#had visceral and physical reactions to both of these moments

[fangirls-just-want-to-have-fun]

this is the only thing I can contribute after burning through the new episodes of mismag

[sol-iscus]

Honestly, Arcane needed at least another act to close it properly. There was just.....too much going on. Jinx's ending ground my gears and the way that Vi just.....seems to move on. Bro,that's the baby sister you sat through nearly a decade of psychological and physical trauma to get back to. Her reaction should have been way more visceral. If Vi developed alcoholism over her situationship going south, her sister (and dad!) going out like that should have had her thoroughly crashing out.

Ekko and Mel......now that was personal. They really gave them the Magical Negro™ treatment and no explanation for it. And oh boy, am I tired of it. I hate the narrative of black characters having to self-sacrifice for people who would not do the same for them. Could you imagine being fucked with by something like the Arcane or LeBlanc for allegedly a year or so,just to immediately go to war the moment you're back in normal surroundings? Do they get a break at all?

THANK YOU ANON for describing how myself and my friend both feel about this (we’re both poc)

I’m also upset at how minimized Vi and Ekko’s relationship is, especially with ekko thinking Vi was dead in season 1, and we only get one more interaction between them both this season. And Ekko is just….so lonely after he has suffered great losses as well, ESPECIALLY after seeing all that he did back in the alternate timeline and remaining selfless to save those he loves back in his timeline.

Ekko, Mel, and Sevika deserved SO MUCH better as well and way more screen time to do their stories justice. Things happened way too conveniently and too quickly. I’m also struggling to understand how Mel managed to control her powers the way she did at the last moment.

Vi absolutely should have crashed out. I wanted her to go find Ekko and talk to him, at this point they both need each other because they’re family too.

Honorable mention, Ambessa. I have…..feelings about that whole thing.

[incarnadinedreams]

This isn't really new or anything but the more I reread random passages the more convinced I am that there's something very unique about the way Jiang Cheng reacts to Wen Ning and it's just so interesting!

I'm convinced it's more than just being angry. It's more than just hating him, or blaming him for Jin Zixuan's death or his sister's life. It's more than being a Wen, and it comes long before so many of those tragedies unfold anyway.

There's a sort of urgent, visceral reaction to Wen Ning's presence that just has this different feeling to it than how he reacts to any of the other characters. Even characters he has strong emotional responses to, it's never with the same panic or recklessness. It's not the same as the whole "vengeful wrath, fathomless hatred, or raving ecstasy" situation he's got going on with Wei Wuxian (sexy as that might be).

When it's Wei Wuxian, it's all "...well, well. So you're back?" and "Haven't you got anything to say to me?" Even when he's not being very nice, even when he's throwing teacups and furious at Wei Wuxian, there's still an edge of calmness in the way he lashes out. He's fucking mad but he's had more than a decade to think about this and he's got things to say and he's trying so hard to get a reaction from Wei Wuxian that he just won't give him.

But he can't tolerate having Wen Ning anywhere near him. Much of the time he instantly lashes out, physically, in ways to create space between them. He's mean to Wen Ning, but he doesn't really have much to say to him; he just wants to get away from him.

It really stuck out to me how instinctive and instantaneous and emotional that reaction is when I was reading this passage from chapter 81 (ExR translation since I've got it on hand in digital text form), when Jin Ling returns Zidian and rushes back into the fray during the Second Siege:

When Jiang Cheng was unaware, he stuffed Zidian's ring back into his hand and sprinted toward the crowd, all the way up to the most dangerous area before the mouth of the cave. Jiang Cheng was about to chase after him when he managed to slice a few corpses, staggering. He felt that Sandu was no lighter than hundreds of pounds. Two female corpses threw themselves at him from both directions.

Jiang Cheng cursed. As he lifted his sword again, another pair of hands tore the two corpses into pieces, "Sect Leader..."

Jiang Cheng lost his temper as soon as he heard the voice. He kicked Wen Ning away and cursed, "Get the fuck away from me!"

Obviously that is not very nice and poor Wen Ning didn't deserve a kick for being legitimately helpful there, but the point is that not only does he lash out - the reaction happens even when he's clearly got higher priorities going on in a chaotic situation. Throughout that entire event he reacts in a somewhat more even-keeled way to almost everything except Wen Ning being in his vicinity.

And it's not just after Wen Ning's death, not just after he became Wei Wuxian's greatest weapon, not just after he was forced to kill Jin Zixuan - it's specifically a pattern established from the moment he woke up in the Supervisory Office without a core:

Before he could say anything, those sun robes reflected against Jiang Cheng's eyes. His pupils suddenly shrunk.

Jiang Cheng kicked Wen Ning, toppling over the bowl of medicine. The black liquid all spilled onto Wen Ning. Wei WuXian wanted to take the bowl of medicine. He pulled up Wen Ning as well, who had been shocked speechless. Jiang Cheng roared at him, "What's wrong with you?!"

At this point he doesn't even know how he was rescued, since he was unconscious for all of that, and thinks they're in a Wen trap and likely going to die (or worse). But there's so many echoes of that interaction again, and again, and again between them.

And combined with Wen Ning's remarks during the scene just before this, where he tells Wei Wuxian about the discipline whip injuries and how Jiang Cheng 'should have other injuries as well', the way the narrative is so deliberately ambiguous on what exactly occurred, it all makes me want to crawl up the walls and gnaw on the light fixtures wailing WHAT DID YOU SEE, WEN NING?! WHAT DID YOU SEE?

At a minimum, Jiang Cheng knows that Wen Ning was there at Lotus Pier prior to his capture by the Wen guards, because they'd both seen Wen Ning examining Jiang corpses on the training field before they fled for Meishan.

But everything after that is only implication and subtext and suppositions and speculation, not directly stated in the text. But based on his reaction, you can pry my headcanon from my cold dead hands that that Wen Ning probably witnessed all or much of what happened to Jiang Cheng after he was captured, and Jiang Cheng knows it.

I've also posted before how I think there's an at least nonzero chance that Jiang Cheng was never directly told that Wen Ning wasn't actually there with Wen Chao when they saw him early on, but came later to try to help (because when Wen Ning gives Wei Wuxian that information Jiang Cheng isn't conscious, and nobody tells Jiang Cheng anything. I don't think that headcanon changes much either way, but there is a slight difference, at least emotionally, between 'I helped you while I was there to slaughter your clan and destroy your life' and 'I came when I heard my crazy cousin was slaughtering your clan and tried to help you' and I think it's a juicy thing to add to the pile of misunderstandings they each have of the other's motivations and actions).

Which, if I go with these two ideas together, really drives home what a bespoke and specific nightmare the way the Golden Core reveal played out - not only the substance of the reveal, but the fact it was Wen Ning who revealed it.

He was already furious that they were even there at Lotus Pier, particularly Wen Ning. But the way it all happens it feels like it's not just echoes of the amplified emotions of the confrontation with Lan Wangji & Wei Wuxian in the Ancestral Hall, it's not just Wen Ning being a Wen, or even Jin Zixuan's death, the way the narration calls out. It feels like there are deeper layers to it.

I also feel a bit stupid for not noticing before this probably extremely obvious to literally everyone else who isn't a dumbass like me parallel of Wen Ning getting a gruesome scorching whip mark across his chest at Lotus Pier in the course of saving Wei Wuxian (more or less, sort of - we know as readers Jiang Cheng was intentionally trying not to hurt them with Zidian, but I don't think Wen Ning knew that when he jumped in).

Jiang Cheng looked to find that the uninvited guest was Wen Ning. Immediately, he raged, "Who let you inside Lotus Pier?! How dare you!"

He could manage to tolerate others, but definitely not Wen Ning, the Wen-dog who put his hand through Jin ZiXuan's heart and ended both his sister's happiness and her life. Just a look, and he felt the urge to kill him right there. How dare he step foot on the earth of Lotus Pier—he really was looking for his death!

Because of the two lives and many other reasons, Wen Ning had always felt guilty, and so he'd always been somewhat scared of Jiang Cheng, consciously avoiding him all the time. Right now, however, he blocked Wei WuXian and Lan WangJi as he faced him, taking the hard lash. A gruesome scorch climbed across his chest, but still he didn't flinch.

I don't know that it actually means anything but it's making me FEEL THINGS incoherently at this specific moment, so. Also I find it legitimately sad that Wen Ning has to live with guilt over things that happened when he was controlled by someone else, though the scene before the Ancestral Hall when Jin Ling starts crying on the boat is probably a better example of that. Anyway.

It's just there's so, so many layers to how uniquely horrible it is for Jiang Cheng that he not only finds out about the Golden Core transfer this way, but also that Wen Ning, specifically, directly witnessed this life-shatteringly huge deception and sacrifice too - while Jiang Cheng was unconscious, no less.

And, well, we know how everything got capped off in that scene...

Obviously the shock of the information was going to get a huge reaction no matter what, no matter who or how he found out. Even without the Wen Ning element, it already hits every one of his deepest weaknesses and insecurities and fears.

But to come from the guy who'd witnessed his family being slaughtered, who'd witnessed who-knows-what humiliations heaped on him (who also happens to be the same fucking guy that Wei Wuxian thought it was worth leaving Yunmeng Jiang for, breaking his promise for...), the guy he blames for his sister's tragic fate (whether that blame is misplaced or not), the guy he exhibits a panic response towards even decades later, and goddamn.

There are just so many layers to this perfect little nightmare reveal on so many different levels aren't there?

There's just SO much meaty stuff for these two to dig into post-canon and all we get is an extra with a 'oh yeah sometimes Jiang Cheng yells on night hunts and Wen Ning is there' about it?!

I should probably just shut up and go read some Jiang Cheng and Wen Ning focused fics or something (whether romantic or platonic that's probably an area I really haven't explored enough vs. the amount of sheer interesting hints and material the novel gives to work with! If by some miracle anyone made it to the end of this beast feel free to drop any recs that explore them, especially that 'what did Wen Ning see?!' aspect of the whole situation because that is the current little brain worm haunting me right now).

[hollandorks]

haven

battinson! bruce wayne x f! reader

chapter one

Summary: After the sudden deaths of your mother and grandmother, you’re forced to return home to Gotham…and to the man who broke your heart three years ago. Back in Bruce Wayne’s inescapable orbit, you vow to get to the bottom of your former best friend’s new cold personality. But Bruce’s secrets aren’t what you’re expecting. a

a/n: look a new series! Two things inspired this (besides my everlasting love for the Batman): @bellaxgiornata's angsty Daredevil fic All These Years, and @neutron-stars-collision's Waiting For the Night (which also features an investigative reporter reader, but is set during the film). If you're here because you loved motn, welcome back! If not, check out my other battinson fics here!

(side note: I know this is a reader insert and Dory is canonically white, but reader could be adopted. I never clarify that)

Series Masterlist

word count: 3k

“Both of them are–?” Y/n choked on the last word, unable to get it past the back of her throat. But she thought it anyway. Dead. 

It was early, too early, her pajamas and hair still rumpled from sleep. Three hours until her alarm would go off. The faux hardwood floors were cold beneath her feet. The warmth of her bed was a thousand miles away. Her heart still pounded from being woken by a harsh knocking at her door. When she’d checked the time on her phone, she had four hours of missed calls from Alfred and two from an unknown number.

Alfred put a gentle hand on her shoulder and squeezed. He was the last of her family now, though he didn’t share her blood. “I’m so sorry, darling girl.” 

Y/n’s grandmother, Dory, the woman who raised her, gone. Along with her daughter, y/n’s mother, the woman who abandoned her as a child. Both gone in one fell swoop. She can’t find it within herself to grieve too much for the woman who gave her life. She’d already abandoned her, over and over, the grief lessening each time. 

But her grandmother–A strangled noise passed her lips and Alfred hurried to step in to embrace her.

“She had a great life,” he said gently. “She lived long and lived well.” 

And somehow, it helped. Alfred had been in her grandmother’s life longer than she had, and therefore knew her better. She had lived well, her life long and full. She was eighty-five years old and had still been in relatively good shape, physically and mentally. 

Alfred held her while she cried, the minutes stretching long yet sharp. They pierced her over and over, each one a moment in which her grandmother no longer existed. She didn’t know how long she cried, only that it was nearly impossible to stop. 

“Bruce is covering all expenses, of course,” Alfred said as he released her. 

The name raced through her like a bolt of electricity. Bruce. Of course she had to see Bruce. Dory had worked for his family for nearly fifty years, after all. Her mind flashed back to her last conversation with Bruce, almost three years ago to the day. Hurt washed over her all over again. This one was different than the grief but just as sharp.

“That’s…too kind.” It’s the best she could do. Besides, her income as a journalist in Bludhaven wasn’t exactly enough to cover one funeral, let alone two. So she couldn’t tell Bruce to take his money and shove it. She knew it was a gesture of obligation not of goodwill. 

“You know you and Dory are our family,” Alfred said, his familiar accent a balm to her nerves. He hadn’t missed the almost visceral reaction to Bruce’s name. He had always known, even though he hadn’t ever said a word. 

She almost scoffed at the word family, but held it back at the last moment. Alfred was her family. Just as Bruce had been her family, once. 

I don’t have time for you, he’d practically snarled the last time she saw him. 

The words still ached. 

“Do you want to drive back with me?” Alfred asked, his voice pulling her from thoughts of the past. “Or I can get a hotel for the night if you need time to pack.” 

She hesitated. Part of her wanted to refuse, to wait until the absolute last minute to leave, to delay seeing Bruce again for as long as possible. But she owed it to her grandmother, at least, to be present for the plans honoring her life. And she was sure she needed to sign some paperwork to have the bodies released. 

Bodies. It’s a shock to think of them that way. Two people, two souls, reduced to shells in one accident. 

Her mind jumped to her last conversation with Dory, the previous Sunday. Four days ago. Now she was simply…gone. Had she told her she loved her? She couldn’t remember now, no matter how hard she tried. 

The ache was back, the tears flowing without her express permission. 

“No, let me just–grab a bag and we can go now. I’ll call work on the way.” It helped to have a manageable list of things to do. Pack. Go with Alfred. Call work. Sign papers. One step, one breath, one moment at a time. Which would be the same way she would handle seeing Bruce again. 

Thankfully the editor of The Bludhaven Tribune was more friend than boss and would completely understand. Besides, if it came down to it, she had a couple of weeks of unused vacation time saved up. Dory had always made the trip to her–at least for the past three years. She had understood the need to stay away from Gotham and the man who had broken y/n’s heart. So her vacation days were rarely used. 

Within an hour, y/n’s bags were packed and a fresh cup of coffee was waiting in the cupholder of Alfred’s car. The cold air was a shock to her overloaded system. Her chest was too tight, her breathing labored. She couldn’t tell what was hurting worse–the grief for her grandmother or the anxiety of seeing Bruce again. 

A silly, hopeless crush, he’d said three years ago. 

A silly, hopeless crush that still hadn’t gone away, despite the fact that he’d effectively ground her heart to dust beneath his heel with the words. 

A few minutes into the drive, another question bubbled to the surface. “Alfred…” she began, unsure how to find the bravery to ask. “Did she suffer? Did they suffer?” Because, as many times as her mother had broken her heart, she was still her mother. 

Alfred was quiet so long that she feared the worst. But then, finally, “I don’t believe so, no. Your mother was driving. Dory was the passenger, where the impact was. And before you ask, your mother was clean.” 

She did flinch this time.

It had been her first thought. She was glad of the answer though, twisted as it sounded. 

She knew exactly why they were driving together. Because she used to take her grandmother to her appointments, but after leaving Gotham three years ago…it became harder and harder to make the time in the middle of the week. 

And, surprisingly, y/n’s mother had stepped in. She wanted to make amends, her grandmother had told her. She’d scoffed at that, but couldn’t deny the relief that had washed over her. She loved her grandmother, but having to pick her up from Wayne Tower was a particular kind of torture. The place held too many memories, both good and bad, now so inextricably linked that the pain bled into the happier memories. 

“How long has it been since you’ve been back?” Alfred asked quietly, as if reading her mind. 

Her hands knotted in her lap. “In Gotham or…?” She let the rest of the question hang in the air. Or at Wayne Tower? Or in Bruce Wayne’s presence? Because all three had slightly different answers. 

Alfred gave her a look before turning his attention back to the road. 

Y/n sighed softly. “Three years, give or take a few weeks.” 

“You never came inside when picking up Dory?” 

“No.” Her heart clenched with pain. “That’s why my mother…” 

Alfred nodded in understanding. “Maybe this can be…a new beginning,” he finally said. “Things are different. I think he needs you more than either of you realize.” 

No need to ask who he was. She wanted to roll her eyes, but Alfred meant well. Of course he wanted her and Bruce to make up, to go back to the way things were. 

He didn’t know how thoroughly Bruce Wayne broke her heart. 

“Then Bruce can apologize.” She crossed her arms. Because, as much as she still loved him, Bruce had been in the wrong, not her. It had taken him a long time to turn his anger on her, but he finally had…right after she had confessed her feelings for him. 

Y/n spent the rest of the drive in silence, the grief for her grandmother numbing her inside and out even as it warred with the anxiety gnawing at her gut. 

She thought about how it would feel to step into Wayne Tower again. How it would feel to step inside and not be greeted with a warm embrace from her grandmother. With her love. With her understanding. With her gentle manipulations to get her to help her with the housekeeping duties for free.

A few tears slipped out. God, she was gone. Y/n would never again hug her or speak to her or have her tell a story to help her fall asleep–something that happened even as an adult. Something she had done to help ease the heartbreak of three years ago.

She startled as a hand took hers. Alfred said nothing, merely squeezed. 

When she looked up, the city of Gotham was spread before her. She saw the neon lights from Gotham Square Garden near the city center, bright despite the early morning hour. Fog wound its way through the streets, a proper gloomy Gotham welcome to suit her mood. 

Though Bludhaven wasn’t far, it was much sunnier than the city of her birth. 

In the past year since the flood, Gotham became even gloomier. The streets were dirtier, darker, half the streetlights still broken. She remembered suddenly, vividly, the fear she’d felt upon hearing the news. She’d been called into work late at night last November. The office had been chaotic, frantic, Gotham’s nearest big city neighbor gearing up to help but also to tell the stories. 

Y/n is ashamed to admit that her first thought hadn’t been of her grandmother. 

It was of Bruce. 

Alfred, she had known, had been safe in the top floors of the hospital. She’d returned from a visit only the day before. The panic from the news of the explosion, caused by a serial killer, had barely worn off. Even after seeing Alfred was okay with her own eyes, she felt a lingering panic. Even after Alfred told her that Bruce hadn’t been home at the time and was perfectly fine.  

But Bruce–and by extension Dory–were unknown variables in the flooding. Had they been evacuated? Had either been present for the new mayor’s event? Had they remained safe in the tower, partially blown up as it was? 

She had waited sixteen excruciating hours before finally hearing that they were safe. Unharmed, even. 

The air around y/n suddenly darkened. While she was daydreaming of the past, they had reached their destination. Alfred pulled into the private, street level parking garage reserved for family only. There were several other cars there, including Bruce’s favorite classic sports car. The sight of the car alone made her chest ache. 

Y/n stared vacantly at the car. She startled as Alfred suddenly opened her door with her bags in his hand.

She blinked slowly, dazed. 

It was too much to deal with. Losing her family, coming back to Gotham, back to Bruce…She wanted nothing more than to go back to bed. It felt like eons since the Alfred at her door woke her, though it was only a couple of hours at most. 

As she followed Alfred to the private elevator, she wondered if Bruce would avoid her. If he would hide from the uncomfortable as he so often did. Part of her hoped he did. Part of her hoped she could get through everything without seeing him. But that was stupid. He would be, at the very least, at the funerals. 

Another wave of grief nearly knocked her over. She had to bury the last bit of blood relations she had. Had. The past tense was another unavoidable wave threatening to drown her. Her mother and grandmother both only existed in the past now. 

Y/n suddenly realized that that was how Bruce had been feeling for two decades. The feeling of being utterly alone in the universe, no one but himself left with his family name, his family legacy. But his was worse, so much worse. She had, at least, had her family for twice as long as he had. And that counted for something. 

The elevator ride was long and slow. Or maybe that was grief and panic warping time until she had no idea if the ride had just started or was about to end. Despite getting almost seven hours of sleep from a rare early night, she was exhausted. Her limbs were made of lead, her eyes heavy, her brain begging to be switched off. 

The smell alone, the particular blend of dust and old paper, was enough to make her knees weak. Ten thousand memories flooded back all at once, so many of them that she couldn’t fixate on any single one. 

The doors slid open and Alfred stepped out with her bags. 

But she had to press a hand to the wall of the elevator to steady herself as a familiar deep voice rang out in the silence. “That was fast,” Bruce said. God, his voice. “Did she decide to stay until the last moment then?” 

Alfred didn’t answer, because y/n’s presence stepping from the elevator was enough. 

Her heart was somewhere in her throat, or maybe her knees. She couldn’t look at him. She couldn’t. She couldn’t bear to look at him and see the indifference he now felt for her. She couldn’t look at him and hold a thousand more memories. 

She couldn’t look at him and love him, knowing he didn’t feel the same. 

The silence was deafening and finally, finally, she tore her eyes from the floor and looked up. 

There was a rush in her ears as she beheld him for the first time in three years. His hands were shoved deep into the pockets of a pair of dark, well-worn jeans. His shirt was too big for him and his hair–his hair was longer. Her eyes skipped over him hungrily, noticing more and more differences in the person she used to know better than herself. 

He was taller, for one. She thought men stopped growing at twenty-five years old, or something like that. Or maybe it was the way he held himself, like he was more sure of his place in the world. And his shoulders were more broad, his arms more muscular. Bruce had all at once become…a man. Not that he hadn’t been a man three years before, but something about him was…more.

There were heavy bags beneath his eyes, like he hadn't slept. And, she supposed, if he was the one who had answered the call about her grandmother and mother, he likely hadn’t. 

She realized that they both had been staring at each other in silence. Alfred half-stepped out of the foyer like he couldn’t decide whether or not to give them privacy or stay to make sure they wouldn’t tear out each others’ throats. She wondered what Bruce had told him about their fight. Had it been the truth? Or had he played it close to the vest, like always? 

“Hi,” she finally said. Her mouth was dry and her voice cracked on the word. There was so much she wanted to say to him. Thank you and I’m sorry and I still love you even if you hate me were all warring to be first. 

“Hi,” he said back. His blue eyes pinned her to the spot. They seemed bluer, or maybe she had forgotten the exact shade of them. She wanted to close her eyes and sink into the familiar comfort of him, but those days were far gone. Three years gone. 

“I–” She wasn’t sure what words would come out but the need to fill the silence was too great. 

He beat her to it. “I’m so sorry,” he said. She knew he meant about her family and not about three years before. She knew it in the way she knew most things about him, born of the sheer amount of time they spent together throughout their lives. Even with three years separating their last interaction, she could still read him. Maybe not as well as she used to but still well enough. 

She couldn’t think of a single thing to say. She couldn’t say It’s okay, because it wasn’t. Or, I missed you, even though she did. Or even Thank you, because he hadn’t done anything other than offer to pay for the funerals. 

“Your old room is ready,” Bruce said and his eyes flickered away. Was he so tired of her already? 

I don’t have time for you and your silly, useless crush. The words seemed to echo in the air. Was he able to hear them too? 

“Who–” 

“She kept it ready for you,” Bruce said and his voice softened, easing the blow. 

A stray tear escaped.

Of course she had. Y/n’s grandmother was nothing if not optimistic. 

She had to take a breath and close her eyes against the wash of pain. Dory had kept her room ready for her, even knowing that Bruce Wayne broke her heart, even knowing she wouldn’t step foot inside Wayne Tower again unless absolutely necessary. 

As always, y/n’s grandmother had ensured that she always had a place to come home to. You’ll always have a home with me, she had said the day y/n left Gotham. 

She stepped away, eyes still closed, feet knowing the way by heart. When she opened them, she saw Bruce’s hand fall, as if he had reached out, perhaps to comfort her. 

The pain of that missing touch was too much. 

She simply nodded once. 

And then she fled. 

Her childhood bedroom was exactly as she had left it three years ago, free of dust, the linens on the bed so fresh she could still smell the detergent. 

She threw herself onto the bed and finally let herself cry. 

Next Chapter

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@ktficworld

[tobiasdrake]

Ranma 1/2 episode 3. I can't be the only person who somehow, despite not thinking about this series seriously in a long time, still hears "YAPPAPPA YAPPAPPA II SHAN TEN hashagu koi wa ike no koi" in their head when starting up the reboot series.

Where did you come from? I thought I forgot you.

By contrast, the new OP hasn't grown on me as much. Can't imagine why. It couldn't be that I've heard the new one twice but heard the old one eight billion times over the course of three decades, such that any new music in its place is going to inherently sound like an imposter.

Nah, it's probably just that the song isn't good. That's a reasonable thing to conclude.

(In seriousness, new OP is fun.)

Uhhhhh, part 1 because I had a lot to say about Nabiki, my fave from back in the day who gets to be in the spotlight for the first time this episode.

Speaking of the OP, this is my favorite shot.

I don't know what it is exactly but every time I see this, there is a haunted look in Ranma's eyes. I don't think that's on purpose. I think he's just supposed to look like he's happily jogging.

But I see a thousand-yard stare on this boy. The look of a person who has seen things that can never be unseen.

Which.

Is fair.

For Ranma.

Rejected so hard. This is a misunderstanding but it's still hilarious how quickly Nabiki nopes the fuck out of this shit.

To be fair, she's seen the way Kuno treats the women he's interested in. If I were her, I would want no part of that.

Ironically enough, Nabiki/Kuno is IIRC the most popular ship for both of these characters. Though, given that being physically strong enough to beat the shit out of him at martial arts is such an important quality to Kuno, I'm not sure he and Nabiki are really compatible.

Makes perfect sense from Nabiki's perspective but honestly I'm pretty sure she's more likely to Black Widow him for his wealth than fall in love with him sincerely.

So begins Nabiki's career of being the absolute worst person in Ranma's life, in a cast that includes multiple people attempting to murder him. Nabiki is something far worse than a shonen rival. Worse than a romantic rival. Worse than a shonen rival who wants to surpass you at romancing your love interest.

She's a capitalist. And she has found a saleable product.

(My characters are always the absolute worst. Goddammit, Nabiki.)

There's something really interesting in Nabiki's reaction to that remark. Like. She gets back into gear pretty quickly after this moment.

But.

Just for a moment.

She had a visceral, kneejerk reaction of shock and disgust at the realization that Kuno was planning on pursuing Ranma and Akane at the same time.

Just for a moment, she had an emotional reaction strong enough to break her poker face.

I mean, she's still going to profit off it. She is a capitalist after all.

But it happened. That brief glimpse into the humanity underneath the cash register was there.

For those unaware of yen to dollar exchange rates, she's charging about $20 for Ranma's photos. Akane's are about $27. So we can actually quantify her feelings for Akane. She loves her sister exactly $7 more than a stranger she met a few days ago.

Don't take it personally. It's just business.

(I felt really gross saying that. Probably because it was really gross. In seriousness, Nabiki is an active participant in Akane's harassment, without Akane's knowledge.)

That said, she does still try to help this situation once she's done cashing in on violations of Ranma and Akane's privacy.

It doesn't take because Kuno aggressively refuses to learn the truth about the Pig-Tailed Girl throughout the series lest it compromise his delusions. But she does try. There seems like there's basically no reason for her to do this except to burst Kuno's bubble.

...except then she also does this when she realizes Kuno didn't get it.

She tried to burst Kuno's bubble and it didn't work so now she's making it worse instead. At this point, it's clear that Nabiki's just starting shit for funsies. She is the show's trickster. Her allegiances are to money and entertainment.

She was expecting a hilarious blowout the one way and when she didn't get it, she went a different route. Goddammit, Nabiki.

Of course, her troll antics eventually blow up in her face when they out her capitalist antics.

But she never really has to face any sort of consequences for it. Right when it seems like things are about to turn against her...

Ranma, rather than presenting a united front against their mutual abuser, decides to open his fucking mouth and insult Akane instead.

This is how capitalists win. They skate home with all the money and no comeuppance while their victims pick each apart.

[mana-jjk]

Mana.... Hows jjk 261 :3 (im bawling my eyes out)

hi babes <3 !

i’m coping so hard right now, but this chapter gave so much to think about in terms of characterization too.

spoilers under the cut !! i’m so serious y’all, you will be majorly spoiled if you keep reading

ok so first of all, i feel so vindicated that everyone is starting to realize how much of a crazy bitch yuuta is. i’ve been saying since day one that the boy is unhinged and i love him for it. i think it’s interesting how in general, the second years all fall under a different morality stance that impacts each other.

i don’t think the typical moral alignment chart really fits them, so let me ramble for a second.

maki is a bit true neutral to me in that she will turn her nose to the society set before her, because it’s wrong. she has strong ideals, but her behavior used to be very much of looking out for herself before much else. that means hurting others feelings, not giving into designated good behavior to make it easier for others, goals dedicated to breaking the glass ceiling rather than any passion to save anyone. her actions may lean to an objective good and evil stance, whatever may be necessary. i think her stance is definitely swayed by her comrades. the initial reaction to yuuta possessing gojo’s body was immediate refusal. it’s almost odd that she’s had such a strong reaction to it, considering her past attitude of doing whatever may be necessary. her real reaction stems from the danger that has the potential of impacting yuuta.

panda is definitely more interesting in that he’s not human. he’s most often shown as one of the more empathetic in the show despite his inhuman origins. yet at the same time, he’s very tactical and thinks of humans and their emotions as strange. there’s an almost juxtaposition of that kind nature in combination with a degree of separation that is visceral in nature. case in point, panda acknowledges that there is danger to yuuta in this case, yet he has the most subdued reaction to such. is this because he cares less? i don’t think so. however, another point is when yuuta is screaming about becoming a monster. panda shows little to no reaction outwardly. again, you have to ponder the choice in this. yuuta used to be the prime example of his inability to understand humans and their emotions. i do wonder if that’s still the case after masamichi was killed. they both lost a figure deeply important to them. the difference is that panda refrained from enacting vengeance and instead displayed his, perhaps most genuine, showcase of emotion. part of panda’s journey is about discovering where he stands in society. reacting to this in such a way feels like an acceptance of that journey coming to an end. he understands yuuta, because he had to become more in order to process these tragedies, with another on the horizon.

i think i’ve said this before, but i do see potential where toge would’ve been set up as the moral compass of the second years (if gege didn’t keep forgetting about him). out of all the characters, toge was set up to be one of the most self-sacrificial. silencing and isolating himself his entire life to prevent cursing others, trying to make yuuta stay back or run away when there’s danger, protecting megumi despite the damage to his throat, asking nobara not to kill one of the very few people who knows a dangerous weakness of cursed speech, protecting an entire civilian crowd by himself, and so on. but there’s smaller pieces too. stopping maki from bullying yuuta, protesting sending yuuji alone during the exchange event, always choosing non-violent commands on his peers if necessary, physically stepping in to stop todo from harassing megumi, checking in on the others well being. i’ve always seen that moment with maki and stopping her as indicative to their relationship. if he says she’s gone too far, she trusts him. his reaction to yuuta’s speech is also the most visceral, there’s a hint of horror on his face that you can’t see with anyone else. it’s a terror i only have to assume at the knowledge that yuuta cannot, will not be stopped. and for toge, who has so much of his character built around care, it must be so horrifying to know that you are helpless to save the one you care about most, as helpless as he was to prevent the decimation of the civilians entrusted to him in shibuya.

yuuta actually tickles my brain in the best way y’all. i have SO MUCH to say about this man and his morals. what is absolutely crazy is that you would think yuuta is being set up as the straight man (not literally, that boy is bisexual as fuck), but in that he did not grow up in their society. maki, toge, and panda were all groomed from birth to be soldiers. ready to do what is necessary to save civilians. megumi said it best, they’re not heroes, they’re jujutsu sorcerers. that means being deplorable sometimes, expecting not to save everyone, yet willing to die in an instance without cursing the world. despite this, somehow it’s yuuta who emulates these values the most. where others may protest the ethics of the body swap, yuuta intercepts with bone-chilling anger. where toge refrains from using permanently damaging curse words, the first one and most common yuuta uses is ‘die,’ where others might turn tail and run, yuuta digs in his heel and does what is necessary. likely this is a byproduct of growing up with the vengeful spirit of rika for five years. single-handedly, he was responsible for numerous injuries and deaths even before arriving at the school. we see this byproduct in his willingness in biting the faces off roaches, killing yuuji, and taking it upon himself to kill his mentor’s best friend not once, but twice. and then letting the copy of rika EAT HIM !!

were these all necessary at the time? of course, but the moral strain, the implications of his mental state in order to do so is one that is vastly underestimated.

yuuta killed yuuji.

with his own hand, he cut through flesh and blood and bone and dug through to the other side. he did it without a twitch in his face, he did it after chasing him through the city. yuuji did not lie down and take it, he ran and he fought for his life. the desperation on yuuji’s face, the terror, the chilling understanding that he would not survive this. he might have healed him, but what kind of person do you think it takes to go through with that? yes, it was necessary. but i want you to imagine yourself in that position. it’s not a moment to take lightly, especially if you’re not entirely sure if it will work. taking this all to the present day, if you were surprised at the lengths yuuta will go, i truly cannot imagine why.

gojo satoru is not being used as a weapon. he is a tribute. the very act in itself is an accolade, the only eulogy they can afford to provide. the act of desecration is a love letter, a legacy borne of blood soaked thorns and crumbling graves. the strongest, the one and only, the honored one. untouchable, unreachable, an unattainable monster. gojo describes others as the flowers that fester and grow, who love in theory but never truly understand. do you understand the gut-wrenching tragedy it takes for someone as blessed as yuuta to sink into the grime that no one dares venture, to foresake his blessings to become the decomposition, the nourishment of these roots, to take over like a parasite, a hive mind, if only to ensure the loss is not in vain?

no one is looking at this the right way.

yuuta isn’t disrespecting gojo by using his body as a weapon, he is honoring him in the only way he knows how. he’s taking his life, filled with blessings, friends that adore him, the chances for love and happiness, the journey it took for him to come here, and laying it out in offering. i see your pain, i see your endings, and to ensure you rest in peace, i will ensure that these hands finally lay to rest that which has taken so much from you.

yuuta loves gojo, he loves him so completely that he became a monster far before this act. he killed his best friend so he wouldn’t have to, he killed the parasitic host of his best friend so he wouldn’t have to, there’s so much blood on his hands it’s hard to tell where the devotion ends and humanity begins.

we can scream black and blue that this is wrong, that he deserves a proper rest, that they are abandoning the humanity in which they strive so much to save. to that i say, no shit, it’s almost like that’s the point. asking children to fight in a war they never asked for is wrong. training these children from birth and grooming them to be weapons before they even know how to define what it means to die is wrong. trying to execute teenagers with no knowledge or understanding of their abilities or place in this society is wrong. telling teenagers who will never experience a normal school life to engage in suicide missions, knowing they have no chance is wrong. demanding that they place priority over lives, especially over their own is wrong. outlawing their very existence, to which was groomed specifically for their society, is wrong. asking them to plan for their early demise, to greet death with acceptance rather than rage, is wrong. it’s all wrong, it’s all a product of a broken society that could never move forward. asking them to fight with amputated limbs, disfigured skin, and no one to mourn their existence beyond the circle of lives at the beck and call is wrong. but the end of sukuna is a potential turning point, the end of a generational transition cycle that continues to cog forward. gojo hated this society most of all, and i have no doubt that he has brought the end of it.

if not the death of the elders, it is the death of himself that spurs the same change that came with his birth. it’s almost tragic that gojo’s life mission was to ensure that the youth could live their lives to the fullest, yet he had to accept that their lives would be laid down regardless. gojo sacrificed his entire life, from birth to death to be a protector. yes he stopped executions, he gave chances to many who would have otherwise been ostracized, yet all in the same they lay down their lives and die all too soon. children he helped raise, children he would have done anything for, children who now face his death with their own bodies in the line of fire. in the end, he didn’t change a thing. prolonged death sentences maybe, yet what does it matter if they die by their society or by sukuna’s hand? that is why yuuta needed to take his body. because gojo is not done, he cannot be laid to rest until the final obstacle is out of the way. a last wish, the closing of a door, the balance of what was good and necessary.

as long as sukuna lives, they have failed. and yuuta, the one most blessed by the efforts of gojo, the one who had the most to live for, understands that more than anyone else.

the truth is that gojo was so completely adored by his student, in a way even he didn’t understand. children who were saved by him, the outcasts of the jujutsu world who were given a family because of him. megumi who was able to escape the zenins, yuuji who was given a prolonged execution, nobara who finally had people sitting in her chairs, maki who was fighting against the foundation, panda who was not even human, toge who’s very life was outlawed, yuuta who had long since lost all reason to live. they found each other because of gojo, they found reason to live in each other. because of that, they found the confidence to die too.

jujutsu kaisen for these very reasons is not for the faint of heart. the death of nanami was the tipping point of a decent into darkness in which children are not spared. there are no children in a war of this scale, only born and raised soldiers who will live and die a life documented only by the tragic losses unknown by the rest of society. the people who were everything, the people they would have done anything for, not even a smear in history. unnamed, unthanked, unnoticed in their absence to the rest of society. because even a happy story like yuuta’s is built on the knowledge that every blessing was only a prolonged sacrifice.

he would give up everything and anything, because that was the only way to ensure the people he loved, his everything and anything, lived to see another day. that is what becoming a monster truly means. the capability and willingness to become an ugly, wretched, and cruel being, if only to ensure you are the strongest.

however, yuuta does have something that gojo was never quite able to keep. the love and devotion matched in full by his comrades, unwilling to let him face these battles alone. therefore, even as tragedy trudges on, i truly hope this is where we can see the potential of the established bond in the second years.

i will continue being delusional, if only to believe my found family will not yet be ripped apart (like yuuta). so to answer your question, i too am suffering !! slice of life alternate universe when

[mystra-midnight]

— FOLIE À DEUX | chapter iii

pairing: feyd-rautha harkonnen x atreides ! ofc (leiana)

tags: brief physical assault. political intrigue. arranged marriage. making out. some physical violence between brothers.

w/c: 3.1k.

a/n: I hope you all know how truly grateful I am for your love and support. Thank you to everyone who has commented, left kudos, bookmarked and subscribed to this story. I love and appreciate you all. <3 <3 <3

In the days following, Leiana had yet to see or hear from Feyd-Rautha.

The Baron had allowed her to sleep in her own chambers instead of the prison cells. And there she remained, granted a small measure of freedom but still a prisoner of war. There was not a single person within the estate that gave her the time of day. Leiana suspected this was because her only escape would be over the balcony rail, and she would not survive the fall.

So she'd kept herself busy by collecting her belongings, strewn about the room: here, there, and everywhere. It was strange, as though she was viewing the ruins of her life as a bystander and not living it. She felt disconnected from reality as she went through the wreckage, salvaging what she could.

Gifts given to her by her father were broken, as was the bodice dagger Paul had given her on their sixteenth birthday. It had broken that night, stabbed into the neck of a Harkonnan attacker. Tears burned at the back of her throat as she thought of all that was lost to the sands of time: late-night conversations and whispered words as they hid in the dark instead of sleeping. Training sessions with their mother, the uncomfortable echo of her voice in her mind as she prepared the twins for the Gom Jabbar. Dinners with their father, his terrible jokes and kind smile.

On the third day of her isolation, two guards opened the doors to her chambers without knocking, as though they had the right to intrude upon the only sanctuary she had left. Both were Harkonnan: pale-skinned and dressed in black, as though for a funeral. 

"The Baron requests your presence."

Leiana noticed his speech and lack of formality as though he was neither pleased nor upset with overseeing an enemy of House Harkonnan. From her perch on the small balcony, a book resting in her lap, she watched them. One of the guards had a tight grip on the pommel of his sword as though he was prepared for an attack. He did not need to speak; his actions spoke for him. He would not hesitate to kill her should she give him a reason. 

"May I inquire as to what for?"

"He is announcing your engagement to the Na-Baron."

This revelation made her hesitate, for she knew it would be the moment that sealed her fate. Though, in truth, the dinner with Feyd had already done that, and the kiss he'd forced onto her had been the nail in the coffin that forever trapped her. Leiana felt a visceral reaction to the memories, as if they were ghosts from her past, haunting her every step. Each had been seared unto her memory: the taste of his tongue as it explored her mouth, the strength of his fingers as he'd pulled her hair, the way she'd fallen under his spell, however briefly, as though she was a weaker woman, a younger, love-struck fool.

Her instincts waged war within her—fight or flight. Yet it didn't matter, for she had no say. Leiana swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. The guards waited for her response, but none came. Instead, she stood, sweeping from the room with haughty grace, expecting them to follow or be left behind.

The two men exchanged a quick glance before following. As she moved through the halls, she could feel the weight of their eyes on her back. She tried not to think about what this moment could entail or let her imagination run wild with possibilities. Still, it was hard when everything around her seemed so surreal.

All too quickly, they reached the throne room. Leiana hesitated at the threshold, surprised to find it filled with people. Her heart raced, thundering against her ribcage, as she looked to where the Baron sat upon his throne. His expression was stern and unreadable, and his gaze was distant as it swept across the room to her. At his side stood Glossu Rabban with a smug expression.

At that moment, she understood this for what it was: a political ploy.

Rabban did not know his brother was on Arrakis or that he had been disinherited. He still believed that when Vladamir died, he would inherit a kingdom. Worse still, he still thought that she would be married to him, and that dream was about to be shattered.

Her heart thundered, its beats akin to the sound of horses' hooves. For a moment, she met the Baron's eyes, spider-like and gleaming with amusement that did not show on his face. Leiana could not speak, not with so many present. And so, with her hands metaphorically tied, she bowed, taking low to the ground so that her dress flourished on the floor at her feet.

"My Lord," she said, her voice submissive and demure despite the tension crawling beneath her skin. As she stood, she was ushered to stand at his side and, much to her displeasure, Glossu Rabban's side. Her stomach churned uncomfortably. His fingerprint bruises lingered on her skin even now.

As the minutes passed, more people poured into the room. She sensed the Beast shift closer until his body brushed against hers. Leiana remained as still as stone, a statue carved from the mountains of Arrakis, unmoving. As though unaware of his nephew's actions or simply unfazed by them, the Baron spoke, his voice a thick rasp.

"Time and again, House Harkonnan has survived through strength and suffering," he began, though all too soon, his voice faded to static noise as her personal space was more deeply invaded. Rabbans' hand fell upon her body, thick, meaty fingers taking a greedy handful of her arse. Leiana bit into her cheek until she tasted blood, his nails dipping into her skin through the light fabric of her dress, his grip tightening to the point of pain.

She remained stubborn; having passed the test with the Gom Jabber, she would pass this one also.

His breath tickled her neck as he leaned in. "I have been waiting days for this moment, my Lady," he said, his voice so low that only she heard it, as though what he had to say was a terrible secret not meant for their peers. Leiana fought to hide how she shivered, how it twisted down her spine and left her skin textured with goosepimples, and instead focused her gaze on the doors across the room. She busied herself by imagining her escape: like a bird, she would flock from the room, lost in the desert winds, never to be caught again.

Rabban did not appear to have noticed. He seemed preoccupied with the curve of her arse as he began pawing at it. "Tonight," he said, his voice still low, dripping with salacious intent. "Tonight, I am going to come to your room and show you the desires of a man. You are going to be my whore, Lady Atreides."

"Is now the time for this, Rabban?" She answered, her voice even and calm despite the disgust worming through her limbs. Her every muscle was taut with tension, the set of her shoulders ridged, but a fire was blazing in her eyes. "Your uncle is speaking." Leiana did not lower her voice, allowing it to carry to those nearby and paint him as disrespectful, not her. 

She saw the Baron's eyes flick toward them, and the faint curl of his lip, yet his words continued. "I have the duty of announcing that Lady Leiana Atreides has renounced her allegiance to the traitor house she was born into. She has sworn herself to House Harkonnan." A murmur went through the gathered crowd, their attention flitting between her and the Baron. 

Her face burned with shame, and her cheeks flushed with anger. She wanted to run and escape this nightmare, yet it was not an option. Her gaze joined the Baron's, his spider eyes twinkling with malice. "To prove her loyalty, she has agreed to marry my nephew, the Na-Baron."

Rabban's hand clasped onto her hip, his fingers pressing so hard into her skin that she thought they might cut down to the bone. He dragged her against him, into the shelter of his body, so that she was pressed tightly against him. Her body shuddered as she tried to move away, unable to escape his grasp. Rabban was enormous, his broad shoulders enough to block her from view if he was to stand in front of her. He made her feel impossibly small. 

Leiana looked up at him, glaring hotly.

"Feyd-Rautha," the Baron said.

Once more, the crowd murmured, both Harkonnan loyalists and those who had betrayed House Atreides. Leiana felt the tension seep through Rabban's body: the way he froze, motionless, and how his fingers pressed harder, harder, harder, into her skin until she couldn't suppress the whine of pain that tumbled from her lips. She turned to him, pushing against the wall of his chest to try and distance him.

The doors opened wide, revealing Feyd-Rautha. He stood tall and proud, adorned in the blackened armour of House Harkonnan, a sword strapped to each hip, glittering dangerously. He looked immaculate, the pride of his noble house. As he entered, the murmurs of the gathered nobles hushed, all eyes turning to his imposing figure.

His gaze swept the room, cold and calculating, assessing each face. When he saw Rabban, his hand possessive on her hip, she saw his eyes darken, narrowing into a glare. He walked with purpose and grace, long strides carrying him forward until he kneeled at his uncle's feet. Leiana recognized the gesture for what it was: hollowed respect. He did not care for his uncle. In fact, she would go so far as to say he hated him. 

"What is this?"

Rabban's voice shattered the silence, earning an unamused glare from both the Baron and Feyd, who slowly rose to stand and turned to face him. Her eyes met with his, silent and pleading, and while her lips barely moved, her voice, the Voice, rattled uncomfortably within his skull. Fire flashed in the depth of his eyes, pure hatred, at her, at him, leaving behind scorched earth. He might as well have been carved from stone, for he did not move.

Leiana saw the tension seep through him like a snake, watched how it wrapped around his organs, how it strangled him. The Baron shifted to look at Rabban. It was a subtle gesture, yet his emotions were like knives glittering in the morning light, ready to cleave flesh down to the bone. It was as though he was offended by his nephew's audacity.

“Please,” her lips parted again, not a whisper but an exhale.

"You need to learn not to touch my belongings, brother," Feyd rasped, his dangerous growl reverberating through the room's silence. His eyes locked onto Rabban with a glare that promised retribution. Extending a hand toward Leiana, he left no room for defiance. Sensing the underlying menace in Feyd's tone, she took his hand without hesitation. The moment her fingers touched his, he yanked her away from Rabban's grasp with a strength that sent her stumbling.

She collided against his chest with a force that drove the air from her lungs, leaving her gasping in surprise. Feyd's arm, muscular and unyielding, wrapped around her waist with a possessive intensity, purposefully pulling her against him. His hold was firm, almost bruising, a silent declaration of dominion over her. His lips crashed down on hers, the kiss abrupt and demanding. She gasped, a small sound of shock that he effortlessly silenced, his mouth swallowing the noise. His lips were hot and insistent, a vivid display of his possessiveness.

His tongue slid along the edge of her teeth, exploring with a predatory precision. His taste was intoxicating, a heady mix of something dark and forbidden. Her own tongue responded instinctively, meeting his in a fierce dance. The intensity of the kiss left her breathless, her senses overwhelmed by the sheer force of his claim. She angled her head, opening herself to him further, leaning into his solid form.

Everything Feyd did was quietly calculated, yet he kissed like a starved man, uncaring who saw or who might try to intervene. Not that anyone would dare; Leiana would wager everything that the Na-Baron would slice down any fool brave enough to attempt it. His hand fisted in her hair, weaving through her dark locks. He tugged her head back, angling it to his desire, commanding her submission with a ruthless tenderness. 

The crowd whispered among themselves, their voices not registering in her mind as they should have. There was only Feyd—the taste of his lips on hers, the wet glide of his tongue exploring her mouth, the relentless strength of his fingers tugging on her hair, the way he swallowed her soft moan with a deliberate growl. Leiana melted against him, her fingers curling around the chest plate of his armour, clinging to him as if he were an anchor in a storm.

Rabban's expression twisted in something akin to disgust, perhaps anger. When Feyd pulled away, their lips separated with a sinful sound. Hers were glistening and kiss-bitten. A heavy silence stretched until Feyd finally spoke, his voice dripping with cold venom. He did not turn to face his brother. His eyes were on her, drinking in how she stared at him as though he hung the moon and stars. "Consider this your first and only warning. Next time, there will be consequences."

Rabban made a sound in response. "You always did have a penchant for dramatics, little brother," he sneered, stepping forward, his bulk casting a long shadow over them. Feyd's eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint flashing in their depths. 

"Careful, Rabban. You wouldn't want to start something you can't finish."

Rabban's eyes flashed red with anger, and without hesitation, he lunged at Feyd. The crowd, taken by surprise, gasped and instinctively stepped back, creating a wider circle around the two men. Feyd's grip tightened on her, his fingers digging into her skin painfully as he yanked her to the side, flinging her behind him with a force that sent her sprawling onto the cold, hard ground.

Feyd faced Rabban's charge with a poised and calculated stance, his movements fluid and precise. His eyes locked onto Rabban's, reading the fury and recklessness in his opponent's approach. As Rabban's massive form barreled toward him, Feyd's muscles coiled with anticipation. He sidestepped deftly at the last possible moment, his movements a blur of grace and speed.

With a swift, well-placed punch, Feyd drove his fist into Rabban's ribs, feeling the satisfying impact reverberate through his knuckles. Rabban let out a guttural grunt of pain, staggering slightly but quickly regaining his footing. His face twisted into a mask of rage, eyes burning with a desire for retribution.

The larger man swung a powerful fist, aiming for Feyd's head with all his might. Feyd, his reflexes honed to perfection, ducked just in time, the blow grazing the air above him. The force of the swing caused Rabban to overextend, leaving him momentarily off-balance.

The crowd watched in stunned silence, their collective breath held in anticipation. The tension was thick, a living thing that thrummed through the hall, making every heartbeat feel like an eternity. Rabban, undeterred, readied himself for another attack, his muscles bunching in preparation. But before he could move, a booming voice cut through the air, commanding submission. 

“Enough!”

Rabban halted mid-stride, his chest heaving, and turned red-faced toward his uncle. Feyd straightened, his eyes never wavering from his brother, but he remained silent, his demeanour cold and calculating. The Baron stood from his throne, suspensors hissing as they carried his impressive girth. “This petty squabble ends now.” His voice brokered no arguments. “You are both sons of House Harkonnan. Do not disgrace my name with such undignified behaviour.”

Leiana imagined that had the room not been filled with their peers then he would have gleefully watched his nephews fight to the death. As it was, Rabban clenched his fists, his anger simmering beneath the surface of his skin, and nodded reluctantly. Feyd bowed his eyes slightly in acknowledgement, his expression harsh. As the Baron moved to leave the room, he cast a final, warning glance to his nephews.

"Remember your place, Rabban. I have given you grace and time to prove yourself. And you have failed time and again," he said, his tone icy. "Feyd is to be my heir. He will marry the girl. And I will hear no more on the matter."

With the Baron’s words still echoing in the room, the crowd began to disperse, their hushed whispers and speculations slowly fading into silence. The spectacle was over, and the guests, ever mindful of the fragility of their positions and the prying eyes of the Baron, resumed their activities with a calculated nonchalance. Rabban exited after his uncle, leaving her alone with Feyd once more.

Feyd watched Rabban's retreating form, a small, triumphant smile curling at the corners of his lips. The encounter had gone just as he had planned, every move calculated to assert his dominance and undermine Rabban's authority. His eyes scanned the room, ensuring the immediate danger had passed before he turned his attention to the woman he had flung aside in the heat of the confrontation.

His demeanour shifted but was no less dangerous as he extended a hand toward her. "Are you all right?" he asked, his voice softer. She hesitated momentarily before accepting his hand, her fingers trembling as she rose. Her eyes, wide with relief and wariness, met his.

"Yes, thank you."

His hand was on her throat before she could finish brushing the dust from her dress. His thumb pressed hard against her windpipe, halting her breaths and silencing her voice as he dragged her against his chest once more. Leiana caught his wrist with both hands, clawing at his pale skin as she had done to Rabban days ago.

Feyd's grip tightened. "You think you can manipulate me with the Voice?" he hissed, his breath hot against her face, making her blink, making the first of her tears fall. "Try it again, and I will end you where you stand."

Leiana's vision blurred at the edges as she struggled for air. Her nails dug deeper into his wrist, desperate for release, drawing globules of blood to the surface, but Feyd's hold remained steadfast. She could feel the thrum of his pulse beneath her fingertips.

"Your life hangs by a thread, and I hold the scissors."

With a final, ruthless squeeze, he released her, watching with satisfaction as she crumpled to the ground, gasping for breath. Feyd stood over her, a dark silhouette against the dim light, a silent reminder of the peril that shadowed her every move.

—interested in being tagged in future chapters? send me a message!

[plazmafields]

V's a living legend at the Afterlife, he's got a stylish new mansion, and his head is one consciousness lighter. And he's not handling it well. V knew Johnny had to go or they'd both die, but he wasn't prepared for how empty he'd feel. Emotionally and...physically? Psychologically? The turn around between Jackie dying and Johnny getting wiped was too quick, V hadn't had time to process all of it. Any of it, really. He could say he feels numb, but that's not right. He feels too many emotions all at once, but he can't express anything. "System overload" would be more accurate.

When a room is quiet for too long, V can almost hear Johnny's voice in the back of his head, an indecipherable murmur. When he's alone and hears a voice, he assumes it's Johnny's. He replies accordingly, often to the room's confusion. Sometimes he responds in his head, forgetting he has to move his lips and vocal cords for others to hear what he's thinking.

It's been a long and difficult adjustment, but Kerry understands. He remembers hearing Johnny's snide, critical remarks echo with every strum of a cord. He remembers staring at his guitar from across the room, listening to a repeating memory of Johnny's fingers on the strings. Distinct. Inimitable.

That doesn't mean it hurts any less when V calls him "Johnny" by mistake. After 50 years of trying to escape that Silver shadow that loomed over his life and career, and finally succeeding, it feels like a major step back. Kerry's been patient--something V has profusely thanked him for--but he's snapped more than once.

Kerry wonders if this is how V felt when they first met. He had such a hard time separating the two in his mind at first, despite being able to tell them apart easily. V's a rebel, an anarchist, an edgerunner to the bone, but not in the same way Johnny always was. V had expressed, when they started dating, that he didn't want to play second fiddle to Johnny. If there had been--or still was--anything between Johnny and him, Kerry ought to come clean. V tended to be a little sensitive to comparisons at the time, but since Johnny's removal, he hasn't shown any signs of insecurity.

Insecurity is now Kerry's burden to bare. He knows in the forefront of his mind that each time V uses the wrong name, it's simply an accident. The last person around him day in and day out was Johnny, so it follows that after moving in together, V occasionally uses the name of his previous "housemate." But Kerry's feelings of inferiority hiss and screech on instinct, like a bat brought to the light, each time he hears the late rocker's name. He's never held his tongue before, but he holds it for V. The marc apologizes ad nauseum each time it happens, and Kerry tells him it's alright.

And it is, he thinks. They've each gotten better; Kerry's reactions are less visceral now, and V is getting used to it being Kerry in his peripherals. Neither will ever be completely without Johnny, much to their dismay, but he's less a part of their daily lives now.

Life, as it were. They've adjusted well to living together. Both men are busy frequently; V's thievery is better done under the cover of night, and Kerry's shows run late due to multiple encores. But when they converge at home in the wee hours of the morning, the world stands still for them, giving them a precious moment to bask in what little time they may have left together.

V's still looking for a permanent cure. Kerry worries his lover won't outlive him. What an odd thing to hope for, he realizes, to die long before V. Before he finds his first grey hair; before he begins feeling the weather in his joints; before he starts groaning whenever he stands from the couch.

V's eyes catch on Kerry's from across the living room. He hadn't realized he'd been staring.

"Wha'cha thinkin' about?" V asks, inquisitive hazel eyes adjusting like a camera shutter around void-black pupils.

Kerry smiles as he replies without hesitation, "Thinkin' about how much I love you."

They haven't said it a lot, only when things get really bad. When V wakes up searching for Johnny, when he has nightmares of Jackie bleeding out and not being able to stop it. When Kerry gets another email from his custody lawyer, when he battles with his label to renegotiate ownership of his masters.

V rises from his seat and joins Kerry on the couch, kissing his forehead as he sits. "Everything okay?" He rubs his hand firmly up and down Kerry's thigh.

"Sure," Kerry lays his arm across the back of the couch, coaxing V to lean into him. "Just feel like I don't remind you enough, that's all."

V grins as he scoots closer. "Well feel free to remind me as much as you want." He grabs Kerry's free hand in his, interlocking their fingers and squeezing tightly, whispering as he leans in for a kiss, "I love you too, Ker."

[akria23]

Note: This is unedited and I think I missed a section, I haven’t had the best week so this is what it ended up with. I might not do one of these for episode 11, even though I try to only focus on the episode at hand and not what I think may happen or any possibilities, because PromNont typically only have a few scenes I’m starting to fear I’ll have to do a lot of repeating if I do an overall analysis at the end (which is usually my style). I don’t know, we’ll see.

PromNont Episode 10

This episode once again has two promnont scenes and as usual the first scene informs the second. Both scenes are about revelation and both feature big emotional breakdowns from Nont - the first being rage and the second being anguish. Unfortunately, Nant is still in the mix of both scenes.

Rage is defined as violent, uncontrollable anger and if there is one word to describe what takes place in the opening sequence it would be that word. The timing for this reveal couldn’t be any worse. In the matter of minutes Nont has emotionally gone from thinking he was gonna have a peaceful night with Prom to discovering a secret that went against everything he thought about Prom to seeing the news about the discovery of his brother’s dead body. That bit about Prom is very important because the thing that filled their relationship with tension, Prom’s love for Nant, was the same thing that made Prom feel like a safe space when it came to the case. Who better to understand Nont’s upset, his drive, than the man in love with his brother. Though the two had a mutually beneficial relationship, Prom hadn’t let down his twin the way the Baddies had - because he was in love with him there was no way he’d have hurt him. Yet, this reveal says otherwise. The video he had seen and had such a visceral reaction to because he perceived it as violent even outside the aspect of murder, says otherwise.

I feel in the moment Nont tried to keep his rage about Nant. About how the betrayal from Prom was upon his brother, rather than focusing on how the lie was a betrayal to him. He tries to distance himself emotionally by not focusing on what Prom has done to him. On the surface I’d even say he succeeded.

When he confronts Prom it is to ask how he could hurt Nant when he was supposed to love him. When Nont has sought revenge for his brother it has always been about matching what was done to his twin - sacrificing parts of himself to meet the necessary violence required. So when he attacks Prom physically it of course is somewhat comparable to the Mask Dog video. However, I say he only succeeds on the surface because when he drags Prom across the room to see the evidence that he was the last person with his brother, he makes it clear he’s not interested in hearing explanations, he’s not interested in being rationalized out of his rage. The thing about Nont and this case is that the violence has always been negotiable, you tell him what you know about what happened to his brother and you can come out unharmed because the violence isn’t something he desires, it's used as a tool to get to the truth about his twin. But here in this moment the violence is non-negotiable, even as Prom is offering an explanation Nont doesn’t want it because he may be able to give an explanation for the clip, for Nant, but that would do nothing for the offense against Nont. So though he tries to keep the focus on Nant, his own emotion about Prom and the announcement of his brother's body snowballs everything and makes it worse. Every hit has a bout of frustration behind it and Prom is on the receiving end for all of it.

Anguish is defined as severe mental or physical pain or suffering and I think this is how I’d describe the second scene between Prom and Nont. This time the focus is on letting Nont’s emotionalism be at the surface rather than him trying to repress them to focus on what Nant suffered. No matter if consciously or subconsciously, Nont shows up at Playboyy because he hadn’t heard Prom’s explanation - there's no way he thought Playboyy was the best place to communicate with / to his dead brother, he's at Playboyy cause Prom is at Playboyy. The thing about Prom and Nont relationship conversations is there's always a lot exchanged but very little actually spoken - this sequence is no different.

Prom explains that he didn’t hurt Nant that the video was just roleplay but he doesn’t get a reaction until he confesses that he was there when Nant made the video faking his death. Prom claims that he feared telling Nont the truth about the mask because he didn't want to be misunderstood and Nont’s response is a beat silence before saying that instead Prom had rather made him the idiot for the longest while. The silence held as much communication as his rebuttal because this was a lie Prom stuck to for months, months of Nont confiding in Prom that he was uncomfortable with the things he was doing, the things he was learning about himself while on the path to finding the truth of his brother. Months of Nont being honest with Prom about everything, thinking they were of a like mind, and Prom telling him little to no truth. There in the silence is a mocking of all of Prom’s most audacious moments. Moments like giving him the gun to confront Nuth, though he knew he hadn't harmed his brother. Moments like consoling him over a brother he knew wasn’t dead. In each of their own ways, Prom and Nant made Nont and everyone else a part of a sadistic game.

And when Prom tried to apologize about not telling the truth about Nant’s disappearance because maybe Nont wouldn't have wasted time, Nont cuts him off with a concise, “Never Mind.” Nevermind because he's not interested in having THAT conversation. Maybe is such a weighted word because maybe Nont wouldn’t have wasted time. Maybe Non’t wouldn’t have subjected himself to some of the things he did to get answers. Maybe Nant could've been found alive. Maybe, maybe, maybe…Never mind because what's done is done and can’t be undone. Never mind because it doesn’t matter anyway, it can’t matter.

There's no elation after these explanations because no, Prom hadn’t hurt Nant, he’d hurt Nont. If anything he'd shown himself to be abundantly loyal to his brother even in the face of Nont breaking. Nant has always held position between them but Nont thought the bond had atleast been authentic but even that seems a waste in the face of Prom never having chosen him, never having thought of the affects on him. Everything hes done seems a waste, Prom has made a fool of him, and his brother is dead. I think he blames himself for that last bit because it was bad enough when he thought Nant wnt into hiding himself but to learn that he asked for assistance from Prom but never felt comfortable mentioning anything to him, his twin. Again its one of those things where everything is rolling into one because not only is he finding out how deeply Prom an Nant were working together in these choices but also having to question how his brother must’ve of thought of him or felt about him to not not tell him anything, to go into hiding instead of flying out to him. How he must seem as a sibling in the eyes of his twin.

Nont is exhausted, he's worn down and he’s decided he’s done. He’s already told the Baddies that he’s booked a flight home for next week and now he’s letting Prom know he’s finished. The case is closed. Or atleast it is until Prom stops Nont and tells him that he doesn’t want him to think he’s the bad guy. It is at this moment that Nont decides to carry out the case and see what led to his brother’s demise.

I say that not only because this bit of dialogue is the only thing that happens between him saying he’s done and Zouey finding him digging into the investigation again, but because this is consistent with them. This isn’t the first time we’ve seen Prom convince Nont to stay the course, Nont himself having thanked Prom for helping him maintain that goal. And while I don’t think that was Prom’s motive behind what he says, it is the only due course to make it happen. Nont may not truly think Prom has anything to do with killing his brother but with the evidence of him being the last known person to see Nant alive, with only his story to go off of, and with the list of lies between them the only way to really erase the possibility of Prom having harmed Nant and of being the bad guy is to solve the case and discover the full truth.

Even though he doesn’t turn back nor respond to Prom, the decision to continue is made right there at Playboyy. They haven't reconciled, there's so much shit between them, and yet he knows he's gonna do this for Prom, for Nant, and yes in part for himself. There's exhaustion in that cry, no one wants this to be over the way Nont does. There's heartbreak in that cry. While Prom is left with his choices, once again watching someone he cares about walk out with only the certainty that things have irrevocably changed.

Nont goes through 3 stages this episode. He starts off high energy and very active with rage. In the midsection however, he’s almost catatonic, it’s like he’s lost all will to fight. He’s broken and in anguish. In the end he’s revitalized, refocused and driven to find ish the goal of finding the truth about his brother once again. However, if the truth is gonna be something cathartic or push him further past his breaking point has yet to be seen.

While Nant faking his death and going into hiding has been on my theory list from the get go and Prom knowing Nont wasn't Nant has been set in stone for me ever since the wine episode - it wasn’t until the release of the teaser photos that I realized I hadn’t considered the possibility of Prom having helped Nant. The possibility didn’t really coincide with how I thought Nant viewed Prom which was more of an afterthought. If I had to assume anyone that he’d choose to help him in a bind I would’ve chosen Zouey who he was said to have a tight bond with and understood him the best originally. However, we don’t know how Nant felt about anyone truly because we’ve only ever gotten third party opinions of who he was and how he may have felt. Even if he did actually see Prom as an afterthought, who better to help you and carry your secret than the man who fancied himself in love with you, the man whose nose was so open he’d do anything for you? Prom…my poor idiot baby.

I wanna sum up his lesson as playing stupid games and winning silly prizes but I don’t think that would be fair or do it justice at all. There's something to be said about the way one chooses to treat others when they are not emotionally connected to them because while I can understand the desire to cling to Nont with the hopes that he’d find his brother and even somewhat of using him as a temporary replacement at first, there's always repercussions to devaluing someone - def if you later come to actually value them.

That's where Prom is now, standing in the muck of it having to face the consequences of his own actions. He understands that though which is why he doesn’t fight back in the first sequence and why he doesn’t make any big declarations in the second. Prom was never gonna be honest and tell Nont the truth even outside the aspect of loyalty to Nant. He tends to try to adapt to the other person and fit where they need / want him and then go with the flow, taking anything the other person is willing to give while allowing his mind to build a fantasy to make up for the rest. That’s what he’d done with Nant and he was no different when it came to trying to take up space in Nont’s life. Prom thinking their relationship was only to be temporary (even after coming to the realizations of his feelings being stronger for Nont) isn’t outlandish when Nont has always set the precedent for it to be so. When he’s always drawn lines and set boundaries. Of course he didn’t speak up even when he knew Nont was gonna get evidence from his father’s connections because selfishly he wanted to ride out the relationship for as long as he possibly could rather than be forthcoming and end it weeks, days, hours earlier. He was gonna take what he could while he could.

A lot of people question why Prom doesn’t seem to care that Nant is dead & question if theres still a possibility of him being the killer - as someone who has a secret murder theory for every character including Prom and even Nont, I get it considering he did start watching the news like he was waiting for a body and seems to lack big emotional expression. However, I do think there could be character traits and elements that could explain his emotional choices somewhat, including the fact that Prom has always been somewhat impassive. I’d question which character’s perspective could be used to witness him emote said grief - he doesn’t have much time with the other characters as he doesn’t even seem close to anyone outside of Nant/Nont. And emoting said grief to Nont likely seems inappropriate and a terrible idea for now considering he desires Nont romantically and his feelings for Nant has and still continues to be a tension between them. Again I also think its that one track mindedness Prom has when it comes to interest in someone. The same one track mindedness that had him devaluing Nont in place of continued loyalty to Nant is the same one track mindedness that allows him not to make his grief the focus when trying to explain himself to Nont. Similarly to the others, his grief is likely also mixed with a bit of guilt, as is the recurring theme of how the actions and inactions of those around Nant may have contributed to his death.

Afterthoughts: I’m not surprised where we leave off with Promnont this episode. In the dream sequence analysis, I’d already settled on the possibility of Prom having more than one secret to reveal and the possibility of it bringing on the separation point of their relationship. Up until that point they’d yet to experience a break in their relationship the way the other pairings had.

The question is how do they reconcile - I’m sure it’ll be quick because no one in this series stands strong they're all “my man, my man, my man" and forgive without much effort. Idk if I want Nont to make him work for it or if I just want some happy PromNont scenes since were close to the end. I still worry about them in the long run because the Nant thing has been consistent and while Prom chose Nont subconsciously during the dream that hasn’t happened on a conscious level and now with Nant ``gone” how would Nont ever come to feel Prom is wanting to move forward with him for any reason other than Nant no longer being an option.

As long as Nont has that flight booked imma be worried…I NEED my PromNont endgame. Nont need to cancel the ticket or Prom needs to buy one. Are there more surprises and twist - I can think of a possible few but I actually hope not because I just want some Promnont scenes. We know the least about these two (and Nant arguably since everything we know about him is through 3rd party opinion) and haven’t gotten much of who they would be as a pair outside of the stressors of the case.

[meta-squash]

I only watched Miracle Day the once, when it originally aired, and I didn't like it much (for multiple reasons) but one of the scenes I still remember most clearly is the part where Jack is tortured by the Three Families in the 1920s and there's that whole scene of people taking his blood and this sort of uncertainty (from Jack's POV) of whether people think he's something sinful or sacred etc etc.

My favourite scene in the entire series is that moment after, when Angelo comes to rescue Jack. There's a shot of him untying Jack, of Jack lying limply on the floor gazing into middle distance, of Jack's bloody feet (heavy handed religious symbolism lol but I kind of love that), and of Jack clutching the cloth Angelo gives him to clean up with. Angelo says they need to hurry and Jack curls up into a foetal position and says, dully, "Give me a minute."

(The next scene is Jack and Angelo running through the streets and Jack is cheerful again and I'm convinced there was a interim scene that was cut that got them to that point but anyway.)

I love that scene so much partly because it is basically fanservice to my angst-loving, h/c-loving fic writer self, obviously.

But the main reason I love it is because it shows Jack's physical and psychological reaction to the things he ends up having to endure because of his immortality. We didn't get this kind of intense, obvious, withdrawn vulnerability and traumatic response from Jack in the first 3 series.

The curling into himself, the clutching at the cloth (something soft and something to hold on to), the dull and monotonous voice when he responds to Angelo, the total inability to register urgency, it's such a visceral display of how traumatized and vulnerable he's been made by all of this.

By this time, he's been on earth for 50-ish years. He's had all sorts of deaths. He's been working for Torchwood for long enough that things like urgency in painful or life-threatening or exhausting situations probably are not foreign to him. He's probably seen and done and been through quite a lot.

So showing his reaction to this, the foetal position and obvious shock/dissociation and quiet helplessness, it's really quite powerful.

And mostly I'm just so sad that it had to be a scene in the poorly done and canon-destroying series that was Miracle Day instead of something we saw in one of the first series, where we could have seen characters with established relations to both Jack and the audience react to something like that along with the audience, and have Jack react to their reactions.

[gamerbearmira]

I could talk about this resident evil 8 AU for days! I've actually been keeping myself from posting more asks That way I can get your response/feedback before I start adding more.

Miranda definitely projects onto Mirabel in fact when she first got there Miranda didn't give her to Alcina and instead had her living with her and she refused to call her by her name and was calling her Eva instead. she did that for like a week before she gave her to Alcina but when she gets extremely upset with her she will call her Eva and tell her that she's her daughter.

Speaking of Alcina her and her daughters relationship with Mirabel is.... Complicated to say the least. Mirabel loves Alcina and her daughters because Alcina took her in and truly did act like a mother figure that would never harm her and they all loved her like their own but Mirabel hates unnecessary cruelty/violence which is something the Dimitrescu family loves to do. they try to tone it down by a large amount because they saw how much it truly bothered her but they all are very temperamental/sadistic which I think is a by-product of their version of the mutations (plus the fact that they need to eat people to survive) so they aren't very successful which put a bit of stain on their relationship with Mirabel. Which they are all very aware of and try everything in their power to bridge the gap with her to varying degrees of success.

When Miranda forces Maribel to experiment on her family Maribel does what she could to defy her in the moment which was to beg and plead with her not to do it and to try and get her to change her mind. But after she threatened to experiment on them herself Maribel went ahead and did it (Miranda doesn't use actual anesthesia she instead uses a paralyzer so when she experiments on people they can't move but they are awake and aware of everything that's happening That includes all of the Lords)

When there are experiments of hers that has the result being something like the lycans she immediately puts them down herself that way the person inside isn't suffering and there aren't a bunch of monsters running around that she created and causing mass casualties/complete chaos. Which is something that karl argues with her a lot about saying that she's wasting potential soldiers for the army against Miranda.

Speaking of Karl they have a very love-hate relationship. They both sometimes get together and get along over their mutual hatred of Miranda and try to make plans to stop her but because they both go about it in two very different ways they often are arguing with each other on how to stop Miranda (it also doesn't help that Mirabel spend a good portion of her time with Alcina who hates him) both are convinced that their way is the right way and can't believe the other one can't see what they're doing wrong. The way that Mirabel is trying to stop her is by trying to create a brand new body for her daughter to go in that way there is no need for a human vessel and instead she has her own freshly made body to take over and we all know karl's way of trying to stop Miranda.

Mirabel does not physically touch The orphans/her family without wearing a pair of leather gloves because she "doesn't want a monster like myself touching people so pure and innocent."

Speaking of the family Julieta does NOT want to let Mirabel out of her sight. None of them do but Julieta is probably the worst out of all of them about that and had the most visceral reaction when Miranda slaps mirabel across the face (which she does when they are in the middle of dinner she wanted to make sure that the entire family was in one area and saw her "light punishment".)

SO COULD I. But I could also talk about Resident Evil all day in general. I blame my friend because she got me into it 😭😭

Honestly, it’s so sad that Miranda projects onto her. I mean this whole thing started because she simply couldn’t cope with her daughter’s death and really thought she could bring her back. And now she’s taking poor Mirabel and treating her like she Eva and not…Mirabel. Like what is this, Law and Order?? SVU??? Imagine how terrified Mirabel is. She was kidnapped, and is now being called some random name. And then even after that, Miranda will snap at her and call her Eva, which is WILD. And then she made her experiment on her family. And Mirabel only did it because she didn’t want her family to suffer to much in the aftermath and. Let’s be real here, Mirabel’s mortality rates are way lower than Miranda’s when it comes to experimental stuff 🗿

Honestly, I can see and honestly agree that Mirabel does care for Lday D and her daughters, but like. Morally, she CANNOT agree with the stuff they do. Like when she found out, she did understand that they needed it to survive, but she felt like they could have done it by more. You know. Conventional means. Or at least very least more humane 💀 she wants to be close, but honestly that whole sadistic killing thing and making wine out of their blood is just not how she rolls ☹️ and with Karl. They remind me of siblings, I mean they both can agree a some (very few) things, but just refuse to hear the other out, but honestly it’s kinda understandable.

ALSO MIRABEL WEARING GLOVES I CAN’T. LIKE I CAN’T RN. FR. Like the fact that she feels like that breaks my heart I can’t do this 🤧🤧 light punishment is actually crazy. Like clinically insane. Which Miranda probably is tbh. I understand Julieta’s reaction, shoot I wouldn’t let her outta my sight either 🌚📸 like imagine how horrified she was when Mirabel just SAT THERE AND TOOK IT. Idk about Julieta, but let somebody do that to my child and we gone take it outside 🧌

This how that dinner went:

Ok I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m gone 🌫️🌫️

[qualitative-decay]

more adventures in schrödinger's perceived-or-not, on account of. coyn still has me by the throat a bit perhaps lmao

----

----

he feels numb. he can tell he has more reaction than that; can feel something hovering in the periphery, something repeatedly restricting his breathing and spreading tension over his temples, but—

here... isn't a good place for that.

now isn't a good time.

they stare resolutely at the seat in front of them. if they look out the window, the chance of them getting lost in the blur of lights and missing their stop entirely edges into dangerous territory, and they already feel like they're clinging to the present moment with both hands.

the bus is... quite full. he holds his backpack on his lap and tries very hard not to touch or be touched by the woman who claimed the seat next to him — a task made more difficult by her wild gesticulation as she converses with some passengers across the aisle.

he shrinks into his seat and ignores her as best he can. he wishes he could actually have anything playing over his headphones to better mitigate the "every single thing happening around him", but... he's still worried about missing his stop.

.....

.....

he doesn't quite blink and find himself on the doorstep of stan & the narrator's place — if he looks back, he can drag out the memories of more or less what happened in the intervening time — but it's vague enough and distant enough that he's grateful he did in fact end up where he meant to. or, some future him will be grateful. whenever his feelings come back online. ...probably.

they think they'd meant to knock on the door, but... they're sitting against the wall next to it instead, backpack again on their lap, curled to hide their face against it.

they'd been holding it together so well earlier, too. got stuff packed, made sure that their— that the room they'd been staying in was as orderly as they could manage. they didn't know what to do about things they had to leave behind; they felt a little bad for leaving it for b to deal with.

(if it feels like something in his chest is squeezing to think about him, if his next breath comes half-choked, it's just the worry. it's just the concern. he really should knock so he can go inside. he probably should tell someone something's going on.)

...is something going on? they're— this is— something is wrong, isn't it? they think they used to feel more certain, but... no matter that they know they can't trust it, with everything the parable said, and stanley's own behavior of late— they just— they aren't sure anymore. maybe there's no reason to be concerned. maybe stanley just... got tired of having them around.

maybe they just want this to be indicative of something being amiss, because the alternative literally, physically hurts to look at.

(...maybe they shouldn't have forgotten that it had always been meant to be temporary.)

he scrubs at his face with his sleeve. this isn't helping. he needs to go inside so he can actually feel— safe. not that he feels in danger out here, exactly, he just— it feels exposed.

.....

.....

he's sitting on the edge of the bed in the guest room, light spilling in from the hallway. part of him wants to close the door. part of him is viscerally recoiling from the thought of a closed door, no matter that he could open it again any time he wanted.

...he didn't really end up explaining anything. he couldn't figure out how to; got about as far as a very scripted he knows it's zero notice but would it be alright for him to spend the night, before the static fully crashed over him again and left him unable to get much anything else across. even through thought. too full of fog up there; nothing coherent for the narrator to read unless he wanted to dig for it.

stan and the narrator had exchanged a Look, the meaning of which would probably still have gone over their head if they had been more present, and the narrator had suggested they get some rest; they could talk more in the morning if they felt up to it. and, in all honesty, the idea of shutting themself off for a while sounded very appealing.

it... still does.

so, somewhat mechanically, they open their backpack and start to fish out sleep things.

it's a decently sized backpack, but not so large that a stuffed animal could really get lost inside. and yet... he can't find tether in there. he digs out more clothes in case it's just further down than expected, but the creeping suspicion that he somehow forgot it at stanley's flat is—

their train of thought is utterly derailed by the next thing they grab. they have... no recollection of packing this. (not true. they can picture it, can in the most abstract way recall it, but it's like something from a dream, or a story told by someone else. it doesn't feel like something that actually happened, even with the evidence under their fingertips.)

he clutches stanley's hoodie against his chest, curling around it. for the nth time in the day his throat closes against the emotion, his breath squeezing through painfully. it would probably rasp if he'd let it, but even though it makes him dizzy he forces himself to breathe slowly enough to not make a sound.

it feels very important, somehow, that he not make a sound.

once their breath comes more steadily & with less effort, they shove everything but b's hoodie somewhat haphazardly back into their backpack and drop it off the edge of the bed. they can brush their teeth and do any other hygeine maintenance in the morning. they flop back onto the mattress with more force than was really necessary and hide their face in the hoodie against the light from the door.

(sleep, fortunately, finds them before too long.)

[sophsun1]

This gifset I made of Joan and Jack Kinney's perception that Brian was a carbon copy of his father a lone wolf and selfish man vs Justin knowing that was the furthest thing from the truth hits even harder when you flashback to 1.02 where Brian has such a visceral reaction to Ted yelling at Michael "Where do people get off thinking I'm not a kind person? I happen to be very kind, very loving/ My only responsibility is to myself I don't owe anybody a goddamn thing."

Selfish is such a prominent word in his life. We hear it from many of his so called friends. He's selfish and can't or won't love anyone or anything. Yet his actions towards them even when they don't deserve it show the complete opposite. You can sort of see why it cuts so deep when he hears these words "selfish and responsibility" in the context of the scenes with his parents.

We have Joan in church telling Brian he reminds her of Jack, he's equally as selfish always letting her down and mocking her love for God. How she took Jack's abuse and beatings to protect him though we the audience know Brian had his own share of abuse from him both physical and emotional along with his mother's neglect and alcoholism. He denies this but she won't hear of it. Adding on to her previously telling him her new priest has been like a son to her and now Brian has the power to destroy her entire world view and he doesn't. There's also a weird sort of parallel where now instead of her biological son being like her husband, her surrogate son is just like the son she rejects and is ashamed of.

Jack proudly announcing he's a chip off the old block not made to be a family man, Brian agreeing. Throw in the bombshell that if it was up to him, Brian wouldn't even exist. This man who shirked all responsibilities as a husband, a father and role model to his children telling his son who he wished was never born that he is just like him. Imagine the mind fuck. His line about not letting the ladies tie him down, Brian knowing he would never be accepted if he ever came out to him. Then buttering him up for cold hard cash, even though Brian had it ready and waiting because he knew that's all he's worth to him. Which leads me to the anger I feel towards Mel and Lindsey who immediately jump on Brian about his financial responsibility to Gus. Wanting him to sign a life insurance policy because his "lifestyle" according to Mel makes him more of a risk factor. They don't want him to be fully physically involved but they'll take his money. Here comes the theme of death once more, his father didn't want him to exist but he'll take his money. Mel and Lindsey, pointing out if he dies it doesn't matter as long as Gus profits. Yet he fought so hard for Lindsey in the custody battle for J.R, funding it all when he never got that same unwavering support when it came to Gus. Wanting so steadfastly to take care of Justin financially when they were together and apart because that's how he has been made to feel with Gus and his father. So many layers. Sonny boy indeed.

Is it any wonder? Brian Kinney never believed in love and thought it only lead to bitterness and resentment, and settling down meant settling into a toxic environment where hatred flourished. Especially as your parents are your first example of love and family. You literally are the product of that union in most cases, it's a fundamental part of your childhood and has a deep effect on you ergo why therapists always lead with "So tell me about your relationship with your mother/father."

WHICH IS WHY WE SHOULD HAVE HAD A SEASON DEDICATED TO THIS ASPECT!

Ultimately people are always wanting a piece of Brian. The raw, unfiltered Brian Kinney that Justin sees and accepts and loves is not good enough for them. Sure they have their moments and he's by no means perfect but Justin doesn't want to intrinsically change him, he encourages him to be better and we see Brian respond to this. They blow hot and cold, his Peter Pan complex is embarrassing it's time to grow up! Brian tries to change, no this isn't the Brian we know and love, we prefer the old version of him come back! With his friends he's made to feel responsible for their mistakes and fuck ups, to be a support to them, to help rescue them even to his own detriment at times. To feel guilt at his existence in their lives and how it affects them, as financial support or simply telling him how to react/feel to really major emotional life events. Debbie insisting he "owed" his father his coming out, telling Joan he had cancer. Michael at his father's death, that regardless of what he did he was still his dad. The amount of pressure that was placed on him was insane the "responsibility" never ends. It goes to the -> I don't owe anybody a goddamn thing! He got himself out of his terrible upbringing, worked hard and got an amazing loft with a job in a career he excels at. No one gave him a hand out. Technically even when they did in the concerned citizens for truth era he paid them back plus extra. He hates feeling indebted to people, or in need, and yes part of that is pride but also because he's the one that is always on standby to be that for others, so where is his room to fail?

[hyunjinspark]

Jade, my love! You‘ve been breaking my heart 17 chapters in a row, so it was to be expected, but this time… damn. I‘ve never had such a visceral reaction while reading something. It physically hurt reading this, I’ve actually cried… I don’t remember that ever happening. I feel empty now. Their conversation during the ride home, accepting that Hyun „doesn’t care“, feeling left out now that Kairi and Chan are back together, doubting her decision of moving to the city, the fear during her horrible interaction with Jieong (never meet your heroes), the horrifying thought that your dreams might’ve turned out to be a nightmare, the breakdown that led to her rash decision, just for Hyun to finally do what she’s been wishing for all the time she’s been in Seoul - just being there… This chapter left me depressed. I’m aware this sounds like a bad review, but I’m such a sucker for angst, as you probably know at this point, so this is actually meant to be a huge compliment. Your writing is truly astonishing, the way it makes the readers feel so intensely, how it makes you question how much someone can and should take and if giving up is really so bad if it makes you feel so shitty (applies to both the situation with Hyun and Jieong) because honestly, I don‘t know if I could‘ve handled that in real life. And also, how fucking REAL your writing is. The angst and Y/N‘s feelings are never overdone, unjustified or annoying as it sometimes can be (especially with heavy angst stories), nor does it feel fabricated. It feels real, raw and realistic.

Honestly, with Hyun showing up at the end, my reaction was a bit like „too little, too late“, so I hope she‘ll actually leave Seoul instead of caving in. If staying was her decision, of course she should go for it, but just because Hyun decided to show up for once and convince her… that would actually be a bit toxic, even. I get his situation is complicated, but for someone who keeps saying he doesn‘t want to hurt her and made those decisions to protect her, he does seem to always be taking the easy way out in a way. He’s a bit of a coward, even if his reasons are justified. He can make it up to her by exposing that piece of shit professor, lol because I‘m sure he‘ll find out and get all protective. Also saying this about Hyun, despite it sounding like the complete opposite, is also a huge compliment to your writing because since he‘s not actually an asshole, it just means I love Y/N so much, that I get overprotective. You know how when your best friend‘s S/O fucks up just a little bit and you‘re immediately wary and you‘ll remember it for a long while and kind of resent him for it? That‘s exactly how I‘m feeling, so Kudos to you because in the concerningly big amount of books I’ve read the past couple of years, I‘ve never loved an MC so much, most of the time I hardly even like them.

Some of my thoughts for the future plot: I‘m getting panicked at this point, lol. I‘ve started thinking „Oh, we don‘t have many chapters left in SLWY and they still haven‘t confessed/had sex/gotten together etc.“, so I‘m like „Fuck, I hope we can still get enough peaceful, happy, romantic couple moments between the two. And this might be an unpopular opinion, but I truly hope that the boys decide to disband in order to live peaceful and private lives with their loved ones (and I can lowkey see you actually writing that, but then again I don‘t, you‘re amazingly unpredictable) since this is obviously a depressing life to lead without getting much out of it, as thankful as I am for real life SKZ existing… Also, I hope the professor gets exposed big time (or beaten within an inch of his life), maybe with Karina‘s (her comments make me think that Y/N isn’t the only student he harassed) help because I think I‘d actually pull my hair out if he doesn‘t suffer consequences, but I trust in you bringing justice to our Y/N. I‘m excited and curious in general about what you‘re gonna to with the rest of the story, but I know it‘s gonna be amazing.

Sorry for that long ass word vomit message, but I‘m all kinds of overwhelmed by this chapter. Every time I think you can‘t outdo yourself… damn, your potential is unreal. Thank you, I love you and STOP GIVING US SUCH BRUTAL CLIFFHANGERS I AUDIBLY SCREECHED OUT OF FRUSTRATION!!!

P.S.: I had a really bad day today and reading that masterpiece made it so much better!

- 👑

i promise the angst will end soon. when i read your review, i realise how heavy that last chapter was im sorry but im happy you liked it so much that it made you viscerally react ...also thank you for letting me know that you agree with yn's reactions/think they're realistic. that's always good to hear haha. :)

what you said about hyunjin, too little too late, mayy be right. he has been taking the easy way out, at least in yn's eyes, and let's see how he may resolve or come back from that ! but speaking of what you said, i also promise to give you enough happy moments haha.

thank you so much for this beautiful review. your predictions are very sound and make me intrigued as fuck. thank you, and I hope you're having a better day today!

[a-bucket-of-trash]

Bonds Like Tree’s Roots- Kelvin x Female Reader – P10

P9

Tags: Fluffy overflow

Kelvin had walked until he had calmed down a bit, he had refreshed his face with the fresh water of the river, his nightmare had faded quite a bit, but the anguish from hit you still remained in his chest. He didn't care that it was accidental, that more than anything it had been a push, for him it had been the equivalent of choking you and kicking you in the ribs.

He was a fervent believer in the idea that a man should not lay his hand on a lady, and yet, he had done it, and more precisely, on you, the woman he appreciated so much, the one who kept him healthy, which gave him reason to laugh. He felt an immense self-loathing, hatred bubbling in his mind, self-shame, disappointment. He wanted to clone himself just to slap himself for hours.

He sat, alone, apart, behind a tree, covering his face, sobbing. He didn't want you to see him, he didn't want you to get close to him, he felt like too little thing for a woman like you. In his mind, he had already ruined everything, forever.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw you approaching him, so he stayed still. However, he saw you throw something at his feet, before you walked back to where you were, leaving him alone again. Confused, he looked at what you had left him, feeling his emotions mix as he recognized a brand new blue notepad.

Quickly he took it, opening it, seeing the first page written, reading fast.

“Take the time you need, but I appreciate you too much to leave you alone for too long, suffering. Come back soon, my Rottweiler."

Kelvin covered his mouth so you wouldn't hear him cry the way he cried. It wasn't just the words, but the intention, and the fact that you used a notepad, as you two had used so many times on the island. It was your way of reminding him where you came from, what you had been through together, a reminder that the bond you had was based on things dense and transcendental enough, that his violent reaction to a nightmare would not break it.

He clutched the little book to his chest, sobbing for a long time, both embarrassed and relieved, remembering who you were. You were not a stranger, nor any girl who did not understand anything, nor a stranger. You were his anchor, his savior, his friend, his partner in hell on earth. If there was anyone in the world who could truly understand him, it was you. And with that in mind, all his doubts were disseminated, becoming completely convinced. What he felt was love. Completely sure of it. Love, deep and visceral, elevated and ethereal, physical and passionate. He loved you, he needed you, he wanted you, it was one fact after another, you were the woman of his life.

With his tears mingling with a smile, he tried to compose himself as quickly as he could, breathing several times, washing his face again, to return to where you were, still sitting on the large tablecloth under the tree, looking at the landscape of branches swaying with the breeze.

You saw him appear and stand very close, so you looked up at the height difference, asking him if he was feeling better. You saw him nod and bend down for a moment to take out the pen you had in your ear and write something on the notepad, returning both to you.

You looked at the paper. Written, big, in the middle, an absolute and unexpected “UWU” that made you laugh. He smiled, seeing you laugh your heart out. Only Kelvin could come up with something as absurd and random as that.

“How UWU!?” You laughed more, seeing him sit calmly next to you. "What kind of…response is that?"

He waited for you to stop laughing a bit and hugged you tightly, resting his cheek firmly against your head, squeezing you as much as he could "Thank you..." He whispered.

"It's nothing, silly boy" You gently denied and wrapped your arms around his waist "I won't tell you not to hide again when you make a mistake, because I'm not someone to give you orders, nor are you a child who needs instructions, but... God, you know me well, you big fool… You would have to do something extremely bad for me not to want to get close to you… So relax…”

"I know" He murmured, hiding his face in your neck, filling his lungs with your delicate feminine essence "But you deserve me not to do nonsense"

"You're a goofy, it's what makes you funny and likable, even if it makes you prone to do some nonsense" You rubbed his firm back.

“Do you want me to try being more serious?” He didn't move.

"Hell no, it would be boring, stay as you are or I'll get mad" You patted him on the back.

"You're the best" He rubbed his head against yours, hard.

"Cuddly, hmmm?" You smiled, noticing him even closer than usual. "Shouldn't I be the one receiving pampering after what happened?"

“OH MY GOD” He pulled away from you, immediately, eyes wide like two brown suns “I'm sorry! You're right!"

"It was a joke, Kel." You gently denied.

"Nononono, it's up to me to treat you like a queen, it's the least I should do" He dragged himself a little to sit near the tree, leaning back, resting his back against the trunk "I'm your human pillow, your Majesty" He opened his arms, inviting you.

"What you are is unbearable" You saw his posture.

You moved and settled to sit with to him, in the space he had left between his legs, your back to him, to use him as a warm and comfortable backrest, looking at the landscape, your head close to his. He automatically wrapped his arms around you, keeping your back firmly against his chest.

"If you want to resume the nap that this thickhead interrupted you, go ahead" He said.

"Nah, I'm fine." You rubbed his arm. "What about you?"

"I'm a little busy right now"

“Silly” You started laughing, remembering “UwU… Where the hell did you get that from?”

"My little brother likes that kind of nonsense, I guess I get used to that" He smiled, enjoying the melody of your laughter soaking into his brain.

"You're not of age to use uwu, that's for young people" You bothered him.

"Don't call me old when I'm barely a year and a half older than you, old lady" He squeezed you.

"I'm young inside, not like you"

"Bold woman" He pretended that he was going to bite your face.

"No, no, don't bite me!" You laughed.

But instead of biting you, he only stayed kissing your temple, with innumerable, repetitive and tender little kisses that raised each one of your hairs. He closed his eyes, enjoying loving you, one of his hands finding yours, holding onto your fingers.

You didn't move or say anything. You didn't want him to stop doing that, but at the same time, it confused you. You loved him, but you didn't know if what you were interpreting was Kelvin being himself, or a sign of something else.

You didn't say anything about it then, or for the rest of the day, or back home. Neither of that, nor of the abrupt tide of affection that he was giving you whenever he could.

P11

[vinghen-tmblr]

The Note of Violence

Sample from my main fanfiction with my Tav (named Elowen, she's a wood elf bard with her own back story)

(...)

Her words were meant to hurt him, to inflict pain, straining the fragile thread of understanding and uncertain trust that had been forming between them, and... by the Gods, he hated himself and her for it, but it worked. Her words stung.

He had trusted her, in that small way he allowed himself, and she threw it back in his face.

Maybe if he hadn't been so physically and mentally exhausted, not to mention that damn hunger for blood... maybe if...

But there were no "maybes."

There was here and now, and here and now, Astarion lost control over himself.

In an instant, the world seemed to blur as his vision became tainted by this surge of emotion. It took him but a fleeting moment to realize that his impulse had led him to forcefully flip her onto her back, a rash act that he had never allowed to befall on their fellow companions. Normally, his responses were cloaked in biting words, sarcasm, and cynicism, but never had he surrendered his composure or strayed from his carefully crafted role. However, something in the bard's tone had ignited a visceral reaction, peeling away the facade and revealing the predatory essence beneath—the vampire spawn now pinned her wrists overhead with an unyielding grip, his crimson eyes smoldering with a wrathful fire. His rage was beyond reason, blinding and fully in control.

Her gasp, a symphony of both pain and surprise, reverberated in the tense air between them.

"NO ONE will dictate to me what to hunt anymore, Elle," his voice growled, a deep and primal resonance that sent shivers through her. He even didn’t realized he used her endearment, instead of his customary "my dear" or even her full name "Especially not you."

---

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