#and it's too far out of our scope at the moment

[allbeendonebefore]

okay i'm hitting the last post 90's year for research for the princess theatre (the archive ends after 2010) which i dont expect to take me much more than an hour max if that.... and then i have to return to the doc and decide what is missing and how to redirect it. I just do not have the knowledge that the original writer has about film and honestly i think it detracts somewhat from the history of the theatre/edmonton history and I will end up cutting a lot anyway, so I'm trying as much as possible to get examples and reactions of queer films shown there just to give people an idea that yes, actually, they were showing films about gays and lesbians in the 80s, and yes they were featuring films about drag in the 90s and films with trans main characters in 2005 etc etc rather than a treatise on new queer cinema globally because we just don't have the time for an essay within an essay, frankly.

even outside of films shown there were other events where the community either made films at the theatre or held vigils outside of it that are worth mentioning too and I just don't want that to get completely swamped in academic film studies level movements.

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

12 / 1,147 words / for @141wh0re. happy birthday <3

nsfw, free use, rough sex, group sex ⬇

...

"Shut your bloody mouth before you broadcast our hiding place to every tango in a mile radius," Ghost snaps. He's got you bent over a crate, your nails digging into the old wood for purchase as his hips grind against yours.

"Then don't be so fucking rough," you snap, though it sounds breathy and thin even to your ears. You shift, feeling his hands squeeze your hips in irritation.

Ghost doesn't falter, but his eyes glitter at your backtalk. He claps his gloved hand over your mouth to muffle the sounds you're making. His other hand grips your thigh, forcing you onto one leg as he pushes your knee onto the top of the crate. He pulls out and slams back into you, getting back to railing you hard and fast.

“We need you on your sniper, Ghost,” Soap hisses from his spot at the far window. He’s peering down the scope of his own rifle. This building is only two stories high and small enough that any one of you could cross the room in three strides. The body heat alone is getting to you. Not to mention the way Ghost is fucking you like it'll save this mission, his pants pushed down to mid-thigh just as yours are.

"Get back to work, then, Ghost," Price tells him from the nearest window, eye leaving the scope of his rifle for a moment to take you in. "I don't need you two distracting my team."

Ghost grinds into you, a frustrated snarl muffled under his mask. You feel the muscles in his hands flex as he bites back his anger. "Fuck," he mutters. "Alright. Let's finish this."

On the other side of the cramped room, Gaz and Soap kneel at the largest window. They keep their focus, sniping marks with ruthless precision. As they do, Ghost's hips snap into you faster and harder. His teammates are focused on their task; he's focused solely on his.

"You're so tight," he growls. His hand slips away from your mouth, falling to your neck. "I've been wanting you since we--"

"Stop talking," you snap, hyperaware of the implicit warning in Price’s voice and the way Soap and Gaz are shifting in position, getting restless. You’re not sure if they’ve had enough, if they’re jealous, if they’d sooner throw you out the window than entertain another moment of this. "Get it done."

Ghost doesn't bother to argue. He pins you down with a hand between your shoulder blades as he fucks you, unceremonious and primal.

You bite your lip and try to stay quiet as Price's judgmental gaze falls over you again. Ghost flattens you even more against the crate and slams into you so hard and fast it creaks and squeaks against the floor. You cry out, writhing. His hips stutter, and then he's coming, slamming into you until you can't think. Your clit catches the rough edge of the crate. The sudden, sharp jolt is too much. An unexpected orgasm crashes over you, and you groan pathetically, clenching around Ghost.

Ghost curses. He slows down, still panting, and slowly pulls out of you. He runs a gloved hand down your back in a quick—but still noticeable—gesture of appreciation.

"Nice," Price mutters in approval. "Good work."

"She’s a good teammate, ain’t she," Ghost says. "Always wet."

You shiver, their words shooting straight to your core. You're sure you should be insulted, not flattered. But your body doesn’t seem to understand that.

Gaz nudges Soap and they glance over their shoulders at you.

“How long was that one?” Gaz asks Soap.

“I’m busy at the moment. You think I bloody timed it?” Soap snaps. 

Gaz looks amused. “Did you not?”

Soap swears under his breath, eye returning to his sniper scope. “Eleven minutes.”

Gaz scoffs. "Could do better."

“Alright, that’s enough,” Price says, his voice cutting through the chatter. “Ghost, take up position.”

He disappears from behind you. You pull yourself together and get to work.

...

This mission went tits up right out of the gate. If not for your teammates’ ludicrous skill and focus under pressure, you’d be dead. No doubt. But they’ve been in far worse binds than simply being pinned down inside a rickety, moldy shack by endless enemy gunfire.

Soon enough, the chaos is over, and no more shots ring out.

“Clear,” Soap says.

“Proper job,” Price says. “Regroup.”

You’re patching up a graze on Gaz’s forearm when Price returns three minutes later, frowning.

“Bad news. No exfil for another forty-five minutes.”

“How bloody long does it take to—” Ghost cuts himself off with a rough sigh. “We should keep moving. Find somewhere safer to wait it out.”

“After we regroup here, yeah?” Gaz says.

Ghost scoffs. “Why? You in the middle of something?”

“Oh, we’re about to be,” Soap retorts.

You’re hardly paying attention, fastening two butterfly bandages to Gaz’s laceration when Soap’s arm loops around your waist and drags you backward into his lap. He makes sure to drag your core over his thigh, knowing you’re still sensitive enough to feel it even through your pants. You grit your teeth, biting back a groan. He tugs the top half of your combat uniform apart and shoves his hand inside, groping your chest roughly. You gasp, grinding down on his lap unwittingly.

“That’s a good fuckin’ girl.” Soap’s breath is hot in your ear. “Real reliable.”

“We don’t have time for fun and games, Johnny,” Ghost says, sounding irritated.

“Easy for you to say. You had yours,” Gaz says. He slides closer to Soap, his eyes fixed on you.

Ghost throws a questioning look at Price. Price leans back on the crate you’d been bent over a few minutes ago. He shrugs, rolling around a fresh cigarette between his lips. “Not a bad place to sit tight. We’ve got a good view in all directions if more tangos approach. Relatively protected and exfil has a clear landing zone through those trees. We stay.”

“You heard him,” Gaz says.

“Arsewits, both of you,” Ghost mutters.

You’re staring at the cigarette in Price’s mouth, eyes half-lidded, when Gaz’s fingers take your chin and tilt your face toward him. “You don’t mind, love, do you?”

A frustrated growl rolls through Soap’s chest, but he pauses mid-squeeze to hear your answer too.

You stare at Gaz, then Ghost, then Price again. “Forty-five minutes?”

“We’ll make it work,” Soap says.

“I know.” You shift in his lap again. Your core is aching, your mind already clouded over with want. “Fine. If… if that’s what you need.”

Soap chuckles into your ear. “Away wi’ that. No pretendin’ you do this because it’s your job. You like it.”

“Fuck off,” you snap.

“Gettin’ to that.” Soap shifts you so he can get his pants and yours out of the way. He notices Gaz’s hand run down your neck enticingly, hears you sigh, and pushes Gaz’s hand away. “Wait your turn.”

Gaz scoffs. “You’ll hardly last long enough to wait on.”

“You can share,” Price tells them. Then he gives you a pointed look. “Saves time. You can rest on the bird, sweetheart.”

...

more multi-141 and poly 141 / masterlist tag

[tainbocuailnge]

Another thing that's... kinda odd about the English translation is in the DRK quests, Myste says "A reckoning will not be postponed indefinitely", which is a big line in basically a secret route of the browser game Fallen London. and yeah, it is a cool line and neat to hear it in FF14... it also doesn't really work for Myste? In it's original context, it's about the remains of a dead demi-god-like being, which was cast into a well, seeking a reckoning and leading the player down a route which will irreversibly destroy their character in pursuit of dark secrets.

Which is not what the Myste sections of DRK were about at all, lol.

oh I could rant for hours about dark knight translations. that questline is actually why I first went to scope out the german script, because I heard drk wildly differs between english and japanese and that german generally stays closer to japanese than english does. I translated some of the fray parts here actually, though you'll note I'm a lot more forgiving of the english script in that one because i hadn't reached sidurgu's parts yet löl

german fray and myste are just completely different characters from english. german myste is upbeat and energetic. he loves people who help others and feels a strong urge to help them in turn. he spawned from the dark knight crystal in response to the loneliness of countless dark knights stored within it so he could console them and be their friend, he's basically the will of the soul crystal itself. he tries to alleviate that loneliness by facilitating reunions with lost loved ones but grows frustrated that this only leads to more partings, so he tries to expand his powers to maintain his illusions forever, because more than anything he just doesn't want to leave his dear friends the dark knights alone. he represents the childish wish at the core of every dark knight for a world where nobody has to lose anyone again.

in the part of the quests where you take myste to the sea of clouds there's this bit where in english he talks about his guilt complex and lets slip that this is also your guilt. in german he tells you that he was always with these people who fight hard for others, watching from the sides, until one day he heard a cry of loneliness and since then he's been trying his best to help people too. that's the moment that for me really hammered it in that these languages fundamentally disagree on what it even means to be a dark knight.

in english myste is desperate to atone for everything he's ever done and fray is your self preservation instinct who is kinda mad that you let it get this far, but they have to forgive him because you're all you have as you walk this lonely and bloody path that you have to believe is right. in german myste is your ideal, the desire to comfort those who have no-one else, crying that maybe it's better to forget altogether if partings can't be avoided and fray is your human heart who agrees that parting will always hurt but that is exactly where you find the strength to continue the fight, because it is worthwhile even if it never ends, and the path may be lonely but you will never walk it alone when there are people who came before you and who will come after you who all share this same dream of a kinder world. of course you won't have to leave us, you're our ideal, you're what we do it all for, as long as we remain dark knights you'll be with us. this all flows very naturally into drk-as-shadowbringers-class and ardbert's deal too but since I haven't reached shb in german yet I don't want to say anything extensive about it yet

i still think english drk was cooking with even your repressed feelings being repressed + the part of yourself that wants to protect itself obviously trying to protect itself and thus not wanting to show vulnerability so en fray postures as the stronger one who will protect you instead, and that fray writing in the journal (and only being able to be honest in a place where you're unlikely to look unless you don't know where to go) is incredibly clever. but in the context of how english treats sidurgu and just the way they handle the entire rest of the game really i also don't think that they were intentionally going for this kind of subtlety, it feels to me more like they just thought sincerity is cringe like usual and decided to make everyone cool and edgy (and thus needlessly mean to each other) instead.

and yeah english fucking loves to just yoink lines from other media whether it's appropriate or not. they turned zenos' final words to wol into a hamilton reference in english, "my first friend, my enemy" is a hamilton line, he doesn't ever call you his enemy in any other language (in german he calls you his hunter though which yes is incredibly horny of him). I'll admit I'm not in a good position to judge whatever epic references the german script makes because I'm unfamiliar with german language popular media so I won't spot them unless someone else points them out but I do know that when german fray quotes fight club it just enhances their characterisation as trying to sound cool and intimidating but failing because they're really kind of lame and awkward and can't hide how stoked they are to hang out with you.

[dreamties]

Polyam! Ghostface Comforting GN! Reader About Their SA

A/N- yeah. hiii. it's billy !! im back. again. plz read with caution- there is no mention of the assault itself (it is alluded to many times; there are no intimate details), still. you know yourself best. stay safe lovelies <33

I tried keeping the assaulters identity neutral- but let me know if i messed up and used he/him pronouns at all and i'll edit the post :3

Billy is unable to understand the full scope of your traumas, however, he understands that it runs deep, that if your anything like he is that you feel it in your bones and the ache of your body.

Trauma is so personal and crushing. He wants nothing more than to take that away from you, endlessly lift your spirits, he wants to make you feel whole again. Loves you too much to see you like this.

He can't do that. As much as he and Stu can do, they can't erase what has already happened. He will be there as much as he can, for whatever you need. He has always been devoted to his loves- it increases tenfold when you open up about your assault.

Stu automatically wants to kill the perpetrator, takes Billy aside to tell him all his gruesome thoughts- until Billy stops him. Tells him, roughly, to shut up. You don’t know what you're talking about, man. Our little love needs to make that choice on their own.

Billy talks about it with Stu beforehand obvi. Billy wants to wait for you to ask them about killing your assaulter, while Stu would go to you and ask straight up if you want to be the one to kill them (if you want them dead. He won't understand if you desire to keep them alive tee bee aich, but he'll honor your choice).

Stu just like. He doesn't get it. He doesn't handle it well at first. He's far too brash and laughing- well. Not laughing, he knows enough to realize that would have been a bad move. Though he seems to not know enough as he's all jokes still.

Both boys are so emotionally stunted- Stu has only had to comfort girlfriends before (which, he was admittedly not the best at. He stole apologies and one liners from movies) and the brief vulnerable moments that Billy allows himself to show. C'mon, give him a pass, okay? He's trying :(

Stu's comforts are all hugs and cuddles and gifts- depending how you react to those things, maybe he won't have to branch out too hard. Either way you'll need more than one source or level of comfort- Stu WILL learn new things for you, though.

He has a hard time if you don't want physical touch! He gets all whiny about it and it pisses you off, you have to give him a stern talking to that it's NOT about him and he has no right to act like that. Psssh whatever . . .

(he's really sorry though. He promises)

He buys you so many things, as if that will ever make what happened okay. He hopes you appreciate it though. He'll get all sorts of comfort items, food and stuffies and stuff that he KNOWS you love. He'll buy it in bulk if he has to lol

For learning things, it's hard on all of you, but he and Billy will try their darndest to be emotionally available (just for you, babe!!). Billy is good at listening, Stu needs to get better with it.

Billy just listens to what you have to say, and I think on really emotional nights he opens up about his own trauma. He opens his wounds so you know he genuinely cares and is committed to you. Regardless of anything and everything. Billy will make himself a permanent fixture in your life, always.

(again really not that Stu wouldn't but it's so different y'all)

ALSO NIGHTMARES OHMYGOD

If you have nightmares they'll stay up with you until you're ready to fall asleep (or at least try).

They make it an all-nighter and pretend they were always planning for movie night. If you want to watch something that's not horror? Yeah, that's okay!

Most of Stu's VHS collection is horror lol

Though he does have some buddy comedies and cheesy romcoms. He owns one or two mysteries cause Billy likes them.

Anyways !!! Have your pick darlin' <333 They won't judge or complain

Admittedly they aren't great with panic attacks. Billy gets anxious- what if he makes it WORSE? He'd hate himself for it. Stu is surprisingly good at grounding you though :D

All in all- it's an adjustment for everyone. They're gonna be there for you forever though, okay? Good luck getting rid of them <3

[zcinderone]

An ironically conspicuous yet never exploited(except by me as far as I can see) dot that connects everything which could be the ultimate layer of secret to unravel the true identity of Arei's murderer...

It's Levi and this is where the final piece of puzzle comes to make sense of itself: the Monotv recruiting Teruko do CAULKING scene!!!

This is such a detailed and prominant plot that so far made 0 sense as to its connection to the case. Monotv must have enlisted a helper to clean up the mess left in the gym. Since he can't even do caulking, it is 100% valid for the narrative that there are something in this mess he can't handle. This helper would have abundance of time to figure out the mechanism and took the tape. (whereas both Ace and Eden only had cursory glances at the scene also in a rather shocking and intense scenario to figure out how Nico's mystrious setup worked)

(Monotv specifically mentioning he needs help to do certain chores)

Apart from the 4 involved in Ace's case, the only one awake/available late at night was Levi(and we never know for what purpose the story writer specifically left only him awake and readily came out to check the commotion either). This connects everything.

Think about it rationally. It makes absolutely no sense for those involved in the previous case to make an imitation of their own. On paper, only 4 people knew what happened, and Nico ran off leaving the only necessary tool(tape) to replicate this. Should any of the 3 try to imitate a crime only they knew and able to replicate, they are basically yelling they're the only targets from the get-go (and isn't this what's happening right now?)which is beyond absurd. However, if a third party does exist, it changes everything, they would have everything to gain from pulling an imitation since the premise would exclude their possibility permanently.

Based on the aforementioned points, I will make a tentative prediction about one event we are likely gonna see in ep 15（or 16 depending on pacing）: A scrum debate will happen soon, concerning whether or not Ace&Eden really is the only option scope for imitation crime, for they will most certainly discuss the very reason why they imitate and promptly realized the absurdity thereof. The narrative would seem really off if they don't dabble on why, accepting imitation for the sake of imitation. Some will take the stance that such attempt would be illogical for a rational conspirator in the first place, others will insist on the lack of direct evidence of a third party.

I am basing this theory on the assumption that the tape went missing under the dialogue box cg is dev's mistake, because the tape on the ground scene always includes Ace on the ground and the moment he stood it changed which feels too abrupt and dev might just forgot to add that, and there is not a single scene that showed the tape missing without such blockade.

More importantly, there were some clues to back my assumption in the "i'm not fxxing dead!" scene. The tape is placed rather near in front of Ace, a little to our right. Yet, when he stood up he knocked Eden out to our left. It would seem shaky if we take this alone by face value as it could just be a dramatic effect, but what happened afterward is the camera itself clearly turned left to film Eden gradually standing, and turned right to focus on Ace and then turned further right to focus on Teruko, which clearly suggested the actual positioning is: Eden Ace (tape?) Teruko (tape ?) . Problem is, the tape still exitsted right before, and went missing right after Ace stood up under the Teruko "yeah i figured" dialogue box, few secs before Eden stood up, therefore her positioning would exclude her possibility of getting it. And Ace couldn't get it either since four eyes were, and the camera was mostly on him, even depicting him reaching his wound with two hands.

I think If the dev did had such meticulous intent for this hidden scene to be the key to locking the culprit, they would most likely be equally meticulous about either the tape's positioning or Ace's act to make unequivocal sense that one of them would have a clear window to obtain it, which in turn suggests they probably never had such intention to begin with.

Also, we got to consider factoring in complementary details like the starched clothes ball(Levi was the only one who mentioned being in the laundry room some time at night in ep10),Eden mentioning "someone's been following her" (I'm 100% sure this is what the dev planted to make sense of why a 3rd party could overhear Eden&Arturo&Arei event), Arei's missing glove(both Eden and Ace wears glove, Levi doesn't), enough strength to throw the rope near the ceiling(they emphasized early in one scene how high the ceiling is and eden is the smallest girl) Whit trying to make an argument about another motive Levi could have for killing Arei yet got cut off, and trying to redirect the crew's attention back to Levi's secret itself for some reason and got cut off again in ep13 11:22 12:44 (this i think is super super important and it seems only I was mentioning this). These solid details are all adding to the likelihood of Levi, and I really can't find as many other details to back Eden or Ace.

I also had a secondary theory back when ep13 dropped might worth mentioning: could the fish simply be symbolic? Sleep with the fish(godfather thingy)? Levi's background story suggests he is very likely involved in mafia conficts. J even asked him if he was "in" the mafia to which he prompt answered No. But very interestingly the dev specifically gives him a pondering "..." scene immediately after his respond to show he seemed to be thinking about the definition of his involement, then J pushed him to elaborate and he digressed.(starting from ep13 1:28) And Levi did have Italian surname.

I don't have that much confidence in this intepretation alone to begin with as I thought it is a bit old school. But since my major theory makes sense, this one doesn't seem so far-fetched anymore.

[curio-queries]

I agree, I think the main character was always meant to be their relationship. I think when they were planning the show that must have been a discussion, because it would be self-evident once they were traveling together, same as it came out so strongly when they were in BV3 and walking around together. Obviously the jeju episodes were hijacked so to speak (but imo mostly served to show us the incredibly intimate bond Jikook share), but yes, the main character is that, it is meant to show us them, as they are. They said this too in their first intro.

I also think it was a way for JM to make up to JK for his busy period, and spend quality time being free to travel together. They obviously say that to open the show, so it is not a reach. But, it is more than that, I think he truly does care about JK and his happiness. He also says that a few times in jeju and in Sapporo so far, as long as JK is happy, that is what mattered, and I am like that in my relationship. It truly shows how much they both care for each other.

I love that in episode 6, all they really do is check into their hotel, eat snacks, go to a 7/11, eat more, talk, go to bed. Then JM is there calling JK into the bathroom to take a selfie because 'they made memories here'. it is so sweet, because really all I think he is referring to is them being together, enjoying the normal/mundane things. Then they go on to do more of that, walking the snowy streets to go find food, coffee and ride a train. Things a lot of us will take for granted, often complain about probably. I know they had a lot of staff to protect them/look out for their wellbeing, but we have. to remember they are used to that, and so for them, it is just being out and about on a normal day, doing normal things, together.

Hi anon,

I'd definitely be interested to learn a little more about the scope of AYS and how it developed. I've still been thinking about the idea of the relationships as the main character and how that could have developed throughout the production. It's been a while since I've watched Bon Voyage but I don't think the same could be said there. BV is absolutely modeled after typical travel shows where the journey/destination becomes the chief focus.

I do think there was space for the Jeju eps to open the focus to all three members' relationships and I do believe it was mostly successful. It's one of the reasons why all of the pool segments didn't feel repetitive, there was a different mixture of members each time: taekook, jikook, vminkook. Even though they recreated some of the same bits in each subsequent scene, they weren't cut our of the edit because it didn't feel like repeat moments due to the changing dynamics and thus fulfilling the goal of exploring the differing relationships.

On a complete sidenote, while we're sharing lovely bursts of joy from ep 6, let me share mine about the memories moments as well. I have a family history of memory loss-related illnesses so I've always been hyperaware of my own shortcomings with my memory and made my peace with the likelihood that I will have my own journey on that path as well. There was a phrase I heard years ago that has given me a lot of comfort: our character has still been influenced by those we love even if we lose the memories associated with them.

This episode spending so much time talking about making memories in such a sweet way just reminds me how much Jimin and Jungkook want to have eachother influence their character. They have so many extraordinary events in their lives and while they may not remember the exact day-to-day detail, they have absolutely helped shape the other's character. I just think it's especially lovely.

[inchidentally]

was originally writing this as tags on this photoset of Carlos but god no I need to write it out properly bc god knows carcar carloscar fans need more in our tags <3<3

also part blame falls on @wisteriagoesvroom as a carloscar enabler in chief !!!

AU where Carlos is already with Ferrari when Oscar was with Prema and they cross paths in Italy at the same facility while both filming media…

the Prema boys can't resist sneaking over to the next room to watch the big boys at Ferrari - maybe get an autograph or a picture! and Oscar has to suddenly grip his hoodie in front of himself when he sees Carlos looking like THAT. and then Carlos spots the pretty pink thing with the sweet mouth huddled with his friends, and the devastating fucker actually winks at Oscar. Robert and Logan look like their eyes are about to fall out of their heads and Fred is suppressing spasms of laughter but all of them freeze when Carlos saunters over to them, still wearing that second-skin hi vis top that clings all the way down to the grooves of his groin.

and maybe Carlos casually introduces himself to them and poses for selfies. but as the boys are scolded back to their own room for filming, maybe Carlos wraps a big tanned hand around Oscar's wrist and ohhhh my Carlos' fingers overlap so deep around the fine bones. his voice casually offers to take Oscar for dinner that night bc he's heard a lot about this impressive kid and he always likes to scope out the guys he'll be racing against one day. but his eyes are saying that he'd like to get to know the intimate skin of Oscar's thighs where they meet his ass.

Carlos goes so far as to meet Oscar at the shared accommodation and with a huge effort Oscar keeps the other boys from going all googly eyed out the window. Carlos is dressed in just a linen button down and dark trousers and it makes Oscar self-conscious about having borrowed a blazer from one of the race engineers to wear over his only pair of nice pants and a white collared shirt he's had since school. Carlos' Ferrari is as cool as he is and Oscar feels at ease finally in gushing about it all the way to the restaurant. Carlos seems to maybe be laughing a little bit at him but Oscar doesn't mind. and when Carlos says maybe he'll have something just as nice one day soon, Oscar lifts his chin and returns that 'maybe he'll have something even nicer'. it's clearly the right thing to say because Carlos tips his head back and actually cackles. he says "I knew I was going to like you, guapito" and slaps a huge hairy hand over Oscar's upper thigh.

Oscar had expected to be taken to a nice, cozy trattoria or some obnoxiously exclusive spot with celebrities "off duty" that Carlos would probably ignore. he wasn't expecting a small table in the intimate outdoor garden terrace of a restaurant that doesn't even have a sign out front. there's a heavenly breeze that didn't seem to exist outside the magic of the six tables placed comfortably apart from each other. the entire space is sinking into a pinky-orange dusk with only lanterns and candlelight illuminating everyone's faces.

Carlos is actually even funnier than he seems in the videos Oscar's been watching since he was probably too young to have a crush on someone Carlos' age. he's also crazy smart and can keep pace with Oscar in discussions about aerodynamics and the stuff that he knows a lot of other drivers don't want to be bothered about. he's also intimidatingly cultured and well-traveled and yes, unavoidably part of exceptionally elite society. there are strong divergences in their experiences both in and outside of racing but Oscar tilts his chin up with pride and refuses to feel embarrassed about chasing sponsorship money. he can see Carlos assessing him in those moments and his smile looks warm, not condescending.

two other things Oscar discovers about Carlos: he has no understanding of personal space, and he's got an iron constitution when it comes to potent wine. Oscar had tried to keep up so that he didn't seem like a total baby but still had to alternate his sips with water. Carlos had chuckled and stroked the hot open flat of his hand over each of Oscar's red cheeks, mumbling something in Italian to the waiter and they both grinned at Oscar knowingly.

the delicious food and heavy scent of earth carrying over from the countryside make Oscar feel sleepy and slightly dreamy as night settles around them. at some point, their chairs had scooted closer together and Oscar leaned more and more into Carlos' casual touch. Carlos' eyes are fully black in the dim light and the flame of the candle on their table is the only light reflected in them. his hand had gripped the back of Oscar's neck jokingly but he'd kept it there, massaging slightly. Oscar had hummed and then the fingers slipped up to cup the base of Oscar's skull, rubbing circles over the soft, closely cropped hairs.

Oscar can't even blame the wine he'd given up trying to enjoy an hour ago when he steadies himself with a hand on Carlos' thigh and pushes a closed-mouth kiss against Carlos' lips. he can't stop the whine when Carlos pulls away after a moment, leaning back in to whisper "not here" into his ear.

and maybe Carlos hastily pays up and guides Oscar with a big warm hand curled around where Oscar's waist dips narrow and lean. and maybe Carlos turns the car in the opposite direction of Oscar's accommodation, throwing a questioning look at him, to which Oscar replies by sinking lower into his seat and cupping himself lazily where he's been thickening up for the better part of an hour. Carlos swears heavily under his breath and speeds up to get to his apartment.

and Carlos crowds Oscar inside, carefully not putting his hands anywhere untoward as they climb the public stairs but never taking them off of him either. Carlos is on him the second he turns the lock on the door, pryng Oscar's mouth open with the kinds of kisses Oscar remembers seeing on his mom's favorite shows but that he didn't think existed in real life. how could anyone feel confident in taking someone else's mouth like that?

Carlos may not be much taller but he's broad and strong and muscles Oscar to the bedroom with ease. Oscar probably gets a surge of panic over wanting to make sure he gets at least one fantasy lived out in case Carlos doesn't like his body or changes his mind or gets a call from some supermodel who wants to come over and he boots Oscar out.

so he pulls away and actually begs to be allowed to blow Carlos, not even caring that his voice broke on the 'ple-ase'. and that's how Carlos ends up hastily throwing an accent pillow down on the floor for Oscar to kneel on while Carlos leans back on his arms on the bed with one hand curled in Oscar's hair, urging him on. it's seeing Oscar's arm moving furtively out of sight and realizing that Oscar's getting off just from energetically but inexpertly blowing him that gets Carlos to climax. he apologizes because he hadn't even warned him, but the sight of Oscar shuddering through his own orgasm and moaning with his open mouth overfilling with Carlos is honestly worth the rudeness.

reasoning that someone Oscar's age has practically no refractory period, Carlos hauls him up onto the bed and strips them both. he grips Oscar behind both knees and lays into abusing the flesh of his inner thighs that have been on his mind since that afternoon. he pushes Oscar's legs up even higher to get his teeth and tongue on the exact crease of thigh and cheek and works each side until the skin is red raw from his stubble. Oscar is making these small, broken-off noises that are driving Carlos crazy and he drops both legs to work his way up to Oscar's beautiful pecs. he assumes no one has ever paid attention to this area before now because Oscar nearly bucks him off the bed with how intensely he reacts.

and Carlos has probably gotten hard again so he swipes his lube from the bedside table and jerks them both off one-handed while worrying one of Oscar's nipples red and sore. Oscar comes again and Carlos has to kneel up and finish all over Oscar's pale, pink chest. some of it hits Oscar's chin where some of Carlos' come had already started to dry from before.

and maybe there's a moment after they've both recovered enough to think where Oscar is about to awkwardly as for a cab or maybe a ride back but Carlos gets ahead of it and tells him to text his friends and Carlos will drive him back in the morning.

and Carlos smirks when Oscar hovers his fingers over his phone, clearly unsure of how to phrase it. "go ahead and tell them all about it, it'll drive them crazy"

and Oscar smiles to himself as he types out who he's with and why and what they've done and then gazes up at Carlos who is holding Oscar's chin between thumb and forefinger, wiping down his face with a warm cloth.

"you're going to be bad news for me, Oscar. I can tell.”

there is a seriousness behind it that Oscar is too young and inexperienced to hear. instead he smirks and digs a knee into Carlos' side.

"you bet I am"

[outofgloom]

THE MADNESS OF TURAGA

“Where are your Matoran, Bahtu? I’ve seen no one on the hike up here.”

The Turaga fiddled idly with his stick. His eyes wandered around the empty village.

“They are...they are gone, old friend.”

“Gone?”

“Yes.”

“Gone where? And why? What happened?”

“They were...broken.”

“Explain! Who did this?”

“Now calm yourself, my friend. My nerves are not what they used to be.”

The Toa stepped forward, lowering his voice.

“Tell me what happened, Bahtu. Was it Zygl--”

The Turaga began to speak gravely:

“It started with small things, you see. Day by day. Small changes. Small...deviations. A lost minute here or there. A construction made slightly different from the Standard. A repair completed with...I don’t have the word...”  The Turaga gestured limply, “...a ‘flourish’, maybe, as the Great Beings might have said. Maybe that.”

“I don’t underst--”

“--All still workable, to be sure,” the Turaga continued unbothered. “Still workable, but...but deviant, you see. Not according to the Great Standard. The Saa Nui is very demanding if us, as you know. And to stray would be disastrous.”

“So you say. And what then?”

“Oh, what then...let me see. Well, then came other strange things. The Matoran would...would talk to each other. Have you ever heard of such a thing? Not simply transmitting information, I mean, but...but talking for its own sake. I would catch them sometimes, coming around a corner, speaking about something or other that was clearly beyond the scope of that moment’s Duty. And though I corrected them, still they persisted. Even worse: they whispered instead. So many whispers. The village was full of whispering, day and night. I could not stop them all.”

“Go on.”

“Oh yes, yes, and then there were questions.”

“Questions are not out of the ordinary.”

“Of course not, no...but these questions were different. They began to ask all manner of things, inane things, like ‘Why do the sky-stars burn out at night?’ or ‘Where does the Great Spirit live?’ Once, one even asked me ‘Why should we work to fulfill our Duty?’”

The Turaga shook his head, “I was aghast, as you may imagine. I did not know what to say! I sent that Matoran away to work on the mountainside, away from the others, for a time, lest they...lest they ‘talk’ about it.”

“I still do not see what--”

“--And that’s not even the worst of it! Oh, my friend, one day...One day, they asked me for names. New names. Can you imagine it? Each and every one of them I named when they were brought forth from the eles raliska--gave them the embodiment of their Duty, their place in our world, and they thought they knew better! I could not bear it then. So...I sent them...away.”

“Where? To work on the mountainside?” The Toa looked up, scanning the hills in the distance, “Where did you send them?”

“No...to be mended.”

A light breeze made the thorn-trees rattle on the edge of the village. The shadows of the crumbling huts crept longer. The Turaga stopped fidgeting.

“You sent them to--”

“--To Him, yes! It was the only thing to be done.”

The Turaga began to gesture agitatedly, his words pouring out faster: “I put forth the summons, you see, and the Great Crabs came up from the sea, and--”

The Toa stepped closer, cutting him off:

“You know that few have ever returned from His Land. You know this.”

“Oh...I know. But it was right. They were too far gone. It would have been a disaster if I hadn’t. And if they do not return, then...well, more can be called up, if Mata wills it, and I will give them their names, and...”

“How long ago.”

“I...oh...perhaps some days--”

“--all of them?--”

“--...or years?” the Turaga mused. “My timing is all off now, you see, without the rhythm of their work. But it will soon be put right. Soon. Do not worry.”

“Years...” The Toa shook his head, “So you have been here alone, all this time. Doing nothing.”

“Waiting! Preparing! It will all be put right soon. Soon! You’ll see.”

“I cannot see that. The village is...”

The Toa looked around at the ruins of the village once more, lapsing into silence.

“They were broken, old friend. I could not let them suffer in that way. It was not right.”

“Did they fail in their work?”

“They deviated. It was necessary.”

A long silence followed.

“I see now,” the Toa said at last, in a quiet voice.

“Ah, that is good. You are a Toa, after all! Of all beings, you would understand. It had to be done, to keep the order of the world. It is what we are made for, you and I.”

Lesovikk’s hands closed slowly, slowly into fists, clenching until the armor of his gauntlets creaked. His gaze narrowed to a point, fixed upon the small, pathetic being before him. The wind died.

“I am not a Toa anymore.”

[tobiasdrake]

Does Perfect Cell have Agency?

Cell is... difficult to get a read on, as a character. The extreme jankiness of the Android arc left us with an oddball of a villain whose level of wickedness doesn't seem in line with the scope of his motives.

Cell is a weird character for me because he just seems... unfinished but also overly symbolic moreso than a literal person.

What does PIccolo actually want? He wants to kill everyone because he's mindlessly evil. After he reincarnates, the question "What does Piccolo actually want?" becomes a major facet of his journey.

What does Frieza actually want? He wants to kill planets and sell them for profit because he's a real estate speculator, and also to be immortal and untouchable. This extreme want coupled with the callousness with which he pursues it is what fuels his unbelievable cruelty and heartlessness, and makes him the most evil person in the Dragon Ball universe.

What does Majin Buu want? Again, this question becomes a major facet of his journey and opens up new sides to him, because Buu himself doesn't know the answer to that.

Which. Brings us to. What does Cell want?

He likes to spook. He wants to have fun. He's a spooker looking for a good time.

Cell's primary goal is to a) become really strong, and then b) prove his mettle by testing himself against the greatest fighters in the world. He's a tournament arc villain presented with the gravitas and stakes of an epic adventure villain.

It's wild because everybody here wants to get really strong and then prove their mettle by fighting Goku. That's what this whole social dynamic is about. That is literally the main goal that everyone in this group pursues. Well, except Trunks and Gohan.

In a sense, Cell's just... one of the guys. Like. He's a rotten dirty bastard to be sure. But it's not like that's a barrier for entry into this group.

"I WILL KILL AS MANY PEOPLE AS I HAVE TO AS LONG AS YOU ARE ONE OF THEM!" ~TFS

So his goal is to get strong and fight strong guys. But. Like. Who's isn't?

And he's a cruel, sadistic monster. But. Like. We're fine with that. Vegeta's our bestie and Piccolo joined this crew way before he reformed too.

This guy could legit just be hosting the Tenkaichi Budokai. (And he DOES.) In terms of overarching character, nothing about him reads "Epic villain that must be stopped at all costs". So Toriyama really had to ratchet up the moment-by-moment horror to make him fit.

What Cell wants is not that big a deal. Get strong, fight strong guys, and also he's an asshole about it. So he's given a vile mechanism for attaining the strength he needs. In his base state, Cell can drink people to gain their power for himself.

He's basically Piccolo if Piccolo were born a parasitic vampire instead of a flesh-and-blood Namekian? It's weird. His whole introduction where he walks out and explains his entire character so Toriyama's pal will get off his back about the Twins is weird.

"Hi there, Piccolo. Did you know that I'm an evil bio-android from the future who wants to absorb the Twins to become really powerful? Also I eat people and I have the genetic makeup of five of the most powerful warriors in the universe, as well as having all of their techniques and abilities. I think that about covers everything. Toodles!"

So we have a character whose primary goal is to defeat the two characters who, up until this point, were billed as the antagonists and are currently seeking to kill Goku as we speak. Like. That's Trunks. Cell is Trunks again. So to make it read as sinister and bad, the means for him to achieve Trunks's goal requires him to kill people in visceral and horrifying ways, and also he's a jerk about it.

This is far from the worst thing a Dragon Ball character, even the ones on the protagonist side, has ever done. But it's so viscerally horrifying that it feels like the worst thing they've ever done.

Then again, that guy was part of the 1% so maybe it's deserved.

Truly, Cell is a champion of the underclass. He's literally eating the rich. What's not to like?

I jest. Point is, Cell is a villain of vibes more than anything. In practical terms, Vegeta gleefully slaughtered entire planets and Majin Buu exterminated 80% of the world's population for fun. In fact, Buu even single-targets people and turns them into food to chomp down on too, so he and Cell have a lot in common.

To be perfectly honest, Buu feels like a second draft of Cell with more time and thought put into his character.

So, logically, eating a bunch of people isn't that big of a deal relative to some of the other shit that people we're hanging out with have done. Hell, we spend a portion of this arc helping to power up Vegeta to stop Mr. City Devourer over here.

"Hey best buddy, you're a remorseless monster who's slaughtered billions of people and is only chill now because you're stranded on Earth with no better options. Want to come with me so we can make you a hundred times deadlier and fight this guy who wants to eat the Androids that destroyed the world in the future?"

And then Cell's over here like.

"All done eating people. Thanks y'all." Like a parasitic version of the Genki-Dama. Uh. Cool. Glad we could help. Let's go Dragon Balls them all back to life and then I guess we're done here?

It's the vibe. Cell's wickedness is a vibe. It's in the means he needs to undergo to achieve the ends of becoming strong. It's in the sadistic personality he shares with 4/5 of his genetic makeup (two of whom are in the protag party). And it's in his long-term plans for what to do after the tournament when he runs out of strong guys to fight.

It's like they ran out of ideas for why we even need to fight this guy once he ate the Androids and completed our mission of defeating them and thwarting Trunks's future. So Cell's like, "By the way if we don't defeat me in an epic climax, I'm going to aimlessly wander the globe killing humans individually forever, I guess."

No real ambitions of any kind beyond "Get strong, fight strong guys". He just. Is a dick.

This is sandwiched between vanquishing the CEO of Galactic Genocide Incorporated and fighting a god-killing abomination who made the heavens themselves run red with blood. Cell wants to get strong and fight strong guys, and he'll become Jason Voorhees if we don't deliver. That's it. That's the entire plot. It's so weird. He's the ultimate despicable monster villain up to this point but it doesn't really feel like he should be.

Cell isn't really a character, so much as he is an idea. Specifically, he is a summary of Goku's entire journey up to this point, all rolled up into this one asshole. He is Goku, and also the major villains Goku has fought.

He is the Tenkaichi Budokai.

He's a limit-breaking Super Saiyan who becomes stronger through Namekian Fusion of others like him and also regenerates and gets Zenkai boosts.

He is the concept of everything that Dragon Ball has ever been.

Hey remember when Piccolo-Daimao blew up that one district during a live broadcast? Do you remember? Cell is Playing the Hits, The Character. But with purpose and intent.

This is why it's hard for me to get a read on Cell. Because who he is isn't so different from much of the cast but what he needs to be is something else: He is the complete assessment of the journey Goku's undertaken over the course of his life, presented all at once for Gohan to surpass.

The physical embodiment of what Gohan must overcome to be his father's successor.

His character, his motives, his ambitions, his desires, it all takes a backseat to the simple utilitarian purpose of providing a symbolic nemesis to mark Gohan's ascension. Hastily assembled once Toriyama decided that was going to be the real actual plot for realsies no takebacks this time.

It's hard for me to assess Cell because I feel too strongly that he needed a second draft.

Which. Like. Apparently Toriyama agreed.

As a character and as a story, Majin Buu is hit or miss but he hits most of the same beats as Cell and really does feel like Toriyama trying to take a mulligan on this entire villain concept.

Mileage may vary on whether he pulled it off.

[bird-inacage]

Love Sea Episode 9: Lost at Sea before the Finale

Sigh. I had high hopes for this episode, which reached it's apex in the main conflict with Rak's dad (our honorary big bad). But yet again it's at a crucial juncture in the story, where writing and execution have fallen short when it really mattered.

Despite building tension for the past few weeks in service of this moment, it's swiftly deflated with little fuss. I thought the contract-tearing scene would provide a riveting layer of complexity for our characters to navigate. But it's barely a hiccup. The entire pay off we've been hurtling towards just unceremoniously fizzles out.

Here are my observations as to why this episode missed the mark (some of which I hope to dig into when I do a full review of the series).

The 'saviour' plot device. Where a character repeatedly saves the day in service of other characters (regardless of their credentials to do so). This is the role they've boxed Mut in. He swoops in - solves, fixes, pursues, soothes. He's faultless. He's unwavering. He's Rak's hero in shining armour. This isn't fundamentally bad except his capacity is reduced mainly to just that, and the cost is little to no development of his own. I take enormous issue with this because I dearly love Mut. He has great scope for a far more compelling trajectory. We had wonderful insights into his outlook on life in the earlier episodes, which have since taken a noticeable backseat. We are yet to see significant exploration of Mut's struggles, flaws or weaknesses. There appears to be some focus on this in episode 10, but why so little so late?

The women are rendered superfluous. Which isn't helped when we already have a lacklustre GL portrayal. As things go awry - Kwan, Vi and Mook are varying degrees of 'just there'. I would have loved to see the plot utilise the women who know Rak best, to contribute towards bringing Jak down. But the show's priority to aid Mut's heroic efforts, means the women are left with very little to do.

Mut VS Jak. If you compare the two men, Jak is taller and in fairly good shape. Physically, you'd expect more resistance in a fight. When Jak goes down, he barely tries to get up (even when Mut's back is turned). Thus, the outcome of the fight feels unearned, especially if we are to believe this man has violent tendencies that have traumatised his children. (He may not be murderously insane, but still volatile enough to maim his own son). By being so easily overpowered, the takeaway ends up being: 'oh, we needn't have worried'. And this exchange didn't have to be strictly physical either, it could have been psychological. Jak could have taunted Mut like he did in the café, and tried to chip at his resolve. Alternatively, if Rak were the one to overcome his father (in a bid to save Mut), it would show that Rak's love can power through his fear, and he'd gain that lesson through his own agency rather than Mut telling him he should no longer be afraid. (Another symptom of this series is subjugating Rak to a huge degree of passivity).

I'm not sold on Jak's character motivations, based on what we've seen. He's not quite smart or menacing enough to be a calculated sociopath, and he's a shade too conniving for an apathetic loser. If he's as lazy as we've been told, why would he go this far to secure Prin's money, when he's already syphoning finances from Rak and his mother? Couldn't he just sit back and continue to leech with no effort? If his desperation were a result of poor spending, it would at least ground his motive. Or if he's fuelled by the thrill of tormenting his family, we'd need to see mental depravity. Instead, much of Jak's actions feel - dare I say - 'because plot'? (Make your villains more formidable and their eventual downfall will pack more punch).

The few too many plot conveniences. The sillier one being how on earth Rak left the house without anyone noticing? The enormous glass staircase which sits front and centre in an open plan property makes it near impossible to go undetected. Unless he parkoured from his bedroom?

I'm gutted because the show veers towards the more questionable choices at their disposal. The set ups are there. The ideas are there. The parameters are there. It's what they decide to do with them that sadly misfires. This has caused my investment in the story to plummet towards the latter half.

I continue to watch for Fortpeat, and I feel for them because they've worked so hard. There's some lovely acting sprinkled throughout this episode but at this late stage in the series, the plot should be driving things home. Whereas the metaphorical tide keeps moving those goal posts in and out of sight. I hope they can at least round things off on a high note next week.

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

31 / 1.7k / soap soulmate au, part 8

...

Peering down into the building from the adjacent rooftop, Soap sees you--his soulmate--through his sniper's scope. You. Here. On the wrong goddamn team again.

He mutters a curse into his radio.

You’re standing guard at your client’s back—a man who coasts under the radar as far as his criminal reputation is concerned, but a smuggler effective and dangerous enough to put him on the CIA’s hitlist. He’s hidden from view. Probably been told to stay away from windows for the night. You're obviously working security, outfitted to the nines as you would be on any job, rifle in hands, scanning the foyer for threats. You're unaware of 141’s snipers setting up on the rooftops outside.

Soap’s eyes darken. He doesn’t deal with internal conflict when he’s working. When things get complicated, he uncomplicates them. Right now, there are three thoughts in his head: 

One--he misses you.

Two--you blew him off to work for this scum.

And three--he needs to get his feet on the ground right now. You'll be lucky if all you get is an earful once he gets his hands on you.

He switches on his radio. "Got eyes on the target. LT, you in position yet?"

"Affirmative. In position," Ghost says, his voice gravelly and cold over the radio from his position on a neighboring rooftop. "Waiting on the signal."

Soap stares you down through his scope. His leather gloves creak and tighten around the handle of his rifle. It pisses him off how easy it would be to take the shot. If he were anyone else, you would be dead in moments. 

On the other hand, he could kill your client--your protectee--here and now. To hell with the mission parameters. It would be easy.

He sighs, flipping on his radio again. "Permission to infiltrate, Captain? Spotted a friendly inside."

Gaz's voice crackles over the radio instead. "Friendly this time, is she?" His tone makes it clear he’s spotted you too.

"Don't be jealous, Garrick."

"Positively green with envy, mate," Gaz replies, dry and sarcastic. "Too bad she’s not friendlier. Be helpful if you could actually get her to talk this time. Not to mention the other stunt you pulled."

Soap smirks and adjusts his scope to keep you in his sights. "Don't know what you're talkin' about."

Gaz scoffs. "Plausible deniability is for paperwork."

"Aye. Maybe I’ll mention in my next report who tipped me off about her bein' our hostage, too."

There's a beat of static. "Got nothing to say about that."

Then Laswell's voice cuts in. "Kyle has a point. The building is locked down tight and it’s gonna be hard to get a clean shot. If she's with our target's security detail, that’s our ticket inside."

"And if she's not willing to help us out?" Price asks.

"Depends on how persuasive Soap is willing to be."

"I might've picked up a technique or two last time,” Soap says.

The radio crackles as Price takes in a deep breath and sighs it out through his nose. Somehow, he makes it sound stern.

"Intel is intel," Ghost says.

“Failing that, bribery’s always a solid bet for a merc,” Gaz adds. “If they don’t shoot you on sight.”

"Right, then," Price says. "Soap, regroup with Ghost. Prepare to infiltrate. Gaz and I will take overwatch. Ghost, keep on comms. We'll find you the main breaker switch. Soap, I need you to keep things quiet, you hear me? Mission objective is priority. Do not, under any circumstances, be seen."

Soap's blood is already pumping hot. He’s never loved overwatch. He’d rather be close to the action--get his feet on the ground. Get his hands on you. "Copy, Captain. Ghost, I'm aimin' for the north corner. Meet me in five."

…

You mill about at your post, feeling twitchy and unsatisfied. This job is, on first glance, the same as any. Your PMC hired you and a few other mercs out to act as bodyguards for a man with more money than morals, if the size and clientele of this gathering is anything to go by. 

You shift your weight, scanning the overdressed crowd for threats. You wouldn’t hate it if this party were cancelled early.

"Stand up straight," your teammate snaps. "You're working. Act like it."

You scowl, but say nothing.

"Don't make that face at me," he says, bite in his tone. Horangi. Like he’s so patient. He's on just as short a leash as you, and it's pissing him off just as much. The difference is he has the seniority to take it out on you. 

"I don't know how you do this without feeling like a caged animal," you mutter.

His eyes follow a woman in a tight red dress as she passes by. Obviously, he knows what he'd rather be doing.

"A cage with a paycheck," he replies. "Some things you learn to tolerate."

You scan the room again. Your protectee is still here. That's good. You're hoping he takes his sweet time before he goes downstairs to start the so-called afterparty. 

You glance at Horangi again. "You know where the cargo is? Downstairs?"

"Last I heard. I got the east wing of this floor," he says. If the idea of that cargo is bothering him, he hides it well. He’s a good merc and he does what he’s told, like it or not.

You were a good merc, too, up until three weeks ago. Worrying about what rich idiots get up to isn't what you should be doing. You're supposed to keep the client happy. It's not your fault he can’t party without doing illegal shit.

You heave a sigh. "I'm going to check on it."

Horangi’s eyes narrow, flicking to you. "No, you’re not. Stay put."

"Fine. I'm going to the bathroom, then."

"Fine," Horangi snaps. "Go to the bathroom, and make sure you come right back. And don’t talk to anybody."

You walk away, rifle in hand, making your way into the back hall. You pass into the dim sconce light and swear you see something through the enormous glass windows as you walk by them. But there’s nothing there.

The lights flicker once. A beat. Just long enough for you to notice before they even out again. 

You pause at a flicker of movement near the side door up ahead. You have a split second to wonder why there’d be nobody securing the side door before the lights go out.

When you turn and head back for the foyer, you stop short. Down the hall, where you just came from, looms a familiar shape. The white skull on his mask pops out of the shadows. 

You don't make it back to the foyer.

Before you have a chance to react, your body armor is yanked hard from the back. You're pulled backward into an adjacent room and shoved hard against the wall. You expect the bite of steel against your neck or your temple, but it never comes. 

“Quiet, now."

You register Soap's familiar accent before your eyes adjust to the dark. "Johnny?"

"That’s right," he says. He's still got that way of speaking that's almost a purr when he's being quiet.

It suddenly feels like a long time since you’ve felt the heat of his body, pinned tight between him and the wall the way you are. He’s coiled tight, all lithe muscle and restrained strength. His eyes glitter with that wild, predatory look. It’s decidedly dangerous and tantalizing.

"I missed you, darlin'. You're gonna make this simple, aye? I know you can," he says.

You swallow the immediate urge to comply. Holy hell, you forgot what that feels like. "You need to stop greeting me like this," you hiss.

"I'd love nothin' more than to greet you in a different way, but you've got to start makin'  smarter decisions first." He leans all the way in and presses his nose into the crook between your neck and shoulder, nuzzling you in his full tactical gear. 

You muffle a sigh. He makes a quiet, content sound. 

"Besides, I kinda like this way of greetin’ ya. You make this little noise."

The radio on his neck echoes to life. You hear a tinny voice come through, saying something about an objective.

His eyes shut tight as he listens, one hand pressed firmly against the wall beside you. He doesn't back away yet. He's been dreaming of this for too long--laying his head on you and letting the sound of your heartbeat drown out everything else. It just can't fucking happen yet.

You feel, rather than hear, his low, annoyed grumble as he replies. "No, I copy. Just keep your bloody heads on."

You concentrate, trying to make out the voices of his teammates. It sounds like Ghost's voice.

Soap groans, his fingers flexing and gloves squeaking against the wallpaper. “I’ll be there in a minute, LT.”

You shift slightly. "Why are you here?"

A muscle twitches in Soap's jaw, and he pulls back so he can look you in the eye. "Should be askin' you the same thing. You’re on guard detail for a bloody criminal."

"It's a complicated situation."

"Then uncomplicate it."

You open your mouth to reply, but Soap's radio crackles back to life. This time, you can make out the words.

"Target located." Ghost's voice.

"Attaboy." Price. "Get him isolated. Third floor, east windows."

“Won’t be that easy,” Ghost replies. “He’s surrounded by civilians. Security’s thick.”

You tense even as Soap begins to relax. You fist your hand in the collar of his tactical vest, trying not to sound frantic. "Do not kill him. Johnny, listen to me."

Soap's expression turns grim, and he looks down at your fingers. Then he reaches up to cover your hand with his. "I know he's your client, but there's a reason we're here. He smuggles weapons. Big weapons, and not to anyone friendly. Just take it easy and let us clean up."

"No, listen," you snap, pulling him a millimeter closer. "He has the cargo here. It's not weapons. It's people."

...

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / [part 8] / part 9 / part 10 / part 11 / part 12

more Soap / masterlist tag

[patchwork-crow-writes]

Thoughts on the "Kris and Ralsei wielding a sword together" concept art

I know I am like two years late to this party but guys I only learned of this like a month ago let me react to the content ok

This art is fascinating to me, for a couple of reasons.

Long post below the read more!

Firstly, it speaks to the strange connection that Kris and Ralsei seem to share. Between the theories that Ralsei is Kris's old headband, his resemblance to a Dreemurr, and the enormous pedestal he places Kris upon, this is another thread that links these two in an intrinsic way, and suggests they will both have something important to contribute to the story as a whole.

Secondly, what it says about their relationship at the point this might happen. Their equal wielding of the sword seems indicative of an equality between them, which is striking due to the fact that in the lore Ralsei provides, Darkners exist only to serve Lightners, and Ralsei's entire character so far seems bent towards serving his friends any way he can. So the fact that both him and Kris get equal billing here suggests there will come a point in the story where he comes to view himself as equal, rather than subservient, to his friends, and particularly to Kris who he venerates above all others.

Thirdly, what this says about the nature of balance between light and dark. Somewhat related to the above, we can think of Kris and Ralsei as stand-ins for the concepts of Light and Darkness respectively. Typically these concepts are framed in a master-servant dynamic, with dark(ners) serving the light(ners) - or otherwise in an adversarial manner, particularly with the Roaring and the mention of "shadows subsuming the light". But here, there is true equality, and true balance between the two forces. This suggest that light and dark have united to combat a foe that far eclipses the scope and threat of either, whether that is the Roaring, the Angel's Heaven, or something else entirely.

Fourthly, the fact that this is not a happy occasion. Both of their faces are solemn (although Ralsei does look like he's pulling the o_O face a little here) - there are no smiles, this is not a moment of triumph. Something really important is going down, and both of them are ready to do whatever needs to be done here.

Fifthly, the implications for Ralsei's character and the philosophy of Deltarune. Kris wields a sword in combat, but they only use it to FIGHT. We know that the sword can change shape to become a shield, which would fit Ralsei's more pacifistic nature better - however, here he seems ready to FIGHT. Perhaps because he has run out of other options, or because their foe is so great, so powerful, that there is no way to parlay with them as equals.

And sixthly, and most importantly, the direction they are facing, and the object of their focus. Rather than facing rightwards as in a typical enemy encounter, or away from the screen where a larger threat would typically emerge (think GIGA Queen or perhaps even the Dark Fountains), they are facing towards the camera. Further, look at their gaze, how they are staring directly at the screen. Directly towards us, the players.

And so, unless I have failed to consider something, or there's some hidden element we're not currently aware of, I believe this is depicting the moment where Ralsei and Kris have decided to take up arms against the destiny that binds them, to fight against the very concept of control that a player typically exerts over a game's characters. We are too powerful, too alien, to negotiate with - no ACT will satiate our desire to continue playing Deltarune, to push these puppets forwards to see what happens at the very end. And so, these two have no other option but to try and FIGHT us, to overthrow our control and oversight by force.

This is the point, I feel, where Deltarune stops being a game, and we will have a choice to make - to let them win, and assert control over their own destinies once-and-for-all, or to FIGHT back, cement our power over these characters and make them dance to our tune to the story's bitter conclusion.

A bit of a stretch, perhaps, deriving all of that for a crudely-drawn piece of concept art. But those are just my thoughts. I'd be curious to see what conclusions anyone else has drawn from this curious piece of art!

[eastwindmlk]

For May' @jilychallenge I started two plunnies. One was Dillweed in a Fancy Metal Can and the other is this.

Partner: @charmsandtealeaves

Prompt: University Football/rugby/field hockey training is open to the public, on a very hot day star player A takes a shower from a water hose and B walks against a lamppost bc B might have been staring

Either read on AO3 or under the cut!

It was Wednesday evening in The Leaky Cauldron, which meant the lads had gathered in the back of the dingy establishment for their weekly team gathering. Well, James liked to call it their team gathering, it was mostly an excuse to grab a pint in the middle of the week for most of them. 

In front of them, on the large oval table in the back, they assumed was supposed to be their ‘event space’ that none of them could imagine would actually be used by anyone but them. After all, they’d celebrated most of their big moments around this table ever since uni. Lay the newest redition of their pub league bracket.

“I am sure we can manage,” Sirius commented, his finger gliding down the print-out with their pub league charter. Smirking as he tapped, their first match. “The Hog’s Head team always sucks. I’m pretty sure good ol’ Mundungus still pretends to be their striker.” 

Both the men rolled their eyes and a snicker went through the collection of young men gathered. Glasses clinked together. “Wait, Mundungus is their striker? The one that sells pot? Owns the pawnshop?” Frank asked curiously, squinting at the paper. 

“It almost feels bad to be playing against them. At least we don’t need to run too fast then,” Peter grinned, downing half of his pint in celebration. 

While James would not celebrate an easy win as readily as his friend, he could not help but feel a little bad for the middle-aged blokes having their first game against them. But he supposed that is why they had a point system instead of a knock-out. 

“We play Babberton Arms the week after, they’re usually decent, same goes for The White Wyvern.” It was then that a name caught his eye, there was a pub in the league that he wasn’t familiar with. They were new on the sheet, and what was more surprising was that their listed captain was one ‘Lily Evans’, a woman. 

Sirius noticed his hesitation, throwing his arm over his shoulder as he leaned in to look as well. “Anyone know The Three Broomsticks?” he asked, the team falling silent for a moment before Kingsley supplied:

“It’s a small gastropub down in the village. Nice place, little highbrow, though.” This caused a couple of people to pull out their phones to look it up. 

“They have a good menu.” 

“The lady who runs it is a total MILF.”

“I think I had a date there once. Nice place.” 

So far, it sounded pretty good. James reckoned he would probably recruit Sirius to go on a recon mission soon. Spend an evening there to scope out the competition. It would be fun. While he would never admit it aloud, he was not opposed to something a little finer than this. 

Peter, who started laughing, holding out his phone for everyone to get a glimpse of what was on the screen drew everyone’s attention. As far as James could tell, it was a team picture. All the players were posing in front of the metal goal that was part of their local park. 

He was not entirely sure what was too funny about it, but several people were chuckling and scoffing when the phone passed to them. “They’re all females?” Someone asked, clicking their tongue and earning a round of laughter. 

“We’ll be fine; I am sure a bunch of girls are not going to take our cup,” Remus commented, squeezing James’s shoulder. 

Sirius was quiet until someone made a remark about how they would at least have a good time looking at them run, pretending to jiggle a pair of tits, making the rest of the table burst into hysterics.

Easily and masterfully redirecting the jokes in an effort to cut short this sort of talk. By joking. “All I know is that we might want to put Pete in goal because he has never scored with a girl once in his life.” 

There was a short bout of silence around the table before the first person broke, Benjy snorting loudly and slapping Peter, who was not looking as amused as the others, on the back hard enough to hear it connect. 

“I just think we shouldn’t be too quick to judge them, it looks like they actually train,” James deducted, having found the profile himself and scrolling through the public posts. Finding out some interesting things about this other captain. 

Lily Evans and he had a few mutual friends, mostly people from the pub league and a bloke that went to the same gym as he did. 

They liked similar bands, she attended a Lord of the Rings marathon he’d been unable to get tickets to. 

By the looks of it, she and her friends dressed up. 

She volunteers for or supports multiple charities. Her work involves a white coat, which intrigued him.

Her red hair was natural, and her green eyes were breathtaking. 

He also found a post about wanting to start this women-only footy team. With dates and times when they were supposed to meet up.

James leaned in a little too close, to squint in the background of one of her throwback pictures where he could swear he knew the grease ball she was toting along when his finger slipped and he accidentally liked a picture of her on holiday. 

“Fuck, fuck, shit, fuck no,” he muttered to himself and frantically tapped the little thumbs up, only to be offered more options. By the time that he finally figured out how to unlike it, he’d left a heart, angry and laughing reaction, and there was no way in hell she did not know he was stalking her Facebook. 

Turns out, he did not need to be physically talking to someone to put his foot in his mouth. His ineptitude with the dinosaur that was Facebook did just fine at making him look like a right idiot. Though it must be some record, taking less than ten seconds.  

What made it worse was that, not a minute later, there was a buzz, the light on his phone blinking blue. A Facebook notification. Worse, a friend request from one Lily Evans.

After having ignored the notification for several hours James found himself staring at it, bending over his container of Szechuan noodles. Staring long and hard enough for Sirius to elbow him in the side. 

“If some spicy text got you this wrapped up, I need to see it,” he chuckled, trying to lean over to see what James was staring at. Not shrinking away from the glare he received, much to James’s disappointment, he was reminded that his best friend was not intimidated by him in the slightest. 

Turning the screen to show off the notification bar, rolling his eyes at Sirius snorted. “Isn’t that the captain from the Broomsticks team? What does she want from you?” 

“Maybe she wants to plead for mercy?” he suggested with a smirk, his thumb hovering over the decline button. Why would he accept it? It wasn’t like he knew her. His tongue pressed against the roof of his mouth for a moment before selecting ‘accept’. 

He might not know her personally, but he was not going to turn down the possibility of spying on their new rivals. As team captain, it was his responsibility to be prepared for anything. This certainly had nothing to do with the bikini picture he spotted earlier. 

---

By the time that his phone buzzed the following Saturday, while he was stretching before their first game, he had completely forgotten about this happening.

‘Good luck today! {insert football emoji and a smiley]

Squinting against the glare of the rising sun behind him, he could almost make out the picture of the redhead rival captain. There was a nervous roll of his stomach, eyes darting around the field. Wondering if maybe she was here to spy on them. But most of the crowd was distinctly more follically challenged and would not look nearly as good in a black one-piece as he had learned Lily did. 

He reacted to the message with his usual lion emoji before tossing the phone into his bag. Not wanting to get too distracted.

What did not help was checking it again at half-time, only to find a new message. 

‘You should pay more attention to that centre back.’ 

Making his eyes roam the stands in search of a hint of the spy, but if she was there, she was hiding in the crowd. 

‘We’ll be fine! He’s no Matt Clarke.’ 

The message was sent before he realized it, a reference to his favourite team that his friends would likely get. But would she? He supposed she could always google him if she wanted to know, he supposed. The ref blew his whistle and just before he tossed the phone back in the bag he saw the notification pop up. 

‘Think you’re good enough to go up against the Bald Eagle?’ 

She knew. And he considered that maybe he was already in love with this stranger. 

---

Just like that, his recognizance mission was compromised. Or rather, forgotten about. Until Peter asked casually while beating him mercilessly at a game of FIFA. “Did you hear the chick team won their first game seven nil? Maybe we should try and catch one of their trainings. See if this was just a stroke of luck.” 

He did not even have the decency to look at the screen when he tipped in another goal against him. 

James considered accusing him of cheating, but what was the point? The last time he did that, they were in college, and it had been embarrassing enough to still make him cringe today. “I did see a post about it on Lil’s timeline. I think they meet every Thursday.” 

The characters on screen celebrated the end of the game, and he immediately flicked to the main screen, not particularly feeling like seeing his pathetic stats.  

Peter grumbled something about the stats being there for the both of them before falling silent. Giving James a confused look. “Lil? You two are that friendly already?” 

He pulled up his shoulders and ran a hand through his hair. “I’d like to think so.” 

“Are you two secretly chatting or have you just become intimately familiar with her beach holiday pics?” Peter was still laughing between the coughs when his elbow landed in his stomach, throwing his hands up in defence. “Right, right! Got it! It’s both.” 

James shot him a playful glare and pulled up his shoulder, eyes returning to the screen to select another formation for his team. Certain he could out-strategize his friend’s undeniably superior skill. 

“I’ll go check them out this week.” 

---

The sun was starting to set when James and Sirius slunk into the park, rugged up in oversized cardigans they borrowed from Remus and stylish baseball caps that were generously donated by Kingsley. Who did insist they were not to adjust or bend them, as they were, collector's items. Or rather, they would be one day, and he was not going to risk it. Which did lead to a rather loose fit on Sirius and a promise of a very bad hair day for James. 

The pair of them carried a picnic blanket and book to look less suspicious. If they pretended to hold a book club. The biggest risk they ran was to look like nerds. 

Which they were. Not that James or Sirius would openly admit to this to anyone but each other. They are rather skilled at hiding their general nerdiness under a layer of muscle and smooth talking. Even if the smooth-talking occasionally included references to their nerd media of choice. 

James had overthought the time they should be arriving. Not too early, or they would notice something was off. Not too late, because then they would not get enough time to observe. After a lot of mulling over, James decided that twenty minutes after practice started should be perfect. 

He knew that their team took, at least, ten to fifteen minutes to waffle and joke around, and ten minutes was a quick warm-up. Which meant that they would probably wander in just as they started playing. 

Once he spotted the group of women, or rather, a collection of bouncing ponytails, James learned he was wrong, and he could not be happier about it. They were still warming up. Better yet, they were stretching and it was utterly enchanting. 

No matter how hard he tried, which was not very hard, he could not take his eyes off their captain. The feisty redhead he’d been texting off and on since Saturday wore a bright smile and a pair of criminally tight bike shorts as she dropped into a low lunge. 

A sight that he was clearly not prepared for. If it had not been for Sirius grabbing his arm, he might have walked straight into a rubbing bin. Frankly, he’d have deserved it for shamelessly staring. But what was a mortal man like him going to do? Avert his eyes when given the chance to glimpse at a goddess?

But as Sirius spread the blanket on the field across from the training, where he could resume his research in peace. The book he was pretending to read was open in his lap, his phone in his hand. He could not help himself. 

‘Good luck! [insert football and lady running emoji]’ 

Only after hitting sent, James realized that he might have just blown their cover. If Lily had done the same thing he had done when he got her message, it would not take a genius to figure out who they were. If there was something he’d learned about her over the past week or two was that she was, in fact, an actual genius. 

If the gods were merciful, she would see the humour in this. She’d not said anything about his little bikini picture snafu, which was arguably a lot creepier, and he had profusely apologized for it after a few pints to settle the nerves. 

That had been what had really set off their chatting. Messaging back and forth to the point that he had his eyes glued to his screen even while watching footy.  Remus had made remarks about it, which meant it had to be painfully obvious. 

Not that the screen was any sort of distraction now, for obvious reasons. However, there was also a less obvious and far more concerning reason for his mobile to lie discarded on the blanket. 

They're good. 

No, that was an understatement. They were terrifyingly competent. It was intimidating and did things to him, he would rather not admit to. 

“Prongs, I think we’re fucked,” commented Sirius after they watched a tall blonde flip throw the ball with such ease their jaws were on the floor. 

James swallowed, nodding slowly at his friend’s assessment. “So fucked.” A firm shove jolted him out of his trance to notice that, across the field, several of their rivals had turned to look at them. Most of them took this moment to catch their breaths, hands set into their sides. James could see their breaths form little clouds in the cooling evening air. 

He reeled in his jaw and raised a hand in an awkward greeting. As if he was not already done for, Lily raised her hand in what he thought would be an awkward wave back. Only for her to flip him off before winking and returning to her practice. Her jumper had ridden up and exposed a swath of tattooed skin on her side. 

Hand to his chest, James fell back into Sirius’s lap as if shot. Maybe he had been, because he was unwell. They’d never even spoken face-to-face, and he’d already decided on a May wedding at the Riverside, four kids and a Newfoundlander named Elvendork. 

Sirius peered at him with, what seemed like, genuine concern as James raked his hands over his face. “You right, mate?” he asked, the cap sliding forward as he tipped his head down to look at James. 

“Yeah. Yes. Though I could do with the incessant urge to make a fool of myself for her,” he groaned, an offended tsking rushing past his teeth when his friend pushed the cap down over his eyes. “Oi! Can you blame me? Just look at her!” 

Sirius looked up while he wrangled the cap back into place, taking a long moment and then some before sighing in defeat. “I vote Irish wolfhound and late spring. I look good in lavender.” 

“I was thinking Newfoundland,” he answered, a smirk playing around his lips.

“Only if I can be the godfather,” Sirius bargained, the raise of his eyebrows caused the cap to slide forward once more making James snicker. He let himself be pushed up and to his feet. “Go talk to her! Don’t do anything stupid,” his friend encouraged. 

James shot him a playful glare, tossing his own cap towards him and fixing his hair. Well, as much as it could be fixed. His feet already carrying him down the slight slope to the field. “It’s not like I am going to run into a lamp post,” he joked, tossing a grin over his shoulder seconds before connecting with just that. 

In his defence, the ladies were having a water break and Lily had taken off her jumper, standing there in just her sports bra, sweat glistening in the setting sun. Her hair was frizzy from the humidity and surrounded her like a halo. 

If that had not been enough, Lily had laughed, her head tilted back in delight and James was pretty sure he would move heaven and earth to be the one to make her laugh like that. Which was the thought that spun dizzily through his mind while he reeled from the impact. 

James staggered back a few steps, rubbing the side of his face that had made the actual impact. His glasses askew while he sat back down on the grass, blinking the spots from his vision. 

When his eyes focussed again, Lily was right there, her forehead creased with concern. Before he could think about it, his mouth moved. “Marry me?” Which was probably the first time that James Potter ever was truly mortified by something he had said. Mouth opening, this time intentionally, to apologize. 

But before he could, she laughed, and the sound was pure and surprisingly not like she wanted to run away. “How about you take me for a drink first?” 

The vigorous shake of his head made him reel all over again, but James didn’t care. ”It’s a date.” 

(A little reference vid, because I can.)

[orion4ever]

HIIII! It's the paranormal enthusiast mc anon again, I loved that SMSM THANK YOUUU! I'm back with another request :)

(Sorry if this is worded wierd, I couldn't figure out how to word it lmao)

Could I request a Baxter x past dance partner MC? MC used to do competitive dancing, and during contests and competitions in their past the two were often paired together. They immediately clicked the first time they danced together, and paired with eachother every chance they could get. After step 2, maybe mc stopped dancing or something happened that caused them to stop being paired together/not see eachother as often, and they didn't meet again until the summer :)

gsjskw aaaaaah I don't know how to word this correctly and I apologize if it's too specific, feel free to change this around or edit it if you want to!

Thank you again, and have a wonderful day/night! :>

Author’s Note: ….Okay this is freaky af because I WAS LITERALLY RETHINKING THIS SCENARIO IN MY HEAD. Are you a mind reader? 😦 if you couldn’t tell, I went HARD with this request! I wrote this with the MC and Baxter not meeting at the Soiree moment but at this competition instead.

Pairing: Baxter Ward x MC

🖤🤍

Let me set the stage-

You and Baxter are both very talented dancers , maybe the best in the pacific region’s teen category.

You have been fostering this skill since you were a little kid and have proven to your dancing instructor at the Cypress of your affinity with ballroom dancing.

All the cypresses in America held a ballroom dance competition with each Cypress nominating one person per age group to represent their location at the contest.

At age 13, you were selected to represent the teen and pre-teen category!

You were a bit nervous about it, especially it being your first competition.

You also didn’t expect to be making a charming new friend, or a future summer boyfriend.

˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ

You stood in the huge dancing hall, the tall shiny roof and shiny marble floors showing a reflection of yourself. The trip hadn’t been too long, this year’s annual competition took place at a Cypress in Nevada.

You looked around the room and noticed people of varying ages, you zeroed in on any kids around your age to ‘scope out the competition’ as your instructor would call it.

In the distance, an older gentleman pulled a mic from under a cabinet in a far-off corner of the room and tapped it a few times.

“Testing….testing…Welcome! To the annual ballroom competition. We would like to thank all our out-of-staters for making the trip to the Cypress’s Nevada location.”

The big room echoed with a loud applause from the crowd. The older man allowed them to finish before continuing.

“For any new competitors, I will quickly go over any etiquette and rules. Two competitors, each representing a different state but sharing an age category will pair up. They will be competing together and will both receive a trophy for their Cypress.”

Some of the pre-teens groaned at having to socialize with strangers, earning a few giggles from the older dancers.

“We do this to save on time and…to make it more interesting. As dancers, you should experiment with other dancing partners to see who matches your style and rhythm; like a therapist.”

The older gentleman added that last part to joke but it only earned a cough and an awkward laugh from the other side of the room.

“…AHEM. Uh yeah! We will start with the younger category, Categories teens and up should begin pairing with their dancing partners. Remember, it’s all friendly competition here!”

The older gentleman put the mic down and scratched his head, clearly embarrassed that his one joke landed flat.

The little kids all ran towards the middle of the dance floor and started pairing up quickly with each other, laughing and already giving each other hugs.

You envied how quickly they could make friends and pair up, maybe it’s them not having any awkwardness to them yet. You couldn’t say the same for the other categories all either awkwardly shuffling towards new people or instantly jogging towards acquaintances and friends.

You stood to the side and looked around, you were a bit anxious about the possibility that you would be left without a partner. You weren’t mentally prepared to meet any new dance partner.

You twiddled your thumbs and watched on. You were just about to test your luck with a teen who looked just as awkward when you felt a noticeable tap on your shoulder.

You turned around and spotted a very handsome boy, maybe a year older than you. His casual smile widened when he got a look at your face. His hair was a dark black. His skin, was pale and pink at the cheeks. A mole placed on his neck and finally the most intense

Deep brown eyes.

He looked as if he should be modeling for DIOR or if he should be a star in some movie. His neatly pressed suit made him look like a prince.

“Hello there. I am Baxter, Baxter Ward.” He introduced himself, extending a hand for you to shake.

“I noticed that you don’t have a partner and I was hoping to fix that.” He said. The young man had a distinctive voice.

You gave him a neutral smile and shook his hand back.

“I am Y/N L/N. It’s nice to meet you.” You greeted him in return and then answered his question.

“That would be great actually, This is my first competition so I am a little all over the place.” You chuckled nervously, rubbing your arm. The brown-eyed boy nodded.

“It gets easier, I promise.” He reassured before asking a different question.

“Which state are you representing?”

“Oh, uh I am representing California!” You replied, crossing your arms proudly. Baxter’s face somehow brightened even more.

“Oh, wow! How wonderful, I am representing Oregon.” He chuckled. You made a small exaggerated gasp before lightly clapping your hands together.

“We’re like..like neighbors! That's so cool!” You grinned.

Baxter paused at the thought, putting a hand to his chin in an equally exaggerated way.

“I never thought of it that way..” he said thoughtfully before giving you a polite but genuine smile.

“Let’s do good for Oregon and California then.” He said confidently, you nodded at the sentiment.

You and your new dance partner now stood next to each other, watching the little babies dance with each other. While they’re dancing was silly, they all looked to be having fun and some even paused their swinging to ask the other what their favorite colors were or if they wanted to get ice cream after the competition.

Baxter made an amused sound before turning back to you, wanting to make conversation and also…wanting to hear your insight.

“If only we could all make friends that quickly.” He sighed softly, stuffing a hand in his pocket.

“Tell me about it.” You chuckled. “What makes it easier for them anyway? Are they just more social?” You questioned more to fill the air than actually wanting hearing an answer so you weren’t expecting Baxter to reply with his own opinion.

“I personally think it’s because they aren’t as burdened with fears of rejection yet, it makes them more confident.” He commented. You blinked before agreeing.

“That makes sense. I wonder where all that confidence goes when we age.”

It was silent again, the younger categories finished up their round with everybody including the both of you, giving a round of applause for them.

“We will now have the preteen and teen division go up next.”

Baxter turned to you and offered a hand. “Shall we?”

You in return, took his hand “We shall.”

The two of you walked to the middle of the room and got into position. Baxter took the initiative and offered to lead. The older gentleman behind the counter hit a few buttons to activate the music in the speakers. The other contestants began to dance and spin around, unlike how silly and unserious the way the babies danced; everybody currently on the floor struggled to get acquainted with their dance partner’s style. Lots of accidental stepping-on and half spins that didn’t go through.

You and Baxter were extremely different though. While you guys did start a little rocky, with never dancing with each other before. The two of you warmed up quickly and danced very well together.

You two swung and spun around as if you guys had danced with each other billions of times.

But more importantly, it looked as if Baxter was having fun dancing with you.

And you enjoyed how familiar and fun it was to dance with him.

Baxter whispered something to you, “You are very talented,….and you have nice legs.”

“Wait what?”

It was now an unofficial tradition to pair up together, and you guys did for the next two years. While you and Baxter weren’t that close back then, you still had fun conversing with one another and being able to dance so freely with each other; you enjoyed how straightforward he was and lightly teased him for how formal he sounded and he played around and equally enjoyed your company, you didn’t know it then but you two felt a click.

So it was extremely unfortunate when you injured your ankle permanently and would have to stop dancing for a while, it had happened during the winter so you weren’t able to tell that charming boy goodbye or to explain to him why his dance partner had suddenly disappeared off the face of the earth. It broke your heart, that those sparks you had when you danced with him would never be replicated.

You never thought you would see him again, Until that fateful summer of 2016. You sat in both awe and shock as Baxter stepped out from the passenger side of his taxi, he turned towards you and Cove; his neutral eyes narrowing when he took a look at you before a look of recollection replaced it.

“…Y/N? Is that you over there?” He questioned loud enough for you to hear.

“BAXTER??”

Cove looked between the both of you. “Huh?”

[historicrad39a]

2. Enslaved

Previous

Sector -300 +145 outskirts, +28 Rotations and 2 Deci-rotations since invasion start - ~253ly from Ka’Lagrath space, aboard the Slaver ship Mutiny

We had five new prisoners today. Unlike the other eighty-some individuals enslaved aboard this ship, including myself, these creatures were not acquired (as the Ka’Lagrath like to say) through one of their numerous “protection contracts.” Instead, they had been onboard an exploration vessel belonging to a civilization the Ka’Lagrath were supposedly at war with. The Mutiny had been redirected from my species’ homeworld to rendezvous with the Ka’Lagrath warship responsible for successfully “acquiring” these new prisoners.

As the new prisoners were transferred the same hold cell as I, I overhead the warship’s guard warning the Mutiny’s guards to be careful of these new prisoners, as they were supposedly very much against this whole enslavement thing, and would do anything in their power to escape. I was somewhat excited about this news, as I doubted the Ka’Lagrath would be willing to kill, or even gravely harm such rare and therefore “valuable” prisoners - which would make an escape attempt much easier.

My hope was that these new arrivals would be kind enough to break out all of the other prisoners, myself included, were they to be successful. Furthermore, as the Ka’Lagrath were unsure of their exact biology, any attempts at subduing them with gas would be extremely limited in scope. However, these hopes were quickly dashed, as the new arrivals did little but sit in silent unease.

The prisoners were certainly interesting in appearance, they were bipedal and had 2 slender appendages that appeared to be for grabbing/manipulating objects - in this regard they were extremely similar to their Ka’Lagrath captors - however, unlike the Ka’Lagrath, they had long ‘fur’ on their heads, and their skin was something of a tan-ish red color - although this was somewhat obscured by how bright they appeared in infrared.

Curious about them, I attempted to strike up a conversation with them. As I was a (now former) diplomat, I figured there was a good chance we shared at least one language in common. Unfortunately, of the 15 languages I knew, we shared none in common.

It’s worth noting at this point that our species, the Myilrs, are occasionally born with what one might call psychic powers. These powers are both very versatile - allowing communication across species in the absence of a shared language - and very limited - as only very, very few individuals outside the Mailrs were actually compatible. I was fortunate enough to be born with these powers, however, given that the Ka’Lagrath had a keen interest in these powers, were I to be found out, I would likely to be killed and dissected.

Were I to do this, I’d need to be careful. If I extended the range too far, and a compatible Ka’Lagrath guard was within that range, I’d be found out. If they happened to install any anti-psychic countermeasures, I’d get a splitting headache, once again giving me away. Of course, there was also a possibility that none of the five individuals were compatible, their species was completely unknown to me, so it wasn’t as if I knew how compatible their species was on average.

After mulling over it for around a third of a deci-rotation, I made up my mind. Closing my eyes I began to concentrate…

Can you hear me? I asked. The reply was immediate.

What? Who are you? Responded one of the individuals. Their “voice” (if you could call it that) was somewhat high-pitched, it sounded similar to the natural register of we Myilrs, but far higher than any of the Ka’Lagrath. At around the same time, one of the individuals - the smallest of the five - let out a stifled yelp of (what I presumed to be) surprise.

I am the individual sitting across from you, the one currently looking in your direction. I responded. The individual did not respond for a moment.

How are you doing this? Earlier I think you tried speaking to us, but we couldn’t understand. But now you’re… speaking(?) English. They responded.

Does your civilization, - the… English, is it? - have stories of those who can read minds? This is something like that.

The individual shook their head from side to side. No, we call ourselves (people). English is one of our (unknown word). And yes, we do have such stories.

Given the nature of how this power worked, I was reading the intended meaning behind their thoughts. This meant that there would be words (or meanings, rather) that I could not understand.

Well, I guess that’s not important right now. I’m assuming you can still hear me… So, what exactly is it you need? The individual asked.

From what I overheard, you individuals were apparently dangerous enough that the ships’ guards were warned about you trying to escape. Yet from what I see, you are just sitting in silence. Why?

That’s what they were saying? The individual cocked their head. I suppose I can’t blame them after (farmer(?)) bit one of them…

Bit? As in used their mouth to attack? I was under the impression only non-sapient creatures attacked in such ways.

Anyway, we are planning to escape. It’ll just take a few (unknown word, time related?) The individual continued. I’m (Young flower(?)), by the way.

Young flower? I asked

What? The individual responded. I mean, I suppose it originally meant something like that. They continued.

Based on the individual’s reaction, I guessed that what they had just told me was their name. Unfortunately, as most names had meanings, I usually only “heard” the meaning of the name when told via this power. To hopefully combat this, I decided to spend some time actually conversing with the out loud as well as internally to hopefully learn more about them.

Over the course of 2 Deci-rotations, I conversed with the individual known as “Hanako” along with her crew mates. I slowly began to learn their language (of which, they apparently had several), and as a result I now knew more about them.

They called themselves “Humans”, and they were part of an alliance composed of 2 different species. Similar to the Myilrs and Ka’Lagrath, their species was composed of two primary sexes, and numerous genders (whilst Ka’Lagrath also had more than 2 genders, this information was largely repressed). Their homeworld was around a G class Star, and as a result, they couldn’t see into the infrared or Ultraviolet spectrums.

Hanako - the human I had been conversing with - was in command of an exploration vessel. They had been exploring the outermost edges of Human space when their ship was attacked and they were captured. Humans were apparently also rather social creatures, as Hanako seemed to enjoy my company, and her crew mates also seemed to enjoy my presence (as I could not communicate with them directly, this was a bit harder to tell).

I had asked on numerous occasions about if they were planning to escape or not, to which they said they were. However, when I asked how, they couldn’t quite figure out how to describe it. They had assured me they would escape, but strangely it appeared as if they didn’t know how they would.

3 Deci-rotations after the humans first arrived, the Mutiny was stopped to refuel in an uncontrolled star system. In addition, five Ka’Lagrath cruisers had also rendezvoused with the tanker in order to take on fuel. It was during this refueling stop when I began to hear a distinct rumbling sound similar to that of air entering or escaping a room.

There were no vents in this holding cell, nor was the door open or any other way for air to enter or escape, and the air felt perfectly calm. Yet despite that, the ‘flowing air’ sound continued, slowly growing louder and clearer. After several minutes, the sound was impossible to ignore. It was loud enough to drown out conversation, and it made it hard to think clearly. Almost everyone in the cell, including the sole Ka’Lagrath guard, showed signs of anxiety on their faces or fidgeted nervously. I silently wondered if the ship hasn’t sprung a leak, and we were mere moments away from an explosive decompression.

The humans, on the other hand, were dead calm. Worried about their complete lack of concern, I went over to Hanako.

“Why calm?” I managed after struggling for a moment.

A look of confusion crossed Hanako’s face for a moment, she then bared her teeth (in a gesture I was assured was a sign of joy/happiness, rather than an intimidation attempt) before saying “you’ll see!”

Her words thoroughly confused me. What would I see? I didn’t think it was possible to see sound, were humans perhaps capable of seeing sound? Was she referring to the fact the ship was visibly shaking from the noise? I didn’t understand in the slightest.

I turned towards the window - the direction in which the sound seemed to be coming from - and tried to focus. I didn’t understand what was happening at all, I had so many questions that-

My train of thought was abruptly interrupted by a singular large THUD. The vacuum of space itself seemed to shudder as a massive object streaked in from near-luminal speeds before coming to an abrupt stop in less than a second. The aforementioned ‘flowing wind’ sound noticeably decreased in volume, and was partially replaced by a ‘winding down’ noise, a split second later, two more loud THUDs accompanied two more massive objects emerging from out of nowhere at similar speeds and stopping in a similar amount of time. The ‘flowing air’ sound finally came to an end as fifteen or so smaller objects emerged from out of nowhere in a similar fashion.

Despite being separated by the vacuum of space, I could clearly hear the objects. Each one groaned and creaked for several long seconds as they remained motionless. It was then that I recognized the sound. These sounds are almost identical to the noises heard when a ship is traveling through rift-space, and then the sounds heard after emerging from rift-space, as the drives powered down.

This made no sense. Eighteen or so objects - evidently ships of some kind, has just emerged from rift-space right in front of my very eyes. The Mutiny was around 500 light seconds from the system’s primary star - no ship in existence could possibly drop out of rift-space at any location other than near the system’s center of mass. And yet, these ships seemed to have done just that.

The ships’ design was completely unknown to me. Unlike the smooth a bulbous designs of Ka’Lagrath ships, these vessels were very blocky in nature. The center most ship had a long, flat deck behind a vaguely conical bridge. Either side of the primary body were two massive “wings” pointed at a slight angle “downwards”, and 2 strut-like protrusions at an angle extending out from a central tower-like structure on the bottom. Finally, on one side of the primary deck, there was another tower which appeared to be a bridge of some-sort.

Either side of the center most ship were two vaguely trapezoid in shape, with 4 large railgun double-barreled turrets on each wing (2 above and 2 below), totaling 8 turrets (although it seemed as if there were more behind the forward facing turrets). Above what looked like an embedded bridge was an enormous triple-barreled railgun turret, and there was another directly below in on the bottom of the ship. I had never seen such large railguns before - these were definitely far larger than the 23cm railguns commonplace on Ka’Lagrath vessels. Finally, both ships had an insane amount of secondary railgun turrets dotted along their hulls.

The smaller ships were less impressive, but still formidable. They were a boxy shape with a single large ‘humps’ above their center. On either side of the bridge of the ships sat dual barreled railgun turrets, and the hump contained 4 large openings that were likely for a weapon of some kind.

All in all, the eighteen ships sat in ominous silence for long seconds. The Ka’Lagrath fleet reacted instantly, all five cruisers began turning to engage the enemy fleet. Turrets rotated and hatches opened as the cruisers began to prepare for battle. The mysterious fleet, did not wait idly by, instead, around a hundred or so small craft began to emerge from the ‘back’ of the center most ship before charging at the Ka’Lagrath fleet. Following behind the small craft were the fifteen or so smaller vessels that had emerged from rift-space a moment ago. The front most ship rotated its turrets and loosed 4 rounds towards one of the Ka’Lagrath cruisers. Hell began to break loose as the Ka’Lagrath and the mysterious ship began exchanging fire.

The Mutiny was rocked by numerous impacts as the small crafts dove at it, releasing some sort of payload before darting away to attack a different target. These ships moved as if they were flying through an atmosphere, rather than the vacuum of space, which was extremely odd. Although, nothing about this situation was normal so far.

Bafflingly, as the rounds hit their target, there would occasionally be an explosion following it. This meant that, for whatever reason, these ships used explosives rounds rather than simple metal slugs. What’s more, the rounds likely contained an oxidizer as well in order to facilitate the explosion.

One of the smaller ships charged at a Ka’Lagrath vessel and four slow (compared to the railgun rounds) projectiles were deployed from the hump on the ship’s back. Noticing the lack of speed from the projectiles, the Ka’Lagrath cruiser attempted to dodge - the projectiles turned to match its course. The cruiser tried everything it could to make the projectiles miss, but it was ultimately futile. All four of the projectiles hit their mark, and the Ka’Lagrath cruiser was torn in half by an enormous explosion.

It was at around this point when I noticed that the eight forward-facing turrets on one of the two larger ships began to rotate, each pair of turrets seeming to track a different target. Each pair eventually locked onto their target and slowly tracked it for long seconds.

Then, massive plumes of fire and smoke were expelled from each barrel in sequence as the massive guns fired. They were using not railguns, but ancient explosive-propelled shells shot from a cannon. All hell broke loose, as the remaining four Cruisers all but disintegrated in massive explosions. All the ships that had been attacking a moment ago suddenly began falling back as the spine-mounted turret on one of the large ships slowly began to rotate.

Fear. That’s the only emotion I felt as I stared down the three massive barrels on the central turret. The Mutiny, the ship I was currently on, was its next target. Time stood still as the turret coldly tracked the Mutiny as it attempted to flee. Then, three massive plumes of fire and smoke exploded out of the barrels as I braced myself for impact.

The Mutiny shook with such intensity that it felt as if it were being torn apart. The ship screeched and screamed in agony as fire enveloped the hallways. The power died but the emergency light were of little use compared to the flames currently licking the door to the hallway. Somehow, we had survived. The ship was completely dead, but it would take time before the air supplies ran out.

The central turret began rotating back to its neutral position as several ships that looked something like a needle with a cone-like top were deployed from the center most ship and began speeding this way. The ships charged at the Mutiny, seemingly determined to ram the thing. I was sure they were intending to slice through the Mutiny’s hull, damning those of us still alive to boil or freeze to death in the vacuum of space. But at the last second, retro-rockets fired on each of the pin-shaped craft followed shortly thereafter by the intense screeching of metal penetrating metal. I was knocked off my feet as each of the pin-shaped craft slammed into the Mutiny’s hull. One of the ships had come to a rest no more than 20 meters away from the cell we currently occupied.

The fires in the hallway had died down, and any Ka’Lagrath guards who had survived the impacts were scrambling throughout the darkened hallways. Sparks flew from the points of contact of the closest ship accompanied by the electric sounds of welding. After a moment, the sparks and noise died down only to be immediately followed by the sounds of metal being torn through by an immense force. Then once more there was pure silence.

*pop pop, pop pop*

Four distinct popping noises were shortly followed by barely audible Ka’Lagrath screams. There were other voices too, they were somewhat muffled and mechanical in nature meaning I could not decipher them.

*BOOM*

*pop pop pop, pop, pop*

The distinct sound of an explosion followed by more of the previous popping sounds. Looking into the hallway I saw several Ka’Lagrath guards running towards the source of the noise. I couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, but it seemed they were rather panicked. A group of around ten guard were running down the hall when-

*THUNK THUNK THUNK THUNK THUNK THUNK THUNK THUNK THUNK THUNK THUNK THUNK THUNK THUNK THUNK THUNK THUNK THUNK THUNK THUNK THUNK*

A much heavier “thunking” sound began ringing out, as hundreds of orange trails whizzed by tearing the Ka’Lagrath guards to shreds. The residual “tings” of many objects hitting the floor was audible after that terrifying machine stopped firing.

A few seconds later I saw a creature in thick armor wearing a helmet with a black visor peer through the door and into the room.

“Over here!” I heard them shout in the Human’s tongue. Several more individuals rushed over to the door as Hanako spoke up.

“Get away from the [unknown word]”, I didn’t need to know what the last word was to understand that I needed to get out of the way, and fast. I scrambled away from the door as the (presumably human) individuals fiddled with the door. An eerie silence fell over the room, as every individual was herded to the corner furthest from the door. The silence was occasionally broken by rapid pops and the occasional boom. It was right when I was about to speak up when-

BOOM

The door was blown off its mount as it flew across the room, impacting the wall opposite of it. The armoured individuals stormed the room, the smoke from the recent explosion twisting around their figures as they emerged from the smoking entrance. One of the armoured individuals spotted the humans and immediately ran over to them.

I could not decipher most of their conversation, but what started as the armoured individual checking on the humans in concern quickly turned into something resembling an argument. I would need to ask Hanako about it when I got the chance. After the (what I assumed to be an) argument went on for far too long, the armoured individual gave off an air of exasperation before dejectedly speaking into some device.

After another few moments, the armoured individual began speaking to Hanako, and she relayed that we were supposed to follow a few of the armoured individuals back to their ship. At the time I was still greatly confused, but by doing this my fate would be irreversibly changed as I got involved in a conflict that would change the course of history…

Hey Y’all, long time no see. It’s been two or so months since I last updated this series, as explained in this post I’ve been very busy, but going forward I’ll be trying to update this series every other Monday or so (and failing that, the 3rd Monday of every month). That aside I hope you enjoyed this chapter, it ended up being quite a bit longer than I initially expected which is part of why it took so long.

I’m currently undecided about whether the next entry I write will be an intermission, or a full-blown chapter. The contents wouldn’t differ much, if at all. So far the actual chapters have been from an alien perspective, rather than a human/familiar one. But I’m not sure if it’s worth keeping this up “naming scheme” going forward. I still like the idea of alternating, but the issue is that of “are the entries labeled ‘1, intermission, 2, intermission…’ or just ‘1, 2, 3, 4…’” if any of you have strong opinions on this, please let me know.

Once again I hope you enjoyed, and I’ll (hopefully) see y’all in 2 weeks or so!

~Rad

Read the next entry here

[anthurak]

One very interesting factor I think we should be keeping in mind while theorizing about Ruby’s character arc in Volume 9, is that it is very possible, even likely, that Ruby’s conflict with her self-destructive hero-complex WON’T actually be resolved by the end of this volume. At least not fully.

Let’s all remember that while these subtle nuances of Ruby’s character might be obvious to those of us who have spent the last 3+ volumes going over every last one of her scenes with fine-tooth comb, they have still yet to come into the forefront of the show itself in the same way as, for example; Ren’s PTSD or Nora’s identity issues. That’s not to say that these issues haven’t been present. Rather, they’ve been more looming in the background. At this point, none of Ruby’s friends, nor Ruby herself, seem to be fully aware of just WHAT Ruby is struggling with, and how serious it is.

And I think THAT is (one of) the major shift(s) that Volume 9 is going to introduce: Finally bringing Ruby’s long-repressed issues into the forefront and focus. And finally letting Yang, Blake, Weiss and ultimately Ruby herself see just how serious her problems actually are.

I think Ruby’s big character breakthrough this volume won’t so much be something like ‘resolving her problems’, but rather simply recognizing that she HAS a problem to begin with. This feels like it fits in far better with RWBY’s long-form style of story-telling and character development. The problems and struggles characters face are not ‘fixed’ so quickly and easily as a single volume. Just look at Jaune, Ren, Nora, Yang, Blake, Weiss and basically EVERY major character in the show. And I’d say it only makes sense that our shows main heroine would have the biggest and longest struggle of all.

This is where I think it makes sense for Ruby to do something really crazy like cutting out her eye and/or hanging herself from the Ever After Tree’s limbs and impaling herself on Crescent Rose as part of some ritual all to learn how to get her team home. It’s a shocking, dramatic reveal to both Ruby’s team and the audience as to just how BAD Ruby’s problems truly are.

To use an example from a very similar character, Ruby cutting out one of her eyes Odin-style with barely any hesitation would be very much akin to Suletta Mercury turning some poor bastard into tomato-paste and then laughing off with a cheery smile.

It’s a moment that is a dramatic ‘Oh SHIT’ reveal to both the audience and other characters of the true scope of the heroine’s emotional and psychological problems. Problems that are far worse than almost anyone expected. And it’s not the sort of thing that will be quick or easy to resolve.

I mean, I think image of Ruby walking up to an utterly shocked and HORRIFIED Weiss as blood seeps out from her freshly scarred and empty left eye socket and jokes with an empty, unsettling smile ‘Hey Weiss, I guess we match now, huh?’ is a scenario that is all too easy see happening...