#as someone who experiences low empathy it always shocks me how much it makes me feel and brings up the empathy i so rarely feel intensely

[losttimesnail]

every time someone comes out to me as trans i feel this great ache. like thank you. for trusting me, for being kind to yourself in admitting this, for being brave. im sorry for all the ways the world wont be ready for you yet.

[maschotch]

same anon as the morgan ask lol - no you’re so right about the weird vibes of hc’ing reid as transmasc. like if it was just sometimes… but it’s all the time, it’s disproportionately him, much more rare for hotch or morgan or luke or anyone to be transmasc. and like… people are always calling reid their /babey boy/ and it’s kinda the same with a lot of popular transmasc hcs, it’s young, skinny, white, shy or "socially awkward", "feminine" in some way, characters. it rubs me the wrong way. depends on the reasoning. but for reid it’s always,, "oh cause he looks young for his age, he has long hair, he’s so /cute/, he’s my baby boy, he’s shy and girls are shy" etc. like. classic infantilising of trans guys, classic transphobia against transmascs. nothing against some reidgirls but can they stop being weird about it? can they explain why they’d not hc hotch or morgan as transmasc, unless they’re doing t4t reid and someone? why i’ve only ever seen one hc of any of the women as transfem? & don’t feel bad about preferring to talk about hotch - i’m a morgan fan but i’m a (low empathy) prentiss fan first, i don’t mean that everyone has to obsess over morgan, i just wish people would appreciate his strengths & flaws & experiences & overall character a bit more in general.

admittedly i’m also the person who sent that last low empathy prentiss ask btw, big agree with all you say. of course i don’t mind that people have different opinions on her to me but just…. sometimes i’m like, did we watch the same show? a lot of the things they consider "empathy" moments from her are just being somewhat kind, and like, yeah i don’t think she’s evil so of course she has the capacity to be kind and exhibit some compassion. but every time she gives a grunt of disgust at a crime scene or whatever, it’s just to show that she disapproves of what the unsub did, not that she’s devastated or shocked in the way that many of the others on the team seem to be. and probably somewhere between having a shit relationship with her mother, the way she canonically has said she would change everything about herself to get approval from other teens when she was moving schools all the time in high school, and her undercover missions at Interpol… somewhere in all that, she clearly developed some acting skills, the ability to manipulate people, mirror and read people but *manually* rather than by having empathy. for her job, that’s necessary, idk how to say "manipulate" in a way that doesn’t sound that bad but i don’t mean it as inherently bad lol. and having less empathy would help her stay calm, logically analyse problems, not be fooled by people pretending to be upset, not have too much guilt get in the way of manipulating suspects (necessary to her job obviously), etc. however, it can diminish her ability to comfort friends from an emotional POV, might make her more impulsive/reckless because she doesn’t consider the effects it might have on herself and others, and it probably would contribute to how in those Lauren eps she just assumes her team members would be mad at her because she doesn’t *know* how they would emotionally feel about that. and maybe she does worry that she’s a bad person bc of her low empathy! who knows! i haven’t actually thought *that* much about it, i’m just kinda rambling about a few patterns i see, but i do think she has low empathy. and that you’re very right about the writers just… being inconsistant and weird with her character a Lot. i’m glad someone else sees what i see with her.

signed, the only morgangirl 😔 lmao

yeah :// like it’s tricky to be overly critical of trans hcs without being disrespectful or belittling people’s experiences (bc there are some people who i know identify with reid’s gender ambiguity (???)) but idk… it’s hard to ignore the pattern of the internet favoring their submissive breedable skinny white little twink as the main char seen as trans. like. what are we saying here lol

and yeah same thing w characters… you cant really fault anyone for preferring certain characters but when they take character traits/experiences/plotlines from morgan and give them to reid?? it just feels?? distasteful? like if youre gonna change everything about reid to make him/his backstory more like morgan, just… write about morgan? idk how to describe it. it’s like… if there’s a set of angsty tropes that are pretty standard—used by both official network writers and fandoms—that the showrunners divvy up between characters, and the fandom enjoys certain tropes that apply to certain characters, and the fandom’s favorite character is different, then they’ll give those same tropes to their favorite character without acknowledging the other character at all. idk if that makes any sense, but it’s just glaringly obvious when it’s the exact same type of skinny white guy that becomes the fandom’s favorite every time

but yes i am a very big fan of low empathy emily <3 i think it’s one of those “repressed lesbian jj” concepts that explains away a lot of the shitty character inconsistencies?? emily’s inconsistent bc she’s acting, bc she’s playing a part, bc her mask is changing as she tailors it to the group dynamic and her place within it. which is just FASCINATING to me lmao i love it so much. it’s something i’ve spent a lot of time thinking about, but despite that i feeel like i dont have a lot to say on it? it’s less like a “here’s a list of headcanons for this character” and more of a “here’s a lens to watch the show through.” it doesnt necessarily addd anything, it’s just a different perspective that imo makes things make more sense lol. i think she’s made peace with who she is and doesn’t spend too much time fretting over whether she’s a bad person. like i don’t think she’s answered that question necessarily, i just think she knows it’s kinda pointless trying to figure it out. n e ways yes i like that you also see it :)))

[amiechuchu]

Magic, Mayhem, and All Things In Between

Chapter 3: Background of the Study

[A/N: finally some y/n and loki development. soft loki moments. i am once again back with the self-indulgent fic and i hope you enjoy :’)]

other chapters can be found here

Weeks had passed since you had accepted Mr. Stark’s small favor. Weeks had passed since you began spending the majority of your time with the Asgardian brothers and dear Uncle Bruce. Though the days were filled with chatter, the late nights in the lab were quite the opposite. With only the low hum of machines to keep you company, you realized how lonely it can be. It was unlike the times you spent in the hospital, where you’d be surrounded by fellow doctors, nurses, and patients even at the dead of night. Despite how these late night duties meshed with early mornings, dulling your own sense of time, you didn’t mind it because of the company that you had. Research work, on the other hand, was a different story. Despite your years of experience, the burnout and loneliness that accompanied research work slowly made its way to the deepest parts of your brain.

“Hey,” a voice said as a hand waved in front of you, snapping you out of the trance you were in. It was Loki. “Are you okay, pet? You look rather dead.” The God held up a cup of freshly brewed coffee and passed it on to you.

“I’m fine,” came your quick reply as you received the cup from him, your hands nudging his slightly, “thank you for the coffee by the way.” You gave Loki a weak smile before beginning to sip from the warm cup of comfort that was given to you.

The lack of reaction was unusual. How many times has Loki seen you flustered with just the tiniest forms of physical touch? Probably every single time. Confused, he grabbed a chair and set it down beside you. “Are all you Midgardians always so dishonest about what you feel?” There was that usual bite in his manner of speaking. Though, no matter how hard he tried to hide it in his cold demeanor, he could feel the concern dripping from the words he uttered; the loneliness he saw in your eyes hit too close to home. Did he get too close? Maybe showing that he cared was a mistake.

Keeping your eyes on the warm mug, you hummed in reply, refusing to answer a clear yes. Your eyes glanced up at the God beside you, longing to understand why he’d even bother. Clearly, you were oblivious to any form of care or concern Loki has shown. It wasn’t as if you had your guard up, rather you were quite unfamiliar with the intimacies of talking about your own feelings. Although the question he asked was clearly rhetorical, you still wondered: Do Asgardians not repress their own feelings to prevent them from getting distracted from things that truly matter?

Green orbs stared at yours, noticing the ever darkening bags under your eyes. “I was just concerned,” Loki began, voice softening. The God looked away and focused on the variety of glassware set up on the table adjacent to them, “it has been a while since you’ve left the laboratory. You didn’t even sneak out to the medical wing for a little breather.”

You raised an eyebrow at him in disbelief. How could he have noticed all that? How could he have cared at all? After all, you were just a lowly Midgardian, as he put it, and he was a God, a deity, someone with power and importance. “How did you-”

“It pains me that you put me on the same level as them, little doctor,” the God interjected as he faced you once more, “out of all the weeks we’ve spent in this laboratory, you really believed I wouldn’t have noticed.” He noticed the closeness of your proximity; his form inches away from yours, yet your mind was elsewhere. 

“In my defense, everyone else I’ve met in this tower described you as a narcissistic asshole and a war criminal,” you shrugged, “so, naturally, I didn't think you would care at all about my well-being.” You took a sip from your cup, and indulged in the buzz the caffeine began to give you. “But I don’t think you’re as bad as they make you out to be. They just didn’t think of the whole story. Just took out a portion of it. It was unfair - what they did to you. It felt as if you always had the short end of the stick.”

Silence. 

Now, it was your turn to shock your Asgardian companion. Being on the other end of empathy was foreign to Loki as everyone treated him quite harshly. He grew up in the shadow of Thor, the more loveable sibling, and, as much as he wanted to show off his capabilities, that he was just as worthy as Thor, Loki was left in the darkness, to wallow in promises unkept, to wallow in dreams broken, to wallow in his own great tragedy. 

Eyes feeling heavy, You turned your head towards Loki, waiting for a response; though you were a naturally perceptive person, the look on his face was filled with emotions you couldn’t make out. Was he mad? Did you say too much? That analysis was unwarranted, of course he’d be mad. Embarrassed, you looked down on your cup of coffee once more, “I apologize if I said anything out of line. There are just too many things in my mind right now. I don’t think I was able to filter my thoughts very well.”

“Pray tell, dear doctor. What are you thinking of?” Loki replied, deciding to change the course of their conversation. With brows slightly raised and his gaze set at your exhausted form, you felt the God studying you, attempting to break down the essence of what makes the little physician tick. 

Deciding to be a smartass, you replied, “like I said, many things.” You set down your cup of coffee on the table and crossed your arms. “Why do you ask, Loki? These past few weeks you’ve been awfully helpful to the point that Uncle says it’s weird and unlikely for you to do that just for a human. I appreciate it though, but I just don’t see why you should go out of your way to listen to me.”

“Your words wound me, doctor,” Loki chuckled, emerald eyes piercing yours, “can I not be concerned? I see years worth of loneliness and unfulfilled expectations in your eyes to the point that you can’t even deny it. I’m sure you understand what isolation and over independence can do.” Your eyes softened, glistening under the incandescent lights. You were cracking slowly, and the God knew this. He knew what you were seeking: comfort, validation, a shoulder to cry on. It was clear as day.

“Well, I could see all the walls you’ve built. You know everything about everybody, but barely anyone knows anything about you,” you attempted to reply proudly; however, your words were breathy, already beginning to shake. So much for an attempted bark. Embarrassed, you looked away defensively, not taking another moment under his perceptive gaze. It felt as if all the skeletons you’ve kept inside your closet were being showcased all of a sudden, and you hated every second of it. Your stomach churned as your defenses slowly came undone; it wouldn’t take a while now for you to start oversharing, possibly even crying your eyes out. His hand tenderly reached out to the edge of your chin and tilted it towards him. It was warm, soothing. Comforting.

“I could say the same to you, darling. You act as if you don’t build walls around you, yet you keep everyone else at arms reach. I know what loneliness and distrust does to people, and I also know that you shouldn’t hold yourself accountable for all these expectations.” There was a slight pang in Loki’s chest as he said all these truths. He too bore wounds invisible to the eye. He too carried scars from the past. These emotions were far too familiar to the raven-haired God much like old friends, and he was afraid that, by reading these off your face, he’d become attached somehow, mended together by a mutual understanding of each other’s pain. What would become of his plan then? His glorious purpose?

Looking up to him, you realized how small you were, how fragile, how easy it was for him to see through your façade. It was oddly nice to have someone who had a grasp on your inner demons, albeit without consent. You felt a connection in the making.

 Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to trust him.

 *

Days have passed since the God of Mischief and the doctor have shared a portion of the thoughts they hid away in the darkest parts of their head. It was needless to say that the two now had an unspoken connection, a commiseration of loneliness, self-doubt, and crushing expectations. Often, they’d find their gazes focused on one another, with smiles shared and laughter exchanged. Other times, a helping hand would linger longer than usual atop the other’s. A gentle squeeze or the light encircling of one’s thumb, a sign of care and concern; these gestures only happened when the two were alone, knowing that dear Uncle Bruce would be highly against it. However, it wouldn’t be long before the others noticed.

You were grateful that today was a relatively slow day in the laboratory. Majority of the specimens that were scheduled for today’s tests were finished earlier than usual along with the case presentations and progress reports Mr. Stark had asked you to make. Though it seemed like such a small feat, you took it positively; today, you could finally take a breather. You hummed happily as you began arranging the mountain of paperwork around the main table.

Upon reaching for the next pile of papers, a familiar hand laid atop of yours. You smiled and looked at your raven-haired companion, admiring the way his tousled locks framed his oh-so ethereal face. 

“Do you need help, my dear doctor?” Loki asked as his thumb drew circles on your hand. Though his silvery voice tugged at your heartstrings as they always did, your cheeks were slightly tinged a light shade of red at mention of the pet name. The God never called you his doctor before.

“I can manage,” you replied as you turned your hand, interlocking your fingers with his. You kept your gaze on your hands intertwined with his, the way they fit together so perfectly. “It’s surprisingly not as busy today.”

Loki leaned down, his face close behind your neck. “A bit bold today aren’t we, pet?” he jested, breath tickling the side of your ear.

Thor observed the scene from afar, shocked. He never thought that his brother would’ve established a bond with the doctor, not in the way that Loki didn’t deserve any type of social interaction, but in the way that his brother wasn’t the easiest person to get along with. With arms crossed, the God of Thunder continued to watch as the two continued on with their intimacies, wondering when and how this managed to start. He watched the way your eyes lingered on his brother attentively; the way you were able to tug a smile on Loki’s face; the way his face lit up when you were around; the way your gentle touch was able to open a different side of Loki. 

Though he was wary of his brother and his antics, Thor disregarded his suspicions: the two of you were much too happy occupied in your bubble of… friendship? No, it was more than that. So much more. Something was blossoming, and the God of Thunder was sure of it. He was unsure of the status of you and Loki’s relationship, but nevertheless he was still happy. However, he wasn’t so sure if your uncle would be so accepting of it, knowing the bad blood between what had happened in New York.

The doors of the laboratory swept open, startling the two friends. Thor coughed loudly to alert his brother and the doctor, but it was already too late for them to fall back to a more believably platonic position. Out came Mr. Stark and Uncle Bruce from the elevators, both shocked at the closeness of you and Loki. Tony looked more curious than shocked at the development. Your uncle, on the other hand, radiated a crushing aura, and, although Uncle Bruce’s face seemed calm and collected at the moment, you knew very well that there was anger hidden underneath it. He always warned you about Loki and the danger he could bring if you got involved, so it was no surprise to you if his anger came from both concern and disappointment. 

Awkward air filled the room as the two made their way towards the laboratory’s main table. Loki stepped back away from you, whispering something along the lines of you being okay. You nodded in affirmation then looked down, averting any type of eye contact, and started to fiddle with the sheets of paper you had in hand. 

Sighing, you knew it was taboo to speak of the laboratory’s peace out loud since it always brought bad luck. Now, you’re going to have to deal with the consequences.

taglist: @gaycatlord-stuff​  @aces-tattooartist​ 

[lassieposting]

I'm mad at myself for asking this but 💘 skug/alt!Serpine

WHEEZES

U CONVERTED

send me 💘 + A SHIP and i’ll tell you—

where they first met and how

KOTW.

Then, after Skug refuses to kill Serpine at the end of SOW, China spitefully makes him responsible for Serpine's behaviour while he's living in Roarhaven. "Parole officer" isn't part of Skug's job description but honestly he doesn't trust anyone else to make sure Serpine doesn't slip the leash, so

how long their ‘flirting’ phase was before feelings got involved

I mean, Serpine literally gets his dick out in their very first scene together, and he throws his towel over Val's head so it clearly wasn't for her benefit.

My headcanon is that he did have the hots for his own dimension's Skulduggery before he died. But Serpine has a very warped experience of emotions - he's not insane, and he's not a complete psychopath, but he has very low empathy, an obsessive personality, a considerable sadistic streak and a tendency to be jealous, narcissistic and manipulative. So his crush on Skug was more like an unhealthy fixation - hatred and lust and humiliation and the need to control, all tangled together.

On Skug's side...he has a few lines that read as flirty, in a D/S kind of way. But honestly I don't think this was deliberate. I get the impression he's actually imitating how Serpine spoke to him when he was the prisoner. Serpine's entire arc in SOW can be condensed down to "microdosing on what he put Skug through before killing him". He's surrounded by enemies who want him dead, he loses a body part, he's beaten up, he's humiliated, he's cut off from his magic - and he hates it. I get the vibe that this isn't lost on Skug, and he's repeating things Serpine once mockingly said to him just to rub it in.

who fell for who first ( if applicable )

Serpine.

I have him converting to the Church of the Faceless as a teenager, so he's spent his entire adult life surrounded by other selfish, scheming social climbers who'd sell him to Satan for a corn chip. His relationship history is chock full of psychopaths. He's used to betrayal and being used by his partners - such is life, as a bad guy.

So Skug protecting him during the Leibniz mission makes quite an impact. He even says himself that Skug has every reason to hate him and want to make him suffer - which is an attempt at empathy considerably deeper than anything we've seen from him before - but he's still shocked and devastated when Skug cuts his hand off. He genuinely expected Skug to decide to fight their way out rather than harm him. To me, that says he's come to rely on having Skug in his corner, which is a security net he is decidedly not used to having.

He doesn't necessarily express it very well? His feelings are complicated, and he doesn't understand most of them. A good part of him still hates Skug, just as a good part of Skug will always hate him. But his fixation on Skug shifts a bit - rather than obsessing over him as an enemy, he obsesses over him as an ally. He starts wanting Skug's approval and digging for praise, he gets sulky and jealous if Skug implies he doesn't trust him or goes to someone else for help or information instead, and he starts trying to insert himself into Skug's life.

Basically, he's gotten over that he spent the past 300 years as Skug's enemy, so Skug needs to be over it too. Right now. And it's unreasonable and unfair that he isn't over it.

where their first date was and what it was like

Skug is willing to acknowledge that if they were a couple, which they're not, because they're arch enemies, then maybe, if you really had to look at anything they do as "a date" then...perhaps the first time they went to the opera could in some way be considered their first date. But it wasn't. Because they're not together. He doesn't even like Serpine. Valkyrie just doesn't appreciate "yowling" and he had nobody else to go with because all his friends are dead.

Serpine will agree with this - but only because he knows that announcing that he lowkey considers their three day torture extravaganza to be their first date would go down like a lead balloon.

who asks who out and how ( with a sign? spelled out on a cake? just a simple ‘will you go out with me’? )

They never have a "going steady" discussion. It's just

if they keep / kept their relationship secret or let everyone know right away

They're adamant that there's nothing to let anyone know about. They spend a lot of time together, and sometimes Serpine helps with cases, and they angry fuck sometimes, and Skug keeps a few shirts and a toothbrush at Serpine's apartment, but they're not a couple.

who’s more dominant

Skug. Serpine will die mad about it. He complains constantly about how much he gets manhandled during the Leibniz mission, how undignified it is to be cut off from his magic, how everyone tells him to shut up every time he tries to join in a conversation, he hates you all, remember that time he killed people you all cared about?

Unfortunately, Serpine is a massively subby bottom, so dom!Skug makes him deeply horny and even more angry about it. He's the epitome of "Stop looking at my fucking boner when we fight."

where their first kiss was and what it was like

It's New Year's. Serpine is out at a bar with some of his student neighbours because, why not. Skug is at the same bar, questioning the staff about a grizzly murder. The usual. Serpine goes over to say hello and make fun of him for Always Working and tell him he should chill out on occasion because isn't it your fucking birthday and you're still at work??? They're still talking when the countdown finishes and everyone around them starts kissing, which is a completely new concept to Serpine because that tradition wasn't part of the Leibniz dimension's New Year's festivities, so he just sort of panics because everyone else is doing it, grabs Skug by the front of his coat and goes for it.

Skug freezes, because who would know how to react when the man who killed you once tries to go to town on your fake face, and then gets his shit together and promptly arrests Serpine for assaulting a Sanctuary official, because he's petty and he can and Nef needs to learn some fucking boundaries.

They end up lowkey working on the case together through the bars of the temporary holding cell, and although neither of them would admit it, they actually have a good time. At the end of the night Skug relents, lets him out for "good behaviour" and gives him a lift home.

how into pda they are

Serpine is hugely into PDA. He likes a possessive, jealous partner, he's got a bit of an exhibitionistic streak, and ultimately he wants to be wanted enough to be fought over.

Unfortunately for him, Skug is not a PDA fan in the slightest. Serpine finds this bitterly disappointing.

where their usual ‘date spot’ is ( if applicable )

A Roarhaven restaurant with a live jazz band. Serpine likes the food, Skug likes the music, and it's public - so neither of them feels wrongfooted and vulnerable in the other one's territory. Although, as Serpine likes to point out, it would be a bit difficult to torture and dismember a man in his student accommodation apartment. If he can hear Maddie-across-the-hall having muffled sex with her latest beau from the far side of his flat , he's pretty sure the entire building would hear Skug fighting his way out of whatever diabolical trap he seems to think has been set for him every time he comes over.

who’s more protective

Skug is more obviously protective - he protects Serpine almost the entire time in Leibniz, rows with China in defence of his freedom, and (however reluctantly) steps up to help him settle in Roarhaven. But Serpine is territorial, and he can be surprisingly proactive about it. If Skug comes home injured, he can always tell - no matter how much he tries to hide it - because he's seen Skug at his very worst, he knows what 'trying to mask pain' looks like in the set of that jaw and the grit in that voice. He doesn't like anyone else playing with his toys, so sometimes he'll get very angry and lash out at whoever damaged Skug in the first place.

(He also tends to hover at the clinic like a particularly irritating bad smell. He insists it's because he just finds Skug's pain amusing. He's not concerned. Not in the slightest. He doesn't care at all. No, he will not go home.)

how long it is before they sleep together ( can be as in ‘had sex’ or as in ‘shared a bed’ )

They first hook up a few months after returning from Leibniz, but it's a half-dressed up-against-a-wall sort of thing and neither of them sticks around for pillow talk. They don't actually share a bed - as in, fall asleep together - until at least a year later. Technically, the first time they fall asleep together, they're on a stakeout and Serpine dozes off on Skug's shoulder, then wakes up with a cricked neck.

if they argue about anything

Literally everything, 90% of their interactions are arguing. Bickering and snark is the only way they know how to communicate.

who leaves more marks ( lipstick, hickeys, scratchmarks etc. )

Serpine loves leaving marks and doesn't mind getting them, either. He's territorial and has an exhibitionist streak, so he likes everyone knowing who he belongs to, and he's deeply thirsty over the idea of everyone knowing Skug belongs to him.

Unfortunately, Skug is not easy to leave marks on. Any hickies he gives the facade will disappear as soon as Skug turns it off. Some of his scars still show, though - the ones that scored his bones - so at least there's that.

who steals whose clothes and how often

They're not too different in size, so they could probably both get away with it, but everything Skug owns was tailored for him and Nef is narrower in the shoulders, so Skug's shirts don't look quite right on him. That doesn't stop him borrowing a couple to wear around the house, though. He has no stored wealth in this dimension, so he's wearing off the rack until he can get his feet under him again, and Skug's shirts are all obnoxiously fine fabric. It would be silly not to steal a few.

how they cuddle ( spooning? facing each other? )

They're not that cuddly. They do have occasional moments of softness, but it's more likely to be, like. A shoulder bump. Fixing each other's shirt collar. Tending an injury with a minimum of mockery. They do a fair bit of this when no one's watching, though.

what their favourite nonsexual activity is

Bickering.

They also both like working cases. The Sanctuary won't officially hire Serpine because he is who he is, but when Skug hits a dead end in a case or has something that's really frustrating him, they'll go over it together. 400 years of enmity aside, their minds work in similar ways, and they're both very good at that sort of thing - if they hadn't met on opposite sides of the battlefield, they probably would have gotten along very well.

how long they stay mad at each other

They've never actually not been mad at each other. They're just all each other has left because all their friends are dead.

what their usual coffee / tea orders are

Initially, both black - maximum stimulants for Skug, maximum edginess for Serpine. But then he discovers Starbucks, and all the fancy things mortals are doing with coffee these days, and starts branching out into what Skug calls "frilly froufrou nonsense". After that his drinks are like 95% sugar and syrup.

if they ever split up and / or get back together

They never officially split up. This is mostly because neither of them will admit being together in the first place. They absolutely go through phases of being far more enemies than fuckbuddies, and they know how to push each other's buttons and hurt each other like no one else. This ship is comedic and incredibly toxic in turns.

what their shared living space is like ( messy? clean? what kind of decor? )

They don't live together. Serpine has no idea where Skug lives, and Skug wants to keep it that way. Serpine's flat is technically student accommodation - he just needed somewhere the landlord was too young to remember him from the war - so when Skug crashes there it's usually cramped and noisy and there's a revolving door of neighbours knocking on to ask to borrow some milk/loo roll/"hey, you're old, help me with my history thesis?"/"Are you coming out tonight?"

All Serpine's neighbours think he's a sex worker - to them, he seems to have a different well-dressed sugar daddy staying over every week. They keep trying to set him up an OnlyFans. Skug finds all this very amusing.

what their first christmas / hanukkah / etc as a couple was like

Christmas was banned in Leibniz (as a religious holiday of a banned religion) so Nef hasn't celebrated since he converted in his teens, but he gets into it, because it's an excuse for a party and nobody is policing him. Skug is his usual grinchy grouchy self. Nef also celebrates several holidays that Skug isn't familiar with that were commonplace in Leibniz, but are only observed by strict Faceless worshippers in Roarhaven.

what their names are in each other’s phones

Skug is an old man about his contacts, so Nef is just "Nefarian Serpine".

Serpine, on the other hand, has recently discovered emojis, so Skug is "💀🍆".

who falls asleep first and who wakes up first

Who falls asleep first varies; Serpine is a night owl and likes to go to bed in the early hours of the morning, but Skug has some really fucked up working hours, so a lot of the time he's awake long after even the night owls have gone to bed. But it's always Skug who wakes up first - Serpine is Absolutely Not a morning person. He fits right in with the students in his building who have to be coaxed from under the quilt by the smell of frying bacon.

Skug, because he enjoys the odd opportunity to be an asshole, will sometimes wake him with a cup of coffee, and sometimes by holding a flame up to the fire alarm. Variety is the spice of life, Nefarian, didn't anyone ever tell you that?

who’s the big spoon / little spoon

Cuddling is fairly new to Serpine. He's always enjoyed sex, but he has a solid tendency to jump into bed with the enemy - as shown by his laundry list of Resistance conquests - so he's never really gone for relationships where cuddling is a thing. He's more into the "forbidden passion" sort of dynamic.

Skug is a cuddler, but not so much in this particular relationship, for obvious and understandable reasons. Serpine does figure out though that he can burrow under Skug's arm while he's half-asleep or in a postcoital fugue state and Skug will just sort of let him, so he's probably the little spoon.

who hogs the bathroom

Both of them.

Serpine lives in a tiny one bed flat in a student building. His bathroom is miniscule. And when Skug stays over, they're both crammed in there first thing, Serpine trying to shave and do his hair and Skug elbowing him out of the way to cycle through facades until he finds one that's handsome enough to leave the house in. They bicker horrendously the entire time. It's a logistical nightmare.

who kills the spiders / takes them outside

Nef kills them. Not because he knows Skug's not a fan, but because he's not allowed to torment humans anymore, so. Last time he checked, killing spiders wasn't an arrestable offence, Skulduggery, stop looking at him like that.

[amyisherenowitsokay]

You know what just to SPICE it up a bit imma say zadr too bitch

This bitch tryna give me arthritis smdh. Making me out myself for my dual-ship on main, can't even believe a bitch.

PRE-RELATIONSHIP

1. How did they first meet?

School. We must never forget the infamous handcuffs scene.

2. What was their first impression of each other?

Pure, unrivaled loathing.

3. Did any of their friends or family want them to get together?

Gaz said "kiss already" and throws things at them when they're getting too far away from "I want you dead" territory and well into "you want to fuck me so bad and it makes you look stupid" territory. Professor Membrane thinks they're adorable.

4. Who felt romantic feelings first?

Dib. Hormones get the best of us all. You can only be obsessed with someone so long before motivations get blurry.

5. Did either of them try to resist their feelings?

Zim would nearly break his PAK and commit accidental die trying to delete the emotions or install an emotional inhibitor. Dib would have a full mental breakdown trying to sort through it, which would manifest poorly in his behavior and negatively impact his ability to engage in their usual altercations. Pro tip: if you are painfully attracted to someone, being in a position where they pin you to the asphalt or lean over your desk to hiss insults at you is a bad idea.

6. If you had told one of them that the other would be their soulmate, what would they think?

I stand by what I said on my ZAGR post in that Zim doesn't know what a soulmate is, or the concept of a soul, but given this is in regards to his arch-nemesis instead of a creature he's mostly indifferent too, he'd be pissed at the insinuation he was in any way bound to Dib. Dib's fragile psyche would not survive the revelation.

7. What would their lives be like if they had never met?

Really empty. Their rivalry and parallel situations regarding neglectful authority figures is what keeps them going for so many years.

GENERAL

1. Who initiated the relationship, and how did it go?

As someone who thinks Zim doesn't understand even the concept of not being a possessive jackass, I think Zim just sort of concludes after awhile that, regardless of Dib's feelings, or even Zim's own feelings, whatever they have makes them wholly and entirely each other's. Just completely and hilariously misunderstanding the concept of a relationship, but still being incredibly presumptive in assuming they already have one. He also doesn't let Dib know of this revelation either, so eventually Dib explodes about his crush, and Zim's like "we are already together???? moron???" Dib could argue, and he kind of wants to, but he also never expected Zim to reciprocate, so he just sort of nods and is like "you know what, sure" and that's the end of it. They do not have an anniversary, but Dib's not really like that, and Zim doesn't know anniversaries are a thing anyways.

2. Did they have an official first date? If so, what was it like?

Again, stealing from my own ZAGR post, but I don't think Zim's really a 'date' person who would plan out that sort of thing. Dib is an awkward moron with arguably worse social skills than even Zim, and mentally comes to the conclusion that dragging Zim on investigations is basically like a date, and Zim doesn't bitch about it anymore than expected, therefore he is a master of romance, so it's fine.

3. What was their first kiss like?

Awkward, and quick. Dib is not a great communicator, nor is he great at explaining things like human demonstrations of affection, especially not when Zim's scowling impatiently at him through is fumbling and stuttering. He just goes for it, and it's quick and he misses his mouth almost. Zim is extremely surprised, especially when Dib makes terrible excuses about needing to be elsewhere and flees. Zim does his own research, and their second kiss is predated by a lecture about being better than Dib at everything/Dib being bad at everything. It is much more successful, even if afterwards Dib instigates a fight about Zim's tongue being weird.

4. Were they each other’s first anything (kiss, relationship, etc.)?

First everything, except kiss. Gretchen kissed Dib in high school as a dare. Zim will never forgive her for it.

5. What’s their height difference? Age difference?

I'd die to make them the same height, but I think the image of Zim being average height while Dib is a gangly big boi is just too funny. Zim would be pissed, and Dib would be so smug but so uncoordinated.

6. What’s their relationship with each other’s families?

Gaz interacts with them as minimally as possible, because they are loud and gross and annoying, but she's okay with Zim overall. They have a mutual understanding that Dib is stupid, completely reckless, and requires constant supervision to keep him from getting eaten by a ghoul or something. Gaz does genuinely trust him to skewer anything that tries to kill her brother, but she also knows that Dib isn't the only one with 0 sense of self-preservation. Dib was initially wary of Professor Membrane's reaction, because his dad is sort of unpredictable when it comes to his only son, but the Professor's only commentary is that he is glad his son finally made it official with his 'little green friend.' Dib then realizes that the implication in that perpetual comment about Zim had air quotes around that "friend" part all along.

Dib thinks Gir's gross and loud and doesn't get him, but he likes to team up with him and/or use him as a means to annoy Zim. The Base hates him, because now there's two morons with no sense of self-preservation that it needs to keep track of. Minimoose and Dib are bros.

7. Who takes the lead in social situations?

Zim, if only because he is arguably more 'charming' than Dib's fumbling attempts at communication with non-paranormal parties.

8. Who gets jealous easier?

Zim. Dib I think would have his 'HTTYD Hiccup moment' as he gets older, but still has that ingrained low self-esteem from years of ridicule and abuse. He is completely oblivious to the new attention he gets. Zim, however, is not. Dib never really notices the cause of his weird snarling and clinginess, but he shrugs it off as Zim just being weird and continues with whatever he was doing.

9. Who whispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear?

Zim is a slut, I will die on this hill.

LOVE

1. Who said “I love you” first?

Dib. He says it casually, in the dark, when they're on a stake-out to find some wood goblin or something. He says it like he's talking about something plane and unremarkable.

I think a ZADR relationship would need Zim to be a lot more independent in terms of researching how romantic relationships 'work,' since Dib's not a great communicator, and there's an ingrained rivalry that will never dissolve between them, no matter how many times they kiss, so Zim would be a lot more motivated to figure things out on his own. He would, in this circumstance, know the weight of Dib's way-too-casual admittance, and it would be a huge shock to him. He'd be pretty shaken about it for awhile, and Dib's not bothered when he doesn't reply. Dib would be pretty sure Zim would never admit it, but he does, eventually, because he refuses to be a coward about it.

2. What are their primary love languages?

Verbal affirmations. With their self-esteems firmly in the toilet in Zim's kitchen, being able to have someone validate them who they respect would mean a lot to them.

3. Who uses cheesy pick-up lines?

Dib. He uses it to start fights with Zim about linguistics and metaphors. Also, he's 99.9% positive Zim secretly is flattered by it, but hates that he is.

4. How often do they cuddle/engage in PDA?

Zim is very clingy, but Dib's too on the move to really pin down for a good cuddle frequently. He's twitchy and his minds always racing, but every once in a while when Zim's completely fed up, or Dib's running on fumes but still forcing himself on, Zim will all but pin him to a cushioned surface and force him to sleep. Neither of them are PDA people.

5. Who initiates kisses?

Zim. Dib's really shy about it, and also normally too distracted to pay Zim the attention he so obviously deserves, and often misses Zim's 'signals.'

6. Who’s the big and little spoon?

PAK not comfy against sternum. It's also easier to force Dib to sleep if he's the big spoon, because he can pin his limbs.

7. What are their favorite things to do together?

Paranormal investigations, and morally ambiguous and/or largely dangerous experiments.

8. Who’s better at comforting the other?

Dib, which is hilarious, because he's about as smooth as a cheese grater, but he is very attuned to the person he's been obsessed with for years, and he can also relate to a lot of his issues. While Zim usually shrugs off the sentimentality and the empathy, dismissing it as 'pity,' the affirmation means a lot to him.

9. Who’s more protective?

Zim. He has to anticipate his lover's stupidity to make sure he stays alive to hunt ghosts another day.

10. Do they prefer verbal or physical affection?

Verbal. Hormones are real, but there's something that eases the sting of years of abusive in a crooning praise or a sincere compliment.

11. What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise?

https://open.spotify.com/track/3IvUhEVbbA81QnEVhsFHiH?si=b3c5787c9ff14105

12. What kind of nicknames do they call each other?

It is primarily age-old insults that lack the bite and sincerity they once had.

13. Who remembers the little things?

Dib. Zim isn't inattentive by any means, cataloguing all of Dib's weird habits and nuances and what not, but for all the compensating Zim does to keep Dib safe and healthy, Dib reciprocates in meaningful gestures. He remembers to pack Zim-friendly snacks on their road trips and ways to keep Gir entertained, if they have to bring him. He always checks the weather and has an extra coat, just in case. Never makes Zim feel bad about needing to check, just one more time, to see if he got any incoming messages from home.

DOMESTIC LIFE

1. If they get married, who proposes?

Dib.

2. What’s the wedding like? Who attends?

It's just Gaz, Minimoose, and Gir. Membrane is too far away to attend, but that was deliberate. Dib didn't want his tendency to make things about 'the Membrane line' effect the intimacy and importance of the ceremony. Also, Zim insists on incorporating some Irken rituals into it, so it'd be hard to make excuses and explanations to why Zim wants Dib to fuck with his weird pink backpack during their wedding.

3. How many kids do they have, if any? What are they like?

No kiddos. Neither of them would be interested, even if it was biologically possible.

4. Do they have any pets?

Seriously, Gir counts, right?

5. Who’s the stricter parent?

Dib. Zim refuses to parent Gir when Dib is more inclined to do it, since he's more irritated by it.

6. Who worries the most?

Dib has perpetual anxiety. So does Zim, but he masks it better.

7. Who kills the bugs in the house?

Dib, to prevent the gooey grossness that is Gir's bug-breath.

8. How do they celebrate holidays?

Just with Gaz.

9. Who’s more likely to convince the other to come back to sleep in the morning?

Zim will strap Dib to a bed himself to get him to go the fuck to sleep, because it's been over 48 hours you insufferable human, and--!

10. Who’s the better cook?

Dib's idea of cooking is a microwave, salt, and pepper. Zim is forced to learn the wonders of human food to keep his idiot from dying of malnutrition.

11. Who likes to dance?

Gir.

[sepublic]

Isaac’s Coming-of-Age Moment

           I find Isaac’s talk with the Captain in Season 3 weirdly… sweet, in a sense?

           Like… I kind of get this vibe from Isaac during their conversation that he’s basically some hot-headed, emotional youth, who is confused in a lot of ways, basically a teenager, and he just really needs some actual guidance, a positive adult/parental figure in his life that he can actually count on! Which, I don’t want to infantilize Isaac, but then again he does refer to himself and Hector as children who need to grow up in Season 4, so maybe I’m not too far off.

           I dunno, I just get the feel that as someone who’s been alone for a LONG while, without any real positive interactions with people or older figures… Isaac’s just in a kind of generally moody, angsty sort of headspace akin to an angsty teenager, obviously unreasonable in some regards, but not truly, his feelings are valid and you can tell that by the end of the day, he just wants to be left alone and in peace.

           So it feels really sweet to have Isaac actually like- Talk to an older figure who for once is acting as a mentor, passing on some real wisdom and guidance. The Captain can tell that Isaac needs someone to help him through what is a VERY confusing part of his life, a part that will decide a lot for him –again, like a teenager- and he’s very patiently and considerately advising Isaac; But at the same time, he’s not condescendingly lecturing him either. The Captain shows Isaac a lot of respect and consideration, and is both talking to him as an equal, but also as a mentor if that makes sense.

           And to me, that’s just really nice and heartwarming to watch, because with Dracula also in mind, I’m lowkey getting the impression of Isaac as this like; Jaded youth who secretly yearns for approval by someone for once, we can kind of see this from his abuser in the flashback. 

          Isaac hasn’t quite completely gotten over this, but with the Captain, Isaac can finally get that validation and support that he really needs and craves from an older figure, in a way that isn’t toxic and unhealthy. And I love Dracula and I will always applaud his decision to save Isaac’s life at the end of Season 2, how THAT led to Isaac learning to live for himself, I will forever love that moment even more from now on;

           But I think Dracula and I can both agree that he’s not, like. The healthiest role model nor person for Isaac to look up to, nor dedicate himself towards. Really, nobody is the healthiest person for Isaac to dedicate himself towards, he needs to live for himself after all! So it really was for the best that Isaac had himself cut off from that sort of toxic dependency; Dracula is an ENORMOUS step-up from Isaac’s abuser, sure, but he still represented Isaac’s refusal to really value himself, only just in relation to others.

           Anyhow, I really appreciate that talk where Isaac low-key finds a bit of a Father Figure in the Captain. Maybe I’m just protecting a little, but I found it very endearing how the Captain talks directly to Isaac as a person, in many ways he’s kind of firm and fair, but in a way that shows that he actually CARES about Isaac, and not that he’s just trying to get his own way. 

          Like, the Captain is interested in seeing Isaac prosper, but he’s not toxically dedicating himself to Isaac, the way Isaac would’ve done to Dracula’s memory; And that ability to help others and invest in them, while still being yourself, was no doubt enlightening for Isaac.

           Just… that side-eye glance of Isaac’s bear the end, actually stopping to think and consider, when the Captain tells him that hey, you can be a ruler! An almost endearing kind of immature desire to deny this in a rather “It’s not a PHASE” type of way, but it is in fact clearly getting to him, whether he likes to admit or not, and it’s kind of flustering Isaac. When the Captain gives him no shit but still treats him like a person. In general, all of Isaac’s interactions in Season 3 came from older figures who were a lot more experienced than him, which I think just adds to this idea that… 

          He really is kind of young and inexperienced in a lot of ways. And he really needs some second opinions to surround himself with, perspectives that are at times differing; Which I think is a neat contrast with Carmilla, who mostly relies on an echo chamber of her sisters and isn’t very receptive to different opinions.

           But yeah, Isaac is an utter mood, basically a moody, edgy teenager, who just needs some love and cherishing, some real mentorship and guidance, provided with actual respect and consideration, so he can get through what is an incredibly confusing AND formative period of his life. 

          It makes me all the more happy that it turns out for the best for him, and I really want to see a fic where like; Him and Hector encounter Dracula and Lisa, with all four on healthier terms, and Dracula’s sort of joy at seeing his other two sons being happy and living for themselves like he’d hoped- While Hector and Isaac are lowkey like, “See Dad! See how we’ve really become our own person, isn’t that really cool?” In that sort of excited, endearing way where they show a lot of respect and admiration, and place a lot of faith and trust in Vlad’s opinion. 

          Because even if they aren’t dependent on Dracula’s opinion, it’s still nice to see him validated and swell with pride, to actually see his Forge Masters get along as he’d always hoped. Like a sort of Coming of Age moment where they happily reflect on how much they’ve grown, to people who’d really respect and appreciate it, telling them that hey, your love for me, it paid off- It really meant a lot and I’m happy to tell the both of us that it wasn’t for nothing, it really meant SO much to me and helped, thank you!

           It’s just… Really endearing how we can see Isaac comfortably, in a safe space and level of interaction that isn’t plagued by threat nor violence; Afford to get snappy with someone else, like he can actually express his feelings at the Captain, but he doesn’t have to worry about holding himself to a subordinate level like with Dracula. Isaac can just be himself without having to constantly brace himself for the possibility of conflict or bloodshed, he can just comfortably exist in this space with a stranger and actually, fully, talk with someone who he feels actually gets and understands him on some level.

          Isaac is in a good environment where he can just let himself out, and it’s incredibly refreshing to watch- It was no doubt extremely cathartic to Isaac, I imagine. And it really stands to show that just as Lisa advised Dracula, traveling around the world really can be good for your health, for opening your mind and worldview; So it’s sweet to see that Dracula ended up passing on and applying Lisa’s wisdom to his low-key son, and that wisdom DID end up working out for him in the end! Thanks, Lisa.

         Now I can only imagine Isaac talking to Lisa about this and feeling really grateful, because she ended up inspiring HIM as well… And Lisa just looks wryly at Dracula like, Oh so you DID take my advice, and not only that, passed it onto others as well?

         And THAT just makes me imagine an older Isaac who continues the cycle of not abuse, but growth and guidance, who sees himself later on in another angry youth who reminds him a lot of himself, and then guides them to be more constructive- Because believe it or not, this wise King DOES understand what it’s like.

         He chuckles to himself when he realizes how the tables have turned, how HE’s the one giving The Talk to some kid, and he kindly, nostalgically, gratefully reflects on the Captain’s wisdom, and how it lives on through him and now this youth. Isaac and the kid are not so different and this realization of similarity and common ground just helps Isaac with accepting that human part of himself, and reaching out compassionately.

         Isaac is joked with and given much-needed fun and levity, while still taken seriously and respected as an individual; And I’m sure it means a lot to him, not that he fully realizes it yet. The Captain really expresses faith and belief in Isaac to grow up and support others through his own wisdom, the Captain sees himself in Isaac and that’s really fascinating- How this stranger is acting on this empathy to talk to Isaac and relate to him, to humanize him as a person for once. And it’s kind of shocking for Isaac to realize that others can actually relate to and see themselves in him, this alleged ‘monster’ and ‘thing’.

         It’s just neat to see an older figure express belief and expectation in Isaac to be something good because he thinks the best of him, rather than Isaac dedicating his belief to someone else, and it kind of inspires and incentivizes Isaac to do better with his life. That maybe he CAN grow and this isn’t the end for him, and one day teach others- Because maybe he DOES have something valuable to offer! The Captain recognizes Isaac as someone with potential and growth, and the ability to nurture and be positive, and I love that. 

         Especially with how Isaac dedicates himself to Dracula and his ‘wisdom of ages’, only for the Captain to turn around and suggest that Isaac himself has his own knowledge worth passing on, and that’s more than enough reason for Isaac to live for himself, then. It’s very nice to see Isaac lowkey latch onto a positive authority figure and actually be emotionally rewarded for it like he needs and deserves. And it’s even sweeter how Isaac leaves the Captain with an amicable farewell wave, and even AFTER an immediate negative experience, Isaac still decides to do better, showing that his lessons really can apply and retain underneath hardship.

         Isaac is challenged but in a healthy way that he can actually engage with and really apply himself towards, because he is a very clever person, he’s allowed to think and be rewarded for it. And it makes it all the more interesting how Isaac in Season 4 does see himself as a holy figure in a sense, not necessarily out of arrogance I feel, but from a real understanding that he’s worth a lot himself. And now Isaac can embrace happily his own self-value and what he has to offer, and his ability to do good, that maybe he ISN’T a monster but in some ways a hero, imagine that!

           (Actually, maybe Castlevania really IS a Coming-of-Age tale in a sense. Hector and Isaac’s growth are obvious, we know Trevor and Alucard is admittedly kind of emotionally stunted teenagers who learn to open up and trust, and even Sypha has her moments where she sees how the world can really suck –like the end of Season 3- before deciding for herself to have agency and initiative, and not be a bit player in someone else’s story regardless, in addition to openly defying some Speaker traditions like a rebellious teenager, because good for her! A narrative about really learning to take initiative and control of your own story, to live life for yourself, DOES seem very Coming-of-Age now does it?)

[daydreamreality]

Thinking about actor availability, and how that affects my perception of Jess and how strongly I feel about shipping Literati.

Really thought this would only be a few paragraphs going over the points where Jess could have disappeared never to be seen again, but it turned into a freaking essay so LONG POST warning if you decide to click ahead. 

If the last we saw of Jess was hanging up the phone in the season 3 finale: "Well, it was fun ride while it lasted. That's about how I thought this would end." Still have a lot empathy for this kid and wish him well, but you screwed with Rory's heart like I knew would happen. Was that intentional? No. But he was so immature, out of control with his emotions, zero communication skills, not trusting in others...the list of reasons why he wasn't ready for a serious relationship, even if the feelings were serious, goes on. There was no way Rory wasn't going to end up as collateral damage in his personal breakdown that I could feel was going to happen. And this is the thought I had as a teenager with no dating experience watching this show for the first time. Did I want to date him? Hell no! I could see that trainwreck from a mile away. Rory was naïve to put her heart in his trust but that's part of her good qualities - she's sees the best in people and champions for them. I could go on a tangent about why exactly Jess was such an important character to me when I first watched the show (and probably why he stuck around unconsciously until I decided on a whim to rewatch GG in lockdown) but...I don't know, maybe some other time.

In the context of the entire show, I would look back at the relationship as my favorite one to watch of Rory's in the series (The build-up! The connection! Their deep belief in and respect for each other! The angst!) and Jess being a really fun character to root for (and yell at) but endgame? It was a short lived but important relationship. It’s fun to think about what ifs and how circumstances could have changed to make it work, but we can move on.

The ill-fated spin-off: I have no idea what this show would have been about except focusing on Jess and Jimmy and I’m not about to theorize. I still like Jess at this point so it would probably make me like him more since we’re getting a deeper dive into his character, but in regard to shipping him with Rory, this opinion would not change unless he all of sudden showed some great maturity. But I doubt this show would have even gotten a whole season so that probably wouldn’t happen. And then he’s living in California…this is too much, moving on.

If the last we see of Jess is in season 4: About the same feeling as above. Life, as expected, has not been treating Jess well. At all. His jadedness and hostility is at an all-time high when he shows up to get his car. Do I see the reasons informing his behavior and have empathy (once again, for a KID)? Yes, but he's also being a jerk. "The years don't seem to have hardened you." Well this year sure has!

I love the "I love you" scene but too little too late, buddy. That's probably why I love it, it's all a bit hopeless. Just keep shoveling the angst at me. I do like fics where this scene is reimagined with Rory running after him to give him a piece of her mind or Jess finding some other words to say (I really feel like he had more to say there but got overwhelmed), and coming to a tentative reconciliation: exchanging numbers, "don't fall off the face of the earth," but getting back together? No. You hurt her and you're feeling the consequences. Rory is not obligated or responsible to reciprocate those feelings, nor is she in a place to do that right now. 

But season 4 does cement that Luke and Jess's relationship is one of my favorites in the entire show. There's probably a whole other post in me regarding that so I'll keep it brief. Because of his respect for Luke, Jess makes tentative steps towards maturing in interpersonal relationships. He shows some vulnerability and honesty with a veil of sarcasm and awkwardness because, well, it's JESS.

But then of course this all goes to hell when applied to Rory. Sometimes I like to think how this dorm scene would have gone down if Rory stepped back for a second and went, "Hold on. You're not making any sense, chill out," and they could have talked a bit and had a similar reconciliation like I said above because I really think that’s all he was going for - to talk to her, apologize, and make an attempt at reciprocation like he did with Luke. But getting back together here? Canonically, he hasn't made enough progress. He set aside his personal feelings to be in his mother's wedding and used the knowledge from the self-help book to apologize to Luke, but I don't think the book's message has sunk in all the way yet and he’s still got a massive chip on his shoulder preventing him from making a good life for himself. Getting rejected by Rory here is an important moment and I really like it. It's fun to think about the AU if Rory had said yes (hello road trip!), but it's very in-character for her to not be able to handle Jess's crisis and just shouting "NO, make it stop." This is one of my proudest of Rory moments: Protect your heart girl, he ain't ready. The seeds have been planted that Jess will continue to grow and I wish him well on his journey. Endgame material? Nah. Goodbye forever, take care my friend...

Even though this scene doesn't feel like closure at all, I really thought this was the end of Jess Mariano. So imagine my surprise when -

SEASON 6: HE'S BACK. Coming out of the shadows, [literally] it's Jess Marianoooo *air horns* *confetti* *jazz hands* *Jess rolls his eyes at the fanfare*

Alright, that's out of my system. But for real that's what my mind did at this point. For context, the way I watched this show for the first time was getting the DVDs from the library while a couple of seasons were still on the air; when a new season was available to borrow, I would rewatch all the seasons up to the current point so my memories and favorite parts of the show are seasons 1-4. Because I was not bingeing the show all the way through, seeing Jess here seemingly so different didn’t feel out of place. A shock, yes! A happy surprise. But nothing about him seemed OOC. A year had gone by, we’d seen some signs of maturity in him, and getting rejected by Rory was a big kick in the ass for him to start making bigger changes in his life. I really cannot emphasize how satisfying and sensical his positive character development felt to me. 

The slight maturity we see in season 4 in its full potential. Jess is still Jess: guarded, self-deprecating, and a bit prickly but he shows a sense of calm and feeling more comfortable in his skin. This is really satisfying to see as someone who always "knew" there was a kind and capable heart underneath the exterior just like Rory did, and that tough guy, must protect myself at all costs posturing has melted away. But that side of him isn't gone, it's not like the writing did a complete 180 on his character. I love this. He's just...more at peace with himself but he's not a different person, and he's found something to direct his focus and intellect on. He's made his peace with Luke, and now he has something of worth to show Rory to try to mend that hurt as well.

Yes, it would have been nice to see how and why he decided to write a book and work in publishing but this course of events is not out of left field, nor is Jess enough of a main character at this point for scenes like this to be necessary to the show unless they were tied to Luke and showing another side of him. Jess has shown in the past that he has a good work ethic if he feels it is worth it. The problem wasn't him being lazy, just poor decision making and focusing on RIGHT NOW, "I need to get out of Stars Hollow and live my life," and not considering the consequences of his actions. Which as an immature kid whose life had told him he can only depend on himself...not out of the ordinary. The dude’s life passion is literature and has probably read every book he can get his hands on, it’s not crazy that he had his own story in him. 

Here is where Literati becomes endgame material for me. Prior to the revival it was always my feeling that post-series they would reconnect while Rory was on the campaign or afterwards. It would be low drama (except for Lorelai criticism), slowly gaining trust in each other again, and eventually starting a committed relationship within a year or two of being friends with sexual tension (lol). They made their adolescent mistakes, hurt each other, but learned from it and started over on infinitely better footing.

The match just makes sense to me at this point for many reasons; I don't feel like I need to list them all out because you can go to any pro-Literati post and I'll probably agree with the majority of the points. The biggest issue they had was timing: “Right heart, wrong time.” I like especially how they even out each other's more extreme personality traits. For example, Rory learning from Jess to consider her own feelings instead of sacrificing herself for others, and Jess considering others before himself all the time. Or professionally, I can see Jess encouraging her to step away from her ultra-organized, “everything has to be just so” ways when it benefits her to seize an opportunity right now, don’t worry about the details, you got this. Maybe Jess has another book in him, but his self-deprecation and disorganization prevent him from getting it done but Rory helps him be more objective and focused. There’s this…synergistic energy I feel with the two of them: they’re great by themselves, but form something better together.

Judging from Rory's reactions towards him in this season, I don't think it's OOC for her to have romantic feelings for him again. She's extremely proud of his accomplishments and not unhappy to see him (not holding a grudge). They fall back into their comfortable dynamic even if it makes them both a bit nervous. Now some could argue that this means that Rory only wants to be friends with him but...when have Jess and Rory ever been just friends? If "Another Year in the Life" comes out (I've got serious doubts but would love to be proved wrong) and Rory rejects him or he's not even a part of it, fine! But I just don't see anything in canon that says explicitly she'll never feel romantic towards him again.

Now the kiss...there's a lot of ways to read that scene. Do I think Jess was in the right to assume "everything is fixed" as a go ahead? No. But that's part of why he is such an engaging character: he's impulsive and acts in accordance to his feelings, and yes, this gets himself and others in trouble. 

Do I think Rory purposefully went to the open house to "use" Jess to get back at Logan? No. I think she genuinely wanted to support him, and Logan being out of town meant she wouldn't have to explain why it was important for her to go. I see the kiss paralleling the one in 2x22 but instead of Rory not being able to hold her feelings in any longer, Jess initiates. The way I see it is she was unaware she still had lingering feelings towards him (not out of nowhere, I mean their relationship has "unfinished business" written all over it) and that scared the crap out of her, just like at the end of season 2. So she runs away to the "safe space" that is being with Logan. Because she's in love with Logan, she has a sense of obligation towards him, and Rory has shown many times that she does not react well to change and highly emotional situations.

Is this scene a deal breaker for a future relationship between them? I don't think so. Jess says that he isn't sorry she came, which I take as "I'll never be sorry to see you no matter the context." Yes, this hurt him and made him pretty mad, but I don't think he's holding a grudge against her for this; even in the moment he's more concerned that someone cheated on her and her safety getting to her car. He sets a boundary that he doesn't deserve his feelings to be pushed around like this and Rory agrees. Not that I condone this sort of tit-for-tat hurting of each other (which I don't think Rory was going for in the first place) but it's almost like...that cycle is now broken. The whole scene is so open ended, it doesn't feel like a "good bye forever" to Jess.

"But Rory is so in love with Logan!" I don't know about you, but that "I'm in love with him despite all the bad he's done..." sounds so defeated and sad. It's almost like she's resigned herself to being in love with Logan. The first time I watched this, I thought this was foreshadowing that the relationship was on its last legs. To keep them together, Logan almost dies so Rory will bury her hurt out of guilt for holding a grudge against him. She is completely entitled to feeling hurt by Logan's actions, and I hate that she feels like she has to do this. But it happened, moving on.

"But Rory is a cheater!" When I think about Rory's characteristics, "cheater" doesn't make the list. She feels entitled to the men that she's loved and this isn’t super great behavior, but I don't view her as inherently unfaithful or okay with cheating. I give her leeway on the season 2 Jess kiss because she was a teenager with a lot of conflicting emotions and everything around her was pushing her to stay with Dean. The season 4 Dean debacle...she was still very young and naïve. I put most of the blame on Dean for manipulating her; I say most because if Rory really wanted to be with him, she should have been more sure of the status of his marriage, but I repeat: he manipulated her and she was very young and naïve. I dare to say she has been conditioned to view Dean as nothing but safe and trustworthy so why wouldn't she believe him... Season 4 was all about her being out of sorts when away from the Stars Hollow bubble and trying to reclaim some normalcy. Narratively, I see why this makes sense and I don't think the intention was to say “Rory is okay with cheating,” but to show very explicitly that Rory isn't perfect. This show goes to extremes, at this point I kind of just accept it and don't jump to "this person/character is terrible!" Certain characteristics and behaviors I have less patience for (mild) or will make me lose all respect for a character (extreme - honestly very few GG characters fall into this category for me); you may feel differently and that's fine. When other plot points in this series are much more bizarre and OOC, while this turn of events makes me uncomfortable and angry, at least it makes sense to me.

The 6x18 kiss I've already said that I don't think Rory had premeditated intent to cheat on Logan judging from the fact that Jess initiated it; yes, she went with it nor was it a complete surprise, I get this. The "I couldn't even cheat on him..." line I think is an outburst of guilt and regret, not her saying she had a plan in mind. Maybe I'm being too soft on her, I don't know...she did stay there late but maybe she just got lost in the book while waiting to say bye. We've seen her not know how to deal with conflicting emotions and change to her status quo, and attempt to distract herself when life isn't panning out the way she wants and not think about the consequences in the moment, so I don't find this scene OOC or intentionally cruel. The revival...I don’t think I can even go there right now because it would just be me screaming incoherently about how much I hate "full circle" and how bizarre the entire thing was. Maybe something of value would eventually come out with a lot of editing. XD

This isn’t to say I’m 100% on Rory’s side all the time. Pretty much every character in this show has at some point made me smile, made me laugh (generally with them, but some characters it’s more like at), made me want to give them a hug, made me roll my eyes, and made me want to throw something at them. That’s why I love it so much! Even if the drama is turned up to 1000, I still get the sense that these characters are human. My favs end up on my “will protect at all costs” and “shit” lists throughout the series, no one is immune. Except Lane. She really is the best person in this entire show. #JusticeForLaneKim

If ASP had written season 7: (Remember there being some sort of theme to this post? Only two episodes in s6, but Jess sure does make an impact.) I bet Jess would show up at some point. MV is loyal to the creators and not the show, if it was important for Jess to be there I’m sure his shooting schedule would have been accounted for. Storyline would have been similar to the revival because AYITL is ASPs season she didn’t get to do without considering how time passing affects the characters (I’M STILL SALTY) except Rory is at Yale and I think the book was a new idea. Shipping as endgame doesn’t change, and I bet there wouldn’t be a nice little Literati ending because we’ve got to end it the same way, right? I don't even need them to be together at the end because Rory has greater plans to focus on, but just a moment! One moment is all I asked for... I don’t know if this makes me mad because I felt like the narrative had been pushing us along this path for so long even if actual "endgame" was going to be offscreen or if I kind of like just having it in my imagination. Little bit of column A, little bit of column B. In any case, it could have been cool to see Jess present for the birth of his half-sister and giving Luke some support. 

Like I said, I'm not touching AYITL right now. The whole starting point of this was, "huh, if MV never came back to the show, how would I feel about Jess and Literati?" And he was in it so it doesn't really fit into this even though we've gone on a meandering journey as pieces of discourse that have never sat right with me but didn't quite know how to express that disagreement until now popped in my mind. So there you go. If you’ve made it to end, claps to you, what a champ.

At the end of the day, Literati is the ship that makes me feel the most things, it's kind of just a gut thing. This really isn't any sort of argument just an outpouring of love for the show and these characters. I don't know how well that's communicated, but hey, I try. I’ve got a lot of nostalgia for the pairing and I always viewed Jess as being Rory’s, and only Rory’s, choice.

[anotherkindofmindpod]

I’d love for you guys to have Mark Lewisohn on your show just to grill him. As someone who’s experienced workplace bullying and sexual assault, that he would go so far as to paint Klein as “heroic” when he said things like “reluctant virgin” is just so devastating to me. It makes me feel ill. I do NOT want this man to have a say in Beatles history. I love the Beatles. I don’t want that tainted by people who will paint over abuse just to feed their own self importance.

We vehemently agree, Listener!  Thank you for writing in.

Our list of grievances with Mark Lewisohn is long, but in a nutshell we believe his intent is to publicly “redeem” John Lennon and we have seen copious evidence that he will go to whatever lengths he has to in order to do this. 

That includes, but is not limited to: 

Claiming that readers of his Tune In Series may consider Klein the “hero” of the Beatles break-up

Deliberately spreading the demonstrably false lie that John (and Yoko) did not have a significant heroin problem in the late 60s and early 70s (Lewisohn suggests Cold Turkey is just John playing make believe)

Displaying unapologetic favoritism by using glowing terms to portray John and Yoko as the world’s most perfect romance, as opposed to Paul and Linda, whose 29-year marriage he dismisses as “conventional” and motivated by appearances (namely Linda’s pregnancy, even though it was planned) and Green Card needs

Stating that he could tell from watching the infamous “it’s a drag” clip that Paul was kind of sad, but primarily annoyed at how much positive attention John was getting on the day of his murder

Apparently suggesting to an audience of his Power Point Show that Paul maybe stole a leg off Yoko’s bed (the bed she had delivered and built in the Beatles’ recording studio, mind you), a personal “theory” which is based on the fact that Paul later wrote a song called “Three Legs” (you know that song: “My dog, he got three legs, like the bed you inappropriately brought into Abbey Road 2 years ago which I secretly vandalized behind your back because I have nothing better to do, am certainly not busy writing the Beatles Swan Song and don’t have a fucking 7 year old at home or anything”)

This isn’t even to mention Tune In, which could be a whole separate post and episode. Suffice it to say, this book often reads less like a Beatles biography and more like John Lennon Fanfiction to us.

Lewisohn managed to distinguish himself by doing (some) research and unearthing some original documents. That he had some skill in research is not surprising given that he started his career in Beatledom as a researcher for Norman, on his book Shout — which Lewisohn still contends is a good book. Norman, on the other hand has evolved his opinion of his own work and thinks Shout was flawed, so has written a whole biography on Paul to make up for what he sees as the failure of Shout, which is his underestimation of Paul. Unfortunately, Lewisohn does not seem to have made this same journey. He pays lip service to John and Paul being equal, and then spends all of his time and energy trying to prove otherwise. Norman says that he has created a monster in Lewisohn. We take his point.

One of our biggest issues with Lewisohn is that he vigorously promotes himself as an unbiased truth teller, and his calm manner seems to telegraph this. But it is not true. The research that Lewisohn does and the spin that he applies to his findings are all heavily biased. As we mentioned in one of our episodes, he travelled to Gibraltar simply to experience where John and Yoko got married. Yet when Paul calls the May 9th meeting over management the metaphorical cracking of the Liberty Bell, Lewisohn doesn’t even bother to Google it so he can understand the metaphor.

What he chooses to research is also a form of bias. For example, we at AKOM are very interested in Paul’s relationship with Robert Fraser during the Beatle years — since Paul has commented that Fraser was one of the most important, influential people in his life. Paul McCartney was the concept artist behind Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, the Magical Mystery Tour film, the iconic Apple logo, and he co-designed the covers of the White Album and Abbey Road.  All of these are pretty defining moments in the Beatles’ career.  As Beatles fans, we’d like to know more about Paul’s art education and influences. But we would be shocked if Lewisohn dug into Fraser at all beyond his relationship as John and Yoko’s gallerist/curator (and heroin dealer, but since that isn’t a thing in Lewisohn’s world then maybe he will be ignored).

We think Lewisohn benefits massively from the fact that Beatles authorship was like the Wild West since its inception, when everyone with a connection to the Beatles (plus or minus a personal axe to grind) wrote a book about their experience. It was absolute chaos, with no rules, no checks and balances, uncredited sources, etc. Just an absolute shit show.  What Lewisohn did was bring some order to the chaos with some proper documentation. But again, what he chooses to dig into often reflects bias. And this certainly does not mean that he is intellectually or emotionally equipped to interpret his findings. Doing this takes social intelligence and insight, which is a very different skill. As a creator of myths, he is no better (and no more insightful or original) than many of the others who came before him; he worships John Lennon and freely admits it. He is not even close to being unbiased.  But in this dumpster fire of a fandom he has at least checked some boxes and done some digging.  The fact is, the bar has been so low for so long that Beatles fans don’t even know how to expect or want better.  But WE certainly expect better.  We expect some breakthrough, fresh thinking.  Not just Shout with Receipts.

We think it’s significant that Lewisohn was deeply disliked by George Harrison, who lobbied to get him kicked him off the Anthology project. He was fired from Paul’s fan club magazine, and yet no one seems to think he might hold a grudge about that, too?  Lewisohn so distorted John and Paul’s relationship in Tune In that he believes he is the target of the lyrics in Paul’s song “Early Days.“  And he either thinks that’s flattering or funny, because Lewisohn seems to truly believe he knows John Lennon better than Paul McCartney does.  We find it almost tragic that Paul is so bothered by the way his experience and relationship is being portrayed by authors (perhaps Lewisohn) that he wrote a song about it. In it, he conveys his frustration and heartache about how everything is misconstrued and we find it absolutely outrageous that Lewisohn would not take this to heart.  Perhaps Lewisohn thinks Paul should listen to him for a change? And if he doesn’t like it, then tough, because Lewisohn knows better? We think Lewisohn should do some serious soul-searching about “Early Days” because if one of his main subjects is saying, “you are getting it wrong and it is breaking my heart”….maybe, just maybe, he should listen and rethink things.  Maybe apply a little creativity, out-of-the-box thinking and empathy. This is what his heroes did.

Meanwhile, Jean Jackets are SO BUSY complaining that Paul McCartney doesn’t like Lewisohn because he “tells the truth!” that they fail to notice that Lewisohn has become a mouthpiece for Yoko Ono.  He has already started white-washing John Lennon’s history, promoting John and Yoko as the true and only geniuses versus Paul as the craven, small-minded Lennon disciple who (through no virtue of his own) was born with the ability to write some nice tunes.  Lewisohn’s version of John, on the other hand, is ALWAYS a sexy, visionary genius on the right side of every issue.  He even went out of his way to recently trash Paul’s early 70’s albums, which -in addition to being obnoxious and we believe wrong (since we love them)- is totally outside his purview.

Lastly, to address your original point, Lewisohn’s claim that Klein may be viewed as the “hero” of his Beatles History reveals that he hasn’t shown sufficient empathy or interest in Paul’s experience.  This claim at best ignores and at worst condones the fact that Klein was an abusive monster to one of the two founding members of the Beatles.  As we discussed in Episode 4, Klein was a criminal who bullied Paul in his creative workspace, disrespected Paul in his own office in front of his own employees and actively pitted Lennon against McCartney for years.  It’s hard to imagine ANYONE who inflicted more damage on the Beatles and Lennon/McCartney than Allen Klein.  In addition to the wildly inappropriate “reluctant virgin” nickname, he verbally threatened to “own Paul’s ass” (to which Paul responded “he never got anywhere near my ass”). Klein was so disrespectful to Paul and Linda’s marriage he pitched the idea of procuring “a blonde with big tits” to parade in front of Paul to lure him away from Linda and destroy their relationship.  Let’s also never forget that Klein contributed lyrics to the song “How Do You Sleep.”  Allen Klein literally gave Paul nightmares.  Anyone who so much as pretends to care about Paul’s break-up era depression (including his alcohol abuse, his inability to get out of bed and his terrifying sleep paralysis) would not champion Allen Klein.

Yes, Klein is a human being and therefore has his own POV, same as anyone else.  But a Beatles biographer is beholden to four points of view only: John, Paul, George and Ringo.  And when an outsider is openly hostile to one of the Beatles and damaging long-term to all of the Beatles, it is beyond inappropriate to portray him as a hero.  This type of comment, made publicly to an audience of Beatles fans, invalidates and seeks to erase the real trauma inflicted on Paul McCartney by Allen Klein, and we think Lewisohn should apologize for his comments.

Instead, Lewisohn’s current buddy is Peter Brown, whose book, The Love You Make so offended and angered Paul and Linda that they literally burned their copy (and photographed it burning for good measure).  This information doesn’t appear to bother Lewisohn in the least. Why not?

George referred to Norman’s Shout as “Shit.” But Lewisohn thinks it’s a great book.  Why?

How any Beatles or Paul or even George fans tolerate Lewisohn is baffling to us; we don’t recognize a real human being in his version of Paul, and his version of John is a superhero rather than a man.  We suspect that fans have come to accept the traditional story and at least appreciate some properly-documented facts. 

But as we are constantly trying to demonstrate on our show, just because the story has always been told one way, doesn’t mean it’s right.  Because in the end, Mark Lewisohn has no special insight. He wasn’t there. He is a guy who bought into a narrative during the Shout era, and is cherry picking his findings to support it.You can find a discussion of Lewisohn here

[istgimamess]

“I don’t see him.” the young scientist voices; he’s a skinny thing—tall and lanky—with the demeanor of an excitable child. You follow the flick of his curious eyes over your shoulder, your gaze automatically meeting Kai’s through the glass. He’s well hidden—his gold and green complexion, the green leaves growing out of his shoulders, wrapping delicately around his arms and torso, the roots wrapped around his ankles, the dirt on his cheek—he blends into the dome around him, almost invisible to the human eye. If it weren’t for his laser-like focus on you, his golden irises catching in the light, you might’ve had a harder time locating him.

You clear your throat, breaking eye contact as quickly as you made it, “He’s there.” You open your mouth—ready to get this over with—when another voice cuts through, “I see him! Look, he’s right there.” the girl reaches forward, as if to touch the glass. Murmurs of shock and barely concealed excitement fill the tiny room and, suddenly, you’ve got a migraine.

“Woah! He’s an alien.” a much shorter, rounder intern exclaims.

“Kai—” you cut short, silently reprimanding yourself for the slip of tongue, “Subject K is a unique case, he’s not foreign to this planet. He was once human.”

“He was human?” the same intern questions, incredulously.

“Did you not read the case files you were presented with before todays introduction?” you can’t help but snap in reply, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. You’re a scientist, not a babysitter, and definitely not a teacher. How and why did you get stuck doing this? You resist the urge to roll your eyes.

“Can he...hear us?” a quiet voice pulls you out of your thoughts, cutting through the building frustration. And suddenly you feel ashamed. You’re not typically a cold person; you were once a young, fresh graduate—a wet behind the ears intern—just like them. Over-excited, curious and unintentionally dumb at times. You take a deep breath, center yourself, before shaking your head. “The room is soundproof, military glass, but he can see you.”

“What if he gets out? What if he hurts someone?” the same meek voice questions. You can now see the owner. It’s a girl, she’s shorter than you, thin and obviously very nervous. Sweat gathers at the top of her lip.

“There is no reason to be scared. Subject K is a product of an experiment gone wrong.” you interject, hoping to calm the young girls nerves. “He who creates a poison, also has the cure. He who creates a virus, also has the antidote. He who creates chaos, also has the ability to create peace. Any problems created by the left hand of man, can also be solved with the right.” you trail off, finding yourself quoting your late professor—a magnificent scientist, a man you look up to.

“I don’t understand?” her tall, lanky companion stares at you, his head cocked to the right.

“For he who manifests anything, also has the ability to destroy it.” you whisper, suddenly overwhelmed with the meaning behind what your late professor was saying. You didn’t really understand it at the time, but now you do. “Is that what you’ll do? Destroy him?” a smaller male questions, taking a step forward towards the glass. And you suddenly feel extremely nauseous. The idea of anyone, your boss, the government, ordering the termination—the extermination—of Kai...

You shake your head in an attempt to abort the train of thought, heat gathering behind your eyes. “I don’t...I don’t know.” you croak, your throat burns.

 “Anyways, shall we begin?” gripping the clipboard in your hands, you gesture to a series of X-rays directly opposite the viewing window. “The gut is the seat of all feeling. Polluting the gut not only cripples your immune system, but also destroys your sense of empathy, the ability to identify with other humans.” you keep your eyes steady on the group of interns you are speaking to—despite the consistent itch of Kai’s eyes lingering on your skin. “Bad bacteria in the gut creates neurological issues. For instance, through a series of tests, we’ve found that autism can be cured by detoxifying the bellies of young children.”

“Wait, so you’re saying that people who think that feelings come from the heart are wrong?” the shorter girl questions from the back of the room, her initial nerves completely forgotten about. There is a pause in writing, the sound of pen on paper dissipating.

“I’m saying that it’s scientifically proven that the gut is where you feel the loss of a loved one first. It's where you feel pain and a heavy bulk of your emotions. It's the central base of your entire immune system. If your gut is loaded with negative bacteria, it affects your mind. Yes, your heart is the seat of your conscience. But if your mind is corrupted, it affects your conscience all the same.” your voice is steady, almost monotone. The subject at hand coming second nature to you. In hindsight, this is probably why you were picked—you could teach this in your sleep.

“Think of the Solar system; the heart is the Sun. The gut is the Moon. The pineal gland is Neptune, and your brain and nervous system—your 5 senses—are Mercury. What affects the moon or sun affects the entire universe within. So, if you poison the gut—” you trail off, eyes connecting with Kai’s once again. “—it affects your entire nervous system, your sense of reasoning, your senses altogether. Which is what you can see clearly here with Subject K.” you gesture briefly to Kai, flicking your wrist in his direction and dropping your eyes away from his intense gaze.

“But I don’t understand the manifestation of that bacteria. Flowers? Plants? Vines? In the human body? Growing out of the nervous system? What did they do to him? What kind of experiment was this? Does it hurt him?” the taller intern balks, confusion written all over his face.

“You don’t have the clearance for the answers to half of those questions.” you reply, brazenly. Your eyes can’t help but fall down to Kai’s legs—the vines rooted into his skin—grown from the inside out. Dried blood and dirt caked to his shins, his shoulders.

“There are people who are destined to taste only the poison in things, any surprise is a painful surprise and any experience a new occasion for torture.” you clench your jaw, the same heat behind your eyes reappearing. “If someone were to say to me that such suffering has subjective reasons, related to the individual's particular makeup, I would then ask is there an objective criterion for evaluating suffering?”  You look back at the group of interns, making eye contact with each one. “Who can say with precision that Subject K suffers more than you or I do? There is no objective standard because suffering cannot be measured according to the external stimulation or local irritation of the organism, but only as it is felt and reflected in consciousness.” It’s textbook and the science driven part of your brain can rationalize and justify any pain he might feel—for the better of humankind. However, your heart says other wise. The empathetic, emotion driven part of your brain can’t help but plead for lack of pain. For mercy. Your nausea returns.

It isn’t until the last intern has left the room, closing the door softly behind him, that you allow yourself to outwardly reflect what you are feeling inside: exhaustion, defeat, fear.

You curl into yourself, shoulders dropping, head hanging low; for a moment you forget who you are, where you’re at, who is watching you. A sigh escapes your lips before you’re even aware of what you’re doing. Coming back into yourself, you straighten. Your eyes trail back to Kai nervously, heart still thumping erratically in your chest. His golden eyes somehow look darker. As if he could truly hear you—no, it’s soundproof glass, there’s no way. You shake your head once again, trying to rid yourself of any doubts and turn to exit the room.

“You are not coming in today?” his voice carries, a low baritone, as if he was right there beside you. You freeze. Slowly turning around, your wide eyes catch his.  “No, I won’t.” your eyes trail back to the door, your nerves picking up at the thought of someone walking by and hearing your conversation; a conversation you weren’t supposed to participate in.

“Why? You always come in.” he takes a step forward, the part of his body once hidden in plain sight coming into full view. You instinctively take a step back, your body reacting as if there is no glass separating you.

“You know why...last time...last time you touched me. You’re not supposed to do that. You… you whispered things in my ear, things I never would’ve expected to affect me the way they did.” you suddenly find yourself exasperated. “You’re a walking, talking ecosystem and yet I’m the one like a leaf fluttering in the wind—when you zig, I zag. You talk and I jump. You walk and I turn into a blithering idiot. I admit it, when I find myself near you…” you didn’t have the courage to finish the sentence. You weren’t suppose to talk to him, to let him touch you. You couldn’t let yourself get attached, and yet here you were. With a sudden lump in your throat, you added: “I don’t want to hope, and I certainly don’t want to delude myself. Damn it, the thought of deluding myself terrifies me!”

“I think I know what your problem is.” he was right in front of the glass now, the palm of his hand pressed up against it. His eyes radiating life, his expression incredibly deprived—like he was the plant and you were the water he so desperately needed. Just out of reach.  “And what would that be?” you swallow at the sudden proximity, you hadn’t seen him approach so swiftly. He offered a sly smile, his golden eyes piercing you in place. “You’re hopelessly in love with me.” 

“Absolutely not.” you disagree wholeheartedly, a part of you panicked at the thought, “If anything, you’re the one in love with me!” You don’t know why you say it, maybe to try and one-up him. Kai has never shown any direct interest in you personally, other than that one time—if anything he seems quite indifferent around you. His foreign stare following you closely around the room when you’re working.

“I am.” his confession almost knocks you off your feet, he spoke like it was obvious. “You've driven me crazy. You've caused me considerable trouble and I've contemplated ending your life twice since I've known you." his warm breath hits the glass, sending a shiver down your spine. The danger behind his words, the implication, sends your heart straight into your throat. “But you’ve slipped under my skin, invaded my blood and seized my heart.” “That sounds more like a poison than a person,” was all you could say. His words had both shocked and scared you. “Exactly,” he replied, as if it was apparent. “You have poisoned me.”  🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿

This has been sitting in my drafts for the past 7 months, and I don’t even remember why and for who I was writing this for! I’m like 93% positive this was a request, in which case I AM SOOOO SORRY OMFG I’M A CRAP PERSON! SHAME ON MY FAMILY, SHAME ON MY COW!! PLEASE FORGIVE ME WHOEVER REQUESTED THIS!!! GOD, I SUCK!!

[natsunoomoi]

Finished Main Story of SVSSS....

So yeah, I did that. I still really liked the story overall. Some parts are a bit problematic in a way, but also in a satisfying way that is complex and I think can refer to some real life relationships and complexities of that because not all relationships fit nicely into the little boxes and labels that we make and that’s my take away from the ending.

-Don’t like the in-story “original author” still, but also don’t dislike him as much as I did when I started the story now that I got more of his perspective. MXTX posted all of this for free not thinking it would go anywhere really, but it’s true that some people do have careers where they make a living off of their webnovels and fans buying chapters, so that pressure is there. I’m sure that because MXTX is also a fan of D. Gray-man, she’s aware of the similar pressures that even mangaka at JUMP face. Like BLEACH basically ended early because it fell out of popularity with the fans just as Airplane mentions happens to some novel works. To be fair, BLEACH also lifted an entire plotline from another popular supernatural manga including carbon copies of the lackeys of the villain for that arc, so some shade was also deserved. Like Yukio is just Amanuma Tsukihito with a PSP instead of an arcade system or Super Famicom. D. Gray-man itself has also been on hiaitus several times due to health concerns and such. Same as Hunter x Hunter and other prolific manga. The pressure is real and some ways the original author is kind of a mood. He’s also still a huge coward and that’s annoying.

-I feel worse for Shen Jiu than when I did when I was just reading his backstory off of the wikis and stuff from just wanting to see Shen Qingqiu’s beautiful face. Like I felt bad before, but after knowing more and witnessing some sentiments that would have been gut punches if Shen Jiu had heard them, I feel so bad for him. I don’t condone what he did, but I also get it and wish I could hug him. Basically about the same level of thought as I put into how much I like Emet-Selch, but I think overall in the end I love Emet-Selch more because the 5.3 patch update for FFXIV broke me. Man, that MSQ. Like I’ve never been opposed to liking villains and always thought some villains were cool. Like my sister worships Sephiroth from FFVII for instance, but like I was never really into Sephiroth’s motivations in that he’s cool, but his identity crisis didn’t quite strike me as like actually 100% believable that torching Nibelheim and trying to rescue Jenova was justified or a natural reaction someone in his position would have. I like him more than Cloud cuz Cloud is a hot fucking mess of a person and he’s overall just cool, but as a villain his motivations didn’t resonate with me.  A lot of people also really liked Kefka because he’s just straight up insane and like chaotic evil, but that kind of evil just isn’t compelling to me. Emet-Selch though straight up broke me and I thought about him for like months after the initial end of Shadowbringers when you do the fight with Hades. His story is ripe with meaning and nuance and the Tales from the Shadows stories adding more nuance and color to his eternal living torture of seeing remnants of people he cared about constantly without a break or a way to really “forget” and heal. That just stuck with me because I’ve lost people in my life too, and I remember what that was like and how hard it was to even live the day after let alone the following few years. I remember it well even today because it fundamentally changed me as a person, but I was able to find some relief and escape from music and entertainment and going out to have new experiences and travel. Emet-Selch could not, so his story really broke me internally. I bring this up just to make a comparison because I love Shen Jiu as well, but for nowhere near as dramatic a reason as I love Emet-Selch.

Spoilers under the cut

Okay, so since I was just talking about Shen Jiu, and maybe it’s partly because I actually find him to be gorgeous as well, but just reading his story did genuinely make me sad. I found his child form to be a little bit jaded already only because he was an older child already by the time he was bought by the Qius. When Yue Qingyuan was parting with him through the door he was being kind of manipulative there for extra sympathy initially, which isn’t really great. How severely the brother beat him though was hard to take. It was so extreme, like wtf? And perhaps the part where Qiu Haitang said that he’d been “freed” and the part where he was engaged seems to be true-ish, but yeah her brother is kind of really fucked up in how he still talks to him even though he is supposed to be his brother-in-law soon? Like what the hell. But like, the summaries of what he did online and even what Haitang had said also made it sound even more cold than it was. Like once he got going yeah, the onslaught was kind of cold. But he still had a moment of shock where like he didn’t really realize what he’d done right away and needed a moment to process. But after that it was like, well, it’s already done and people came to try to help the young master and he had to get out too. So the other people on the way out after that don’t sound nearly as consequential and it was really striking that not only did he not attack Haitang, but he spared all the other women in the house. Like Jesus Christ, were *ALL* the men in the house including the male servants and other slaves they had assholes to him too? Just, wow. But we don’t get a lot into what else happened there, but if the head of the household is bad and hurts him, it’s believable that other people join in just as Ming Fan joined in because Shen Jiu was complicit in allowing Binghe’s suffering. Really key though is the commentary of both the young master and his first evil master about his age. 

That is such a huge chip on his shoulder because everyone keeps bringing it the fuck up. Including Qingge in another memory later on when he’s already Peak Lord. I know they don’t like each other, but that was really mean. I realize Qingge probably doesn’t care and that was the point to throw salt in his wounds because they don’t like each other, but seeing how much it affected him by him breaking his fan with his hands after hearing that. I’ve had people do similar to me where they make an insensitive comment to try to hurt you without understanding the actual circumstances. My sister did that to me once and I reconciled with her for a bit, but decided not to talk to her anymore again because of some other bullshit with her friends being childish. But when she did similar to me, I never really forgave her for it either. My story is not nearly as dramatic, but basically I had quit a job where I was being bullied by coworkers at the start of the recession and I was looking for jobs, but no luck with anything I was qualified for even though I went on a few interviews. There actually weren’t many listings posted around that time, so I would only be able to find a couple to apply to and by the time my sister came home I’d be playing games to pass the time cuz I was bored out of my mind waiting for something to happen. So then we got in an argument for I forget the initial reason anymore, but she brought up how I “wasn’t looking” for a job and just seemed to be “being lazy” and I just got so pissed and yelled at her that she had no fucking idea what I was doing everyday and that I am looking and there isn’t anything fucking there. I also lost it and threw a stool at her. I’m not proud of it, but I totally get the mood of what it feels like for someone to use something that you are struggling with as a negative to throw in your face even though you are trying *SO* hard to do your best. I especially don’t want to hear that from someone who gave up on their desired career that they were actually good at and making a decent living at for money and also can’t tell when their friends are kissing up to them and crossing a line and won’t stand up to them for being shitty people. Teapot meet kettle, and don’t throw stones if you live in a glass fucking house. I don’t like low blows like that. 

My personal family issue aside though, I felt a lot of empathy for Shen Jiu in that moment. Seeing how he interacted with Binghe on their first meeting after that though, like I was sad for Binghe too, but I can also see where his misunderstanding happened on top of his insecurity. I also kind of wonder if Qingge’s comment also kind of encouraged this situation to happen.  I still like Qingge because he makes up for it a lot later, but yeah that was fucked up.

The gut punch later was when Qingyuan was seemingly dying and tried to apologize to Qingqiu, but all the words and the things Shen Jiu needed to hear. His years of misunderstanding and not knowing and being in pain and thinking he was abandoned. That was painful. Shen Jiu is gone. We don’t know where he is. Maybe he’s dead. No idea, but those are things he can never know. It’s already too late, and that’s crushing.

I still just really want to know more about Shen Jiu and I feel really sad that there wasn’t some kind of redemption for him or anything. Even if it’s like Shen Yuan going into the recesses of his own mind and finds Shen Jiu locked in a box somewhere so actually the both of them share the same body and he’s just watching in a tiny TV what Shen Yuan does with his body. He’d be really frustrated and would probably scream at him a lot with his screams completely unheard, but at least he’d get to see people liking him more and would be able to hear the words that Qingyuan spoke. I mentioned in an earlier post that I saw a theory about OG Qingqiu transmigrating into Shen Yuan when Shen Yuan takes over his body, and I think that’s possible because Shang Qinghua says that when he transmigrated he was born there and was since a baby? I was thinking maybe it’d be more like OG dies when OG Binghe kills him and then becomes Shen Yuan, but who knows.

I mean, also I just crave more information about him. He’s so unfortunate, and I like wish more went right for him so that he wouldn’t be so miserable. Like when you see a character where their life is just shit on, you just wish that you could do something to take away their pain.

And with that sentiment, that’s also why I found the ending to be satisfying but probably a little problematic. Like Shen Yuan is just a good guy and he has that same sentiment for Binghe just because he’s a poor kid with a shitty hand in life, but he’s also like really clearly not gay himself and not actually attracted to Binghe in that way. To be clear, the book does seem to discourage this kind of relationship in that it works in the way the narrative unfolded, but it isn’t one that would work in real life really. That’s part of the depth of it though. Like SY emotionally cares for him and he even remarks that he feels kind of more like his Dad, but the physical side of their relationship is more on Binghe’s side than his, and he acquiesces to it because he feels bad for him because this poor child has no one. And yeah, fine this works in an actual book that we’re all reading and this works within the system within the book where the MC is in a book himself with really screwed up logic rules, but I don’t recommend this method of getting with someone you like in real life. It will not end well. If someone you like is not into you, emotionally manipulating them and crying and also stalking them until they give their body to you out of desperation to console you is not the road to happiness. You also won’t have a pressure timer of life on earth ending by combining with actual hell to push them into bed with you. The fact that SY resorts to this in desperation in order to try to help Binghe to get control of the demon sword is admirable in the narrative of the story in that he’s doing it because he cares so much about this person and that’s fine, but it’s a red flag if anyone did this IRL and put their wishes aside to appease someone else. There will be a breakdown in the future as one person puts aside their needs for the other one completely. Partnerships that work are healthy and equal. That’s not what this is. In the story, the two characters have an understanding though that makes it fine, but I have second-hand anxiety for the idea that anyone would try to replicate this. This is not normally healthy.

But at the same time, the fact that the characters have an understanding to that is unique to their personal choice is also realistic in a sense that life is sometimes complicated and a similar situation could come about, but it is the choice of the people involved. With constant communication there’s a slim chance that maybe it could work out, but it’s hard. The main level of complexity I’m thinking of is that there’s different ways to care about other people or rather to just feel about other people. Like you can have like an intellectual attraction to other people in that you just like talking with them and you’re good friends with them because of that. You can be romantically attracted to someone, but also not feel sexual attraction too. Of course you can also feel physical attraction to someone, but not really care at all about them emotionally or even intellectually. SY has emotional feelings for Binghe, but it’s more on the parental side or even just human in not wanting him to suffer. If this were a points meter, his values for his emotions and just caring about him would be at max, while physical attraction and even romantic attraction are basically zero. Like he also just like cares about him in principle? Like as an all seeing reader you look at everything and are just like, wtf with this shit? How can one person suffer so much? As empthy or even sympathy you feel for them so then if the other person is more not asexual or aromantic that can trigger some feelings which is what happened between these two characters. The reason I say it isn’t necessarily bad, but some shakiness on execution too. But like say like an asexual person is romantically attracted to someone who isn’t asexual, but they still want to be with them. Like the non-ace person has some needs sometimes and even if the ace doesn’t feel it, because they care about their partner they acquiesce to their partner’s requests because they just want them to be happy. This kind of very personal choice situation I think is really similar to basically what ends up happening between SY Qingqiu and Binghe where SY isn’t really interested, but at the same time cares about Binghe’s well-being so much that he actually just wants him to be happy and reluctantly is okay with the situation. IRL though Binghe would be REALLY FRUSTRATING to be so unreasonably needy and like narcissistically abusive in wanting him all to himself an isolating him from his friends and being jealous of them. In comparison, Wangji and Wuxian are a great deal more balanced in comparison, but I also really like this book for the original idea and the complexity of SY’s ultimate choice because I feel like it’s also a bit more real that some people do make that kind of choice. It’s not healthy or guaranteed to be a success or happy experience, but it’s in the realm of possibilities for the kinds of personal choices people can make because the other person’s happiness is worth the minor discomfort.

Ah, I just have a lot of thoughts about this. Part of it stems from myself being ace also and what that means for me. But also getting to the end, I think Qingge is a fellow ace and also similar to me, just serious about his job and loyal to his crew.

I’ve read some of the extras obviously, but I haven’t delved that deeply into the extra materials.

Oh also, I laughed so hard when Mobei-jun just tossed Shang Qinghua over like a chicken. It said like a chicken and it was hilarious. XD Like imagining that panicked sound of hucking chickens in Ocarina of Time.

Oh and ho-shit the alt punishment system came up for SY Qingqiu for screwing up his points. Got to live through half the process of becoming a human stick very painfully.

I guess part of me is still kind of just wondering how Binghe grew to be SO needy. It’s to an unnecessary degree, but I guess without any real emotional or social guidance in the Endless Abyss that could happen?

Zhuzhi-Lang though is a really frustratingly annoying character, but I also like him at the same time. I’m confused by him.

The only other thing I’m like confused a bit about is like, so the 4 sects that are depicted with Cang Qiong Mountain being the top one are like the great four sects, but like...where are they? I’m just asking because of the kind of meta general landscape of what cultivation and Taoism is like some of the events that happen I would think actually would call down some interference from actual Heaven. Like in the classic lit, whenever there’s huge disturbances down in the Human World, like the Heavenly Palace and like the Jade Emperor are like, “WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?” and go send people. I find it really hard to believe that such a disaster as the combining of two realms would be ignored by the armies of Heaven and like Nezha, Erlang Shen, and other notable actual deities up there would come down and be like, “The fuck you guys doing down here with these shenanigans?” Also, Journey to the West is like one of the most like influential books in the canon of Chinese lit and is regarded as literally one of the Four Great Classics. But none of these fools in these “great four sects” know how to stamp a floor and call up the local deity to tell you what the hell is happening in Jinlan City instead of sending your disciples to die? Sun Wukung did that at like every damn city and then also threatened to beat them if they like weren’t doing their job properly. Those minor deities are on the payroll for Heaven, so like...use them? Like I feel like they would know this too because like the ultimate goal for cultivation is to be able to become an immortal and end up on the payroll? I know Qingqiu is supposedly like mid-level or something, but like I think they should like know-ish where they’re going? Like in the future they would become one of those minor gods making records? Are they like not high enough to even talk to them? Maybe not, but I do think like Nezha, Pagoda Bearer Li, or Erlang Shen would definitely come down and be like, “Hey, what’s going on?”

Also like, Shen Jiu isn’t a great character and how he treats his disciples is bad and what he did was bad. But like, also, what is the standard to judge him really? Like Nezha was a dick when he was a child too. When he was 3 he went to a river and was swimming and liked killed all the fish and then a dragon prince came out and was like, “WTF? Why are all the fish dead?” and then Nezha instead of answering him kills him and guts him and then takes his tendon home to turn into a belt. Then like his Dad gets a complaint from the Dragon King like, “Hey, my son is dead! Your son did it. Hand him over so I can kill him or I destroy your town.” So then Nezha’s Dad goes to talk to him and is like, “What’re you doing?” And then Nezha answers him and tells him exactly what he did like it was no big fucking deal that he killed the local Dragon Prince and made him into a belt. Obviously there’s an argument and like Nezha basically rage quits his life and is like, if you’re so concerned about this bullshit I return this body to you and kills himself to cut off his ties to his parents. He was a rude little shit. Then he went into his Mom’s dream and threatened her until she built him a temple so he could get prayer requests until he could be reborn again. His Dad found out and wrecked the temple, so then he went up to go find his master who had him be reborn using lotus flowers. After that after being reborn, Nezha’s first order of business was to go back to his family and try to kill his own father for fucking up his temple and chased him down EVERYWHERE until other powers in Heaven, decided to send down Nezha’s older brothers with a pagoda to give to their Dad that would trap and burn Nezha everytime he tried to murder him. Is this better or worse than what Shen Jiu did? This is an actual god that people worship. A quite prominent and very famous one. Nezha is also one of my favorite deities and I had a huge crush on the Nataku from Fujisaki Ryu’s Houshin Engi manga who has mostly the same backstory as deity Nezha, and I just loved him in high school. He was a good guy. What are the standards here people? I don’t think anyone in any story in China can really judge someone like Shen Jiu doing an understandable level of murder as a response to trauma and severe abuse when they worship a deity that suffered nothing and tried to commit patricide and had a severe disregard for other life. In the cultivation world, potentially, this could be their future boss. I think arguably, he could be worse than Shen Jiu, but he’s a canonical real deity.

The above tirade for me is like a thing I feel like I would have said if I was in the position to be alive in Jinlan City and wanted to defend Shen Qingqiu cuz WTF.

Further, I’m a huge fan of Jigoku Shoujo and Enma Ai did much the same after her cousin saved her from being sacrificed, the villagers found out, buried her a live, made her cousin help bury her alive, and then she came back as a vengeful spirit and set the whole village on fire and killed everyone except maybe her parents who had their souls as prisoners by Enma himself? Can’t 100% remember. But like, on the scale of characters I like that have done terrible things, Shen Jiu is actually relatively low and under some people that are good guys.

[distant-rose]

Villains That Live in My Head (1/4)

Notes: I made a promise back in June to @effulgentcolors a story about dealing with intimacy and PTSD and I’m like two months late. Lyubi, I’m truthfully sorry for how late this is but admittedly, I’ve been struggling with this subject material because it’s not just PTSD, it’s violent PTSD episodes so we’re straddling a very thin line which could constitute as domestic violence, which naturally makes me  uneasy. However, I think it’s important to stress that the violence depicted in this story is not due to any sort of maliciousness but due to a violent PTSD episode and this story is about exploring how to deal with trauma and intimacy issues and get past such issues as a couple. This is some hard, heavy and upsetting stuff, but I’m trying to be as sensitive and tentative to the material as I can. I can’t stress enough that this isn’t going to be for everyone and to approach with caution because this is a story about violent PTSD and accidentally hurting your partner, and please read at your own risk. A special thank you to @initiala and @shireness-says for helping me struggle bus through this story. Summary: The wounds made when we're young tend to linger. It’s something Killian and Emma learn a little too well when a well meaning surprise goes terribly wrong.  Word Count: 3,300+ Rating: M

--

The truth is that Emma Swan has never had a real boyfriend, so to speak.

Sure, she was with Neal during her teenage years, but their relationship wasn’t necessarily conventional. Born out of loneliness and camaraderie, theirs was based mainly on survival, and survival doesn’t mean dinner dates in fancy restaurants or going to the movies. The most romantic thing he ever did for her was steal a family pack of pop tarts and some boxed wine when she turned sixteen and she thought it was the sweetest thing to ever happen. That had been the pinnacle of romance for her until “pick a partner who knows what he’s doing” and “ you traded your ship for me?”

She’s so out of her depth when it comes to being in a real relationship, but so far, it seems to be going great. Killian is attentive and generous with affection, which comes in a variety of forms from bringing her coffee every morning to playing with her hair. He listens to her when she de-stresses after work, plying her with alcohol and... not sympathy, necessarily, but empathy and an understanding that everyone else seems to lack. Everyone views her as the Savior, including her parents, but it’s nice to have someone who just sees her as Emma. 

And then there’s the sex. Which is another story altogether. 

It’s good, don’t get her wrong. He’s surprisingly sweet and very generous, with soft eyes and even softer touches. However, it’s also intimidating, because while Emma is the one-night-stand wonder, she wouldn’t call herself particularly knowledgable when it comes to sex. It’s mainly been insert Tab A into Slot B, repeat until satisfaction (and more often than not, no satisfaction - but that’s another story altogether). Such relationships didn’t necessarily lead to a lot of exploration or discovery. Quite simply, you don’t ask a complete stranger to help you discover your kinks unless you’re a serial killer or preternaturally uncomfortable in your own skin. Emma was neither of those things. So, her experience, while lengthy partner-wise, didn’t necessarily extend beyond what was considered relatively standard.

Killian, on the other hand seemed to have a fountain of knowledge and experience.

He didn’t necessarily brag about it to her per say -- aside from his rather outrageous innuendos -- but there was a certain sureness and innate knowledge that wasn’t something you could necessarily fake, and could only come from wealth of experience. While there had been some fumbling in the beginning (usually on her end), he was nowhere near as clueless as others had been on how to touch her. It had been more like watching someone relearn a path rather than discovering it for the first time. And while it’s been great to be with someone who didn’t need a road map to her clitoris, it was also a bit disconcerting to be someone who was, quite frankly, a lot more experienced than you. 

And even more mortifyingly, teaching you things about sex despite getting your v-card swiped more than a decade ago.

It makes her feel like she’s being trained a bit. And honestly, she kinda hates that.

She doesn’t like the fact that he seems to be leading her around a training ring like she’s some skittish horse and he’s some absurdly patient seasoned equestrian. It makes her feel foolish and, even worse, she can’t help but feel like she’s boring him. And the last thing she wants to bore him.

(Boring means getting left behind.)

She knows it’s irrational to think so, but there’s nothing Emma is more terrified of than being left alone again. Sure, she has her family, and her boyfriend literally gave up his home and his entire way of life to be with her, but that fear runs deep. No matter how many justifications her parents, Neal, or anyone else give her, that pain doesn’t just disappear.  

(In the spirit of Jake Peralta: cool motive, still abandonment.)

She isn’t sure that she’s in love with him. Considering the fact that her parents are the Olympic gold medalists of True Love, she’s more than a little gun shy when it comes to even broaching that subject. However, she knows she doesn’t want him to leave. She wants more than anything for him to stay.

And that’s how she reaches the decision to “spice” things up.

(And naturally, as it is with all situations where someone tries to perfect an already good thing, it blows up in her face. Spectacularly.)

She doesn’t remember how she settled on the idea of bondage, but it’s something she’s the most familiar with, and all kinky things considered, it seems pretty low level; exciting, but not as far out there as some of the other things she’s come across when perusing for ideas. She’s not looking to do anything Fifty Shades, but she thinks it might be fun to tie him up and make him the focal point for once. Killian always focuses on her, and it might benefit their relationship for things to be a little less one-sided when it comes to the bedroom.

Besides, Killian is a pretty adventurous guy, and a pirate to boot. She’s pretty certain he’s had more than a few nights of debauchery, featuring far more lewd acts than a little light bondage play. Hell, she wouldn’t be remotely surprised if he’s been involved in an orgy or two. He’ll probably find her plans as vanilla as everything else they’ve been doing.

(You know what they say when you assume. It makes an ass of you and me.) 

She doesn’t tell him her plans, mainly because she can’t imagine he would object and also because she wants to surprise him. After letting him take the lead in this aspect of their relationship, she wants to show him that what she lacks in experience, she can make up for with a willingness to explore new things. She wants to be on his level, not someone he needs to teach.

So, she doesn’t tell him. She just brings a box of condoms, a pair of cuffs and a smile.

It starts the way it always does - with a kiss that has them both swaying side-to-side until they teeter awkwardly backwards into his room. She chucks her bag on the nightstand, only to have it smack the table lamp and send both items to the floor. She can’t bring herself to care when she has Killian splayed out on the bed below her, pupils blown wide, lips bruised and noticeable tenting in his incredibly tight pants.

(Seriously, is he capable of wearing anything else? She might have to buy him a more relaxed fit, if only to help her sanity. While he doesn’t have much of an ass, they highlight the muscles in his thighs and make her eyes jump to places that aren’t necessarily appropriate for the public.)

And then there’s the hair.

She loves his hair and the way it’s starting to get a little longer and curl over his ears. She loves tugging on it and the noises he makes when she does. She leans forward, unable to resist threading her fingers through the dark strands as she tilts his head up for another kiss. He accepts it enthusiastically, a low pleased grumble emitting from the back of his throat as she gives his hair a playful tug. He pulls her into his lap, hips rolling upwards with impatience.

Clothes are shed gracelessly. It takes more than a few tries for her to unbutton his vest, cursing him for choosing such finicky clothing. It’s just so typical for him to pick style over functionality. He laughs at her impatience, eyes twinkling with amusement. She wants to rip the bloody thing off.

(Holy fuck, she’s starting to sound like him.)

“Why so impatient, love? We have all night,” he asks, chuckling as she finally manages to undo his buttons. 

She doesn’t respond immediately, more focused removing his hook from its brace and placing it on the nightstand. More articles of clothing have fallen victim to that hook than she cares to count, and she has such a limited wardrobe as is.

“Maybe I have plans,” she responds with what she hopes is a coy smile. 

Both of his eyebrows rise at this, a smirk spreading across his lips as he settles back on his elbows.  

“Plans?”

“Yes,” she says, running her fingers along the length of his collarbone. “Plans. Fun plans. And if you’re good, you might even find out what they are.” 

“I’m not sure I’m capable of being good,” he responds, leaning up and placing all too brief kisses along her jaw and neck. “But I promise you, you’ll certainly like it when I’m bad.” 

“We’ll have to see about that.”

She pulls him into another fierce kiss, using it to distract him as she reaches back to riffle through her bag for her cuffs. It gets a bit awkward, the angle not quite right, but Killian does his best to make it work. When she finally gets her prize, she makes a noise of triumph against his lips before pushing him back against the bed and reaching for his wrists. 

“Swan!” 

Killian’s eyes go wide with shock, growing even larger as he catches sight of the handcuffs. Emma expects it, but it doesn’t last long. His face contorts into a new expression, one that’s far from the enthusiasm. 

She doesn’t get much time to process it, however because the world turns suddenly on its axis. 

One minute she’s straddling his thighs, trying to handcuff him, and the next thing she knows, she’s on her back with Killian looming above her with his only hand pressed to her throat, and not in a way that’s remotely friendly. His fingers dig painfully as they press into her windpipe, cutting off her oxygen. Every muscle in his body is tensed and his chest keeps heaving as if he’s struggling to breathe. His eyes aren’t shocked; they’re panicked. 

They stare at each other for a few seconds, Emma still stunned by the turn of events while Killian looks more like a frightened animal than a person. Her lungs burn painfully and she chokes a bit as she tries to breathe. He jumps at the sound, his face changing from frightened to horrified. He pushes himself away from her forcefully, propelling his body until he’s precariously close to falling off the bed. He pulls himself into a sitting position and turns his back to her, fingers gripping the side of the bed as if holding on for dear life. Emma lays there, mind reeling, still stunned by the sudden turn of events. Her fingers move to touch where she can still feel the hard press of his palm. 

A million questions buzz in her head, each too fleeting for her to truly grasp but each more panicked and disturbed than the next. She doesn’t know what the hell just happened, but her pulse is thundering loudly in her ears and she has the same feeling of ice water in her veins that she did in the Clocktower when Gold was about to crush his heart.

Killian still has his back to her and while she can’t see his face, his shoulders are shaking, and she can still hear the harshness of his breath even over the chaotic orchestra her insides are playing.

“I…” The vowel sounds hoarse leaving his mouth. “I…I’m sorry…I…” 

He reaches for his clothes, pulling Emma away from the hornet’s nest in her head. She sits up, on instinct reaching out to him. He flinches and inches further away from her hand, which somehow hurts more than when he tried to choke her. A wounded noise emits from the back of her throat. He doesn’t acknowledge it. He picks up his shirt and pulls it over his head one-handed. It’s on backwards but he doesn’t seem to care.

“What the hell are you doing?” 

“I need to go,” he says shortly, not looking at her.

She opens her mouth to speak, but her words fall short. Emma doesn’t know what she wants to say. She knows she should say something, but what exactly, she doesn’t know. She still hasn’t processed what exactly happened.

Emma can still feel his hand on her throat.

(What the hell just happened?)

She’s still trying to answer that question, while Killian’s haphazardly pulling on his boots. She raises her hand again, but pulls it back. She wants to touch him, to do something, but she doesn’t know what to do and she can’t bear the sight of him pulling away from her again, like she’s something vile. 

Before she can even come to a course of action, the door slams shut. And she’s alone.

(Again.

She’s alone again.)

The thought leaves her feeling frozen, like she’s back in the ice prison again except this time she’s not surrounded by ice. It’s inside of her spreading over each and every one of her organs. She wraps her arms around herself in attempt at...warmth? Comfort? She isn’t sure anymore.

She isn’t sure of anything.

(What the hell just happened?)

One minute they were fine and about to have a good time, and the next thing he’s attacking her and then suddenly he can’t even look at her. All of it happened so fast that she’s still not quite sure what caused all of it. What the hell did she do?

She gets up, pins and needles shooting through her legs. They’re completely unhappy with her after sitting on the bed for so long. She doesn’t know how much time has passed, but she knows she needs to do something. Walking into the ensuite and turns on the light, she winces at the harsh intensity of the fluorescent bulb; sucking in a breath when she catches sight of herself in the mirror.

There’s an angry red ring around her throat.

She touches it again, this time more tentatively. The flesh is tender and a small hiss leaves her without her permission. Killian is long gone, but the phantom pain of his hand is still there. It had only been a few seconds but the feeling and the fear refuses to leave. 

Fear.

The realization hits her like whiplash. She had been afraid of him. He could have hurt her.

He did hurt her.

(Why?)

She doesn’t have any answers. She doesn’t know what she did for Killian to act like this, but he’s left her and she’s pretty certain he isn’t coming back. 

She hates the fact that hurts her more than the potential bruises.

Angry tears form at the corner of her eyes and she splashes water on her face to keep herself from seeing them. She glances at the clock, not necessarily because she’s interested in the time so much as she doesn’t want to see herself reflected in the mirror.

2:00.

Fuck.

She should leave. She hadn’t been planning on going back to the loft, but she knows she can’t stay here even if Killian doesn’t plan on coming back. She needs to get out of here and sleep somewhere else, where the imprint of his hand can’t follow her.

She pulls her hair into a messy, half-assed ponytail, not bothering it to smooth out the awkward bumps. Her limbs feel as heavy as lead as she puts on her clothes. She wants nothing more than to sleep, but she can’t. Not here.

The streets of Storybrooke are deathly silent as she walks back to the loft. It’s a cool night and the chill highlights the unnatural warmth pulsating from her neck. She pulls her jacket tighter around her. It has always been her shield from the world, but it’s protection was futile. What she needed protecting from had already gotten past her walls.

She can’t stop thinking about it, her brain like an old scratched DVD, playing the same scene over and over again in her mind. She can’t help but relive that moment when he was above her and she couldn’t breathe. She still remembers the look on his face; eyes wide, nostrils flaring and cheeks white. It hadn’t been anger on his face.

It had been fear.

What the hell did he have to be afraid of? He wasn’t the one with the hand on his throat.

Why did he do that?

Why did he leave?

The questions swirl around in her mind as she attempts to unlock the front door of their building. It takes her an embarrassing three tries to open it, but when she finally did, a sense of relief came over her. She’s home and she can sleep.

She’s so tired.

The door to the loft groans as she opens it, sounding unnaturally loud in the stillness of the night. The noise wakes the baby, his wails as ear-piercing as thunder. She can hear her parents waking up behind their curtain. 

She can’t face them. 

Not right now. 

Not after everything that happened with Killian.

She races across the room instead, making her way up the stairs. Her hands tremble as she clings to the bannister like it’s a life line, each ascending step feeling heavier and more precarious than the last.

It’s a relief when she finally reaches her bed and crawls underneath her covers, pulling them over her head in an attempt to cocoon herself away from the world. She wants to escape, to find some peace and quiet. Unfortunately, Little Neal doesn’t seem to want adhere that desire. His screams keep getting louder and louder.

“That’s a mood if I ever heard one,” she mumbles, burying her face in her pillow.

Her mother’s soothing voice sounds throughout the apartment as she attempts to lull Neal back to sleep. Slowly, the cries quiet down and the growing silence echoes inside of her. It’s then that the anger gives away to immeasurable sadness, tears dribbling at the corners of her eyes and leaking down her cheeks.

Once again, she’s alone and no one wants her. Not her parents. Not her brother. And especially not her pirate boyfriend, if he’s even her boyfriend anymore. She’s not so sure.  

(What the hell happened?)

It’s frustrating to be in this position again, hurt and confused as to why. She should have known it wasn’t going to work. She’s never been in a healthy and real relationship before and it was silly of her to think otherwise. She should have known it would blow up in her face.

(But why?)

(Why?)

(Why?)

It’s the question on her mind keeps playing over and over in her mind as she falls into a fitful slumber, hoping against hope that sleep will bring some clarity.

It doesn’t.

[montyprescottjoy]

Blood Orange

Para: Blood Orange

Who: Monty Prescott & Vitya Cristo @vityacristo

When: June 13th, 2020

Where: Vitya’s apartment 

What: Vitya gets under Monty’s skin and forces him to talk about Schuyler, both boys experience unusual feelings.

Triggers: Suicide, Drug use, Abuse 

MONTY

Monty was fuming after the fight with Schuyler. The redhead had managed to press all his buttons and wound him up so tightly he'd exploded, in public, spilling his emotions where everyone could see. Nothing had been able to numb the fear and pain coursing through him. He'd smoked half a packet of cigarettes, a bottle of Jack, and three joints, and yet he was still feeling the pain but now with a sore head. He was already out of E from the fights with Nikko and he couldn't get hold of his usual supplier. Monty needed a distraction, he needed a good fuck. He also needed someone he could be honest with, or at least someone he could be around without having to go through the exhaustion of putting up his walls with. Nikko and Sam were still in Tn, Danny was in Colorado... that only left Vitya. The younger man had about as many issues as Monty himself and was in no place to judge, he was also a great lay. Monty picked up his phone with a tremor in his hand and hit call. "Yo, Vit, ya busy or got time for a fuck?" He tried to sound seductive but the emotion was heavy in his voice.

VITYA

Vitya had been home a day or two, enjoying his privacy and quiet. Most of his time was spent relaxing, catching up on easy chores, like laundry. He was not a domestic person, but also did not feel well enough to go to a bar or club. The hospital had drained him. Still, when his phone began to ring, and he saw who was calling, curiosity getting the better of him. He answered, and a smile cracked onto his face. "Careful, you come around any more often, I may just need to give you your own key," he joked, holding the phone to his ear by shoulder to fold a shirt in his hand. "So, what brings you my way this time around? You fucked me, like yesterday. A great home-warming present, by the way."

MONTY

Monty couldn't help the small grin that Vitya's sarcastic greeting put on his face. It was easy being around him, things weren't complicated or messy, they were just themselves and that idea alone had Monty relaxing a little. "Don't be makin' ya'self too available, ya poor ass is gonna be so sore ya wont be able ta sit for a week." He chuckled, grabbing his phone, wallet and keys. Vitya hadn't told him to fuck off, in fact it basically sounded like an invitation to him so Monty headed out in the direction of Vitya's place. "For an invalid ya took my dick like a champ, gotta see if it's a fluke or if all them needles they've been stickin' in ya really worked." Mont lied easily, covering up his own need and the small flicker of concern for his friend? fuck buddy? After finding out just how much time he'd spent in the hospital.

VITYA

"Isn't that the whole point?" Vitya said back, starting to move all the clothes to his bedroom. Vitya could hear something off in Monty's voice. Something visceral was there. The words were Monty's normal, sarcastic self, but the tone felt too open. "Practice makes perfect- Also being a pillow princess is, like, easy. And we have done it enough times, you know it ain't a fluke." Vitya sat on his bed, leaning back on his hand. "Oh, when you get here, keep your clothes on. I'll handle that," Vitya said in his low, wispy tone, hoping that would convince the man on the other side that Vitya couldn't hear his different tone.

MONTY

"Mm ya wanna feel it the next day, I got ya, figured ya might wanna go easy on ya crippled ass but fine we can go hard, I know exactly how ya like it." Monty didn't even try to keep his voice down as he walked across campus, all he concentrated on was keeping his tone even and teasing. "As much fun as I have poundin' ya ass we gotta get ya back ta full strength so ya can ride me hard." He taunted, more of his mind slipping from his pain and concentrating on what was in store for him as it seemed he had Vitya fooled that everything was normal. "Pillow princess puttin' in some work today, sounds good ta me, want that mouth." Monty groaned quietly as he reached the door to Vitya's apartment.

VITYA

Vitya could hear the desperation growing in Monty's voice over the phone. On one hand, it was such a turn-on. Vitya loved this, being able to wind someone up, have them wrapped around his finger. But between talking to Anthony, and his latest stint with death, whatever empathy that was still buried in him was rearing it's pretty little head. "What, and have you sit and wait like a good little boy? You're too impatient for that." he teased again, keeping the conversation going. He heard Monty from the other side of the door as well as through the phone, Vitya walking over, opening it, and tugging Monty inside by the shirt collar. With a bite of his lip, he tossed the phone to the side and shoved Monty onto the couch. He took his hair, yanked it back, and with a look of complete seriousness on his face, Vitya stared Monty dead in the eye. "What happened?"

MONTY

"Come on now, ya know I can still fuck ya hard even when ya ride me, I ain't waitin', an' I definitely ain't a good boy, ya know that ya filthy boy." Monty taunted, keeping focused on the conversation and begining to feel very hot and flustered, Vitya knew exactly how to get him going and his cock responded to the words quickly as blood began to rush to his groin. "Impatient hm?" Monty grinned at the surprising strength in the lanky young man as he was caught off guard before he even had a chance to knock. A pained groan escaped Monty's lips as he was manhandled. "What the fuck do ya mean what happened, I should be the one askin' you. What the fuck are ya doin'?" He seethed, brow furrowing in confusion and fists clenching ready to attack.

VITYA

"I mean, why are you calling me, on the edge of a meltdown?" Vitya said back, releasing Monty's hair and standing up straight, crossing his arms. "I am going to fuck you, you're here so it's happening, but you are going to tell me why I could hear you holding back baby-tears. Like it or not, Monty, you aren't getting this-" he said, motioning to his body. "Until you tell me what happened. It was the redhead, wasn't it?"

MONTY

"Fuck you, asshole." Monty yelled. He hated this, hated when people could see through his defences, hated showing any signs of vunerabilty, any clue that he was human and could be hurt. "What if I don't fucking want ya, huh, ever think of that?" He growled, standing up and begining to pace the room. He could leave, he could run back to his hiding place in his own room, Vitya wasn't stopping him, but some how he couldn't bring his feet to move more than a few steps in each direction. "It's always the fuckin' redhead." He ground out.

VITYA

Vitya laughed under his breath. "That's a damn lie, you're still tenting," Vitya said, clearly as a joke and not an actual dig at Monty. He left the man pace, seeing the seething anger. He wasn't leaving, proving Vitya's idea right; this was going to be an angry, vicious fuck. He was fine with that, normally, but he was not exactly normal enough to take that. That, and Monty was somehow becoming... significant to Vitya. He wasn't sure why, but it was something. "Mind telling me what the history is? All I ever see is you, being a dick to him, him telling you off, and then his ball and chain holding him back." Vitya paused, licking his lips. "Is he an ex? Do you even have exes?"

MONTY

Monty moved forward in a flash, grabbing Vitya by the hips, pressing the length of their bodies together, and capturing his soft lips in a hard kiss. It was rough and deep and unrelenting; the only way he could expel some of his feelings."Yeah well ya ass get's me all worked up." Mont tried to tease but it came out flat so instead of sounding sexual he just sounded tired. Monty rubbed a hand over his face, vision blurring when he pressed the heal of his hand to his eyes. He wanted to throw himself into Vitya's body and forget everything, take his pain out on the boy, but somehow he didn't have the strength, he craved human touch, the warmth of another body to take away his pain completely not just forget for a few moments the way Schuy had for a short time back when they had been together. It felt wrong to want that again after all he'd done to destroy what he and Schuy had tried to build. But Vitya was the same as Monty; he was broken too not some untouchable thing like Schuy; he was real. "Ex. Singular."

VITYA

Vitya didn't fight it when Monty got close and kissed him. In fact, he was too shocked to react. They had kissed before, usually mid-fuck, clearly just to enhance whatever they were doing at the time, but this... This was different. When they broke apart, and Monty rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his hand, Vitya took his hands off and put them at his sides. "You'll go blind doing that," he mumbled, fixing the mess he had made of Monty's hair earlier when he grabbed it. Vitya nodded, laughing low in his chest. "Guessed that much. I take it the two of you ended things poorly, and now you see how good you had it and want it back." Vitya took a few steps away, sitting himself down on the couch to give Monty room to pace, breathe, talk, whatever he needed. "Can't say I don't relate. Not a day goes by that I don't miss home. I take it he was yours?"

MONTY

The kiss had loosened some of the tension in Monty enough so that he didn't flinch away when Vitya touched his hands. Mont stretched his neck out, almost like a cat being petted, as Vitya played with his hair; it felt soothing in a way he wasn't used to, a way he hadn't felt since Schuyler. "Dunno how much of that fight ya saw but yah, fuckin' shit. Caught me cheatin', he beat the guy with a fuckin' camera then went to fuckin' Israel." Monty replied flatly, scanning the room for alcohol if only to keep his eyes from Vitya, not understanding how or why he was spilling information he never expected to share with anyone. "Dunno about home man, ain't never had one of 'em before. Ya miss the Bratva, huh?"

VITYA

Vitya could see it; the starvation of touch, the blatant want of affection without saying it. Humans were social creatures, and Monty was no different. Monty was being open, so open it nearly weirded Vitya out. But this wasn’t like Benji, spilling every little detail worth telling. Monty only said what he wanted, when he wanted. Vitya pulled his legs up and under him, patting the spot next to him on the couch. This wasn’t the first time that, as a prostitute, a client needed to vent to him. But this was the first time Vitya... cared? Payed attention? Who knows. “I saw enough.” Vitya was not surprised that Monty was a cheater. The fact he admitted it was new, a spark of humility showing in Monty’s words. Vitya smiled to himself, looking down at the hand he had resting on his thigh. “Perhaps I do. Or maybe I simply miss my ponytail.” He joked. “So, if you know he is taken, and has refused you several times, why do you keep going after him? What about him is special to you?”

MONTY

Monty bit is lip, looking between Vitya and the open spot on the couch, he stood still for a long moment in silence before breathing out heavily and sitting down beside the younger man. It was strange to have someone that wasn't Nikko asking and listening and allowing him to share at his own pace. Even wanting to share was so foreign. Somehow he felt it easy to share. It was still painful and confusing but he didn't feel judged or humiliated. “Miss that ponytail, fuckin' badass ponytail man." Monty chuckled. “Can't fuckin' tell ya why man, never felt shit for anyone but ma brother Nikk, scared the shit outta me, but without it I'm fuckin' terrified, dunno what I'll be without ever havin' that shit again, I don't wanna find out, I ain't a good guy, I don't wanna be ma Pops."

VITYA

Vitya let Monty sit and talk at his own pace. Unlike his clients, he didn’t touch him on his back for fake comfort. When the revelation about his father came out, all made sense. Monty was a gang kid, and his dad was no better. Vitya looked him up and down, biting his lip. Yeah, they had a lot in common. “...I get that. A lot more than you know.” Vitya ran his fingers in Monty’s hair again, same way as before. “If you are that fearful that you’ll end up like him, best to look at where you are. So, example; I left the country, cut my hair, have sex for a living, and am-“ Vitya chuckles sadly. “I’m basically just waiting to die instead of fighting it. All to tell my dad to fuck off. I know I’ll never be like him because nothing can drag me back there... What do you do? Ignore other people, ignore your brother a moment; what does Montgomery do to not be his father?”

MONTY

A shiver ran through Monty and a soft moan escaped his throat with his permission as Vitya ran his hands through his hair. It felt so fucking good. He felt so touch starved, not realizing it until this moment and he had to clench his fists to stop himself reaching out and grabbing onto Vitya. “Wait in’ ta die, what the fuck?” Montys eyebrows shot up in surprise and confusion, his own problems pushed to the back of his mind, refusing to concentrate on anything else, ignoring Vitya’s question.

VITYA

Vitya kept his touch going, gently coaxing Monty into a more relaxed sate. He rolled his eyes at Monty's surprise at what he said. "What, did you think I was in the hospital for the fuck of it? It doesn't matter, this isn't about me. I'm fine, you aren't." Vitya moved so his legs were crossed. "I did what I could to get to where I am. I'm not happy, but I'm content. What about that redhead is keeping you from being content? Why aren't you letting go?"

MONTY

Monty glared at Vitya, eyebrows still raised, “Aye figured ya went too hard on the drugs an’ booze been there done that but the fuck ya dyin’ fuckin’ explain that shit!” He growled, refusing to let it drop, though not entirely sure why. Monty rubbed a hand over his face again, clearly Vitya was not going to drop this. “Al’ight, go with the ignorin’ ma brother thing Red is the only one who ever gave half a fuck about me. Pops ain’t just some street thug, he’s mob, he’s a fuckin’ Don, an’ he don’t give a shit who he hurts ta get more power. With Red I didn’t have ta be the son of the Don or hide.” Monty responded, apparently finding the hem of his shirt endlessly fascinating so as to not look at Vityas expression. Monty couldn’t believe he was sharing his deepest feelings and was sure he would be laughed at for his pathetic admission. Then again this was Vitya... a guy who never judged just like Schuy... but unlike Schuy this guy had experiences of his own... maybe he understood Monty in a way Schuy never could.

VITYA

"Yes, I am, it's a stupid heart condition. Ventricular tachycardia. Had it all my life, it will kill me, end of story." Vitya said in a snappy tone. Much like Monty's reaction to Vitya's inquiry into is emotions, this was Vitya's soft spot. This was his Schuyler, in some twisted way. Vitya got it a lot more than Monty knew. He nodded, shrugging in understanding before licking his lips. "Russia is anything but legit in it's government. The state controls everything. Kind of like a mafia. Say the wrong thing, you disappear." Vitya pet at Monty's hair, this time lower, toward his neck. "If he isn't willing to make you feel the way you want to, then maybe you should go looking somewhere else. Besides, love, romance, dating- It's shit. A messy load of shit, and if it makes you feel like this-" Vitya motioned to Monty. "-Then that just proves how much it isn't worth it."

MONTY

Monty furrowed his brow, “don’t know what that is but pretty fuckin’ sure it ain’t good an’ all the booze an’ drugs ain’t helpin’. Ya said ya waitin’ ta die but man it sounds more fuckin’ like ya tryin’ ta kill ya’self!” Monty yelled, surprised by the force in his own tone. Since when did he give a shit what other people did to themselves. “Sounds like my fucking family, at least my pa is the one that makes people disappear so I ain’t goin anywhere but fuck it might be better if I did. There ain’t words ta describe how much of a prick he is.” Monty groused but relaxed again under Vityas touch. It was reassuring and yet terrifying that he seemed to be able to control Monty’s emotions this way. Yet the feeling of giving up control is was almost welcomed; he didn’t have to fight to stay in control and it gave him room to breathe. He idly wondered how Vitya had gotten out of Russia but couldn’t bring himself to ask, that seemed too much like being interested or caring. It was bad enough he’d let himself slip and ask about his illness. “It’s all bullshit. Love an’ dating an’ all that. Just made me feel fuckin’ weak an’ just waitin’ to be punched in the gut when he walked away an’ then he did walk an’ I felt like dyin’. I fuckin’ hate how he made me feel man. Never want that shit again. Never!” He ground out with a hard expression, going back to repeatedly clenching and unclenching his fists to avoid lashing out.

VITYA

"They aren't, but I'm not going out with a whimper, either. Fearing it, trying to push it back, just prevents the inevitable. I want to be here for a good time, not a long time." Vitya shook his head, throwing a hand in the air as if to give up. "Maybe I am trying to kill myself, at least I am doing it on my own terms. And I'm not jumping off bridges or that dumb shit. I'm just having fun. Like, when you decked me, and cut me with your ring, I walked away because, finally, someone did it. It made that night fun, I felt alive. If I was worried about dying all the time, I never would have gone." Vitya nodded, laughing at their similarities. "My father runs the largest pharma and drug development company in Russia. I am untouchable, back home, thanks to him. I called myself the Prince of Poison in middle school. Edgy bullshit," he said with a laugh, his hand now tracing circle's in Monty's nape, twirling the hair around his fingers. His then placed his other hand on Monty's thigh, doing a similar circular pattern. "Then maybe it's time to move on. Because if he makes you feel like that, and you hate that, running after him is fucking stupid. He doesn't want you, and you don't like how he made you feel, so what's the point?"

MONTY

“Then why the fuck are ya at college then? Ya plan on dyin’ so why do ya want a degree huh?” Monty snapped back, “sounds like ya plannin’ a future.” He raised an eye brow in an accusatory fashion. “I’d still have beat the shit outta ya even if I knew then ya dying, nobody gets near Nikko and I ain’t apologizing for that.” Monty shrugged, he wasn’t ashamed of loving his brother and wanting to protect him. “Prince of poison.” Monty barked out a laugh shaking his head. “Thought you were hot shit, huh?” He rolled his eyes. “Spent my time yellin’ at anyone who called me Montgomery, eventually they learned an’ just called me Prescott. Fuckin’ teachers spent all their time yellin’ at me anyway doubt they cared what ma first name was. Two older brothers went through the school before me, they saw a Prescott on their ledger an’ knew exactly what they were in for.” He snorted, remembering homeroom teachers giving him talkings to at the beginning of the year expressing their ‘sincere hope’ he wouldn’t be like his brothers. “Not so easy to get that fuck head outta my mind no matter how much I fuckin wish I could. Wanna forget it all.” He whispered, staring down at Vitya’s hand on his thigh. Vityas touch was beginning to make Monty hot again, heat pooling in his stomach and groin, especially once the hand was on his thigh. Monty leaned in and kissed at Vitya’s neck, just below his ear, nipping and sucking, “tell me us fucking doesn’t make ya feel alive. Tell me ya don’t feel like ya world is gunna implode if ya don’t cum. Tell me ya don’t hold me like ya might die if ya don’t when ya finally cum from my cock poundin’ ya ass.” He whispered, lips grazing the shell of Vitya’s ear as he spoke.

VITYA

Vitya's voice caught in his throat, freezing a second. He really had no reply to that. For all his spouting about not caring about his end, Monty saw right through it and asked him the one question he coudn't answer. He just shook his head, and shrugged. "Was bored," he said quickly, knowing that wasn't enough of an answer, but hoping it would slide by as if it was. Vitya laughed with Monty, smiling and biting his lip in embarrassment. "Oh yeah, I really thought I was. It was kiddy nonsense," Vitya mumbled, his smile sticking in place as Monty recounted his formative years. Little things, like homeroom teachers, stick with the strangest people, and Monty was no different. "Did you surpass your brother's before you? I would, I'd see it as a challenge. I'm the youngest, so it would be my mission to out-do my siblings." Vitya admitted with a mischievous look in his eye. "If you forgot, you'd just do it again. Best to remember, so then you know you'll never do it again," Vitya stated back, speaking a low enough tone, as if the walls could hear. And, in a split second, the air went from a freeing open space, to clenching his chest, when Monty looked down to where his hand rested. Vitya, satisfied with all the answers Monty gave, let the man have his way with his neck, angling his head just so to give him all the freedom he needed. He let out a breathy, distracted chuckle, the hand that was calmly dancing in Monty's hair now gripping a bit tighter. "If I did, I'd be lying," Vitya whispered back, uncrossing his legs. With a seductive slowness, practiced and natural, Vitya slid one leg over Monty's legs, slotting himself in Monty's lap. He took Monty's hands and placed then on his waist, where his shirt was hiked up just enough so skin touched skin. "Don't be gentle."

MONTY

"Sure bored, not thinkin' about the future at all." Monty snorted, the disbelief clear in his tone but he could read Vitya like a book the way he stumbled over the words. This would be a conversation for another day, not that he really understood why he wanted to press the issue. Monty rolled his eyes, laughing easily, feeling relaxed. "Tough guy, huh? If ya didn't look like I could break ya in two right now I'd put ya tough guy act to the test." He taunted like a school kid on the playground. "KT and Thatch are morons, not exactly hard to out do 'em. Teachers never believed me when I said I didn't cheat on exams, they always made me take 'em away from other kids with some fuckin' supervisor." He laughed remembering the first time he got 100% on a physics exam and had been accused. It had felt awful and wonderful at the same time. "Of course you wanted to make more trouble than your siblin's, you're a sucker for a bad rep aren't ya?" He chuckled, enjoying this easy banter. "Wanna forget him, all the shit I liked about him, but I'll never forget that horrible feelin' that makes my skin crawl, I'll never let myself see all that good shit in anyone again cause it ain't worth it." Monty shook his head with a deep sigh.

A hum of satisfaction escaped Monty as Vitya presented his neck, allowing Monty to have his way with him was the control he needed right now after losing his reigns on his feelings for Schuyler. Monty moaned at the tug on his hair, another flash of heat shooting through his body. "So ya don't need me to hit ya ta make ya feel alive. Don't need ta be playin' with death. Just need my cock in ya ass." He continued, biting on Vitya's lip. It wasn't a gentle nibble it was sharp aiming to cause a quick sting of pain. Monty ran his hands down the younger man's body to his ass, squeezing his butt, enjoying the feel of the muscles under his hands before forcefully pulling Vitya down so their crotches rubbed together. The pressure on his dick made Monty moan but it wasn't enough and something tripped a switch inside him so he was thinking entirely with his cock. He grabbed at Vitya's sweatpants and tore them away so he could finally get his hands on that firm, smooth bubble butt.

VITYA

Vitya laughed along with Monty. "Yeah, you probably could. I'm not the most robust guy," he said, softly. It was interesting to hear more about Monty's life growing up. It sounded individual, singular proving more and more that he was not like other people. Vitya could see that 'shitty school life' was something they shared. The only contrast was Vitya being an absolute demon at his school on purpose. "I am, the worst the rep is, the more people gossip. And I do love gossip. It's politics for the powerless." Vitya, in the hope that he could say one final thing to truly get to Monty's core on his inner drama, tucked some hair behind his ear. "Then fuck him, and the high horse he rode in on." "In the end, Death fucks us all," he whispered quickly, knowing that after this, there was going to be less and less talking. Vitya gasped at Monty biting his lip, his eyes rolling a moment before he made it an actual kiss. He slid his tongue into Monty's mouth, giving him no option but to let him in. He moaned in delight as Monty touched him, taking hold of his waist and pulling him down. Vitya's eyes went wide when he felt, and heard the sound of tearing, looking back and seeing what Monty did. "Oh, I am going to make you regret that-" he said, swiftly tearing open Monty's dress shirt. His hands overtook the new open space, his hips sliding forward to grinding against him, then back into his hands again. Vitya leaned in and kissed Monty again, giving him some payback for biting his lip by doing the same. Vitya's hands went at Monty's belt, doing what we promised earlier and starting the process of getting him out of his clothes, of which there were way too many. He had done this too any times, able to get his belt out of the loops in one swift tug, palming Monty through his jeans before starting on the button. "Fuck, how are you this hard already?"

MONTY

"I bet ya a scrappy little fucker when ya not right outta the hospital though." Monty chuckled, lightly punching at Vitya in a playful manner just to tease. It was rather odd talking about his childhood, especially school, but it was kinda nice, and he did always enjoy showing off how intelligent he was. "Always been in trouble? Makes sense, hell in high heals an' all that shit. But ya ain't exactly powerless though are ya? Bein' a Prince an' all." Monty retorted, rolling his eye again for effect before breaking down and laughing again. Monty nodded, feeling a sense of closure on todays Schuyler chapter. No doubt the pain would come again, it was like the tide in that sense, the way it came and went; but now the tide was out, his feelings were being forgotten in favour of losing himself in Vitya. "It fucks us all in the end but who said we can't go out fightin'" Monty murmured against Vitya's lips. A groan rumbled in Monty's chest feeling the force of the kiss and the demands of Vitya's tongue against his. Sometimes he needed to take control for himself, and sometimes he needed to give it over and somehow Vitya was able to give him both. Vitya's moans caused Monty to buck his hips up and increase the friction between them. Monty tried to laugh as Vitya ripped open his shirt, sending the buttons flying but it came out more like a whine, he couldn't deny how hot it was that even in his state Vitya could still do this. Mont kept his hands on his ass, working with him as he moved his hips, letting his hands roam the now exposed flesh. He grabbed the cheeks and pulled them, letting his finger tips graze his hole. A shiver ran through him at the efficiency of Vitya undoing his belt and jeans, it was speed that only came with practice and it served as a reminder of all the times they'd done this before and how good it was. "Fuck." Monty swore under his breath as the feel of Vitya's hand. "Ya got me this hard ya fuckin' dick." he groaned, as his head fell back.

VITYA

Vitya was anything but distracted. He was laser sharp was Monty's hand groped at his ass, eventually propping as his hole, making him shiver. He bit his lip and smiled as Monty lost himself to such a simple thing as a grope through his jeans. He pushed back into his hands hoping to wake the other man up a bit. Vitya carefully undid Monty's jeans, and with seasoned hands, slid his cock free from their confines. Vitya gave a fake, innocent look. "Oh, did I?" He teased, sliding his hand up and down Monty's shaft at a delicate, slow pace. He leaned into Monty's ear, nipping the lobe a moment. "So sorry about that..." "Come on, be a good boy and open me up. Want you inside me," Vitya whispered, licked down to Monty's neck, where he promptly kissed and sucked a deep, purple hickey into existence. He even bit, just for a moment, to make sure it stuck. He began to twist his wrist as his hand slid up and down Monty's shaft, encouraging him to keep going. "Are you going to pound me into the floor, or am I gonna ride you till you whimper? Decisions, decisions..." Vitya teased even more, his free hand now joining in on his jerking of Monty's cock.

*fade to black*

[thevoidwrites]

Of Radwa Ashour

I think it would be a disservice to translate the works of Radwa Ashour. Don’t get me wrong, it is an absolute necessity that everyone everywhere experience the painful art she drew from history, but what are those books without their mother tongue? One would argue, based on her stories, that we, too, are nothing without our mother tongue. (the irony of my writing this not with my mother tongue is not lost on me)

Radwa’s novels are, to me, more history than fiction. This might be the reason historical fiction exists. She tells of crucial times of Arab and Muslim defeat, of the low points of our history. The number of martyrs, the state of affairs, the oppression, are all things to read about and never understand until you experience them through a single family living in Grenata as they try to save some books from burnings, as some of them die of a broken heart, others are killed at the stake for practicing medicine, as the bathhouses are closed down, as a third generation is pushed to the ocean in exile. Pain upon pain upon pain. Pain felt through empathy, compassion.

Radwa is rooted in Arabic, her references, her words, her characters, her stories, they are based on the collective Arab experience; sadly, that experience is usually defeat, but it is something that must be shared upon all our shoulders. Radwa doesn’t tell you much about the politics of the time. She may mention the town of Tantoura putting their hope on a speech by Abdelnasser, but you know he will do nothing, you know all the rulers will betray these people. It’s about these people though, not politics. The direct effect of politics, the effect that matters, is what happens to the people. So, in a way, Radwa is still talking about politics, she‘s talking about the consequences of the collective decisions taken at the time. It’s all in the shared sense of loss that shrouds who we are right now.

Here’s what I expect would happen if this was in English, by far one of the worst languages to write compassionately about pain due to oppression and one that does not revere God as Arabic does. I recently tried to read On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous. I knew nothing about this book except it was loved by many western folk I follow on Twitter and they thought this particular book is needed at this time since it’s written by an immigrant about his experience. So I started it and it was horrific. There is no denying the pain in those people’s lives, but it isn’t written for me, a person who lives quite close to pain already. Similarly, I still haven’t been able to watch the second season of The Handmaid’s Tale and I am yet to get the courage to read the book, although the book may surprise me and be kind like Radwa.

My hypothesis is this. These pieces of media, these books, these movies, these series that are loved by mostly a western audience and are supposed to be about oppression and to represent real pain felt by real people, is not made for the people in pain. It is not made to soothe, to share, to help you feel less alone in your losses. If you are being bombed, you can remember the girl from Tantoura hugging infant Mariam to her chest on the stairs while bombs rained on Beirut and remembering Darwish saying “On this Earth is something that deserves life.” When I’m in fear I remember Radwa, I remember her characters, I remember others who felt this pain as I did and I was not alone. It was still painful, traumatizing, frightening, jarring, but I was not alone in how I felt. My heart, although already weighed by the real world, can still take the burden Radwa writes in her books.

Instead, Ocean’s book was made to shock, to intensify the pain, to make sure numbed hearts feel it. These people get to see their faces, their cities, their comfort shaken on screen to try and fathom what the oppressed so far away might be feeling. To make someone who always felt safe realize how it feels to live with a constant lack, to live with the normalization of transgression, you have to jar them. I do not need to be jarred. The oppressed do not need to be shocked.

It’s like the quote “Nothing ever ends poetically. It ends and we turn it into poetry. All that blood was never once beautiful. It was just red.” The moments Radwa writes about are just red, but she made them into poetry. If someone who doesn’t know this pain only sees the poetry, they might romanticize this moment instead of seeing it for its true nature. For someone who lived here though, you need the poetry to survive. All that red? It’s my blood. It’s our blood. And if there is no escaping that it will be spilt, I can at least rest assured that it will be made in poetry. There’s no point in living otherwise, no point in withstanding this reality, but for the hope, that this is poetry in the making.

The only way out is through. Even while going to therapy, you sometimes have to relive difficult moments, have to change learned behavior, have to reach out to people despite it gnawing at your throat. You have to push yourself through this absolute discomfort and hold your quivering heart in place because what must be done, must be done. Not all pain is the same, this pain to change, to grow, to overcome is necessary. You are transformed by it, a times, you are in control of it. You choose to be in their momentary pain to reach the space beyond. Radwa’s pain is the same. It is necessary, it is beautiful, it promises a safe haven beyond it. None of her books really end well I suppose. No one gets their land back, or gets to reunite with their family, or finds someone they lost along the way. But they grow mints and rosemary under their kitchen window, they help strangers along the way, they bind wounds, and hide books. So you take refuge in those small acts that you do. She reassures you, this is enough, what you do is enough, those little acts are enough. You may not be able to do much else, and that is okay. Rest softer, for you are not alone.

[m-oana-archive]

Broken Bones, Mended Hearts (Ron x reader)

Summary: You and Ron have been sworn enemies ever since your first interaction at Hogwarts.  However, after having and overhearing certain conversations, you begin to wonder if your fighting was based in wanting something even more than friendship.  

Words: 4622

Requested by @bluemadcnna using 

3: “It’s three in the morning.” // 5: “Why are you helping me?” 

read on AO3 | read other requested works | Masterlist

The first attempt at distraction was going on a long walk in the early morning, Autumn air, allowing the swooping of winds, chirps of birds, or constant crackling of crisp, fallen leaves underneath your feet to fill up your ears as much as possible.  You still found your lips humming the tune, however, so sought out friends at breakfast, hoping if you occupied them with speaking, the lyrics would slip from your mind.  And perhaps words left, but you still found yourself clinking your fork against your plate in the rhythm of the song.  Even in your favorite classes of the day, you found professors’ voices layered over with overly-enthusiastic lyrics.  It wasn’t helping that the subject of the song sat in the seat in front of you, the same smug he had worn during the entirety of yesterday’s Quidditch match on his face, messy red hair blocking your view of the blackboard.

But you had to give credit where credit was due: the song Gryffindors had given Ronald Weasley was as relentlessly obnoxious as the subject matter himself (nevermind the fact it was originally written for Harry Potter).  Thus, it fit perfectly, and you couldn’t get it out of your head, regardless of how much you tried.  Once again, much like the subject matter himself.

It wasn’t your fault that Ron decided to interrupt you while you were correctly answering a question during first-year Divination, trying to prove to everyone you were wrong, or that he had yet to apologize for it, instead proceeding to get more annoying as your years at Hogwarts passed.  Every year you came back from a refreshing summer, with a smile on your lips ready to forgive.  And every year, Ron took one glance at your optimistic features and scowled, causing Harry and Hermione to look at you with awkward apologeticness.

As you drew deeper and deeper into the year, that attempted colloquy faded.  So, when Ron wouldn’t stop bobbing his head in class as though he was listening to a song he enjoyed—probably relishing in the catchiness of “Weasley is Our King,” the narcissist—making it more difficult than usual to see the writing on the blackboard, you said, just loudly enough so only he would hear, “Merlin, for having such a big head, Ron seems to move it quite easily.”

He turned back to face you almost automatically, his pursed lips and clenched jaw meeting your sly smile.  “What did you just say?” he seethed.

You were grinning.  “I said, ‘“Merlin, for having such a big head, Ron seems to move it quite easily’.”  

“Clever,” Ron said, sarcasm dripping from his voice and chin jutting out.  “You should write a book on how to form the world’s most pathetic insults.”

“And you should write one on how to form the world’s most pathetic comebacks,” you replied.

Ron’s mouth was already opening, overbearingly plump lips moving in the formations of a sentence, but someone spoke before he could respond.  “Mr. Weasley, Ms. Y/L/N, is there a problem?”  It came from above Ron’s shaggy hair and in the indistinguishable voice of Professor Flitwick.

“I was just asking Ron if he could move over a bit.  I was having trouble seeing the board,” you smiled sweetly, fighting the urge to add, “with that huge head in the way,” with the same difficulty it took you to not smack Ron in the arm anytime he was within a few feet of you.  

“How about the two of you trade seats, then?” Flitwick offered.  At the same time Ron glanced at Harry for affirmation about the switch, your head turned towards Hermione, the only person in Hogwarts who was slightly as close to having as many arguments with Ron as you have had (you two had both taken the liberty of counting one day, the annoying quality Ron had bringing the two of you into an extremely close friendship).  Though she was nodding, permission clear, her eyes were vastly emotionless.  With a sympathetic smile, you agreed with Flitwick’s plan and began gathering your belongings.

But leaving Hermione quickly revealed to not be the worst part of Flitwick’s plan: as you passed Ron, his left shoulder brushing against your right one, he let his hand knock the textbook you had in your hand onto the ground.  “Sorry,” he smirked as you exhaled a puff of air from your chest.  Hoping no one else would notice, you grabbed your book and slid into your chair, making sure to stare darkly at the one Gryffindor caught laughing nearby.

“Don’t take it personally,” Harry whispered, moving his quill and looking up at Flitwick as though he was paying attention.  “Ron broke his collarbone from yesterday’s match, so now he can’t play for the rest of the season.”

“Really?” You looked behind you just slightly, noticing that Ron was staring at his collarbone as if it would spontaneously combust at any moment, before turning back to Harry.  For a minute your heart struck with pity, remembering your own experience breaking your collarbone in second year, but it was cut off quickly when remembering Ron’s lack of empathy towards you.  So you scoffed while asking, “Why can’t he just use Skele Gro?”

Harry’s frown was prominent enough you could see it even though his head was still stuck on Flitwick.  “He’s allergic.  While it’s lucky he’ll never have to taste it, I think he’d prefer that to giving up Quidditch.  He really loves it.”

You scoffed.  “Of course he does, with people singing about how he’s their king.  I’d love playing Quidditch too if I got the ground under my broom worshipped.”  Though you said it in a dry, deadpanned tone of voice, Harry found something about your comment funny enough to start snickering beside you.  “What?” you asked, confused at his amusement.

“Well,” Harry began, allowing himself a moment to breathe, “Ron always said you were mad at him more than Hermione could be, I just didn’t think it was true.”  

“We’re sworn enemies,” you declared, puffing your chest out proudly.

“Sure you are.”  And then, Harry was laughing to himself again, for some unknown reason that made you just as annoyed at the first.  But Flitwick turned to face the class once more, so you had to bite your lip as Harry continued laughing, not wanting the entire class to join in at you needing to move seats from being a distraction yet again.  

So it was a few moments later when you asked, with curiosity that burned almost as scorchingly as your voice, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It doesn’t really mean anything,” Harry said, and you rolled your eyes at his constant lack of eloquence.  “Just, Ron literally never stops talking about you.  It’s hard to believe he actually considers you his enemy.”  

“I complain about Ron all of the time and I definitely don’t consider him my friend,” you challenged.

If it wasn’t for what Harry said next, the pure shock of it—definitely not how he said it, however, in a decisively low and ambiguous tone—you might have missed his voice underneath the glaring ring of the excusing bell, suggesting, “Maybe it’s something more than that, then.”

Before you could clarify he was gone, next to Ron, and though you automatically deemed every inch of Hogwarts as one not secluded enough to have a conversation about the possibility of having romantic feelings for Ron Weasley, the inch right next to Ron had to be the worst of each other one.  So, you carefully picked up your items and placed them in your bag with a leisure contrasting the rapid spinning of your head, hearing his loud and deep voice stray further and further away from where you sat.

A brighter, more fluttery one said your name, snapping you out of your confusion-riddled thoughts.  “Y/N, are you ready to go to the Library?” Hermione asked.

“Yeah,” you replied, voice still shaky but nothing compared to your focus as Hermione talked to you about how fascinating Flitwick’s lesson was.  Though you smiled at all the right parts and nodded your head when necessary, your mind stayed consumed with the topic of you and Ron liking one another with such ferocity, you felt a sudden and burning need to say his name aloud.

You settled with something characteristic as you and Hermione sat down at your regular table in the Library: “Sorry to force you to sit next to Ron today.”

Hermione shrugged half-heartedly.  “He wasn’t that bad.  He actually said one well-timed joke.  Beyond that, the worst part of it was he wouldn’t shut up until I threatened to charm him bald.”

At first, the concept of a bald Ron made you laugh in its ridiculousness, followed by the realization that you’d miss looking at the unkempt layers of his hair, effortlessly attractive, followed by the realization you had just described his hair as attractive, making you swallow down uncomfortably.

“So, uh, what was he talking about?” you asked, desperate to change subjects.

Besides her typical self, Hermione looked down at her books instead of up in your eye while saying, so unsurely it was almost a question, “you.”

You wanted to let out a slow, shaky exhale, but quaffed instead.  “Probably plotting against me, right?” you offered with a light laugh that was so unbelievable, it made your skin crawl.

“Shouldn’t we focus on our homework?” Hermione said, opening up that textbook she had yet to quit staring at, leaving you with nothing to do except oblige.  At least, outwardly oblige: your head was still fully absorbing the possibility of being attracted to Ron, Ron and his big head covered with lush hair, his constantly-tightened jaw, his ability to be the only person who can argue with you for over five minutes without losing an ounce of wit in his replies and the only person who could hold a grudge for as long as you.  Were you and Ron an instance of mirroring or matching?  Finding a perfect person to challenge or one that was so similar they’d feel like home if you allowed them to?  

So it didn’t come as a surprise to yourself that, hours later, when you and Hermione were packing up your bags, agreeing with Hermione that your study session had been particularly productive was a lie.  It was a lie followed by more: you having to make up the outline of your “written” Defense Against the Dark Arts essay on the spot, complaining about one particularly horribly-worded part of the textbook you had to decipher for Transfiguration, talking excitedly about all of the flashcards you made for Care of Magical Creatures.  But it was believable and lasted long enough for you to drop Hermione at her dormitory without any trace of your true thoughts escaping.  

With deep breaths of relief, you began descending the staircase, your breathing so heavy it could have been audible if the sudden and loud voices radiating from the Common Room didn’t overpower it.  If you hadn’t known who both of the voices—one booming and deep, the other slightly raspier—belonged to, you may have not proceeded to stop descending the stairs and push your back against the wall in an attempt to hide your presence.  But you knew both so found yourself hiding, rather pathetically, in the dimness of the staircase, trying to even your breathing as much as possible.

The first words you could decipher came from the deeper voice: Ron’s.  “I just can’t believe you told her I liked her.  What happened to let this secret die with me, possibly being the thing that brought me to the grave?”

“I didn’t necessarily say that,” Harry replied.  “I just lightly suggested that maybe the reason you guys fight all the time is because you like one another.  There’s a very—”

“A very thin line between love and hate, I know,” Ron interrupted, mockery full in your voice.  He even tried to imitate Harry’s raspier voice, unsuccessfully, but the inaccuracy made you have to cover your mouth as laughter threatened to escape from between your lips.  “You say that to me every day.”

Something rustled, sounding like someone was sitting down.  “Then I’m surprised you don’t believe it by now,” Harry responded.

“I’m not mean because I like her.  I’m mean because we fight.  It’s what we do.  And I’m not going to start being nice to her just to ask her out and get my heart broken because she hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you!” Harry yelled.  It resonated through the Common Room and up to the stairway, making you shiver slightly.  Then, in a lower voice, as if he was tightening his jaw, “Sorry, I overreacted.  But, to be fair, you’re overreacting more.  Why don’t you just try it?”

“Because even if Y/N doesn’t hate me, she probably still thinks I’m a git and won’t date me.”  His voice sounded unusually dejected, edging on desperate, and it made your heart ache more than you expected.  “But, whatever, it doesn’t matter.  I’ll just slowly rot under my sadness and let Y/N date some perfect seventh year.  It’s what she deserves.”

There was no other way to describe the fluttering which occurred inside of your chest except for foreign.  Your heartbeat stung in your ears, almost loudly enough for you to miss the large exhale of defeat given out—you assumed it was Harry who had breathed it—but not quite.  A few low mumbles of condolences were given, the kind that seemed private, so you didn’t mind that you couldn’t follow them beneath the constant crackle of the fireplace; your mind was quite occupied, anyway.  So, the next sounds you heard were those of heavy footsteps approaching the boy’s tower, allowing you to find your breath once more as you tiptoed away towards your bedroom.    

You noticed through windows that, somehow, nightfall had occurred during your eavesdropping—you internally called it “accidental overhearing,” something less harsh— of Harry and Ron’s conversation.  Therefore, you continued your tiptoeing right through your usually boisterous dorm room, now filled with snoring bodies.  With a whisper you casted, “Lumos,” once you arrived at the trunk at the foot of your bed, sticking your wand in your mouth to free your hands to roam around inside.  Within a few minutes, you were holding what you had sought to find: a Muggle sling for broken collarbones you used during Second Year.

With the sling pressed close to your chest and your clothes still on, you climbed underneath your covers, dulling the light from your wand.  It was a combination of two things which made you stay: firstly, though your roommates were asleep, that by no means meant Ron’s dorm was as quiet, and you weren’t about to get caught delivering a sling to him and secondly, you needed to sort out how you felt.  The ceiling felt further away as you let your eyes glaze lazily across it in the minutes approaching midnight.  Maybe Harry was right: passion in arguing was similar to the kind of passion crushes force your body through.  You definitely thought about Ron with enough fervor and consistency it constituted as a crush-like action.  But just because you both happened to hate one another couldn’t mean there was anything more there necessarily.

As one in the morning rolled around, so did you, ruffling your bed sheets but always holding the sling close.  Knowing Ron and his obnoxiously loud habits, you assumed he’d be up for at least another hour, screaming with Harry about whatever—maybe me, you thought, making your cheeks burn hotly—and knocking picture frames off of walls.  Therefore, you settled on heading up to his dormitory at around three, placing the sling in front of his door with a small note that said, “for Ron,” and, beneath, possibly something nice.  Then you would run as fast and quietly as you could away, as if his dorm door was a forest fire. 

As two in the morning rolled around, you found yourself with new words stuck in your mind; no longer did the high-pitched chant of “Weasley is Our King” plague you, instead they were Ron’s, saying, “I’ll just slowly rot under my sadness and let Y/N date some perfect seventh year.  It’s what she deserves.”  Did Ron really think that much of you, that you were not only capable of dating some made up, extremely attractive older man but, and most importantly, you deserved perfection?  From his treatment, you always assumed that, if Ron had any opinion on your dating life in the slightest, it would be you would make a perfect match with some roadside scum.  But this surprising contrast brought an even more surprising blush to your cheeks and racing of your heart.

As three in the morning rolled around, your sock-clad feet hit the hardwood floor, sling and note atop your pounding chest.  With carefully calculated steps and held-back breaths, you found your way to the Gryffindor Boys Dormitory, begging your Lumos wouldn’t give you away (you kept dimming it off then recasting it, trying to minimize the light in places you could knew well enough to navigate in the dark).  But you had found his door, at last, leaning down to place the sling on the floor carefully, your eyes at the threshold beneath the door so you watched loathingly as it opened with a loud creak.

You looked up, seeing a beheadeded Ron, rubbing sleep from his eyes.  “Y/N?” he asked.  “What are you doing here?  It’s three in the morning.”  

Unsure of which would be less embarrassing, you decided to stand instead of kneeling, hitting Ron’s chin with your head on the way up by accident.  You jumped back while spitting out multiple apologies, your hand over your mouth in shock.  “I’m so sorry.  That was definitely an accident.  I promise.”

Ron cocked his eyebrow.  “Really?  Because your goal for six years has been trying to piss me off.”

“Yeah, uh, sorry.  I was just dropping that,”—you glanced at the sling momentarily— “off.  So, bye.”  Before Ron’s pursed lips had time to open and respond, you were walking away quickly, unsteady steps stopped by Ron’s shouting of your name.

When you turned around you almost lost breath, not expecting Ron had been following you.  But he stood out of his doorway, only a few feet closer to it than you were, with the sling in his hands.  “What is this?” he asked, a confused frown on his face.  “It doesn’t really look poisonous or anything.  I expected if you ever dropped something off in front of my door, it would be able to kill me in some way.”

“Yeah,” you laughed, distracted at his bedhead and how his voice had a rougher edge to it than usual.  And obviously, at his tall frame covered in a tank top and pajama pants, an odd combination which made you flushed for an unknown reason.

“Y/N?” he asked again, causing your eyes to snap up to his.  “You still haven’t answered my question.”

“Oh, uh, it’s a sling.  For your collarbone.  It props your arm up in the correct position to let it heal comfortably.”  Ron still had doubt in his eyes as he attempted to lift it over his head, hissing at the pain of that motion.  “Here,” you offered, walking forwards and taking the sling in your hands to slide it over his torso and cushion his elbow comfortably.  “Tell me if it fits ok.  I spelled it bigger.”

Ron’s eyes were still considering the fabric as he asked, “Bigger from what?”

“This was mine from Second Year when I broke my collarbone.  I kept it just in case anything happened.  I’m pretty clumsy.”  As your voice faded out, you allowed a small chuckle to fade in, trying to cut the tension as Ron’s squinted eyes looked right into yours.

“Why are you helping me?” he asked, jaw tightened.  Always tightened and your voice was shaky.

“I just thought—”

“And what’s this?”  Ron felt around the inside of his sling, pulling out the note you had conveniently not pointed out, though you could see the outline of it pressing against the fabric from your wand’s light.  He unfolded it, reading aloud, “I don’t hate you.  What’s that supposed to mean?” he seethed, free arm gesturing the note in the space between your bodies.

“Listen, I overheard you talking to Harry about me earlier and—”

Ron’s eyes went wide and wild like a storm was brewing inside of them.  “You spied on us?”

“Stop interrupting me,” you said lowly.  “Yes, I may have heard some things I wasn’t supposed to but I’m glad I did.  Because I don’t hate you, Ron.”

Those wild eyes rolled into his skull.  “Lovely.  You know I’m crazy about you and you just ‘don’t hate me’.  Thank you for making my life so much better.”

Usually, you could just quip back without a beat, but you breathed slowly after his comment, fists balled at your sides, body shaking uncharacteristically.  “You know,” you breathed, “I keep trying to be nice to you and you just treat me like shit in return.  How do you expect me to like you?  After saying I deserve someone perfect, why do you keep pulling yourself down?  I don’t understand.”

“Because it’s easier to be your enemy and be rejected for things I’m not than be your friend and be rejected for the things I am.”  You weren’t expecting such honesty; your throat closed then gulped after you felt his words hit you firmly in the chest, almost winding you.  You also weren’t expecting the soft brush of Ron’s hand against your wrist, grasping it so lightly you may not have noticed if it weren’t for the electric flickers that shot up your arm from the contact.  “But, to be honest, I think you are the most beautiful and brilliant person I’ve ever met.  But I guess you already knew that.”

You smiled up at him warmly, loving how soft his face looked in the dim light of your Lumos.  “I don’t mind hearing it from you, though.  It’s nice.”

“Nice like warm butterbeer on a cold day?  Or nice like you feel the same about me?”  He was fighting a smile; if his struggle against it wasn’t so painfully obvious, you may not have noticed it, since he rarely smiled in front of you.

“Nice, like, I prefer this over fighting with you all the time.  I don’t know exactly how I feel, to be honest.”

“Oh,” Ron frowned, cutting off his smile.  “Can I offer you some assistance?”  You snickered slightly while nodding at him.  “Well, you came here in the middle of the night with a charmed sling thing to give me, which would not only help me feel better but also had the potential of getting you caught by a professor.”

“I’m being a good friend,” you muttered.  “I didn’t mean to see you.  Hence the note.  I didn’t even want you to know I left this.”

You weren’t sure why Ron’s smile had reappeared, until he responded, “Hm, all of this secrecy sounds scary similar to someone trying to be mean to you just to push you away in fear of being rejected.”

“I just didn’t want to make you feel like you owed me something for this.”

Then Ron was laughing, fully, the kind that takes over bodies and his was shaking violently, threatening to wake everyone in the Gryffindor tower.  “Y/N, I already liked you.  And now, possibly more, since you cared about me.  But I can’t owe you anything because I already like you.  And you knew that.”

You scoffed slightly, arching your brow at his tensed jaw.  Always tensed.  “Are you trying to argue me into having feelings for you?” you asked.

Ron shrugged.  “I seem to be pretty good at arguing with you.  Figured I’d give it a shot.”

“You are,” you agreed, nodding.  “We are… good at fighting, I mean.  Does it worry you?  Make you think we’re not compatible or anything?”

With a languid step, Ron moved closer to you, closer than he had ever stood before, hand still on your elbow and never ceasing you make you feel just slightly set on fire.  The close proximity of his voice, the heat of it hitting your already flushed skin, only intensified the feeling.  “It makes me think we’re perfect for each other,” he admitted, softly, like it was a secret (it probably used to be one).  “We are the only two people who drive each other this crazy.  You are the only person who can shut me down.  I like being challenged.  Why do you think I play Quidditch?”

“Because people scream that you’re their king?” you replied dryly.  It was too easy to taunt Ron, especially when it was the perfect front to your true feelings.

“Yeah,” he laughed, “It’s nice to get praised and all.  But that’s just a cool side-effect.  Like, if I got to date you, I’d also maybe get to kiss you.  I’m not dating you just to kiss you, but, I mean, I’m not opposed to that concept.”

“You’re good at talking to girls when you’re not busy fighting with them,” you smirked, eyes suddenly finding it hard to look anywhere except his lips, spread wide in a grin and almost as pink as the flushed cheeks they pressed up against.  

“When you have five brothers who all have hit on girls in front of you, you kind of learn it fast.”  

You were looking up at him, the whole of him, not just the jaw or knit eyebrows you usually stared at to get a rise out of, but the dusting of freckles, the roundness of his cheeks, the beautiful blue of his eyes.  It should have surprised you but didn’t, the way looking at him rendered you breathless a bit as you asked, “Does this still count as fighting?”

“No.”  He was still grinning, grinning as if that’s all he knew.  “This is just… just friendly ribbing.  That’s all.” 

“Friendly?  I thought you wanted to be more than friends.”  You stepped closer into his space as if to accentuate your point, loving how his breath visibly hitched, throat swallowing deeply, at your movement.  

“Yeah.  Do you?”

His voice was as winded at it was tender, and in that moment you decided you liked Ron honest and getting all flustered from his own candidness, could get used to seeing him looking at you nervously instead of in rage.  That you preferred it, truthfully.  Liked it and liked it so ardently, you wanted to stay and see more.

So you leaned into his lips, those plump ones you used to sneer at for emitting some of the world’s craziest comebacks, surprised that they tasted like minty toothpaste as opposed to distasteful words.  Ron opened his mouth, somehow both tentatively and with overwhelming enthusiasm—for being the one who liked you first and knew it, he was somehow so confused, and adorably so—and you kissed into him with slow motions and quiet little noises.  

It was quick and when you pulled back you missed it, but Ron was smiling so brightly it shone through his eyes so you pressed your forehead into his, freeing your wrist from his grasp to wrap it around his neck carefully.  “Yeah,” you grinned, the only source of light that threatened Ron’s in terms of brightness (though your wand was still aglow, it was like a faraway star in comparison to Ron’s being the sun).  It was the first time you had lost to him and maybe, maybe, you could be okay with losing, as long as it meant kissing him.  

So you leaned in once more.

⬥  ⬥  ⬥  ⬥  ⬥  ⬥  ⬥  ⬥

Taglist (let me know if you want to be added): @siriuslyimmoony @astertist @who-cares-unknown @neewtmas @sjriusblck @boring-viola @moonlitdiggory @gryffndor @finnofamerica @the-apple-princess @theboywhocriedlupin @sly-vixen-up2nogood @bluemadcnna @lonelyheart-jadedsoul @just-a-blonde-hufflepuff @siriusoricns @themarauderstheoutsidersandpeggy 

[toonstarterz]

BECAUSE I’M NOT POPULAR, I’LL READ WATAMOTE: CHAPTER #138

Welcome to the first episode of Tomoko’s Speed Dating Arc! Our first contender is the resident “shy maiden”, Yuri Tamura. Her hobbies include listening to music and punching people. Today’s date will include a walk around a college campus, lunch at a local eatery, and shopping for new digs. How will Tomoko fair against this unreadable cutie? 

Find out right after the break! 

Chapter 138: Because I’m Not Popular, I’ll Check Out Colleges

My only comment here is what in the name of all that is good is with Yuri’s big ass purse?

In Tomoko’s eyes, Mako may as well be Yuri’s shadow, so it’s totally understandable that she’d be shocked that the girl came alone this time. Of course, Yuri’s lack of self-awareness means she didn’t even consider how that might throw people off.

There she goes again with the “same as me” comment to put her and Tomoko in the same boat. Little does she know that being in Tomoko’s boat is guaranteed to end in a mutual sinking.

Just look at these fashionable ladies in their adorable outfits. Tomoko, obviously, putting extra emphasis on the “casual” with her loose-fitting clothes and trademark hat to cover that shaggy hair. Then we have Yuri, super reserved with her puffy sleeves, plaid skirt with a screentone pattern that doesn’t hug the fabric at all; and her socks n’ sandals combo.

One thing to note is how they do the opposite of their uniforms regarding skin exposure. The long skirt-wearing Tomoko now has her bare legs visible, whereas the short skirt-wearing Yuri only has her knees exposed. Perhaps it’s a matter of self-confidence between a private (school) vs public setting. Tomoko has no issue showing more skin to strangers, while Yuri would feel self-conscious displaying herself to people other than close friends.

Or, you know, I’m just overthinking it again. 

Chiba West University: Where the Adibas-wearing students go to drink coffee at Sudobucks while doing homework on their Marosoft PCs.  

As encouraging as Yuri makes this sound, a part of me thinks that Yuri is also pushing herself so she can one-up Nemo and Katou. Hey, a little pettiness can be a good motivator.

Post Traumatic Ogino Disorder triggered.

Yuri-sensei would be an absolutely adorable teacher. Unfortunately, her quiet demeanor would make it easy for the little kiddos to walk all over her. Luckily, what she lacks in assertiveness…

...she makes up for in unjustified corporal punishment.

How refreshing it is that Yuri doesn’t automatically get annoyed by Tomoko’s opinion, and instead asks for her reasoning. Though Tomoko may be an idiot, it’s nice to see that Yuri recognizes that her friend is intelligent in ways that she isn’t.

Word for word from the Ogino’s Meddling Career Counseling chapter. I’m starting to think Tomoko will eat these words one way.

Hey, c’mon now, Tomoko. You used to be quite the stupid preteen yourself.

But in all seriousness, this assertion makes perfect sense for Tomoko. Her personality is one that is very incompatible with itself, hence her rivalry with Komi-something. Having to deal with hormonal and emotionally vulnerable middle schoolers would probably hit too close to home.

AHAHAHAHA, I’m totally not guilty of having thought the same thing when I was in high school...haha.

But you know, this harks back to what Nemo said about girls that act like a hive mind. When you do something to break away from the group’s dynamic, you become the “outsider”. The friend the other ones don’t necessarily hate, but are often ignored simply because they’re unlike the others.

In other words, you become the Ucchi.

Isn’t it obvious, Tomoko? She just wanted you to think that you both have more in common than you might’ve thought. Even if it means some opportunistic fibbing.

Given what we’ve seen between Yuri and Mako’s friendship, it’s both surprising and not surprising that Yuri doesn’t know about Mako’s career goals. We like to think that as BFFs, Yuri would know more, but as recent chapters have shown, Yuri doesn’t necessarily put in as much into the friendship as Mako does.

This may be the first clue to suggest that Tomoko could overtake Mako’s role as Yuri’s best friend.

So cults on campus have started to become a thing, eh? I really do enjoy these little details that show how even university life isn’t all flowers and sunshine. If the series ever extends into Tomoko’s college life, this would be an interesting field for her to maneuver around.

It must be said, the detail in this background of the campus courtyard(?) is very well done. The perspective really keys into how expansive it must be. I sure wouldn’t be surprised if Nico Tanigawa went and visited some colleges themselves as a reference for drawing up these upcoming chapters.

Unless you go to one of those party schools, the idea that college students are a bunch of wild social butterflies is false. In my experience, university kids are more reserved in their everyday life because being a rowdy bunch is too financially/socially expensive. They simply don’t have the luxury of being super extroverted all the time. If you have the means to go to a prestigious school, then you’re going to be doing a lot of studying. And if you go to a party college, then partying is what you’re going to end up doing. Such is the nature of the millennial.

Yuri’s dilemma is linked to a common issue revolving around the purpose of school: Do you go there to learn book smarts or street smarts? What is more important, knowledge or networking? For someone with low ambitions like Yuri, having to make a long-lasting commitment like what type of college life you desire can be a huge burden on one’s shoulders, especially when people expect you chose for reasons that go against your very nature.

But yes, Tomoko’s reasoning is incredibly sound,  and one yours truly learned the hard way. A major fallacy in the job hunting process is that employers are more likely to hire people who are more outgoing or easy to work with than someone more knowledgeable but less socially experienced. This practice is often quoted as “It’s not what you know, its who you know”, and can be a real obstacle for introverts like Tomoko and Yuri.  

I appreciate how the frame focuses on this young lady to the side when Tomoko talks about studious college kids. Everyone knows the model of a good university student is a slim, bespectacled lady in a conservative skirt who secretly lewds the brothers from Osomatsu-san and drowns her troubles in beer.

Also, I see you casually smiling there, Yuri. Just like the old days.   

How sweet! Thanks to Tomoko’s reassurance, Yuri lets loose her earnest insecurities, openly declaring how much Tomoko’s presence means to her. Surely even Tomoko would not be so blind as to ignore such–nevermind.

I’m suddenly reminded just how long it’s been since the first field trip arc. No way Tomoko would make the same mistake twice, right?

Phew, thank goodness!

Bull. Shit. You totally were.

Whaaaat? Tomoko watches normie programs and not just otaku-pandering anime? Like, omigawd how can I relate my own degenerate lifestyle to Tomoko if she has slightly positive attributes?

Ah, Yoshida. For being such a transparent, pure-hearted delinquent, even she isn’t the type to make people feel terrible right in front of them. I had a feeling that Yoshida and Yuri would talk about Tomoko behind her back, especially in the earlier chapters. Not maliciously like Minami, but disconcertedly. Cause let’s face it, you’re bound to get uneasy when you hang out with Tomoko for the first time.

I’ve always wondered, what’s Yuri’s take on the whole “Yoshida is a delinquent,” business? Nearly everyone else can agree that Yoshida has delinquent tendencies, even if they aren’t as vocal about it as Tomoko. But Yuri has, to my knowledge, neither agreed nor disagreed with this sentiment. Perhaps that just means Yoshida’s yankee-ness is inconsequential for Yuri. Whether she is or isn’t, Yuri isn’t about to treat Yoshida any differently than she has before.

NOTICE: We regret to inform you that ToonStarterz nearly broke his laptop trying to give a fictional character a comforting hug through the monitor. He’ll be back shortly after contemplating his life choices. 

Only Tomoko can take the image of Yoshida as some kind of gangbanger and spin it into an encouraging speech for Yuri. What glorious trash she be.

Yeah, Tomoko’s mind has always been a little warped, as Yuri once thought. She always seems to take a little too much pleasure in seeing the depravity/vices of others, like how she wanted to have lunch with Hirasawa just to hear about her supposed sexual exploits. As Tomoko becomes more comfortable in her own skin and comes to terms with her own degeneracy, her delight in seeing it in others could be her own twisted sense of empathy at play.

Despite everything, I think Tomoko has more or less stopped acting condescending towards Yoshida’s delinquent status. Nowadays, she views that side of Yoshida with an air of fondness, even spinning it into something positive for Yuri’s sake. It’s a development that actually works for Tomoko and Yoshida’s friendship. Tomoko hasn’t really stopped accosting her, but she’s managed to entertain herself through it. Thankfully, Yoshida’s proven that much of Tomoko’s shittiness doesn’t really bother her, and even seems to gravitate towards those kinds of friends.

And best of all, it’s that frankness from Tomoko and Yoshida that inspires Yuri out of her bubble of inaction. 

That-a-girl, Yuri. Show her how reliable you can be. 

Still, she needs to learn that friendship isn’t just a give-and-take. Sometimes you end up having to give and NOT take just to stay afloat. Meeting them halfway isn’t always viable, but in true friendship, the other person knows how that feels too, meaning you can reach an equilibrium because of that mutual imbalance.

Even though Yuri is not one to give out half-hearted sympathies, when she does understand you, her empathy levels are top-notch. 

The last 137 chapters of the series flashed before the readers’ minds.

There’s a Moment in every good manga where the main character will say or do something that instantly endears them to you. That makes you think, “This is so me!” or “#ourgirl”. For a series that’s as socially aware as this is, Tomoko rejecting a purchase simply because she doesn’t want to give in to a higher entity’s persuasion is one of those key Moments. Stay woke, Tomoko.

If it were from anybody else, I feel like Tomoko would have gotten ticked off over a comment like that. Perhaps its because it’s Yuri, and Tomoko knows she isn’t the teasing type, and therefore, must be genuinely convinced that it wouldn’t fit Tomoko’s style.

And Yuri’s role as the replacement Yuu officially begins. Sorry, Ucchi.

As disturbing as it sounds, getting harassed by Tomoko like this is actually a mark which symbolizes that Tomoko’s gotten comfortable enough with you to see you as a close friend. Yuu’s the only one to have this, er, “privilege”, and I can’t help but find that freakishly meaningful.

Has Watamote seriously reached a high enough standard that simply wearing a cold shoulder top is enough to be considered fanservice?

Yes. Yes, it has.

Many of us readers were waiting for the moment when Tomoko realizes that Yuri is actually pretty sex...er, beautiful (sorry, calling Yuri “sexy” or “hot” just feels WRONG to me). This may mean that Tomoko is going to start lewding the girl in her mind. Now considering that Tomoko is all bark and no bite, that might actually be flattering to some degree. Maybe.

Ah, good times. Good...times.

I see, so it’s not actually the perving on girls that Tomoko enjoys. It’s the thrill of seeing someone swim in dangerous waters. The contrast between goodness and “badness” which inevitably leads to a firecracker display of embarrassment that Tomoko eats up like the nasty she is.

Once again, we’re reminded why Tomoko had trouble making friends in the first place.

I’m actually glad that Tomoko is under no illusions. This behavior is scummy, and she knows it. That said, she has her self-serving limits. By mentioning how she couldn’t do this before with the others, she knows that harassing normies like Nemo or punks like Yoshida would lead to her downfall. Whereas Yuri, whom Tomoko suddenly realized is a “pure n’ plain” girl, would likely not retaliate too much from a little sexual harassment. 

Doesn’t mean she won’t push her luck.  

You tend to forget that for being a quiet, introverted girl, Yuri is no pushover. She won’t go out of her way to actively antagonize you (usually), but when you try to push her into something she disagrees with, she’s solid as a rock. 

Take that, readers! Nico Tanigawa ain’t about to throw you two bones in one chapter.

I...wouldn’t put it past her. But that may actually be why Yuri has been so essential to Tomoko’s growth. Tomoko’s friendship with Yuu is solid, but Yuu’s sweetness was a crutch. Because Yuu accepts Tomoko wholeheartedly, the latter never had any motivation to really change herself. Yuri openly disapproves of Tomoko’s negative qualities, and it’s ultimately made the girl a slightly better friend.  

Sometimes, Nico Tanigawa uses the manga medium to their fullest advantage. In this case, playing with the dialogue and speakers. There’s nothing to indicate who’s saying this monologue. But that’s exactly it:

Both Tomoko and Yuri are thinking about this. These concerns and desires are applicable to each of them. Different as they are on the outside, they are, emotionally, more similar than they ever realized. 

This is a common defense mechanism for introverts. To avoid a blow to their self-esteem, they don’t put high expectations on their social lives. That way, they won’t be disappointed should those friendships drift apart. 

But sometimes, you meet some people. Maybe even just one person who you just click with. You can’t imagine drifting away from them because you feel like you lose so much. And suddenly, the protectiveness you feel by keeping everyone at a distance is penetrated by the very few who you’ve managed to embrace. Then you realize, late as Tomoko often does, that the path of least resistance is no longer viable. All that’s left is to march down the path full of risks if it means you get to keep what’s at the end of the rainbow.

Without a doubt...

The. 

Sweetest. 

Moment. 

EVER.

Nowadays, the chapters of Watamote end in one of two ways. A cringy, but non-meanspirited gag, or a bittersweet, but heartwarming self-reflection. The last one happens sporadically, or it’d start to lose its meaning, which is exactly what we get here. Tomoko is not an overly (deludedly, in the past) optimistic person. She’s more of a realist now. But when faced with a thought that hits the middle of being optimistic or pessimistic, Tomoko will steer more towards the latter. It’s a much healthier mindset that stays grounded in reality, but looks more towards the bright side. She didn’t have to call Yuri by her first name. But a small part of her told her that maybe, just maybe, getting a little closer to Yuri would lead their relationship towards something more.

This chapter really set the bar for Tomoko’s Golden Week. Let’s see how Nemoto and Katou fair following a tough act like that. 

[marjaystuff]

Elise Cooper Interviews Karin Slaughter

False Witness by Karin Slaughter shows why she is one of the best for writing fabulous characters. This story has two sisters’ childhoods tarnished by secrets, broken by betrayal, and ultimately destroyed by a brutal act of violence as well as one of the sister’s tragedy of addiction. She was portrayed with empathy and grace by the author. This story is brutal, honest, real, and heartbreaking at times involving issues of rape, drug use, murder, and abusive violence.  

Kudos to Slaughter for balancing the strong relationship between the sisters. Readers will grow attached to the sisters Leigh, Callie and Leigh’s husband, Walter, as he becomes involved to help them. Each of the sisters have taken a different route through life. Leigh Collier has worked hard to build what looks like a normal life after being sexually harassed as a child babysitter. She’s an up-and-coming defense attorney at a prestigious law firm in Atlanta, who would do anything for her sixteen-year-old daughter Maddy, while managing to successfully coparent through a pandemic after an amicable separation from her husband Walter. The other sister, Callie, is a drug addict, but sympathetically humanized. She was a child gymnast and cheerleader, who after suffering a broken neck, had constant back pain. Her childhood experience involved being groomed and regularly sexually assaulted by a violent pedophile while babysitting his 10-year-old son, and turning her into a heroin addict.

As Leigh is asked by her boss to defend a serial rapist, she is confronted with her past. When she meets the accused face-to-face, Andrew, she realizes that it’s no coincidence that he’s specifically asked for her to represent him. They know each other. Leigh wonders how much he knows about what happened over twenty years ago. The only person who can help her is Callie, the younger, estranged sister. With the life-shattering truth in danger of being revealed, she has no choice to involve Callie. The shocking twist at the end of the book will keep readers engrossed.

This complex plot has as its central theme, the heart of the relationship between Callie and Leigh. Both these heroines are believable, flawed, and courageous.  The highly intense themes, along with the horrible graphic actions of the evil doers, makes for a riveting read.

Elise Cooper: Why write about the pandemic?

Karin Slaughter:  I started with a character, Leigh Collier, who I thought about three years ago.  I knew I was going to write a story during the pandemic.  When the book was finished the vaccines came, so I knew I wanted to incorporate the virus into the story.  It was fun and challenging for me as an author.  I tried to make Covid exist, but not as an intricate part of the story.  I made sure not to politicize it.  

EC:  There is a difference between the two sisters?

KS:  Some have the luxury to keep themselves as safe as possible and some do not.  To highlight this, I used the two sisters, Callie and Leigh.  Callie always had to work.  Because of her addiction she had to be on the streets.  Having a disability made her vulnerable.  

EC:  Why the addiction angle?

KS:  I wanted to humanize someone struggling with addiction.  She had an emotional, mental, and physical addiction.  Hopefully, I showed how we are really failing in how to handle addicts and help them.  Callie figured out a way to help herself through maintenance doses.  If only addicts could get levels that could help them function in society and eventually wean themselves off of the drugs.  Instead of punishing the people into the ground we should look at ways people could get help.  

EC:  Drug addicts?

KS:  The personality of the person must be considered.  If someone is actually a good person who is controlled by addiction, they are still decent.  If someone is a horrible jerk, addiction will definitely amplify it.  We spend trillions of dollars on the war on drugs, which has failed miserably.  Imagine if we spent that money on helping low-income students get better Internet, classrooms, schoolbooks, nutritional meals, and safe schools.  This would be more useful.

EC:  How would you describe Leigh?

KS:  She experienced a horrific trauma with her sister when they both were younger.  She is now a successful lawyer.  But Leigh is a control freak, compartmentalizes people, never likes to feel powerless, and is a survivor. She presents a front to hide her guilt and deep vulnerability.  

EC:  How would you describe the bad guy, Andrew?

KS:  My grandmother used to say, ‘if someone wants to be bad, they will find any excuse to be bad.’ He is definitely an illustration of that.  Andrew is someone looking for a reason to justify the bad things he wants to do.  He thinks he should be able to do whatever he wants in life because he is entitled to do it.  He is cruel and likes to terrorize people.  When I wrote that fish scene with him, I laid a foundation for his personality.  

EC:  Speaking of fish, there is some humor?

KS:  I love puns and love to be silly.  It was delightful time for me to make up all that stuff, such as “Anne Chovey, Genghis Karp, Mr. Dar-Sea, and James Pond.”  I spent far more time than I care to admit on this.

EC:  There is a quote about prosecutors and judges caring more about optics than justice.  Please explain

KS:  Many prosecutors only take cases they think they can win.  They plead out everything else.  Many overcharge to get someone to plead out to a lesser charge.  As voters we need to look at how the justice system runs.  For example, women in prison are limited to the number of tampons and pads they can have.

EC:  There is also a quote about losing someone.  Please explain.

KS:  You are referring to this one, “Your relationship with a person doesn’t end when they die.  It only gets stronger.”  Someone told me that after I lost my 9th grade teacher who I consider my mentor.  She died about five years ago from cancer.  I had all these memories of her.  I remember our relationship and how important she was to me.  The choices I make in the present are based on what she told me in the past.

EC:  Your next book?

KS:  It will have a murder and be out this time next year.  A couple of characters from a previous stand alone will be back.

THANK YOU!!