#bit of a sus interpretation of the prompt on this one

[lu-sn]

“Hey,” Porsche says. “Uhhh. So.”

Big watches him flounder in silence.

(The bridge of Porsche’s nose is an angry, irritated red. Big wonders whether Porsche got that bruise while protecting Kinn.)

Porsche rubs at the back of his neck. “Look. Before we go on this casino stakeout, I wanted to say... I know I’ve fucked up a lot of missions. But this one is really important to me. We need to make sure Kinn stays safe. So let’s work together on this one, yeah?”

He holds out his hand — a truce. A far more gracious one than Big deserves.

Because Big is a fool. Big had seen how inexperienced Porsche was, how thoroughly he was favored in spite of it, and Big had despised him. Big had tried so hard to grind Porsche’s face into the dirt, to teach Porsche his place.

And then Porsche was alone in a forest with Kinn for days. Porsche kept Kinn alive, healthy and well-fed. Porsche single-handedly saved Kinn from being murdered in the rocky wilderness, where Big could not reach him. Porsche’s star is rising, and there is no stopping it.

All Big can do is carve out a space for himself in the shadow of Porsche’s blinding radiance.

(The one thing Porsche couldn’t do was stop Kinn from getting shot. Big would have stopped it. Big would have put himself in front of that bullet, and Kinn would have let him.)

Porsche’s hand, held open in genuine invitation, mocks Big for every petty misstep he’s ever made.

Big has no choice. His hand reaches out in return, in surrender.

-

#kpanniversary2024 episode 7 + prompt 7: heist

[lurkingshan]

Another week, another struggle to wrangle my complicated thoughts about this beautiful show. In a way it feels fitting that we ended up watching and discussing this at a time when there was just so much happening around us in the real world that we are struggling to cope with. This story is, after all, mostly a meditation on grief and failure and finding small bits of hope among some truly bleak realities.

I've been thinking a lot this week about the pretty significant changes to this part of the story in the TV adaptation. This part departed the most from the novel, which makes sense since in the novel it was largely Young sitting in quiet introspection about his choices and regrets and where things went wrong. Not only was it emotionally dense, it was very interior in nature, necessitating some changes for the screen. Back when I first read it, I found hope in the fact that Young was finally processing his emotions rather than hiding from them despite the gut wrenching nature of this thoughts. The TV version doubled down on that bit of hope and amplified it.

The inclusion of the T-aras throughout continues to be the most consequential change to this story, and this week went even further in giving one of them, Eun Su, his own story. I've noodled quite a bit on Sang Young Park's purpose in adding this subplot about Eun Su's doomed engagement (and many indicators of his general disdain for marriage as a means to find happiness and security). The best interpretation I can offer is that, given the overall message in these final episodes that we can only find hope and true happiness by living wholly as ourselves, he wanted a parallel story that was about getting out of a relationship alongside Yeong wanting to be in one, to make it clear that his message is not about romance fixing anyone.

I also really enjoyed the Eun Su plot for keying into a very real dynamic of long term friendship group dynamics: those times when you suddenly grow closer to one person in your friend group because you are having a similar experience, or because you're the only ones in the group who can empathize with each other about a specific situation. Eun Su knew that among his friends, Yeong was the one who would understand his unhappiness in this relationship and not judge him for it, and for this period of time, their shared discontent and regrets brought them closer.

The way this thread came together with Yeong's regrets over Gyu-ho to prompt his reflections on what went wrong worked really well, and I liked the choice to end the show on a more explicitly hopeful note than the novel, as it felt fitting for its lighter tone throughout. Instead of leaving Yeong on a moment of deep regret as he thinks back to the lantern with Gyu-ho's name on it falling from the sky (Gyu-ho. My only wish.), we end with him celebrating with his friends on a rooftop, gazing up at fireworks in the sky, thinking of Gyu-ho with sadness but also naming his enduring wish for love with a smile.

[lovebeatriceplz]

🥀Those aren't meant to bend.

Gwen Stacy x Fem! Reader ( platonic but can be interpreted otherwise i think)

Summary: The girl you managed to befriend a little more than a year ago stops responding to your texts, basically disappearing. One rainy night you stumble upon her, not as Gwen Stacy..but as Spider woman.

Tw: Mentions of self - harm, panic attacks and a brief mention of su!c!de .Captain Stacy ended up dying prior to the events that happen in this fic.

This isn't really like a reflection on her character but the gwen angst syndrome is strong and i need to get it out

It's been five weeks since Doctor Octopus attacked your city. It's been five weeks since the death of Captain Stacy. It's been five weeks since Spider woman stopped appearing. Five weeks since Gwen stopped coming to school.

You made the connection a long time ago. It always found it's way into your mind, sitting up at night, wondering how she does it, how she balanced her personal life and being a superhero, if she does at all.

Taking your seat on the train you take a look around. She wasn't here, again. Gwen is one year below you, so you would only really see her in the mornings and evenings.

She begins to flood your thoughts. Was she ok? How is she managing without her father? Is she still spider woman or has her father's death prompted her to discard the mask?. The last time you spoke, she said her aunt was staying with her, taking on the role of her guardian you figured, however, a part of you just didn't believe her.

The feeling of the seat dipping slightly brings you back to present, and a friend starts a conversation. After discussing upcoming final, school and other things, you ask the question that's been burning at the back of your throat. "Have you seen Gwen recently?" .

The boy looks up, thinking. "Stacy? Nah, not since - you know". You nod, yeah you did know. A sigh escapes your mouth and you lean against the window. "Hey, she'll be fine, she's probably just mourning, it's normal". He tries his best to sound convincing. "Yeah.." you respond, not able to channel an once of conviction in your words.

His brows furrow, wanting to divert your thoughts else where. "Guess what?" He perks up, reaching for his phone. "Your favorite girl is back". Leaning up you look over his arm. That didn't make sense, your favourite girl was Gwen, and she wasn't back. Once you see the article it makes sense. 'Spider - woman spotted after disappearing for almost two weeks'.

A slight feeling of hope washes over you as you head to class. Gwen- Spider - woman, she was ok. As the day progresses doubts plague your mind. It could be false, some journalist desperate for a story, or a an anxious citizen that needed something to trust in again. Wait, what was that?. You tilt your head up, this was the path you took home everyday, so anything foreign would catch your attention.

Zzzzp. There it was again. A flash of pink and white. It was just for a second but you're sure of it, it was true. Gwen-... Spider- woman, she was back.

" I understand that this is private information but please it's out of concern". You thought that Spider - woman being back meant Gwen being back as well. It seemed like she segregated the two, splitting herself into different personas. She didn't respond to calls, texts, when you showed up at her apartment you got no answer and she's not at school. Only as Spider - woman did she appear, and even then, she never stayed around long enough for you to get a hold of her.

That's why the principal is pinching the bridge of their nose, and why you're persisting, begging even that they provide you with the contact of this "aunt" Gwen mentioned. "Please, I want to know if she's okay". You looked pitiful, but that's the goal. A sigh, then a grumble, followed by aggressive writing. The principal hands you a small slip of paper "If anyone asks, you didn't get it from here". A grin is plastered on your face as you leave.

"Hello? who is this?" She sounded calm, a bit tired, maybe in her 30's. "Hello, this is a friend of Gwen Stacy, your niece".

"Gwen?...my, why I haven't seen her in years, I heard about her father, is she alright?" a puzzled expression crosses your face. "I was hoping you could tell me, aren't you staying with her?" trying to conceal your rising panic.

"Oh..oh no dearie, I haven't seen Gwen since she was 'bout twelve years old". What was going on? "but-". "I'm sorry but I haven't been in contact with George or Gwen for a very long time, good day" the phone line goes dead.

A feeling of dread consumes you, staring at the text you sent, she read it but you still got no reply. Five, six, seven, still no reply. Your sneakers echo as you jog up the apartment complex. If she wouldn't reply you'd just have to seek her out.

You have to stop yourself before knocking, be gentle, she's the one that's hurting here. A soft knock, and you get silence in return. Raising your fist to knock again, you stop as your phone chimes. A concerned friend checking on you due to the villain on the loose.

Screams and loud bangs spread throughout the city of Queens. Anyone with an ounce of self preservation would head home, but this was your chance to see her.

Watch from a distance, and everything will be fine. This wasn't anything new, they were no match for spider woman. You observe her closely, as she skillfully takes control of the fight. But, she seems...slower, and she looks thin, not like you notice her enough to tell. She wasn't okay.

The fight's over, people cheer, the police attempt to clean up etc etc. Your only focus was to get a grip on that girl before- damn, she's gone, again.

The weight of yet another missed opportunity drags you down. You take a shortcut to get home due to the debris from the fight. And if your night couldn't get any worse- rain starts to pour and your drenched in seconds.

It was quiet, almost inaudible at first. But you heard it. Stopping, you strain your ears to hear better. It was a strained, almost gargle like sound. A sob?

You slowly turn the corner to find the source of the noise. When you do see it your chest tightens, you could have just died right there. Why? because in front of you was Spider woman, on her knees, soaked, mask discarded at her side as she desperately tries to force oxygen into her lungs, she was failing.

You want to scream out her name but your throat is dry, you want to run to her but your feet suddenly feel heavy. No need for any of that anyways, because she spotted you.

"Don't come any closer!" she shouts out. Her voice brings you back to reality, the once calm and pretty sound now hoarse and..just tired. "Gwen! oh my- Gwen you're okay" you start to lessen the distance between you, but the look on her face stops you. "I said don't come any closer!" she repeats, reaching for her web shooters. They made a crackling sound and, no webs came flying towards you.

Now you start to panic. Did she even recognize you? she had to right?. "Gw- ow!" a pebble comes flying instead, then another, and another. She tries to run away but she hardly moves, her leg was probably injured, or her body was just exhausted.

You resort to grabbing her wrist to stop her flailing but she winces, you instantly let go. "Gwen..." her gaze locks with yours, and her eyes are puffy, but they also looked glazed over, she was so distant.

Atleast she wasn't trying to get away anymore. She was struggling to breath, you wanted to help but- everything you did seemed to make things worse.

The sobbing starts again, the most heartbreaking sobs you've ever heard. You're hands hover over her, you just wanted to hug her so badly, but what if she tried to run off again?

She quietly calls out your name in between sobs. Your arms wrap around her instantly as you sink to the group beside her. She presses herself into you, her fingernail digging into your skin, making sure that your there.

It hurt, but you pulled her closer anyways as sobs wracked her body. They gradually die down, the only sounds being the rain, the shuddering sounds she made each time she inhaled and the denim of your jacket against latex.

When her breathing evens out somewhat, you stand up, wrapping the jacket around her first before hoisting her up, putting her arm around your shoulder.

There was no way you could walk her home, she wouldn't make it. You start to walk towards the nearest train station, dragging her along. She tries her best to not put her dead weight on you, but you can tell that she was ready to just collapse.

Few passengers on the train don't pay you two much mind, only a couple glances here and there. Most of her suit was damp and dirty and covered with your jacket, besides, a tired girl and her seemingly not fully conscious friend wasn't an uncommon sight at this hour.

The climb up the apartment stairs was a struggle but you made it. "where are your keys Gwen?" You ask her gently. "Keys?" Her eyes dart around, she didn't seem to register anything you were saying, it's been like that since the train.

The door was open anyways. The intention was to take her to her bed, but she immediately goes limp against the couch.

"I'm sorry.." it's the first thing she's said that was intentional and coherent. You sit on the floor beside the couch. "Sorry about what?" Concerned etched into your features.

"I'm sorry that I couldn't do it... I thought i could i really did, but I can't" her eyes get glossy and she lays on her back, looking at the ceiling.

What did that mean? It could mean so many things, but you didn't push it. (Trigger warning for the paragraph after the next one).

You get to work, removing your jacket and helping her out of her spider suit, she barely seemed to be apart of the process. She's in her undergarments and you start to look around for something for her to wear. (Actual trigger warning now).

An oversized t - shirt is what you settle for. The shirt just slipped over her chest when you notice them. Some seemed to dig deeper than others, some healed over, some looked like they could start bleeding again. You felt like throwing up and a lump forms in your throat as your hands gently grasp her wrist.

Her eyes follow your hands, hardly registering what was going on. When she does however, she sits up immediately, pulling away from you "it's not what you think it is" the words came out harsher than she wanted them to "they're old..." she mutters.

They were obviously recent. The lump in your throat gets bigger, suffocating almost. You inhale deeply "w-" the words refused to come. Why have you never seen them? why are you just realizing how bad the situation actually is. "i said they're old stop staring at them" she repeats.

Her eyes dart away from yours, like she's about to cry again. You pull yourself up on the couch beside her. "I can't do it anymore" she says, the words strained, as if she had to physically force it out her throat.

"being spider - woman?" You shift a bit closer to her. "everything..." Her voice reduced to a hoarse whisper.

"talk to me Gwen" you gently urge her to open up. "i'm just tired..." There was more to it of course, but she wouldn't even allow herself to feel it.

"You can't keep it all in-", "yes I can." As stubborn as always. You take her wrist, finger pads brushing against the now choppy skin, to remind her that you're there, and to make sure that she doesn't run away from the conversation.

Silence. "Okay....then, tell me what happened this evening, why did i find you the way i did?". She brings her knees to her chest, zoning out. "Gwen?".

"I-" she sighs "I don't really remember.." The confession leaves you confused, but she continues before you could ask questions "i don't really remember much these days i-it's sort of a blur I don't know".

The words remind you of the time you tried to check up on her when her father passed away. She was smiling, somewhat. But she seemed fine, although there was an underlying tone of something else.

Now that you think about it, it's like her body was on autopilot. She barely made eye contact that day, she was there but she wasn't..really there. A feeling of guilt starts to swell in your chest, why didn't you know? You're her friend, you should have known.

You were so lost in thought, so lost in the flashbacks of the little things you didn't remember until now that you're just realizing the tears silently streaming down her face.

"is it your dad? is that why?" You ask, reaching out to wipe her face. She shrugs "i think so.." choking on her tears. "you know... it's been five weeks" the words barely audible due to the sobs trapped in her throat.

"only five weeks and i-" she continues "I'm already starting to forget how he sounded". Your arms open and she doesn't hesitate to crawl into them. Her body starts to tremble once more, and she clutches her chest as if it physically hurt.

"- and we didn't even leave off on a good note..we had a fight-". One of the very very few people that Gwen confided in when it came to her father was you. You knew all about it, the relationship wasn't quite secure, but she loved him...she loves him.

She continues to let it all out in strained and muffled whispers. "I wasn't supposed to hurt myself..i was just - I just didn't want to do it anymore". Slowly, your gaze moves down to look at her. "everything?"

She doesn't respond, maybe she couldn't. The crying stopped but her body was still shaking, the tears ran out but the pain didn't. "I just didn't want to be here anymore" the interval between her statements was so long that it took a second to register what she was referring to.

The lining of your eyes sting with tears, and you look upwards in an attempt to keep the tears in check. You couldn't cry infront of her, not now atleast, that wouldn't be fair.

"do you still feel that way?" The steadiness in your voice is obviously forced. "I don't know" she sounded so detached, so far away.

"what about me? and the people out there that need spider - woman?" That was selfish, entitled even, but you weren't choosing your words carefully anymore.

Her silence hits you like a truck, the depth of what you said just now settling in. "It doesn't matter forget i said that- it's about you, and what you feel, okay?" she manages to nod slightly.

With a sigh you pull her body closer, your arms completely encircling her, she felt thinner.

The exhaustion from the fight, along with the turmoil inside her mind and the warmth of your embrace coaxes her to sleep.

She's knocked out cold and you slip away. You just reach the kitchen when the tears start to fall. It wasn't loud or dramatic, instead it was quiet, the type of crying that made you empty when you're done.

Do you blame yourself? not entirely. For the first time since you found Gwen, your notification bar is flooded with missed calls from your parents. So that's how you spend the rest of your night, calling back and convincing them to not report you missing.

The morning comes quickly. You wake up on the cold floor of the kitchen.

Gwen was in the same place you left her, but her eyes are open. "Are you leaving?" her eyes meet yours, even after all that crying they were still bright. "soon" you respond, sitting on the carpeted floor beside the couch.

A silence is shared between the two of you, but it's light, like a breath of fresh air. "Do you remember how we met?" The question slips out by accident, but it was the only thing on her mind at the moment.

You smile, how could you not remember?. It was a hot night, due to it being summer. A friend of yours invited you to hangout at a band rehearsal. It was more like a party, a good amount of people and boy was it loud, but the good kind of loud.

The drummer on stage caught your eye immediately. "who's that?" You had to shout for your friend to hear. "Hah?- oh! That's Gwen, she's new".

You end up catching the same train as her that night. "So..do you play?" That was the first time she spoke to you. You gave her a small smile "bass". Her eyes light up "bass?'.

A chuckle passes your lips "what? You don't like bassists?" she smiles, revealing her cute little gap that you've grown to love "You guys are cool I guess, what about you? Do you like drummers?" That's how it started.

"Did you know? before this i mean" her question snaps you out of it. "know what?". She turns on her side to face you better "know that I was Spider- woman".

You nod "yeah, did you know that I knew?" You ask, playfully poking her side. "I always thought you watched me a bit too closely" she said with a laugh, something she hasn't done in a while.

Her laugh fades, a soft smile coming to rest on her face. "I just want to get better" she admits quietly. You take her hand, giving it a kiss before draping it over your shoulder "you will."

[eleanorfenyxwrites]

FTH 2024

Fandom Trumps Hate bidding is live as of today and this feels like a good time to tell y'all that I'm offering two gift works this year! I had to skip last year as I had just way too much going on, and while I guess technically I'm still just as busy I really missed writing as much last year so I'm prioritizing it now. But anyway - my offerings! Here's the link to my offering page itself if you'd like to look there or think about donating, but for the full breakdown (and a bit of explanation) click the readmore 😌

So as I said I'm offering two works this year, one 5-10k words and the other 10-20k words. The minimum bid for the smaller fic is $5 and for the longer one it's $15. My ships/tags/special interests/etc. are the same for both, and for those of you who are familiar with what I write I'm sure you can guess what they are lol but I'll put it all here anyway!

Ships I will write (and they are listed in order of personal preference for writing): 3zun (or any pairing within it), Wangxian, Chengqing, Xuanli, Junior Quartet

Especially interested in: Fix-its, AU's (specifics can be discussed), Canon Divergence, Slice of Life, Fluff, Angst with Comfort, Smut, Gender Fuckery™, Rule 63/Cisswap

Ships I don't want to write: SongXueXiao or any pairing involving Su She, Wen Chao, Wen Xu, or Jin Guangshan.

Unwilling to address: Angst with No Comfort, Bathroom Kinks, Underage, Rape (I can make exceptions at my discretion depending on context)

Other notes: I can be fairly flexible! I've worked before with a bidder who wanted an extra written for one of their own stories, I can write requested extras or missing scenes for any of my existing stories/universes, or we can come up with something completely new. I prefer specific prompts, but please allow me some wiggle-room for my own interpretations, we're working on this as a team!

Special interests: F/F ships, Poly ships, Genderswap/genderbending, Canonically trans or nonbinary characters, Trans or nonbinary interpretations of canon characters

This year I've chosen to select specific charities I'd like donations to go towards, and I chose ones that take international donations and that focus their efforts on people of color, children/youths, and LGBTQ+ issues.

Organizations this auction benefits:

In Our Own Voice ["...lifting up the voices of Black women leaders at the national and regional levels in our fight to secure Reproductive Justice for all women, girls, and gender-expansive individuals..."]

Middle East Children's Alliance ["...organization working for the rights and the well-being of children in the Middle East...They are currently responding to the Gaza crisis with medical supplies and emergency assistance for displaced families."]

Never Again Action ["A Jewish-led mobilization against the persecution, detention, and deportation of immigrants in the United States, NAA takes on campaigns against detention centers and ICE training programs, and organizes mutual aid and deportation defense."]

Sherlock's Homes Foundation ["...provides housing, employment opportunities, and a loving support system for homeless LGBTQ+ young adults so that they can live fearlessly as their authentic selves..."]

And that's it really! I'm really excited to be doing FTH again, I loved it the first time and I love feeling like this ridiculous hobby does some material good in the world in a way that's a bit more targeted and magnified than the writing usually does on its own. Financial contributions to good causes isn't something I've been capable of managing in a very long time, but I can spend my time writing a thank you gift for those who can and do ❤

[temp-check]

Friday's temperature check (2-3)

Mardi Gras is still three weeks away, but Carnival started on January 6th. That’s not stopping strange things from happening in Louisiana. Sure, most of the excitement takes place in New Orleans. However, up the street in a little town in St. Mary Parish, the fire and police departments were called to a home to defuse an egg-shaped explosive device that turned out to be an egg. The threat prompted the evacuation of the houses on the street. After diffusing the egg with a frying pan, a side of bacon and a touch of Tabasco Sauce, residents were eventually allowed to return home and were told there was no threat to the public unless someone happens to get Tabasco Sauce in the eye. Moving on, the Sazerac is the “official” drink of New Orleans. One would think it would be the “Hurricane” as evidenced by the millions of drunk revelers carrying the ubiquitous “Hurricane” glass down Bourbon Street. Sazerac is also a huge liquor conglomerate based in New Orleans that is gobbling up whiskey brands throughout the United States. One such brand is Fireball. Fireball is a college student dream mixture of cinnamon and something approximating alcohol. The big bottles are labeled “Fireball Cinnamon Whisky” and contain actual whiskey. However, a quick trip to Wawa will expose a display of “Fireball Cinnamon” nestled unassumingly between Zima and White Claw sections.  The label on this satanic concoction says, "malt beverage with natural whisky & other flavors and caramel color."  There’s no whiskey in this crap, just whiskey flavor.  English is flexible enough to allow someone to interpret that language to suit their suit.  So, someone is suing over this oversight; probably a college student.  I don’t know what’s worse, no whiskey or admitting you drink Fireball. 

While I contemplate adding a bit of this to actual bourbon and eggnog, I realized that’s Christmas’s problem. In the meantime, enjoy this recipe for a Sazerac: https://www.liquor.com/recipes/sazerac/

Stay safe! Tom

[kirie-mitsuru]

It has been days but I still can't stop thinking about @/zykamiliah's (idk if I'm doing this right. Am I allowed to @ people I don't follow or talk to ever before? I barely use tumblr until twitter problems piling recently) reply on the breakdown why Binghe's protagonist halo is nonexistent and the one inevitable omnipotent being in Scum Villain is actually the system, which prompt me to see her other opinions on SVSSS and stumble upon her opinion tht the system is the representation of the fandom's wishes... because it has uppend all my preconceptions about the system's modus operadi and her interpretation makes much more sense after I dwell on it a bit too much.

(Below are my before vs after -super duper long- interpretation and explanation on Shen Yuan's system modus operadi from my understanding. Keep in mind that I am not that against the System as a whole coz I feel that it saved Shen Yuan from his death in a sense. Just not out of free goodwill, but more of an exchange which is fair to me coz life is priceless and Shen Yuan is living beyond his supposed time. If Shen Yuan is that against being saved then he can just stop doing what he is doing in my opinion.)

(I may or may not read dozens too many unlimited flow novels which has a much higher cost for just a few days extra of living while Shen Yuan is effectively getting immortality in exchange...)

Before:

I used to interpret the three options -I think in general it usually offers three options- that the system offer SQQ as Best Answer (LBH's preference), worst answer (story characterization preference), and neautral answer (SQQ or the system's preference) due to the too many otome game I played in my youth.

This has caused me so much pain because the only reason SQQ avoid the best answer LBH wanted was his pride and assumptions (which, I later realize, is possibly a cover for how guilty SQQ felt abt his decision that he never believe he deserve any forgiveness or even the right to feel sorry coz he did it anyway).

The one example I remember too clearly for my own good is the one in water prison where Binghe ask if SQQ regrets pushing him to the Abyss. Option A was "yes, I regret it so much!", B was "no, u deserve it", and C was *silent*. Or something along that line.

I had also interpret the three known fixed events (the skinner, the Demon Invasion, and the Endless Abyss... or there may be more but I forgot? I swear the others are just side mission or hidden quest) and the initial OOC restriction as necessary:

OOC restriction is to keep his status and body without too much questions asked due to drastic change of temperament. In idealistic world, SY would be able to live a nomadic life where he sightsee the monsters he is very interested in... but I doubt this is achievable with Yue Qingyuan as sect leader slash overprotective older bro figure (or smtg more sus, but YQY has always make me uncomfortable for some reason, or maybe coz I fear his reaction had he ever realize that SQQ is no longer Shen Jiu) of Shen Jiu. So, he has to stay as SQQ, a peak lord involved w LBH who had history of abusing LBH. Which sucks, but on one hand the system gave SY a second chance at living (bonus of getting a healthy, beautiful, immortal body with powerful status and money to live comfortably) and we know SY very much wants to live. Note that even with this restriction, we know that the other Peak Lords had checked SQQ for possession several times, imagine what they'll do without the restriction?

The Endless Abyss is a rather inevitable and moderately safe, time and location wise, for LBH to unlock his heavenly demon blood. Again, ideally it'll be best if LBH doesn't attend this at all, but people will raise questions since it is well known how favored and powerful LBH is in Qing Jing. On the other hand, I doubt there will be anything that can entice LBH from leaving SQQ by his own initiative, especially far enough to venture to the demon realm, and SQQ is too soft to order LBH to go away for too long. During the competition, there are abundant demons that can cover up the leak of LBH's demonic power when his seal broke, limited and very busy powerful cultivator that is able to subdue and seal LBH -I'm especially glad LBH does not have to immediately deal with Old Palace Master when he is still unused to his shining new boost up-, and a convenient escape route no one will follow him into.

Skinner Event is to get SY used to how life is in this new universe, body, and job. Or at least know the bare minimum expected from him as a peak lord. I was actually surprised the system was decent enough to offer easy mode for this.

The demon Invasion reason was mentioned by SQQ himself. It was a hint for LBH himself on what kind of demon he is. Had he gotten poisoned -or not poisoned lol-, Meng Mo would have known immediately what kind of demon LBH is and told him after getting LBH as his student.

So, I thought these events are necessary, and, so, inevitable.

The scenario pusher dubious help are also the only option I thought the system have and can apply since, you know, it is a system of a super harem porn novel? It's database should only have access to events happening in the novel and that is the only events it has the authority to approve and commence in this particular universe. As in, it can only change who are involved in the scene and when the scene happens, but not what kind of scene it is -which is suggestive and R-18 stuff-. I thought it make sense that even the system will be restricted on what it can do to affect this universe as a whole.

After:

(I am actually baffled by how SQQ never expect tht final deluxe scenario pusher end result... has he not reflect what these scenario pusher been doing to him in front of LBH? The first time he fell for it, I get it. The second time... ehh it hasn't click to him yet maybe. The third time? And so on? After knowing that LBH loves him??? Did he not see the pattern here? I thought he is smart...)

... well, the interpretation of the system's options possibly being the wish of different genre fans of "readers" of SVSSS was... wow. It makes a lot of sense. This explains why that stupid fake jade pendant takes until the very last second SQQ can last before it finishes downloading-! Can u imagine, off screen, there is a poll going for "When should SQQ give LBH the pendant? A. Immediately, B. Suffer first to see the extend of SQQ tolerance and love for LBH, C. NEVER"? Or like those strip challenge thing recently and be like "finish loading when this gets xxxx amount of likes and xxxx retweet"?

Perhaps this is why the missions, and the scenario pusher theme is so different? The original PIDW fans gets main missions, the side &/or hidden quest, while the fujoshi choose the scenario pusher? It would explain why the fixed mission are deliberately painful, coz it is attempting to stick to the original plot, while wanting a more in-depth knowledge on the characters, background, exploration, and secrets. The fujoshis... well, we know what the fujoshi wants 😉

Also, I thought I get why SQQ is so convinced that the protagonist halo is a thing. I actually believed it too because of that scene during the ending of the skinner mission where a perfectly new, perfectly fine pillar? Ceiling? Thing just broke down when LBH is about to be hurt when he is supposed to be unharmed during the actual plot narative. (Although I used to only believe the plot armor works only during scripted scene and it can only protect LBH to ensure the protag can move on to the next scene. If there is a time skip? Ha. Ha. We will never know how much unmentioned pain and trauma LBH goes through off script time -AKA the Endless Abyss and 5-yrs w SQQ's corpse-. It can only guarantee he will be alive and as good as new when the next scene arrive.)

But this makes me realize... why on earth would I think it's something so insubstantial? Because the system said so? Wouldn't it make more sense if it had happened because of the system? Because it is within its parameter to make such absurd possibility happen as long as it can provide valid reason for its interference -which is also due to SY's suggestion in a sense coz SY asked if it can be done so the system may input it as a command and turns out it can make it happen?- So... this explains why the protagonist halo never existed. Because it has always been the system.

If the halo had always been the system's work, this is why LBH is hated coz the system cannot affect people's emotions, thoughts, and freewill.

This is also why the whole cultivation world's hatred, or at least dislike, of LBH makes a lot of sense. I had wondered why did the protag halo seem to move to SQQ instead with the progression of the novel. I mean, consider this: roped into plot via exploration, liked by everyone that interact with him, and multiple death flag avoided (we know the protag never dies unless it's tragedy). Had LBH halo -specifically PIDW LBG's type of halo- been true, then he would have get SQQ at most after he return from the Abyss coz he is now OP and he always gets what he wants -I think if was mentioned that LBG r-word some of his wife by force as well? But no one cancelled him for it, even if only coz he is too strong to fight- if we use PIDW!LBG as a reference. Instead, we have LBH losing SQQ again and again, have his entire intention misunderstood to the extreme by the love of his life, and his reputation in shambles to the point people blatantly sang songs of LBH's 'misconduct' without fearing any retribution from LBH despite being the demon lord.

Besides, I believe the only goal the system impose on SY is to make the original plot better with less or no plot hole, not completely rewrite the novel. (This is also why SY can negotiate his restriction w the system sometimes. As long as it doesn't change the existence of fixed events, it's negotiable?). This is why fixed events are unavoidable too. Like, it has to happen. The how is up to SQQ, which is also a reader by the way, but it has to happen.

But then I wonder what is the point of the system doing this? It receive updates I believe, but is that really worth it to call for help from PIDW No.1 hater who wished every single plot in the novel change minus the main character? Then again, Shen Yuan might be chosen just coz he is too obsessed with PIDW to the point he nearly memorize the entire novel.

I'd like to think that it is also conducting a kind of human moral compass test w Shen Yuan as its main test subject this time coz it never really restrict Shen Yuan's words and actions after the OOC ban was lifted, just "either this happen or you die" but how 'it' happen is up to SY's interpretation and action. The system gives suggestions, but it doesn't force SQQ to actually do anything. E.g. it didn't force SQQ to stab LBH's chest and make him believe SQQ hate him for being a heavenly demon in particular. (I am very aghast when SQQ did this to the point I much prefer how Shen Jiu push LBH to the abyss. At least it's nothing personal (much) with Shen Jiu, just a general demon discrimination instead of "oh it's just u, everyone else gets second chances but not u sorry") The system also never stops SY from holding to LBH's thigh in those 3 yrs of peace despite how the PIDW narrative implies how LBH's abuse continues until he went to the abyss, or at least neglect. Or make SQQ ignore LBH after their reunion 🙃

I'll never know which interpretation is correct and canon, both might be wrong even! But it's an interesting topic to fixate and scrutinize on coz -as always for this fandom in particular for some odd reason- I always have the opposing belief from what most believes in. Like "LBH suck and SQQ deserves better" while for me "Luo Binghe is an angel and did absolutely nothing wrong besides trying too hard to be a good person to someone who expects him to be a demon while battling the influence of OP evil sword", and "everything is the system's fault" while I'm here "does no one see the little things the system is trying to hint at oblivious SQQ??". Not saying the system is 100% innocent -whatever its reason and motivation is, forced nudity and other things is wrong yes-, unlike my very precious Luo Bingmei who is 1000% blameless in my eyes and the number one victim of all the events in SVSSS, but it is also not 100% the reason everything goes wrong.

Conclusion:

Last morbid thought as I wrote this... what if the system's power source is LBH's protagonist halo. It may also be why it can grant it's user (SQQ) the ability to affect the main plot because it is sucking LBH's halo's power to influence the universe at large... this gives me the vibe of beefleaf stealing fate plot that I not want to dwell on or I'll cry. Gah!

Then again, this is just me over thinking something that I will never really know for sure. It's a good food for thoughts tho (and for whatever fic I may or may not write in the future)

[tennessoui]

OOOOOOOOOH!!!!!!!!!!!!!

For the prompts - childhood best friend au bc i’m a sucker for them

- tealbluemagic

ah yikes i had thought and scripted like....two more scenes of them actually growing up (16/20 and 22/26) in my head dialogue and all but suddenly this was 2.3k because once again i was worldbuilding my cares away RIP!! palpatine was supposed to be the evil adviser it was gonna be great sad days.

2. Childhood best friends AU (medieval, fantasy, royalty AU--whichever term conveys the absolute zero amount of fact-checking that I have done)

They meet when Anakin is seven and Obi-Wan eleven.

Anakin’s tutor wants him to write lines. Again. According to the man, his letters do not look kingly enough.

Thank the gods that he set him to work and then left to flirt with the chambermaid. Otherwise, he probably would have had something very mean to say about the lack of kingliness that is required to climb out the window and down the ivy creeping up the castle.

Anakin lands on his feet and looks up in time to see his tutor’s red face in the window. “Prince Anakin!” The man yells, but no one is around to grab at him and he’s a very fast runner, even at the age of seven. He takes off to the gardens, laughing in joy at the freedom of it all.

Through the gardens and at the edge of the grounds are the stables. He’s not allowed to go there yet, because he is so small and the horses so big. It’ll be the last place they’ll check for him.

Anakin bursts through the doors and runs headlong into another boy, knocking him clean off his feet and into a pile of straw.

“Hey!” The boy shouts, shoving Anakin harshly off of him, face turning almost as red as his hair. Anakin blinks stupidly up at him as he rises and puts his hands on hips. “Who do you think you are?”

“I come seeking shelter and refuge as the prince of the kingdom of Tatooine,” Anakin blurts out the phrase he’s been taught to say should he ever find himself in danger in a new land.

Both of the boy’s eyebrows go up, and he looks scared for a second, which Anakin doesn’t understand. He’s much bigger than Anakin is and he’s still standing all angry over him. If anything, Anakin should be the one scared.

“Uh. Okay. Yeah, you can stay,” the boy says, backing away and crossing his arms over his chest defensively. “Just please don’t tell anyone I shoved you, your um highness. I need this job.”

Anakin lifts his hand so the boy can help him up, but the other boy doesn’t do anything but stare at it with a furrowed brow. “You may help me stand,” Anakin prompts him.

“Shouldn’t be touching no prince,” the boy mumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets. “People can get killed for less.”

“Well, I want you to help me,” Anakin says, glaring at the boy who’s being very stubborn and silly right now. “I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

The boy looks skeptical, but takes his hand in his.

“What’s your name?” He asks him as he brushes off his fine clothes.

Now the boy just looks reluctant, but he must know better than to disobey a command from his sovereign, even when the sovereign in question is a child, because he crosses his arms over his chest and mumbles out, “Obi-Wan, milord.”

“I’m Anakin,” Anakin says, even though the boy probably knows this. It’s still only polite and his mother has always told him that being polite is one of the best things a prince can be.

“Yeah,” the boy says. Maybe his mother had never given him the same lesson. “I have to get back to work now, milord,” he turns before Anakin dismisses him, which is quite unheard of. Maybe Obi-Wan’s never been to court. Judging by the state of his clothes and the dirt on his face and beneath his nails, Anakin decides that’s probably true.

“What are you doing?” Anakin asks curiously, following behind the boy. It’s just he doesn’t meet a lot of boys his age and sure, this boy seems a bit mean and certainly at least a little uncivilized, but he still let Anakin stay.

“Shoveling horse shit,” Obi-Wan says. “Would you like to help?”

Anakin wrinkles his nose. “What’s up there?” he asks, pointing to a ladder as they pass it.

“That’s where we keep the hay. And it’s where I sleep.”

“You sleep here?”

Obi-Wan doesn’t respond, but his cheeks grow a dull sort of red.

Tactfully, Anakin changes the subject. “What else do you do?”

“Feed the horses, brush them, put them out to pasture, call them in, brush them again,” Obi-Wan lists. “When a nobleman wants to ride, I tack up their steed for them.”

A horse blows out a breath, right near Anakin’s face and he flinches, clinging onto the back of Obi-Wan’s shirt automatically. “And they let you?” he asks, trying to sound like he isn’t frightened.

“They don’t have much choice,” Obi-Wan says, smiling a bit as if something is funny. “Bit of a luxury around here, choice is.”

“What happens if they don’t?” Anakin asks, deciding to not let go of Obi-Wan’s shirt. Any proper gentleman or lady would have offered to let him hold their hand by now, but Obi-Wan is rough around the edges. Anakin finds that he doesn’t mind much.

Obi-Wan casts a look at him from the corner of his eye that Anakin doesn’t know how to interpret. “They get whipped.”

Anakin gasps in shock. “That’s so barbaric!”

The other boy snorts and shakes his head, as if Anakin is just too dumb to understand. “What are you doing here, little Prince?” Obi-Wan asks as he finishes dumping a pail of water into a horse’s bucket. “Why're you running?”

“My tutor was being absolutely awful,” Anakin replies with a pout. Obi-Wan hums, grabbing a shovel from where it’s leaned against a wooden door and carrying it to an empty stall. He follows him, wanting a proper response from the other boy. All that writing had been hurting his hand! The tutor is so unfair and mean and evil, and Anakin deserved to be treated with dignity and respect!

He tells all of this to Obi-Wan as he paces in the tight space of the stall, the other boy occasionally making noises to show he’s listening as he goes about his work.

“I don’t know what sort of problem he has with my letters! I know all of them now! Isn’t that enough?” Anakin asks angrily, crossing his arms. He’s tired and wants to sit down, but it smells poorly here. Maybe he can convince Obi-Wan to go to the ponds with him?

But Obi-Wan pauses, leaning against the handle of his shovel to look at Anakin. “You shouldn’t be complainin’ about getting to learn to read and write,” Obi-Wan says and then hastily tacks on, “milord.”

“But I don’t like it, and I shouldn’t have to do things I don’t like,” Anakin protests.

Obi-Wan smiles in a funny way. “You think I like shoveling shit, do you? But someone has to do it.”

“Are you saying that someone has to read and w--”

Obi-Wan interrupts him loudly. No one’s ever really done that before.

“I’m sayin’ that reading and writing is a...a privilege, milord.” He says the word privilege like he hasn’t ever said it before, like someone had said it around him and he’d memorized the sound and played it back in his head every night.

Anakin pouts, and Obi-Wan must see the look on his face because he softens his voice when he speaks again. “There’re...people who would kill for a teacher and they got none. If I was you, I wouldn’t ever leave my lessons early.”

Anakin crosses his arms. “But you’re not me. And I get to do whatever I want.”

It’s like a wall comes up between them. “That’s a luxury too, milord,” Obi-Wan says, turning away. “Excuse me. I need to work.”

The way he says this makes it clear that he doesn’t want Anakin around him anymore. “Fine!” Anakin snaps, face pulled up into a scowl. He pushes past Obi-Wan as hard as he can, hoping he can make the boy fall again, and leaves the way he’s come.

How dare the little stable boy try to correct Anakin’s behavior, when he’s the one with dirt all over his face!

He storms back to the castle and is in a horrifically terrible mood the entire rest of the night, right up until he goes to bed. Obi-Wan doesn’t know anything about anything, Anakin tries to reassure himself. He should have never met him.

He flips onto his side in bed, scowling even harder when his eyes alight onto the practice papers his tutor had left for him.

In his mind, Obi-Wan’s words repeat even louder. If I was you, I wouldn’t ever leave my lessons early.

Anakin rolls away until he can stare up at the ceiling.

He’d wanted a friend, but Obi-Wan clearly hadn’t wanted Anakin there at all. He wouldn’t have made a good friend at all. Anakin should just forget him.

But he can’t. He wants Obi-Wan to like him, although he can’t understand why or how to proceed.

He flips back to face the room again, too restless for sleep.

Inspiration strikes quite suddenly, making him sit up in his bed.

There’s one thing he could do that would make Obi-Wan like him. But there’s no time to waste.

He hastily dresses in his discarded clothes from yesterday and grabs two of the books on his desk. There’s a leather satchel hanging from his wardrobe that he’s never used before, but it’s the perfect size now. He slings it over his little shoulders and leaves as quietly as he can.

It’s a dangerous but relatively short journey back to the stables. The gardens look much scarier at night, but Anakin is being so brave about it. He’s on a quest. He clutches his satchel to his chest at every jumping shadow, but he makes it to the stable door and then through it.

The ladder he had pointed out earlier is a few steps into the barn, past two stalls. The horses look much scarier now that he’s here alone; their eyes seem to glow in the dark. He scuttles past them and grabs at the first wooden beam. Obi-Wan. He’s doing this for Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan, who is asleep among the hay, just at the top of the ladder. He’s curled up beneath a couple of blankets. He looks angry even in his sleep.

Anakin crawls forward and shakes him awake.

“Wha--” Obi-Wan jerks up.

Anakin clutches his package to his chest and sits cross-legged in front of him. “It’s me!”

“What?” The other boy asks, rubbing at his eyes. Anakin pouts. Has Obi-Wan really forgotten him in such a short period of time? That’s hardly fair, considering the fact that Anakin has not stopped thinking of him at all.

“It’s Anakin,” he says. “I came back.”

“Why?” Obi-Wan asks, squinting at him in the light of the moon that filters through the single window.

Anakin pouts harder. “I brought my stuff,” he says. It had seemed like such a brilliant idea, not even an hour ago, but in the face of Obi-Wan’s incredulity, Anakin only feels stupid. He pulls out the books anyway. “I thought. Well. That maybe I could teach you.”

Obi-Wan sits up all the way at this and bends forward to study the covers, although Anakin is sure he doesn’t understand the letters written on them. .

“Teach me?” Obi-Wan asks.

Anakin huffs. This is going to become quite a tedious conversation if all Obi-Wan does is repeat fragments of what Anakin says. “To read and to write.”

“Why?” he asks, but different than he had asked before.

He doesn’t think because I want you to like me would satisfy Obi-Wan now, and even Anakin knows it’s a rather weak explanation.

“Because...you want to know,” Anakin settles on saying, “and my mother always says that a king should do what he can to satisfy the desires of the kingdom.”

“Oh well,” Obi-Wan scoffs. “If the Queen says so.”

Anakin withdraws, stung at the other boy’s standoffish attitude. “Never mind,” he mumbles, reaching for the satchel to put away the books. “It was stupid.”

Obi-Wan’s hand flashes out to stop him. “No,” he says. “No, I’m sorry. I. Thank you, milord for this. You don’t know what you’re offering.”

“I’m offering you some lessons,” Anakin responds slowly. Maybe Obi-Wan had missed that part?

In the moonlight, Obi-Wan’s smile breaks across his face like a sunrise. “Of course, milord.”

“Call me Anakin,” Anakin demands. He wants a friend, not someone who will bow to his title or shy away from his crown. He wants an equal, a familiar. He wants Obi-Wan to treat him as if they carried the same amount of dirt and grime on their skin.

“Of course, Anakin,” Obi-Wan whispers, like he’s breaking a rule and afraid he’ll get caught. “But….”

“But what?” Anakin asks, scooting closer now that he knows he probably won’t be kicked off the loft to be fed to the horses in the morning.

“Did you bring a light to read by?” Obi-Wan asks, looking around his bare accommodations.

Anakin bites his lip and looks too, but the search is fruitless. “Well,” he says. “No.” The truth is that in the castle there’s always light when he needs light. There are always servants, ready to bustle in and solve his slightest inconvenience. He had never thought of light as a--what had Obi-Wan said earlier? A luxury.

“Oh,” Obi-Wan whispers, tracing the cover of the book with something like longing.

“I’ll come back tomorrow,” Anakin finds himself promising. “I’ll bring a candle or something. I will. Tomorrow night.”

“Really?” The other boy’s voice seems to get caught in his throat because it comes out sounding much weaker and higher than it ever has.

Anakin nods. He would. He’d come back every night for the rest of his life if it meant Obi-Wan would like him, if it meant they could be friends. “I promise,” he says, reaching out with his smallest finger.

Obi-Wan looks at it for a second before linking their fingers together. “Okay, milord,” he says. “I believe you.”

[trashyswitch]

Learning Each Other's Personal Rules

Remy quickly learns the rules when it comes to Emile's cartoon hobbies and tangents. Not only that, but Emile soon learns the rules when it comes to Remy's love for Starbuck's Iced Latte.

And before Mushu can light a rocket, the boys end up in a vengeance-filled tickle fight.

This prompt was suggested by an anonymous user! So whoever you are, I hope this fanfic is to your liking. (also I hope you don't mind that I sprinkled in some Patton.)

Emile had been going on cartoon tangents for hours. He wouldn’t stop talking. Every single conversation about cartoons led to a moment that reminded him of another cartoon he loved. Steven Universe, Avatar: The Last Airbender, Gravity Falls, Mickey Mouse, Pokemon, Disney films, Rugrats, even CatDog came up at some point!

Patton had been listening intently, while Remy looked like he was gonna fall asleep from boredom. The poor guy was going through a caffeine crash and couldn’t keep himself awake. Even if he could, Remy would soon start mentally complaining and consider just leaving the room. He knew that Emile was into cartoons, but this was getting ridiculous.

Patton quickly elbowed Remy in the side to get him to wake up. Unfortunately for Remy, this worked enough to wake him up. “Hmmmmm? Huh? What’re we talkin’ about? Remy asked.

Patton frowned at him. “You’re falling asleep in the middle of a conversation. It’s rude!” Patton whispered to him.

Emile giggled. “Patty, the entire Sanders Sides fandom can hear you.” He told him.

Patton blinked and looked at him, feeling bad. “Sorry.”

“Naaah, it’s okay! I’m just happy to see I got half of the audience’ interest.” Emile admitted.

Patton giggled while Remy smiled a little at the destruction of the 4th wall.

“Besides: I need to start looking for new cartoons.” Emile told them.

Remy chuckled at that and drank some more of his latte.

Emile turned to look at him. “What?” Emile replied.

Remy shook his head. “Noooothin’.” He replied.

“No, what? You’re keeping secrets from me.” Emile asked.

Remy’s mouth morphed into a smirk as he tried not to laugh. “Nohothing!”

Emile huffed. “Tell. Me. The truth.” Emile ordered, leaning closer and closer to him with narrowed eyes.

Remy looked at Emile with an eyebrow raised and removed the straw from his mouth. “I think my bunny slippers ran for cover.” He told him in the Mushu voice.

“HEY!” Emile pushed him away and pouted, making Remy burst out laughing. “Don’t you mushu me!” Emile warned.

“Down bessie.” Remy said next.

“Okay, that’s it!” Emile grabbed Remy’s latte and placed it onto a nearby table, before tackling him down onto the couch. “Dishonor! Dishonor on your whole family!” He looked at the latte. “Take a note of this.” He pointed both his hands at Remy. “Dishonor on YOU, Dishonor on ya COW!”

Remy just bursted out laughing at him. “YOHOHOHOU BAHARELY HAVE THE ACCENT DOHOHOWN!”

Emile scoffed and shrunk himself down with a pouty face. “It’s a hard accent to interpret.”

Remy just laughed harder at that! “NOHOHO IHIHIT’S NAHAHAT! IHIT’S SOHOHO EHEASY!”

Emile narrowed his eyes at him. How dare!

But quickly, Emile’s anger turned to mischief as a smirk grew on his lips. “Well since you’re already laughing...” Emile shoved his hands under Remy’s black jacket and started drumming his fingers on the guy’s ribs. “You minus well have a proper reason!”

“NOOOHOHOHOHO! NOHOHO TIHIHICKLIHIHIHING!” Remy protested, squirming around and pushing at his chest.

“Well, I think the tickling is justified! It would make me feel much better being laughed at while being tickled, than being laughed at for failing a Mushu accent.” Emile admitted.

“STAHAHAHAP! THIHIHIS IHIHIS UHUHUHUNNECESsSsSAHAHARY!” Remy argued, finally grabbing Emile’s wrists.

“Oh really?” Emile asked, his hands now bound in Remy’s hands.

“Yehehes!” Remy started to calm down.

“If tickles are unnecessary, then THIS-!” Emile spread his arms out to the side and leaned in, blowing a raspberry on his belly. “-must be AbSoLuTeLy PoInTLeSs!” Emile lifted his head up and said.

Remy threw his head back and started laughing and cackling while kicking his feet. “BUHUHUT IT IHIHIHIS!” Remy argued.

“If it’s so pointless, then why are you enjoying it?” Emile asked as he stopped tickling him.

Remy started to slowly calm down, and looked up at Emile. “Oh, now you've done it!” Remy quickly squeezed Emile’s knee to catch him off guard, and went for his hips immediately after.

“OHO NO! REMY! NAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA! OHOKAHAHAY, IHIHI’M SAHAHARRYHYHYHY!” Emile bursted out, bucking his hips and falling backwards onto his butt.

“Woooow! You really can’t handle that much tickling?” Remy asked, still drilling at the sensitive spots.

“IHIHIHI CAHAHAHAN’T!” Emile yelled back.

“Could it possibly be, that you’re not tickled enough to get used to it?” Remy asked curiously.

“IHIHI- OHOHOHOKAHAHAY, MAHAHAYBEHEHEHE...” Emile considered.

“Alright.” Remy stopped tickling and let him breath for a few moments. “Would you rather I took things slow for you?” Remy asked.

Emile bit his lips and nodded. “Mm hmm…Yes please.”

Remy smirked. “I hate to break it to you, but you’re not getting off lightly.” Remy grabbed onto Emile’s leg and started tickling behind the knee. Emile squealed like a toddler and started kicking his other foot. “OHOHO MYHYHYHY GAHAHAHASH! IHIHIT TIHIHICKLEHEHES, REHEHEMHMYHYHY!” Emile laughed.

“It does, huh? I was starting to think it didn’t tickle with how much you were laughing at me.” Remy teased.

“DOHOHON’T YOHOHOU GEHEHET SMAHART WITH MEHEHE, MIHISTER!” Emile warned.

“Or what? You’ll laugh to death? Leave me to clean up your mess? Make me seem like the imposter? Newsflash: I may be sus, but I’m not the imposter.” Remy teased. “Ejection comes at a priiiiice~.” Remy sing-songed.

“YOHOHOU DOHON’T EVEN PLAHAY AMOHONG UHUHUS!” Emile yelled at him.

Remy gasped and placed a hand on his own chest. “Yes I do! Just not with you.” Remy added.

Patton gasped while Emile shook his head in Remy’s arms. “MEHEHEANIHIHIE!” Emile warned.

“Well fine!” Remy stopped tickling and crossed his arms. “Be like that then.”

Emile let out pants of exhaustion to get his oxygen levels back up. “Just...j-just you wait...Ihi’m...g...getting...revenge.” Emile warned as he struggled to lift himself up.

“Yeah yeah, just keep breathing.” Remy pushed his chest back down till his body hit the ground once again. Emile let out a light oof sound as his back made contact with the carpet.

Remy let him breathe for a bit and summoned a brand new iced latte. “Man! I missed this glorious stuff.” Remy admitted as he sucked back a big mouthful.

Emile looked up and frowned. “You have an addiction.” Emile admitted.

“Yeah I do~” Remy replied. “What else am I gonna use to wake me the hell up?”

“How about water?” Emile suggested.

Remy looked at Emile like he had 4 heads. “Nnno.” Remy rolled his eyes and kept on drinking the iced latte.

“You know that thing has over 150 mg of caffeine, right?” Emile added.

“Mhm! Only the best stuff contains caffeine in my book.” Remy admitted. “Besides: since when did you become a nutritionist?” Remy asked.

“Remy...I don’t need to be a nutritionist to tell you that your body’s too dependent on caffeine. You need to try and stop.” Emile told him.

“Back off, okay? Just because you’re a therapist, doesn’t mean you can mother me.” Remy told him.

“I’m not mothering you. I’m telling you as a counsellor to a patient...to find other foods and beverages that don’t have as much caffeine.” Emile told him calmly.

“Last time I checked: there are much worse drugs, steroids and beverages that I could be addicted to. So you need to chill and let me do me.” Remy suggested with some attitude.

“Fine.” Emile crossed his arms. “If you’re gonna be a sassy teenager about it, then I’ll treat you like one.” Emile took Remy’s latte out of his hand, placed it onto the table beside the other almost-finished latte, and tackled Remy onto the ground.

Remy let out an offended grunt. “How dare you take my precious! Get off me, and give it back right now!” Remy argued.

Emile smirked and skittered his fingers on Remy’s ribs once again.

“NO, NOHO! NOHOHOHOHOHO! YOHOHOU BIHIHIHITCH! IHIHIHI’M GOHOHONNA KIHIHIHILL YOHOHOHOHOU!” Remy threatened.

“We’ll see if Remy, the coffee addict of Florida-rama, can handle some tickles for that sassy attitude you gave me earlier.” Emile suggested.

Remy just laughed and wiggled, while shaking his head. “CUHUHUHUT IHIHIHIT OHOHOUHUT EHEHEM!” Remy ordered.

“Awww! Can poor Remy not handle de tickle tickle tickles?” Emile teased. “Would you rather I took things slow for you?” Emile asked, quoting Remy from earlier.

Remy shook his head. “IHIHI’M NAHAHAT AHA BAHAHABY, EHEM.” Remy protested.

Emile widened his eyes, stopped tickling him and summoned a paper. “I know you’re not a baby. You’re very much an adult.” Emile reacted, pointing to the age collumn on Thomas’s birth record. “But even adults need to take things slow sometimes.” Emile told him, unsummoning the birth record.

“Nahahat mehe. Ihihi’m a fahahast pehehersohon. Ihi lihihike the fahahast lahane!” Remy told him.

“Okay.” Emile took off Remy’s slippers and held Remy’s legs inside a headlock. “You asked for it!” Emile immediately started skittering his fingernails all over his feet.

Remy screamed and arched his back while holding his head in utter surprise at the intensity. “OHOHOHO FAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA-” Remy sat himself up and tried to reach Emile. “GEHEHET OHOHOVEHEHER HEHEHERE YOHOHOU AHAHAHASSHOHOHOLE!” Remy yelled at him.

Emile gasped and looked at him in pure offense. “How DARE you use that potty mouth of yours against me!” Emile yelled. “Looks like I’m gonna have to go for these tickle tickle ticklish little arches!” Emile teased as he started scratching rapidly right on the left foot’s arch.

Remy wheezed and flopped back onto the ground, wiggling and tugging everywhere to get free. Finally, he took in a breath and let out all the hysterical laughter that trapped itself a couple seconds prior. “STAHAHAHAHAHAP! STAHAHAPSTAHAPSTAHAHAPSTAHAHAP PLEHEHEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHASE!” Remy begged and pleaded.

Emile, feeling a little bad for the guy, finally decided to give him mercy. He stopped tickling his foot, but didn’t let go quite yet. “Do you give up?” Emile asked.

Remy took a moment or two to breathe heavily and get some oxygen into his lungs. His sunglasses had fallen off just minutes ago, and he was still dealing with a heavy case of after-giggles. But...to Emile’s (and even Remy’s) surprise, the man in the sunglasses shook his head! He was NOT giving up!

“N...No! I...will...n-never giveup!...Never...” Remy shot back.

Emile giggled and pulled back Remy’s toes. “Better have a will saved...Cause you might need it.” Emile smiled and started scratching under Remy’s SUPER sensitive toes.

“OHNO! OHOHOHO-NONONONO WAHAHAHAHAHAIT! OHOHOFF GETOFFME EHEHEHEHEMIHIHIHIHILYYYYYYYYY!” Remy SCREAMED!

“You giving up yet?” Emile asked.

“OHOHOKAHAHAY, OHOHOHOHOKAHAHAY! OHOHOKAHAY IGIVE! IHIHI GIHIHIHIVE!” Remy screamed and thrashed like his life depended on it to survive.

Emile couldn’t help but laugh at Remy’s rather swift surrender. The poor man had no clue just what he was going in for until it was too late. By now, Remy’s entire face and parts of his neck were red from exhaustion and the building body heat.

Emile grabbed Remy some water and handed him the glass. He could predict that his voice and his throat was probably sore and hoarse. Water was only a temporary solution, but it was meant to at least soothe his throat while he panted.

Remy drank all the water in a few quick chugs and let his breath out with hard panting to follow. “*huff*...*huff*...Th...thank...Thanks...thank you...Emile…” Remy said politely despite his breathing issue.

“You’re welcome. Sorry if I overdid it.” Emile apologized.

“It...it’s...alright. I...I for...forgive you.” Remy replied.

Emile smiled and handed him his sunglasses. “You might need these to see in the SuPeR bRiGhT rOoM.” Emile teased.

“Mm...Mmhm...Sobright. So...so bright.” Remy joked along with him.

Emile giggled and booped his snoot. Then, Remy and Emile both looked over at Patton, who was just watching from the couch with a big grin on his face and a bowl of popcorn in his hand.

“Having fun, Patton?” Emile asked.

Patton giggled. “This is more entertaining than Dr. Doofenschmirtz’s childhood.” Patton admitted.

Emile and Remy both burst out laughing at that.

And before they knew it, all three of the boys had started impersonating Dr. Doofenschmirtz’s voice and were quoting his backstories.

Perhaps cartoons really DID bring them together!

[kurowrites]

Hello! If you feel like it, wangxian with 36 would be lovely. :3 Have a great day!

Prompt 36: You throw a snowball at a friend but missand hit them instead.

Wei Ying was out for revenge. His stupid brother had gotten the dropon him last week, and he couldn’t let this injustice stand. He was going toabsolutely drown Jiang Cheng in snowballs this time.

It was probably rather childish that they still got involved intosnowball fights every year during wintertime, but whether he was twelve or thirty,it was fun to make Jiang Cheng eat his words (and snow) every year. He had areputation to maintain, and he was ready to defend it. It was, basically,tradition at this point. So he had prepared a small army of snowballs, and hewas ready to use them on Jiang Cheng with extreme prejudice.

He had planned it all out so perfectly, so meticulously, and thenJiang Cheng had to spoil the entire thing by moving at the worst moment.And that was how Wei Ying ended up throwing a snowball with full force into theface of a perfect stranger.

Everyone froze for one moment, even Jiang Cheng’s eyes widening inshock.

The next moment, Wei Ying ran over to the stranger in a panic.

Shit. It wasn’t just the snow. This attack must have actually hurt; thesnowball had been pressed tightly and he had thrown it with full force.

“I am so sorry!” he exclaimed before he had even reached thestranger. He reached out with his glove to help wipe the snow off the man’sface, and then checked him in a slight panic. The skin had become reddenedalready from both the impact and the cold, and Wei Ying was half fearing thatthe man was going to have a nosebleed.

“Oh my god, I cannot apologise enough,” Wei Ying said, a littlequieter this time, and he cursed himself internally. He had smashed the face ofa really, really handsome man. This was the kind of face they would want toprint in magazines. This man was probably a model or something like that. Justhis luck. He would be getting sued any moment now.

“It is alright,” the stranger said stiffly, wiping the last bits of snowoff his face. “I am sure it was an accident. Be more careful next time.”

“I will, you can believe that!” Wei Ying promised him. Then he hoveredaround the man uselessly, trying to figure out if there was something he could do.He did feel extremely sorry about the whole event, after all. He’d just wanted totake revenge on Jiang Cheng, not assault unknown but good-looking men. “Can I…I don’t know, can I help you?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” the stranger replied, fishing out some snowfrom the collar of his long white coat.

Wei Ying couldn’t be content with that reply, however. He had reallydone a number on this man’s face, and while he would have probably laughed atJiang Cheng’s misery if the same thing had happened to him, he held no grudgesor ill will against this man. He also didn’t look like he was accustomed togetting pelted with snowballs, so he felt additionally terrible about it. Itfelt like bullying a cute pet, somehow. He was the worst.

“Can I maybe offer you some warm beverage from that café over there?”he asked in his desperation. “Maybe it helps you warm up a little. You’re halfdrenched in snow.”

It wasn’t entirely wrong, too. The stranger’s clothes were damp now,his hair a little tousled, and his face still red.

The stranger opened his mouth, no doubt ready to decline the offer,when he suddenly stopped and scrutinised Wei Ying intently, as if to gauge hisintentions.

Wei Ying made his best ‘I have never done a bad thing in my life andI am very sorry’ pitiful face.

It seemed to work. The stranger sighed once, and turned towards thecafé.

“A tea would be agreeable.”

“Yay! Okay! See you later, Jiang Cheng!”

And with that, he jogged after the stranger who was already headingtowards the café with quick steps.

They found vacant seats immediately and sat down at the small roundmetal table decorated with a small bouquet of flowers. The interior of the caféwas rather hipstery, but Wei Ying knew from experience that they made very goodcoffee.  

“So, what’s your poison?” Wei Ying asked. “Choose whatever you want,it’ll be my treat.”

“Just tea is fine, thank you.”

Wei Ying raised an eyebrow. “Here is your chance to take revenge onme and order the most elaborate concoction you can think of, and deplete myalready severely stressed wallet to boot, and you order tea?”

The stranger looked at him with what Wei Ying chose to interpret asa very flat version of offense.

“It is not my intention to exact revenge on anybody.”

“Mmmh, I see you’re a good person, unlike my brother who would havemilked this for all its worth.”

He smiled at the stranger, got up and went to the bar to order: onepot of tea for the handsome stranger, one very black coffee for himself.

As he returned to the table with the beverages balanced on a try, henoticed the stranger was watching his every move with intent. Was he afraid ofany more sudden attacks? Wei Ying had reached his limit for the day, thank youvery much.

“I really am very sorry about that, by the way,” he said again. “Iusually don’t go breaking the noses of handsome men to get their attention.”

“I do hope so,” the stranger said, and then he was silent again,still watching Wei Ying as he placed the tea pot in front of him.

Wei Ying coughed nervously. “My name is Wei Ying, in case you werewondering.”

“Wei Ying,” the stranger said, as if testing out the sound of thatname. Wei Ying had to admit that he kind of liked the way this man said hisname. With intent. “My name is Lan Zhan.”

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying smiled, happy that the man didn’t seem entirelyaverse to conversation. “So, tell me, Lan Zhan, what do you usually do when you’renot busy getting your face battered? Have I ruined your livelihood bydestroying your most important asset?”

“No,” Lan Zhan said. “I am an assistant professor. I could teach evenwith a broken nose.”

“But all the students would cry if their handsome professor gotmauled! Oh god, are they going to hunt me down?”

“Doubtful,” Lan Zhan said, taking a careful sip of his tea. “I donot believe they care.”

“Ah, that’s where you’re entirely mistaken, Professor Lan,” Wei Yingsaid, amused. “The students have to be wild for you. And the rest of theteaching staff as well! You must be very popular.”

“No,” Lan Zhan answered, looking a little doubtful. “I think I am…too stiff for that.”

“Not so,” Wei Ying said confidently. “You’re drinking tea with me,after all. Not stiff at all, see?”

“Hn,” Lan Zhan agreed. “Perhaps the trauma of being assaulted by asnowball made me act irrationally and out of character.”

Wei Ying gaped at Lan Zhan for a moment in utter disbelief.

Then he saw the tiniest uptick in the corner of Lan Zhan’s mouth. Hegasped loudly.

“I can’t– I can’t believe this! Was that a joke at my expense? Ah, what abetrayal! Now I hope you had been a stiff fuddy-duddy! How dare you!”

Lan Zhan took another deliberate sip of his tea.

“Perhaps that will teach you not to use projectile weapons in publicin the future,” he said primly, but there was a glint in his eye that made WeiYing’s heart beat faster despite his words.

“Fine,” he conceded with a dramatic slump in his chair. “I willagree to exercise restraint, if you promise me to shield me from any studentsplanning bloody revenge for disfiguring their favourite teacher.”

Lan Zhan considered that for a moment.

“That can be done.”

And then, to Wei Ying’s utter astonishment, he pulled out a business card and a pen out of his leather bag, andwrote his personal phone number on the card before he handed it to Wei Ying. WeiYing was almost sure he saw the bastard smile.

“For any protective services.”

[racefortheironthrone]

Thoughts on House of X #4

Over the halfway mark!

Look At What They’ve Done Infographic:

Suprisingly for an issue that, in retrospect is the climax of the standard superheroics part of House of X, this issue starts with an infographic, which turns out to be one of the more controversial in HoX/PoX.

Foreshadowing what’s going to come at the end of the issue, the tone is already different from the pseudo-academic objectivity of earlier infographics, although the term “mutant erasure” evokes the activist-inspired, post-cultural turn work of critical race/gender/sexuality studies, which is something of a stepping-stone. 

By contrast, describing Wanda Maximoff as both “the pretender” (does this mean “not-really-a-mutant” or “not-really-Magneto’s-daughter” or both?) and as associated with the Avengers is incredibly politically pointed, which speak to a particular kind of mutant nationalist identity that bears a good deal of grievance towards even benevolent human institutions.

Similarly, the term “human-on-mutant violence��� is way too evocative of real world debates over racism and police violence to be accidental on the author’s point. It’s a depressing thought, but the 616 probably sees a lot of “what about mutant-on-mutant violence?” derailings, maybe as many as creep up in threads about HoX/Pox here...

So let’s get at the controversy: can Bolivar Trask be blamed for the Genoshan genocide? Contrary to a few voices in the fandom, I would argue strongly for the affirmative. As we see from his initial appearance, Trask created the Sentinels entirely out of racial paranoia/hatred; moreover, Sentinels have no purpose other than A. destroying all mutants and B. subjugating the human race along the way. Cassandra Nova’s actions on Genosha absolutely followed the Trask playbook of both father and son, and indeed relied on Larry Trask’s assistance to carry it out, making it a Trask affair from beginning to end. 

On a final meta note, this infographic really speaks to the outsized impact that Morrison’s New X-Men and Bendis’ House of M had on the X-line for the last 15-20 years. 

Observation-Analysis-Invocation-Connection:

But before we get to the punching, we get one burst of Hickman’s fascination with singularities and transhumanism, where for the first time we really get an example of how the Krakoan biological approach is going to work, showing us a surprisingly complicated biomachine:

Trinity (who runs the Secondary/External Systems part of Krakoa) uses her technopathy to gather intelligence from human mechanical systems: the Aracibo Arecibo Observatory in Puerto Rico, “re-tasked SETI radio telescopes," both of which are real things, and the “Dyson solar observatory,” which isn’t. 

Beast (who runs the Overwatch/Data Analysis part of Krakoa) uses Krakoan biocomputers and his own scientific genius to “extrapolate that data into an actionable forecast,” to deal with the delay caused by the immense distances between Krakoa and Sol’s Forge.

Professor X and Cerebro handle the direct Connection between Krakoa and the away team, while the Cuckoos link Trinity, Beast, Storm into a psychic link with Xavier, which means all of the parts of the system work seamlessly even as Storm handles the Invocation of visually representing Jean Grey’s thoughts.

If you step back and think about it, this is an astonishing technological feat: with minimal reliance on machine technology, Krakoa has established a NASA “KASA Mission Control” that can send data across half a solar system almost(?) instantly. 

That’s before we even get to the whole secondary purpose of the system, which is to allow Professor X and the Five to resurrect an up-to-date version of anyone who dies on the mission, which is one hell of a life-rope. 

Thematically, we see a really sharp distinction between biological and mechanical transhumanism/singularity: “KASA Mission Control” is described in biological terms, “function[ing] as a singular organism,” and also in religious terms, with “eight of us acting as one” explicitly labelled as “Communion.” And yet...the eight people involved retain their separate personalities and identities and no separate, artificial intelligence is created. 

Should We Fear the Worst?

 And across five hundred million miles, all Krakoa gets is bad news. Archangel and Husk, the redshirt’s redshirts on this mission, are dead before they do anything; Nightcrawler has some level of “internal injury,” and Wolverine almost had his arm blown off.

Incidentally, page 7 is where something of a problem crops up with Jean Grey’s characterization. As people have noted, Jean Grey starts off in the passive communications role (indeed, she’s even reliant on Monet to do that job) and doesn’t really improve from there. With the added context of her wearing her Silver Age miniskirt costume, it’s all a bit sus, especially if you’ve been reading a much more self-possessed, confident, and all-around more powerful version of Jean Grey in X-Men: Red. For a while, many of us were thinking that Jean is a younger backup, but that seems to have been Jossed by the resurrection ceremony in House of X #5. 

Better characterization abounds for the men: following their conversation from the previous issue, Cyclops and Wolverine have different perspectives about the question of whether to continue on with the mission (another key element of the special ops/espionage thriller genre). Cyclops emphasizes pushing on to make Warren and Paige’s sacrifice meaningful, Logan agrees but rather because of the existential stakes of the mission. There’s an interesting parallel there between Xavier and Magneto and means vs. ends. 

Following the catastrophe, Nightcrawler successfully inserts the struje team, while “Jean and Monet will stay to maintain our connection with Krakoa;”we know know that part was crucial in more than one way, but it is a continuation of some troubling gender dynamics.

Meanwhile, despite being “technically...just an observer” (and doesn’t that ring of all kinds of Cold War proxy wars), Omega Sentinel takes action to prompt Dr. Gregor into retaliation, similarly playing to the nationalistic theme of “if you don’t, he will have died for nothing.” 

Orchis’ retaliation doesn’t go so well, as we see Wolverine carving his way through an AIM securtiy team and Nightcrawler bloodlessly tying up two scientists (note the further emphasis on differing personalities and values; whoever these X-Men might be, they’re not mindless followers) towards popping two of the four constraint collars.

Unfortunately, this is followed up by a couple pages of more Jean Grey being awfully Damselly: yes, she’s holding open the connection, but she’s coded as way more helpless and indecisive than Monet (who gets to go out like a badass defending the shuttle), and the line “I dunno what to say, Marvel Girl. Try harder” really sums it all up. So far, this is reading a lot more like Stan Lee’s Jean Grey (but not Jack Kirby’s) than Chris Claremont’s. 

With the tension ratcheting ever-higher, we see Cyclops succeeding at his mission, while Mystique...doesn’t and then gets promptly blown out an airlock. The “habitat” connection and the odd business with her getting “turned around” despite having the plans for the base in her head like everyone else is highly suspicious (it might suggest the use of a Krakoa flower, but no one’s ever suggested what her motivation would be for doing so), but it’ll have to go on the list of plot threads that weren’t resolved in House of X.

In a development that really ought to be troubling to more people, Dr. Gregor throws away whatever moral compunctions she has about waking up a potentially violently insane A.I because “I don’t let them stop us. No matter what,” a potentially existential downside to Omega’s strategy. 

Do Whatever It Takes:

Having reached the “darkest moment” in the story diagram, Professor X orders his students to “do whatever it takes” to prevent Mother Mold from coming on line. This prompts Cyclops to give the order to Nightcrawler and Wolverine to jump out into unprotected space to sever the last constraint collar. All in all, we’re following the traditional beats of the special ops/espionage genre pretty closely, down to the team leader’s moral anguish moment.

Appropriately, we then get a quiet moment where Kurt and Logan contemplate whether or what will be “waiting for us on the other side.” Even knowing what we know now about the resurrection system, there’s still a good deal of weight to this moment, because in a way this Kurt and this Logan are going to die and whether they’re the same Kurt and Logan who will be reborn is a matter I’ll take up in Powers of X #5 along with the difficult topic of the philosophy of identity. (I’m going to leave aside the question of them having gone to literal Heaven and Hell in the past, because my Doylist position is that those story threads were probably a bad idea and my Watsonian No Prize is that you can’t remember the afterlife once returned to earth.)

Surprisingly, things get only more metaphysically weird when the two teleport outside and Wolverine starts chopping his way through the last arm. Mother Mold wakes up and immdiately starts talking about Greek mythology. Mother Mold’s interpretation of the Titanomachy is a little choppy (as we might expect from an insane A.I): on the one hand, if humanity are the Olympian gods as the creator of the Sentinels and the mutants are the Titans because of “their spoiled lineage” (this doesn’t quite work, because the Titans preceded the Olympians), then the Sentinels being “Man” makes sense. And as someone who’s written his share of college papers about omniscience/predestination/free will in Greek myth and drama, there’s a plausible anti-theist position whereby human beings might “judge and find you both wanting.” (Although that language is too Book of Daniel for the Greeks.) On the other hand, if the Sentinels are man, them having “stolen your fire” doesn’t work either - humanity was given fire by the Titan Prometheus - unless the argument is that Wolverine is Prometheus because he yeets Mother Mold into the sun?

Regardless, it’s a very ominous note for Mother Mold to go out on, because the consistent anti-human/Olympian tone suggests this insane A.I might hate humans way more than it hates mutants. 

With the day seemingly saved, we transition into the Rogue One scenario where Cyclops is murdered by a vengeful Dr. Gregor and Jean is torn apart by Sentinel drones. 

As gruesome as all of this is, I think it does play a very important role in explaining a good deal of Charles Xavier’s change of mind with regard to human-mutant harmony and assimilation. While this incident didn’t prompt any of the decisions that he’s made along the way - this mission is happening post-Xavier’s announcement and a day before the U.N vote, making it quite late in the X^1 timeline - I think it does a good job of showing us the kind of thought patterns that have led Xavier to this conclusion. In addition to everything he’s seen from Moira’s past nine lives, which only lend a greater sense of urgency and the fear of inevitability, Xavier himself has experienced the deaths of “our children” over and over again as the founder of the X-Men, and clearly both the direct trauma (keep in mind, he’s hooked into the minds of all of his X-Men as they die) and the pain he feels at humanity’s apathy/atrocity fatigue, goes a long way to explaining why he’ll make the decision that integration and assimilation are no longer viable options.

For all the crap that people sometime sling at Hickman over his use of charts, I will say that the way that “NO MORE” weaponizes them by extra-textually demonstrating the breakdown of the facade of calm objectivity is incredibly effective.

[overdrivels]

Uh...I’ll just put down what I already have of the prompts. I wrote a bunch of them during the stream and now I’m real sleepy. (we also gave our mother the card for the bank account. she says she’ll save it for us. NO, MOTHER. THAT’S NOT THE POINT. SPEND IT ON YOURSELF GODDAMNIT.)

“Pull over. Let me drive for awhile.”

“I’m fine,” Fareeha says stubbornly, despite having driven a marathon eleven hours through the United States to pick up Jesse. Even with all the advances in technology, speed limits still have to be obeyed and no matter how much Fareeha wants to, she is still a woman of the law.

“‘reeha.”

“I’m fine.”

You pull out your communicator. Fine, two people can be stubborn. “I’m calling your mother.”

“Don’t involve her in this!”

You glare at her, waving the communicator threateningly. She returns the look from the corner of her eye, frowning. “Don’t you dare.”

“Make me.” Your thumb hovers menacingly over the ‘call’ button. The communicator nearly flies out of your hands when Fareeha groans out loud and makes a sharp swerve onto the shoulder of the road.

“Fine!” she shouts as she unbuckles herself and steps out and around the car, grumbling. “Fine, fine. Have it your way. Dirty cheater.”

You buckle yourself in and start to drive as Fareeha continues her mini-grumbling session. Not even ten minutes later, that gives way to silence, and then snoring. You scoff. You told her she was tired.

“I’ll walk you home.”

You laugh. “My ‘home’ is like...three doors down.”

“Don’t mean that something can’t happen,” McCree reasons earnestly. “Come on, lemme finish the night right.”

A disbelieving snort escapes you and you bump your shoulder against him. “You make it sound like our supply run was a date.”

“Wasn’t it?” he asks you slyly, a twinkle in his eye as he raises his hat to regard you with a look that could be interpreted as inviting.

“Hahah--wait, what.”

He winks at you, smile growing as the implications plant themselves your mind, and leaves you to think on what he just said, walking ahead of you.

“Wait! Was this a date? Jesse? JESSE MCCREE!”

“I dreamt about you last night.”

“Oh?” Genji waggles his eyebrows. “Was it a good dream?”

You roll your eyes and shove him lightly. “Not like that.”

“Oh, that hurts,” he moans dramatically. You shove him again, this time with a little more force. “What was the dream about?” It must be something significant if you are bringing it up.

You cross your arms and sink back into the couch, lips purse thoughtfully. “I don’t remember a lot of it. Just that you were there. Flying. Maybe speaking Japanese. And maybe my dream had subtitles.”

Genji almost chokes on his next breath. “Sub--subtitles?”

“Bright yellow ones.”

You smile to yourself, and Genji feels like it was a smile meant to be private. “But you...were cool. You, ah, you saved me. From falling into something that...haha, I’ve been running away from for a long time…”

He falls silent, regarding you carefully before pressing his shoulder against you.

Quietly, he says, “I’m glad I could save you then.”

“Can I have this dance?”

“We’re undercover, Jesse.”

“All the more reason t’ dance.” He raises his offering hand just a little higher. “Can I?”

Your eyes sweep across the room, noting that other people seem to be doing the same. Reluctantly, you place your hand in his in silent agreement, barely putting any weight into it, but still, Jesse takes it as an invitation all the same, grasping it tight and dragging you into him and onto the dance floor.

Hushed, you whisper, “I don’t really know how to dance.”

“S’okay, just follow my lead.”

You try to contain the way your body jumps as his hands assume their positions. He chuckles in your ear and you can’t hide the way your whole body seems to burn. This was going to be a long night, you think as Jesse begins to sway you both to the rhythm of the music.

(Though, you’re very, very sure to give a grinning Hana the finger behind Jesse’s back when she raises her phone to take a picture.)

“Watch your step.”

“I’m old, not blin—” Soldier: 76 nearly trips on the same step that you had purposefully warned him of, a small hidden little thing that honestly should have never been there in the first place. He rights himself quickly, stepping carefully as you had instructed.

He catches sight of the shaking in your shoulders.

“Not a word,” he growls, the beginnings of embarrassment burning a hole through his chest.

You shrug, biting the inside of your lip to keep from laughing. “Secret’s safe with me, Solly.”

“Better be.”

Though, he really should’ve known better than to take you at your word when some miscreant gifts him a walking stick. Though, everyone was running for their lives when they realized that he had training with polearms before (courtesy of Reinhardt).

>>“Can I hold your hand?”

Zenyatta tilts his head. “Certainly.”

He holds out his hand and you grasp at it blindly, far too tight to just be casual. The pressure you exert is great, and if his sensors were correct, it is likely fear. He runs through his memory--what could make you so fearful? You were fine before the base lost power, enjoying a conversation with him about Nepal. Ah, perhaps it's the darkness then. That is a common fear.

“Experience tranquility.”

The darkness scatters as Zenyatta lights up the area, glowing in that ethereal way that makes all enemies pause and consider their mortality for a split second. You blink rapidly as your eyes adjust before you slowly lift your face toward him--if he had a word to describe it, it was almost reverent.  

“You’re wasting your ability for me…?” you ask breathlessly.

“It is not a waste, not for you.”

“Can I kiss you?”

Jesse won’t, not even under the threat of death, ever admit the way his heart jumped when you jolt to give him a double-take, or the way it begins to hammer as he watched you slowly replay the painfully short question in your mind. He keeps his (hopefully) languid grin on his face, waiting with a patience that he didn’t have.

Would you take it as a joke? Would you understand his sincerity? Would you forgive him if he says it was just him teasing?

Slowly, so painfully slowly, he watched your face shift from contemplative to acknowledgement and then to the bright, sly smile that split with the words, “Do you even have to ask?”, to utter delight when he sweeps you up into his arms for that kiss he agonized over since the first damn time he met you.

“There is enough room for both of us.”

“Are, are you, uh--are you su-sure? I’m not, uhm, not…” You gesture up and down at yourself, looking meaningfully at the seat beside Genji.

He pats the area beside him and, oh, how his hand seems to take up that area so easily, so carelessly. He’s pleading, you can tell, even with the green light and the mask, you’re sure you can feel those puppy eyes on you. (Either that or you’re just weak against Genji’s whims, your own self-image and crippling anxiety be damned.)

Like a spell’s been cast, your legs move, just at the knee at first--it bends toward him, but that’s the beginning of the first step that brings your legs to him, that make you twirl around, and tentatively, hesitantly sit.  

It’s a bit of a tight fit, but Genji does not seem to be crushed or even make himself more scarce. If anything, he only adjusts his seating so he sits a little more comfortably.

“See? More than enough room.”

You only laugh breathily, face aflame.

“Wow.”

The dragons are even more impressive up close; the screens could never truly capture the overwhelming pressure of two roaring dragons pressing down on your being, demanding that you bow to their might, nor could any audio recording ever capture the piercing roar that not only shakes your eardrums, but grabs you by the core and rattles it like a toy.

Hanzo’s back remains to you, the fierce lines in his back muscles bunched up so prominently as he stands tall, overseeing the destructions his dragons unleash upon your opponents below, tearing them asunder.

It’s only when everything quiets and the blue light of the dragons disappear that Hanzo finally turns around, and you capture his expression--one of fear, surprise, and relief all at once--and in a flash, he’s kneeling by your side, hand gripping the sides of your face tightly, his expression pinched so hard, you think it’ll stay that way.

“Fool,” he chokes out after several failed attempts to say anything else. “Fool!”

Your eyes crinkle, face held too tight to smile. “S’okay, Hanzo. ‘m okay.”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.”

A clawed hand comes up and grabs you by the wrist, a growl accompanying the motion.

“Don’t,” is all Reaper says as he slowly rises over you, the word so heavy, it sinks right through any lighthearted remarks you may have had at the ready. You struggle to keep your gaze steady on Reaper’s impassive face--even with the mask on, there is an intensity in the air that steals your breath away and presses down, down on you.

The two of you remain like that--his hand holding your wrist like it would tether you to his word, his presence and gaze smothering you--for a while before he slowly backs off, the tips of his claws scratching your skin lightly. It felt like a warning.

“Got it?”

“...got it.”

“It’s two sugars, right?”

Soldier: 76 starts. How did…?

You look at him expectantly, his mug of coffee in your hand and your own in the other. He stares at that cup--his cup, a joke mug gotten for him by Tracer, the rascal, that read “World’s Okayest Dad”--that looks so foreign yet comfortable there in your grip.

Embarrassingly enough, it conjures forth a longing for a domesticity that he’s long thought he abandoned, stripped himself of, and stomped dead and left with the man who once called himself ‘Strike Commander Morrison’ or even the man who called himself ‘Jack Morrison’.

“76?” you called again, “two sugars?”

“Yeah. Two sugars.”

He watch as you turn away to fix his drink as he liked it, and sighs slow and heavy, hoping that with this escaping breath goes the last of his foolish dream.

“You can tell me anything.”

Genji’s mind froze and his breath stilled, not that you could know.

How could he ever tell you how much he wants to show you his face and not have you flinch away? How could he tell you how much he wants to lay his hand upon your cheek and make you turn his way and look at him? How could he tell you that he wants to lay his head against yours, to feel you against him when he sleeps and when he wakes, to feel like he is once again a man and not the monster that some people make him out to be? How could he tell you that he fears for your safety more than his own? That your well-being is held in much higher esteem than his own? That he dreams of you and him.

You and him.

Genji only replied, “Sure. Know that you can do the same.”

You only smile brilliantly at his less than brilliant attempt to deflect, and he so desperately wants to take those words back, to spill out his heart and guts and everything else just so you can smile at him and only for him.

But he only chuckles in response.

[smokeybrand]

Smokey brand Movie Reviews: Well, Sh*t, Diana

I’m not a fan of the DCEU. I think they make capeflicks the wrong way. Sure, i absolutely understand there is artistic merit in he creation process and i do love a different interpretation of a character but there are certain elements that absolutely have to hit in order to make your version of the character, true to the core character. Spider-Man is a geek, Iron Man is an arrogant asshole with a heart of gold, and cap is a roided out boy scout. Unless the character has some nebulous history, like Donna Troy or Captain Marvel, the blue print for creating the characters is right there. Someone needs to be in charge to make sure you follow the plan. someone needs to be the one to reel you in when you stray too far from what’s been established before you go from Batman to Rorschach I know it sounds like i don’t like DC but that’s not true. I love them. Not as much as Marvel but i still dig their stories. Mostly. Hell, The Dark Knight is one of my all-time favorite films. I’m not saying they need to be as good as that but at least give me recognizable version of the characters, especially when there are excellent adaptions like this out there for comparison. Just because you CALL your movie a Superman movie, doesn’t mean it IS a Superman movie, ya dig? With that in mind, here’s hat i thought of Wonder Woman 1984.

The Good

Gal Gadot as Wonder Woman hits it out of the ark. This is the best I've ever seen her act in her short career. Look, i know she’s been doing it for a while now, but it's be honest; Wonder Woman is literally the strongest role she’s had to date. The emotional complexity of Diana Prince is easily the most nuanced character Gadot has ever played to this point and it took a while for her to really nail that as a reality. WW84 really demonstrates how Gadot has finally found a happy medium between her acting ability and the strengths of the character. I was a little sus when she was cast originally but immediately got on board when it turned out that she as the best thing about BvS. Since then, shes continued to grow with the character and seeing the ultimate version of her interpretation was a joy to watch.

Chris Pine as Steve Trevor was Chris Pine. Look, he’s great at his job. Dude knows his range and he stays in that lane perfectly. This makes his characters kind of same-t, you’d be hard-pressed to tell me the difference between Trevor and his version of Kirk, but I'm not mad either way. It’s always a delight seeing he show up to steal a few scenes then disappearing before overstaying his welcome.

I legitimately love the chemistry between Gadot and Pine. They are great together onscreen and it really lends a bit of authenticity to their relationship in the film. The way Trevor returns is wonky as f*ck and I'll get into that in a minute, but it was good to see him up there with Diana, for sure.

Pedro Pascal as this version of Maxwell Lord was pretty okay. I generally enjoy Pascal’s work, specifically on The Mandalorian and GoT, and he executes here to that inspired degree. He does an able job being a different kind of foil to Diana’s different kind of hero and it all works. Even if this version of the character does not.

Kristen Wiig’s Barbara Minerva was delightful. Look, i love Wiig, man. She’s great in everything she’s in. There is a charisma to her that only the very best SNL alumni can claim to have and it makes it really difficult not to root for Wiig in her projects. I mean, i paid money to see her version of Ghostbusters! Legit disappointed with that nonsense but i went because i like Wiig and she was the star. I was not disappointed in her performance as Minerva. No, she was exceptional as that character. I was, however, put off by her version of Cheetah but I'll get to that, too...

This movie is gorgeous. I’m an Eighties baby so seeing that whole aesthetic is always fun. Takes me back to when i was young. Part of the reason i love Stranger Things is because of that nostalgia. WW84 doesn’t execute as thoroughly as that show in their Reagan era retro run, but it’s serviceable. Big hair, big shoulders, big colors; It’s all there and it’s fantastic.

The effects are a little hit or miss but, overall, they’re okay. Certain aspects of this film’s super abilities, that fantastical sh*t which makes this a capeflick, could have been visualized better but i get why they weren’t. Most of my gripes with this type of stuff are nitpicks and you get over them pretty quickly. Most, not all.

Patty Jenkins is getting more and more comfortable behind the camera in films like this. The action in WW84 is much more detailed, much better shot, than in it’s predecessor. Free from Snyder’s grimdark influence, we have a relatively bright, relatively light, take on Wondy akin to the old camp from the Seventies show and i kind of dig it. It’ a choice and i commend Jenkins for making it.

The score is great. I mean, it’s Hans Zimmer, man. When does he ever drop the ball on sh*t like this? His score is actually incredibly important to this flick. There’s not a lot of action in it, thing is almost a character study or morality parable dressed up as a capeflick, so you need that extra impact to get you over the expository hump. Simmer delivers this with a delicate and powerful companion soundtrack. One could make the argument that this score is the best thing about Wonder Woman 84. I’m not, but one could.

The Monkey's Paw effect was executed pretty well in this flick. I was surprised by the level of escalation and how it all kind of made sense. I'd say that the writing was great because of that but it really isn't, just this one aspect.

That Lynda Carter cameo, tho.

The Bad

I hate this plot so much, man. The overall narrative is goddamn convoluted and a little inept. The primary conflict seems incredibly forced and the absolute hurdles this thing had to do in order to shoehorn Trevor back into the story is f*cking disappointing. It’s effectively Heaven Can Wait with Amazons, magic wishes, furry nudity, and Eighties excess. This sounds like a dope ass anime but it’s not. It’s a wonky, uneven, adequate time spent with contrived nonsense.

This is easily some of the weakest dialogue I've ever heard in my life. I cannot stress enough that I absolutely understand this is a capeflick so I'm not expecting Shakespeare but at least give me something better than this.

I hate this version of Maxwell Lord. Look, in the book, this dude was evil Batman. He bested the entire Justice league, every last one of them, with his sheer brilliance and terrifying capability. He achieved absolute victory over DC’s heroes prompting Diana to literally break his neck to rob him of his triumph. It’s wild to see. She actually thinks about it. Wonder Woman pauses, contemplates her options, and them murders Lord in cold blood, in front of Superman, and just walks away from dude’s corpse! It was brutal and understand. Maxwell Lord was a f*cking problem and he was only going to get worse. WW84′s version is not a problem and could have been much, much, better.

Full-blown Cheetah is gross looking. The effects for her wholly CG body are f*cking terrible, man. Obviously, they frame this “fight” at night to hide all of that but it’s still really, really, bad. I understand that there’s a budget that you have to hit but, f*ck, you couldn’t give me Rebirth version of Cheetah with two hundred million dollars? Word? I shouldn’t be surprised about this, all of the DCEU CG villains look like sh*t, but how hard is it to execute Cheetah properly? The Mortal Kombat guys did it for a game but you can’t do it for a movie? Really?

This feels like a throwback capeflick and i have a real issue with that. Of course, i like the old versions of superhero movies. Donner’s Superman and Burton’s Batman will always mean a great deal to me but we are beyond that now. We have a better understanding of how to do this now. It’s a legitimate film genre with prestige pieces and everything. Why the f*ck are we looking back instead of forward with this movie? I imagine the cartoonish nature of this movie was a conscious choice by Jenkins but it definitely feels like a miscalculation on her part.

There are a great many plot holes and loose threads left unexplored. Why didn't Barbara lose her powers when Maxwell lost his? That convoy really didn't see them f*cking kids in the road? How and why did she go full Cheetah for that matter? Why does Steve look like himself to Diana when he doesn't even look like himself to himself? How the f*ck did Barbara just walk into the whole ass White House like that? While on the the subject of Barbara, what the f*ck was the cost of her wish? Was the the Cheetah thing? None of that was very clear. Will Stagg get out of prison for the tax fraud thing in the beginning? I get that I shouldn't b e analyzing this movie to the extent that I am but it's so loose with its own internal logic, I can't help it.

Two and a half hours is a real big ask, man. This flick did not need this run time. You could easily trim thirty to forty minutes off this thing and still have a really compelling watch. As it is, there's too much time for the pacing to get dumb and, boy, does it get dumb.

The Verdict

Wonder Woman 1984 isn’t a Wondy flick. It’s a generic superhero vehicle that happens to have Diana slotted in the pole position. You could have put any character and their main love interest in these roles and it would have worked out fine with little to no tweaking. This sequel feels uninspired in a lot of ways. It’s completely devoid of the emotional weight that first run carried. I can’t say it’s terrible, though, because i know what else is in the catalog to this point. WW84 is still one of the best in the DCEU and that says way more about the franchise than it does this flick. It’s not all bad, however. I did enjoy Gadot as Wondy. She’s come a long way and you can see just how comfortable she is as Diana. Chris Pine is going to Chris Pine. His Steve Trevor is, once again, the best thing about this movie. Rather, his and Gadot’s chemistry is the best thing about this movie. The newcomers are pretty okay as well.

I always enjoy Pedro Pascal and this version of Maxwell Lord ain’t terrible but it is way too different from the core character for me to really get on board Just write a different character, you know? Nothing on the page about this version of Lord, come anywhere near the violent mastermind from the books and i think that’s a very real missed opportunity. I was a little sus of the Kristen Wiig casting for Barbara Minerva but she pulled it off. I really enjoyed her as Cheetah literally until she actually be Cheetah. i was curious why the marketing refused to show her in full-blown Cheetara mode and, when i saw it, i understood. They should have let those effects cook a little longer. That’s the theme of this entire flick, though, wen i think about it; Sh*t should have cooked a little longer.

WW84 is a decent watch, if a little long in the tooth. It;s mad campy, saccharine sweet at points, and is definitely a capeflick envisioned through the eyes of a woman. It’s not bad, mind you, it’s just not that good, either. Everything seems almost but not quite. The villains are almost compelling but not quite. Diana’s entire arc in this seems almost cathartic but not quite. The necessity of Steve Trevor seems justified but not quite. This thing just misses the mark and yet, somehow, it’s still one of the best in the DCEU catalog. hat sh*t just boggles my mind, man. If you know your Amazonian lore like i do, this film can be frustrating at time. If you’re a fan of the DCEU, you’ll probably enjoy this flick. If you’re a fan of this version of the Wondy myths, then 84 is definitely for you. There is enough other stuff here to entertain and distract so it’s an okay time overall. The first one is still the best out of the lot, though.

[matskreider-blog]

for the prompts: 1 or 8 for brad/pat :)

you have got to know that when you say “or” i always interpret that as “do both, you gotta do both” and these turned out…..very long……so here you go

1. “I’m not leaving you.” normal verse.

“I swear to fucking god I’ve never gotten hit this much in my entire life. The season’s not even over! What the – ow.”

“Stop squirming,” Patrice mumbles, putting the new bag of ice on Brad’s ribs. “You’re right though. It is weird.”

“Oh really, ya think so?” Brad asks. Pat levels him with a flat look. It’s not quite a glare, but approaching one, and Brad huffs and looks back at the TV. “It’s bullshit.”

Pat just hums in agreement as he swaps out the soaked towel for a new one, in some half assed attempt to save the couch from water damage. He collects the dirty mugs and bowls from the coffee table and walks into the kitchen, dumping them into the sink. He can hear Brad trying and failing to not shift on the couch, but with the IcyHot on his shoulders and the additional bags of ice on his hips, he probably felt stuck. He grabs him and Brad some water before going back into the living room, sliding the bottle into Brad’s outstretched hand. “Save some energy for tomorrow.”

“I don’t even know if I’m going to go at this point. Might ask to be a healthy scratch and see what happens when the Ducks have to play a game with actual skill. There’ll be just as many fucking fights and it won’t be my fault because I won’t even be there. Yet, somehow I’ll still be blamed. Quack quack you feathered pieces of shit.”

This time, Pat is the one who sighs. Brad doesn’t mean it, he never does. Being a healthy scratch is one of the worst types of punishment for someone who just needs to keep going as much as Brad does. He’d never ask for such a thing, and Pat knows he won’t this time either. But this type of meanness comes from a deeper place of hurt – a place Pat’s not sure Brad will let him see.

There’s a moment of silence, a Honda commercial providing background noise, before Brad looks over at Patrice. Well, he turns to face him, but his gaze remains downcast. “…Sorry. About that.” He doesn’t say much else, but Pat knows how to read between the lines.

“Apology accepted.” It wasn’t warranted, but saying “it’s okay” after Brad apologizes doesn’t sit well with the winger, it never had. It was a habit Patrice had to learn to break when he first met Brad, and still sometimes messes up on occasionally.

“Don’t even know why you bother, honestly,” Brad mumbles, taking a sip of his water. At that, Patrice gets up and goes over to Brad, kneeling by the couch arm.

“Brad. Look at me,” he gently implores, resting his hand on Brad’s chest, the only uninjured part of his torso. “Everyone gets pissy when they’re hurting. Especially when it’s not their fault, okay? I know you’re…I’m not going to hold it against you. I’m not going to leave you. Got it?”

Brad looks at him with furrowed brows. He says nothing, and Patrice just looks at him with an open expression. He was going to say something further, but the elder of the two kisses him before he can start down the self-deprecation path again. Brad doesn’t say anything further, but he doesn’t have to. The simple way he relaxes into the kiss says enough.

8. “I can’t stand the way they’re looking at you.” college au, trans!brad.

Coming out happens less with a bang, less with a whimper, but more with a couple keystrokes and the enter button. For the first couple of days, he’s fine. Classes go on as normal. The people who didn’t talk to him before, don’t suddenly start talking to him. Acquaintances don’t really make an effort, and a couple stop talking to him completely, which, whatever. They were acquaintances for a reason.

If he remains pretty vacant on social media for the first couple of weeks, it’s just because he’s waiting for the fallout. And it comes, in the shape of his friends list dropping by a good 50 people, and being removed from some group chats. It’s better than he was expecting though – at least there’s no slurs carved into his door this time.

It’s after fall break that everything gets fucked. Through some school drama, Brad’s poetry professor quits and the section is dissolved, leaving him without his needed fifth class. He panics, and genuinely is kinda pissed off – he really liked Professor Lucic – but he somehow winds up stuck in an Econ class.

The first day is fine, he arrives a few minutes early so he can get the necessary paperwork signed. His professor seems nice, and Arielle is a pretty name, and she assures him that they’ll find a way for him to make up the work from the first couple of weeks of class. He takes a seat along the windows, and waits.

It seems like every white guy on campus just lives in the Econ department, as evidenced by the class demographic. He says nothing, a tall order for him, just listening to how the class operates. It doesn’t escape his notice that he’s left with empty seats around him, and as Arielle calls on people to answer questions and contribute, he recalls a couple names that had disappeared from his feed after he’d had to block them for harassment.

Thirteen minutes into the class, and he’s already considering switching out, but the door opens revealing possibly the best and worst plot twist ever.

“Sorry I’m late, Professor,” Patrice breathes as he closes the door behind him. “Office hours ran late.”

“Who has office hours in the middle of the day?” she asks, taking the offered note and sticking it to her podium.

“Bio professors are weird, what can I say?” he counters, before he takes a seat next to Brad. Not in front of him or behind him, where he could have avoided talking to him. But directly to Brad’s right. He gives him a sunny smile as he sits down, and Brad wants nothing more than to melt into the floor.

The same guy that Brad had been crushing on for the better part of two years was now sitting next to him, with the same humbly perfect everything that makes Brad want to tear his hair out. The guy that was alternate captain of the men’s hockey team, who also made insightful comments and actually did the readings in Brad’s Feminist Literary Theory course he’d taken as a freshman (which, that was a lot.) The guy whose name, by virtue of starting with a B, had always been at the top of the allies list since Brad had come to college. Brad hadn’t said more than two words to the guy since that year, and now Patrice was a senior and he was a junior, and time was running out.

At least it was just one semester, right? And him sitting there was just a fluke, because he was so late. It was obvious that his normal spot had been left open, wedged between two guys who looked like their names should have been Chad and Chuck, respectively. But instead, he’d gone for Brad.

And he keeps doing it, despite the obvious distasteful looks he gets from his classmates. He does it for weeks on end, never initiating conversation, but also pleasantly returning conversation whenever Brad tries.

It’s their last class before the American Thanksgiving break, and Brad can’t help it. He scribbles, why do u keep being nice 2 me? on a piece of paper, and slides it over to Patrice. His answer comes back relatively quickly.

Would you like for me to stop? From anyone else it would come across as flippant, but it just reads as polite earnestness coming from Patrice. Brad muffles his laugh, and writes back, b/c no1 else is. mad sus bro

He watches out of the corner of his eye as Patrice pinches the bridge of his nose, but he can’t stop the smile. This answer takes a fair bit longer, and when he gets it, he feels his smile sliding off his face.

Because you’re funny and I like humor. And I’m only taking this class because my dad asked me to, not much else. Apparently I have a math brain. Also…I hate can’t stand how they’re looking at you. Just letting them know that you’re not alone is enough to get them off your back, in most cases.

Brad doesn’t respond, but after class, they linger just long enough that they have the classroom to themselves at the end. “Think they’re gonna jump the queer?” Brad mumbles as he jams his notebook into his backpack.

“If they did, they’d have to jump us both,” Patrice answers with what Brad can tell is forced nonchalance. Brad freezes, just looking at Patrice as the latter continues to pack up. “And I like to think the boys would have something to say about that, on both accounts.”

“….oh.”

“Yep.”

Patrice finally looks up, and Brad finds himself laughing, whether he meant to or not. “I…wow, okay. That puts things in perspective.”

Patrice rolls his eyes, zipping his bag up. “Come on, I want some coffee. You going anywhere for break?” By the time they have their coffees, Brad has plans to crash at Patrice’s apartment for the break, since dorms are no place to be living when you have another option handy. Brad catches himself looking at Patrice more than he had previously allowed himself, but that’s okay.

Patrice is looking back.

[itshistoryyall]

Part Two: Well, We’re Here Now

Hulton Archive/Getty Images

Here, we have to start with what we can recognize as a proverbial snowball rolling down a hill. Essentially, we have the Catholic church establishing a precedent for getting rid of people who were problematic for them by placing some trumped up charges on them, executing them in a way that makes an example for others whilst simultaneously encapsulating the attention of the commoners, and then carrying on as if they had every justification for making a scene like your mom at a restaurant when they bring out the food and it’s cooler than expected. You can only imagine the out of control spiral into unadulterated chaos that followed, and that, my friends, is known to history as the European Witch Trials (ßthe snowball that is now much larger than when it began rolling at the top of that hill). A few quick notes before we power through this—at this time we can see a multitude of “assassination conspiracies” popping up against one king or another, against the Pope, or against high ranking church officials/the nobility. A bishop is executed for heresy and attempted assassination of Pope John XXII via sorcery, others were arrested with similar charges attached to the very public executions, and ultimately you start to see sorcery, idolatry, and heresy all becoming somewhat synonymous. A few decades later, as we near the central part of the 1300’s, we see the Black Death beginning to rear its ugly head and as fears, tensions, and misinformation mount, people start seeing conspiracies everywhere they look. In 1340 when people start getting grossly sick and some inquisitions start popping up. Spearheaded by the Church, the united heresy combat forces (henceforth known as UHCF—I just came up with that it’s not, like, a term historians use) went out and, as Jesus commanded,

“Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, 20 and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you…” Matthew 28:19-20 (King James Version).

 You know what that means (*insert eyebrow waggle here*), of course, they set out to rid the world of anything deemed “heresy” by the Church and that, most certainly, was up for personal interpretation. The reason we hear about these inquisitions getting such a bad rap is because people were genuinely afraid that any action they took might be mistaken for heresy, and without a clear definition of what that entailed they were most certainly right to be afraid. It’s important to highlight a bit of “Inquisition Era” timeline here—in and around 1100 the Catholic Church had, by its own definitions, all but eliminated heresy (whatever that actually means, we may never know), and they did so predominately without harm to those who stood accused. This “era of peace,” we’ll call it, ended around the 12th century when we start to see a spread of some opposing Christian ideas that were not specifically Catholic, and that couldn’t be tolerated. To nip that in the bud, we had some inquisitions come around checking things out. This process usually included, but was not limited to questioning, interrogation, arrest, imprisonment, and torture.

As a general rule, torture was, at least, publicly frowned on in Europe while other countries typically had a death sentence for heretics. As previously mentioned, in the 12th century that all changed when a tiny little papal bull, similar to a public decree, was issued by the not-at-all ironically christened Pope Innocent IV (I, quite frankly, can NOT believe that there were three others prior to this pope who were also called “Innocent” it’s just so god damn pretentious that it physically makes my skin crawl…I digress). The bull allowed torture in 1252, and by 1256 inquisitors who used this form of extracting information were promised absolution by the Church. So, to recap, we have this widespread knowledge of public executions of some of the most prominent figures in the medieval world (like that one guy in charge of the Knights Templar that predicted the deaths of a king and a pope in a non-awkward way that had no bearing on whether or not people believed in the supernatural, I’m sure), the establishment of an anti-heretic police force with little to no oversight and the ability to torture folks at will, and panicked people afraid that if the plague didn’t take them the inquisitors surely would.

To make matters worse, a new papal bull (pesky, those public decrees, I’ll tell ya..) issued around 1450 verified that witchcraft, heresy and a religious group called the Cathars were one in the same which gave them license to prosecute them as heretics or witches without just cause. Without going into too much detail about this, it’s important for you to know that the Cathars called themselves, “the good Christians,” and celebrated a twin deities that represented the God portrayed in the Old Testament, and the other represented the God of Judaism who was a bit synonymous with Satan, or either fathered, seduced, or created Satan (it’s a bit confusing, but that’s what happens when intolerant Christians try and convert believers of other religions to Christianity by way of removing what they originally believed and then replacing it with a more favorable and sort of similar Christian Approved™ bible story—i.e. pagan Ireland, Scotland, or literally any pagan religion in history). You should also know, Cathars essentially saw gender as meaningless and believed in the idea of reincarnation between genders which rendered normal gender roles and other “gender exclusive ideas” as basically useless to them. You can draw your own conclusions about why a male-dominated medieval world run by a religion known for its historical mistreatment of women, wouldn’t have received this idea well.

To reign this all in a bit, we’ve only moved a few centuries away from the establishment of Thomas Aquinas’ rules when we hit a milestone in the 15th century. Occasionally, the Church holds councils to decide on, debate, or discuss church matters, and one such event took place from 1431-1437 called the Council of Basel. Some historians suggest that while a bunch of old men were sitting together talking about stuff for six years that they may have gossiped amongst themselves (as silly men are want to do), and that this may explain the correlating witch trials that coincided with these same dates. It is only about 300 miles from where the council was held and the location of the first trial so you can see how this conclusion is easily drawn. AND NOW WITHOUT FURTHER ADO, it’s time to talk about our first round of witch trials.

The Valais witch trials named so because of its location in Valais in one of the oldest ecclesiastical territories that lies in the southern part of the country separating the Pennine Alps and the Bernese Alps. This region was French and German speaking and that’s important because the German word for witch is hexen, which is where we get the idea of a witch’s hex today, and although we can see an occasional and sporadic burning of witches throughout the 15th century, this marked the first time we see a large-scale systematic persecution for peoples accused of witchcraft/sorcery. It’s also important to point out the lack of accounts that we have during this time period, in part this is due to a general hatred for inquisitors who were in charge of keeping records, and later when the accusations included less heresy and more witchcraft we often see occasions of inquisitors being attacked and records being sabotaged or altogether destroyed. Don’t get me wrong, I can’t blame them, but it makes this part of history a bit more difficult to sus out, and a lot left up to really good detective work or wherever your imagination can take you (this is basically my favorite part). So, that was a long-winded way of saying, a lot of this next part is gonna be me doing my best to make this make sense, and to draw concise and enlightening conclusions that you can read and hopefully learn from (I know I am!).

So, what do we know here? We know that the main record of these trials comes from a guy named Johannes Fründ of Lucerne who was a Swiss clerk of the court, and his account is thought to be the, I won’t say accurate, but more likely only usable document to have an account of these events, though, severely lacking as they were written in the middle of the trials and with only 17 years before they ended. The trials began in the southern French-speaking part of Valais and then spread to the northern German-speaking part where we see a following expansion into the French and Swiss Alps, Savoy, and further into the valleys of Switzerland. It took place a solid fifty years before the witch trials started in Europe, and while the total number of victims is still unknown to us, the estimated death toll is an estimated 400 total men and women. When these accusations began to take place, the duchy of Savoy was recovering from a tumultuous civil war between the noble clans, and in August of 1428, seven delegates representing the districts in Valais insisted that the authorities investigate some supposed instances of witchcraft. If three or more people accused someone of witchcraft or sorcery they were to be arrested, questioned, and made to confess. At a time when torture practices were acceptable forms of interrogation you can see how that might have inspired a few people to confess to being witches without much prompting, but those who refused to do so were tortured until they did. What we know about the victims is that they were more likely women than men, but a significant portion of men were also executed, they were all peasants that were not specifically described as well-educated, but some were. Very few of their names were recorded, and they were not likely elderly as most of them withstood immense torture before they died.

The victims were accused of quite an array of magical experiences including flying, invisibility, removing an illness from one person and issuing it to another, curses, lycanthropy, conspiracy to deprive Christianity of its power, and the most famously known, conspiring with the Devil. These pacts that the witches supposedly entered into with the Devil included trading their souls, paying him taxes, renouncing Christianity, and halting all confession or church-going in exchange for supernatural abilities or an education in the magical arts. Those accused of these crimes were tied to a ladder with a bag of gunpowder hung around their necks, and a wooden crucifix in their arms and then burned alive, others were decapitated first, and even more were tortured to death but were nonetheless burned at the stake for good measure. Now here is where we can see a bit of a conspiracy emerge. Recall from earlier, my mentioning that clergy and nobles alike used witchcraft as an excuse to get rid of people, and just ruminate on that as I tell you that the property of these deceased and accused only passed to their families if they could swear that they were unaware of the sorcery. If they could not prove that, then the land passed to the noble who paid for the execution of these accused. I don’t know about you, but sounds sus to me. This particular genocide is unique to other witch trials in that almost as many men were executed as women, and that leads me to believe a few things: first, that the men were landowners and the nobility wanted the land they were on (would love if a map was available to see this progression, but alas, it has been lost to the sands of time), and two, this wasn’t about gender, but more about the crybaby nobles who were upset that they lost some things during the recent civil war and needed a hobby. It’s not a good look, and it certainly wasn’t without its consequences.

[elizas-writing]

How I Would Fix Steven Universe: Pearl and Grief

Since I got into SU Critical, I’ve seen dozens of ideas on how others would re-write the show if they were in charge. So I figured why not try it out myself? And after watching a couple videos of “How I Would Fix ___” from MovieBob, it seems like a fun exercise in story writing and editing. Most of these will be based off my own analyses and other posts I’ve seen throughout Tumblr. And by all means, feel free to respond and bounce back your own ideas; I’d love to hear them!

I’m a little on the fence with Pearl as a character. I think she had a great start, and her arc of overcoming her grief with Rose is compelling at times. The problems? She gets way too much screen time in comparison to the rest of the Crystal Gems and hardly takes accountability when she hurts others or puts them in danger. She just gives a quick and half-assed apology so the story can move forward to the next major plot point. This leads many to interpret her as manipulative and selfish.

There isn’t anything wrong with having a flawed character, but if we’re meant to like them and see them succeed, we need to see them overcome their shortcomings. Grief definitely explains a lot of Pearl’s behavior throughout the series, but it’s not an excuse.

My first step in fixing this would be to condense the episodes surrounding this subject much closer together, instead of spacing them out so far apart to avoid the feeling of “oh no, not this again.” However, I wouldn’t do it as a Stevenbomb to keep the idea that grief is a long process to go through. Just the first two seasons would be perfect enough. All the episodes would be in the same order except for “Last One Out of Beach City” and “Three Gems and a Baby.”

I’m sorry to everyone who ships Pearl and Mystery Girl; I would cut “Last One Out of Beach City” entirely. They make it very obvious Pearl only likes her because she looks like Rose and it’s a major regression from the progress she made. It makes her seem shallow, and it’s kinda uncomfortable.

As for “Three Gems and a Baby,” I would place it before “Mr. Greg.” It’s a fascinating episode but it just feels out of place to see them grieve over Rose and be confused about Steven after we know they’re at a much better place now. It fits better when Pearl is still trying to get over her resentment and grief. This would also require fixing up the framed narrative with Steven, Greg and the Crystal Gems all together, and there would be a more tense atmosphere around the subject (who wouldn’t be freaked out at the idea of your guardians kidnapping you and almost pulling out your gem without a clue what would happen?). And this would have to prompt an apology from the Crystal Gems, especially from Pearl, but things would still be on edge with Greg, letting it segway into “Mr. Greg” where the two can properly talk.

Speaking of apologies, that’s really the big thing these episodes need: a genuine and explicit apology. And not something rushed like in the Week of Sardonyx (which trust me, that is getting its own special post). I always think of Pearl’s apology to Amethyst in “On the Run” as an ideal apology where she acknowledges how she treated Amethyst wrongfully and says she’s sorry without excuses or demanding forgiveness. Yes, I understand kids’ TV shows probably have a lot of constraints especially if you have a massive narrative through a large span of episodes, but kids still deserve to see what an actual apology looks like. We needed moments like that after she almost let Steven fell, when she pushed her insecurities on an already insecure Connie, when she betrayed Garnet’s trust, etc. Even if it’s thirty seconds, the apology and forgiveness needs to feel genuine and rightfully earned. Just take time to slow things down a bit and let a character process what their wrongdoings and try to make things better.

With Pearl’s arc condensed to just the first two seasons, that’ll leave more room open for Garnet and Amethyst grief over Rose Quartz. We know so much about Pearl’s bond with Rose, but little to nothing about that with either Garnet or Amethyst. An occasional episode of backstory and some throw-away lines, but they don’t get nearly as much focus as Pearl. It really sucks because there’s a lot to be covered with their characters in that regard. We can focus more on Garnet taking over as leader of the Crystal Gems and the immense amount of pressure and responsibility she took on, but with a future of infinite possibilities, she doesn’t always know what to do. We can see more episodes like “Steven vs. Amethyst” or “Beta” where Amethyst is figuring out how to love herself without Rose to reassure that she’s perfect. I want to see them miss Rose as much as we saw Pearl miss Rose.

As much as I like Pearl at times, she deserved to be treated as a flawed character successfully overcoming grief and not soak up most of the show’s screentime.

[nif-drabble-challenge]

Week 2 Appreciation Post!

Hello everyone! We are back here to celebrate the lovely writers who gave us their precious time and precious fics for the second week of the NIF Drabble Challenge! The themes were all words from languages across the globe which were difficult to translate into English and can be found here. The collection in its entirety can be found here.

Show some love to our Week 2 submissions!

lingering despite the pieces, a sweet yet painful ficlet about Emperor Jingyan trudging on despite the weight on his shoulders by the one and only @eikyrona !

and when the rain falls, where a sense of home and nostalgia takes over Jingrui in Nan Chu, and he finds himself in water by our beloved @umi-has-noodles

A Speaking Glance, where our cutest Cinnamon roll Mu Qing tries to ship Sir Su and his Jie-Jie together by the awesome strangefen!

all along the watchtower, a stunning and short ode to the music of Lin Shu’s life in Jingyan’s ears, inspired by Bob Dylan, by the fly ffbb.

Impetus, a magical and mysterious tale with a modern Yujin meeting a person from the past. Stay tuned to bearundersiege for the next part!

prosaic justice, a poignant interpretation of Qin Banruo and the Shifu she misses so much. All aboard the Xuanji/Banruo ship by strauss!

Little Fireball, where a naughty Xiao Shu riles up his favourite cousin a bit, cute in the way @katekatharos manages to do it.

One day at a time, where the motley crew of Langya Hall denizens MCS, Lin Chen and Fei Liu finally go on the promised journey together by the incomparable @llonkrebboj !

Extras!

And again, we are dumbfounded by the love our writers have shown, and quite a few wrote second fics, or longer fics inspired by their prompts. :D *flashes pompoms and dances*

Orbit- The Star Wars AU you have all been waiting for! SithLord MCS and Prince Jingyan, scarred and lovely and intensely in love by ancient_moonshine (paperfeathers)

one more, but slower this time, a soft, sweet and heartbreaking ficlet with 5+1 things about Jingyan and MCS, in retrospect, by @umi-has-noodles who is on fire! :D

I wish I knew how to quit you, an inspired Brokeback Mountain AU for our doomed lovers Jingyan and Mei Changsu, who don’t know how to quit each other, really by your host @orangememory !

Thanks for your lovely support, both writers and readers! Please share and reblog and spread the love through the NIF Community, and don’t forget to leave a kudos or comment for the fics you loved the most! We’re onto Week 3 now, and looking forward to more signups! :D