continues to sleep beside him, but it is a matter of principle that is tedious to undo, especially with no distinct want to commit effort to it). Along with sleeping together, there is having meals together, defending each other from robotic Monokumas when it becomes necessary, and even reading together.

It is all not particularly interesting. It is all not particularly boring. It exists in a grey area that Kamukura struggles to define.

He dislikes struggling.

There is a particular day, once, that he would consider lucky (were he to indulge in this thought towards Servant, the other would likely break down) due to the numerous realizations had. The primary one, and the most convoluted one by far, is the realization that he is perhaps infatuated with the other.

It comes whilst Servant is asleep, his body bare aside from the marring of bruises and hickeys, thin sheets layered in dust resting atop him. Kamukura observes him from where he sits at the edge of the bed, admiring the way the red sky highlights Servant’s body in an almost rosy way, porcelain skin glimmering with red contours that made the Ultimate Artist in Kamukura transfixed. Part of him desired to reach out and trace his body on impulse– and it would not be the first time he sought touch out of poorly placed impulse. However, he refrains.

A small part of him– a romantic, likely, in all but practice– finds that touching him may, perhaps, detract from the natural beauty he exudes. It is not like Kamukura is anything other than manmade.

This is a thought that crosses his mind often. Rather, the latter is. However, with Servant in his life as a catalyst, the frequency of such thoughts rapidly accelerates, and he finds a sense of permanence in the other. Something he is rather interested in exploring, given the time. There are many, many inquiries he would indulge in, given the time.

They are not given time.

He had prepared an injection in advance, one to make Servant unconscious for approximately 48 hours. It is enough time to execute a procedure that would remove Servant’s memories of Kamukura, a similar procedure that he will attempt to repeat on himself (he has done thorough research into lobotomies due to his experiences. Even without this research, it would not be a particularly difficult task. However, his emotions pose a hindrance). He is aware that he should inject Servant now, as, according to his predictions and intuition, he has confidence in the fact that the Future Foundation will locate them within that period of time.

He would like to evade them. He knows he is able to, that he has a capacity to outwit them, that Servant would heed every command necessary to guarantee their survival. After all, there is no certainty in the prospect that the Future Foundation would keep them alive.

Despite this, Kamukura is… curious. He is intrigued as to what the Future Foundation will do, once they capture him and Servant, and he knows that they cannot evade the Future Foundation forever. They will grow bored.

It is regrettable, he thinks as he injects Servant with the serum, stroking his hair for purely selfish purposes as he does so. It is regrettable that they did not have infinite time together. However, Servant is dying to his own illness, and Kamukura is dying, metaphorically, to the boredom that he can not fully stave away, even with his agreeable companionship. It is poetic, in the same sense, that they will be captured and perhaps be executed before they could fully breach the barrier of worship and love, something Kamukura is not certain he could attain.

In all senses, it is over, and Servant will not remember him by the time he awakes in the grasp of the Future Foundation.

(A part of Kamukura recalls their first meeting with feigned nostalgia, remnants of the emotion that must have existed before his creation, and he wonders– or, cynically, he hopes– that he may meet the other again, and finish the life they began.)

–

Komaeda rolls over and smiles, slightly sleepy. “What do you want to talk about, Hinata-kun?” After a pause, he asks, “Do you want me to leave?”

“No,” he says with a little too much force. “I’ve just had some. Things on my mind. That I want to talk about?”

It’s sort of a half-truth, because it feels wrong to say that it’s been something on his mind. Because it has been, and it has been for a while– but he hardly knows if what he’s feeling is love, if it’s worth indulging in this when he has so much to work on. If he can even be certain of his thoughts at all.

But he wants to talk to Komaeda– maybe to get perspective, and finally decide.

So, he closes his eyes and starts talking. “I was thinking about the simulation, and before. More specifically, us.”

He can hear the bitterness in Komaeda’s voice when he says, “Ah. How I betrayed and belittled you?”

“Not exactly.” But it’s part of it. “… You said in the simulation that you were in love with me, right?”

There’s a pause. One that’s long enough that Hinata almost wants to open his eyes, but he needs to isolate himself in his thoughts temporarily, dissect the words and his feelings and come to a conclusion. It’s something he’s good at (but love isn’t survival games, or class trials. If they were, he would have figured this out a long time ago, back when Nanami was still around).

When Komaeda eventually speaks, it’s brief but telling. “… Yes.”

“And. You didn’t like me much before all of that, but… as Servant, you-”

“Worshipped and admired Kamukura-kun, yes.” He sounds almost nervous. Komaeda rarely sounds like this, and it’s almost enough to stop pushing. “… Why do you ask? Don’t you already know this, Hinata-kun?”

Hinata sighs. “Yeah, technically. But I’ve been thinking about it more, and…” he opens his eyes, now. Komaeda’s face is vacant– no smile, no frown, just a straight line that wavers if he stares hard enough. His eyes are filled with emotion he can’t uncover, emotions he doesn’t want to uncover. But… he watches them carefully regardless, makes note of how they shift. “We’ve had an interesting relationship, throughout all our time knowing each other. In our one encounter back at Hope’s Peak, we didn’t get along, and things in Despair were… intimate, yet twisted.”

“That’s one way to consider it,” Komaeda says, and it isn’t quite hatred in his voice, but something close. Something Hinata knows not to take personally.

“And. I’ve been thinking about where it leaves us, now. And– I mean, it’s something in the back of my head, but not really. Filling all my thoughts? It just sort of came up while we were sitting here, before I said we should sleep, and sometimes I think about it when I’m not working around the island. So it’s sort of…” a dormant thing, has been in the back of my mind forever because I put it there, because I didn’t want to accept that I like you, because I’m too afraid and I know you are too, but there’s something about you, something about this, and I’m curious to know where it goes- “Yeah.”

Komaeda nods. “I see.”

“I think you know where I’m going with this.”

There’s a silence. Then- “I’d rather not.”

“… Rather not what?”

He already knows, but he wants to hope, wants to hope that Komaeda will allow himself this, despite everything. And yet…

… “Rather not believe what you are implying, Hinata-kun.” And the bitterness is directed at him this time, but Komaeda has always tore at him claws to hide something else, whether it be personal insecurity or infatuation or fear. Hinata thinks it might be all three, now. “You are aware of my love for you, how you could use it to your benefit, how you could disregard me and I would-” his breath catches.

“Komaeda?”

“… hardly complain,” he finishes. “I would hardly complain if you used me, because it’s you. You’re aware that you could make this so easy– and you aren’t even certain of this. I’ve been certain ever since I knew you, even when I hardly knew anything about you, even when I stayed with you to wake up on that island, I knew. But you don’t, and you could make it so easy and just give up on me, because it’s not like I would love you less or hate you more, but you’re acting on impulse. You rarely act on impulse, so why are you…”

There are tears in Komaeda’s eyes.

“… When I first met you,” Hinata starts. “I thought you were pretty. An asshole, but pretty. In despair, Kamukura was interested in you, and he was bored of everything else, even her. And he knew your worship, and that was the most boring part of you, to him, because he didn’t like being treated like a god, not by you. And… and in the simulation, I remember the betrayal I felt when I knew one of the only people I trusted turned their back on me. And- and when I saw your corpse-”

Komaeda shakes his head, but Hinata doesn’t stop. “-When I saw your corpse, I was so fucking pissed, because you’re smart and fucked up and I almost missed you that trial, despite everything. And despite everything, now when I woke you up, when I had to run into the infirmary and out of it and had to do all those fucking psychodives to get you out, I thought it was worth it.”

“Hinata-kun.”

“I thought– I knew, and I know– that you are worth it.”

And even though Komaeda’s stare is intimidating, and even though Hinata’s so uncertain of everything right now, he’s confident in that.

He’s never been more confident in anything, actually.

–

When Hinata wakes up on an unfamiliar island, with an aching head and endless questions about his surroundings, he’s greeted by a stranger, with a slight smile on their face. They had slightly tostled white hair, cloudlike and wispy, that falls just above their dim green eyes, and they have a slender yet alluring physique that Hinata almost finds pretty, in his dazed state.

After they confirm that Hinata is awake, they introduce themself. “… I’m Komaeda Nagito. Nice to meet you.”

Hinata accepts the hand he offers him and stands up, brushing sand off his pants (why are they at a beach?) and replying, “Hey, I’m Hinata Hajime.”

Komaeda leads him around the island, introducing him to all the others that had left him behind, unconscious, on the beach (he can’t really blame him. He’s still embarrassed about how he just… passed out. At least Komaeda isn’t judging him for it). He offers his own quips and commentary about the island, one Hinata finds insightful, if not slightly odd at times, and he begins to develop a trust for the other.

Sort of. Because, well, it’s not like he can really trust anyone, when they all woke up on a random fucking island with no idea of what’s going on, aside from some random shit a rabbit tells them. But, for as weird Komaeda can sometimes be and the weird situation they’re in, he establishes him as trustworthy early on. Someone to rely on, even when everything goes to hell.

(And littered in there, far enough in the back of his head that he sort of forgets about it, he is sort of infatuated with the other. In a super base way– because he’s a teenager, c’mon– but, still. Komaeda’s pretty, and he’s friendly, and he thinks there’s some significance in that.

Of course, everything changes when the first murder occurs. When the trial happens, and truths are revealed. When everything spirals downwards for the rest of their ‘island vacation’, and Hinata realizes that Komaeda should have never been trusted at all.

… But he can’t bring himself to hate him, despite everything. Even when he’s faced with his corpse.)

–

There is a long silence that fills the room, after his admission.

It’s understandable, considering that Komaeda… has never quite had anyone stay by his side as long as Hinata has. He’s probably never considered the possibility of requited love or care of anything, has never been able to reconcile with the idea that Hinata wants to stay despite the fucked-up mess of trauma and disease his brain is filled with. He probably finds himself vacant, like Hinata does, sometimes, like every quirk about him that makes him distinctive and worthy of love is completely null, and that he is cursing Hinata by being around him this long.

It’s more fucked up than Hinata can sometimes conceptualize, but. As he said, it’s worth it.

Hinata breaks the silence, knowing that he should be patient with the other, who has had his mentality partially shattered in a brief period of time, but slightly worried that the progress they’ve made would fall at a stalemate in complete silence. “… Komaeda?”

“Hinata-kun.” His voice is both empty and emotional, and it leaves an ache in Hinata’s chest. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I understand, still. I’m not…” he trails off.

“You are worth it,” Hinata insists, because he knows the way that Komaeda thinks, knows where his mind is going. “We don’t have to do anything, or be anything, if you don’t want to. I just… thought you should know, and I’ve been thinking about it a lot, so. Thought it was worth saying.”

“Worth,” Komaeda echoes quietly. His laugh is at the same volume, raspy and choked. “I… I really like you, Hinata-kun, but I can’t let you endanger yourself.”

Hinata shakes his head. “Your luck can’t affect me badly, remember? I’m lucky too.”

“It has in the past. Before you remember. When me and Kamukura-kun were together, and how bad luck and consequent good luck would follow us around. He thought it was interesting. I knew we weren’t safe. And we weren’t.” He sighs, and Hinata wants to reach out and brush his cheek with his fingertips, ensure that he isn’t just a ghost. “If I hurt you, Hinata-kun-”

“You won’t,” Hinata argues.

Komaeda raises his voice, slightly. “But if I do, then I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. Knowing that you chose to have something with me, despite all your responsibilities and all the risks I bring to you just by existing… it would kill me, Hinata-kun. I’m already dying and I’ve done it once, but… it would really, really kill me. I don’t think I would be able to lose you. I don’t…” He looks so tired.

Hinata reaches out, then, and intertwines their fingers. Komaeda doesn’t push him away, and he takes it as a good sign. “You aren’t going to lose me. And I know we can’t be certain of what’ll happen in the future, but… I think we deserve something good. So much bad shit has happened, and we’re healing and everything, but I think we also deserve to find something like… hope. In each other. Y’know? And, obviously, it’s only if you want. I’m not gonna, like, make you date me, or something.” He squeezes his hand. “But, I don’t want you to keep yourself from someone you want– something we want– out of fear. We’re not going to die, Komaeda. And even if we did… every second that led to it would be worth it.”

Komaeda’s eyes flutter shut. It hurt to see the pain in his eyes, but his scrunched eyebrows and shaky lip is almost worse. “I… I don’t know what to do.”

“What do you want to do?” Hinata asks gently.

“I…” he cuts himself off, thinking in silence as Hinata rubs circles into his palm. Eventually, his eyes open, and his expression is tentative and a bit scared, but Hinata can see some hope in it. It’s almost enough to make him smile, but he fights it off and waits for Komaeda to finish. “I… I want this. But, I don’t deserve it.”

“You want it,” Hinata reminds him softly, “and I want it. So, I think it’s okay for us to have, yeah?”

He hesitates, but eventually says, “… Maybe.”

“Maybe,” he repeats, and then he gives him a slight smile. “I can work with maybe.”

Komaeda responds with a fleeting smile, one that makes Hinata let go of his hand and tug him forward into a warm embrace. Komaeda’s face nestles into the other’s shoulder, and he can hear a muffled voice whisper, “I love you, Hinata-kun. I really do.”

A weight he thought would permanently be on his shoulders disappears, and he breathes out a long sigh of relief as he tightens his grip on Komaeda’s waist. And, with a voice that echoes himself through all of the years of knowing Komaeda, through the stress and irritation and curiosity and trust, in a journey that was just as much his as it was theirs, he says, “I love you too.”

Even after everything.

[alto-angel]

in this post, i would like to present my thesis on why the song metaphor by the crane wives belongs to goro akechi.

"i've gotten good at leaning on metaphors": goro's speech as the detective prince is very flowery, exaggerated, and calculated, in order to please the crowds of people with their eyes trained on him at all times. public appearances, television shows, and interviews are all very important for his image, and as such he's forced to adapt his speech and choose his wording carefully to appease those watching. robbie daymond especially does a very good job of vocally pushing the line of politeness into a tone that sounds just a bit too sugary to be genuine, but not something u would notice unless u were listening closely.

"i've gotten good at living on someone else's page": much like the first line, this one can also refer to goro's public image. because he's put an immense amount of work into his life as the detective prince, he aims to please. or at least, he needs to act as though he does. in order to keep up appearances, he needs to be able to get a read of those around him and keep himself on the same wavelength as them. this also applies to shido—not only does goro need to please his fans, but shido as well, in order to stay one step ahead of him. goro is purposefully putting himself on eggshells every day of his life, and in order to keep that up as well as keep himself safe, this is what he has to practice.

"i cut my teeth on secondhand sentiments": goro is often forced to follow a script, or at least an embellished, public-friendly version of his own thoughts. the things that he says when acting as the detective prince are rarely ever his own thoughts as they would be presented in normal conversation. goro has to hide his true opinion of the phantom thieves behind crowd pleasing buzzwords, keep up appearances by catering his opinions, and even quotes philosophers and other literature ("to paraphrase hegel"). the things that he says as detective prince goro akechi are rarely ever entirely his own, and he's gotten very good at tailoring his speech.

"you can't trust a single thing i say": this one, i think, is fairly self-explanatory. the "you" doesn't just apply to the phantom thieves, but to those goro works with as well. what is it he says to sae; "to trick your enemies, you must first trick your allies"? he uses deception to get what he wants, but his primary motivation for it is to move his plan forward, and to protect himself. obviously, if he were honest with shido, he would've been killed on the spot. goro's proficiency with lies isn't just a tool he uses, but a defense mechanism as well. bc of his fear of and difficulty grasping the concept of opening up to someone, through that skill, he is able to keep himself closed off and in control (that is, until he meets akira).

"i keep my closet free of skeletons": this one strikes me as irony, personally. goro's closet is so full of skeletons that it's practically bursting at the seams. but as the detective prince, something like that just isn't allowed. he needs to play the part, otherwise he pays the price. as himself, as goro akechi, he's got so many skeletons in his closet that he probably can't open the door anymore. but as the detective prince, he has to uphold an air of perfection that seems unattainable to others. goro as the detective prince is the epitome of the culture behind the idolization of celebrities, and the way others place and expect them on pedestals of something near godhood, far above the rest of the world.

"cause i'm much better at digging graves": well, goro akechi is certainly no stranger to the art of killing someone without a trace. we have no idea how many shutdowns or breakdowns he induced over the course of his professional relationship with shido. but i also think this lyric in tandem with the one right before it could relate to goro's tendencies towards repression; the idea that he cannot and should not have any "demons" or "skeletons"—such as past traumas, meaningful relationships, or feelings that he's jammed down and shut the closet doors on, if u will—bc since vengeance is his only objective, then digging graves is his primary task, or the only thing he's good for, in his mind. the word skeletons doesn't have to represent mistakes specifically, but could also refer to how goro views his own heart and how he deals with his emotions. something like, he feels he shouldn't deal with all that turbulence, bc he's far better at warping it into anger—something that he's used to dealing with, and can easily rationalize. the more complicated emotions, not so much.

"but i always dig up bones in your sympathy": this is where i start connecting things to goro and akira specifically. another definition of sympathy entails two people who share an understanding of each other. doesn't that sound like goro and akira to u? so, if u take these lyrics to be from goro to akira, it feels to me like this one could represent his regrets/desire to leave his situation. according to rank seven of his confidant in royal, we know that goro is practically screaming for help before the events of sae's palace. unfortunately, as the player, we are not able to save him. but i think this lyric could represent his desire to connect with akira despite his better judgement—"dig up bones," as in; i'll still arrive at the decision to bury them in the first place, but bc we have an understanding, i'll show u as well as i can that i do not want to be doing this. and that's exactly how rank seven with goro plays out, through the metaphor of a billiards game.

"i can't trust a single thing you say": this could refer to the fact that both goro and akira are withholding truths from each other throughout their relationship, and since they are of equal standing, the same deception that applies to goro would apply to akira as well, albiet in a far different way. however, i can also see it as an unwillingness on goro's part; he feels as though he cannot trust akira not bc akira is truly lying to him, but bc there's no other way for him to rationalize the fact that akira cares for him and wants to spend time with him. as goro akechi, not the detective prince. goro can't trust the kindness akira extends to him not only bc he's used to conditional love (shido, foster parents, etc.), but also bc he doesn't feel as though he deserves it. goro does not have a very high image of himself, as we see later on, and it's easy to see throughout his confidant that he cannot quite understand why someone would want to spend time with him, and not the perfectly crafted version of him that he presents to everyone else.

"don't look too hard, cause you won't like the scars he left in me": the "he" here refers to shido. shido is the sole reason for all of goro's trauma and hardships. he has scarred goro more than anyone else in his life. and goro's sharing of these traumas is very limited: he opens up seemingly out of nowhere, before immediately retreating under the guise of things like "oh, that isn't like me," or "oh, am i bothering u?" such as the scenes that take place in leblanc and the bathhouse. goro cannot fathom the fact that someone (akira) would wish to get to know him, as he is, so he assumes that a normal interaction between friends is somehow too much transparency, and keeps himself at a distance. he mistakes his feelings for akira as hatred, right? obviously, that's entirely the wrong word to describe them. but if goro himself believes that he hates akira, he would likely believe akira to hate him as well; as evidenced by the fact that the dialogue options which give u the most points are the ones where u mention ur "rivalry"—bc again, goro cannot rationalize his emotions as anything other than negative; anger, hatred, etc. it's far easier for goro to blurt out the words "i hate u" rather than "i love u," or "i care for u," isn't it? and this is how he keeps himself at enough of a distance, although simultaneously feels himself drawing closer. emotional closeness is not something goro is well versed in, and bc goro has built his image on being talented and skilled, he refuses to reveal his shortcomings.

"i've gotten good at making up metaphors": the words here are only slightly different than the ones at the beginning, which i think works for goro's further descent into his deal with shido, and subsequent difficulty. instead of "leaning" on metaphors, he's completely making them up. it's more drastic, which could represent a sort of desperation. almost as if he's losing his touch—which we do see after the events of sae's palace, during the tv interview where he monologues internally about his backstory, and we start to really see how damaged he is. goro is frazzled and distraught, enough for it to visibly show, something he prided himself on being able to avoid.

"i've gotten good at stretching the truth out of shape": again, the same situation as before. similar to the beginning, with slightly harsher wording. the lies that goro is immersing himself in are getting more intense, and almost impossible to separate from. his "murder" of akira is a turning point, in a way; akira is the first and only character we see goro kill in what he believes to be outside of the metaverse. he's not only stretching the truth out of shape, but he himself is bent out of shape as well—this stuck out to me on my ng+ run; his sprites in the scene just after akira is reported to be dead from him to shido are very unsettling and absent, as if he's almost completely zoning out. it's a very jarring scene to watch, and i think at least part of that has to be due to the severity of his actions.

"and all these words are sweet and meaningless": this feels to me, if we're going by the timeline i've been suggesting throughout all this, like it's directed at shido. now that akira is dead and the phantom thieves are no longer a threat to goro's plan for revenge, he can focus his energy back on his original objective. goro lays it on incredibly thick in his scenes with shido, so much so that it sometime surprises me that he didn't realize shido was onto him. again with the more intense wording here, which fits with the events i'm corresponding it with.

"you can't trust a single thing i say": now this wording is exactly the same as the first time, but given the progression of everything i've talked about, i take this as a sort of last word to both shido and akira. goro intends to follow through with his vengeance no matter the cost, and this could read as a final nail in that coffin. the song repeats this lyric four times, as well. if i wanted to keep it up all the way up to the engine room scene, and go completely off the rails in the process, i could say that the first iteration of this line is an affirmation to both shido and akira that his revenge takes precedence, therefore it would be stupid to trust him. the second is an affirmation to himself that he is in fact doing the right thing, and everything will pay off in the end, that this is just the way things are supposed to be, as always. the third is a kind of plea, born from confusion, after he's defeated by the theives and they offer to bring him with them to take down shido, an offer he cannot fathom the reason for extending. a sort of "why would u trust me" in the form of "u shouldn't trust me." and the fourth would refer directly to goro speaking to his cognitive self; as he decieves the deciever, making it seem as though he is running back to shido only to close the bulkhead door and resign himself to his "noble" sacrifice.

i hope at least some of this makes any semblance of sense. put this song on ur goro playlists, goroboys.