#but this was indeed a reasonable arc for them

[sepdet]

Also? Faramir faced the Witch-King. He knows better than anyone what foe she defeated. The best he could do against the Nazgûl was rescue his troops from a rout. Which was still more than anyone else had managed.

He and Éowyn shared somewhat similar ordeals of the heart: eclipsed by brothers held in greater regard (by themselves as much as anyone, perhaps more), watching father-figures falling to despair.

Faramir was sent into battle unthanked by a father comparing him to his brother, and was ready to throw his life away. Éowyn snuck into battle after being told to stay behind, and she, too, was almost suicidal.

There is a great deal in Tolkien's writing about hope and faith, a fool's hope and rational despair. Elrond gave Aragorn the name "Hope" in Elvish, Estel, a word that also means trust and faith. Aragorn's mother dies saying, "I gave Estel to the Edain, I kept none for myself."

Sam exhibits estel when he keeps going in Mordor even after Frodo has lost it, when it looks like they'll run out of water and food crossing the blasted plain to the volcano. Denethor lambasts Gandalf for a "fool's hope," and Aragorn tells the Captains of the west that they've reached a point where "hope snd despair are akin."

There's another Elvish word for hope, Amdír, hope based on extrapolation, expectation, which fails when rational hope is exhausted. Sauron's great at chipping away at it (so is Saruman, sending Wormtongue to poison Théoden's morale, nearly destroying Éowyn's too). Denethor uses the Palantir to gather intelligence, so Sauron makes sure he sees only things to make his situation look hopeless, like the Black Fleet coming up the river, or (perhaps) items stripped off Frodo. So Denethor gives up.

Éowyn and Faramir nearly do, which is why the Black Breath nearly kills them, whereas Merry recovers more easily.

Butv when Faramir recognizes who and what Aragorn is, he regains hope. He doesn't know if it will be enough to prevail, but he has faith again.

That's what Gondor— and Faramir— need to be healed in spirit, but it's not what Éowyn needs. As OP notes, she needs (and deserves!) recognition of her deeds and valour, which is what kudos originally meant, and what heroic warriors sought and prized above rewards, pay or material goods: reputation they had won was everything.

Faramir, who has come through a similar ordeal of despair, recognizes and admires Éowyn's valour. So he's finally able to reach her, and help her find that hope again too. Éowyn's troth does not lie in Aragorn, who raised her hopes by at least respecting her, but in the possibility of a future alongside someone who sees her truly.

There are about a million reasons why I love Faramir and Éowyn’s relationship and why I think it’s one of the most romantic relationships that Tolkien wrote, but do you want to know what isn’t talked about enough?

‘Do not scorn pity that is the gift of a gentle heart, Éowyn! But I do not offer you my pity. For you are a lady high and valiant and have yourself won renown that shall not be forgotten; and you are a lady beautiful, I deem, beyond even the words of the Elven-tongue to tell. And I love you. Once I pitied your sorrow. But now, were you sorrowless, without fear or any lack, were you the blissful Queen of Gondor, still I would love you. Éowyn, do you not love me?’

A lot has already been said about Faramir’s confession that he would still love her if she were the Queen of Gondor—and rightly so, because he’s basically saying he’s so hopelessly in love that nothing could ever change his feelings—but what REALLY does it for me, even more than that, is Faramir saying that she is VALIANT. He admires her bravery and her accomplishments in battle, and he says she has won RENOWN. Yes!!! YES!!!!!!!!!

Look, part of the reason Éowyn doesn’t want pity is that she doesn’t want to be looked down upon, and that’s what she associates with being pitied. But this isn’t really about another person’s pity—this is about how Éowyn sees herself. All her life, she’s been held back from participating in battle and from doing great deeds. In her conversation with Aragorn at Edoras, in one of my favorite scenes in the book, she delivers these searing lines: ‘All your words are but to say: you are a woman, and your part is in the house. But when the men have died in battle and honour, you have leave to be burned in the house, for the men will need it no more. But I am of the House of Eorl and not a serving-woman. I can ride and wield blade, and I do not fear either pain or death.’ Aragorn asks, ‘What do you fear, lady?’ And Éowyn replies: ‘A cage. To stay behind bars, until use and old age accept them, and all chance of doing great deeds is gone beyond recall or desire.’

But at the Battle of the Pelennor Fields, she DOES great deeds! She and Merry slay the Witch-king of Angmar, Sauron’s MOST POWERFUL SERVANT. When you think about the power of fear that the Nazgûl had over most mortals, it’s absolutely astounding how brave this was for them to do. But even afterwards, Éowyn doesn’t appear to know the value of what she’s done. Part of this may be her grief for Théoden, and part of it may be the Black Breath, but the point is she doesn’t know what she has achieved. Because in the Houses of Healing, she says to Faramir, ‘I wish to ride to war like my brother Éomer, or better like Théoden the king, for he died and has both honour and peace.’ Éowyn still does not believe she has won honor—and so she does not have peace.

To this Faramir says, ‘It is too late, lady, to follow the Captains, even if you had the strength. But death in battle may come to us all yet, willing or unwilling. You will be better prepared to face it in your own manner, if while there is still time you do as the Healer commanded. You and I, we must endure with patience the hours of waiting.’ It’s important that Faramir doesn’t tell her she’s wrong for wanting to go to battle, only that she must heal, and battle may still come for them yet—and he says WE must wait. Éowyn didn’t want to be left behind to wait for the men to return, but with her and Faramir both waiting, it no longer has that meaning.

This is all important context for the confession. Because days later, in the most romantic conversation of all time, Faramir says these magic words: ‘For you are a lady high and valiant and have yourself won renown that shall not be forgotten.’ LISTEN TO ME, IT IS SO IMPORTANT THAT HE SAYS THIS! THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT ÉOWYN NEEDED TO HEAR. It’s the FIRST THING HE SAYS IN THE SPEECH! Before he says she’s beautiful, before he says he loves her, he tells her she is valiant.

This is it. This is why this scene is peak romance to me. Because Éowyn desired to do great deeds and to win honor in battle, and she actually HAS DONE SO, but she doesn’t know it. And Faramir understands her, and not only that, he ADMIRES HER! ‘For you are a lady high and valiant and have yourself won renown that shall not be forgotten.’ I don’t know about you, but that line ALONE would make me fall in love.

[thymewayster]

Really good Twitter thread originally about Elon Musk and Twitter, but also applies to Netflix and a lot of other corporations.

Full thread. Text transcription under cut.

John Bull @garius

One of the things I occasionally get paid to do by companies/execs is to tell them why everything seemed to SUDDENLY go wrong, and subs/readers dropped like a stone. So, with everything going on at Twitter rn, time for a thread about the Trust Thermocline /1

So: what's a thermocline?

Well large bodies of water are made of layers of differing temperatures. Like a layer cake. The top bit is where all the the waves happen and has a gradually decreasing temperature. Then SUDDENLY there's a point where it gets super-cold.

That suddenly is important. There's reasons for it (Science!) but it's just a good metaphor. Indeed you may also be interested in the "Thermocline of Truth" which a project management term for how things on a RAG board all suddenly go from amber to red.

But I digress. The Trust Thermocline is something that, over (many) years of digital, I have seen both digital and regular content publishers hit time and time again. Despite warnings (at least when I've worked there). And it has a similar effect. You have lots of users then suddenly... nope. And this does effect print publications as much as trendy digital media companies. They'll be flying along making loads of money, with lots of users/readers, rolling out new products that get bought. Or events. Or Sub-brands.

And then SUDDENLY those people just abandon them. Often it's not even to "new" competitor products, but stuff they thought were already not a threat. Nor is there lots of obvious dissatisfaction reported from sales and marketing (other than general grumbling). Nor is it a general drift away, it's just a sudden big slide. So why does this happen? As I explain to these people and places, it's because they breached the Trust Thermocline.

I ask them if they'd been increasing prices. Changed service offerings. Modified the product.

The answer is normally: "yes, but not much. And everyone still paid" Then I ask if they did that the year before. Did they increase prices last year? Change the offering? Modify the product?

Again: "yes, but not much."

The answer is normally: "yes, but not much. And everyone still paid." "And the year before?"

"Yes but not much. And everyone still paid."

Well, you get the idea. And here is where the Trust Thermocline kicks in. Because too many people see service use as always following an arc. They think that as long as usage is ticking up, they can do what they like to cost and product.

And (critically) that they can just react when the curve flattens But with a lot of CONTENT products (inc social media) that's not actually how it works. Because it doesn't account for sunk-cost lock-in.

Users and readers will stick to what they know, and use, well beyond the point where they START to lose trust in it. And you won't see that. But they'll only MOVE when they hit the Trust Thermocline. The point where their lack of trust in the product to meet their needs, and the emotional investment they'd made in it, have finally been outweighed by the physical and emotional effort required to abandon it. At this point, I normally get asked something like:

"So if we undo the last few changes and drop the price, we get them back?"

And then I have to break the news that nope: that's not how it works.

Because you're past the Thermocline now. You can't make them trust you again.

[juney-blues]

June Egbert is, and always has been incredibly fascinating to me because of just, how many factors have conspired to make Homestuck fans show their collective transmisogynistic asses.

The main character of Homestuck transitioning is a planned future plot point for the official continuation of homestuck, that was spoiled in advance by a fan making a joke about finding some toblerones Andrew Hussie the author of homestuck hid in a cave.

The current main writers of Homestuck: Beyond Canon have went on record in an AMA confirming that this was indeed always the plan, even before they took up the project.

In spite of these facts, the general consensus among certain homestuck fans seems to be that "June Egbert" is purely a headcanon for the original comic that was "made canon" by a "Toblerone Wish" (a concept that didn't even exist at the time)

For a variety of reasons, the "canonicity" of the postcanon official continuations of homestuck is a mattter of much debate, (though a debate that most homestuck fans seem to err on a side of "it's not canon at all in the slightest," something the writers have feelings on I'm sure.)

All of these factors combined leave the concept of "June Egbert" in a very nebulous place. It's assumed by most to just be an "ascended headcanon" that was shoehorned in, it's a spoiler so it hasn't happened yet in any official media, and the official media it will eventually happen in is regarded by some to be nothing more than glorified fanfic.

If someone is talking about June Egbert, and you don't like the concept of June Egbert, you have your pick of a million different excuses for why she's fake and gay and not worth discussing and bad writing and just the authors doing a gay dumbledore*, paying lip service to representation while actually doing nothing.

And of course, lots of people *don't* like June Egbert! Rather than being introduced as transfem from the start, she's in this nebulous position of discovery where people have to truly reckon with the idea of a "Pre-transition Trans Woman."

You can try to write off *some* of the backlash as transphobia, because obviously not everyone in this fandom is gonna be cool about trans people.

But there's no shortage of fans just dying to tell you about how much they like reading her as transmasc, or the idea of her being nonbinary or genderqueer or genderfluid, or literally anything besides a trans woman. And since they're fine with all those other interpretations, there's obviously no implicit biases driving their distaste for the concept! (if you want to try explaining the concept of "transmisogyny" to people like this you're braver than I.)

you can trust them when they say it's *just* a problem with whether or not it makes sense with the writing, or it just doesn't feel right somehow, or any of the thousands of excuses that this writing situation gives them to just Not Like It.

It's just, so interesting to me. There's not a lot of characters out there that get a trans arc in this way, that leaves room for open denialism and insistence that we have our trans cake and eat it too... Because Homestuck is a timeline spanning multiverse story, lots of people seem to want it to be an alternate timeline thing. Assuring us we can have this character share space with a non-transitioning version of herself and it won't be weird or imply gross things about trans people.

If you ask me it feels like a plotline that'd be really good for exploring some gender horror though, finding your true self and then being demoted to a footnote, an alternate version, because everyone around you likes your pre-transition self more....

Anyway I have no broader point beyond "hey look at this isn't this kinda weird. You don't get this kinda stuff often!"

*side note: it's a little ghoulish I think to compare "a future trans plot point that hasn't been given the chance to even happen yet, in an already famously queer piece of media, from a nonbinary author" to "some stupid shit done by the literal most famous transphobe of all time" but that's perhaps a discussion for later.

[inbarfink]

So one of the cool and interesting ways ‘Steven Universe’ used to try and balance being both a series of 11-minutes episodes that each have their own satisfying emotional resolution and being an overarching story with complicated character arcs that take multiple seasons to resolve is the… I’m going to call it the ‘Not Quite Right Lesson’ episodes. Episodes where a character kinda learns a Very Important Lesson… but a more careful and retrospective look at the situation shows that what they learned is not Quite the Right Thing for them. They internalized something in that adventure which just ended up causing more Emotional Troubles for themselves farther down the line.

‘The Test’ is the most classic example. 

As a standalone thing, it’s just a sweet episode about Steven learning to accept that his caretakers are also flawed and confused and figuring this shit up as they’re going along just like he is, and then doing a nice thing for their sake.

But looking back at this episode, it is quite obviously the nadir of Steven appointing himself as the Family Therapist and repressing all of his problems so he could better help the Gems’ with theirs. Like, there have been some early warning signs for this Complex, but this episode is the one that really cemented that idea in his mind and probably the reason it took him like the Entire Rest of the Show Including a Post-Finale Season to really untangle it.

But… also, I’ve been thinking a lot about the episode right after that, ‘Future Vision’. I think it’s also a very important ‘Not Quite Right Lesson Episode’ for the character of Garnet, and to some extent, the Crystal Gems as a whole. In many ways, it is to the CGs' character arcs' what 'the Test' is to Steven's.

So in this episode, Garnet reveals to Steven the fact that she has Future Vision. She hoped that telling Steven a little bit more about herself and being honest with him will lead to a greater understanding and a greater bond between them… but it backfired. It just led Steven to become a total paranoid, terrified wreck stuck in a total existential crisis.

And it seems like the lesson Garnet learned is that… she should’ve never taken that risk at all. That it would’ve been better for everyone if she just kept Steven ignorant of the truth forever.

Extremely reinforced with the ending of the episode, where Garnet chooses to once again hide an uncomfortable truth (that he just came very close to dying again) from Steven, for the sake of his own ‘peace of mind’.

So, like, the Gems were already hiding uncomfortable truths from Steven since day one. “If you could only know what we really are” and all of that. But I think… With the actual truth of Homeworld encroaching on them more and more at this point of the story arc, this would’ve been a great time for the Gems to reconsider their attitude and actually Explain to Steven What the Hell is Going On. 

But instead, I think Garnet saw the events of ‘Future Vision’ as a reinforcement of the idea that there’s just some things Steven is Better Off Not Knowing. Actually being frank with him about Homeworld and the Diamonds and the War right there and then, that would have just overwhelmed Steven with fears and worries and would’ve ended up doing nothing but hurting him. And Garnet can’t accept that possibility, not again.

And so, Garnet, alongside Amethyst and Pearl, keep all these truths from Steven as long as possible. Only revealing bits of information when they have to. For Amethyst it’s about her emotionally-evasive attitude (also, she legit doesn’t know all of that stuff herself). For Pearl it’s about how she learned to romanticize Rose’s own fucked-up obsession with secrets. For Garnet, with her usually very direct attitude and preference for the most straightforward solutions, I think it’s very much the events of ‘Future Vision’ that were still playing in her head every time she had the choice to actually Explain something to Steven and decided not to. 

But that, indeed, was Not Quite the Right Lesson. While being bluntly and directly told by Garnet all about the Many Ways He Could Die caused Steven to go into an anxiety spiral and an existential crisis for an episode - the way the Gems have been consistently secretive and evasive with Steven ended up causing him so much more emotional grief to him in the long run. As all of these secrets ended up revealed to him in the most surprising, dramatic and traumatizing way possible.

And the secretive attitudes ended up driving a wedge between Steven and the Gems. 

Even after they promised to be more honest with him. Because the sight of Steven crying on the roof that day is one that Garnet can easily move away from. Because Garnet’s Not Quite Right Lesson was almost as difficult for her to unlearn as Steven’s own. 

But after the big confrontation at the start of the Zoo Arc, Garnet ended up being the most upfront about the Crystal Gems’ history. Almost overeager to share what she knows about the past.

I mean also, again, Amethyst just has less to tell and Pearl is hiding secrets for reasons beyond her control - but I think it’s also important to consider from the perspective of Garnet’s arc.

Because the fallout of the Pink Diamond Reveal is very much centered around Garnet (or, well, Ruby and Sapphire). That was the Truth that was hidden from her 'for her own good'. And at the end of the day, despite all the grief that unveiling that truth has caused

It has also brought them, all of them, a lot closer.

There's a reason why 'the Truth' is Garnet's Final Missing Piece in the movie. It is as central to her character arc in the series as Lesbian AngstTM grief over lost love is to Pearl.

And still, some remnants of the Trauma of 'Future Vision' remained...

After all, even the very last episode of 'Future' was centered around the Gems once again trying to hide things from Steven (at that case, their turmoil about him leaving) for his own sake

Even though it once again just caused Steven a whole lot of grief.

It's maybe notable that at the end of this episode, Garnet, once again, tells Steven what's waiting for him in his Future...

[stellaclaw]

i can see your perspective, and to some extent i do agree. some of my favorite character in other fandoms are villains (something i have actually been attacked over lol).

when i say the books lack complexity, i dont mean the building blocks arent there. however, it needs to be heavily contextualized in that the writers often discard what they have- bonefall found an excellent basis the writers had set, but in crowfeathers trial, its often been noted that breezepelts edges are sanded down to make him more agreeable, and thus give an “easier” version to forgive- indeed, what we see of him in dovewings silence is very inconsistent from crowfeathers trial, and his arc is wrapped up rather abruptly and not even from his pov, when it really, truly should have been to give it a satisfying ending. furthermore, when crowfeather blames nightcloud for breezepelt hating him, we are to some extent supposed to accept that nightcloud was a problem. in the guide books shes described as jealous and bitter and coddling, and even on the official website she is assigned adjectives, and thus we are to assume her defending breezepaw from his father is bad and she had some hand in how he turned out.

the reason warriors is loved is because the pieces are there. but the writers continually neglect them, and in the end water down their own writing. breezepelt is one of the very few cases i mentioned where the set up is good enough that it can still shine while the landing was fumbled.

its why i have such trouble giving such leniency to appledusk. there is a trend in the books of such things, and so it is natural to become skeptical of the writers intentions, which im sure is something you can understand.

i can fully accept people wanting to see complexity in appledusk, and hes probably a character i would like in a “messy guy” sort of way, but there is a problem in parts of the fandom where people defend his cheating (usually by portraying mapleshade as a “buff scary woman” and depicting him as small and frail, and positioning reedshine, who he also deceived, as a therapist to him). maybe i can like him some day (i am number 1 frecklewish fan yes she did those bad things and it just adds flavor to her), but ive personally dealt with that sort of… gestures vaguely.

also dw about rambling lol i had no idea where i was going either. also didnt mean to assume, i spent a lot of time in the wcrp forums so my brain is just kind of attuned to read into things. that being said i responded calmly because i do not like to assume actual malice, doing so just makes a meaner fandom space and also prevents interesting discussions like this.

anyway if people are allowed to make excuses for bramblestar and fucking appledusk, I should also get to say that nightcloud did nothing wrong

[kyri45]

✨ShadowPeach Bio Parents Bio AU Q&A! 16/10✨

Welcome to the Q&A! A space where I can answer related or similar question about the Shadowpeach Bio Parents AU! If you submitted your ask anonimously, then you’ll have to check the whole post if it’s answered here, if it’s not, worry not! Your asks might have been used for a future comic or just in the queue~

Anonimo ha chiesto: i absolutely adore your shadowpeach bio-parents au comics they flow really nicely from post to post, and i looove the balance between angst & fluff i feel as if with shadowpeach, its always either angst or fluff- no inbetween, but somehow you've found a really nice mixture of both thanks for singlehandedly keeping me in the LMK fandom haha

Thank you! Fluff and angst keep going around each other like a microwave ahah

Anonimo ha chiesto: So like with mks monkey form does he have to deal with shedding during summer I think it would be funny if macaque and Mk got fluffier during winter. Wukong wouldn't complain about a fluffy macaque though probably like sleeping with the best plushy.

Oh man I think they do indeed haha. Pigsy would scold MK bc he keeps finding fur hair everywhere in the house

Anonimo ha chiesto: You seem like someone who knows a lot about the LMK fandom, so I must ask where does the idea of Princess Iron Fan and Macaque being sworn siblings come from? Like, is it from JTTW, and im just not aware of it, I'm still trying to learn as much as I can, and I need to actually read the book. The fact that people assume I know a lot about the fandom is so hilarious (not in a mocking way, I'm just very surprised) bc like- I watched the whole show in 1 day, speedwatched Overly sarcastic production recap of JTTW and read half of the book in a week. All of this in July. That's everything that I know from the fandom.

I think it's an headcanon. in JTTW Wukong, Macaque and DBK are all part of the brotherhood so.

Anonimo ha chiesto: First off I LOVE your comic but I have the animal autism and wanted to share some Monkey facts: monkeys don't sweat like humans do they mostly sweat on the palms and feet, areas they have no fur. For overheating monkeys mainly seek shade staying under trees , increase respiration (panting), seeking water sources. Also some species might shed for a thinner coat during summer. Sweating is an exclusively human thing and why humans have been so successful humans are persistent hunters. We would often follow herds for miles waiting for them to tire and overheat while sweating keeps us perfectly cool. Humans are also the only animal to blush. Lol Again no hate love the comic I love me some Flustered blushing gay monkeys. I just have the animal autism and wanted to info dump.

Thank you for the animal fact dump! Those were actually super interesting facts!

@draxeanlxia ha chiesto: Hey question that I have no idea if you already answered but how old is MK in your BIO Parents AU? I know people (usually) believe him to at least 18 due to China’s minimum driving age but others believe him to in his early 20s. Also Mac in your AU said was ‘grown ass man’ during the baby arc. So in your AU, how old is MK?

So. in the AU he's 21 y/o. Meaning that when he arrived to Pigsy door they saw him and went "yeah, he looks around 2/3" and from then they counted on. Buut there's also the thing that he looks a little younger than that age. I wont say anything else.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Who your Favorite Lmk character??

mmmmmmm... MK bc he's monkey now. Before season 4 probably Macaque or Wukong. But I have a "thing" for characters discovering they are actually a different species and slowly gaining new/different body features bc of that, so when I saw him flickering at the end of s4 I flew to a different universe. Literally the whole reason this AU exist is because I would die for this trope

Anonimo ha chiesto: What inspired your Human Wukong & Mac designs? Mostly because my brain looks at Macaque and thinks “Cranky middle aged pirate” meanwhile Wukong’s is “That chill gay uncle” (this is based off of purely looks by the way)

Macaque is drama queen so of course he would wear a trenchvoat during fall. plus he's old inside and outside bc of all Wukong bullshit. Wukong is your friendly neighbour who lives in a sketchy house and survives on peach sodas and chips (oh wait that's just canon Wukong.)

ainnur ha chiesto: You know I like how Wukong in your comic just compare something hot with Laozi's furnace. Like with spicy food and time he help MK created the weapon. Mk: You know Wukong you mention Laozi's furnace a lot. Must really tough 49 days for you... Wukong:Yeah worst 49 years *eating peach* Mk: Can tell- wait- years..? Wukong: Yeah a day at heaven is like one year here or so..Do the math, bud *continue to eat the peach* Mk:.... what..? Wukong just casually and accidently recall his trauma because he thought it never effect him like his other trauma. Also the brotherhood have 49 years to help him but they didn't do anything. "Yeah because normally you would rush into my rescue"

Thank you for giving me this traumatic info I didn't know about. Now I will never look at Wukong the same (why did my boy have to suffer so much)

Anonimo ha chiesto: Macaque: I think I'm in love with Wukong . . . Any thoughts. Chiyou: and prayers you're going to need them.

me too bitch, the fuck

@mirror-queen226 ha chiesto: I agree about the last ask you posted (about Wukong surely wearing a dress on a date), and I just couldn't help but say my own headcanon too (with a little bit of knowledge about the ancient times that Wukong was just a child on the jttw and lmk): I dunno if you agree but okay. Honestly, both Wukong and Mac/Mihou (like i usually call him) does not care about clothes, if they feel comfortable with them, be it for woman or man, they'll wear it, especially Wukong though, I feel like he'd act like a famous diva in a on a runway showcasing new high-class clothes from Victoria Secret, Channel, or something, whilst Mac is much more discreet but not too far from that too. And considering Wukong was wearing WOMAN clothes when he was in the brotherhood in the season 4 lmk flashback, it just made me believe in that headcanon even more :) Also, I am really loving your au, it's just so perfect the way you develop every character slow and patiently, keeping their personalities untouched, not changing but instead expanding and showing them a bit more, how they are really trying to improve (Wukong and Mihou in this case) and how satisfying it is to see. I always rush to see the new updates you post about the Biodads au every time i see too, and honestly, one of the 5 best au's ever, you draw so good too, it's adorable! That's all I wanted to say, have a nice day, drink water and take care of your health! 🥰🥰🥰

Yeah true! Like they are shapeshifter, they wouldn't care what species they are, even less the perceived gender norms

Anonimo ha chiesto: Little question, while the monkeys where at Chiyou's forge, shadowpeach where still sleeping together or not?

They were all sleeping in sleeping bags on the floor (but they all were close to each other.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Generally curious what you think would have happened if MK had not been woken up and the stone wasn't broken what do you think would have happen. would he had grown up on FFM?

Aww he probably would have been raised by Wukong. I don't know if that's a good or bad thing.

@wolfsonic ha chiesto: I have question! Does Rumble and Sabage have sentience in your stories? Like, do they have their own personalities like MK clones do? If yes, what do they think of WuKong and MK? Also, will we see more of them? Cause I'd love Mk to meet them when he wasn't stuck as a cub and not remember.

Yeah I think they have a littel bit of personalities. They like both MK and Wukong, but would also do prank on him.

Anonimo ha chiesto: I think I won't say I'm in love from Hercules fits macaque very well

The little monkeys are the muse doing backup choir

Anonimo ha chiesto: Can we see what a courtnapping room typically looks like?

Courtnapping rooms are made specifically for the courted one, so they are all different. Basically, the room should include everything the courted person would need to live comfortable and also a collection of things they like / to pass the time /love.

It must show that the person courtnapping them is able to provide, care and protect for them. And also knows what makes them happy.

So it can be a huge castle full of jewerly and elegant clothes/ornaments or just a cozy room with some chips and video games.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Is LBD going to be a topic in your au again ?

maybe

@wolfasketch ha chiesto: We need MK interacting with his new found Auntie and Uncle please(we also new to see Red being flustered by MK while his parents are around and PIF being like "Ooohhhh")

We are VERY luky Red Son and MK didn't grew up together or we would have thier parents playing love-matching with them while they are toodlers

Anonimo ha chiesto: could we possibly get a traffic light trio and shadopeach grooming train at some point, i would love to see some bonding time between them all <3 and i would love to see mk grooming redsons hair since there's so much of it

Wait who would be the second person to be groomed? I assume RedSon hair are too hot to touch. (when he's flustered, at least)

Anonimo ha chiesto: So like how does Redsons hair/ fire work. Does it just feel warm to MK and Mei. Will it only burn/ hurt you if he doesn't trust you. Another note it must be nice having two fire demon friends during winter.

I think when he's relaxed, the hair is just- a little bit warm, then with his feelings and emotion it can go up to a bigillion degrees, so it's not harmful as long as he can control it.

[avelera]

I’m curious, how much control do you think Viktor was in in season 2?

I have tried to analyze this but am honestly stumped. Because on one hand it is clearly his intentions and logic being used. Since the beginning he has been wanting to heal people afflicted in Zaun (while it was also to cure his illness I don’t doubt wanting to help those in need was a legitimate motivation). He does immediately go to heal people in Zaun and all the conclusions he jumps to through the season do seem perfectly reasonable for him. He was the type of person who didn’t even conceptualize in season one that something like the hexclaw could be used as a weapon. That and the hexcore showing that he was a pacifist to the point of it being a massive blind spot to danger. So it makes sense being shot by Jayce of all people while in his eyes he was healing people would cause him to go all glorious evolution mode as a natural progression of his arc.

On the other hand he definitely didn’t come back right. The show makes a point to show in season one that the hexcore has some level of physical control over him, and even when going to heal the shimmer addicts he is following Sky’s voice. The writers also confirmed that it indeed was not Sky and was the hexcore manifesting his guilt to push him towards to glorious evolution. And his emotions definitely seem to be muffled and unexpressive. I know this part is joked about a lot but honestly even the fact that he chokes Jayce is surprising because he is consistently characterized as a pacifist to the point of it being a fatal flaw. He doesn’t even commit an act of violence in a show filled with fight scenes until the second to last episode, let alone against Jayce of all people. I think the last thing season one Viktor would do is intentionally cause physical harm to someone, hence why it is only at the part where he is the farthest gone.

Basically if I had to guess I’d say it’s like 50/50 level of control, but you have written some great character analysis so I’m curious what your thoughts are as to how much of season two was Viktor and how much was the Hexcore

Honestly, Anon, I'm wrestling with this on almost a daily basis myself when I write fics. It's definitely not helped by the fact they avoided a lot of exposition in S2 in favor of pacing (the slower pace of S1 allowed for a lot more signposting and exposition of what was going on, I think somewhat to the detriment of S2) and the fact that we don't really get much of Viktor after he stops being the Machine Herald, because to my eyes that's the first time we see the real Viktor all season and it would be nice to get him to express some contrast with what came before (though of course it would ruin the pacing of a perfect moment).

I think you basically nailed all of the points of confusion. I've ever considered tracking all the points where his voice warps for clues, because I think there is something to be gleaned from how and when his voice distorts, but in what direction is also a curious question.

Was saying "affection" kept them together more or less than what Viktor would have said to Jayce? Would he on his own have said love? Or would he, in his infinite shyness, have not dared to mention emotion at all, because Viktor is an expert at pushing those closest to him away and hiding his own emotions? Was that the Hexcore trying to drag Jayce in closer by calling it affection, or push him away before it could gain strength by lowering Viktor saying "love" down to just saying "affection"?

On the other hand, during the Herald's villain monologue at the end in the Astral Plane, his voice is distorted for almost every line except, "This senseless waste," which does feel like a sincere Viktor line, perhaps the only one that is truly him that whole time, including when he said he was pleased to see Jayce, in that horrible mocking tone. Could that not be the Hexcore speaking there?

I'll offer what I think is happening:

In order to chart "What is Hexcore" vs. "What is Viktor" it's less useful to look at Viktor's motives than the Hexcore's.

The Hexore wanted to expand its influence. It wanted to become powerful enough to have its own army and to destroy the civilization around it as other versions of the Hexcore have done throughout history. I believe it reached those goals by posing them as things Viktor, on his own, would want to do like help the needy, thus hiding its ends inside of Viktor's motives.

Note too that people who have dosed up on Shimmer are more susceptible to its molding.

Hence we can assume that the Hexcore, in the guise of Sky, using Viktor's guilt about her and his own failures to help the undercity, guided Viktor down to the Shimmer victim encampment specifically.

Viktor is not a mystic. The most mystical thing he says in S1 is that the Arcane speaks through mages. But the Hexcore is a magical artifact. Something like the Hexcore also destroyed a civilization centuries ago, and the figure in Heimerdinger's memory looks like Viktor when he's cloaked.

So personally, I think we can ascribe any mysticism to the Hexcore's influence too. That means the Cult, for example. Also Viktor's, "You need not suffer anymore," and kind of making them all genuflect to him, feels very OOC and just plain wrong for Viktor.

Whereas Viktor in the Astral Plane feels like real Viktor. Even the fact that when we show his point of view out into the world he is himself in a field of stars, seeing the real world projected in front of him like Plato's Allegory of the Cave gives the impression of imprisonment, like he's looking out through the windows of his own eyes to a shrouded world he can no longer directly touch.

And note, for example, that Sky/the Hexcore doesn't want Viktor to heal Vander. That's all Viktor. I believe the reason is because it doesn't want to run out of energy too quickly.

Basically, I think the Hexcore is stringing Viktor along there as Sky, giving him a little terrarium of stars to play in, while using him as a vessel of assimilation under the guise of healing. These are on both sides, inner and outer, things that Viktor wants to do, so he's seduced. He doesn't fight it.

I also think at a certain point, the Hexcore Viktor gains enough power to be able to impact people who aren't dosed with Shimmer. I think this comes later though, which is why it's not interested in Jayce at first but it is interested in assimilating him later. At that point, again, those motives align with Viktor's own sincere desire to see Jayce again (maybe he's sick of all the hippies in the commune lol) and the Hexcore is happy to get rid of someone who could conceivably stop it.

But note, the Hexcore is still playing along with Viktor. It could forcibly assimilate Jayce, but Viktor wants Jayce to choose his side willingly, so it holds back. In part too because that disappointment is what fuels Viktor to give himself over the Hexcore's goals entirely and ask for Singed's treatment with Apex Shimmer. At that point, as the showrunner noted, it doesn't need the guise of Sky anymore, it doesn't need to string Viktor along anymore. He's bought into the idea of forcibly assimilating the world if he can't get Jayce to join willingly.

I also heard an interesting theory that I'd like to factor in: basically, until he gains access to the Anomaly, Viktor doesn't have the power to strip himself of the Hexcore's influence or overcome it. That's why there's no point in Jayce trying to get through to him sooner, it wouldn't do anything because Viktor would still be trapped in its web.

Once they have the Anomaly, Viktor as an ascended being can strip away the Hexcore's influence. And that's why I lamented that we don't get more of his thoughts in that scene. Because I think an interpretation can be made that the Machine Herald look is just the human form of the Hexcore, using Viktor as a vessel.

Once that outer shell explodes, it really is Viktor again, with all the power of the Anomaly and Jayce's rune at his disposal. Now he and Jayce can work together to reverse the damage, free all the trapped souls from the Hexcore's web, and save the day. But we see that only then Viktor is able to view his own actions as himself, and he's horrified. There I think we get Viktor's one true, sincere reaction to everything that has happened up to that point and confirm that, yes, while the Hexcore interwove its seduction through Viktor's motives, none of this is what Viktor wanted. The ultimate outcome was the Hexcore's goals.

Quick Doylist addition: I also think there's definitely a draft where it's all Viktor getting controlled, but the writers know that can be kind of boring. It's better when characters take action and make choices, rather than being controlled. So I think that's why they settled on a combination of "The Hexcore's end goals, but Viktor's underlying motivations being twisted to support them."

[illubean]

HIHIHI!!! I've been following you for a while and i recently saw your toph! reader HC and I've been wondering if I could request for a katara! reader who's really good at waterbending and specialises on healing and blood bending? Could the characters be Gon, Killua, Illumi and the phantom troupe? Hope you eat well and stay healthy!!!

HXH W/ a Katara!Reader

Characters: Gon Freecs, Killua Zoldyck, Illumi Zoldyck, The Phantom Troupe Type: Headcanons, Fem!reader, Platonic

tried making this gn but then I ended up using fem labels a lot >.< also when I see "the phantom troupe" in headcannon requests im just going to write them collectively unless otherwise specified

Warnings: None

Gon Freecs

your older sister/eldest daughter syndrome is very evident around him

he probably doesn't pick up on it but everyone else sees how fiercely protective you are over him

you have a soft spot for children and Gon is literally the sweetest ever so you can't help but want to keep him safe

before the hunter exams, the only role models Gon has ever had in his live have been maternal figures (Mito and his grandma)

you end up becoming another one

which may also be part of the reason he is so respectful and kind

he's ok with your motherly nature mainly because he's very used to it and he can understand where you're coming from

he cares for you as if you guys were blood related

when he went cray in chimera ant arc you were the first person Killua and Leorio thought to call

yk because of your healing ability

you healed him the best you could before Alluka showed up

and scolded him immediately after he recovered

Killua Zoldyck

he likes someone with Toph's rebellious personality but you?

you're a total wet blanket...

your such a stickler, always trying to stop him when he's feeling mischievous

you remind him of how things were back at his estate...

you are not his mother stop acting like it

but whenever you protect him from getting seriously hurt or heal him he's reminded you have good intentions

he knows you're not trying to be manipulative and controlling but god pls loosen up

despite how distant he might present himself he can't help but grow a little emotionally attached to you

he's never had a healthy relationship with his mom...

you are the only normal motherly figure in his life

he acts like he can't stand how you fuss over him but in reality he cares for you deeply and kind of likes that you feel the need to be protective over him

Illumi Zoldyck

unlike his brother, he likes you a lot more than if you were to have Toph's personality

because you remind him of his mother

he doesn't mind your protective nature as long as you don't get in the way

your 'blood bending' technique is of great interest to him..

you are able to use it on normal days and don't have to wait for a full moon because this is my fanfic and I said so

it just happens to be at it's strongest on full moons

he probs starts keeping track of the moon cycles just to take you on missions and see you in action

with the blood bending technique you could literally stop any enemy

a very OP ability indeed....

which is why he keeps you around

you're strong and have a pretty normal personality so there's really no reason for him to dislike you

The Phantom Troupe

it's pretty 50/50 with them

and by that I mean some of them don't mind your motherly personality while others think it's annoying...

mainly Phinks and Feitan; they feel you're too bossy

but the entire troupe can agree that your nen is impressive

1) they have a healer now and 2) your blood-bending is some sort of secret weapon

you get along well with Nobunaga, bonding over your shared soft spot for children

Chrollo probs personally recruited you for your abilities seeing as he couldn't really steal them..

Machi likes having you around because now she has to stitch people up less often

when Kalluto joins, he becomes the one you're most protective over

the younger members see you as an older sibling figure

aka Shizuku(18) Kalluto(12) and Kortopi(he has no canon age as far as I know but I like to imagine he is a child rather than a small adult...)

[starleska]

i think ‘Big’ Jack Horner is Disney, and here’s why

many of us have had the pleasure of seeing the incredible Puss in Boots: The Last Wish by now, and were blown away by its clever writing, enchanting animation and emotional character arcs. yet there is one character who booted the trend of having a reason for his behaviour, and outright refused to experience any growth whatsoever.

let’s talk about ‘Big’ Jack Horner, and why i think he’s supposed to represent Disney:

‘Big’ Jack Horner isn’t just an antagonist in The Last Wish - he’s a villain. a self-obsessed, exploitative, murderous, petty, cruel bastard of a man whose awful behaviour isn’t just motivated by personal slights or childhood trauma: he sincerely enjoys hurting other people. whether it’s cheating his goons (’The Serpent Sisters’) out of a fair payment for their services or being excited about shooting a puppy in the face, there’s no denying that Jack delights in causing others pain and suffering. but what does he have to do with Disney?

let’s answer that question with another question: do you think that Jack, when placed next to the other antagonists - Goldi, The Three Bears, even Death - sticks out like a sore, plum-coloured thumb?

of course he does! but why? well, let’s look at Jack on a surface level. Jack is a monolith of a human being. not only is he physically huge and intimidating, he is the inheritor of an enormous pastry fortune and operates in the manner of a mob boss, with countless resources and a whole variety of powerful magical items at his disposal. indeed, Jack employs a crack team of bakers/assassins called ‘The Baker’s Dozen’ to carry out many of his tasks. although Jack does harm others himself, it is because of these resources - including the people who work for him - that he is able to bypass many of the obstacles faced by our protagonists in an honest and character-developing way (e.g., the Pocket Full O’Posies in The Dark Forest). Jack doesn’t need to have a character arc the way the other characters do, because he is so wealthy and owns so much.

but Jack’s reason for owning so much and being obsessed with magic and magical items isn’t through intellectual curiosity, or a traumatic backstory where he needed to learn how to wield magic. do you know what Jack’s covert motivation for owning all of the magic in the world is?

it’s money.

when we get the flashback of Jack’s childhood, dancing for the entertainment of an audience using his nursery rhyme, we see him becoming jealous of Pinocchio - and we see Gepetto in the back, absolutely raking in the cash. if we consider this flashback as that crucial moment within which Jack decided to become what he is today - and the presence of our off-brand Jiminy Cricket inclines us to think so - then we can understand that Jack decided that from that moment forward, he would own all of the magic. 

let’s go back to The Baker’s Dozen for a moment. this team of highly-competent, multidisciplinary artisans do everything for Jack, whether it’s baking the pies which make him rich, or laying down their lives at his service. we aren’t given an in-universe reason for why they do this. yes, Jack is feared, but he is still the subject of mockery due to his humble beginnings as a nursery rhyme character. it certainly isn’t due to being treated or paid well. however, if we view the Baker’s Dozen as a metaphor for overworked, exploited artists whose views are routinely dismissed by the money-hungry, powerful corporation who owns their craft...things start to add up, don’t they? considering historic allegations of worker abuse at the hands of Disney, having Jack Horner literally step on their spines and encourage them to flex takes on a whole different meaning. 

it doesn’t end there. do you recognise the items that Jack pulls out of his Mary Poppins bag when his Baker’s Dozen are being destroyed by the Pocket Full O’Posies - the items that he calls ‘the big guns’? it’s the broomstick from Fantasia, the spinning wheel from Sleeping Beauty, the size snacks from Alice in Wonderland, and a knock-off Jiminy Cricket from Pinocchio - all references to some of Disney’s earliest and most famous films.

still don’t believe me? well, let’s recap more of the items Jack has in his repertoire:

a hook-hand (referencing Captain Hook in Peter Pan)

a trident (referencing King Triton in The Little Mermaid)

poison apple bombs (referencing The Evil Queen in Snow White)

a glass slipper (again referencing Cinderella)

remember what happens when the knock-off Jiminy Cricket (interesting that there are so many Pinocchio references specifically, huh?) is horrified that Jack is losing so many men? Jack says he isn’t worried about losing the manpower, because he has a bottomless bag full of magical weapons. Jack literally gets his power off of the backs of his workers. sounds a lot like a big company justifying worker layoffs and exploitation because they have so many properties and are too big to fail, doesn’t it? 

hell, Jack doesn’t even know what half of these items do! when he’s using the unicorn horns as ammo, he is surprised that they cause people to explode in a shower of confetti. viewing Jack through this lens, it’s difficult not to think about enormous corporations gobbling up properties and churning out content with little to no regard for their artists (looking back at The Baker’s Dozen - some of whom do perish in the fight with the unicorn horns) or what the properties are about. we haven’t even touched on Jack coveting the Wishing Star, a recurring motif in countless Disney movies as representing magic, dreams, and boundless creativity. 

now, i hear you saying, ‘but Star! why would DreamWorks bother writing their bad guy as a metaphor for Disney?’ believe it or not, this isn’t the first time that DreamWorks have done this. in case you didn’t know, Lord Farquaad is a caricature of Michael Eisner, former chairman and CEO of The Walt Disney Company. the production of Shrek was actually quite troubled; animators who were perceived as having failed on other projects were ‘Shreked’, or sent to work on Shrek, instead of working on other (presumed to be more lucrative) films. of course, DreamWorks was co-founded by previous Disney CEO Jeffrey Katzenberg, hence the animosity towards Disney and its works evident in the Shrek franchise. this is what formed the story of Shrek: an ugly, crude outsider character taking on the clean-cut moralising of a dictator hell-bent on a so-called ‘perfect’ world, all created against the creative backdrop of a painful separation from Disney and a great deal of pent-up rage. 

the irreverent, crass and sometimes adult humour of Shrek was a middle finger to Disney’s high-censorship control on animation. this is why Lord Farquaad (which you may have noticed sounds a bit like ‘Fuckwad’) is so obsessed with Duloc being ‘perfect’, and why he couldn’t stand the freedom of the fairy tale creatures who are the heroes of the first Shrek movie.

in fact, this kind of meta-commentary permeates the Shrek franchise: 

The Fairy Godmother from Shrek 2, despite being a fairy tale creature herself, is highly prejudiced against characters who break out of their perceived social norms: i.e., Shrek marrying Princess Fiona and getting his Happily Ever After. she is an expansion of the control left over by Lord Farquaad, and rich because of her monopolisation of fairy tale creatures and their stories. 

Prince Charming in Shrek the Third fails miserably to capitalise on these themes, but we’ll get back to him! 

Rumpelstiltskin from Shrek Forever After tackles the gluttony of franchise reboots, and how soulless and rooted in corporate greed attempts to reboot often are. whilst not necessarily Disney-specific, Shrek Forever After follows the box office bomb that was Shrek the Third: a movie which noticeably fails to write a compelling narrative approaching any of the themes of the previous two films. the writers learned from their mistakes and wrote a movie which satirised their own selling-out of the franchise, becoming hollow and unnecessary and ‘perfect’ - the very thing they were making fun of in the earlier Shrek films.

there is one more area i’d like to touch on: Jack Horner’s source material. we know that Little Jack Horner is quite obscure: an 18th-century English nursery rhyme involving a boy who pulls a plum out of a pie with his thumb, and congratulates himself for his fortitude. but did you know that from its earliest conception, Little Jack Horner was associated with foolishness and dishonesty?

it’s true: the simple yet inexplicable nature of the poem was lambasted for being infantile, and quickly became the subject of revision, moralisation, and even political satire. it is no mistake that to ‘be under one’s thumb’ (as many of the characters in The Last Wish are to Jack, both literally and figuratively) means to be under one’s decisive control. the choice of Jack Horner for the villain of The Last Wish is a clever one, because we could easily have ended up with a sympathetic Jack, whose ostracisation as ‘not even a fairy tale’ may have led to a justifiable motive, even for his specific brand of cruelty. but instead, the writers of The Last Wish have gone one step further; they’ve transformed a source affiliated with idiocy and deception into a metaphor for a global multimedia conglomerate...all while portraying him as simultaneously terrifying, powerful, and ridiculous. 

it has been over a decade since Shrek Forever After was released, and Disney has changed dramatically in that time. a global giant, Disney now owns more enormous money-making properties than ever thought possible, and consistently capitalises on nostalgia for its early properties to make more money and accumulate power. since breaking out of its exclusive licensing agreement with Disney in 2016, DreamWorks has had no official connection to Disney, making the ground for mockery and satirisation of the company which spawned the studio all the more fertile. ‘Big’ Jack Horner is not just a glamorous return to form for the dreadful, unapologetically evil villain which Disney has eschewed in modern times - he’s a hulking, egocentric monster whose avarice rivals that only of the corporation he’s inspired by. 

and those are my thoughts on ‘Big’ Jack Horner! of course this is by no means the definitive interpretation - we should all just have fun with the movie and come up with whatever theories we like 🥰💖 i’d love to hear your thoughts on him and The Last Wish in general - he’s definitely one of my favourite bad guys to be released in the past few years!

thanks so much for reading, and have yourselves a wonderful day 🥰

[therealslimshakespeare]

|| Sanchez ||

Requested? ☑️

Circa: October 1943

Summary: Upon being shot down on his last mission, Major Gale Cleven finds himself in the company of a female officer -and not one from the 100th. While already inclined to show solidarity, the increasing threat towards his fellow officer forces him to act. The jeopardy such action puts him in is more than he could have ever estimated, as is the fallout upon finding women he knows in the stalag

Cast: Cleven, Sanchez, Demarco, Brady, Egan, Kendeigh, Lu Smith, Ida Brady

Author’s note: the first portion of this segment is in the immediate time frame of Gale being downed. The second portion follows the events of What Took Him So Long? the mirroring of both these segments will hopefully prove enjoyable but I worry perhaps confusing

Content Warning: due to the disturbing content listed below the cut, I understand some may choose not to read this segment. If you’d like an abridged summary of the events herein to keep up with the series, I’d be happy to supply that 💋🌹

Warnings: usual universe warnings apply 18+ additionally for this chapter there are warnings for depiction of rape. This entire arc was produced on popular request, i have tried to portray the brutal events found herein in the most elevated and respectful terms I found effective. I would not call it graphic, however, it’s not vague either. And it’s rape. Male and female. Depiction of rape and discussion of past rape. Violence as well, obviously, fucking Nazis, ptsd from said assaults, choking, hints of childhood trauma, mentions of medical experiments. General cloud of dread. With light at the end of the tunnel.

Note: my blog and writings are strictly 18+, this means that we are all adults here enjoying free connection and art. The themes of this particular story are mature, at times harrowing and for some, potentially intolerable. No worries if the latter is your case, feel free to move on or block tags. On the other hand, please take responsibility for your reading, I provide warnings as a courtesy but I cannot cover them all and if something doesn’t sit right, please exercise adult autonomy and make your way to the nearest exit. Xo

When Gale extended his hand to aid the next prisoner up into the truck, he hadn't anticipated one so small or so brown. Busted knuckles that had rivulets of crimson pouring over copper flesh; he was mildly fascinated by it. His concussed mind flashed to ‘Lu Smith and her shaded face, before belatedly realizing it was indeed a woman’s lighter frame he was hauling in beside him to the shrill insistence of German threats.

The woman who flopped on the bench opposite him, legs spread wide and boots braced with a brow like a thundercloud, was not Smith. And for that Cleven was relieved.

Last he had seen of Ida and Graham’s fort, they’d been carrying on over Breman, and while he had every reason to think few had made it back, who’s to say they weren’t lucky? And Ida could fly a tin can on the fumes of an alcoholic's breath. Smith wasn’t here, Ida either, and he tried to arrange his mind to that, to not even let the doubt creep in, and instead took to studying the newcomer in between the passing of more downed airmen filling the benches.

The incessant barking of their dogs must have been half strategy, the throbbing in his back working its way into his head as the minutes went by. It had taken too long for them to be brought to Luftwaffe jurisdiction, he knew that much, even with giving them the benefit of the doubt for wartime communication failures and muddy roads. He’d been well read and prepared and braced for the outcome of being downed since before they left the states, grilled his men on procedure, on their rights, their privileges as prisoners of war, also on their duties to silence. The fact he’d never truly thought it would happen to him didn’t mean he wasn’t perfectly knowledgeable about the requirements.

So far Cleven had managed not to say a single word to anyone, the farmer with the pitchfork probably didn’t speak English and a wheezy “please don’t kill me” seemed like a flaccid bunch of last words that Gale refused to let off his tongue.

Instead he let them haul him to the nearest company of Wehrmacht soldiers and had been marched for ages by them, had seen and given Benny a nod when his column of prodded, sheepskin wearing sad bastards merged with Buck’s column of the same. Kendeigh hadn’t been there; crew get themselves killed in a hard landing as often as an exploded plane.

Cleven thought about breaking the silence now to ask the woman opposite where the hell she came from, her patches not what he was used to. But no, bad precedent, he stayed quiet and watchful as the Krauts pushed the last of the men into the overcrowded truck and snapped the tailgate shut. Someone could easily make a run for it by jumping out, but the jeep following behind at a steady few yards with a bristling assortment of machine guns suggested against it.

Once the truck began to move, Benny leaned forward beside him on their jostling journey and motioned in an ingratiating arc at the woman’s patches. “I don’t know those.” he said what Gale had been thinking, half yelling over the clamor of voices and the roar of the truck engine, “Looks half like varsity shit.”

Gale wasn’t sure his kindhearted co-Pilot meant those sorts of digs out of innocence or as a tactic to get reticent folks to defend themselves with the very information they might has previously withheld. As said, Gale didn’t know, but he knew it never failed. The woman went from scowling at Cleven -a pastime she had set herself to with such diligence that every time he tried to make discreet observance of her she already had her eyes on him- and turned to Benny.

“201st, fighters.” well that explained nothing and everything. “Sanchez.” she offered Benny after a beat, maybe knowing her name was hardly damning considering her looks.

Kinda like how Benny looked and sounded likely to have a name that started with “De-“ and a dog named meatball. “Eagle Wings, huh?” Benny nodded at the patch. “And a uh, uh triangle.” he couldn’t make it out all the way from his seat, but Buck could -the patch read ‘Mexico’ above a magnificent spread of Eagle Wings with a green triangle as the body.

They were all a long way from home.

“Aztec,” Sanchez tweaked it, “Aztec Eagles.”

“Mexican?” Benny asked, the accent wasn’t one he commonly heard in Philly but even crappy shows and movies got some things right, and Benny had seen his fair share of westerns.

“Sanchez.” she repeated instead and was back to scowling at Buck.

They seemed to drive for all day, until the light began to dim and what was a pleasant day turned into a misty chill as evening grew near.

The truck came to a halt at last, barbed wire and mud about them and the painted checkpoint arm whirled by as they drove into the dulag and came to a final stop. In the quiet that followed the cut of the engines, the rain was suddenly audible, pattering on the canvas above them. At the resumption of barked order and harsh commands the prisoners stood up, gingerly hopping out of the truck with just enough quickness not to be hit and just enough slowness not to be shot. Didn't help much anyway, muzzles were pointed quite liberally around here and you just had to hope the trigger fingers weren’t so generous.

The dulag guards turned away a good seven of those remaining after the packed truck had dispensed its human cargo. They didn't have enough room.

Go up further, to the next one, go to Frankfurt -those seemed to be the directions.

Directions their drivers and guards took poorly; it was late, it was drizzling and Buck could guess how little they enjoyed the on-edge detail of ferrying outnumbering prisoners around the countryside. They cut down on the number of guards, five to go with: a driver, two in the jeep, one more in the cab and another supposed to be with them in the truck back.

After a bit more haggling, the Dulag accepted three more prisoners. Cleven made sure to stay put, he didn’t know the foreign arguments well enough to decipher all but half the protesting seemed to be over who got Sanchez. And he sure as hell wasn’t leaving her here without a superior officer as defense. A dulag guard had hopped up into the truck and shined his flashlight at Buck’s markings, that’s when he mentioned something about Frankfurt.

Benny didn’t move without Cleven and so, when the truck took off again into the evening gloom, it was Buck and Benny and Sanchez and another hapless kid who looked all of fifteen and was, according to his over liberal offer of conversation, a scared shitless waist gunner.

“They’re arguing over you.” Cleven finally chose to speak up. It could get rough, the guards’ distinction of her. He felt it with a premonitory dread that came from too many right predictions as a child. He hated this feeling, he hated how right it usually was, he hated how it was usually met with folks telling him he worried too much. He’d taken to not saying much the older he grew, watching things play out, grieving over foreseen misfortunes all on his own. Until he met Bucky. But right now he had to speak up, this time he had to.

Yet Sanchez remained scowling, “They argued over you.” she retorted.

Gale gave her a tight smile, “I’m a major.”

“I’m a lieutenant.”

“I can see that.” he proceeded cautiously, “But they just took in a baker's dozen of lieutenants. No problem. But they didn’t take you.”

“Didn’t take him either.” she nodded to Benny.

“His captain’s ass never left the seat.” Cleven said, “You were on the ground, ready, they put you back. I’m tellin’ you, if they can’t decide who you are, where you go, I’m gonna need your assurance you’ll fight like hell with me. For recognition of it.”

-Just don’t say I worry too much, Gale thought desperately, he could almost feel Bucky’s gentle squeeze of his shoulder, like shaking out the tension in a cat as he said the same; his back was so stiff he thought it might snap if Bucky did it now but -but John wasn’t here. Thank Almighty God.

“You know you look more German than most of our guards.” Sanchez replied and Benny suddenly snapped to attention beside him at that. “I’m not assuring you of shit.”

“He’s not a damn spy!” Benny insisted, more loudly and vehemently than was maybe best with guards all around.

“You know this how?” she asked, unmoved.

“He’s my goddamn co-Pilot.”

“Pilot?”

“Ya think he just ripped his own cheek open for a part?”

Sanchez swayed with the jerk of a pothole and shook her head, “Maybe you both are.”

Smart, and a worse worrier than himself. Cleven liked her immensely and stared out the flap of the tarp, watching the rain pour down, dusk fully settling over everything outside and the trailing jeep’s headlights poured into their little haven, whiting-out his vision of the road.

“I’m not leavin’ this seat ‘till a Dulag takes you.” he told her, it was all he had to give. For her part she seemed determined to wait and see before expending any thanks. He didn’t expect it.

They weren’t in any city when the truck brakes checked them in a squeaking lurch, followed by the sound of tires turning off gravel and into squelching mud and then the echoing silence of the engine being cut once more. This wasn’t Frankfurt, and this was no engine failure. From the headlights of the following jeep, all Gale could make out was trees. So many damn trees. It had stopped raining.

“This isn’t Frankfurt.” He remarked to the guard sitting with them, the sullen fellow had not said a word for five hours and he didn’t start spilling now.

The others made an appearance when they joined them in the truck, hopping up with muddy jackboots and the clatter of what seemed to be a portable camp stove, along with rucksacks, utensils and the like. They unwound rope from the cloth neck of one sack and poured out oats, and another seemed to have been wrapping some preserved sort of meat. Gale eyed the discarded rope where it lay on the floor with the lust of a man used to working with what he was given, while Benny stared with barely concealed longing at the now simmering concoction on the tin stove.

These guards made conversation, or at least they tried. But not even the scared little gunner was in the mood to reply, and so it remained one sided. His boys hadn’t eaten since chow this morning at the crack of dawn, and Cleven didn’t blame them for their hunger but his own stomach was in loathsome, uneasy knots, and by observance of Sanchez’s wary sullenness, he figured he wasn’t alone in that. A dinner break for the Germans was one thing, he guessed, but the solitude was oppressive along with the forced proximity of all these grinning enemies stirring and chopping their porridge bits and laughing amongst themselves on the benches and floor next to them.

When they offered Demarco a hunk of whatever they had prepared, to his credit, Benny didn’t even acknowledge them. Their offer had been mocking enough, even without understanding the language.

“You must be hungry, ja?” The one with sergeant stripes cajoled, greasy teeth flashing, the muggy smells of rain and sweat and steaming food were all so noxiously trapped under the tarp, Gale had to bite his cheek to keep down the salient precursors of vomit.

The sergeant tried it on Sanchez next, insistently holding out a hunk of the meat impaled on the knife tip. She wouldn’t even look at him and that was an admirable thing until it served to anger him, and the man reached out, hand snagging in her waistband and hauling her smaller body beside him on the bench with ease. Benny was almost to his feet when Cleven fetched him back with a grip of his own, sitting him down firmly.

He managed to keep his voice perfectly neutral when interrupting the man’s flashlight lit perusal of Sanchez’s frozen features, “Hey, she doesn’t mean any harm, you let her go now.”

The sergeant looked up, less surprised to have gained a reaction from Gale but maybe at hearing his voice at last. “Only trying to be good hosts, ja? She von’t eat. Neither you?”

“Just not hungry.” Gale countered mildly.

“But ve must thank you,” the Sergeant laughed, and Sanchez stayed stiff as board in his grip, shying away from the still offered meat as much as the touch “so many parcels of gifts you drop.”

“Let her go.” Gale insisted, gently.

“She not drop zeez parcels?” The sergeant asked.

“She’s not a bomber.” Gale grit his teeth, “I do the dropping.”

The sergeant pulled her jacket apart in curiosity, thumbing at the patches, “Not’z a bomber?” Cleven felt his tongue go numb as the man tugged at her clothes, it was a curious inspection so far and yet- “Then it’s you should be given meat, ja?” The man left off his tugging and rose from his squat on the floor to approach Gale, the man was huge upon closer acquaintance, “For Hamburg,” he insisted through gritted teeth, his anger more palpable up close, and he pressed the meat to Gale’s tightly shut mouth, “and for ze little ones you turned to ash with your parcels.”

Gale kept his jaw locked and his mouth shut, eyes meeting the sergeants’, unblinking and unsorry.

“Open!”

Gale didn’t obey. The man sighed as if he were actually a host turned down. Gale could feel Benny’s eyes on him, wary, careful, his whole posture shockingly good at blending in, a damn good man to have next to you in a place like this.

“We have no beer,” the man confessed, knife and meat still pressing insistently, “or else we would offer it for such heroes. But not to fret, you have provided refreshment, ja? Full belly and beer iz ze best, full belly and a voman iz better.”

Carefully Gale turned his head away from the offered chunk, “That's a prisoner of war, not a woman.” He saw how little effect that had and added for benefit, “And your superiors are waiting for her.”

The man scoffed loudly and turned towards his men who were, Gale could now perceive past his bulk, scraping the last of their tin plates without so much as looking at the bowls -they were eying her. With intent. The kind of intent Gale wished he didn’t recognize but he did, carnival dins and race tracks after dark being hardly the best places to grow up unless you wanted to learn how often folks really would act on their worst impulses.

Not tonight, not if he could fucking help it. By Benny’s taut posture beside him, he knew he had an ally in the assumption that this would end in a fight. He eyed the rope lying on the floor.

“Eat with us.” The sergeant insisted, “She von’t be alive to tell on you, prisoners make a run for it all ze time. Must be shot. Ve’ll let you fuck her too.”

Oh Jesus- “Your superiors know-“ Cleven reminded, voice starting to shake in rage from the keyed up adrenaline he was barely keeping a lid on.

“-zey know emergencies happen.” The man snapped, almost annoyed at Gale’s persistence, as if he expected less protest from an airman at the prospect of one of his own being abused. “Zey would send more guards if zey cared as much as you ‘sink.”

The men had finished their bowls, they set them aside on the bench, pushing the stove away as well. Clearing the floor.

“Or fuck, oh fuck.” the gunner kid, who Gale had almost forgotten about on his end of the bench, began to panic, sounding like he was retching his prayers.

Gale met Benny’s eyes, then down to the rope on the floor, then back up. It was good to have a man who got it. Always got it, his Benny.

“Can I go first.” Gale asked, and held his breath.

“Vat?” The sergeant lowered the knife in surprise, the meat chunk slid and fell to the floor but neither cared.

Gale let his lips twitch, his eyes conspired, “I don’t wanna catch whatever shit you fuckers got.”

He could hear more than see Sanchez begin the thrash on her bench but she made no progress, maybe already being held. “And you von’t tell?” the sergeant asked.

Gale gave him a look that could be universally interpreted as ‘whadda ya think?’ and bent to retrieve the meat nugget from the muddy floor, right by the sergeant’s boot, the rope was just out of reach. When he straightened his back he popped the soiled peace offering in his mouth, he chewed it loudly, the rush of an imminent attempt thrumming so strongly in his body it replaced the queasiness for a moment. The sergeant clapped his hands together, once, in appreciation for the despicable deal.

Gale knew they wanted nothing more than sport of him, it was no comradely favor to allow him to go first, it was blackmail and it was likely something worse once he got his pants down. But they could all play along, he just needed to get close to her. They had her jacket off already, her boots, too.

This didn’t really have a chance in hell but if she was like Ida, or Smith or anyone else, she’d rather be shot barefoot than have this happen to her. Gale supposed dying with German ham stuck in his teeth was about a draw with being killed via pitchfork prongs through the belly.

He didn’t process much when he stood up: not beyond the two paces it took to get to her, the men holding her on the bench seat and wrestling at her clothes, the way Benny didn’t say a word. He really was thinking of Benny in those paces, hoping his co-pilot was ready -it didn’t occur to him even once that Demarco might be as fooled as these sick fucks around them, letting go of her all too quickly at the prospect of a degrading show.

Cleven had his hand around her necktie, pulling her off the bench before he’d even really registered being close enough, he’d forgotten how to hold his face for this act but maybe the mad determination passed for lust, he didn’t think of anything but yanking her up when he felt a sudden, stinging slice against his right cheek. She’d been waiting for this moment, smart thing had a penknife hidden somewhere, it was something one of the Banshees would have pulled, and the mirroring slice was disorienting enough that he wasted a good two seconds in smarting surprise as warm blood trickled down his chin and the guards began to shout.

Someone else wrested the knife from her grip, someone else held onto her wrist now, his moment of shocked pain wasted his fucking plan.

Still, he tried.

Cleven yanked her further toward the middle of the space, spun her around despite her incessant clawing -and maybe the actions seemed to the guards in accordance with his plan, plus some anger from the wound. He didn’t know what they thought, he only knew that no one halted him, they just gathered closer to see, never expecting it, just as he didn’t expect to manage it when he got her turned to the open flap of the tarp and bodily hurled her out its back, into the night.

Benny must’ve tripped the first one, a clunky helmet clattering as the guy fell flat at Cleven’s feet, right as he turned around to help. It wasn’t ever gonna be a nice fight, or a likely chance for her to have even a ten second start but it was something besides sitting on a bench and watching them violate a fellow officer. He’d have done the same for Benny. Just as Benny now looked pretty resigned to dying in this fight, getting in a couple of excellent, unapologetic punches with the next guard who manned up and realized what was what. -It’s gotta be a let down to be keyed up for a nice orgy in the woods only to end up having to play guard again. Gale wanted to manage to kill one before he got shot, that’s all he really wanted anymore.

And for the girl to get out, for all the girls to get out wherever they were.

He was grappling with the closest one, the guy nearest the flap who almost managed to give chase to her right away, when he felt something that gave him a chill of horror he never expected. Rope; he registered it slipping down his chin, making him let go of his opponent to try to slip his fingers between the twine and his collared throat -too late. He felt himself bodily yanked back, a burn in his throat all consuming and the sudden deprivation of air turning him into a desperate mess, nothing useful about his scuffing feet and clawing hands.

They were giving orders to go after her, and two men were scrambling out the back as Gale began to sag. From his new position gasping on the floor, Gale could see that they had a gun to Benny’s gut, while the gunner kid hadn’t needed such firmness, he was braced at the back of the truck in absolute terror.

Well this was over faster than desired but -to be expected. Fuck.

“Halt.” Cleven felt the sergeant’s boot kick at the side of his head, emphasizing his order to cease his struggles.

World grew fuzzy then, not at all like drowsy sleepiness in a hammock but instead like being caught in the river current when you thought you’d managed to strike the ford just right. Gale’s pulse thudded between his temples like the blows of a sledgehammer on his skull, his lungs burned, the cuts on his cheeks blared their pain like screaming infants demanding to be heard above the rest of the pain and terror and fury. He could taste the blood gushing out of them from the pressure, the cuts spurted and dribbled down into his already choking mouth.

What a way to go.

He felt cold air, he felt himself drug and a painful drop to what was likely muddy ground, felt himself dragged some more and his own finger -wedged between the rope and his throat- hurt him worst of all, that knuckle digging into his windpipe.

When some slack finally came, it was minimal, only enough for his body to heave and gag and try to force air into collapsed pipes, enough for sounds of cries and shots and clanking metal to flood into his consciousness. He was either at heaven’s gate or on the cold hard ground at eye level with the beaming jeep headlights -that would explain the blinding glow in his vision.

Or else, heaven wasn’t half what it was cracked up to be.

Someone or a few someone’s, were standing over him and he could see then that he was tied by the makeshift noose to the trailer hitch of the truck, tarp flaps widened far above him like stage drapes. Was Benny still alive in there?

“Maybe you defend her because you too are female?” One guard suggested while prodding at his crotch with a boot, and that made Gale’s frozen, sluggish, oxygen deprived blood begin to pound. “Hübsch.” they complimented him repeatedly -pretty, so very pretty. Too pretty for a man. “We should check, ja?”

He spared one single hope, that Benny wasn’t watching. He didn’t hope they wouldn’t act on their threats, and he hadn’t any hope left that he could actually save Sanchez from what they were even now wrestling her to the ground for. But it felt worsened somehow at the idea of his co-pilot seeing him this way, he yanked his head against the noose and regretted it after. The constriction made his eyes burn, and all his efforts were once again concentrated on grappling with his breathing as they tugged at his clothes and made sport of discovering he was not, in fact, lying about being male.

They laughed, they touched, they said he was some mistake. A face like that had no business owning a cock. He wished he knew less German, in fact he knew little but there are kindnesses and there are cruelties that need no articulation to be understood.

The earth beside him, the mud beneath Sanchez’s hands, was tilled up from her nails, like furrows for planting and her face was so near his when they threw her down, he could make out the spit and blood on her lips.

“Should I?” One was saying and they had their knife out, Gale’s panicked mind had a generous moment of hope that they would cut the rope, that he would soon be able to breathe again. Or else his throat, and he’d not breathe anymore. Both sounded perfect.

They cut open his flight suit instead, a hand heavy on the back of his head, turning him fully over, and then there was the feeling of a warm and sweaty body beginning to roll on top of him.

The mud was cold beneath his cheek, smooth on the forest floor, none of the rough gravel of that endless road, only mud and pine needles sticking to his face now, their knobby little ends roughing up the older wound on his cheek. Every time the guard pushed closer, it scraped him -that blade to his other cheek. The metal tip glittered in the periphery of his one good eye, shining from the headlights.

Sanchez had begun to scream.

Hoarse, wounded, fox like.

It felt very much like a demented dream, even down to the hunter’s attitude above him, the grunts, the prey-like waiting for the lethal blow. He wasn’t sure how long he had floated with only her wounded cries as a grounding agent when he felt a splatter against his lower back and consciousness came back with a heave of his chest and a revolt so strong he fought again against the noose. Predictably, it only tightened. There was cold on his skin then, when the man drew away, fresh night breezes mocking the mess he’d made of Gale, kerosene and exhaust fumes ruining the smell of soil beneath him. Then the heat was back, someone else draped over him, and Gale dug his fingers into the earth too, readying for what the other had spared him. It didn’t matter, if they tired themselves out with him, that was one less -now two less- to use her instead. There had been only five.

This one flipped him over, Gale went easily, both hands occupied straining to get even a finger between the asphyxiating pressure of the rope and his throat.

“He is easier now.” he heard the man laughing, foggy, hazy, unfairly. “The bitch has gone quiet, maybe he will make music, huh?”

Gale frantically turned his head to seek her out, desperate to find her alive -she couldn’t be dead. Not just from this, surely not, what could they do to kill her?-but his own vision was spotting and his throat spasmed in protest. They surely could kill them this way, they could do anything they wanted because they could kill them. And no one would ever hold them to account.

His poor girls. What were they doing to his poor girls?

It burned enough to jolt him awake again, both the forceful entry and the smack to his cut cheek. They wanted him awake, aware, he refused to look at them. This was reminiscent, bright lights and unwanted hands and all but the carnival music missing. He kept staring to the side at her, and at her face, at the way the headlights lit them both up like a carnival spectacle and cast the shadows of their tormentors in looming, grotesque proportions against the treeline. She had her eyes closed, face almost suffocated in the soil, balled fist growing lax beside his own, just out of reach. She didn’t even react when the next replaced the other. There were only five, Gale repeated to himself, there were only five.

No, no, no.

“Smith,” he begged her, “Smith don’t fuckin’ give up on me now.”

His poor girls.

Gale’s own voice made him cringe, how hoarse it was, how young, what a beg it sounded like, how punctuated each word was with the winding pain of a fresh thrust. But her eyes flew open at his call.

Sanchez, her name was Sanchez, he reminded himself. And Smith was with Ida, probably throwing the ball at the flack house after making it back from Breman. She had to be. He didn’t want to live in a world where Lu felt what he felt now as the man shuddered inside him, used him like a skein, a shell, a vessel, hot breath stinging at his cuts.

“Stay with me Sanchez.” he muttered, wondering if he had it in him to do the same. He didn’t have the luxury of ignoring his tormenter any longer, he felt his face gripped and turned, cuts smarting beneath calloused fingertips, cheeks being squished like Bucky used to do in play. The yeasty splatter spit landing on his own tongue was somehow more revolting than all the rest. He gagged, he struggled, his body was on fire.

Smith was screaming again.

There were only five.

He refused to remember more until there was a sudden absence of the heat and the breath and the tearing pain, and if he wasn’t so drugged on misery he might have thought everyone seemed a little rushed at the end. Not how he expected them to be with all the time in the world to wipe their pricks, close their pants, pull out a pistol and deliver a headshot. One apiece here in the mud. See ya there, Benny, he thought dismally, not bothering to open his eyes.

But then there were sounds of squealing tires and the roar of engines and the white bright glow behind his eyelids grew in intensity until he realized -in a fumbled state of what felt like being redressed- that someone else had pulled up to this horror show. There’d only been five and now- now, oh fuck, he didn’t think he could, no, no, no, he yanked at his noose, half hoping to strangle himself or at least be caught fighting this.

If he didn’t know much German when lucid and keen, he certainly wasn’t adept at deciphering the angry babble above him when half dead, half uncaring about listening for an order to flip him over for the next or to blow his brains out. No, no he was far away in the Silver Wings and Maureen’s boot was dug into his shoulder as she turned himself and Egan into scaffolding, all to smoke the club’s ceiling with testament of their survival for their 20th. No big bash like for 25 but it had been a milestone, as terrifyingly hopeful as it had been all too fortunate. He’d seen her cry for the first time that night, hands shaking, admitting she felt in her bones they’d not be lucky, that she’d never really thought about this part, not when she joined up, about getting so close and now she wanted to see it through she was sick to death of the idea of seeing it though being a fiery death. Well, Gale knew now she’d managed to jump, she’d not known fire.

But what else, oh what else?

Next time Cleven woke he was face down on the same old bench seat from hours before, burning ribs nothing compared to the lapping flames below his waist. The truck beneath him was moving and his cut face was only partially gentled by the feel of someone’s meaty thigh beneath him. Horrified, he startled up, hating the idea of being someone’s pet after-

-but it was Benny, looking busted as hell but alive and holding onto him lest he jolt off the bench with the next pothole. As far as he could feel, Gale had his clothes on, muddy and cold and it was daylight and they were moving. A guard he didn’t recognize was on the opposite bench near the flaps, watching them curiously with a rifle slung easily over his lap. He had wings on his lapel.

Sanchez was sat as far from him as possible near the front of the truck, alive and looking for all the world like she might kill the sniffling and unharmed gunner on the floor.

“Luftwaffe.” Benny informed him and Gale winced at their good fortune before giving his friend a pat and letting the sludge of insensibility take over again.

————————————————

“What was done to you: I am horrified.” Lt. Hausmann’s eyes were warm but his smile was cold, as cold as the holding cells, an odd dichotomy, opposite to most but not foreign to Gale. “I have heard they had intentions to hang you, yes? You, a prisoner of war. An officer. Horrifying, base, cowardly, I can only apologize for my countrymen’s attitude, they will be held to account. Was there anything else? I shall make a note. Are you well? Was there anything else?”

“There was a fighter pilot with me.” Cleven did not miss the eagerness in the man’s body language when he let loose his voice at last, hoarse from the rope and suppression of his cries. He’d been sat at this frigid desk with its proffered whiskey and smokes for half an hour already. “She was brutally raped, Lieutenant. And it is my understanding she is under Luftwaffe command now. Held here. I’d like you to make note of both, treat her accordingly.”

“Appalling.” Haussmann insisted, pen scritching away at his pad, “Noted, I-i will see that they are brought to account. Appalling. And you, Major, were you treated well? Besides your throat, I mean. Satisfactory? Honorably? I will make a note.”

The gnawed and broken thumbnail he’d bitten off hours ago slipped from between Gale’s molars. His teeth grated against each other for a split second. It was the only sound that filled the room. There’d been only five.

He passed Benny in the hall when they drug him back to his cell. But he never saw Sanchez again.

———————————————-

He didn’t see Sanchez again, not until a month later when she came with Smith. And all the others. Not until after a month of a John Brady biting through his lips with well placed anxiety over the absence of their female fellows. A month of Gale acting like he actually thought they were alright. As far as he knew, the boy’s sister was fine. Until she came through that gate, head shorn, cheek disfigured, half her buttons missing and a look in her eye that was half fury, half woe.

He was angry for Ida, but she didn’t belong trapped in a dog run with all these men. So Gale protested.

“If it can happen to you-“ John Brady had the gall to suggest at the gate, to suggest something Cleven had never confirmed. But Brady was like that, and Cleven had stopped his fight against the girls' inclusion all the same. Perhaps his fight had been less about the rules being broken, and more at the idea of having to see any more of their mistreatment, being witness to it, his rank proving useless once more. Never again. Not if he had to barter the golden gates for their safety.

———————————————--

“You ok?” Cleven asked Brady on the second day after their arrival as he counted out the syringes on the rough hewn table, one by one. He didn’t doubt the kid’s promise to get the supplies but instead the stalag doctor’s elusive provisions and willingness to comply. But sure enough, there was one for each of the girls, and a spare.

Brady gave him a tight lipped nod before expounding, “Sunnuvbitch wouldn’t dish on the iodine, I could see the damn relief package right there behind him but -no swabs. Dry stab. I guess.”

“It’s ok.” Cleven insisted, eyeing him still; he had his coat bundled about him even indoors but the buttons of his shirt beneath were redone, Gale knew that because they skipped one and started again wonky, wrong buttonhole, twice over. Like they’d been redone in haste. It hadn’t been that way when he left. “These are what we need.” he glanced up from his task at Hambone who was animatedly informing Benny of his visit.

Cleven had tried at subtlety, listening in with discretion but he couldn’t help it anymore, too curious himself. “You went with him, yeah?”

“Yes sir.” Hambone gestured to his newly smoothe cheek, stitches gone.

“So, what’s he like? The doc?”

Hamilton gave a signature sneer, “Weird as fuck and a little weirder than that. Wouldn’t fuckin’ shut up.”

“Yeah? What about?”

“Yeah!” Hamilton insisted, pissed off by it apparently, “On and on about psy- psycho -sam-“

“psychosomatic.” Brady rescued him boredly.

“-reflexes and shit. On and on. Just want the stitches out, ya know?”

“Yeah.” Cleven agreed. Waiting for the shoe to drop. He stared at the extra shot, his stomach curdling. “Just want some shots.” he added, eyes drifting up to land on Brady and his sightless stare at the opposite wall that bunked his motionless sister.

“Yeah, that was a whole other debacle.”

“Oh?” Cleven prodded, the picture of nonchalance as he started to divide the shots into groupings. He was seeing things, he was projecting, he was doing what Egan told him not to ever do -assume what has been is now what is. What he’s experienced is what everyone else has. He knew that deep down, but there was a brittle bravery to Jack Brady these days that reminded Gale too much of his own fraudulent brand of survival.

“Hammy it’s- how about you leave off.” Brady muttured. “Don’t bother the major with it.”

“Weird as fuck.” Hambone confirmed stubbornly.

“I’m the one who asked you if you thought he was weird.” Brady corrected, irritated enough by impression to continue.

“And it was! I said he was.”

“I’ve been telling you guys.” When Brady said it, it was without heat. “Him and his stupid little hammers.”

“Yeah what was all the hammering for?”

“Reflexes, Hammy. Psychosomatic.”

“Weird as fuck.”

Gale bit his tongue so hard he hoped it cleared his head before daring, “He make you take your shirt off for it?”

There was a pause in the slapping sounds of the card game ongoing behind him, Kendeigh and Demarco and Crank all freezing at the question.

“He keeps checking the shoulder.” Brady finally said, it was admittance enough.

“And the fuckin’ knee.” Hambone chipped in.

He shrugged, meeting Cleven’s eyes stubbornly, “He’s obsessed with reflexes.”

“You hurt your knee landing?”

Brady’s flat line of a mouth tugged up wryly, his eyes flitted over to his sister's motionless form. “A tad. Uh, the shots sir, he said they go in the hip. Didn't have the pamphlets, no instructions.

“I remember.” Gale had some knowledge of it, they’d all gotten a few vaccines in training, and he knew enough to ask for them in the first place, to help with whatever the poor girls might have contracted. His own eyes skittered to Kendeigh who sat at the table, making a poor show of holding her deck of cards. “Well, you first?” he pleaded.

She looked a little cross but she didn’t fight him, she rose from the table with stern imprecations on anyone skipping over her turn and cast about for a place. Gale put his hand on her shoulder and gently guided her to a corner by the bunks, it was really all the privacy he had to give.

“You’ll have to undo my belt, Ida had to do it up-“ she flashed her swollen hands again, “-my hands.”

“I got you.” he whispered, gently reaching around and loosening the belt so that her borrowed trousers sagged enough for him to get at the meat of her hip.

Johnny was rolling Ida over in their bunk beside him, and Gale wasn’t sure who should give Ida her shot but he supposed her brother was the best candidate. Much as he hated the boy having to. But, perhaps, it wasn’t the worst thing he had to do tonight, and that made Gale’s stomach sour. He willed his hands to steadiness and undid the cap off the needle.

“Jesus Christ.” Johnny was suddenly exclaiming, hoarse and infuriated, Gale glanced aside and saw the boy had uncovered a hip alright, with his usual meticulous precision, and still, there wasn’t a spot of skin on Ida not green or else blue or else near to black. Gale stared back at Maureen and the jagged little scratches on her hip, crescent moon ditches, the blooming bruise here and there and swore not to count his blessings.

What did he know? Nothing, he knew nothing about any of them really. Except he knew such injuries didn’t have to show to hurt like hell. He drove the shot home with merciful force, squeezed in the stinging contents and retracted it, smooth and fast as anything.

“Hell, fuck, damn! Son of a carpet wearing Methodist-“ Maureen hopped around on her one good leg in barely contained frenzy at the sting.

Gale tried not to smile, “Bad huh?”

She scowled back at him in between pained giggles, “If I could give yours just for pay back, I would. Damn!” she held her hands up up once more and Cleven kept his eyes above, “But I can’t, sorry, can’t help with the other girls either, fucking useless.”

Johnny was standing, straightened up again, syringe empty, sister still just lying there. Bucky Egan out cold beside her. Gale couldn’t even allow himself to question if those two would be alright. They had to be, he didn’t think he could make it without them, make everyone else make it along with him. “She didn’t even budge.” Jack muttered.

What was there to say to that?

“She didn’t make it all the way here just to fuckin’ die.” Kendeigh assured him while straddling her chair again, voicing her peculiar brand of kindness and her true opinion on Ida Brady, “She’d never be so wet. They had a whole day to kill her on that train and they didn’t manage to.”

A day? A train? Gale didn’t know what to make of it; he was just glad that Bucky was dead to the world for now and not getting riled again by every new tidbit so that Gale would have to talk him down and also administer shots to a bunch of traumatized women.

“We’ll help sir.” Crank offered to him as he stood over the divided piles of syringes again.

“Alright,” Gale agreed, “but some may wanna give it to each other instead, you let them. Give ‘em space. I don’t think they’ll fight it, they know they need ‘em.”

Benny sauntered up beside him, flicking at the supplies, “This one yours, Buck?” he asked casually, fiddling with the spare.

Gale glanced at Brady and found him looking back at him. “Yeah.” He told Benny. “For the cuts.”

“Here, let me-“ Benny was already at it. Gale tugged his waistband down to assist, just enough to expose a sliver of pale hip and leaned a little over the table, there were bruises on his hipbones, he knew, but they could be from anything.

It did sting like hell.

“Alright you take those, and that’s enough for, yeah-“ Gale divided the supplies to each man, lingered just a moment as they went into the hall to brush by Brady, and murmured to him him lowly, “That was real thoughtful, thanks. You need one?”

To the credit of his poker face, the boy didn’t startle a bit, except for an infinitesimal flutter of an eyelid. “No sir?” he asked as if that were an idiotic question.

It was the only way Gale knew to ask him: to ask about something more. -Tell me son, just tell me you need a shot and I’ll know I’m not imagining shit. That I’ve not become paranoid and irritable and callous, too.

But then, “No sir?” and that incredulous face that left even the strongest man feeling like a dunce.

Well, that was it.

“I’ll help you tell them.” Maureen was by his side suddenly and Gale appreciated that, Smith was the only other female Lieutenant and he could use Kendeigh’s unapologetic pragmatism. “Ida told them she’d ask for remedies. Think she meant for pregnancies but, this is a start.”

There really wasn’t much of an announcement to be made; who didn’t understand what penicillin was needed for? It was needed for the dreaded thing that was hung over every bathroom stall door at canteens and on the underground in London, warning of having too good of a time and catching something. No one needed explanations, even though Gale watched their faces as Kendeigh announced and helped distribute the shots one room after another, he was trying to detect if any were hesitant or unconvinced. He found none.

He did find Sanchez, across one identical wooden room and still in her jacket with the eagle patch. She must have washed her face with the others, the mud was gone. When they locked eyes he saw a hard and warning look harden her eyes further; it made his cheek throb. Stonefaced, she broke the stare after a moment and advanced to grab her allotment, even as her fingers dragged along his palm, even when she passed him, Gale could not get her to resume it.

In one of the last rooms he went in alone -Maureen was delayed with one of the girls doing poorly, one who was not well enough to rise from her bunk. “They about drowned her” Maureen told him casually, and that was something else he dreaded learning about.

“Drowned?” he’d repeated a bit dumbly, and he deserved her

annoyed face.

“To get info from us.”

“Us?” he repeated again, low and slow, “You too?”

She gave him another of those looks before nodding at the last parcel in his hand, “Go take care of Smith’s girls before Johnny gets to them first and helps them with all the tenderness of a mortician.”

When Gale had stepped back into the hallway, Johnny’s voice could be heard still two doors down with Benny, fighting a fine line between helping and making themselves scarce. Personally, Gale felt Johnny was a gentle fucker when he needed to be. This wasn’t one of those cases, none of the girls wanted pity from them. Or acknowledgement even, judging by Sanchez’s cautioning venom.

In the last room, Smith and Tong had the girls sorted efficiently, and it was a little thing to ask the ever obliging Graham and the other men to step out briefly. Same old script here as before, Gale felt in a numb sort of loathing for his lack of originality -he distributed a shot a piece and apologized for the lack of iodine to sterilize the injection site and they all assured him it was fine, and everyone knew he was apologizing for far more than the lack of iodine and they knew that they’re assurances were more than about it either. Gale liked these girls for how well they knuckled under, it had made them pretty great in the crews after a shaky mission. They shoved a bad thing down as well as the next man, and if they punched their bed frames at night or cried in the showers, just like how it was for his men, that wasn’t Gale’s concern.

Only Lu Smith’s face went off script when he pressed the needle and its cartridge in her hand, something besides tight lipped thanks or a nod of efficient understanding. There were questions in her eyes, dancing slow and swirly and blatant as sorghum specks in molasses. A rich dark pool of uncertainty. Some girls were already discreetly headed for corners of the room to make the stab or else rolling up a shirt sleeve and insisting to the giver that they wanted it given there. Lu glanced away from him only to watch these proceedings with something like fear and then she was looking back at him, a hesitant plea written on her face. He didn’t know she was scared of needles.

“Major, is Ida awake?” his lieutenant asked, voice scratchy and a little closed, like how it got when she tried her hand at professionality or had to present a solution in front of a crowd. “I need to ask her something.”

That was a remarkably vague sentence, not at all professional. “No, she’s not.” He told her, watching as the fear grew more pronounced around her mouth and chin, “You ask me, Lieutenant.”

“May I?”

“Course,” Gale nodded his head toward the door, “step out here.”

He strode down to the very end of the combine, by the locked double doors, just far enough away from the windows not to invite a guard to come in and give them shit about it. The bright orange lights of the camp came in from the general darkness outside, glowing through the always dusty glass and making Smith’s skin shine a pretty bronze, even with the dark spots on her chin. Those made his blood thud quicker. It was quiet down here, as private as he could get.

“What’s up Smith?” he urged.

“I’m sorry sir I-I’ve got a few questions.”

“Told you to ask, Lieutenant.” Gale reminded, “So ask.”

“Yes sir.” She’d developed a tick since he’d last seen her, an odd sort of hugging of herself, arm crossing her chest and hand gripping her opposite clavicle, fingertips curling just over her own shoulder. “It’s about the shots. Ida’s been teaching me but she never mentioned about those.”

Gale took a deep breath, only the faintest bit of mirth left at the reminder of the ‘condom balloon’ incident. Ida had needed a stiff drink after taking her engineer aside and informing ‘Little Lu’ those were rubber socks men put on their members, and not in fact balloons. And yes, Benny had lied out of niceness, and yes men’s bodies sprayed things like cattle’s did when they got excited, and yes it’s for the purpose of making babies. Gale had heard all this from Ida after three stiff shots she’d downed like medicine, she’d relayed it in a perfect montone and Gale had not asked but she told him all the same, then said she needed to hit the sack and Ida Brady was gone while Gale remained at the bar with his cider and shaking shoulders. The memory had been amusing only weeks ago, when Douglass came to loot Benny’s footlocker for more rubbers and they’d all made a joke about Smith having beat him to them -for balloons.

“Everyone else seems to know and want them and I’m the slow one again.” Smith was muttering, a petulant look of annoyance crossing her young face, angry at herself.

“It’s about the guards.” Gale murmured.

Smith looked so hurt by that he wasn’t sure where he’d misstepped, but then, “Is it for what they did? Or is it such a sure they’re gonna keep hurting us and these- how do these help, sir?”

Gale startled and laid a heavy hand on her shoulder out of pure, gut instinct to impress on her his next words, “Not a single thing is goin’ to happen to you again, not like that, you hear me, Lu?” he shook her a little and it dislodged her own hand from her chest.

“Yes sir.”

“These are for anything you might’ve caught.” he tried to explain, coming up short and he knew it. If Bucky were here he’d use all manner of crass slang and common vernacular phrases to jog the poor girl’s memory about magazine advertisements, the sorts that warned of ‘diseases’, the underground posters and the bathroom stall flyers urging chastity or safety. Gale could not manage it back then and he couldn’t now. “Diseases Lu.” he tried again, “Men who aren’t- careful, or- disciplined, they, they spread diseases to the girl they’re with. Uh, with- intimately. If they’ve been with other girls before.”

He hoped to God that Ida had used the word ‘intimate’ when educating Smith on these finer yet so utterly crude aspects of human interaction. ‘Intimate’ seemed like a word Ida Brady would use, he thought he recalled her accusing him of being intimate with Kendeigh. Maybe the accusation had been ‘fraternizing’. Or ‘getting familiar’. Gale wasn’t sure, he only recalled that it had not been complementary and he had blushed into the floor under her stare but her accusation had been vague. He knew Ida had been vague.

Was she equally vague with Smith? Did that mean Smith was as uneducated as she’d been before Ida gave her an ineffectually Catholic lesson?

“They can spread it with-“ Smith paused only a minute before deciding to trust him, “-with their bodies? Like a wound?”

Gale gave her nod, trying to stay teacherly, “With their bodies. Yeah. They don’t need wounds it comes from- well, other places. Intimate places they- look, Smith if you weren’t hurt that way, you don’t need the shots.”

Grueling as this conversation was, nerve wracking as her dense innocence could be, it fed that traitorous bit of hope he’d been harboring since he lost all hope for himself that she might’ve been alright. It wasn’t fair to Kendiegh or Ida or Sanchez or any of the others to hope for that, but none of this was fair anyway. Maybe her lack of comprehension was a kindness.

Smith’s eyes were latching onto one surrounding thing and then another, a good long beat between each new object, not darting but roving, now latched on the doorframe and now on Gale’s coat buttons and then on to the glass window panes beside them as if she could see through the bubbled glass out into the dark yard. He could tell by her change in breathing more than the light when she began to cry.

“I didn’t want the girls to think I’m stupid.” She admitted, and she was definitely crying, “I’m their officer, I should know these things.” she explained, lips going into a full tremble, all the harmless jokes of before suddenly not a bit funny, “But I don’t know at all, I didn’t know they’d-“ Gale kept his hand on her now jolting shoulder, spending a little too much time thinking how to mould his own face to some correct expression for this as she began to crumble, it was better than watching too closely as she broke apart, “When they beat us and put the bags over our faces I- I expected it. It wasn’t right, we weren’t treated like prisoners but, I expected it. Ida had told us. Then they started saying things to her, the ones that could speak English and I-i really didn’t know what they meant, not at first until they started- oh Major, they, they started touching her, like lovers in a movie.”

Lu had her eyes squeezed shut like that would get the image out somehow, one brief flash and Gale could remember everything about laying there and seeing Sanchez’s face -and he knew nothing wiped the image out. “They had her chained to a bar and they kept doing that,” she went on, “It was over her head, the bar was over her head and I could tell how much she hated it, and she couldn’t do anything and they weren’t hurting her anymore, they were- they were touching her. They stopped beating her and started touching her, sir and I- that’s when I realized that, there could be something worse. They wanted us to start giving up ranks, and they kept doing that until we did and I wanted to give up then more than any time else. Just to make them stop doing that to her.”

Gale squeezed her shoulder and she jerked under it but cried afresh, she stayed still next to him and just kept crying. “Smith, right here and now I need to know if you’re alright.” he steered her away from memories back to now, as gently as he could, “Ida is gonna be alright, and she’s proud of you, and she expects you to take care of her girls, you hear me? And I need you well for that, Lu. I need to know if you’ve been hurt.”

Smith pulled herself back into a shaky composure, her neck still trembling so badly her head made tiny little jerks from time to time. “They did hurt me.” she agreed.

“Hurt you where you need these shots?” he gently clarified, hoping she was catching on, dreading the confirmation all the same.

“They put -they kept putting themselves inside me.” she got it out, her face dazed like she still didn’t understand it even as her voice cracked from a soul deep knowledge of the wrong done, “I didn’t know they could- they could use their bodies like that. I didn’t know. They kept doing it.”

-There had been only five.- Gale felt his belly lurch, some bowel deep memory of the same torture taking over him, like a haunting he couldn’t prevent. He’d thought he had it locked far down enough, hardly thought on it these days, but maybe he’d shoved it down to where it hurt in the first place, with his belly in knots all again and Sanchez’s cold face sneering and Benny’s worried eyes making his stomach shake and salt flood his mouth. He wanted to vomit.

“Oh Lu.” he muttered ineffectually, “C’mere.” and he had her hugged and cradled to his ratty jacket before his ingrained and temperate habits could interfere. He had her turned to the doors, her sobbing eyes pressed into his sweaty layers and it was better that way. With his lips pressed to the crown of her head he watched the rest of the hallway go on without them, men going back into the rooms once the shots had been administered, Benny darting into one with a bucket in hand. Gale saw Brady as Brady saw him, only making a small pause in his stride as he watched Gale hold Smith before he turned away, face still a blank slate, the boy went back to his sister.

Maybe if Gale had been closer or the hallway brighter he might’ve seen the same hurt and tears there as he and Smith were sharing, but Brady wasn’t close and he wouldn’t say and maybe Gale was a fool to think his own experience wasn’t a fluke. But Brady just went back to Ida, and Gale still felt the damning weight of the shot in his palm even as he hugged Smith’s narrow shoulders.

His own hip still smarted from the injection, -the shot for his cuts. Just his cuts.

“I’m sorry sir.” Smith was trying to say in between sobs, no doubt finding her emotions galling in the face of her prized professionalism.

“Don’t be.”

“I’m sorry, I’ll be fine-“

“I know.”

“I’ll be fine i just, I didn’t know-“

“I know, Lu.”

“It hurt so much.”

“I know.”

She pulled her face away, he was glad to see that while it was puffy and reddened, she looked far calmer. The suddenness of her recovery should have warned him. “Do you sir?” she whispered, pained.

“What?”

“Do you know, sir?” she asked again, harmless yet intent, “Did they hurt you that way too?”

Gale felt a rush of heat, heat and numbness where his hands fell from their grip on her and shook by his sides instead, and he hated his limbs for that betrayal. Heat, like she could see it so clearly on his face, like the harmless cuts on his face really spelled it out. Everyone’s suspicion of them put him on edge, wondering what was wrong with his bearing, his walk, the way he took a seat, that somehow exposed him. With her dark, pitying, horrified little face staring up at him, he felt like he was back on the bench with Benny holding him there, knowing most likely why he had to lay on his belly and not his back.

“Smith you can’t-“ Gale sounded young again and he hated it, when he was ready he began again, and this time he sounded like Major Cleven, “-don’t ever say shit like that again, alright? You can’t say shit like that. Not about- men. Not about me.”

She looked affronted and close to tears again, but his tone couldn’t be helped, last thing this stalag needed was news their Major had been so easily overcome. “I was just asking sir-“

“Not something you ask a man.” he informed her. “Like ya said, there’s lot of things you don’t know, it’s alright. But you don’t ask that, Smith.”

Harsh but necessary, he told himself again. Except she looked less hurt now and closer to something like anger, if her kind self could be angry. He’d seen her get angry when someone kicked a dog once. He’d seen her angry after a shit mission. She looked close to it now, like some grave injustice was firing her up. “But it can happen to men.” she was suddenly wise and he picked a cuticle bloody in trance-like distress, his face was motionless, “I know because they- they can put themselves both places.”

Fury took the place of numbness in his being and he grabbed her again, pulling her close and tucking her under his chin, she made a wounded noise when their chests collided despite the layers, but she wrapped her arms around him and squeezed back. “They’re never gonna do that again, Lu, never again. I’m gonna make sure of it. Bucky’ll make sure of it.” he swore, his voice gone so low it shook. “They hurt you other places?”

Smith shook her head against his chest, “I’ll take the shot, sir.” she murmured meekly. “Would you give it? I don’t want the others to-“

“Sure, Lu.”

He waited until she pulled away, her eyes downcast but the look on her face broke no argument that she wasn’t in a humor to be less than her rank. Gale shifted the shot in his palm and bit his lip, willing away any sentiment about it.

“Goes in the hip. Mark my words, those bicep shots that Tong went for- gonna hurt for ages, you don’t need that. Lemme put it in your hip.”

Smith nodded and cast a furtive glance behind her at the empty hall, only looking down again to undo her belt when Gale moved his body to block any hapless onlooker.

There were bruises when he gently aided her in tugging the drab olive aside, some nearly as dark as the ones on Ida and welts from what looked like a belt strap, even on the high swell of her hip. Gale knew the smarting bite of a belting.

“Did you wash these?” he whispered to her, crouching to better see his work as he made a harbor of unmarried muscle between his thumb and index finger, bunching up the meat of her leg and holding it for her to relax into his touch before he jammed the shot home.

“When we showered.” Lu wasn’t crying anymore but her voice matched his in its softness, tense anticipation for the jab mellowing the longer he kept her staid under his hold.

“Good.” he commended her, voice muffled by the needles’ cap between his lips.

She only stiffened when he drove it in, pressed down on the plunger with his thumb, kept his hand gripping her hip, shaking the muscle just so, “Loosen up.” he ordered, it would hurt less that way. Cleven heard her take a breath and try.

When he stood straight again he took the cap from his mouth and clicked it back on the needle, acting like it took great concentration and focus to do so, all while she pulled her trousers back up and refastened them discreetly. Her cheeks were wet once more, either from before or she’d begun crying again.

“You ok?” he asked.

She gave him a long series of nods as she got on top of the embarrassed anger. “Yes, thanks Buck.”

“I’m right down there.” he reminded, thumbing at his own quarters. “You feel the least bit sickly or- or anything, you come get me. Same for your girls.”

“Yes sir.”

“Alright, well get in there Lu,” he patted her toward her room, “one thing the krauts are picky about here is bedtime.”

Smith sucked in a breath between her teeth, a shuddering thing, “Alright, I’ll remember. Bedtime.”

“So you’re gonna remember bedtime and what else?” Gale catchized her.

“Bedtime and that…you’re -right down there.”

“Very good, Smith.”

“Night, Buck.”

“Night, Lu.”

💋 Hope you enjoyed! Feedback is a writer’s lifeblood, please feel free to scream in comments or the inbox, I love it and wanna hear it all. Trust me, nothing is “too dumb”. Your thoughts mean the world to me.

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[lenaboskow]

*sighs very loudly*

OKAY time for a lesson in television storytelling and media literacy!

everything in television is done for a reason. if it’s there, it’s because it means something. see something and immediately question it? yeah, you were supposed to. so let’s break this down one by one:

— when tommy was at the hospital with the rest of the 118, it was to show that he was on the outside. everyone but him got a text in a group chat. and no, it wasn’t just the 118. it was their partners, too. after five months, you would think tommy would be added, but no. he was still an outsider

— when tommy was at the graveyard with buck, it was to directly compare with eddie. photos for evidence, eddie was right by buck’s side while tommy stood from a distance. he’s not buck’s person, and he knows it.

— he’s good friends with eddie for several reasons.

1) it’s how the whole bi!buck arc started. the arc where buck misplaced his feelings and projected onto eddie.

2) he gets along with eddie because they’re very similar. something they’ve constantly brought up.

3) getting along with eddie allowed the show to have him on screen with buck and tommy, which in turn allowed them to show the differences between how eddie (his person) and tommy (his boyfriend) reacted to him. and it was a very interesting comparison indeed.

— him going to maddie and chimney’s wedding served the sole purpose of giving buck an avenue to come out to everyone without taking up too much screentime

— bobby’s approval was more about buck coming out than it was about tommy. the man was also an active suicide watch so take him lightly

hope this helps!

[byoldervine]

The Trick To Writing Filler

(TL;DR at the bottom)

Filler is when you spend a chapter padding the length of your story between plot-related events. Filler chapters have little to no impact on the overarching plot and can be self-contained, and thus in TV shows filler episodes are often reran the most as people unfamiliar with the show can casually watch without being confused without the knowledge of prior plot beats

So with the chapter being largely self-contained and acting outside of the plot, what do you use to make the filler chapter engaging? I’m going to use filler episodes from Avatar: The Last Airbender to provide examples

1. Worldbuilding. Zuko Alone depicts Zuko’s travels taking him through an Earth Kingdom village and becoming acquainted to the family that allows him to stay with them, especially their young son. He learns about what the Fire Nation’s impact on this village has been; destroyed houses, families torn apart, constant robbery and other abuses of power and injustices. And even after Zuko defends the villagers and his new friend, he’s venomously cast out from the village by even the little boy because he outed himself as a firebender. This episode explored the impact of the war on the people of the Earth Kingdom, the victims of war that have no involvement in it and no way of defending themselves from it

2. Character exploration. In The Beach, we learn more about Mai, Ty Lee, Azula and Zuko and how their own traumas and personal upbringings have impacted their personalities. For Zuko this is part of a turning point for him, but for the girls it’s more to understand why they are the people we’ve gotten to know over the seasons, especially Ty Lee and Mai. The episode also serves to showcase how Azula and Zuko are so out of place being just normal teenagers; Azula has no idea how to talk to her peers and no identity outside being Princess Azula of the Fire Nation, while Zuko’s hotheadedness and jealousy issues lead him to lash out and be far too confrontational and controlling for his own good. This episode isn’t really used to develop these characters, or at least not the girls, but instead explains and showcases their behaviours and the reasons behind them

3. Character development. Going back to The Beach, Zuko does indeed receive development rather than just character exploration like the girls do; he comes to understand that he’s not just angry at the world or angry in general, but angry with himself. This is a notable turning point for Zuko’s redemption arc, because he now understands fully that he truly regrets betraying Iroh and sacrificing his new start in life in favour of returning to the Fire Nation. He might not yet be fully decided on turning his back on Ozai, but without this moment I don’t know if he’d have gotten there, or at least not as quickly as he did

4. Relationship development. Sokka’s Master has a C plot of Aang, Katara and Toph all being rather bored and lost without Sokka’s presence. The A plot exploring Sokka’s feelings of inadequacy and uselessness in comparison to such powerful and formidable bending masters being contrasted with the Gaang unable to function without him already speaks volumes about their dynamics, but looking deeper into the C plot also shows how much value Sokka really does bring to the team; structure, planning, humour, a quick wit, strategic moves. The Gaang always supported Sokka and never seemed to view him as expendable outside of the occasional teasing, but having it acknowledged so clearly and plainly that they can feel a little aimless and flat without Sokka and being so delighted when he returns really shows us the kind of value Sokka brings to this team and brings us and the characters to further appreciate it

5. Downtime. The Ember Island Players depicts the characters taking a break to watch a comedic play based on their wacky adventures, only to be largely underwhelmed and displeased by how they’re portrayed. There are no stakes to this episode and barely any plot, just the Gaang taking a breather as they react to a bad play. This chance to relax and watch something inconsequential is just as important to the viewers as we’ve got the show’s finale in the next four episodes, which will be very plot-driven and intense. The Ember Island Players also has the additional viewer bonus of recapping the events of the show right before it all ends, giving the viewers time to reflect on the journey they’ve gone on with these characters. In order for the stakes to feel high and the tension to rise, there has to be downtime where there are low stakes and low tension; if things are intense all the time, the moments that are supposed to feel super intense will just feel average in comparison. Resetting that intensity right before such a big event while still acknowledging the looming threat coming soon will feel like the calm before the storm and allow your audience to soak it all up like the characters are

Wow, did I just go through all that without talking about Tales of Ba Sing Se? I’ll save that for another post if people are interested in more

TL;DR - filler provides a moment to breathe, reset the intensity levels the audience are experiencing and take a chance to step away from the external conflict (the overarching plot) in favour of worldbuilding and the characters within your setting. Small moments can amount to something big, and can help make large scale decisions or plot twists feel more build-up and in-character

[kurishiri]

01 . . . william v.s. darius

— this translation may not be 100% accurate or contain creative liberties due to characterization or narrative flow purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost these or claim these as your own!

— cw: none.

Today was what one would call a comfortable, ideal day.

Kate: Thank you for inviting me here, Will.

K: It really has been a while since we last visited the city. I’m really looking forward to it.

William: As am I. Besides——

W: The possibility of encountering something unexpected is another thing I do look forward to, perhaps.

The glance he gave me made my heart flutter...

Kate: I would assume there’s some reason why we’re going out to the street fair going on today, right?

...and I returned his look with a searching one of my own, seeing those lips forming a perfect arc.

William: It is a reward for a very clever and discerning little robin——

W: Ahh, before that, though, let us extend our greetings to our guest here.

When I followed his gaze, there I saw Darius, who was walking toward us with a bright, innocent smile playing on his lips.

Darius: Hello there, Sir Rex. I’ve been eagerly awaiting an opportunity to be able to chat with you.

D: Ahh, and to the little miss fairytale keeper as well. Hello there.

Kate: Hi, Darius. Were you taking a stroll?

Darius: It’s such a good day out, it would be a shame if I stayed holed up in the castle, you see.

William: So, it would appear the castle is slightly too cramped for your tastes.

Darius: Whoops, you got me.

D: The higher-ups here in the castle are so stiff and formal, I could hardly take it. In fact, it was getting a bit hard to breathe, so I came here to escape, you see.

Kate: I see, then——

I was about to invite Darius as well, when I suddenly realized something.

(That’s right, Will was about to say something a couple minutes ago too. If this outing has anything to do with a mission...)

I probably shouldn’t be the one to decide that, so I turned toward Will, only to find him staring at me with an amused expression.

William: It is as you wish, Kate.

Kate: Thank you.

(As always, he seems to know exactly what I’m thinking.)

Darius: What’s this now? Will you let me join your merry group?

Kate: Darius, how about you join us in going to a street fair?

K: Since you have come a long way to England, it would make me happy if you ended up enjoying London.

Darius: Well that sounds very interesting. Perhaps I’ll take you up on your offer.

A smile blossomed on Darius’ face in an instant, and the sight made Will narrow his eyes in response.

William: Alright then, let us share a carriage then to the fair, the three of us. [1]

—— In a carriage ——

William: So the other day, we took down a crime syndicate that committed a great many thefts,

W: and that organization would have impoverished children steal in exchange for a generous reward.

W: We have taken the children who have been used by them under custody and are supporting them now, but that is not to say we were able to completely wipe all the traces out.

Darius: ——I imagine many of those children would stain their hands with crime once again in order to survive.

D: And what better place to do so than a street fair, which is teeming with people?

D: That’s why you are going to patrol around, and should you find any child who may have relations to that organization, you will take them into custody...

D: I wonder, did my guess hit the mark, Sir Rex?

William: Straight in the mark. I would expect no less from you, director.

Darius: I’m deeply honored by your kind words.

D: Even so, though, going out to find the children who had been targeted...

D: It’s a little reminiscent to Versteckspiel.

William: Indeed, it’s fine to see this as a game of hide and seek.

W: After all, since you are staying in England for a period of time, I would like for the director of Vogel to have fun in this fair.

Kate: The fairs here in England are really fun, so I myself enjoy them too. Ah, look, we’re almost there.

When we got off the carriage in front of the fair venue, Darius’ eyes lit up at the scene before him.

Darius: Wow, it’s so lively here. Ah, what are those wavy things?

Kate: Those are garlands the people have decorated the city with. They’re all handmade, so they come in many different shapes.

Darius: Ohh, then are those flags also garlands? They have such an interesting shape. And there are so many shops I don’t know where to even start.

D: They’re a tad different from the festivals over in Germany, but the excitement never changes for any festival.

Darius’ eyes wandered around everywhere with interest, and his frolicking had a very innocent air.

(I’m glad he’s having fun. Just seeing him makes me happy as well.)

William: It seems like he is having a good time.

Kate: Right? I’m glad I invited him. Ah, look, there’s a pie wagon coming!

William: Would you care for some berry pie, director?

Will and I went to buy enough pies for three people, offering one to Darius.

However, once he took the pie, he only stared down at it, not bothering to eat any of it.

William: Oh? It is considered bad manners to eat while you stand. Or perhaps…

Without putting on any airs, Will grabbed his own portion and took a bite.

At the sight of him chewing and swallowing, seeming to enjoy the taste, Darius widened his eyes.

William: If you were worried that poison had been mixed in, let this be proof that it is a groundless worry.

Will wiped the berry sauce on the corner of his lips with his thumb, smiling as he met Darius’ gaze.

Darius: Ahaha, to think you would fulfill the role of a poison taster of your own volition… it’s almost wasted on you.

D: But, that is also groundless on your part.

D: I am actually quite good, you see, at eating with bad manners.

The next moment, he took a large bite out of the pie, stuffing his cheeks.

Kate: Oh, you’ve got cream all over your mouth.

Darius: Hmm? It’s fiiine. Here, why don’t you have some, too, miss fairytale keeper? It’s scrumptious.

Darius paid zero mind to the fact that cream was on his face,

and seeing him munching so happily——

I remembered how he had mentioned that the castle felt a bit cramped.

(So right now, I would like it if he can spread his wings out as far as he can.)

Seeing the two before me so casually eat away, naturally my cheeks started to relax.

With a liberating feeling, I also took a large bite out of my pie.

Kate: Mm! It’s really good!

(Ah, come to think of it…)

Kate: Darius, you mentioned that you like foods that are either hard to make or hard to obtain, right?

Darius: Huh?

Kate: Those types of things don’t seem to be around here, so I will try to find some again next time!

Darius: Oh wow, so you remember the things that others have said very well.

William: Our little robin here is one to take actions for others; it is one of her virtues.

W: This pie as well, I see you have chosen my favorite flavor.

Kate: Yes, as I don’t make a mistake when it comes to whatever you say tastes good.

Darius: Ah, you like strawberries, don’t you, Sir Rex?

William: Oh? How did you know?

Darius: Is it not natural to do some research on the people you want to get along with?

William: Ahaha, your ardent words are loving music to my ears, director.

W: Actually, I am in the midst of unraveling the mystery that is you.

Darius: Oh? You are?

William: Indeed, I have come to learn a variety of things about you in this short time we’ve spent together.

W: Such as how you so heartily eat pie, among other things.

Darius: Ahaha, you aren’t wrong about that.

William: If the little robin hadn’t invited the director on this outing, such would remain a mystery. So thank you, Kate.

Kate: If you would like to give thanks, it is better suited for the ‘coincidence’ of meeting Darius right before we left.

K: Besides, I feel the same. I would like to get to know you more, Darius.

When I turned toward Darius, his entire face was smiling.

Darius: So you would like to get along more with me, miss fairytale keeper. I’m delighted to hear.

D: Let’s play together and get along much, much more, okay? And Sir Rex as well.

William: You can call me William.

Darius: Then you can just call me Darius. And miss fairytale keeper, that goes for you too?

Kate: Huh, is it really alright for me to call you Darius as well?

Darius: Why, of course. There’s no need to get so caught up in formalities if we’re going to get along with each other, right? So call me Darius, okay?

Kate: Okay then, Darius. I’ll do that from now on!

Then, William extended a hand to Darius.

William: We welcome you to England.

Smiling, Darius exchanged a handshake with Will.

Darius: Thank you. I hope next time you’ll find a time to come visit us in Germany.

D: Of course, that goes for both Crown… and the little miss fairytale keeper.

—— Scene change ——

While enjoying the lively festivities in contrast to the everyday, we could hear a notably loud shout of joy.

Darius: Hm? What are they all doing over there?

With our interests piqued, we headed toward the area where people were gathered, and——

Kate: Oh, they’re throwing horse shoes.

Darius: Ohh, it looks so fun. Now I want to try it.

William: Well then, I may participate as well.

Darius: Ah, then how about we have a match?

William: I don’t mind. I do imagine having a reward for the winner would make this match even more interesting as well, but…

Darius: Then how does miss fairytale keeper here sound for a reward?

to be continued…

will vs darius jude vs nica alfons vs ring

first next →

NOTES:

[1] Will says [ひとつ共有しておこう] (hitotsu kyouyū shite okō), which means “sharing one”... thing... in order to like stay as a three man group at the fair. I just assumed he meant a carriage, as the next scene takes place in a carriage, but I may be wrong here.

full masterlist 🌹🪽

[skania]

Final Akane + AquaKane Thoughts

There are so many things to say that I don't even know how to start organizing my thoughts lol I'll also be including my final thoughts about the "love triangle" while I'm at it, so this is probably going to get long!

I've written quite a bit about Aqua/Akane this past year, so I won't be going into detail into any of the things I've already discussed up to now. Instead, I'll just focus on my thoughts on this final set of chapters, as well as my overall thoughts now that the manga is over.

I'll start with the (few) things I liked:

The Good

I mentioned before that I'm a sucker for parallels, and that Aqua/Akane having so many is one of the reasons why I couldn't help but ship them. We somehow got some very good ones in these last few chapters. We even got a scene at the Aqua/Akane bridge, the one where Akane's relationship with Aqua began and ended.

Aqua saved her life at that bridge, without any ulterior motives. And it's that very bridge that is pictured as Akane says that she has decided to live on. The imagery is poignant and pays its respects to not only Akane's arc as a character, but also to the Aqua/Akane relationship.

More than that, the parallels we got confirm things that Akane and Aqua/Akane fans like me have been saying all along:

Through it all, Akane saw him as he is and embraced the broken him. Each time, she willingly chose to get closer to him. When Aqua tells Akane that he has been saved ever since he met her, I get it. I have no doubt that for Aqua, who has been desperately fighting alone for so long, being seen and understood and loved despite all his self-perceived flaws and the darkness in him must have felt like salvation.

Akane is the one who knows Aqua the best, the one who knows him the most, the one who sees him exactly as he is and who loves all of him. Akane doesn't romanticize Aqua's flaws and his self-sacrificial nature, and neither does she idealize his virtues. She just accepts him and does her best to support and understand him through it all.

Akane being the only one who can see through Aqua's plan is enough to prove this, but it's actually not the most meaningful way in which Aka confirmed it. The most meaningful way was actually this:

Usually, whenever Akane thinks about Aqua, she calls him Aqua-kun. However, throughout her entire monologue in the last three chapters, Akane never addresses him by name. She just calls him "You". The same "You" (君) that Aka emphasized in Chapter 63.

The "You" that encapsulates everything Aqua Hoshino was: both the Goro and the Aqua.

This was a very, very deliberate narrative choice that tells you that throughout the manga, Akane was the one who loved Aqua Hoshino exactly as he was.

Aka also uses another parallel to confirm that Akane was indeed lying to Kana when she claimed that she was over Aqua.

When she finally breaks down, Aka allows Akane to be honest about her feelings, and the parallel to the Aqua/Akane break-up tells us everything we need to know.

Akane never stopped loving Aqua. She has been in love with him all along.

Ever since they broke up, Akane has been sacrificing her feelings for Aqua in order to do what she thinks is best for him. Akane's priority has always been to see Aqua happy. She is willing to do whatever it takes to accomplish that. Back when she thought that Aqua needed to kill Kamiki, Akane was willing to shoulder that sin with him just so he wouldn't have to carry it on his own. When she realized that what Aqua truly wanted was to be free from his revenge, Akane was ready to deal with Kamiki on her own just so that Aqua wouldn't get his hands dirty. Then, when Aqua pushes Akane away, Akane becomes determined to stop him from killing Kamiki because she knows revenge is not what Aqua truly wants or needs.

But that's not all there is to it. Akane wants to be with Aqua, because she loves him. And it's precisely because she loves him, and because she thinks her love failed to save him, that she keeps her feelings to herself and is even willing to help another girl get close to him in her place.

So this chapter confirmed that the one who has been making the sacrificial play, the one who truly loved Aqua, was Akane. It is, essentially, the counterpart to Chapters 148 and 149.

It's no wonder, then, that Akane's feelings and her grief are the ones we follow immediately after Aqua's death. She goes to mourn him in the place he actually died, and when she's around his family, she keeps her pain to herself in order to not worsen their burden. We see her piece together what happened, we see her break, and then we see Akane put herself together and find some solace in knowing that Aqua kept her away to protect her.

Aqua is gone, and Akane is the only one to know Aqua's truth.

A lot of people spent the entire manga trying to downplay Aqua's relationship with Akane; claiming that it was a lie, a manipulation, or what-have-you. Now that the manga is over, we can say those claims were never proven.

At the contrary, until the very end, Aqua's thoughts & actions in regard to Akane were shown to back-up everything he said about her during their relationship.

Aqua could've lived if he had asked Akane for help in killing Kamiki, but he didn't want Akane to get her hands dirty for him. He broke up with her to not bring her down to hell with him, and when the options were to either die alone or make Akane bear the weight of a sin with him, the choice was quickly made.

At the end, he's even shown wanting the same thing Akane wanted: an equal relationship with her.

Unlike his thoughts about Kana (more on that later), which are just a 'might', this is something Aqua is purposeful about. It's something he is sure he wants. It's even the last thing he thinks of before wanting to see Ruby at the dome, which we all know was his dearest wish.

This also fits the panels chosen to be shown in the "romance" part of Aqua's montage: the moment he doesn't catch Kana's ball (symbolizing that their feelings don't connect) vs the moment where he chooses to kiss and date Akane for real.

Which brings us back to the moment they broke up. That chapter was titled "Going Astray" and we now saw where that wrong turn led Aqua: to his death.

So chapter 98, the Aqua/Akane break-up, is pretty much officially the chapter that leads us to the ending we got.

Which means that what I said back in this post still applies. If Aqua and Akane had been honest with each other during that phone-call in Chapter 97, things could've been different. But truth is, it's nearly pointless to think about it, because what this all comes down to is that Aka wanted this ending and he wanted it at all costs.

So nothing could have happened any other way, because Aka didn't want Aqua to be saved. He wanted Aqua to die so he could have his forced "bittersweet" ending.

This is why Aqua and Akane had to break up, it's why Akane is practically not allowed to interact with Aqua again after their break-up, and it's also why Akane never found out about Aqua being Goro's reincarnation.

Aqua was never meant to be saved, and Akane more than anyone could have saved him. So, of course, Aka couldn't allow her to do so. It's forced writing at its finest.

This is also why Akane isn't involved in Aqua's fatidic confrontation with Kamiki. While there is Aka's typical contrived writing involved in Akane leaving Aqua to his own devices at the most crucial moment, I do think it makes sense.

I've mentioned before that from the very beginning, Aqua and Akane's relationship has been based on trust and on choices.

Aqua once gave Akane a choice, trusting that she'd be able to choose what was best for herself. After Akane made her choice, Aqua did everything in his power to help her accomplish her goal.

Ever since, Akane has been trying to do the same for Aqua.

Akane wants Aqua to choose what's right for himself. She will always respect whatever it is that he chooses, as long as it is a true reflection of what he wants and needs. This is why Akane was eager to stop his plan to kill Kamiki, she could tell that Aqua was ready to sacrifice his own future to accomplish it.

That's why, once Aqua chooses to let Kamiki live, Akane is reassured.

Something has changed in Aqua. Akane notices this and believes that Aqua has, finally, chosen to not throw his life away just to deal with Kamiki. She trusts that he has.

Personally, I'd like to believe that Akane was right. Problem was that once Aqua knew for sure that Kamiki couldn't be saved, he switched back to his original plan. Something Akane couldn't have foreseen without knowing that Aqua was the reincarnation of a dude whose issues made him suicidal... which is yet another reason why Aka could have never let Akane find out about the whole reincarnation business.

So all in all, Aqua/Akane-wise, this is all well and good. On paper.

When it comes to the execution however, it leaves a lot to be desired, because Aqua/Akane is sadly majorly brought down by the spectacular way in which Aqua's character was (mis)handled during the second half of the manga.

The Bad

Goro has always been someone who thinks his life has no worth, and this belief is deeply ingrained into Aqua. That's why I could tell that his revenge plan likely involved killing himself and making it look like Kamiki did it.

I just didn't think that he would actually succeed, because it kind of goes without saying that the suicidal character getting to kill himself is far from being a satisfying ending. Even less so when said character has shown time and time again that he actually wants to live, he is just too broken by his guilt complex to believe he has that right.

For a while there, it even looks like Aqua will make it. That he has once again started to embrace that this is a life that he wants to live.

Sadly, once Aqua realizes that Kamiki can't be saved and that he poses a danger to Ruby, all of that flies off the window and "Goro" takes over. And by "Goro" I don't mean Goro the character, I mean all the bad habits that Aqua has due to his guilt-complex and survivor's guilt.

So Aqua goes and executes his original plan, killing himself instead of looking for a better solution. Which means he started off like this:

Only to end the manga pretty much the same way, except you can switch "If Ai's gone, this world isn't-" for "As long as Ruby can live on in this world."

Though, actually, it's even worse than that, because Aqua realizes that he was wrong — dying would bother him — only when it's too late.

It leaves a bad taste in my mouth because it's like Aqua had no development through the entire manga. Cut everything after his break-up with Akane and nearly nothing changes, except the motive behind Aqua throwing his life away: protecting Ruby (Sarina) instead of revenge.

It all feels even more pointless because Aqua's death rings hollow due to how badly his character was mishandled in the second half of the manga. After the break-up, Aqua becomes a "..." bot. His character isn't allowed to grow and neither is he allowed to explore his feelings in any meaningful way, to the point that he dies confused and not knowing who he was.

Pardon my bluntness, but how pathetic is this? 160+ chapters and literally none of this guy's issues were ever solved. His character goes nowhere, only so he can be sacrificed to make the ending bittersweet for Ruby. Though for me it wasn't even bittersweet; the ending fell flat on its face precisely because Aqua's character never goes anywhere, so it's hard to feel anything other than vague frustration and disbelief at how forced the writing is.

Even the Kami/Ai - Aqua/Akane parallels were wasted because both ships ended up in the exact same way: Akane and Ai both unable to save Aqua and Kamiki. I wouldn't even be surprised if those parallels are something Aka came up with on the spot while writing the Ai DVD.

I'm sure some Aqua/Akane truthers will say "all Aqua and Kamiki needed to be saved was to be with Akane and Ai, and Akane and Ai didn't realize that" and leaving aside my issues with that kind of co-dependency, once again, that's all well and good — on paper.

Sure, those of us who ship Aqua and Akane could see it that way if we wanted to, but... did Aka make a point of clearly stating this? No, he left it to the reader's imagination, which means it's just another blank to be filled with headcanon.

Personally, I'm pretty tired of doing that, because everything there is to like about the manga may as well just be the headcanons we have filled all those blanks with.

I always say that I prefer showing and not telling, but there's a limit to everything. Truth of the matter is, if this was supposed to be the case — and especially if it was supposed to be important — then showing isn't enough. Because the majority of readers aren't going to spend hours breaking down every single Aqua/Akane interaction to draw those parallels and reach that conclusion.

Aqua dying soothed by a song by his favorite idol (Ruby/Sarina) doesn't really do it any favors either, because fact of the matter is that people who were never invested in the Aqua/Akane relationship will just assume Aqua never loved Akane back. They'll be more distracted by Kana's tropey, shallow shoujo romance, and this is something Aka allowed in his manga right up to the very end.

Aqua and Akane were the only relationship in the entire manga that got mutual, gradual, organic, continuous development. But this all came to a halt when they broke up, so at the end of the day, they're mostly left up to interpretation.

It's underwhelming.

Most of all, if you ask me, it was a terrible move, because Aqua and Akane could've been the heart of this manga. If their feelings had been properly explored after their break up, if Aqua had been allowed to think of Akane in his last moments, if all this blank-filling had been actual text, they'd have been a tragic love-story for the ages.

But Aka didn't want it to be the heart of the manga, because he had already decided from the beginning that role should go to Aqua and Ruby. Alas, he completely failed at developing that, too, because to the very end there's only Goro and Sarina. That is the entire basis of the Aqua/Ruby relationship and dynamic, and it gets one single chapter where it's explored beyond that, only to immediately focus back on Goro and Sarina as Aqua lies dying.

Goro couldn't save Sarina in his first life, so he wastes his second to do it. He jumped at the chance to free himself of the burden of that guilt without even bothering to think of how much his death would hurt the very person he wanted to protect.

Which takes me to...

The Ugly

Turns out Kana was pretty much just a mixture between Fujiwara and Maki, after all. Except that unlike Maki, she never grows (Aqua literally has to die for her to do so) and unlike Fujiwara, she's overused instead of underused.

Aqua and Kana are portrayed as shallow to the end, and I'd even go as far as saying that the narrative pokes fun at Kana for it. Even during the funeral, she puts on a hat that's reserved for family members and it literally falls off her head when Miyako slaps her lmao

Since this is a manga and not real life, the way Kana's outburst was handled in that chapter is likely meant to be contrasted with the way Akane's own grief was handled, because it pretty much embodies all the differences between both of their relationships with Aqua through the manga.

Kana is focused on herself and on her pain. She thinks Aqua was murdered, but she still irrationally blames him for it, too blinded by her own pain. Aqua was murdered, but not being able to confess to him properly is still at the top of her list of grievances. She is also shown overplaying that one conversation she had with Aqua about Aqua having a death-wish, as if Aqua somehow agreeing to not say that he wants to die was some vital promise that he broke.

Meanwhile, Akane focuses on Aqua. On what Aqua felt, on why he did what he did, and on what he would have wanted. Even her wish to be by Aqua's side is expressed through Akane saying that she'd have been willing to shoulder his burdens with him, no matter where that led them. It is also Akane's understanding of Aqua that helps her to find some solace and to overcome his death.

Kana always looked at Aqua from the outside-in, idealizing and romanticizing him, while Akane was Aqua's partner in every sense of the word. That's why Akane gets all the insightful narration about Aqua while Kana just gets to make a fool of herself at his funeral.

So to the very end, the dichotomy between "Ai" and "Koi" does perfectly illustrates the contrast between the two sides of the Aqua love triangle.

Kana was infatuated with the Aqua that she built up in her head, and focused on what she wanted Aqua to do for her (support her unconditionally), and what she wanted to be for him (his only idol), rather than on Aqua himself as a person.

As for Aqua, during his last moments, most Aqua can say about Kana is that it might be good to respond to her feelings. Might. He spends the entire story knowing Kana is at his beck and call, he even makes fun of her for it (you're so easy to manipulate, yadda yadda), yet when the opportunity to date her presents itself, most he can say is essentially "it could be cool I guess." He even pictures her pulling on his arm to get his attention, while with Akane, he pictures himself facing her and looking straight at her.

So to Aqua, Kana was at most a teenage crush. His feelings for her weren't deep or relevant enough to have any sort of impact on his character, while he outright called the year he spent dating Akane his happy days. An entire year that he spent without Kana even being in his life, mind you. Meanwhile Kana was out there living an entire shoujo where she's the heroine and Aqua is the male lead 😂

That said, I still think Aqua, who I'm sure must've broken a record at being bad at understanding his own feelings, was likely mistaking admiration for romantic attraction, and that he would've realized this pretty early into dating Kana.

The anime is even clearer about this because Aqua's reactions to Kana are paralleled to Akane's who is, quite literally, a fan of Kana.

But even if he wasn't, it doesn't really matter, because it's shown very clearly that Aqua deeply values being understood (to him, it feels like salvation) and that Kana doesn't really understand him. So had they dated, Aqua would've had fun at first, sure, but his emotional needs wouldn't have been met; instead his job would've been to meet Kana's. It just would've never worked in the long term.

Now that the dust has settled, I can say for certain that if Aqua had been allowed to have a happy ending, it'd have been with Akane.

So once more, this is all fine on paper. The problem is that Aka takes it too far. The whole Kana business takes too much panel time for no discernible reason other than to... bait readers? I've even seen some say that Aka intended to mock them.

But even if that were the case, considering that those same readers are likely going to walk out of the story thinking Aqua and Kana are a tragic ship that loved each other because of all the bait, who's really the butt of the joke? Them or Aka himself?

Conclusion

I've always been pretty clear about being an Akane fan first and foremost. Despite all my Aqua/Akane meta, I had no emotional investment in whether she ended up with Aqua or not, as long as she got a satisfying ending. That said, by principle, I most definitely didn't want Aqua to end up with Kana, because that'd be like rewarding Kana for all her crying and whining when she never even tried to understand who Aqua was as a person and I've already gone through that in Naruto, thank you very much.

So the two silver-linings about this ending are that Akane stayed amazing to the end, and that Kana didn't have Aqua handed to her on a silver platter. But considering just how much panel time Kana's meaningless crush takes up in the narrative and how side-lined Akane got after the break-up, it feels like a pyrrhic victory lol

Akane is still the best thing about the manga, and I'd say that she got by far the best ending of the bunch. I'm not sure if I'd call it satisfying, because Akane's one goal was always to save Aqua and she didn't get to accomplish that. But at the very least, she got a good ending, all things considered. She got to protect what Aqua entrusted to her, and she got to show just how emotionally strong she is.

As for Aqua and Akane, AquaKane could've been incredible if only Aka had done them justice, but he didn't. I joked before that the Aqua/Akane development was so good that it's like it wrote itself, and I actually think that's exactly what happened. Aka made things up as he went along, and he allowed Aqua and Akane to develop together in ways he didn't necessarily plan nor foresee. But as soon as he started strong-arming the manga towards the ending he envisioned, he dropped the ship, likely because he had already established everything that would be relevant about them by then (he knew the ship would literally go nowhere because Aqua needed to die), and then proceed to leave a lot of it to the discretion of the readers.

While I'm sure that'll be enough for some, I'm afraid it's not really enough for me. If you were to ask me if I'm satisfied with the way they were handled, my answer would be: not really, but it certainly could've been worse lol

In my opinion, they're the biggest wasted potential in the manga (which is saying something, because the entire manga is wasted potential), and their potential was wasted simply because they're the ones who could've actually led us to a happy ending.

Aka didn't want that ending, though. He cared for his vision more than about his characters, and his vision was literally just an ending where poor Ruby would be a star that shines brighter "the darkest things get". Nothing else mattered. LMAO. As if Ruby hadn't already gone through enough!

Oh well, at least we're finally free!

[batterycows]

Ochako’s Confession: A Togachako Analysis

I don't usually write down or post analysis, but if I didn't put this down somewhere I was at risk of grabbing a stranger off the street and asking whether they knew about the doomed toxic yuri in hit manga series My Hero Academia.

Now, I think it was expected to some degree that Uraraka would have some big cathartic confession where she finally embraced her feelings for Izuku. And while she did admit her feeelings, the moment wasn't... that

And honestly, why would it be? In the end, Uraraka had no reason to confess her feelings. She didn't suffer from hiding them, on the contrary. Her crush was beginning to hinder her performance as a Hero, and all bottling them up did was help her improve. Sure, suppression is bad and all but ultimately, Uraraka seemed better off pushing her feelings aside. Especially when compared to Toga, who literally broke under the pressure of her hidden feelings. There was nothing pushing Uraraka to confess other than the vague sentiment that “suppressing your feelings is Bad.”

Yet, the importance of being open about your feelings is repeatedly emphasized during Toga's and Uraraka's arcs. It's what drove Toga to villainy, and something she tried to bond with Uraraka over. Something they shared. So the setup for a confession is there, but no satisfying resolution.

That's cause Izuku is a red herring.

Indeed, being honest about her feelings was vital for Uraraka, but it had nothing to with Izuku. Because the feelings Uraraka was suppressing all along, the ones that she needed to let out, were her feelings for Toga.

The envy she felt during their first meeting, how lovely she found Toga's smile. How much it troubled Uraraka when it was replaced with tears. Girl likes boy is as conventional as it gets. But a Hero sympathizing for a Villain in a society that dehumanizes them? Now that makes Uraraka kind of weird. And she knows it, that these thoughts go against everything she knows about society, about her role as a Hero. So she tried pushing all that away.

But she can't run from her feelings forever. And in the end, it's those feelings that allow Uraraka to save the day. Her arc deals with humanization. She wonders "who saves Heroes" until she's wondering "who saves Villains?" and finds that in this case, the answer is each other.

How did Uraraka and Toga save each other? By imitating each other, by being like someone they love.

Uraraka envied Toga's unapologetic openness, so she took a page from her book and told her everything she had been hiding and mulling over since they met. She stopped pushing Toga away and finally answered every one-sided conversation they've had. They're chatting about love, and Uraraka is finally responding.

A girl's feelings can change the world, and Uraraka being honest about her feelings is what allowed her to reach Toga's heart and save her. This is how Uraraka became a Hero.

Toga also saved Uraraka by imitating her. In a very literal sense by Transforming into Uraraka (being "cute" like Uraraka) but I think also in the way she used her Quirk. Until now, Toga believed the only way for her to live freely was through violence. When her Quirk awakened, Toga used Zero Gravity to kill. But now, she's imitating Uraraka on a deeper level. Uraraka who said her Quirk isn't made to hurt people, so Toga used her own Quirk to save Uraraka. For the first time, she realized she could love and be loved without violence.

Uraraka and Toga's confrontation was the long awaited end of a conversation. Nearly a year before Toga had tried to bond with Uraraka, asked her whether she liked someone, whether she wanted to be like them? Uraraka finally confessed: Yes, I want to be like you.

[delicrieux]

…TAKING WHAT’S NOT YOURS ! ⋆｡°✩

⋆⭒˚.⋆ chapter summary. you did this to yourself.

pairing. gojo satoru x f!sorcerer reader warnings for this chapter. swearing (i think) wc. 3.5k author’s note. and with this, we end our lil pre-relationship arc! and what's prewritten, so now y'all will have to wait. but not for too long since i'm very generous and also the best. it's almost time for a kiss xx

ੈ ✩‧₊˚

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CHAPTER 7: the missionTM (3)

right, so. a few things need to be established before facing the present moment.

first, once you were thoroughly exhausted by utahime, you returned to the room. her persistence to wrangle you into her and mei’s shared bedroom, which, in fact, had two nice, large beds, enough to share and not have anyone breathe down your neck, was indeed very tempting, and you almost succumbed. you didn’t for a reason you’re not yet sure of; all you know that each time she looked at you, pleading eyes and hands clasped close to her chest, an image of gojo left alone among the festival goers flashed in your mind, and you couldn’t force out a confirmation.

by all means, you have shared a bed with utahime. it had been nice and comfortable, and the two of you giggled under the covers, discussing the crushes on the tv show actors you had at the time. it was your first year at jujutsu tech, and you were sent on a mission with kyoto to establish rapport between the schools (no one else was willing, and yaga-sensei deemed you pleasant enough to be successful), and to say you were fast friends was an understatement – you clicked instantly, upon first glance, maybe. there was something about utahime’s tenacity and honesty you admired, and there was something about your openness and thick-skin she liked. kindness didn’t sabotage your backbone, and thus, you found a lot of things in common.

mei you like as well, though not as much. you feel she is quite cold underneath that clement smile, gaze curious but never attentive. however, it’s not mei’s presence that dissuaded you from joining them. you wish it was. god, what a mess.

it all sort of accumulated. fleetingly, you thought that gojo had returned to tokyo. you didn’t meet him once during the festival, which left you oddly desolate, as it was prime time for him to ruin your reunion with your dear friends – no trying to trip you up, no swiping at your ice cream, no public declarations of “hey! she stole that!,” no covering your eyes with his hands once the fireworks began so you’d miss the whole display. it was a bit unnerving, and you kept glancing over your shoulder enough for mei to ask, “are you expecting someone?”

the answer was, of course, a startled and incriminating, “no!”

when you did decline utahime’s fifth try to lure you into bed, she became suspicious. brows pinched and a displeased look, “how come, huh? you’d rather stay in a room with him?” she didn’t even say his name; utahime tried to avoid forming the syllables because she said it leaves a bad taste in her mouth.

you held up your hands, like a thief caught red-handed, “no, no, i’d rather be with you two, really,” and you meant it, despite the something clattering in your brain, back and forth, back and forth, distant and strange and completely incomprehensible, “just that we need to wake up early tomorrow, and we’d hardly get any sleep if it was the three of us.”

for the first and likely only time, mei came to your rescue, “hmmm, she’s right,” she was already changing into her pajama’s, languid and elegant with the expensive, gleaming material hiding her body, “i am a bit tired after today. those curses…”

utahime shuddered, “don’t remind me, please.” a sigh followed, and you knew you’d won, “you sure you’ll be okay, though?”

“course. we got separate beds, and it’s not like he would actually try anything.”

“he better not,” she grumbled, “scream and i’ll actually rip him to pieces. i will do it with my bare hands—no, i’ll put on gloves first. i don’t want to actually touch him.”

“or better yet,” mei hummed, “send him here.”

the implication left you weirdly discontent. a pinch in your stomach where his hand had rested, so real that you had half the mind to look behind you to make sure he hadn’t manifested to defend himself. he didn’t. somehow, that was worse.

“absolutely not,” utahime stated, and you fought the urge to nod in agreement. she plopped down on her bed, exhausted, “no man is ruining this sanctuary.”

you exited with that. a bit confused and nervous, like some parts of you were rearranged perfectly but in the wrong manner. the door at the end of the dim hallway was suddenly intimidating, because finding a vacant room would make you extremely happy…right?

right. and that’s where you are now, palms clammy from sweat that surely accumulated from the dreaded heat plaguing the whole day. the night had cooled, rising harsh winds and bringing heavy clouds that obscured the stars as soon as the fireworks ended. maybe if he didn’t leave, he locked the door. then, at least, you’d feel vindicated, which is much better than that flutter pulling at your nerves. was this a part of his plan, too? set you on edge? it was, no doubt about that.

the room is, in fact, not locked, nor is it vacant. light spills from behind you, dousing the inky dark in vague silhouettes and shadows. gojo is here, and he’s sleeping, breathing soundly in the bed made for one. there’s a spot left for you beside him, a small space fit for another body. he could’ve easily taken up the whole mattress and then some, but he didn’t.

you’re not very good with deep contemplations – getou, you think, is, because he has the patience to untangle carefully. you don’t. all those neurons snapping just leave you angry.

still, you shut the door quietly, and still, you weigh the pros and cons of playing into this game. the lonely matt by the door is not exactly inviting, and you’re in too deep anyway. so, as silent as you can manage, you collect your pajamas and toiletries and lock yourself in the bathroom for a quick bed routine.

this is so silly. you want to giggle into a pillow because of how fucking ridiculous it is, but, when you leave the bathroom, changed, teeth cleaned, and face fed generously with skincare, his shadow in bed doesn't look silly. more so daunting, almost threatening, like he has more power over the situation than you want to give him credit for.

the first splatters of rain hit the closed windows. it's very dark, dark enough for you to have trouble discerning where's what, and you grapple for surfaces, afraid to trip over. the floorboard squeak and groan under your stealthy steps, and you can imagine him, sprawled there, twisting in annoyance until you plop down beside him.

you find your way there eventually, lower yourself carefully. no purchase, as a sudden movement would have you falling off the bed, which would hurt. it's very warm for your shower-cooled skin. and then... then. you don't really know. the raindrops pelt, and a flash of lightning cuts the world in half.

...a hand clasps at your thigh and pulls you close to a body, "mmh... where've ya been?"

the room fills with a thunderous, yet not exactly grating, noise. your breath hitches when his forehead bumps against the nape of your neck and you get a whiff of the floral bath soap he uses. so weirdly intimate.

"how are you not asleep?" you complain.

"was, until you opened the door," his voice is quiet. slurred, almost, like he's drunk, but gojo doesn't drink.

"..."

he has the audacity to press his chest close to your back, almost hugging you. the palm at your thigh makes no move to grope or linger, resting peacefully as another would, and you almost feel like it's innocent. or was that his goal the whole time? to tease, and nothing more?

warm. too warm. why does it make you flush?

"don't worry," gojo mutters, words pressed against the dip of your spine, "i promise i'm a gentleman," he gives a little squeeze, "mostly."

"most is not all," you snip, but don't shove him off.

he chuckles and the tremors buzz down to your toes, "too true," his palm flattens over your stomach, and he burrows deeper, "still. get some sleep."

something about his calm voice and warmth, and the thunder-rain-light show outside makes you sleepy, the type where you struggle against your eyes drooping and shutting for good. gojo isn't being very accommodating, the fingers playing with your shirt like they're making a decision. you'll hear him sigh and you'll be tugging your clothes into a semblance of respectability. he'll hum and you'll try to move away from the pleasant vibration. he'll curl even tighter and you'll want to lie there for eternity.

*

suguru: you awake? 3:49am

you: morning! sorry, i was already sleeping. what’s up? (o´ ▽ `o*)ﾉ 8:25am

you: i got you a souvenir ☆ i hope you’ll like it. gojo said you wouldn’t, but he’s a useless liar so 9:01am

you: i was thinking that we could all go to the arcade once we get back from the mission. have a nice weekend all to ourselves. i asked shoko, she said it’s ok as long as we go for a beer later. haibara-kun and nanami-kun also agreed. will you be free? 10:30am

at exactly 12:59pm, you are almost pressing the dial button, but gojo snaps your phone shut before you manage.

“hey!” you bristle, turning to your discontent seatmate.

his expression is shrouded by the lenses, but you see the tilt of his mouth, and he hasn't once left you alone for more than 30 seconds. he snatches the cell phone and slips it into his pocket, "that's theft."

he shrugs, "so sue me. i'll win in court, obviously."

"obviously," you seethe.

a clear, childish snort and the grin brightens considerably, and for a second, your gut churns – just for a moment, as fast as a breeze whipping the treetops and disappearing again. the train ride back to tokyo has so far gone in a similar fashion: him trying to annoy you and you somehow managing to refrain from clocking him in the jaw.

he is, however, not as irritating as he usually is, which is a feat in itself. it's... normal. nothing too special, nothing too bad. the gojo of 5 hours ago, waking you gently and shaking you and talking to your sleepy, bleary, barely conscious mind was different, kind, almost pleasant. and now he is like he always is, and it doesn’t bother you nearly as much as you wish it did.

right now, there is no reprieve, but, thankfully, you're used to his behavior.

"’sides," he leans his cheek on a fist, elbow on the armrest, "am i not entertaining enough for you?"

"seriously? begging for attention? are you that desperate?" you reach into his pockets, and, honestly, gojo could prevent this easily. you could tell; his technique is flexible in the physical department, too. so, letting you get too close is, in fact, quite voluntary on his end.

 maybe he wanted to fluster you. it's not working. you're just irate as per usual, which must disappoint him.

"woah!" he stops you suddenly, hand on wrist, "at least buy me dinner first."

your anger fizzles into irritation when you notice you've garnered more than a few spectators. several pairs of curious, judging eyes glare at you from over the rims of magazines and newspapers and even laptops, and, yes, gojo's existence commands a lot of attention. he's always in the peripheries of every person within a mile radius without even trying.

so, the anger rears up again, because his antics have definitely ruined your chances of a peaceful, uneventful ride home, "gimmie my phone."

his grip is quite strong, holding you at an arm's length, "nah."

"you're an asshole, you know that?"

"stop thinking 'bout my ass, gosh, you'll make me blush," he takes that same hand and fans himself playfully, "but fine! since i'm the sweetest, nicest, and the kindest."

he fishes out your phone, lays it in your waiting palm, and then just looks at you like he's expecting something in return.

"what?"

a few seconds pass, his head tilts to a side, and you're left befuddled when his tongue darts out to wet his lips, "my thank you?'"

the first instinct, the correct one, is to say "go to hell" and forget this conversation even happened. the second, which you voice, is, "you expect gratitude for stealing my phone and then caving under zero pressure to return it?" your eyebrows must be all the way to your forehead. he is astounding.

he looks away, displeased, "not zero. you basically tried to fondle me. in public. in a train, even, how shameless of you."

"i did not."

"you did."

"not."

"did."

"oh god," you rub at your temples. a headache is oncoming.

gojo laughs. it's pretty, rich in pitch and loud, and more than a few people crane their heads, but now the stares are full-blown wonder. a bit sickening. you wouldn't be surprised if someone came up begging for a picture.

"could you please stop drawing attention to yourself?" you hiss.

"me?" he points at himself, glasses riding down. a flutter his pale eyelashes, "impossible," and a charming smirk. his pupils dart to your mouth, a full 1.5-second pause that makes your neck heat up. and, after what seems like a break for a wink and an allure, the spectacles are back.

what.

you open and close your mouth, unsure whether you saw correctly. the light must have been playing tricks on you, because whatever the hell that was, it was too honest for gojo. and all too out of character, too, because he's been calling you ugly for three years now. his first words to you might've been, "ew, what the hell is wrong with your face?"

what a bunch of shit, actually. now that you remember.

he's definitely just being his usual self, trying to rile you up, and to prove some point about being irresistible. typical, predictable, and so normal you relax instantly, letting go of any concern or interest in that strange glimpse.

*

once back at tokyo, you grab him by the sleeve. it's an involuntary reaction, but to be fair, you don't exactly even see gojo. he is simply the nearest person, and thus, subjected to your weird whims.

he stops, looks down at you, and he must see something he doesn't like because his placid expression crumbles, "...what?"

"neeeee!" you tug and tug and tug, and there might be stars in your eyes, and maybe a dopey smile, too, as you stare at the figure getting swallowed by the people rushing to their platforms, "i think i just saw ueda-san!"

"who?"

"ueda tatsuya-san. from kat-tun!" you finally, after a lot of effort and some seriously heavy panting, arrive at a secluded corner, "he was there, i swear!" you glance back. there's no one even remotely resembling the idol and a part of you is disappointed, the fan in you crying out to at least see an outstretched hand in a peace sign, "isn't that exciting?!"

the distaste only increases tenfold, but he hides it by shoving his hands into his pockets, a bored slouch, "so?"

your world freezes, a full 5 seconds before, "what?! what do you mean ‘so’?! this is such a cool coincidence! like...it's..." you inhale sharply, "fate!"

"haaaaaaaah?!" he stares down at you like you've gone insane, mouth open, a glimpse of teeth, "fate?"

"yes!" you respond enthusiastically, "do you think he saw me? this is my chance!"

"to die?"

"what?" you squint, confused, "why would i die? i want an autograph—"

"how'd you even know him, huh?" gojo pokes your forehead, pushing you back slightly, "have you ever talked to him in your life? he doesn't even know who you are," and, yeah, you'll admit, you don't have any arguments for that, and you hadn't really expected gojo to be the respectable, thoughtful adult in this situation.

still. surely fate has placed you and ueda-san in the same, massive tokyo train station so you could have a meet-cute like in the movies and fall deeply in love. you would quit your sorcerer job on the spot, travel with his band, gosh, the songs he'd write about you. this is all too much. you clasp hands on your cheeks. your head is spinning.

and all while gojo, a fan as well, or so you'd assumed, stands and watches you break down into a puddle of lovesick nonsense.

"oh god," he breathes, "stop," the distress leaks, "woman, snap out of it," his voice is strained.

"gosh, i dunno, gosh," you shake your head, "i don't think i'm ready to marry, i'm only 20. this is crazy,"

"the hell are you acting like he proposed to you? you maybe just saw the back of his head," gojo's agitation rises steadily, a tick in his jaw.

you clutch the material of his shirt, "no, it was really him. maybe i should go check?"

"no!" he puts his hands around your elbows, half-pulling and half-guiding you, "what’s gotten into you? snap out of it."

"but i gotta run after him," you jerk and struggle. the hallways, the other people are mere smears to the focus of your tunnel vision. ueda was just in sight, and he'll soon be slipping between crowds you could never catch in a million years, "this is my only chance!"

"like hell!" gojo grits, "quit it! be a normal fucking person."

"w-wait a minute—"

gojo places two large palms on either side of your head, forcing you to look at him, and the fog clears as your eyes meet. the calm, composed, and serious glower shuts you up on its own merit and, shamefully, all you can think is how striking his features are.

he's breathtaking.

"breathe."

it comes as an order, though soft.

"and think."

your gaze lingers on the slope of his nose and how he holds himself, his entire posture radiating a fierce and all-consuming type of pride. his chin, his jaw, his cheekbones, the tilt of his lips, and you become overwhelmed. the need to shrink in and hide away has you clenching your teeth.

his grip tightens, "no. look at me."

and so you do. you have a mountain of complaints: to yourself, to the unfairness of this moment, because those fingers holding you up shouldn't exist, not around you. he shouldn't hold your face like this, tender, almost comforting, a thumb stroking your cheek absent-mindedly.

"good."

and, yes, a spark goes through you, and no, it is not that kind. it's panic, full-blown terror and the epiphany of what the fuck are you even doing?

"okay?" he asks.

"mmh," you nod quickly, "yeah, mhmm,"

his hands lower, come to rest atop your shoulders, and they're just as hot as a branding iron, "do you see why you're an embarrassment?"

and the magic ends as soon as it came, and he is repulsive again.

"buzzkill," you mutter, defeated.

*

“shoooko!” you barge into her room unannounced and uninvited, like it was your very own, and it might as well be by the amount of time you usually spend here. holding up a small gift bag, you present it with flourish, “i come with gifts!”

“welcome back,” she says dully, lounging on her messy bed and flipping through her fashion magazine, “how was the mission?”

you hum, tactfully avoiding the question by plopping down beside her, “i think i saw ueda-san at the train station!”

“ehhhhh?” now that gets her attention, and she’s all interest, “did you get a picture?”

“no, no,” you sigh, “was stopped by a lanky loser. gojo really is good for nothing.”

you miss the small smirk and the slight narrow of her eyes, “stopped you, huh? now why would he do that, i wonder..."

"because he's an asshole that wants to see me miserable?" you provide helpfully, getting more comfortable.

she flicks your forehead, and you wince, "you two are so silly."

*

"haibara-kun! nanami-kun!" you find them training in the dojo, and you barely manage to take off your shoes before you're sprinting full force to greet them, a gift in each hand, "i got you souvenirs from hitoyoshi!"

"mah, aren't you excited?" nanami stares with slight distaste when the box of sweets is literally shoved into his unsuspecting hand.

haibara, on the other hand, looks like he might grow a tail and start waggling it, "thank you so much, kawakami-sempai! these are so thoughtful, i appreciate them!" he immediately tears the packaging off, takes a hearty bite.

he sighs, content.

you wave off their praise like it's nothing. well, haibara's praise, but you’re used to nanami’s polite demeanor and quiet nature, so it must mean he is beyond ecstatic to receive such a thoughtful gift, "of course, of course! i gotta take care of my juniors,"

nanami grunts and examines the chocolate-coated cakes and cookies with an air of someone that is reluctantly pleased, "mmm, thanks."

you flash him an exaggerated smile, and he averts his gaze. got him, ha! you are the best sempai on this entire planet.

*

once you distributed the souvenirs, you swung by getou's dorm room. knocked, waited, only to realize he's not there. you left the gift bag by his door.

later, you find out that he’s gone on a mission, and that he likely won’t be back soon.

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